What with my new head of half-shaved half-coiffed hair, Tricky, Matt, Tiff and myself headed out to an establishment with both class and a fair bit of character.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Annex Wreck Room.
Before going in we were at the pizzapizza on the corner giving our stomachs something to absorb alcohol with, when a disgruntled woman came in asking to use the washroom.
The woman behind the counter made some mistakes dealing with this situation in that she denied the woman access to the toity, and also LIED about the toity being cleaned. You work at Bathurst and Bloor, you're wasting your time denying drunk people access to the facilities. They're going to piss on your back entrance stoop instead.
Anyway, one obnoxious thing leads to another and maybe I suggested to this woman that if she felt it was 'illegal' to not have access to the washroom, she should call the cops herself. Also, the reception's better outside, so probably leave. Read: you're embarrassing yourself. Get. Out.
Drunk and possibly high from the frivolity of her monthly coven gathering, irritated by my smart-assedness, her eyes became fixed on me and she cursed my life. Seriously, I quote:
"I hope something really awful happens to you. I curse you!"
May I never be dragged to hell.
-Chomps ¶ 7:55 AM
