I woke up this morning to a text message from my sister stating that Liz Taylor had died. I replied, “that’s sad,” and then she replied, “blog about it.” So I thought, ‘yeah, I guess I should blog about it,’ because its been awhile since I blogged and probably my fans (read: my sister) are (read: is) really missing my unique perspective things like Amy Grant and good looking soccer players.
I’ve not been blogging because I’ve been wasting my days off, lounging around the house in underpants and my Fabio t-shirt, watching ‘Snog. Marry. Avoid.’ and ‘Never Mind the Buzzcocks’ on youtube. That’s been my life these last few months and I’ve not been unhappy with it. But, I suppose, now’s as good a time as any to get motivated and do something more useful (or at least active) with my time.
Which brings us back to Liz Taylor. Because I had Liz Taylor on my mind, and, because Liz was always such a fabulously glamorous woman, I thought I should try to get in the mood for blogging about her by being more glamourous myself. So I thought I would zip up to thrift shop on Kingsway and Knight to look for some new shoes and then nip into Buy Low on the way home to pick up some produce for a nice light mediterranean lunch and then just quickly stop into the liquor store to buy a bottle of white to drink out on the balcony as I blogged about Liz.
Here’s what happened though. I got on the number 19 headed towards Knight from Broadway, feeling chipper and fully intending to read and appear charming for the duration of my trip. At about Fraser, a man clutching a reusable shopping bag got on and sat down at the very back of the bus about five or six seats away from me. Around Clark I glanced up at him just briefly and noticed some moisture on his upper lip and thought nothing of it. Three seconds later I looked back and realized that he was throwing up into his reusable bag. The bus arrived at my stop and I got off.
Not to be deterred from my mission for glamour, I bought a pair of clip-on earrings from the thrift shop, picked up some fennel and celery from Buy Low and grabbed a bottle of moscato from the liquor store. At this point, I was back to feeling wonderful- the sun, the green, the nice liquor store clerk. I was in the right state of mind to tell you all what I think of Liz Taylor. Only, just as I was about to cross Broadway at Fraser, I gave a bland smile to a man standing next to me at the intersection. He smiled back and said, ‘how you doing?’ and I said, “pretty good,” and then he said, “it’s check day isn’t it? Welfare day?” and I said, “I don’t really know,” and then he said- and this is the reason that I can’t write about Liz today- “I’m gonna go cash my welfare check and spend it on a big, fat crack rock.”
The wine’s chilling in the fridge and I’ve put on my new spangly, glamourous earrings. But, you know what? I’m just not feeling it today.