Well, we were just sittin’ here in our housecoats, f*ckin’ the dog when Donna and I get off the chesterfield put on our tuques and head out. We stopped by Timmy’s for a couple double-double and 20 timbits, then stopped to grab a two-four, a couple poverty packs, a mickey and a 40 pounder, you know, work on that Molson Muscle. But before hitting the rhubarb like a hoser with a joe job, we stop to get some KD, a couple pop, a bag of homo and some chocolate bars. We deke out the Mounties like a Newfie rink rat from the rock, by going down concession road 7 and headed home. We get home feeling like we’re on poggy, with nothing in our pockets but a Loonie and a Toonie.You know what I mean, eh?