Wednesday, 27 November 2013


Brampton, Susan Fennell, Whorrified,
BEAUTIFUL BRAMPTON DURING A POWER OUTAGE early Wednesday morning. Although I notice that the lights appear to be on across the street, so I'm just going to assume that's where Mayor Susan Fennell lives.

The power went out for a full 45 minutes in my Brampton neighbourhood last night, supposedly because of "the storm" but since that was a complete non-event I'm going to blame it on what I blame everything I hate about Brampton on: Mayor Susan Fennell. Or as I like to call her,  Rob Ford, minus the alleged tax-saving abilities and the excellent excuse of a crack habit. (Good news: She's taking a break from spending us into oblivion to appear on The Agenda tonight. And I sure hope she's taking phone-in questions, because my butt has a few choice words it would like to share with her.)
Anyway, as I lay there wide awake in the 3 a.m. darkness with nothing but my own thoughts to entertain me, two things occurred to me: 1) you don't realize how annoying no sound is until your white noise fan goes out and 2) my own thoughts are pretty boring. Because I itemized them on my cellphone to distract me from obsessing about the possibility of dying, and here's a sample: 
"What if the power doesn't come back on and I freeze to death?"
"Should I call Brampton Hydro? Nah. I'm sure Susan Fennell will do it." 
"I'm hungry." 
"What if I'm stuck here alone for days and I run out of food?" 
"I wonder what Pig-Face tastes like?" 

And then, mercifully and miraculously, the power came back on with a zzzzap. Along with a squawk from the smoke detector lady-voice, which inexplicably yelped "Fire!" I hadn't realized the poor dear was retarded; in the event of an actual fire, she'll probably yell "Pizza!" Interesting, I appear to be descending into sleep deprivation-induced insanity now, so I'll cut this short and go to bed. Hopefully, I won't wake up frozen to death. If I do, call The Agenda and let Susan know I'll be charging my burial to the City of Brampton. Night night.