A child of the village spends his or her summer in Europe, as already stated in an earlier post, and so like the rest of my spoiled brethern, August has found me typing away from an internet cafe in London. Spent my plane ride with a bunch of Canada's future Jewish lawyers. Anyway - not much to report - although I'm not sure how the Faux Hillary jet set handle European Starbucks, a much more plebian experience. Made an ass of myself in one today, when after ordering my classic grande non fat one raw sugar latte, the Barista responded succinctly, "we don't put in the sugar. You do. It's over there."
If he thought my order was a bit over the top, I'd have loved to have seen how he would have responded to his face at some of the more complicated orders down Spadina and Lonsdale way; there's more comma's down there then you shake your gucci at.
Latah suckers this Faux Hillary has a pile of bags from Selfridges at my feet.
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