ummmm....

That photo is funny.

Well, maybe to some it's more than funny, but when I snapped it, I was laughing. They're trying to get the cork off the bottle. Insert nine million bad metaphors and jokes and similies here. I'm not going to.

We had a dinner party on the weekend with Stacey's ex-boss at Chatelaine and my ex-mentor teacher. Our gay guardian angels. guardian gayngels? i'm trying to figure out a good word for it because i'm going to write them a poem. they go above and beyond in trying to help stacey and I out, so i figure with one of my legendary poems, we'll be even.

i realized lately, while trying to take care of all my business before MONDAY, that i don't like work. SURPRISE!

my senses are heightened on this issue because i feel like a man condemned to prison, and these are my last days. initially i was rushing about trying to secure gifts for my family for christmas so i wouldn't have to be a weekend guy jostling with the throngs of late shoppers who would gladly crack your jaw to get ahead of you in line.

but after two days of it, i realize that i can't do it. i can't concentrate that long, that hard, on shopping. even when i get some nice gifts i still feel like i wasted my time. perhaps shopping is meant to be a social event.

like golf in that you talk to someone for 4 hours, while intermittently hitting a ball around. but really it's about the talking.

i've been everywhere in the city lately.

there's a place on mavis road where all the outlets have congregated. it's like las vegas for suburban shoppers. stacey and i went there initially to get dishes for our dinner party with the gayngels, and then i also happened to buy pants and a new dress shirt for work. i'm confused about buying clothes for work: so i have to spend money so i can earn money? when do i start breaking even?? it's bay street so i have no idea what i'm supposed to be wearing. BAY STREET! HAHAHAHAHAHAH! i crack myself up. a good job on bay street. yeah, that's what i always wanted.

in fact, in my early university days, that's true. irony? no. empathy? please. yes.

so the end of my freedom dawns. as bush would say, there is a price for freedom (visa bills) and now i need to pay for it. (only bush would include a clause that says if i can't make the minimum payment i have to send a sellable organ to the credit card company as a deposit).

what i really wanted to do here was post some pictures from my phone of the basketball game i was at. louis got some tickets to the game. they were AMAZING TICKETS. he decided to take me. muchos gratias, my friend. they were about 3 rows behind the raptors bench. the game was phenomenal. of course we lost in the final two seconds.

if you took 'ode to joy' and sped it up, added the sound of gunfire, tires screeching, and a vocal track of a man rushing into iraqi combat screaming his head off, that's how i felt watching this game.

i said a few kind words to the GM Rob Babcock. I mouthed off the "raptor killer" sign carrying guys who were in front of us, because i felt the sign was disrespectful to the team. I jumped up and down for joy when matt bonner hit a game tying bucket with 2 seconds remaining.

a two and a half hour event that feels like a big build up to emotional orgasm. just when it feels like you're almost there, jason terry sends you home with blue balls. we must not forget the joy we had for the past 2 and a half hours.

while in a giant future shop on mavis road i took a seat on a plush leather couch in front of a giant screen television and played a hockey game on the new xbox 360. i was incredibly unimpressed. looks just like any game on the PS2 or Xbox.

i'll take my sports up close and personal, please, and my freedom with a dash of income.