People often tell me that I look different in every photo and that no photo really accurately portrays me. I always answer with an unnecessarily sassy comment along the lines of, “You’re an idiot” but I just noticed that these people are ENTIRELY RIGHT. I uploaded my Cuba pictures last night (better late than never, I guess) and I barely recognize myself. What is wrong with my face? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t mean that I look hideous, I just mean that I don’t look like ME. Oh well. Whatever. Enjoy the pics.
SO BLUE! I’d post different photos but these are the prettiest. I wish I lived somewhere exotic – I’m so not made for Montreal, though I love it nonetheless. The only downside is that my stomach would really have to accustom itself to food that isn’t poutine or hot dogs (what? I eat healthy sometimes). I survived on bananas and Chicoticos in Cuba. Chicoticos are Cheeze-Its that are garlic-flavored. They’re disgusting at first but then they become delicious but then you feel bad for eating them because you stink. It’s an adventure, really.
More pics at my Flickr.
I just realized that my summer has been entirely uneventful. Between working like crazy, obsessing over Big Brother (don’t judge me) and sleeping, I haven’t done anything. My excuse is that the weather has, for the most part, been terrible. I did go on vacation in May but that kind of sucked, too.
I visited the Dominican Republic for a week and all I got was bad diarrhea. Well, I also got a pretty good tan but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about poop. If you feel this is beneath you, please stop reading now.
OK, I’ve had diarrhea before but nothing like this. I’m thinking I may have brought it on myself. I stayed at one of those ‘all-inclusive’ resorts, where for about a thousand bucks, you get a plane ticket, a place to sleep and all the buffet food you can handle. Turns out I couldn’t handle much.
Before I get started, I have to say that Punta Cana was beautiful.
It was humid.
What can possibly be worse than being stuck in a sea of humans in 30 degree weather? Well, a lot of things, like farting on a first date or watching a loved one die. But being stuck on the corner of Crescent & Ste Catherine streets during Formula 1 weekend is definitely an honorable mention in my Top 100 of All Things That Suck. Brace yourselves, folks, because it looks like we might get stuck with the damn race again. Negotiations between the city of Montreal and good old sexist Bernie Ecclestone, president & CEO of Formula 1, have been taking place over the last couple of weeks.
You can imagine how deep my heart sank when I heard the news. We’re already forced to cope with Jazzfest, Just for Laughs, Francopholies, Nuits d’Afrique, and about a million other tourist-magnet festivals. Living and working downtown makes the presence of these events extremely unpleasant and difficult to deal with. F1 weekend holds a not so special place in my heart – it’s when Crescent mobilizes to welcome the throngs of rich tourists and wannabes. I can already smell Jean Paul Gaultier secreting out of thick, over-tanned necks. I’m hearing distant sounds of lame euro dance and loud, drunk American frat boys. I think I can even see guys flaunting Ed Hardy caps and girls wearing jeans with no ass pockets.
Wait. I’m re-reading those last few sentences and come to think of it, these images are not only reserved for F1 weekend. They are the harsh, daily realities of Crescent Street. Crescent is, as depressing as this may sound, the “it” street for far too many tourists & residents of Montreal. There are so many lame things about this street. I’m not even sure where to start.