“Stop writhing on the floor and pet my rubber glove chicken” and other strange things I said in the 1980s.

Much of my early college days were a blur.  I was 17,  and 300 miles away from home in the big city of Toronto, surrounded by other equally young and stupid people.  And my college did it’s part to encourage the corruption of its youth.  Not only did it host regular pub event on campus, but it often shipped busloads full of novice alcoholics to Buffalo and Niagara Falls, New York.  The bars were bigger.  The drinking age would remain a mere 19 until December of that year.  And the pubs had sober-sounding monikers like The Library. Yes, we could honestly tell our concerned parents that we were spending our Friday nights at the library.  How convenient.  Club Exit in Niagara Falls was a little harder to explain.  I don’t remember much about either of these places, but I know they served booze.

Um.  They had menus?  And tables?  I thought the whole place was just a big, black void.  At least, that's how I remember it.

Um. They had menus? And tables? I thought the whole place was just a big, black void. At least, that’s how I remember it.

And, yes.  The legal drinking age WAS 19.  And I WAS 17.  But we won’t discuss how I got around that one.  Because, of course, it was all perfectly legal.

This is all that remains of Club Exit.  A logo.  And a drinking glass that I have never parted with.

This is all that remains of Club Exit. A logo. And a drinking glass that I have never parted with.

In between my vodka & Tang induced blackouts, I do recall one rather bizarre detail.  People dancing on the floor.  Literally ON THE FLOOR.  Lying on it.  Writhing to the music.

Has anyone checked to see if they are okay?  Maybe they are having synchronized seizures.

Has anyone checked to see if they are okay? Maybe they are having synchronized seizures.

The song was either “How Soon is Now” by the Smiths or “Every Day is Halloween” by Ministry.  I loved both, so I grabbed the nearest cute guy (vodka and Tang makes a person brave) and dragged him up on the dance floor.  I’m showcasing my best 80s moves and I notice that my tall-haired partner is missing.  I scan the dance floor.  WTF?  Did he vanish in to thin air?  Hell no, that would have been the preferred option.  Rather, he is prone on the floor–apparently having the time of his life.  I don’t even think he noticed when I walked off.  I should have stepped on him.

Ah.  I loved the 80s.

Rather than embark on the uncovering of three new weird and goofy facts, I thought that today I’d simply re-visit some of the weirdest stuff from the ’80s, the best decade yet.

Slouch socks. How did we fight the urge to keep pulling these damn droopy things up?

Parachute pants were basically tents with legs and flattered NO ONE...including the chick donning them here.

Parachute pants were basically tents with legs and flattered NO ONE…including the chick donning them here.

The women of TV's "Dallas" sported linebacker shoulder-padding that made their heads look rather pin-like.

Shoulder pads: the women of TV’s “Dallas” sported linebacker shoulder-padding that made their heads look like push pins.

The Adidas bag.  No high school nerd was complete without it.

The Adidas bag. No high school nerd was complete without it.

Absolutely everything came in dusty rose--clothes, walls, furniture.  Ugh.  Didn't the K-Car even come in a shade of this 1980s colour?

Absolutely everything came in dusty rose–clothes, walls, furniture. Ugh. Didn’t the K-Car even come in a shade of this 1980s colour?

The Chevette.  Yes, it was butt ugly, but everyone had one or knew someone who had one.

The Chevette. Yes, it was butt ugly, but everyone had one or knew someone who had one.

Atari-This exciting piece of technology caused ooo's and aaah's everywhere it went.

Atari-This exciting piece of technology caused ooo’s and aaah’s everywhere it went.  Now it just makes us laugh.

Stirrup stretch pants were all the rage.  I know they that when I see them, they make me rage.

Stirrup stretch pants were all the rage. I was short so the foot part always hung loosely and bunched up in my shoes.

Who could forget The Man With Two Brains?  Believe me, I've tried.  Oh pointy bird, oh pointy pointy.  Anoint my head.  Anointy-nointy.

Who could forget The Man With Two Brains? Believe me, I’ve tried. Oh pointy bird, oh pointy pointy. Anoint my head. Anointy-nointy.

Knots Landing's Lisa Hartman had great (big) hair.  I wore mine exactly like it in grade 12 and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Knots Landing‘s Lisa Hartman had great (big) hair. I wore mine exactly like it in grade 12 and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

High school me and my rubber glove chicken.  Yup, I was a dork.

High school me and my rubber glove chicken. Yup, I was a dork.

Photo Credits:  The Library (urbanspoon.com),  Club Exit (trademarkia.com), slouch socks (elliesox.com), parachute pants (digital changeling.com),  Adidas & Dusty rose (etsy.com), chevette (charest.net), atari (thenestway.com), stirrups (sodahead.com), Man with 2 Brains (www.guardian.co.uk), Knots Landing (bonkbusterdiaries.com).

Ear Gunk-Eating Insects, Polite Criminals, and A Teeny Tiny Washing Machine

Over the years, I have acquired a rather sizable portfolio of strange stories to share.  While reading a blog from one of my favourite bloggers, http://motherhoodisanart.com/2013/01/14/there-was-something-in-my-soda-can/, I was reminded of my first several apartments.  And the many…umm…”colourful” experiences that I had there.

This looks exactly the same as it did in 1988--looks okay, right?  Wrong.

This looks exactly the same as it did in 1988–looks okay, right? Wrong.

In hindsight, I should have chosen nicer places to live in.  And I was a collection officer at the time, so I should have known which buildings were “deadbeat-riddled cesspools.”  But I was barely twenty and very naive.  I was so naive, in fact, that I thought my kitchen was full of “grease bugs.”  I later learned that these crunchy-looking, shadow-casting monsters that hated the light, were cockroaches.  My kitchen was literally crawling with them.

cockroach cartoon

The insects, however, were really the least of my problems.  Shortly after moving in, a tenant of the 25th floor came home and interrupted a robbery in progress.  A hostage-taking ensued, the SWAT team was called in, and, I can only assume, the situation was rectified.  This was soon followed by a resident of the adjacent high rise taking potshots at a passing bus with a rifle.  No one was shot.  It would appear he was a nutbar with particularly bad aim.

My thug was easier to get rid of than this guy.

My thug was easier to get rid of than this guy.

On one occasion, a deranged person tried to break down my door.  They were hollering someone’s name.  I couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded nothing like mine.  I meekly informed the person through the door that they had the wrong apartment and they apologized and went away.  I know that this sounds like an unlikely resolution to the problem, but this exact thing had happened to me before.  I was boarding at another apartment building and was home alone, cheering loudly to the Grey Cup (Canada’s version of the Super Bowl), when a different (I am assuming) person began pounding on the door.  It would seem that someone owed this dude money.  Unsure what to do, I told him (again, through the closed door) that this was not blah-blah’s apartment.  He went away.  It would appear that deranged people can be reasoned with.

polite Canadians

And don’t get me wrong.  It’s not like I live in a city filled with insane door-busting people.  I just happened to live in places that attracted insane door-busting people.  On the upside–they were always polite and apologetic.  That’s a Canadian criminal for you.

A favourite Canadian pastimes.

A favourite Canadian pastime.

 

Holy crap.  You could make a candle with all that wax.

Holy crap. You could make a candle with all that wax.

1) One of the things that troubled me the most about having cockroaches was the fear of having one crawl in my ear while I slept.  A giant, crusty, long-legged earwig of sorts.  One that could survive a nuclear holocaust.  Suppose it developed a taste for ear wax.  Although, after looking at this picture, I may never eat ANYTHING again.  But cockroaches are much less squeamish.  And, maybe, my ear wax is a delicacy.  My farts smell like roses, so anything is possible.

Thankfully, one of my blogger friends, (http://wedelmom.wordpress.com/about/), introduced me to the Ear Vac.  Perhaps, this would not only keep my ears free of cockroach food, but it might also suck out any insects that wander in their in the first place.

Too bad I didn’t come across this twenty years ago.  Thankfully, I NOW reside in a bug free house.

But if you are in need of an ear fumigation, watch this:  

2.  And, in case you’ve never met someone who has actually had a large insect burrowing around in their ear canal, here is a man who temporarily provided shelter for a June Bug.  

Apparently, the most common ear invaders are gnats, beetles, moths and ROACHES.  I knew it!  According to wikihow.com, small winged insects get stuck and can’t fly out.  Large bugs get trapped and can’t crawl out backwards.  Great.  Our ears are giant bug traps.  And, unless you are a deaf person, you get the pleasure of hearing amplified bug sounds–like buzzing, flapping, and of course, everyone’s favourite–gnawing through the ear drum noises.

3.  If you are looking for your first apartment, here are some you may want to consider (or not):

img_princess_tower_n

 This 100-floor monster is The Princess Towers in Dubai, the tallest apartment building in the world.  I don’t want to live anywhere that a Hook’n’Ladder truck can’t reach me.  Plus, I hate heights.  But, if none of these things are of concern to you, this may be just the place for you.  As long as the elevators are reliable.  

penthouse in TriBeCa

This is currently the most expensive rental property in New York City.  This 13,500 square foot, three floored, penthouse in TriBeCa currently rents for $100,000 per month.  A far car from the city average of $3400 a month, which, by the way, would land you a staggeringly beautiful spot up here in the Great White North.  Except maybe T.O.  Or Vancouver.  Their prices or NUTS.

Or you could just live with these guys.  At least they have a nice washing machine.  

photo credits:  ear wax (ack!) (sudanforum.net), Princess Towers (www.tameer.net),