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Toronto Odyssey #1: Go Buck A Fuffalo.


in Heartwarming

I simply don’t know where to start in describing the events of last week, and I’m not entirely sure I should. It was an adventure, nay – an odyssey. There were moments of fun sprinkled on top, but I don’t think I have ever been as happy to cross the threshold of my apartment after a trip. This will take a few entries, but I feel the need to decompress via writing about it.

I arrived in Buffalo on Friday the 5th and walked to the Enterprise Desk to pick up my rental car. I was second in line, but a mass of people quickly built up behind me as the woman in front argued that the price she was being charged was not what she’d been quoted. As her suitcase was held together with duct tape, I quickly assumed the woman was not a frequent flier. The counter person handled herself well and, much to the dismay of the disgruntled hippy, called me forward. “I have never in 7 years seen anyone quoted a price anywhere near that low, ma’am.” Moonbeam pulled out a prehistoric cell phone, claiming she’d call the Enterprise office she’d first talked to, which she promptly dropped and shattered on the floor. I briefly felt sorry for her until I realized I still had to drive 2 hours to Toronto in the pouring rain and that I’d sooner she just shut up and fuck off.

When I got down to the rental garage, after a credit card counter mishap of my own, I was pleasantly surprised to see a PT Cruiser brought around for me. I am not a huge ‘car guy,’ and initially thought the vehicle was pretty sweet. I pictured Frank Nitty firing a tommy gun from the window, or a bunch of surfboards sticking out the back. Little was I to know the level of ridicule I would receive over the next 10 days, as apparently ‘PT Losers’ and ‘those cars for gays’ aren’t that highly regarded amongst my Canadian friends and family. Still, I liked it.

I made it over the border, down the QEW, over the Gardiner Express way and up Spadina to Jason and Amy’s without incident. After a very wet greeting from Marj the border collie (pictures forthcoming) we picked up Richie and went out for pizza. After dinner, a long discussion over what a ‘gusset’ was, and an hour of YouTube back at Richie’s we all hit the hay. If the three of us had read this paragraph 10 years ago, we’d have scoffed. But it was good.

Saturday we got up and took Marj to the dog park where she befriended an ungroomed miniature poodle named Allie. Allie’s owner, a friendly 60-something man, chatted to us for awhile and I quickly realized more of the potential fun of dog ownership. He knew everyone who passed us who even said hello to his little dog by name. Although I love my Boss I think he may be getting a playmate/nemesis shortly after my move. I have no idea as to breed yet, and will have to give this careful consideration.

In the afternoon we went to Duff’s for wings and eventually ended up back at the house with J’s sisters, husband and kids who are all rapidly becoming favorite people of mine. Oh, and Ryan was there too. Then I scooted off to the Rose and Crown as I had… wait for it… a date. When I decided to move to T.O. I changed the zip code on my old Match profile and re-launched it – just to cushion the blow a little bit, as it was not an easy decision. Within a day I had gotten a wink from a lovely gal who I’d chatted with on and off up until my unplanned visit. On a spur, we decided to get a beer. I wouldn’t be mentioning it if it hadn’t gotten interesting.

She was a lot of fun, and we were having a grand old time when I started to get text messages from JV. “Hurry up with the broad and let’s get going.” came the first. I knew he wanted to go meet Richie at TuCats later on, and I told him I didn’t think the date would last long as she’d told me before hand she had to get up at 5am. I texted back that I’d call him when we were done, and to fuck off. The next message came in: “Look over to your left“.

I spun my head around quickly and just caught two shapes ducking behind a post opposite my table. The girl asked if my friends were here, and I sheepishly told her that I thought they were. She stood up, walked over behind the post and said “Well you might as well come over and join us now”. Nick and JV sat down at our booth like two little schoolboys who’d just bee caught peeking into the girls’ bathroom. My date gets full credit for that ballsy move, and I’ll be coming back for her like Chuck Norris when I move up there on the strength of that alone.

We were piling into the SUV a half hour later and headed over to the aforementioned bar where a gang of Welland kids were supposedly waiting for us. As I walked up to the front door, I heard a voice say “Oh my God, it’s you.” I turned to look at the doorman, and realized it was a great guy who had worked for me at the Bullring 10 years earlier. I think that might have been the moment when I really felt 100% good about this move. I have roots and affinities there, and I miss them. I may not stay in Canada past the dealings with my family, but I need to go stay. More to come.

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It’s For Your Own Good. Really.


in

I’m not really sure how to deal with what I’m dealing with this weekend.Hopefully no one in my family will get angry with me for airing a bit of laundry. I promised my Mother I’d help her when the time came to put Grandma in a nursing home. And wouldn’t you know it , three days after me Ma returned to Florida from Toronto and I returned to Boston – Grandma is off the nursing home waiting list and we have to turn around and go straight back.

So I’m sitting near gate C34 at Logan waiting for JetBlue to scurry me off to Buffalo. I’ll then drive over the border to Toronto and we plan to basically ambush Grandma on Sunday night so she doesn’t have a lot of time to mull over what’s happening to her. She will never go quietly from her home until she is dead, and there will be bloodshed when she figures out that her time in her house of 30 years is up.

I don’t know if we have a strategy. I suppose my mother has contacted our social worker, and perhaps employees of the senior residence in question, and I won’t be expected to slap a straitjacket on the old girl. Are we “looking” at homes for future reference? Going to a bingo parlour (I have to learn to start using ‘u’s again), Attending a matinée of Cocoon? I don’t know what the gameplan is. There might not be one. I’ll be hanging out with JJV, Amy, Richie, Ryan Weaving and the rest of the gang Friday and Saturday before reporting for duty Sunday morning.

When she was lucid, I was very close with my Grandmother, and I take some degree of solace in knowing that 10 years ago, if she could have looked ahead through the reflection in a magic birdbath or something and seen what we’d become she’d have appreciated my family (Janet was absolutely terrific with Grandma at Christmas) trying to help maintain her safety and quality of life.

Unfortunately, the woman we’ll be dealing with Sunday is the most stubborn, vindictive, uncooperative creature you can imagine. It’s going to be something else.

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Wednesday Wadio: Little Becky’s Demolition Project.


in Wednesday Wadio

“How are you, my name’s Becky. I have a proposal for you“.

This is an recording of a prank phone call to a demolition company in Ireland. The differentiator is it’s placed by a little girl with surprising comedic ability and quick thinking, which is why I’m wasting your time with it. The adults giggle and try to play along, but Becky just keeps pushing the issue with a straight face.

“Is this a demolition company, or a joke factory?”

She wants her school bombed with all her teachers inside, which is especially precious considering the geographic location. Listen to Little Becky’s plans for her school and then check out her official website with all her calls to date.

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All In One Overkill.


in

I bought myself a little Christmas present this year. Namely a Canon all-in-one printer, fax, scanner, photo printer, copier monstrosity that is now sitting atop my shelves, daring me to find a reason to use it. I had to transfer my health insurance and was able to print the necessary forms out to sign. I also printed out my citizenship application and signed that. But now I fear I will run out of everyday uses for my new personal Deep Blue, and it will rapidly collect dust.

In order to fax anything, I will first have to get a land line, which isn’t happening anytime soon. I might as well get a cassette tape answering machine with a pre-recorded California Raisins greeting and a 500 baud modem while I’m at it. I don’t see a lot of potential for the scanner, either. I could go through my photo album and find a few ancient gems for a laugh, but I can’t keep up with posting the damn digital pics that are piling up. Anyone who really wants to see what I look like wearing diapers can frequent some of the local swingers clubs. So again, not very likely.

The copier will be good for building management duties, like duping leases, invoices and the like. And there’s always the chance I’ll have a guest over some day who wishes to photocopy their behind. But why couldn’t they just take a digital photo of their buttocks? Or scan them? Or take a photo of their buttocks and then scan that? And then maybe never be invited back.

I think the problem here is that I have too many methods at my disposal by which to accomplish the exact same thing – the transmission of a document. It’s frustratingly hard to choose. Perhaps I can webcam my tax return this year, take a freezeframe which I can then print onto photo paper, scan, and then fax to the IRS. Or I could get a pen and some stamps.

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