"We'll let you know."

No calls to substitute today.
But I still have to be on alert.
The mayor may call me to stop those three generic guys from robbing the bank.
I just keep me costume on under my suit.
It's important to show up quickly.
Make a good impression.
My parents believe that you should be early for everything.
And, as always, they're about 90% correct.
There are, however, exceptions.
Like when I had to go to the loan office to score crusts of bread.
"Get your ass out of bed now tomorrow, and be over there for 9 o' clock."
That's as profane as my mother gets.
"Ass."
Sometimes, when she forgets something she was supposed to bring, she says, "Aww, piss!"
Which I never found that funny until I wrote it down just now.
Anyway, where was I?
Dishonouring thy mother and father?
Gotcha.
Loan office.
Who wants to wait for three hours at the loan office with a bunch of ingrates?
I do, but I usually have classes to get to.
You want a fast trip at the loan office, go at 2:30 in the afternoon.
All of the keen losers have left by that time and are likely eating bran somewhere.

I can never understand how people are in such a rush to line up to board a plane.
They saunter on all of the grandmas and Bettys, weiner asshole children
(That I'll be sitting next to).
And people are on the edges of their seats.
"Again, this is flight some-particular-number, we're ready to start-"
People are pushing in front of one another.
I don't even get up.
I feel like saying, "Fuckers, we're all getting on the same plane.
We have assigned seats.
This isn't like getting to the back of the bus."
Retards.

Now there's the concern that I'll get a permanent position down here.
Somewhere.
That'll solidify the spinster life for me.
I'll get a job teaching in Hermitage.
And suddenly I'll have an inexplicable appreciation for Springer Spaniels.
I'll have Springer Spaniels sewn onto all of my pillows.
And my sweaters.
I'll never own a Springer Spaniel, mind you.
People will find themselves behind me in line at the grocery store.
And that'll be occaison enough to tell their spouses.
"You'll never guess who I saw at SaveEasy."
"Then you best tell me who it was."
"Paul Warford!"
"Oh, that dog! What was he buying? Eukenuba!? What a prick!"
Can't happen.
I get a job in Hermitage and my buddies will talk about me like I'm dead.
"Hey, we should get a pizza."
"Warford used to love Pizza..."
Everyone becomes silent...
"Alright, so what should we get on it?"
I'm going to throw any interviews that I get.
I'm not that capable, but I could accomplish this well enough, I think.
"Hi, hello. Before we get started, I just think that I should admit that I find you very attractive.
Okay. Shoot."
"I can work for you, if you wish.
But one day, we'll all work for the newly-risen comintern.
The sweat of our backs belong to all.
In fact, I brought some pamphlets that I thought you might like to read.
Okay. Shoot."
"Why do I want to be a teacher?
It's more discreet than basketball coach or mall Santa.
Okay. Shoot."

Miss Congeniality

Last night I had a dream that Sandra Bullock was a porno actress.
It was awesome.
I think you were in it, too.

Paul Bearer

There was a terrible storm on the day Nan was burried.
People joked that if she were alive she would've said to stay home out of the cold.
They were right.
I carried one sixth of her to her final resting place.
The casket weighed a fair amount, I think.
Otherwise six of us probably wouldn't have been necessary.
She used to give me change to blow on Ghost Rider comics at The Red Circle.
Apparently, when she did, I used to shout "I got two gold dollars!"
Which was hilarious to my parents and grandparents.
Because I was theirs. Which made me charming.
I'd imagine that anyone sharing a plane with me would have disagreed.
Anyway, I left a couple of loonies in her casket.
Because I'm dramatic.
I've never left anything in a casket before...
I was wary, though, of the mortuary staff thinking it was some 'pay the ferryman' bullshit.
Later we had tea and everyone asked me if I was getting substitute time.
And I just wanted to lie and say that I was writing for Modern Dog Magazine.

"I Don't Wanna Fight"

My brother is in the province right now.
He's asleep.
And he's six and a half hours away.
Brian and I had what you might call a tumultuous relationship as children.
'Tumultuous' like Ike and Tina Turner's.
Guess which one I was.
I hold no ill will towards him now.
Because mom won't let me.
It was a part of the growing process.
It was meant to toughen me up, I'm sure.
It didn't work, but I don't blame him for that either.
I blame all of those sissy books I used to read as a kid.
If I'd only read a bare minimum I'd probably be some big hockey star by now.
Instead of writing this blog I'd be banging women and endorsing things.
And you'd all have to find something else to do at work.

Good Mourning

I'm about to head to school.
I have no idea who I'm in for.
Or what I'm doing.
It's 8am.
I am a substitute teacher.
I shouldn't be doing this.
I should be home, being sad.

On the bright side I look incredible.
Purple is one of my many colours.

Please God

So my nan died.
Yeah, I know.
On her 90th birthday we had an 'open house' at our place.
Like you'd hold for The Stanley Cup, or The Mona Lisa.
Colin and I joked at the time that she was like the godfather (yeah, that one).
Because she just sat in her chair.
And all of these people we'd never seen would kneel in front of her.
Whispering things. Offering her gifts.
And she would nod and say, "Si, si."

People always said that she had the most amazing memory.
Which I didn't clue into until it was becomming too late.
Typical.
Once she told me a story about dad losing his tam.
Whatever the hell that is.
I guess it's a hat.
And dad was only three or four at the time.
I found the story fascinating because it was about my dad.
And he was three or four.

When I was old enough to drive we'd visit.
Because I'd have to drive to her neck of the woods to get the Coke in the glass bottles.
I used to warn the others that she might offer them money.
In which case they may as well accept it.
I used to always say, "Me and you are gonna take this money and go on the beer now."
I also used to hug her and say, "You know, I believe you're gettin' taller."
She liked that one.

She always said that she hoped to "be around next year, please God."
But when she said it, it always sort of sounded like "plaise God."
And as a kid I didn't know what that meant.
Turns out 'plaise God' meant nothing.
Nan just had a really thick accent.

She taught me to appreciate creamed corn.
And when I told her that I kissed Natalie Webber that time when we were five, she didn't tell anybody.
I'm really not good with death.
Seinfeld said the number one fear among people is public speaking.
Number two is death.
"Death...is number two?!
That means that at the funeral you'd rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy."
I have no problem with public speaking.
The shitty thing about death is that you go from appreciating to remembering.
And I suck at that, too.

"We're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fishbowl..."

It has been snowing all day.
Which is a shame.
Because my butterfly net finally came in the mail today.

When I make it big I'm going to have a human fish tank.
It'll be like a normal fish tank.
But there'll be humans in there instead.
I'll pay artisans to make a huge skull for them to swim around in.
And I'll tap flakes of some food or another into their tank twice a day.
Those Shreddies wheat logs that mom buys sometimes, maybe.

And if they happen to die, I'll jam their carcass into a toilet.
Then it's achors away.

Your Turn to Think of A Title

Read someone else's blog.
It's Friday.

Mildly drunk.
I discussed woodwind instruments with children in grade one today.
This week I saw a young man vomit into a garbage can.
I saw a kindergartner weep while a bunch of other kids sang 'Jolly Old St. Nicholas' (like...seven times).
I had one girl say to me:
"I don't believe in Santa Clause."
To which I replied, "That's okay; I don't believe in Jesus."
I ordered a ukulele.
A black one.
And I realized the following:
That if men think with their penis...
...mine can't do math.

I didn't really say that Jesus thing to the girl.

My guitar is locked in my guitar case.
I don't know how to get it out.

Back to the Pen

Bussey and I received our flu shots yesterday.
He because he's health concious.
Me because he talked me into it.
And I'm always up for meeting nurses.
According to porno films, they're particularly slutty with their patients.

Shots were done at the Catholic church here.
As he was parking the car Bussey pointed out the interessting combination of science and religion.
We sat with our forms in our pews.
Bussey asked me to pass him a Bible.
Because he needed something to write on.
I understand they're good for decorating hotel rooms, too.
They didn't have any cookies there for us.
It was my understanding there'd be cookies.
We treated ourselves to Mary Brown's afterwards.
"I'm gonna go wash my hands," Bussey said.
"Wash your hands?!" I said. "We just got our swine flu shots.
What are you washing your hands for?"
Now my arm hurts.
But I can finally get back to socializing with pigs.

Hot Potato

Bludgeon the old woman so you can get the last Cabbage Patch Doll.
It's Black Friday.

I'm in a hotel.
They have individual packets of toothpaste here.
Which is a relief.
Because the airport people told me that my toothpaste was too dangerous to take.
I have spent a lot of time sitting in places I don't generally sit in.
Tuesday, for example, I sat in The Highliner Inn, on the TCH in Grand Falls.
For about seven hours.
I had pie for lunch and took a nap in the chair in their 'lobby'.
Then I sat on a bus for a long time and ate soup at the Gander airport.

If it wasn't for nausia and alcohol, ginger ale never would have made it as a beveridge.

I had the first of what I assume will be many photo shoots on Wednesday.
My favourites are those where I'm holding the parasol at the ranch.
Southern Belle has always been my best look.
Sobol did the photos.
Though I assume she'll deny it.

The Westin is fancier than I am.
Last night's show was well enough.
The majority of the audience was comprised of people I used to see frequently.
I tried to act like I've been accomplishing things.
Mike MacDonald made me carry his bags and chew his food.

Alright, guess I'm going to ride in the elevator again.
Oh, and don't worry about the iPod; the cab company has it in their lost and found.

Did I Do That?

I should have saved myself for marriage.
For one thing, it would make the dowry a little more legitimate.
But moreover, I believe I would be more upbeat presently.
From what Turpin tells me about high school, I was a generally happy-go-lucky guy.
Because I didn't know what I was missing.
Remember Urkel?
Exact same concept.

I believe that my greatest flaw-
and that's a tight race, by the way-
is that I find good in everyone.
If this wasn't the case I'd be far better at talking about people.
Behind their backs.
I'd have quite a bit to say about you.

When you boil it down, a great actor or actress is really just someone with tremendous control of their own face.