Grazing Rites

Okay, picture this. A man in a wheelchair is waiting at a bus stop. He boards the next bus to discover one too many elderly people sitting in the courtesy seats. Behind them are more elderly people and a pregnant woman sitting on the inside of a 2-person seat. The window seat next to her is empty and in the sun on a hot day and she’s wearing black. Waiting behind the wheelchair is a homeless man with an odor problem.

What should happen?

Ideally the pregnant lady would stand for a moment allowing the elderly lady the window seat thus freeing up the wheelchair area. The homeless but otherwise able bodied man should stand.

Here’s how it went down.

The homeless man jumped in front of the wheelchair and yelled at the pregnant woman to move over. She says the heat isn’t good for the baby. The homeless man says too bad, the elderly woman needs a seat to make room for the wheelchair. The pregnant woman moves into the sunny window seat and the homeless man seats down next to her! The old woman is forced to stand so the wheelchair can fit.

How can I fix this?

I go to the pregnant woman and offer her my seat further back on the bus in the shade and offer to help her to it. This WOULD have then freed up a seat for the elderly woman but the homeless man refused to let the pregnant woman get out. So, opting for the next best thing I helped the elderly woman to my former seat.

On his way out, AT THE VERY NEXT STOP, the homeless man asks me for a dollar.

I suggested he do something that, to my knowledge, is anatomically impossible. He kicked my foot in response.

I fear I may have been a wee bit harsh in my blanket condemnation of anyone who dare offer any childrearing advice. As Chef says, “I meant it, I just could have expressed it better“.

It seems some people felt I was outing them by quoting them in my previous entries of complaint. As I tried to make clear, no one person had really done anything wrong - it was the aggregate result that was the problem. I was just trying to cite specific examples in the hopes that I would be better understood.

Now it seems people fear any baby stuff they say will end up in a blog entry the next day. Well, for one thing if I quoted you in an entry and you’d rather I didn’t I CAN go back and edit at your request. More to the point though, not every quote in my blog is negative. Thus I present some positive things I’ve heard recently…I will kept the comments anonymous though, just to be safe.

“In the end, we can only hope to be true to ourselves and live our lives with integrity” I have a fridge magnet that would agree with you. And that is by no means meant to take away from the statement. I was, after all, the one who picked out the magnet in question.

“Babies are not really all that expensive” Where were you months and months ago? Thus far you’re the only person to have this opinion so be warned, there are rampaging hordes ready to disagree with you. I appreciate the comment nevertheless.

“I think you and Mindi are brave but smart for getting on with life” Praise is always welcome. Well, so long as it’s intelligent and not a Full House moment. I AM demanding, aren’t I?

“It is so very lovely to see you supporting Mindi…It was not a role men seemed to care to take <in the past>. That is definitely a step in the right direction for the  benefit of the offspring of such Dads and I think to the benefit of the Dads, as well. I know you will be very good at it…May your little darling have the same sunny, smiling disposition you had as a baby. If not, well, hey, serious babies are fun too in a different way.”

In conclusion here are 3 helpful hints to determine if your baby advice will be poorly received…

1) If the advice will not be useful or relevant within the next 3 months it’s best to sit on it until a more appropriate time, my memory is crap - this has been well documented.

2) If it sounds like a platitude/cliché, it’s probably not news. Furthermore if it could just as easily be found in a fortune cookie, greeting card, horoscope, or Brady Bunch episode it’s not likely to inform overly much.

3) If it’s condescending I don’t care if it’s next week’s lotto numbers the information likely won’t find a warm reception. If you find yourself asserting that there is a right and a wrong way to do something, try rephrasing it as a good idea or suggestion rather than a command or instruction. If it requires you to imply I can’t fix a straw if it was bent, best hit the abort button.

So as long as your unsolicited advice doesn’t run afoul of those 3 checks and balances you should be okay.

When in doubt, send it in an e-mail that does not imply it warrants an immediate response and then I can read it when I’m in the right frame of mind.

Now perhaps we can stop living in fear of the Blog.

And one last parting quote for today’s entry to keep in mind…

“There is no exact science to parenting“

These words were proudly displayed on a sanitation vehicle I saw on my way to work the other morning. I thought I would share.

So Mindi wanted to do this thing so I gave it a try and scored 124 which is apparently well above the average for even the highest scoring group, surgeons. Guess I could have been a doctor after all.

Jon is leaving the military. I can hope that his September release may be fortuitous enough to result in a celebratory road trip recapturing the glory of years past but I suspect the timing has a far more nefarious agenda.

Academia.

Well I suppose if Tommy Lee can do it…

Thankfully Psychology is not his fixation this time. Funny how despite having access to the weapons of war for years it’s the abandonment of a goal I once described as a 6-year-old with a hand grenade that sets my mind at ease.

Well, maybe more than once.

But I am of course kidding. But on a serious note those who do nothing but kid and belabour his efforts and commitment are no better than those who’ve belittled my parenting potential. They both suck equally and for the same reason, taking a popular but tired and hurtful route.

He’s been talking about going back to school for a long time now. He was talking about an English major so he can have a teachable subject to become a high school educator but EVERY liberal arts major says that at some point. I did. So after chatting I think I helped him refine his idea into a History major.

It makes perfect sense. His naval service would serve him well but more than anything Jon is one hell of a storyteller. If anyone can make history come alive…and besides English is way harder and dryer than most people suspect. It’s not that he couldn’t do it, he’d just hate it.

But he always hated school. Well, the more academic classes anyways. However he does, like me, have a passion for educating his staff.

Seriously, my SET sessions are more stand up comedy than anything, can you imagine what Jon would do with the same material? Frankly I’m glad not to have the competition lest I lose my title as my company’s highest scored instructor.

Yes after all the nay-saying I’m sure Jon could use some rah-rah support but that’s not what this is. He can find his “you can do anything tiger” support elsewhere, I tell it like it is and I say the evidence points to him obtaining this goal with ease.

But…

There’s always a but.

What of the self-insulating stagnation of academia? The old boy’s club, the give-us-the-answer-we-want-the-way-we-say-not-what’s-right mentality? The institutionalization? Can Jon work within the system that seems to abhor innovation, strong personalities, and paradigm crushers? Those great traits of his I blogged about so recently.

I see one of 3 possible outcomes.

1. He knuckles under and they break him. Unlikely but stranger things have happened. Result: Jon’s a drone, the world’s a darker place, Big Brother keeps a watchful eye, and SkyNet kills us all.

2. He gives up on the teaching goal but still gets a degree and scores a wicked job in the private sector. He managed a Radio Shack without any school or experience, imagine what he could do now. Result: Jon, Burton, and I take over the world, first-class holidays and champagne for all.

3. He decides to work within the system to support his subversive agenda of fun, comedy, and practical competence. He’d probably spend most of his career simultaneously on the verge of being fired and receiving top honours. Result: Jon changes the system, Canada becomes a powerhouse economy based on a skilled workforce and teen suicide is eliminated.

Even the worst of those is better than him buying the farm in World War III.

Where is it acceptable to clip your nails?

I’ve seen a couple people do it on the bus and I wanted to yell at them but I restrained myself.

One day I had a hangnail and rather than wait for it to snag something and bleed I clipped the one nail directly above the garbage can in my cubicle and got yelled at.

The other day someone was clipping their nails as they were ordering at Subway, the sandwich artist didn’t seem to mind.

It seems the world at large and I have diametrically opposing views on the subject. Apparently buses and restaurants are fine but directly above a garbage is somehow gross.

Jim coaches his son’s basketball team, the other night they won their first game. When he began to tell me about it I expected a boring sports story or a parable so my expectations were low but nevertheless I paid attention.

“Yea, it was great when my son scored” he said “but what REALLY made me proud was when he’d set up a teammate or pass the ball when he could have taken the shot himself. He even helped a special needs boy, Tommy, score his first basket ever. He was completely unselfish.”

That was not what I expected to hear from a sports dad but it was pleasantly surprising.

“After the game” he continued “I went to congratulate my son and he looks up at me and says ‘you know what dad, scoring felt great but I felt even better when I helped Tommy score’”

Jim was nearly moved to tears and for once I finally knew what these parents were talking about. I hope to be as fortunate.

I found the commercial so hilarious I felt it incumbent upon me to watch the premiere. It was a mixed bag. It went back and worth between base and genius. A week later I still don’t know quite what to make of it. I think the premise that her character needed to be stated more clearly - specifically that she never had a proper adult influence in her life so she’s an adult seeing the world through the eyes of a child but without any depressing sob story of illness, injury, or handicap.

So I was totally treated like crap by a couple guys in Ops who I used to work with back in the day.

During the course of a shift I am verbally abused by 2 people from Ops who I’d been through a few scrapes with. You think the camaraderie of shared service would have earned their respect but it seems that respect only had a shelf life of a year. Now they were yelling at me, swearing, calling me names and more as I’m trying to help them.

So the dilemma becomes do I assert myself or deal with it more officially? They claim their behaviour has the support of management; a claim which, sadly, could easily have been true. Not wanting to sink to their level of ignoring the favors we had done each other in the past I decided to take things up via official channels. I got the answers and support I’d hoped for and am now ready to lay down the law, it’s just a shame that it’s come to this.

Are you kidding? I’m spending so much time there I’m applying a second coat of paint and picking out drapes. Forward my mail.

How did this silly idea last 5 years?

5 years ago I was temporarily unemployed shortly before Christmas, ironically because I had just quit another job I never wanted. In fact, that was the last job I quit before today. I never wanted to work there but still found it hard to move on but then they forced me to choose between them and the PNE and it suddenly became very easy. I had decided to enjoy not working for awhile as I had substantial savings amassed.

About 2 months into not working Burton contacted me. He knew I wasn’t working, Christmas wasn’t far away, and most importantly the seasonal employees in his section of Eaton’s were total assclowns for the second year running.

I wasn’t interested.

He told me it’d be fun. I told him it was retail. He told me with extra money I could give the people I care about a better Christmas. I told him I could actually spend time with the people I care about. He said we’d have a lot of fun working together but more than that he needed my help.

Bah.

I sent him my résumé and he did all the legwork. I had an interview set up the next day with someone named Annie. I helped her resolve a payroll problem on the way to her office. I spent the entire interview regaling her with amusing tales of fair.

And once again, indirectly, the fair would provide.

They had me write a test that began with the simplest questions imaginable and ended with calculus.

As expected I was hired but with Burton having done all the legwork and having put in several strong endorsements on my behalf I was placed in a different area but only informed of this AFTER accepting the job.

That first Christmas season was hell, although it did have some high points like discounts, incentives, and meeting Warren.

When I was invited back the following Christmas I said no. Hell no. Not on your life buddy. But they sweet talked me into it. “But we’re Sears now, almost no one is on commission and there are no quotas”. Eventually I caved.

During my second Christmas season I had an encounter with a supervisor from another area where I questioned his leadership abilities.

Christmas contract completed I moved on only to be contacted in April to be offered a permanent part time position…by the supervisor I had told off.

I was so thrown by it I just accepted the offer out of shock.

A year later a new manager came to the floor who I had a cold war with, eventually the cold war went hot when I requested some time off and she responded by firing me. I fired back citing her unjustified cause and manpower shortage and negotiated a resignation. Before the paperwork was processed I was contacted by a manager from another department who went to the trouble to create a whole new position to keep me in the company and transfer to her department.

2 years later she leaves to become the manager of a different store and the department is taken over by the person who trained me that first Christmas. I was not impressed with him then and I certainly wasn’t now. He arbitrarily changed the nature of my position and began watching my every move. Clearly it was time to leave.

And today I did.

Jon seemed quite distraught over my recent observation that he’d quote ‘gone soft on me’. Now I definitely want to say, on the record, that most of the changes/evolution has been to generally positive effect. That said, I’m happy (if challenged) to do my best to try and fulfill his request for help rediscovering the better parts of Jon that was.

To clarify I define ‘Jon that was’ as the Jon on any road trip, the Jon after Sam but before marriage, the Jon that laughed he-knows-when. The quintessential Jon moment when in a fit of inspired justice and comedy he dumped a horrible woman by leaving a note on her door signed with his full name; the Jon who defied convention at every turn without consequence; the Jon who saw the world as one large Improv stage.

Outrageous Jon.

Well, more outrageous.

If you can imagine.

Not the Jon that pretended to be racist just to test a new girlfriend of mine he was meeting for the first time or Clubbing in my home city Jon - neither of those Jons seemed to work out as well.

But how to recapture the essence of Jon that was…there’s the rub.

For some reason I see laser tag and a road trip in the solution somewhere, both of which may prove somewhat challenging.

For one, Jon that was never would have sold his car except to help buy a new one.

No version of Jon seemed particularly good with money. In high school he wanted to by a bat’leth until he discovered it was too expensive. Then he wanted to buy a kilt until discovering that too was too expensive. He’s probably spent most of his adult life earning more than me yet never seemed to have much in the way of savings. Not that it’s been his fault lately but I’ll leave the issues of spousal support for another time.

So how to recapture irrepressible, spontaneous Jon…without upsetting me from any time frame…

Naturally his first stab at a solution was to suggest going out drinking.

I suppose it’s comforting to know that SOME things NEVER change.

But Patch Adams Jon isn’t going to be found in any sitcom solution of a guy’s night out. He’s not that simple.

He needs to run amok in a town that does not double as either of our back yards, arbitrarily playing roles completely random and unusual. Examples that come to mind include…
-Almost turning his wedding reception into The Price Is Right
-Buying a cowboy hat and screaming hysterically when the rides at the Calgary Stampede got to a slow part
-Convincing a science centre employee in Edmonton that we were a gay couple
-Defeating a road block with a decepticon decal
-Delivering an improvised monologue on the WRONG topic but doing such a great job he inspired Roger Cross of 24 fame to stand up for him
-Driving while watching Family Guy (not recommended)
-Pretending to be mentally handicapped at a Denny’s because a waitress asked him if he was retarded
-Racing rice rockets in Edmonton trying to intimidate them by blasting All Your Base Are Belong to Us
-Using the Jedi mind trick to avoid paying for parking
Just to name a few.

Finally the answer to turn the advice tide. Yes, blogging for mercy was the equivalent of sticking my fingers in the dam but I fear it came at the cost of some people’s feelings. The solution? Information overload.

That old chestnut has served me well.

A baby puts things in it’s mouth and will change my life? Fascinating. Let me reciprocate with a fun fact of my own - do you know what the Trial Of Forceps is? I get about a sentence and a half in and THEY’RE crying for mercy.

Knowledge truly is power.

Of course all I need is one med student for my defenses to crumble however I figure med students aren’t the platitude-huggers the masses seem to be.

Bring it. I can hold my own now suckers.

I’ll get your little dog too.

(this is just weeks, nay, months of frustration working itself out)

Once again technology finds a subtle way to change the way we do things. The other night, a couple weeks back, I was reading a news article about Kate Mulgrew that contained a link that was supposed to be a video clip of her appearance. It turned out to be the entire first episode hosted on the station’s website.

Starring Jonathan Tucker from 100 Girls I gave it a chance and ended up watching the whole thing which was rather entertaining. At first I had my doubts about the sweet guy from 100 Girls playing some kind of tough guy but it was actually the juxtaposition that made it so interesting.

And of course Kate Mulgrew wasn’t in the episode. Turns out she appears in the second episode which was not available at the time because the show was 2 weeks away from premiere.

What?

That’s right, they were hosting the complete first episode for free on their site 2 weeks before transmission date. I guess the ease of building an online audience for a mid-season replacement outweighed the risks of having lower ratings for the premiere. So it seems the nature of television is still evolving.

It started in grade 8, late in my first year of high school my best friend had a crush on someone on the volunteer committee that put on the school dances. He decided to join up and offer his assistance with the hopes he could get closer to the 2-years-older not-very-attractive girl he liked. He asked me to be his wingman. I’d been to a couple dances and had fun so I figured why not.

Okay actually it wasn’t quite that easy. It took a lot of arm twisting and guilt trips for him to convince me to give up my free time to do work for free. If memory serves the final bit that convinced me was the possibility of meeting someone myself.

Girls. How much of the path my life has taken has been decided by that X factor?

Anyways, not long into it he had a blowup with the girl in question - she rejected him so he insulted her and they asked him to leave. He assumed I would storm out with him. I did not. I simply saw no reason to but more to the point he was in the wrong, rescinding my offer of help would likewise have been wrong.

My assistance was appreciated such that they offered me a position on the council, I enjoyed helping out so I accepted. I spent the next year learning the ins and outs of putting on the dances. I was the quiet guy in the back who went about the tasks he was assigned without talking much. But I was always watching, listening, and absorbing what was going on around me and near the end of grade 9 I began positioning myself for advancement. At the beginning of the next year I ran for and won the position of Vice President during the internal council elections, a post I had essentially already worked at during the last dance of the previous year. I did not run unopposed but was the only one with the experience. At the time I became Vice President the council had a habit of borrowing $1,400 from the student council at the beginning of the year, taken from activity fees, and would often come close to breaking even at the end of the year WITHOUT repaying the debt.

I slowly consolidated power and by the end of that year was essentially the power behind the throne largely due to my larger time commitment as well as computer and organizational skills. To make myself invaluable as well as protect myself from any potential ousting I realized I needed to provide something that a) no one else could and b) the dance would not be the same without so before his graduation I sought out Rubin, the one person who knew how to conduct the balloon drop. Offering to assist him I learned everything there was about the process and thus became irreplaceable and secure in my position.

I was president of the council for my final two years, fending off the odd power struggle but largely just having a good time and teaching myself how to be a leader. I think a volunteer organization is an excellent place to begin one’s career as a leader as you must inspire those under you to work for something other than money and subsequently both you and the team gain an appreciation for the camaraderie that comes from shared service.

As well I learned a bit about advertising, budgeting, and the like. At the end of my term instead of borrowing and not repaying $1,400 each year we had created a surplus on the order of somewhere between $8,000 and $10,000 – the final amount wasn’t made known to me as all the money wasn’t sorted until after the end of the school year but it was definitely within that range, I later discovered my financial legacy paid for new uniforms for all the sports teams and a large electronic sign in front of the school. I had hoped and requested that they would use the money to create a scholarship but alas it was not meant to be. Long before my departure other volunteer groups within the school had already begun petitioning for a piece of our pie. A pie that was half created by selling out every dance through effective marketing and the word of mouth of successful dances as much as reorganizing the concession, improving efficiencies, and negotiating better deals with DJs. It was never my goal to create a financially successful organization, all I wanted to do was ensure the dances were as fun and as successful as possible. When I took over only one dance out of 4 would sell out and they were considering canceling one or two as a result. During my administration EVERY dance sold out and they began looking for other opportunities to hold them or similar events as they had become quite popular and a bit of a cash cow.

Not trying to extol my virtues to the point of immodesty but across the school district, indeed the entire city and surrounding areas, our dances were the only ones that were widely popular, largely free of disturbance, and financially self-sustaining. I had even bumped into a couple council leaders from other schools that thanked me as their programs were facing cancellation before I proved it could be done.

And it was anything but a one-man effort. The previous administration did a fine job and I learned a lot from them and merely built upon their successes and highlighted some virtues of the event that had gone unrecognized. The crew that worked with me was, with a few PNE-related exceptions, as hard working and dedicated a crew as one is likely find.

In short order it got to the point where there was very little to worry about and with the exception of the scant few hours immediately before a dance I was able to walk among the crew, hard at work, and pick and choose the items I assisted on without having to worry about the big picture. I remember taking great joy in just working at whatever struck my fancy at that moment, assuming no crisis needed addressing at the time, confident that somehow it would come together once again as it always had. Problems came up but I always found solutions and I always made time to work at each front-line position – partly to remind myself what it was like and partly to show the troops I was happy to be in the trenches with them.

As my graduation loomed I knew that I needed to find capable hands to leave the council in. Unfortunately the vast majority of people interested in taking over saw it as a means towards personal gain at worst and a tool of increased popularity at best. I had to find someone who would preserve that which I and my team had built. That would continue to make the organization a place the people enjoyed contributing their time and effort to.

Enter Burton. As sincere and stand-up a guy as you could know. He definitely saw the hidden virtues that others would miss. He was also reluctant when I first approached him, naming other people who wanted the job more – which I argued made him the prefect choice. I taught him what I could about the specifics of the job and more generally what I had discovered to that point about being a leader. Then I showed him the secret of the balloon drop and tried to impart to him its importance.

“So long as you’re the only one who knows how to do this, they can never replace you” I said “don’t show anyone else unless you completely trust them or you’re ready to move on and in this instance I can say, for me, it’s both”

I can understand his initial confusion – I filled his head with all these, completely sincere mind you, rose-coloured thoughts of the organization and it’s virtues and then I drop this Machiavellian strategy on him at the end showing him how to secure his position of power from those with selfish goals. I’m sure the dichotomy must have seemed odd, but then I was a rather random person to begin with and my leadership opportunities and style only brought that out further.

Quirky might be a good word for it.

So I placed the reins in Burton’s capable hands with confidence and only once did he ask for my assistance after my departure, the first dance after my graduation, and even then when I came on the scene there was precious little for me to do. A small wrinkle dealt with and I had time to look back on the whole experience. I think it was then that I decided to stick with the PNE. For the transition to college had not been a pleasant one, oh nothing tragic had occurred but it was far less enjoyable than my high school years to the point of frequently causing me to ponder if it was worth it. But the one thing that so closely resembled my first taste of service and leadership, the Fair, still remained. It was the one thing that to this day connects me with those carefree days of responsibility and hard work. I remember walking out of that gym for the last time, balloon drop in place, a new generation at the helm, and found comfort in the thought that Fair was only so many months away, and I had faith that the Fair would provide…

I said this stress was beginning to make me physically ill, the evidence in support of this is now somewhat damning and the possibility of it being psychosomatic no longer remains.

The day before Valentine’s I found myself with the rare opportunity to sleep in. Being somewhat out of practice with the activity I inadvertently slept for 11 hours. I woke up to a call from work, some minor crisis required immediate resolution but thankfully the new VPN access set up by IT allowed me to solve the problem remotely. The delay however put me in danger of losing the hold I had placed on my girlfriend’s Valentine’s Day gift.

Popping a Vitamin C supplement in my mouth I rushed off to the mall. Once there I discovered that my hold had been released due to my lateness and subsequently sold to another customer. I rushed over to the bookstore to find an alternate gift. Thankfully during my hijacking adventure the previous day I had already picked up the little bits so all I needed to find was a new centerpiece.

Book in hand I head to the till. Second in line I figure I’m doing pretty well. The older heavyset fellow in front of me was already paying so it wouldn’t be long.

He was chatting up the poor salesgirl but I wasn’t worried.

Five minutes of him going on about some other book he read I began to get a little impatient.

Ten minutes of discussing vivid imagery and I was very annoyed.

I began to feel warm at the 15 minute mark as he was insisting she read the book.

When I finally got to the till 20 minutes after getting in line I was very dizzy. The universe had become a 10-meter sphere around me, I couldn’t see beyond it and it had developed the nasty habit of tilting 45 degrees in either direction. I tried to make the transaction as efficient as possible but it seems the chatty Cathy disease is communicable.

No, I don’t have a loyalty card. No I don’t want one. No I don’t want to know the benefits. Debit please. Yes I would like a bag. Receipt in the bag is fine.

The salesperson then proceeds to ensure my bag is a perfect rectangle after placing the book and receipt inside it. About to fall over at any moment, I reach across the counter and snatch the bag out of her hand.

“That’s fine, thank you” I say impatiently and head out the store.

“Have a nice day!” she yells after me as if it were critical information I needed to know.

“Yea, whatever, you too, goodbye” I toss over my rapidly retreating shoulder. I see a bench. The universe is about 5 meters across, shrinking quickly. The tilts are now up to 80 degrees. My hand finds the corner of the bench, my fingers starting to feel cold and numb. I manage to lay down on the bench.

Dexterity in my fingers dropping rapidly I manage to get my work phone out of the belt clip. I struggle to compose a text message relaying my situation and location to my girlfriend. It takes all of my mental focus to will my one remaining functional finger to press send. Message sent the phone falls on my chest. My hands useless claws my head falls back onto the cushioned bench.

Before losing consciousness I see the shop girl smiling at me from the bookstore. Blackness descends.

I awake a few moments later to my chest vibrating. I look up and see a 50-something woman and preteen boy staring at me like I was in a zoo or something. Locating the source of the chesticular vibration I remember where my phone landed. My hands now reminding me of numerous Star Trek aliens with 3 or fewer fingers I try to pick up the phone. It’s a balancing act but my brief rest seemed sufficient to restore just enough fine motor control to view the text message from my girlfriend informing me that apple juice is on the way.

I close my eyes for a few moments and then open them to see her approaching, looking rather concerned. By this point I found the whole experience more fascinating than troubling.

It turns out my lips were blue.

But I’m feeling much better now.

Thus begins what is likely to be the final year of my personal cell…you know how it works…

On Notice
1) Jon
3) Mindi
4) Burton

Dead To Me
2) Jon (no change)
5) Burton (no change)
10) Mindi (up from #12)

So I’m leaving my trailer after work in the dead of winter, it’s 5pm but dark out and a light snow is falling, when I see a manager from another department who I get along well with. He replaced a rather mercurial woman who was on maternity leave. I hope they find a permanent role for him upon her return. I go over and say hi and we chat amicably for a few minutes.

He gets in his car and I continue on my way.

Nearing the other end of the site, the equivalent of 2 city blocks later, I see a car parking in front of me. Out steps the fellow I was just talking to carrying a gym bag. I make fun of seeing him again and he comments how he never sees me in the gym at work.

“I don’t have a key” I say.

“You should get one,” he says “you should get some exercise man. It’s hard to stay fit working a desk job”

I look back on the two blocks I’ve walked, the first of many on my way home, my footprints in the light snow crossing his tire tracks.

“Oddly enough, I manage” I say.

In Avenger I was introduced to an interesting idea for the future, a sort of preference file for visitors to your house. It would be a file on the computer with the person’s allergies, likes and dislikes, that sort of thing. It may very well be the case that diplomats already keep such records but either way it struck me as a good idea. For one it would help forgetful folks such as myself keep from making the same faux pas more than once.

We could even write our own preference files to spare our hosts the guesswork or awkwardness of having to ask. This would work especially well for someone like me whose dislikes are many and varied. My file might look something like this…

Allergies (or food causing illness)
-Japanese Food
-Malt Liquor
-Malt Vinegar
-Red Wine
-Seafood (exceptions: tuna, shrimp, salmon, and fish sticks)

Strong Dislikes (will pick off or eat around)
-Beans
-Coffee
-Curry
-Jalapeños
-Mushrooms
-Olives
-Onions (except in very small quantities)
-Pepper (the seasoning)

Ambivalent (will consume without enjoyment or protest)
-Butter Chicken
-Melba Toast
-Pepperoni
-Tea
-Water

Greatly Enjoys
-Carrots
-Cheese
-Cheesecake
-Chocolate
-Girlie drinks
-Pasta (Chicken penne, spaghetti, gnocchi)
-Pepsi
-Pizza (Hawaiian, 4 cheese)
-White-boy sweet & sour pork

It has been requested that I write an entry about the last weekend Jon visited. I informed those making the request that, while interesting, I was not inspired on how to express it but they didn’t mind. So I implore you, good reader, to forgive the temporary decline in the quality, originality, and creativity in my prose.

I knew Jon was coming for awhile, and not in the usual he-told-me-6-weeks-ago-but-I-wasn’t-sure-it-would-happen-so-I-forgot sorta way but the remembered-the-date-kept-the-schedule-free sorta way. I even toyed with the idea of putting him up at my new place but that became unworkable.

As usual ETAs were loose so I was at Buy-Low with my girlfriend and her brother when the call came. I didn’t know if I was getting a ride back so I was unsure of how much to buy so Jon’s call saved me from that quandary.

At my place, after Jon expressed some chagrin at adding to my recently blogged baby stress, we played Catch Phrase on the floor of my bedroom as we have no living room. We tried a couple variants of the game to combat Warren’s ’strategy’ but keep everyone involved, it was a lot of fun as always and now we have like 6 different ways to play the game.

Then it was off to theatresports but there was a problem.

In the early planning stages of this visit Jon kept saying “I’ll be driving a jeep“. Odd but I’m not about to look mobility in the mouth. Then when I inquired as to what baby stuff he would be bringing he said “oh, we’ll probably be bringing the mustang so not that much“. In point of fact he didn’t bring anything but more to the point he kept referring to “the mustang” as if I should know it.

I wish I had, for it was missing something we required, namely a fifth seat. Being the, how shall I put it, least massive of the group (a factor of height and muscle mass as much as width and fat) I got stuck in the nonexistent seat which was made up of two people’s legs and no seat belt.

The very definition of illegal, we were on our way when it was revealed to me our driver was a former street racer. Her radar setup and driving style made it apparent that her giving it up must have been a very recent, perhaps even incomplete, change. Thanks in part to my friend’s vice-like grip I made it there in one piece, albeit bent - or perhaps I should say folded - at the middle.

Upon our arrival I inquired after the trunk, thinking it might be more spacious, comfortable, and hidden from the prying eyes of a lawman. Unfortunately it had a bunch of stuff in it, including some baby things…

So we found the theatre easily enough, in fact probably the easiest time I’ve ever had at that search. We caught two shows, during the intermission of the first another friend of Jon’s arrived and promptly got into a fight with the house manager for sitting on, and putting his crap all over, the stage despite logic, common sense, and signage to the contrary.

Not only did he argue the point but soon as her back was turned did it again. She threatened to throw him out, he called her a fascist. Suffice to say he was completely in the wrong and had it come down to it I would have happily assisted in his forced removal. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for the entire break, I was about to tell him just how wrong, rude, and stupid he was when he finally stopped.

Josh had chosen a seat in the centre and we were all in the front row much like Jon’s bachelor party all those years ago. Josh threw out several excellent suggestions many of which were selected and then utilized to generally hilarious effect.

So naturally I was insanely jealous.

Sure, a couple of my suggestions were also used but not nearly as many. Between shows I made my declaration of war quite clear. I may not win the battle of quality but quantity was within my reach. I succeeded in catching up to and surpassing Josh in number of suggestions taken and celebrated by throwing my scarf over my head like an old woman and folding myself in half for the ride home.

Good times were had by all.

As mentioned in ‘Maybe It’s Better That I’m Clueless’ I had been considering investigating alternate routes to work to avoid the dreaded Main and Hastings. I had PLANNED on playing around online with the Translink website but once again the inadequacies of others was going to dictate my life.

Upon arrival at my stop, the aforementioned dreaded one, the far back doors of the accordion bus would not open, pleas to the driver went unanswered. So I figure I’ll just get off at the next stop and see if it connects to the bus that takes me the rest of the way home - maybe it won’t be such a questionable area.

There’s a plywood covered area blocking the doors at the next stop due to construction. I had moved to the forward rear doors so I make a move for the front doors not far away only to find myself swimming upstream in a river of derelicts, none of whom I happen to notice are paying.

Police cruisers block the next stop, they quarantined the block due to a hostage situation.

I eventually made it home, nearly 2 hours after getting out of work.

Since the move every day on the bus has been a nearly blog-worthy event. Up until recently it was entirely negative though and I think there’s been entirely too much of that lately. This however seemed sufficiently interesting to share.

A couple stops along the route home, tapping along at my blog as usual I notice the bus driver yelling at someone. As an attractive woman sits down next to me I turn the volume on my earphones down so I can hear what’s going on. It seems a car parked in a no-stopping zone and blocked the bus in.

“Move your car now or I’ll have no choice but to have it towed immediately, I’m stuck and I have a bus load of people here” yells the bus driver.

The illegal parker says it’s not his car, the bus driver says he needs to move it anyways since he was the one who just parked it. The guy refuses but runs off to get the owner.

Suddenly the woman next to me starts talking to me, despite my earphones and PDA both clearly visible. Thinking the situation a bit volatile I take off my ear buds to hear her better, an ally might be a good idea. As we’re chatting about the goings on a guy on the bus stands up and says “there’s enough of us on this bus to move the car ourselves“.

Seemed like justice to me so I stood up when he asked for volunteers but just then the owner of the car came and started swearing profusely at the bus driver.

As I sat back down the woman said “that was very brave“.

“Joining an angry mod to show someone who doesn’t think signs or laws apply to him that he’s wrong?” I replied, “I’d hardly call that brave, that’s just going with the flow, and maybe doing what’s right…or stupid”

“Yea, I guess he’s all talk anyways” she agrees, “does he really think swearing is going to make anything better?”

The idiot finally moves his car and the woman pulls the next stop cord.

“Well at least you got some entertainment for your brief commute” I say and we get to talking about transit and I tell her where I live and my recent travel woes. I mention how I don’t like transferring buses at Main and Hastings. She recommends I consider transferring to the #20 bus at Commercial, I tell her I’ll have to check that out sometime but if all the normal people were to completely avoid that area that would probably just make the area worse.

The bus arrives at the next stop, I wish her an uneventful trip home. She gives me an odd look as she gets off the bus. Almost…wistful.

Wistful?

Then, just like in The Usual Suspects, it all dawns on me…

I look up, we’re stopped at Commercial.

She’s getting on a #20.

The #20 goes nowhere near my house.

The whole suggestion was a ruse to continue our conversation.

A conversation she started, against all logic.

Were I single I would have been quite upset at this after-the-fact, dumb-as -a-post, clueless revelation but I suppose it’s better this way. Saves me from an awkward explanation at least.

Another delayed post from several weeks ago, much less inflammatory and negative though…

It seems that while my ‘End Of The Free Ride’ post was too subtle my ‘My Registry’ post seems to have gotten the message across. After I retreated from the territory of baby registry that I was trying to hold, the enemy surrendered. Now did they do so because of my skill with the written word or did the conflict end because the enemy achieved their objectives?

Given that my retreat probably saved me a lot of work I suppose it doesn’t matter. Still, it would have been nice to have been a part of it. But nicer still is the ceasefire.

This is another post that was shelved for a couple weeks in an effort to keep from making things worse or hurting anyone’s feelings. Hopefully it will satisfy some people’s curiosity and do no harm although I’m beginning to run out of energy to care either way really. Be advised this was originally written nearly a month ago.

I officially give up on trying to have anything to do with the gift registry. I thought it would be fun and was the first thing I found myself looking forward to over the baby but it’s simply not worth it. It’s pulling teeth to get anyone to listen to my wishes and impossible to have them respected so what’s the point? Why force my input where it’s clearly not wanted? Besides, I need to play referee and communication conduit for the baby shower.

This is not how I saw this playing out. I pictured my girlfriend and I having a nice time zapping things with the gun but that requires at least one person having some freaking patience and Jon telling us what he’s bringing and when. Clearly I ask too much. Patience and information, what was I thinking? No, it’s all about fragile egos and panicking.

It’s ironic, the people we need to be patient keep communicating and the people we need to communicate are being patient.

Well it’s all too much to deal with days after moving so I cede the territory. I’m withdrawing my forces and rescinding the order to hold in the name of logic and pragmatism. The armies of waste can now invade unopposed.

I don’t get what’s so wrong with wanting to work smarter rather than harder. Oh well if things don’t work out I guess we’ll just have to throw money at it…great.