NO FAIR, YOU USED YOUR TITS

First of all, please give yourself an early Christmas orange and come see this show that me and my friends are putting on. It's got everything going for it - it's on Friday (the creamiest day), it's on kind of late (just like your favourite prom) and it features some of the funniest jokers around (just like the Liberal caucus!). The best part is that if you're a loud-mouthed bozo you're actually encouraged to be loud-mouthed and bozotic, as opposed to the other shows you talk during where you receive non-confrontational backward glances from comedians who don't know how to fight (present company included).

"Present Company Exclusives" would be a ssssssssssssssssssssssafe name for a store that sells ssssssssssssssssssssick gifts. I bought my dear mother a nice book on baking for Mother's Day and she loved it so much that she immediately baked me my favourite dessert: Sugar Raped Tart.



Because it was Mother's Day my siblings and I headed down the Quey Double You to our home hive to see the queen bee and her husband Don. I had a chance to look through some of my old stuff and in the dim candlelight, wrapped in our family's ancient quilt, crafted by the witch on my father' s side, I wept reflecting on a life well-lived and a future as yet undecided.

In real life I just sorted though some stuff on the floor and froze my walnuts off because basements are cold. Looking back on my scholastic career only confirmed suspicions that I haven't changed much over the years. I still like sports and writing stories and I still hate homework and math. My handwriting and drawing skills haven't improved and my old school journals showed me that much like today, my weekends are spent with movies and video games.

So what now? So far, being the same guy my whole life has landed me a leggy brunette and a penthouse apartment in Toronto's hottest area code. Professionally speaking, I'm still not the head president of anything, but I still know how to party and occasionally get the paying public to laugh live. So if I stay the course I'll end up something close to Danny DeVito as Jack the Bear in Jack the Bear.

I HAVE TO ADMIT, I JUST LOVE SCREAMING AT BIRDS

This week hasn't been the best. If not for the NHL and their playoffs I'd be in a downright stink. But don't worry friends, Friday brings dreams of sunshine, meals prepared by workers at restaurants just for you and cold drinks that alter your brain. And for all the ladies out there who have had sex resulting in human baby, it's your special day on Sunday! Lots to look forward to. Since my mom's birthday is a week after Mother's Day I don't usually go crazy beans with presents and usually give mother something small and/or funny.

One year my friend Jon thought it'd be a good idea for us all to paint self portraits of ourselves to give to our mom bombs. Here's mine:

I think it's one of the best things I've ever drawn. Another year I made a glossy 8x10 photo of myself and autographed it, and I wish I could show it to you but my mom keeps it at work and I didn't get a chance to scan it. I've given you some good ideas, now get up off that bean bag chair, turn off that Laserdisc and go get some damn supplies.

Seriously though, at least make your mom a card. Not only is it thoughtful, but it's also a big "EAT FARTS" to the greeting card companies who prey on the love we have toward the girls that birthed us. Trust me, your mom will like it way better and she'll probably keep it unless you mess it up and it sucks. If you're having trouble coming up with material, here are some quick messages you can use:

Roses are red, rice is from China, I wouldn't be here without your vagina

Mom - I'm old enough now that I could beat you up no problem, but of course I never would!

Mom - Our love is strictly emotional, but damn you look good

You raised me, fed me and nurtured me. All I can give in return is my love and a promise I'll give you the best damn funeral when you die.

All you have to so is add in a picture of a heart or a small woodland creature and you've got yourself a card. Ding Dong. The doorbell! Let's see who's there...

Oh it's a mom!