Monday, 8 July 2013


A woman (dear God, not my friend, I hope?) tries to get back into her car on the Lakeshore. What the fuck she was doing OUT of her car, I cannot say. Unless maybe she dropped her vodka. Then it makes perfect sense. 

Well this is it. It's the apocalypse. But not for the mothers of the world. For the mothers of the world, it's just a nuisance. A challenge. An "opportunity," for the super-positive Birkenstock-clad nutbars in the crowd.

For those of you reading this who aren't in Toronto, count your lucky stars. Because for once, there's a city in the GTA that's more of a mess than Brampton. Tdot was hit with record deluges last night, complete with power outages, flooded subway stations, submerged highways and full-on commuter pandemonium. I got home before it hit and texted a friend of mine: "U okay? It's horrendous out there. Get a hotel and bill it to big daddy warbucks!" (I'd name the company she works for but it's so powerful it would shut down this risque little bastardization of journalism in a heartbeat. But let's just say rich and powerful lawyers who know people who know Michael Bryant work there. Fuck. Why did I even say that? Oh well, if this blog goes dark tomorrow, you'll know where to start looking for the bodies.) 

And she responded: "Been trying to get home for 3 hours and gave up. Back @ the office but will try again soon."  Because she has "children" (in their 20s, but boys, so technically, still children) so she wants to get home and cook for them. Fer fuck's sake.

"Try WHAT?" I replied. "Chill out and STAY THERE!" Because people, just LOOK at these pictures! We're talking biblical, here. Four feet of water on major roadways, people kayaking down residential streets. Hello, excuse me, is this Calgary? Can you tell me how to get to the Saddledome? 

Anyway, my point is, a mother will do just about anything to try to get home to her children. It doesn't matter if they're 2 or 20. That part of her heart and soul and stretchmarks that brought those babies into the world simply cannot rest if it is apart from them and there is a chance, however slight, that they need her. It doesn't matter if the Don Valley Parkway has been shut down, it doesn't matter if the GO station is hip-deep in mud and excrement, it doesn't matter if every cop in her path tells her, "Look, lady, turn back." She's going home. 
Come hell or high water. 

EDITOR'S NOTE: My money's on your friend. She don't mess around, that one. 

MY NOTE: Update: It took her six hours. Meanwhile it's now morning and my commute has been horranus and what's worse is my hair is ruined.