Big Daddies

You'll hear more about one of these Daddies
further on..

Well, so I think it's safe to say that I am suffering from some seasonal depression, I mean, who isn't? It's February the month so fucking depressing they made some idiotic holiday smack in the middle to celebrate love. Why?? Because it's at times like this that a person feels about as far from love that they need a set of grappling hooks just to work their way back up to tolerance.

Or maybe I am only speaking for myself here?

Anyways, the point being that I am going to throw about 150% of my creative talents towards this ass-kicking post/music/image diary to try and bring a little culture to the fact that if the snow doesn't fucking melt soon allowing me to go on a nice long bike ride, the little aparratchnik at the boot repair store is going to wish he hadn't even begun to mess with me.

Which is a good way to start this post. Now I know I have been becoming a bit let's say 'radical' in my approach to feminist issues lately. But I think this takes the cake.

So on Friday I brought a pair of worn out boots to the shoe repair place in the mall near the library. The young man ogled my chest and told me it would cost $25 bucks to get my boots cleaned and re-waterproofed. I said that seemed a little expensive and he ogled again and said he would not charge me tax and I should come back Wednesday. Which brings us to today. I walked into the little shop at 10 past 5, and an older man who is leaning over the dress shoes of a pair of businessmen ignores me. I should mention that I had skipped lunch and anyone who knows me, knows that the old man ignores me at his peril.

So I stand and fidget (5 minutes I swear) while he chats to the two business guys (Personal admission business guys give me the heebie jeebies under normal circumstance, when they are sitting on matched thrones getting their shoes cleaned as they wear them, they basically gross me out.) until he looks up and says "Whattayawant?"

Now I could have said something like; "A diet Pepsi please, and the happy meal. Oh wait is this a shoe repair store??" But I didn't, because I am a nice adult. I said "I am here to pick up some boots, but I have forgotten my chit. "Old Cranky Pants, who I notice has some cyrilic tattoo on his knuckle and speaks a bit like a Russian gangster from Law & Order says, "You don have your chit, I'm all alone here I got no help, come back tomorrow." So I replied "I was told they'd be ready today, I don't want to come tomorrow." Old Dirty Bastard then says: " I gotta clean these shoes." I see his crabby and raise him a bitchy. "I can wait." Which is quite honestly a lie, if I don't eat something soon I am going to start whaling on someone with a solid mahogany shoe form.

Anyways, my position clear, I continue to stand by the cash make a few phone calls and then I loudly and quite genuinely, cough all over his cash register thinking as I do it; "at least the little bastard will get a cold". He finishes up one guys footwear and before he begins the second I wander over and say. "I was told my boots would be ready for pick-up today. It's totally fine if you want me to come back tomorrow, but I am only going to pay you $20 dollars."

The little man rears back and says " I don't make bargains with you." and I reply. "I would like my boots today then." He walks over to the (now germ soaked) counter and begins going through the pile of alphabetized chits, he locates mine and mutters, "you make my customers wait." to which I reply, "Well I am sorry for that, but you've made me wait about 15 minutes already." and he says "I am already alone here." Over my shoulder I hear the man waiting for the rest of his polish say "Yeah, you're making me wait here young lady." I call over my shoulder. "Then I apologize to you as well." Meanwhile picturing a much less well-brought-up me, picking up the boot black and shoving it up both these fuckers snouts.

Boots finally in hand, I exit the store, kindly saying to the man in the throne "Enjoy your polish." I can only hope the two of them are filled with a tiny bit more hate than they started their day with. I certainly am.

At long last I make it to the IGA where I get dill for the soup, some fruit leather and as I head for the cash I see a huge double chocolate cookie in a little plastic package. According to the package the cookie is called the "Big Daddy". Above the name are the words "soft and tender" in italics. I snatch the cookie like a glucose deprived vulture and get in the under ten line. It occurs to me as I eye the pastry ravenously that I can totally deal with Big Daddies, as long as they taste good and come with a "Soft and Tender" disclaimer. Any other type can just fuck off and become extinct.

On the way home I lucked out and heard about 5 songs in a row that perfectly expressed the mood I was in, and then better yet - the underpass, the most under-appreciated but beautiful part of St. Henri was lit like a firecracker in an old cardboard box.

So please take the following as the emotional impact of about 3 Big Daddy Experiences only one of which was materially satisfying.

Music for Seasonal Affective Disordered Psycho Bitches

• Entertainment - Sleater Kinney
• Ghost of Corporate Future - Regina Spector
• Hopeless - KT Tunstall
• I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You - The Black Kids
• The Wind - Cat Stevens

Saved by the Underpass

Note: Let's assume about 60% of these songs were heard while trying to take pictures with my cellphone in the bitter bitter cold. I have eaten Big Daddy and am feeling a lot better singing along to Regina Spector singing: "Imagine you go away/On a business trip one day/And when you come back home,/Your children have grown/And you never made your wife moan,/Your children have grown/And you never made your wife moan." That's the context okay?

And my personal favorite:

Okay, that's it for now. I hope you who have stayed have enjoyed the rant.