I don't know if you all know the way Mr. N and I met. You see, I was at a friend's BBQ, N.O.D. (North of Dewdney) and in walks a pompous N, too scared to leave his beer in my friend's beer cooler. Now I may have been slightly intoxicated but this seriously pissed me off and I told him so. I told his pompous ass where to go. Months later, Mr. N told me that my "nerve and spunk" were the qualities that attracted him.
Back to the main point, it was brought to my attention that there were two groups on Facebook: a N.O.D. group and a S.O.D. group. I grew up N.O.D. and lived for a short time S.O.D - so I've experienced both and I've come to this conclusion -- the shadiest, most sketchiest area in my hood, Glenharlem, was the 7-11 on Cavendish and Dewdney. Guess where on Dewdney -- oh that's right, to the south. Enough said, me thinks.
N.O.D. all the way.
PS. I was able to put my N.O.D. pride aside and marry a S.O.D-er -- it is the most glaring deficiency I can find in my husband (his Tartan past) and I try hard not to think about it too much.
You make a valid point. Neil has always been a wannabe N.O.D.
He was just unfortunate to have been born on the wrong side of the street. His vehicle of choice was an obvious cry for help -- that he was desperately looking for a way to cross over to a better way of life. Let's face it, had he the ability to grow hair, you know he'd have had a mane to put Jon Bon Jovi et al to shame... another indicator to be sure.
There are so many things I love about NOD. I distinctly remember that night and how I felt when I heard about NOD. It all got better when we learned that Neil drove an NOD car.
You down with NOD? Yeah you know me!
PS: How in the world did the SODs wind up NOD anyways?