On the Hunt

Roll the boulder from the tomb.
It's Easter.
If you haven't checked the flower pot for eggs, be sure to check the flower pot.
And while you're huddled in the corner of your home, coloured foil all around you, listen to this tune.

Appreciating the Elements

They advise you to invest in silver and gold.
So that when the ATM machines turn on us
And the internet swallows all of our VISA numbers,
You'll have some ducats in your sock to get by on.
Which I have decided to do.
Simply because the idea sounds so romantic.
"You can't sell me a PSP because the economy has expired, you say?
Well, would a silver nugget change your mind?"
Drug dealers would be able to handle this situation well.
They deal exclusively in nuggets.

We'll have ourselves a new sort of gold rush.
Where everyone loads up their SUVs to head north.
They'll pack their Ugg boots for the rough terrain.
Their pre-ripped jeans for the 14-hour days of panning.
Yes, it's going to be a time of prosperity, alright.
Just what we'll need.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Be aware of your decisions as you make them.
Hug your girlfriends.
Rock out.

Maybe Yes, Maybe No More

All of you people out there having sex.
Think you have it so figured out.
Knock up your high school sweetheart at the Sadie Hawkins, and suddenly you know dating.
Filthy gurus that you are.
Whenever I mention to my friends that I don't ask out this woman or that woman for the sake of my dignity's tattered remains, what do they point out?
"Well, b'y, she can only say 'no.'"
Wrong.
She can also say 'yes.'
She chooses to say 'no.'

Join the Clubhouse

The clubhouse has become such a success story in the food and beverage industry.
And I know why:
Individually, most people are too lazy to organize so many ingredients for the sake of a sandwich.
I have included a recipe below for anyone who has the time to make one today.
"It's sunny outside.
It's -3 degrees.
Get out there and make yourself a sandwich!"

Internet Killed the Video Star

Given a choice between integrity and 15 minutes of fame (it's more like seconds these days)...
...most would prefer to watch a video of a really fat guy falling down.
Or, y'know, make their own video!

M(y) I(ntrusive)L(over's)F(ixation)

From the amateur pornographic images that I have seen, I have wondered:
Are Europeans more sexually liberated than North Americans?
Or are they just better at getting drunk?

Speaking of sex with old women, I was harassed in a bar on Friday.
It was great.
The woman told me that I looked like Bob Dylan.
In the sixties, when he "didn't have any wrinkles."
She referred to me as Mister Tambourine Man and kissed my neck.
Maude was still pouring my beer at this point.
She did the thing to my buttocks that people do.
Credit card?
Is that what they call it?
I'm unsure of how old this woman was.
But her features and the intensity of my erection would suggest 55 years.
At least.
I left my toothbrush on the floor of the bar that same evening.
If you spot it (Christian's Tavern), bring it by, please.
I can just replace the replacement head and continue on as I was before.
With some new emotional scarring, of course.
I don't even want to tell you what this woman did to Steve Coombs.

Subtext

Y'know, I don't even like writing this thing.
I never have.
I just like putting titles on things.

A High Note

Hats off to the music teachers out there.
I know that they just they seem like gym teachers.
With a different sort of expensive equipment to lock up during lunch.
But it's more complex than that:
It's not easy to avoid wincing when twenty children play their recorders simultaneously.

Nth Wheel

I'd be picked last for an orgy.
I just know that I would be.
I wouldn't be asked to leave, which I guess is a nice thought in itself.
But nobody would be calling 'dibs' on me, either.
Rather, I'd be ignored as all of the sighing and grunting sinks to the floor around me.
Sheepsishly eyeing the Scrabble board and wine bottles that are strewn about.
Now forgotten.
Like yours truly.
And I'll wonder if there's a book nearby that I can thumb through.
While I wait for this travesty to conclude.
And I'll feel like it's Sports Day all over again.
As all of the other monkeys roll around and high jump without me.
Scrabble Xs and Ts stuck to asses and thighs.