Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Jack Squat

Came back to the armpit. I spent the day with Daddy in Toronto. We walked around taste testing international cuisine (followed by an hour-plus of autoshop talk). The problem with hanging out with him is his epic window shopping habit (I'm more of an in-and-out kind of consumerist). He puts in the effort to interrogate the owner about something, knowing he'll leave empty-handed (I say "interrogate," but it's more like "talks too much and asks irrelevent questions"). He pokes his head into every store that intrigues him while I'm left staring at my hands and counting the polka-dots on my shirt:

Daddy says: "Salt water fish are prettier, right? They're prettier."
Daddy implies: "Your fish sure are ugly."

Daddy says: "Ooh, you have the latest electronic thermas with an easy-grip water pump. Too bad I just bought a similar model. I'll come back later."
Daddy implies: "Ooh, I don't actually have the money or the need for something I do over the stove. Let me wander over to the back and browse some more."

Daddy says: "Charge it!"
Daddy implies: "Retail this, motherfuckers!"

We fixed and upgraded my laptop along the way. The technician made a desperate call to us just as we were about to sit down for Vietnamese noodles.

"There seems to be a problem! I think your daughter must've caused this machine to rust!"

We scurried back as my old man hoped to Mao his wallet wasn't going to lose another paper inhabitant. I assessed the damage and made a dramatic sigh.

"It's chocolate. I forgot about that. Sorry."

Steve knew my sin would come back to haunt me.

Then Daddy bought me a durian shake. It was delicious. He said he didn't want to stand near me because my smooth concoction stank. For those of you who don't know what a durian is, it's a fruit native to southeast Asia that takes about 3 months to mature. It features a hard outer husk which consists of sharp thorns that masks the creamy batter on the inside. Yes, it emits a strong, pungent aroma reminiscent of gym socks and used vaginas left out in a forgotten Indonesian porta-potty during an August heatwave. But the sweet custard is so good ... Like eating heaven out of a farm trowl.


Woohoo! Definitely going to Thailand (along with the other planned destinations)! Mom finished making all the reservations then discovered my credit card bill. She begrudgingly paid it off and reminded me to "be successful" when I grow up and to show her the same level of generosity that she has shown me.

My adult life will be inseparable with my youth: Blissfully in debt; carelessly frivolous; willfully on welfare ("Ain't no party like an imagine-the-pinata party!")

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