On the Road with Hanson

When I was eleven years old, Hanson and MuchMusic were the two most important things in my life. That is, until I discovered something even more incredible: The Internet. The internet allowed me quick and convenient access to these loves of my life without buying another Bop! or BB again.

I logged in to Yahoo! chat and found a room called HaNsoN **** ZaC LuVerz. I was at one with my people. Wait a tick... did mine eyes deceive me? Was there a user named ____zac____? It had to be a coincidence...but what if it wasn't? What if my chance to talk to Zac Hanson was staring me in the face and I was passing it up like an idiot?!

My breathing became heavily impaired and I was faced with an incredible decision. Would I call my best friend and tell her that I was practically hanging out with Hanson or would I continue to chat online? I didn't have a second phone line and internet was only available via dial up at the time. It was an easy decision, I could just show off afterward.

This was one of the most thrilling experiences of my pre teen years. Another noteable was being in an official Yahoo! chat with Chris Kirkpatrick (the ugly one from 'N Sync) who answered my question (!!!). I remember being angry at myself for not having the common sense to use my full name as my username. If I had, Chris would have read it and known that I exist. I'd probably come up in a bunch of conversations with Justin, right? Alas, he'd only know me as 'yeyeyewhawha' from Toronto.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious that ____zac____ wasn't Zac Hanson when he told me that he was on the tour bus chatting to me, "so technically [I] was on the road with Hanson." I am fairly certain that that kind of technology did not exist in 1997 but my Christmas gift to the 11 year old me is a promise to never ever confirm that.

White Christmas Trees

I check the clock on my computer, I've still got forty minutes before home-time. My foot shakes rapidly and I chew and re-chew a tiny piece of grape. I'm anxious and jumpy because I've just allowed myself to frame a poster of the Joker from The Dark Knight and now I must have it. This was an internal debate for two days - is it tacky, or is it so cool that it took me 2 years to think of? Now that I've decided it's the latter, I have to get out of here. How can I concentrate until I own it and have it on my wall? I can't be expected to be at my best until I can compare prices and sizes of frames. Naturally, I leave work thirty five minutes early.

I pick out a frame and find the poster at Walmart. It takes no time, I have the poster number memorized. They are finally safe in my cart. I feel like bear who has just rescued her cubs to safety. I can relax and look around.

My heart rate accelerates as I steer into the seasonal section. Christmas trees. Christmas decorations in every colour. I hear myself saying 'ZOMG' in my head but I am too excited to self-loathe. I contemplate the different varieties of Christmas trees for about half an hour before I text a couple of friends and reach out for help:

Are white trees stupid or are they haute couture?

Nearly an hour passes. I am confused by the idea that although I'm fairly certain I have an extreme opinion on white trees, I don't know whether it is that I love or hate them. I had the same struggle a few days ago, why don't I know what I like? I realize that it happens all the time. I think trends are ugly until I see them on a well put together girl at the mall who I decide that I need to become. I buy everything she's wearing and expect my life to be complete.

My text message replies don't make my decision for me. Self reflection is forgotten today and the cheapest green tree joins Heath Ledger in my cart.

Can a girl get some recognition?

So this one time I was at a public swimming pool in the kiddie section (it's a great place to start - nice and warm) and I was playing a game of tag. I was trying to turn a corner when I saw a little asian boy playing a weird little game with himself. He was flailing his arms and legs around underwater and all I could think was, "what a stupid game...it looks like he's drowning!" I then realized that it was very likely he was drowning; his feet couldn't touch the floor. I felt a little uneasy pulling him out because he may have been having a great time playing his freaky little game, but I grabbed his forearm with one hand and pulled him out. The poor little guy clung on to my arm. Instead of holding him, I dragged him with that one arm until we got to the lifeguard. "Lifeguard," I said. "This kid was drowning!" She picked him up and he puked up some water then some idiot came and claimed him (how do you leave a three year old unattended?). I waited for the lifeguard to commend me for saving a child's precious life but to no avail. I got no recognition! She didn't even mention that I pulled him out or spotted him. I stood there until it became awkward and the conversation was long over and eventually slinked away. No chocolate bar or newspaper thank you, no nothing... Ungrateful bastards.

"All nighter"

2005: Studying for an exam

I alternate between 20 minute reading periods and 1-2 hour breaks. I fill up about a page of messy notes and feel accomplished. My friends and I take every chance we can get to leave campus to get coffee (“Yo, I need coffee. I been reading this shit for hours, guy”) or food (“Yo, I’m gonna drive through Wendy’s, you want anything?” – to which I reply, “I’ll just come with you, I been reading this shit for hours guy, I need air.”) We catch up and have a serious conversation.

My eyes begin to burn from fatigue so I go home. I don’t sleep, caffiene kills me. I wake up the next morning after 2-4 hours of interrupted sleep, feeling and looking like shit. I want to die. I drink Redbull and ignore food.

I go to school a few hours early in a very carefully comfortable (but not yet slobby) outfit. It takes me more than five minutes to perfect the messy/afterthought ponytail look. I quiz and get quizzed by friends off of our study notes. I write the exam in my signature style; lazy, rushed and one of the first to finish.

At home, a boy talks to me on MSN. My answers are very carefully nonchalant and late so that it doesn't look like I'm only talking to him (I am.) I complain that I hate MSN and I only use it for homework. Really, I have never talked to most of my new friends on the phone. After a few other messages, my friends decide that the "[campus] study crew" deserves a night out after exams (cool people go clubbing.)

I say goodnight when my friends say they are going to sleep. I make sure to stay awake for the 3AM Project Runway repeat.

Close Encounter

I am ten years old and shopping at Pickering Town Centre. I'm leaving Sears to enter the mall and I see a familiar looking old guy. I'm not sure what his name is but I feel like I definitely know him. I sigh and my stomach drops because I hate saying hello to family friends. I hate air kissing people I barely know, and I have to be polite because they are my parents' friends.

I try to avoid eye contact. It works a little too well and I'm suspicious. What's this guy's problem? I go from suspicious to highly offended when the old guy walks right by me.

What the hell? I fume. I turn around to get a good look at him, try to figure out who he is. I mentally rehearse my speech to my parents about their rude friend. After my flash of rage I have a moment of clarity; I realize who he is and how I know him. Old guy's not a family friend at all. I recognize him because he is Mark Dailey, City TV news anchor.

My first swear word

Characters: John, Calvin, Ginny, Me
Setting: Fleming Public School baseball diamond/field, c. 1996 Four children play with a tennis ball.

The bell is rings and secretly my stomach begins to turn because I hate being late - but naturally I am too too cool to care about those things, so I continue to play. It's kind of exhilarating. The ball is accidentally thrown over the fence in to "Out of Bounds" territory. It slides down a steep and weedy hill.

At this point I really don't want to lose the tennis ball (what will we play at afternoon recess?) but I kind of just want to go inside. I've already rebelled for today and it is pretty damp outside.

John & Calvin discuss and decide that Calvin will go past the fence OUT OF BOUNDS to get the tennis ball. Internally, I flip out. Externally, I turn my earmuffs backwards to look cool.

We watch Calvin get the ball from behind the chain link fence.

John: "Shit."

Initially, I'm shocked to hear a swear word from a peer. Until this point we've only said "flip" and "frig" if we're seriously pissed. Since I am obviously a hot shit bad ass who wears backwards ear muffs and is late for class after lunch, I assume my new personality is cool enough to swear too:

Me: "Shit, guy."

That's how it happened!

This is a collective effort

I don't know what to tell you, followers - but expect something big.