Oh man, I’ve wanted to say that since the second you requested your letter. I’m sorry my infatuation with calamari got in the way of this. I’ll start over.
Do you like calamari? Do they have it in Florida? Or should I say Flo-Rida like all the cool kids? No need to answer that. The answer is “NO”.
I have a confession to make before I get deeper into this letter. For a long time I thought your name might be Squid. I knew it was probably a nickname, or alias, but there were times when I thought it could just be Squid.
So I was happy to receive a definitive answer when you revealed your real name on your blog a few weeks ago.
Don’t blame me for thinking Squid was your real name though, blame the parents who name their kids untraditional names. I can never be sure of anything anymore.
I once called a kid at camp “Yawn-a-tan” for two weeks because that’s what his mom called him. I didn’t realize his name was Jonathan until I spoke to another counsellor about him and they had no clue who I was talking about.
Turns out his mother had an accent. Who knew? Not me!
So yeah, there’s my confession.
Oh! I have more confessions, actually.
You asked me if I like X-Men. Truthfully, I don’t know. I’ve heard of it. I know it’s a movie series? Yeah? I’ve never seen it. No idea what it’s about.
Is there an anti X-Men movie called Y-Men? Like, “Why Men?” Or is the dash a placeholder for a letter and it’s actually not an anti X-Men movie, but rather, it’s a movie called Yemen?
I’ll stop now.
You like summer camps, eh? So do I. They make me feel smart. Kids know absolutely nothing, yet they know everything. Know what I mean?
They don’t know facts or historical information, but they can tell when you sneak an extra lunch for yourself, or when you talk to other counsellors more than others.
What is your favourite part of camp? Mine was the bus ride to the pool. It was my opportunity to relax without running somewhere to clean up a mess. I secretly always wished for traffic on the way back to camp afterwards. That would help shorten the rest of the day.
Actually, my favourite part of camp was playing sports all day. I say that from a counsellor’s perspective. I never went to camp as a kid. I had video games that needed attention.
I credit video games for giving me my cat-like reflexes, which are sometimes panda-like reflexes, but who’s keeping track?
Also, video games helped prepare me for the technological world we live in today. I know how to navigate menu bars with a million different options because in Donkey Kong Country for the Game Boy Colour, there were hidden places and I had to find bananas.
Welcome to my mind.
One time, I played that game for about three hours straight and then when I walked away from it, the theme song was still playing in my head. Not in the sense that a catchy tune gets caught in your head sometimes…but I actually heard the song with my ears. It was weird.
You asked me to tell you about the time I met Yoda. Here’s another confession: I know nothing about Lord of the Rings.
Oh, I just Googled it. Yoda was in Star Wars. I know nothing about that, either.
However, I did run into Yoda once! I remember our interaction. We were in a grocery store (Aisle 4) and his buggy (shopping cart, as you muggles call it) was blocking the shelf I needed to get to.
Here is our interaction:
Me (P): Yo!
Yoda (Y): You talking to me?
Y: Well why didn’t you just say my name?
P: I don’t know your name. What is your name?
Y: No. You cut me off.
P: No. I was replying to you.
Y: I was trying to tell you my name.
P: Duh. I knew that.
P: Yo duh what? What is your name?
P: Do I need to call the manager?
Y: That’s my name.
P: Alright then, Mr. Duh, can you please move your…
Y: No, my last name is not Duh. My name is Yoda.
P: I’m not following.
And that was it. Grumpy fellow, I say. Couldn’t even tell me his name. I had to figure it out the hard way – through Google.
By the way, Squid, I just want to thank you for being a loyal reader of my blog for the last two years? Maybe more? I don’t know. Time means nothing to me these days.
I’m also flattered that your sister followed my blog via e-mail and told me that she reads my blog when she’s sick.
I’m also told that you discuss my blog and me in your house. I think that officially gives me celebrity status, though I’d probably be the definition of an X-list celebrity.
They’d bump me to the Y-list, though, as in “Why is he a celebrity?”
Wow, I can’t believe I connected anything to my joke about X-Men and Y-Men. I am truly talented.
At the very least, maybe I could be a local celebrity. So local, that I’m only talked about inside houses. The rest of the world must not know.
Well, that’s all! I hope you enjoyed this letter and don’t hold it against me that I know nothing about Star Wars.
With calamari on my plate,
Your Favourite Local Celebrity