A Challenge

This week, our new Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, was subjected to the infamous MacLean’s magazine “60 second” pre-interview interview, where the interviewee is asked several questions in rapid-fire succession and has to answer in under a minute. Justin did well, from my perspective, but there was one gaffe regarding the existence of the Balkan States. I didn’t really notice, since I have ZERO knowledge of world geography, but other people were a little up in arms, including a lot of Balkan people, and my own beloved brother. He’s not a huge fan of Justin Trudeau, and he emailed me from the airport with his own short but hilarious pseudo-interview of the new Prime Minister. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing an short excerpt here:

Q:  What about great explorers? Do you have a favourite?
A:  Well, my kids love Dora. She seems pretty cool.
Q:  Now, about those Baltic States…have you settled on a favourite yet?
A:  I sure have! I think that Latviania is totally awesome.

He then suggested that I do my own MacLean’s style interview with Justin this week, but I couldn’t do it, mostly because A) I like Justin Trudeau, and B) my brother already did a pretty stellar job. But there was a lot of potential for humour here, and as a result, I decide to recreate (or create, actually) the first meeting between Justin Trudeau, politician and person extraordinaire, with Donald Trump, neither of those. So here goes:

Donald: So what am I doing here again?
Aide: You’re meeting with Justin Trudeau, the newly elected Prime Minister of Canada. He’s interested in meeting with all the candidates for the American presidency. Just to be fair.
Justin: It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Trump.
Donald: So what, you’re like the King of the Arctic or something?
Justin (laughs gently): No, no, I’m the Prime Minister of Canada. Canada is the second largest country in the world after Russian in terms of landmass. It’s the world’s most educated country, and it has more lakes than all the other countries in the world combined.
Donald: What the f*ck ARE you, a geography teacher or something?
Justin: Well, I do have a working knowledge of geography. For example, the Balkan States definitely exists. In fact, though, I used to be a drama teacher.
Donald: All actors are gay, and I don’t give a sh*t about the Balcanadians. Save the drama for your mama, pretty boy. Now, what exactly do you want?
Justin: Well, you’re currently the frontrunner for the Republican nomination. I was just interested in your campaign platform, you know—what are your issues?
Donald: Well, I have a lot of issues–
Justin: Mm, yes, I’ve heard.
Donald: –but what I really want to do is bring American back to the Americans and dig it out of the hole that Muslim from Alaska put it in.
Justin (confused): Are you talking about President Obama? He’s not Muslim and he’s from Hawaii.
Donald: That’s what the Democrats would HAVE you believe. Anyway, who else have you met with?
Justin: I met with Jeb Bush…
Donald: Putz!
Justin: What?
Donald: Jeb Bush, not you.
Justin: Oh. Also, Ben Carson…
Donald: Ass! Again, Ben Carson, not you.
Justin: Why are you so derogatory about your colleagues? I quite liked Carly Fiorina… Donald: Woman! Again, Fiorina, not you, Justine.
Justin (rolls eyes): I feel like we’re not making much headway here. Why don’t I introduce you to some of MY colleagues? This is Marc Garneau, Minister of Transport. He used to be an astronaut, which is pretty cool. And this is Harjit Sajjan, my Minister of National Defence.
Donald (sotto voce): You know he’s wearing a towel on his head, right?
Justin: That’s a turban, Mr. Trump—he’s a Sikh.
Donald: So deporting him, then?
Justin: What?! NO. He’s a trusted member of my cabinet!
Donald: That’s what JFK said about Lee Harvey Oswald, and look how THAT turned out. Justin: I don’t think JFK EVER said that, and I find your comments racist and divisive.
Donald: Fine. But don’t come crying to me when he sneaks into that condemned row house you call an official residence and tries to blow you up in your bed.
Justin: 24 Sussex Drive isn’t a “condemned row house”. It’s a historical monument. I lived there as a child.
Donald: Holy sh*t, you’ve been Prime Minister since you were a kid? Why the hell have I never heard of you?
Justin: No, no, that was when my father was Prime Minister. There were others in between. Remember the guy in the sweater vest?
Donald: It rings a bell, although I don’t remember his name. Nice hair, though. By the way, have I told you my plans for my OWN official residence? I’m building a new Trump Tower on the grounds of the White House. Ivana is turning the White House into a retail store for her clothing line. Or is it Ivanka? Or Melania? Or Marla? God, I love the letters “I” and “M”. That’s why I’m so pissed at the Muslims. Islam stole my two favourite letters of the alphabet. What’s yours?
Justin: I like all the letters of the alphabet equally.
Donald: Jennifer Lawrence or Jennifer Lopez?
Justin: Uh…I’m a fan of theatre AND music…
Donald: No kidding, Justine. Scandinavia?
Justin: That’s a thing—wait, this is starting to sound really familiar. Are you working for MacLean’s magazine, by any chance?
Donald: Is that like Vogue or Cosmo? Oh hey, look who’s here! It’s my running mate, Kanye West!
Kanye: I’m the greatest living rock star!
Justin: You picked Kanye West to be your potential vice-president?!
Kanye: I named my new baby “Saint”. Saint West. (drops mike)
Justin: OK. First, where did you even GET a microphone from, and second, that wasn’t a dropworthy moment.
Kanye: Start learning the words to “Golddigger”, fool. It’s your new national anthem. Justin: Oh my God, I need a drink.
Donald: Attaboy. Just be drunk all the time. It works for me.

Friday: Titus, weapon of mass destruction

Titus has been having some issues of his own lately, mostly involving damage and injury to both people AND household items. Last month, he enthusiastically jumped at K, and they cracked skulls hard enough to give K an actual concussion, confirmed by our family physician. Then he punched Ken in the head during a particularly exciting wrestling match, leaving Ken with a large gash on his forehead. Living in Toronto has exempted me from much of the carnage, although he DID whack me in the face the other day while trying to give me a “high-five”. But apparently, he saved the best of himself for the moment I came home for Christmas holidays. Yesterday morning before Ken left for work, he told me this:

Ken: Titus threw up this morning.
Me: What? Is he OK?
Ken: I think so. He ate breakfast, then he had “sexy time” with his dog cushion. I think he just got carried away and overdid it.
Me: Oh god—I didn’t need to know ANY of that.

Later though, he was acting a little weird. I came back from an eye doctor’s appointment and was in the middle of making lunch, when he wanted to go outside. I let him out, and saw him do some “business”. 5 minutes later, he wanted out again. More business, this time “number two”. He should have been good for the next couple of hours, but no—within 5 minutes, he was back at the door again. I told him that I wasn’t running a flophouse, and it wasn’t a revolving door, so he could just stay in for a while. He looked at me strangely, then threw up all over our breakfast room. I mean ALL OVER. Piles and piles of ALL OVER. I freaked out and put him outside where he did it again. So I did what any reasonable person would do—I called Ken.

Ken: Hey. I’m driving back from lunch with some people from work. You’re on speaker phone.
Me: Titus is really sick. Come home! I’ve never seen so much vomit. It’s like he’s been saving it up for DAYS. The rug by the patio door is a complete write-off.
Everyone: Ewwwww.
Ken: I have to work until 7 tonight.
Everyone: No, you don’t, Ken.
Ken: Ok, I’ll be home soon.

Right before Ken came home, the phone rang. It was a telemarketer. Within the next two minutes, the following happened:

1) The telemarketer tried to convince me to sign up for an On-Star plan for my car.
2) Titus started to heave by the door.
3) I screamed into the phone, “Titus, NO! Not THAT rug too!”
4) The telemarketer said, “Pardon? Were you talking to me?”
5) Ken came walking towards the house.
6) I screamed “Titus! Go outside!” and I opened the door and pushed him towards Ken, but he wouldn’t budge. I said to the telemarketer, “My dog is about to throw up. I can’t talk now.”
7) The telemarketer offered to call me back AFTER the dog had thrown up. I apologized to the telemarketer for screaming in her ear.
8) Titus vomited all over the floor.
9) Ken said, “Why are you on the phone when the dog is puking right in front of you? You don’t even drive the car enough to pay for an On-Star plan. It’s not worth the money.”
10) I informed Ken that I had no interest in discussing the prudence of an On-Star plan at that moment, because I was too busy cleaning up dog puke. I believe my exact words were “What the F*CK, Ken?!!”
11) Ken took Titus outside.

We still have no idea what caused this extraordinary episode. For dinner, I made him steamed rice (Titus, not Ken), and he seemed to be fine. Today, I made him homemade natural dog cookies, and he drooled excitedly. Things seem to be back to normal. Except that I’m down one small Persian rug, and I felt so bad about the telemarketer that when she called back, I signed up for a hardware update. The universe works in mysterious ways.