Canadian History Moment

Twenty-six years.
Twenty-six years ago from this day I was birthed.
Lain on hay and straw in an isolated manger, amongst the donkeys braying, and the cattle a-lowing.
I'm not too down about it.
Nowadays it's just another year closer to my Canadian pension.
How was my birthday?
Well..I slept late and skipped my classes.
My parents brought me cake and wine, and (legitimate) cheques.
I ate at Swiss Chalet.
No one sang to me.
Shandera came by afterwards and played all of the classic Metalica hits.
Im-Oh-Gen gave me a gift rain cheque that made me feel like I'm making smart choices.
But in the end, your birthday can only be anti-climactic if Peter Russell isn't around to get loaded with you, all pantsless and red-faced.
But I've had far worse years.

In other tributaries, I had a wicked set last night that felt good in my bones.
I received the greatest number of compliments this week, I believe.
Plus, George was there, after my not seeing him for over a month.
Tim offended a veagan, and wasserface saw me do what I strive to be best at.
People kept comparing me to Woody Allen.
I have not seen an entire Woody Allen film.
And the more I hear this, the more I want to avoid them.
Otherwise I may end up mimicking him.
Which would ruin everything.
I'm happy teaching snot-nosed punks about Africa. Don't get me wrong.
But if I could die as a 'modern' version of such a man.
Well...I'd be alright with that.