Thursday, 8 December 2011

PARENTAL GUIDANCE AT ITS BEST ......................December 8, 2011

"You should write a book", they tell her, my sister Rose, the youngest of all us Swede Dames. How the fuck did I get mixed up in this? Have I ever professed to be even remotely capable  of writing, I ask?  Oh, I'm capable alright, capable of a lot of shit!! I've swallowed up the shit since I can remember. In fact, my Mom tells a story of me smearing shit all over myself and the walls surrounding my crib. She came in as I was eating it. I have been reminded numerous times over the years of how repulsed she was. Well "shit", maybe I was hungry, maybe I was bored, maybe I was angry, maybe I was neglected? I have often wondered over the years  if that's why I liked to get into shit? It certainly was an attention getter.  Yes, I was a little shit disturber. A snotty nosed, one eyed , jibber jabbering nuisance, so I was told, and so I felt.

I can remember as a three year old, getting up every morning with my Dad as he was having his morning coffee, before  he dressed for work. He would pour me a coffee or two, laden with sugar. What a great intervention for an already hyper child. Fuck my parents must have been dumb!!  My Mother wasn't supposed to be dumb.......she was a school teacher, and yet I struggled through school, barely passing. What's with that? And my Dad, well he didn't make it past grade eight, but he sure could multiply. You'd think one of them could have been helping me.....

What would possess a five year old child and her five year old friend, one of the Dames I might add, to 'pin' down a little neighbor kid and put close pegs on his dinky?? What would possess a young child to insist that she couldn't see properly , hoping that she could get a pair of specs? I hadn't met Albert Valoder yet, but Mom and Dad wore specs......

Hmmm.....I wonder if Dicky's dinky is normal, or, Dicky for that matter........Has he gone through life, having to make excuses such as, " Oh, it's Peyronie's Placque, a common affliction in men", or, " Yes, umm, I had a very nasty encounter with my zipper, and my father, who was a doctor at the time, had to operate in order to release it." I wonder if Dicky ever married, or, could even get an erection? One thing is for certain, if he did marry, he would have insisted that there be no clothes lines in his house or yard!!

When my brother  was three , and on a road trip with my dad and his drinking buddies, he asked a man who stopped to help fix a flat tire, if he had ever screwed a Jap. There is no wondering about this one. As an adult, my brother had the habit of bragging about his escapades, with every different colored clit imaginable.

My sister younger sister peed the bed until she was twelve..............At six , she decided she was leaving home and began to pack. Our parents suggested she take the little blue suit case, as it would hold more than a paper bag, and retrieved it from the closet shelf.  She also suggested that she round up a cardboard box from the basement as she might get cold during the night and need some shelter. I can remember being totally horrified at the thought of my little sister out in the night all alone, pissing the box!  And  to boot, there were rapists and murderers lurking in the streets of Merritt at night.  Our parents showed her to the door and wished her well. I wanted to go after her but I was not allowed. My sister returned an hour or so later. It seemed like days to me. She was sobbing and traumatized..............."Its dark out there, and I can't find a good place to sleep"...............

 Could abin the coffee, might abin the booze, could abin the 2, 3, 4, kids , who the fuck knows, but look at us all and you'll see,  our lives were like a circus, I think we'll be alright,  one damn thing's for sure..... It's a hell of a fight!
Gert

Fast and Wet

"Come back when you grow some skin, i can't go necking with a skeleton
you have no lips to press against mine, all I feel is your bony spine."

That was one of our earliest song hits. Makes me want to jump up and dance.
And of course, Baldy, you Old Skinhead...."Baldy you still play with trains, you wear braces on your brains, and Junior Skinhead, you're twenty-two now."  I wonder who that was about? Probably some poor nerd kid with leukemia.The thing is, we were writing!

Albert Valoder had the weirdest face of anyone I've ever met. His face was fast. That's the word that comes to mind, fast. But that was the only thing fast about him. Remember how wet his face was too? Fast and wet. His eyes were wild and rolling around in their sockets, out of sync with his words which splashed out of his mouth like a dog when it moves it's head back and forth and saliva sprays everywhere. Christ what an experience to even try to have a conversation with him..."  you, you you you stupid! I no,no,no like you, you bad, bad. Where my bike? You take, you take, where where where my bike?"  And that red hair splayed out from the sides of his Stewie Griffin -shaped head, a scarecrow come to life. Fuck , traumatizing it was. Just another fucking thing that traumatized us. Not to mention his sister  Patricia  who liked to masturbate by pulling a dish towel back and forth on her crotch like some kind of  interesting tribal ritual gone bad. I hope I never had tea at their house, and I hope if I did they never dried the cups with a tea towel mono graphed with a P, which would have stood for Perv or Perp or maybe Pee Pee.  Then there was the other sister Hermina, old at 18, a vague figure, tall, skinny, tony-ed up hair, cat-eyed glasses; a four-eyed carbon copy of the mother. And to add insult to agony, she  married a cop. Come to think of it, if it weren't for Hermina and her dumb fucking name I probably wouldn't have spent a night in the hoosegow. Apparently when a cop asks you your name you're not supposed to say Hermina Pancraft, and you're especially not supposed to spell it .

Here's a riddle. What do Gert and Albert have in common? They're both named Albert. Albert the Goof and Albert the Swede. Plus they look alike.

It's Pudge's birthday tomorrow. Here's a nice poem fer yer birthday.

"You're not a fudge pucker, nor a fudge puckers daughter
and you'll not fuck pudges if you're Albert Valoder."

Go raid the Fridge

Gert says, "If it ain't one thing, it's your mother."  I look in the mirror these days and I say forlornly, " hi mom." What are  these ax marks betwixt me furrowed brows?  And what the fuck is with back fat? I hate back fat. And, I used to have a full head of fuzz, in fact I was called Fuzzhead, and naturally dark roots. Now my roots look like they've been selectively logged and sprayed with come. My eyes and lips are smaller; that's Nature's way of saying that we've seen too much and yapped too long. Or maybe that we've worn too much mascara and sucked too much cock.  At certain angles my arm skin is all wrinkly. I wonder if our cunts get wrinkly too? I remember asking cousin Sheila if it is true that big women have big cunts. " Big woman, big cunt", she said, "little woman, all cunt." Ahahahaha. What a gem. She's pretty old now, 74, and she's a pretty big woman. I still turn heads though,  just not in the right direction. Oh well, these changes are subtle.And  my daughter is lovely.

Go raid the fridge! Ah ha! It's Sunday morning, I hun-gee. I open the fridge. Hello in there, in there, in there, in there. Let's see, what shall I eat? I think I'll have a big feed of condiments.I wonder if condiments are high in cholesterol because mine is weighing in at 9.4 .If I gave birth to my cholesterol level I'd probably have to have an episiotomy because I'm not a little woman. Ahahaha ho chi minh. Remember Dune, when you had your third baby? You phoned me from the hospital and told me the baby had just been born. I remember our conversation. You said, " I just had the baby, it's a girl." then I said, " Congrats, how much did she weigh?" Then you said, " 8 pounds 10 ounces, and I didn't even have to have an episiotomy!" Then I said, " geez, you must have a big cunt!" then you said, " well i hate to brag but...."

Any resemblance to live people or dead people is purely intentional.

There’s a Gloss-Ovary of Thames in the back if anyone needs to look up shit they don’t get right off the hop.

The Running Off  At The Mouth of Dag, Pudge, Gert, Dune and Squaw

Did you ever grow up in Merritt ? ( pronounced Mert if you’re Indian, specially if you’re drunk, which probably you are) Well we did. Now there’s a Vipassana ashram there, can you believe it? That’s where you go and sit still like a frozen side of beef, getting a sore ass, eating only twigs and bark and nuts and seeds, and you have to keep your trap shut, saying nary a peep for two whole weeks. I can guarantee you, you won’t find any originals there. Nobody who comes  from Merritt can sit like that, motionless staring into space, zipped up, not even allowed to fart unless they’re over-doused on acid or dead. We would never be able to do that, it would be like trying not to laugh at a funeral. Anyway, it’s supposed to be very therapeutic.

When I first moved to Nelson I ran into Wandy Mckenzie, son of Mabel and Speculative, and we decided to go have a drink at one of the local dirty, sleazy cocktail lounges and reminisce about old times growing up in Merritt. We joined a table of local notables who, typical of Nelson, were sitting around talking about their “issues”. Wandy leaned over to me and lisped out of the corner of his mouth, “ I didn’t even know what a fucking issue was til I moved to this town!”  We laughed, because really, it was true: in one smart quack  Wandy has nailed it;  people from Merritt never sat around swapping deep and personal revelations and insights heavily laden with New Age axioms, aphorisms, apothegms and fundamental laws of  human hankerings. But people from Nelson do. I guess that’s why there’s an ashram in Merritt, come to think of it; give those poor stifled and repressed bastards a chance to express themselves by putting a sock in it for 14 long days in a row.

Wandy tells the story of him and Birdog going to see Alice Cooper in Vancouver back in the early 70’s. They were cruising along in Wandy’s pride-ride, a dinted up 69 Pinto hatchback, pissed to the gills of course, when just nearing their destination, close to Chilliwack they got pulled over by the cops. A discussion ensued and Wandy was requested to produce his drivers licence whereby he managed to convince the rookie that they  “were from the hills and they didn’t put a whole lot of stock in things like drivers licenses.” And the story ends with them barreling on down the road again, happy as shit, falling on the floorboards laughing , on their merry way to hear “schools out for sum-mah”. Personally, I think it’s bullshit.

So we were born in the 50’s, and now we're all in our 50’s. Dag was out the coo coo ( front bum ) first and I was out last. Me yung, you no yung, you old. We used to use the age of 50 to denote someone really ancient, as in “ then this 50 year old woman gets on the bus…..rant rant rant” Fuck sakes, now we’re all older than 50. Merritt grew up a lot of  alcoholics and general misfits in our generation and  sometimes I sit motionless steering out the vindow ,like at Vipassana, and I wonder how all of us escaped that fate. Then I drink another beer and chase it down with a xanax and just thank my lucky stars, for all of us.

over and out fer now

Squaw

Gloss-Ovary of Thames

Quack- a Wandyism for crack as in wisequack

Yung- young, as in cream of some yung guy

Coo coo- cunt or birth canal

Sum-mah- summer as in some are fat fucks and sum-mah not

Vindow- window as in lamb windowloo
Hoosgow- the clink, Stoney Lonesome, the slammer,  the Pokey Big House Iron Bar Hotel