did you ever have to make up your mind?

...and this is probably my present-life's sad equivalent to the Lovin' Spoonful song of the same name...

I was at Harleys tonight, meeting some buds for drinks, laughs, etc.

Anyways, a young lady 10ft from where I sat, took off her clothes to music, with a television on the wall beside her playing the top 100 most memorable sports plays of all-time.

Seems innocent enough, right? Nice, relaxing evening where I would not have to once use my brain or have any kind of consequential thought? Well, not so much, actually.

I felt like an addict. 

Like a character from a movie I can't remember (ouch) that takes hits of heroin instead of making love with his lady, with another character explaining that a person is a junkie if they choose the stuff before sex.

I sat there at Harleys watching the damn highlights. Now, I will say the girl on stage was not the most attractive lady ever brought up to Yellowknife to strip, but still... I couldn't turn my eyes away from the highlights.

One-handed catches, miracle plays, crazy buzzer-beaters... I know. A sad state affairs. I really don't know how to explain myself. A woman was dancing naked, and I stared at the TV beside her.

Note: I know the blogging has taken a hit since I got back to Yellowknife, but it's only because I've sort of been trying to catch back up with things.

I went shopping last night and skipped down the cereal aisle when I saw that Cheerios only cost $4.00 a box here, as opposed to the $8.50 I'd been dropping in Iqaluit. 6 bags for $77... ahhh....

It's ugly outside and I'm sure I'll be bored again soon with the rest of the week off and having polished off the first season of Mad Men faster than an 800-pounder through a box of Oreos.

What would Don Draper say about my choice this evening?

"Herb, don't be such a Pete Campbell."

And anyways I've got to get in some sort of retort to Oil Can's Urkel comparisons.

And you can't even blame it on the 80s, Can. Upper Deck came out in the 90s. You're rockin Urkel specs...

Come on, folks. It's not even close. Can is a deadringer.