Monday, March 23, 2009

Canadian Oasis

We are a land, improbably vast, almost sprawling (defying today's culture of restraint, frugailty, recession) populated by people too polite to take the middle armrest on a plane ("No, I really couldn't. I'm happier as a canape.")
Secretly we see ourselves more mature, more refined than our lower neighbors. Holding up our monarchy, hiding behind the Queen's skirts like a shy child, as proof of our regal nature. Their cowboys hats, massive towers, erected to their own grandeur. Down the street of life they are the rowdy college boys, laughing like boozey bubbles; we trail behind, our polished shoes tapping on stone, hugo boss parfum lingering over the smell of cheap whiskey. Our nostrils twisted in derision until you observe the building we pass.
Is that really just an old school?
It's alright; just don't think about it.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

An open letter to my cat

My darling cat.
Although you are daring and adventurous, letme assure you there is no need to bolt, as from the depths of hell, out the apartment door everyday when I open it to arrive from work. There is the same twenty feet of smelley carpet that was there yesterday.
Also, I realize staying quiet while I sleep is impossible, but can we eliminate the glass- shattering noises?
My head is not a boost, stepping stool, landing pad, or launch dome. I am firm on this.
Finally, I know you appreciate when I fill your box with fresh sand, but a poop filled taj mahal is not necessary to show your love.
Thank You

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Canadian pride, eh?

We Canadians don't have much identity. It is a scavenger hunt for pieces right now. Like a teenager growing painfully amongst hundreds of full grown adults.
There is a joke we tell; we believe we are better than Americans.
They have, through truth or artifice, a black president.
When will we have a native prime minister?