Friday, September 01, 2006


I was really looking forward to blogging today because when you combine my private entries, and the ones that you all can see, this is my 200th post. I wanted it to be a good one, but instead of finding something to write about I ended up sleeping through the day. Even when I was out and about I was still mostly asleep with my eyes barely open. As a result I've got nothing new to write about. Even this evening I was laying in bed after my long day of resting, and instead of thinking about what to blog about, I started to wonder about why I even like blogging at all, and this made me decide to post something old instead.

I mentioned in an previous blog that even 20 years ago I used to like to write some stuff down in a Doogie Howser journal, but that was more like a diary, recording the events of the day as only my gender confused brain could relate them. This blog is a little different in that I often try to write stories that turn my daily life into entertainment. Strangely I can actually pinpoint why I started doing that. Considering when I started writing these stories I was a 19 year old boy, the reason is obvious. It was for a girl.

Thanksgiving, 1990 in
Porcupine Plain, Saskatchewan I sat down at the table and I wrote a story. I was trying my best to make it funny in order to woo Deanne, the amazing blond girl who was in all of my classes that year. I didn't think I was making much progress, but she wasn't telling me to take a hike, so I kept at it. I didn't know it at the time but she kept all those stories I wrote her. Ten years later they paid off and we fell in love. Things didn't work out, but to this day whenever I am trying to write a funny story about my boring life I am always wondering if Deanne will like it.

I met Deanne almost 16 years ago to the day, in the left-handed desk area of lecture hall 103 in the
physics building. Since then we've had our highs and lows. In fact probably my highest high and lowest low both involve Deanne, but through it all to this day we remain good friends. One of those private blogs I mentioned was actually a short email from Deanne about her and I that contained the most emotional words I've ever read. I always feel good when I think about Deanne and the relationship we have. It is hard to believe that it all started off with embarrassing letters like this one:

Dear Deanne,

Do you remember when every morning you used to get up and eat breakfast while reading the back of the ceral box? Those were the days weren't they? Well, fortunately for me they aren't quite over yet. Whenever I have a bath I sit back and read the backs of shampoo bottles. It lacks the variety of cereal boxes though because it seems all shampoo bottles say the exact same thing.

Every bottle has the same set of instructions regarding the proper use of the shampoo: Wet hair. Apply shampoo. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Now, if a person is idiot enough to require instructions to use shampoo, don't you think the instructions provided are a little vague? I don't like how the producers of the shampoo include instructions for idiots, but then condemn the poor bastards to a life of perpetual cleaning as they apply shampoo, lather, rinse, and then as per the last step begin all over again. My mind reels at the thought of people trapped in the bathroom for the rest of their lives, all alone -- their families long since dead of bladder explosions.

Speaking of explosions, I just came out of the bathtub. After a long hard day of shirking responsibility, avoiding work and sleeping on the couch I thought I'd go have a nice hot bath to unwind. I watched as the steam rose from the tub, fogging the mirror, and then I added some bubble bath out of a bottle of pink stuff my mom bought yesterday. I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought of the new reading material I had in my hand. I had grown weary of shampoo bottles and I yearned for the back of the bubble bath bottle. I got undressed and slowly stepped into the tub. (I had to go slowly because certain parts don't like sudden heat.) I sat back and began to read. A fireplace magically appeared and snow fell outside. I read through the instructions and then I came to something shampoo bottles don't have - ingredients! Never in my life had I imagined such a wonderful thing could have happened to me. My excitement soon waned however, after I read: Water, C-14-16 Olefin Sulfonate, Sodium Laureth Sulfate, lauramide DEA,... and then the next ingredient sent a shiver down my spine. I gently placed the bottle on the side of the tub and even slower than when I entered I stepped out of the water. I couldn't believe it, but the next ingredient was nitroglycerin! I didn't want to dry off, the friction of the towel might set off the nitroglycerin in the soap residue still on my skin. Wearing clothes would certainly cause an explosion that would doom me to an even worse fate than if I was an idiot washing my hair. I didn't want to take any chances so I walked out of the bathroom completely naked. I kept my arms well away from my body and I walked like I had been riding a horse with no saddle just so nothing would accidentally rub and set me into flames. I needed water to wash off the soap, but from where? I rounded the corner to the front door and went outside. That is where I stand now, hoping for rain and greeting all passers by with a smile and a 'How do you do?'

No wonder it took ten years to win her over eh?


Anonymous said...

I can't believe you found that letter. That is one of my favourite stories that you ever wrote me. How funny because at our lowest low I gave you back every letter and story you ever wrote me and when I later asked for them back you told me that you burned them. Since you didn't really burn them afterall, is it too late to have them returned to their rightful owner? Thanks for the reprint, you made my day.

Sarah J M said...

You always make my day Deanne.