Birthday with Dragons

 (Another hockey greeting for my patient and indulging team.  They were kind enough to take me out for drinks after our dazzling victory.)

My Fellow Dragons:

So I'm sitting at Starbucks, not in the comfy chair, but instead I am perched on a tall chair at a tall table and able to look down upon the other customers and smile silently and smugly as I enjoy my position of self-inflated superiority.

Bob Dylan whaling on the coffeeshop's playlist? -- He can't ruin my mood.

The books staring at me on the bookstore's shelf -- "Why Won't Men Ask For Directions?", "Is There Male Menopause?"' "Why Do Men Leave the Seat Up?", "Can You Have Too Much Sex?", the obligatory shortest title "Does Size Matter?", and finally "How Do Men Think?" -- all try to undermine my undeserved seat of power.  All fail in their reverse-misogynistic attempts to spoil my mood of caffeinated enhanced delight.

Three reasons for my happiness...

1. My eyes are fine. There is no glaucoma, but I should go for another test in two years.

2. The car passed its emissions test and the renewal sticker has been obtained. 

3.  It's just a cyst. Nothing to worry about. Not testicular cancer or anything like that. Just a cyst.

Three friggin' great pieces of news. 

Oh, and, AND even with tomorrow's birthday I will still have my final toe in the much desired 18-49 demographic so every time I watch "The Good Wife", "Elementary", "Fringe" and "Archer", Nielsen is begging to suck the juice out of my much valued eyeballs to confirm their tv viewership for advertisers. So I still have that going for another 12 months.

And yesterday my lovely wife asked what I want to do for next year's first dates/ways to leave your lover/Labatt/shades of grey celebration.

(Do you want to know how fiercely Canadian I am? -- when I was percolating on that list the other day, the number of US states did not even cross my mind. It wasn't until much later in the percolation process that I realized, "Oh yeah, American states."  Adam Sandler, Paul Simon and beer came first. So very Canadian.)

As of tomorrow, I am the same age as Captain Kirk in "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan". And I think that my hair is way, way nicer than the toupee that Shatner was rockin' in that movie. Please don't tell me if you think otherwise; if it's an illusion, it's an illusion I will cling to by its roots.

Because tomorrow is in fact my birthday, but much, MUCH more important...

GENTLEMEN...

Dragons hockey! 

A five game unbeaten streak is carrying us into 2013. Five games of glorious undefeated joyous pleasure. If those games had been beautiful women, each and every one of them would have had a delightful "Oh My!" smile on her lips. 

Welcome to the new year!

To usher in this year of non-triskaidekaphobian wonderfulness, we will battle they of the unnecessary apostrophe, the Zulu's.

Last winter we were in the same division as the Zulu's and then we were moved above them. And (continuing this email's theme of undeserved smug superiority) although we are once again in the same division, we are still above them in so many, many ways:  better looking, better listeners, better at math and definitely more polite and respectful towards both women and young children.

Gentlemen, Sunday afternoon. Down at the MasterCard.

Welcome to 2013. My eyes, my car and my non-Shatner-esque hair all feel like its gonna be a good year.

I look forward to starting it off on the right skate with you.

Hope to see you there.