There’s a big stink in TO today because Mayor Ford won’t march in the Pride Parade. I was sort of looking forward to his fleshy fanny spreading a pair of chaps. (You know what they say about the loudest homophobes…) Instead, he’s going to the family cottage. How gay.
I went to a cottage once, dahrlings. The fact that I’m here to tell the tale is a testament to my fortitude. And that of Stoli. You can’t be sober in that environment.
Solitude? Puh-lease. Whether you’re peeing or eating a burger, you are never alone. Things with eyes, things with wings, crawly things, bitey things -- wait until you’re settled in, lulled into thinking you can finally relax before they pounce. My nerves were shot.
Mayor Ford should really set a proper example and go to the Bahamas for the weekend. They have beds bought in this century. Room service. Spas. And indoor plumbing. It would support a whole other sub-set of society in need of recognition, plus it would dispel the rumour I’m spreading about him being a travel-phobe. I have no pride, Pumpkins.
