The Beginning of the End


For those of us who live and grew up in Toronto, the C.N.E. (Canadian National Exhibition) or "The Ex" marks the end of the summer.
The last day of the "Ex" is also the last day of freedom for students who have to go back to school the very day after the "Ex" closes it's Princess Gates.



The Mister and I went down yesterday for the first time in a really long time, and shared our memories of the fair.
Both of us being west enders, the "Ex" was a summer staple.
I grew up in Parkdale, so the last three weeks of summer were consumed by the "Ex" for me.

My very first job, (unpaid of course) was to stand in the driveway of our Tyndall Ave home with a rolled up newspaper and wave cars in for parking on the lawn during the time that the Ex was on.


My very first paid job was in the Ex, on the Midway....in a restaurant, where I bussed the counter back in the day when your boss could yell at you, and tell you that you are useless and didn't know what you're doing.
And he was right, since I was 12 or 13 and had never had a job before.
I got fired for bussing a plate of french fries right out from under a customers fork.
Well, I imagine it was for a culmination of things....the french fry thing being the last straw, so to speak...

I got fired from that job, but went back to the job trailer and got another job within the hour.
This was one of the wonderful things about the C.N.E.
Another wonderful thing about working at the Ex was that I got to meet other kids my age from all over the city.
This was certainly something big, since at that time my world was pretty small.

The C.N.E. seems very different now...it doesn't smell as bad, for one thing...but one thing does remain for me...


The memories.

P.S. I have 5 G-mail invitations available...if you're interested in one e-mail me.

Confessions of a Purse Snatcher


Benjamin at Iracible Musings wrote this entry on first memories.

In the comments, I mentioned that my first memory was of a picture taking session in a park.
The above picture is from that day.

My cousin (it turns out that she's a fan of Benjamins) weighed in with her first memory of me accidentally hitting her in the head with a gigantic crystal ashtray.
I mentioned that she had an obsession with purses when she was little.

Turns out that it runs in the family.

Olympic Musings


The Mister and I are watching the Tae Kwon Do competition, and I'm going to be frank with you...from what I'm seeing (and I'm no Tae Kwon Do expert...believe me...) the object of the game seems to be:

To bounce around, bow your head a lot, and be the first one to kick your opponent in the ass.

That being said,
I'm wondering why Serbians aren't champions in this sport?
I spent most of my life avoiding getting kicked in the ass when I wasn't looking...just for fun and teasing.

Someone needs to bring this to someone's attention, because Serbia-Montenegro is missing out on some medal attainabilities.

Disclaimer:
Ok...if you are a Tae Kwon Do expert, don't e-mail me to explain the importance of the ancient sport. I don't care about most sports, Tae Kwon Do is not exempt.

Cry Baby, Cry


J-Walk Blog led me to Metafilter's post on Tear Jerker Movies...which led me to a list of my own.

To Sir With Love
The scene at the end when Sydney Portiers students present him with a gift and he fights back emotion.

Joy Luck Club (2 scenes..the whole movie actually)
One of the mothers talks to her daughter about accepting that her marriage might be over, and how she had fought all her life to be strong, but having a "weak spirit" had passed this on to her child...well, you get the picture.

One of the other mothers explaining to her angry daughter that she chose the "worst quality crab leg" because she had "the best quality heart"...(you have to see it)

Love Actually
When the wife realizes that her husband might be having an affair, and she excuses herself and paces her bedroom while listening to Joni Mitchell and hysterically crying...then pulls herself together....smooths the marital bed, and collects herself to put her face on for her family at Christmas...

Imitation of Life
When the daughter comes back to her mothers deathbed, and her mother forgives her.

Shindlers List (but practically the whole movie...this is the only movie that The Mister openly shed tears at...)
When Shindler realizes that he could have saved more people.

Mrs. Doubtfire
At the end when Robin Williams gives that little speech on all the different kinds of families.

Good Will Hunting
When Matt Damon breaks down when Robin Williams tells him "Son, it isn't your fault".

Antwone Fisher (The whole freaking movie actually)
When he meets his long lost family is a non stopper.

Radio
Hokey...but I bawled almost all the way through, and was absolutely torture teased by The Mister through the whole movie.

Sam I am
The whole movie

Admittedly, I am a big crybaby, blubbering, kleenex grabbing, sucky lover of tearjerkers.
This is a neverending source of teasing pleasure for The Mister, which is why he usually gets to choose movies when we go choosing, and I watch these movies alone.

What are your tearjerker favourites?
I'm dying to know...especially from the men who visit.

From Siberia to Serbia

While celebrating different cultures on a daily basis, I overheard this conversation between two children discussing my nationality:

Child #1: "Hey, Mrs. M. is from Siberia!"

Child #2: (With a look of disgust) "No she's not!"

Child #1: "Where is she from then?" (mocking tone)

Child #2: "She's from suburbia!" (superior tone of voice)

That my friends, was my laugh of the day.
Believe you me when I tell you that the children are the best part of my job.

Adrenaline Rush



Yesterday, I stopped at the bank and parked on a busy downtown street, without purchasing time from one of those fancy shmancy meters that are so far apart, that it's a gigantic pain in the ass to purchase said ticket.

I figured I would go in and see what the line looked like and if it was long, I would go back and purchase some time from the meter.
I walked to the door and saw only two people in line.

Bonus!
This bank always has a line up!
So, I naively go in and take my place in line....little do I know that there are only two Tellers working. 
After about 10 minutes in line, I figure that one customer must  be negotiating a mortgage, while the other must be doing the year end audit for a small country.
I was in the bank for over 30 minutes, far longer than I had anticipated.

Well, I headed out of the bank and down the street....and...what?

"Dude, where's my car?"

There was a large cube van parked where I left my car.

I got that "holy shit" feeling.
The one that says, "I've got a ton of shit to do this afternoon and my briefcase and everything is in my car!"

I got my cell phone out and started to dial the towing company telephone number from the sign right in front of me, while walking toward the cube van...only to realize that the cube van was hiding my car.

The sense of relief was overwhelming.

Have you ever had your car towed?

I have, and it was an experience I will never forget.

See, when my car was towed...I was already late to get somewhere.
I was pissed.
When I got to the trailer/towing company "office", I walked in shouting about being towed, which immediately resulted in two Great Danes jumping up onto the cell-like bars that went from the counter to the ceiling, and barking.
Which resulted in silencing the absolute shit out of me.

The people behind the bars could only been seen through a cloud of cigarette smoke and the trailer reeked of stale smoke.
It was disgusting.
Listen, I'm a smoker.
If I say it was disgusting, it was disgusting.

The woman that approached the counter only removed the smoke from her pie hole while she repeated over and over, "cash, VISA or Mastercard" while I tried to argue with her about the ridiculous amount of money she told me I had to pay to get my car out of the pound.
Frankly, all of them should wear masks while they collect money.

While I was paying, two men came in shouting just like I did when I came in, which alerted the two horses disguised as Great Danes to commence the barking routine, which silenced the two men and scared the shit out of me for a second time.

I got my car, and fought the $20 ticket that was an insult to my injury.
I had the opportunity to go to night court.

Ever been to night court?

I paid $8 for parking.
Spent 2 hours at Old City Hall.
Result?
My ticket was thrown out.

My visit to night court was worth the price of admission.
$8.00
It was entertaining.
The Judge was hilarious...
He was sarcastic, and mean

...but not to me.

heh heh.

 

A Conversation With a Child



About an hour ago I had the following conversation with a child who was brought into my office, hysterically crying.

I waited until he completely calmed down and then asked him to explain why he was in my office.

The conversation went like this:

Him:
"Ok...so...like...my sister was pretend marrying my friend Fabricio? And...um...I was going to be...like...the...the, um...Best Man? And then, I was..um...walking her up the isle...and then, umm...she said she didn't want me to be the Best Man anymore?"

Me:
"So what did you do? Did you hurt her in some way?"

Him: "No"

Me: "So why are you in my office?"

Him: "I stopped the wedding."

Me: "How did you do that?"

Him:
"I wouldn't give the ring back."

The Cracks in Crackdale



Everytime there is a long weekend, I come back to work to find more vandalized public property.

It grieves me to think that the young people who live in this neighbourhood are so desensitized that they would actually get pleasure from destroying a beautiful old school that has been here for over 150 years.

The fact that the repairs (if they ever get done) cost the taxpayers of this city almost triple what it would cost to be fixed by a private contractor because of the inflated rates that the school board charges to get their own maintenance contractors to do it.

What amazes me about this phenomenon is that there is all this pissing and moaning about the city not giving a shit about this neighbourhood, but it's the residents themselves who trash it.

Let's face it folks, if you live here and don't give a shit about it, why should anyone else?

Listen Up White People


I am forever amazed by the graciousness of the black people I know who tolerate the ignorant little faux pas made unknowingly by well meaning white people.

Last night we were visiting with my sister in law and her husband when a neighbour happened by.
He was friendly and humourous and very welcoming.

He invited us all over to the front of another neighbours house for drinks and chat. There were a number of neighbours there already and the drinks and chat were flowing.

Now, generally when I am with my inlaws, I am usually in the minority as a white person. To say that I have never experienced a bias or ignorance being the minority at an event would be a lie...but I do not experience it regularly, therefore it is easier for me to swallow than it would be if I had to deal with it daily.

Last night I heard quite a few little inappropriate "jokes" made, and quite a few gracious accepting of those jokes with a touch of satire mostly from my brother in law.

I have such a feeling of shame and apology when they have to accept these stupid little ignorant comments meant as "jokes". I know that with many white people, the attitude is "What? Now I have to watch everything I say? I have to be politically correct?".

No.

You just have to put yourself in the position.
Stop bringing it back to race.
If you're Italian, do you want references made to the Mafia and pasta regularly during conversations?
If you're Irish, do you want constant references made to the Irish being big drunks?

Think people.

One joke, ok.
One every five minutes, not ok.

______________________________________________-

In other news,

I finally rented "Love Actually" on Crabbys recommendation.

The opening of the film exposed one of my secret loves.

The arrivals level at the airport.

I was instantly in love with the film.

I love the arrivals level of the airport.
People don't understand why I'm so willing to pick them up from the airport if they are coming in.
I am a suck, and love to watch people re-uniting.
As the movie stated, "when I lose faith in the human spirit, I visit the arrivals level at the airport. It's there that love is all around us".

The arrivals level is the place for this.

Go to arrivals when you're sad and feeling hopeless.

Rent "Love Actually" for a little boost for your spirit.

That's all.

Smoking and Talking


My Uncle doesn't smoke anymore, but some of our best conversations and some of his best stories were told with a cigarette and coffee.

The other day I was visiting and we were talking and reminiscing about what it was like when he first came to Canada. I reminded him of a few that I remembered, and he didn't...and he told me a new one.

It went like this:

"Bora an me, ve go feeshink, an ve drivink bek hom...an ve get laast.
Bora, he mek a u-toorn an da politz dey stap aas.

Da politz-man he say,
"Yu don see da sign say 'NO U-TURN'?
and Bora say to da politz, he say:

"No, you turn...bat me o.k.!"

Da politz-man he leff an leff..an ve look at each odde an tink...
mah...he crasy.


Bat den ve see da sign...an den ve leff too."

I love these stories.
There are so many of them that I forget until he tells them again, and they never get old for me.
I suppose that it's the way that he tells them, or that I love him so much that it doesn't matter how many times I hear them.

I don't know which, and I guess it doesn't matter.
So long as he's here to tell them.

Single Chicks Myths About Marriage


It's Just a Piece of Paper
Yes.
It's a piece of paper that carries a lot of weight; in society, at the bank, and in court.
I once heard an idiot over dinner say that the fact that he didn't marry the mother of his two children and stayed with her, proves that their relationship is stronger than a marriage.

Not really.

What it proves is that he can bullshit the woman he lives with into not bothering him about legitimizing his children and making a commitment to her and his children and making them a legal family.
It keeps his options open...and since he was exposed as living a double life right here in this house, when one of our other friends recognized him as the man his cousin was "engaged" to for the past three years...nuff said.
His common law wife said that it didn't matter to her that they weren't married, a devout Catholic.

I guess that's why she wore a wedding band anyway, huh?

Common Law is just like being married.
No.
It's not.
You can walk away from "common law" without a big "marriage law" hastle.
Oh sure, you can go to court, but your rights are not the same.
Just ask anyone who's done it.

Marriage will change him.

If you believe this, I'm the Queen of Romania.

If he was a controlling, cheating, gambling alcoholic, chances are that he'll still be that after the reception.


If I have a baby, he'll marry me...

Yeah.
Maybe he will, but if he didn't love you enough to marry you without the belly, it's a miserable life you're setting up for yourself and your child.
If he doesn't marry you, you're a statistic.
Way to set up a stable life for another human being you're bringing into the world.
A child is not a K-Tel product you can send back if you don't like it when it comes out of the box.
Ask any foster parent who has taken in children who ended up unwanted.

Why do I bring this up you ask?

It's because I'm tired of listening to young single women who malign marriage until someone proposes to them, then they start planning the wedding of the century.

It's the whole "I'll piss on it until I'm getting married", that irritates me.

Oh.
And while we're on the topic...
As mama told me:
"Iz aboud da life, nat aboud da day".

That's all.

PS.
Asshole hightailed it out of the party before the woman he proved he "loved more by not marrying" before she glommed onto anything fishy going on, and we haven't seen him since...since the cousins lived down the street from us...

Put The Carny Back in Carnival

Today, on my way home...I stopped by one of those roadside Carnivals.

You know the ones....
They set up rides and games temporarily somewhere for a week or two and then move on.

I noticed something very odd.
None of the Carnys (or is it Carnies?) had tatoos.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!

In this day and age where everyone from your whore to your hairdresser has a tatoo....what?....Carnies don't have them anymore?

Heed the signs people....

Carnies sported tatoos when it was an outlaw kind of thing to do.
Years ago, only certain kinds of people had tatoos.
Sailors, whores, bikers, biker chicks, circus folk.....and Carnies...

Carnies all over the place at this roadside attraction...not one tatoo.

All the Carnies in clean clothes, no smokin'...everyone had all their teeth...what the hell is this world coming to?

The times, they are-a-changin'.

Ok..so I told her that I was asking her questions that my readers had for her.
Her response was:
"Tis iss kind-a stoopid, no?"
"No, Ma..."
"Ok. I gonna play dis gayme mit yu an yu friend"

M.E. Asked:

What the hell does straw have to do with a camel's back?
"I don no dis sayink. Vat? Is tis from da Englan? Look in da encyklopdedya. Der yu ken fiyn everytink"

If a rocketship were able to fly at the speed of light, would it's headlights work?
"Vat? Nou I'm da Astronat? Odkud ja znam? (From where would I know this?)"

And lastly....

Forget the stripes. Why is it, the Zebra is considered such a peaceful animal, when it happens to be one of the chubbiest creatures in Africa?
"Hou do I no? Vat? Nou I keep-a da zoo?"

-----------------------------------------------
Sonja asked:
How do you get your husband to put the towels back on the towel rack nice and not jammed in between the wall and the towel rack?

"Gedda nu husban. Van av dos modern man who do samtink aroun da hous."

-----------------------------------------------
Ice Queen asked:

Do these pants make me look fat?
"I don no. Don esk. Eh, mebee yu kud loos a few poun...only yu no des tinks. Pents mekka me look fet. If yu tink yu look-a fet in da pents, ver da skirts mor"

-----------------------------------------------
Crabby asked:

Should I have my entire summer wardrobe altered, or should I buy an entirely new summer wardrobe, two sizes smaller?
"by-a da new klos. Bat nat too mach...hoo no, mebee yu gonna loos sam more da veights. Keep-a da old klos too...yu neve no if yu gonna need dem".

-----------------------------------------------
jackson asked:

I'm asking everyone I meet: what goes with brown shoes? Can I wear these blue pants with brown shoes?
"No. Jas da broun pents, an da beige pents. Yu don vanna look bed...espeshally if you no maaarried yet."

-----------------------------------------------
Chris asked:

What is the best way to get food stains out of your laundry? No matter how careful I am while eating I end up wearing half of it. Especially ketchup!!
"Bleech. Use da bleech. Or da soda bikabone (baking soda) mekka da paste mit da vater an pudda on da spat. Lev it for a leetle vile and den vash eet. Don eat-a da ketchap..tis is da garbitch food. Mekka-a nis sauce mit da tomato. Iss heltier...Yu gadda tek ker of da helt."

-----------------------------------------------
Benjamin asked:

Was Radmila a good kid? Do you have a good example?

"Eh...vadamagonnasai? She's mine. Even eef she gatta sheet allove her.
Ven she no leesen, she gedda da shamars (slaps). All keeds need da shamars samtime. I remembe da tyme she lie aboud da skool. She gedda big shamars den. Even she no she earn dem like dis. hahahahah.
She's a goot gurl nou...dis iss all dat matte nou..no?

------------------------------------------------
Erik asked:

Where do babies come from?

"Ahhh kamman. Ok. Ven Rada vas leetle I tell her dat vee buy her on da piaca (open market) an ven she no goot, ve tell her ve gonna sell her bek to da gypsies. OK? Yu heppy now? Yu mas be a beeg boy...don esk me da smaart kvestshons."


Disclaimer:
All questions were answered word for word. If you don't like the answers, welcome to my world.

Eastern European Shenanegans

While I was over at Jacksons I found a hilarious link to a story about a guy who was mugged by:

"your typical teenaged buzz-cut-and-track-suit types (Poland has yet to discover the mullet)"

Then read the whole experience with the police and their typically Eastern European style of cussing.
...Laugh? Did I ever!

Read all about it here

Bravo Maciej Ceglowski.

Calaloo & Crab


I thought I'd go a little lighter in my content today.
Here is a recipe for delicious Calaloo and Crab Soup.
You need:
Dasheen Leaves or Calaloo...I prefer dasheen. It's a beautiful large leaf with a velvet like texture. You can find them in West Indian stores or Asian stores.

All chopped: celery, garlic, okra, shallots.

Crab & shrimp

Vegeta (hehe, my addition)

1 scotch bonnet pepper...just to float and remove (DON'T CUT IT OPEN)

Scald the crab and clean and chop them, as pictured here:


Wash and roll and chop the dasheen leaves:


Chop all the vegetables and put them in the pot:

and pour a pint of boiling water over all the ingredients and cook them until done.

If you like seafood, it's yum.

Crackhead smashing your passenger side window in for a pair of sunglasses and 4 bucks in change:

FREE

Searching for a non-gauging price for a new window on a long weekend:

4 HOURS

Without a car on your busiest day of the week:

3 HOURS

Price for a new installed passenger side window:

$200.00

Vacuuming up shattered glass:

$2.00

Learning to hide every fucking little thing in your vehicle when you work in the 'hood:

PRICELESS

Yu Tink-a Too Mach


I was reading this post over at Truegrit and Ilona's questions got me thinking about a lot of things.
Not all of the things it got me thinking about are related directly to her post, but some are.

I was going to comment on Ilonas post, but I had so much to say that I thought that I’d just blog what it got me thinking about.

Everybody at some point asks “why me?”.

Perhaps on different levels; for example;

“Why do I have to be the child of a crack whore?”
(and I’m not trying to be flip, because I’m positive this is a question that has been asked of someone, somewhere.)

As opposed to:

“Why do I have to be the only Debutante without a Mercedes?”

All of our “why me?” questions are relative to our personal situations, which of course you already know.
It’s just that sometimes our tolerance levels are ground down over time.

Personally, I’ve found that as I get older…I’ve resolved certain things within myself.
Not that they are actually resolved as in “end cycle” resolved but, resolved in the sense that I realize that there will never be an answer and some things just are what they are.

No rhyme or reason,
no diabolical plan,
no conspiracy
…they are just circumstances beyond our control.
That's right.
Beyond our control.

There are people that I have met in my life who are well into their 30’s or 40’s and still angry and unresolved about their parents separation or divorce.
Personally, I find this immature.

Years ago I held much resentment for my mother (yes…da madda) because of things that I so lacked in my childhood.
But then, I got to be in my late 20’s and realized that at my age at that time, my mother was raising a child alone in a foreign country, working two jobs and going to school at night…while I at that age was playing with my hair and make up while deciding where to go with my friends on Saturday night.

It put things in perspective for me.

On the divorce issue, I think to myself….”should a person have to pay with the rest of their life because they made a bad choice of partner?”

People that I know whose parents stayed together “for the kids” lived miserable lives that modeled unhealthy relationships for their children.

Yes, I agree that divorce is terrible, but it’s better than stealing a persons life.

Besides, some people never figure out what they want from life, and continuously blame and make others suffer for their own failures or shortcomings.
It's better, as it was in my life...for that one fuck up to go away and let the non-fucked up get on with it.

I think that we are all terribly flawed in our own terrible ways.

We all have secret resentments and truths that we are ashamed to admit we have…but whether or not we have them, as long as we try to do the right thing and not act on them
…what’s the problem?

I fight shit all of the time.
It’s not easy to do the right thing and not do the payback thing when you have the opportunity.
It’s hard to give up things that you want to do in order to do what is right…and we’re never totally successful.
We’re doomed to fail, because it doesn’t matter what we do, it’s the wrong thing for someone involved.

When we hide things from our children,
is it to protect them?
Or to protect ourselves?
Or both?

I remember an older cousin, when I was in my early twenties, whom I held in the highest regard, telling me that he cheated on his wife
…I was devastated.
I didn’t want to know that.
I wanted to believe that there were men who didn’t do that.
And there I was hearing that even someone whom I saw as trustworthy, decent and honest does it too
…meanwhile, he seemed to think that I would see him as cool.
I don’t want my role models to be cool, trendy and hip.

I want my role models to be stable, decent, reliable and upstanding.

I don’t want to know secrets about the people I love and respect.
I know that we are all flawed.

I don’t need the details.

I suppose I’m in denial
….but if denial is going to make my life less tortuous than I can make it all by myself…I’ll take that denial.

It’s not just a river in Egypt, you know.

My Proposal for a Change in the Use of Language.


It’s obvious that language impacts us on many different levels.
The way that it’s used separates class, race, and age.
The language you use can determine whether you are “kool” or “wack”.
Young or old. Rich or poor. Urban or Suburban.
Language has so much influence, that we cannot even use certain words anymore.
Words like “retard” or “cripple” have been banned from our vocabularies and deemed unacceptable to use.
Schools in Ontario are considering dropping the “Christmas” in Christmas Break in order to save the feelings of non-Christians by calling it Winter Break instead.
Obviously, language shapes the way we see ourselves and others, and many hyper liberals are advocates of homogenizing language in order to suit their political agendas.

Recently, I’ve noticed that the use of affixes has increased.
“O-rama”, “izzle”, “funna”, “ster”, “zone”, “ing”, “illin’”.
“Pollooza” is my personal favourite.
I’ve decided that I should start using these endings on the mundane tasks in my life in order to make them more palatable.
Here’s how I might do it…I will take a thing I don’t like, and put a positive spin on it by affixing one of these current endings that are so popular.

Think about how much more enjoyable things might be if I called my job, say “Torture-O-Rama” or damage control between employees as “shutthefuckup-ing”.
People who give me grief, “Dickster” or “Stupizzle”.
Housecleaning and cooking as “Pain-in-the-assoloosa”.
Grocery shopping as “Frustration-zone”.

You see what I’m getting at…no?
Since some advocates feel language has such a deep influence as to change the fundamental nature of the thing being described (as if), this is just my little contribution to help the job get done.

You’re welcome.

Note to the Liberal Government:
If one of those superfluous Trustee jobs becomes open…say if someone dies or something…give me a call.

Today I answered the phone to some woman who started off her spiel pretending to be concerned with how well my printer was working.
I cut her off by saying, "Can we get to the meat of this? Are you trying to sell me ink cartridges?"

She hung up on me.
Bitch.

Stupid Parking Tricks


When not in use to house shopping carts, it's obvious that it's a car park for seniors.