The 31st

It's the end of January, Lunar New Year, time to look back on the 1/12th of 2014 that has already past. I stopped blogging, even when shit got interesting (my birthday, going to the beerfest with Marc). I will be trying harder in February, it's a process, and it takes time.

The Year of the horse. I've eaten horse.

I went to my granny's place to help her order a gift on Amazon. Her ipad art is coming along nicely. I am looking forward to her show in April.

I went to the skydome to get opening day Blue Jays tickets but they were already sold out. I would rather go on bobble head day anyway. I had more success across the street at Steam Whistle Brewery getting my growler filled. On my way home I realized the hipster thing to do is brag about the low carbon footprint of carrying beer from its brewery in  a reusable container.

I got home and had a beer and made some gourmet Kaft Dinner. I expected a relaxing uneventfull friday night.

Now consider this a sober accounting of what happened, I am witting it first thing the next morning and adding it to this post, I was too angry to write it last night.

Paul returned from watching a lacrosse game with his buddy Chad. This is the drunk Paul who worries me, one too many, you never know what will set him off, only the 89% probability that something will.
I'm about to go to bed to avoid any situation when our brother Marc stops by after having finished work.

We have about ten minutes of conversation before Paul, who was sprawled out on couch cushions on the floor, began babbling about Kanye.Then after finishing his McDonalds poutine, Paul from a position on his knees, ravenously tears into the container, gutturally licking at the last remnants of gravy.
Marc, with his feet up on the table, comments that a video would be great. Paul tells Marc that his feet stink. Marc true to his nature, digs that his feet stink cause its from a day of hard work. At this point Paul inexplicably mocks Marc's salary and tells him to get his feet off his table. I have been writing the table, it is my table, but Paul at this point keeps referring to it as his table. I think it was when I pointed this out to him he decide to kick Marc out of our apartment with a "Get the fuck out of my house". Marc left. Now, bear in mind Marc is approaching this situation completely sober having just come from work. I had a large beer 4 hours earlier.
I didn't want Marc to go.

I'm sure Paul doesn't think anything is wrong. He flew off the handle and treated our own brother like shit in our house. I'm only writing it down to show how surreal it was and how quickly it escalated.