boytellsall

I am done. Finished. Over it.I have thrown out my back three times this winter.

No, not in the fun, extra-curricular activities kind of way. In the I-had- to-shovel-80,000-lbs- of-snow kind of way because the mailman refused to come up the walk unless I chipped away the accumulated sludge and black ice.

And, seeing how I was waiting for a cheque – yes, it was from my mother; it’s a loan, so shut up – I had to shovel three effing separate times during this never-ending snow-dump. (NB all three international readers of this blog: It has been a total ass-jack of a winter this year in Toronto.)

I have had enough. And now that I am grasping said cheque in my hot little hand, it is time to get the hell out of here before I go berserk and hurl myself in front of the subway to get a break from this frigid wasteland 30 million of us call home.

That’s right, babies. Daddy’s going on vacation.

But I can’t do it alone. Like all top gunners, I am need of a wingman.

First, let’s explore the different types of said wingman:

(a) The Ice Man. Avoid him. He’s cool, he’s aloof – ladies love this. He’ll put the freeze on your game.

(b) Jester – chicks dig funny. You don’t want to wind up the Kenny to his Spenny. Or is the other way around? I can never remember.

(c) Goose. He’ll take one for the team, ie: you.

If you chose (a) or (b), you’ll be wastin’ away in Margaritaville.

(c) is your man. What’s good for The Goose is good for your gander – wait, what does that even mean? Anyway, moving on.

Let’s focus all our thoughts and attention on sand, sun and the rest of the trappings.

I need to get out of here. No question. But even with the cheque, I’m down 600 bucks. Now where am I going to get that kind of money with my skill set?

All suggestions for quick money making schemes are welcome. Particularly those of a lascivious* nature.

*I have read one or two books in my time, so I do know what that word means.