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a little modesty...

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I went into a business today and was greeted by an attractive young woman with a very tight and low-cut top.

I was reminded of the sort of thing you'd see in a nightclub in Sydney in the summer, a nice flashback. But a) it's November, b) it's Toronto, and c) it's an office and it's the middle of the day. Not exactly the circumstances in which you'd expect to see a neckline that comes to below the breasts.

Glancing around to see if I was being recorded on some kind of hidden camera, I described what I needed. When she was filling in the paperwork, she asked me a few questions about what I'd written. She concluded, "I have a hard time reading bad hand-writing because my hand writing is so good."

Ahaaaa. Gotcha.