--> There are movie trailers lined up to my right, outside my window, down on Queen. Famous? I only see coffee and puffy jackets.
Long bar:
--> I thought I met Joseph Boyden yesterday at the Giller Light gala. I didn't. I probably met the cover artist for his poster (one of the ladies from Random House brought the pre-Google imaged Joseph Boyden a Joseph Boyden poster and said "Do you want your poster here?"). Now I know she meant the actual poster. To my defense, no one can ever recognize an author in public -- in colour, not leaning on a tree, or looking slightly off camera in a black turtleneck -- except for Big A of course.
It also amazes me -- and retardedly embarrasses -- that none of the reps from McClellan and Stewart, Random House, or Frontier College, whom I all told with such enthusiasm of my encounter, ever informed me of his absence (as he was at the actual Giller awards, of which I thought was next week, winning the real Giller prize). Maybe they thought I was plain whacked. But they didn't seem put-off by the inappropriate Boyden-drop either (rather, jealous I had met an author).
Ultimately, my observation is this: I always have an uncanny talent of making an ass of myself when I should be impressing people. Exhibit.
In related news, when I have a book this will be my author photo -->
Replace myself with Gino, and "Gino" with "Grassi." Tight. World wide.
