Ball of Confusion

Prologue

Many times I’ve tried to write about this tale in my life and I’ve never quite been able to get it all down. It was two confusing events that occured almost simultaneously. I am still confused by the events of that day. But today, I finally decided, the heck with it, I’m putting it down for all to see. Maybe by writing about it, I will be able to revisit the events in my mind and understand what the hell had happened.

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Now let us go back to the winter of 2006.

It was a somewhat warmer than normal February morning. It was a Sunday and I didn’t have much to do. I had been in the States on a business trip that weekend, but the trip ended early and I was home by Saturday night. I wasn’t expecting to be home until at least Monday afternoon. The job was easier than I had imagined, much easier and I was glad to be home with that feeling of a job well done.

Being in such a good mood I decided to spend Sunday afternoon out on the town. I borrowed my Mother’s car and ventured down into the city to do a little shopping. That sounds a bit girly, but fret not, I was buying testosterone filled manly CDs and DVDs. Ugh ugh ugh!

On my way down I had this idea. I’m going to get something to eat when I get down there, why not call the one friend I have who actually lives downtown and get her to join me. Eating with someone beats eating alone. (I can and will eat alone at a restaurant, I just really prefer not to.)

I called up Janet and asked her out for lunch. She said sure and we agreed to meet at the Eaton Centre.

When I got there, I noticed I was early. A shopping mall, especially one as big as the Eaton Centre is a great place to kill some time. Everytime I find myself killing time at Eaton Centre, I visit this little shop on the top floor. It is a little chocolate shop called Godiva. I don’t eat chocolate (I’m allergic to it, yeah I know that sucks, I’ve learned to live without it), but I know my Mother loves chocolate. Especially the chocolates from Godiva. I never get my Mother one of those sealed boxes of assorted chocolates. I always pick out a selection of truffles and other chocolatey goodies. (She really loves the chocolate covered ginger which has since been discontinued.) As the nice lady helping me was boxing up my Mother’s chocolates I thought about Janet. I was about to have lunch with Janet. Janet is a woman. Women like chocolate. If she sees me carrying this little giftbag with the Godiva Chocolatier logo and she doesn’t get any chocolate, well, I don’t want her to feel bad. My resolution to this perceived problem, buy her some chocolates too. I spent a minute or so picking out a selection of chocolate truffles that I thought she’d like (all the ones with booze in them).

By the time I finally got all the chocolates boxed and wrapped with a little golden ribbon bow, a mosied over to where I was to meet Janet. She was there and we decided to go to the Pickle Barrel (the restaurant, not the gay bar) for lunch.

As we completed our meal and waited for the bill, I handed her the box of chocolates.

“No,” she said.

“No? Yes,” I replied.

“I can’t take these.”

“Why not? It’s chocolate, it’s all good.”

“I can’t. Take ‘em back. I don’t want a Valentine’s gift.”

“Okay, we’ll call this an early birthday present. Just take the damn chocolates.”

The arguement went on for a couple of minutes. She never did take the chocolates. I never quite understood why.

After lunch we went our seperate ways and I ventured back into my suburban cocoon. I had to go back to my parent’s place. I had borrowed my Mother’s car for the day. When I returned to her house, I noticed my Brother’s car in the driveway. Cool, I got to see my Brother too.

I walk into the house and say hello to my Brother. I take the box of chocolates I bought for my Mother and put it in her chocolate cupboard (yeah, my parents have a cupboard just for chocolates). Janet’s box, I just place that on the kitchen table. My thinking, when my Mother sees the box on the table, she’ll eat a chocolate or two then move the box into the chocolate cupboard. At which point she’ll see the second box of chocolates and it will be a surprise for her.

Upon entering the house, I noticed my Mother talking to a young lady at the end of the hallway.

“Hey, Bro. Who’s Mom talking to?”

“Beats me,” he said. “What’s with all the chocolates?”

I told my Brother the details of my confusing lunch. He offered no detailed explanation, only generic advice, advice I still follow today, “Women are crazy.”

My Mother and the woman walked into the kitchen. My Mother noticed the box of chocolates on the kitchen table.

“What did you do to my car?” she asked in that firm accusatory tone that all mothers employ when suspicious of their children’s actions. Apparently, she thought the chocolates were to butter her up a bit before breaking some bad news in regards to me crashing or smashing her car.

My response in a tone mimicing hers, “Do I need a reason to give my Mother a box of chocolates?”

“No.”

At that point, my Mother, Brother and this woman go to town on this box of chocolates. Stopping only to question “Oooh, what’s that?” “I dunno, I think its a cognac truffle.”

I left the room, when you through a cow into a piranha tank, it’s best not to watch.

After the gorging, I saw my Brother talking to this woman.

I asked my Mother who this person was and her reply “I dunno, she came with your Brother.”

My brother… With a woman… Purposely bringing her to meet Mom and Dad. I had just spent the past couple of days out of the country and I returned to find my world spinning around me. Women refusing chocolates. My Brother with a girlfriend. I had to look outside to make sure the Sun was still setting in the west.

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Epilogue

My Mother did find the second box of chocolates later that night. She was upset I bought her so much chocolate. That didn’t stop her from eating it all though.

My Brother took nearly two years to refer to that woman as his girlfriend.

That woman, she is now my Brother’s fiancee.

Janet, a couple of months ago we attended a party together at my Brother’s office. At said party was a chocolate fountain. She took some slices of fruit and dipped them into the flowing chocolate. As she ate the chocolate, she had this look of selfish delight on her face. It was as though she wanted to say “Ha ha! I’m eating chocolate and you’re not.” Seeing that, I stormed out of the room to tell my Brother of what Janet was doing. He returned with me and stated to Janet, “I can’t believe you, of all people, are eating chocolate.”

And what about me, well, I’m still confused; writing all this down did nothing to end the confusion. Of course, I’m happy for my Brother. He found somebody who is willing to put up with him. It is baffling, but amazing. And to this day, I’ve got no reason why Janet wouldn’t take the damn chocolates. She’s had no problems accepting any other gifts from me over the years. Birthdays, Christmas, housewarming, she takes ‘em all. But it’ll be a cold day in hell when I give her another piece of chocolate.

Dickie Dee

Who out there remembers Dickie Dee Ice Cream?

If you don’t remember or have never heard of Dickie Dee, let me explain it to you. Dickie Dee was an ice cream company that sold its products outdoors throughout the summer. But unlike normal ice cream companies (and child molesters), they didn’t use just ice cream trucks. Dickie Dee hired teenagers to ride around town in these pimped out tricycles. The tricycles had these little coolers to keep the products frozen.

I don’t know why I was thinking about this today. I wonder if there’s a support group out there for adults who used to be teens employed by Dickie Dee.

I don’t know if the company still operates. Children, their target market, don’t quite go out and play as much as they used to. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they got sued for breach of some child labour laws.

Here’s a photo I found on the net of some guy in a suit driving a Dickie Dee cart. It looks like he’s working a wedding or something. Can’t you just see it, the bridal party is outside having their photos taken then a Dickie Dee guy comes riding by right into the shot. “Get your popsicles he’e!”

I don’t think, in all my years, I’ve ever had anything from a Dickie Dee cart. When I was a kid and played baseball, there was always a Dickie Dee cart going from diamond to diamond before and after each game. I usually just went to Dairy Queen or Baskin Robbins after each game.

21st Century Schizoid Banner

You may have noticed the new banner on this blog. Yesterday Juice sent me that banner.

For a while I had been using that Genesis - Duke banner, but that had been getting tiresome. I went back to the Asia Dragon banner and was waiting for the weekend to see Juice and ask him to make me a new banner. Me and Juice though, often of one mind, he already had a new banner ready for me, without me having to ask.

Much like the Duke and Asia banners, this comes straight from a prog rock album cover. Those of you reading this who know the album cover — ah — who am I kidding, other than Dan and Juice, who of those that might read this post will recognize the image of the Schizoid Man.

In the Court of the Crimson King (an observation by King Crimson) is a favourite album of mine. Years ago, my father purchased the LP. I’m not quite sure if he really listened to it. For years, my brother and I would stare at this album and at this guy with the sad eyes screaming. Then one day, we heard the tune In the Court of the Crimson King on the radio. After the song finished playing, we ran to our dad’s record collection and checked to see if that song we heard was the same as the one on this record with the bizarre cover.

Since that day, we’ve been King Crimson fans.

Remembering Music

When I wore a younger man’s shoes (when I was a kid) I listened to some pretty rocking music. My brother introduced me to Deep Purple and Rush and many other acts that absolutely rocked. As I grew older, I listened to that music a little less. It got to the point where I was going through my iTunes library and I realized I hadn’t ripped a bunch of stuff that had been such a huge part of my life in the early nineties. There was no Deep Purple on my computer. 30 gigabytes of music and yet, no Deep Purple. I walked over to my CD collection, grabbed my Deep Purple best of package and transfered it to my hard drive and iPod.

For the past couple of months, I’ve been listening to a lot of that Deep Purple stuff I listened to when I was a teen. Today, I have much more appreciation for the music. I’ve also expanded my depth of catalog for Deep Purple. I’ve added a bunch of album tracks and I’ve been able to hear many other aspects to their sound. I am being blown away by Deep Purple’s performances on songs like Burn and Space Truckin’ and Bloodsucker and Child in Time.

Today’s discussions of hard rock British bands of the seventies usually starts and stops on two bands: Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. Taking nothing away from those two bands, it goes without saying that they are immeasurably great. But my generation has been referring to Deep Purple as “They’re the band that did Smoke on the Water, right?” For some reason, one that I can’t quite understand, Deep Purple has not translated well for the current generation. Maybe my generation has simply not heard DP.

When I worked at the record store, the only people who ever asked about Deep Purple records were older guys. No young people ever came in to pick up a copy of Machine Head. They sure bought a bunch of Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath discs, but no Deep Purple.

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Sometimes I wonder, what bands and artists today will be the legends we won’t just remember tomorrow, but our children and our children’s children will still be listening to and respecting? Acts including The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix are still being listened to by the younger generations even though there no longer is any music from those acts today to speak of. Who from today will really be remembered in the same vein as The Beatles? Is Radiohead really the heir apparent? Does Coldplay’s catalog have the ability to age well? Will the White Stripes ever be more than a gimmick? Do any hip hop acts really have any sort of staying power? Is Tupac the next Jimi?

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There’s a new Life with Carmine post for those of you who care.

All Day Breakfast

It’s sad that the highlight of my weekend has been going to Denny’s. But here is how I see it. I enjoy eating. It’s selfish of me to take such delight in eating when they are so many people in this world who aren’t as fortunate as me. I had the luxury this weekend to go out to Pickering (a bit of a drive from my home) and eat some unhealthy yet very tasty food.

The meal itself was very tasty. I had never eaten at Denny’s before. There just isn’t a location close to my home. But there was just so many things on the menu I wanted to eat. I’m going to end up going back there again and again just to finish off the menu.

The all day breakfast is my vice. I just can’t resist pancakes or french toast. To me, those are the ultimate comfort food. You see, I can’t eat chocolate. So when the average person needs some comfort food, they reach for the chocolates. (Well, that’s what my mother has always done.) Me, I have to find something else for comfort. I’ve got my fried breakfast foods.

I read somewhere that eating fried carbs releases some hormone in the brain that enduces a bit of joy. A pancake or slice of french toast is pretty much just a sweet, fried carb. That scientifically explains my adoration for this food.

I remember this one time, I had gone out to a concert with a couple of friends. These two friends of mine were FBs with each other. So at this concert, it was me, a guy I’ll call B and a girl I’ll call C. C was doing all the driving. So she had to drive B home and me home after the concert. B had said to C “You better drive WIGSF home first.” C said “Nope, I’m going to drive you home first.” B seemed a bit miffed that he wasn’t going to get any that night. After we left B’s place, C asked if I could make her some pancakes. I said sure. So we had some fresh pancakes at like 2 or 3 in the morning.

Not to brag about my pancakes, but I guess they’re better than sex with B.

Dick vs. Brain

It is amazing the things a man will do when the possibility of sex is thrown into the equation.

Back in the day, as I check my calendar I realize this story took place about eight years ago. Wow, that was a long time ago. So eight years ago I started going out with this young lady. It was weird, I wasn’t actually chasing her down or trying to hook up with her. It just sort of happened. I think my boss and his mistress played the go-betweens to get the ball rolling. Whatever, I started going out with this woman.

After a couple of months together I realized, she was annoying. Did she know she was annoying and held it in check when we met? Did she quickly develop annoying habits as we were dating? No to both of them. I was thinking with my dick. I was blind and deaf to her annoying habits because there was not enough blood in my head.

It is incredible the amount of things a man will put up with while in a relationship. Things I say as a single man that I’d never put with from a woman fall by the wayside when in a relationship. Its not so much that I’m compromising. Its that I don’t really know what is going on. I’m not thinking clearly. NOT ENOUGH BLOOD IN THE BRAIN!

People who’ve been reading this blog semi-regularly should by now have noticed my tendancy to write about women and their plans for global domination. I’ve been able to formulate these theories because there is blood in my brain again and the blood has pretty much stayed there for quite a long time. I can’t remember the last time I was on a date. (I’ve probably had a few dates but just didn’t realize it.)

This morning, I ran into this ex-girlfriend who was very annoying. I was standing in line at the coffee shop and she was sitting at the table to my immediate right having a coffee. I noticed her right away. She was having a conversation with somebody. I could hear every word she said. Basically, if I’m Chandler, she’s Janice, just not so cartoonish. She is an annoying person. I just stood there in line checking out the bagels (I’m not using bagel as a euphimism for vagina here) and secretly hoping she wouldn’t notice me. She eventually did notice me as I waited for my bagel to toast. She called out my name a couple of times. Eventually I turned around said “hello” and made some excuse that I was late for work and high-tailed it out of there. If I was actually late for work, I wouldn’t have stopped for a coffee and bagel, now would I?

Yes, I behaved childishly. But the fact is I want nothing to do with the woman. But that was a decision made entirely by my brain. I wonder, is there a brain to penis blood ratio that would allow me to actually put up with a woman and still allow me to think clearly?

Weekend Recap: Who Put the ‘P’ in Pizza

Friday

I went out for dinner with the usual gang of idiots plus one. A friend of Ceano joined us. We ate at Dante’s in Thornhill. Although Ceano had only been to Dante’s once before, our waitress recognized her as the woman who ordered too much food. I know what you’re thinking, how does somebody not order too much food at Dante’s. Their portions are gargantuan. Well, Ceano always orders too much food, but knowing the portions at Dante’s didn’t just order too much food, she ordered enough food to feed twice as many people as were sitting at the table.

I showed some restraint. I ordered a mini pizza and only ate five of the eight slices.

After dinner we all went back to the condominium Ceano’s friend lives in. Her building has a ping pong table and pool tables and crap like that. It was nice to see Bob beat everyone in ping pong. He’s white and its always nice to see Asians lose at ping pong to some white boy.

Saturday

I went hanging out with Bob again. We mostly stayed at his place. He’s finally back in his condo. You can’t even tell the whole floor was flooded. However, the elevator that got shut down temporarily has a weird smell in it now.

We basically sat around eating more pizza and watching the Raptors game on TV. The Raptors played a great game against the surprisingly poor Chicago Bulls. I think the NBA’s Eastern Conference is going to be a lot stronger this year. About freakin’ time.

But before the game started, we watched parts of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: the Secret of the Ooze. Such a horrible movie. For those who don’t remember, that’s the one with Vanilla Ice.

Sunday

My mother had to go bowl off to makeup for the game she’ll miss when she goes on vacation. I went with her to pace her. I haven’t bowled in seven years. I used to be pretty good. I averaged around 170 when I played regularly. My average on Sunday in three games was only 123. And in the first or second game, I twisted my knee. It was weird. I bowled a strike and felt my knee give way underneath me as I let go of the ball. When I turned around to go back to the chairs, one of my mother’s bowling friends said “Nice going. Keep it up.” I had to reply “Don’t think so, I think I just blew my knee.”

After bowling, we picked up my brother and we went out for breakfast. There’s a new 50s & 60s style diner in Aurora. Its called the Mercury Diner. The pancakes there are smaller in area than at Wimpys or Galaxy but they were thicker. And they sprinkle a bit of icing sugar on top of the pancakes. The food was very good but the service could have been better. The place was pretty packed though. Maybe the staff there was just a little bit overwhelmed. Oh well. Definetely worth going back there if the Wimpys which is much closer has a long line like it did this Sunday.

At night, Juice came by and we played a game of Bubble Bobble. When we were much younger, the two of us spent an entire summer playing this game over and over again. It had been a long time since we played but the mood struck us and we played one game. When we played the game before as youngsters, we played on the PC version. But Sunday night, we played an emulation of the NES version. I don’t know exactly what I was doing, but I was on fire. Nothing could stop me. After Juice lost his last guy, I was left to fend for myself while on my last guy. I just started jumping headlong into the little enemy dudes and bubbled everyone. For a handful of levels, I was unstoppable; Juice just sat there, in awe of my bubbly awesomeness. Okay, the point I’m trying to make, Bubble Bobble is a really fun game and great way to piss away a Sunday night. And its one of those things you never quite forget, like riding a bike.

Recommended Listening: Bad Reputation by Freedy Johnston.