Money, Get Away

Montreal is an expensive city, and I have been spending indiscriminantly quite happily for some time now. Although I am very much enjoying my new clothes/CDs/cosmetics/memories of drunken nights out, I can't keep this up for much longer. My bank account is telling a tale of woe and irresponsibility. My bad spending habits have got to stop now.

Or...I could just get a part-time job. An easy, fun job like my DJ days at the Toucan that kept me in beer and groceries and a trip to New York City.

So I was skimming the McGill employment ads, and came across this:

ova for sale
Posted Thursday, September 23, 2004
Three beautiful McGill students, fertile and willing, looking to sell our ova. Prices negotiable, starting at $1000/egg or three (one of each) for $2500

Fucked up! Is this a joke? Or is it for real? If it's real than I just...I don't know...I mean...I...don't....uhhh....yeah.

No matter how dire my financial situation, my ova will stay put, thank you very much.

(Now playing: "The Trouble and the Truth", Cuff the Duke)

Stories of the Street

This morning, Lindsay, Katherine and I decided to go to Mile-End and get some Montreal-style bagels. As we were waiting at a bus stop, a couple walked by us. The man was older and was wearing a grey suit. The woman was young-ish and was wearing a black coat and had shiny dark hair. I barely noticed them because I was too busy looking for the bus.

Seconds later, Katherine said, "Wasn't that Leonard Cohen?" She had to repeat herself three times before I understood what she said.

Lindsay dashed into action. She (inconspicuously?) ran past the couple, slowed to a halt, and began "window shopping" just slightly ahead of them. She then turned around, got a good look, and ran back towards us. Her facial expression confirmed that it was him. He stopped, turned around, and I watched him watch her sprint away from him.

My mental snapsnot of Leonard Cohen is of an elderly, short-ish, distinguished-looking man with white stubble in a grey suit watching Lindsay run towards me, a look of confusion on his face.

Later, I wrote "Leonard Cohen sighting" as my MSN name and got the following messages from my very lovely 13-year-old cousin:

~_**Khrystyna**_~ i smell snow!!!! says:
who's leonard cohen
~_**Khrystyna**_~ i smell snow!!!! says:
is he that guy from star treck?

(Now playing: "Mushaboom", Feist)

I'm a Good Guy at Sports

Me: So...why is this World Cup so special?
Liz: Uh. Because it's the WORLD Cup.
Me: Okay, but I still...
Roberto: It's like World Idol.
Me: OHHHHH! Cool.

Not much posting in my future. Julie is coming to visit from Angleterre and will be arriving this afternoon. Come Friday, Lindsay, Katherine and Tiffany will also be here for the weekend. Ours will be an extremely full house, but a happy one.

(Now playing: "Death of an Interior Decorator", Death Cab for Cutie)

Big Smile (Like You Mean It)

Jesus H. Christ. I have GOT to stop talking to Matt Barber at his shows. I always end up sounding like a creepy, psychotic fangirl.

Observe:

Me: Hi Matt!

Matt: Oh. Hey Sofi. How's it going?

Me: Good, good! Great set! Listen, I know you probably think I'm stalking you, because I've seen you in three different cities in the past month...

Matt: Yeah. You're, uh, all over the place.

Me: Ha ha! I KNOW! But I live here now. It's so great! Anyway, you just happen to be playing the places where I just happen to BE! It works out so well.

Matt: Okay.

Me (realizing how insane my babbling is sounding, and deciding to bail immediately before causing any further damage): Well! Bye!

Matt: Bye.

GodDAMN.

The funny part is, I don't even have a crush on Matt Barber. I mean, I do find him terrifically endearing, but he's no this guy or anything.

In other funny/creepy news, I was walking to Cafe Campus tonight to meet Carol-Ann for the show, and took Coloniale (a less travelled and worse-lit street than St. Laurent) because it was faster. This young guy - maybe 18 or so - walked right in front of me and tried to engage me in conversation in French. At first I thought he was asking me for spare change, but then... actually, you know what? Let me just use that script format again.

Boy: Blah blah blah something crazy in French.

Me: Sorry?

Boy: Oh. Sorry! I like when your breasts bounce, you make the tongue move!

Me: Uhhh. Thanks. (Proceed to quickly walk away, thoroughly freaked out.)

Boy: Please not to be taking offense!

It occurred to me later that I was wearing my Rolling Stones logo shirt, and apparently I make the tongue on it move when my breasts bounce.

I'm glad a complete stranger took the time to point that out to me on the street at night.

(Now playing: "Smile Like You Mean It", The Killers)

Back to the Matter

Daaamn. I'd better update this before I get too far behind.

Point form is always a nice, concise way to go.

• Saw the always-lovely Jill Barber (the superior Barber) play her ever-lovely music (which made me nostalgic for Ktown) with the unwaveringly-lovely Lindsay Lynch after putting away a good portion of Ben & Jerry's ice cream (Cherry Garcia).
• Went to Tim Sims with Kem, Neil, Dave, Sian, Robin and Jay to see Justin Skinner and Elan Mastai's wicked-awesome-cool sketch comedy troupe, The Understudies, perform. Sheer fucking genius. I laughed so much and so consistently that my cheeks hurt at the end of the night.
• Threw a party in my parents' Scarborough home. There was a fancy cheese platter and some guy puked in my mom's rose garden, so I think that means it was a success.
• Angela and Rob got married! Jesumaria! It was a great night, and the speeches and everything really reflected their personalities. Also, watching a couple of elderly folk do the twist to "Hey Ya" is probably the greatest thing I have ever seen.
• Moved back to Montreal, and into a brand new room in my apartment. I have no actual furniture, so I am currently using a box for a desk. What it lacks in beauty it makes up for in sheer ghetto hilariousness.
• I had my very last first-day-of-school yesterday.

So now you're all caught up. And so am I. Good for us.

(Now playing: "Up All Night", The Scott Richards Case)