It sucks that my mom moved into the penthouse apartment upstairs.

Okay, she didn’t do that – but somebody up there walks around with an extremely heavy foot, and it sounds exactly like a large part of my childhood. My bedroom was in the basement of a very poorly built house, and my mom stomped around like that on a daily basis. The more stomping, the madder she was. The madder she was, the meaner she got. The meaner she got .. well, let’s just say that most of my self-image problems are older than some of my friends. Having Stompy Sam prance around upstairs is making me slightly paranoid that at any second my mom is going to appear in my doorway and start yelling incoherent yet devastating things.

To combat this fear, I will leave town. We’re going to Abbotsford to go to the “Vancouver” Motorcycle Show – Josh wants to downgrade from a scooter to a motorcycle, and I’m just excited at the thought of so many fat, bearded men in tight leather chaps in one place. It should be an interesting time, even if I let my snide hipster sensibilities get the better of me.

Giddyup!