Monthly Archives: January 2014

What Do You Do in a Drunken Stupor?


For Mayor Rob Ford of Toronto…

  • (to the tune of “What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor?”) 
  • 1. What do you do in a drunken stupor?
  • What do you do in a drunken stupor?
  • What do you do in a drunken stupor?
  • You lie every morning.
  • (CHORUS)
  • 2. Drink green beer till you’re almost inco-
  • herent and act like a total dink, oh.
  • Mess with a bike-riding, lefty pinko.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 3. Go to the ACC and wig out.
  • Grab the missus at home and pig-out,
  • You’re in a hole even Doug can’t dig out.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 4. Flee from Pride to your summer cottage.
  • Don’t wanna see any homo frottage.
  • What’s in your head doesn’t have much wattage.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 5. Hide inside from the Princess Warrior.
  • Try a little coke-induced euphoria.
  • Yeah, you’re sorry. We’re a whole lot sorrier.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 6. Go for a drive when you want to read, oh.
  • Call the guy from The Star a pedo.
  • Couldn’t look worse if you wore a Speedo.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 7. Chug an amount that is nearly monu-
  • Mental, and when you’re about half-gone, you
  • Get videoed with a crack-pipe on you,
  • You lie every morning.
  • 8. Make another video and run amuck, or
  • Scream you wanna body-slam a motherfucker.
  • Everybody’s lickin’ the Toronto sucker.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 9. Better get to rehab till you get sober.
  • Better quit fryin’ your frontal lobe, or
  • Ya won’t be around come next October.
  • You lie every morning.
  • 10. That’s what you do in a drunken stupor,
  • That’s what you do in a drunken stupor,
  • That’s what you do in a drunken stupor,
  • You lie every morning.

Things to remember when riding the El in Chicago

Things to remember when riding the El in Chicago

1. Place your hand in front of your ear to block parentheses from entering your head, while using your thumb to apply as much pressure as possible to your carotid artery.

2. For your safety, tall black people are required to sit on uncomfortable Swedish modern chairs, while short black people must sit near the large red and white screwheads affixed to train doors.

3. Operating a crossbow on the CTA is strictly prohibited. If someone starts shooting bolts at you, proceed as quickly as possible to another car. Passengers are advised to duck.

4. If you are unsure of how to escape crossbow bollts, the white, faceless gentleman will be happy to tell you where to go. The next stop is Addison. Doors open on the left at Addison.

5. Above all, avoid the gigantic black electrical spiders that roam the CTA tunnels in search of prey. Welcome to Chicago. We hope that your stay will be happy, safe, and relatively non-fatal.

Happy new year

I’ve been eagerly awaiting my present from Terry since before Christmas. It was sent “express” on the 16th. I managed to track it on the Canada Post website yesterday; the package had travelled over the course of eight days from Chicago to Laguna Niguel, California (utterly in the wrong direction), before arriving in Mississauga on Christmas Eve for more processing, with delivery expected on 3 January. 

This afternoon, there was a knock at my door. The guy who runs the spa in the front of my building had a package for me. Oh, good, it’s only the 31st! Merry Christmas to me!

It wasn’t the package I was expecting. The address was right, though the postal code wasn’t and the addressee was someone who’s never lived here in the two decades I’ve been in this apartment. But the sender was from Regina, so I figured it was from someone I knew who was just messing with me. Of course I had to open it.

Inside was a lovely present—not for me, but a first wedding anniversary gift for a couple I’d never heard of before. I examined the card inside for some clues, and then had a gander at the gift: number 32 of a limited run of 70 copies of a collection of short stories by this year’s Nobel laureate Alice Munro, signed by the author! Exactly the sort of thing I would covet… for a moment I hoped I wouldn’t be able to find them. 

But of course it really wasn’t mine, so I couldn’t be a jerk, and since it was their anniversary, I had to do all I could to find them. Besides, they were from Regina and so am I and, well, you know…

The first names of the couple were Hilary and Roslyn, so I assumed it was a nice lesbian couple celebrating their anniversary, but I didn’t know which first name on the card went with which last name on the package. Good thing there’s Google, so I typed in the last names, and right near the top of the page was their wedding registry. It turns out that Hilary is actually a guy, and he and Roslyn got married one year ago today, on New Year’s Eve.

Still no way of contacting them, though. The package had been sent to my address, and I had no idea if they were still in Toronto—though they must have been, because the gift was from his parents and of course they would know where their kids are. So I typed the incorrect postal code into the toolbar and got an address one block north.

Next step: go to and type in the names and see if a phone listing came up that matched the address. Yep.

After a few rings a woman answered. “Hi, is this Roslyn? Happy first anniversary! I have a present for you from your in-laws. You’re going to like it very much.” She told me that my house number is the suite number of their condo. I put on my coat and shoes.

Roslyn seems nice, and I bet Hilary knows he’s a lucky guy. By the way, I took a side trip to Facebook and saw that Hilary and I have a mutual friend back home. Small freakin’ world is all I can say! And now that I know there are Regina people so close, I hope we will become friends. Territory folk should stick together. Territory folk should all be pals.

So that’s my good deed for the year, and just under the wire. You know, even if it takes some effort, it’s usually easy to make someone happy, though sometimes it’s really hard, and sometimes it’s both. Happy Anniversary, Roslyn and Hilary! 

Oh, when I got home, there was another parcel stuck in my mailbox, this one from Terry. And it’s perfect. And it’s mine.