February 17, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You shouldn't limit yourself socially today -- make sure that everyone gets a little piece of you! If that makes anyone jealous or anxious, you should just reassure them and then move on.
The All About Derrick Show lasted two and a half hours last night. Over a long wait and slow service at Earl’s, the guy went on ad nauseam about all the “incompetents” he is forced to deal with on a daily basis at work, both clients and coworkers. I didn’t dare ask if he put Tamara in that category; nonetheless, I got the feeling he viewed everybody the same. Then he must have yammered for twenty minutes about the “nitwits” and “lunatics” he must listen to as head of his building’s strata council. I politely sipped my ice water—What the hell was taking so long with my pinot gris?!—and wondered if he’d ever get around to asking anything about me. Closest he ever got was the throwaway “Don’t you agree?” that he’d toss out every so often, cutting me off if I thought of going beyond the requisite, concise “Yes.”
He offered to walk me home and suggested that I invite him up for “coffee”. I politely responded that I could find my way home on my own, thank you very much. He looked stunned to be brushed off. I’m sure it bothered him for as long as it took him to fling me atop his growing pile of Disaster Dates, all on account of a glut of bland bitches populating Vancouver. No doubt, Derrick had never learned to be self-reflective.
Mom wants me to come by, ostensibly to help her pick an online gift for Gretel’s upcoming birthday, but really as an opportunity to whine about Lucy who apparently has now changed her protest tactics and is temporarily (?) living in a red tent on Hastings. Worse, Mom mentioned that she heard from Mavis Benson who heard from Trina Chu who got it from Harvey’s mother that Harvey and I ran into each other while running last week. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Mom screeched on the phone. That damn file folder entitled “Laura’s Wedding” will be resting prominently on the kitchen table once again. I am prepared though. I’ll quickly pick out an adorable trinket for Gretel—anything in pink suits her fine—and excuse myself to meet up with Tamara who is dying to hear me go on at length over how awful the date with Derrick was. She’s still in pain over the breakup with Andy. My misery will be just the thing to cheer her up.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
IF THERE WERE AN EVENT @ THE OLYMPICS CALLED SPEED DATING, SHORT COURSE, I’D HAVE OWNED THE PODIUM…WITH A WORLD RECORD TO BOOT. I HAD THE WRONG START TIME FOR THE HOCKEY GAME SO I MANAGED TO CATCH ENOUGH TO SEE CANADA WAS GOING TO SKATE BY NORWAY B/F HEADING OUT FOR MY DATE W/RACHEL. AS WE STOOD IN LINE TO ORDER, I MENTIONED THE GAME AND RACHEL LIT IN ABOUT THE OLYMPICS BEING A CORPORATE PARTY & THE MONEY BEING BETTER SPENT ON THE HOMELESS.
“YOU DO REALIZE IT’S NEVER BEEN AN EITHER OR SITUATION,” I SAID. “I MEAN, DO YOU REALLY THINK THE POLITICIANS WLD HAVE SAID, ‘SINCE WE’RE PASSING ON THE OLYMPICS, LET’S USE ALL THAT MONEY TO DEAL W/HOMELESSNESS’? THAT’S SIMPLISTIC & NAÏVE.”
AND W/THAT, SHE SHOOK MY HAND, OFFERED A CURT “NICE TO MEET YOU” & MARCHED OUT OF THE CAFÉ. BY THE TIME I HAD MY COFFEE, I WAS WONDERING WHAT JUST HAPPENED? BUT WALKING HOME I REALIZED IT WAS A MERCIFULLY QUICK END TO WHAT WLD HAVE BEEN AN EXCRUCIATING DATE FOR BOTH OF US. I DON’T KNOW HOW I WLD HAVE HANDLED MYSELF ONCE SHE GOT AROUND TO BLASTING OVERPAID PRO HOCKEY PLAYERS FOR BEING IN THE GAMES. SO, LIKE LUONGO, I ENDED THE EVENING W/A SHUTOUT. I THINK HIS MUST FEEL A WHOLE LOT BETTER.
I’VE ALREADY MOVED ON, SENDING MSGES TO TWO MORE WOMEN ONLINE. ONE SPECIFICALLY LISTED “CANUCKS” AS AN INTEREST. WE’LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS. CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.