Yeah, that's right. I've never been to a cottage before. If you didn't grow up in Oakville, that probably means nothing to you. But, you see, Oakville is full of people with cottages. It's where they all like to "get away from it all" on every major holiday and long weekend, subsequently causing me to go through my teen years feeling inadequate and useless.
Why didn't any of my Oakville Friends With Awesome Cottages (or OFWACs, as I like to call them) invite me to their cottages? Because I didn't have any friends. I guess OPWACs is a more appropriate term for them, then: Oakville Peoples With Awesome Cottages.
Maybe you're wondering how I know they're cottages are awesome if I've never been. The answer to that is: duh, of course they're awesome. They're cottages.
Also, OPWAC is easier to say than OPWC. You really need that vowel in there.
Anyway, after feeling inadequate for the last thirteen years of my life, finally, FINALLY, I was made to feel un-inadequate on New Year's Eve. What a magical night to pop my cottage cherry.
That was gross. You know what else is gross? The word "penetration". Sorry.
Not really.
My awesometastic friends Ashley and Curtis have a friend named Jon who has a cottage and every year there is an NYE party. And they were kind enough to invite me this year.
I imagine they were all sitting around brainstorming ways in which to make this year's NYE party better than the last. Naturally, my name came up--somewhere before a cotton candy machine but after a tap dancing unicorn. Hey. Even I can't compete with a tap dancing unicorn.
This cottage was somewhere in a magical land called Gravenhurst. It was far away. There was snow and a giant tiger. I mean Giant Tiger, as in the store.
I had piles of fun and probably drank too much. I attribute that to the fact that my wine glass was bigger than my head. Also, I started drinking around 5:30PM. In my defense, it was very dark outside and appeared to be later. And somehow I manage to look rather classy holding the giant wine glass. The Star Wars t-shirt helps, I think.
Amazingly enough, this picture was taken when I was still sober. What am I talking about? I always make faces like that when I'm sober.
Curtis and I are starting a rap group. This is our album cover. Neither of us can rap. But we mean business. At least when it comes to shoulder leans and raised eyebrows.
WATCH OUT I'M A SCARY MONSTER! And, yes, you'd be right in assuming I'm not drunk in this picture either.
See how happy I look here? I thrive in a cottage setting. Imagine how rich and fulfilled my life would be if I could always spend it at a cottage. Only YOU can prevent forest fires. And only YOU can help me attain my dream of always living in a cottage up north. (Well, only if you have a cottage. If you don't, bugger off.)
Even though I ended up not feeling well and having to go lie down before what sounded like an epic charades battle (anal fissure was a topic--enough said), it was still the best night ever. Did I mention there was stew?
There was stew.
Okay. Now I mentioned it.
The end!
PS - it was delicious. The stew, I mean.
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