I love to go out for tea. Love tea. Love it. And there are so many places in Toronto. Love it. Getting together with all my girlfriends and pretending we're civilized. Nothing else like it.
So I decide I want to go to tea here. In Winnipeg. You just know this story ain't gonna have no happy ending.
I decide on, like, one of, like, only two teahouses in Winnipeg proper (and it's not really a teahouse, per se either) and off citrusboy and I went.
Now let me just tell you: beforehand, I had checked their hours. Thursday 12-9. Great. Awesome. Sounds like a plan, man.
So we get there. Their little sign says OPEN. Cool. This might actually work, I think. I should have knocked on some wood, because I get a little closer and see: CLOSED FOR PAINTING. OPEN FROM 12-4.
You have got to be shitting and covering me with sprinkles. I look at my watch. It is seriously 4:01. Seriously.
This-city-HATES-me. Anybody really need more proof?
So I decide I want to go to tea here. In Winnipeg. You just know this story ain't gonna have no happy ending.
I decide on, like, one of, like, only two teahouses in Winnipeg proper (and it's not really a teahouse, per se either) and off citrusboy and I went.
Now let me just tell you: beforehand, I had checked their hours. Thursday 12-9. Great. Awesome. Sounds like a plan, man.
So we get there. Their little sign says OPEN. Cool. This might actually work, I think. I should have knocked on some wood, because I get a little closer and see: CLOSED FOR PAINTING. OPEN FROM 12-4.
You have got to be shitting and covering me with sprinkles. I look at my watch. It is seriously 4:01. Seriously.
This-city-HATES-me. Anybody really need more proof?
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