An evening at my daughter’s place (Daughter’s Birthday)
I spent my birthday at my daughter’s apartment in a place called Kipling. We urbanites think it is in the boondocks. They think they are plenty urban, thank you!
I think I posted pics of the wild party on Facebook. This is what really happened.
The dog was bursting at the seams, so Shane and I took him for a walk. While they were doing their stuff, I regaled him with a tale of unparalleled horror. I told him a second race of aliens had come visiting , more benign than last time when they anally probed their subjects. This time, they were more nerdy, and were content merely to jot down stuff in their communicator thingys.
Here is what they reported: “We have observed two species on this planet. One is the master and one is the slave. The superior race has eliminated the need for clothes and was seen excreting all over. The slave race was bending over reverentially, in homage behind the master and scoop up its excrement, examine it and carefully dispose it. We conclude that the worshipful equation between the two species seems to be well established.”
They introduced me to a programme called “The Letterkenny problems” on You tube. This is a series of sketches on the “problems” which small town boys in rural Canada face while growing up. My son in law said there was a time when he used sound like this, “it’s only I went to University that my accent started sounding a little more civilised.” My daughter very helpfully told him, “You sound like this even now especially when you are drunk.” Too much information. As a good dad, should I have put my foot down? Maybe, but then who said I was a good dad? One of the problems was that one of their friends had called their sister a slut. So, naturally, they had to beat him up. This points to the dilemma faced by many young men. You want your buddies to romp around having a good time, but not with your sister.
We also spent an interesting hour playing a new board game called “Cards Against Humanity”.
Cards Against Humanity is a party game for horrible people. A few examples:
|Black Cards (Pick one)||White Cards (Match the best combo you have)|
|Grandma finds this sort of amusing||A tribe of warrior women|
|When I am President of the U.S.A||Rush Limbaugh’s soft, shitty body|
|And the Academy Award for —— goes to —–||An erection that lasts more than 4 hours|
|I have 99 problems, but —- ain’t one of them||Coat hanger abortions|
|It’s a pity all kids nowadays are doing —–||The entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir|
|Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the door, and see —-||Used Panties|
Eg: Black: Grandma finds this sort of amusing: White: An erection that lasts more than four hours
Some of the good ones we generated:
- When I am President : I will pass a law outlawing any concern for the Third World
- What is George W Bush planning to do now: Become a mother fucking sorcerer
- What is the white man’s favourite food: The last free bison
- Sean Penn : Sean Penn (there is a weird circular logic to this one)
After the evening was done, I had to return by Wheel Trans, an accessible service of the Toronto Transit Commission. It is a service that most disabled people in Toronto end up using and it is the cause of much heartburn and some joy. Usually they are pretty efficient but as with any utility they have their bad moments. Being a tax paying citizen I tend to look at them more critically than most. It is one of the favorite hate objects in this city. When I got into the bus that evening I found that there were already two or three people inside the bus. I realized that this ride would take me much longer than normal because obviously those people who need to be dropped off first. Wheel Trans usually follows FIFO.
When I got into the bus the driver was right behind me and said: “I need to strap you down. Can you go forward a bit?”
I was fumbling and he told me very condescendingly: “I said go forward – not backwards.”
I realized this is one of these people who look at any person in a wheel chair as if he is mentally deficient. I have great fun with such people when someone mistakes me for “one of those”. I deliberately slur my words a little more and acting dumber than I normally am. (It is more difficult to pretend that you are more intelligent and brainy in a group. I find it is much easier and less stressful to appear dumb.) Anyway I slotted this fellow down as one of those guys who thinks that all people in wheel chairs are pretty dumb creatures. I was pitying him – as his job was ferrying disabled people all day long. How horrible if you have to earn money this way and end up hating your customers. By the end of the ride the other people were let off and this guy started speaking with me and said “I must have appeared a little ill-tempered when you first got on the bus. I was just thinking about my last job and how much easier it was in that job to deal with people”. So I had to ask him what that last job was. He told me that his last job was as a solider in the Canadian army. He had left after 10 years and this was his first civilian job. He told me: “People listen to you when you speak to them from the end of a bayonet.” I could not argue with that but thought in my mind: “now that you have thrown away your bayonet and are clutching a steering wheel instead maybe it is time to change your attitude a bit.”
When he let me out, however, he was all happiness and cheer. Whatever was bugging him earlier seemed to have disappeared now.
As he let me out he asked me: “May I tell you a joke?”
I told him: “Yeah, by all means I am always happy to hear a joke.”
He asked me: “Have you ever made love in a camping site?”
I said “No”.
He told me: “You should try it sometime, it is intense!”
“In tents, get it?” He was grinning like an overgrown school boy! I had never heard this one before. I went home chuckling. Maybe I will meet him again. I would not mind travelling with a former bayonet wielder – if he tells me a joke at the end.
Did I mention – there was lots of cake.