Halloween Fightercocks

My mother has a talent of giving this deadpan delivery of hilarious one-liners (or one-paragraphers) without realizing it 98% of the time. I speak to her almost every Saturday morning on Skype and yesterday, I asked her what she was doing for Halloween. 

She proceeded to explain to me that true Halloween is not about (barely) wearing an inappropriate costume and drunkenly falling face first into your plate of onion rings at an after-hours diner. She might have not used these words specifically, but it fully captures the essence of her schpeel. 

I asked her about what Halloween was like growing up. She grew up in Goa, India where Halloween was actually “celebrated” on November 2nd- All Soul’s Day, a day observed by Catholics to honor the dead. Here’s an actual serious conversation we had about All Soul’s Day  and a little cultural lesson for us all (me included) about “Halloween” in Goa:

Mom: “No one dresses up on All Souls Day, unless you want to look like a jackass. All Soul’s Day is really supposed to be  scary.”

Karen: “So what do you actually do?”

Mom: “People rob and steal your things.”

Karen: *insert this face*

It takes A LOT to tear my attention away from chicken wings and my mother knows just how to do it.

Karen: “People steal stuff?”

Mom: “Yes. You know, because its scary. It’s like a ghost came to mess with you. Sometimes when you wake up in the morning, you may find all your vases in the garden missing. Or you may find your vase in a different location in the garden.”

Karen: *still has the face*

Mom continues…

“This one time, all of Marie Lou’s expensive pond rocks went missing. Her son bought them for her from Dubai you know. Turns out they were all at the local cemetery.”

Karen: Her son went to Dubai and bought her rocks?

Mom: “Yes. They’re decorative.”

Karen: “Nevermind. How the heck did Marie Lou know where to find her pond rocks?”

Mom: “If you lose something on All Soul’s Day, its most likely at the cemetery.”

Karen: “Sounds like a hassle for everyone involved.”

Mom: “No kidding! You have to be so careful too, especially if you are a fightercock. Then everyone hates you and  steals your pond rocks.”

(Quick glossary: The word “fightercock” is my mother’s umbrella term for bitches, douchebags and people who shouldn’t be talking.)

Karen: “So I guess if you’re a fightercock, most of your stuff will probably be dumped at the cemetery.”

Mom: “Oh yes. But you have to go there as soon as you can and claim your stuff. You don’t want robbers to take your things from the cemetery before you get to it.” 

My mom’s village apparently ran on the adage- Rob me once, I’m a fightercock. Rob me twice- I’m a lazycock. 

She continues, clearly enjoying my rapt attention to  this newly discovered Halloween tradition. 

Mom: “And not all your stuff ends up in the cemetery…some of it is in other people’s houses”

Karen: “Whaaaaaa?” *insert this face*

I don’t know who this fightercock is. But she was photo bombing our picture so she probably deserves to have her pond rocks stolen.

Mom: “Yes! Sometimes stuff from your garden will end up in someone else’s garden and vice versa.”

Karen: “Doesn’t anyone call the damn cops?”

Mom: “Cops don’t like getting involved with ghosts, Karen.”

Karen: “Right, of course not”

Mom: “One time, Sebby woke up on All Soul’s Day and found all the bananas off her banana trees in the backyard GONE! In all fairness though, everyone knew what a big fightercock she was. Now, she lost her bananas. Haha”

Karen: “Poor Sebby. Did she find her bananas at the cemetery?”

Mom: “No. But she visited her archenemy Antoinette later that day and saw that Antoinette had an unusual amount of bananas at home. When she asked her about them, Antoinette told her she bought them to make banana fritters.”

Karen: “Ugh! Banana fritters my ass!”

Mom: “Indeed! Watch your language.”

By the end of this conversation, I wanted to just drop my Kate Middleton costume altogether and replace my neighbour’s pots of geraniums with pumpkins. Or steal the lawn gnomes off my neighbours down the street and send them ransom notes for each one. Granted none of my poor neighbors are fightercocks, but its been so long since I’ve been able to blame anything on a mischievous ghost. 

I made a firm resolve that next year for Halloween, I’m going as a fightercock. 

Because in the end what it comes down to is this: Would you rather go the traditional route and wear a Halloween costume? Or would you rather piss the hell out of the fightercocks in your life?

Also, I know I’ve asked you guys this before but everything’s funner when there’s a poll:

Friday Wednesday Chronicles: are back

Let me first say that I`m fully aware of the fact that I`ve been living in dungeons of Slackerville Central for the past couple ofthree…four and a half weeks in terms of blogging. And if we`re going to be brutally honest then let’s also include in that list exercising, taking my vitamins and setting up my StalkMaster telescope to view the bedroom of my hot neighbour ….sorry BreezyK.

Anyway, let’s pretend like my four-week absence didn`t exist and just move on with this week’s update of retarded behaviour from around the world? Yes? As per usual, please note that all puns you may find are completely intentional.

1) Boyfriend fakes his own abduction to hide cheating:

True to everything Greg Bernhardt (look it up fellas) ever told women in his loved/hated books, Jason Laperriere of North Bay, Ontario quite literally proved that he would rather be in prison then tell his girlfriend that he’s just not that into her. Laperriere spent the night sucking face and other body parts with some crazed prostitute and then made her text his (ex) girlfriend some donkeycrap story of how he was held at gunpoint by said crazed prostitute in a $12,000.00 drug debt. 

After some colossal time wastage of police and investigators, Laperriere was thrown in the slammer where he is now spending six months in jail probably having his gun held now by Watchful Walter and Bend Over Bobby.

Laperrierre hopes to get back with his former girlfriend once he gets out.

2) Ryan Gosling reprimands Toronto cyclist:

Obviously, no Chronicles comeback from a lazy hiatus would be appropriate without talking about the eight wonder of the world. When this Adonis isn’t breaking up fights, saving crazy bitches from being run over by incoming vehicles, and having his face plastered on ovulation kits at drug stores country-wide (oh if only) he is preserving the law by scolding cyclists such as Toronto’s Michael Murray for riding his bike on the sidewalk.

Perhaps the real law (and office chair) breaker who needs to be scolded here is Toronto’s mayor for the enthusiasm he does not have for bike lanes. But really, I’d rather spend my time updating my list of things to do to get this superhero’s attention than talk about Fat Ford. So far I have riding my bike on a sidewalk, starting a fight for no apparent reason (preferably with a cute child or a defenseless three legged puppy) and risking my life by jaywalking on Yonge Street. The things we do for Ryan Gosling love.    


3) Man sporting ‘tighty whities’ robs coffee shop in Idaho:

So apparently a couple of weeks ago, two random nutbags held up and robbed a coffee-house at a place called Fruitland, Idaho. This is all fine except for two things: 1) They live in a place called Fruitland…which could be a direct reason for 2) One of them disguised himself with nothing but tighty whities on his head. Despite their shitty disguises, these thieves still managed to evade security cameras, which is kind of sad because all they got for the trouble was less than $500.00.

In a similar story:

4) Blue men rob Ont. variety store:

Two dumbasses from Strathroy, ON (which I guess might as well be Fruitland, Idaho) dressed in full blue morph body suits and robbed a variety store. Police dogs were dispatched but were unable to catch the blue goons.

So now the real question here  is not who the hell robs a coffee shop with underwear on his head or who the hell robs a store dressed like Lady Gaga’s backup dancers…but really, who robs better: The American Underwear thieves vs. The Canadian Blue Men thieves? You decide.

Moving on…

5) Miami police kill naked man who bit off victim’s face:

So unless you live in a sewage pipe, don’t have Facebook or you had your face eaten up over the weekend by a naked man hopped up on LSD then you would have probably either already read about this story or seen funny memes about it plastered all over the internet. If you haven’t, then never fear, I’m here to judge you and connect you back to our sick reality.

Miami cops shot to death a real life Hannibal Lecter when they found him naked on the floor chewing another guy’s face off.  Police say Mr. Deranged Looney Tunes overdosed on some new kind of LSD. Talk about having the munchies after!

Obviously you think that’s a crazy story but quite frankly, I have trouble deciding which is more ridiculous, Mr. Crazytown Face-Chewer or Ms. Bloody Mary over here:

6) Maid accused of putting period blood in boss’s coffee:

Just checking to see if you guys are all still awake. That being said though, I’m not making this up. It happened. I refuse to comment on this story. It’s too much. Even for me. But seriously, if you have a boss that you hate with every molecule of your being, then remember that nothing says “You’re the thorn in flesh that has become infected and gangrenous” like an early morning cup of menstrual coffee.

If you do want to read about the maid from Singapore who basically menstruated in his boss’ coffee cup, click here.

And with that we come to end of this week’s Chronicles. I know I mentioned this would be a Friday staple and look at me posting on all sorts of days of the week. And sometimes posting never.

I’d like to think though that its a nice random surprise to have to read about underwear robbers and menstrual coffee on a Wednesday instead of having to wait all the way till Friday, yes? No? Well, I’m back now so don’t hate me.

Until next week, folks! 😉

Crazy things my patients say

Disclaimer: The names and ages in this post have been changed or modified.

Dorothy is one of the most upbeat and vibrant patients we have at the clinic. She is also one of the oldest. At her senior citizen age, she still makes the dirtiest jokes I’ve ever heard, goes to dance parties and enjoys Tom Yum soup at the local Thai place. She has a host of mildly serious to pretty freaking serious health issues. But that doesn’t stop the endlessly positive attitude…or the dirty jokes.

Some of Dorothy’s gems include: “You know I used to be 36D…now I’m a 36 long.”

Or, “Karen, I got you a Christmas present, dear. It was a delicious man but I decided to keep him for myself and got you some scented candles instead. You’re on your own, kid.”

Today, she stopped me in my tracks with her latest one liner. I was going through some stretches with her on the bed while she was talking to me about something. At one point, she started to laugh and I saw something in her mouth.

Me: “Why, Dorothy! Is that your name written inside your mouth?” (Yeh, this old woman had her name written on side of her left gums.)

Dorothy: “Yes, dear. You see my dad lost his teeth at the nursing home and we could never find that darn thing. So I thought I’d have them write my name in mine when I got them done.”

Me: “That’s great idea. Especially if you are at the hospital or something and you misplace them.”

Dorothy: “That’s what I told my orthodontist.”

And then without warning…

“But between you and me, darlin’, the real reason I want my name in them is that if I’m lying in the missionary postion, I would want the old geezer to know my name, just in case he forgot in the middle of it.”

Never a dull moment.

Dating Epiphanies

I was exercising with one of my older patients today and she started a conversation about the weather…which eventually turned to immigration and then of course to dating. The dating conversation is a popular favorite among the old ladies, second only to the terrible weather and immigration. 

Old Indian (slightly whacked out) lady to me: “It wasn’t that cold outside today!”

Me: “Yeh! Its supposed to get warmer towards the end of the week.” I mumbled some other bullshit about rain, spring, slush and the weather network.

Indian lady: “So, have you heard anything from immigration?”

Me: “Nope”

Indian lady: “Hmm…are you Indian?”

Me: “Yes”.

Indian lady: “Are you muslim?”

Me: “No”

Indian lady: “Do you have a partner?”

Me: (partner?) “No.”

Indian lady: “Shouldn’t you be having one?”

Me: “I suppose”

Indian lady: “Have you tried shaadi.com? Its very effective.” (Quick glossary: shaadi.com = Indian matrimonial site committed to matching up doctors with engineers, engineers with lawyers and lawyers with doctors. I’m not a  member only because I’m clearly in none of those professions and hence automatically rendered unmatchable)

Me: “No.”

Indian lady: “Do you want to marry my son? He’s single, has two Masters degrees and works in IT”

Me: “No”

Indian lady: “Are you sure? Don’t you need your Immigration papers?” (well played, Indian lady. Well played)

Me: “How old is your son?”

Indian lady: “37.”

Me: “No.”

Indian lady: “He looks like Prince William”

Me: “No. Would you like a heat pack?”

Indian lady: “He makes a lot of money. And he looks like Prince William”

Me: “No.”

Indian lady: “I think you’re too picky”

It occured to me that I had just turned down a balding, 37 year old Indian guy working in IT who apparently looked like British royalty. I guess I actually am a little too picky.

Oh well…another one bites the dust.

Bless me Father

Following is an e-mail message one of my best friends sent me telling me about the last time she went to confession with our childhood priest, Fr. Dominic. Fr. Dominic is dear old sweet man, but like someone said, he spends a little too much time in a confession box.

So I go to confession to good ol’ Fr. Dominc and here’s a part of the convo for your entertainment :-p
Me:        ..Bless me Father..the usual….. 3yrs since my last confession
Fr.:         don’t be shy.. say it loud
Me:        uhh.. ok.. 3 YEARS since my last confession…
Fr:         How old are u?
Me:        I’ll be 24 in Dec
Me:      uhh.. you mean a boyfriend? uhh.. yes i do.. but dont worry my parents know about him. (Can I just say I love how you felt like you needed to justify having a boyfriend?)
Fr:       REMEMBER when you kiss you must ONLY kiss each other’s fingertips.. everything else is for after marriage..    don’t forget, save your sweet lips for after you are married!

Me:     uhh…. i guess.

 (FINALLY 15min later)

 Me:      Are we done father?

And clearly, by the end of that I couldn’t even remember what my penance was so I just said an our father and 10 hail marys.

I would just like to say there are several other girls who experienced this at one of Fr. Dominic’s famous confessionals, one of which was me.  Other pearls of wisdoms include: “Sweetie, you’re too young to talk to boys (I was 22)” and my personal favorite “Don’t fall in love with boys…fall in love with your books” (thanks again Bernice).

Note to my poor future husband: Sorry honey. If you want to communicate with me before marriage, write me a book and I’ll fall in love with it. I might even kiss your fingertips. Priest’s orders.

Water-cooler gossip

 Conversation at work between physiotherapist and patient:

(might be slightly paraphrased)

Physiotherapist: So where do you feel pain mostly?

Patient: In my back.

Physiotherapist: Okay. Are there any activities that aggravate this pain in your back.

Patient: Yes, sex.

Physiotherapist: Sex? You hurt your back having sex?

Patient: No my back hurts when I have sex. Especially in the missionary position. (insert conversation about sex positions).  What do you suggest I do?

Physiotherapist: Well…umm..I don’t know. I suppose you could try going on top.

Patient: No, I mean about my back.

Another Fr. Daren gem

We were the Catholic Chaplincy talking about languages when Fr. Daren had his say:

“I really like the French language. It sounds so musical. And by French I mean the French from France. Not that crap from Quebec because they all sound like ducks. hahaha. Also, I think the Indian accent is very cute”

Only white Canadian in the world who would insult the Quebecois AND praise the Indian accent.

Fr. Daren Quotes

I was just telling Fr. D. about the crazy week of craziness and drama I was having at work, when he dropped one of his rare, quality one-liners that made me laugh.
I suppose you’d actually have to hear the way Fr. D says it to get the full effect. And I guess you’d have to spend at least an hour in my workplace to get some added full effect. But those two crucial factors aside, I thought it was pretty hilarious.
Karen: “Fr. D! Work is absolutely ridiculous! I don’t know how to deal with the craziness! What would Jesus do if He were in my place?”
Fr. D: ” He’d quit.”

All the Single Ladies!

My boss came in to work yesterday morning laughing, which I’m always relieved to see (maybe today is not the day I’ll get fired after all! ). I obviously had to ask her what was so funny. Here’s how the conversation went:

Boss Lady walks in laughing.

Karen: “Why are you laughing, boss lady?”
My boss:
Well today I was dropping the kids off to school when all of a sudden, one of boys busts out singing “all the single ladies! all the single ladies!…put your hands up!”

My boss has twin boys, 6 years old. She firmly tells him that its a little inappropriate for a 6-year- old boy to be singing “all the single ladies! all the single ladies…put your hands up!”

Boss Lady’s son: “What’s a single lady anyway, mommy?”
My boss:

I had to laugh too.

Happy Valentine’s Weekend, everyone!