blue moon (2)

Monday, April 26, 2010

Wha'ts Up Your Sleeve ©

Talk about tired.
What is it with holidays or days off?
It seems like whenever you take one you are more tired than you were before you took the time off.

I’m sitting here lost with my head between the strings of Eddy Grant’s guitar as I’m recollecting some of the events of the past ten days.
I didn’t go anywhere special.
I was home with Inia and the kids so it meant that I was still doing the basic everyday shit that I normally do but with company A.K.A. witnesses.

Inia thinks hanging out my place is hilarious because you never know what will pop up at any minute.
If it’s not a staggering drunk sister in law telling us about how she hasn’t had a drop of booze in weeks and can’t figure out why her antibiotics aren’t working or D2 walking down the street with her school project which is a realistic looking baby doll in a full sized stroller.
The doll is programmable and it stores what happens to it.
A couple of weeks ago, another student had it and when she brought it back and when it was plugged in it said it had a broken neck and was dead.
Seems the baby cried all the time and she beat the shit out of it.
That’s one baby sitter you don’t want.

BUT, d2 lucked out it seems that her teacher forgot to put it on and the thing didn’t say a peep the whole time.

Inia was standing over it screaming, “CRY YOU LITTLE FUCKER CRY”!!!!!!!
“Do what all babies do when you want to get some sleep”!!!!!!!
But no, she didn’t get her wish.

D2 was walking down the street taking it for a walk.
You know how fucken weird that is watching your grown daughter pushing a baby stroller down the street with a doll in it?

A lady stopped on the sidewalk and looked in saying, ”Oh look what a quit little baby”.
Then she sort of stopped in some freaky suspended animation frozen in time stance for about ten seconds.
She looked at D2, D2 smiled and said “ and it doesn’t cry either but if you shake it you can hear the insides rattle around and if you smack it on the side of the head it makes a gurgling sound.

The lady quickly made a quick exit.
Have I mentioned one of my kids is a ham and the other is scrambled?
Yes, I have fathered breakfast.

The whole time we were all together something happened.
One of my average days is enough to keep someone entertained for days.
The other morning we woke up and Inia asked me if she had been laughing hysterically the night before.
I looked at her and asked if she really didn’t remember.
She said no.
Hmmmm, Inia doesn’t drink much and doesn’t do drugs unless you count her allergy medication.

After a day of cooking Inia and I piled on the couch while D1 was on the chair.
She had been there talking with Inia while I cleaned up in the kitchen.
After finishing we sat around watching TV until D1 said she had to go to bed and took off.
Inia was passed out on the couch while I watched Bones.
I was late finding this series but have really got into it.
Inia woke up and suggested we go to bed and I could watch TV up there.
Every night we go to bed and turn the TV on but we never get to watch any TV.

As she got up I told her I would be up as soon as the show ended in about another five minutes.
She told me to put away a slab of brie that was on the table her and D1 had been munching on while I was in the kitchen earlier.
I told her I would and she took off.

The show ended five minutes later and I sat up and picked up the cheese to return it to the fridge.
Upstairs later I dropped my clothes at the end of the bed and climbed in next to Inia who rolled over and said, I was gone for quite a while.
I didn’t say anything.
What’s to say, she had my cock in her hand and was about to swallow me up when something crossed my mind.


“What’s the matter”?
“I forgot to put the cheese away”.
“You were gone for a long time and you forgot the cheese, what were you doing playing poker”.
“No I wasn’t playing poker”.
“The show ended in five minutes like I said it would and I got up and picked up the cheese to take to the fridge but right under it was a bag of strawberry shortcake cookies and the next thing I know I am back on the couch finishing off the bag and forgot about the cheese”.
She burst out laughing so hard she almost choked to death on her own mucus.
I got out of bed and dressed again then went down and put the fucken cheese back in the fridge before going upstairs to find Inia passed out in bed.

“So do you now remember laughing”? I asked her.
She said, “Not really”.
“Oh, so I guess you wouldn’t remember the blowjob either”.
“What, I sucked your cock and I don’t remember”…
I didn’t lie; I said she “wouldn’t” have remembered not that she “couldn’t” remember.
Can’t remember what didn’t happen.

That was the start of another nutty day.

Later than morning I had to take my father to the ministry of transportation to get his license.
He turned 80 and here you have to be retested
The problem is my father doesn’t read or write English and doesn’t read Greek well either as he never went past grade one because of the war and working on the farm.

For the last few months I have been trying to teach him how the test works.
The man can’t grasp the concept of multiple choice and all I managed to do is frustrate the both of us.
See they five you a choice of A,B,C,D and my father says he can’t read.
To me, reading has little to do with if it’s A,B,C OR FUCKEN D!!!!!!!
All they do is represent a numbering system but he can’t get that through his Greek head.

Last month I took him to see how it would go and it was a catastrophe.
First we went for an oral test and the lady walked out thirty seconds later shaking her head saying no way.
So she said they have the test in Greek and my father being the smart educated person that his whole one-year in school provided to him, went that route.

THREE hours later, as I sat outside in the lobby waiting like an expecting father I see him stand up.
Then sat down again.

An hour later he stands up and goes to the counter where I ran to meet him.
Four hours at the desk and he hadn’t answered one question…
There was this mental spike piercing my eyeball stabbing my mind.
I asked him WFT was he doing.
He said he didn’t know what to do and was waiting for someone to come by to show him.

Fuck me with a howitzer.
He sat there the whole time waiting and scribbling crap on the paper.
I grabbed the question sheet from him and asked him to read me the first question and the answer.
He couldn’t.
As we were leaving they told us that we had to bring a licensed interpreter when we came back on the 21st for him to try again.

I was so pissed I don’t remember driving the five miles home.
He just sat next to me trying not to make a sound.
When we got home he did it.
He opened his mouth.

“ I don’t care if I don’t get my license”.
“What, no, no, you are going to get your license even if you have to start going to night school to learn fucken English because sure as hell I am not going to drive you around to”.
Fifty years in this country he should know the fucken language inside out.
He has been here longer than he was in fucken Greece.
This is the sort of shit that pisses me off.
You go some place you should learn the damn fucken language if you plan on making said place your fucken home.

I take my mother shopping because they can’t shop together because they don’t want the other to know how much money the other one has.
It’s like a big secret.
If one knows the other one has money stashed they try to get them to spend it.
It’s hilarious to watch them maneuver around each other’s finances.

I stay neutral in all of this and I know my mother wins most of the time but I don’t help her.
She’s just better at the math than he is.
For the next month we went through that drivers manual in ENGLISH and I made him answer in English but he had a hard time getting his tongue around some words like “Yield” and for some reason every time he saw the letter “P” he though it meant pass instead of park.
Makes me wonder how he got it in the first fucken place.

I called around for a licensed interpreter and found out there was none here and if I wanted on to come down from Toronto then I would have to fork out five six hundred dollars so my father can understand what the instructor was asking him.

I sat there thinking how my other uncles who speak less English than my father done this with little to no trouble.
This was my fathers fault because he knows more English than they do he was just to fucken stubborn to do things the way he was supposed to do them and tried to do it his fucken backwards way.
In his mind they should provide an interpreter.
Yeah so that one Greek every 20 years can ask for one.
I told him he was to study the signs every day and I would deal with the rest.

When the big day came we took off at 11am for the license bureau.
As we are driving down the street I was telling him what he was to do and how he was to act.
To relax and give short answers because when he runs at the mouth he says to much and gets the answer wrong.
Say it and next question.
As I was telling him this I glanced down for a second at something that caught my eye on the sleeve of his coat.

WTF is that I asked him and he said “Nothing”.
Nothing my ass and I grabbed the sleeve and asked him again and he said he had written a few of the signs he couldn’t remember on his sleeve.

“You’re cheating”.
‘No I am not”.
“Fucken right you are”.
“That’s fucken cheating”.
“Eighty years old and now you start cheating”.
“This is not cheating I just needed a little help remembering”.
“That’s fucken cheating you cheater”.
“You know if they catch you they might throw you in jail or even deport you”.
“I am not cheating”.
“You better do something about that sleeve because if they see it you’re fucked”.

He started trying to roll it up so it won’t show.
For decades I listened to him tell me how I was a gangster and a criminal and here’s the little fucker cheating on a drivers test.

When we got to the License bureau they asked me if my interpreter would be a little late and I said no that he wasn’t coming.
I told her that my father doesn’t speak or write English or Greek.
I told her he doesn’t understand the concept of multiple choice but if she spoke directly to him and asked what questions she needed answers for he would tell her the answers.
An hour later he walked out with the written part of the test passed.

No sooner had I gotten home Inia got a text from D2 asking he to pick her up so we took off in the van and as I pulled into the school parking lot there was my daughter standing in front with a baby carriage waiting to come home.

I miss the old days when the only thing I had to worry about was being killed.

Have a nice day



Nan said...

Oh the drama in your life. Always something going on.
BTW I love Bones too.

Walker said...

Nan: I am really getting into it.
I like shows that have some humor, sarcasm in them like Bones.

Peter said...

You're still being killed Walker.... but in a more subtle way than in the past.

Walker said...

Peter : Don't I know it LOL

Heff said...

Did I miss a holiday ?!?

BikerCandy said...

Ah the comic relief otherwise known as Walker's blog...such a nice escape from the humdrum of everything else going on. Thanks for the laughs!

BlazngScarlet said...

Your Dad is precious!

So how did you like being a Grandpa?! lol

Susan said...

With family like that, who needs TV? Your home life sounds alot more entertaining than any thing on the screen!

Boxer said...

bwahahahahaha. The last line of this post is the BEST.

:-) Inia sounds nice.

Walker said...

Heff: It's a holiday every day in Walkerville Heff

Walker said...

BikerCandy : You're welcome, I think... HA HA HA

Walker said...

BlazngScarlet: I wasn't a grandpa i was a couch potatoe praying the think would cry all night

Walker said...

Susan: You may be onto something there.
We didn't get a TV until the 70's so my father made us do western skits in Greek in front of the couch Sunday afternoons

Walker said...

Boxer: But its true.
Now its welcoming LOL