Tag Archives: lunch

Disney: Excitement

Travel

IMG_0582Things blind you in the World. You lose site of your behaviour at 100%, 60%, 40% levels of excitement relavite to the heart-racing thing you’re exposed to, while discovering things in the Parks. You come around the corner and there’s Goofy in a cowboy hat! Goofy! OMFG! HI! Then you notice he’s not noticing you. Then you notice the line for photographs. 100, 60, 40. Just like the forced perspective of all the buildings along Main Street.

In this fete of excitement you discover things about people you love. Things that may make you either love them more or question the whole foundation of your relationship.

Case in point: Lunch at T-Rex Restaurant. We’re stuffed to the gills on massive burgers and nachos and we’re walking it off in the gift shop. A section in the back is a Build-a-Bear outlet that had been modified into “build a Dino” in keeping with the whole restaurant theme. Nice. I’ve never been in one and wandered in for a browse. I’m looking at the different “breeds” of dinos you can get when I hear a manly girl scream.

“Look at these cute shorts!!”

Yes. It’s SharkBoy and he’s holding up a pair of cargo pants, sized for a baby or a baby dino or someone with serious medical problems. He’s gushing like a prom queen stuck in the football team’s locker room. The only other time I’ve seen him excited like this was when we bought lightsabers at our first trip to Disney. He immediately picks out an orange Raptor and thrusts it into my hand to get the attendant to stuff it while he wanders the isles looking for cuter outfits.

Not sure if you’ve ever done the “Build A Bear/Dino” experience. The stuffing machine attendant gives you a cloth heart that you have to rub, blow on, give a kiss, make a wish and CRAM into the centre of your creation. Yeah, I had to do that part. I wished nobody was watching.

At the end of the whole process (including making a birth certificate – say hello to Kiki2, newly adopted by yours truly, Libido Suiddlygoot), SharkBoy discovers a tiny pair of cammo tighty whiteys that illicit a final peal of delight and an extra reach for his wallet. Now, those were cute. I admit it.

Did this experience soil our relationship? Hardly. It made me love him more. It’s a rare moment to see this kind of behaviour from him and it also makes me love Disney even more.

The Lesson: First for Everything

Personal Bits

Two upper middle class, housework-shunning, career women sit down to lunch, order martinis and the topic of their children come up. A common complaint is discovered and a plan is hatched.

When I was 13 (ish), my mother announced I would be going out on a date. Imagine the internal spit take that generated. My mother… the matchmaker! I was appalled for a moment at the thought of her talking about my inability to socialize with strangers. And my social ineptitude… Wait… What? With a girl?

Holyshitwaitaminnit… A date with a girl??! Would I have to kiss her?

At this time I had already had sex with a man. I knew it was right, my hard wired brain was just doing what it was genetically told to do. But somewhere in my chest, a voice said “Oh fuck it! Give it a whirl!” So when you hear earfucks saying “Gay is learned!” or “Gay can be behaviorally eradicated from your system!” punch those fuckers in the nuts for me. It makes me physically ill to think that people can “cure” you by rote (or disfiguring electroshock). I digress. I decided to give it a whirl, despite the huge fear that was in my goolies.

She was my age and slightly gangly and while she was not the most popular girl in school, she was smart. Near genius smart for her age. I was more intimidated by that, than her sex. My mom stood just outside of earshot (which, by the way is physically impossible) while I made the call:

“Hello Dorcas…?”

Let’s stop right there. I am sure the reason Dorcas was so intelligent and wise beyond her years was purely based on the need to constantly explain to people her name was not a vehicle for child-like slurs. Get it out of your system now, I’m sure she had heard them all well before she was 5 years old in numerous playground and recess gatherings. Dork Ass; Door Knob; Dork Face; Dumb Ass etc. Years after our date, I had seen her verbally rip the skin off of some drunk fucker who called her out about her name, during a illegal teen drinking party. While her words were venomous, her eyes were dead set and almost blasé. She had her name defense response honed to an art.

Of course, her name was the first thing we talked about on our date. I thought I asked politely but my question still riled her. “It’s from the bible,” she told me, “Not that I’m religious or read it at all.” We then tore into how embarrassing our mothers were: from naming conventions to matchmaking. We were friends then.

But throughout the evening there was a voice in my head. “You gonna kiss her when this is over?”

I admit that the night was a blur. I do know we went to Star Wars. I do remember her telling me that hand holding was not required. I do remember at the end of the evening, after walking her home, standing at her door, (thankfully without any parent in view – we lived in an age when 13 year olds could walk the streets unattended) we did kiss. I think I kissed her teeth.

We became friends after that. Like “holy Christ we will never, EVER talk of this again” kind of friends. When Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back came out, we went on another “date” much to the amazement of our parents. I remember my Mom reeling like being hit by a slap when I mentioned Dorcas and I were going out on another date, three years after the last. We laughed hysterically at the end of the evening when I kissed her hand.

Two upper middle class, housework-shunning, career women sit down to lunch, order martinis and awkwardly avoid talk of their children.

Reconnecting

Distractions, Personal Bits
Here Be Dave

Here Be Dave

In the fall of 1981 I met Dave while doing props for a community youth theatre show. A few of us went over to his house for lunch on a break between rehearsals and while I was chewing away on a sandwich, Dave concocted a 2-second blood pack of ketchup and a ziplock bag, behind an open fridge door. He tried to throw at me as a joke and it didn’t work so he resorted to exploding it across his chest. Dave was obsessed with horror movies, you see. Not sure what happened, but when the prank failed miserably, I thought his cunning was a thing to be reckoned with.

Dave was one of two friends I did acid with for the first time. And was the reason I will never be 100% welcome back into his house by his mother. She’s convinced I shoved the tab into Dave’s pure and vestal mouth, when it was Dave who upped the ante with pot and a few drinks at his sister’s house while we waited for the drug to kick in. And kick in it did. When the acid refused to recede from our reality, Dave called his Dad to come get him before he “died”. What ensued was a comedy of sorts, seen through the fog of teenage drama, heightened by LSD: Police were going to be called; one friend’s career in the RCMP was going to be ruined; my mom would find out and I would cease to exist with one glare.

Things sorted themselves out when Dave’s older sister stepped in and told his mom that time will bring Dave down (he had tread a groove in his bedroom carpet walking off the acid) and that everyone should just calm down.

As you’ve probably guessed, Dave was the fearless one in our circle of friends. He would try anything if it meant getting a reaction from anyone.

And fearless he is. He has a wife and two kids and a house in the Beaches and is now sporting a huge CSI/Grisham-style beard because “it pisses everyone off”. Glad we were able to reconnect!

Flub

Distractions

Co-Worker1: (to the whole cube, discussing lunch) You like wasabi?
Co-Worker2: Yes I do! Love it!
Co-Worker1: Wow! I didn’t know that. You gobble that stuff down?
Me: Or snort it?
Co-Worker1: …what movie was that from…?
Me: Jockstrap 1
(silence)
Me: Jackass. One. The first one. Movie. Jackass. Not… (mumble…)
Co-Worker2: What movie are you really thinking of?