If It's Brown - Drink It Down

" ...If it's black - send it back" (Homer Simpson, noted philosopher).

There's nothing like a little fresh water shortage to bring things back into focus. Yep the intense rains have washed too much mud & silt into our already overburdened watersheds, thus our tap water looks brown, cloudy and disgusting. (But tastes kind of tangy, actually). I was thinking, however, that we could be living in Baghdad - where I'm sure that having any drinking water, sketchy electricity, and the insane probability of being shot, blowed up, or encountering other atrocities are immensely more important than us having to buy bottled water for 5 days.

But back in myopic, navel gazing Vancouver - talk about some weird Darwinian thinning of the herd thing. I was in London Drugs two days ago, and suddenly blaring out of the speakers came "ATTENTION All SHOPPERS! WE ARE OUT OF BOTTLED WATER! PLEASE COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE EMERGENCY SHIPMENT, SO EVERYBODY PANIC etc, etc. So in our polite Canadian way, everyone then panicked, and stampeded en mass to Safeway across the street. Which, had been wrung dry like yesterday's dishcloth before London Drugs became his lil fren'. A postscript to this is that apparently, people are now driving over the border to Washington to buy bottled water, and the US supplies are now getting low, so I expect an invasion any day now. And lastly, there was a fight at Costco over bottled water. Two guys got into it over a case of Evian. A fist fight in a store over water. Now, getting shot over a PlayStation 3 I could understand, but water? It's like we are living in Darfour, or Philly or something. Sheesh. (This just reminded me of an old joke: Q. How do you get a bunch of Canadians out of the swimming pool? A. "Would everybody please leave the pool? Thank you").

Luckily, I was only out shopping for toothpaste, spray Comet, and toilet paper, so I avoided any potential ass-kicking. Here's my civilized life; purchasing a few accoutrement's for the privy, while strolling placidly amongst the water-buying anarchists running up & down Davie St. Last night? I thought it was an early sign of the impending rapture - and started looking for goat's blood adorning select doorways of Davie St. Then I realized that finding goats blood on any select doorway on Davie St., is as easy as falling out of a boat and hitting the ocean - so that little bit of juxtaposition fell flat.

So it is another Sunday morning, and weather-wise the outlook calls for more rain, windstorms, and general shittiness. I love these mornings actually. I've been fairly exhausted all last week - no doubt a by product of the madness the weeks before, and I'm digging it right now, sitting here, writing, pre-house cleaning, and enjoying the quiet that a Sunday morning brings.

Last night, I stayed in, rented a movie, and whipped up a big batch of stew-surprise. About 9:30 or so, as I was just sitting down to dinner, my phone rang, and to my delighted surprise, Randy & Drew, Bonnie & Steve, and Michelle & Linsday were just down the street while out on the town, and called to say that they were on their way up to my apartment. So with 5 minutes notice, I stuffed some dirty dishes in the oven, quickly wiped the bathroom and erased all vestiges of porn from my computer, and they popped in and we had a nice visit. I love those guys, and have not seen them nearly enough - so it was fantastic that they dropped by. I suppose the other novelty of this, is that in the 3 years I've been living in this apartment, I think this is the first time which my friends (who all live out in the burbs) have just dropped by unexpectedly. It was totally cool. Have I mentioned that I love them yet?

The only downside to this whole quiet weekend, is that someone special was supposed to be coming to town yesterday, and had to postpone at the last minute due to some work commitments. So instead of staying inside having absurd amounts of sex - I stayed inside and made pot luck surprise. Sigh. Both warm, yummy & conmforting, but hardly interchangeable. If I could ever invent a stew that whispered filthy things in my ear, and such - I'd be a rich man. Given my druthers, I'd trade a warm dinner any day of the week for the other thing.

Anyway, its cold and grey outside, but inside my apartment, I have Frank Sinatra playing, and it's sunny & warm. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.