So last night was my Halloween outing. It was not fun. My costume - an elaborate Carmen SanDiego - was, granted, flawless, but the party I ended up at was so wildly underwhelming. In the gay village, and almost entirely francophone. Sweeeeeet. I drank vodka water and spoke to virtually no one.
Wait. That is not true. There was a boy who looked like Brad Dourif, circa One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. While Claire and I were waiting in line for the bathroom, this boy started chatting to us about our costumes - Claire was an impressive John Galliano - and was generally friendly. We went into the bathroom together, and upon emerging, he inquired as to what we were doing in there. I don't think, in my vodka water induced blur, I was able to muster the facial expression that best expressed my emotion (somewhere between indignation and curiosity, with just a hint of amusement) before he clarified "which drugs?"
I guess I live in Montreal now...
To add insult to no-fun, I was surprisingly hung over today. I am too old to drink I think. I felt totally sober on the walk home, drank over a litre of water before bed, and still, still I am suffering from 1 am heartburn.
Perhaps not entirely the fault of the vodka. I did make some questionable dietary choices today. Lasagna, risotto, beer, beef and barley soup, nachos, a latte, and the most amazing brownie I has ever wrapped my lips around. All within the span of 4 hours or so. I can never pass up lunch at Ye Olde with Cam, even if I have just binged on leftovers. Hair of the dog followed by coffee is surprisingly effective at lessening the pangs of dehydration though, fyi.
Reality consisting of more frantic midterm marking, a 120 page reading quota, and a thesis proposal draft by Wednesday will be crashing down when my obnoxious alarm clock goes off in 6 hours...
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