Saturday, May 31, 2008

#22 Promised Diary Girl I’d move out to Halifax to be with Her

When I was 21, I met a very attractive, and very sweet girl from the Maritimes. I’m calling her Diary Girl, because one of the many adorable qualities she had was to keep a secret diary. Of course, this diary would come back to haunt her later, when a jealous friend of hers (who also had a crush on me) found it. But that’s another story entirely.

It all started at a party, where we both happened to be, and immediately clicked. At the end of the evening, I asked her if she’d meet me right there at that spot the next morning at 9 a.m. sharp. And so she did. She didn’t think I’d really show, and I didn’t really think she’d be waiting, but there we were, and we spend the day together, and talked about all kinds of things – movies, things in society, or in other people that we loathe – you know, commonalities. We just couldn’t get bored of each other, and after several days, we kissed. On a consequent day, we made love when my parents weren’t home, and finally, on the day she was to leave, she told me about a very dark secret of hers. She told me about something very horrible a man once did to her. He tied her up, raped her, and even tried to kill her, but she escaped.

It was finally time to go, and she was in tears, because we were so crazy about each other, so I promised her I’d come to Halifax to be with her.

After that, we lost touch for awhile, but I vowed to keep her alive in my own heart my making a full-blown movie about what happened to her, except I added ghosts, and cops, and I had three different musical composers (myself included) doing the soundtrack. In fact, it is the making of this film that brought Ema Nymton and I so close together. Good times, huh, Ema?

Anyway, when I had a final edited copy together, after the film screening at the university, I shipped off copies of the film to all the people involved, and of course, a copy I’d set aside for Diary Girl. I finally called her up and asked if she’d got it, and how she was. She told me she cried when she saw it. Nobody had ever put that kind of work into something for her before.

Even a year ago, we were flirting online and she said there’d be a place for me in her life if I came to Halifax, but I still didn’t have my shit together. These days, I see her on facebook periodically. She has a boyfriend now, who actually seems quite friendly and loving, not to mention fashionable and handsome. You lose again, Malice!

#21 Stalked Vancouver Woman

This actually happened quite recently. Only three months before I started my blog in fact.

I met a woman on facebook and we started chatting. It wasn’t long before we discovered we had loads in common, and shortly after, we met near my house for a drink.

Then she went on sort of a pilgrimage across the country and wound up in Vancouver.

Anyway, I booked a cheap flight on a whim and flew to Vancouver, to see other friends too, but mainly to see her again.

She met with me once, but then when I wanted to see her again while I was there, she got suspicious, so I told her I maybe did have a bit of a crush on her.

She completely freaked out. She told me I could’ve saved both of us a lot of time and trouble if I’d spoken up sooner, and that she wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever. Then I cam home and sort of forgot about it, but I do still think it was a stupid idea, and at the time, I do realize I probably scared the crap out of her.

Anyway, not surprisingly, she and I don’t really talk anymore, though at one point since, we did exchange apologies for our behavior.

#20 Refused to Shower at Camp

Ugh. Okay, when I was a kid, I went to a special Jewish camp. I really didn’t want to go, but my mother made me insisting it was “not a punishment, but a privilege.” I still tease her about how stupid an argument that is, but then again, mothers are prone to believe stupid things, like, whatever they like, you’ll like, or you should like, because she likes it.

Anyway, for the first three weeks there, I refused to shower, for the simple reason that I didn’t have a shower at home, I was used to baths. And man, I really must’ve stank, because at one point when our counselor was punishing us and making us stay in the bunk, he made me sit way over on the other side, because he just couldn’t stand the smell.

That’s right, readers. You remember that smelly kid who never washed, and everyone hated? Well at this camp that was me. And I’m sorry.

#19 Stood up Ballet Girl, and Dodged Her Phone Calls for Months

Way back in high school, there was a girl who studied ballet, and I had a huge crush on her. She was extremely sweet, and almost nobody understood her, but I felt that I did. I told her how I felt about her, but she said she didn’t feel that way towards me, so that was that.

Now let’s cut to five years later. I’m 21. She and I had remained friends over the years, and at that point she’d started trying to spend more time with me. I hadn’t quite noticed though, because by this point I really didn’t care. But one day I was sitting in a pub having a drink with Spike, and Ballet Girl asked me where I’d been. Apparently I’d missed a date with her, and she felt very hurt by this. I told her I’d merely forgotten, which is a lame excuse anyway, but it was the truth.

She later told me the reason she found this so troubling was that she decided after all that she was interested in me.

And so, I mistakenly figured that since I wanted her five years ago, I must still want her now.

On the next date, she got kind of frisky and thought she’d play footsies with my under the table. Now, while this can be fun enough at restaurants with tablecloths, this wasn’t one of them, and Spike was sitting with us. Spike left, even though I didn’t actually want him to.

She and I went back to place, where she kept trying to get both of us completely undressed, while lipsyncing to various MP3’s – none of which did much to turn me on, and I didn’t want to do anything with my parents and sister home.

This actually brings up a separate issue – which is the stupidity of my parents barging into my room while I’m in there with a girl. But I got used to the idea that I couldn’t stop them, so I decided it best not to fool around while they were home.

In any event, I found everything about her behavior to be simply wrong for me. I’m shy about being physical, she’s, well, whatever the exact opposite of shy is. No shame at all. Anyway, I called it a night, and I walked her home.

Then, finally, with no knowledge of what to do about this relationship I’d gotten myself into, I proceeded not to call her for 3 or 4 months.

I just could shake the willies I got about being with her physically. It felt like playing with a pre-teen in a twenty-year-old’s body, and that totally turns me off. She hadn’t changed since high school, possibly because of drug use, but there may be other factors. In any event, I’m quite ashamed of how I handled this in retrospect, because though she may not be very bright, she is certainly one of the sweetest people I know.

#18 Burst Spike’s Juice Box

I perhaps grade 3, I somehow got into my head that bursting juice boxes was cool. It made a very loud satisfying noise, and if it was full, you could spray whatever flavor the box was halfway across the school yard.

Even into our twenties, Spike continued to bring up the juice box, and how he was afraid of me at the time, so he just let me take it and stomp on it. He insisted it was his favorite flavor too, though right now I can’t recall what exactly it was. I want to say pineapple.

Of course, Spike would later sleep with my girlfriend, after which he no doubt felt way too much shame to bring up the juice box again.

Well, maybe it’s not shame. Maybe he just forgot. He does smoke a lot of weed…

#17 Tied up Boyscout and Stole His Clothes

When I was about 11 or 12, I though it would be funny to tie up one of my friends and hide his clothes so he couldn’t go for help, because, well, he’d be naked. And who wants to run around tied up and naked? To this day, why I thought this would be funny is completely lost on me. It’s one of many examples of things that doesn’t seem funny when you think about someone else doing it to you. And to describe it now, it just sounds like the kind of weird shit sex offenders get their start doing.

Amazingly, this guy’s still friends with me, though I’m not sure how much of this he remembers. For awhile, his mother didn’t want me around him, for obvious reasons. Today he and I meet only on special occasions for drinks and reminisce about old times.

He really was once a very great friend, and this is, without a doubt, one of the things I am most ashamed of doing.

Owed Entries

It’s a very dark and stormy night tonight, so I think I’ll dive back into the darker recesses of my soul and do as many entries for the list of bad deeds as I can.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

If there’s One Thing I Really Can’t Stand, It’s Your Opinion!

The blog is as much a journey of self-discovery as it is about exposition, or voyeurism, or whatever else you happen to think blogging is about.

I talk to myself. A lot I mean like three hours non-stop per day, and so a lot of what I say to myself, I don’t actually write because, well, even I know that nobody wants to read it. Even I don’t really want to read it. I’m just venting.

I’ve been having trouble, for years now, reading. I’ll pick up the paper, and an editorial will catch my eye, and I’ll immediately get pissed off, because though I’ll be the first to admit I have a lot of strong opinions, I’ve never cared much to listed to the opinions of others.

One lady was ranting about how she though Christianity needed to be taught in public schools. I don’t even know where to begin with that. More and more, I have less and less interest in forming rebuttals to the same stupid opinions, so I wind up with the shorthand version: “Shut-up, stupid. Dammit! That’s just stupid. It’s so stupid, it’s making me feel stupid just for having read it, and now I can’t respond because you’ve brought me into your world of stupidity and now you’re beating me with experience.” While I’m often surprised that my little cousin doesn’t get biblical references I occasionally make, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’ve probably said this before, but Lord of the Rings is a better book than the Bible anyway.

I know this world is supposed to be about sharing. We’re supposed to be able to sit down in a room together and commiserate about the crappy weather, and taxes, and our stupid meaningless jobs, and our parents who never understood us, or our children who never listen to us because they think we don’t understand them. Or our significant others who do little things that annoy us.

One friend over the week-end, a friend of mine, let’s call her Joelle, gave her usual sob stories about how stoic she is, how she’s dated five multimillionaires who all treated her badly, or how difficult it is to be so beautiful, how men won’t stay away from her, and how women hate her. If you’re one of my female readers, I bet you hate her already. Yeah, I had a crush on her once. Year ago. Now whenever I hear her talk, there’s a little voice that tells me not to trust her. I used to find her stories fascinating, and now I still see others, male or female, enthralled by them. But now I find myself thinking that she’s either mostly full of shit, or she’s telling the truth, and she’s crazy. I’m not sure what point I’m trying to make with this, because after all, what she’s doing what I’m doing. Just telling stories, which is what I’m doing. Who can say how much of it’s true or not. For all you know, I just made Joelle up. I mean, I didn’t, but you’ve got no reason to believe me. No reason other than that you find it interesting, or that you simply want to, because you’re bored, and believing the story gives you something to do.

Here’s something I’ve noticed about myself, and by now, you astute readers have no doubt noticed it too. I tend to get ideas I LOVE, and carry them for about a week or two, and then I just get bored with them, or sidetracked. What list number did I get to, 16? Of course, I could probably catch up with the list, if I really cared enough. Anyway, that said, I have another idea, that I love.

Next month, the theme is going to be opinions I can’t stand. I’ll rant about one a day, because I’m a big hypocrite who loves his own opinions, and hates other peoples’. And frankly, no one can stop me.

Oh, and for those who care, the swelling in my leg has subsided, and it will probably heal quite nicely after all.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Damn Near Shattered My Shin Bone Today

Today, I’m having another one of those “What the hell am I doing?” panic attacks. It’s not like a real panic attack – it’s more that general feeling you have that you need to do something RIGHT NOW or something terrible is going to happen, but you know in your head that isn’t actually true, but it doesn’t make that feeling go away.

I took my little cousin to the park today to play tag as we usually do on Monday, and as I was vigorously going after him, I slipped and bashed my shin into a metal beam (basically monkey bars, but low to the ground so they’re like stairs.) We had to get home early. It looks pretty gross, and there was a lot more blood than there normally should be for a bruised shin.

I came home to disinfect it and put on some bandages on it. My folks were both telling me to go to the hospital, but I like to believe I’m a good judge of what’s worth a trip and what’s not, and I don’t feel like sitting in a hospital for eight hours while I wait for them to basically tell me it’ll probably heal, and possibly giving me an X-ray and discovering I either do or don’t have a hairline or greenstick, or whatever fracture, that’ll heal on its own.

Or to put it into simpler terms. I can heal in the comfort of my own home, or I can do it in the discomfort of a hospital waiting room, holding up people with real problems and exposing myself to god knows what kind of viruses.

My mother thought she could see through to the bone, but I think she’s maybe a little overprotective. This can be a good thing, but man, sometimes it’s just annoying.

And finally I get rid of my cousin and get my fifty bucks for sitting him, (the irony is I actually wasn’t supposed to sit him today), and sit down at my computer only to find I still can’t relax.

Now I’m asking myself “What the hell am I doing? I’m 28, and the best gig I have is babysitting my own cousin. I have NO IDEA what the hell I’m doing with my life, and while even that usually doesn’t bother me, I’m hyper aware that nobody takes a 28-year-old seriously when he has no job, no plans, and lives with him parents.

And I keep thinking Monkey Girl probably barely notices I exist. I seriously doubt she has any interest in dating me. Why would ANYONE want to date me? I can’t even get a 30-year-old mother who ALSO HAS NO JOB AND LIVES WITH HER PARENTS to be interested in me. I feel like I’m being hammered by some kind of weird invisible double standard. Not that THAT should even matter, because right now, I’m not even supposed to care about women. I should be focusing on my book, or at the very least, my blog. I can’t even get myself to do that.

I have a biological explanation for this. It’s not based on science or anything, just the general theory that most of the traits we humans have today were favored at some point in our evolutionary journey. Paranoia – why is parania a prevalent trait among people? This feeling that something bad is lurking around every corner, whether or not it actually is, this feeling kept us safe. Those of us who looked around, occasionally saw an actual danger we would otherwise not have noticed, you know, like a tiger with a baseball bat. The people who figured everything would be fine, were eaten. And now here we are, a race of people who are most afraid of things that are completely invisible, but we swear to god they’re dangerous, and that we have to find them, or appease them, or they’ll kill us.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

The End of the Week-End

So, I’ve learned a few more things about all three women over the week-end. That said, I think my week-end was a huge success.

Just now, Mousy Girl added me on facebook. On closer inspection of her profile, she has a boyfriend, so that’s that. Boy is my face red. Still, it’s neat that she knows so many of the same people, I even just now found an old friend through her profile, so if anything, my acquaintance with her is a gain.

So let’s go back to yesterday. I met with Movie Girl in a pub and we shared a pitcher, and talked about the various people we know, and movies we liked. We also touched on some other things, such as similar views on religion. I couldn’t stay long because I had to head over to Vlad’s house to help him and his girlfriend move, but our first meeting was a pleasant one. My first impression is that we like each other, but I don’t particularly feel any attraction to her, nor do I feel she has any particular attraction to me. For now, we’ll probably keep talking over facebook and see where it goes. Maybe I’ve made another friend, maybe I haven’t. Maybe she’s dying to get with me, but that’s probably unabashed optimism.

Yesterday, I finally got the nerve to ask Monkey Girl out, and so today, we met for some afternoon drinks and snacks, and I got to learn more about her. I have confirmed that I do, as a matter of fact, have a crush on this girl, but I want to take it slow, because, let’s face it; I don’t know her. I’ve only met her twice now, and it’s more important to me that I build some sort of a functional friend-relationship first.

Here’s what I learned about Monkey Girl today.

She’s studying in college part time to become a secretary, because as she puts it, she loves organizing things.

Her mother is someone I actually know! And Ema knows her too. She’s someone we used to work with. It never ceases to amaze me how small the world is.

She loves children. She asked me, “Would you freak out if we went it the baby clothing store?” I said I’d give it a try, but made no promises not to freak out. She told me about how excited she gets when her friends get pregnant and how she loves to shop for little clothes for them. We laughed about the impracticality of shoes for 6-month-old infants. But that’s part of the fun – it’s silly, and for show. You know, like hair. Anyway, she said her chief goal in life was to have a baby. To get pregnant too – the whole experience Is a goal of hers. I found that cute, and frankly, refreshing. See, as normal a sentiment as this desire of hers sounds, most of the women I have dated have talked about how horrible the whole experience would be, and how awful children are and, how the world is overpopulated anyway.

And I like the way her eyes light up when she smiles. It just makes me want to smile too. Anyway, that’s enough swooning for one night I think. She and another female friend of ours has made plans for an excursion to a water park next month, though so far, the only three people who are going for sure are those two ladies, and myself. Actually, Ema and Ravens, if that interests you two, let me know. I asked if I could bring along some friends and immediately thought of you two.

Friday, May 23, 2008

My 3 Girls Friday

I think I’m behind on my list items by a good week, huh? Better get on that…

In other news,

I’ve met a few charming ladies close to my age that I’m interesting in perhaps getting to know better before deciding what to do. Monkey Girl you know.

Then there’s a woman who messaged me randomly through facebook because she recognized my pic from lavalife. She and I have a few friends in common as it turns out. She works at a movie theater, so let’s call her Movie Girl. We are trying to make plans to meet this week-end, but that may not happen because I’ve already agreed to help friends move on Saturday, and I think she’s indisposed on Sunday. Anyway, we’ve been corresponding for a bit and she seems to be able to hold out her end of a conversation.

Last night I went out with a bunch of friends, and one of them, let’s call her Bumblebee, asks me what’s new. So I told her about Movie Girl, whose friend list I knew she was on, but whose name had sort of eluded me for the time being, so I kept trying to guess first names to see if she knew one of them. Finally I got the right one.

“That can’t be right,” says Bumblebee. “She’s a lesbian, isn’t she?”

“I dunno. From her pictures, I guess she dresses like a lesbian…”

Just then another male friend jumps in.

“What’s this about lesbians?”

“Oh, I was just asking…” I stopped. What was her name again?

“Mal, did you just forget my name?”

“No…” I said with shifty eyes, and an inconcealable smile.

“You did, didn’t you! You forgot my name!”

“Maybe. Shut up!”

Oy vey, I’m bad with names. Anyway…

Last night I also met a third girl, let’s call her, uh, Mousy Girl. It’s not a great name, I know, but I only just met her, and though she was sort of cute, so I got her contact info and asked her out, and if I don’t hear back from her, I’m going to forget her.

My first pick is still the one I saw first, Monkey Girl, but to my amazement I’ve been unable to come up with anything at all to say to her. I just keep coming up blank. So the other night I said to Ema:

“Monkey Girl’s online, but I don’t know what to say to her. What should I say?”

“Ask her what her favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

So I did. And I got an immediate reply:


“Uh… lol I don’t know. Just trying to make conversation.”

“Oh, okay. Mint chocolate.”

And we proceeded to talk about ice cream for a bit. Then I felt I needed to ask Ema for more guidance.

“Ask her out for ice cream he says.”

Ah! I thought. That’s where he was going with this. Now I just look stupid. I still haven’t asked her out.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Screw the Dentist!

Hi everyone! Sorry to be so lax in my posts of late, but I’ve been sick lately, and my extended family’s been in town, and some lame third excuse… can’t think of one. Oh! I know, I’ll blame a government conspiracy.

Anyway, I just got back in from a bit of a goose chase with my dentist. They called me last week on the morning of an appointment, to announce I had one an hour from when they called. They also told me they’d moved, so in stead of a 20-minute walk, it’s a 1-hour bus ride, but they said: “It’s very close by! Just five minutes down Carling.” Yeah right. Five minutes. IN A CAR!

Oh! That reminds me. My sister and I have both signed up for driver’s ed together. This should be fun!

Anyway, because I was sick the other day, I called to cancel my appointment because, well, I was practically coughing up a lung. Do you think the dentist would appreciate that? Because I wouldn’t. So today I called to reschedule again, as I still have a remnant cough, and the secretary said she’d have to charge me 50 bucks.

So after trying to get there on time and just not being able because the bus system in this city is just too slow, I cancelled it. She said she’d charge fifty dollars to my account, but, I’m not paying fifty bucks for inconvenience. That just doesn’t make any sense.

Sorry I don’t have anything more interesting to talk about, guys. Aside from that, the only other thing I can think of is… Depressia is getting blinder and blinder.

Over the week-end, with her at the dinner table, she couldn’t see the food that was in front of her. She couldn’t recognize tomatoes. And last night, Aunt Twiggy and I were with her in her room trying to teach her, again, how to use e-mail. Something I’m convinced she’s incapable of learning at this point in her life. We want to get her one of those special keyboards for the vision impaired – not braile – but the keyboards with big, bold, friendly letters.

Hey, you know what? It was the long week-end. That’s why I missed three days. I knew there was a third reason, and in fact, it IS a government conspiracy!

One other thing… For some strange reason, I feel like coming up with substitutions for insults. Like, loser becomes bloozer, and ugly becomes fugly. That kind of thing.

Anyway, peace out, batches! Of cookies!

Friday, May 16, 2008

#16 Threw a Tantrum Over a Drink

In Grade 3, for a reason I can’t remember, and one I’m sure doesn’t matter, we all had soft drinks brought to us, after ordering the drink we wanted. So, the appropriate drinks came to the class, and I patiently let everyone else get theirs first. (Maybe I was forced to wait until last, I’m not sure.) Anyway, when my turn finally came around, the drink I got was not the one I’d asked for. Either they got the order wrong, or someone else changed their mind and took mine. Heck, for all I know, I was the one that made a mistake. Anyway, I started yelling and crying about it.

So one of the girls in my class, we’ll call her Shanéné, offered to switch with me. That meant a lot to me, and though I still talk to her sometimes, I’m not sure I’ve ever told her this. The teacher was also proud of her, and told her she could have a prize sticker, in a system similar to the one described in #15. When this happened, it was one of those moments when I recognize that I really had to mature a little, but I’m pretty sure it passed.

#15: Hit a Girl #2

In grade 4, I hit a girl, (whom I’ll refer to as Tomboy), for a rather complicated reason, which I’ll explain.

Our grade 4 French immersion teacher decided it would be a bright idea to turn us all against one another by implementing the following system:

  1. Everybody starts each week with three tickets (ou les “billets” en français)
  2. If one student hears another student speak three English words together, he or she may take a ticket from them.
  3. At the end of the week, five tickets can be traded in for a prize/toy.

Anyway, the teacher was trying to gather us all for a small assembly on a small stage in our class. I was dawdling at my desk. I’m not sure what I was doing exactly, but Tomboy came up to me and said “Hurry up, Mal!” So then I felt she owed me a “billet” but she argued she didn’t have to, because even though she used the English form of my name, names don’t count. So in frustration, I hit her, and she went down in front of the whole class. And then I went down, to the principal’s office. Again. And despite the fact that hitting her was wrong, I was also wrong about her owing me a billet.

#14: Hit a Girl #1

In grade 2, my first year at a new school, I hit a girl in the school yard. I believe that at the time I though she was making fun of me, though in retrospect, she probably wasn’t, because she gave me private tutoring in grade 5 – while the other students were doing regular class work, this girl and I were in a separate room because I was so stupid, or she was so smart, or likelier still, a combination of both. That was actually a pretty fun time, though. We just hung out.

Anyway, back to grade 2. Actually, I’m not sure what’s left to tell. The only thing I remember is standing above her while she was crying and feeling like a complete turd. I did get picked on a lot as a kid, particularly as the new kid in grade 2, but she didn’t deserve that if she was one of them, and she probably wasn’t.

I’d like to thank her for all she did for me, but I haven’t seen her since high school. I don’t know what became of her.

#13: Gave Miss Canada a Bad Hair Cut

In grade three, for a reason that completely eludes me, I thought it would be funny to cut off a portion of a girl’s completely equally proportioned hair. Her hair was long, and it fell down on her back like in was made with a drafting utensil. It was the most perfectly even, straight hair I’d ever seen, and I WANTED TO DESTORY IT!

I recall I got her permission to cut off a portion of the hair, but I’m not sure why she would agree to that. I guess we were both stupid. We were 8, what do you expect?

Anyway, afterwards, the teacher took the huge clump of hair from my hand, and taped it into my homework book for my parents to see. At first they didn’t even know what the hell it was, but when my dad finally got to the bottom of it (so to speak) I got ONE HELL OF A SPANKING!

And she was missing a clump from one side of hair once perfect haircut.

She has since been crowned Miss Canada once, (hence the name), and I gather she’s not still mad, as she still talks to me occasionally, but nevertheless, she’s on the list.

Four for Friday

I’ve been slacking off all week, so it’s looks like I owe you all four, so these may be shorter than usual, but here they are. Not much else to report here aside from the fact that I’m PLAYING LASER TAG THIS WEEK-END! YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

I’m also not sure when I’m going out with Monkey Girl, and I haven’t heard back from Knocked-Up Girl (Actually, I think I already named her Club Med. Ah well…)

Also, strangely, no jobs have materialized in my lap either.

Monday, May 12, 2008

In Other News...

In other news, the girl I met on lavalife has continued corresponding with em with the perfect combination of friendliness and indifference, a courtesy which I’m now finally returning to her, with my message: “Why do I get the sinking impression there’s going to be no second date?”

I’ve been mulling over what to say to her for awhile, because really, there’s no right answer to this. Of course, now that I’ve reached a mental state of not really caring anymore, it doesn’t really matter to me. Now I’m not sure whether I’m more worried about her being disinterested, or finding out that she actually is interested, because I’ve sort of moved on myself.

I met another really cool chick at a club over the week-end. (Not that I go to clubs often, but it was for a mutual friend’s birthday.) She caught my attention because she brings a stuffed monkey with her to parties and photographs it doing silly things. She seems to relish in other people thinking she’s crazy. I tend not to like being around people, so I like that. Of course, maybe she really is crazy, which might even be better.

Anyway, she sent me an instant message this morning, so I took the opportunity to ask her out, and she seemed okay with it.

Nothing much has changed aside from that. I’m still unemployed, and not really looking. I’m still thinking through large portions of my book without writing much down. I’m still babysitting my cousin, who’s still an intolerable, rambunctious brat. Whom I love, of course, or so I keep telling myself. Ugh… and I’m picking him up again tonight.

#12: Kicked Friend in Crotch

At least I think he was my friend. My memories of this one are extremely vague. The way I remember it, we were both in grade three, and we were playfighting, or maybe we were playing tag. I don’t think I meant to hurt him, but clearly I left an impression because a teacher made me write a letter to apologize to him, which had to be proofread by my parents.

My folks scolded me and explained that you should never kick a boy there because then he won’t be able to have children. I’ve since been hit in the crotch numerous times, and it’s never been a big deal for me, and my junk still works fine, but still, here it is on the list.

Unfortunately, all I can remember right now is his first name, and our grade, so when it comes time to track him down I may have to dig up some old year books, if I still have them.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

#11: Kept a Secret Relationship from My Friends

In my early university days, there was a girl. Oh yes, how many stories begin this way?

Yes, there was a girl, an intoxicating, intelligent girl with the power to allure any and all around her. Let's call her Karma Chameleon.

I was intensely attracted to her, and she was intensely attracted to me. It was the sort of mutual affection that comes with a feeling of both truly understanding, and challenging one another. Alas there were complications, for you see, I was not the only suitor who sought exclusive rights to her.

There were three of us. The first of the other two was the aforementioned (In #9 and #10) "Data." Data loved to talk, particulaly about history, politics, and sci-fi epics. He has a college history professor in the making. The third and final suitor was a bisexual woman, whom I'm calling Stripperella for my own amusement. (Later, she would become a pole dancer.)

Chameleon and I had been playing a game of slow-building sexual tension for a year by that point, and it seemed that only the pressure from other suitors would bring us together.

It all began with an innocent game of cards. Well, I'm not sure how innocent it was, because at some point we decided to make it more interesting and play a game of strip blackjack. I'm pretty sure it was my idea too. I wiped the walls with her. I never lost a round, and shortly she was completely bare. (Who knows, maybe she kept losing on purpose?) I couldn't believe that she was even more beatiful than I'd imagined, and then the game and my own clothes disappeared. I'm not sure how, it's sort of a blur. This girl was quite intoxicating, in case I haven't mentioned that before. I have, but that's the bext word to describe how I felt about her anyway. She was like a drug. Or a bug light. It was a night of unbridled passion.

But let's skip ahead 24 hours. Data had another party. It was a dinner party, or perhaps better described as a barbecue, but I had to cut out early for a mother's day gathering with my mom, Aunt Twiggy, Auntie Flo, and Grandma Depressia. We later got into a car accident on the highway, (we were fine though), but enough about our evening. Back to the barbecue.

Data also had a whole mess of unsaid feelings towards Cameleon, and kept trying to sweet talk her into going upstairs with him.

Stripperella, who sensed something was amiss, somehow nudged herself in, trying to be a third wheel. I'm not entirely clear how they came to this agreement, but all three of them went to his room together, and Data took off his clothes. Perhaps to save her, or perhaps because she wanted Chameleon to herself, Stripperella started making out with her until Data felt like a thrid wheel.

Let's skip ahead another 24 hours, to a heated argument I had over the phone with Stripperella. Each of us thought we knew something the other didn't. And we were right, but unfortunately it came out wrong, and we both seemed to have an irrational sense of ownership over Chameleon.

Because I only lived a block away, I hung up on Stripperella and heading to Chameleon's to talk to her. That's when I got the full story.

Charma was humiliated and said to me "Everything I gave you two nights ago, I gave the two of them last night." I turns out this wasn't entirely true, but it did explain a lot. So she and I talked for awhile about what we should do. She told me that I was the one she wanted, but that she didn't want to disappoint the others, so what we decided was that the official story would be that isn't ready for that sort of commitment, while in truth, we would have a secret relationship. In my mind it was perfect; their feelings are spared, and we have our relationship. And in truth, it being a secret actually made it that much more fun. There's something somehow that much more intimate, when not only are two people sharing intimacy, but they are only sharing the information that they are sharing intimacy with each other. Good lord, I hope that's not too confusing.

We met with Data and Stripperella the following week-end, and one-by-one, they were informed of her position, and for a time, the tension in our friendships subsided, and we were able to function as friends.

However, over time, my relationship with the Chameleon became stronger, and our affections harder to hide, so it wasn't long before we were outed as a couple.

Data was devasted. Though I'd kept it a secret pramarily to protect him, (so I naively thought), it turns out that what was more important was our trust. I had lied to him, about something very important to both of us. He never forgave me for this.

And I tried many times to apologize, but he never accepted it. Even now, eight or nine years later, he still won't talk to me, though by now it is perhaps more out of indifference than spite.

Recently, (within the past few days), Stripperella made contact with me, and I was suddenly reminded of another reason to put her on the list, which I'll do at another time. But I also think it's fair to note that I owe her something here too. I hurt both of them; she was just more forgiving about it.

#9 & #10 Slept with my co-star

Ironically, I think I'm getting more writing done at work, than I would at home.

#9: Lied about sex
#10: Slept with someone else's girlfriend

I'm not sure what to do with these, as they're directly related, but I don't know whether to treat them as one, or two.

Back in high school, just after a crushing breakup with a long-term girlfriend, I went to a party at Data's. (As for who Data is, well, I guess I'll explain that in #11.) It was Christmas time, exams had just finished, as had our round of student-directed backstage plays. (Although ironically, the play I was in was not directed by a student, but by our English teacher for some strange reason.)

As would be expected of a bunch of seventeen-year-olds at Christmas, there was a lot of alcohol consumption, and at some point, my female co-star from backstage becane very... friendly, to put it lightly. She started massaging me, without my say-so, and started kissing the back of my neck. I shot a few glances around the room, at Data, and a few other guys, as if to say "help me out, man!" But to no avail. They probably figured I was in seventh heaven.

I'm entirely sure why I let her take me upstairs, nor am I really sure why Data allowed it either. Data even let us use his room. He just handed me a condom and shut the door.

This is not a woman I would normally say I'm attracted to, nor is she someone I would really want to spend time with. Simply put, I didn't really like her. I didn't DIS-like, and actually she was rather pleasant most of the time, but, well, I guess what I'm trying to say is I wasn't the least bit interested. But something kept beckoning me on. Maybe it was that I was lonely after the break-up, or maybe it was that I felt sorry for her - as I said, I didn't find her attractive, but I didn't want to actually SAY that, so I weighed my options, and I decided I'd rather sleep with her than let her feel rejected.

As the clothes came off, more and more layers of unattractive attributes were presented to me - cullulite, breast acne, and other details that are just too digusting to get into - and again, as all this raced through my mind, I lept thinking, "no, I'm being shallow. You can do this!"

Anyway, long story short, we had sex. But let me backtrack for a minute.

Okay, we did a play together, directed by our English teacher, "The Happy Journey" if it means anything to any of you. Personally, I think it's a terrible play - depressing, meandering and meaningless. Anyway, I was "Pa" and she was "Ma," the married protagonists of the play, then we had a bunch of children.

That being said, back to the sex. So just as we finished she laughed and kissed me and called me "Pa." Somehow, I didn't let that send me over the age, running from the room screaming and laughing.

At the end of the party, we exchanged phone numbers. This brings me to the #9 part. Over the phone, she said she was too drunk to remember anything that happened the night before. Now, perhaps she really couldn't remember, or perhaps she just wanted to give me a chance to lie. She asked me if we'd slept together. I told her we didn't. And that was the end of it, I thought to myself. I'd dodged that bullet.

And this finally brings me to #10: Slept with somebody else's girlfriend, because you see, in all the other dirt racing around in my my, I'd actually forgotten she already had a boyfriend, so turning her down would actually have been a really huge favor, or at least, I would have had a better excuse to say no. Not that I should need one, but you know what I mean.

Not only that, but he was one of the larger members of the football team, so better not to get on his bad side.

I'm not really sure what became of the boyfriend, but my co-star is now married and has a child.

#8: Bullying Fatties

For one day only, I'm actually working in an office. Well, it's my mom's office - for those of you who don't know, she's a criminal defence attorney. Her secretary's off today, and I'm the replacement. It's pretty slow though, obviously, as I have time do my blog entry. Now if only I could land myself a job like this for the other 364 days of the year, I'd be set. I could get paid $100-$200 a day to sit around answering phones, making photocopies, but mostly wasting time online, you know, the way most civil servants. The mounties for instance. Lazy bastards.

Anyway, I didn't bring in my proper list, so I'm just going to recall items as they come to me, to pass the time. So hopefully there will be more than one entry today. The first thing to come to mind is...

#8: Bullied a fat girl who was half my age

This takes goes back to about 2001. I was 21. It was my sister's 12th birthday party, and the arrangement was for her and all of her friends to go to and see the (then) new Harry Potter movie. My father and I were basically chaperones, as there were too many kids to take by car, so we he had to heard them like sheep on a train. If that makes sense.

Okay, to the heart of what happened. One girl was telling lies about Las Angeles. I knew they were all lies because I'd just been there, and I wasn't having them, and I wasn't letting her pass her lies onto anyone else either. And you know how kids are. Their such bad liars, they don't even know their lies are bad.

So as a retort, she says: "Oh yeah, well you have a receeding hairline, which means you're going to be bald when you're older, so ha-ha!"
"Oh yeah, well you have a bulging mid-line, and that means you're going to be fat when you're older, so double ha-ha."
"You called me fat. I get to kick you now."
And as she approached for her free kick, I got into a fighting stance and warned her that I knew three different martial arts and had longer legs than her. That shut her up, or at least it got her not to start kicking me. (I don't like it when kids kick me, dammit! I've still got bruises on my shins from my damn little cousin. Must... not... strangle...)

I like to think I was trying to retaliate in this way to teach her a little humility, but of course, that never works with kids. Their either too insolent to care, or they think it's funny to get you mad, or they actually take it to heart, and develop a complex.

And then again, maybe I was just being is, I'm thinking "What? You think you're better than me because you're gonna have more hair than me? Well you're also gonna have more chub than me, little miss chubbity chub-chub." It doesn't exactly come off as a classy retort.

This sparked an argument with my sister recently. She said I was being immature and I called her a big stupid poopie face. Now who's being immature? Haw! Anyway, silliness aside, I now feel like a bit of a jerk for retaliating like that on a girl who was too young and stupid to know any better.

I wonder where and what she's doing now. For all I know, she may have turned out to be quite nice.

I also wonder about this business of bullying fatties, and whether it's genetic or something. I often think it's a form of emulation of my parents, who are both relentless when it comes to making fun of obese people, even though they have obese friends.

Anyway, it comes full circle, because I know I don't like it when people make fun of me, particularly if it's something I can't change. When I was a kid, the other kids made fun of how pale I was. Seriously, I look like a vampire. Even my mom made fun of me. Wow did that ever piss me off.

And now she's just down the hall, working on a murder file. Maybe I'll throw a paper plane at her...


Wednesday, May 7, 2008

#7: Stole a Girl’s Grade 7 Shop Project

When I was in grade 7, I took a mandatory shop class. One of our projects was to make a keychain by melding together strips of plastic and then sanding them down into whatever shape we wanted. I decided to make a multicolored teardrop, though that’s perhaps beside the point.

The shop teacher brought out a bunch of projects the previous students had done, and one of them in particular caught my eye – it was a joystick keychain, with individual finger grips. I couldn’t believe the person who made it didn’t want to keep it, so when no one was looking, I pocketed it, hoping no one would notice.

Anyway, it turned out that the students had brought these back in upon the shop teacher’s request, and they wanted them back, particularly one girl who made a joystick keychain with finger grips. We’ll call her Chuck.

So, the shop teacher already knew a few facts – that it went missing during my class, and that I in particular had been eyeing it. Of course, I denied it. I figured it was too dangerous to hold onto it anymore, so I chucked it in the lost and found, hoping everything would work out.

At the end of the day, the shop teacher came in and brought Chuck in tow, who was in tears. I felt so rotten, but at least I’d gotten rid of the evidence in case they searched everyone. They held us all in the class for while, hoping the culprit would crack and fess up. (Of course, an intelligent teacher should know that never works. When you scare the crap out of a kid like that, and then he has to confess in front of the whole class, he/she definitely won’t.) Eventually, our homeroom teacher gave up, and we all went home, and that was the end of it.

Passing by the lost and found, I noticed that the keychain was gone. To this day, I still don’t know who really wound up with it.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

#6 Moved Back in with Parents

I know that an unfortunately large number of people tend to do this at some point after graduating university, and perhaps then working in an industry for a few years that they decided they hated.

I’ve been back living here for two years now, and I think it’s time to move on. ‘Nuff said.

In other news, I’m a bit sore today from playing tag in the park with my cousin. It was fun – this other ten-year-old kid joined in who turned out to have a pin in his hip, and he kept falling over, but he really, really wanted to play. Apparently it’s an injury he incurred in some really rigorous, aerobic form of jujitsu. I think teaching your kids self-defense is all fine and good, but just bear in mind he has to also walk, and you know, be a kid and stuff. Anyway, to this kid’s credit, what he lacked in agility, he made up for with stealth. He tagged me from behind, out of nowhere – it was hilarious. Totally scared the crap out of me.

My sister gets back from Japan today, so I’m picking her up at the airport. I’m looking forward to hearing what she got up to over there.

Monday, May 5, 2008

#5: Gave up Getting Driver’s License

When I was 16, I kept hearing stories about some of my friends who got their license the day they turned 16, though I wasn’t terribly into it, so I registered in driver’s ed around that time. Here in Ontario, we have a multilayered licensing system – I’m not sure what it’s like where you live, but the standard is to have 3 levels, taking a minimum of two years before you can drive on your own.

It has always bothered me that this is the height of hypocrisy, and that the people who developed the “Graduated Licensing” system in Ontario did not themselves ever have to go through it, but I digress.

You start by taking a written test, and getting your learner’s permit, a G1, which allows you to drive a car only if you have a 4-year experienced driver in the passenger side, which is a bit of a pain in the ass, because it essentially meant I had to be free at the same time as my parents, (which didn’t happen often), or I had to drive with an instructor. So of course, I didn’t get the practice I needed in order to pass my second test, (the G2), so I flunked it. Rather than taking the time to practice again, I just gave up. I didn’t care anymore, and I decided the province had made it too much work, and that driving was terrifying anyway.

Thus for years, I’ve been depending on the kindness of others to get drives places, or I’ve been taking the bus, which is fine I guess, when it comes on time.

Many of my family members are cross with me that I gave up on it, and let my G1 expire, so now I have to get started all over again.

Anyway, throughout my life I’ve noticed a bit of a pattern, and my little cousin, who I’m babysitting later today, exhibits the same pattern. When something is too hard, we just give up. I’ve treated a lot of aspects of my life this way, including finding work. I’m letting failure and rejection get in the way of my success. Not having a license is often a major deterrent in getting hired anyway.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

#4: Vomited All Over Parents’ Bathroom

That night was a blur. At sixteen, I got my first experience of what it’s like to be missing gasp of time.

First I was doing shots of tequila in a park with my girlfriend, and two other guys. Lets give them some fun names. We’ll call my girlfriend at the time Froggie, because she was cute and spoke French. (That’s right, Al. Your sister finally makes her first appearance in my blog.) Then there were my two male friends, The Farmer, and Lying Psycho.

After a few shots each, Froggie and the Farmer went their separate ways to get home, while Lying Psycho and I staggered over to Spike’s house to harass him for a bit in our semi-drunk states.

It seemed that our inebriated behavior was a little off-putting for the then-square-and-studious Spike. (After high-school, Spike would turn out to be quite the drunken bastard himself.) At some point, Lying Psycho somehow convinced me that drinking an entire 2-litre bottle of Bavarian Cooler would be a good idea, and in my frame of mind, I was in no position to object, so I drank it all. Then Spike kicked our worthless butts out of his home.

I don’t really remember getting home, but somehow I got there, with Lying Psycho in tow, or perhaps I was the one in tow. We laughed about stuff in my basement – according to a later testimony I was putting dirty in my mouth and laughing about it, but this came from Lying Psycho, whom as the name might suggest, is both a liar and a psycho. At least he was as long as I knew him. You know, some people juggle, other people go tiger hunting in bikinis. Lying psycho’s thing is to sleep with other people’s girlfriends, and pull knives on children on Halloween.

Aw crap, I think I have to add that one to the list. Well, I’m not sure. I don’t really know who the kid was. He was just some ten-year-old trick-or-treater who was making fun of a bunch of us for being such old trick-or-treaters, and Lying Psycho, (who wasn’t even wearing a costume – rather he put on a button that read “this IS my costume,” which my mother gave him), thought he’d teach him a lesson by pulling a switchblade on him. The kid looked like he was about to shit his pants. I started yelling at him. I think this is the moment I realized I’d befriended a total loser, perhaps because I was actually sober. Maybe Lying Psycho should make his own list. That would be a very long one.

Okay, so back to the night of drunken stupidness. I have a recollection of being in the bathroom, trying to vomit in the toilet and failing miserably. Not the vomiting part – that part I seemed to have down pat. Getting it in the toilet is another story. I think I must’ve got my puke everywhere but the toilet. After a few good heaves, I no longer had the power to balance, and kept slipping in it – and my vomit was red, red as the Bavarian Cooler was when I’d downed it sometime before.

My father managed to get me to unlock the door, and with Lying Psycho’s help, they got me up the stairs and into the tub to be washed off. I have perhaps ten seconds of memory of all of this. FLASH: Vomiting FLASH: Bathtub WAKE UP!

I awoke at about five in the morning, hyper-alert and hungry as hell.

The next morning my father asked me how I was feeling, and I said I was fine. He told me the hangover would probably last twelve hours, but I didn’t even wake up with one. I had actually thrown up beyond a hangover. My body had expunged everything, so there wasn’t any alcohol left for it to process.

To this day I can’t stand the taste of Bavarian Cooler, or vodka for that matter. My body still seems to associate it with being sick.

But my dad – he wasn’t even mad. At first he asked Lying Psycho what was wrong with me, though he naturally denied all knowledge. My dad wasn’t mad. He said it’s okay to do this once; I didn’t know any better. But I’d better as hell not do it again.

Well, I wasn’t the one who cleaned up the mess, and I don’t imagine it was a fun job, so I feel like I owe him a little for this, though who knows, maybe he made Lying Psycho clean it up.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

#3: Broke Woman’s Faith

This bad deed may be a little abstract, but it’s one I think about a lot.

It’s no secret that I’m a ferocious atheist, and I’m ashamed to say that in my youth I took a few conversations about religion a little too far.

When I was around 18, I had a female friend who worshipped me, as though I were a God. To her, I seemed to have an answer to everything, and she could never seem to win any arguments with me.

Over time, to her chagrin, she found that I was just as human as everyone else around her, with my own set of flaws, and this drove her to break up with me several times, though we kept getting back together because of the comfort that came from knowing each other so well. I loved this woman for a very long time – six years, an eternity for a relationship in stasis.

I could never get her to admit that she loved me, because I felt that she both loved and hated me. There was something missing in her life. It was either something I destroyed, or something she perceived I had destroyed.

Though I still believe religion is bound to go the way of the dodo, that its demise is in fact, completely inevitable, but it isn’t really my place to shatter another person’s irrational beliefs. After all, I have my own set of irrational beliefs.

Many people are far too frightened by the thought of a world with no greater intelligence, no afterlife, and no inherent meaning to their existence. That life would be too lonely for these people. I believe all people need connectivity to a certain extent.

What I think I’m guilty of in her case was intellectual bullying, something she then turned about and did to countless other people. So, I think I may have turned one of my ex-girlfriends into an intellectual bully. I’ve turned her into one of the most critical people I know, and now she thinks she’s a natural born critic, but she’s not.

This girl came to me as an open book, and I was very rough with her.

Friday, May 2, 2008

#2: Terrorized My Little Sister

15 years ago or so, I used to take great pleasure in tormenting my sister. At the time, I thought it was funny, and to a certain extent, so did my parents, but I think I may have gone a little overboard some if not all of the time.

On one occasion I pulled a door knocking prank. She was about three years old, and had just learned from my parents that when the knock on the door, she could get up and open her door and find someone on the other side. And she was very quick to answer the door.

So I though it might be funny to trick her. I snuck into the bathroom next to her room and knocked on the wall. She naturally opened the door, and found no one there. Confused, she closed it again, only to hear more knocking. With lightning speed, she opened it again.

“Hello? Who’s there…? Nobody…? Okay…” and she began to cry.

There’s another time where I hid under her bed, trying to keep my snickering to myself as quiet as possible for a good half an hour before the payoff. My mother finally put my sister to bed, turned out the light, and walked down the hall to her room. Then there was a moment of quiet. That’s when I finally made my move.

In a low, raspy, monstrous tone, I called her name from under the bed. You can’t imagine the scream that followed. I could barely contain my laughter as she ran down the hall. By the time I was halfway to our parents’ room, she could already hear me laughing, and she yelled my name back at me.

Our mother came out to see the commotion, and she couldn’t contain her laughter either. This made my sister understandably frustrated.

Now my sister is 18, and still sleeps with the light on.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

#1: Broke N/A’s Heart

As you might imagine, #1 on my list is pretty special to me. The first thing on my long list of bad actions I’ve done would have to be the one I think about the most often. That being said, I’m not entirely sure what to do about this one. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, and she severed all communications with me a long time ago. I tried send her a Christmas gift a little over a year ago, (about a $40 gift – a toy I bought from the warehouse I was working at), and she insisted she couldn’t accept it, that I still loved her and she couldn’t return the feelings.

So, what I want to do this time is make it clear that I don’t want her back, but rather, I want to make it up to her.

For a time, I was her dream. She wanted to marry me, and I didn’t realize that until the damage was done. So it stands to reason I should work towards making another one of her dreams come true. Back then, she wanted to be a singer, and a producer, (we even developed a TV series bible together), so that’s a place I could start. Of course, she may want nothing to do with me still, which means I’d have to make it up to her from the shadows. That might require a field trip to Toronto, but that’s fine because I have other items on my list to attend to while I’m there too, so I can do them together.

Apologies are cheap. That’s where I start, but I can’t cross anyone off my list until I’ve really made up for what I’ve done.