Nothing says high class hooker like a 12 pack and a sleeping bag

OK so I'll get to the title in a bit...

So wake up this morning with the plan to head to Centerville. So we got off to a bit of a slow start I wanted to be on the road at 9:30 we didn't really get rolling until 10:30 or so then had to stop get tickets and then I had to stop by the office before we got on our way.

Well we hit Toronto and well I hate Toronto. No strike that I don't hate Toronto I hate all the people in it. It's not that I hate people it's just that I feel a whole lot better when that aren't around. The do amuse me though and they make for some interesting anecdotes for my blog.

So anyway we hit Toronto I know of one place that I like to park at it is close to the ferry and I am a creature of habit I like to do the same thing over and over. Well because we got our sorry asses there so late the lot is full. Crap... OK I can deal right I mean I am almost thirty-six I'm a big boy. So I turn to Dianna "where do you want to park?" I get the blank stare... shit it's up to me. OK off I go to find parking in Toronto a city of 4.5 million that inflates to probably 6 million every working day, HA good luck. Well I find one parking lot that has space and the "attendant" (I used quotes because I can think of lots of names for him but none of them are nice) says to me in some broken sanskrit that he wanted my key to my car. Ummm let me think for a quarter second how about no, you can barely speak English I sure ain't handing over my car keys to you. So off I go to another parking lot I found one for $15 bucks fifteen dollars to park downtown that just seems so wrong on so many levels...

So I unpack the kids and their gear. Load the little one in his stroller and off we go. We are waiting for the ferry and this elderly Asian lady is like rubbing up against me like not once or twice but like a lot. I'm playing with my kids and junk and she's still rubbing up against me I am think WTF? Then I notice that she has a camera in her hand and is trying to take a pic of her, who I assume to be her, husband. He's got on the hip retro 80's beret, good look gramps...

On to the ferry we go. I took Thomas up on the second deck to look around and take some photos. I seriously do not get kids and fashion... There were some younger girls up, I would guess to be in the 13-15 year old range. They have the cropped shirts on with beer guts hanging out. Can they not see this in their mirror at home? Do people not look at themselves before they leave the house? Is the Seinfeld "skinny" mirror not just fiction? One kid looked like she was a giant muffin from Tim Horton's.

Get off the ferry an on to the island with no real distractions to speak of. Well except for one. Why for the love of all thing pure and sacred do people with nasty feet feel it is their right to wander about in public wearing sandals. I understand misshapen feet, mine are somewhat misshapen. If you are going to sear sandals get rid of the nasty dried skin, the gross callouses. Take a wood rasp to them if you have to but no one outside of your immediate family should ever see that. Oh and trim those flippin' toenails too. OK so I got the actual feet thing out of the way now we go on to shoe wear. Flip Flops are fine I have no problem with them but they are a cheap shoe so replace them every year. Seeing 5 years of filth slap against your crusty assed heel just ain't right. Second issue with footwear. Get shoes or sandals that fit. You feet need to have space around them... all the way around them. I don't want to see your crusty heel dragging on the ground as you walk and I sure as hell don't want to see a toe hanger.

So the rest of the day passed with me mostly yelling at the kids to sit down or stay in line. I ignored most of the people I came in contact with. There were some but they don't warrant mention in my blog, insignificant sub humans that they were.

Back on the ferry to get back to the mainland I come across what appears to be a family of burned out hippies. Well at least the father looks to be one and well the kids don't look to far off. Dad is wearing a tie dyed Woodstock '99 T shirt, cut off jeans, Airwalks with wool work socks and to top it off he has a big honkin' bandanna around his head that accentuates how large a 'fro he has going on. Just one of those things that makes you go hmmmm.

Back to the title of my blog entry. We were walking along the Queens Quay back to the car and we walk past a young lady, dressed quite nicely in heels and a pretty sun dress, carrying a sleeping bag and a twelve pack of bud. Well sometimes I have been known to forget to use my "inside thought" voice and words just shoot out of my mouth. So as I pass by I turn to Dianna and say, "nothing says high class hooker like a 12 pack and a sleeping bag." I love it when I get her with a zinger like that. Well she lost it and was laughing and of course my 6 year old wants to know know what a hooker is and what is so funny....

I really need to use my inside thoughts more effectively.