2003-03-24

Well, this weekend was�eventful. For starters, things came to a rather dramatic head between my sister and Spank Monkey. Friday night at about 3:00 in the morning I awoke to the not-unfamiliar sound of the two of them fighting. As usual, the point of contention was an abstruse philosophical conundrum, cleverly debated by each side along the general lines of �Get out! Just get out!�

�No. Fuck you.�

�Get the fuck out!�

�Fuck you, you�re fucking drunk.�

�Get the fuck out of my room!�

�No.�

�Just go sleep on the couch! Get out!�

�No.�

�Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!�

This urbane matching of wits went on for a shade longer than my patience and attention span could withstand, and at a certain point I felt obligated to pitch in my two cents: �JUST SHUT UP AND GO SLEEP ON THE COUCH!�

Spank Monkey made the rather disastrous decision to dish up a stinking load of attitude. �Mind your own fucking business!�

�Excuse me?� I said.

�Shut the fuck up or I�ll fucking make you shut up.�

Well. What a star. He kept up with the threats until I told him I was going to call the cops. He stumbled out rather ignominiously after I stood at the door with the phone in my hand and told him he had exactly five minutes to get the fuck out of my home.

I think it�s finally starting to dawn on my sister that this guy isn�t perhaps her ideal mate. To cushion the blow of this saddening realization we went out Saturday night, and she proceeded to sample the entire cocktail menu at Zaphod�s. I sat back and watched the Hit-On Parade. Fucking hell. I�ve actually started introducing myself as �the smart one.�

��And this is my sister Robin.�

�Yeah, hi. I got the brains in the family. Nice to meet you.�

I don�t think my self-esteem will stand up to many more evenings out with the Sis.

�Or many more minor local disasters. While walking the dog last night, I heard a giant crack, like a gunshot (or what I imagine a gunshot would sound like, never having actually heard one). When I rounded the corner to my street, I saw the immediate aftermath of a pretty horrendous car crash: a compact car had collided with a van, and the van had rolled completely over. The whole thing was visible from my apartment, but my sister and I hung out on the sidewalk to get a better view, because we are ghouls. They had to bust out the Jaws of Life and everything to get one of the passengers out of the van. And thank god for that, because man, there was NOTHING on TV last night.

Of course, a pretty big crowd had assembled to gawk at the scene, and everyone was trading the usual �did you see what happened?� banter. A guy approached my sister and me, and started chatting about the situation. And then kept chatting. And then introduced himself. I�d started wandering off in the direction of my building when my sister and Mr. Casual Bystander beckoned me back. Get this: they wanted me to escort them to his car so he could fetch a pen and give my sister his number. Apparently my presence was required so that it wouldn�t be �weird.�

�Picking up chicks at car crashes, dude? Yeah, that�s not weird.�

�We�re just making the best of a bad situation,� he said. �What can I say? I like her smile.�

�Yeah, that tends to happen,� I said. I followed them to his car (I still don�t understand why this was necessary � the ENTIRE Ottawa police force was assembled half a block away. Even if he was a rapist, he�d have to be completely mentally stunted to think of trying anything), and stood around sighing impatiently while he held my sister�s hand between both of his and gazed earnestly into her eyes. Good god.

I don�t really WANT to attract schleps like that, but man. I nearly called in homely today.