Cultural Learnings of Kazakhstan Make Benefit Glorious Film of Borat

So Shannon and I just saw the Borat movie with her brother and his partner, and for those who didn’t see it last night, it’s screamingly funny, assuming you’re into that sort of thing. I don’t want to spoil the gags, but my favourite joke was the one with the pitchfork right at the end. Afterwards we ate tiramisù and cheesecake at a nearby café until Shannon had to head to her night shift in crack town, and she entertained us with stories of the latest gang of punk asses to move into her shelter’s neighbourhood. Actually, they sound pretty scary. We were all kinda freaked and implored her to at least ask for a security chain on the door. But, that’s another story, and I should really let her tell it.

Anyways, we finished our just desserts and I kissed Shannon good night with a little more trepidation than usual, and bid her a safe night. By then, of course, I had consumed far too much sugar and caffeine to go straight home, so I spent an hour tearing around the city on my bike, first dodging cars downtown on Ste-Catherine, then on the paths around the botanical garden. It was a gorgeous clear night and I saw signs of the first heavy frost on the grass as I flew past. Then, just around the corner from my house, I noticed a twinkling under the streetlights — the year’s first snowflakes were falling. I pedalled even faster, and managed to catch one on my tongue.