Today, I emerged from my office so I could consume food away from my computer and read my book. During my walk over to Au Bon Pain* a young man approached me fundraising for The Human Rights Campaign. I told him that ever since HRC threw their support behind Joe Lieberman, they'd lost me. He said, "Who?" I said, "Joe Lieberman... you know vice presidential candidate, democratic drum thumper for the Iraq War." He said, "Uh, OK. Have a good day."
I felt kind of bad. Here's some kid doing his activist part and some middle-aged lady shits all over it because of ancient politics. And then I wondered if 2003 was really "ancient" and decided that to me it's not, but since he was probably 10 or so when this whole damn goddamn Iraq debacle started it was to him.
It's all relative.
Still, fuck Joe Lieberman.
Then I got to the Au Bon Pain and had a half of a cheese sandwich and some salt and vinegar kettle chips (this, by the way, is the last meal I would have if I were going to be executed) and read my book where I encountered the word "jumpsuit." Why is it called a jumpsuit? Does anyone know? I could google it, I suppose... but I'll send you a dollar** if you can tell me without googling. Honor system here!
I did a quick Binny's run after that and while I was walking down Wells Street, I saw a pair of jeans in the gutter. I think it's odd how often I see jeans in gutters. Do you think I'm just running into a lot of sad but spirited break-ups? Hooker/John encounters gone wrong? Laundry malfunctions? I mean, not a lot! It's not like I see jeans in gutters every day or anything - but more than you would think. Is this just me? Maybe someone is trying to send me a cryptic message.
At Binny's I bought two bottles of wine and a handle of Jim Beam and I was going to turn down the bag because I could put the wine in my giant purse and carry the bourbon by the handle. I feel like if something has a handle, you should just carry it by the handle. But then I wondered how people would react to seeing some lady walking down the street with a handle of bourbon in her hand. The cashier suggested that I'd make a lot of friends. The guy behind me questioned the caliber of the friends I'd make.
It was a pleasant Binny's exchange.
I probably should have gone back around and offered a bourbon to the kid from the HRC. I could have accompanied it with a history lesson because he should good and goddamn well know who Joe Fucking Lieberman is.
* I passed a bakery on Armitage last weekend called Le Pain Quotidien. That's so pretentious it actively pissed me off. It's weird, right, that Au Bon Pain does not piss me off. I'm inconsistently irritated by pretentious French names on chain restaurants.
** I will probably not send you a dollar. I've been telling Don for 15 years now that I'll give him dollars for various favors. I have yet to pay up and if I'm going to start making good on my dollar promises, I'll probably start with him since I live with him.
