Sticky Beak
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The Skinny
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...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
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They're always after me Lucky Charrrmmss... Some people have an innate talent for being an asshole. I am one of them. Somehow I am able to find a person's sore spot - whether literal or figurative - and grrrriiinnnnd my salt-covered thumb into it, nice and deep. The first night I was in Edmonton we were over at Mel's friend Terry's house for supper. I went to the washroom and when I came out, VOILA! there was a new person sitting at the table - one of Terry's neighbours, Rob. Shortly afterwards, our friend Mike arrived and Rob made a rude comment regarding him. I didn't appreciate the comment or Rob's lack of tact and had already downed a couple martinis by this time so was a bit more aggressive than I would normally be. So, I smoked him in the arm. Hard. I was immediately advised of two things: 1. Mike and Rob are friendly with one another and the 'rude' comment was part of a banter they have. I can only imagine how painful it must have been when I slugged him. But how was I supposed to know???? He was wearing a big hoodie sweatshirt and no one told me that I was sitting next to Skeletor! I'm the outsider, don't know these things, need the info... throw me a frickin' bone here! Oh god, that's terrible. I didn't mean it that way... Shit! See what I MEAN???? It's a talent. Another of my best (read: worst) moments was back in Ireland. Whatshisname and I had been living there for a few months and were desperately trying to befriend this one couple we liked very much, but who led extremely busy lives. So when they invited us out of town to her brother's 21st birthday party (a very big event in Ireland), we were thrilled and jumped at the chance. Only after arriving at the party did we realize that we knew no one except our friends Kevin & Ann, and they were busy with family things so we were left mainly to our own resources. It was a bit overwhelming, so I tucked in to my Bailey's Irish Cream and tried my best to be friendly and outgoing (both a stretch for me, as I'm sure you know). Well. Bailey's is very nice, isn't it? It tastes a bit like a milkshake or something, and goes down so smooth and easy that you forget it has alcohol in it. You certainly don't anticipate that it will get you drunk. Or, atleast I didn't. So one minute I remember standing outside talking to our Ann's dad, and the next I was seated inside with a semi-circle of Kevin & Ann's friends and family surrounding me as I swung my bent arms from side to side and - in a very poor Irish (read: Pirate) voice - sang, "I am a Leprechaun, I am a Leprechaun... arrrgggg, arrrrrgggg!" At the very second of the final syllable of my last 'arrrrggg', I 'came to' and realized my surroundings, that I was one of two Canadians in a room full of Irish that I'd just mocked and called 'Leprechauns', and that all eyes within this semi-circle were on me. Oh Fuck. "Goodnight! That's it for me, I'm outta here!" What else can you do? I stood up, addressed the semi-cirlce as above, and stumbled straight to our rental car where I plopped my ass in the passenger seat, locked all the doors, and promptly passed out. Ah, yes. That was another of my best moments. We saw very little of Kevin & Ann after that. A coincidence? Curious. I could go on forever... there are a plethora of examples supporting my claim to innate assholery, but I'm actually starting to get a little bit embarassed again. I've told Damian recently that I am the only one who can embarass me; he doesn't believe me. But trust me, Damo... when you're as talented as I am and make such a massive balls of situations as I do, everything else pales in comparison. Trust me. It's very much like Seinfeld in the episode where, sitting around Thanksgiving dinner with his Polish relatives, Jerry makes comment that he hates ponies, as well as anyone who ever had a pony. At this, his Great Aunt retorts, "When I was a little girl living in Poland, I had a pony. He was a beautiful pony, and I loved him!" And with that she huffed out of the room and Thanksgiving was ruined. Oh Jerry, you silly bastard. Thank you for showing me I'm not alone! |