Bus Love

In the interests of my own emotional survival, I've cultivated a bus crush. If I take the bus to work at a certain time, or back eight hours later, I'll see him. Pale, bearded, probably undernourished, he'll be reading a book. I'll open mine in sympathy.

After six weeks, that's the level of intimacy we've achieved.

And I'm fine with that.

If I actually had to talk to him, and find out what he was reading, it could ruin everything. He could be gay, married, gay and married, or worst of all, be in the middle of reading a terrible book. My love is strong and true, but probably not strong enough to survive Atlas Shrugged. I would also have to confront the fact that my passion is one of convenience. Ever since I slung books at my university bookstore, I've nurtured crushes on coworkers, as a patch whenever the work, or even the paycheque, was not enough. Unfortunately, this didn't work out so well in Victoria, where I had no office options, few local options, and probably ended up fixated on a longboarder because of all that. I have a similar problem with my current job, but the Commuting Reader seems to be the solution.

I just pray he never buys a car.

Domestic Thursday: Black Creek Pumpkin Ale

Photo by Ally

My fridge is still looking festive, thanks to more pumpkin beer and a particularly spoooooky dessicated swiss chard. Woooooo. 

That should probably be thrown out, though I will hold on to Black Creek Historic Brewery's Pumpkin Ale. You may remember Black Creek from my December outing. As a brewery headquartered in a historical village, it's dedicated to preserving the brewing traditions of the 19th century - for ales produced on-site, at least. LCBO-sourced bottles like this one are made in a commercial space, to meet demand... and because sticking on labels using Ye Olde Flour Paste would have been tedious. 

Unlike Mill Street's entry, this one is strictly barley-based. My fellow beer questers, Aleks and Ally, tried both. Aleks found Mill Street's to be very fizzy and a little more bitter, while she tasted citrus in Black Creek's, and liked it better. I would agree. The spices seemed better balanced in this brew, and I even thought there was something woodsy about it, before the beer kicked in and reminded me that I was being unbearably pretentious. As Aleks pointed out, neither tastes all that much like pumpkin, though both smell like a fresh-baked pie. Thirty days later, I hope to figure out if that's because pumpkin is such a subtle taste to infuse, or if the spices overwhelm everything else. Cheers to research. 

In Which My Toe Gets Bitten Off in Shallow Water...

This past weekend I was in the throes of the "afternoon drunks," and decided to start an online dating profile.

It was a decision I regretted within an hour.

That was how long it took for some dude, high on male privilege and/or life, to message me an analysis of my personality based on my dating profile, ending with "How can you be more idealistic than you look if you don't even have a picture up lol" First, I didn't have time to put one up, second, I'm not very photogenic, third FUCK YOU and fourth lol, YOU ASSHOLE.

Anyway, I kept my profile up, lol, in spite of this small setback. Pinball Mike from 3030 met his current girlfriend through a dating site, and Pinball Mike is pretty great. Maybe I could meet the generic, Mr. Pibbs-version of Pinball Mike! So I felt somewhat optimistic when I got a message from another potential suitor. The hat was questionable, but at least it was clear that he had taken the time to read my profile. Before messaging him back I thought I would read it too. Bam. Married, and in an open relationship.

I will die alone.

No one will mourn my passing.

Except maybe the cats.

But all is not lost. When I texted my conclusions to my friend S, we agreed to die alone... together.