cougars and creepers.

So I'm home for the weekend. It's been a nice break from Winnipeg - I've missed seeing nature to be honest. And I've really, really missed being able to drive 40 minutes out to my CAMP. Yeah, I'm at home in Ontario, therefore I'm going to use real words like camp, pack sack and transport truck.

So the whole point of me sitting at the computer on this beautiful sunny day is because I went to the bar last night and let me tell you, I forgot how different it is going to a bar in Thunder Bay as opposed to .. well .. anywhere else in pretty much the ENTIRE universe.

First of all: what is a male cougar called? I mean, seriously. When whoever decided old women in leather pants dancing like it's still 1979 would be called cougars, did they just not think about the old creepy men? Or are they just so creepy there's nothing else to call them except for creepers?

There were some serious winners out last night. The guy in the white button up dancing like he was at a rave on a cruise ship takes the cake. He was givin'er on the stage for EVER.

Then there was the girl with the plastic jewels on her face in line with her eyebrows. It looked like the had a bejeweled unibrow. Congratulations, I just knoow you were the only one that every single person in the bar wanted to dance with.

Hmm, what else is interesting. Scrawny bouncers you went to elementary school with are magically jacked. Ha. That's natural.

Okay, well that was short but sweet. Just wanted to get my thoughts down before I forgot them. I am headed out to Cloud Lake, the best place in the world.

Arriverderchi. Like my spelling? Thought so.

L-dizzle.