[A preliminary report about possible work stoppages here at All Fired Up in the Big Smoke over the course of the next week or so. Between the lines meaning conveniently provided to help the literal types out there.]
* * *
These days, there’s never a good time to step away from the municipal political scene. (Especially if you’re a self-loathing masochist who just loves smashing your head against the wall on a daily basis.) Even when you think the calendar is clear, activity has lessened somewhat, boom! What did he/she/they just say/do/propose?! (Clusterfucks abound! Ahoy! Another incoming shitstorm!) It’s been Go Time in T.O. since October 25th, 2010. (Life During Fordtime.)
Silly us, we booked a corporate retreat, nowhere hot and sunny (30-degrees in the shade, and there is no shade), way back months and months ago (Last Minute Vacations, anyone?), thinking (drinking) February wouldn’t be a bad time to get away. (In fact, it is a very, very good time to get away even in this, our non-winter. Did I mention it was going to be 30-degrees in the shade of which there is none?) The budget battles of January would be over and done with and everybody would have withdrawn to their respective corners, preparing for the next battle.
Little did we know, and you’d think we’d know by now, that the next battle is the next day around City Hall anymore. (Sorry. The trip is, how do they say, non-refundable.) There is no time off. No time to regroup. Blink and you’ll miss it. (Imagine everything we’ll be missing because of the daily siestas.) And boy, do you really want to miss any of this? (I told you the trip is non-refundable, right?)
Transit strife. Labour strife. Strife, strife, strife. We didn’t think it possible for one man to cause such non-stop destruction and mayhem. (Except maybe Rambo and that other guy in the movie who built a weather machine. Speaking of weather. Did I tell you we’re going somewhere warm?) Destruction is a whole lot faster and easier than building anything, I guess.
But rest assured. It will not be an idle week away. (Ohh, so much lounging, drinking and catching up on our magazines. I haven’t cracked open a Walrus from 2011 yet.) We’ll be gathering daily, strategizing. (OK. Who’s ordering the calamari?) Conducting seminars. (Mixing The Perfect Sloe Gin Fizz.) Attending workshops. (Easy Hammock Entrances.) And working diligently through business dinners. (OK. I ordered the calamari for lunch. How about crab cakes?)
We may even pipe in with a communiqué or two over the course of the next week or so. (Drunken tweets, more like it.) We were told by the concierge of the resort business hotel that they have wi-fi but it can be spotty (for the cheap bastards unwilling to pony up for the daily charges). Not to fear, though. We will tough it out and persevere. An enforced separation from the goings on at City Hall (They just called our flight.) is probably good for the soul. To reset our priorities. (Dude. Come on. We’re boarding.) To clear our heads and fortify our spirits. It will be a long fight ahead. (Seriously. I’m leaving without you.) I mean, my God, the man hasn’t even been in power for two years and it seems, like, forever. Has anyone been diagnosed with Ford Fatigue yet? (I’m outta here.)
Right behind you.
— on the beachly submitted by Cityslikr