Tuesday, September 30, 2014

It's OK That I'm Washing Dishes, You Guys. Don't Worry About Me

As most of you know, a combination of my unfortunate legal nightmares and my wife's disability (MRI is next week, fingers crossed that it's something that can be explained and fixed) has left us in a state of financial need over the last year.   I've recently taken a part time job as a dishwasher to make some extra cash. Some folks have a problem with this, but in a good way.
Me in 20 years? Sure why not

There was a great fundraiser back in April, in which all of our friends and family really came through and showed their support. That really helped put a dent in our legal fees, but we still owe various moneys for the undented part. 

I won't go into details but suffice it to say that while we're still in debt, it's mostly consolidated and can be taken care of without either of us suffering too much of a lifestyle change. Both of us tend to hermit and don't eat out much, so it's not too hard to get by with good budgeting. The wife is working part time for the first time since November, and that's really helping us stay in the black each week.

However I wanted a bit of fun money and when a dishwashing job came up at Hintonburg Public House, I jumped at the chance to make a few extra hundred a month. This is my way to put money into a separate bank account for us to be able to treat ourselves and still be responsible about repaying our debts.

For instance, I still need to finish my tattoo. I cancelled my appointments when I got sued. Now I feel like I can go back and finish without being irresponsible about my money. Also, I desperately want to go to Vegas in the spring for their annual rockabilly festival. This gets paid for by the dishwashing gig.

Why am I telling you this?

A few folks are pissed off on my behalf. The general consensus is "I can't believe that guy did this to you and now you have to wash dishes, it's bullshit".

First, I LOVE that everyone's got my back. I just about lost my mind with all the support back when we did the fundraiser. As cocky as I am, I sometimes truly doubt that people actually like me. The fundraiser showed I was wrong.  So when folks are getting all riled up about it, it feels good to know that I've still got someone in my corner.

But second, I just want to assure everyone that I'm in no way shape or form embarrassed that I'm washing dishes in a restaurant. I love the job so far. It keeps me busy at a time when I find myself terribly restless every day when I get home from work. Nature abhors a vacuum and lately I'm nature and the vacuum is sitting around the house watching TV (I just realized: I could be using all this time to vacuum my house). The dishwashing job is a great way for me to blow off steam and make a few bucks for doing it. It's also really good exercise, it's a lot more physically demanding than I thought. I recently lost 20lbs and would like to keep it off while still drinking beer and eating cheeseburgers and pizza, this will help a lot.

Also, I miss working in a restaurant. Since high school, kitchen jobs (cooking, mostly) were my main source of income until I graduated university and got the job I have now. But often part of me thinks "If I get laid off it's all good because I can go work in a kitchen and I miss that shit". Kitchens are great places to work. The high energy, the pressure, the camaraderie, the joking around, the crassness... it's great. I don't get any of that at my day job.

So all this to say, thank you for wanting to stick up for me and for getting pissed off, but rest assured that I like this job, and do it with a smile on my face every shift. Also on my face: little bits of food from people's dirty dishes. Because don't get me wrong, it's a filthy job.


Sunday, September 14, 2014

I Have Written a Song That Might Be About Fucking a Sandwich.

I can't tell if this is stupid or amazing or both. I'm going with stupemazing.

I wrote an instrumental ditty called Double Down Boogie, about the sandwich.

Then I decided it needed words, about the sandwich.

Then I decided it needed lots of obvious sexual innuendo. Possible still about the sandwich.

"Stick it in me, big boy"
So I picked up a pen and this came out almost instantly (the parts in all caps are gang vocals):

Come on baby now come on girl
LET'S GO GET GREASAYYY

Order up and double down
IT'S SO FUCKIN' EASAYYYY

Stuck between two hot hot breasts
Baby it sure feels right

Come on let's get dirty girl
It's the double down boogie tonight

Again, I have written a song that might be about fucking a sandwich. I'm a little concerned about how easily that came to me. Anyway, I'm off to KFC. And Mac's.

.
.
.
.
.

For condoms. I'm going to fuck the sandwich.




Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Night Cyclists: Some Day You Will Die By My Hand

It's legal to swerve directly into a night cyclist with no lights or reflectors and straight murder them, right?
Do you see the cyclist? Trick question, he's in the ditch, bleeding to death.


A 10 minute drive down Bank St. at 10pm had some pretty interesting results: I drove past 10 people on bicycles and 8 of them had no lights whatsoever on their bikes. Not even reflectors.  In the dark. On the road, alongside the number one killer of cyclists (number two: wombats). One guy, bless his heart, had, I swear to god, a flashlight in his mouth. 

Now I'm the LAST thing from a bike safety ninny. I don't wear a helmet, I think segregated bike lanes are a waste of money and are counterproductive because they only instill in cyclists a fear of roads that DON'T have a segregated bike lane, and nine times out of ten I give the cyclist half the blame when they get hit by a car, because they probably could have seen it coming (exception: getting hit from behind, and even then you can sort of predict it with frequent shoulder checks or a mirror).

I'm also a frequent and active cyclist - I bike almost every day when there's no snow on the ground, and I love biking amongst the cars on busy roads. I also safely run red lights and stop signs. You probably all hate me right now but I'm telling you all this to qualify the fact that in terms of bike safety, there are a lot of areas where I don't necessarily play ball.

But the one thing I do follow is to have some fuckin' lights on when it's dark out, or at the very least some reflectors. Lights will up the chance that you're spotted from far away, which gives a driver plenty of time to react and prepare to pass you. It's a simple concept, so simple that I feel really weird having to explain it but here we are.

Listen, dummy: you're not nearly as visible as you think, even with streetlights all around. Trust me on this, from a driver's point of view you fade very quickly into the darkness between streetlights. Darkness usually happens at night, along with other night time activities such as drunk driving or falling asleep at the wheel. All it takes is for a driver to look away for a second and then WHOA you pop out of the dark directly in front of them and SPLAT you're roadkill.

So for the love of god get some fucking lights. I bought mine at Dollarama for christ's sake. I have a fucking flashlight taped to my handle bars. You idiots. Holy shit.

I'm actually getting mad as I write this. The drive happened several nights ago but I never got around to finishing the post until today.

I need a nap.





Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Musings at 140km/h: Fuck the OPP, Fuck the MTO


I was driving down the 401 just outside Toronto, doing 140km/h with everyone else.  I got to thinking about how frustrating it is that the police know full well that everyone drives this fast, and yet do virtually nothing about it.  The thing is, I don't want to them to start enforcing MORE, I want them to stop pretending they give a shit.
We all know the drill: driving from Ottawa to Montreal or Toronto, it's totally cool to go 125km/h or so and you're golden, unless it's a long weekend, in which case LOOK OUT, because there will be speed traps. Of course the speed traps are out in rural areas where it's safe to pull cars over.  Once you're in the outskirts of either city, there's nary a trap to be seen, despite that fact that the top speed for most drivers is 140km/h.  The only people that get pulled over in or around the city are people that are driving like jackasses, with crazy fast speeds and lane weaving. If everyone is driving the same speed and safely, the cops don't bother you.

What does it say that once a month, the cops go out and ticket speeders in name of public safety and education, and then spend the rest of the month doing nothing about it?  If it's such a safety issue, shouldn't you be devoting a lot more time and energy to the other 29 days of the month? Aren't people dying by the hundreds because you're not out there making the world a better place by stopping speeders in their tracks?

They're not out there because they know, just as well as we do, that it's perfectly fine for people to drive 140km/h in good road conditions.  But once in awhile they have to go out and make a very public effort to curb dangerous driving, and issue a big press release at the end saying "We ticketed over 900 this weekend and charged 5 individuals with street racing. Look how good we are at our jobs."  Every. Single. One. of these drivers knows that tomorrow they can drive fast again because they won't see the OPP again until May two four.


This frustrates me to no end because I've been ticketed twice for driving 135km/h, each ticket costing upwards of $300, all because I got caught in a speeding blitz. Equally frustrating is the fact that the extent of my fine is determined by how many km/h I was over the limit. The problem is that the "limit" on the signs is not the real limit and everybody knows it. Drive by the OPP at 120km/h and they won't even blink an eye. That's because 120km/h is the "real" limit. I know it, you know, they know it.

Here's the breakdown of how much you pay, depending on how fast you were going over the speed limit:
1-19 km/h The amount of km over times $2.50 = fine
20-29 km/h The amount of km over times $3.75 = fine
30-49 km/h The amount of km over times $6.00 = fine
If I had my druthers, I'd gladly pay the fine for going 15km/h over the REAL speed limit of 120km/h.  But this sliding scale of bullshit makes me insane, especially on days when I'm driving directly behind an OPP officer who is driving 130km/h but doesn't appear to be responding to a call.

Look I'm not going to argue that fast driving is safer than regular driving. I just want to point out the frustrating hypocrisy that the OPP and the MTO display by pretending to give a shit about speed limits, but only once a month.  If they really gave a shit, there would be hidden speed cameras everywhere down the highway.  There would a no-haggling speed limit with absolutely no way to reduce your fine when you're caught.  This is how it seems to work on the portions of the autobahn that DO have a speed limit. Why can't that work for us?


In Las Vegas, open carry alcohol is tolerated. It's not technically legal, but it's tolerated. I spent a week there and did not see a single act of drunken public debauchery.  Everyone behaved and had fun, all while walking down the street, in and out of bars and casinos, drink in hand. I don't know how long it's been like this but clearly it shows that the city won't burn down in a hellfire of anarchy because of people drinking beer in the streets.

Now imagine that once a month, Vegas cops hid behind corners and jumped out at tourists and wrote them tickets for drinking in public, and then did absolutely nothing for the next 29 days.  Well that's what the OPP is doing to us with this bullshit hypocritical speed limit enforcement.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Ice Bucket Challenge: Thanks But I'll Pass

Apparently I've been nominated. I'm not going to do it. Call me a spoil sport, I'm ok with that, I've been called worse. Recently I was called a condescending jackass.

I think the ice bucket challenge is great. I want to shake the hand of the guy or gal who came up with the concept - it's brilliant. I want to congratulate everyone who's donated so far, and who donates in the future.

But I'm not going do it, nor am I going to contribute to the cause. I don't have the kind of money to spare for such a thing, AND my wife already did the challenge and is making a contribution. Since we share income I say hey, good enough. Check out the video below, featuring Mrs Lefty (Headmistress Holly Sin, far left), Randi Rouge and Betty Bright Eyes. It's not safe for work, what with all the hot wet t-shirt action. I filmed it. It was hot.



I contribute to other charities enough not to feel guilty about skipping this one. I also don't contribute to the annual United Way fund they run at my work every year, and they have yet to burn me at the stake.

Why not just do the video to nominate more people, and just kinda silently not make a donation, because hey who would ever know? Because I don't want to, and I think that's a great reason. I'm not interested in falsely representing myself on the internet.

Look, the challenge is going to peter off eventually, it can't go on forever.  Consider me to be one of the people that stops clapping first at the end of a great show.

If you have a heart of gold, go and donate to Canadian ALS research, it's a good cause.

If you have a black heart like me, you might enjoy this song, wherein I name drop Lou Gehrig. Download a copy if you like.  I know this is pointless because no one will bite, but any music sales I make this week will be donated to ALS.
 


Friday, August 22, 2014

Dying With Dignity: The Only Way To Go

UPDATE: Holy fuck. Supreme Court strikes down Canada’s assisted suicide laws
 ------------------------

My Mom posted this article on Facebook yesterday. It's about a woman who chose to die with dignity instead of living the rest of her life wasting away with dementia.

By the end of the second paragraph my jaw had literally dropped, and my eyes had started to well up:
On Monday morning shortly before noon, Gillian Bennett dragged a foam mattress from her home on Bowen Island to one of her favourite spots on the grass, facing a craggy rock cliff, the place she had chosen to die.
Bennett, who was 85 and in the early stages of dementia, chose to take her own life with a draught of good whiskey, a dose of Nembutal mixed with water and her husband of 60 years by her side.
Holy shit. That's some powerful stuff. The thing is, those tears that almost but didn't come out because I'm not some little bitch, those were tears of sadness and joy all at the same time. Up until I read that, I didn't know that was even a thing. Tears of joy, sure. I've had that watching puppies or a nice sunrise. Tears of sadness, duh. But both at the same time? Mind blowing.

I don't have a lot of strong opinions on major issues because I don't consider myself educated enough, or I can see both sides of the story. Death penalty is a good example. For the life of me I can't decide if I'm pro or con. Some days I think it's the most barbaric thing in the world, other days I think it's a damn good idea. I seriously cannot make up my mind.

But there are a few fundamental human rights that are controversial to some, but no question for me: gay marriage, abortion and euthanasia.

Everyone is stuck with the body they're dealt at birth. Sometimes that body is great (case in point: mine). Sometimes that body is not so great (case in point: my wife, who looks great but is more fragile than peace in the Middle East).  Modern medicine allows us to make changes to our bodies, be it plastic surgery or insulin shots, in order to lead more productive lives, but medicine has its limits and sometimes there's nothing you can do but suffer in your shitty shitty body.

Everyone should have the choice about whether they want to keep living in their shitty bodies. We have the ability to make all the other choices: haircuts, tattoos, weight gain, gender reassignment, glasses, kidney donation.  We're in control of our bodies in every way except the ultimate one: we're not allowed to legally give up on our bodies. Or at least, we're not allowed to ask for help. As a result, people end up having to do it on their own, which means that their loved ones end up stumbling upon their bodies, which is just not right. Especially if they chose chainsaw.  Dying with dignity means being able to choose how and when (already allowed) and to be able to ask for help so that you don't make a mess or traumatize anyone (not allowed). In the above mentioned story, the woman had her husband by her side, but:
“She wouldn’t let me help her, and I didn’t wish to,” said Jonathan. “I don’t know where she got the Nembutal or the instructions; she didn’t tell me.” Nor did she let him help her drag the mattress outside, although that final effort was physically difficult for her... He and his wife knew that if anyone assisted her, they would be breaking the law. “Gillian and I both disliked and disapproved of the laws making it impossible to help a loved one with something as important as death.”
Jesus christ.

Some people will say "Think about who you're leaving behind". To that I say screw that shit. If my loved ones would rather I stay alive in a constant state of suffering so that they don't have to cry for a week, then they're not really the kind of loved ones I'd stay alive for.

My death plan, if I can manage it, is this: The Irish Goodbye. I'd duck out to my favourite place, the wilderness, and just fend for myself until I decide I'm done. I'd leave a note for whoever's left behind:
Dear loved ones: Thank you so much for helping me enjoy my time on Earth. We've had many great adventures and we'll live on in each other's hearts and minds.  I want you to be happy that I've run off to finish existing under my terms. I will die soon, and I will die happy. Take that to your graves. I love you all.
I don't know how I'll off myself, I'll probably get creative. I might even try death by moose. However I've already decided that when the time comes, I'm going to start smoking again. I really miss smoking, but common sense prevents me from starting up. When I'm going out under my own terms? Smoke 'em if you got 'em. Also booze.

Oh and in the event that I'm incapacitated and can't make the trek out to the woods, no problem because I'll have my living will tattooed across my chest:


Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Vadge vs. Vag: The Most Important Debate In Human History

I believe, with a conviction deeper than the Mariana Trench, that the short form of the word "vagina" should be spelled "vadge" and not "vag" as most people spell it. Here, I present the reasons why I'm right and why you should all obey me. This is a long read, so if you don't have the patience, here's the short version: I'm right on this. Trust me.
First off: neither spelling is listed in the dictionary. Well, not the one that comes up first on Google. I'm not going to bother with paper books. The closest I could come is a search for "vadge" redirecting to the definition of "vagina".  Note that a search for "vag" on the same dictionary shows that it's apparently shorthand for "vagrant". We're in a unique situation where the word has entered common parlance without yet being included in the dictionary. There's a word for that: neologism, or "...the name for a newly coined term, word, or phrase that may be in the process of entering common use but that has not yet been accepted into mainstream language". Someday "vadge" will be included in the dictionary, I'm sure of it. After all, "cunty" made it this year. But for now, we're left to decide how it's properly spelled.

My main argument is that "vadge" rhymes with "badge" and "vag" rhymes with "bag". Pretty straightforward, right? Except that when I posed the following question on Facebook...
When you shorten vagina, do you write vag or vadge? Think about the words bag and badge when answering.

...every single person replied "vag".  Not a single person agreed with me. I thought for sure it'd be 50/50, but I was surprised that even after I laid out a few arguments, people still replied "vag". The hint, the most basic clue to how right I am, was right there in the question, yet every person said "Sure there's that whole rhyming thing but whatever, I spell it "vag" and I've never questioned this."

The reason why otherwise spelling-capable adults are making this mistake is that they're great at memorizing HOW a word is spelled, but not at understanding WHY it's spelled a certain way, which brings us to...

1. Follow the rules, children

We all were supposed to have learned spelling rules in grade 3, but as is evident by our Facebook feeds, it didn't stick for a lot of folks. That's fine, we expect the stupid people to spell everything wrong, but this is a different situation where people who are otherwise great with spelling still fail to spell "vadge" correctly.

This website lists a bunch of spelling rules, let's cherry pick the one we need:


There's no denying that the /j/ sound in "vadge" is the exact same sound as in "badge" or any of these other listed words.  As for the hard /g/ sound in "-ag", let's use the songwriter's best friend, the rhyming dictionary:


Ok yes, there are a lot of made up words in that list, but the ones in blue are real words and they ALL end with the "-ag" sound. Of course, that's because I used a rhyming dictionary, but do you want to know something?  If you put "badge" in the rhyming dictionary you get only four words: cadge, hajj, madge, maj . I don't know what any of those mean, but I think this proves my point. If something is going to make a /j/ sound at the end of a word or after a short vowel, English spelling rules say that it must be spelled "-dge".

2) Hey Lefty, spelling rules are great and all but there are so many exceptions in the English language, why can't we just make an exception here, you gorgeous hunk of man meat that makes me question my own sexuality?

The English language is very fucked up. I've heard that it's one of the hardest languages for foreigners to learn.  This topic has been covered at great length over at Cracked.com. Let's take a look at the history of spelling rules, courtesy of Cracked writer Kate Peregrina:

In the 11th century, English had developed its own standardized set of spelling conventions that had an almost perfectly phonemic orthography -- meaning that each letter had a specific sound it made, regardless of what word it appeared in or what other letters were around it. People went around saying things, and the things they said looked like the things you'd see on signs and whatnot... 
Then, in 1066, the Norman conquest happened. William the Conqueror invaded with an army of French, Norman, and Breton soldiers, who quickly established Latin and French as the standard languages throughout the British Isles. French and Latin words were absorbed into English like fried Twinkies in a county fair goer's stomach -- that is to say, poorly, and with much regret. "Seize" and "siege," for example: In French, those words (and those vowel combinations) have very different pronunciations. But that distinction didn't survive the migration to the new language, even though the spelling did. Now we write them totally differently but say them the same, because we're just giant wrecks here and nobody is coming to help us.

The problems continued: Norman scribes convinced English speakers to change "cwen" to "queen" and "cwic" to "quick," because, English being the language of the lower class, French speakers were the only ones who could afford any books. Naturally, those original spellings look stupid to you now, but that's only because you're not used to them -- if you're thinking in terms of logic and accessibility, why would you just start throwing "k"s and "q"s around like that? Someone's gonna get hurt. The "k" has those big sharp pointy arms, and that "q" may look soft and round, but it's clearly trying to hide some sort of little club behind its back. Don't you trust the bastard
Read the whole article here 
My point? Exceptions happened because of idiots a thousand years ago.  You know what else happened a thousand years ago? The Motherfucking Crusades. In modern times, we've adapted to a language that, for the most part, follows basic spelling rules, with a bunch of difficult-to-memorize exceptions.  I'm arguing that for any NEW words, we should stick to the spelling rules that we've all learned. Why complicate things for immigrants who need to spell the word "vadge"?

Who decides if "vadge" becomes a new word?  A new word gets in the dictionary by tracking its usage among regular people. If enough people use the word in the same context, it just "becomes" an official word. I'm fighting for proper spelling so that when "vadge" gets put in the dictionary next year (mark my words), it'll be spelled correctly. I'm not too worried though, because I'm assuming that folk over at the dictionary will look at the word, regardless of how it's spelled commonly, and heed common spelling rules in favour of "vadge".

3) Hey Lefty, "vadge" is a terrible abbreviation, it's only one letter less than "vagina", whereas "vag" is three. I can count. 

First off, "vadge" is not an abbreviation in the typical sense of the word. This distinction is necessary because several people have brought up this numerical "proof". Let's all take a second to learn what an abbreviation is:
abbreviation [uh-bree-vee-ey-shuh n], noun: a shortened or contracted form of a word or phrase, used to represent the whole, as Dr. for Doctor, U.S. for United States, lb. for pound.
While it doesn't explicitly say so in this definition, it's pretty evident from this list of abbreviations in the Websters Unabridged Dictionary that abbreviations are, for the most part, written and not spoken. Look at the list and see if you can find a single abbreviation that can be used in spoken word. Properly, I mean. Any of us can open our mouths and say "agric". I can also say "ungbatulark".

What I'm trying to say is, most abbreviations are meant to be shortened in the written word only. When the text is read aloud, we read the word that the abbreviation is meant to represent. Read this aloud: "I took my R.V. down Main St. to visit Dr. Feelgood so he could take a look at this growth on my vadge."

"Vadge" as we know it is most likely a word that started out spoken, and had to be retrofitted with proper spelling. As a spoken word, it's three syllables shorter than the root word, just like caf/cafeteria* and info/information. I'd bet you four dollars that caf and info started as spoken too. The spelling of their shortened forms were much more intuitive and therefore never became a hot button issue like vadge/vag.

*[edit: it's been brought to my attention that "caf" might be incorrect, alongside the word "prof" for professor, and that they should both end in double f's. The latter, spelled that way, should rhyme with "of", not "off". "Caf" is a different story because it doesn't seem to rhyme (spelling-wise) with anything. If you use "calf" in a rhyming dictionary, you get a whole mess of rhyming words with a bunch of different spellings. Note that not all words ending in "f" make the same sound. Of/if, for example. Now that I think of it, ARE there any other words that end with "-of" and make the same sound? Rhyming dictionary says no, and all rhyming words end with "-ove". Maybe the word OF itself is wrong. Same thing for "-if". If this has taught us anything, it's that English is indeed a fucked up language.]

4) Hey Lefty, you can't just change or add letters to a word when you're making it shorter, just to fit a pronunciation scheme. 

Just Watch Me, a story by me Lefty:
Stephen, an out-and-proud lesbian alcoholic, went to the refrigerator and pulled out a slice of baloney. "Hey Steve," said the baloney. "If you're going to eat me, you'll need some mustard, which is on the second shelf of the fridge, ya big old alky lez". The end.

5) What about spelling reform, you hyper-intelligent being from another, sexier dimension?

Holy crap, spelling reform. Some people think that they can actually change the English language.  There's a light hearted take on this over at Cracked.com. Suffice it to say it's possible, with enough pressure, to change the spelling of pre-existing words whose spelling makes no sense in the context of English spelling rules, but I doubt anyone will make it happen within our lifetimes.

It's a neat idea but it doesn't apply here, because spelling reform "seeks to change English spelling so that it is more consistent, matches pronunciation better, and follows the alphabetic principle." It wants to take previously fucked up spellings and make them more intuitive.

In the case of "vadge", I'm just trying to fit it into the pre-existing mold determined by our spelling rules.  If you want to spell it purely phonetically, you could try "vaj" on for size, but the problem with that is that a j at the end of a word brings to mind a soft /j/ sound as in Taj Mahal. The difference is subtle but does exist: soft /j/ is used in French, as in the word jus (ie au jus), whereas in English it's a harder /j/, as in "juice".  So in English, we use "-dge" to denote the hard /j/ sound at the end of the word, even though we don't even use the soft /j/ so the distinction isn't necessarily... necessary.

Critics of spelling reform say that the written word, and not the spoken word, should dictate language. To that I say "I ain't tellin' ya to git the fuck outta here, but y'all should git the fuck outta here".  The evolution of language begins with the spoken word, evidenced by regional dialects of a single language within the same country. Those dialects don't come from groups of people living in an isolated part of the country and, within a period of several decades, coincidentally coming up with new words in writing, independently of each other. These new words come from people talking out in the streets or down at the bar or at the lacrosse match, and someone eventually deciding to write them down.

Joual is a GREAT example of this. Quebeckers are renowned for their complete butchery of the French language with their incomprehensible slang, to the point where you can almost call it a separate language. This Quebec slang is called Joual, and has its roots in the spoken word, not the written word. In the 60's, playwright Michel Tremblay published Les Belles-Soeurs, a play wherein the dialogue is written in Joual, and it blew everybody's minds. Here's an excerpt:
"J'pense que j'vas prendre le rouge avec des étoiles dorées. J'sais pas si tu l'as vu... Y'est assez beau, aie ! J'vas avoir des chaudrons, une coutellerie, un set de vaiselle, des salières, des poivrières, des verres en verre taillé avec le motif « Caprice » là, t'sais si y sont beaux... Madame de Courval en a eu l'année passée. A disait qu'a l'avait payé ça cher sans bon sens... Moé, j'vas toute avoir pour rien ! A va être en beau verrat ! Hein ? Oui, a vient, à soir ! J'ai vu des pots en verre chromé pour mettre le sel, le poivre, le thé, le café, le sucre, pis toute la patente, là. Oui, j'vas toute prendre ça..."                               For more Joual craziness, click here

Conclusion
My regular readers know I suck at conclusions, and that I tend to just end my writings abruptly.