Packing is a challenge. I may have to stay (my England friends just cheered, but alas, I am going..). I have packed 5 things into my suitcase, realized how much room sweaters take up, got stressed out and sat down on my bed, wine in hand, and have decided to write some stories instead. Here's one to make you laugh:
Picture the scene. It is Canada Day in Trafalgar Square. As you have read below in the post Canada Day Shenanigans, we were very, very intoxicated. There was also a raging crowd of people, fenced in like cattle, trying to get as close as possible to the legendary Blue Rodeo. Due to the chugging of the vino on the train and outside the gates, I have very little recollection of the nights events (and the parts I do remember, I am not willing to discuss, due to sheer embarassment). I will now tell you a few lies about myself told to me by other people who were at the big event, trying to get me to feel ashamed of my behaviour that day. Lies, I tell you, lies.
So, my housemate Mike and our lovely Aussie Troy were trying to follow me up to where the girls were anxiously awaiting Blue Rodeo (lord knows how I got separated) and I started weaving my way through the crowd. Mike claims "People started making a blockade so we couldn't come through and you just SHOVED past them without even thinking about it, bouncing off people left, right & centre." Great.
Fortunately, like thankfully all of my stories, this story does not end in me being passed out in the fountain, dead or kidnapped (no one was interested in having to deal with THAT girl) so I continued to rage on. Poor Mike and Troy were left in my dust and I was off to find Lex & Joce. I (apparently) successfully found them and continued my tirade.
I have to tell you something about England that I really hate. LITTER. There is litter everywhere. People have lovely picnics in the Royal (therefore well-kept) parks and then just stand up and leave their litter behind. Like it's someone elses job to deal with it. It makes me so infuriated I just want to scream.
Onto the next (fictional) story then:
A man drops his beer can. On the ground of Trafalgar Square.
Enter Jocelyn "the enforcer" Courtney, picking up the beer can and waving it in the air:
"Excuse me, buddy, where are you from?"
"Vancouver."
"You're from CANADA? and you just threw litter on our planet? Don't you know better? You disgust me" (or something to that effect - insert some really good hand gesturing with the beer can)
Man feels SHAME and gets awkward, apologizes and walks away.
I, apparently, feel sad that I was not involved in the telling of this poor Canuck, so I turn around to a small pile of beer cans, pick one up and shout "WHOSE LITTER???" at the top of my lungs and then lob it in to the crowd of people.
Naturally, it pegs some poor, unsuspecting dude right in the face.
He looks around to see who threw a beer can, as I reach down to pick up another, going unseen.
Jocelyn quickly pulls me away from the litter before I get beat up.
I don't believe this to be a true story, but nevertheless it cracks me up, which leads me to show you this picture, representative of my life:
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