It has been a long, long time since I've updated my blog. My faithful readers (yes, all four of you) must be wondering why that is. Well, I'll tell you: it's because I'm boring. To be perfectly honest, I've always been a boring person, but I've craftily hidden this deficiency by going on long and wild trips and having a few near death experiences. Now that I'm back in Toronto, comfortable at home, my boringness is as obvious as the newly anorexic Lindsay Lohan's ribs. Even if I overused exclamation points, I would not be able to make my mundane life seem interesting. I just did laundry! And now I have a drawer full of T-shirts! See what I'm saying?
Despite all this, I just received an e-mail, and because of it, I've been inspired to post a little bit more frequently. I've never met this gentleman before, so he must have found my blog by accident. He took offence to my calling Fred Astaire gay and wrote to inform me that, in fact, Astaire was straight. Now it's not surprising that I write something on my blog that is incorrect. To be perfectly honest, 9/10 of the things that I write come directly out of my ass. Literally. I was just surprised that this man had the initiative to e-mail me, a perfect stranger, of my mistake. Wow. Now that is serious. And it assured me that although I haven't posted in a while, there may still be a few people who read this blog. I'm not entirely sure why, but if Fred Astaire can be considered more popular than Gene Kelly (who I adore!) than anything is possible.
So, on to a cute story:
I went out for dinner with my adorable little cousins, who are 12 and 10. They are so cute and well-adjusted and more mature than I am right now, let alone when I was their age. So we were playing the country game, whereby one person says the name of a country (eg., Canada) and the next person has to say the name of another country that starts with the last letter of the previous country(eg., "a", so let's say "Algeria"). It's a fun game, particularly is the loser has to take a shot if they screw up. But we didn't play with alcohol--they're too young to drink. Maybe next year...
Anyway, they got bored after a while and suggested that instead of naming countries, we name actors and singers. "Sure", I thought, "I can probably still win". So when it was my turn, and I got the letter "e", the person who I named was Enrique Iglesias. He's young (28) and super modern, in my opinion, but my cousins had never heard of him! Which leads me to the inevitable question...how old am I?!! Wow. I always thought that 22 was a good age, where I was cool (well, I could be) and hip (well, I could be) and knowledgable about popular culture (which I am, primarily thanks to the Family Guy). But no! I'm old! I'm geriatric! I'm an old geriatric! Who has archaic tastes in music! Wow, that was a shocker. And to make matters worse, throughout the night they kept on suggesting bands that I would know because I'm "old": like Pink Floyd and Led Zepplin. Now as you faithful readers know, I wasn't even born when those bands were big, but try telling that to my cousins. So now I'm left with the realization that I'm way, way over the hill. And that my cousins, at 10 and 12, are far cooler and more with it than I could ever hope to be. But there is one area in which I am better than them--I'm old enough to legally drink in Canada. And after this horrible shock, I'm going to take full advantage of that right: in my room, alone except for a bottle of vodka. Hah! Take that, cousins!
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