I Am The Cheese

I have insurance: car health, home,… but I’ve never used them.

It’s nice to know I’m protected and I’m glad I’ve never had to make a claim, but I also feel like these insurance companies have screwed me somehow.

On flight insurance, I always make an ex-girlfriend the beneficiary. She always said she wished I were dead. The financial payout she’d receive if that happened, while I was flying, would just be an extra bonus for her.

I’m nice like that.

My 13 nieces and nephews are the beneficiaries in my Will.

They know this.

It’s a small insurance policy for me. I figure they’ll be nicer to me in my old age if they know there is money involved.

One nephew always asks me what his “share” is at the moment. He looks at me like I’m a “stock”: working hard - stock goes up ; travelling - stock goes down.

My nieces and nephews also know that if I die under mysterious circumstances, all my money goes to my ex-girlfriend.

That’s my true insurance policy.

I love my nieces and nephews, but I don’t trust them that much.

note: if my nieces and nephews make a deal with the ex-girlfriend, I’m in trouble.

My uncle is a wheat farmer in Manitoba, Canada.

His farm is big; like the size of Luxembourg big!

The last time I visited, I followed him around as he fed his assorted animals: cats, cows, chickens…

Every Spring his next door neighbour, who lives about as far away as Belgium, gives him 2 piglets. In the Fall my uncle butchers them.

As he put in their feed, I noticed one of the pigs was a lot bigger than the other one. The big one pushed the smaller one out of the way and ate most of the food.

“Do your pigs have names?” I asked.

“Ham and Bacon” he answered.

“Which one are you going to kill first?” I inquired.

“The biggest one” he replied.

Moral of the story: Don’t be a Pig.

note: If I were a pig, I’d want to be anorexic or bulimic.

People love watching trees in Japan.

In April, it’s cherry blossom viewing. Everyone and their dog go and sit on blue tarps under cherry trees and drink heavily. I do it too, but I usually watch the women who are watching the trees.

In October, it’s Kouyo: the changing of the leaves. People always ask me what the word for Kouyo is in English. They usually seem disappointed when I say, ” the changing of the leaves”. I think they expect some great one word answer.

Tour buses haul people around the countryside in April and October. It’s a big business.

I like both these times of year, but I’m more of a root person. My sister is too.

When we have travelled together, we point out interesting roots to each other, take photos, and have little discussions over the merits of our discoveries. We know a good root when we see it.

Trees have their seasons, but roots are all year round fun.

20 years ago I babysat my nephews for a weekend. They were 2 and 5 years old. On the first evening I was in the kitchen, with the 5 year old, making dinner.

“Ding Ding” called the 2 year old from somewhere else in the house.

My 5 year old nephew started to laugh.

“Ding Ding” called the 2 year old again.

“Why are you laughing?”, I asked the 5 year old.

“You gotta wipe his bum!”, he blurted out as he laughed.

I went to the bathroom and there was the 2 year old waiting for his wipe.

My sister forgot to mention that there would be ass wiping duties involved.

Over the years I’ve intentionally and repeatedly embarassed my nephew with the line, “I wiped your bum.”

Recently this has backfired on me.

Supposedly now, I am a loser for having wiped his bum.

I’m hoping when I am really really old, he will have to change my adult diapers, so the tables will turn again. And I can say, “What a loser, you wiped my bum!”

Ahh! The circle of life.

When I was in High School, a friend of mine had a nice looking younger sister: one year younger.

Myself and my other friends liked her: she was pretty, good sense of humor, and fun.

But we stayed away from her.

The problem was her and her brother really resembled each other. They could have been clones. There would be something creepy about being with her. I could imagine kissing her, staring into her eyes, and thinking about her brother. Double Creepy.

After High School, she ended up living with my friend’s best friend.

Everyone wanted to ask the boyfriend if he saw a freakish family resemblance between his girlfriend and his best friend. But we didn’t; it wouldn’t have been in good taste.

If he did eventually have kids with her, I bet I know who they look like.

When I was 11, my mother bought me a NERF ball: the old school type; orange and about the size of a grapefruit.

My 24 year old brother use to come for Sunday dinner every week. We’d play soccer with the NERF ball in the living room. I was the goalie and my net was the fireplace screen. My brother was the forward (don’t think they were called strikers yet). He’d do a running commentary on the shots, saves, and goals in a loud voice. We’d play for about an hour.

It drove my mother nuts.

After 6 months of this, she finally hid my NERF ball.

I pleaded and begged for its return. No Deal.

I searched for it. No Luck.

Eventually I forgot about the NERF ball; I moved on to Coleco Head to Head football or the Dune books.

but..

When I was 16, I found it!

I could never use it, or admit that I’d found it though.

My mother had hidden it in the liquor cabinet.

note: Yes. The advertisement does say, ” You can’t hurt babies or old people “.

I’m a procrastinator. I’m a disappointment.

I haven’t done any of the things my Mother said I could do when I became an adult.

- I don’t eat marshmellow sandwiches everyday.

- I don’t stay up all night watching TV.

- I haven’t gotten that Batman tattoo on my face yet.

- I’ve yet to buy the 8 million marbles I said I would.

- I never bumper shine.

- I haven’t played Tetris for 48 hours straight.

- I don’t play with firecrackers.

- I haven’t ridden a roller coaster 100 times in a row.

- I don’t fry bread in the bacon grease, like they do in England.

- I don’t walk around barefoot everyday.

- I haven’t ordered 2 desserts at a restaurant.

- I’ve yet to get a Mr. T haircut.

- I don’t have chocolate sprinkle sandwiches like the Dutch kids use to have.

- I haven’t gone to every house in a 5 km radius to fill 2 pillow cases full of candy on Halloween.

- I haven’t collected all the matchbox cars.

- I never eat a whole bag of chocolate chips.

- I still haven’t bought that H.R. Puff n’ Stuff Jacket with Witchipoo on the sleeve.

I’m a big disappointment.

Tomorrow I’ll get busy.

When my sister was 8 years old, her school phoned and asked my mother to come and pick her up.

My mother was concerned, and hurried to the school.

She talked to the teacher and found out what the problem was:

The class had been talking about grandparents. At some time during the discussion my sister said her grandmother had died, and started crying uncontrollably.

My mother took my sister and left.

On the drive home my mother said, ” Gramma isn’t dead, you know that.”

My sister responded, ” Gramma Janes is”.

Our other grandmother had died 10 years before my sister was born!

My sister could have been an actor.

note: crying in class never got me a dayoff; just a schoolyard beating for being such a cry baby.

In Japan there is no Tooth Fairy.
The upper teeth are thrown on the ground outside the family home.
The lower teeth are thrown up on to the roof.

No one has given me a reasonable explanation for this.

To be fair, I’ve only asked 7 year olds so far.

The idea of a tooth fairy is kind of creepy when you start to think about it. Someone visiting you while you sleep and taking away the tooth you have left under the pillow as an offering.

But hey, free money!

If only there was an ear wax or dirty underwear fairy.

As a rule, I don’t find pregnant women sexy.

In most countries the women blimp out or wear big baggie maternity clothes. These are not on my sexy things list. The fact that they are lugging around another human inside of them, that I had nothing to do with, doesn’t help either.

If life were a board game, then pregnant women would be sitting on the Miss a Turn square.
No one should be passing them the dice.

In Argentina, slim pregnant women in revealing clothes strolling along the streets made me question my long held opinion.
They looked pretty good flaunting their bellies, but still as a rule pregnant women aren’t really sexy.

Two years ago while walking on a lonely beach in Brazil, there was a woman walking towards me. She was pushing a beach stroller with a kid in it.
A woman with a child can be sexy all she wants: it’s in my rule book.

She had a nice body and a very small bikini. The closer she got the better she looked. Nicely tanned Yummy Mummy I was thinking, while unconsciously sucking in my stomach.
When we finally passed each other, I saw her profile.
She was about 8 months pregnant with a big round belly.

I need my depth perception checked.

She must have been an Argentine!