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Today, at lunchtime, my coworkers and I attempted to hit up the Casbah for some chocolate-chip-banana-bread-French-toast, cos I’ve been raving about it for a century. Unfortunately, the place was closed, and so we decided to head to Velma’s Traditional Newfoundland food (where I devoured a plate of gravy, fries, and a turkey sandwich, and then punished myself by walking around Signal Hill for two hours).
Anyway, so we passed a sidewalk sale at Johnny Ruth where all the dresses were on sale for $50. JR is shamelessly expensive; I poked around in there the other day but couldn’t find anything for under $200. If I’m going to buy any piece of clothing for $200 or more, it better damned well be able to do my taxes and tuck me into my bed at night.
So then I found my red dress, THE red dress, the RED dresses of all RED dresses…exactly what I was looking for to wear to Spirit Fest and my cousin’s wedding… eye-catching, slightly provocative, and classy. The kind of dress that says come hither all you sexy, single men…and buy me a drink.
It was $150 originally. Go me.
I’m in the puppy market again, and this time I’m determined. I’ve narrowed my search down to either an Alaskan Malamute or a Bernese Mountain Dog. The Malamute is my all-time dream dog and I’ve been dying to own one since I was a young lass. Unfortunately, there are no breeders within the province, and I can’t find a pup for under $1500. They’re also notoriously intelligent and mischievous, thus posing potential problems for someone like me who isn’t overly familiar with the breed.
The Bernese is more up my ally… plus I know a friend of a friend whose family breeds the dogs, and so far they’ve proven to be exceptionally professional and friendly.
All I know is that I have PUPPY FEVER, which is better than BABY FEVER I am sure. Pretty soon I will be hosting a Birthday party for my new pup, and maybe a Baptism. Maybe I will start an exclusive club. Maybe I will go to a dog bakery and get the dog a dog cake. BUT, if I ever want to get laid again… I won’t.
Discovered an amazing new pub last night, The Duke of Duckworth. Not new, exactly, but recently uninhabited by me and therefore not worthy of existence. And holy jaysus is Kerouac pretentious or what?