My nude calendar

Earlier this year I ran a successful Kickstarter campaign to help cover the cost of printing the debut novel that I will stop shamelessly referencing sometime in the middle-distant future. The campaign was a success, and the book is now for sale at better tanning salons near you.

In fact, it was so successful that it has inspired me to come up with other innovative fundraising ventures. What am I fundraising for? I’m retelling Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night using characters from “Happy Days.” It’s called Misery Loves Chachi.

But I don’t have any innovative fundraising ventures, so I’ve stolen one. Namely, I have decided to emulate the firefighters and the athletes and the writers and the senior citizens and the United Turnip Workers Ch. 64 by producing a tastefully nude calendar.

The hook here is that all the months will feature me – me like you’ve never seen me before. Well, most of you. (And, once again, Doris Paxton of Abercorn, I apologize for jumping out of the bushes like that; I thought you were the mailman.)

The calendar will be a celebration of the demise of body shaming in our society. When I was in the convenience store the other day, the shirtless young man who walked in to buy ham slices, mustard and two large loaves of bread, certainly he wasn’t ashamed of his body. Or carbs.

I too am not ashamed of this collection of angles and lumps that my organs call home. In fact, that’s what I’m calling the calendar: Angles and Lumps 2017.

The calendar is still in its planning stages – mainly crude, stick-figure sketches that nonetheless bear a striking resemblance – but I can at very least describe to you the various poses.

(Please note that for the sake of propriety and for educational purposes, references to my discreet body parts will be replaced by names of former Canadian prime ministers.)

The Chinese New Year begins January 28, 2017. It’s the Year of the Rooster. In other words, the calendar opens up with a fairly obvious visual gag.

I am depicted wrestling the heating oil man as he attempts to deliver to my house. Unpaid Christmas bills scatter onto the snow. Why I am nude in this scenario is not quite clear, but fortunately the positioning of the oil man’s hose blocks my Charles Tupper.

Since firefighters pose with their fire gear and rowing teams hold their buoys, I should include some of the tools of the writer’s trade. Therefore, March sees me posing provocatively with potato chips.

To mark National Pet Month, I stretch out on the sofa and place the family dog and all the cats between me and the camera. In the end, there’s no nudity to be seen at all. A lint brush will feature prominently.

Standing at a clothesline with a basket of clothes strategically blocking my Louis St-Laurent, I incredulously hold up one of my daughter’s thongs that looks like it could be speedily dried in a salad spinner. I title it “Hung Laundry.” Think of a Norman Rockwell painting but with man nipples.

Get your pencils out. It’s the Bonus Fun Page! Connect the moles to discover a drawing of a concerned dermatologist!

Two words: Diefenbaker; bacon.

In the tradition of my ham-and-bread-buying friend, August sees me nonchalantly naked at the local convenience store, holding up other customers as I blithely count out the last Canadian pennies in circulation. I am purchasing, coincidentally, a copy of A Hole in the Ground, my delightful and hilarious debut novel, available wherever people wear clothes. A display of candy bars perfectly blocks my Lester B. Pearson. The brand of candy bar is, of course, Mr. Big.

I’m in the audience of “Ellen” surrounded by women, and they’re screaming, screaming, screaming. I’m sitting there with my legs crossed, rolling my eyes, because, seriously, women, you have to quit with the screaming. You’re not helping yourself. Would Hillary scream and jump up and down over a L’Oréal Mochaccino Mud Mask? No, she wouldn’t. That’s what I’m thinking as I’m sitting there nude, because, honestly, ladies, you don’t want to look ridiculous.

October is American Cheese Month. I see myself with several semi-soft varieties. I’m also holding a sign that reads, “I once promised to eat a pound of cheese; it was a binding agreement.”

It’s too complicated to explain here, but does anyone know where I can rent a wolverine?

December is as yet undecided, but I can assure you I will cover John Turner with tinsel.


Order your copy of A Hole in the Ground, my debut novel, containing only partial nudity. 


About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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36 Responses to My nude calendar

  1. byebyebeer says:

    If someone doesn’t at least illustrate this, I’ll be very disappointed (bonus: you would not have to rent wolverines).

  2. 1. Great plan to sell your novel at tanning beds, that audience will die from skin cancer early and your book will get passed on to another family member. You won’t make any money, but someday your novel could end up in the hands of a person of influence who would mention it as their favorite novel in People magazine. Sales would take off and your kids would have money to spend on virtual reality video games.
    2. Charles Tupper is the best name ever for your John Thomas. #CharlesTupperInsteadofJohnThomas will soon be trending.
    3. American Cheese month? Is that a month celebrating the plastic orange stuff that comes in plastic wrapped squares,or is it a month celebrating a variety of American cheeses from Wisconsin?
    4. When the calendar is done I’m buying one and hanging it in my classroom. I’ve always wanted to be on paid administrative leave.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      1. That person of influence will be fabulously bronzed, of course.
      2. If I had been truly shameless, I could have mentioned Mackenzie Bowell, who is, in fact, referred to in my book.
      3. I believe it’s Cheeses of America, though I too had to double check.
      4. I may be joining you if my employers get wind of this one.

  3. pinklightsabre says:

    I often read these right out of bed, more or less. Before the coffee. There’s more cheese packed into this than a seam in my sofa, all these double, triple entendres. Beautiful.

  4. Paul says:

    I learned long ago to never disagree with a man who writes for a newspaper. 😀

  5. “a celebration of the demise of body shaming in our society” Sticking to fiction, are we?

    “tools of the writer’s trade…potato chips” Nuh-uh–coffee, scotch, and self-flagellation, not necessarily in that order.

    “I incredulously hold up one of my daughter’s thongs” Fondling your daughter’s delicates is edging dangerously into Trump territory.

    “I see myself with several semi-soft varieties” Funny, that’s how you looked on Ellen.

    “I will cover…with tinsel” Just don’t make it glitter. Glitter is the herpes of craft supplies; you can never quite get rid of it. That joke works alarmingly well here.

    • rossmurray1 says:

      I was hoping someone would pick up on that subtle bit of satire. But, seriously, some people could stand to be a bit more ashamed of their bodies, don’t you think?
      I actually struggled with the thong line, but I really do hang laundry. It’s the demise of sexual stereotypes in our society.
      Thanks. These are like editor’s comments on a first draft. Alas, too late.

      • As a women in the United States, I’ve already been injected with about ten billion cc’s of body shame, so none, for me, thanks. I’m full.

        And handling your daughter’s unmentionables while referring to your package is…well…that one was out of the park. Red flag, dude.

  6. I would give the entire contents of my safe to see “Misery Loves Chachi” come to fruition. (I don’t have a safe.)

  7. Elyse says:

    You are brilliant, Ross. Likely to remain poor, but brilliant.

  8. List of X says:

    You need Wolverine? One of the other X-men? Allright, I’ll ask.

  9. ksbeth says:

    i would like to order the 365-day daily tear off calendar pad for my desk, please.

  10. Trent Lewin says:

    Um, do you mean THE John Turner of politics fame? That’s a bugnuts reference.

    Anyway, I feel a little ill reading through those months. I’m a sucker for nude calendars, but I have my limits, man. Couldn’t you get Justin Trudeau???

  11. Ross, Ross, Ross. Flipping through this calendar would make me want to pull my eyes out of my head except I don’t want the image of a nude Rosemary surrounded by Ellen’s fawning minion to be the last thing I ever see.

  12. Pingback: Why book lovers are the best | Drinking Tips for Teens

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