I wanna hold your haaaaaand...

So I gotta give a proper shout out to this blog I've been following lately. Two words: Ryan Maloney. The man is a genius, absolutely brimming with wit and humour. I can attest to that because I work with him. Not only does he bring joy to my daily editorial meetings, he also brings a winning smile, apple-coloured cheeks and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, making the daily grind just that much more bearable.

I think Julie summed it up best when she described what happens when she reads his writing: Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw, awwww.....Ryan writes about his life with the right mix of honesty, self-deprecation and raunchy humour. He'll make you laugh, he'll make you cry, and he'll make you want to regurgitate his words.

If he knew I was gushing on and on about his work here, he'd probably blush a bit more in his already rosy cheeks and say, "Aw, shucks." Well, too bad, Maloney. I'm plugging your blog, and you best be ready to rouge more.

Now, if you'll take a walk down television memory lane with me, do you remember that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry dates a woman with enormous man hands? And that scene where she rips open a lobster with her bare hands?

Well, that's exactly how I feel right now wearing my current pair of gloves. See, I HATE gloves. I hate them because I don't like the way it makes my fingers feel alienated or the way it makes my hands look ginormous or how my pinky finger is always freezing and needs to sneak into my ring finger's section like a child sneaking into their sibling's bed just to get some extra warmth. And the reason why I'm wearing them is because my old pair of mittens have great big, gaping holes in them. I'm currently knitting a new pair of mittens, but it's taking me freakin' forever. And, because winter seems to be back, I need something on my paws, so I've resorted to the gloves.

Perhaps these monolith hands will help build bigger snowmen and snowballs? Lord knows they make my snow angels look warped.

Spring Cleanup, Please

Now don't get me wrong: I love spring when things are starting to melt. I used to love watching rivers of water from huge chunks of ice run into storm drains. But there's something about the ceremonious unveiling of long-forgotten dog shit rearing its ugly head that I could do without. You'll always find smears of dog poop and mushy piles of kaka all over the sidewalks and other walking areas when the weather starts to warm up a bit. I guess it ain't spring until you step into some months-old canine fecal matter that have gone through the freezing/thawing process.