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| About to give an interview on the mob |
The view out my window is of the silver water, and each day I see a giant cruise ship come into port.
This is my second time to Canada. The first time was 5 years ago when I went to Toronto to escape from reality, and spent three days storming around the streets with one of my funniest friends. I didn't do many tourist attractions because we slept most of the day and after waking up we'd drink in the park until we were led down a debaucherous path, and end the evening eating poutine and drinking beer.
Since I am with children this time around, I can only dream of sleeping all day. Black out curtains are miracle workers at keeping the sun from eking into the room, so they easily sleep till 6:30 am. When I return home, I will be putting them in the kids's room.
The potential to stay out late is off the table too, and we are back to the room by 7pm. Currently it is 8:10 pm and probably the kick off to a great evening at the restaurants down by the water, but I am laying next to a snoring baby wondering if I can turn the TV without disturbing the peace.
Canadians live up to the stereotype of being extraordinarily friendly. I sense the strain behind the forced smiles, so I don't know how much of it can be attributed to pharmaceuticals.
I met up with an old friend last night, and after not seeing her in six years, she looks and acts exactly the same. There were some inside jokes to her new life, like she referenced Portlandia a lot, so I assume her friends and her find the show highly amusing. But other than her new job, friends and city, she was the same person I knew back in the day.
It's weird how seeing someone after 7 years is not much different than the last time seeing them. It makes me think of how quickly those years have gone by, and the potential speed of the years to come. As we parted ways, I told her that when I see her again when were 50 I will only be able to utter, "Time sure does fly!"
I once went on a date with a guy from Canada. He looked like Chris Elliot, the actor from There's Something About Mary. My mom let me in on some terminology from her upbringing when she told me, "We used to call them Can-Heads."
I told her thats sounds racist, but after a google search that led to nothing, I think when she said "we" she must have meant her and her twin sister.
The date was uncomfortable from the beginning. He picked me up in a total piece of shit car and immediately informed me that he has a much nicer car, but chose to drive his jalopy because he recently got a DUI and felt this would be more inconspicuous.
Dinner proved to be a continuation of his bad luck because the restaurant name, Joe's Diner, led him to believe we'd be eating somewhere cheap, but it turned out to be fine dining. He was perspiring from the anticipation of a pricey bill, and fidgety while reiterating, "This is not the place I was expecting." As a student, I could understand the financial strain, and I ordered an appetizer for my dinner because I felt bad about the mix up.
On the walk back to his incognito mobile, he pointed out a Rolls Royce Phantom, and told me his girlfriend just broke up with him and is now dating someone who drives this car.
I didn't feel like saying, "Tough break. I guess the 'real car' you keep hiding back at home is a Ferrari?" Instead, I said, "How lucky for her," and kept walking.
We went to play pool in Santa Monica. He filled me in more on his ex girlfriend. He let me know she is a model."Oh, wow," I thought, as I nodded for the waiter to bring me another beer.
Since I had to endure him talking about his model ex-girlfriend who dumped his ass for someone who drives a much superior car, I lost any guilt about drinking on his dime.
Maybe he assumed my listening implied I would sink to be his rebound girl, but my intention of only giving him a pat on the back when he dropped me off at my apartment strengthened with every sobbing detail he shared about his previous relationship.
When he pulled up to my apartment I could tell he wanted to stick his tongue in my mouth, but I did a quick cheek peck and flew out the car as fast as a bird being chased by a cat.
He called my phone a couple times in the weeks after our date, but I never answered.
Maybe his model ex-girlfriend was Canadian too, and when she broke up with him she was too polite to say, "I hate you, and your boring, so I never want to talk to you again."
Instead she came up with a story to try and make him feel better, "I have to leave you because a billionaire wants to shower money on me all day long, and has promised to make my modeling dreams come true. How could I ever say no? You will understand, one day."
Then he said thank you to her because regardless of his down-on-luck DUI charges and the my-good-car-is-back-at-home grey cloud he sits under, at least he has good manners.
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| guten morgen |
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