Clowns and Confetti

And tonight, a very special birthday blog for my number one reader...and potentially my only reader...but number one none the less.

Yes, it seems that another year has passed and you have become yet another person that can buy me cigarettes and alcohol to keep me happy. Now then, on to the blog.

I was recently enjoying a decaffeinated coffee with our birthday girl when a family entered the Tim Horton's we were in and approached the counter. It was a father, mother, and their little girl who i could only assumed was one of the most spoiled children ever judging by the toy clenched in her minuscule hand. i paid no attention to the family and continued with my story. Upon ordering the child immediately began crying and screaming. These were no average cries however. Your normal fussy kid would cry loud enough for the people in the immediate vicinity to hear; say 5-10 ft. Tops. However this child, it seems, was the offspring of an opera singer and a harpy that, instead of romantic music, had multiple smoke detectors playing through out conception and, more likely than not, all the way up until birth. This child yelled so loud that one of the pots of coffee shattered and in turn scolded one of the Tim Horton's workers near by. Seriously. And the worst part is, i don't even know what the siren-child was yelling about. i mean, i can only assume it was over a doughnut the parents denied it but THIS? over a DOUGHNUT? even I knew at that age that you have to save those screams for purchases over $200. Anyways, the parents asked the little ring wraith to stop once, then twice, and then, finally, the mother leaned over and whispered something in to its ear. Without a moments hesitation, the raving Justin Beiber fan stopped screaming and looked directly ahead of it, almost as though the mother had whispered some secret word that triggered a trance like "fugue state" in the dying violin of a child. The family then proceeded to walk out of the Tim Horton's and went straight to their car with no problems. After this, i was left wondering what kind of evil this mother said that instilled such obedience in the nails against chalkboard. It could have been anything, and now ill never know...
Feel free to suggest in the comments.
Any who, me and the birthday girl continued our conversation before on...whatever she was talking about. I couldn't be bothered to listen cause it was simply too boring. (sorry i didn't tell you in person) But this in turn taught me something. whenever you re at Tim Horton's with a date, friend, employer, or anyone else, there is always a way to tell when the conversation has gotten bad and how bad the conversation as gotten. When the person you re with starts ripping up their cup, its over. You've fucked the conversation and are officially boring the other person to the point where they have reverted back to their child like interest in destruction. This is when it gets bad however and isn't beyond the point of salvage. What you REALLY need to worry about is when they start making things out of the cups remnants. smiley faces on the table, cut-out snowflakes, origami, its all bad and a sign that you should just put the night out of its misery and say you have to leave. As for me, if you must know, after thirty seconds in to conversation about B.C. or autopsies or something, i was wearing my empty cup as a hat. This is an extreme situation where in goodbyes aren't even needed anymore and you should just get up and leave. unfortunately for me i had to tough out the entire night and eventually ended up with an entire suit of armor fashioned wholly out of Tim Horton's cups and bags.
Happy Birthday