lifestyle

Queerer than we can suppose—Q&A with the kiddies

My Fellow Inebriates,

I fell asleep huddled among the empties last night, which meant I was in the kitchen for the following breakfast conversations.

V: Mummy, did the Easter Bunny write my name on this Kit Kat bunny?

Mum: Yup.

V: Oh. Because I thought you wrote it.

Mum: Nope. And it’s not for eating right now.

V: I know that. The puppy knows everything.

Even though V likes to refer to herself in the third person, her bullshit meter is sharp. My parents will get away with Easter Bunny activities for another year maybe, if that—and it won’t be their eldest who drops the bomb; it’ll be four-year-old Miss V.

▪ ▪ ▪

If you’ve ever tried to get a grade one and a preschooler off to school by 8:31 (yes, union regulations dictate that school starts not at 8:30 but 8:31), you know what a scramble it is. I’m not usually awake for it, but since I’d made my nest among the beer bottles, I had a listening post.

P: Mummy, do we believe in God?

Mum: Well, you can if you want, it’s up to you. What do you want, cereal or toast?

P: I mean, is God real?

Mum: Well, a lot of kids in your class probably go to church, right?

P: Uh huh. Do we go to church?

Mum: Nope. Cereal or toast?

P: Why not?

Mum: Because it’s totally boring. You have to sit still for, like, an hour and be really quiet.

P: I think I’ll believe whatever you believe.

Mum: That’s usually the way it works in families. But it’s up to you. Cereal?

This isn’t as negligent as it sounds. If P really wanted to go to church, my mum would find a churchgoing acquaintance to take her. And then she’d bore the shit out of the kid deconstructing the whole thing afterwards. My mum loves religion. She just doesn’t believe in it.

▪ ▪ ▪

P: Mummy, why do grown-ups smell?

Mum: Like, why do they have body odor and bad breath and stuff?

P: Yeah.

Mum: Well, it all comes down to hormones. Where are your shoes? Grab your shoes.

P: Hormones?

Mum: Yeah, body odor is all about territoriality and mating. Got the black shoes?

P: Mating?

Mum: Yeah, you know, because humans are basically animals, and animals like each other’s smells; that’s why they mate. Three minutes, guys, we gotta go.

P: You mean, like get together?

[And P mimes a big hug. Three minutes is not enough to get into this.]

Mum: Kind of like getting married—animals getting married. They like each other’s smells so they get together and have babies. Just like Daddy and I have babies. Got your shoes? Okay, which jacket?

P: Oh, but Daddy has showers so he can smell good.

Mum: I know, isn’t it awesome?

▪ ▪ ▪

Whatever contradictions manage to coexist in our brains, the kids’ questions do not stop. Get this one.

P: Mummy, is LB real?

Mum: Of course he’s real. Look at him.

P: I mean, is he alive?

Mum: Yeah. Of course.

P: But he’s a stuffie!

Mum: A what?

P: He’s a stuffed animal.

Mum: Oh. Then how did he wink that day when we bought him?

P: But he doesn’t move.

Mum: Sure he moves.

P: No, you move him!

Mum: What are you talking about? That’s crazy.

P: Mummy!

Mum: He’s perfectly real. There’s a whole construct called “LB.” He’s as solid an idea as anything else. The notion of LB exists, and the people around him support it.

[At which point P is moved to hug yours truly. This either represents a point for a mother trying to score points off her child, or the indulgence of a child who knows her mother is batshit crazy.]

Mum: Stranger things are believed in by more people based on a lot less evidence. LB has a blog. Of course he exists.

[And then she makes it weirder.]

Mum: I even saw a bunch of little bears that look just like LB in Save-On Foods. Just like him, only really small, for $2.99. They’re probably his offspring.

OMG!

(While walking to school)
V: Mummy, I wish that person wouldn’t leave dog shit all over the ground.

As Seen On TV! (Or how to earn more beer money)

Bum-crack sighting of the day: a woman bending over to bag her dog’s rectal offering (five blocks distant from Walmart).

This is an excusable sighting—even admirable in a community where many dog walkers deem dog-crap disposal optional. Take a walk anywhere blackberry bushes happen to grow and you’ll see the prickles festooned with sunken-looking plastic bags. It seems people take the trouble to bag the excrement but can’t stand the thought of holding the warm bags for one minute, and instead hurl them into the trees.

My mum uses poo-bag sightings to illustrate to the girls the responsibilities a pet entails. Both kids are desperate for a dog and swear they’ll assume full responsibility for anything it pushes out of its bowel, but…well. My mum wasn’t born yesterday.

My mum has owned and neglected enough plants and animals to know how good intentions work. Her childhood cat? Tolerated being carried around by the tail for only so long and then took off forever. Her gerbils? Bred rampantly until there were 27 of them inside one cage, at which point she sold some to a pet store, which promptly fed them to a snake. Her oxalis plant? Begging for water most days. My mother recognizes herself as a person who shouldn’t—really mustn’t—have a pet. She barely has the capacity to keep her own offspring fed and bathed, never mind an animal that squeezes steaming turds out onto the sidewalk and trots onward.

But for all those dog owners who have taken responsibility for their pets’ defecatory products: Must you launch the bags into the trees? Does it really come down to a choice between leaving dog feces on the ground and adorning the trees with them?

Maybe someone needs to invent a better dogshit-handling system. Seriously, the person who brings that item to market could get rich off Langley alone. I like to think the people who live here would rather not decorate the trees and bushes with caca, and that if a system were devised to minimize their squishy encounters with warm copros, they would pony up the $20 or whatever the price As Seen On TV is.

So come on, inventors. Let’s think of something to make our neighborhood less excrementitious.

ASTROLIQUOR for April 13-20—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You’re into everybody else’s business, Aries, with a strange and manic new angle: temperance. At first you’ll be surprised how much detail you remember about other people’s lives when you’re not blasted out of your noodle. You’ll appreciate the peace that comes from a non-throbbing head. You’ll even go for a jog or some such lunacy. Know that this madness will pass. You will start to miss seeing people through beer goggles.

Taurus, it’s not a week for romance. And yet it seems as though the whole world is rutting. Coworkers are getting it on in a closet somewhere, sending out reeking pheromones. Somehow you feel you should get in on this—yet you know it would be a mistake. Stay the course for one more week. You can have fun all by yourself with some vodka, Kahlua, and creme de menthe.

Your professional life takes a back seat to socializing, Gemini, giving you a sense of being on holiday even while at your desk. Your brain is certainly on vacation, but your boss doesn’t care because he/she knows how smart you can be when you’re not loaded. But what on earth would possess you to combine red wine and Coca-Cola? Never mind—just do it.

A highly emotional week is on tap, Cancer. One second you’re crying, the next you’re laughing. If that doesn’t demote your credibility enough, you could recite some of your secret poems or bestow flowers on someone you’ve been stalking. What’s the fuel for all this emotive spew? Why, Jack Daniel’s and Yukon Jack in equal parts. You can’t have that for breakfast without results.

Leo, early in the week a close friend surprises you with something small. Even if it’s just a flower, it makes your day. So uplifting is the simple gesture that you spread it on to others—that’s you buying the shots! Next thing you know your head is full of tequila and everyone loves everyone else. Not bad.

Virgo, your tendency to tell it like it is means an awkward moment for a Pisces or Gemini in your social circle. This person is not into you now, but if you hang in there things could change. But don’t obsess! People will start noticing and call the police. My wisest suggestion would be to hole up at home with some blueberry schnapps. That way you’ll be occupied drinking and occupied barfing later.

Libra, this is not a good time for thinking. Simply put, you are a total airhead this week. Do nothing financial. Do nothing mechanical. Let the world go on with its business while you make a fantastic punch:

  • 3 cups Everclear
  • 3 cups vodka
  • 3 cups peach schnapps
  • 1.5 cups Malibu
  • 1 gallon Hawaiian Punch

This doesn’t have to be for you only. Go ahead—invite a couple of friends. One of them will give you a hickey.

Take care of yourself, Scorpio. You’ve been working like crazy, pursuing change in your life, but don’t forget about your health. Scorpios have a tendency to let their own intensity magnify until it explodes. Try yoga or, if you think that’s totally lame, a fruity drink. Fruity drinks make people feel relaxed. Think Bacardi white rum and White Curacao and…I don’t know, fruit of some kind.

Sagittarius, you’re zeroing in on some bigtime work success, but you mustn’t force things. Sometimes it’s better not to try. This is as true of flirtations as it is the office. If you try too hard romantically, you might get arrested again. Keep your flask full of apple brandy and Cointreau; it’ll mellow you out.

It’s all about love this week, Capricorn, even if you’re more focused on the romantic aspect than the getting with. Opportunities present from all sides, producing the same sort of paralysis that comes over shoppers in the vodka aisle. So much selection, so little time. So close your eyes and pick one! Do it! That takes care of the vodka side of it. Now choose a person to share it with.

Aquarius, you need to keep up with laundry, showers, and personal hygiene. That smell on you isn’t “musk.” Don’t be fooled into thinking vodka has no odor. It may not, but you marinated in vodka are quite another matter. Vodka is awesome, though. If you stroll through the vodka aisle you may meet a Capricorn who’s into sharing.

Pisces, your stars are increasingly significant now through November. You feel a strong influence to change your life profoundly. You may move, perhaps even out of jail. You may find a new job or even, simply, a job. Whatever you do, follow your passion. Live large and skip the Bud. You deserve some Mozart chocolate liqueur.