First of all, I want to clear something up. Just because it's your own baby, doesn't make cleaning their shit any better. When you don't have kids, and you see someone cleaning a big turd and you curl up your nose, you often hear, "Don't worry, when it's your own, it's different." Not true. Shit is shit and it's shitty.It's just that you have no choice so you just do it and suck it up. Your own flesh and blood doesn't make poop any nicer than someone elses. It's still waste that travels through the lower intestines and comes out as a disgusting blob. SOmetimes it's more like the softserve icecream machine at McDonalds has unleashed in your kids diaper and you think, "Good God, should I take this baby to emergency? How can such a tiny human survive after such a massive expulsion?" There are many different kinds of baby poop, for those of you who are unaware.
To begin, there's the tar sands. This is the first poop that comes out of your baby and it is super sticky, black and thick, much like this guy I dated once. I believe the medical name for it is merconium but I just refer to it as rotten tar. Then comes the honey mustard. This is easier to clean than the rotten tar but has the terrifying sweet smell. Like a decaying peach. Then you move onto the Green Giant, which is exactly what it's name describes. Then the real magic happens when you start feeding your baby real food, like fruits and vegetables. This stage is actually quite facinating. This is when every shade on the colour wheel comes into play. It's like every day you get to witness a new rainbow of fruit flavours. If you're lucky, you may even get a sneak peek into the world of floopy poops, or for the lamen, diarrhea. This is a stink that will actually burn, not only your nose cilia, but your retnas as well. It starts to get worse before it gets better. I've changed the diaper of a 2 year old and that's when things seriously start to get real. There's always something to look forward to. So onto other things, I recently got fired as the spokesperson for Babies R Us. Surprised? I hadn't even mentioned that I was doing this busted ass job because I had signed this contract that forbade me from basically, well, being me. They still owe me a bunch of money so I'll save the story until I see every penny and then will regale you with hilarious tales of me, flying around Canada, going on Breakfast Television, talking about idiot baby stuff. Here's a taste of what's to come. When I was on BT in Winnipeg I had said that I would be using Dexter's "no spill" sippy cup on Christmas Eve to drink my red wine out of, so that I wouldn't spill it down my front and look like a total alcoholic. That may have been the final nail in the coffin.Ta for now!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Boom goes the dynamite
I left off with a story about our trek to the resort we stayed at in the Domincan Republic. It was the first time Will and I had done one of these all-inclusive jobs. To be honest, I sort of thought they were a bit gross before. A bunch of food, booze and Americans. I was wrong, I will admit. It was great and perfect for just simply relaxing. I love to travel but I find it hard to settle down, always needing to see everything. It's nice when you really have no choice but to sit, read and drink booze. The food was actually pretty good too. In fact, it was great. So anyhow, that's my review Travelocity.
When you left the perimeters of what was the resorts beach, there were security guards that would get you to sign out. I guess in case you get kidnapped by pirates, they know what time the resort had no legal responsibility. There was this security guard, who looked like he was maybe 20, but who knows. They all look the same to me. Security guards, that is. This guy loooooooved the baby. He came running up to us as we were walking down the beach and just started speaking Spanish to Dex and cooing and going crazy. It was really cute. He then started speaking Spanish to us. Now, having taken first year Spanish in University and scoring an impressive 58% in the course, you would be surprised to know that I can't speak Spanish. So I say, "No hable espanol." Didn't matter. He just kept talking. So he gestures for us to follow him to his chair where he keeps the clip board for people to sign out. In the meantime all of these other people were just walking by, not signing out. Ok. So we follow him and he gestures for me to sit on the chair. I sit with the baby on my lap. Will has the clipboard, signing us out. He continues to go cookoo over the baby. He's yammering on in Spanish and looking at me and laughing and I'm laughing, at what, I don't know. He may have been saying that we all look the same to him. Models, that is. Anyhow, the next thing I know, he's clucking Dex under the chin, then he swings his massive shotgun around to the front and hands it to the baby! Of course Dex goes right for the effing trigger. It all happened so fast I thought I was in a Saved By the Bell dream sequence. "Holy shit!" I say, "don't give the baby the gun!" I jump up and say, "Ok see you later! Have a good day." He continues to follow us and I just keep turning around saying "Ola, Ola,Ola", which I obviously know means "Hello" (did you already forget the 58%?) but I was so flustered that it's the only thing that was coming out of my mouth. Imagine how insane that sounded? I'm running away, clutching my baby to my chest, yelling out "Hello!Hello!Hello!" So anyhow,that was that. About 2 days later, I'm alone walking down the beach with the baby. He's there again. This time he just waves for me to come to him. I walk up to him and he starts with the baby again. He wants to hold him this time. Now I'm getting a good look at this guy. I don't know for certain, but I'm 58% sure that this dude may be slightly mentally challenged in some capacity. He's sitting down and holding up his arms to me, wanting to hold the baby. I figure it's ok, he's just a sweet man who loves the baby. I know what you're thinking, you're saying to yourself, "Oh wait Larissa, but where's the gun?" Yes, maybe I should have thought of that. As I'm handing my only child over to the stranger I realize the gun is just lying across his lap and now Dexter is in his arms and jumping on the gun. I discover this and yell, "Ola!Ola the gun!" Again with the misuse of ola. He says the only words I've heard him say in English, "No problem lady, no problem." Well, maybe I'm just a soft Canadian who has never been exposed to guns before but I'm pretty sure a 9 month old jumping on a loaded shotgun is a bit of a problem. I grab Dex, sign the stupid clipboard and take off. Then I went and drank a Banana Mama.
When you left the perimeters of what was the resorts beach, there were security guards that would get you to sign out. I guess in case you get kidnapped by pirates, they know what time the resort had no legal responsibility. There was this security guard, who looked like he was maybe 20, but who knows. They all look the same to me. Security guards, that is. This guy loooooooved the baby. He came running up to us as we were walking down the beach and just started speaking Spanish to Dex and cooing and going crazy. It was really cute. He then started speaking Spanish to us. Now, having taken first year Spanish in University and scoring an impressive 58% in the course, you would be surprised to know that I can't speak Spanish. So I say, "No hable espanol." Didn't matter. He just kept talking. So he gestures for us to follow him to his chair where he keeps the clip board for people to sign out. In the meantime all of these other people were just walking by, not signing out. Ok. So we follow him and he gestures for me to sit on the chair. I sit with the baby on my lap. Will has the clipboard, signing us out. He continues to go cookoo over the baby. He's yammering on in Spanish and looking at me and laughing and I'm laughing, at what, I don't know. He may have been saying that we all look the same to him. Models, that is. Anyhow, the next thing I know, he's clucking Dex under the chin, then he swings his massive shotgun around to the front and hands it to the baby! Of course Dex goes right for the effing trigger. It all happened so fast I thought I was in a Saved By the Bell dream sequence. "Holy shit!" I say, "don't give the baby the gun!" I jump up and say, "Ok see you later! Have a good day." He continues to follow us and I just keep turning around saying "Ola, Ola,Ola", which I obviously know means "Hello" (did you already forget the 58%?) but I was so flustered that it's the only thing that was coming out of my mouth. Imagine how insane that sounded? I'm running away, clutching my baby to my chest, yelling out "Hello!Hello!Hello!" So anyhow,that was that. About 2 days later, I'm alone walking down the beach with the baby. He's there again. This time he just waves for me to come to him. I walk up to him and he starts with the baby again. He wants to hold him this time. Now I'm getting a good look at this guy. I don't know for certain, but I'm 58% sure that this dude may be slightly mentally challenged in some capacity. He's sitting down and holding up his arms to me, wanting to hold the baby. I figure it's ok, he's just a sweet man who loves the baby. I know what you're thinking, you're saying to yourself, "Oh wait Larissa, but where's the gun?" Yes, maybe I should have thought of that. As I'm handing my only child over to the stranger I realize the gun is just lying across his lap and now Dexter is in his arms and jumping on the gun. I discover this and yell, "Ola!Ola the gun!" Again with the misuse of ola. He says the only words I've heard him say in English, "No problem lady, no problem." Well, maybe I'm just a soft Canadian who has never been exposed to guns before but I'm pretty sure a 9 month old jumping on a loaded shotgun is a bit of a problem. I grab Dex, sign the stupid clipboard and take off. Then I went and drank a Banana Mama.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Is that a gun in your pants?
Happy New Year weirdos.
Will, Dexter and I went to the Domincan Republic on New Years Day for a nice week in the sun. Well, the shade really. For those of you who know my little family we are the whitest people around.SOme may even say that we're translucent. My Mom says I'm porcelin and fair, so suck on that. Will and I would come out of the shade at around 3pm. This is the time when the nightwalkers can roam in the sun without fear of complete anihilation. Anyhow, it was an amazing week and the baby loved it. The flight was a bit of a gong show but even more of a gong show was the hour and a half ride out to the resort. Dex had been ok during the flight but now it's like 10pm and he's getting super squirrly. Everyone on the bus is from Toronto and ready to get to the resort. Some skids from Milton have cracked some Canadians, butts behind their ears ready to hoser it up the moment we get to the resort. This crazy Domincan guy is on the microphone (of the greyhound) cracking really dumb jokes like this one: "I hear there's 2 feet of snow in Canada." Then he laughs really uncomfortably loud. That's the joke. Not to mention the sound system is ancient and his voice is really loud and distorted. Now the baby starts wailing. I'm holding him, well trying not to drop him (it was a really bumpy ride) and doing my best to get him to settle down. He's just getting louder and louder and now people around me are craning their necks to see how I'm torturing my baby. Here's the thing. Everyone thinks that if they were in my situation, they would be successful at getting him to calm down. I can see it in their judgemental, sympathetic stares. I'm getting frustrated as the baby is getting louder. Now amateur night at the Apollo says on the mic, "Oh tha' bebe is 'ungry." Thanks Domincan Gilligan. As a matter of fact, the baby isn't hungry but you would probably know better than me right? My blood is starting to boil and I'm getting really stressed out. This super fat guy was sitting next to Will and I can hear him say to Will, "Oh wow, she's getting really stressed out." No shit fatty, this is probably how your heart feels every minute of every day. I turn to Will and say, "I don't know what to do" and I see this sea of faces staring at me. It was like a TV show when they use the effect of peoples heads floating around to show confusion and craziness. I snapped. Now I'm effing crying. The baby is wailing, I'm bawling and fatty is shaking his chins saying, "it's ok! He's just a baby."
I mean, he was right but once the tears started, they were out there. I couldn't take them back. It was like Dexter sensed how crazy I felt because suddenly he stopped crying and passed out. Amazing. This one is short and sweet because I have to go to the airport and pick up the stroller. We left it on the sidewalk when we went to get into the Park and Fly Van. Parents of the year. Here's what's coming up next: I suffer from Tropic Thunder (if you know what I mean) a half mentally retarded security guard gives Dex his gun....twice, and Dex discovers that not everything you put in your mouth tastes like beautiful boobie nectar.
Will, Dexter and I went to the Domincan Republic on New Years Day for a nice week in the sun. Well, the shade really. For those of you who know my little family we are the whitest people around.SOme may even say that we're translucent. My Mom says I'm porcelin and fair, so suck on that. Will and I would come out of the shade at around 3pm. This is the time when the nightwalkers can roam in the sun without fear of complete anihilation. Anyhow, it was an amazing week and the baby loved it. The flight was a bit of a gong show but even more of a gong show was the hour and a half ride out to the resort. Dex had been ok during the flight but now it's like 10pm and he's getting super squirrly. Everyone on the bus is from Toronto and ready to get to the resort. Some skids from Milton have cracked some Canadians, butts behind their ears ready to hoser it up the moment we get to the resort. This crazy Domincan guy is on the microphone (of the greyhound) cracking really dumb jokes like this one: "I hear there's 2 feet of snow in Canada." Then he laughs really uncomfortably loud. That's the joke. Not to mention the sound system is ancient and his voice is really loud and distorted. Now the baby starts wailing. I'm holding him, well trying not to drop him (it was a really bumpy ride) and doing my best to get him to settle down. He's just getting louder and louder and now people around me are craning their necks to see how I'm torturing my baby. Here's the thing. Everyone thinks that if they were in my situation, they would be successful at getting him to calm down. I can see it in their judgemental, sympathetic stares. I'm getting frustrated as the baby is getting louder. Now amateur night at the Apollo says on the mic, "Oh tha' bebe is 'ungry." Thanks Domincan Gilligan. As a matter of fact, the baby isn't hungry but you would probably know better than me right? My blood is starting to boil and I'm getting really stressed out. This super fat guy was sitting next to Will and I can hear him say to Will, "Oh wow, she's getting really stressed out." No shit fatty, this is probably how your heart feels every minute of every day. I turn to Will and say, "I don't know what to do" and I see this sea of faces staring at me. It was like a TV show when they use the effect of peoples heads floating around to show confusion and craziness. I snapped. Now I'm effing crying. The baby is wailing, I'm bawling and fatty is shaking his chins saying, "it's ok! He's just a baby."
I mean, he was right but once the tears started, they were out there. I couldn't take them back. It was like Dexter sensed how crazy I felt because suddenly he stopped crying and passed out. Amazing. This one is short and sweet because I have to go to the airport and pick up the stroller. We left it on the sidewalk when we went to get into the Park and Fly Van. Parents of the year. Here's what's coming up next: I suffer from Tropic Thunder (if you know what I mean) a half mentally retarded security guard gives Dex his gun....twice, and Dex discovers that not everything you put in your mouth tastes like beautiful boobie nectar.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Sort of defeats the purpose of a BLOG
Ok, it's been forever since my last blog. Dexter is 13 but oddly I'm still 32. My moustache is still better than his. So here's the thing: it turns out that not only do we, as women and mothers, have to deal with pooping on the delivery table, have our vagina's sewn back together and have our partners search for hemorrhoids(I had to look up how to spell that), but it turns out there are plenty of things that can happen to you after the baby is born. I, unfortunately developed postpartum hypothyroidism. No biggie, just a pain in the ass. Here's what happened. In October, I started to feel super exhausted and weak. It was weird because we had Dex sleeping 12 hours and I was sleeping more than I had since I was first diagnosed with pregnancy. I couldn't figure it out. I didn't want to get out of bed, I had trouble concentrating and everything just seemed like such a giant effort. I was far more exhausted than when the baby was a newborn, to be honest I was terrified that I was suffering from postpartum depression. Searching the Internet to see what was wrong certainly didn't help. So I dragged my ass to the doctor to see if I was low in iron or something. She's a great doctor and asked all of the right questions and I had my blood taken. She called me up and told me I had the most abnormal thyroid she had ever seen. I've always been a bit of an over-achiever. Anyhow, I've tried two different levels of meds to sort me out and I am happy to say I'm feeling much much better. I have to go and get these nodules thingys that have developed on my thyroid taken off, otherwise I could get a goiter! Could you imagine...a goiter! If I developed a huge goiter on my neck I would tattoo a nipple on it and tell everyone that I had breast implants put into my neck because two boobs just weren't enough for Will. Anyhow, I'm not telling this story for any sympathy or words of encouragement or anything, I'm telling it because a lot of new Mom's might equate extreme exhaustion with just being a new mom, but if you feel like you seriously can't get out of bed in the morning, just go and see what's up because it's an easy fix, if it's your thyroid.
So that's that. My friend said to me, "Why haven't you written lately? It sort of defeats the purpose of a blog." I responded, "Your face defeats the purpose of a blog" and now I'm back to bloggin'. There has to be another word for blogging, for those of us who don't do it every day. I don't have the time and quite frankly, I don't have enough material. Life is funny, but most days are pretty ordinary and I'm not about to be one of those people who starts blogging about the amazing sausage she ate the other day. Anyhow, it's time for me and my goiter to tend to the baby.
So that's that. My friend said to me, "Why haven't you written lately? It sort of defeats the purpose of a blog." I responded, "Your face defeats the purpose of a blog" and now I'm back to bloggin'. There has to be another word for blogging, for those of us who don't do it every day. I don't have the time and quite frankly, I don't have enough material. Life is funny, but most days are pretty ordinary and I'm not about to be one of those people who starts blogging about the amazing sausage she ate the other day. Anyhow, it's time for me and my goiter to tend to the baby.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Who do you have to sleep with around here to get a kid baptized?
First off, do you think the title of this blog is too much? Ok, so here's a disclaimer: I'm going to talk about religion so if you're sensitive to it then I suggest you skip this one. Here's the thing, after much deliberating,I have decided to go ahead and get Dexter baptized. My sister-in-law put it best when she said, "Do you feel as strongly about NOT getting him baptized as your parents feel about GETTING him baptized?" The answer was no, I don't so why not make them happy and just go and do it. Although I don't consider myself Catholic, they are and it's important to them so because I love them so much, I will of course do it. I see it as a nice way to get the family together to celebrate the baby.HOWEVER, these people do not make it easy. I went to a church on Kingston Road here in beautiful East York, Toronto. I had to get my original baptism certificate (huge pain in the ass) in order to even have Dex considered. Anyhow, I think we're all ready to go when the Deacon calls me up and encourages me to get him baptized at the church of which Will and I would be considered "parishinors" if we were Catholic. So now I start to lie, (a lot), to a super nice holy man. "Well, I just really love your church and it just gives me a nice feeling and I would like him to get baptized there." The truth? You were the first place I called that had any spots available in November a.k.a MO-vember and I've been growing my moustache for weeks in anticipation of this oh-so-holy event. He was so nice and kind and just wants me to raise my baby in a church that we can become a part of and all of this stuff. I feel the soles of my feet burning as the flames of hell tickle my arches. "I understand that but I feel right about this and hope that we can do it in two weeks time." He responds, "Why don't you go round this other church, attend mass and see how you feel! Then if you really believe in your heart that this is the church for you, then I would be more than happy to baptize your baby." Crap. "Ok Deacon, I'll be in touch." I get off the phone and unleash a fury of eff bombs. I call this other church and this woman was not as nice as Deacon Jerry. Me: "Hi, I'm calling to discuss baptizing our son at your church." Her: "Are you Catholic?" Me: "Yes" ouch, here come those effing flames again.
"Well are you a member at this parish?"
"No, we just moved to the neighborhood. We just came from Vancouver." Now I'm just lying for no reason and the flames are climbing up my calves.
"Well in order for your son to get baptized here we'll need your baptism certificate as well as your husbands and both of your confirmation certificates."
"Well my husband isn't Catholic."
"What is he?"
"He's sexy."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Ok, I didn't say that. I said, "He's of no religious denomination."
Silence.More silence.
"Well you 'll have to get your priest from Vancouver to send a letter to us saying you're a practicing Catholic." Which is sort of funny because right now I AM practicing to be a Catholic. I'm practicing really really hard, some might even say I'm acting the part really well. She recommends another church so I call there. This woman not only wants all of these certificates from Will and I but a bunch of stuff from my brother and sister-in-law, who are meant to be the goddparents. PLUS, they want us to come in a meet the priest and do some class. Holy crap Catholocism. This just in: You're not the most popular choice for religions these days, not sure if you read the papers, but you could stand to be a BIT more lenient with regards to who you let in. I don't think you really have the luxury to be picky. Do I have to spell it out here? Your leaders aren't exactly the barometer by which one should judge good and bad and you're giving ME a hard time? I'm seriously beginning to reconsider this whole, "make-my-parents-happy" thingy. Anyhow, hopefully this super nice Deacon will just give us the green light and fingers crossed he doesn't read this blog. By the way, I know how hypocritical it is to have my baby baptized when I don't believe at all in the religion but what the hell.
"Well are you a member at this parish?"
"No, we just moved to the neighborhood. We just came from Vancouver." Now I'm just lying for no reason and the flames are climbing up my calves.
"Well in order for your son to get baptized here we'll need your baptism certificate as well as your husbands and both of your confirmation certificates."
"Well my husband isn't Catholic."
"What is he?"
"He's sexy."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Ok, I didn't say that. I said, "He's of no religious denomination."
Silence.More silence.
"Well you 'll have to get your priest from Vancouver to send a letter to us saying you're a practicing Catholic." Which is sort of funny because right now I AM practicing to be a Catholic. I'm practicing really really hard, some might even say I'm acting the part really well. She recommends another church so I call there. This woman not only wants all of these certificates from Will and I but a bunch of stuff from my brother and sister-in-law, who are meant to be the goddparents. PLUS, they want us to come in a meet the priest and do some class. Holy crap Catholocism. This just in: You're not the most popular choice for religions these days, not sure if you read the papers, but you could stand to be a BIT more lenient with regards to who you let in. I don't think you really have the luxury to be picky. Do I have to spell it out here? Your leaders aren't exactly the barometer by which one should judge good and bad and you're giving ME a hard time? I'm seriously beginning to reconsider this whole, "make-my-parents-happy" thingy. Anyhow, hopefully this super nice Deacon will just give us the green light and fingers crossed he doesn't read this blog. By the way, I know how hypocritical it is to have my baby baptized when I don't believe at all in the religion but what the hell.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Psychically Delicious
I was thinking; you can me overwhelmed and underwhelmed so if you're just content, are you simply whelmed? Like if I'm just hanging out and someone asks me,"Hey Larissa Primeau, what's up?" Can I answer, "Not much just whelming out." I think the laws of the English language would dictate that yes, I could. Speaking of dick-tate, how annoying is Jennifer Valentine? The baby sleeps through the night but wakes up at 5:30-6:30 now. I let him play while I watch BT. She's kind of half Kimmy Gibler half Six from Blossom: the annoying neighbor that you have to be nice too.
Speaking of annoying, I had yet another moment of WTF, with the baby , at the grocery store. He is 7 months and currently the cutest thing I've ever ever ever seen. We're at Loblaws buying lots of Presidents Choice (I wonder if Galen Weston feels obligated to only buy PC brand but sometimes just hates his Dad and goes for Heinz). I'm in the produce aisles and a woman yells over from the adjacent aisle, "WHAT A CUTE BABY! LET ME SEE HIM." She comes running over and I get a chance to assess who I'm about to interact with. She is definitely eccentric. Rings on every finger, fantasy themed sweatshirt and those kind of glasses that are so thick it looks like her eyes are holograms. She also looks (and smells) like she's been into a bag of Smartfood. Gross. She starts rubbing the baby's head, which I immediately think is a bit much, but just figure she's a friendly lady who loves babies. She's talking but I don't really know about what. Then she tells me, "You know, I'm gifted." At first I thought she meant academically and I started to cough out "Bullshit" but before I could she said, "You know....psycically." Ohhhhhh, of course, thaaaat kind of gifted. Well, even responding this with a simple "oh ya" was apparently an invitation for her to start talking about herself for (i'm not exagerrating) 25 minutes. She started by telling me she's found over 8000 kids in Phoenix, Arizona. Guess you shouldn't let your kids out of your site in Phoenix. What an outrageous lie but I continue to let her talk. She was going on and on and on about Julian Fantino(previously Toronto's Chief of Police) and how he never listens to her. I of course say loudly, "That son of a bitch!" "I know!!!" she answers enthusiastically, obviously missing my sarcasm. It's eventually getting to be a bit of a bore being so polite so just as I'm ready to say, "Have a nice day" she puts her hands on Dexter's head and says, "Oh, he is just the joy of you and your husbands life." Thanks psychic. "He's going to be a lawyer or an advocate for something." That was good to hear but she was in fact, nuts, so I didn't take what she said too much to heart. If Dexter goes to law school and fights for the little man, I have some apologizing to do but in the meantime, I said thanks, she said "God Bless" I told her "I didn't sneeze" and off we went. I spent the rest of my time making sure we didn't get in the same aisle again.
I just took Dex on a plane for the first time last week, that blogs to come. In the meantime, I have to get the baby brushed up and ready for law school. Basically I'm just going to one day tell him to tell the law school that in 2010, a psychic who smelled like Smartfood, predicted it was his destiny, so no LSATS required.
Speaking of annoying, I had yet another moment of WTF, with the baby , at the grocery store. He is 7 months and currently the cutest thing I've ever ever ever seen. We're at Loblaws buying lots of Presidents Choice (I wonder if Galen Weston feels obligated to only buy PC brand but sometimes just hates his Dad and goes for Heinz). I'm in the produce aisles and a woman yells over from the adjacent aisle, "WHAT A CUTE BABY! LET ME SEE HIM." She comes running over and I get a chance to assess who I'm about to interact with. She is definitely eccentric. Rings on every finger, fantasy themed sweatshirt and those kind of glasses that are so thick it looks like her eyes are holograms. She also looks (and smells) like she's been into a bag of Smartfood. Gross. She starts rubbing the baby's head, which I immediately think is a bit much, but just figure she's a friendly lady who loves babies. She's talking but I don't really know about what. Then she tells me, "You know, I'm gifted." At first I thought she meant academically and I started to cough out "Bullshit" but before I could she said, "You know....psycically." Ohhhhhh, of course, thaaaat kind of gifted. Well, even responding this with a simple "oh ya" was apparently an invitation for her to start talking about herself for (i'm not exagerrating) 25 minutes. She started by telling me she's found over 8000 kids in Phoenix, Arizona. Guess you shouldn't let your kids out of your site in Phoenix. What an outrageous lie but I continue to let her talk. She was going on and on and on about Julian Fantino(previously Toronto's Chief of Police) and how he never listens to her. I of course say loudly, "That son of a bitch!" "I know!!!" she answers enthusiastically, obviously missing my sarcasm. It's eventually getting to be a bit of a bore being so polite so just as I'm ready to say, "Have a nice day" she puts her hands on Dexter's head and says, "Oh, he is just the joy of you and your husbands life." Thanks psychic. "He's going to be a lawyer or an advocate for something." That was good to hear but she was in fact, nuts, so I didn't take what she said too much to heart. If Dexter goes to law school and fights for the little man, I have some apologizing to do but in the meantime, I said thanks, she said "God Bless" I told her "I didn't sneeze" and off we went. I spent the rest of my time making sure we didn't get in the same aisle again.
I just took Dex on a plane for the first time last week, that blogs to come. In the meantime, I have to get the baby brushed up and ready for law school. Basically I'm just going to one day tell him to tell the law school that in 2010, a psychic who smelled like Smartfood, predicted it was his destiny, so no LSATS required.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
What am I doing wrong?
I was just reading over some of my past blogs and I've noticed something. Odd things happen to me. I'm approached by weirdo's, I have public mishaps and I don't really know why. Will says it's because I stare at people too much; I guess that explains the weirdos. One time in Vancouver I stared at this weird guy for too long. It wasn't my fault, he was half way through a sex change and I dare you to name me one person who wouldn't look at that for a second longer than appropriate. The guy is walking towards me really quickly. Now I see that not only is he in the midst of a huge life change, but he also has "crazy" gleaming in his heavily made up eye. As he passes me, he extends his right arm and clotheslines me, right in front of a sidewalk cafe! Because he/she was going at such a fast clip, I stumbled backwards and almost landed on a baby carriage. The woman screeches and tries to push me out of the way. Now I'm falling in the opposite direction. It all happened in about 2 seconds but it was total chaos. The people at the cafe thought he/she had stabbed me and one nice man asked, "Should I go after him". I answered, "Uh no, he's crazy and you can't chase crazy out of someone." I decided to stop slack-jaw staring at people.
Now last week Dexter and I went to Winners at Yonge and Bloor. In the beginning I was way more apprehensive of taking the baby with all the shit, into the heart of the city. Not because I was worried about safety or anything, more because it's a giant pain in the ass. Now I don't really care and if me and my buggy seem to bother people, that's their problem. I was in a line-up waiting to buy a pair of shoes. The woman who was at the till was taking FOREVER and people started jumping out of line out of annoyance. A guy game and opened up a second cash and said, "I can help someone over here." The 2nd woman in line went to the new till and now I was third in line at the annoying till. So, I decided to jump into the new line too, becoming second in line. Now I don't know what your philosophy on line-ups might be, but to me, if someone opens a new till, you can either keep your spot in the original line or roll the dice and jump into the new line. It might be the right decision, it may not but that's how it works....to me. This was not the line-up philosophy shared by the she-beast who was second in the original line. As soon as I went up to the till to pay for my shoes, she came white-trashing her way over and slammed the stupid thermos she was buying on the counter and yelled, "EXCUSE ME BUT I WAS NEXT IN LINE AND YOU CUT IN LINE AND YOU ARE RUDE AND OBNOXIOUS." I don't normally use this word, but I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what the hell she was talking about so I very smoothly answered," wuh wuh wuh wuh wuhhhhht?" Fat White Trash answers "I WAS WAITING NEXT IN LINE AND YOU SHOVED AHEAD OF AND YOU'RE RUDE AND DISREPECTFUL". Now I have a handle on what's going on and I am burning with rage and want to unleash a tirade of motha fucka's on her but I see her 6 year old and her 2 year old staring up at us with sheer terror in their eyes. I have a feeling they've heard her go nutso more than once. I gave them a sympathetic look that said, "sorry that you had to be her egg. I hope at least one of your Daddies is rich." At this point there is honestly a crowd gathering.Anyhow, instead of showing her how many ways I could call her female gentalia, I decided to take the
high road and said, " I think you're confused. You could have done the same thing I did. You chose the wrong line". Fat White Trash responds, "YOU'RE RUDE AND DISRESPECTFUL AND I WON'T LET YOU BUD IN LINE." Now I'm starting to lose control and for just a split second contemplate throwing my shoes at her and running. What is wrong with people? If she really thought I had wronged her, why couldn't she just calmly tell me how she felt. I'm a rational person. I would have laughed it off, apologized for the misunderstanding and let her go ahead. Instead, she chose to go menopausal on me and freak the eff out. I decide to hit low and say, "This is a fine example you're setting for your children." See, when someone is screaming and going nuts, the best idea is to calmly attack their character, I recommend going for the kids and their inability to raise them. I was pretty proud of myself until she started to slowly walk towards me. Now she's about a foot in front of my face and I'm thinking, "Oh shit, am I going to have to throw down at the Winners? I don't know how to throw down. I'm fucked." She sticks he finger in my face and yells,"I'M SETTING A GREAT EXAMPLE FOR THEM! I'M SHOWING THEM NOT TO GET PUSHED AROUND!" I could smell the ham on her breath. I figured this woman had been in a few dust ups in her day so I stepped back and said. "Alright, just pay for your stuff." In the meantime, the pimply cashier said, "Ladies, ladies please". HIlarious. This poor teenage boy didn't learn how to deal with this in Winners training. Anyhow the moral of the story is....I don't really know but it took a few drinks to calm down after than one. THe next day a psychic in Loblaws talked to Dex and I for 40 minutes. I really have to stop making eye contact. That story to follow.
Now last week Dexter and I went to Winners at Yonge and Bloor. In the beginning I was way more apprehensive of taking the baby with all the shit, into the heart of the city. Not because I was worried about safety or anything, more because it's a giant pain in the ass. Now I don't really care and if me and my buggy seem to bother people, that's their problem. I was in a line-up waiting to buy a pair of shoes. The woman who was at the till was taking FOREVER and people started jumping out of line out of annoyance. A guy game and opened up a second cash and said, "I can help someone over here." The 2nd woman in line went to the new till and now I was third in line at the annoying till. So, I decided to jump into the new line too, becoming second in line. Now I don't know what your philosophy on line-ups might be, but to me, if someone opens a new till, you can either keep your spot in the original line or roll the dice and jump into the new line. It might be the right decision, it may not but that's how it works....to me. This was not the line-up philosophy shared by the she-beast who was second in the original line. As soon as I went up to the till to pay for my shoes, she came white-trashing her way over and slammed the stupid thermos she was buying on the counter and yelled, "EXCUSE ME BUT I WAS NEXT IN LINE AND YOU CUT IN LINE AND YOU ARE RUDE AND OBNOXIOUS." I don't normally use this word, but I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what the hell she was talking about so I very smoothly answered," wuh wuh wuh wuh wuhhhhht?" Fat White Trash answers "I WAS WAITING NEXT IN LINE AND YOU SHOVED AHEAD OF AND YOU'RE RUDE AND DISREPECTFUL". Now I have a handle on what's going on and I am burning with rage and want to unleash a tirade of motha fucka's on her but I see her 6 year old and her 2 year old staring up at us with sheer terror in their eyes. I have a feeling they've heard her go nutso more than once. I gave them a sympathetic look that said, "sorry that you had to be her egg. I hope at least one of your Daddies is rich." At this point there is honestly a crowd gathering.Anyhow, instead of showing her how many ways I could call her female gentalia, I decided to take the
high road and said, " I think you're confused. You could have done the same thing I did. You chose the wrong line". Fat White Trash responds, "YOU'RE RUDE AND DISRESPECTFUL AND I WON'T LET YOU BUD IN LINE." Now I'm starting to lose control and for just a split second contemplate throwing my shoes at her and running. What is wrong with people? If she really thought I had wronged her, why couldn't she just calmly tell me how she felt. I'm a rational person. I would have laughed it off, apologized for the misunderstanding and let her go ahead. Instead, she chose to go menopausal on me and freak the eff out. I decide to hit low and say, "This is a fine example you're setting for your children." See, when someone is screaming and going nuts, the best idea is to calmly attack their character, I recommend going for the kids and their inability to raise them. I was pretty proud of myself until she started to slowly walk towards me. Now she's about a foot in front of my face and I'm thinking, "Oh shit, am I going to have to throw down at the Winners? I don't know how to throw down. I'm fucked." She sticks he finger in my face and yells,"I'M SETTING A GREAT EXAMPLE FOR THEM! I'M SHOWING THEM NOT TO GET PUSHED AROUND!" I could smell the ham on her breath. I figured this woman had been in a few dust ups in her day so I stepped back and said. "Alright, just pay for your stuff." In the meantime, the pimply cashier said, "Ladies, ladies please". HIlarious. This poor teenage boy didn't learn how to deal with this in Winners training. Anyhow the moral of the story is....I don't really know but it took a few drinks to calm down after than one. THe next day a psychic in Loblaws talked to Dex and I for 40 minutes. I really have to stop making eye contact. That story to follow.
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