My love, it'll be (Just Like) Starting Over

Along with a long line of different ways to use maple syrup, there's this tradition in Quebec where people fill tiny ice cream cones with dark maple and top it off with sucre à la crème. These are sold pretty much everywhere you can find food, all year round - in farmer's markets, corner stores, grocery stores, etc. Last Sunday (like every Sunday), my friend and I went to Jean Talon Market and bought some. I just finished my first cornet and am now replete with maple-fueled ecstasy.
So this is my life in Montreal.

I have been up since about 10:30, have had one cup of coffee, and am seriously deliberating with myself whether or not I want another before I head to school to run some pre-semester errands (buy gym pass - on credit, thank you- as well as figure out some OHIP form thing).

I feel almost back to normal now.

I hate people.

Every time I'm in Toronto for an extended period of time, say, over three weeks, I begin to go stir-crazy. And as I type this, I do feel a pang of guilt - it's nice being close to my family again, and having the modern conveniences of a toaster oven (in my apartment in Montreal, the oven works well enough to not necessitate a smaller version), television, the piano, and counter space. But at the same time, while in Montreal I don't get the experience the bliss of reclining in a comfy armchair watching Stephen Colbert, cup of tea in hand while the rest of my family is asleep, I have found myself going slightly stir crazy here. Perhaps because in Montreal, I am walking distance within EVERYTHING, and it always seems worth the trek, or because I know that just a few streets away, my similarly unemployed and broke friends are always up for sitting around talking.
I am stressing that there is nothing here to stress out about.
How did I used to do it, all those summers ago when I was in my mid-teens and never had to worry about things like jobs, when if somebody blew me off for the day, I would be content to sit inside and watch terrible day-time television for hours on end? In the past two weeks, I have formed an all-too-intimate relationship with Regis and Kelly that I would prefer to break off as soon as possible.


I actually think this town is making me a more awful person. Impatient, bitter, mean, FATTER BY THE HOUR, and just way more insecure and self-loathsome. I attribute it to the general atmosphere, the hours spent cooped up at home being less than productive...

Sorry, guys. This is my wallow post.

But the next time I write I will be back in Montreal, so hopefully I will be a much easier person to deal with then.

Cleanse.

So I went out last night to the Taste of the Danforth and ate five pierogis, a lamb gyro, and an entire funnel cake.
Today, I decided to take a Leek Cleanse and eat nothing but leeks and leek broth.

I kind of want to take a baby cow, slaughter it, and just take a bite out of its raw thigh, fur and all.
I could also settle for a Big Mac.

BUT I CAAAAAAAAAAN'T.

Observations from the La-Z-Boy at 1:14

1) Craig Ferguson, can you please be a bigger asshole? Bill Clinton just saved two journalists from North Korea and your only joke (that you keep running into the ground) is, "He's used to bringing two girls home" and "He's good at sneaking girls out of government buildings".

2) Craig Ferguson, can you not find a better guest than old washed-out CNN reporters who are known mostly for sensationalizing human interest stories?

3) Wolf Blitzer, can you please delete yourself from life?

Me: "PEOPLE DON'T COMMENT ON MY BLOG."

Dave: "to be fair, your first poem was basically porn"


WHO ELSE THOUGHT THIS??? It was NOT porn, it's actually about two people just SLEEPING together. So get your mind out of the gutters.

ALSO. You people are NOT allowed to complain about me not blogging enough if YOU GUYS DON'T GIVE ME ANYTHING (in the form of comments). Hop to it!

That is all.