Halifax is caught up in a humidity vortex and MY GOD IT’S LIKE HAVING YOUR FACE STUCK IN AN ARMPIT 24/7. I’m sticky, wet, and my house smells like a medieval mortuary.
My parents, Bill and Rosie Beaucoup, have been married for about 95 years. When you’ve been a pair for that long your names become inextricably entwined. Which is why my adorable French niece Lucy thought they were each named BillRose when she was very little. She’d turn to my mother and ask, “BillRose? May I have a glass of juice?” Or look at my father and say, “Can we go outside now, BillRose?” Pair that with her most adorable French accent and you’ve got some top notch cuteness.
My brother has created an online tracker so we can record the results of family game nights. This is a great way to settle international arguments about who won or lost which game, and when. Unfortunately, it’s also a convenient way for people to see just how often I lose. (It’s about 98.5% of the time.)
Guys? How come no one told me that CrimeCon exists? The website states:
If your idea of the perfect night involves alibis, motives, and a bottle of wine, then this is the event you’ve been waiting for.
Do you guys even care if I get to hang with Keith Morrison and Erin Moriarty? Do you? I’m not angry, I’m just… disappointed.
Now, my sister ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT ME and has been sending me murders to solve. When she hears about an interesting case — particularly the ones from Toronto or other major cities in Canada — she forwards the file so I can deduce who done it and why. I don’t want to sound braggy but I’m pretty good at predicting horrific details before they are released to the public. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why I haven’t been invited to speak at CrimeCon.
Speaking of murder, last week I had the pleasure of listening to my neighbours Dawn and Joan discussing what might happen should they find themselves incarcerated together. More specifically, the issues arising since Dawn announced that she won’t allow Joan to join her prison gang.
In their oft-debated scenario, Dawn and Joan are doing hard time after being jointly convicted of a crime. (No, I don’t know what crime. Yes, that makes me nervous.) Dawn has made it abundantly clear that Joan won’t be allowed — under any circumstances — to run with her in the pen. In fact, Dawn plans to be extra hard on Joan so the other prisoners won’t think they know one another. Like, she’ll throw food at Joan in the cafeteria and holler yo-momma insults at her. It seems that Joan has no street smarts and would be dead weight, so Dawn has planned accordingly. I won’t lie: I admire this sort of forward thinking. Also, should prisons ever become co-ed, I’d drop 2.0 like a hot potato.
I really like this print in my parent’s dining room, so I labeled it just in case something happens to them and my sister tries to claim it first. It took my mother almost two weeks to notice the tag, so now I’m wondering how much other stuff I can claim before the labels start disappearing.
2.0 has a habit of forgetting me and/or running into me because he “didn’t see me there.” Once we were at the grocery store and I had to backtrack to the produce department for some broccoli. I asked 2.0 to grab the last items on our list and then meet me in the meat department. About two minutes later I arrived at the butcher’s counter and couldn’t find 2.0. I waited and waited. After a few minutes I started looking up and down the aisles. No 2.0. After another five minutes I made my way to the front of the store and found him in the checkout lane, paying for our groceries. I caught his eye and he looked really surprised to see me. So I mouthed WHAT THE HELL, HONEY and then he made a break for the parking lot.
He forgot me, guys. He forgot that I had been with him at the store.
So, no. I won’t be counting on him in prison.