Baby Food Confusion

Misunderstandings happen all the time. This is the story of something that happened to a friend of mine. We were on a flight to Germany when we saw that a mother turned down the airline baby food for her child because she had her own food for the baby girl. My friend mentioned how she wouldn’t mind taking the baby food if the flight attendants were just going to throw it out since it was unwanted. This occurrence led to her telling me a hilarious story about what happened to her in the grocery not too long before, a story about buying baby food. Again, this is my recollection of her story, so any inconsistencies or exaggerations are entirely of my own fault. Here is her story - let’s call her M.

The Leather Jacket

Homeless people and I have an on-again/off-again relationship, and I’m not sure why. I donate to local shelters, but like many people I never give them spare change directly. I have had a soft spot on occasion on cold nights bringing them hot chocolate or buying them a sandwich, but I don’t do this frequently. The truth is, ever since I moved to Toronto, homeless people hadn’t taken a liking to me until I wore my NASCAR leather jacket one day. From that day, everything changed it seemed.

Watching Erica

When watching a TV show, I like to start from the very beginning: Season 1 Episode 1. I don’t like to jump in mid-season, I don’t like to miss episodes, and I don’t like miss any lines of dialogue from chatter in the room. I’m a bit of a snob this way, but I feel that’s the way TV should be enjoyed. This doesn’t mean that every show I watch every show right from the first episode. Many shows I watch casually until I am quickly bored, but only the elite do I watch in their entirety right from the start. A very few select sitcoms have won me over in this regard (Seinfeld, Scrubs, The Office, 30 Rock), and much to my delight a Canadian show found a special place on my DVD rack: Being Erica.

It’s true that the main character, Erica Strange, does not relate to me. I am not female, nor Jewish; I am not desperate for love or struggling with work. Nonetheless, the show with all its quirks (Erica sees a therapist who helps her time-travel to have a 2^nd chance to redo regrets from her past), dialogue featuring many famous quotes from writers, and local Toronto references has made it feel like the show really belongs to this city where I live. My partner’s affinity for the show should also be mentioned – she booked off work one day to go be an extra for the show. Upon her return, we decided that we have to start the show from Season 1, so we went out and bought the DVD to watch together. And that’s where everything went wrong.

The Search for the Replacement Carafe

I never even knew what it was called until it smashed to pieces: a carafe.

My partner uses our coffee machine almost every morning before going to work. It is a vital tool to satisfy her morning caffeine fix. Last week, that all came to an abrupt halt. As she was cleaning our kitchen one evening, crowded with an endless supply of different appliances, I heard a scream coinciding with the sound of glass shattering. I was in the next room over talking to my father on the phone, but the crashing noise brought me over to see if she was okay. Glass was everywhere, but she was unhurt. She was, however, quickly unimpressed that I initially chose to continue on with my conversation instead of hurrying over to her rescue. It wasn’t long before she told me where my duties as a boyfriend lie; it was my job to help her clean everything up and I complied. She was right to be a little upset, so now it was up to me to go the extra mile and find a new carafe for her morning brew. It was the least I could do for her.

Who knew that finding such a simple thing could be so difficult? Initially I decided that Canadian Tire must be the way to go. They had many “Universal” carafes that worked on all sorts of brands and the only sizes were for 12-cup coffee machines, so naturally I figured that must be my size. Naturally it was too tall, too fat to fit in our machine; it turns out we had a 10-cup machine. It was time to return it and try all over again.

People I Know and Carbon Monoxide

I was shopping at a Williams-Sonoma the other day, inquiring about the cost of a miniature carbon dioxide tank for my new at-home water carbonating machine. Upon asking the young girl working there if they had any tanks to purchase, the employee could only stand there and stare back at me with glazed eyes. Finally she mustered out a response:

".... I'm sorry, what?"

Realizing I sometimes talk too quickly for the average person to understand, I repeated my question for her, being sure to speak clearly this time.

"Do you guys sell CO2 tanks for your Home Water Carbonation machine?"

Again she turned still.

"..... I'm sorry, CEE-OH..."

"Carbon Dioxide."

"Is that the machine that's always beeping in my apartment?"

I politely told her that's not what I was referring to, but didn't extend the conversation any further to mention that what is 'always beeping' in her apartment is likely her carbon monoxide detector, and that it shouldn't be beeping at all. Before getting the opportunity to tell her that she should really get that situation checked out, I was referred to the next employee for an answer to my query. Although it was a shame that I couldn't enlighten the young saleslady about the threats of carbon monoxide, I figured my advice would have just gone over her head. And besides, learning from experience might be the best way to help her out. Later on after arriving at home, still laughing quietly in disbelief from the whole conversation that had just transpired, I reflected upon my own personal experience with my carbon monoxide detector.