Best of the Comments: Gazelles, Tit Punching, and Baby Olympics

Check out Anxious Mom’s blog. We have a lot of fun over there.

Punch Line

I once again have the honour of writing a guest post at A Holistic Journey. This has been a great experience and I invite you all to head over there and enjoy.

We all Want Germany

I think it is now safe to declare that this year’s biggest asshole is the country of Hungary. Congratulations Hungary, you really are horrible. If only Canada had just one more Justin Bieber to give. If only.

Prisoner Transport: Part 2

Prisoner Transport: Part 1 The school bus had become our sanctuary, an oasis of acceptance in a vast desert of judgement where cruelty was a form of currency and there was always an abundance to spend. Children doled out to other children small nightmares as though their survival depended on it. The wrong kind of jeans could banish any one of us to “bottom bitch” status where identity was reduced to that of victim. […]

Canadian Pope

Today we are at an Edmonton Oil Kings cancer research fundraiser hockey game. Lots music, skating, dancing, ice, and, most importantly, face punching. I’m not sure if Canadian Pope agrees with the face punching. *Shrug

A Canadian Street Cleaner

Immunity

Behind the White Coat is one of my favourite blogs. This is the first time I’ve done a reblog and I can’t think of a better post to articulate some of my thoughts and feelings on this issue. Thank you Victo Dolore for sharing this story.

Guest Post: Writer Interrupted

Originally posted on Johnny Reads:
Hey guys, John here. This is the first guest post of 2015 written by the always great John Callaghan. This was not a topic I chose or approved. I let him decide what to write and that’s what he did. The message he delivers in just a few hundred words should be known by every writer at all times. Now let’s welcome him with a…

Ten Cents a Blister

Originally posted on A Holistic Journey:
He was the survivor of a Nazi concentration camp. His parents and sisters perished there. I met Robert Walker when I was about eleven years old. I’m not sure if Robert felt sorry for me, genuinely liked me, or thought I needed a break, but he had me home for a weekend. It was a rare opportunity to spend time in the city. Living…

Laundry Day

Today must be laundry day because I’m wearing my bathing suit. (My wife claims that it is called a swimsuit and only a hillbilly from the Ottawa Valley would call it a bathing suit. I do not agree.) Everything I own will be clean. And thanks to the modern chemical industry, it will also smell like a mountain meadow.