Skipping my traditional drunken stupor, I spent most of this weekend transporting my girlfriend's spawnling to Vancouver so he can attend university. I'm well suited for Igor-like tasks, such as carrying an inexplicable amount of cardboard boxes, but such exertions do leave me somewhat tapped out in the humour department. Or at least more tapped out than usual. Thankfully, Cory was here to
perform the minimum amount of work required to keep us on the payroll keep you entertained with pretty pictures.
It also gave me a much needed opportunity to think about the future of Critical Miss. Now that that my house is bereft of children, that future is pretty much 100% pants free.