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From the ghost land of the easy life.

19 January 2006

i've never had this taste before :
I went out the the Highlander today. Gee Amber, you may say, it would be a shock if you DIDN'T go out to the Highlander on your day off. Bite me I'd say. Cuz I LIKE to say Bite ME.

I went because I knew that I could get a shot of 35 year old scotch there and I was right. 24 dollars later I know what 35 tastes like. It's actually great. Really smooth and sultry, with an nice smoky wood afterg;ow that lasts. It leaves a mark, but one you don't mind. It burns just enough to let you know it was there with 43% alcohol and it doesn't fade. It lingers with a whisper of memory that is warm and inviting. I think I'm going to LOVE 35 and what comes after it.

I did not manage to find a new pair of house pants. The chair I have in my room ate that gorgeous red pair I had so I took it's arms off (that'll teach it). It was an interesting day for overheard bus conversations. I heard a couple of maybe 16 year olds talking. One was saying she's going to burn in hell because she has a life inside her that she doesn't want, doesn't want to keep, won't give up for adoption (I can't carry it for that long and just give it away)and won't sell (what kind of person are you? to her friend's suggestion). Then there were the obvious University students politely discussing the euthanisation of one's dog due to (debilitating I assume) pain, and then how cruel it is to keep dogs in the city if you don't have a back yard or at least a parking lot(?).

I did see Liam Neeson again at the Highlander. I live in my own world so I think he likes me. I also think the waitress turned green with envy when I told her I had the scotch to see what 35 tastes like, because I just turned 35. I was pissed tho, before I went there I went to East Side Marios in the St Laurent Mall. I was ignored until this heavily made up girl came and stood with me then the 'hostess' asked her first what she wanted. The waiter was so annoying that I just ordered a drink and then left. The drink was a rootbeer, which East Side's is supposed to give free refills on and instead of brining me that 20 oz. one (that I wouldn't have finished anyways) he brings me a glass of ice and a warm can. If I was eating and needed another I would have paid double because of the can. After that I said fuck you. It's bad enough to go out alone to a restaurant but to be ignored and badly treated because of it is BAD for business. I won't go there again with or without other people, and I know lots of people to tell NOT to go there too. And some will listen :)

I did promise Glo to post a poem that I wrote about sounds and such. I will later, at midnight so it's its own post. I'll probably post 2 just because the one I have thought of is only started by sound it doesn't have an entirety of it. Going to go listen to Tori Amos now. Keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 6:40 PM

MenTal fUrbAll