I’m a busy, busy boy

Me: What do you want for Christmas?

Brother: Gloves and boots.

Me: If you want boots, you have to come shopping with me.

Brother: I can’t.

Me: Why not?

Brother: I can’t clear my schedule.

Me: What do you mean you can’t clear your schedule?

Brother: I’m a busy, busy boy.

He’s 11. I don’t know what this busy schedule he speaks of is all about. But at least he’s asked for reasonable things for Christmas.

Happy 80th Birthday Grandma!

Today is my grandma’s 80th birthday.  She’s one of the coolest people I know.  She bought me my first bra.  She bought me my first razor.  She’s taken me gambling. Whenever we have family get togethers, she’s always the on who offers me a glass of wine.  And then tells me to go take more when I’ve finished it.  She’s a really fun person, and proof that age is just a number.

Few people can say that their grandma is their drinking buddy.  Or that they’re excited to go hang out with their grandma.  Or that they went to Vegas with their grandma.  Or that they saw male strippers in Vegas with their grandma.  But I can.  And for that, I consider myself lucky.

My grandma doesn’t have a computer.  But she has an iPad.  Cause she’s cool like that.  Although I think she mostly uses it to play slot machine games.  So she’ll probably never read this post.  But I’m going to wish her happy birthday on here anyway, and let the rest of you know how cool she is.

grandma

Me and my grandma at an Italian restaurant at New York New York in Las Vegas. Yes, we were both drinking red wine.

Happy 80th Birthday Grandma!

My grandma’s attempt at being a wingwoman

I was at a trivia night fundraiser a couple weeks ago and my cousin noticed that we were next to a table that was filled with young guys.  I turned to her and said “It’s a good thing grandma’s not here, or she’d be trying to set you up with one of them right now.”  My grandma does stuff like that sometimes.  Like she’ll tell waiters about how she has granddaughters.  I’m not around as much, so it’s mostly my cousin who has to deal with it.

The other night, I was having dinner at Taki’s on Davie street for my cousin’s birthday.  My grandma was there and at one point she pointed over to another table and said to me and my cousin, “Look, there’s two hunks over there for you.”  We looked over.  And then my uncle turned to her and said, “Yeah, they’re gay…”.  And my grandma questioned as to how we knew that and how was she supposed to know?  And then we pointed out that they were having dinner together on a Saturday night by candlelight on Davie street.  They held hands as they left together.  They were hot and they made a really cute couple.  My grandma then asked that if she had dinner with one of her girlfriends, would they be considered lesbians?  We told her no.

The following week, my grandma and my uncle were having dinner and she pointed out a guy who she thought would be “a nice young man” for my cousin.  Apparently he too, was gay.  My friend pointed out that at least she has good taste, since gay guys are usually the best looking and the best dressed.  I love my grandma.  She’s not the greatest wingwoman, but she really tries.

tournament of kings

I don’t have a good picture of us from my cousin’s birthday, so here’s a picture of me with my grandma & my cousin at the Tournament of Kings show at The Excalibur in Vegas.

Ethnic Sex and the City

Today I was talking to my mom and she said that in her old high school group of friends, she felt like they were like a mini United Nations, because they were such a diverse group. This made me think about one of my old groups of friend and how we had once referred to ourselves as ethnic Sex and the City. Because there were four of us and we were going out for drinks and stuff. And we were a diverse group as well.

Me: In my old group of friends, we were like ethnic Sex and the City.

Mom: And one of you was a slut? It better not have been you.

I reassured her that no, it wasn’t me. I told her that I was the Miranda, because I was bitchy. She seemed to be okay with that.

I need something from you

When I came home last night, I walked past my brother’s bedroom and we had this conversation:

Brother: Dominique.

Me: What?

Brother: Come here.

Me: Why?

Brother: I need something from you.

Me: What?

Brother: Words of encouragement.

Me: For what?

Brother: Cross country. The race is tomorrow.

Usually when someone needs something from me it’s money or help with homework or something. That may have been the first time someone’s asked me for “words of encouragement”. So I wished him good luck. That sucks that they had to run in the rain. But good for him. The only time I run willingly in the rain is to catch a bus. And I remember struggling through the 100 metre race at our mandatory track meets. No way in hell would I join cross country. And there’s my brother, willingly running long distances. Apparently they had to do laps around Garry Point Park. I wonder how he did.

Happy Birthday Mom!

It’s my mom’s birthday today.  So I thought I should acknowledge that in a blog post.  I know she won’t read it since she hardly ever uses the computer, but that doesn’t matter.  It’ll be like acknowledging her birthday in secret.  Except not because a bunch of other people will read it.  But whatever.  I’ve started the post already so it’s going to exist.

I would like to say that my mom is my role model.  But I don’t want five kids.  Yeah, she had five.  I’m the oldest.  And that’s pretty much what put me off of having any.  I remember her saying she had me first so I could be a built in babysitter.  How nice of her.

So the desire to have many children is not something that I share with my mother.  But we do share other things.  I think I got my love for writing from her.  I don’t think I’m as good a writer as she is.  But I’m obnoxious enough to write publicly as opposed to privately.  She’s written several things that she hasn’t done anything with.  She told me that in her will she would leave me all her writings for me to do something with.  What the hell she expects me to do with them, I have no idea.  But maybe I could always start a new blog called “Stuff my mom wrote”.  It would probably be a whole lot more interesting than this one.

mom

My mom and I a couple years ago in front of a bear statue. One of my dad’s old classmates had this art exhibit out in Langley so we attended. I’m not really into art. But there was free wine and cheese, which my mom and I both appreciated.  We both love purple as well, probably because we look so good in it.

Happy birthday mom!  Thanks for all your love and support and words of wisdom!