Maybe it’s just because it’s Monday, but it seems to me as though the particularly cold weather can help to contribute to a mindset in a person that sort of favors escapism. As I was driving to work this morning, I found myself lost in one of those daydreams that so completely took me over I had traveled about two miles before I realized it. Ever have that? Get lost in thought to the point that you don’t even really remember driving for the last five minutes?

That’s what hit me today as I sat in my warm car as it cut through the below freezing temperatures that are overtaking our city this morning. As I drove, I had these fantasies of moving somewhere exotic. Running away to an island somewhere where I can develop an accent, get too much sun and turn into a leather skinned local who rents out mopeds and rickshaws to tourists during the day, howls at the moon at night, and constantly talks about the books he’s gonna write or the movie ideas he’s got, but never actually follows through with them.

Or maybe I could move to some European nation and work as a logger or a watchmaker or something. I don’t seem to have the propensity to learn other languages very well, so I’d probably be something of a hermit. Befriending only the local hooker and those American citizens who found themselves separated from their tour group.

Do they still have gladiators? Maybe I could get a job as a gladiator.

I think what it all really comes down to, is that I have way too many talents that people would pay dearly to have access to. I just haven’t quite figured out how to get those talents out there for those with all the money to recognize.

I think I’m tired. Tired of trying to make myself happy let alone everyone else. Maybe I should quit worrying about how the things I do affect others and just do what I want to. If that means I want to move to Seattle and start a life as a fisherman, then perhaps I should do that.

Or maybe I should move to Canada and go to work for their government. It seems to me that our brothers to the north put up with too much shit from us. It’s probably time they started toughening up their image. I feel like I could help with that. For starters, I’d give everyone diction lessons. Let’s get rid of the “eh” and make it something like “aaiiight.” In addition I’d make everyone start speaking with more of a Chicago accent. Something that lets others know that we as Canadians aren’t taking any more of their shit.

“I don’ really cayre ‘ow much your freakin’ dollar bill is wort-. Aynd as a matter of fayct, you can take your dollar and shove it right up your conservative asses, hosers, aiight?”

I hope you were all able to read that with the proper Chicagoan tongue. It sort of loses something when you don’t.

Anyway, I’m just lamenting about the life I should be living. I belong in a Southern California, mountainside mansion. I should be sitting by a pool reading a good book and looking forward to my date with Jessica Simpson that evening. She’s coming over and we’re gonna watch a movie and play Battleship. Strip Battleship.

“Aw Mikey,” she’d say, “You sunk my battleship! Well, here are my panties. Now what? I’m naked.”

What better reason do I need to add a picture of her here?

None that I can think of.

Anyway, I need a change. So consider this my call to arms. If you’re a faithful reader and you’ve got connections, now’s your chance to hook a brother up.

If you can’t get me a job, at least get me a date with Jessica Simpson. I’ll wave at you as I walk the red carpet when she invites me as her arm candy to the Grammys. Of course, I’ll be the one up for the Grammy, what with the new band and all.

2 thoughts on “Oh Canada, will you give me the life I crave?

  1. Hi!

    What’s up? Nice blog, I like it. I’m europeen and making reference to this:
    “Do they still have gladiators? Maybe I could get a job as a gladiator.”
    Mmm.. I don’t think so jajaja but you can work as a “torero” if you want, after all is the same.. don’t you think?


  2. Hey Kairy.

    Thanks for reading! I’ll be checking your blog out as soon as I post this.

    As for the idea of me as a torero, I’ve always sort of thought that bullfighting looked easy. Well, except for the bull. Plus I bet I’d look good in the outfit.

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