The Wanderer and the Neanderthal

It is with a sad heart and a splitting headache that I am writing this article. World Cup fever has hit Toronto once again, and once again Yours Truly is sitting in her apartment wondering exactly what it is about these games that turns normally intelligent people into raving lunatics. I am no fan of soccer; I have never been able to understand why someone hitting a ball into a net half way across the world could be so important to people here but apparently it is; it is so important in fact, that it seems that all human decency in this city has gone out the window.

It was a beautiful day today; I was glad to be far away from the flag waving and horn honking madness of St. Clair West when I came across something that would ultimately ruin what I had hoped would be a calm and perfect Sunday. While walking down to the corner grocer’s I was distracted by a dog slowly making his way down the middle of the street; he was limping and seemed to be completely disoriented, and my heart immediately went out to him. He was a Lab, considered to be one of the most docile breed of canines, and had a shiny thick beige coat, so I knew immediately that he wasn’t a stray. Around his neck was a collar with no tags and his tongue hung limp at the side of his mouth. There was something about this dog that called out to me; all plans for the grocer’s were immediately thrown aside and I ran across the street to see if I could help him. I had no idea that by doing this I would start a mini-war that could rival any World Cup challenge.

I saw the Trans Am run through the Stop sign before I could get to the dog. I also saw the Italian flag dangling from the driver’s side window and I thought that he saw me, but apparently one of the major symptoms of World Cup fever is blindness. Not only did he not see me (a six foot tall blonde with a very short fuse…quite hard to miss), but he nearly ruined his shiny black chickmobile by running over the dog.

"Hey, Blondie! Wanna put your fuckin’ dog on a leash and get him away from the fuckin’ road?"

I have no idea what made me do it but I was taken over by a vision of Linda Blair in ‘The Exorcist’, and as I turned around I began spewing words that normally would never come out of my mouth. Macho pig. Heartless selfish flag waving Ignoramus. Idiotic dog hating oily Mullet wearing wife beating stuck in the eighties when Trans Am’s were actually cool fucking Neanderthal. As I stood there berating him the dog decided to retire from the field and slowly made himself comfortable on the nearest lawn, but continued (or so I thought) to watch the match that was playing before his eyes.

Italy had no idea that Canada had it in her and Canada didn’t know where this viciousness was coming from, but she was consumed with the desire for victory. For a brief moment the dog was forgotten and Canada went in for the kill. As Italy limped away not knowing what had hit him, Canada turned around to face her adoring fan, who was nowhere to be found.

When I finally got to the grocer’s I was still shaking from my verbal match, still not quite understanding what it was that made me lose my mind like that and why it was that I felt so elated. I am still trying to figure out what triggered it; it certainly wasn’t being sworn at or being called ‘Blondie’ because those things happen to me on a daily basis. The only reason I can come up with is that this ridiculous excuse for a man was so intent on getting to where he was going that he nearly killed an innocent Being. I suppose in a way I’m glad that he did because it showed me that I am no longer afraid of confrontation. It showed me that all of the work I’ve been doing to strengthen my backbone is starting to come to fruition, and it showed me that I am a champion when it comes to language. In a match of words even Beckham’s got nothing on me.

comments below

I loved this article.  I grew up living just off of St.Clair Ave.W and I can tell you there wasn't a summer (every four years albeit) that I didn't want to crawl in a hole and die.  I have thrown eggs at people's cars but it's hard in a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people (Back in the 90's) to pick out the one bitch. LOL
 
And don't even get me started on someone calling me "Blondie!"...By far the worst thing that you can say to me short of the C-word!
 
You rock!
 
Shannon

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