Tuesday, August 4, 2009

So how's it going. A blow-by-blow of the worst summer on record.

It was inevitable, but since the locusts have only recently come and gone, the timing was merely icing on the shit-filled cake that is the summer of 2009.

Jack needs new skates.

The poor bastard has been curling his left toe for months now, resulting in a permanent, speed bump-type blister on top. I told him when he also got a blister on his right toe, we would talk.

For those of you spared the devil's offspring who play hockey, buying new skates is no longer cruising into Canadian Tire and plopping down $40 bucks for a shiny pair of CCM's. Skates these days are high-tech Kevlar, carbon-infused, diamond-encrusted miracle boots that cost more than my first car. Plus, Jack is a goalie. The most miserable position since the Missionary requires bullet-proof skates with a protective shield even Bill Clinton couldn't penetrate. The added layers of glowing white, kryptonite foot protectors make goalie skates appear clown worthy and likely inflate the already ridiculous $559 price tag.

Used skates are routinely out of the question because my child has freakishly narrow feet. Size 12. I know this because I just had to plop down cash for size 12 golf shoes, so he would be worthy to attend this week's golf camp. When did someone change my kid's last name to fucking Rockefeller?

So, in a cash crunch, I have decided to add Professional Roaming Prostitute to my business card. That's right, in addition to mowing lawns and cranking out ads and corporate identities, I am going to start offering myself for sale. Only, instead of the usual hand, blow, rim, or kinky spank job, I am going to perform degrading and humiliating acts you likely already do yourself, for little or no pay. So, effective immediately, for cash only, I will: Take your pelvic or prostate exam for you. Or, I will drive your kids to the beach, soccer field, lacrosse game, baseball diamond, riding lesson, swim lesson, dance lesson, piano lesson, sailing lesson or tennis tournament. I will check your child for toe jam/swine flu and/or lice. (I give great head). I will come over at dawn and drive your kid to the arena, or your asshole to the airport. I will make seductive groaning noises when I pick up your big gas thingie (not your husband) for the BBQ and return shortly with a full one. I will get on my knees and scrub your floors. I will return your videos. Plus, for a slightly extra fee I will do the ever-so-degrading back-to-school trips to the mall with a pissy teenager. (With danger pay if that teenager happens to be a girl.)

The list of jobs I'll do for a buck is endless. But, I am a professional and as such, accustomed to turning tricks for the sheer thrill of it all.

For instance, today after golf and before hockey I will swallow (my pride) then pull hundreds of dollars out of my bra for a pair of skates he'll grow out of by this time next year. I would use them to slash my wrists, but wouldn't dare for fear of dulling the platinum blades.

I will do this at Sportswheels in Sackville because Ronny appreciates how hard we working girls go at it, for little pay. Sportswheels also accept trade-ins, or "contra" if you know what I mean.

I wonder how much a set of used knee pads go for.


Sportswheels is located at 209 Sackville Drive. They have a nice, shiny new website: www.sportwheels.ca