Who am I to judge, but really.

Dear Mr. Camping,

Please find the attached receipt for $76.25. As you can see, it's dated for May 20, 2011, or Judgement Eve, as it's likely called in your house.

Stepping out for what was supposed to be the "last supper", we went big – opting for Bubba Ray's wings on a non-half-price wing night. As you will also note, we went big on the beverages, surrendering to the rapture of the over-served. Please also find the attached taxi receipt.

Also, Harold, please watch for a parcel heading your way via Canada Post (don't hold your last breath, because what are you, 104?). If it does indeed arrive before your own personal Judgement Day, please note the package contains a large stack of unpaid bills, mostly in brown, governmental-looking envelopes. Also, please note they are unopened, so beware of doomsday-sized paper cuts. I have also given the nice lady at Revenue Canada your phone number because, quite frankly, her persistence and lack of enlightenment is starting to piss me off.

Also arriving by courier is a load of horse shit. I think you left it by mistake, and please note, it will be arriving C.O.D.

Shame on you, Harold.

Judgement Day is finally here, and I jumped out of bed with such high hopes (and a touch of the whirlies) only to be slapped in the face with disappointment of Biblical proportions. It was like the Christmas I prayed for Santa to bring me a Chatty Cathy all over again. Instead of a talking blonde with a rip cord, I got that fucking ugly church lady of a Mrs. Beasely doll.

Judgement Day, my ass.

Oh, Mr. Camping had I known then, what I know now, I would have paid my taxes and waxed my unruly beaver. Had I know now, what I didn't know yesterday, I never would have ordered the split double-order of Jamaican Jerk and Suicide wings, washed down with a gallon of Blanc Table – working my way into the XL sweats with HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS written across the bum. Because of you, you ignorant prophet of doom, I am knee deep in unpaid bills and unwanted hair, worshipping the porcelain God. And he is very, very angry.

Oh, Mr. Camping. You are the guy who said he'd call and never did. You are the finger wagging poster boy of pea-brained piety, and likely an Oakland Raiders fan. You are the Sarah Palin of the Bible belt. You, you, you, are also laughing all the way to the Bank of the Holy Sepulchre to deposit the millions reaped from harvesting sheep.

Shame on you, Harold.

The good news is, today is happening. And, today marks the 21st birthday of Thornbloom. Yes, Harold, the optimistic leaders of the Havenotian house of interior worship are celebrating their 21st birthday, offering a generous 21% off everything until June 4th. By the looks of that tattered armchair from which you preach, you should probably go.

So, Mr. Camping, you're either having a really good chuckle right now, or, you are parked, head in hands – your boney old ass unloading a shit load of suicide wings into your porcelain holy grail. When you get a moment Harold, today, or maybe the glorious day after that, please reimburse me for expenses and suffering incurred while anticipating the end of the world as we know it.

And have a nice day.

halifaxbroad@gmail.com

Social climbing responsibility.

Damn her.

With a mere two weeks remaining before embarking on my coming of age adventure, I have moved into what is known as the "intense" segment of my Machu Picchu ascent training. This involves shitting in the backyard, limiting myself to two squares of single-ply toilet paper, speaking only in Quechua (phrases like "Carry me, Eduardo, you filthy man donkey") and drinking lukewarm Chilean wine whilst enclosed in a urine-stained sleeping bag.

Then I get the email.

First, can I mention that the Little Bastard has decided to vocalize his own coming of age independence by announcing that he'd rather get circumcised by a palsied rabbi (I initially typed rabbit by mistake) than go to Peru – putting his size 14 foot down on my soul, just before Mother's Day.

And then I get the email.

It seems, leaving one's comfort zone and foregoing yet another opportunity to purchase RRSPs is simply not enough. And, now that I am facing the very real possibility that I may be going it alone, I'm thinkin' – why, oh why didn't the good folks at Maritime Travel encourage me to push the Tennis in Tuscany tour button before settling on 10-Day Incan Incontinent?

Fuck.

Then there's the email.

It seems being flawless of skin, petite, and genuinely nice, isn't enough for Elaine Shortt of Thornbloom fame. The good wife, mother, entrepreneur, and arthritis sufferer has decided she not only wants to climb Machu Pichhu without cracking a sweat – she's doing it for a good cause.

Damn her.

I am doing it... because... well... I am not sure why I am doing it – but if it's for any cause it's BECAUSE it's THERE and not HERE sitting in my jammies in Havenot wondering if the sun will ever shine again. My goal isn't raising money for a do-good worthy cause like the Arthritis Society's Joints in Motion – I just want to raise my head up off of this desk.

And, wouldn't you know it. According to Elaine's timely email, between now and August 31st, all proceeds from the sale of selected Oxo Good Grips products at Thornbloom will be donated to Arthritis research. That bitch! Oxo Good Grips, for those who are ignorant and ill informed, are easy-to- grip gadgets ergonomically designed to ease the difficulty some people may have pulling corks out of bottles and unscrewing lids from cocktail olive jars.

Not to be outdone, between now and two weeks from now, donations of any kind (flowers, Chilean wine) can be delivered to me personally – because unlike Elaine – I am perhaps not in the best of shape for climbing anything except maybe out of bed. And while I may not have arthritis now – in about 18 days, I guarantee you – I will have the worst goddamned case of arthritis and likely diarrhrea in Peruvian history.

So go ahead – feel all warm and fuzzy by contributing to Elaine's socially responsible cause. Keep in mind she is a size 2 and wouldn't know a wrinkle if it bit her on the ass. Just click on the Arthritis logo over to the right, then go about your miserable day.

I know I will.

halifaxbroad@gmail.com

Oh... adding insult to injury, for those who choose to make a donation of $25 or more, Thornbloom will be offering a gift of a selected Good Grips gadget; for donations of $100 or more, a Good grips salad spinner valued at $49.95. Just present your tax receipt at Thornbloom to claim your thank-you gift.

Happy Mother's Day

Click to purchase and share the parental love.