Mike of course went 2 tell Weed abt the book
U will not B shocked 2 hear that Mike d-cided 2 stop by @ Weed's bizness 2 tell him abt the book:
BTW, am I the only 1 who's confused Y it was a 45-min drive fr. our house 2 Mike's TO apt, but it's 1.5 or 2 hrs from our house 2 his work? TO isn't THAT big, eh?
Apes
April,Ew. M I rite?
Little sis. A contract for a book is an amazing thing. Not only is it amazing because it means I have a publisher for my book, but it is also amazing how sometimes it seems like it is several pages long and on loose, bendable paper and other times, it seems like it is one page long on heavy card stock. One of those heavy card stock days occurred recently, when I went to visit my closest friend, Josef Weeder. Many people told me I should hire a lawyer to check out my contract (its contents, and not the strangely changing quality of the paper it is on), but I decided the best thing to do would be to take advantage of my friendship with Weed and get him to check out the contract for free. Weed didn’t have any problem with the idea. He said, “I’ll get our intellectual property guy to check out this contract, Mike---but it looks pretty good to me.” I think Weed was saying it looked pretty good because the contract was in a card stock mood at that time, and I have admit it looked pretty good to me too. I said, “Thanks, Weed” just to show those persons who think a Patterson never says “Thank you.”
Then it suddenly got dark. Milborough experiences a lot of blackouts. In the blackness, Weed gave the contract back to me with his right hand and touched me with his left hand. Being touched by Weed suddenly made my left hand extend outward like I only had two very long fingers and a thumb. Before I could turn my attention to this sudden change in my appendage, then Weed said, “So, you’ve done it! You’re an author! How does it feel?” At first I responded, “Tight, man.” But then I thought, he may be talking about my being an author, so I said, “The advance won’t come until next month. And in the meantime, I’ve got bills to pay, get my freelance done, commute 2 hours to work an’ live in chaos at my folks’ place.”
Little sis. I know you might find that last statement a little confusing. After all, didn’t I just write in my January monthly letter that I had an hour and a half commute to my place of toil? Well, little sis, that’s what I thought it was back in January. In February, I have learned to add in an extra 30 minutes to accommodate how long it take for mom to say goodbye to me as I leave for work. I don’t know how everyone else manages to leave for work so much faster than I do. The second thing you may question is the bills, since we are living at home. Even though my $25,000 advance won’t come until next month, this doesn’t mean that our rent in the house has stayed the same. Mom is anticipating the need for more long distance phone calls, and has increased our rent to cover the addition. That is very wise of her, but it does mean I cannot relax when it comes for bill-paying time.
My news didn’t seem to phase Weed. He said, “Mike! Stop and enjoy the moment! You gotta celebrate, man! This calls for a party!!!” He looked at me and stuck his hands out as if he wanted to give me a breast examination. But then he completely fooled me and instead of putting his hands on my breasts, he put his hands around his mouth and he called, “PARTY!” in a voice so loud I swear it felt like the front of my hair line popped off my head.
That’s it for now, little sis. As for what happened next, I will have to leave your readers in anticipation. Did people actually come to Weed for a party on command, or did he just yell the word for effect? You’ll find out tomorrow.
Love,
Michael
BTW, am I the only 1 who's confused Y it was a 45-min drive fr. our house 2 Mike's TO apt, but it's 1.5 or 2 hrs from our house 2 his work? TO isn't THAT big, eh?
Apes
Labels: crowded house, Mike, Mike's literary pretensions, Weed
posted by April Patterson @ 6:58 AM
12 Comments:
At 9:19 AM,
howard said…
April,
Getting to Toronto can take a long time depending on the traffic. I used to drive the distance to where your brother used to live on a regular basis to visit my Auntie Winifred and Uncle Melville Kelpfroth, and can tell you the secret of getting there in 45 minutes. It was a very odd thing, but something worth remembering if you ever decide to go there yourself. Once you are out of the Milborough city limits say these words, “I think Burlington, the town where Mira and Wilf Sobinski live, is closer to Toronto than Milborough is.” And the next thing you know you will be on the 404 headed right to downtown. It’s disorienting, but it cuts down the drive time. Your brother should already be aware of this particular shortcut, so his 2-hour commute to work appears to be intended to buy him sympathy through suffering, one of his favourite things to do.
I also find it highly suspicious he took his book contract to Josef Weeder instead of a lawyer he might know through Portrait Magazine. I think, he thinks taking it to that lawyer, might tip Portrait off that he plans to leave when that bonus money comes in. He’s been in your house now since Christmas Eve, so it’s pretty clear he has no intention of leaving unless your mother kicks him out. Paying your mother some minimal rent for room and board for 4 people is a lot cheaper than keeping your own apartment and paying for your own food. If he stays there, then he won’t need to work at Portrait at all. He can spend his days hanging around the house, writing his next book. I hate to say it April, but I don’t think your brother is ever going to leave your house.
Howard Bunt
At 12:43 PM,
Anonymous said…
Howard,
Instead of giving short cuts to a family you have offended, you should be APOLOGIZING to the poor jury who has been at your going after trial for five months now. You're halfway to OJ Simpson's trial length, and all you did was get further groping Liz than I ever did in six years of dating.
These people have lives, you know.
Just change your plea to guilty and let us all get on with or courtships and or lives. I know you're entitled to a legal defense and everything, but there should be some kind of point system that allows you to only do so much inconveniencing.
Anthony
At 1:38 PM,
howard said…
Anthony,
You are so right and I am so wrong. I will send personal letters of apology to each jury member right now. I only have one little, teensy, tiny problem with doing it immediately. Most sexual assault trials in Ontario have a judge only, so I need to know exactly who you thought the jury was, so I can get the addresses right. Did you think the jury was the man in the uniform with the gun? How about the lady sitting in the front taking notes during the trial? Perhaps you thought it was the man who stood in the back with the mop? Or the man who wore a black robe and a white neck tab? Let me know so I can appropriately apologize. I wouldn’t want to keep them from living their lives.
As for changing my plea to guilty, I would think you of all people should know why I can’t do that. You and a certain someone are supposed to go hear the verdict together, and if I plead guilty and end the trial, then you will miss that opportunity. In fact, I have been told the only reason my trial continues to be remanded is so you and the certain someone can clear a spot on your busy schedules to hear the verdict. Maybe you should try canceling a few of your appointments, if you are concerned.
Howard Bunt
At 1:49 PM,
Anonymous said…
april, i gotta call just now frum a carleen stein on behalf of a josef myron weeder 2 do the sound 4 a party 4 ur bro. i told them i cud do it az long az it duzn’t innerfere w/my vd gig. ms. stein sed she didn’t know xxactly wen the partee wud b, but she warned me that these kinds of partees sumtymez go on 4 days & most tymes peeps don’t dance & i shud b ready 2 play the entire bobby curtola songbook. i sed 2 ms. stein it sounded like a typical mboro partee 2 me. she seemed happ 2 hear that.
no convo w/zapata henderson & zenobia barnaby 2day. when i saw them in skool, i think they were helpin’ zandra larson w/sum research on clipper ships. histry, i guess.
At 2:15 PM,
Anonymous said…
omg. pleeze don't talk abt "guilty" an' "verdict" an' "howie going 2 prison while liz an' granthony neck in the back benches." i don't need 2 hear shizz like that.
howie, promise me we r gonna have a special valentine's day, just u an' me. i m gonna b so sad when we can't spend time 2gether ne more. i m thinking of retiring an' wandering around mboro in black veils. that is what mary worth sez she would do if her honeybun dr. jeff got sent 2 a vietnamese prison or sumthing.
becks
At 2:22 PM,
Anonymous said…
Hey, when Mike went to see Weed, he stole my two-pound chocolate truffle heart covered in satin and lace that said "Be Mine" that was my totally platonic friend gift to Anthony for Valentine's Day, he left me a note on my bed:
My Salacious Sister,
When pimping a pal for less than licit legal advice, one must make a delicious donation for procurement purposes. As I have badly bankrupted myself by buying gargantuan gifts for you and the gaggle of greedy girls in my family, I am smuggling this scrumptious, satiny sweet to bestow upon my own scrumptious, satiny, sweet friend Weed--of course, as purely platonic as your relationship with the angelic Anthony.
Your beneficent brother, Mike
It's so not faaaaaaaaaair!
Liz
At 2:32 PM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. I don’t know where you got your travel time number of 45 minutes. As you know, it takes an hour to drive from Milborough to my old burnt apartment on Devon Road which is near the Av&Dav neighborhood or in the vicinity of Summerhill, but definitely not Rosedale or the Beaches. When I went to work from there, I would walk to the corner every morning and catch the 7 am bus to Glenn Ave. then hop the train into the city and the train ride would take 45 minutes. Now, I have to say good-bye to mom each morning, drive the whole distance, and find parking. It’s very different from 45-minute trance-sit I used to get every morning, when I would get off the train and walk directly to my Portrait Magazine office.
Howard Bunt may be low, criminal scum, but he is right about one thing: When I think about how much closer Milborough is to my work than Burlington, my commute seems to go faster. This is particularly handy when Deanna’s mother suggests moving into a house she knows in Burlington. Fortunately for you, your boyfriend lives in Milborough, so you won’t have to face this dilemma after you are married.
By the way, just so you know. A Patterson woman does not buy a man anything for Valentine’s Day, although baking a heart-shaped cake for your grandfather is acceptable. I had to liberate that two-pound chocolate truffle heart covered in satin and lace that said "Be Mine" from Elizabeth before she made a huge mistake and gave it to Anthony. The Lizardbreath may complain about it, but she will eventually realize I have saved her from disgracing herself.
Love,
Michael Patterson
At 3:29 PM,
April Patterson said…
mike, my "45 minutes" comes from mom's website: "The elder Pattersons are definitely suburb dwellers; living about 45 minutes' drive from the city in Milborough, which resembles Etobicoke or Newmarket."
At 3:58 PM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. Mom’s website is loaded with misinformation. For example, it says I am Editor in Chief at Portrait Magazine. As Senior Editor, I am subordinate to the Editor in Chief, who is the son of one of the owners.
Also to say Milborough bears any resemblance to Etobicoke or Newmarket, is an insult to all 3 cities. I would say the city I have seen which most resembles Milborough is North Bay. I saw streets, stores, restaurants and even toy stores which looked remarkably similar to Milborough, when I was last there. I know mom likes her web page designer, Stephanie, but she has obviously spent very little time driving from Milborough to Toronto.
If you want information on driving from Milborough to Toronto you should ask me. After all I do it all the time now.
Love,
Michael Patterson
At 4:00 PM,
howard said…
Becky,
I have definite plans for you for Valentine’s Day. I hope the present I special-ordered for you arrives before Wednesday, but even if it doesn’t, you should prepare yourself for a taste bud-exploding extravaganza of a dinner, I have in mind for Valentine’s Day.
As for the black veils, black is not your colour unless it is just the right shade. I have already arranged and labeled your closet for your black clothes with which black dresses are acceptable to wear for the reading of my verdict, for wandering the Milborough streets as a mourning public protest against Milborough-style justice, and especially for a short drop hanging. I hope you don’t get to wear that last one, but this is Milborough, so you never know. Also, since your school dress code does not restrict sock colour choices, I have found a number of socks which can be used to reflect your moods of depression, despondency, disconsolateness, dispiritedness, dolefulness, downcastness, dysphoria, and the dumps. They are numbered, labeled and are in your sock drawer under D.
Howard Bunt
At 6:17 PM,
April Patterson said…
mike, wow, 4 a mo there, i thot u were on yr way 2 saying that mom was WRONG abt sumthing. then u threw in a quick save an' blamed steph. that was a close one, eh?
liz, it so figs that mike wd steal that choc-truffle heart 2 give 2 weed. typical mike.
jeremy, ger was saying sumthing abt a v-day party he wants us 2 go 2. i hafta c if the 'rents will give me permission. i wonder if it's the same as the one where u r dj-ing.
apes
At 2:05 AM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Little sis. Just when you think Josef Weeder could not be any more talented, he proved to me that not only is he a superb photographer, but he could also make a living as a party planner. During my most recent trip to visit him in Toronto in his studio, he suggested I should have a party to celebrate becoming an author. I thought he was joking, but he said, “We can use my studio! Look at the space! Invite everyone! Family! School buddies. Guys from work! Make it BIG! B.Y.O.B., right? We line up a food trough, score some seats, wind up the tunes an’ ta-daah!”
I expected Weed to finish that last sentence off with “Ta-daah, you have a party.” But he didn’t. All I could do was stand there, with my hands in my pockets, incredulous at the idea. Little sis. As you are probably old enough to know by now, people in Milborough don’t throw parties in the same places where they work. They throw parties in their homes or in hotels. In fact the last party Deanna and I were invited to was Gordon and Tracy’s New Years’ Eve party in 2003 and that was at Gordon and Tracy’s house. Weed’s studio is in Toronto, so that might allow us to throw a party there without Milboroughan reprisals, but I didn’t know how many people would be willing to drive 2 hours to get to the party. So I said to Weed, “You’d throw a party? Here?”
Weed had already put together a special brew of coffee in the kitchen and he poured me a cup as he responded, “Man, after what we’ve been through, we both need to unwind!” I said, “Yeah.” I knew exactly what he meant. Both our apartments suffered damage due to the fire-starting Kelpfroths. Both of us had to find different places to live while we were waiting for the insurance to come through. Both of us were forced to spend an extended period of time with our spouse or significant other, without any refuge or means to regularly relieve tension.
As I thought about my tension, I said, “…It’s been a tense time, hasn’t it.” As I sometimes do, I stated that question instead of asking it. Weed understood me immediately, as he so often does. He clinked his coffee cup to mine, as we communicated to each other through our eyes our acceptance of each other and my acceptance of his invitation to have a party at his studio.
Then Weed said, “But the best part is…we’re talking past tense, Mike! ---The future looks wonderful!!” Weed made a pun off the word “tense.” That is the sign of true friend, who will take what you have said make a pun out of it. Weed put his arm around me and led me into the sunset as the credits started running behind us. I said, “Weedie. I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Just kidding.
I love visiting Josef Weeder. Not only is he a fantastic photographer, but he is a good party-planner and tension reliever. After that visit with him, my tension was gone and my future looked bright. Thanks to Weed, I decided to stop and enjoy the moment. Not only that, but I am going to have a party in my honour, for the first time since I was in university and Weed threw me a party to celebrate getting a dumpster. I have a feeling this party is going to be even better than that one.
Love,
Michael Patterson
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