Whoopee! Our town has a new zillion square foot Canadian Tire store!
I’m a guy. Goes without saying that my dad was a guy, and both my grand-dad’s were guys. The one thing we all shared in common is a love of visiting Canadian Tire on rainy Saturday mornings. It’s a guy thing. It’s what we do. It’s in our blood.
So earlier in the week, this huge new Canadian Tire store opened up. Isle after isle of tools and assorted guy stuff, laid out as bait for every guy in town. Row after row of guys, standing in plaid wool jackets with touques, looking at the guy stuff, nodding their heads in appreciation, not knowing what the heck half of it is, but knowing they want it, nay, knowing they need it.
It’s Saturday morning, it’s raining, and the giant new Canadian Tire is open for business. Forget sex. Forget food. Forget sleep. I’m off to the guy store. See ya!
{Apologies to all you folks who thought this was a thread about where to obtain guys. On second thought, though, if you are looking for a guy, at least now you know where to find one on a rainy Saturday morning.}