Les sourcils

I ache in the places where I used to play.
-- Leonard Cohen I'm Your Man

My head HURTS. My bud dykoon was in town last night. It is always a pleasure to see her and not only because she is one of my few remaining friends who knows how to party. Last night before we zig zagged to and from Old Montreal, the plateau, mile end and the Village in search of martinis and good times we had dinner at L'Express - Ile Flottant, yum. About a bottle of wine into our meal and during a lull in my laments about the Montreal scene, dykoon pursed her lips and regarded me with quizzical interest.

"Rachel, I like the new look, the hair, the clothes it's good, suits you but ... " She paused.
"What?"
"Nah, you're going to kill me."
"Come on! Tell me." She shook her head. "Dykoon, you can't leave me hanging like that!"
"Okay!" at which point she leapt out of her chair and, with suit coat flapping, grabbed my cheeks to twist my face from side to side. "Eyebrows!"
"What?"
"You need to get your eyebrows done. It will open up your face and I swear you will have women eating out of the palm of your hand in six months." Now that sounded good.
"Okay." She sat down again.
"And get your hair layered."
"Okay."
"And stop whining. It's unattractive."
"Okay, I'm on it."
"Good. Now where is this Barmacie?"

Like I said, always a pleasure but, wow, am I paying for it today. I think I'll just move the water cooler into my office.

Rachel