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October 18, 2004
Canadian Bacon
Dedicated to "Craig" and "Rob". You two certainly left an impression...:-)
Canadian Bacon
I woke up on Saturday October 8, 2004 feeling
anxious. I had this strange feeling that my old
life as a Canadian gangster was going to catch
up with me today. I told my roomate, but she
didn't believe me. She accused me of spreading
rumours to get attention and banished me to my
room. "Fine," I told her. "Don't say I didn't
warn you." She waved me away and assured me
that she knew exactly what to do with Canadians
that forgot their place. The look in her eye
frightened me. She didn't know the Canadians
like I did. I began to cry because I knew that
once they got here, our humble life as
Brooklynites might never be the same...
Four Hours Later:
My cell phone rings. It's a 416 number. I run
into the living room screaming the way I did
when Friends came off the air. I show the
number to my roomate, explain the area code,
and ask her if she has any more bright ideas,as
to what I should do. "Just one," she says.
"Answer the phone."
I do.
"Hellllooooo...." said the voice. It was Craig
the Canadian.
"Uhhh...hi Craig," My voice is shaking. I feel
as though I may wet myself. He can smell my
fear.
"Open the door, he says. I'm outside."
I drop the phone in horror. Outside!? We were
completely caught off guard. My roomate sees me
running back and forth like a mouse on crack,
screaming-"The Canadians are here! They're
here! The Canadians are coming!"
"What's wrong with you? Get it
together!" She slaps me in the face,hard. I
stop for a moment. I can't believe she slapped
me.
"What did he say?"
I point to the door. She
runs outside to answer it. She has balls. I
tried to stop her, but it was too late...she
had already invited the Canadians inside.
Craig is tall, and handsome. He is important to
the Canadians because he gets people to succumb
to his sinister ways by seducing them with a
sexy smile and pretty brown eyes. He's backed
Kia into a corner, and he is interrogating her.
A little background:
I used to belong to an underground
revolutionary group known as the BC's.(The
Blame Canada's.) We took our name from the
South Park movie,thinking it would be a
brilliant way to foil our enemies. Ever since
that movie, it has been the goal of the BC's to
restore pride and honor to the Canadian way of
life. Our mission was to let the world know
that Canada is a force to be reckoned with, and we are more than
Mike Myers and the Barenaked Ladies. (Excuse me, they are a real group!)
We are the home of the Toronto Blue Jays, and Royal Mounted Police a
and Alanis Morissette-thank you very much!
We reject the notion that Canadians are the
friendly, peaceful "eh" sayers, that the world
takes for granted. We were tired of being known
as the clean place of bacon and beer.
Me and two other members were under
investigation for an incident involving a
constipated RCMP horse, (I'm innocent-this horse had a special condition-it was a setup)
As a result I became a refugee seeking asylum in Brooklyn. With the
help of family and friends I was able to make my escape to Brooklyn
where I was living under an assumed identity, as an American. I had
finally settled down, and put my troubled past behind
me. I was tired of fighting to make Canada more
agressive. Canada was Canada. A nice place for
nice people. It wasn't going to change. I knew
that I'd get caught eventually, but I had no
idea that it would be this soon; or that they
would send the agency's most notorious
agents.
Rob was Craig's partner. He was a
hottie too-a little bit shorter than Craig.
What Rob lacked in height, he made up for in
cruelty. He had killer hands...some joked that
if he wasn't an assasin, that he could have
been an excellent massage therapist. Craig and
Rob complimented each other the way that ketchup
compliments macaroni and cheese (of course,
this is a reference that only Canadians could
understand.)
I noticed Craig harrassing my roomate. I was
afraid that this might happen. My former life
as an undercover agent had come back to bite me
in the ass, and now my sweet unsuspecting
roomate was involved. She didn't deserve this.
"It's me you want, I cried. Leave her alone!" Rob got
the evil Canadian look in his eye and charged
towards me. Craig stopped him. "No. Leave her
to me. You take care of that one. I dont' know,
turn on a movie or something. Keep her quiet. Use Canadian strength if necessary."
Rob grabbed the remote and pointed it at Kia. She sank into the couch. "What is it that you Americans watch, anyway?" He asked.
Kia kept quiet, allowing him to flip through scores and scores of channels.
I was frightened for Kia. Rob was a heavy weight. He gave her a
menacing look, as he flipped between a re-run of "Friends" and the movie, "Down with Love."
Rob was serious. He reclined back into the sofa with the remote secure in his grip and settled on "Down with Love."
I could tell this would be a long night.
The BC's trained us to observe other people's
weaknesses, and Rob somehow knew that Kia's was
Renee Zellwegger. He was good. He was one of
our best agents. It was no wonder the Canadians
sent him.
"You're right, said Rob. I'll definetely keep
my eye on her. She looks like a feisty one!"
I felt terrible. Because of me, my roomate's life was in jeoapardy.
Her mom would never forgive me.
"Canada sure isn't the same without you Agent
Elmo." (Elmo was my codename.) Craig said with a menacing grin. He
shoved me into my bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
slamming the door behind him."Did you think we
would never find you?" Your Canadianness
betrays you, my dear. You will never be one of
them, no matter how hard you try!" That's when I began to
cry. That was a low blow. I tried so hard to be
a good American. I learned to pronounce my 'o's
and I had even traded my Canadian license for a New
York State one. I was a proud Yankee
now. Nothing could change that. I figured the
only way to convince the Canadians that I
wasn't going back was to beat them at their own
game. I decided that I would kill them with a
little American kindness. But it would be a
complicated mission. I would need my roomate's
help.
Meanwhile...
Kia and Rob were sharing cocktails and discussing the
plot of Down with Love. She was one smart
cookie. We'd have the Canadians eating out of
our hands in no time. At that moment, Craig
interrupted the feel-good-fest with a warning
to Rob not to trust our "American" kindess. Rob
looked skeptically at Kia and back at Craig. He wasn't sure
what to do, so he threw the drink in her face.
Just kidding. That never happened. But this did...
The Canadians, my roomate and I ended up going
to the bar formerly known as Sol, in Fort
Greene. It's now called "Juice." When my
roomate asked the lovely waitress what the
difference was between Juice and Sol, she said
that Juice was a little more "chichi." Craig
and I looked at each other and smiled. It was
kinda ironic that someone else was using a term
that we thought was reserved especially for us.
When she said "chichi", I felt my butt muscles
tighten ever so slightly, I have mixed feelings
about a chichi crowd. The chichi crowd is a
little uptight, and not really "me
me".
We had the option of indoor or outdoor seating. We chose
to sit outside, because nothing much was
happening inside-besides, it was a warm and
balmy Brooklyn night, and after-all, Canadians were in the
air. Shortly after we took our seats, the
waiter approached to take our orders. Red
wine for my roomate, I don't remember what Rob
and Craig ordered, gin and tonic for me. I shot
the waiter an extra-special smile which meant
extra-shot please. Apparantly he didnt' get it
because he never returned, so we left and went
to Night of the Cookers on Fulton street. The
waitress had an attitude, like she didn't want
to serve us. She must have been tired, or
bored, or an (expletive).
Instead of doing what came natural to me and
kicking her two foot-tall ass all the way to
the back of the restaurant, we waited for her
to go and check out a table in the back and
then we left. I have to admit, I was feeling a
little defeated. I wanted to show our Canadian
friends a good time in Brooklyn. Especially in
our trendly little neighborhood. Our last
resort was Moes, on Lafayette. I have no
problem with Moes, except that it's always too
damn crowded. And to make matters worse this
evening it was somebody's birthday. The big
chick that was passing cake around kept
squeezing herself back and forth on the dance
floor, and dripping icing on my shoes. I was getting bumped left
right and center. I hate that. I also hate dancing with a
bunch of people who either think they're too
cute to dance and get in the way of people who want to dance,
or they dance so wildly that they
end up all over the dance floor. There's not enough room for
by-standers on the dance floor. Moes is notorious for this. It's too
narrow to accomodate such a large crowd, but what can I
say-it works for them. The other thing about
Moes is that I always run into people I dont'
want to see there, and that kills my mood.
Of course, I run into someone I dont' want to see. Luckily
the vibe wasn't spoiled. Kia, Rob,Craig and I
managed to get ourselves hot and sweaty for as
long as we could stand it. Finally, it was time to go. I had to feed
The Canadians.
Kum Kau
I've lived in both Canada and the United States
and sampled both Canadian and American Chinese
food. I have not come to a conclusion as to
which is better. There is also an urban legend
about the quality of Kum Kau. The famous
Chinese food restaurant on Washington Avenue
which, allegedly makes the best Chinese
food in Brooklyn. I've eaten at the restaurant
once and although I can't say that the food was
horrible, only that I've had better. The
Canadians were very interested in Kum Kau
because of the legend, and also because it was
the only restaurant still open...something told
me that we had to feed Rob quick! He started fluttering his eyes and
clenching his killer fists.
Only in Brooklyn, USA can a Chinese restaurant be
crowded at 2:00 in the morning. Finally, Rob,
Kia and Craig ordered their meals. We noticed
Rob lurking eerily around the counter. He
grabbed Kia's shoulder rather agressively and
demanded to know what the golden
brown-french-fried, cinnamin smelling things
were. He wanted to try them. Kia told him that
she wasn't sure what they tasted like, because
she had never had them before. Rob was getting
anxious. I pulled her aside and told her to get
the Canadian, whatever he wanted, and he wanted
Apple sticks. Kia and I were nervous. We had
come so far. What would happen if the Canadians
were disappointed with their food? My roomate and I would like
it to be known that we took quite a risk on Kum
Kau. We put our lives on the line. As anyone
will tell you, satisfying Canadians is no easy
task. Kum Kau we salute you. Thank you for
saving our asses. The Canadians were quite
impressed. The sweet and sour pork
was succulent, as were the chicken balls. Kum
Kau also puts chunks of cucumber and pineapple
in their sweet and sour sauce, which was a lovely touch!
I have been living in the Clinton Hill area for
four years, and have only eaten at Kum Kau
once. After sampling everyone's food, I decided that I was quite
hasty in my oppinion of the place. Perhaps it wasn't the food, but
the company I was with when I ate it. I learned that Kum Kau Chinese
cuisine was worth the wait.
After we ate, it was getting harder and harder
to stay awake. Rob was nodding off mid
sentence, Craig was insulting me and Kia was
agreeing with him. This wasn't a good sign. I was afraid this might
happen. Craig's secret weapon was the power of
persuasion. His lethal weapons were his eyes
and his easy-going smile. I was losing her...
to the Canadians.
"Time for bed maggots!" I announced with
authority. They all looked at me strangely. Kia
told me to shut up and go to bed. Then she went
to get blankets and pillows for our guests.
Craig told Rob that he couldn't have the big
couch, and Rob complied. I sensed that he too was afraid of Craig.
He later told me that as Craig's side-kick, he wasn't really
entitled to such luxuries anyway. He was content right where he
was. He was asleep before Kia could hand him a
blanket. One by one we left the scene. I told
Kia to keep her door open, just in case. We
still couldn't trust them. Kia thanked me for
the warning and retired to her quarters, and so
did I. That night I slept extremely well,
considering the circumstances. One would assume
that having Canadian spies in the house might
make you sleep with one eye open. Craig must have
slipped me something because I slept extremely
well. When I awoke the next morning, not only
was I extremely relaxed, but I was speaking
French! When I inquired, he just smiled...his
sweet, seductive smile. Just then Kia awoke.
She too had a strange smile on her face. I
wondered if Rob slipped her something too...
We offered the Canadians an authentic American
breakfast of eggs and grits, but they
vehemently refused. Canadians are afraid of
grits. Instead of food, Craig opted for tea,
and Rob for his leftover Chinese food and
applesticks. Rob suggested we eat outside on
the terrace. What a wonderful idea! It was a
magical moment, the four of us-Canadians and Americans eating
breakfast together peacefully in our humble backyard.
There was no longer any hostility or mistrust. We talked and laughed,
held hands around the table and quoted scripture. I even shed a few
tears when Rob shared his last applestick with Kia.
Imagine! Americans and Canadians united over
applesticks. Who could have known? Rob and
Craig started to cry when they realized it was
time to go. We told them to be strong, the last
thing they wanted to do was leave Brooklyn
crying. It wasn't a good look for them,
especially with Canadian license plates. They
would be an easy target for snipers. Craig and
Rob wiped their eyes and we joined each other
for one last round of Kumbaya and a group hug.
I was given an official pardon from the BC's and Craig assured me
that I could continue my life in Brooklyn in peace, without threat of
retaliation, and Kia and I would receive royal treatment when we
visited the 49th parrallel. In
fact, I was awarded dual citizenship and Kia
was given the prestigious honor of Honorary Canuck. In order to
celebrate, I would be making macaroni and cheese and she promised to
eat it with Ketchup.
I convinced Rob to seriously consider massage therapy-his hands
could be put to much better use working for
good, instead of evil. He said he'd think about
it. I knew he would. He was a good kid. He just
fell in with the wrong crowd. It happened to
the best of us. I kissed Craig goodbye and that
was it. The Canadians were gone and I was sorry
to see them go. But something told me, they would soon be back...
Posted by renee at 11:57 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 17, 2004
10/17/04
Well...most of you know that i've been on extended "pity-leave." I've been neglecting my peeps because I been feeling too sorry for myself to write...and there has been so much shit to write about.
i apologize. It's just that i've been so obsessed with finding a job (and an income) that i let it consume me...i haven't been able to do what i really want to do-which is tell stories, bitch, politic, laugh, cry and most importantly write!
Writing is the one thing that keeps me sane and as one would probably deduce, since i haven't blogged in like, a month, i'm one crazy chica with a lot of shit to unload. But before I unload, I gotta give respect where it's due. I call it "writers libations" You know, I gotta give thanks and give back to the people I love who inspire my scribes. Gerard, Kia, SARA: Thank you for the Veuve Cliquot, thank you for the wine and your selflessness. Thank you for the food-as you could probably tell, my body was starting to feed on itself. Gerard, I have to thank you especially for reminding me that one day soon, i will actually be doing this shit professionally and i can pay you back! Thanks for the intelligent debate-i love that we all LISTEN to each other. IT means sooo much! The next thing I'm going to say may sound a little corny and a little dramatic...but it's my blog and i can be corny if want to-so there! To me, music is a critical element of life, like earth, wind, fire or water. I have no life, if there is no soundtrack to accompany it. If it weren't for music, i wouldn't be able to express myself as a writer. Gerard, I want you to know that at this particular moment, as i type these words, i'm listening to the cd's that you made for me. I can't write without the music. I'm grateful for your friendship and your music, it's such a precious gift-one that i will never take for granted... i can't say it enough...you believed in me enough to give me an audience...i know that I can "do anything i wanna do". Thanks for being my most supportive ally in my war against the couch-you're freakin' awesome!!!!!:)
next: Craig and Rob...Rob you're my heros. By the way, I would have had to fight for the big couch. Also...i haven't microwaved anything since you left. (o.k., that's a lie, but...i appreciate your wisdom...you're really freakin' smart! I hope my ass-kissing will prompt you to answer my email at some point during this lifetime:-))Craig...my beloved! We've come a long way since Centennial baby! I'm looking at my Jamaica flag right now...and i just finished creaming the scorpion. nuff said:-)
next blog...craig, kia, rob and i-doin' it up Brooklyn style...
Posted by renee at 4:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 2, 2004
Good-bye Golden Boy
Prologue:
"Why are you selling dreams of who you wish you could be?
A prince in all of the magazines,
they have no words for the man I've seen...
you talk real fast before they see your face...
would they love you if they knew all the things we know...
WE got these images we need them to be true, not ready to believe We're no more insecure than you......
But then there's girls like me who still applaud at what we've seen, We know the truth about you, now you're the prince of all the magazines.
That is a dangerous thing....
Golden Boy, life ain't a video...
-Res
Golden Boys
from the Album, How I do
2001 MCA Records
How that relates to Me:
On September 6, 2001 my boyfriend of two years announced that he was taking his 1 year old son (I started to think of him as ours) out of New York City, and he was leaving in a few days. I won't say where, except that it's really hot where he is. (No, it's not hell, even though I did suggest he might like it there.)
I met him when I first came to New York, i was working at a bookstore on weekends to avoid staying at home. That's when I met Golden Boy. He smelled like coco-mango and he had this confidence about him...I liked that he liked me, and we started hanging out-A lot. I went to see him perform-he was a talented musician/poet and I loved to hear him play, I loved to hear him speak and make beats. I thought we had beautiful rhythm. I loved that he was trying to live his dream, and to do something with himself-especially after the hardships he experienced in his past left him spiritually impotent.
When we met, he told me that he was living with his sister in the roughest projects in the midwest until she threw him out because she could no longer afford to keep him. She had a son to look after and she needed him to bring in some more money or be gone so she could find a man who could provide for her. Golden Boy was bringing in a few dollars from gigs, but it wasn't enough to pay the bills. After she kicked him out, he started living in his car, and began to pan-handle until he made enough money to hop on a bus with nothing but his bass guitar and the clothes on his back. And now, here he was, in my bed.
As we got "closer", I learned he was in a custody battle with his ex-wife, a fact he kept hidden from me until months into the relationship. I didn't care, though. I loved him. I would do anything to make him happy.
I would find him in the bathroom, speaking in hused tones on the phone and instead of making it a big deal, which it was, I pretended that it didnt' bother me. I didn't ask, he didnt' tell. And when I did confront him, he blamed me and my insecurity for making mountains out of mole-hills. He would convince me that I had nothing to worry about, by making sweet, sweet love to me...and it worked. He had big talk and big dreams, that included me. It was the first time in my life that a man made plans with me in them. He was my best friend, I thought he was my soul-mate, I was a scorpio, he was a pisces-the stars said we were meant to be, and so did he. I believed him. We did things I had never done, we read books together over breakfast; laid up in the bed all day discussin' politics, religion and the afterlife- he even made home-made lemonade! that he made; and when his son finally camed to live with us, they became the little family that I longed to give love to and have them love me.
He wrote the script and I played the part part he wrote for me. I just wanted to be a good woman to him. I babysat while he ran "errands" all day, or performed at night. I pretended I was cool with open relationships and that it didn't bother me when he wanted to date a friend of mine. You see, he was one of those brothers who didn't want to be tied down, he wanted to keep his options open. There's more to the story of course, but if I spill it now, you won't want to read the book, or see the movie.
Epilogue:
He still calls from wherever he is, and the conversation lasts long enough for him to tell me how much he misses me, how much he loves me, and that he realizes how badly he treated me-this lasts for exactly five minutes before "his phone dies". He never calls on Friday, Saturday or Sunday nights. Part of me wants to curse his ass out for trying to play me, cuz I know what's really going on, but part of me feels sorry for him, that he felt he had to make up outrageous stories to keep me in his life.
Fortunately I'm at a place right now that I can look back and laugh. I remember when he would wait for me to leave so that he could make phone calls to God knows who-(I found that out one morning when I was on my way to work and forgot something in the apartment) God doesn't like ugly. I can't stand dishonesty. I neither want, or need a friend I cannot trust.
Golden Boy, I'm tired of playing games and stroking your ego, and you're getting too old to play these games. I want stability and honesty in my life now. I'm pushing forward-the road ahead has enough bumps and holes in it-I don't need anymore distractions to pull me off my path.
Years ago, you dedicated Eryka Badu's "Bag Lady" to me. It was after I called you out for flirting with the big-butt waitress with the mustach in front of me at Butterfly. You went out of your way to humiliate me. I forgive you, but I haven't forgotten it.
My father passed away a month after the disappearance of Golden Boy. During those months, I felt incredibly alone and Golden Boywas nowhere to be found. I hadn't heard a word from him. And sadly enough I longed to speak to.
On the night my father passed away, I left a tearful message begging for him to call me as soon as he got it. I just wanted to hear some words of encouragement from the person who made me feel good once, even though it was a long time ago. I just wanted to feel anything other than the pain I felt at that moment. Never in my life have I ever needed someone so badly. He never returned the call.
Months after I left him that message, he calls to tell me that he's coming to New York and he can't wait to see me, as we had unfinished business to attend to.** When I asked him if he got my message about my dad, he told me that he had called, but no one answered. (And this is after giving him my cell phone number on numerous occasions) He came up with all kinds of excuses to explain why he was never available for me. The same way he always does, and will continue to do unless I do what Im doing right now. I'm even too tired to continue this diatribe. Believe me, it could go on forever. I just want to say that I'm proud to announce that this chapter of my life is finally closed.
Goodbye Golden Boy!
Posted by renee at 3:54 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack