So I am to be thrown into the lion's den at Chez Lucien's this week. Manon and I went to the pub last night to enjoy some wine over nachos and a fresh salad, which gave me the opportunity to discuss my future employment with the owner. Gerry had originally intended to start me on a slow night because of my zero experience, but he changed his mind yesterday and told me that he'll start me on Friday night, when the pub is "booming". "Best way to learn," he said as I smiled bravely. Confidence is now needed, as I have never worked in a restaurant before, and it's my favorite place in the city so I don't want to let the place down. But along with confidence should come calm, since perspective tells me it really shouldn't be that big a deal.

My weekend went by like a flash, and the usual weekend tasks of cleaning, running errands and doing school work went out the window. Instead, I spent much time looking after Adèle's very energetic puppy, watching the first season of Arrested Development (I have to think this one over before I give my first opinion), having dinner and drinks with Véro and friends, and ending it all with a few hours of shopping at Ikea on Sunday afternoon. We are continuing to spruce up the place, which is a nice change from the years of chaos and the anything'll-do look.

But rewinding back to Saturday, I thought I'd mention that I somehow found myself back at the Heart and Crown. That's right - I allowed myself to get dragged out to Chez Lucien's anti-thesis, a place that crawls with preps, ginos and jocks as celtic music somehow stirs up the mostly un-Irish crowd. But in my defense, I had a wonderful supper at Véronique's new apartment, which has become my dream place to live in - full top floor of a victorian-style home, high ceilings and hardwood floors, tons of space (enough for a cute little study), an exposed brick wall in the kitchen, granite counter tops, a good-sized room - and after a succulent meal over wine, I was feeling very relaxed and willing to follow the crowd. We started off with a drink at a classier restaurant next to the Chateau Laurier, which kept me laughing and in high spirits. Until, of course, we stepped into the Heart and Crown for the rude awakening. The smells, the hungry looks and the music overpowered me as would a gallon of cheap cologne, so I headed straight for the balcony despite the cold weather (after all, I was wearing my new snazzy gloves and scarf). But just as the locked front door becomes the fatal mistake in a horror film, so was my decision to corner myself on the edge of a balcony, further and further away from the exit on the first floor. Like the flood gates being opened, a sea of blue-shirted men spilled out onto the balcony, rendering me helpless as I quicky became surrounded. I read the back of their t-shirts: Australian Men's Football Tournament 2005. Now, this may seem like many girls' dream come true, but things aren't always as they seem. These guys were out of their minds on booze - several were toppling over the plastic chairs - and they were stomping on the art of subtlety and game. I'm talking lewd-gesturing, screaming, burping close-talkers who were out for a kill. On my first attempt to leave, I glanced up at the bright red exit sign in relief just long enough to have one of the men grab my arm and drag me back towards the center of the crowd. But somehow - oh the redemption - I was able to squeeze my way out a few moments later, but not before being propositioned five times. Once back inside, I found my friends and stood by them for protection. That protection turned out to be a house of cards once the Autralians came back inside and tried their luck with the girls, leaving me to more awkward conversations with men I didn't know. You know, that place just makes me feel awful about myself because it's so different than who I am. I question myself and wonder if I shouldn't just let go and try to enjoy the superficial fun and attention; I wonder if I'm over-dressed; I worry that I'm being too serious. But when I think of the feeling that washes over me when I walk into Chez Lucien's, which is a mere few steps away from the H & C, I know that it's allright. This is just who I am and there's nothing I want to do to change that right now - at least, not when it concerns cheesy bars and dumb guys. I like my life and my friends, and I know what I enjoy and what I think is fun, and if this reality differs from a mainstream notion of cool, so be it. I have my ways of letting my hair down, ways that simply can't be manifested through a night of boring conversations with stupid people. Don't misunderstand me; I love Véro and appreciate her friends' presence - it's the bad bar environment that I would rather do without. The girls are funny, warm and light-hearted, but the guys we all end up meeting just seem soulless.

But onto other subjects. Halloween's never been my thing, but I do like some of its related events, like pumpkin carving and buying bags of individually wrapped candy that I never end up handing out to the neighborhood children. So this weekend I propose that some of us get together, walk to the market to buy some pumpkins, and have ourselves a carving fest. We can eat the tiny chocolate bars and multi-coloured suckers as we work, and then we can roast the seeds and then do some more eating over wine. And if I'm working at Chez Lucien's later on, maybe you can be the best customers I ever had...