Alex Carrick’s Blog

Here’s something I’ve never shared before. I try to live according to the words of wisdom from my own personal adviser and alter ego, Ari Noshuns. Emulating his spirit of generosity, the following are passed on to you as a means to achieving deeper enlightenment.

(1) A man is only good if there is a strong woman standing behind him. Then he can be used as a shield in a shoot-out.

(2) People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Nor should they start a marijuana grow-up in their living room. Especially if their next door neighbor is a cop.

(3) A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. Unless, of course, Rose happens to be the name of your gorilla. The name Stinky might draw more attention to her problem.

(4) Mountain high, valley low, river wide, verbs unnecessary.

(5) During the intermission at the opera, to be or not to be is not the question. It’s to pee or not to pee?

(6) Be wary of a man who speaks with forked tongue. Be even more wary of the crazy little woman who attacked him with cutlery.

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The Carrick family thinks it has the nicest pet dog in the world, a beautiful golden retriever named Daisy. But even we know there are times when Daisy seems a little lazy. A dozen examples follow.

(1) She once had a race with the oak tree in our back yard. The oak won, the dandelions placed second and Daisy failed to show.

(2) The tortoise and the hare use Daisy as their finish line.

(3) She doesn’t sniff other dogs’ butts. Instead, she gives them a handi-wipe and tells them to be more thorough next time.

(4) She eats most of her meals through a straw. That’s after the cat purées her kibble.

(5) She doesn’t chase cars anymore. She calls them really bad names.

(6) When it comes to tooth care, she forgets to eat her milk bone. Then she and the cat fight over the last strand of dental floss.

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The following are a dozen good reasons a proper young lady should never date a vampire.

(1) There’s not much point to installing a mirror over your bed.

(2) Your blood pudding will never measure up to his mother’s.

(3) When you tell your BFFs about his mother, they’re disappointed you think she’s an old bat.

(4) Getting him to open up about his feelings is like pulling fangs.

(5) Every time you cook him a special meal he gets sick. He says he’s lactose intolerant but you suspect it’s the garlic bread.

(6) Whenever the two of you go into a beer hall and the bartender says “pint or quart,” something mortifying happens.

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How hot and humid is Toronto this summer? It’s so hot that…

(1) Out-0n-bail G20 protesters have declared a moratorium on burning cop cars.

(2) Casual Friday has become sponge bath Friday;

(3) All of the city’s mayoral candidates want to tax and license running through sprinklers.

(4) The pavement on Yonge Street is melting faster than the ice surface at the Air Canada Centre.

(5) All of the mayoral candidates want to tax and license panting dogs.

(6) The air is so thick and rubbery, the Raptors are trying to dunk it.

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Since video book trailers are now all the rage, the following is the script for the first foray into the field by Donna and myself. This is a little self-serving, no doubt about it, plus there is some catharsis.

The camera starts rolling.

ALEX: Hi everyone, my name is Alex Carrick and I’m here to tell you about my new book, “Three Scoops” Is A Blast! It’s the sequel to my first book, “Two Scoops” Is Just Right.

To help with descriptions of my writing, I’ve brought along an impartial reader, my wife Donna. Go ahead, sweetheart, tell viewers how much you enjoyed Two Scoops.

DONNA: I absolutely loved your book. I’ve already made two of the dishes you set out, a lemon meringue pie and a Baked Alaska.

ALEX (looking disgusted): It’s not a recipe book and you know it. Now stop kidding around and tell viewers how good Two Scoops is.

DONNA: It was so exciting. The main characters were racing all over Europe trying to solve puzzles and the authorities were chasing them. I couldn’t put it down

ALEX: You’ve just described The Da Vinci Code. It was a huge bestseller. My effort was more modest.

DONNA: Really? I thought it was your book.

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Here are sixteen original and highly sophisticated road jokes.

(1) Why did all of the world’s leaders cross the road? The bridge? The Highway? To take credit for the infrastructure work.

(2) Why did Jack Bauer cross the road? He finished torturing all the terrorists on this side.

(3) Why did Gregory House cross the road? To avoid walking under a ladder, a black cat and Number 13.

(4) Why did the tweeter cross the road? It was less than 140 paces to the hottest new trending topic.

(5) Why did the family cross the road? To log into a better Internet connection.

(6) Why did the people of LOST cross the road? Why not? They’re lost, aren’t they?

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For all her flustered outward appearance, Jilal was a deep thinker. Single, aged 32, a brunette well-above average in appearance and living in an eco-friendly home halfway between the citizens on ground level and those perched high above, she was having a typical day off.

Mid-morning and her heart was already pounding. Too much to do. She’d be meeting Bobex in an hour to hook up with friends and attend the big game. After that would be a sumptuous meal in some new hot spot within the trendy entertainment district. It was nice to have a break from the work week but the racing only banked around a corner, it didn’t stop.

Yesterday, her control freak of a boss pushed too hard. Jilal could deal with her employer’s tirades under most circumstances, but the recent episode shifted the problem from being at the fringe to taking over centre stage. It would need to be dealt with.  The thought of the coming confrontation made her stomach rumble. A hard lump of consternation sat undigested in her gut.

Then there was Bobex. He was a nice guy, but was that enough? He was already the sixth serious relationship in her short life. He was too heavily into sports. Bobex had another problem she wasn’t supposed to know about, gambling. She’d learned of that flaw from a friend of a friend of hers. Jilal wasn’t above tossing the dice herself. She might do better with a lucky seventh.  

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As a special favor, Louise Traynor was escorted to a couple’s table in the trattoria’s alcove by the establishment’s executive chef and owner late into the luncheon sitting. The faux Italian décor was complemented by Dean Martin crooning in the background. A tiny fountain listlessly gurgled in the centre of the room. Other diners noted the procession, passed a few words back and forth, but quickly returned to their meals. The linguine Bolognese was especially superb.

Louise was as polished as burnished marble. Black tailored business suit, wispy bangs curled down over a high forehead and blood-red lacquered fingernails made her an eye-catching presence. Her lithe frame was a stark contrast to Police Chief Baylor’s heft as the other member of the dining duo. The chief’s six-foot-five frame of mostly muscle rose skyward to a pumpkin-sized head topped with a steel wool thatch of hair. No slouch in the deportment department, Chief Baylor had come directly from a massage and manicure. His eagerness to talk threw off a barely muted incandescence.

CHIEF (standing to greet Louise): Lovely of you to join me Mrs. Traynor. With your husband so wrapped up in running for governor, I thought it would be easier for the two of us to have lunch together. I have something important to discuss with you.

LOUISE:  (shaking the chief’s hand): My pleasure, Chief, glad to be here. You’ve certainly aroused my curiosity. Hope I can be of assistance.

They get a few more pleasantries out of the way and order from the menu before chewing on the true heart of the occasion. A couple of glasses of Valpolicella arrive with the gazpacho. The moment finally arrives for the Chief to be forthcoming.

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My name is Earl Thomas and I’m a reporter with the Tombstone Tabloid. Every week we try to bring our readers an interview with one of the Wild West’s more prominent citizens. This week we have “One Shot” Calhoun in the Hot Seat in our saloon studio. One Shot, as surely everyone knows, is the notorious gunslinger and part-time Texas Ranger that everyone is talking about.

EARL: How are you doing today, One Shot?

ONE SHOT: “I’m very well, thank you. How ‘bout you?”

EARL: Just great! You can probably tell how excited I am to finally meet you. Let’s get this interview underway quickly. For starters, how did you get the name One Shot? Because you’re so deadly accurate with a gun?

ONE SHOT: Funny you should ask, Earl. People are always getting that wrong. No, it’s because I only drink one shot of whiskey before I go out and face a man. One shot is good for the nerves. More than one shot slows the reflexes.

EARL: Isn’t that interesting. And of course, it makes perfect sense. How many men have you shot over the years?

ONE SHOT: Well of course I don’t keep track of every one. But there are 35 notches on my gun. That’s the same number as my age.

EARL: 35? That’s an amazing figure.

ONE SHOT: Yes and that doesn’t include lawyers and politicians.

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