Dear Future Me,
Hello again! How are you? I’m doing peachy, except that I am once again sick, for like the fourth time this year. I really don’t know where these random colds, flus, fevers and strange mailbox-shaped rashes come from, but when I find out I promise you’ll be the first to know.
Hint: it’s probably zombie plague, in which case you might just want to shovel me in the face the next time you see me.*
As for Canada Day, I celebrated the auspicious occasion of our country’s still-existing in the traditional way, with an all-day drunken barbecue and a trip downtown in the evening. The barbecue also featured Rockband, which is one of those games I don’t suck at too hard. I usually do the singing, not because I am a good singer, but because I can keep that little shaky arrow inside the glowy green bar.
Please note that the image shown above is DEFINITELY NOT from yesterday’s epic Rockband game. We certainly never got close to 800 000 points because people were just having too much fun, which made me realize that I am the kind of person who can’t enjoy a game if I’m not getting an A at it. Numbers let me know I’m enjoying myself, which I guess makes me the worst kind of person to invite to party, but at least you found this out before I ruined your wedding by grading the speeches.
Anyway, after many drinks and hamburgers and dips and so forth, and surprisingly little of me ruining everything for everybody, the whole group of us wandered over to the transitway and headed downtown. I assume that most of the group went off to watch the fireworks, but my Sopie and I chose a live-band swing night instead.
You might think it’s kind of lame to go to swing instead of OMG FIREWORKS but I have spent my entire life in this very pleasant city and I have seen fireworks literally dozens of times and I’m good, really. Also, I’m scared of loud noises. Fact. I still get enraged when people pop balloons around me, although not as enraged as when I was going home and I overheard some drunk guys yelling racial slurs. Nothing says “I love this country” quite like the ‘n’ word and Jew jokes.
Canada Day swing was pretty good (and less racist, thank god), but next Friday should be even better because we’re bringing a whole crowd of peeps. Still, swing has so much personality all by itself that it’s hard not to love it. For example, the dude who sent me a creepy facebook message was there, and so was the guy who punched me in the face (by accident probably!) and so was the cute boy with the “Be Like Jesus” shirt, and that one guy I won’t dance with anymore because all of his moves ended up with me touching his bum.
Edit: I should point out that swing is also a lot of fun, and it isn’t actually sexual harassment town. Most of the people are friendly and neat and good dancers, and many of them are quite attractive and fun to have swing-based crushes on, but who wants to read about that? Also, all of the above things totally did happen to me, which is why you never go to swing for the first time without a guide. It’s like going on safari: you are going to have an exciting adventure and see lots of neat things, but it is always a good idea to take someone along who knows which of the berries are poisonnous.
Except in this case, “poisonnous berries” are a metaphor for smelly guys or dudes who will accidentally dislocate your shoulder. Fortunately for the lovely people my Sopie and I are taking with us on Friday, we have currated the swing crowd to a sample of excellence. Guaranteed good-looking gents with sweet moves or your money back! Because they are there, and they are charming, and we are aggresive dance-getting lady sharks when it comes to asking people to swing with us.
I guess that all in all Canada Day was a success, and I really can’t complain. The drunks weren’t too numerous, the dancing was good, the company was better and food was delicious. Yay Canada! You sure do throw a great party, but next time, maybe try a little harder to keep the assholes out?
*Please don’t actually shovel me in the face.