Saturday, December 29, 2012

Auld Lang Syne, you always make me cry

We're going to Montreal for the 30th and 31st. We'll be seeing dudeski's favourite, Nofx, on the 31st. As I hate Montreal (maybe I don't, I don't know. I've just had terrible times there, the two only times I've been there. Mostly personal stuff, not so much the actual city's fault. Although to some degree, yes, some locals that I encountered's faults, yes. I don't like to blame EVERY occupant of a city for that though. Some were lovely. Some places were lovely. Others - eeeehhhh, you'd have to drag me scowling and fake-barfing near again. This is the vaguest description ever of anyone's crappy time to anywhere, but, you know, this is afterall a blogspot blog, who said it had to be anything?

And both in the dead of winter, which we'll be going in again - hey! Whaddaya know! This isn't really "the dead" of winter, but just let me say that for emphasis. I've only ever left Montreal crabby and swearing to never return), this should be a neat experiment. And risky, as it's going to cross us into 2013. Am I the only jankoff who holds a your-new-years-ever-dictates-the-tone-for-the-rest-of-your-year superstition? 

It should actually be okay. As we are going for the sole purpose of seeing Nofx (uuuuggggh, merciful), I insisted that I "get" everything else during the trip. See: nice hotel (Le Germain), restaurant of my choosing (Barroco or Garde Manger, or maybe both! Who's to say!), every other itinerary item outside of the actual concert hours, however brief or inane, mine, my clock. Oohh, we're getting a fancy spa package too. I actually don't remember which one we booked, we booked like a month ago, so that'll be a smart surprise. 

I imagine I will spend a lot of the concert's time near the bar, fiddling with my phone and trying to get one decent picture of myself. Don't feel bad for me, I actually don't find that that awful of a time. Like any seasoned iphone addict, I can keep myself unbored for ages. The venue - The Olympia - actually looks pretty nice inside if google images are telling me the truth. I wonder if there's a plush, gaudy lobby for me to loiter in on occasion. The ballroom (looks ballroomish? In Some pictures?) looks to have plush potential. 

My Christmas has been luxuriously lazy. My office is closed for the holiday week, which I am not at all ungrateful for for a second. I relish leisure. I would make a model lady of leisure. At my most base level, I'm like:


and this:


and this, but with less fur and rattier hair:


and this, but with less of whatever is actually going on here. What is going on here?


THIS!  


this, this, and this:


.. and ballerly unapologetic about it. 

I'm kidding. Kindof. How do people not always know what is and isn't hyperbole? I don't always know, so who am I to talk. I have to have joke tones clarified to me all the time. Still, I think the integrity of a joke you want told is more important than the risk of some not "getting it". Always risk it! Always tell, and whenever possible, do not explain! You will be a better joke person for it. Do explain when it's me asking though.
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