My New Favorite Thing

I am keen to imbibe early and people watch.  Have you tried?  You should.  It.  Is.  Incredible.  I've seen so much in between the glass of vino, the pint of distasteful yet local beer and ginger cider.

I was witness to a man wearing full on B.C Lions garb masturbating at the train station.  We don't need any more detail than this.

I watched three ladies sitting on a curb, one vomiting, while the other two carried on a perfectly logical conversation regarding the nights festivities and so forth.  No offer was made to hold her hair or console her in the least.  Fascinating.  As though, this was part and parcel of  a typical night.

I was privy to a young female walking so awkwardly as a result of her tortuous footwear that it made my heart bleed for her.  Not unusual, unfortunately.  I suggest we all unite thusly and toss our sadistic lower half contraptions into the bin so that they may wreak no more havoc on our lives.  It ain't gonna happen but a girl can incite all the revolt she wants in written form!

I saw a man bring his German Shepherd puppy into a rock concert who proceeded to freak the fuck out due to the excessive amounts of noise.  Dogs pick up sound four times better than humans you fucking waste.  People this idiotic should  not be allowed to procreate or adopt/purchase pets.  Though you have the coin to do so, you should abstain if you be insensitive and fucking stupid.

I stared at a dude who was severely over weight, dressed all in black with a hood.  He was carrying a Gucci bag on his fingertips as he walked rapidly down the street.

Then there was me...Pizza and pop in hand.  There was sauce spread halfway across my cheek and a big ol' grin rolling yonder round my face.  I was witness yet ever part of this charade we call Saturday night.  What a time to be alive.

And all before 11 pm.  

The House Party

I am the most considerate house party goer.  I remove my footwear upon entering the home.  I offer my services after said social gathering has expired.

I adore a good house party.

You know the kind where everyone has a splendid time and no drama transpires?  Yeah.  There is something so satisfying about the fact that only positive vibes were shared and everyone left feeling better about their existence.

Canada Day is the Ultimate House Party.  It's our collective house.  We share this planet, this nation, this province, with one another.  It can be an amazing feeling.  Can be.

This most recent of Canada Day's, for which I have been absent from for the last four years was quite subdued.  Positive for all intents and purposes, just quieter than expected for being the big 150.

We are shell shocked.  The world seems in a precarious state and that's okay.  The reflective attitude was certainly palpable.

The problem was not the event itself but the aftermath.  Like any good house party, shit gets fucked up.  The realization of how bad is not fully swallowed until the crowd disperses.

Fuck you Canada on your 150th birthday, is what our wake spoke of.

The newly minted garbage receptacles were overflowing to such a degree that it seemed bizarre.  The grassy knoll upon which I viewed fireworks was so encrusted with debris that it was a shock to the senses.  I was overwhelmed by sadness that this how we treat our home.  On any day, not just on it's conceptual day of day's.  We shit where we ate.  Literally.  The ground upon which provides us with our very nourishment, we've poisoned.  In more ways than one.

So Happy Birthday Canada.  Fuck you for providing us with this much liberty and fresh air.  We'll be sure to prevent any sustainability going forward.