Dear Hairline,

   While I can appreciate your defiance in the face of my inevitable baldness, I must ask you to please recede in a more orderly fashion. Rather than retreating in a continuous line up my scalp as normal people’s receding hairlines would do, you have decided to stand your ground. While I do have a certain amount of admiration for your bravery, it is, nevertheless, quite foolish for you to have allowed yourself to be outflanked in the manner you have. There you stand, a lone island of hair surrounded on all sides by hairlessness. You have, in fact, taken the concept of a “last stand” entirely too literally and have chosen to stand up straight in some kind of misplaced rebellion not only of the onslaught of unavoidable baldness, but also of the very laws of physics. Let me break some bad news to you, there are no reinforcements coming, you are doomed to failure. Your heroism will only be remembered as the folly of follicles whose braveries were only matched by their complete and utter lack of a functional strategy.

Sincerely, John

I’ve become this unbearable guy:

“Oh, yeah I guess that’s a nice sunset, I mean if you can really compare it to tropical sunsets in Costa Rica.”

“I’m hungry, I wish I had some casado.  That’s a traditional Costa Rican meal — quite good.”

“Mmm, is this Edam cheese?  That’s a great Dutch cheese.  Dutch, just like the Dutch couple we did the nature tour with in Costa Rica.”

“Look at this queue, it’s just like the customs queue at the airport in Costa Rica — only their queue moved much more quickly.”

“Dry skin on my forehead?  Yeah, probably got a little too much sun in Costa Rica.  You know, because it’s so warm there.”

“What is this, beer?  That reminds me, I drank beer in Costa Rica.  Imperial, I don’t think it’s available here.”

“Woah, nice blue shirt, dude.  It’s the same colour as the morpho butterfly, which is quite commonly found in Costa Rica.  Costa Rica, where I just was.”

“This seems like a good cable package.  Cable, like the cable I went zip-lining down on my jungle canopy tour in Costa Rica.”

“Oh, you’re drinking water?  That reminds me of the Pacific Ocean, which is also made of water.  I mean, there’s some salt in it, but it’s still water.  I know about this salt, I swallowed some of it when I was snorkeling there amongst the colourful fish.”

To the Hole in My Pocket,

You swallow so many things, yet you have no digestive tract, no stomach, nothing with which to hold that which you consume.  You will never be sated by the many coins that you have consumed in the midst of your endless, sisyphean hunger.  This is your curse in life, to always eat but never be satisfied, to be ever consuming but never retaining.

Basically, I think you should give up because your whole coin swallowing trick is getting old and I keep forgetting that you exist.

Yours,

John

To the gentleman who cut me off on the way into the parking garage,

  I am glad that I was able to facilitate speedy access to the parking area for you. I understand that you, no doubt, had very important things to do — things that were much more important than anything I might have had to do. The speed with which you took advantage of my act of opening the garage door leads me to the conclusion that you are a very august person, for whom ordinary rules of parking lot decorum and civility do not apply. Perhaps you are a superhero or a billionaire philanthropist on your way to save the universe or a small poverty-stricken village in Northern Ontario. I do not know how you would do these things from the comfortable confines of your humble apartment, but I shouldn't ask too many questions of your noble personage. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to aid a person of your obvious importance in your quest for quicker access to the condo's parking garage. I feel that your importance has enhanced my own importance. If there are any other ways that I can convenience you by, say, losing my place in the grocery or bank queue to you or using my face to test the structural integrity an oversized backpack you wear on the bus, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Yours affectionately, John

Gezellig

There is a restaurant in Ottawa named “Gezellig.”

Gezellig is one of the Dutch language’s greatest words.  There is no English equivalent, which explains how this word can survive sixty years to a generation of Anglophone Canadians of Dutch descent.  For the uninitiated, gezellig (with the g’s pronounced with the beautiful guttural phonetics that no one can pull of quite like the Dutch) is a word that calls to mind warmth and coziness, the feeling that one has after having a warm time or moment with family friends.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, there is a restaurant in Ottawa called “Gezellig.”  When I first heard of their existence I was very excited because I thought I would finally be able to dine on some fine Dutch fare – perhaps have some steaming stumpot or a nice appeltaart.

But no, apparently this restaurant does not actually serve any Dutch food.  I was disappointed to learn this and then bitterly remonstrated, in my head, against this callous act of linguistic appropriation.  Imagine if there were a restaurant named “Jolly Good” that didn’t serve any British fare or a restaurant named “Jambo” that didn’t serve any East African food.

Still, I heard that the food is very good, and they’ll definitely be getting my business sometime in the future.  When I do go, I should suggest serving at least one Dutch dish. You know, because they borrowed such an awesome word. 

I can always get some fine Dutch cooking from my mother.  

Update

• Shout out to Celine and Steve.
• Where the heck do I find Miranda’s blog, Celine?  I am of the opinion that, if a thirty second google search yields no solid results, a thing does not exist.
• Other things that do not exist: A Murray McLauchlan fan club (too bad, really), Wal-Mart Inc.’s conscience (wasn’t expecting one), and sour grape mentos (why is that?).
• Interesting thing I just learned: Fruit Pizza with Almond Extract is a thing.
• Also, there are cockroach enthusiasts in this world of ours.
• I just ate pie.
• It was good.
• It was filled with various berries, one of the varieties was definitely blueberry.
• There was this movie I seen one time about a man riding across the desert and it starred Gregory Peck.
• We’re moving / in the process of moving.
• I just wrote a skit for Christmas this year and then I realized that last year’s skit is still on the first page of my blog.  That’s a shame, John.  A real shame.
• Our new place has a full wall mirror in the living room.  A shag carpet would really bring the room together.
• We picked up the following items at Ikea yesterday: A large computer desk with attached shelf, a kitchen table, four chairs, a computer chair, a small kitchen table, two lamps, and two light bulbs.  We fit all of that into our car because Laurianne is a genius.
• The light bulbs are the part that impressed you all most, I’m sure.
• Ikea how do you have an aisle zero?  That shit is just weird to me.
• Rob Ford . . . Toronto, that was a silly thing to do, electing him like that. 
• Dalton McGuinty . . . remember when you were the one defending teachers?
• Stephen Harper . . . thanks for taking away the protected status of over two million Canadian rivers.  We don’t need our waterways protected, it’s not like we use that water for anything.
• I have a new cup for my tea that changes colour when the water is at the correct temperature.
• Signs you are getting old: you get excited about a cup for your tea.
• My coworker referred to records as “those giant cd things.”
• Really though?  Really?
• Signs you are getting old: your coworkers are too young to easily call to mind the word for record.
• I downloaded an app that allows me to rate beers.  I never know what to say when I rate beers.
• Here’s a sample of one of my reviews: “I like it.”
• Here’s another sample: “Great.”
• Here’s a slightly less glowing review: “Good.”
• Here’s a review where I am more critical and in depth: “Smooth, not my taste though.”
•  That's it.  That's all I have to say right now.

Fantasy Soccer Graph

Graph Plotting Effort Invested in Fantasy Soccer Versus Score Outcomes Per Week (Effort Measured in Units of Thought)