Ruminations 6.0

A new day, another morning after – thank goodness for my cappuccino maker, sometimes it feels like you’re my only friend.

Two quick thoughts – more often than not, realized always in hindsight, an excess of draught beer does not agree with me. Secondly, stand-up comedy is not as easy as it looks, and I was only heckling (despite the fact my annotations were funnier than much of the comedian’s material.)

Having said that, 2 weeks from now I will be climbing on-stage to cast-off the shackles of stage fright and retrieve my self-esteem from the hallowed recesses where it currently hides. Anybody that knows me should have just experienced a mild chuckle knowing that if there is one thing I do not fear, it is standing before a room of people staring intently at my delightful visage, seconds before I begin to verbally eviscerate each and every one.

Literally, I can’t wait.

In order for things to go smoothly, I will likely require some of the following people to be seated amongst the throngs of satisfied onlookers in the event I forget some of my material and need to ad-lib some jokes:

1) An obese black man wearing a FUBU #5 football jersey. My preference would be the model popularized by every rapper circa 1995 that features the ‘faded’ colour scheme with the FUBU name written in cursive on the lapel. Classy shit bra.
2) Mayor Rob Ford or the retarded dude from Goonies with the lopsided face. Either or.
3) My mother and/or any of my ex-girlfriends (pre-drinking would help.)
4) The laugh-track used on America’s Funniest Home Videos or any program on the Nickelodeon or Disney Networks and a half-ounce of shrooms to coerce the audience into laughing.

Stay tuned.


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I consider myself a chivalrous man. I put value on the little things that makes a woman feel important. Whether it be holding a door ajar or holding an umbrella, if you truly appreciate the companionship of your woman, there are several small ways of showing this. With each experience you will learn more of what pleases a woman, and inversely what offends her. Following my latest relationship, I will never again walk before a woman. It’s rude. Show the woman you love and/or kinda like that she’s special. Perhaps she will repay you with great sex/honesty (low blow - I know. Sorry Shotta.)

This need not only apply to women you fancy, as you never know when one diminutive act of chivalry towards a stranger may result in the exchange of phone numbers or perhaps if you’re fortunate, an outdoor exchange of bodily fluids. A friend of mine recently had a similar experience with a young lady on a rather precipitous night. He called it a rain-bo-bo. While humourous, I cringed nonetheless reminded of the usage of hyphenated single-syllable words as a staple of my youth, which feels bizarre when referring to the oral consumption of a friend’s tube steak.

Where were we? Chivalry right! Regardless of situation, it’s always a great idea to be kind towards women of all ages. I pride myself on holding doors open for women, even if it requires a measure of patience on my part. Imagine the patience the same woman had when pushing some child’s massive cranium through her birth canal. Anyways, off on a tangent again – the point I am struggling to make is to be chivalrous, and in being as such, expect nothing in return from these women. Do I sound like a prick?

I am.

Women of the world – you want equality? Fine, have it. I have no problem with an absolute form of equality in all regards of life, but if I spend so much time holding doors ajar for women, could you not once return the favour by half-assedly jutting out an elbow or shoulder to delay the impending closure of a door. Just the other day, while holding-open the doors at College subway station for a group of older women, I followed them to the second set of doors in a small corridor where once laid a cinnamon bun franchise. As the final lady walked towards the door, not only did she not open it any further, she darted through as if she was Indiana Jones rolling horizontally to avoid the crushing blow of a massive stone door.

Ladies, you want to be president one day? Go for it. Want to run Fortune 500 companies and have your husbands stay home breastfeeding the babies while devouring Activia and watching Ellen asexually dance about stage wearing clothing eerily similar to what I sport daily? It’s yours. All I ask for is to return the smallest percentage of favours we oblige you with on a daily basis by simply showing you appreciate our chivalry. If I may return to the experience I had the other day, I’m not demanding that the wrinkled octogenarian who narrowly escaped the closing door withdraw her dentures to perform fellatio on me amidst a web of salivic deposits and her pot-pourri smelling yellow wig, I am simply asking for her to show her appreciation by returning the favour once.

Fuck I want a cinnabun. Wouldn't say no to a rain-bo-bo either.