Not Really My Thing

Last week, when we went to the beach and I neglected to tote along my bazooka,  and I mentioned that we had some awkward encounters. Really? You don’t remember this? Well perhaps you should speak to your doctor about memory-loss. Seriously, it was less than a week ago that I brought this up, and how many other occurrences of the word “bazooka” could there possibly have been in your life during this time span? You’d have to work in a bazooka factory(are there such things, or are they manufactured in a more generalized factory?)! Alright, so for those of you who suffer greatly from memory-loss, or, I suppose, have stumbled on this blog more recently than that, you can read all about it here. It’s okay, I’ll wait until you’ve read it, and then we can all be on the same page. No seriously, go ahead. I promise I’ll wait.

Alright, so now that you’re back, I shall continue with my story.

There is a man who lives in our neighbourhood, and Mama and I used to see him when we would go to weekly Trivia at a local pub. He was walking down the street, and when we walked past him, I couldn’t help but notice that he bears a striking resemblance to former Montreal Canadiens goaltender Patrick Roy. Now, I wasn’t convinced that it was him, but he did look similar. Any questions I may have had were put to rest a few minutes later when we arrived at the bank, and he walked in behind us. He said something about the weather, and since he clearly didn’t have a french accent, it wasn’t him. Also, we learned his name later that night, when he also happened to be at Trivia(it’s a very small town, and there’s not a lot to do on a weeknight). So even though we know his name, we still refer to him as “Pat Roy”, which we pronounce the same way that Don Cherry would. For those of you who aren’t a)Canadian, or b)hockey fans, it would take way to long to educate you about the entity that is Don Cherry.

So, a few months later, we were out doing some weekend-shopping(shopping on a weekend, not trying to purchase a weekend, or even for things specifically pertaining to a weekend), when who should waltz up to us, but none other than Pat Roy. He inquired if these were our children, and while I may have had the urge to come up with something along the lines of “Uh, these two in the shopping cart? No, we haven’t paid for them yet. There’s a whole selection over in “Pluming” section.  Didn’t you see that they were on sale this week?!”, I opted for the standard, though much less fun “Yes” instead. I then introduced them by name, as is customary when talking about someone with you. Now, the fact that my children were there is crucial to his response. The next set of words out of his mouth were “Oh, kids aren’t really my thing”, and then continued talking about how horrible the very concept of parenthood seemed in his eyes. Again, my children are right there. It’s not like I was grocery shopping and had picked up pickles, and he was telling me that he doesn’t like to eat pickles. These were my children! People! With honest-to-goodness feelings and emotions.

So, fast forward to last week, and we bump into none other than Pat Roy on our walk to the beach:

“Hey, haven’t seen you guys at Trivia recently.”

“No, our babysitting situation has changed recently, so we can’t get out quite as often.”

Then, looking at the kids, went on about how “fun” that must be.

I then excused us, and we went on our merry way. We had loads of fun at the beach, by the way. Fun that I wouldn’t have come close to having if it hadn’t been for my children.

To quote an episode of “Parks and Recreation” – “I don’t like to use the term “Butt head” very often, because I find that if you say “butt head” too much, it really loses the effect, but I can honestly say that that guy was a dick!”

I’m not saying that I think every person on the planet should have children, and that lives are inherently better as a result of producing offspring. While I may find that my quality of life has improved, I certainly understand that it’s not for everyone. I can name numerous people who I sincerely believe should abstain from ever reproducing, though to be diplomatic, I shall refrain from doing so here. All I’m asking is that if you see me with my children, and you’re not the parental-type, please don’t go on about how terrible the very concept of children is in front of them.

In the words of Dr. Seuss “A person’s a person, no matter how small”.

14 Responses to “Not Really My Thing”
  1. donna says:

    I think I know to whom you refer…..meanwhile, have you been to the new trivia, the one called livewire trivia? is it any good? I want to try it sometime, would be good to see some familiar faces there!
    Oh, and you know me, I LOVE kids, and yours are 2 of the most special ones I’ve ever met!

  2. sillyliss says:

    Wow. Pat Roy is a total jerk. I’m pretty glad he doesn’t have children, because I have a feeling they would be tormented. How self-absorbed can a person be? I’ve encountered a lot of odd situations, but I’ve never encountered a person who would talk about children in such a manner in front of them. Yet!

    • I’m not sure what it is about me, but I’ve always attracted a strange group of people. All the wacky, ridiculous, racist, or just plain rude people seem to find me, and voice their random opinions.

      The Jerk Store called, and they’re running out of HIM!

  3. C’mon, name names.

  4. This got a good giggle from the whole family here 🙂 It is incredible the things people will say and how some people don’t realize that children can a) hear (b) have feelings…Some people!

  5. christine says:

    Pat Roy is a moron. You should tell him that insensitive jerks aren’t really your thing. And then turn on your heel.

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