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February 21, 2001
Always get their man.
 
Me and my big mouth (part 3)

here i come to save the dayI think the cops might come and get me. Or perhaps even the R.C.M.P. Here's what I did:

Last weekend my niece and her friend came to visit me. They're from Melonville, you see, and they don't get to the big smoke that often. And when I say the big smoke, I really mean Hogtown, or for some, Toronto. Anyway, we had a fun weekend of window shopping along Queen Street West, we entertained Moses Znaimer on Speaker's Corner, and we enjoyed that R&B Hip Hop funky rappin' sorta deal on my niece's brand new R&B Hip Hop sampler CD (and when you've said that, you've said a mouthful.)

The next day (a Sunday) the girls and I, the kids and I, the young happenin' teens and I were waiting for my brother-in-law to come and pick them up. The doorbell rang and I went downstairs to let him in. And this is where it gets nutty. You see, unless I know someone's coming to visit, or I'm expecting some of that fine Ho-Lee-Chow take-out or something, I never answer the doorbell. Who knows what kind of freak is going to show up and kidnap you, or murder you or worse? It may be frickin' Jehovah's Witnesses or some damn thing! But I knew my brother-in-law was on his way so I went downstairs... and whaddya know? A guy with a clip board. UGH! He tells me he's from Stats Canada or some darn thing and tells me I have to answer his survey on Labour or some darn thing.

"Whaddya mean I have to? Will I go to jail if I don't? Is there a law? What will happen if I don't answer your survey?"

Quite calmly he replied "We'll keep bugging you."

"Well that's a dumb incentive."

"Yes, but if you answer the questions you will be helping the government learn about labour in Canada and it could help set policy..."

"Oh, so if I think there's something wrong with Jean Chrétien's trade mission to China you guys will listen and do something about it?"

"Heh heh... well, we can't talk about that..."

"Why not? The point is, mister, the door is open and it's frickin' freezing out there and it's Sunday and my niece is visiting upstairs and I don't want to answer you questions..."

"That's fine, why don't I just make an appointment to call you. It won't be so cold..."

And that's when it happened. That's when I opened my big mouth and lied to a federal representative. When he asked for my name I gave him someone else's name. Someone I don't particularly like. And I gave him her phone number too. He wrote it all down in his appointment book on his laptop. He said he'd call Wednesday night at 7:30. I said fine.

And now I'm wondering when the R.C.M.P. are going to show up.
 
A year ago on Pigdump:
I have a sprained finger and irritated thumb! And not from any hard pixel-pushing. No, seems I purchased a faulty bottle of hair product and it damaged my hand. More.

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From February 15, 2001:
All of a sudden curling is kinda "cool" in that ironic cynical retro "quotation marks" way that the young'uns get off on. More.

From February 14, 2001:
I'm a hypocrite. Get over it! Integrity ain't everything these days you know. More.

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