Alice, I Think by Susan Juby

Author:Susan Juby [Juby, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781443402538
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2000-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

NEW FRONTIERS

September 6

I am very busy. I’ve been trying to listen to a tape that Bob lent me so I can be more cultural. But the music, by some band called Bauhaus, is so depressing I can barely breathe. If this is what Bob listens to, no wonder he dresses like the world’s gloomiest undertaker. And there are too many distractions around this house. My dad is having his poker night here. It’s quite a sight to see all the least productive men in town getting together. Mom won’t admit it’s a poker night. She calls it a men’s meeting. Some woman misheard Mom talking about it a while ago and thought she said “Mensa meeting,” and now everyone thinks that we have this gathering of geniuses at our house once a month.

Fat chance. I guess the rumor just adds to the mystique of all these men without visible means of employment. The only elite thing about Dad’s poker group is their incredibly advanced responsibility-shirking techniques.

I actually prefer Dad’s friends to Mom’s. His are meaner and pretty funny, at least until they get too drunk. Then they’re just sloppy. In fact, I probably learn more about life from sitting around listening to my dad’s friends talk than I do anywhere else. It’s one of the benefits of not having a peer group. I get to hear how they do things in the big leagues.

For instance, one of my main models for how to run a love life is my dad’s friend Finn. He’s here tonight, in his bad shoes. Finn is absolute proof that stereotypes aren’t a good way to categorize people. The whole gay-man-equals-clean-handsome-and-well-dressed thing has nothing to do with Finn. He has the worst fashion sense I’ve ever seen, and coming from this town, that’s really saying something.

It’s not just the vinyl-tasseled loafers all buckled down at the heel. It’s the pilled polyester dress pants, the light-blue dress shirt, and shiny green curling jacket with his name in fuzzy letters on the back that put Finn into the farthest reaches of bad taste. Oh yeah, and his perm. The man perms his own hair. There is no way MacGee does Finn’s hair—it’s a disgrace even Irma would be ashamed of.

Dad swears that Finn just has unfortunate-looking hair and that I’m unnecessarily shallow and judgmental. He is always pointing out how many friends and “friends” (eyebrows meaningfully inclined) Finn has, as though that is some kind of proof that Finn has decent taste and doesn’t perm his hair. I say his popularity has everything to do with the fact that Finn will drink with anyone, anytime. That’s a real bonus in a town where people allow nondrinking only in small children and religious fanatics.

One thing you can say about Finn is that he’s honest. Once he was dating a dying man. I can’t remember just what was wrong with the guy—Reginald, I think his name was—but whatever it was, it was fatal. Anyway, Reginald came to Smithers to visit after meeting Finn in a bar in Prince George.

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