[Friday Funny] The Cameron Column # 260

[The Friday Funny]

My apologies for the lack of anything in such a long time - things have been very busy.  I will try and get something out again each week from now on.  This week (due to not having time to search for something else), the latest 'Cameron Column'...

-- 
Peter SJF Bance
http://www.minstrel.org.uk/

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The Cameron Column # 260

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Well, I decided to cut down on caffeine, a decision I made what,
Wednesday? I don't remember because I've essentially been asleep ever
since. Have you ever done that? Not "made a decision," I imagine
everyone has done that, I mean, have you ever noticed that over time you
have gradually increased your intake of coffee and tea to the point
where your brain needs the chemical equivalent of a hit from a
defibrillator just to form a basic thought? And so your basic thought
is, "I need to cut down on caffeine" and you stop cold turkey because if
you're going to do something, you might as well do it wrong, and then
your brain responds with "so this is what life is like without
stimulants! I'm going to sleep!"

It's out of my system now, though. I'm a new man--a very, very sleepy
one, but a new man nonetheless.

Of course, I'm meeting someone at the coffee shop this morning, so I
imagine that the whole effort will be derailed. But hey, three days is a
lot longer than most of my diets have lasted.

Reading what I've just written, I'm struck with the realization that no
one is going to find it interesting but me. So please skip this whole
piece and just go on to my column. Don't read anything I've written.
Stop reading this! I mean it!

--Bruce

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*Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Toe*

Copyright 2010 W. Bruce Cameron

My oldest child frequently invites me to accompany her on what she terms
"father-daughter bonding experiences" and I call "opportunities for me
to buy her things." But I'm a good father who understands that as my
children grow older, they begin to treasure the time they spend with my
wallet. "Why can't we bond over you coming to clean my garage while I
shout encouragement from in front of the television?" I ask lovingly.

She knows I'm teasing about sitting in front of the television because
more than a year ago she borrowed it. I've always said that having her
move out was not like losing a daughter, it was like gaining a lot of
counter space that used to belong to my blender, toaster, and microwave.
Whenever I go to her place I feel as if my kitchen appliances are all
having a class reunion and forgot to invite me.

When she arrives at my place today I greet her with an affectionate, "I
don't have any money," which makes her laugh. "Oh Dad," she chides,
which I translate to mean "I don't care if you have money or not, I
still love your credit cards."

"Let's go get pedicures!" she enthuses, as if this is something I would
ever do under any circumstances. It's as if she has suggested we go to
the mall and try on bras together. I picture what it would be like at
the gym.

Big-bicep gym guy: Hey, your toes have polish on them.

Me: Yes, my daughter and I went bonding. It was either this or try on bras.

Big-bicep gym guy: Well, we're going to have to beat you up anyway.

Me: I know.

When I act out this realistic dialogue for my daughter, she scoffs. "You
never go to the gym," she says, as if this were in any way relevant.
"Besides, it will help you get in touch with your feminine side."

Women are always suggesting men do something that will help us get in
touch with our feminine sides, but you never hear men suggesting women
get in touch with their masculine sides by spitting or farting in an
elevator or something.

"I do not want to get in touch with my feminine side, especially if it
has shiny toes," I tell her.

My daughter can be really vicious when she doesn't get what she wants,
so I'm not surprised when she gets nasty with me now, her eyes taking on
a wounded look and her lip trembling a little. "Please?" she says softly.

"Absolutely not," I tell her.

At the nail salon, the estrogen in the air makes my eyes water. I sit in
a soft chair, remove my shoes, and the pedicurist, an attractive woman
of Asian extraction, gasps, covering her mouth in horror.

"Dad, don't you even look at your feet?" my daughter demands.

"Who looks at feet? They're all the way at the end of your legs," I protest.

A conversation between the pedicurists takes place in a dialect that I,
with my ear for languages, recognize as Not English. The gist of it
seems to be that someone with feet as ugly as mine cannot possibly have
a feminine side. There's some discussion as to whether or not it would
be better just to amputate. Several times I hear the word "Sasquatch."

The owner of the salon comes over to see why everyone is weeping and
gestures them away with an impatient flick of her wrist. Pulling up a
stool, she grimly grabs my left foot and begins kneading it with her
strong fingers. I gasp in anticipated pain.

Okay, look: I'm a very manly man no matter what they say at the gym
about me, but this whole pedicure thing feels wonderful. When she's done
my feet are tingling, I've had a calf massage, and my toes positively
twinkle. Energized, I decide to have salad for lunch and subscribe to a
couple fashion magazines.

And best of all, my daughter and I have bonded over something I've
always longed for: an activity that cost me less than a hundred dollars.

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Bruce at wbrucecameron.com

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W. Bruce Cameron
C/O Lloyd Entertainment
610 S Main Street, Loft #513
Los Angeles, CA
90014