bitchin and brunchin and brou-ha-ha

So around 4 AM my asshole neighbour in apartment 301 decided to come home and slam all his doors and play loud music and yell and scream and throw things around and break shit. I don't care if he breaks things; with any luck he killed himself, but for god's sake what kind of people is Porta Holdings renting to these days? I've got the pigs down the hall leaving their garbage out and now this ass next door. Angry letter time to management, and phone calls to the police next time.

Jamie and I went for breakfast at a Queen East establishment called Hello Toast! which has a really clever kind of website and some interesting eclectic decor. The charm of its visual appeal though is not enough to forgive their awful pancakes. I ordered the blueberry flapjacks and they were just slabs of dough with blueberries on top. And there was some needy jerk beside us who kept switching tables because he thought they were all too wobbly. The walk back along Queen Street East to our next destination was pleasant though; it always is. We had nice blue skies and sunshine, which is hard to dress for when the humidity starts to come out of the air and you sear and burn in the open and freeze in the shade.

Our nest stop was the annual Word on the Street publishing festival. When I worked at Penguin Books Canada the WOTS materials were always a priority but this year I couldn't find the Penguin booth. Odd. But there were lots of people out there looking at books, talking about books, buying books, holding books or standing next to books to make themselves look smarter. Wonderful, I said as we got there, just wonderful, but the charm wore off when the psuedo-literary crowd just turned into any other crowd complete with staggering zombies, morons with strollers bashing into people's legs, and pretentious gits poo-pooing everyone else's choice of reading material. Oh and there were books.

Over to Church Street we went for a stroll where pretentiousness is not only expected but encouraged. Check out all those stylish gay men who swear up and down on the internet that they do not "do" the Church Street scene, but there they were all tarted up and tottering up and down the sidewalk on a Sunday afternoon. And there was already loud dance music blaring from the local businesses trying to lure customers inside with the promise of the party never stopping if you buy their overpriced underwear or their crude witless t shirts.

Then home.

So here I am with the last few minutes of my day ticking by before I go to work tonight. Yes, the week commenceth anew. And what pleasures it shall hold. Ahead of me I see... payday. Oh and my nephews are going to be here on Friday night for a sleepover. Seems they like coming here. Hopefully not for the shopping, cause this pay is a tight one. But that doesn't mean we can't have a few little treats. Emphasis on "little", with "little" meaning "affordable".

That is all.