Went into New West for tp and a grooming item, which for reasons unknown was not at the London Thugs where I expected it to be.
I was calling it London Thugs before Mike started working there. Now when I say it I really mean it.
Deposited the cheque from my grandmother (note on orthography, I have not yet made my mind over whether I am going to drop the que and just call them checks. The only reason I hesitate is that, while I think the American orthography looks better, I want to maintain my Canadian heritage). But Jiminy Christmas, don’t you find it odd that I’m getting birthday checks from my Gran when I’m 51 bleeding years old? I vow to spend it all on beer and chocolate. What a useless, parasitic enemy of the people I am.
I’ve been ruminating over ‘you’re as young as you feel”. I’m siding with it being true, if you’re just talking about your emotions. I don’t know; do older people have more subtle emotions because they’ve lived longer and seen more, and understand more of the implications of things? Or is that utter bs? I saw too many times, over the course of my life, the youngest child in the room being the wisest, not least because she was so uncannily observant. She was Katie Sharpeyes until she was 16. Insert brief grouse. Sure wish she’d call me back, or at least text me that she’s having far too much fun to call.
Damn, I can’t get that row of tequila shots we did out of my head. Yes, Jeff sprang for a round of shots last night, and ah, with the festive. That effin’ princess, Kashka (with what indulgent love I say it) had to have a lemon wedge, as she just can’t tolerate lime. Katie’s crush observed that when somebody else is paying, as a matter of form you take the shot as is. Indeed.
Still in New West, but fast forward to this evening. There is a butcher shop around the corner from Sixth and Sixth. I bought a really good steak there once, and I dashed in. I beheld the liver and my whole body shivered with delight. Yes, that’s just about the most disgusting sentence I could come up with on short notice, hope you liked it, hackneyed internal rhyme and all.
I thank Paul for the transpo into and out of New West… in rush hour, very much appreciated. I get anxious when I run out of toilet paper. I make jokes about it, but I get anxious too.
I cooked the liver, dredged in flour, salt and pepper, in butter which onions had been frying in for a while. I just barely cooked it, and it was so good. Margot got some too, I shouldn’t have, but she was finding my plate more than usually interesting.
Now I feel like sleeping. Life is so good.
