Here are some excerpts from my journal:
Day 4:
I feel angry.
I don’t believe that there was ever an Alpha male on this planet who stood up at a dinner party and said, “I’m sorry, but I have some dietary restrictions. Is there any wheat, dairy or gluten in any of the food you’re serving? Oh, okay. No worries, I have some carrots in a baggie over here. By the way, we march on Rome at dawn!”
Colour: The green/black of a tornado sky.
Day 7:
Last night I had a dream that actress Jennifer Lawrence and I were living together and I barked at her for brushing her hair too loudly. I woke up angry and ashamed, feelings that have stayed with me all day.
I learned something new today while watching the Stanley Cup finals with some buddies, and that is that beer is a gluten-saturated beverage. I hardly ever drink beer but I was completely demoralized to find out I can’t drink it, or eat the fucking nachos and burgers that everybody else was devouring with ease and relish.
I felt left out and got drunk on gluten-free vodka.
I also got in my first fistfight since grade five.
I hope it wasn’t captured on video as it turns out I cannot take a good slap.
Colour: Colour coding my days is stupid.
Day 9:
My Instagrammed dinner:
I am now eating colours instead of food.
Colour: Fuck you.
Day 14:
Fuck Montreal.
Fuck Montreal in the ear hole.
I just cancelled the trip we were planning on taking there for Rachelle’s birthday. I don’t want to go on a trip that’s defined by all the perfectly crafted, delicious foods I’m not allowed to eat. If I can’t have a croissant or smoked meat sandwich, then Rachelle doesn’t need a birthday. I have put my foot down.
Colour: A confident, furious black
Day 16:
It’s nice being back in Montreal and it was both thoughtless and selfish of me to try to cancel our trip because of my dietary restrictions. Just because I can’t have a smoked meat sandwich doesn’t mean that Rachelle shouldn’t enjoy one in front of me! And hey, she should go right ahead and flirt with that beautiful man in that saucy hat! 
He’s leaning against an awfully nice looking car! I bet it’s worth more than a house! Happy birthday, Rachelle, don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here in my gluten-free corner!
Colour: I am interested in trying crack cocaine.
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Cab driver took one look at me and said, “guess you’re hoping for a better year, eh?”
And then he said his mother had the “psychic gift” and that he could “tell things.”
Feeling a little scared and vulnerable.
Hate cab driver.
Think he smells like weird soup.
Maybe some “chunky” variety.
Sirloin burger, perhaps.
Taking shitty route while he tries to get me to pay for a psychic reading.
Might be late for party.
Have you ever heard of anything so stupid? A psychic reading by your cab driver?
Feeling very happy I brought my flask out tonight.
How is the party?
Excellent.
Please save a bottle of wine for me!
Driver just said I need to live in a dry climate and should avoid olives.
No, not a clue why he thinks that.
Just hide the bottle in the bathtub. Put a blanket over it.
Okay, I’ll ask him.
He says it will be five bucks.
Bartering to give him lotto ticket instead.
Says I have an allergic aura.
Have you hid the wine?
Just do it!
That’s one of your resolutions, right? Do things!
So, just do it!
Jesus wouldn’t care.
Not stealing, redistribution.
Free market still at play, but regulated!
Am now asking driver what colour allergic aura is.
Says it doesn’t work like that.
I am drunk, yes.
At the address right now.
Driver just asked if I was on the pipe.
Crack pipe.
Because of my teeth.
Fucker.
Giving him expired lotto ticket for his psychic advice.
Yeah!
That bang you heard was me slamming the cab door!
See you soon, love you!
(there is a two hour time period where no text messages were sent)
HAPPAAY 20312 EVERYBODY!!!!
FUCK THE MAYA1!
HIGH HEELS VERY HARD TO DANSS IN.
FUCK11!
SPACE BROWNIES AWESOME
WHERE R UDUDE?
RACHYLLE AND I R AT PARTY
COME ON!
THEREES FUCING DRY ICE ANDHID 2 BOTTLES OF WINE IN OVEN!
This is Rachelle.
Michael is really, really drunk.
Yeah, like in a bad movie.
He’s very sweaty and I think he’s going to be sick.
We’re going to have to leave soon, so if you come, we’ll likely be gone.
DOING IT FUCKEN GAHGHNAMAHA SYTLE!!!!
CANT EAT OLIVES IN NEW YEAR.
BUMMER.
IT SUCKS UP MY AURA OR SOMETHING.
It’s Rachelle again.
We have to go.
He’s showing his scars to a couple.
He just asked them if they were foreign.
JUSS MET SOME CRAZY BRAZILIIAAAANIAS!
ONE WAS BALCK AND THE OTHER WHITE!
FREAK OUT!
It’s Rachelle again.
We’re in the cab home now.
Yes, he was just sick out the window.
Words can’t describe.
I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ll be able to make brunch tomorrow.
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