Slow Dancing With Our Nation’s Leader

Tex went away for a week and a half. I’m not what most people would describe as “normal” at the best of times, but my husband’s presence does have a tempering effect on my weird.

Which meant that eight days into his absence, this happened.Talking with Justi

In case you’re wondering, that’s a random ad for the Liberals playing on the iPad. I put it on mute and then pretend that the Prime Minister of Canada is giving me compliments and asking me out.

My strange is kind of like a freight train, it takes a while to get going but once it’s out of the station it takes a while to slow down.

cRAZY TRAIN

Which meant that four days after Tex returned, this happened.

Dancing with Justi 1

For the record, Tex does wear a cowboy hat along with boots and spurs at all times. I merely request that he remove them in bed.

Dancing with Justi 2

Our couch changes colour sometimes. This happens with children- mostly it goes from normal to puke coloured.

Dancing with Justi 3

I look forward to the return of my regularly scheduled programming. This whole situation is becoming a little odd even for me.

That Time That The Government Was All “Show Us the Goods, Unwashed”

I got audited. Hard. The Canadian Revenue Agency showed up at my door, kicked it in, and then frisked me. Afterwards, just for kicks, the CRA stuck my hand in the toilet while singing “Swirlé, Swirlé Swiiiiirrrrlééé”.

Ok, it might not have happened exactly like that, but it was close. 2014 was kind of a nutty year for me. I decided to follow it up with an even crazier year filled with two cross country moves, a wedding and a baby. The baby was four days late and arrived in 2016 but the vast majority of the baby-making occurred in 2015. Anyways, because of all this moving, shaking and baby-making, I didn’t get the letter where the government was all like “We need proof of these antics; send us your receipts, proofs and your third grade report card”, what I got instead months later, was an angry letter demanding me to pay them allllllllll of the money. To which I sniffled “But, but, but, I don’t understand!” and after that promptly paid them alllllllll of the money, then stood on street corners singing the blues with my hat held out for people to throw nickels in.

Last month, I finally received all the mail that had been sent to my former address the previous summer, including the aforementioned letter in which the government wanted to see written proof of my life up to and including Mrs. Bobbitt’s thoughts on my third grade Claymation project and life started to add up again.

So I dutifully, gathered all the documents and sent them into the heads of our true north strong and free. Even though my receipts, letters and Mrs. Bobbitt’s praise for my addition skills explained a lot, I felt the government deserved the whole story.

 

Dear Bilingual Dudes and Dudettes in suits,

Bonjourno! Wait, that may be the wrong language. At any rate, hello! How’s it hanging up in parliament? That’s great! Sorry; I stopped listening after the first syllable because no one except for Justin Trudeau cares that much about politics. Unless of course politics involves our Prime Minster taking off his shirt.

justin-trudeau-101

This man’s shapely torso is the answer to voter apathy. (Photo Credit : http://www.alanifagan.com)

I received your letter and enclosed the requested documents but I thought I should explain, I mean, I totally understand your incredulous response to my year. Looking back, I can’t even believe that I bought a house, went back to school for ten months, worked part time and traveled for three months. It doesn’t show it anywhere on those documents, but I met the cowboy of my dreams in there too. What can I say? It was a super packed year. Clearly I didn’t sleep. But even still, I see your questioning eyebrows, Canada Revenue Agency, you’re saying to yourself “These numbers don’t add up, we need concrete proof of this tomfoolery and possibly a road map” so let me draw it out for you.

I’ll admit it, I bought a house. It was a small house though, which meant the mortgage was manageable, even as a single, quasi-employed lady. Also then I sold my car. Ok, the word isn’t sold. I took my car to the junk yard, poured out a little for my mechanical homey and then was driven home by my friend Gordy. So that saved money. Lots of money in fact, have you seen what insurers charge in Ontario?

Then, to fund my piling tuition bills I took a page out of Burning Man’s book

720x405-452875406

Everything good can happen when this is the model one works from. (Photo Credit : http://www.rollingstone.com)

and started trading topless pirate Macarena dances for watermelons. Not really, but I did exchange meals at my house for rides to places I wanted to go. I relied on my friends that year. I am especially indebted to my close friend Gordy; he drove me everywhere and offered to fight evil, trash can tumbling raccoons cum burglars for me. But don’t call him to verify this; Gordy’s so humble he’ll claim that he didn’t do anything.

Even with lots of help, that still didn’t save enough money to fund ten months of schooling, so I kept cutting my budget. I shopped at Giant Tiger and ate produce which tasted like blue cheese. I raided my Dad’s pantry and mowed down on ten year old wild rice. When that wasn’t sufficient, I cut out all activities that weren’t free or directly related to school. CRA, you don’t even want to know how many walks I took.

I know, taking all those cost cutting measures into account, the numbers still don’t add up. Dearest government, that’s the best, most comprehensive explanation I have for that year. All I can say is when I look back; I was running, running, running the entire twelve months. I hope this helps to clarify matters. If it doesn’t, you’re welcome to call me at home, although I wouldn’t suggest it, I’m even more inexplicable in person.

Inscrutably yours,

The Great Unwashed

Knock, Knock, Did Anyone Order a Sexy Politician?

John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, Barrack Obama and in the right light even Calvin Coolidge; our Southern neighbours have had some sexy presidents. What does Canada have? William Lyon Mackenzie King, a man as blustery and bombastic as he was round. The height of our sexy leadership was of course Pierre Trudeau who was bald however he did have a certain appealing charisma about him.

It’s time for Canadians to bring the sexy back, in the form of Justin Trudeau. Much like his famous father Justin brings a certain charm as well as a heady mix of spontaneity combined with power. Terribly attractive and he has a full head of hair to boot.

My countrymen I implore you, it’s time we had a leader that we all want to bang. Although anything is better than Steven Harper who resembles an aged Ken doll. And even Barbie wouldn’t hit that.

Therefore I beg you, ignore this young buck’s absurd comments and policies. My fellow Canadians, I beseech you, turn a blind eye to the next ridiculous stunt he pulls, unless of course it’s taking off his shirt in which case please send me photos.

Justin Trudeau speaks at the University of Wat...

Ideally the photo should look like this. Only with less fabric. (Photo credit: batmoo)

The time has come. We need a sexy leader. For too long we have stood in the attractive shadow of the United States’ leadership. With a potential new good-looking Prime Minister at the helm there is no telling what Canada could do; perhaps we will start by overtaking the States in beauty pageants, then move onto making all National Hockey League teams Canadian. Having a visually appealing person to direct us, the sky becomes the limit.

Men, the next time you stand at the polls I want you to think long and hard while asking yourself the following question before checking the box on your ballot “If I was a girl would I kick him out of bed?”

If the answer is no, check away.

And ladies, remember; if he’s easy on the eyes, he’s good for everything else.