2002-09-20, 6:28 p.m.,

We're going out tonight to this chic club's grand opening called the Bumpher Bar, yeah yeah, i know, clever pun, haha.

I'm actually looking forward to tonight, getting dressed up taking a cab into the city and drunkenly finding a cab home in the a.m. to sleep in late late tomorrow....only tomorrow we've got lots of ceremony planning and errand running to do.

I still hate my haircut....grrr....

There's a little old man that comes into the cafe 2 sometime 3 or 4 times a day, never less than twice for a shot of espresso and a glass of water and he sits outside smoking his cigarette, goes home and comes back. Sometimes with his wife, most times alone. His name is Stephan. He's quite crazy by all standards, he bables incoherantly and mostly gabbers in mathmatical terms. He used to be a physics lecturer at the university. I think i'm gonna ask to adopt him as my grandpa. He's all dishelved and looks so weather-worn in that 70 year old Bob Dylan kinda way. No one in the cafe appreciates him like i do. To everyone else, he's the crazy guy who comes in every 2 hours for a smoke and coffee. Now when he comes in he just come to the door, knowing that i always know his usual, and says "Just wanted to let you know I'm outside, Pet." He calls me pet....I think he's adoreable.

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