Your Ideal Day
Posted: Sun Jul 28, 2013 6:11 pmMoney is no object, and neither is the law, but you have to account for travel time. Runs from 8 AM to 8 AM. Go.
11:00 AM: I probably should have woken up earlier, but sleep is priceless to me, and there's still lots of time.
11:30 AM: I roll out of bed, and hop into one of those showers that sprays from all directions.
11:50 AM: When I get out of the shower, I am greeted by a bowl of fresh fruit, a glass of orange juice, six slices of crispy bacon, two slices of french toast (cut into strips) and three egg in a cup.
12:30 PM: Breakfast complete, I go to get changed, but am tackled by my friskily compliant, lingerie-clad wife. But wait! There's more! Another young lady enters the room. Oddly, she is also my wife... a clone, made by my genetics department. Guilt-free threeway ensues.
12:34 PM: Jess, Jess and I get dressed.
2:34 PM: Now that my wives are ready, we take a chopper down to Toronto.
3:34 PM: Because I am infinitely rich, I attend a ribbon-cutting ceremony to rename The Rogers Center to Place of Frigid Desolation. As guest of honour, Mayor Rob Ford shakes my hand and asks if I have any snow. It's January.
4:00 PM: We take a quick limo ride to Steamwhistle Brewery. All of my friends and family are there. Included is a pizza bar tended to by Italian masters. The opening band is Sublime, followed by Jay-Z and ending with a giant cabaret show directed by Rob Zombie and scored by The Transplants.
9:00 PM: Gotta buzz on. Leave the Brewery, travel to the airport. Time to leave the country. The plane is typical oligarch quality... except this one has a cage in the corner, and in that cage is Stephen Harper and Barack Obama. For the remainder of the trip, I heckle, cajole and verbally assault them.
12:30 AM: I parachute out of the back of the plane, landing in Woody Creek, Colorado, in Hunter S. Thompsons compound. I tour his house and tap out a couple letters on his typewriter. Then I ingest a sizeable quantity of mescaline and shoot a wide variety of high-powered weapons.
2:45 AM: Leave the compound. The Gonzo Cannon fires a salute.
3:30 AM: Now that I'm really flying, I'll need to go swimming. But where, you ask? Conundrum Hot Springs near Aspen. Luckily no one else is there, so the wives and I get to go skinny-dipping. Yeeeee.
4:25 AM: Get picked up by Harrison Ford flying a chopper, dressed as Indiana Jones. Go to closest airport. Fly to Toronto.
7:45 AM: Release Harper and Obama, who are dressed in Nixon masks and nothing else.
8:00 AM: Grab a coffee.
11:00 AM: I probably should have woken up earlier, but sleep is priceless to me, and there's still lots of time.
11:30 AM: I roll out of bed, and hop into one of those showers that sprays from all directions.
11:50 AM: When I get out of the shower, I am greeted by a bowl of fresh fruit, a glass of orange juice, six slices of crispy bacon, two slices of french toast (cut into strips) and three egg in a cup.
12:30 PM: Breakfast complete, I go to get changed, but am tackled by my friskily compliant, lingerie-clad wife. But wait! There's more! Another young lady enters the room. Oddly, she is also my wife... a clone, made by my genetics department. Guilt-free threeway ensues.
12:34 PM: Jess, Jess and I get dressed.
2:34 PM: Now that my wives are ready, we take a chopper down to Toronto.
3:34 PM: Because I am infinitely rich, I attend a ribbon-cutting ceremony to rename The Rogers Center to Place of Frigid Desolation. As guest of honour, Mayor Rob Ford shakes my hand and asks if I have any snow. It's January.
4:00 PM: We take a quick limo ride to Steamwhistle Brewery. All of my friends and family are there. Included is a pizza bar tended to by Italian masters. The opening band is Sublime, followed by Jay-Z and ending with a giant cabaret show directed by Rob Zombie and scored by The Transplants.
9:00 PM: Gotta buzz on. Leave the Brewery, travel to the airport. Time to leave the country. The plane is typical oligarch quality... except this one has a cage in the corner, and in that cage is Stephen Harper and Barack Obama. For the remainder of the trip, I heckle, cajole and verbally assault them.
12:30 AM: I parachute out of the back of the plane, landing in Woody Creek, Colorado, in Hunter S. Thompsons compound. I tour his house and tap out a couple letters on his typewriter. Then I ingest a sizeable quantity of mescaline and shoot a wide variety of high-powered weapons.
2:45 AM: Leave the compound. The Gonzo Cannon fires a salute.
3:30 AM: Now that I'm really flying, I'll need to go swimming. But where, you ask? Conundrum Hot Springs near Aspen. Luckily no one else is there, so the wives and I get to go skinny-dipping. Yeeeee.
4:25 AM: Get picked up by Harrison Ford flying a chopper, dressed as Indiana Jones. Go to closest airport. Fly to Toronto.
7:45 AM: Release Harper and Obama, who are dressed in Nixon masks and nothing else.
8:00 AM: Grab a coffee.