Ed and I didn’t really exchange birthday gifts this year – the San Francisco trip was our mutual present – but I cheated and got him some XBox Live points and he gave me a Chapters gift card. There wasn’t anything urgent in my Must Have book list, so I held onto the card for a while.

Today has been somewhat of a crappy day, so I thought maybe I would buy myself some books online to cheer myself up. I looked through the latest releases (nothing interesting), searched for new books on my favourite topics (I already own all the books on video games and scooters), and lastly looked to see if my favourite art book publisher had any exciting new offerings.

Oh, my.

yes please

.. this book, plus Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, is being packaged and sent to my house as we speak.

Express.

With laminated pages.

Thanks for the birthday present, Ed!

I hate it when my aim is off. On the other hand, my shoulder hair will have great volume and shine!

There’s a hobo standing outside my building, handing out coupons. Normally people just take the coupon and move on, but this guy is *really* *excited* about them – he’s ambushing people when they get close, and presenting the coupon with a flourish. When he’s turned down, he cries and wails saying “WHY WON’T ANYONE TAKE MY COUPONS?! WHYYYYY?!” He is a melodramatic hobo, to be sure. I think his approach and hobo-manner is frightening some people off, because the coupon is a pretty decent one – buy a sub at Quiznos and get a free combo upgrade. They’re attempting to lure customers in, because a fancy new place opened up next door. OOH – what if the new place gets their own Coupon Hobo?! There could be Hobo Wars right outside my office! The action! The adventure! The startling aromas and secret hobo spices! Awesome.

When Shan and I were at Target (which is endlessly fascinating to us Canadians) last Saturday, I bought a cute little top with crazy embroidery and sparkles. It’s from their Woodstock collection, which is marketed to those who haven’t the faintest idea what Woodstock is. As I was paying for my exciting American goods, the checkout lady went on a friendly rant – all the clothes are wrong because Woodstock happened in 1967, not 1969. She knows this because she got married in 1969, and her husband went to Woodstock in 1967, before they met. Everything that says Woodstock happened in 1969 is wrong, including the cute pink shirt I was buying. It’s too bad that the entire universe has the date mixed up, but at least she could set ME straight. I dodged a bullet there – how embarrassing, thinking that Woodstock happened in 1969 when it was really in 1967.