February 14th
On LOVE LETTER
This is the story of how Krista and I became boyfriend and girlfriend.
When I entered fourth year university, I had never really had a girlfriend before. There was a girl in Grade Nine who I was officially going out with, but we never went on any dates and I forgot to get her something for Valentine’s Day. In university I kissed two different girls, but one was clearly an experiment and the other broke up with me a few days later.
I had a pretty good idea how to get a girlfriend though, because I had a lot of experience watching my friends from kindergarten up to third year university. So in Dr. Graham’s 4th year seminar class on theatre and the meaning of the word theatre, I was sitting behind Krista MacIsaac, who I knew had a crush on me, writing her a note. The Note said, “Dear Krista MacIsaac: I like-like you. Do you want to go out with me?” And then I gave her three boxes which she could check (or ex): “Yes”, “No”, or “Maybe if _________________________”. I wanted to leave her a way to test my worth if that was necessary.
Anyway, I’m halfway through this epic note and Dr. Graham ends class early before I could pass it forward. Krista vamooses, and I’m left to figure out a plan B.
I go to lunch in the McMaster University Student Centre (MUSC), with some of my Drama Club pals, like Steve Pukin, possibly, and who should show up and do a crazy dance with her underwear but Krista MacIsaac, that girl I wanted to go out with. What a crazy broad. But shit! I still hadn’t finished writing that letter. I went to the bathroom and finished writing the letter in one of the stalls. I took a deep breath, and got ready to deliver my life changing note. Ah, but when I came out of that bathroom she was long gone. Maybe it was not ready to be.
Then I remember, oh yeah, I’d already made plans to get a ride with Krista that night, to the CD release concert for our friend Darren’s hot jazz combo, Hot Mustache. This day (September 14, 2002) was not over yet.
But by the time we were at the jazz concert, Krista was kinda getting on my nerves, and I was getting cold feet. This note thing wasn’t gonna happen, I didn’t even know if I liked her that much. I didn’t want to make a mistake picking my first real girlfriend. She was so outgoing and vivacious. What if she stole my laughs?
When she was driving me home in her blue neon, we were bickering about something inconsequencial, kind of joke fighting, you know? Something which led me to declare: ”Fine, then I’m not gonna talk anymore” She didn’t think I could do it, but I stayed silent the whole way home. And it was then, looking out the window at the dark city floating by, that I realized I still liked her, even though we were having the most annoying and immature conversation. We were both idiots together, and I liked that. We weren’t intimidated by each other and NOW WAS THE TIME TO DELIVER THE NOTE. I just knew that it was now or never, deliver that note or give up on chicks forever.
In my mind, it was going to go like this. I would silently give her the powerful note, cool as a cucumber. I would go into my house and she would drive home, she’d consider her options carefully and we’d have further discussion at a later date. What actually happened was that she turned towards me, I threw the note at her, ran out of the car, tripped on my way up my porch steps and fumbled with my keys for several minutes. I was surprised when she didn’t leave the driveway, and I thought maybe this wasn’t such a good move after all. I casually walked out and asked her what she was doing, and she yelled at me because she wasn’t done yet. I ran back in the house and watched her from the window as she put the note in my mailbox and went back to her car. I casually strolled out to my mailbox, and read the note.
She had picked maybe. Maybe, if the sun shines, pigs don’t fly, and this pen is blue. Luckily, that pen she was using was blue. I invited her into my house, and we planned the rest of our life together. No, seriously, we made out like bandits. No, seriously, we had an awkward conversation and I took her to a movie (My Big Fat Greek Wedding) the next day. And now we are married. It’s the best.
Showing posts with label Krista. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Krista. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
On THE LIBERTY BELL
January 2nd
I figure out the puzzle before being hanged, having only a head and two arms in the noose.
On THE LIBERTY BELL
I know two twin brothers, Steve and David Pukin. Steve lives in Toronto, like me. David lives in Chicago now, taking forensics at a college there, but in 2005 Steve and David lived together in a big pink house on Bellevue Avenue in Kensington Market in Toronto. Steve and David are from Winnipeg, Steve was part of our group of friends at McMaster in the drama program, and we met David through him. They don’t like to play it up that much, but both Pukins really like the Smashing Pumpkins. Steve, at least, is well known in the online Pumpkins community, and has organized several tribute concerts.
So, when we were out at our local pub on the Pukins’ birthday, we ended up talking about the Billy Corgan concert tour that was going on that summer. Steve and David were bummed because the only show that would have fit into their schedule was in Philadelphia, which was eight hours away. I was a bit drunk (others would tell you I was very drunk) and suggested a road trip. Well, I told them that I would drive them to Philadelphia as a birthday present, and told Krista she would be coming too. When Steve called the next day I told him I always keep my drunken promises, and so I arranged procurement of the Barcmovan (my parents’s minivan) and picked up Steve, David, and their Pumpkins friend Erin, and off we went towards Philadelphia, PA.
The first incident we had on ‘the road’ (before we had left Erin’s driveway), was when I backed into a wooden porch and broke the right taillight. Krista spent the next little while taping the plastic shards of the taillight together with duct tape, I think because she thought it would help explain the whole ‘taillight situation’ at the border. Sometimes my wife (girlfriend at the time) has a logic that is all her own. We trundled along, Erin sleeping in the back and only waking up to complain, and the Pukins chirping in the middle seats about Philadelphia and the Smashing Pumpkins. It became clear that Krista and I would be the parents on the road trip. When we got to the border, Krista turned around and told the twins to stay cool and say nothing.
We pulled up to the customs officer and she asked us where we were going. We told her, to the Billy Corgan concert in Philadelphia. She responded, in customs officer deadpan, “Did you hear the Smashing Pumpkins are getting back together?” Steve and David jumped out of their seats with excitement, responding with a torrent of rumour and hearsay that they had picked up online. David tried to open the side door to the van to talk more freely with the border guard, but the Barcmovan doesn’t allow doors to be opened while the engine is on, so the van just beeped angrily, and David tried to stick his head between the driver’s headrest and the window as we pulled away.
Shortly after Krista started her driving shift (we split the duties into 3 shifts, Me, Krista, and then Steve, because David didn’t have a license) we were pulled over and Krista got a speeding ticket. Not only was that bad for the obvious reason that we now had to pay a speeding ticket from a foreign nation, but it also turned out to be a lesson Steve and David really took to heart. Which is why, during Steve’s shift, we ended up driving five miles under the limit at three in the morning on a Pennsylvania highway with no cars for miles around. I gently suggested we could drive a couple miles over the limit, and the fuzz probably wouldn’t bother us. The fuzz is what we all called the cops the entire trip. I said it first as a joke, and then Steve and David started yelling ‘The fuzz!’ anytime we saw a car that looking like a police car. So whenever Steve got a little brave and started creeping up his speed, David would remind him that the fuzz were probably watching and he’s slow back down. Krista was asleep.
Once we got into Philadelphia, we did usual touristy things: we climbed up the Rocky steps and had our pictures taken at the top in celebratory poses (except for me, I feigned exhaustion), had cheesesteaks from Jim’s Steaks (which is one of at least three places which were ‘the famous one’) and went to the Liberty Bell. I wanted to spend longer reading the accompanying exhibit, but we had to run to try and catch the Duck Boat tour, which we didn’t make. It’s true, though, the Liberty Bell does have a crack in it.
We drove back after a lovely night with a few more ridiculous incidents, and we all agreed that it was a road trip for the ages, and we would have to do another one soon.
I figure out the puzzle before being hanged, having only a head and two arms in the noose.
On THE LIBERTY BELL
I know two twin brothers, Steve and David Pukin. Steve lives in Toronto, like me. David lives in Chicago now, taking forensics at a college there, but in 2005 Steve and David lived together in a big pink house on Bellevue Avenue in Kensington Market in Toronto. Steve and David are from Winnipeg, Steve was part of our group of friends at McMaster in the drama program, and we met David through him. They don’t like to play it up that much, but both Pukins really like the Smashing Pumpkins. Steve, at least, is well known in the online Pumpkins community, and has organized several tribute concerts.
So, when we were out at our local pub on the Pukins’ birthday, we ended up talking about the Billy Corgan concert tour that was going on that summer. Steve and David were bummed because the only show that would have fit into their schedule was in Philadelphia, which was eight hours away. I was a bit drunk (others would tell you I was very drunk) and suggested a road trip. Well, I told them that I would drive them to Philadelphia as a birthday present, and told Krista she would be coming too. When Steve called the next day I told him I always keep my drunken promises, and so I arranged procurement of the Barcmovan (my parents’s minivan) and picked up Steve, David, and their Pumpkins friend Erin, and off we went towards Philadelphia, PA.
The first incident we had on ‘the road’ (before we had left Erin’s driveway), was when I backed into a wooden porch and broke the right taillight. Krista spent the next little while taping the plastic shards of the taillight together with duct tape, I think because she thought it would help explain the whole ‘taillight situation’ at the border. Sometimes my wife (girlfriend at the time) has a logic that is all her own. We trundled along, Erin sleeping in the back and only waking up to complain, and the Pukins chirping in the middle seats about Philadelphia and the Smashing Pumpkins. It became clear that Krista and I would be the parents on the road trip. When we got to the border, Krista turned around and told the twins to stay cool and say nothing.
We pulled up to the customs officer and she asked us where we were going. We told her, to the Billy Corgan concert in Philadelphia. She responded, in customs officer deadpan, “Did you hear the Smashing Pumpkins are getting back together?” Steve and David jumped out of their seats with excitement, responding with a torrent of rumour and hearsay that they had picked up online. David tried to open the side door to the van to talk more freely with the border guard, but the Barcmovan doesn’t allow doors to be opened while the engine is on, so the van just beeped angrily, and David tried to stick his head between the driver’s headrest and the window as we pulled away.
Shortly after Krista started her driving shift (we split the duties into 3 shifts, Me, Krista, and then Steve, because David didn’t have a license) we were pulled over and Krista got a speeding ticket. Not only was that bad for the obvious reason that we now had to pay a speeding ticket from a foreign nation, but it also turned out to be a lesson Steve and David really took to heart. Which is why, during Steve’s shift, we ended up driving five miles under the limit at three in the morning on a Pennsylvania highway with no cars for miles around. I gently suggested we could drive a couple miles over the limit, and the fuzz probably wouldn’t bother us. The fuzz is what we all called the cops the entire trip. I said it first as a joke, and then Steve and David started yelling ‘The fuzz!’ anytime we saw a car that looking like a police car. So whenever Steve got a little brave and started creeping up his speed, David would remind him that the fuzz were probably watching and he’s slow back down. Krista was asleep.
Once we got into Philadelphia, we did usual touristy things: we climbed up the Rocky steps and had our pictures taken at the top in celebratory poses (except for me, I feigned exhaustion), had cheesesteaks from Jim’s Steaks (which is one of at least three places which were ‘the famous one’) and went to the Liberty Bell. I wanted to spend longer reading the accompanying exhibit, but we had to run to try and catch the Duck Boat tour, which we didn’t make. It’s true, though, the Liberty Bell does have a crack in it.
We drove back after a lovely night with a few more ridiculous incidents, and we all agreed that it was a road trip for the ages, and we would have to do another one soon.
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