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A few snowballs to roll downhill

Ideas for the oddly specific, roundly numbered, project. (500 words exactly? I better write in word pairs or groups of 5 so as not to erroneously end up with an odd assignment. However, that ship might have already set sail

1.) Since I am very in touch with the pulse of todays trends..sifting through complicated and advanced dia and plyometrics. I have noticed that the general public is woefully uneducated about lesser known Canadian heroes. For example, Terry Fox's little italian brother, Guido. Completely ignored by Canada and the US as a whole, yet embraced by English catholics and some spanish people...I'll answer all the need to know questions about Guy Fox. Especially, whose bright idea it was to give that guy gunpowder.

1c.) Art! Specifically, art museums. More specifically, modern art museum blind dates. Micromanageably specifically. The art of trying to come up with things to say, to people you don't know, while being constantly assaulted by row upon row of giant paint splattered canvases that leave you speechless and confused. 

n) For many many years now, I have been told by countless mothers around the world (maybe even yours), that I am incredibly and implausibly cute. I aim to delve deep into checking on the merit of this obviously amazingly true claim. And solve the mystery of what exactly makes moms swoon when they meet me. (Hint. It may or may not be pinchable)

 Rough draft- Putting anything down

A blind date, for those of you whom have never had the experience, has developed from thousands of years of evolution in dating.. where centuries of trial and error in attempts to get it right have resulted in us just saying "Hey, I think my friends cousins barbers old guidance counsellor has a friend of the same sexual persuasion as you. I think. I’m going to send them a random unexpected social network email for you."
That's how they do it these days, right?"

So going on the extreme amount of no information given, I decided to meet this (alleged) person at a nearby modern art museum. What better place is there take someone? Somewhere where you seem intelligent and cultured. A place where you can talk, but also where you can bypass the inevitable dead times in conversation by quickly uttering mindboggling cultured quips, like “ Don’t you think this red blotch here indicates a microcosm of a heterotopian disenfranchised state?” I would be irresistible.

Now one of the things that no one tells you when you go on a blind date is that when you finally meet the person, two harsh truths immediately punch you in the face. The first is that you have absolutely no idea who this person is. If you listened to your mother when you were younger, you would cross to the other side of the street when they approached you. The second is that you because of this, you have less than zero in common, except that you are both here on this date with someone, who has probably taken real world precautions in case they end up as a missing person.
Needless to say, the first dead awkward silence comes quickly. At which point I congratulate myself for my venue choice since I have planned for such an occasion. I quickly turn the corner and run into this:

And all thought processes grind to an abrupt halt, as the human mind tries to contemplate what sort of universe I have accidentally stepped into. I begin to feel a wave of fear for my life come over me in case this thing is currently only asleep, and might wake up at any time and mistake me for a man shaped pacifier. More panic runs over me when I realize that the girl has gone completely silent and has tensed up in a sort of feline, agitated, fight or flight pose as she is trying to figure out whether or not to run from this person who has some sort of weird interest in extremely large naked babies. However, in my defence I think it was very helpful to get an in your face full on view of what lies ahead. ( And also (in my opinion) a very accurate description of what childbirth is going to FEEL like. So really she should thank me)
Sensing this I quickly duck into another room, hoping to casually brush aside the fact that we had just involuntarily entered a room sized womb ( a woom? )

All my fears are not assuaged because the next room contains this.

My highly evolved mind starts to try to work around what I am looking at, and decides it would be a much better idea to suppress this experience rather than process it and figure it out. The last thought I hear breeze through my head cavity before my brain shuts the door is that for some reason this woman is making grocery shopping really complicated.

Woman! I remember my date who is now orbiting around me at a restraining order’s amount of distance. And really who could blame her since I have now granted her an up close and personal look into babies and the what happens to women who don’t come home with the groceries.
I opt to give hope one last chance and gravitationally pull my little satellite date around the corner and

Well, she probably had lice or something anyways.

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