Lottery Forever Indeed!

Generation gaps are fun. That’s something that, at some point, I managed to figure out — I’m pretty sure it took all of my cunning. Here’s one of my world famous stories which will unequivocably provicate my stateminiums.

Riding in the car with my parents. They’ve been divorced nearly 20 years, but they’re great at not letting that make things awkward. My dad’s famous for locating and deciphering customized license plates, and he’s managed to rope my mom in this time on a particularly challenging plate. What can this be? Lottery forever, Lot R forever; maybe he really likes parking lots?

They’ve been discussing it for nearly 5 minutes straight while I happily mine for fish in Animal Crossing. Curious at what’s going on, I surface briefly to take a look at their subject of choice: “LOTR4EVER.” Nerd that I am, I pop in a quick, “Lord of the Rings forever, guys,” and go back to my fishmongering. They mused over it for another solid 5 minutes after that.

 

George, George, George of the Jungle

“Okay, show me you can jump up on that electrical box,” she prods.

“You mean that one over there? That’s barely waist height, don’t you want to see something more impressive,” I ask. She says this is fine, so I drop my stuff, check for cars in case I overshoot and fall face first on their hood, and spot my landing…

With what seemed like no effort at all, I’m on the electrical box. You know, from here I could easily hop on that telephone pole and start climbing, I think to myself. Of course, to do that, I’d need my gloves.

So having put on my gloves, I ask her to move from where she’s propped between the pol and the box — how did she get there, my back was turned for only a second — and hop up for my task.

Normally climbing a completely vertical pole is a skill my limbs are contractually bound against, but this time it seems almost easy. I inch my way up, farther and farther still. I find myself nearing the power lines, time to turn back.

Or not. My arms and legs seem to be working of their own accord! I keep climbing, all the way up and straight into a transformer. My mind goes blank. Aeons later, I register a scream, and a soft rustling of my hair before the world tears apart.

* * *

I wouldn’t necessarily classify that as a dream; such a world exists only on the cusp of a dream, right before you wake up. I was fully cognitive of my actions, enough to try to force myself to stop, but doing so was nearly impossible. It seemed the only option was to wake all the way up. Bother.

It seems a fitting analogy for my issues with cold-starting conversations, however. No matter how my conciousness yells at the rest of my brain to stop being an idiot it still plods along its course of self-destruction in the form of ridiculous possible outcomes.

 

It’s Drafty

Neck bare to the world;
Heart, necklace scattered in shards.
I’ll fix you, I swear.

This morning I was exposed to the world in a way unfamiliar for years: my necklace broke.

Most of you will know this necklace, it’s served as an icebreaker and name-tag for over two years now, and I was very attached to it. I didn’t even take it off to shower, something which likely contributed to its untimely demise. My soul weeps a little each time I see its dismembered remains, bereft of meaning, bound in their branded body-bag.

So, mourning out of the way, anyone know where I can get a new necklace string on the cheap? Not on the cheap, even?

 

Just Before the Gates of Valhalla, Part Two

And now we return with Part Two of chronicling Canada’s Wonderland! As you’ll all recall from last time, we had just made a lunch stop at a restaurant with a conflict of interest for a name. Let’s read on, shall we?

Freshly full of food and fun-lust, we finally make our way to the classic Top Gun! Except that our precious Top Gun is nowhere to be found: once again our favourite bureaucrats had relabeled our childhood friend as Flight Deck and expected us to just let it slide. Well, we showed them who was boss, I can tell you: we let it slide so hard it’ll make their heads spin!

 

Just Before the Gates of Valhalla, Part One

It has recently struck me the reason I feel drawn to blag, and it’s not only the fact that I enjoy listening to myself babble! In the idiom, “there are those to take pictures and those who make pictures,” I am firmly seeded in the latter end; I’ve gone months on end without ever holding a camera. But you know what? If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I think I would rather write those thousand words: it gives me a chance to add a personal flair which no unedited picture can match.

So, to back up my musings, I bring to you without further ado my account of a thoroughly legendary trip to Canada’s Wonderland!