The Stroke

Claire seemed to be a pretty nice girl. She certainly was hot. Very hot! A gorgeous, tall brunette who seemed quite intelligent and would laugh at all my jokes.

Really though, I should have known that there would eventually be a problem. There's always a problem.

So back in late January, we began dating. Things seemed to be going fine and we began to see quite a bit of one another. Then suddenly one day 'out of the blue' Claire had the inexplicable urge to introduce me to her family.

I always hate this part of any relationship. I mean, I have a relationship with an individual not their entire family. Why are these other damn people suddenly being brought in to the situation.

Relationships are hard enough to maintain to begin with. I really hate this part of dating, although I have resolved myself to realize that it is one of the 'necessary evils'.

So that was the scenario. Although this is something I find pointless, I reluctantly agreed. Sadly, this was also when the trouble occured.

As we were driving over, Claire told me her mother was very 'suspicious' of men who dated her daughter, so she always wanted to meet them to give her approval. She also mentioned that her younger brother Billy was 'mentally challenged'.

Neither of these points were problems in my mind. I mean, everyone loves me: parents, kids, brothers, sisters and both the so called 'challenged' or the 'unchallenged'. I definitely have no problems there.

So there we were, all sitting around in the living room at her house. I had just met Claires' mother Joyce, who clearly seemed quite pleased that her daughter was dating me. She obviously realized immediately that I was the best thing her daughter had ever brought home to meet her and after some meaningless small talk, she headed out to the kitchen to get us all some tea & cookies.

As I patiently sat there waiting, I was sure that I heard some odd noises & then what sounded like a muffled moan coming from the closet just down the hallway.

Before I could question any of these proceedings, the closet door suddenly flung open and Billy emerged, looking rather dishevelled. He quickly looked around the room and came running directly over to Claire to greet her & give her a big hug.

Finally his gaze rested upon me and Claire immediately introduced us.

Billy looked to be around 18 or 19 years old and clearly was 'slow' - one could see that without even having any advance notice of the fact. However he came right over and shook my hand & greeted me politely.

"What was he doing in there?" I asked, pointing over to the closet.

I was really only trying to make idle conversation & pretend I was even remotely interested in any of the activities of her dysfunctional family. As I said before, I am dating her & really could care less about any of the other minor characters in her life.

"Oh, I'm guessing he was probably just wanking in there. That's his special place. The 'Wanking Room', we call it." Claire responded quite nonchalantly. "Have a good wank did ya?" she asked playfully, looking over at Billy.

He just laughed aloud like an idiot. It was one of those uncomfortable loud & empty laughs that you cannot explain. And then he suddenly jumped up, ran out of the room and disappeared up the stairs.


I sat there silently, looking around. Did all of this just happen?

Then I looked down at my hand, horrified. Looking over at Claire I yelled.

"You mean you let that bloody retard shake my hand after he was in that room beating off? Are you insane ?"

"He not's retarded, don't you call him that." Claire responded, sounding angry. "He's special."

I quickly got up and made a beeline to the washroom where, for the next five minutes, I scrubbed my hands desperately trying to forget what had just occurred.

I was furious. Whatever you want to call it, whether it be 'choking the chicken', 'pulling the goalie' or 'jackin the beanstalk', it is still bloody disgusting.

I returned to the living room where Claire was sitting. She was laughing. "He's harmless. I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it. It's natural."

Her statement sent me into a rage. I dont know if it was because of her dismissive attitude on the subject or the fact my hands were still hurting from the scalding hot water I had used to clean them. In any event I was still exasperated.

"When does jacking off in a closet where unsuspecting people hang up their coats suddenly become an acceptable behavior?" I demanded angrily. "Who does that - nobody! And then, on top of that, why are you people condoning this activity, you are all enablers. The way I see things is that it is your fault as much as his. Bloody retard."

"I told you not to call him that." Claire snapped back at me.

"I wasn't talking about him." I replied. "I was referring to you."

She just stared at me in silence. Suddenly she did not look that gorgeous or hot to me at all anymore. Just pathetic & disgusting.

I turned around and carefully grabbed my coat from the closet and headed towards the front door.

"Where are you going, Mom will be back here with our tea in a minute?" Claire asked, looking completely baffled.

"To the drycleaners and then out to the pub - without you." I replied, as I closed the door behind me and left.

A couple days later I picked up my coat from the drycleaners but could not bear to even put it on. It now repulsed me. I dropped it into the Salvation Army clothing donation bin at the mall, still with its plastic drycleaning cover on it.

It's now a few months later and I still often think about her and miss her. We had some really good times together.

The coat I mean, not the girl. Definitely not the girl.

Life's funny that way.

Ain't Talkin' Bout Love

As irrational as it may sound, even though I am getting older in years, I still find it as difficult now to purchase condoms as I did many years ago when I was a teenager.

You all know what I'm taking about; johnnies, rubbers, prophylactics, sheaths, love socks, Willie warmers, Love gloves....(ok, I'm done) - but by whatever name you call it, I still find it a rather embarrassing venture whenever I need to buy these things.

I mean, I'd like to think that I am a responsible guy, so I buy them fairly regularly - I am just saying it is a little difficult to make the purchase. No idea why. It just is not an easy thing to do as the minute you take the package up to the counter, the sales clerk knows exactly what your future plans are, which I admit is far too personal for me.

So now when I buy these things, I always make it a point to go to a pharmacy or drug store which is no where close to my place and definitely no where even remotely close to my parents place. I mean, Damn, that has to be common sense to everyone.

Well this plan has worked relatively well for me up until last week when I went into this new drug store in the mall on the other end of town. I was actually in the mall shopping for a new suit when I realized it was also the perfect time to purchase another box of condoms.

Although I did not have any immediate plans for using these, it is always good to have them on hand in the event something comes 'up', so to speak. HAHA!!

Anyway, as I discretely grabbed the box off the shelf and hurried to the checkout counter, I suddenly realized the store had become rather busy with a large number of loud, giggling teenage girls and various other customers.

I really wanted to make a fast purchase and leave - for obvious reasons, but it definitely was not my lucky day as there was now a line-up at the counter.

A cold chill suddenly went down my spine as I heard my name being called and looked up and saw old Mrs. Cray waving at me from behind the counter. She apparently was the cashier here. Damn!

This was definitely not good as I had broke up with her daughter Leanne a couple years ago and had hoped I would never see the likes of any of that family again. I never had any feelings for Leanne, she had only been a temporary fling, as they call it. Just killing time at the time, was what it was. But really in the grand scheme of things, no harm done. And anyway, I think that whole family were all a bit unstable.

I honestly thought old Mrs. Cray would be in some nuthouse by now. She was going a bit funny years ago if I recall correctly. Leanne had told me that if her mother did not take her pills regularly, she would be prone to uncontrolled outbursts and outlandish remarks. I am not sure if it was true about the pills but I do know first hand she did have many embarrassing outbursts. I just prayed that today I would not be present to see another one.

I finally reached the front of the line and uneasily placed my box of condoms on the counter, hoping to make a hasty transaction and exit. Unfortunately this was not to be as crazy old Mrs. Cray seemed to want to have a little chat.

As the line behind me was beginning to grow longer, the old hag obliviously babbled on and on about her meaningless life as she painstakingly rang in my purchase. I politely nodded and smiled throughout the ordeal hoping this embarrassment would soon be over.

Then suddenly the group of teenage girls in the line behind me must have noticed what I was buying and started to snicker & comment about it and, as I turned around to look, I noticed there were two other people in line, all now apparently observing my private purchase.

As I was momentarily distracted, I heard old Mrs. Cray suddenly bellow out "These things are far, far too big for you. Let me find you something smaller - much smaller!"

I whirled around to see the old lady now walking away from behind the counter, my box of condoms in her hand. I couldn't believe it!

The girls in the line were now openly laughing out loud as I am sure my face must have turned ten shades of beet red. Even a distinguished looking businessman in the line was snickering at my horrific predicament.

I was now not only mad, I was enraged. Who the hell was this crazy old biddy to embarrass me with her blatant dirty lies - just because I dropped her daughter like a bad habit years ago?? Senile & vindictive old hag!

About a minute later (which seemed to me more like an hour, at least) the old lady finally returned.

"There you go" Mrs. Cray announced, handing me a bag. "I knew I saw some of those small bags sitting in the back. Sorry for the delay. And please say hello to your mother for me."

I then suddenly realized that the old woman was talking about the size of the bags she had at the counter and not my condoms. Now I felt a bit foolish for being so paranoid.

Actually, it was lucky for her that I had realized this misunderstanding before I began yelling at the old crone. I thought it best to leave the store before any more embarrassment & confusion on either side could occur.

"Thank you" I quickly responded; now slowly regaining my composure. "And say HI to Leanne for me."

The old woman unexpectedly stopped smiling and had a strange look in her eye. It seemed like her entire demeanour had suddenly changed.

"I certainly will NOT say hi to her from you." Mrs. Cray snarled, her face now twisted. "You broke my poor girls heart years ago and now you think you can just waltz back to her with your new box of prophylactics & suave manner trying to win her back. I don't think so! You've caused her enough damage. She is over you, has been for years, you filthy man! You leave her be! Call one of your hussies if you want to use those things!"

My jaw must have dropped to the floor as I had honestly not seen this unprovoked and complete insane verbal attack coming whatsoever. This woman was definitely mental.

I walked towards the exit of the store, shocked and now once again completely embarrassed, hearing the teenage girls continue cackling and laughing hysterically.

As I turned around, one suddenly yelled out 'WANKER' after me. Their laughter now erupted even louder than before.

I kept walking.

As I said earlier, I really hate buying condoms.

Pass the Dutchie

I probably should have realized immediately that this past Sunday was not going to be the usual quiet & laid-back Sunday that I traditionally know and enjoy.

Unfortunately when my father telephoned me & asked if I would drop over a couple hours earlier than I usually do for Sunday dinner as he needed my advice on a pressing matter, I was still a little groggy from the many rum & cokes I had indulged in the night before. I actually agreed without realizing my dad never wants my advice on any subject or matter, neither pressing or otherwise.

Just as I walked into my folks kitchen a few hours later I overheard Pete, my fathers elderly & eccentric good friend stating "I don't know Simon, it's hard to tell if it looks like the picture from the internet or not, but it looks damn close."

Dad quickly looked up as I sat down and stated "Well it's about time you got here boy. Me & old Pete here have finally got the evidence we need to get those 'Dirty, Dope-smoking Hippies' to be arrested."

Of course I realized right away that Dad was referring to the neighbours who have been renting the house next door to him for the past few months. Just because they have had one mildly loud party and dress somewhat 'alternatively', my father immediately branded them as being both 'Dirty Hippies' and 'No Good Long Hairs.'

I should probably also point out that my father pretty much hates everyone in general, usually without any real actual reason. So if there is even the slightest of provocation, such as loud music next door to upset him, you are immediately on his personal 'I Hate You' list. A growing list which I estimate to probably include almost every neighbour within a 5-block radius.

I took a deep breath as I was still not really in the mood to listen to a two-hour rant about the neighbours, so I figured the best action was to try and calm Dad down and change the subject. Regrettably, before I could even begin, Dad continued.

"Thought they could out-fox me." Dad began, a snarl now on his face. "Well they don't know who they're dealing with. Let me tell you! I was up at 6 AM today and reached through the fence to get a few leaves off that dope they're growing. Here, have a look at this boy. It's dope if I ever saw it."

I don't believe Dad had actually 'ever saw it' previously however before I could point out that small fact, Dad tossed some dried up old leaf down, landing squarely on the kitchen table in front of me.

I looked at the leaf, picked it up and smelled it. It really didn't look like weed to me. Maybe 'A weed', but certainly not marijuana that my father claims it to be.


"I don't think this is pot." I advised, looking over at Dad. "It looks more like some kind of weed or a vegetable leaf of some sort. I really have no idea. Have you asked Mom what it is, she is really very knowledgeable on almost any type of plant."

"Nonsense" Dad responded angrily. "We don't need your mother involved in any of this. Pete here just looked it up on that internet and also I've observed those damn 'long-hairs' next door watering and molly coddling these plants every day. They spend way too much time and attention on these plants from what I've seen. I've called Joe Barnes to drop over and confirm my suspicions. He will be over later today after his granddaughter's piano recital. It's all I need to get rid of these damn neighbours once and for all."

Joe Barnes of course is another one of my fathers somewhat kooky friends who unfortunately tends to indulge my Dad in these type of unfounded and baseless activities. He was an RCMP officer for years prior to his retirement a couple years back. Between my father, Pete and Joe Barnes pretty much everyone in the neighbourhood has been under suspicion for one thing or another over the past few years.

The more I heard of this story, the more ridiculous it truly sounded. I really needed to bring some sense of normalcy to the entire event before it got even more out of hand.

"So, Dad. Let me get this straight." I announced sarcastically. "Just to summarize, you woke up early this morning, stole some plant leaves from your neighbours back garden, compared them to a random picture on the internet and now have called in some old ex-cop to verify that this is marijuana. What is the point of this lunacy ?

"The point!" Dad barked. "The point, you damn fool, is to get those dope-smoking hippies out of this neighbourhood and hopefully behind bars where they belong. They have been nothing but a nuisance since the day they moved in next door."

Seeing that my elderly father was becoming more agitated by the minute, I tried to calm things down by mentioning Mom.

"Mom seems to get along with them pretty well." I advised, in a placid tone. "In fact she is outside talking to them just as I came in a couple of minutes ago."

"That's the problem with your mother, boy." Dad responded. "She gets on well with everyone. Too giving and far too nice a person."

"Well it's safe to say you don't have that problem as well Dad." I replied, immediately regretting the words as I spoke them aloud.

Before Dad could respond into a string of obscenities in my direction, Mom thankfully appeared in the kitchen doorway and interrupted our conversation.

"Simon!" She exclaimed sharply. "Whatever have you done this time? I was just talking with Kathy & Ray from next door and they mentioned that they thought they saw you taking a plant from their little garden from through the fence this morning. They were quite embarrassed to even mention it to me. So let's hear your side. Come on, out with it, what are you up to?"

Dad had a very determined and even somewhat pleased expression on his face. He obviously wanted to brag further about his great investigative work from earlier in the day.

"I was going to tell you" Dad began. "Just waiting for Joe Barnes to formally confirm things however it looks like that bunch next door are growing 'the dope'. Finally got all the proof right here."

Dad once again produced the leaves he had stolen earlier in the day, this time now waving them in the air like a flag.

Mom quickly reached out and grabbed the leaves and examined them for maybe 5 seconds. She then threw them back down on the table.

"Tomato plant leaves!" Mom announced harshly. "What you have there are leaves from a tomato plant. Any fool with even half a brain could tell that just by looking at them. If you had taken even a brief second to open up one of my gardening books in the other room, you would have realized that."

Dad quickly looked down at the leaves and then over at Mom and then over at Pete, who wisely exited the kitchen and headed downstairs realizing that there was more to come. He was right.

"Simon!" Mom began, staring directly at Dad. "Over the years you have continually slandered, insulted and alienated every neighbour who has moved into that house next door, usually without any just cause nor reason. I have no idea what your problem is and who if anyone, could live up to the imaginary & lofty standards you seem to have set for being a neighbour to you. Honestly, I cannot imagine anyone who would even want to live there and cope with your anti-social attitude, day in and day out."

"Kathy & Ray are a lovely couple, they own a small health food store and grow a few of their own fruits & vegetables out in the back garden. That is what you picked this morning. Tomato plant leaves."

Dad remained quiet, looking more like a scolded schoolboy than anything else. For the first time today he seemed completely speechless.

"After observing your bizarre actions this morning, Kathy and Ray sent this bag of tomatoes over for you, Simon." Mom continued as she thrust a small paper bag towards my father. "They thought you wanted to try a freshly grown tomato. It was so embarrassing for all of us."

Dad, still remaining absolutely silent, opened the bag slowly and peered inside for a moment.

"Cheeky Bastards" is all Dad muttered as he threw the bag down on the kitchen chair and stormed out of the room.

"Your father really does need a hobby." Mom sighed aloud, as she picked up the bag of tomatoes and placed them gently on the counter.

Touch of Grey

I often wonder how I get myself involved in some of these situations.

Just as I arrived over at my folks place on Sunday afternoon and walked in the front door, my Dad suddenly clicked off his beloved television and exclaimed "There you are boy, I've been waiting for you. Glad you finally showed up."

That statement in itself should have set off warning bells in my head as firstly, my father never turns the TV off for anyone who arrives and secondly, he rarely, if ever, exclaims a gladness to see anyone. Usually he expresses quite the opposite.

My initial reaction was to look behind me to see who Dad was talking to. It certainly couldn't be me. Satisfied that no one else was following, I cautiously entered the living room.

"I'm actually early for Sunday dinner, Dad." I hesitantly responded. "It's only 3 PM and Mom serves dinner at 6."

"Oh yes, dinner." Dad replied, as if he suddenly remembered why I was there. "Glad you could make it. I just have a little errand for you to do before then. I told old Frank Mason that you would 'pop over' and set up his email on his new computer he just bought. Got a real good deal on the thing however he has no idea how to get the damn email to work."

"What did you tell him that for?" I protested. "The last thing I want to do on my day off is go over to some crazy 'old coots' house and set up his computer. I don't even know much about these things."

"Nonsense" Dad replied, dismissing my comment with the wave of a hand. "You work with computers all day, of course you know how. Anyway this will only take you a second and it will really help out old Frank."

As we both walked down the street towards Frank Mason's house I reminded my father that although I work with computers all day, I am a testing consultant and really don't know much about computer installs & set-ups and attempted to discourage him "loaning me out" in future to help any of his elderly buddies with their home computers issues.

When we arrived, we were greeted at the door by the old widow Mrs. McMasters, the neighbourhood crone who does housekeeping duties for him a couple days a week.

I always remember her growing up as a nasty old lady who would angrily yell at all the kids to stay off of her lawn and go play elsewhere. Although that was many years ago, I still remember it clearly and never could stand the 'fat old bat' as a result of this.

She looked at both my Dad and myself and ushered us inside while grunting what sounded to be a painstaking greeting of "Hello".

Frank showed me where the computer was and as he turned it on he explained that he has everything working except his email, which he really needs since, as he put it "I don't get around and about so much at my age anymore. So I need my email to keep it touch."

I told him it probably just needs to be installed and configured correctly and should only take me a few minutes to complete.

With that he left me alone in the room while he went to have a quick beer with my Dad, who was sitting in the kitchen chatting with the vile Mrs. McMasters.

As the email program was installing, I sat there bored out of my mind, just wanting to get this over with and get out. I then suddenly noticed on the computer desktop that Frank had a few .jpg files (Picture files) entitled Xmas1 through Xmas12.

As a rule I really hate seeing other peoples photographs however being completely bored I mindlessly clicked on Xmas1, more just to pass the time then any actual real interest.

Now before I proceed any further here, let me tell you that in hindsight this was a huge mistake and I strongly recommend anyone ever considering looking at something on a computer you are unfamiliar with, to avoid it at all costs. I certainly wish I had.

Xmas1 opened and my jaw almost dropped to the floor as it was a picture of the rotund Mrs. McMasters, standing in front of Frank's Christmas tree in his living room, dressed only in her underwear & a Santa hat!

I quickly closed the picture, completely aghast at what I had just seen. However for some unknown reason and as shocked and disgusted as I was by this photograph, I went ahead and double clicked on Xmas2.

AAAAHHH! This one was even worse! Old lady McMasters was posing with a candy cane in her mouth, displaying a naked shoulder to the camera and winking.

I was thankful that I had not had my dinner as yet as I almost threw up when I saw this sickening image and quickly closed the picture. I had seen enough, actually I had seen way more than enough. I now felt quite ill.

I just sat there for a moment, trying to calm my nerves and attempt to get these horrible pictures out of my mind. Apparently the widow McMasters was not only doing old Franks' housekeeping, she was also doing 'old Frank'! AAAAHHH!

Finally the install had completed and I nervously typed in all the information from the internet provider and then went to get Frank to sign in and see if it worked.


"You look a little pale." Frank commented as he came into the room. "Are you feeling ok?"

"I'll be fine, thanks." I responded, lying through my teeth. "Just suddenly have an upset stomach is all."

Frank sat down at his computer and logged in successfully. His mail started showing up in the inbox and he seemed extremely pleased, thanking me repeatedly.

I then noticed he had tons of spam coming into his inbox for sweepstakes and Viagra advertising, etc.

"If you want me to set up some junk mail filters to get rid of that spam, I can easily do that for you." I offered, being the helpful individual that I am.

"Spam, what spam?" Frank replied, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Those adverts." I responded pointing to one. "Like this one, selling Viagra, for example."

"Well that's not spam." Frank advised without hesitation. "I buy that over the internet all the time. It is a competitive market so I get it from a number of different places."

Once again I stood there frozen and looking stunned. All I could think of is "How do I get myself involved in these situations?"

Frank must have noticed my expression as he started to laugh out loud.

"Don't looked so shocked, appearances can be deceiving." Frank continued. "Just because there's snow on the roof doesn't mean there's not a fire in the furnace."

A few minutes later as Dad and me were walking home, Dad thanked me again for helping out and then I got him to promise again to never volunteer me again to his buddies.

Dad then leaned over to me and lowering his voice said "I shouldn't be telling you this but 'word on the street' is that Frank and the widow McMasters are 'carrying on' together."

"Street? What street?" I asked looking over at my father. "Who are you, Perry Mason? Don't you just mean the neighbourhood gossip? Why not just say it like that ?"

"I'm just telling you what I heard, boy." Dad responded. "Not sure if it's true or not though. No one is."

"Well Dad" I began, a little hesitant. "I can confirm that it is true, without doubt."

"How would you know, I just mentioned it?" Dad replied.

"Stuff, Dad. I saw stuff on that computer." I responded, my voice quivering as I recalled what I had just observed. "Horrible & repulsive images as well as emails for Viagra. It was terrible. I just need to forget about it."

Dad, of course, would not let the topic drop until I had given him a full & complete disclosure of the dreadful images that I had seen.

"HA" Dad exclaimed aloud, slapping me on the back. "I knew it. I knew those two were up to something. Good work, boy!"

Dad then continued.

"When I asked old Frank why he didn't come over to our annual open house earlier this week on Christmas Eve, he replied that he took a pill and made an early evening of it. I just assumed he had meant one of his heart pills.

Turns out it was more likely he took one of those little blue Viagra pills and made an early evening of it. HAHA!! Good for him, that crafty old hound!"

It must be an 'age gap thing' since as much as I wanted to forget and erase the horrific images I saw today from my mind, my Dad seemed to find these both entertaining and a source of humour.

"Ok, lets get a move on home." Dad suddenly ordered, picking up the pace. "I want to share this story with your mother and hopefully eat dinner, I'm famished."

"That's odd." I thought to myself as I increased my speed. "Dad's hungry and I have completely lost my appetite for the rest of the day."

We definitely look at life differently at times.

White Christmas

So I was over at my sisters one evening last week as we are trying to decide what to buy our parents for a Christmas gift this year.

I know you are probably quite surprised at reading this, as I am being so proactive and thinking about shopping prior to my typical shopping spree usually held on the night before Christmas.

Well not really. Since my sister and myself disagree on almost everything in life, you can well imagine how long this pain-staking process actually takes, so we have started our talks early enough so by the 24th we may have a vague idea that we both agree on (in principle) as to actually what to buy!

As our negotiations were continuing, I noticed that my 8-year-old nephew Mikey was in a really bad mood this evening, so I asked Sis what was up.

"He got into a fight with his best friend Tony" Sis replied, raising her voice so Mikey could hear. "And now they aren't even talking. But he better smarten up quick and get his hockey bag ready as Grandpa will be here shortly to take you to your hockey game."

"Why are you fighting with your best friend, Mikey?" I asked kneeling down to help him put his gear in the bag.

"Because Tony is stupid." Mikey responded, in a very 'matter of fact' tone. "He says Santa Claus is black, just because Tony is and that all those movies and pictures showing him as a old white man are wrong. Even his Dad told him that, he said."

I quickly finished putting his equipment in the bag and zipped in up, hoping that he would not ask me the obvious. But of course, he did.

"So uncle" Mikey began, looking up at me. "Santa is white, right ? Everyone knows that. He's not black is he?"

I really didn't have a clue how to even begin to respond to this question. I was completely stumped and was actually considering faking a quick heart attack in order just to get out of answering my 8-year-old nephews question.

"Uh, Umm" I began, stumbling over my words. "You know Mikey, that is a good question. A very good question.... Now I think of it, I really don't know."

I then looked over at my sister, hoping for a little help in answering her childs question. But she just stood there, completely useless. She had that stupid blank look on her face, the usual one she is known so well for.

The silence in the room was deafening. Finally, I realized that I had to respond with something.

"Well I must admit, I would be a little nervous if I saw a black man on my roof in the middle of the night carrying a large bag and peering down my chimney. HAHA." I blurted out, having absolutely no idea what else to say but a bad joke.

Mikey just stood there silently, waiting for me to get around to his question.

Sis then finally spoke up, but not in a nice way.

"You're an idiot" She said looking over at me. "Would you feel any better if it was an old white dude on the roof? I doubt it. Anyway, you would never know. Aren't you usually passed out by midnight?"

She then looked over at Mikey and replied.

"I already told you Mikey that it doesn't matter what colour a person is on the outside. It's on the inside that counts. You should know that by now."

But Mikey was not going to be put off without a proper answer to his question. He had a very determined look on his face.

"So neither of you know what colour Santa is, right?" He asked staring at both of us, waiting for a response that was not coming anytime soon.

"That's ok" Mikey finally responded. "I'll ask Grandpa, he knows everything."

Both my sister and myself looked at each other briefly, we each had the same look of horror in our eyes. Asking our father such a question was never a good idea. The randomness and bluntness of some of his responses, especially to these kinds of questions, was strongly discouraged to say the least.


Before we could gently suggest to Mikey not to bother his Grandpa with such a question, the back door suddenly flew open and in walked my father.

"Hmmm, the whole bloody family looks like they're here. Is your old mother hiding in one of the back rooms as well?" Dad blurted out, cackling aloud.

"Hi Grandpa" Mikey yelled out. "I'm all ready to go."

"Great Mikey." Dad responded. "Let's get going. We don't want to interrupt the 'Meeting of the minds' that is going on here in the kitchen. My head hurts just looking
at those two."

And with that, Dad cackled once again at his own joke and then picked up Mikey's hockey bag and they both disappeared into the night, leaving Sis and myself to just shake our heads over his usual comments.

That was pretty much the end of things until last Sunday when we were all over at my folks place for the regular family dinner. I noticed Mikey was in much better spirits and he had told me that he had gone to a movie that afternoon with his 'best friend' Tony.

"So you guys aren't fighting anymore about the colour of Santa Claus?" I asked.

"Nope" Mikey responded. "Grandpa explained everything to me last week. He is the smartest man in the world."

"That guy?" I asked incredulously, gesturing with my thumb over to my father who was out of earshot & sitting in front of the TV, shaking his fist and yelling "Damn Commies" at the newsman on the screen."

"What did he tell you?" I asked, as both Sis and myself moved our chairs closer to hear what horrible things he had undoubtedly been told by our Dad.

Mikey seemed to enjoy having this unexpected audience and our undivided attention. He too also pulled his chair closer to both of ours and then lowered his voice, clearly for dramatic effect.

"Well it is a mystery to everyone." Mikey began. "Grandpa said that because Santa needs to go all over the world in only one night, he has to move so fast that no one has ever even seen him for real. He drops off his presents at each house faster than light. And because he goes to all the countries in the world, he is also called different names than Santa Claus too. Where Grandpa is from in Scotland, they called him Father Christmas when Grandpa was a little boy. Let me show you."

Mikey than stood up and then gesturing for us to follow him, he headed towards my Dad's office where the computer is.

He went to the web page of Wikipedia for Santa Claus that showed the history and different names for Santa around the world. You can see it HERE

"So because he goes all over the world so fast and gives presents to all the kids in all countries, everyone thinks he looks like them." Mikey continued, sounding like a university professor. "So really he is not just one colour but every colour. Grandpa taught me that."

Both Sis and myself were speechless at the wisdom that Mikey now possessed. We were both shocked & surprised at what our father had taught him.

After Mikey left the room to go help my Mom with setting the table for dinner, Sis looked over at me.

"I never thought Dad would give Mikey such a sweet and modern response to his question." Sis observed.

"I never thought Dad even knew what a Wiki was." I responded. "He surprises me more and more each day."

"Mom says he was swearing & fighting with the toaster this morning for a half an hour, trying to get his Pop Tart out of it. She thinks he broke it." Sis replied.

"Yeah, maybe he doesn't surprise me that much." I responded laughing. "That's more like the Dad we know."

I'll Find Another

Dick (Pronunciation: \'dik\) - a contemptible person that no one likes due to their asinine & self-serving behaviour. Sometimes also referred to as a Dickhead.

---

I am a man who enjoys surfing the net and reading blogs that will either entertain or educate me on pretty much any topic around, depending on my current mood.

As I was surfing the internet over a few Guinness the other day, I got to thinking about some of the things which I come across that annoys me on a regular basis when I visit some blogs.

Now I definitely don't want anyone reading this to think that I am claiming to be some kind of expert in blogging, far from it. My regular readers will vouch for me on that point as I can barely throw a few orderly & rational words together each week to make up a sober and coherent entry.

No this is a list of things, which I have undoubtedly written about in the past, that some bloggers continue to do intentionally and without shame, either just to annoy their visitors or because they are Dicks.

Let me know if I missed any in my list below.


Signs to tell that you may just be a Dick:

• If I have to scroll down your entire site to the very bottom of the page just to click on your stupid EC widget, you may just be a Dick. We all know I'm way too lazy for such crap.
• If music or video starts up automatically when I arrive on your site. Actually I am wrong here, there is no 'may' in this one, you definitely ARE a Dick.
• If you have a sign on your site pleading for people to comment on your posts like a common beggar on the street. People hate needy whiners. They also hate Dicks.
• If you have more advertisements on your blog then you have actual real content. You're not fooling anyone so just open up a store and get off the internet, Dick.
• If you have no spell checking. Whether English is your first language or not, the most annoying thing to read is a blog riddled with spelling errors. You lose all credibility. So maybe find time to download a spell checker Dick.
• If you have a 'Make Money Fast secrets' blog. I'll break the news to you here & now. There is no such thing, otherwise the Dick who was writing it would be making money instead of writing to us about it. The only reason they are writing is undoubtedly to recruit you to do something to make them even more money.
• If you are begging on your site for donations, even in the guise of buying you a beer or a coffee. I'll give you a tip right now - stop begging like a dog at the table, Dick.
• If you give someone an award which is nothing more than a internet chain letter by asking people to pass it on to 7 million other people. This is simply ridiculous and you're a Dick.
• If you have fake contests. Holding a contest that requires the entrant to do multiple steps such as: fill out forms, creating a post about your crappy contest, recruiting 5 friends, comment on the contest, displaying logos, etc. Either you want to give something away or you don't. Don't be a Dick and make it simple
• If you have on your blog a sea of clutter of widgets, ads, weather, pictures and everything else. Try and save a little space for actual writing content because after all, that is what a blog is about - Dick!

And last but not least, if you are someone who clearly knows nothing at all & writes a blog entry calling other people Dicks, there is a pretty good chance that you too may also be a Dick!

Cheers!

Picture's of You

I was over at my parent's house this past Sunday for the usual weekly gathering for dinner. Dad and myself were sitting at the kitchen table casually reading the Sunday paper and Mom was preparing a nice turkey dinner. It was one of those enjoyable, relaxing and peaceful afternoons that I usually look forward to after a long & hard week.

Dad suddenly broke the silence by remarking on a photograph in the section of newspaper he was reading. Apparently there was a good picture of the new female candidate running to be Vice-President.

"She looks to be a very handsome woman." Dad advised, holding up the picture in the newspaper.

"Yes, she's a real MILF " I exclaimed aloud, momentarily forgetting that I was both in the same room and also talking to my elderly parents.

MILF?  What's a MILF?   Dad enquired curiously, putting down his evening paper and folding it carefully back up. "I don't think I have ever heard this expression before."

I am by nature a very honest individual who rarely lies, however I quickly realized that both my Mom and Dad were probably not the best audience to give a complete & accurate definition of this term to. (although you can find it here from Urban dictionary - Click Here).

No, that really would not go over well so I needed to think fast and come up with a somewhat 'more appropriate' and less offensive definition to answer my unsuspecting fathers' inquiry.

Well that stands for 'Modern, Intelligent, Likable Female', it is one of those newer acronyms that has creeped into our everyday language." I responded sounding rather pleased with myself over my quick-thinking and rather excellent response.

"I like that." Mom suddenly interjected to both Dad's & my surprise. We were not even aware she was listening to our conversation.

"I will certainly remember this new word, MILF." Mom announced proudly. "This is a good word for women rights in this day & age - MILF." she repeated again aloud, as I cringed as she said it.

"You know" Mom continued. "Now I think of it, we have a lot of MILF's down at the church. You should really participate a little bit more and meet these wonderful girls. You never know what they could teach you and maybe you would hit it off with one of them."

"One of the problems in this world is generations don't speak with each other. Learning the younger peoples phrases will help bridge this." Mom explained.

I was definitely starting to regret my 'made up definition' of this term, as Mom seemed to be blurting it out in almost every second sentence she spoke.

"Mary Thompson" Mom began. "Now, there's a real MILF for you, if I ever met one. She's younger than me, only 68 years old I think, but a real modern women, oh sorry, a real MILF if I ever knew one."

I almost vomited on the spot thinking of my mothers aged friend Mary Thompson and the word MILF being used in the same sentence. The imagery alone was horrible. I needed to sit down and steer this revolting conversation as far away from where we were that I could.

Just then my stupid, trouble-making & nosey sister arrived and bounded into the kitchen in her usual 'overly dramatic & attention-seeking' manner.

"So what am I missing?" Sis asked in her annoying and curious tone. "What are you guys all talking about so interestingly?"

Before I could reply and attempt to change the subject, my Mother piped in quickly.

"We were just listing all the MILF's we know. Your brother introduced us to this new modern slang word which I had never heard before."

Sis briefly looked at me with an evil and twisted grin on her face. A small chill went down my spine, as I knew she potentially could cause me some trouble over this unfortunate misunderstanding I had gotten myself in. Luckily for me I don't think she was listening too closely as she immediately changed the subject to whatever meaningless topic was on her little mind this afternoon.

"Dad" Sis asked, suddenly sounding sickeningly sweet. "I uploaded all the pictures of you and Mom and the kids onto our web page if you would like to see them. It took me most of the morning. Would you like to turn on your computer and have a look?"

With that both Dad and Sis disappeared into his computer room and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief for dodging yet another bullet in life.

About 5 minutes or so later I suddenly heard Dad bellowing out loud from the other room "Boy, you better get yourself in here!"

I slowly put down Dad's newspaper and went into the computer room assuming I was needed to resolve yet another one of his many 'issues' with the 'Damn PC', as he often put it.

As I entered the room I immediately noticed the web site of "Urban Dictionary" open and on it was the dictionary definitions for the word 'MILF' (it was the same page as I indicated at the beginning of this entry).


Dad had a look of disgust on his face and my stupid Sister was grinning from ear to ear. Obviously this all was her doings.

"It seems like the definition for this word you have told us about is a little different than what I am reading." Dad announced, impatiently tapping his index finger on the computer screen. "Do you have an explanation?"

I knew once again I needed to think fast otherwise I would be in even more trouble with Dad than I already apparently was. I leaned closer to the screen and pretended to read the definitions.

"Hmmph" I began slowly, feigning outrage. "This is disgusting, Dad. I am as shocked as you are by this definition. I had no idea. It always meant 'Modern, Intelligent, Likable Female' from my understanding. It seems my dear sister here is a little bit more current with these types of filthy and degrading terms than I am. In fact, I bet it is probably her generation that changed the meaning of this word."

Before Dad could respond to my exceptionally good speech, Sis interrupted by stating in a very whiney tone "What do you mean by 'my generation'? I am only 1 year younger than you are, you pig!"

Dad quickly jumped in and announced "I am not looking for an apology or anything else from you boy. All I want from you is to march back into that kitchen and make sure your poor Mother stops using that dirty word. If she starts saying it all over town as frequently as she has been in the past half hour, we will be run out of town for indecency. Now get back in there and do the right thing or I'll go do it on your behalf."

As I turned around to leave the room & go tell Mom, Sis threw my fathers foam stress ball at me, hitting me in the back of the head. "Pig" she called out once again towards me, the evil and twisted grin back on her horrible, fat face.

I both love and hate my sister on different days throughout my lifetime. Today unfortunately for me was a 'hate day'. Showing Dad that stupid definition, only causes me grief, which was obviously her mean & evil intent. One day I will get even with her for this.

I returned to the kitchen as Mom was just putting the turkey back in the over. We would be eating in about 45 minutes she announced to me. Then she asked me just a horrible, horrible question.

"Do you think your sister is a MILF, dear?" She asked innocently still believing my original definition to be correct. I realized at this point that Dad was right and I really needed to put an end to all this quickly.

"Mom" I began. "I just found out that this word does not mean what I thought it did. You better not use it any more."

"Whatever does it mean, dear? It certainly can't be that bad?" Mom responded, now giving me her full attention.

"Well it is quite bad and really very degrading to women, Mom" I replied. "Apparently Sis is very knowledgeable with this vile term and showed us on the computer what it meant. She seems to know all these kinds of words. I think she probably uses them all so often each day, this is why she is so familiar with them. I personally was horrified when she showed us, but it seems the word now has a different meaning then what I thought it had from my day."

"Well thank you for telling me, Son." Mom replied. "If it is a term which is degrading to women I am not even interested in knowing what it means. I don't go for that kind of stuff."

Mom then continued.

"But if the meaning has changed in the last few years, you can't be blamed." Mom advised in her normal soothing tone. "There are lots of words that have had their meanings change over the years. Like the word 'Tramp' use to mean a beggar or Hobo, and the word 'gay' well that just meant that one was happy or carefree. These words have much different meanings now as you know. So don't blame yourself for getting mixed up. I often wish we were back in the old days, they were much less complicated times than today."

As Mom said these last sentences aloud, a brilliant idea entered my head. I would not need to wait another day to get even with my trouble-making sister, payback would be much more immediate - it would be now.

About a minute later Sis came into the kitchen obviously hoping to find me being scolded by Mom over the incident however when she heard us talking quietly, she rudely interrupted.

"What are you two talking about?" She so crudely asked. It was the perfect opening line to set my plan in motion.

"We were just talking about the 'old days' is all. It wouldn't interest you." I replied to her dryly. "I was about to tell Mom that I missed the old days too, when I was just so young and gay."

I put emphasis on the last word; just to make sure Sis heard it correctly. I then just sat back in my chair, waiting for her predictable reaction. It took only seconds.

Sis burst out laughing hysterically "HA, HA, HA....gay is right.....HA, HA. You gay...HAHA"

"See Mom" I yelled out, pointing an accusing finger at Sis who was still laughing. "I told you she knows all these disgusting words and phrases. Obviously from using them so frequently. A person cannot even talk around her without her twisting the meaning of what they are saying. We can't talk around her. I'm not saying another word."

Finally Sis stopped laughing as she saw our Mother's angry expression and slowly realized that I was trying to get her in trouble.

"Shut up, you Damn Pig" she spat towards me, but her defence was far too little, too late.

"See Mom" I continued. "She cannot even sit here without using some kind of hateful words. She is ruining English for all of us!"

I then sat back down at the kitchen table and watched as Mom began to lecture & reprimand Sis.

"Really for a grown up woman with two young children you should talk more sensible." Mom chastised. "Laughing at words like a juvenile. It's not right. You know quite well what your brother meant. You should be more like him and more responsible."

"That went well." I thought to myself after their talk had finally concluded. Sis had silently skulked out of the kitchen like a beaten & scalded dog, disappearing into the front room and Mom went back to preparing our big dinner.

The room was now once again quiet and peaceful. The aroma of fresh cooked turkey, stuffing and potatoes filled the air.

This has turned out to be a really great afternoon.

I then opened Dad's newspaper again, turned to the political news and photos, and continued to read more about the MILF.

Bingo

As I stood in the long line-up waiting to get up to the cashier, I silently cursed myself for going shopping at lunch time on a Monday afternoon.

My mind thought back to the events of yesterday, when Mom invited the entire family over to their place for what she termed as a "little surprise."

As a rule whenever my mother invites us all over and it isn't specifically for a holiday or family meal, there is always some secret agenda she is trying to put forward which usually results in me having to do some bizarre task or errand which is not to my liking. Yesterday however, was quite the opposite.

After my sister, her husband Doug and my nephew Mikey arrived their traditional 20 minutes late, Mom excitedly ushered the whole group of us into the kitchen.

I was secretly hoping deep down for a huge feast to be awaiting us all on the kitchen table however as I entered the room I noticed immediately the table was completely bare and there were no signs of food preparation having been undertaken in the past few hours.

We all turned inquisitively to my mother in hopes she would be finally reveal this 'so called surprise' to us. Finally Dad broke the silence.

"Come on woman, get on with it" he grumbled. "The football match is going to start in under ten minutes and I don't want to miss the pre-game show."

My Mother turned directly to Dad and in a chastising tone replied "Simon, if you would rather be sitting in front of that TV of yours instead of sharing in the surprise with the rest of your family, by all means please go. But don't start moaning about it later when you miss the news & perhaps the reward."

I could see by the look on Dad's face that his curiosity had definitely gotten the better of him and he had no intentions of leaving the room until he had heard everything. Finally Mom began her narrative.

"As you all know I have been both volunteering at the church bingo each month and also attending every week for a number of years. The proceeds all go to a number of very deserving charities and it gives me the opportunity to spend some time with some very old and dear friends each week."

I heard Dad make a big sigh, roll his eyes and finally pull out a kitchen chair to sit down in. He knew from experience that my mothers stories can at times be somewhat 'long-winded'. We all followed his lead, minus the dramatic sigh and eyeball rolling, of course.

"Now I know Simon and all you kids are not too keen on attending Bingo with me, which I have accepted." Mom continued. "But I honestly would like you all to take more of an active role in donating either some of your free time or money to some of these charities because the church can always do more and remember even a little bit goes a very long way. Reverend Green has an open invitation to anyone who wishes to help."

This time it was my turn to look around bored. I certainly hoped that Mom was not openly soliciting volunteers for anything. Between my work and everything else, I have very little time to be hanging around a bunch of old gossiping woman at some church that I rarely even go to.

"Anyway, remember that charity work can be its' own reward." Mom droned on. "But today, I was fortunate enough to be given a little extra. And I think it was perhaps a reward of sorts for all my work."

With that she reached into her apron and pulled out a huge wad of bills and began spreading them all over the kitchen table. They were all twenty dollar bills and when she was done, the table was completely covered.

"$5000.00 is what I won this afternoon at the charity bingo. It was in what they call the Bonanza." Mom advised ever so non-chalantly.



The four of us all jumped up & excitedly crowded around the table, trying to get a better view of this huge stash that Mom had just placed down before us.

I looked over at my Dad and he was 'licking his lips' like an old starving hound before indulging in a huge meal.

Little Mikey's eyes were as wide as saucers and the same effect seemed to have hit both Doug and my ever greedy sister.

"Of course I will share these winnings with all of you as well as give some back to the church." Mom advised us. "I just am not sure how much to give everyone as yet. Perhaps I will decide by next Sunday and let you all know then."

This of course meant one thing and one thing only. Mom was going to monitor all of our individual behaviours and then decide arbitrarily if we are 'worthy' of a cash gift. How condescending.

There is no way in the world a couple thousand dollars is going to cause me to change my attitude or suddenly modify my behaviour in life. No way. I am way too old and too set in my ways. Plus, of course, I do have some dignity. No, let the other 'mindless lackey's' in the room begin the 'boot licking competition', but she can count me out.

I was however, somewhat surprised at what I heard next.

"Well Dear" Dad responded warmly. "That sounds like a very good & well thought out plan. I support you 100%. In fact, perhaps the next time you need a ride down to the church I can come along and see what this Bingo is all about."

This was a huge 'about-face' for my Dad who had previously openly mocked the game of Bingo and anyone who had ever stepped inside a Bingo hall. In fact one of his favourite jokes has always been:
Q: How do you get 500 cows into a barn? A: Put up a bingo sign!

I actually had found that one quite funny which is very rare since my Dad's jokes are usually either extremely unfunny or so totally outdated I don't have a clue what he is even talking about.

Today however, there was no open disgust or derogatory comments for the game coming from his lips. He was all of a sudden very supportive and soft-spoken.

My greedy sister then took her turn at the 'brown-nose department' by advising Mom that she has spare time over the next few weeks to assist in some volunteer work. She too then gave praise to the 'Bingo Gods' and now wants to go play next time Mom goes. This is the same sister who has never gone to Bingo in her miserable life is now the biggest supporter of every charity event going. It was sickening in its insincerity.

And as for poor old Doug, well he is so whipped he goes to wherever he is told to go, so I am sure he will be there following behind like the lapdog he has become.

And then there is me. Mom's victory has touched me as well, you see. I use to think that Bingo was exclusively for the old, senile and elderly. Now I realize it is for the old, senile, elderly and clearly the damn greedy!

There is no way I am going to start attending some stupid Bingo game. I mean everything goes by the law of averages. Even a blind mouse can find the odd bit of cheese occasionally. In other words, my Mom has attended Bingo for like 30 plus years and this is really only her first big win.

No, I will not be caught dead in those bloody barns. No way, not me. I still have some pride left. I will stick with the sure things like lottery tickets, poker games and video lottery terminals. Those are the games for real men!

Finally, after ten minutes I was up at the cashier and being served.

"Did you want to send a card with this lovely big bouquet of flowers today, sir?" the cashier inquired as she rang in my purchase.

"Yes please" I responded. "Could you please put "To the most wonderful Mother in the world, from her loving son. And please make sure it gets delivered today."

As I said earlier, I am not totally blinded by the greed that the rest of my family is afflicted with. But having said that, I am also not a complete idiot either.

Take It to the Limit

So I am over at my folks place last Sunday and I'm sitting there almost dozing off listening to Mom and my stupid sister babbling on and on about absolutely nothing meaningful, when Sis finally tells Mom the true purpose of her visit today.

"Mom, I got a part-time job every day from noon to four over at the mall. The only thing is that Mikey is out of school at three so I arranged for our neighbour Mrs. Quinn to baby-sit him for an hour each day, till I get home. She has a son Mikey's age and they are good friends so I think it will work out great. I am a little hesitant to tell Dad about it though because I know how he adores Mikey and doesn't want me to work until Mikey is older. He says children that have babysitters end up running around wild & not raised properly."

"Nonsense." my Mother responded. "Your father is just a little old-fashioned about certain things is all. I know Mrs. Quinn and she is an excellent person to leave Mikey with. Don't worry about your father, I'll talk to him for you."

As this conversation was winding down & my sister was getting ready to leave, the wheels in my head were just spinning. I had a marvellous, yet somewhat devious plan to finally get even with my evil sister.

You see for years we have been fighting likes cats and dogs and it has continued non-stop into our adult lives. Sis is constantly trying to get me in trouble with our parents and make my life miserable. I rarely retaliate, being the more mature and sensible person but now the time has come. There is an old proverb that says that payback is a bitch, which will work out just great, because so is my sister.

I casually strolled out to the garage where I knew my father was working at one of his many projects and began to put my plan into action.

"So Dad." I slowly began my narrative ever so non-chalantly. "I guess you've already heard the news that Sis is taking some kind of 'half-assed job' and is leaving young Mikey at some babysitters all day."

Dad immediately stopped whatever he was doing and put the wrench in his hand down on the counter. Whenever you mention his grandson Mikey who is just six years old, you always can get Dad's complete undivided attention.

"This is the first I've heard of it." Dad responded looking rather concerned. "Who is the babysitter, do we know her? I wonder why she didn't ask me or your Mother?"

"Probably leaving him at some unemployed 'crack heads' house to baby-sit, I'd wager." I responded trying to look quite serious. "There are a lot of crack houses around their neighbourhood, you know. She knew Mom is too busy with her volunteer work to look after Mikey and she said that you were, well I don't really want to tell you what she said about you, Dad."

"No, No, please son. Tell me." Dad pleaded.

"Well, Dad she said that you were too old & decrepit to look after a young boy and that your best years were far behind you." I replied trying not to laugh at this huge lie.

Dad looked furious. The desired result was attained. My plan was working to perfection so far.

"What", he yelled. "She said that? She thinks I am too old & feeble to look after my own little Grandson?"

"That is quite funny, Dad." I responded. "Since those were also the very exact words she used to describe you 'old & feeble'. She said that if you hadn't soiled yourself before noon it would be considered a 'banner day' for you."

Dad looked enraged by these statements, but still maintained his composure. I was wondering how much more I needed to say to really get him going.

"That doesn't sound like your sister at all." Dad responded. "Are you quite positive she said all this?"

"It probably isn't just her idea." I replied calmly. "It's that creepy husband of hers, Doug. He has her twisted around his little finger, believes everything he tells her. Remember Dad, Sis has never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, we all know that." "Besides that," I said pretending to look around to see if anyone was listening, "I think she drinks."

Dad was silent for a minute. After a moment of carefully processing all the information I had just given him, he spoke.

"I really don't know whether I should be feeling hurt & sad by all this or just be mad." he commented aloud.

"Be mad - Definitely mad, Dad." I chimed in quickly. "This whole thing is a total outrage. She must be stopped, we all know that. You are the most reliable and responsible person to baby-sit any child. When I have kids one day, I would be proud to let you look after them anytime. Hell, you can have them!"

"You're a good son." Dad replied with a weak smile.

"That's only because I was raised by two very good loving parents." I responded, realizing I may be laying it all on a bit thick.

I knew Dad was now quite furious over this entire story. The true telltale sign was the infamous vein pulsating wildly in his left temple.

"A stranger looking after my own wee grandson, I cannot believe it." he muttered under his breath. "That's just not right."

"Yes, it is outrageous." I replied trying to stir the pot even further. Then I used the 'closing line' which I knew would hit home and result in an immediate reaction.

"What would all your friends down at the legion think if they ever heard about this?" I asked, just shaking my head and looking down sadly.

I noticed immediately that this struck a very deep chord with my father. He looked at me sharply and cleared his throat.

"I will go over to her house and speak with her about this right away." Dad informed me in a very firm and no nonsense tone. "I should go in the house and call before I go over, just to make sure she is home first."

I knew this could jeopardize my entire plan if Dad went into the house and talked to Mom before he left. I definitely could not take such a risk.

"Use my phone." I responded quickly, magically producing the cell phone from my pocket. "I'll dial." I added, trying to be most helpful.

After he hung up the phone confirming my sister was indeed at home, he just kept muttering "A stranger instead of his own loving grandparents".

Dad continued to look extremely agitated by the entire story and finally got in the car & left to confront my unsuspecting stupid sister. This would be hilarious.

As he was driving off, I yelled behind him "She'll probably start lying to you and try and deny everything. Don't let he get away with it, Dad."

As I was about to leave myself, knowing that my work here was now done, Mom came out to the garage looking for Dad.

"I wonder why he left in such a hurry? I have a nice big lunch waiting for him at the kitchen table." Mom asked inquiringly.

"Hard to say where he went." I commented indifferently. "But I can't bear to see good food go to waste, I'll come in and eat it for you since we don't know when Dad will be back."

After a very delicious hearty lunch I headed down to the pub for a couple of pints and to tell my friends about this entire entertaining story. I was quite pleased by my own genius.

Once I got back home a 'few pints & a few hours later', I noticed that there was a phone message waiting for me on the machine. It was from my sister.

She was furious with me and said it took her over an hour to calm Dad down. She vowed to get even with me for this and then proceeded to use a string of profanities which one would only expect from an irate sailor.

I was laughing hysterically at this and was just about to erase her vile message when yet another brilliant idea struck me.

Perhaps I will save this phone message and carefully edit it. Might make it into a audio remix with her vocals......a great gift to play for the parents at Christmas time, I chuckled as I pressed the SAVE button.

Another One Bites the Dust

My life seems to be getting back to the insanity of which I am accustomed to. This past Sunday afternoon when I was visiting my parents is a prime example of this.

I was just getting ready to go home after a rare calm visit & rather excellent lunch when 'it' happened. Mom asked me to 'run an errand' for her.

"Phil Miller passed away last week and I was unable to attend the funeral yesterday." Mom advised, continuing. "I called his wife poor Meredith, and told her that I would drop off a little something today, just to extend our sympathies. I was hoping that on your way home you could pop in and drop off this tuna casserole I made for the family."

Now usually a simple request from my mother to drop off something would be no problem, I would comply in an instant. However I dated Tina Miller, who is the late Phil Miller's daughter, many years ago just after high school. We went out for a couple of weeks and had a rather 'messy break-up' for lack of a better phrase. I really had no desire to ever lay eyes on that woman again.

"Mom, you do recall I dated his crazy daughter Tina years ago?" I asked, hoping to tweak my Mom's memory into the entire situation. "Remember, she is really crazy." I added, hoping Mom would tell me not to bother going over.

Many years ago when Tina and myself broke up after only a couple weeks of dating, I was sure my mother would eventually hear about how terrible a guy I was, so I 'kind of, sort of' lied & told Mom that we broke up because Tina was a real clingy and unstable girl. It seemed to work for the time and I went along my merry way to date many more hot and beautiful women during that year.

The truth of the matter, which I obviously could not tell my own dear Mother, was that Tina was a bit of an old fashioned girl in a new world order. In other words, she was a girl that wanted to wait until marriage to produce 'the goods'. I mean how crazy was that? I don't even buy a pair of sneakers without trying them out first!

So we broke up and poor little Tina was devastated and called me a pervert. Just to have the last word, I angrily informed her that she was a completely useless girl and that her father, a man with a high pitched squeaky voice, reminded me of an old lesbian and in addition to that, his breasts were much bigger than hers.

In truth, they actually were. Her old father 'Man-Breasts Miller' was a rather rotund & husky fellow, and always running around the house half naked, shaking himself and displaying his obese 'business' to anyone and everyone.

Now before I go on, I must point out that I was young then and that these were not especially proud days for me when I look back at them, but at the time it seemed to be the right thing to do.

Now poor old Phil Miller has passed away. The man I mocked openly and referred to as 'Man-Breasts Miller' was now dead.

Despite my better feelings, I apprehensively headed over to the Miller's home, tuna casserole in hand, to pass on my families condolences.

I really hoped that Tina had totally forgotten about our entire nasty break-up or better yet, forgot that we even went out to begin with, since it had been so many years ago. Mom reassured me that after all these years, any ill will was now 'water under the bridge'.

I arrived at the Miller's home and Tina answered the door. She greeted me quietly & ushered me in. I was then introduced to her mother - the Widow Miller, some non-descript Aunts, Uncles, cousins, friends, etc. which seemed to total about 10, all in mourning and shuffling aimlessly about the house.

As they had only buried Old 'Man-Breasts' er...rather, Mr. Miller the day before, I did not think that this wake was anything out of the ordinary. I was asked to sit down and did, blending in with the other mourners.

They were looking at old photographs and reminiscing about Phil Miller in hushed saddened voices when suddenly Tina came into the room and announced that she wanted to show us all an old video of her father on his 50th birthday party.

"Those were very special and happy days for my Daddy", Tina informed everyone. As she started the video, she turned to me & gave me a very odd look. I felt a cold chill run down my spine momentarily.

I vaguely recall that I had attended one of his stupid birthday parties years ago and they certainly didn't seem very special to me in the least.

The video started and there he was lying in lawn chair with a ridiculous birthday hat on, half naked with his big belly hanging out and his oversized man-breasts displayed to the world.

I started to chuckle at this silently, but being that this seemed somewhat inappropriate on this day, I controlled myself.

He then turned to the screen and in his high-pitched, effeminate & squeaky voice, asked whomever was operating the camera to bring him another beer.

The person filming this crap put down the camera which was still recording, and went off to apparently fetch a beverage for the demanding Phil Miller.

The next couple of minutes of the tape were super boring, just guests talking and joking back and forth as Phil Miller lay in his lawn chair enjoying his birthday.

Then suddenly my heart almost leapt out of my chest.

The video was still recording and there I was on the screen walking into view with my old buddy Jerry. I looked much skinnier and younger then I do now, with flowing long hair.

Both Jerry and myself looked quite drunk as we sat down totally unaware that an unmanned movie camera was only a couple of feet away and recording our every word for posterity.

"Look at that flaming old fruit." I commented bitterly, gesturing to old Phil Miller. "Once I nail his bitchy daughter this weekend I hope to never have to lay eyes on that loud mouth freak again or his frigid daughter."

Phil Miller then began singing in his shrill annoying voice on the tape and as I watched it today, I could not control myself any longer. Even though I was surrounded by somber faced mourners, I just burst out laughing uncontrollably - it was certainly not my best moment....but in fairness to me, he did sound like an old lesbian.

I hoped that everyone in the room today did not notice me laughing in the corner as I was watching this video nor had they recognized my voice which could be perceived as making somewhat inappropriate remarks.

I was pretty sure I had gotten away with it when suddenly Tina turned off the video and I noticed that the room of people were all just staring at me in cold dead silence.

Tina then turned around and got up, walked over to me and yelled "First you insult my Daddy, then me, and now you sit their laughing at him - you cold, heartless !@!@&^*@. You were a real !@!@&^*@ when we dated years ago and you are still a real !@!@&^*@."

I was shocked and silent for a brief second. Then thinking quickly, I jumped up and realized the best defence was a strong offence in situations such as these.

In my best Perry Mason style voice I announced "You people are aware that recording other peoples private conversations without their knowledge is quite illegal? Totally inadmissible in a court of law. Now I am willing to forgive this little oversight being that you are in a period of grieving right now & obviously not thinking clearly."

I was rather pleased with my little speech, being that I was able to totally take control of this potentially unpleasant situation. Then suddenly it all fell apart.

Tina was staring at me, her face color becoming more red with each passing second. Finally she just started screaming over and over "Get out of here, Get out of here".

Realizing this was probably a good time to get going, I quickly removed myself from their premises.

As I was walking towards my car I heard a loud crash behind me. Apparently Tina had thrown the casserole at me. It didn't come anywhere near me and hit the pavement, smashing my Mom's dish to pieces.

What kind of a psychopath throws food at people - clearly she has some serious mental problems...stupid Byatch. Throws like her late, limp-wristed, poofster of an old man, I'd wager.

As I was driving home, I reflected on the events that had just happened and concluded that all this was certainly no coincidence. They have probably known about that video for years and were just waiting for that flaming old freak to die so they could get even with me. Petty, narcissistic, self-centered people.

Thankfully that's over. My only concern now is finding a new casserole dish to return to my Mom.

Closer to the Heart

A few months back my father purchased a cheap cellular phone that he could keep in the glove compartment of the car in the event that the car broke down when Mom was driving it or if she needed to get a hold of him in an emergency.

The idea itself seemed quite sound however the phone never worked properly from the first day Dad got it. If you called someone on it, the thing hissed and buzzed and the person could barely make out what you were saying between the gaps of dead air.

In the rare event that someone called you on it, the reception was so poor that you could never hear the caller in any event.

This however was not a huge issue as the battery in the phone would continually need recharging after a ten minute call. Of course my father, being the frugal individual that he is, refused to hear about any of the phones shortcomings as he had purchased it from one of his "good buddies" and honestly believed he had gotten the best deal in the world. Realizing that we were getting nowhere with Dad about replacing the phone, we all just decided to drop the subject hoping it would never be brought up again or be an issue.

This proved to work marvellously up until this past Monday, when this damn telephone caused me more stress and aggravation then I have experienced in a very long time. Let me explain.

I had just returned to my office after an afternoon of meetings and was putting on my coat to go home when I noticed the message light was blinking on my phone. Being that I didn't want to have to deal with this stuff first thing tomorrow morning, I dutifully sat down and started going through the five messages.

All appeared routine until I got to the last one which was from my Mother. She was apparently calling from that damn car cellular phone and I could barely make out what she was saying. The call sounded like this:

"This is Mom calling. SSSSSSSSSssssss........, father SSSSSSSSSssssss....heart attack..........I... SSSSSSSSSssssss.... coming home..... SSSSSSSSSssssss.... hospital........ SSSSSSSSSssssss please come over .......SSSSSSSSSssssss......"

The "SSSSSSSSsssss" was all static and I could hear nothing else aside from the words I listed above. Those words however were enough to get me extremely panicked and I rushed out of the office towards my parents house as quick as I could.

My father had suffered a heart attack about 8 or 9 years ago, just after he retired. He was now in better shape, being that he was ordered by his doctor at that time to start getting some exercise, eat a proper diet and was given some heart pills. He has been in pretty good health ever since, although now being in his seventies, one never knows what to expect.

As I was driving over to my parents, I recalled all the empty promises I had made to myself to be nicer to Dad and to enjoy his company more after the last heart attack. I made those promises years ago, but never kept them very well. Once he got better, I forgot all about them & our relationship went back to normal. Now as I was racing over to the house, I prayed that it was not too late.

I tried to call Mom back on the cell phone however it kept going to voice mail as either she was not answering or had the phone shut off. This only scared me more and as I pulled up to the house, a million different horrible thoughts went through my head. I only hoped it was not too late.

I raced through the front door and found that Mom had just gotten home only a minute or so before I had arrived.

"Oh Hello Son", she said to me in her usual cheery manner. "I am so glad you got my message. I was hoping to see you before I went back out"

"How's Dad", I asked rather abruptly, desperate to know the worst.

"Well" Mom responded. "He is pretty shaken up and is still at the hospital. But it looks like everything will be fine. I thought that since that was the case that I would still be able to get back here and pick up some old clothes and other odds and ends before I go down to the community centre for the rummage sale."

I was horrified. My father, her husband of 53 years, had just suffered a heart attack and Mom was still planning to go about her days business without a care in the world. Either Mom was in total denial or in some state of advanced shock. She must have noticed the alarmed expression on my face because she suddenly stopped and stared at me.

"Are you feeling okay, Son. Because you don't look well all of a sudden" Mom asked, sounding oddly perplexed.

Regaining my composure, I responded that I was just somewhat surprised that she was so calm and 'matter of fact' about things after everything that had just happened.

Mom continued staring at me oddly and then finally responded.

"Well Charlie is getting rather old, Son. He is 12 years old which is about 84 in dog years. This is not overly-surprising for a dog of his age. I am just surprised you are taking this so hard, I never thought you cared for the old dog so much."

Charlie, of course is my fathers best pal and the worst pet known to man. He is their demonic dog, who should have been put down at birth. This mangy beast was the meanest and nastiest animal I had ever encountered and I did not hide my contempt for this creature. For some unknown reason, he is also loved dearly by my father.

"What are you talking about Mom?" I asked trying to figure out what the Hell she was going on about.

"It was old Charlie that suffered the heart attack." Mom responded suddenly realizing my confusion. "I had called you after your father and me had been to the Animal Hospital. Your father was going to stay behind while they examined and treated Charlie and I was coming back here to go out. I had telephoned you to ask that you come over here and wait for your father to call so you could go over and collect them since I have the car."

It was a horrible and terrible misunderstanding on my part. I collapsed in the kitchen chair and just began laughing as I was so relieved it was not my Dad that had suffered a heart attack.

Once I informed Mom about the 'misunderstanding' she was going to cancel going out as she realized the last "hour of Hell and stress" I had just gone through. I advised her I was okay now and insisted that she go out and I would head over to the Animal Hospital to pick up Dad and the horrible beast.

As I drove over to the Hospital, I vowed I was going to take that cheap cell phone and crush it mercilessly under the heel of my boot. I was never going through that kind of stress again. EVER!

I went into the lobby and found Dad talking with one of the Veterinary assistants. He seemed very pleased to see me and thanked me for coming.

Just then the Veterinarian came out of his office, carrying a large oversized basket with Charlie fast asleep inside on a big comfy pillow.

He explained to my father that Charlie had experience a mild heart attack and would need to be kept calm and quiet over the next few weeks. He would prescribe some light sedatives to keep the dog calm and resting however being that Charlie was this old, he could have another attack which may be fatal at any time. For this he would prescribe some heart medicine which was a tablet that Charlie was to take with his meal every day.

My father was overjoyed that Charlie was going to be okay and thanked the Veterinarian repeatedly for his work.

"Old Charlie here is like a son to me. I don't know what I would do if he was gone." Dad advised the doctor.

I couldn't believe my ears. Dad was describing Charlie, the demonic dog from Hell, as being 'like a son' to him. What did that make me, a second cousin? A good pal? I was incensed. Before I could interrupt and demand clarification of this outlandish statement, Dad looked over at me.

"Boy, your mother and me left the house so quickly to rush poor old Charlie over here, I forgot my wallet at home. Would you mind paying the good people here for me?"

Realizing that I had vowed to be nicer and more agreeable with my father earlier today, I figured this might be a good way to start. I pulled out my wallet and went over to the cashier.

All I had was $100.00 bill on me, so I certainly hoped that this place could give me change right away and not have to go find someone to break such a large bill.

The receptionist handed me the invoice and I almost collapsed for a second time today. The bill was for $545.00 plus tax!

"Dad", I called over to him. "Have a look at this bill."

Dad grabbed the invoice and quickly glanced at it, nodded and handed it back to me.

"Seems very reasonable to me", Dad responded. "I would pay five times that to have poor old Charlie in good health again. Pay the bill, boy."

I was still not satisfied. This invoice was ridiculous. $545.00 to revive some mean old mangy dirty dog. That is crazy, what a scam!

"What about this, Dad?" I continued. "Look, the price of these sedatives are insane...$75.00. Charlie doesn't need them, he sleeps 23 hours a day as it is. Can we return them?"

"Pay the bill, boy and stop wasting time." Dad responded sounding like he was getting annoyed. "We need to hurry and get poor Charlie home. He needs bed rest. Hurry up, we'll be in the car"

With that he left the Hospital, carefully carrying Charlie in his fancy new $65.00 dog basket to my car.

I threw down my credit card muttering to the cashier, grabbed my receipt and followed them out.

As we drove home, I thought I would attempt to share my feelings with Dad and told him about my earlier misunderstanding about me thinking it was HE that had the heart attack and not Charlie.

Dad seemed very upset at my story or he wasn't listening properly as he barked back at me.

"Do you think that I am that old & senile that I wouldn't go to a proper doctor if I was having a heart attack or do you just think that I am such a cheapskate I would go to a veterinarian to be treated in order to save a couple of bucks?"

This of course got me somewhat annoyed and I responded that "Clearly at the inflated prices that damn Vet charges, it would be no bargain for a human to be treated there."

The rest of the ride we drove in complete silence, being both too stubborn & too exhausted to try and attempt any further meaningful conversation.

Once we arrived back home, Dad immediately gathered some blankets and pillows to make a soft bed for Charlie to continue his nap on. He then placed both his food and water dish next to the bed so "Poor Charlie doesn't have to go far for refreshment."

Throughout this process, Dad was muttering about "Poor Charlie this" and "Poor Charlie that" which got me to thinking he cared for the damn dog more than any of us 'two-legged creatures'.

I figured I had experienced enough stress and excitement for the day and decided I would go home. Before I left I was expecting to be reimbursed for the Vet bill however my father seemed far to pre-occupied with Charlie's immediate comfort then my newfound poverty. I figured I would drop a few hints to the old man to jog his memory.

"So Dad" I started out slowly. "Now you and old Charlie are home safe & sound, I guess I'll be leaving. I need to go to the bank before they close."

Dad, who was sitting next to Charlie patting the dogs head, looked up at me and absent-mindedly responded.

"Er, okay Son. Thank you very much for coming to get me and the old boy here & bringing us home. We appreciate it."

Still no money was forthcoming. I figured I would make one last fleeting attempt to be reimbursed from Dad tonight.

"So", I inquired. "Drive home was okay for you and Charlie, was it? No complaints then? Nothing else you two may be needing tonight?"

Just then, the demonic Charlie began slowly waking up. He first lazily looked over at Dad and then gazed at me and almost immediately started growling.

"You seem to be aggravating poor Charlie" Dad advised me. "He needs calm and rest now. Just close the door on your way out so I can get him back to sleep."

I bid Dad goodnight and headed towards my car, $545.00 lighter than when I arrived earlier in the day.

"Stupid damn Dog, stupid cheap cell phone, stupid overpriced vet...." I muttered to myself as I drove towards home.

Now you know why I drink.

Your Mother Should Know

Okay, so I'll be the first one to admit it. I've been in a pretty crappy mood this past week and really nothing like my usual self.

In my own defence, I really believe I am justified though. I mean it was just this past Saturday that my girlfriend Rhonda told me she was leaving town in February for two years to attend school in New York City.

We've only been going out a couple months but in that time I have really gotten to know her quite well and have fallen for this woman. Of course I have not shared those feelings with her since this 'school business' is part of her plan and life long dream to be skilled and schooled in the art of fancy cooking. By me revealing my feelings to her would only make me look foolish and petty, since if I ask her not to go it would be like asking her to give up on her life's dream.

As a result, I have kept these feelings bottled inside and it's not been easy. While everyone around her is happily congratulating her on this next step, I am pasting on a fake smile and pretending to be my upbeat & supportive self. It's killing me.

I can't even share my feelings with one of my best friends Kevin, since Rhonda is his wife's cousin. There is no way I am going to chance that one, the circle is too small. We all hang out together and I would never want crap like that brought up.

I have found myself being very short tempered with folks lately. Whether they be clerks at the store, waitresses at the pub or even most of my friends and family, I have noticed myself being quite confrontational and argumentative. Not a good thing.

I don't think anyone has really noticed thankfully, however I do detect some tension in the air lately around everyone. Actually, I am not even sure about that, maybe it's just me imagining it. See I told you I am not myself these days. I hate this.

I was suppose to take Rhonda out this afternoon, but feeling somewhat down & depressed, I figured I would back out and say I was busy. It was a gloomy and bleak day outside anyway and my mood definitely seemed to reflect that.

I figured I should just stay home and watch TV and just be by myself. I turned on the television and the only thing on almost every channel was a Damn stupid fire burning in a fireplace. What the Hell kind of entertainment is that? Is that the best my cable company can do for Christmas programming? Yule log, my ASS. I was incensed. I angrily turned off the TV vowing to cancel my cable in the new year.

I then decided to go over to my parents place for lunch. Mom was making some turkey sandwiches with Christmas leftovers and invited me to come over earlier. If I couldn't be in good spirits these days at least I could hopefully put my stomach in a good mood.

I arrived rather early for lunch - about an hour or so, and plunked myself down at the kitchen table.

Mom informed me that lunch would not be ready for at least another hour and a half.

"Whatever", I responded slowly.

Mom explained she was still getting some gifts and ornaments ready for later on this afternoon when her charity group goes down to the old folks home for their annual Boxing Day party. She then went into painstaking detail about what goes on at this party including listing every persons duties that was involved with the afternoon.

I finally tuned her out about half way through as I definitely had absolutely no interest in this charity crap she was involved in. Anyway, I think we all heard about it in painstaking detail on Christmas day when I was here. She finally finished her extremely boring narrative and was looking at me, presumably for some sort of response or validation or something.

"Whatever", I responded once again, sounding both annoyed and tired.

Mom then looked over at me and exclaimed "I certainly hope you will stop acting liking a Dick soon"

I immediately sat up thinking I undoubtedly must have misheard my Mothers sentence and asked her to repeat her last statement.

Mom replied firmly "I said, I certainly hope you will stop acting liking a Dick soon"

What the Hell? I must be hearing things, Did my Mother just call me a Dick? No way, Mom wouldn't do that, she doesn't even swear, I must be wrong. I mean what kind of a Mother would call her only son a Dick?

"Mom", I asked innocently, "You didn't just call me a Dick, did you? Because that's what it sounded like"

"I'm sorry, Dear", Mom responded. "Is that not the correct term? I was sure I had got it right. All this new slang is a little confusing to me"

"No Mom", I responded very quickly. "I am quite positive that is NOT the word you were looking for. What were you trying to say?"

Just then the phone rang and Mom picked it up. By the sounds of the mundane conversation, it was my stupid sister on the other end of the line.

After a couple of minutes of totally boring and pointless conversation, my Mom was just about to hang up, she asked into the phone "Your brother is over here right now. What was that word you told me to describe him again?"

After Mom hung up, she turned to me and announced in a matter of fact tone that, "I did get it right, you are acting like a Dick"

I was horrified. My innocent elderly mother just called me a Dick. AHHHHHH!

"What are you saying Mom", I asked her sounding panic-stricken. "You can't say that about people, especially ME - your beloved only son".

I just knew my evil stupid sister had her hand in this, making Mom call me a Dick. I quickly jumped up, grabbed the telephone and called my sister.

My sister answered and before she could get a word in, I demanded to know what the Hell was going on and why she taught Mom to use such a vulgar term?

"Because you ARE being a real Dick these days", my sister yelled into the phone. With that she told me that she was busy packing for their trip to Disneyland and hung up on me, without even saying goodbye.

I angrily slammed down the receiver and sounding like a little 5 year old tattletale, looked over at Mom and said "Sis just hung up the phone on me, Mom."

Mom looked at me for a moment and then calmly asked "Were you acting like a Dick again, dear?"

I couldn't believe what was going on around me. With all the crap I am dealing with, now I have both my sister and mother calling me a Dick. I mean what the Hell is happening these days?

Before I could question anything further, my Mom started on one of her many narrative tangents.

"Of course, in my day the word Dick meant something quite different." Mom advised. "For instance you would call a store detective the 'Store Dick' which meant his job was looking for shoplifters or crooks. And of course there is the lovely pudding dessert called Spotted Dick or another example you could call a man who had the name Richard, Dick for short. It was quite acceptable. It was Dick did this and Dick did that...."

Before Mom could continue any further, I quickly interrupted yelling "Stop saying the word Dick", as I collapsed back into my chair and put my hands over my ears in an attempt to stop this horrible and unprovoked assault upon my hearing.

Thankfully before Mom could continue any further, Dad wandered in from the garage and walked into the kitchen. Common sense had finally arrived. Order would now most certainly be restored immediately.

Hoping for any ally I could get, I quickly looked at my Dad and desperately told him that "Mom has just called me a Dick"

Upon hearing my statement, Dad stopped dead in his tracks. He then looked at me for a moment, then over at Mom and then back at me.

Finally after about a minute of this, Dad quickly grabbed the newspaper off the kitchen table and exclaimed "Don't argue with your Mother, Boy"

With that, my Father hastily exited the kitchen and headed towards the TV room, paper in hand.

Mom then sat down at the kitchen table across from me and smiled. In her quiet & calm voice she simply said "My intent was not to distress you, let me explain Son"

"For the past week, ever since you found out that Rhonda was accepted to a school in New York, you have been acting like a spoiled little brat who did not get get his own way in something. You have been rude and dismissive to everyone around you, and that kind of behaviour is not acceptable even from a small child, let alone a grown man like yourself."

Mom's words were obviously well intended however she couldn't possibly understand the turmoil I was going through inside. As I attempted to change the subject however, Mom continued her sermon.

"I would expect an intelligent man such as yourself to deal with problems in a forthright and direct fashion. Look at the situation, analyze it and come up with some suitable solutions to it. You no doubt do that at your job everyday, undoubtedly you should be able to do it in your personal life. Also, if Rhonda is as kind and intelligent as you say she is, I am quite positive she is experiencing the same feelings as you are. The least you can do is sit down and talk things out with her. Whatever you decide however, you cannot continue to mope about like this and treat everyone around you in such a disrespectful manner. "

These last words seemed to hit home with me. Mom had made a good point, I deal with issues everyday at work in a logical manner. I could at least attempt to solve this using the same approach. I had not realized my lousy mood was so bad that it affected others this much. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself that I was oblivious to all those around me, including Rhonda and what she might be going through. I realized my Mom's words would not solve my problem but at least they put me on the right track to do it myself. I kind of felt a little stupid and embarrassed all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry Mom", I responded. "I didn't realize how much of a...a...Dick I had been these last couple of days"

Mom just laughed at my remark and told me that all was forgiven. "That is what Mothers do, Son", she advised. "However, after lunch I think you probably need to go out and apologize to a number of people and then go see your girlfriend Rhonda and work through this problem together. I am sure you both can come up with a few ideas if your relationship is meant to be"

With that Mom got up, gave me a hug and began making lunch. I looked out through the kitchen window and it noticed that the sun was now just coming out from behind the clouds.

"Stupid unnecessary imagery", I muttered to myself. But perhaps, just perhaps this might be a nice day after all, I thought.