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most fucked up thing to ever happen to me, making me question the existence of god and in what capacity god sees me - lab rat to torture? or loyal lapdog in need of reward? or bored housewife with void to fill?

PROF. HOTTIE HAS MOVED INTO "THE NEIGHBOURHOOD"

by which i mean MY HOOD. (my old hood)

i BUMPED INTO him,

nay i PASSED him at bathurst and college with socks WITH SOCKS! on my way to brunch.

and i said to her "that's prof h, that's prof h, that's prof h" and she said "YOU SHOULD SAY HI" (not shouting of course) and i said "no way!"

and then we passed,

the light was red,

i turned around and accosted him, saying "HI!"

and him awkwardly being like

"oh yeah, hi, yeah, um..."

and me being like "so, doing anything exciting for canada day?"

(i was flustered and can't think on my feet under such EXTREME DURESS)

and he said

"no...do you know where there is a post office?"

"ummmmmmmmmmm...past dominion...ummmmmmmmm, you could go into shoppers and get stamps and there's a postbox.....ummmmmmmmmmm"

"no, i don't need to send anything, i just moved into the neighbourhood and have to ummmm, i didn't inform of my change of address and um..."

"you want a post office box??!@?! yeah, they have those there...."

"there is a word for it in german, but....ummmm"

(picture these sentences, both his and mine, being said at once. serious lack of turn-taking and coherent conversational flow.)

"yes, you fill out a card and...uhhhh, i don't know how it works."

"do you live around here?"

"ummmmmmm (looking around...) yes, yeah..."

pause...him looking longingly at the other side of the road/escape

"um, dr. hottie, socks, socks, um.."

"oh yes, nice to meet you" hand shake pause...

"well, we're just going for brunch....so, ummmmm, if you need any advice on restaurants or, uh, post offices....ha ha. *oh god shoot me now*"

*prof h runs away*

*i shake and ask socks several times if i was dumb/obvious/ok*

*she answers that i'm fine except for the sweatiness*

***fin***

now this begs many a question -

1. left his wife?

2. bachelor pad?

3. stalking me?

4. now debating giving his notice because i'm stalking him?

5. totally hates me and wishes he was never nice to me?

and OF COURSE this means that i have to look good ALL THE TIME and wear sexy

underwear, and i have NO DOUBT he'll come into my store and see me stocking

radishes in my dirty apron...or better yet, bending over, ass in the air in a

most unattractive way...(that's me, i'm talking about, not him...)

oh god, the ulcer, she's returning!

and how i want to show him the sights of the street - you know, which crazy

people to ignore, which sports bars to avoid, which skanky hos NOT to look at -

see films at the rep cinema and sit inside starbucks enjoying bougie lattes

discussing torture at length...

and now there is a cop in this internet cafe. they are after me already.