Humour

Leah has been nominated for a National Magazine Award for Humour and would have been nominated for many more if the association had not eliminated the category because they’re mean.

Snakes And No Netflix? Dear Cottage: I Quit You

Dear “Shabby Chic” Cottage Held Together Mostly by Petrified Mouse Corpses: I’m writing to tell you that despite a lifetime of being told you’re the Ultimate Canadian Experience, I’ve decided that you, cottage, are crap.

Illustration: ERIN MCPHEE

Confession: I hate playing with my kid

While I adore my only child, there’s still a certain chill that crawls up my spine every time Ben starts calling out in a singsongy voice (you know, the kind you hear in horror movies with children who do terrible things): “Who-o-o wants to play with me?”

So your kid thinks Hanukah sucks balls

So, once upon a time in the olden days, they tried to kill us. A bunch of stuff happened, like fighting and death stuff, then some magick (#lit!) oil burned in the holy temple for eight days. It was a miracle and now Jewish kids get to celebrate saving the temple (#goals!) by eating foods fried in magick oil like potatoes and well, mostly that’s it.

Confessions of a reluctant hockey mom

Come October, Jason and The Hockey Monster We Spawned will be donning their Montreal Canadiens jerseys and cuddling up on the couch in front of the TV for six months, while I grumble, ignored, in the background.

Sofa, you’re so bad

We find a less precious, modern stiff-backed number at a hip Queen West furnishings store. I drag Jason to Crate & Barrel over his protestations that this was clearly evidence that his life is over. Nope, none of those comfortable couches will do either. We start to despair that the détente will ever come to an end.