A Guide to Avoiding Political Discussions

Yesterday night I walked all the way down to the ghetto (which is located roughly 3 blocks away from my place) with flowers and wine to meet my hot date(s) for dinner.


Sarah and Sonja.


Who, by the way, don't own any wine glasses. (I gave the Sonja her wine in a 4-H mug because that just knocks the classiness up one scale.)


Sonja demonstrated the powers of her super-turbo death ray gun.


And by that, I mean the most sci-fi looking blow-dryer that I've seen in recent history.


John and Sonja.


Charles and Sarah controlled the music and sang after dinner.


And I took creepy pictures of love notes written to Sarah. (I found this one particularly cute. Sarah's boyfriend, Darren is a bearded individual, so he gets bonus points for writing simple but cute love notes and having facial hair that meets my expectations.)

After the singing subsided, we hopped on a streetcar (where I made three new friends including a guy who talked to me about Jesus, a guy who thought he was Mel Gibson, and an attactive younger guy whose full name was Jonathan David Paul, but sadly he lacked a beard), then transferred to another streetcar (where I made friends with another guy who had a beard and was wearing a Beer Store shirt) before arriving at Green Room to meet all the CUP* particpants.

Sarah, Sonja, Charles, John and I parted ways because the Green Room was so packed, and they left me to fend for myself.


But I made new friends immediatly. This was Plaid Shirt and Glasses from South Africa (yup, that was his full name), with his passed out friend.


And of course, all the CUP participants were there. Chloe, who works for the Gateway, had flown down with about 15 others from Edmonton for the conference.


Dave took inappropriate pictures of my cleavage.


So I took inappropriate pictures of him.


Dave was also the lucky recipient of a Jess-patented scalp massage. (I owed him 25 cents and we agreed that this was a better payment method). He also gave me the nicest compliment of the night:

"Jessica, having a conversation with you is like walking through a mine field."

This was probably provoked when to avoid political discussions, I asked the loaded question, "Which is worse: necrophilia or beastiality?"

Other David Berry facts: his favourite word is sensual, because it sounds exactly like what it means. Sensual. (Don't hesistate at all to read that word out loud. Personally, I like the word delicious for the same reason.)


James and Tim.


After Green Room, I got moody and walked home by myself in the rain.

While I was walking home, I overheard one guy quietly say to his friend (both obviously from the suburbs), "That girl's walking alone. Fuck, that's brave."


And took pictures of raccoons for my brother Andrew.

*CUP= Canadian University Press. I'm not too sure why I put this at the very bottom of the page, but it seemd like fun.