Blogging Canada: a father’s perspective

The latest news isn’t great for Canada.

Earlier this week, the prime lending rate was lowered by a half percent. Good news if you’re borrowing, but a bad sign otherwise. Then word comes out that gas prices are slated to rise by 20-30 cents/litre by summer. Oh, and grocery prices are set to go through the roof as the price of wheat has gone nuts.

Yes, the Bank of Canada, who said only a month or so the contrary, now indicates that Canada is heading towards a recession.

Maybe not as bad as the late ’80s, they say, but bad enough that it’ll have a profound effect on the economy in Canada and likely in the global market.

If your family is anything like mine, the credit cards have balances, mortgages are high, and the vehicles aren’t paid totally paid for. And the jobs aren’t all that safe.

Scary prospects, for certain.

I don’t know what the answer is, but I’m planning for it now. Time to get that debt down, evaluate spending habits, and really just learn to live just a little more frugal lifestyle.

I think we’ll get through this fine. We always do. But being prepared isn’t such a bad thing.

Most impactful - I guess that 52″ HDTV down at Sams Club will just have to sit there a little longer. Something tells me no amount of justification of that purchase will work for my lovely wife, who has the biggest handle on the family purse strings.

Ahh yes, one of God’s greatest creations.

I’ll get it out of the way right now. I’m a breast man, always have been since weaning off the nipple that first year of life. Call me a perv, but I have to tell the truth.

I love them big and bouncy, and oh yes, preferably natural. Most men admire a set of breasts on a woman, and I could pass as leader of that cult. Ask my wonderful 42DD wife - she’ll tell ya.

So you can imagine my delight when picking up my 14 year-old daughter from school yesterday afternoon (she had a late track & field practice). Out walks this stunning bombshell teacher. Young, stacked yet perky, and a beautiful smile. Total knockout, the boys must like her teaching at the front of the class. I’m trying not to drool in admiration.

I hadn’t noticed this woman at the school before, and trust me, I would have if she were teaching my daughter’s grade.

She walks right by our mini-van and up to the vehicle parked beside me. As she gets close, a woman calls out of that car to her “Hey honey, how was school today?” She quickly responds something along the lines of “Not bad, but I have to hit the library before we head home - I have a ton of homework.”

I’m sure my jaw hit the steering wheel.

My daughter comes out right at that moment, and waves to her just as they’re pulling away. I meekly greet daughter, and ask her if that’s a teacher she just waved to.

“No dad, I think she’s in grade 11 - not sure her name - but she seems to be a nice girl. Why?”

I’m a deer in the headlights with that stunned look and feel.

I quickly realize I’d better go home and pack for some place warm, ’cause I’m surely going straight to hell. No passing GO, no collecting $200. I am a full-fledged pervert.

How is it that kids - and that’s what she must be, 16 or so years old - can look and be built like full-grown women? Seriously, I had this ‘girl’ pegged at mid-twenties.

My radar is way off. How I could figure a student for being a teacher is beyond me. And to look at her the way I did - my eyes are still burning and I felt sick to my stomach upon the age realization.

Maybe that’s God’s twisted punishment for liking breasts a little too much. Time to rethink this infatuation.

When it comes to glorious boobs, I guess I’m the biggest one of all.

“Mom, Dad, my balls hurt.”

Those were the first words uttered at the dinner table last night. I thought my poor wife was going to spit out her mouthful of corn.

Unsure she’d heard him correctly, she had him repeat.

Sure enough, my 12 yr old said that his testicles really hurt. In fact he said they’d been hurting all day.

Now the scenarios start to play through our minds. Wife asks me if I think he’s too young to have a prostate problem. Can’t be possble, I suspect.

I, in turn, suggest a kidney stone. I’ve had my share of rocks pass through Mr. Wiggly, and that can be a major cause for sack pain - I mean MAJOR pain. But still, way to young for kidney stones.

So we ask him if he was hit in the unit at all today. Nope.

As our minds race in thoughts for our poor child’s testicle trauma, I ask if there’s any other symptoms.

It’s then that he tells us that he’s had the most god-awful diarrhea all day. And he adds that the asswipe at his school is like sandpaper, crappy one-sheet cardboard-like stuff.

As I try to stifle a laugh, I send him off for a shower, a little diaper cream, and suggest he makes sure he wipes very, very well in the future.

Boy, to think this balls problem really had me going nuts!

By all accounts, it was a nasty night in Montreal.

Don’t get me wrong. The score of the game turned out perfect. Montreal won their series with Boston in the decisive seventh game.

And so the celebration began. Fans began streaming out of the Molson Centre in droves. The party was on, and everything was peachy.

That was until the idiots showed up as party crashers.

Some derelicts of society decided that they’d invade a perfectly fine celebration and start causing havoc.

The kind of havoc where you set fire to police cars. Six of them were torched. Windows of businesses were smashed. And police officers were assaulted.

It looks like little of it had to do with actual Habs fans. Most of it were idiots who showed up just to stir up shit.

Too bad, really.

As much as Habs fans can grate on my nerves, I respect their tradition and enjoyed their victory.

But now, due to a few troublemakers, the city of Montreal and the sport of hockey have a black eye.

Hopefully many of the rioters will be caught, strung up by their short-and-curlys, and forced to perform a ton of restitution and community service.

And even then I’m not sure that justice will be fully served.