Crummy Monday

I woke up in a good mood this morning. I slept well on newly laundered sheets. After checking my mail and the weekly results of my hockey pool, I was buoyed by the fact that my garbage team, managed to pull it out last night and post a decent result. My apartment is all neat and tidy, and with all my dishes done, I decided to make waffles for breakfast.

It was at this point that my day started to go sour.

I guess I didn't put in enough oil, because the waffles stuck. They were crispy on the outside (I hate them crispy. A waffle should be cooked throughly, but soft) and uncooked in the middle. When I opened the iron they pulled apart into a mucky mess. More like crunchy gum than waffles, I managed to salvage what I could, but no amount of syrup could make a meal out of it. Instead, I've been left with a filthy waffle iron that sits, to this moment, waiting to be cleaned.

I decided that rather than sitting around all afternoon pretending to work but more accurately doing nothing, that I would go to the movies. I was going to check out Good Night, and Good Luck and The Squid and the Whale using the immortal movie-theatre-sneak.

I headed to the Bathurst subway and they were waving people through for free. I tucked my ticket back into my wallet and smiled as I went on my way.

I made it to the theatre and bought a ticket to GNGL and checked out the other theatre to scope out my post movie route to my free feature. Everything looked good.

The movie was quite good and I daresay that George Clooney may know what he's doing as director. I don't have much to say about the film other than that I liked it. It's hard not to watch the film and not make (the perhaps too obvious) connections to the present day political situation, the state of modern television, and journalism. I might also ask George Clooney what he thought the world was learning from television shows like Roseanne and The Facts of Life?

After the movie, I prepared to sneak into the other theatre, but I just couldn't do it. There was a 20 minute lag between the two shows, and the place was a ghost town, but I couldn't do it. I went to the bathroom to get psyched up, but when I went down the stairs, I turned left to go outside. I couldn't risk getting caught.

I decided to grab a banquet burger special from the Burger Shack and hopped on the Eglington West bus. I figured that I would hop out grab dinner and then get on the Avenue Road 5, but in some twisted kick from fate, I got busted by the driver trying to get on with my transfer. She asked, "Why do you have a transfer from Eglington station?" I told her that I had stopped to get a hamburger, to which she replied, "You're not allowed to get off and on."

I guess I played the idiot well and she let me on anyway, but I felt that she had judged me badly and it made me not only feel guilty, but really sad. After not being able to rip off the movie theatre even though I wanted to, I was now judged a con and a cheat by the bus driver even though I hadn't meant to. As I sat in the back of the bus, I could feel her eyes watching me in the mirror, and I had to get off the bus. I walked from Avenue Road and St-Clair to my house, because I couldn't stand being there anymore.

So I moped home with my hands in my pockets. I wandered around The Beguiling hoping to find something by Harvey Pekar, but I only came to the understanding that I don't know anything about comic books. I've always had a strange fascination with comics, but have never actually purchased any. I've always felt that I've missed out on a lot by not reading them.

As I left the store I scraped my forehead on the branch of a tree much to the delight of someone smoking on the sidewalk. It made me angry that he was laughing at my misfortune, but it made me even sadder that I would have done the exact same thing.

So now I'm off to tackle the waffle iron, which may or may not get thrown into the garbage. I'm trying my best to avoid a drink, getting my duvet and curling up on the couch, but at this point it might be the best thing for me.