Not a peep out of Miss E.G. today. She's a bourgeois Christian from East Beirut so I'm just plugging my ears, closing my eyes, spinning and shouting "lalalalalala" - much as I imagine God is at the present time - hoping that her class, religion and geography will protect her; that she's not in touch because of her country's infrastructure being bombed back to the Stone Age and not because she's hurt. Because her country being bombed back to the Stone Age is a much better scenario. Fuck, I could cry.
Anyways, last night I took a break from listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and getting weepy over the fucking madness of it all to go to yummy yum responsible foodie restaurant Big Mamma's Boy, where I tried the Cabbagetown pizza with all its organic whateverness and it was good. Not Italy, not Greco's, but good. The flourless chocolate cake was also good. The real revelation of the evening was the single beer they had on tap, a delicious motherfucker of a local microbrewery product - there was a certain delicate verrrrrry subtle sweetness to it that made this the third straight night I got gently plastered and that made me forget the name of the fucking brand.