Oddly enough the weekend was slightly sentimental. We finally (after a dozen years) made it to a Barenaked Ladies concert, crashing the Centenial Jam with our free tickets, and bombarding the field-level seating for some stand-up, close-up, rock-up action. Back in ‘93, when I found myself in a rainy mountain field surrounded by ten-thousand boy scouts, I among their number, attending the 1993 Canadian Jamboree, the rumour was that the feldgling band, BNL, known only for Gordon at the time, was to make an appearance. Rumours were either false or the BNLs were a tease back then — either way, I had to wait for an event with the same initals (Canadian Jamboree: CJ — Centennial Jam: CJ) to finally see the ladies in concert. Burgers followed the LRT ride home. Derek and I installed the garage door opener. We watched some sentimental movies on our crazy-free-cable preview. I ordered a foosball table from Sears.ca to be picked up later this week. The bikes were finally tuned to a rid-able condition, and we toured the neighborhood with pedal-power. And I sat on the front porch, reading, drinking an ice-cold pepsi, and listening to the neighbor kids play basketball to the roaring thump of Green Day. |
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