Anyway...someone should send me to London.
Also, for those who follow the ol' tweet machine I promised a tale from yesterday that I forgot to include in my thrilling recounting of my walk.
Leaving the practice space I saw a pretty lady across Ossington, heading north while I strode south.
I crossed the road and as I did I glanced back, catching her making a similar neck rotation (romantic notions just ooze from my word choices).
Who knows why I caught her eye, the point is it happened. And yes, she might have been looking past me, but what's the point in assuming that?
The glance-back-sync-up is always fun, although I never know quite what to do with it.
In this case my response to the situation was two-fold. Step one involved mumbling babe, babe, babe under my breath as I continued walking, passing other people on the sidewalk. Step two was me thinking I should probably look back again, because if one glance-back-sync-up is fun, a double whammy would probably be époustouflant (it's French, look it up).
So I looked, and I couldn't see her because the girl who I had just passed, while mumbling babe of course, was blocking my sight line. Also, lady the deuce doing the blocking had turned to look at me for my second glance-back-sync-up in a row.
Two in a row!
So what if the second was unintentional on my part. She now has a tale of passing romance to tell, or she's writing an entry on her blog...The Weirdos I See Outside CAMH.
That's our J -- always a looker (literally).
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