bored in ottawa

I'm waiting for lividviv at a fairly cool Internet Cafe in ottawa [named, funnily enough 'Internet Cafe', pure genius i tell you] as we waste time due to boredom and unwillingness to drink martini's.

You see there was this legendary weekend involving martini's, hot bartenders and much giggling. Did I mention martinis? Anyhow as with many such legends we decided to repeat it. Of course this is never really a good idea. As with all such legends repetition is not possible and when attempted is inevitably disappointing. You are always expecting just what happened last time and not really considering the changes you've made in your self and your world. How could you possibly make it the same when you've dipped your toe in that river already?

So we decided that it was required that we drink martini's this trip. We didn't know what else we were going to do but we were most certainly going to drink martini's and not once did we feel like it. Not once. First, it's expensive, like 20 bucks for a round of two [also they go down so quickly, sliding down your throat in a frenzy of icy cold almost gellike alcohol] and then inevitably it's loud. Someone decides that if a little music is good then a lot of music is better.

Let me tell you, a lot of music is not better, it's just more noise to conflict with and generally overcome the rapidly hoarsening victims of your taste in music. Why can't I go somewhere, get a dammed good drink and hear myself speak? Pool halls are better for this but the drinks tend to suck. There are definetely no martini's and the mood lighting is less than ideal. Sometimes I want to pretend that I'm still that nineteen year old hottie that I once was and darkness and tea lights helps me to feel this is perpetuated. Suddenly the shadows on my cheeks aren't from my worried frown but because my cheekbones are once again ruthless.

Perhaps I should open my own martini bar. The kind with a piano in the corner and a cigar room in the attic [I know, the basement is more romantic but smoke rises]. I think you would need some sort of smoke machine for mood lighting. Don't want the actual tobacco smoke but the haze with the occasional baby cieling lights tracking through it adds to the romance.

Still though, ten dollars with tip for a drink that slides down ones throat deceptively quickly. It's hard to justify so liv and I are sitting in this cafe and she's laughing her head off at maddox [maddox.xmission.com] and I'm rambling into this blog thing. Boredom might just make me pretty prolific. I think we're probably going to go back to the hotel and read. Exciting hmmm?