Happy May Two-Four!

Happy May Two-Four Weekend! That’s right. May 2-4. Because, did you notice the date? It’s May 23^rd…and it’s Thursday, so tomorrow, Friday, is the 24^th and the beginning of the weekend. Are you with me? Fer sure!

Who really celebrates the queen’s birthday anyway? Did you know that’s what the May long weekend is about: a fixed date to celebrate / genuflect to the monarch’s birth. In a democracy…doesn’t make sense. So this weekend is my weekend of celebration.

Because, (1) I don’t believe in monarchies. No divine right to rule (they claim that you know). No primogeniture (first born son gets the crown , even if there's a perfectly suitable 1st born girl, which is kinda sexist if you ask me). And no more public dollars wasted on allegedly (no lawsuits here) inbred royals waving at the besotted citizenry.

And, (2) I grew up in northern Ontario where no one called it the Victoria Day Weekend (except my ex-pat brit parents). Everyone called it the May two-four weekend. As in you go to the Brewer’s Retail (remember that?  Your dad told them what he wanted and they just shot the case out on a rolling belt) and buy a two-four of beer, to be consumed over the weekend. On a dock or in a backyard next to a bbq.

I was in high-school when I finally figured out (ie my mom reamed me out for being a dunce) that Victoria Day = the May Long Weekend = May Two-Four. Say ‘two-four’ in kind of a hoser voice and it’ll make more sense; work in an ‘eh’ and a ‘giv’er’ and you’re good to go.

As in: "Oh ya eh, it’s may two-four this weekend. Gotta go the beer store and get me a case of blue. Gonna go out to camp* and just giv’er."

"Oh fer sure eh…"

* up north no one (except for prissy, poncey, pretending they’re Torontonian snots) calls it ‘the cottage’. And you don’t go up, you go out.  To camp.  And if you’re a very overweight or emaciated man you don’t wear a shirt the whole time.

So this weekend I will go to the LCBO, buy a micro-brewery six-pack and drink a bottle in my prissy Toronto backyard garden, while my husband, with his shirt on, fires up the bbq…and just giv’er! 

Because I am Canadian.