Jan
06

The Fish In The Sea

On a mostly unremarkable morning a few years back, as I was walking from my house down my street, there was a chance meeting which would change my life for many years to come.

The sun was shining brightly that day, it’s light was painful on my halve awaken eyes, so I gazed mostly downwards to escape the glare. As I walked along, focused on the concrete just ahead of me, I almost missed her standing there on the side of the road. She was looking at me, openly staring at me with her big beautiful golden brown eyes. I looked directly back at her and she didn’t look away, in fact for a moment I though she was going to take a step towards me, but she didn’t. I smiled and passed her by without a word.

As the day went by, I wished I had said something. The cool guys in movies always had the perfect things to say, and they said them without any delay, they controlled every situation, and always got the outcomes they desired. I wished I could be cool like that, I wished I could be that guy, but I am not that guy. I am me. If I saw her again, the next time I would say Hello.

Several days passed before I would see her again. She was standing almost at the same place I had seen her before, in front of a home quite similar to my own. I wondered if she lived there, if she lived with anyone, and mostly if she already had someone to love.

“Good Morning” I said to her, and that is how it all started. It may not have been the words of a cool guy in a movie, but that is how it started, those words are what led into these last few years of companionship, daily physical contact, happiness, contentment and love.

After some time, she moved in with me, I cared for her, we sat together during the day, and slept together at night, things were very good. Until one day it was not good anymore.

One day I came home to an empty house, which happens from time to time, and I called her. Normally my calls were always answered, I would find out where she was, and she would return to me soon after, but on this day for the first time in our many years together, after my many repeated calls, there was still no response. I could imagine no positive reason for her not responding. What would keep her from me? I mean she must want to be with me just as much as I want to be with her, so what on earth could be stopping her. I was worried she might not be able to get to me for some reason, possibly she was injured and suffering, or maybe even dead. I did not hear from her for three days, I did not sleep well, and was constantly depressed. I asked around if anyone had seen her, and they had not.

On the fourth day since here disappearance,  I was walking down my same road again. Though the sun was not bright that day, depression was causing me to look down at the concrete as I walked, part way down the road, I heard a door open, I looked, and to my horror she stepped out. I knew this house, and it’s owner. This house was nicer than my own. The man who lived here owned a busy seafood restaurant in the neighborhood. She did not see me, and as my heart broke, I guess it left a lump in my throat, I was too choked up and overwhelmed to speak.

I imagined her pleasure at eating his seafood, happily gobbling down fish of various sorts with him watching her as she purred. How could I compete with him, in her materialistic eyes, what he had to offer would have been vastly superior to the simple dry cat food I fed her. I am sure after a good meal, she would lay out before him, as she did for me daily over these last few years.

The idea that my love could be taken away from me by this fish peddler, did not make me angry at the man, but disgusted at just how materialistic my cat was, in fact it seems that all this time she had been with me, pretending to love me, she was really just biding her time with me as she waited to trade up to someone that would give her more. This poor man would probably lose her in the future as someone with offered her fresher fish, or ultimately a man who possessed live fish might be hypnotized by her gaze, and then maybe she could live life like the princess she feels she is.

But to me she was no longer of any value, a cat selling her affection for fish, is really just nothing but a whore.

Cat Whore

 

After some time passed, I learned to forgive her, and we made friends again. Even though she still sleeps at his place, and eats his fish, once he is not around, she comes over to my place and lays down for me once again. I have come to the understanding, that although she wants the material things that man offers, she still can not resist my love. It is good for me this way, now I can make other cat friends, or maybe even get a new house cat of my own.

Sep
29

Chewie Goes Surfing Shirt

Chewbacca Surfing With Sunglasses

Actual Photo – Click Image For Shirt

On Sept 4, 1958, Pierre La Francais, the world’s most famous beverologist, was investigating reports of animal activities at the base of the Mackenzie river delta near Tuktoyaktuk. On this full moon night, moments after a shooting star, a large brown figure began to make it’s way down the beach towards Pierre.

Pierre put his vast expertise in beverology to work, examining this seven foot tall creature carrying a surf board. And came to the scientific conclusion, due to the animal lacking a tail, was most probably not a beaver.

Pierre took this photograph, and labeled it after the local inuit name for the creature “Chew Bakka” but due to a slight traslation was named “La Cewwba cara” This naming then raised the additional possibility that this “La Cewwba Cara” may be the same beast known in South America as “La Chupacabra”.

Jul
20

Pac-Man Pill Muncher Shirt

Pac-Man Pill Muncher Shirt

Pac-Man Pill Muncher Shirt – Click Image

Pac-Man? Yeah I knew him, but I haven’t seen him in years now. Do you know why we called him Pac-Man? He used to eat so many pills, packs of them each day, and one day we took the pills away, so Pac got really angry and started chasing us around the house shouting. “Give me the Pack Man! Give me the Pack man!”, so Pac-Man became his nickname.

He was a real “Mental Warrior”, each day he fought an epic battle inside his head against hallucinated ghosts, which he thought were trying to eat him. He used to run all over the house, trying to get away from his ghosts, and then all of a sudden he would reach in his pocket, and bring out what he called his “Power Pellet”, eat it, and turn around all powerful like, to chase down his ghosts for a while. Pac didn’t just do this now and then, this was his lifestyle.

Other than the pills, the guy hardly ate, just a bit of fruit, or maybe a pretzel now and then.

I haven’t seen Pac for years now, last I saw him he ran into a tunnel screaming “Ghosts!”, and then he just sort of vanished.

Pac Man Pill Eater Shirt

Apr
20

Don’t Touch That Cookie

Unfortunately in life, many people who know what is right and wrong, still choose the wrong path. Their selfish actions hurt others around them, and causes unnecessary misery. Their victims, unable to avenge themselves, often take comfort in the belief that somewhere down the line, whether in this life or the next, karma will eventually pay them back.

Of course sometimes it is the blue face of Karma itself which sends them on to the next life…

Cookie Monster Wrestling Shirt

Jan
07

Whistle Another Day

My grandma asked me something a couple of decades ago now that I still think about from time to time, she asked “Why don’t I ever hear people whistling anymore? Men used to walk down the road whistling a tune in the morning, now it seems nobody does it anymore. Do people still whistle?”

I never grew up in my grandma’s time, but I do remember people whistling in some of the older books I have read, as well as in movies and on TV, The Andy Griffith show pops in my head when i think about old time whistling.

Wow look at how young Ron Howard was back then.

I remember as a child I had wanted to whistle, I used to practice it when I was very young, and got fairly decent at it. Whistling though, seems to have become somewhat of a lost art. I wonder, why people had stopped whistling? Is it possible people don’t whistle in the rest of the world as well these days? I don’t remember hearing any whistling by anyone on my world travels. Well other than myself, including the occasion I will tell you about below.

As many of you know, in my early twenties, I took quite a long, nineteen consecutive month, trip around Asia. After my first stop in Hong Kong, I made my way to the old Portuguese settlement of Goa, situated on the west coast of the Indian subcontinent. Goa is a wonderful place described in the Lonely Planet as something similar to “Perfect tropical suburbia” It also boasts ridiculously beautiful beaches, occasional surfing, and a night life that often carries right through till the afternoon of the next day. Though my European readers are of course completely familiar with Goa and all its stories, for some reason North Americans, for the most part, have not discovered it.

Goa Beach Palolem

Goa Beach In the Afternoon

About a month into this trip, which I had taken on my own, I had already found a good bunch of male British friends to spend my time with, but I was especially happy when I found myself a couple of lovely, and fun, female British friends, one was named Trudy, and the other, Klowie.

Trudy, Klowie, and I had many adventures around Goa together. After sleeping off a night of partying, we would often jump on our motorbikes, and head off to eat our afternoon breakfast at the local German bakery, on a few occasions if we all got up early enough, we would then head off to some remote, quiet beaches, or perhaps a nice hot springs for a soak in the middle of the jungle, just the three of us. It was great, just me and two pretty ladies. Though I suspected both might have been interested me, I was growing closer, faster to the lovely, long brown haired, Trudy.

As Trudy and I continuing to get closer, Klowie had stopped spending as much time with us, after a while though Klowie would still eat breakfast with us, it was normally just Trudy and I for the rest of the day. We were still not a couple at this time, but one lovely full moon night, like something out of a romance novel, Trudy mentioned how dirty her hair was, and I suggested that I should wash it for her. OK not really a romance novel, but it was the way it happened. So off we went back to her place for some good old team scrubbing.

CENSORED

Somewhere around 5 AM the two of us were still awake, and not wanting to sleep, we left her hotel for a nice long full moon lit walk down the long empty beach. We were both smiling as we held each other’s hands. After some time, the moon and stars faded, and the sky started to get light with the coming sun. As the sun was rising, the waves were breaking on the shore, a school of dolphins were spotted, birds were chirping, and then for some reason in my happiness I began to whistle a soft practiced tune.

At the sound my my whistling, Trudy stopped, looked at me, and said. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” I asked.

Trudy looked at me sternly. “Stop your whistling, I’m not going to walk around with someone whistling.”

“Why?” I said “There is nobody around.” and then proceeded to continue my tune.

Trudy turned around, and stormed away from me, off the beach, as I stood there, whistling. Once Trudy was out of sight, and I realized she was not coming back, I lost my moment of happiness, and no longer felt like whistling anymore.

Trudy and I only saw each other once after that, across a crowded room, but we did not talk.

I do not regret my continued whistling that day, though Trudy left me alone, I was free to whistle another day.

A song for Trudy:

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