The Phantom Zucchini

Today is Saturday, right?

What Saturday means to me.

1. Canadian Tire. That's like Walmart in the US except that it's not hot crowded and smelly and they don't refuse to sell cd's with explicit warning labels - because they simply don't sell cd's. And I'm not sure if they sell tires. Let me go look at a website. Be right back.

Ok, they do. My search on their site brought up 799 matches in fact.

So, let's recap.

Tires - YES
CD's - NO
CD'S with explicit lyrics - NO. duh.
All the Other Stuff I Need - YES

2. Home Sense. This is the Canadian equivalent to Home Goods, and by Canadian standards they sell home furnishings at discount prices. I still find the prices more expensive (by US standards) but the Nutty Canadians are completely orgasmic over this store. If they went to a US Home Goods they'd probably have a massive coronary and 3 brain aneurysms before they filled their carts even halfway with useless decorative items. So it's best that they stay right here in Canada and enjoy their own, teensy bit more expensive yet way less stroke-risky version of this marvelous store.

Yes, I like to stock up on practical necessities and then I like to buy some stuff I don't need so much in the physical need way but in the I Need This For Positive Reenforcement Way (aka gives me a reason to live.) People - nothing produces endorphins like new placemats. That's what I always say, when I'm not saying that a celebrity should follow me on Twitter, that is. I can't believe I actually considered being followed by Bob Vila. New lows have once again been sunk to, my friends. Still, I have dreams. Some are huge, like being followed by Weird Al and some are smaller, much much smaller like being followed by the This Old House Guy.

Anyway, today is Saturday and all this excitement and more can happen but first Dave must go to church, which is why I think maybe we're Jewish and just don't know it.

You would know it, right? I mean especially if you are a boy because there's the whole doing stuff to your penis before you even like it thing (oh yes I know that lots of people do that now but if you're Jewish at least you get presents.) And then no matter what gender you are you have to go to all those 'mitzvah-thingies so that would kind of tip you off.

But let's say your family just didn't like doing all those things, they left your penis alone and they didn't go to any religious ceremonies, and let's just say that your name didn't sound Jewish at all because they changed it to something wasp-ish or two wasp-ish names hyphenated. Or what if, like me, you've been married so many times - (and also there was the time inbetween when you went back to your maiden name) - that you wake up in the morning and sneak a peek at your license just to be absolutely sure of what you are calling yourself these days and so you cannot with absolute certainty know that you didn't once even for a little while have a Jewish sounding name?

Then how would you know for sure?

Because I'm thinking that even setting foot in a church on Saturday (even if it is to practice music) and then driving across town to save 6 cents on paper towels, is well. Let's just say it's making me think, is all.