Double Post Day
Two posts in one day? What's up with this kid??
I wanted to appologize for the last post. I wrote it in a bit of a frenzy and I took an unnecessairly large chunk out of Kinsella. Sorry Warren, we cool, right? Besides, Dubya, Kinsella-bashing has been the latest vouge in Canadian political blogging since the internet was invented. I had to get on board sooner or later.
As for Greg Strange, go to hell. You're still an idiot.
The other reason I wanted to post again was that I needed to describe something about living in Ottawa to all my readers. Ottawa is like that girl that it hurts so much to love. I'm not talking about gonorrhea either. This is much more emotional. For instance, I was waking down Elgin on my way to the mall for a haircut today, and the Snowbirds just happened to be flying around Ottawa in formation just for fun. Not off in the distance, I mean directly overhead and rattling windows. When you see the red fighters in maple leaf formation fly over the war memorial, the patriotism is almost enough to give one an erection. Sorry for the crude metaphor, but it's true. I stand by it. Ottawa, I love you baby.
Then I get to the mall, and the place is filled with middle-school kids on a field trip to see the capital. A bunch of wide eyed, lanyard wearing, never-been-in-the-city, ohmigodwereonafieldtrip, kids standing around the mall like confused cattle. They infest the hill, they infest the mall, and we will never be rid of them. Ottawa, why are you such a bitch?
There has only ever been one group of children on the hill that I have liked. They were four girls, about twelve, who were running around with disposable cameras and trying to get pictures of all the statues of the Prime Ministers with a sense of urgency that they will not feel again until they are giving birth. It's a well known fact that when you have four girls together under the age of 16, they lose the ability to communicate by any means other than shouting at the top of their lungs. Since they also can't seem to move more than five feet away from each other, but didn't know where they were going, the group turned into a small, chaotic storm of pre-adolecent panic and shouting that seemed to bounce randomly around the lawn. I thought this was pretty cute in and of itself, then one screams out "Over here! This one is Difrenbaker!"
Adorable. At least until you're 14. By that point I expect you to be able to read.
I wanted to appologize for the last post. I wrote it in a bit of a frenzy and I took an unnecessairly large chunk out of Kinsella. Sorry Warren, we cool, right? Besides, Dubya, Kinsella-bashing has been the latest vouge in Canadian political blogging since the internet was invented. I had to get on board sooner or later.
As for Greg Strange, go to hell. You're still an idiot.
The other reason I wanted to post again was that I needed to describe something about living in Ottawa to all my readers. Ottawa is like that girl that it hurts so much to love. I'm not talking about gonorrhea either. This is much more emotional. For instance, I was waking down Elgin on my way to the mall for a haircut today, and the Snowbirds just happened to be flying around Ottawa in formation just for fun. Not off in the distance, I mean directly overhead and rattling windows. When you see the red fighters in maple leaf formation fly over the war memorial, the patriotism is almost enough to give one an erection. Sorry for the crude metaphor, but it's true. I stand by it. Ottawa, I love you baby.
Then I get to the mall, and the place is filled with middle-school kids on a field trip to see the capital. A bunch of wide eyed, lanyard wearing, never-been-in-the-city, ohmigodwereonafieldtrip, kids standing around the mall like confused cattle. They infest the hill, they infest the mall, and we will never be rid of them. Ottawa, why are you such a bitch?
There has only ever been one group of children on the hill that I have liked. They were four girls, about twelve, who were running around with disposable cameras and trying to get pictures of all the statues of the Prime Ministers with a sense of urgency that they will not feel again until they are giving birth. It's a well known fact that when you have four girls together under the age of 16, they lose the ability to communicate by any means other than shouting at the top of their lungs. Since they also can't seem to move more than five feet away from each other, but didn't know where they were going, the group turned into a small, chaotic storm of pre-adolecent panic and shouting that seemed to bounce randomly around the lawn. I thought this was pretty cute in and of itself, then one screams out "Over here! This one is Difrenbaker!"
Adorable. At least until you're 14. By that point I expect you to be able to read.
posted by B-Boy Nothing at 3:14 PM
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