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Sans social companions for the day, I trampled down to BMV to score a few books. Strange people congregate in bookstores -- myself included, naturally, but my strangeness is kept inside, whereas others seem to put it on the outside. I've been delayed by a blind Lord of the Rings fanatic and a man who told me a story about a Russian clown named Popov who threw bottles at fighter planes ... You can't make these kinds of people up.
This lovely Sunday afternoon, a couple was there. Their conversation, I realized, more or less crystallized the differences between the male and female mindsets.
Her: "I think we should get this edition." Him: "I think we should get this edition." Both: "Why?" Her: "Because it's nicer." Him: "Because it's bigger." Then she had to throw a wrench into the entire operation. Her: "Touch my tush." What? I thought frantically. And he did. I quietly inched away. People are bizarre. posted at 8:02:30 pm
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2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture. home | contact | profile art blogging body childhood consumerism dream durr family fashion film history humour internet language lit nerd people poetry rant romance school sex social relations toronto ttc work
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