So it turns out bike co-op volunteer is Papa Smurf. She likes to caution folks to "stay outta trouble." Such good stuff, she is. We hung out all day yesterday. We ended the day drinking a beer in the park, Boris Bold no less. And we chatted and laughed and made fun of things. I wish I were 23. I'd have asked her out. Did I just type that?
Yeah, yeah. And I meant it too. She's just so smurfin' cute and cooooool. She wanted like a hand shake or some shit when we left the park, but I gave her a big smurf instead. Seriously, she makes Montreal so much sweeter... and she's an American.
Alright, enough with the dreamy shit. Montreal seems to be in full festival swing. The Jazz Festival starts soon, and they've got a beer festival going right now. So as part of the beer fest, which you can assume I'm all about, I show up to hang out with this other chick. She's crazy, and a wreck. So I get there when the thing ends and we Metro it to her place for an indoor bar-b-que (that's how much of a WRECK she is). The beer fest, in case you're wondering (which, for obvious reasons, you weren't), was not warranting of my visit. They pour about 2 ounces of beer per $1 ticket. That's just highly inconceivable. I'd only ever go to check out drunk Quebecoise chicks. Anyway, the indoor bar-b-que was in a part of town called Snowdon or something. I live in a part of town called Verdun. Google Map it. In fact, Yahoo! Map it! Because, inevitibly, the metro closed on me and I had to walk that distance. With plantar faciistis, no less. Good thing I was sufficiently drunk.
Damn! I just wrote, to one of the most aloof human beings I've ever met (who is a teacher) that one has to be, in the classroom, more Hillary Clinton than Albert Einstein sometimes. In other words, I was suggesting she temper knowledge with diplomacy. Man, can I toot my own horn!
Alright. So I know I'm no good for anyone. I'm marginalized by weak self efficacy, advancing age, and a lack of charm. But I have a crush on a girl and it feels so good.
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