Weekend Recap: 2 Parties & 1 Aching Back

The Die Hard Party

I was invited to this party being thrown in an office building in the city. I basically knew two people there: my brother and his fiancee. The party was being thrown by the company that employs my brother.

I arrived there later than I would have hoped for. Upon entering the party, the gunplay had already begun…

Okay, it was only Nerf dart guns and other such weaponry but still. I was thinking of Die Hard and I got something pretty close to it. I got Sponge Hard.

I knew my brother worked for some wacky IT company, but I had no idea he worked for the company that made the Angry Dad internet cartoons. Some office this place turned out to be. Hmm… there was the Nintendo Wii in one room, a foozball table in another. Then there was the Nerf room. Little suction cup Nerf darts stuck to everything. I’m really glad to see my brother can earn a living by playing with toys.

The Baseball Party

Bob invited me to a little party he was throwing for his baseball team. It was a fun night out with some pizza and poker. Basically a lazy Saturday night out with the guys.

Apparently, this party is an annual thing. At each party, the first baseman breaks out an instrumental rap loop and comes up with a rap about the season passed. Interesting. that’s what I’ll say, interesting.

The Aching Back

I spent both afternoons this weekend Christmas shopping. Good news is that I’m done. And I only wimped out on six people with either gift cards or bottles. And, even better, I came in under budget this year. I did however have to carry a lot of this stuff back to the car. That, combined with the snow shovelling I had to do, has aggravated my back.

After the first shovelling my back was pretty sore. But I went out shopping anyway. When I got home, the street had been plowed and the snow was piled so high in front of the driveway, there’d be no way I could get the car through it. So, parked on the road and I got shovelling.

As I was shovelling the driveway, I noticed two seperate neighbours come out and shovel their driveways as well. Both of these guys have male children over the age of ten. Why weren’t the sons helping? Kids today, sheesh!

Guess What, I’m A Nice Man, Who Knew?

Approaching the work structure by automotive vehicle at the end of my hiatus due to the noontime ritual of lunch, a woman jumped out from between two cars, arms a-flailin’. I stopped and rolled down the window.

“What’s up?”

“Do you have jumper cables? My car won’t start.”

“Maybe, lemme take a look.”

I start rummaging around the back. Meanwhile the woman starts telling me about how this is not her car, she’s borrowing someone else’s car and the lights don’t turn off automatically. Batteries die, shit happens, what are you going to do, right?

“Voila! Jumper cables.”

“Oh great. Thank you very much. Would you believe nobody I work with has jumper cables.”

I drove around so my battery is within jumper cable length of her battery.

“Where’s you battery? Oh, its right there. Hmmm… There’s the plus, there’s the minus. Red is positive, red is positive.”

I attach the jumper cables and signal for her to start her car.

VROOOOM!

“Thank you very much. You’re a very nice man.”

“No problem.”

After she drove off, I continued through the parking lot to my shop and went back to work. I told my boss I was sorry I was late and I explain to him that I helped a woman jump start her car.

—————

I call myself evil. I refer to myself as a prick, an asshole, a horrible excuse for a human being. But when somebody I don’t know and probably will never, ever see again asks for a hand, I stop what I’m doing and provide whatever help I can without even thinking. Somebody asked for help and I helped. I never thought about it, contemplated whether I should or should not. Compensation was never considered in my mind. I just did what I could becasue somebody asked me. Its not that I had been having a good day. Honestly, I have been having a pretty shitty week. I’m still sick. I barely slept the night before. Whenever anybody asked me “hows it going?” I’ve answered with “pretty crappy.” But somebody says “Gimme a hand,” and I say “Sure, how can I help?”

The inherent goodness of man, the inherent goodness of me, and it totally throws off my whole bad-ass image.

Recommended Listening: It Falls Apart by The Odds.

WIGSF Visits Niagara Falls

Yesterday, I headed down to Niagara Falls. Tonio and K are still in town so we (the Juices and I) took them to see the falls.

Our first stop was up in Niagara-on-the-Lake. We walked up and down the strip there, peeked in a couple of little shops and such; ate some fudge, stuff like that. Didn’t do any winery tours though. I mean really folks. Family from Italy are in town, let’s show them how to make wine.

Niagara-on-the-Lake seems like it is better for older generations, not vibrate young folks like myself. Who am I kidding? I was all “no more walking, my back is sore and my legs are sore.”

Next stop was Niagara Falls itself. I’ve been to the falls before but for some reason, I’ve never been to Clifton Hills. That’s the part of town that’s nothing but arcades, funhouses and souvenir shops. If I was still twelve years old, I’d be in heaven there.

We did one haunted house and one arcade. Basically, just get out of my way and find me a skeeball game.

Then, down to the falls itself and right into the water. We took a trip on the Maid of the Mist boat tour. The boat takes you by the first set of falls and right upto the horseshoe falls. After everybody was nicely soaked from the mist (if you’ve never been there, its a heck of a lot of mist), a crewmember on the boat stepped out of his room and asked how we all were doing. Hmmm, he was bone dry and we all looked like we just got out of the shower. Never have I been more tempted to shove a person overboard.

A trip to a touristy place is never complete without going to the casino. Results summary: I played four pulls at the slots and broke even; Tonio and K played 10 bucks and lost it all; Juicette played 25 and lost it all; Juice played 20 at the machine I played and cashed out at 25; Juice gave both Juicette and Tonio 20 bucks to play at my machine and they each won 75 and 100 respectively. That one machine was hot last night.

Niagara Falls is a two or three hour drive (depending on traffic) from where I live and yet I only go there when I’ve people from out of town.

Weekend Recap: A Whole Lotta Somethin’ Goin’ Down

Friday

I had plans to go bar-hopping with Bob and Janet. She had missed my birthday thing earlier in the month and wanted to make up for it.

Earlier in the day, through email, I had a conversation with Bob:

WIGSF: How much you wanna bet Janet cancels tonight?
Bob: Chicken wings.
WIGSF: Loser buys. You’re on.

The bet was made. Now to find out if Janet would actually show.

Bob and I got down to Gate 403 and shortly after, Janet arrived with a gift, some book about The Simpsons. So Bob won the bet. Good for Bob.

At the bar, a small jazz combo was playing and a large contingent of the patrons were air trumpeting or something. Janet remarked how she thought that was weird. In actuality, I don’t it is that weird. Figure this, a younger guy would air guitar or air drum to a rock song. (Hell, I’m air drumming in between sentences right now. I can’t help it. I like the fills in the song that’s currently playing.) I don’t think it is much of a stretch for jazz fans to air instrument during some drawn out improved jazzy jam.

But the guy by the bar doing a little white man’s overbite by himself did seem a bit weird.

This bar had a wait service so the empty glasses weren’t piling up. I didn’t realize how much I had to drink until the bill came. Long story short, either the drinks were watered down or I’ve built up a tolerance. I shouldn’t be able to drink that much.

The next place we went was the Inter Steer. Its a tiny bar with no wait staff and jukebox for entertainment. The TV screens were all playing some silent movie. Actually, movie would be a bit of a mis-nomer. Every shot was still with a bit of a Ken Burns effect. There wasn’t any actual motion. It was however, a vampire pic.

The crowd that night was generally into hard rock. In between trips to the bar to pick up a Jack & Coke for me and a vodka cranberry for Janet, I dropped a Loonie (one Canadian dollar, roughly the equivalent of 97 American cents) in the jukebox and picked some interesting stuff. Meanwhile, Bob and Janet started playing pool on the coin-op table.

Unlike Gate 403, this bar was making the drinks strong. And due to the fact there was no wait staff, the glasses kept piling up at our table.

Bob and Janet eventually started taking on challengers for the table. Three pairs of challengers, three pairs of people sent packing with their heads hanging low. Okay, Bob is a pretty good player, even though he’s got some unconventional techniques. But Janet is no better than so-so and that night, she was rusty. But after seven drinks or so, she really started to get on a nice little roll. She’s a prime example of wasted talent. Or maybe she was just lucky.

Getting home that night was kind of fun. Janet, who lives in that neighbourhood hoofed it home. Bob and I had rode the subway down from Yorkdale. We had to get back to the subway before the last train went by. Janet told us what corner to wait by for a streetcar to take us back up to Bloor. When the streetcar finally showed up it just zoomed past us. Apparently, the streetcars only stop at that corner on Sundays. (The TTC is horrible and I want it to just stop existing so another transit organization and rise up and take its place. It’ll never happen in that effed up city, but I’m getting off topic.) Bob and I decided to just run to Bloor and hopefully get the last train. We got to Bloor and from that train we transferred to the Spadina line and luckily made the last train.

All the while, I was scoping out possible urine receptacles. I really should have gone before leaving the bar. I knew of a restroom at Yorkdale station but I wasn’t sure that: a) I could make it there; and b) it would still be accessible after hearing Bob’s tale of getting stuck in the station after closing time because he and Boston stopped there once to take a tinkle after a similar night out on the town.

Well, issue ‘a’ turned out to not be a worry. I was able to make it there without any spontaneous leaking of liquids. As I shuffled towards the restroom, I started barking orders to Bob.

Okay, Bob. Use the book to prop open the first sets of doors and then keep the second set of doors open yourself.

Again, another issue was not a worry as all doors were still open. I guess getting stuck in Yorkdale Mall well after closing only happens to Bob and Boston. Sucks to be them, I guess.

Saturday

I got a call around 11:30AM from Bob.

Why did you have to keep feeding drinks to Janet last night? The two of us were supposed to go to see the Toronto FC game this afternoon and I just called her and she’s sick from last night.

I wasn’t my fault she kept drinking. I saw her with an empty glass so I got her a full one. At most, she had seven vodka cranberries. Really, who gets blasted from seven shots of vodka? I had at least nine Jack & Cokes and only had a bit of a headache the next morning.

Okay, to get to my point, Janet cancelled on Bob for Saturday. See, that shit is funny to me. Bob won the bet the previous night but I got to feel like a winner in my own little world. I had a feeling Janet would bail, I just got it wrong by a measily fourteen hours.

After talking to Bob, I called Janet.

So, how ya feeling?

She sounded near death.

After Bob got back from attending the game, by himself, I took him out for his victory dinner.

The two of us then headed down to Scarberia to see the Wonder Twins and go to a movie. But getting there was an adventure on its own. At one point, we were atop a hill and at the base was a car stalled in the middle of the intersection. Instead of waiting behind a long line of cars, I tried to find a way around it through the neighbourhood. It turns out there wasn’t a good way through the neighbourhood. Seriously folks, who the heck designs neighbourhoods? Grids people. They friggin’ work! If every road in town was a grid, every destination would only be two turns away. I’ve gotta find those civil engineers or whoever it is that plans out neighbourhood streets and kick the livin’ crap out of them. They do things to make my life more difficult when they have the opportunity to make it easier. Therefore, they suck and should be punished for sucking. We did eventually get to our destination. But still, the roads in this neighbourhood were very confusing. Unfortunetly an all to common characteristic in GTA neighbourhoods.

The movie we saw was Superbad. Bob and I had already seen that movie, but it was worth seeing again. Especially when the other movies (vampires in Alaska or some movie with Marky Mark) were pretty sad looking.

Recommended Listening: Only Time Will Tell by Asia.

Multiculturalism

What an amazing country I live in. A land where everybody can come from everywhere and worship together as one.

Today, I was with: a young French Canadian women with a pierced nose; a pair of very mannish old ladies with way too much makeup on; a tall lankey nerd; one of those really fat chicks who has that I’m-the-hottest-chick-in-the-room-and-I’m-too-good-for-you look on her poly-chinned face; a guy in a hardhat; a small group of high schoolers who should have better things to do with their time and parents money; some yuppy jerk with one of those Bluetooth cellphone headsets paying more attention to his cellphone conversation than to what he’s doing and getting upset that nobody is paying attention for him because he’s too busy on the phone; and a couple of people who just want a coffee and a couple of minutes to relax while drinking it.

Yes folks, I was at the local Tim Hortons. And Timmys is the only place in Canada where everybody goes and everybody is the same and everybody gets the coffee shits an hour later.

Recommended Listening: Just A Human by Tone Def.

Weekend Recap: Startin’ ta get Cold

This weekend, the nippy weather has finally arrived. Yaa hoo! I hate that disgusting heat and humidity that plagues southern Ontario every summer.

On Saturday, I took a drive out to Burlington to buy some records. But I forget where in Burlington the record store is located. I’d only been to this place once before and I was a passenger in the car, not the driver. Getting out there was going to be a problem. I didn’t know how to get there. I, of course, didn’t realize this until after I left the house. I could have turned around and driven back home and surfed the web to find the name and location of this store, but I didn’t feel like turning around. Instead, I punched in “Burlington” into the navigation system in the dashboard and hoped that the guidance system would eventually lead me to something I found familiar from the previous visit.

The problem with these navigational systems is they don’t know traffic patterns and road re-construction projects. Over by the 401 & 427, construction and lots of it. That never makes the drive a smooth ride, or a quick one. There was also some construction on the QEW. That created a nice parking lot effect on the highway.

Eventually the navigational system tells me “Exit right onto, Brant Street.” Brant Street, that sounds familiar.

Once I got off the highway, everything looked very familiar. That’s pretty incredible seeing as how I’d only been over there once before. What wasn’t familiar was all the construction happening on Brant Street. I guess it was just one of those days where you just can’t avoid road work.

I spent most of Sunday trying to relax. I hurt my back again, not sure how. I hope it doesn’t bother me too much. This afternoon I’ve got to pick up three people from the airport and I will probably have to spend a lot of time with these people in the next two weeks. Generally when I’ve got family from aboard visiting Toronto, they have no idea what they want to do. Italians have no knowledge of Toronto and what it has to offer. The only reason they come to TO is because they have family here, family like me.

Recommended Listening: Electric Funeral by Black Sabbath.

New Birthday Tradition

… or maybe I’m just the world’s biggest mamma’s boy.

A couple years ago I had a realization. Why do people get gifts on their birthday? What did I do to deserve a present on the anniversary of my birth? From all accounts of people there when I was born, all I did was be born. I didn’t cry, I didn’t do much of anything. I just kind of lied there and let the doctor smack me in the ass.

My mother, she did all the bloody work. She shot me out of her loins like the demonspawn that I am. She should be given a present or an award or medal or something.

That’s why a couple years ago I got into the habit of giving my mother a gift on my birthday. A little thank you for birthing me gift. The second Sunday in May, that’s nothing to me. My mother did jack squat that day. To me, Mother’s Day comes in the Autumn. It’s my Mother’s day because its the day my mother became my mother.

So this year, I’m not just gettting my mother a gift, I’m telling anybody who’ll listen (or read in this case) to get their mother a gift on the day she became a mother.

Recommended Listening: Mama by Genesis. Not really on topic, but the title fits and its a heck of tune.