Day 176
Today was an odd duck day. This is how it went down:
After waking up and not going to breakfast I actually did some writing, until I spoke with my father. He sounded like he was on sedatives. I told him he should go to rehab, take a nap, or drink some coffee. He said that if he took a nap at that time he would sleep through the beginning of Oprah, so that was not an option. He said that he would rather just stay awake and catch Dr. Phil first. We used to tease him about spending his afternoons watching daytime TV and he would always say he didn't waste his time with it, but he has stopped denying it. Should I be weirded out or encourage his new hobby?
After we exhausted the Oprah talk he informed me that he had watched The Price is Right today as "the old postmaster here in town" was one of the contestants. He told me that the postmaster won 3 ladies winter coats and an entertainment center and only spun 60 on the wheel and didn't make it to the showcase showdown. Not only was the old postmaster on so was another guy on from my home state and this is what my father had to say about him, "So this other guy he was wearing a jacket with Route 66 on it, and Carey asked him if he had traveled on Route 66 to get to the show and the guy said, 'Yep, I sure did.'" Truly riveting. Now imagine this being spoken real slow and some of the words repeating and this is what it is like to talk to my father. You'd better sit somewhere comfortable, take a sedative, and bring snacks--this'll take awhile.
When I finally tore Dad off the phone I headed out to the candy shop. I stumbled in the door and was greeted by the clerk, as though we were old friends (apparently we are). She asked how and where I've been and told me that not much had changed and the stock was getting low and, "Oh, but we do have those liquorice Altoids you like." Later she saw me poking around the sucker island and said, "You are looking for sweet and sour Charms, right? I think we're out." I made my purchases and said goodbye and as I was walking up the street I realized that there was a reason for her treating me so friendly and being so attentive to my needs and it's not because she thinks I'm pretty or nice or she's just a good person. Then I started to remember all the memories I have accumulated at that candy store in the 4 1/2 months of me shopping there and realized: she does know me and is nice to me because I am a regular. Terrifying. Sure, it's nice to be loyal, but maybe one should draw the line of being loyal to a candy shop it really just leads to guilt and a dirty, sugary feeling.
This afternoon I wound up in a community centre next to a church. This was the official Ukrainian House. On the inside the place looks like a church hall except that it has kielbasa, perogies, and giant beers which makes it much better than a church hall. Plus there were fun old ladies with big saggy arms and old men who played guitar and wore funny shorts with cummberbunds and tiny children who ran around in circles and fell down. There was also a Canadian hockey game playing that ended with my favorite Canadian hockey fan saying, "I am glad they won, but they didn't deserve to win--they played like total shit tonight." It was during these moments that I learned who I really am: a Ukrainian trapped in an American body. Also, when I was buying my second giant beer I learned, according to the old lady selling me a beer ticket, "If you go to the bathroom and piss it all out, you can fit more in."
After the Ukrainian-fest (did I mention we got there at 3 so it was only like 7 or 8 when we left, totally smashed) we all headed out first to the liquor store and then to a friend's place. We got a little more drunk and ate nachos (which are now threatening to make a reappearance) and talked about third wave feminism (not so good according to a male expert present) and what our parents told us about sex ("get on that horse").
The best story of the night was told by the quiet, pretty boy in the group who used to work in a sex shop. He was part of the most Canadian robbery I've ever heard about. Apparently, a kid came by and asked for a pen and paper and wrote that he was sorry but he was in a bind and he would have to rob the store and if my friend didn't comply he would kill him. So my friend felt sorry for him and gave him the cash float which he had specifically asked for in the note making sure to tell the kid that there was much more money in the till instead of the float thinking this would help him out. The kid took just the float and coins spilled everywhere. Instead of taking this oportunity to do something about being robbed my friend offered to help pick them up. The kid picked them up himself while my friend watched and left. And, that was the robbery. No wonder there aren't tons of Canadian crime shows--if they were based on real life Canadian situations they'd be boring as all hell.
So after the party we decided to leave the party and go check out the sex shop up the block that advertised "25 cent Peep Shows." When we got there we realized that my friend who had worked in a sex shop was quite knowledgeable on vibrators. We also learned that the peep shows were actually a minimum of $3.25 to get in. We all agreed that this was outrageous (based on what I am not sure) and refused to pay. But we left with vibrators that the man in the shop seconded to be top of the line. I wonder what these men base all of their knowledge on.
Tip of the Day: Just because the giant, flashing neon sign says its 25 cents expect to pay a $3.25 minimum.
-Canadian Castaway
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