Hey… Sooey Says Should Be the Government!
I’m not hip, not by any stretch. Still, I have a bit of street going on. Or it may just be that I’m immature.
Also, I take the bus. The bus is a connection to the street that you lose when you drive a car. It can be a hassle but I’ve lived both lifestyles and I’m down with being one of the bus people. It suits me. It’s also awesome to be able to rent a car and get out of Dodge on occasion, especially now that our national broadcaster has exposed the fraudulent practices of car rental agencies and now they won’t be randomly reaching into our wallets and extracting cash after we think we’ve returned the car and settled up.
Yay CBC! Thanks, man, you’re the best.
Hey… you should be the government!
I probably wouldn’t feel the same about being a bus person if I had to take Greyhound, though, another one of our loathsome private sector corporate monopolies that doesn’t so much provide a service as imply a service by selling bus tickets.
But enough about our loathsome and/or fraudulent private sector that our lazy-arsed government can’t be bothered to properly regulate for some reason that isn’t clear to me.
My Beau says I’m twelve, but he’s ten, so it works out. In adult years, of course, I’m twelve years his senior, but it really only shows up around his friends. For some reason, whenever I’m around his friends, I turn into the middle-aged mother of three young adults that I really am. To be fair, they’re a particular set of friends, hilarious cut-ups from high school, drama club kids all grown up, and when they get together they’re definitely a clique, a fun clique, but a clique.
Hey… they should be the government! The lone double xx of the group would be Whip Cracker in Chief, of course, but it would make for a seriously fun country. Smart, too. We would have a seriously fun, smart country. One of the group is even fluently bilingual (French/English).
Anyway, last night we went our separate ways, he to our monthly games night, me to the IdleNoMore benefit at Zaphod’s. Neither of us felt like going out, having been out the night before with a bunch of freaks we met on the internet (a decade ago and still going strong), but we did and it was good.
It’s always good to go out. Go out. Stop making excuses. Just do it.
Alas, he missed “Digging Roots”, an awesome band, just the best, and I missed “Cards Against Humanity”, a game that apparently had the gang in stitches all night.
Laughing is good, isn’t it? But dancing is good, too, and although my dancing would only have been perceptible to me, it was enough.
My usual problem with the games we play is that they’re too hard for me to learn and often my Beau ends up playing my role for me, which only emphasizes my OldLadySaysness. But it sounds like I would have enjoyed the game they played last night. I enjoy “Apples to Apples” and “Dixit”, a couple of similar games and I highly recommend them if you’re into party games.
Young people especially love “Apples to Apples”.
I like playing party games. And I like going out to bars and having drinks and listening to live bands. Just not for too long now, in contrast to my younger years when I never wanted the party to end. It got me into a lot of trouble, not knowing when to call it a time, but when I dumped all the guilt I’ve been hauling around since I first met my ex, I forgave myself my party girl days, too.
(I know, I know, who the hell feels bad for being fun? Well, I live with the ghost of John Knox in my head, so me.)
When I talk about forgiveness I’m referring to the one hour counseling session I had with a young man out at Ottawa Youth Services, a free walk-in clinic for parents/kids with mental health problems complicating everybody’s relationship with each other and herself.
I didn’t know the reason I was there until after I left. I thought it was for someone else, but it was for me, of course.
Here’s what I’ve figured out. Almost as soon as I met my ex I took on responsible for his happiness. And no sooner did I take on responsibility for his happiness then I wanted out of the relationship, which has been going on in one way or another for over thirty years.
But it’s all good now because, finally, I left it.
It wasn’t him, it was me.
The thing is, people who take on responsibility for the happiness of others don’t just confine their duties to one person. Oh no. We take on responsibility for the happiness of everybody in our lives. And if we have children, oh dear, prepare to be boarded.
I’m not cured, of course, but at least I know now who’s the problem in my relationships with others.
Anyway, I got to thinking this morning about the difference just one hour of counseling made in my life (did I mention it was FREE?!) and how it would be to our advantage as a country if more of us as individuals would avail ourselves of the service. What also came to mind was the saying “you get what you pay for” that many of us tend to take literally, in the consumer as an individual sense. But it applies even more so to a whole country of individuals, doesn’t it, “we get what we pay for”.
I’m one of the haves in our society, I can afford the private sector, but I benefit more from the public one. It’s a fact, a Canadian fact, and I wonder if there’s a way to make OldManHarper understand the importance of good government to the health and well-being of a country.
And I don’t mean to be too personal, but I wish instead of paying a personal stylist, Stephen Harper would pay a counselor for a bit of one on one. Or better yet, keep the personal stylist and take the bus to Ottawa Youth Services and avail himself of the best of public services.
P.S. Thanks to “Digging Roots” for the idea for this entry. The lead singer wrote a brilliant song about an abusive relationship between her and her government. Clever, eh?
P.P.S. It pays to go out.
Good god, can you imagine being the poor sap at the free clinic that had to sort through Harper’s issues? The hairpiece would take an hour on its own.
He reminds me of a teenaged boy going through a sullen depressed phase hating his parents.
Everything reminds you of a teenaged boy going through a sullen depressed phase hating his parents!
You remind me of a teenaged boy going through a sullen depressed phase hating his parents.