Fun with demographics:
-- MERRY CHRISTMAS! Hopefully you're having a goddamn Jesus good time.
-- HAPPY HANUKKAH! Who needs the son of God when you've got a distinct lack of foreskin? Moses and dreidels represent.
-- HAPPY STATUTORY HOLIDAYS! To all you other unclassified religiosos, have a good nondescript morning and a very good recommencement of the Gregorian calendar.
So yeah, it's been awhile... I've been busy with my recent carousings and haven't had much time for blogging, but I've started to miss it. Which leads me back to this typing-thinking-typing-erasing-spending-hours-writing affair. It's wierd, cause I'm not sure if I like doing the actual work, but I seem the enjoy the end-product -- the end-product being the shit before you now.
Before I go any further, let me explain something. I'm going to divulge a piece of informatics that, before now, only a handful of people knew. I figure that pretty soon I'll need to explain it to a bunch of people anyway, so what the hell: I have a single boob. Correction -- I HAD a single boob. I guess I had this crazy deal where one of my glands decided to go all-out mutiny on me and start with an "abnormal growth pattern", leading to a single small boobular-looking thing on my left side. Yeah -- I know... weird. Tell me about it.
But as of right before Christmas, I had cosmetic surgery to remove it. I was sorta hoping that they'd give it to me -- I don't know -- in a jar or something, after the surgery, but nay -- I didn't get any jar-boob for Christmas. Tragic, I know. What I did get was a whole bunch of pain and discomfort and a missing nipple.
THAT'S RIGHT: There is a distinct lack of nipplage on my left side. I mean -- I've got the decorative skin discoloration that normally accompanies the nipple, but no little nubby thing that defines the the damn thing! But whatever, who needs a nipple anyway? Pfffft... not me. I'll hang in there without it.
On the positive side, I have always wanted a nickname, and this opens up the door to many interesting possibilities. As Adam "Lefty" Leclerc has already suggested, I could be "Unipple" now. Y'know... sorta like an abbreviated form of uni-nipple? Or how bout "Anipplar"? Pronouced sort of like you would say "asymmetrical"... Or hey -- how bout "Asymmetrical" itself?! Man, the possibilities are just endless. Just thinking about all these options has made me slightly -- no, even more -- mildly excited. Hurrah.
So over the holidays, my brother and I were talking about a segment that aired on CBC's The Rick Mercer Report, in which Stephen Harper and Rick Mercer parodied that Nike ad. You know... that one that originally showed Iginla and Naslund dogding pucks that the other shot from the roof of a building? Well, anyway, Chris thought it was hilarious, apparently for the sole reason that Stephen Harper appears so... natural looking. What he didn't realize was that this relaxed air couldn't possible have come naturally. In fact, I suspect the CBC needed to hire a professional anesthesiologist to pump Stephen Harper full of 3.5 L of morphine in order to achieve that "natural" look.
Frankly, this Harper dude doesn't seem to be a good representative of the Canadian people. He appears more suited to be lurching around yelling "MORE BRAINS!" than sitting up at 24 Sussex Drive.
My family and I played a new car game on the way to Moncton yesterday to see my brother off on his flight back to Montreal. As I've said before, my parents are firm believers in the positive dietary powers of cheese. Every time my brother or myself come home for any period of time or receive a care-package, a large 2kg block of marble cheese changes hands. So on our way to Moncton, we had this block of cheese sitting on the back window of the car. The game evolved so that whenever we took a tight turn, we'd hear the shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-CLUNK of the cheese sliding across the back window and ramming with all it's dairy-like momentum into the side of the car, after which we would all yell "CHEESE COLLISION!" in unison. I kid you not. My brother with corroberate this.
It was a great game though. No winners or losers -- just a group of four happy people, a dog, and a single 2kg block of cheese, coexisting peacefully in a confined space for upwards of one-and-a-half hours. OK, maybe I lied: there was one loser. At first, it was just my brother and I playing, but then my mom joined in. She was welcomed unquestionably into the game. We all played happily for awhile before my Dad, who had previously remained absent, decided to chime in. While the cheese was still in the shhhhhhhhhhhh sliding phase, my dad yelled "CHEESE COLLISION!" by himself. There was a silence from both the cheese and the other passengers in the car. The block had ended up running into a piece of newspaper and so, lacking sufficient momentum, there was no CLUNK. The rules were fuzzy at best, but we all agreed that this constituted a loss on my Dad's part. We all though it better if he didn't partake in the Cheese Collision game any longer.
I'll post pictures later, but that's all I got for now!
Peace out and such.