the only *true* catwoman is julie newmar, lee meriwether, or eartha kitt

.I was getting coffee in a white cardboard cup this morning and accidentally put milk in it instead of cream, and compensated with far more sugar than was strictly necessary.

.My hair has dried in curly squiggles, and I was brushing one from where it was tangled in my eyelashes when I suddenly smelled Ivory soap on my skin, but couldn't detect it again when I gingerly sniffed at the back of my wrist.

.I was walking up Cambie and heard carnival music so I looked into the alley where a truck was parked; behind it I caught the corner of a brightly-lit ticket booth, with colourfully-dressed people standing around carefully holding helium-filled balloons, frozen still and waiting for the director to call action.

Sweet coffee, phantom scent of lemony soap, and a glimpse of Catwoman's Gotham. What better way is there to start a Friday?

-- and your store-bought tandoori. or should i say -- BLAND-oori!

Have escaped for a few moments from my mother's Divali function of TERROR. Highlights so far include:

- my sister REFUSING to have any part of it and escaping to her book club, despite the fact that she has no idea where the woman holding it lives and plans to stand on the street hoping a co-worker will drive by

- mother performing a highly inaccurate account to our bemused German guests of the Meaning of Divali, complete with sidenote about Why Our Gods Need Eight Arms (Because They're Better Than Yours)

- me talking to the aforementioned German guests and being mortified when I mention Mussolini and they instantly freeze up, leaving me feeling decidedly like a Fawlty Towers sketch

- me cravenly begging off performing any actual religious duties due to the fact that I'm having my period (true, but still a wussy excuse)

And now I'm upstairs eating store-bought pakoras and a samosa and avoiding any more social contact. Maybe I'll take a nice long shower. It's in the spirit of the holiday, after all.