UNPLEASANT THINGS IN LIFE

Confronting the enemy is always unpleasant.  But, when you have to confront a child molester, it is the hardest thing I will ever do in my life.  Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.  It is the most unpleasant thing I’ll probably ever have to do in my life.

So, my friend’s bastard soon to be ex-husband is out of jail.  I wish he had rotted in there, but that’s not how the justice system works unfortunately.  In fact, I believe he got out for good behaviour…how fucking ironic.  And, now, he’s requested to see his two sons.  So, my friend told her boys and the oldest boy was hesitant, but I believe he is going because the youngest son wants to see his father.  Therefore, there needs to be someone there to supervise the visit and my friend has not been able to get her shit together to contact Children’s Aid and get them involved, which they should be.  That’s another bone of contention amongst all the friends, a lack of initiative by our friend to get things going and making sure she’s got herself covered.

My other friend asked me if I would do a shift of supervising for one of the visits and I said I would.  Then I suggested we should do a shift together, since she had agreed but as she doesn’t have a car and can’t drive up north she told our friend it would be as a last resort.  I figured if the two of us were together, at least one of us will be rational enough to stop the other from beating this bastard for destroying his family.  I am not a violent person, but this whole situation just makes my blood boil.  I just feel so….I can’t even begin to describe it.

I am not looking forward to supervising these visits, and I wish I didn’t have to see the asshole, but for the sake of the children, I’m doing it.  No other reason.  Such is life. 

STEREOTYPES

My cousin immigrated to Canada from Hong Kong about 10 – 12 years ago.  Him and his wife were police officers in Hong Kong.  I saw them last week and I was left with a feeling that I wasn’t “Chinese” enough – for them at least, I think I’m doing alright.  “Juk Sing”, that’s what they call me – born and raised in the Western world.  My cousin has these preconceived stereotypes about people such as myself, and when I say “people such as myself” I mean me being a “Juk Sing”.  My cousin is a great guy, but just a little too traditional and discriminating for me.  Here is just a few of the things him and his wife thought:

1. He was surprised to learn that I understood and could speak Cantonese as well as I did (I’m no expert, but I can hold my own, I just need to conquer Mandarin!)
2. He didn’t think I liked eating Chinese food….um, I freakin live on the stuff.  I love Asian food, not just Chinese.
3. Him and his wife didn’t quite understand how I could live on my own, away from my parents.
4. His wife thought I should go home for dinner every night (in Hong Kong, family members gather for dinner every night – even if you don’t live together, you eat together)
5. His wife was then surprised to learn that I cooked, she thought I just did take-out.  And, even more surprise to learn that I enjoy cooking and I cook rice too.  My cousin instantly thought I cooked pasta cause you know that’s what Juk Sing’s like…right.

I could go on and on with the list, but it was very entertaining to me these stereotypes they had.  Based on what, I wasn’t exactly sure.  I’m not your typical Canadian born Chinese person.  I live on rice, I eat all sorts of Asian food, and actually, I’m not a huge fan of Western food, I like it, but if there was a bowl of rice, pho, Malaysian curry or chow fun in front of me, I’d pick those any day over a burger, fries and spaghetti with meatballs.

When people stereotype, it irritates me.  But, I can forgive my cousin, because he grew-up in a totally different environment than me.  Seriously though, me not eat rice?  Its like me not breathing……I’d die.

BRIDEZILLA

One of my close friends is getting married this year.  I’m really happy for her. 

So, on the weekend, the future bride, my friend and I went up to Barrie to visit our friends.  We were gathered in the living room of my friend’s cousin’s place and we started to talk about the wedding.  There was five of us, and one of our Barrie friends was giving the gears to my friend about her wedding.  My friend has very specific ideas of how she wants her wedding.  And, so she should, its her wedding, she can run around buck naked, karaoke her heart out all night or whatever she wants, its her day and she’ll have it the way she wants, you know?  I don’t have any right to tell her how her wedding should be and neither does anyone else to be honest.

Well, the future bride was getting annoyed by our friends insistence that she do things a certain way for her wedding.  The tone was “you have to!!!!”.  Then my friends cousin got into it, telling the future bride that she should have a tiara of some sort as her head piece.  It was getting rather dicey and I remained quiet for most of it, but when I saw how annoyed my friend was becoming, I came to her defense, as did my other friend, and we both told the two crazy women to take it down a notch. 

And, this is why if I ever get married I’m eloping, having it at city hall or having it at an exotic location where it’ll be a super small wedding party.  I mean, its annoying enough when you’re told what to do in general, but to be told how to conduct your wedding?  Beyond annoying.  I saw what my own brother went through to get married, no thanks.  The less drama, the better.

My poor friend, if she isn’t a bridezilla now, she’ll turn into one just to shut these people up.

CHILDREN’S CONCERT

My nephew had his first Christmas concert at school this week.  He’s growing up so fast, it makes me sad sometimes because I want him to be little forever.  I know, its crazy selfishness, but I can’t help it.  And then I’m reminded that my youngest nephew will be part of this concert next Christmas. 

The chaos you see in the photo below does not even begin to describe how crazy it became in the auditorium.  I enjoyed every moment of it, don’t get me wrong.  The performances were fabulous, but, damn, parents can get vicious when their view is blocked.  Note to self: always remember to not stand up in your excitement to take a picture of your nephew.  You may lose your life. 

CLUBBING

I remember the other reason I stopped clubbing - the sleazy guys.  Ahhhh…it all comes back after one night of clubbing.  Oh, and I can proudly say I didn’t fall asleep.

The party wasn’t what I was thought it would be, it was fun, but not what I imagined.  The night reminded me of why I like quiet nights, versus the pounding sound of music and many, many bodies dancing to it.  My claustrophobia kicked in big time.  

As for the sleazy guys, I could recall a few things that happened, but I’m not going to – they’re just worth a good chuckle now.  They weren’t all sleazy, but its the ones that are that make it bad for the good ones. 

I went to the club with my sister-in-law sister’s best friend W.  I dropped off my car at her house and met her younger brother who drove us to the club.  Watching these two was quite entertaining.  Her brother was a metrosexual type of guy.  He must have changed his shirt four or five times while I was waiting to leave, asking his sister and I what we thought.  He came down with one shirt and it was kinda short and he said “is this short, what do you think, is it short” while pulling at it.  W was hemming and hawing about it and then he looked over at me and I said ”well, you keep pulling at it and if you’re doing that its too short for you” and that’s all I said and he went back upstairs to change again.  W was amused by my honesty, but I told her that if he was already fidgeting with it, then he’d be doing it all night and would be uncomfortable.

Human relationships always interest me.  I like seeing how people interact.  The club was a great example of that.  The dancing was great to watch, some not so good but funny and some really good.  All the grinding and dry humping, though, was a bit over the top but hilarious to watch. 

Remind me to never dry hump a boyfriend in public.