so it was my 'cool' roommates last day in the apartment. She was moving into a friends place, and since at my place she was living in a pantry (literally), who could blame her. I'd be out of there in a heartbeat. But I appreciate the gurl. It was her choice, and if she hadn't have done that I wouldn't have had a place to stay here in Calgary.
N E Who ... we were waiting for her friends to show up when we decided to cross the street and pick up some booze. Now she's a beer drinker too, (god bless) and picked some up for her, and her buds who were helping her move. I picked up my case, good ol' Canadian. (pst, if Molson is reading this, I would like my endorsement $$$ for that lil product placement comment). We went back, and cracked open our first beer. Her friends were showing up in a couple minutes anyways.
2nd Beer. Still waiting.
3rd Beer. Still waiting.
4th Beer. Yep.
5th Beer. We shootgun one for ol times sake (even though I only hung with her for a month, she's still awesome to be with).
6th Beer. And Smoke time.
By then, being half gone, we're smoking and joking on the balconey. And suddenly she spits over the patio. And 22 Floors up, u never know where anything that drops is going to land. I peer over to see where its going, and so does she. I watched as the spit plummets below and zigs and zags, left and right; just as a mother with her baby in a stroller are walking by.
NOOOOOOOOOOO! My roommate screams. I DON'T CARE IF ITS ANYONE ELSE, JUST NOT THE BABY.
She couldn't watch. She covered her eyes.
YOU KNOW, I say calmly, IF IT DID HIT THE BABY, I'D BE ALL LIKE ... "NO NO NO, IT WASN'T ME, IT CAME FROM ABOVE ... IT ... IT WAS GOD. GOD SPIT ON YOUR BABY."
It was just the laugh she needed after waiting hours for her friends to arrive.
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