Do you and your significant other ever slip into a little baby talk? Admit it. Don't be embarrassed. I'm convinced that a good amount of couples do. Not in public (hopefully). No, I expect these little coos and goos come from behind closed doors. And I expect cuddling is involved as well. Gross.
It's such a pleasure living in a large, multicultural city. If you have a craving for injera, you only have to go a couple of blocks in either direction to stuff your face. We've got parades for every festival you could ever dream up. You can go down any main street at two in the morning and hit at least seventeen open sushi bars. We've got multiculturalism up the ying yang. I mean, check out this proud Vancouverite:
It's about minus sixteen around here right now. We've got snow. We've got freezing rain. We've got something called an arctic outflow. God knows what that is. And this isn't even the worse part of Canada; In Calgary, it dropped down to minus fifty-seven with the wind chill. That's right. Minus fifty-seven. Your skin would freeze off your face in less than fifteen seconds.
Screw being anti-stereotypical. Canada is goddamn cold.
Last week we had a lot of fun with doughnuts. Four dozen doughnuts worth of fun, really. But, in the end, I felt guilty. Maybe it was because we ate almost half of them for breakfast. Or maybe it was because I pawned off the other half on my friends so they could eat them for breakfast. No matter how much brainwashing Tim Horton's has put you through, you have to admit on essential truth about doughnuts: They are not meant to be eaten before noon. Yep, those bear claws and jelly doughnuts you chowed down on this morning were totally not appreciated by your gut.
But I've got a loophole for you. And it's name is coffee.
I've been seeing a lot of dazed people at my gym lately, walking around aimlessly. I assume these are those fabled New Years Resolutioners who are getting their buns in gear this month. You know, the "I promise to get my 30 minutes of excise a day" or "I'm going to eat healthy" people. I have mixed feelings about these poor souls: It's wonderful that they want to make a change in their lives. But I'm not sure they're going about it the right way.
We're old. Not old by usual standards, mind you. To most, Mr. C and I are still young whipper snappers (does anyone say that anymore?). But, in our own little private world, we are, without a doubt, old. Gone are the days of bar hopping, drinking until wee hours of the night , and barfing into your friend's houseplant. Gone are the days of sleeping in until mid-afternoon and doing nothing buy playing video games for the rest of the day. Gone are the days when we could survive on nothing but stir fry and, my personal favourite, "Soup On Rice" (it's exactly how it sounds). Now, all we do is complain about "those darn kids" and their "fixed speed bikes" and "hipster mustaches".