Personal Dropping Notes
.1. As mentioned yesterday, you can now add “drop it” to the list of items that describe how I live my life.
Two mornings ago, I was standing in Tim Horton’s waiting for a cab, and carrying two extra large cups of coffee in a tray. Standing quietly and minding my own business, I was in the front entrance, which is completely encased in glass, with many an individual standing outside in the parking lot.
Note to self: Was contemplating how I would spend my first million.
Suddenly, and without any movement on my part, one of the extra large cups of coffee tipped over, the cap flew off like a bullet and the coffee attempted to make its great escape. Like all entities headed for prison, the coffee, once destined for someone’s insides, then bowels and ultimately colon, made its break away as quickly as possible, gushing everywhere, hitting all parts of the glass that surrounded me, spilling over on to my jacket, jeans, sweater, and finally the tile floor that was just cleaned by the too-kind Tim Horton’s staff. Once forced to live inside of filters and coffee pots, the coffee understood that it only had moments to rush out, before its bid for freedom could be thwarted forever.
Rather than allowing the coffee to break and run free (perhaps it was destined for the great outback in Australia), I used my own body in an attempt to hinder its run toward freedom. Using both arms, legs and even shoulders (but not necessarily in that order), I tried in vain to stop the coffee from spilling, inadvertently giving freedom to the other extra large cup of coffee watching sadly as its friend ran wild.
There I danced, two extra large cups of coffee spilling over me in all their glory; must have been a sight for all those standing in the parking lot. Rather than being the true socialist and allowing these two cups of coffee to move forward in their plight for sovereignty, I tried to oppress them. Am terribly sad at this tragic turn of events, for when the time came to be true to my word, I failed miserably.
In order to understand the calibre and severity of the situation, I recommend that each of you pick up an empty cup sized extra large from Tim Horton’s, fill it with warm water and then throw it over yourselves (must remember to refill and do this once more, asap).
There I stood, showered in coffee, my feet soaking in more coffee and the Tim Horton’s tiles covered in the rest of the coffee (Viva la revolucion!). Stepping back, it looked as though a massive coffee bomb had exploded all over the front entrance and me. They gave me more coffee for free; it’s nice to know that despite my stupidity, they think I a worthy customer. I tried to tell them that I threw the coffee around for fun, but they laughed, hurra!d and still handed me the coffee; one gentleman in line pretended to duck as I walked past, lest I throw my new coffees at him.
Jacket is now at the dry cleaners and my jeans and sweater in the wash. Am seated next to another cup of coffee at the moment, and I can hear the particles within whispering “…she’s the one; She’s the one that wouldn’t let them get away…”
.2. Am going to see Closer this evening. Clive Owen and Jude Law, hello.
.3. Here is how many of our American neighbours perceive us Canadian folk (kick up your snow shoes, grab your Molson, put on your earmuffs, pet your sledding dogs and enjoy).
Two mornings ago, I was standing in Tim Horton’s waiting for a cab, and carrying two extra large cups of coffee in a tray. Standing quietly and minding my own business, I was in the front entrance, which is completely encased in glass, with many an individual standing outside in the parking lot.
Note to self: Was contemplating how I would spend my first million.
Suddenly, and without any movement on my part, one of the extra large cups of coffee tipped over, the cap flew off like a bullet and the coffee attempted to make its great escape. Like all entities headed for prison, the coffee, once destined for someone’s insides, then bowels and ultimately colon, made its break away as quickly as possible, gushing everywhere, hitting all parts of the glass that surrounded me, spilling over on to my jacket, jeans, sweater, and finally the tile floor that was just cleaned by the too-kind Tim Horton’s staff. Once forced to live inside of filters and coffee pots, the coffee understood that it only had moments to rush out, before its bid for freedom could be thwarted forever.
Rather than allowing the coffee to break and run free (perhaps it was destined for the great outback in Australia), I used my own body in an attempt to hinder its run toward freedom. Using both arms, legs and even shoulders (but not necessarily in that order), I tried in vain to stop the coffee from spilling, inadvertently giving freedom to the other extra large cup of coffee watching sadly as its friend ran wild.
There I danced, two extra large cups of coffee spilling over me in all their glory; must have been a sight for all those standing in the parking lot. Rather than being the true socialist and allowing these two cups of coffee to move forward in their plight for sovereignty, I tried to oppress them. Am terribly sad at this tragic turn of events, for when the time came to be true to my word, I failed miserably.
In order to understand the calibre and severity of the situation, I recommend that each of you pick up an empty cup sized extra large from Tim Horton’s, fill it with warm water and then throw it over yourselves (must remember to refill and do this once more, asap).
There I stood, showered in coffee, my feet soaking in more coffee and the Tim Horton’s tiles covered in the rest of the coffee (Viva la revolucion!). Stepping back, it looked as though a massive coffee bomb had exploded all over the front entrance and me. They gave me more coffee for free; it’s nice to know that despite my stupidity, they think I a worthy customer. I tried to tell them that I threw the coffee around for fun, but they laughed, hurra!d and still handed me the coffee; one gentleman in line pretended to duck as I walked past, lest I throw my new coffees at him.
Jacket is now at the dry cleaners and my jeans and sweater in the wash. Am seated next to another cup of coffee at the moment, and I can hear the particles within whispering “…she’s the one; She’s the one that wouldn’t let them get away…”
.2. Am going to see Closer this evening. Clive Owen and Jude Law, hello.
.3. Here is how many of our American neighbours perceive us Canadian folk (kick up your snow shoes, grab your Molson, put on your earmuffs, pet your sledding dogs and enjoy).
Labels: Dork
posted by just a girl at 9:05 PM
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