Broken

I ventured out this morning headed to the nearby Wal-Mart.  Amongst my travels inside, I made my way over to the Electronics Department, as I often do.  It's like an instinctual path I take when I come to the Preston Crossing location.  Each store has it's unique route, but this one always takes me in the North entrance, where I then circle around past the self-checkouts, before hanging a right to head down the center aisle.  This brings me to the junction where it's a left turn to electronics and a right hand turn to the pet supplies.

I have no interest, really, in the electronics department, other than finding a movie or TV series on DVD for a reasonable price to add to my collection.  Today I found no such deals, but I did happen across a young lad with his mother.  They were getting assistance from the clerk who was removing a Nintendo video game from the locked case.  The look of jubilation on the little boys face, was priceless.  Even the mom, who was attempting to ease his excitement, shared that look of joy.  She'd probably worked hard for the money to purchase this game for her son.

The scenario reminded me of the documentary I watched last night, "Count Me In".  A doc about drumming, percussion and what inspired these musicians to embrace what it is to be a drummer.  The documentary included some rare home videos of these, now grown professional musicians, receiving their first drum kits as, in some cases, toddlers.  One girl, in particular, was so overjoyed when she unwrapped her kit, that she fell into the box, sobbing with tears of happiness on a level like I've never witnessed in my life.  A moment so precious, that it brought tears to my eyes.  

On a personal level, I can only recall my cat, Monkey's first Christmas, where I successfully hit a cat fort in the garage on Christmas Eve.  We'd gone to bed and I got up quickly and rushed down the stairs.  I thought for sure Monkey would have followed me, as he always did so, at the time, but this night was perfect.  He stayed put on my bed.  I placed the fort next to the front entrance, where it has remained to this day, over thirteen years later.  The next morning we came downstairs and he never noticed the new furniture.  It was me who had to stop us in our tracks and vocalize, "Hey buddy.  What's that?"  I said pointing to the new addition.  The cat actually stopped, looked over and I saw an actual feline WTF moment.  I rushed upstairs to grab my phone to take pictures, but in the thirty seconds that I was gone, he'd already destroyed the feathers that hung below the fort.  There were feathers everywhere, including some smaller ones still floating in the air.  I was ecstatic that he was finding so much joy in this new experience. 😊  I love that kid.

Witnessing the joy of that boy getting a game that he's wanted for who knows how long?  Maybe it was only a few minutes or maybe it's been since Christmas?  Who knows, but the experience wasn't any less special.  Then suddenly, like a stray bullet from a drive-by, I was struck with a memory that broke my heart so much that I nearly lost it in the store.  I fought back actual tears as I recalled a time from my youth, when my mom gifted me a toy out of the blue.  The look of joy on my mom's face when I was taking the toy out of the package and began playing with it.

As stated in previous blogs, our family never had a lot of money when I was growing up.  I never sensed that we were poor and given some of the stuff I saw when I was at school, we definitely had it better than some of the other kids in my grade, but we weren't flourished.  One day, I came home from school and my mom gave me a Riddler action figure.  I already had a Batman and Robin.  Maybe a Joker, too.  I know I had a Spider-Man figure, but the Riddler was a flashy new addition.  I played with that like there was no tomorrow and the joy on my mom's face as she witnessed the glee coming from her eldest child, was incomparable, unless you consider the look I got the next day.

I was so excited about this new toy that my mom allowed me to take it to school the next day for Show & Tell.  I can't recall what I had said in the presentation, but it was enough to entice a fellow classmate to approach me about the figure.  Craig S. was a crafty young fellow, who had every toy you could imagine.  I don't know what his parents did, but it seemed like they spent a lot of their money showering their kids with more toys than any kid could play with.  Craig approached me with this flashy spacecraft toy from the TV show Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.  This kid had a way with words and somehow talked me out of my brand new Riddler figure in exchange for his Draconian Marauder.

That afternoon, I returned home and was playing with this new-to-me toy when my mother discovered me.  She asked where this toy came from, having not recognized it as one of my regular toys.  I told her that I had traded my Riddler action figure for this toy and the look of disappointment and heartbreak that overcame her face was devastating to witness.  A feeling of shame overcame me and I put the Marauder toy in my room and took it back to school the next day with hopes of trading back for my Riddler figure, but alas.  It was took late, as Craig had already bamboozled another child out of their toy for my Riddler figure.  The kid in question was a sickly boy that I was afraid to approach, at the time, and so I reluctantly kept the spaceship, but the scar of what I had done to my mother was forever.

Without much money to our credit, my mom, out of the pure goodness that lives in her heart, went out and purchased something with the hopes that her child would find joy with only to discover that her kid selfishly gave it away in exchange for a worthless space toy from a shitty TV show.

Just the knowing that I disappointed and hurt someone I care about is beyond heart wrenching and, though it was a memory previously lost, it's back in my conscious, now, and it hurts my heart every bit as much right at this moment as it did that day as I sat on the floor of our kitchen. 💔

Vociferation

 "Are you okay?" my neighbour Lyle asked, peeking his head out from under the hood of his RV.  He was concerned for my well-being, as just moments before, he'd witnessed me exit from my house and immediately start flailing my arms and moving erratically about my driveway, as if possessed by some kind of demon, before collapsing to the ground.

I was not possessed by the devil, but my body was being manipulated by a demon spawn equally as vile.  I had just walked through a spider web.  A web that a spider felt was necessary to place across the doorway of my home.  I cannot fathom the logic that was used to make such a decision.  Animals throughout history have exhibited some great brilliance, but the intelligence to place a spider web in this, of all places, leaves one to speculate that the in the animal kingdom, spiders rank fairly low on the scale.

Unfortunately, this was not my first bout with the translucent foe.  As with many who may be reading this, I've walked through more than what I'd consider a fair share of spider webs. Whether attempting to take a relaxing stroll down a lane or passing through a hallway in my house.  Somehow these little creatures have whittled their way into our lives and I'm left to wonder, why are they even necessary?  I accept that every creature may serve some kind of purpose, but can't they just do that shit out in the wilderness?  Keep urban life to those who live in suburbia?  I don't know.  I'm no David Suzuki and I'm getting off topic, anyway.

I've been affected by the arachnids for many many years.  A little over a decade ago, while asleep in my basement apartment, a spider saw fit to bite my left foot in several places whilst I was asleep.  I later learned that it was a Brown Recluse Spider.  By definition, recluse means to live in seclusion, away from everything, but this spider failed to live up to its name, instead biting my left ankle causing festering wounds that eventually ate into my leg, causing 

permanent nerve damage.  For many months that followed, I had to repeatedly visit a specialist who treated the wounds with several salves and ointments.  There was some speculation that I might have to have the lower part of my leg amputated if the wounds wouldn't heal, but thank heavens that it did, but not without permanent damage.  Ever since, I've not felt the lower part of my left leg and foot.  It's only recently, when I injured myself with a Grade 2 sprain that I never allowed to heal correctly, that I now have some feeling in my left ankle, but it's excruciating at best.

Those dastardly devils have been following me around like an angry spirit attached to an urn, for years.  I blame one of my past jobs, which was where I was employed at the time of this nasty injury that caused me to lose all feeling in my left foot.  They imported goods from all over the world and it was not unusual to open a box and find the inside caked with webs or worse.  I think I took some eggs home, once, purely by accident as in the following weeks, the backyard of where I resided, turned from a lush healthy green lawn to something out of a horror movie.  Blanket webs for all to see.  It may have been purely coincidental. I, however, do not believe in coincidence, but I do believe in cause and effect.  The blanket web that covered my East College Park residence, looked remarkably similar to the webs I discovered in one of the boxes of product I'd opened from India. 🤔

Another time, at the same job, I opened a box and a large creature leapt out and scurried down an aisle.  Feeling responsible of inflicting my neighbourhood with the last creature that eventually not only covered my backyard with the nasty blanket webbing, but eventually it spread to the neighbouring properties.  Now, I put on my big boy pants and mustered up what little bravery I had left and chased after this bug.  Of all the memories that I still have in my head, I wish what follows was not one of them.

I'd managed to chase this eight-legged freak down to the discount aisle where I was able to stomp it with my size 13 work boot.  I remember how it felt under my shoe, like I'd stepped on a large rock.  Even though I'd hit it with tremendous force, the impact had barely affected the vile creature, it managed to escape under the racking when I lifted my foot.  I headed it off on the other side and stomped it again.  Repeatedly, I stomped on it, trapping it between my foot and the concrete floor, until finally, it succumbed to the assault.  When I raised my foot for the last time, it was truly squashed, its insides now on the outside, stringing connections between the tile and the sole of my boot, like cheese stuck to the top lid of a pizza box.  Truly disgusting and a horrific image that I'll never get out of my head, no matter how much trauma I may inflict upon my cranium.  And now, if I described this as well as I hope I have, it's an image that will live on in your head, too.  Sorry-not sorry. 😄

Naysayers will tout that spiders are not all bad.  That they're necessary.  Blah blah blah.  These people are crazy, tree-hugging freaks.  These are the same freaks who keep spiders as pets.  Tarantulas aren't loving pets!  They're mischievous interlopers scheming escape so as to lay eggs and ultimately devour their human overlords.  Propaganda like Spider-Man and Charlotte's Web will have you believe that spiders have a positive impact on the world, but it's all a ruse.  I enjoy the Spider-Man movies as much as anyone.  Charlotte's Web was a favourite story to be read to me as a child, but I never fell for the hidden messages.  I saw them as pure fiction.  Make believe.

Many a morning, I'd wake up and hunker down in front of the television set to watch the Amazing Spider-Man thwart many colourful foes, but all the while, I will admit, that in my preadolescence, it bothered me that Spidey would swing about the Big Apple, irresponsibly left all those webs slung about.

Yesterday morning, I opened the back screen to let my cat outside, when what appeared to be a feather, lightly floated to the floor, when I kneeled to remove it from the linoleum, it attempted to hide.  This was no feather that'd been shed from a baby bird.  It was a spider.  I killed it then investigated the damage it'd caused to the back deck.  Several single thread webs, stretching from the doorway to the deck railing. Another from the barbecue to the opposite railing.  What the f*ck?  How does this tiny morsel of a beast manage to stretch it's wares so far?  That'd be like me shitting out a web while hopping across the span of the South Saskatchewan.  What the hell was it hoping to catch with that feeble web?

I discovered another little bastard last night while I was using the restroom.  Tucked away up in the corner, just under the counter by the sink.  Nothing gets into this bathroom except a few ants, but they're on the floor by the toilet, far from where this nasty was located.  I grabbed a piece of tissue and scooped the little f*cker up, giving it the same opportunity as I give every other insect that I discover in my house:  If it can survive being flushed, it's welcome to live out its days in my house as my personal guest.  Rest assured, very few have taken me up on this offer, and those who do manage to climb out of Davy Jones' Locker, I toss back in the bowl and flush it.  

I only recognize one benefit of walking into a spider web.  The flailing around like a lunatic, is good cardio, but the mental anguish associated with it, isn't worth the price of admission. 😕

Best Mates

 

Happened to wake up early to hear my favourite morning radio duo discussing, of all things, favourite condiments.  Clayton confessed that he doesn't like ketchup or mustard, and as much as it shouldn't bother me, I was genuinely concerned.  So much so, I took to Twitter, my preferred mode of communication with the world, and tweeted into the radio station asking "who hurt him"? 😁

Truth be known, I've met quite a few people who hate the popular duo, Ketchup and Mustard.  I have one friend who actually complained to BK when he bought a burger and it automatically came with dabs of ketchup and mustard.  As if this was unexpected.  At best, one can assume that a burger of any sort will likely come with one or both of the condiments.

I like ketchup and mustard, but for reasons other than what most would expect.  I've made the claim for, what can be estimated as, decades, that ketchup is the perfect condiment, because no matter how bad something tastes, if you add enough ketchup, it'll taste better.  Case and point: Burger King's Black Burger.

I've never actually tasted the mysterious burger, not for a lack of trying.  When I requested it from my local BK, they cocked their head to the side, like a confused mutt, and had no clue what the heck I was talking about.  That being said, if the burger did actually taste horrible, ketchup would be the hero, swooping in like Spider-Man in the nick of time, to save the meal.

When it comes to condiments, I'm kinda particular.  In my house, you'll never see a bottle of Heinz ketchup. I don't particularly care for the taste of it. Too salty.  French's is my go-to, as is the mustard, only I lean more towards the Sweet Onion flavoured mustard.  I also like adding mayonnaise to my burgers and dogs.  Any mayo is good, but Heinz's Seriously Good Mayonnaise isn't just a marketing ploy. It actually tastes damn good. 😋

I realize that this statement may strike up another popular debate: What are acceptable condiments to add to a hotdog?  It's been my experience that most people frown on and absolutely reject ketchup being added to a dog.  I march to the beat of a different drum, as I not only add both ketchup and mustard to my hotdogs, but I also like to slather a layer of mayo on my bun, too.  Again, because it's not always known what ingredients are in the wiener.  One time, as a kid, I bit into a hotdog and my bite was interrupted by a knuckle.  No lie.  It was a piece of cartilage and as a result, I avoided eating hotdogs until later in my adult life.  Ketchup can cover the disgusting taste of a lot of things, but even Superman, himself, couldn't have saved that hotdog. 😣

In researching this blog, this morning, I came across a blurb from NBC News about a Florida Bistro who outright refuses it's patrons the option of having ketchup on their food.  "Anyone above the age of ten, won't get any ketchup on their food."  Not even on a side of french fries, the article read.  Patrons of the bistro, put absolute faith in the food preppers and accept the ban.  That says to me that they think kids under the age of ten aren't smart enough to know that ketchup is disgusting, but then again, if you look at the state of education in Florida, the state doesn't even believe in actual science, either, so their credibility has no bearing on anything.

I enjoy listening to the All Fantasy Everything Podcast hosted by Late Late Show writer and comedian, Ian Karmel.  I believe he and his friends/guests did a Fantasy Draft early on in the podcast, on condiments.  Wanting to participate in the fun, I always make my own draft, sharing it with them via Twitter and Facebook.  I know that I did one up, but I can't remember what my list of condiments were.  However, if put on the spot today, I think my choices would be as follows.

1. Ketchup
2. Mustard
3. Baconnaise (bacon-flavoured mayo)
4. Smoked Applewood Bourbon BBQ sauce
5. Bacon (you can never have too much bacon)

This is a debate that will go on for ever, much like the argument about whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich.  FYI, it's not.  It just isn't. Sorry-not-sorry, but that's a subject for another day.  Today I'm going to leave you with this final thought.  I recently saw this on TV.  It may have been spotlighted on Colbert, I can't remember, but the sandwich looks absolutely amazing and I doubt with all my heart that it would require any outside influence by ketchup or superhero.

Ladies and gentleman.  Allow me to introduce you to the Hotdog Burger.  Near as I can tell, it's one pound of seasoned hamburger placed on a double-long hotdog bun, with two slices of cheese (although I think I'd add two more).  It's probably a train wreck to eat, but I'm up to the challenge.  Who's with me?

Spiders Are Dicks!!

Spiders are dicks!  At least the ones around my house are.

Spiders in and around my house place their little (and not so little) webs in the most irritating places, in an effort (obviously) to catch and devour insects.  I notice their webs in the nooks and crannies throughout my abode.  In the corner, between the wall, floor and counter.  There seems to be a monstrosity that repeatedly appears by my front door, almost daily, that seems to catch nothing but dirt and lint carried in from the outdoors.  There's a terribly large formidable one in the backyard that, to be quite honest, I'm a little afraid to approach.  The one thing that they all seem to have in common is: No insects!

I don't know if these spiders are catching insects and eating them before I notice anything or if they're just too stupid to actually catch anything.  They must be doing the former as some of these spiders grow to disgustingly large sizes, which then becomes a real problem for me.  I have arachnophobia!

I used to be deathly... And I do mean deathly afraid of spiders.  I'd see a spider and I'd almost shutdown physically.  I'd be like...  I don't want to say that I was "like a chick", because most women that I know, would always mock me as they strode by me to "rescue" me from the terrifying spider-monster.  Suffice it to say, I was a true wimp, when it came to dealing with spiders.  My fears, however, were well founded, though.

A few years ago, while living in a basement suite on the east side of Saskatoon, I fell "victim" to a spider bite.  A couple times, to be exact.  One time a spider bit me on my shin and the skin in that region, literally dissolved away.  It was several months of applying ointments and changing bandages before the flesh in that area finally healed.  Then it happened a second time, but on my big toe.  That bite had more lasting effects, of which I continue to experience to this day.  The flesh grew back, after much speculation by doctors and specialists on whether or not to amputate the appendage.  However, my foot has been numb ever since.  It's been over ten years since I've felt my left foot.

Needless to say, with the exception of the Spider-Man movies, I'm not real stoked on spiders.  On the plus side, my deathly fear of them has subsided enough to where I can throw down extreme vengeance on them.  I see a spider and I can grab a paper towel and go in for the kill.  I see a web I don't want, I grab a lighter.  (FYI - Be very careful, as some of these motherf*ckers can go off like a Roman candle.)

For the most part, though..; Spiders are dicks!!  What prompts this belief, besides the fact that sometimes my shoe will fall off my left foot and because of the lack of feeling, I won't notice this.  Thankfully, it only happens around the house (and only once at the Costco -- Only noticed because I inadvertently kicked it ahead of me. *True story.)

In addition to the spider epidemic in my household, I have trouble with ants.  This year, they've not been the problem that they've been in recent years.  Not indoors, anyway.  However, outside, next to the door leading into my garage, there are swarms of them.  They've dug through the concrete and burrowed through the wall.  There are droves and droves of them inside and out.  Roaming freely among all the spider webs inside the garage.  I've bore witness to this.  Spiders sitting there watching the ants make a mockery out of them and all the while I'm thinking, "What the f*ck are you doing?"

Ants are insects.  Why the f*ck aren't the spiders doing anything to catch these little bastards?  Not meaty enough?  Maybe not one or two, but they could literally catch a thousand of these little f*ckwads, and have a buffet for all their little spider friends and family.  But no.  They just wanna sit there like dicks!!

I've poisoned the ants.  I've done this a couple of times in the last month and a half.  I would send the bill for the ant poison to the spiders, if I thought they would pay, but alas...  Spiders are dicks!

Death To Them All!!

Like a scene from The Amazing Spider-Man, the web extended across the entire opening of my garage.  I feared to speculate exactly what the spider was hoping to entangle in such an extravagant monstrosity of webbing, but found it even more troubling to have to rush to find a viable entrance into the garage.  Time was of the essence and I found myself doing that familiar dance in my driveway.  The combination of twisting, turning and struggle to rid myself of clinging strands of webbing.  I was only gone a couple of hours and upon my return home, the busy spider had repaired all the damage from where I'd infiltrated.

I've often struggled with the logic of WHY we need spiders?  They eat all the insects and flying bugs.  Alright.  I'll give you that one.  WHY do we need so many god damned insects and flying bugs, then?  What purpose do they serve?  They help plants to feed and grow.  Okay.  I'll give you that one, but WHY do we need so may damned varieties?  No answer?  Gotcha!!

This is further proof that there's no God.  If there is, there's no logic in why shit is the way it is!  Case and point; The Platypus.  A beaver with a duck bill who lays eggs.  The drugs must've been free flowing that day.

There's NO NEED for spiders.  Seriously.  Get rid of them all.  If we need spiders, then keep one species.  We don't need separate spiders for the forest, then another for the desert and another for urban environments then another for...  It's bullshit.  Just one.

I freakin' HATE spiders and I don't know many people who do like them.  There are those few who like to have them as pets.  I still scratch my head on the idiocy of that choice, but PEOPLE!!!  Choose another pet!!  For instance, get a gerbil.  They're small, furry and creepy looking.

What about Spider-Man?  They're fun movies to watch and comics to read, but that's all make believe.  I'm talking real life.  I'm sure you can get the same charm and charisma from a hero bitten by a radioactive gerbil.  Besides, when I'm watching the Spider-Man movies, a part of my brain is thinking about all the god damned webs left unattended in New York City.

I find tend to find a lot of spiders in my house.  I don't know how they get in here, nor do I know what they hope to catch in my basement.  With exception to a few ants, my home is essentially insect-free.  There's nothing to catch here, but my annoyance and anger.  However, like the ants that I discover, I make a deal with each and every culprit.  I tell them that IF they're able to survive being flushed, then they have an open invitation to live in my home for as long as they wish to stay.  Thankfully, no one has survived and even if they do, I'm quick to re-neg on my deal.

Worst of all, is my poor house.  I live in a four-level split and it's riddled with spider webs all over the siding.  I don't have the means to hose them off, at the moment, so my house is beginning to look like the Haunted Mansion on the corner.  I'm not real enthused about the whole situation.

I just finished having a back-and-forth debate on the impending doom / American election.  As a Canadian, I'm unable to vote, but I'd proudly back whichever candidate if one of the campaign promises was to obliterate the world of spiders.