The post-it note will read: "you suck"

Happy Birthday Morrissey. You are getting hell old. So am I. We age and bloat together but we are still wicked cool.

Today seems to be the day where all the women of Montreal have unanimously decided; no more tights. Even though it's not that much warmer than usual, 20 degrees, I still decided that today would be dress and bare legs day. I was a bit cold and I thought maybe it wasn't the right choice. However, upon arriving downtown I noticed not one woman sported tights on her legs. Perhaps it was the long weekend, perhaps the moon is a certain distance from us that dictates our leg baring behaviour, whatever it is, today is all about it.

Additionally, it seems that today is also the day to sit in a crowded courtyard and roll your dress up at the front so people can see your underwear. Or maybe it was just that one woman doing that. She was dressed semi-business like, in that- "I'm 44 and working in a bank but I still like to party" way, with the dyed orange hair and the dyed orange tan and the line outside the lips one shade darker than the frosty berry coloured lipstick...anyway, anyway what? She was a freak obviously.I don't know why I'm remarking that she is a business woman and not some crazy methed-up street urchin. I would be the first to say that clothes never speak truly of the freak that lurks inside the skull, especially of those in business attire.

I am starting to have the usual, pre-party panic that no one is going to show up saturday. They've all changed their minds, they all hate me, actively. In fact, it was all part of a master plan to cruelly hand me comeuppance for being a stink on the face of the earth-pretending they all want to come and then they will send a wild boar with a post-it note to me instead, as I sit crying that no one has shown up, all my decorating and arranging of vegetables and cookies untouched and unloved...the post-it note will read: "you suck".