Wishing you a sexy Canada Day.
Okay, so I hate Canada Day.
When I was younger, I loved going downtown and getting sun stroke with the best of them. I would wake up early, change into gaudy red clothing, meet up with my friends and bus downtown. The rest of the day was usually spent wasting money on bad food and getting drastic sunburns to match our clothing. It seemed so fun.
But, as each year's celebrations grew worse, I decided it wasn't for me. Too many people, too many bad parties, a lot of alcohol poisoning, and not enough lounging about. After all, I love to lounge.
So this year, I made a pact with my Better Half that we would not go downtown or attend any parties, and that we would get fat and drunk in the safety of our home. As it turns out, several of our friends had the same idea. So we all hung out, eating and drinking, taking the occasional questionable photograph, until the night was done.
I drank too much to win at anything we played - I need to be sober to be truly witty (as in: witty to other people, and not just to myself). But I liked not leaving the house, and I will consider having similar celebrations next year. Things, Apples to Apples, and Sangria. Not a bad combination.
In more exciting news, I have sold my very first CD release ticket to one Mr. Alperin. Congrats, dear sir, and thank you. Only about 124 more to go, yeah?