Because in the end, it`s my floor

Mom,

I don't have much of a commentary today, but I do want to share a video from yesterday's episode of Q on CBC radio1. Jian Ghomeshi, radio host on radio1, interviewed Billy-Bob Thorton and ... well, see for yourself. You could listen to it, but seeing Thorton`s blank stares reminded me of an experience of my own.

you can read what John Paolozzi, of radio3, has to say here.

It made me uncomfortable, then I hiccoughed a small fit of laughter then I asked my computer if this was actually happening.

I might have jumped over the desk; although in all likelihood I'd've been sitting there, shaking wishing I had the courage to jump over the desk but thanking that the desk was there stopping Thorton from coming at me.



Last night a guy came into the bar, with some foreign substances reeking havoc with his inner bits. I told him, Johnny we'll call him, I told him Johnny, are you all right?

He stared at me, eyes wide like he opened a ninja turtle action figure on Christmas morning to discovered that it wasn't the gift he had always wanted but a demon device sent to steal his foreign substances.

Why? he asked me. Why do you ask that?

Oh, this is going real well, I thought to myself. And I could tell it was just going to get better. I shifted the bar chair I was propping my foot on to be more out of my path back behind the bar and more into the path of his to mine.

I just wanted to check in, I calmly sputtered out. nice one scaredy cat, just tell him he's not getting served.

So, are you going to ask me if I'd like drink, he asked.

ah, no. sorry johnny, i think you`ve had enough for tonight.

He made a move for my chair and in a flash I was back behind the bar and making for the local hockey team I been serving for most of the night.

Johnny sputtered and spit and made his way slowly to the door. Not that he was moving particularly slowly, but it was made slower when he stopped at everyone, gave them a thug hug, shouting about how sober he was and how out he was being thrown.

Then the hockey team, three of them celebrating a birthday of one of them, asked to buy him a drink.

In retrospect I should have got him a rye and coke and a shot of lime juice and no rye. People who have had lots to drink, or who have foreign substances floating around their bits, tend not to know the difference.

Like making a White Russian for a drunk guy, in a red hat, a week ago, with Worcestershire instead of Kahlua; but that`s another story.

I said no and Johnny left, no more angry than when he came in but that`s only because he had lost all range of emotion two hours previous.

The hockey team said I should have gave him one drink so they could talk him down which means I should have gave him one drink so they could mop the floor with him.

It was my floor. I think I made the right decision.

One guy in the group recapped the events each time a new member joined the group, each telling more descriptive than the next. By the end of the night we were heroes who tried, in vain, to save a damsel in distress.

Anyways, enjoy the rest of the day.

Your son,

--b

just because

Dear mom,

Mands and I have new email addresses. Well, additional email addresses. You can still reach us at our usually ones, although you can reach us at our new ones too! Here they are, in all their .Jpeg glory.

Thanks for reading.

--b