For the past six months, I've been sitting in a chair with the ailing pug Gordie.
He's blind, incontinent and has separation anxiety, so if I don't sit with him he cries.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm in a black-and-white movie, and I'm Baby Jane watching over Blanche. Sometimes, I want to push Gordie's damned wheelchair down the stairs and be done with it.
I wouldn't do that, of course. I love the little bugger more than life itself, but I'm starting to resent all the time I have to spend in front of the tellie watching the CTV News Channel.
He may be going to Heaven soon, but I'm living in Purgatory, the place between Heaven and Hell, called the Ontario Election.
This election sucks the big one.
There's not much to choose from. It's kind of like watching TV Land reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies, Beetlejuice and The Facts of Life. Hey Blair, the Eighties are calling; they want their hair back!
Lord, will Gordie leave me alone with this trio?
I've been waiting for weeks for some real issues, but have seen none. The province has a deficit bigger than the nuclear pancakes the candidates are flipping. Everybody I know is out of a job, or working part-time at crap jobs. Even heads are rolling at Target where the head cashier had his hat handed to him yesterday.
The economy, truly, is in the shitter and there isn't one qualified head janitor to clean up the mess.
We live in the most wonderful, bountiful province in the world and yet we can't afford to drive around to see it because of gas prices and we'll all soon be cooking goat with sticks in our backyards because we can't afford electricity let alone the over-priced local produce farmers are selling.
Meanwhile, Kathleen shrugs, Tim thunders, and Andrea mousses.
The media on the buses are bored silly.
They can't get any bona fide answers from these three ass hats. All they want to talk about is whether or not two of the candidates breached farm protocol whilst driving around on tractors. Call in Elmer the Safety Elephant!
Am I watching a re-run of the Hunger Games: Dousing Fire?
Will this ridiculous election be determined by who wins a ploughing match?
The rest of Canada isn't doing much more, news-wise.
The Parti Quebecois can't even find a leader who can ride a bicycle, in the country, without ending up in a body cast. The Albertans are still trying to collect the back rent from Allison Redford. And left coasters are claiming they've found the still-warm body of Casey Kasem. Okay, I made that last one up, but I hear Ripley's Believe it or Not! is making room for Jean Kasem's ponytail.
Meanwhile, Rob Ford is running around the Muskokas, trying to score some homegrown and posing with the townies. Hey Robyn Doolittle: Ever wonder where Robbie gets his drugs? The dry cleaners! (You're welcome. I'll be accepting a Michener Award.)
About the only real news in this country is the Royal Visit, and even that's a bust. Okay, it is Charles and Camilla, so why should be care?
But whomever was in charge of the Royal itinerary has some 'splaining to do.
First, they're not even feeding the Royal Couple. No State Dinner for the Future King of England, no siree! Just crumpets and bad tea on the Royal airliner.
Second, they have had to endure the very worst of Canadian entertainment, including a drag queen impersonating Queen Elizabeth! Prince Charles looked so unnerved, it was as if he himself had farted and his Mother could smell its odorous aroma across the pond.
I'd love to hear the pillow talk after the show.
Millie, can you imagine the nerve of those colonials, bringing in Eddie Izzard as a stand-in for Mummie?
Oh, Charles. What do you expect from a people whose entire economy is based on a ginger and potatoes?
But I didn't even get a Lobster roll.
Rollover, honey, I'll give you one.