Ahhh. There’s nothing quite like the sights and sounds of the time-honoured, noble, blood-soaked sport of people beating up on each other.
I don’t normally think of myself as a hopeless prude. But is it just me or have the once generally accepted rules of decorum gone completely swirling unceremoniously down the toilet?
There I was sitting in a large room with hundreds of people, when I saw her come around the corner in that exquisite dress. The most beautiful girl in the place. And all I could think of was wood and nails.
It feels like you’re either having a 1960s flashback or a serious stroke. But it’s much too difficult to tell when the world is dangerously wacky everywhere you look.
I don’t know about you, but every time I try to go to a Tim Hortons, I wonder: what are they putting in their coffee?
I took out a small short-term bank loan the other day, broke open my piggy bank, and took in our empty pop bottles to the bottle depot. I had to — my car’s gas gauge was pointing straight to R-E (Really Empty), and that meant a reluctant stop at the local money-siphon known as the gas station.
It’s just not a very good idea. It defies logic, goes against all common sense. Completely against any tangible morsel of better judgment.
Way back when, before such modern inventions as cellphones, DVDs and Britney Spears — long before teenagers learned to write with their thumbs, back when “digital” had something to do with a prostate exam, the word “texting”,
Isn’t air travel fun!
From the sheer pleasure of getting up at 3 a.m. in order to be at the airport on time, until the moment you stagger exhausted and suffering from severe malnutrition into a dented taxi at your destination many hours past the scheduled time of arrival, if you’re lucky, the adventurous joy of travelling by air remains high on the list of life’s truly memorable experiences.
You wake up too early — just like every other morning for the last two months — with a toothache that would stop an eight-day clock, whatever that is. But today is different. Today, as impossible as it sounds, you feel even worse than the all the previous regular excruciating toothache-infested days put together.
You can practically hear the sproing, sproing, sproing of spring springing to life all around us as all the pretty flowers poke up their pretty heads in bloom and the meadowlarks sing their happy Spring song and Mr. Sun winks at us from his happy place in the beautiful blue sky.
There’s only one thing that can knock even the toughest guy to his knees any time, anywhere.
They come out in the spring. You see them everywhere. Buzzing around, bothering everyone in sight. No I’m not talking about mosquitoes. Or real estate agents.
I’m talking about a fairly recent and entirely regrettable phenomenon: I’m talking about middle-aged men in leather pants.
