The Canadian winter reminds me of Alistair Maclean’s numerous depictions of cold – hard, blustery, unforgiving, remote, blue, sterile, numbing, metallic, grey, unsexy…. cold.
Trust me, it gets really cold. So cold in fact that you start begining ta see sabre-toothed squirrels in your backyard.
The first signs of the winter are when you see teenagers with their pants properly pulled up like the rest of us, tattooed butts hidden. Then again, it is the only time of the year when saying, ‘-12’ doesn’t mean you are announcing the length of your penis in inches.
And the girls? Sorry, the halter tops have been gone a long while. Where you bin? Now it is the ‘girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snow flakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes’ time of the year. I read somewhere that nipples feel hard and raw in the cold. Do they? Poor dears.
Honest, the next best sight to a white girl in a halter top is a white girl in a parka, her eyes an azure blue and her cheeks flaming crimson from the flush of the chill and the whole package encased in the hood of the parka. It is such a turn-on.
And if you’re lucky her parka reaches down to just below her waist and she is wearing thermal tights that accentuate her butt. Oh yeah, the best butts God has bestowed upon mankind, have all gone to white women. It still isn’t time for the parkas to come out in gaggles but they will.
Now if you will just stop thinking of women for a change, a Canadian winter has many other awesome sights ta offer….
Take the Canada geese for instance. This is the tail-end of the migration season – the time for the long flight to the Florida everglades is petering out. The geese in the pictures are the stragglers.
The five you see in one of the photos are probably the last. In fact I thought I clearly heard a shriek, “Wait for me, Mommy!’ from the goose at the back.
The geese you see bobbing up and down on the St Lawrence, are taking a breather. This is a wayside halt for them. They’ll have a breakfast of seeds and shoots, maybe crap a bit and then hump a bit. What? You can’t have sex while you’re flying now, can ya? So, why not have one for the road, especially when your chances of surviving the round trip are bleak?
Some of the geese on the river clearly seem ill-at-ease, like they don’t want ta be there. They seem grumpy “Wait till I get my beaks on the son of a bitch who said Florida. F’Christ’s sakes, why Florida? Why not just Noo Jursee or Maine or sumpn? I hate flyin’ – I get vertigo, fugetabuttit.”
There’s one pic of snow flakes on my windshield – thousands of tiny isoceles triangles within triangles and no matter how irregularly shaped they look from a distance, from up close they have perfectly geometrical shapes.
Watch this space. It’s going to grow. There’ll be snow and there’ll be parkas – with girls inside them – for the next six months.
Boy, am I looking forward to par…umm…winter. The perfect example of a happy guy is one who is always looking forward ta sumpn.