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Hmmm, looks like there's a message on my answering machine.
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I pressed the play button and wondered what would could be so compelling that a message had to be left. I was more than pleasantly surprised to learn that I was the lucky recipient of the fabulous door prize raffled off at Cambridge-Narrows Community Day.
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I vaguely remembered putting my name and phone number on a piece of paper, though only because I was instructed to, and not because there was something that I desperately wanted to win (like a pony).
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The instructions left on the machine were that I could claim my treasure at the local library, so I flip-flopped my way out to my Kiwi green Ford Focus wagon and proceeded to my neighbourhood book depository. Upon entering and providing proof of identity (passport, driver's licence, fingerprint and temporary suspension of legal guardianship of my first born), I picked up my prize. The prize was so all encompassing that it had to be housed in a large, brilliantly sky blue nylon Co-op shopping bag. I should have taken this as a sign but I was blinded by greed, and the knowledge that a pony was somehow hiding inside.
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I didn't dare open it up in front of the young librarian and the literate patrons of the establishment, who surely would become envious of my good fortune, and undoubtedly try to unhand me of my winnings. Libraries tend to attract that crowd....literate, yet devious. Not unlike the crowds that gather at bus stations, except, in the case of the bus station, without the reading skills.
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I took my bounty home where I could appraise it in relative safety. As I reached into my goody bag, I first pulled out something big and red.
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A bloody pony!
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It was a ball cap. It was mail box red, with a short brim and a a tall crown. It said 'Bodco' on it and it was freakishly farmish. Honestly, I think that hat was part of an elaborate regifting scheme, but I can't prove it. It's the kind of hat that every Mr.New Brunswick would wear.
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I'm no Mr.New Brunswick.
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Think about it...I drive a Kiwi green station wagon. I'm a stay-at-home-dad/leisurologist. When something in my house malfunctions, I cry, then I call a tradesman. I don't think ATV weather girl, Cindy Day, is even remotely attractive. She couldn't hold a candle to Rose, though I wish she would for an extended period of time (like a week). If this isn't enough to convince you, then I'll let you know that I ate organic emu steak last night with steamed turnip and mustard greens on the side. I don't own a tractor or a pick-up truck. My middle name isn't Zeke, Earle or Festus. I'm incapable of displaying any sort of meaningful butt crack above my dog-eared jeans.
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I'm simply not a candidate to be Mr.New Brunswick, so the hat is of no use to me except in late October.
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I convinced a friend of mine to model the hat for this blog. his image is above, perhaps you stopped already to admire him and the bawdy cap. To protect his identity, I won't refer to him as Dave, which, in fact, is his real name. I'll call him Biff for the rest of this paragraph. Biff suggested, for authenticity, that he also pose with a pencil behind his ear (indicating a skill in some trade), a blade of grass in his teeth (deep agricultural roots) and a plaid shirt (proud owner of a Mark's Work Wearhouse credit card). Thanks Biff!
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Dave promptly removed the hat after the photo shoot, lest he was seen and recruited for the provincial Progressive Conservative party. This is not a jab at the PCs, I'm ferry sure they'll do a better job than our present gubberment, currently led by a gym teacher.
Have you heard the joke...
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Those who can, do.
Those who can't do, teach.
Those who can't teach, teach phys-ed.
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So I reached into the bag and pulled out another item. WTF!?!?! It said Tupperware on the top and it resembled a miniature plastic ball cap. Dear god, the prize pack had a theme. It's colour was a tragic shade of Barney purple. It had a protrusion or brim, which could be held in one hand, while a lid could be hinged open. It was a half round container of some sort. I had to go on-line to Tupperware's web site to discover what it was meant to do because, to me, it looked utterly useless.
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If you clicked on the Tupperware web link above, you'll see that the container was meant to house the half tomato or onion that you didn't use in last night's Hamburger Helper. That onion will live in its Tupper tub at the back of your fridge until 2014, when it'll slip out in the middle of the night, go to your bedroom and....well, use your imagination (you did cut it in half, after all). You don't ever want to disrespect a tomato or onion.
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I think that it's also interesting to note that this grape coloured veggie sarcophagus belongs to Tupperware's 'Forget-Me-Not' collection. Figure those odds.
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Also in my door prize were two paper Canadian flags on sticks, a tiny Canadian flag pin, and a bookmark with the words to O Canada printed in both official languages. There was also another piece of paper with the national anthem printed on it, in case I lost my bookmark at the hockey game and felt like singing along.
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I'm thinking about running a contest on my blog. E-mail (narrowsminded@aol.com) your best picture of what Mr.New Brunswick looks like, and you'll win a prize. It might be difficult to decide which entry will be the eventual winner, but I'll have no difficulty in gathering together a prize pack. All I can say is that you won't be getting a pony.
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