While I was standing on the corner this evening, waiting for the Mister to come and pick me up from work, a homeless guy stopped to ask me for some change. My hands were full, and I knew I had almost no silver because of my scrounging for the exact change earlier at Tim Horton's. (The servers at Tim Horton's sometimes almost smile at you if you give them the exact change.) Because I am Canadian and generally an all-around nice person, I apologized when I refused him. Then he said "don't be sorry, but if you have any dope, that would be okay." Sadly, I had no marijuana on me at the time, either. Because naturally, the next step after spare change would be to ask the middle-aged, suburban housewife if she has any pot.
There will be no blog for the next couple of days; I'm off to Calgary to whoop it up at my cousin James' and his charming fiancee, Lisa's, wedding. I've never been to Alberta before, but I hear the whooping is excellent.
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