It's that time of year again, when school bells are ringing...

...and my neighbourhood is splattered with the barf of many a weak-stomached frosh. Sigh...

As much as their spew grosses me out (on the sidewalk outside my house, on the road around the corner, in the shelter for the streetcar) I do actually sympathize. I, too, was once a weak-bellied frosh. Now, I'm a weak-bellied adult. Why must alcohol make us ill? There are so many other bad things for us out there that SHOULD make us ill - tobacco, hot dogs, pork rinds, haggis - why is it that alcohol is so hard to stomach? Oh, what a cruel, cruel earth.

So to my student neighbours, I say go forth and enjoy, but please spill your guts in someone else's neighbourhood. I don't need to know that you don't chew your mushrooms.

Top Ten Euphemisms for Death...

10. Kicked the chum bucket.
9. Bought the tobacco farm.
8. Gone to visit Yankee Stadium.
7. Riding the Dickie Dee bike to the sky.
6. Finally free of that *&#! Marineland song.
5. Called up by the Jays.
4. He can't has cheezburger.
3. Charming 'em like Harper.
2. Flying Zoom.
1. He chose Palin.