My Boring-Ass Life (Revised Edition): The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith (25 page)

I wake up around ten, and Harley and Jen are already hip-deep in activities. The weather is shitty as ever, but we elect to ignore it and go to Safeway.

I take a shower, get dressed, and then load the family into the Hate Tank. We get to Safeway and I load up on Nyquil and Robitussin, as well as a Vicks Inhaler, to help clear my breathing passages. We buy soups, oatmeal, fruit, and a bunch of other stuff to hold us over for the week, pay, and get out of dodge. Across the street from Safeway, I stop at London Drugs and pick up a frying pan, so Jen can whip up her quesadillas.

On the way home, Jen and Harley ask me to drop them off at the Children’s Festival going on under the Burrard Bridge, near Kits Beach. We make plans to meet back at the drop-off point at three o’clock, I kiss the girls g’bye, and they’re off.

I swing by the hotel and let the bellmen unload the groceries, then head back out, looking for a Mac-type store so I can grab Jen a new power plug and battery. London Drug only stocks the generic power plug, and the Mac store across the Cambie Street bridge on Broadway is closed, so I head back to the hotel.

I put the groceries away, heat up some soup, grab some iced tea, and settle in to watch Gaspar Noé’s
Irréversible
, with Vincent Cassel and Monica Belluci. It’s an amazingly good looking flick in which the story is told in reverse, but that’s not even the most noteworthy aspect of the film — the centerpiece is a hardcore, merciless rape scene which leaves you nauseated and hating all men. While it’s a well-made, well-acted, very French film (“Time destroys everything...”., the cumulative effect of sitting through
Irréversible
coupled with the still-fresh sense of unease caused by reading about the Homolka/Bernardo case makes me leave twenty minutes early to pick up Jen and Harley.

When I pick them up, I’m in full-blown agony mode with the head cold. I can’t breathe through either nostril now, and anytime I blow out, yellow-brown shit bubbles up. Jen and Harley climb in, and we chit-chat about the shows they’ve seen on the way back to the hotel.

We get to the apartment, and Jen tells me to lay down. I sack out on the bed, composing a long-overdue intro to a
Degrassi
book that examines twenty-five years of show history. Jen insists I take some Nyquil and take a nap, so when I finish the piece I do so. I grab another bowl of soup as a chaser and put in
The Last Shot
, with Matthew Broderick and Alex Baldwin. A half an hour later, I’m out cold.

I wake up and drag myself out of bed. Jen and Harley are in the living room, working on projects. Harley’s buzzing about a
Scooby Doo
puzzle they put together, which — according to Jen — really kicked their asses. I heat up another bowl of soup, which Harley uses a chair to reach the microwave to retrieve for me, sweet l’il Florence Nightingale that she is. I head back into the bedroom (when I’m sick, I just wanna be alone), and eat my soup while watching the parts of
The Last Shot
that I fell asleep on.

Jen joins me, and we opt to watch
Suspect Zero
. She’s in and out of it as she puts Harley to bed. One of the moments she comes back for is a rape scene, and it’s about all I can take for the day.

I don’t know how chicks go to the movies, man. There’s so much brutalization of women depicted, it makes you wonder who’s greenlighting these flicks (though, in the case of
Suspect Zero
— a Paramount Film — the answer would have to be then-head of the studio Sherry Lansing). I realize I’ve only become more sensitive to this because I’ve got both a wife and daughter, which makes me sad to think that, as a single guy, this phenomenon was something I didn’t notice at all, since I didn’t have as much personally invested in the distaff. Does it make me want to campaign against those who tell women-in-peril tales? No — I’m for freedom of expression and all that. But it does make me want to turn off movies that show the first hint of brutality to women and opt to watch something else.

Which is what we do. Off goes
Suspect Zero
and in goes
Ocean’s Twelve
, which we fall asleep watching.

Monday 23 May 2005 @ 3:34 p.m.

Once again, the weather is just plain shitty. After waking and doing the usual, the rest of Clan ‘Couver gets up and decides, on this holiday, to hit the last day of the Kids’ Festival. Seeing how sick I am, Jen suggests taking a cab to the fest with me doing a pickup at 4:00 p.m. I insist on dropping the Princesses off and picking them up.

Harley and I do a pair of puzzles, and I get lost in the wonderful simplicity of this forgotten pastime. Mercifully, they’re only a hundred pieces, so it’s not too easy and not too hard either — just vexing enough to shut down all the hyper brain activity for an hour or so and concentrate on basic problem-solving.

I throw on some clothes and a hat and load the fam into the Hate Tank. I drop the girls off, then head to WestWorld and Simply Computing on Broadway to look for a new battery and power cord for Jen’s laptop. Alas, being that it’s Victoria Day (a Brit-influenced Canadian holiday), both places are closed. However, down the street, I spy a Shopper’s Drug Mart.

I pull into the underground parking structure and haul my congested ass upstairs into the Shopper’s Drug Mart to pick up some Cold FX (suggested by Linda Schuyler as THE Canadian cold remedy) and tissues. While circling the aisles, Byron calls, and we discuss whether or not to leave the pooches in Puppy Camp for the week he and Gail are coming up here, as well as which account to use to pay for the Jeep repairs.

My old green Jeep Grand Cherokee — the one I bought while still dating Joey Adams, circa
Amy
— has managed to remain in the family even after I bought my Expedition. First, I gave it to my parents while my Dad was still alive. But the height of the vehicle proved too tall for my stroke-hindered Pop to navigate, so it came back to me. Next, we gave it to Jen’s friend Bryony, who was car-less at the time. She used it for a little over a year, then called one day to say she’d bought a new car and figured we’d want the Jeep back. As Mewes was car-less at that point, he inherited it. Then, when Mewes bought his Caddy, we sent the Jeep into the shop for a complete overhaul to get it as close to mint as possible for its next (and probably last) owner: our housekeeper Reyna.

I pay for my over-the-counter crap and head outside, where I notice a Future Shop next door and flash on a brief convo Jen and I had about the living room TV in the apartment, and how it’d be much better with a DVD player. So I head into Future Shop and pick up a new TV and DVD player (separate units this time). While shopping, Sloss and Jackie call to go over some
Catch
and
Clerks 2
deal points so they can close both contracts. While on the phone, I sign a copy of
Clerks X
for a clerk. On the way out, I tag a copy of
Evening With
for the clerk who helps me downstairs with my electronics and loads them into the car. We chat a bit about
Degrassi
, and I’m off.

At the hotel, one of the bellmen brings the stuff upstairs and sends the tech guy to hook it up, during which I make some soup. While eating my soup, I kick back with one of my favorite flicks (definitely top twenty)
Grosse Pointe Blank
. I’m forty-five minutes into the flick when four o’clock rolls around, and I have to head off for the scheduled pick-up.

I pick up Jen and Harley and bring ’em home. Harley, Jen and I play some Bingo, and then I head back to the bedroom to finish watching
Grosse Pointe
. When it ends, I pop in the Director’s Cut of
Ali
and check email while peeping the extended flick (same reaction: Will’s great, and the movie’s okay).

Toward the end of the flick, I get a call from Susanah, who’s heard I’m sick and wanted to check in. I tell her I’ll be fine to shoot by Wednesday and we chit-chat about the Friday shoot and how she feels about the flick thus far overall.

I finish watching
Ali
just as Jen joins me in the bedroom. We pop on some
X-Files
, and I take a big hit of Nyquil that puts me out by ten o’clock.

Tuesday 24 May 2005 @ 3:35 p.m.

I wake up feeling like the Cold FX has broken the back of this beast in my head and chest. I take a dump and check email.

Quinnster wakes and joins me in the living room for a while, where I’m on the computer. Then, she asks for some
SpongeBob
in her room, which I turn on for her. Jen wakes up, and we decide to grab some family brunch and hit Toys ‘R Us for some more puzzles as well as the computer stores for Jen’s battery/cord.

I take a shower, get dressed, and bring the brood across the Cambie Bridge to Broadway, where Quinnster somehow manages to convince us to eat at Denny’s.

One incredibly unsatisfying meal later, the three of us vow never to eat at Denny’s again, and stumble out into the parking lot. With Toys ‘R Us in sight, Jen opts to take Harley for a walk to the store, while I head to WestWorld for the gear for her laptop.

At WestWorld, they have the battery I’m looking for, but not the Mac-made power cord. The clerk suggests Simply Computing down the street. I spot a backpack made especially for 12 inch Power Books and decide to upgrade from my
Jersey Girl
backpack. While the guy rings me up, I ask what his store — a Mac-only Mom and Pop shop — will do if Apple does a Toronto and opens an Apple Store in Vancouver. “Go out of business, I guess” he replies, and for a moment, the Apple-enthusiast side of my id is trumped by the Mom-and-Pop-Shop idealist in me, and I find myself hoping the Mac-topus keeps its tentacles out of the Van, so these brand-committed guys can thrive.

I head over to Simply Computing and grab a power cord, then head down to Toys ‘R Us where Jen and Harley are already waiting outside for me.

On the way back to the hotel, Jen asks if we could swing by Stanley Park to see if the Kids’ Petting Zoo is open. We get to the Park and discover the Petting Zoo is a weekend-only affair, so we head to a playground in the park instead. Harley climbs around the activity center, and Jen shows off her hidden gymnast with some nifty monkey bar work that exhibits heretofore unrevealed upper body strength that impresses the hell out of me. Then, there’s some drama involving Harley and her fear of sliding down a pole. Jen tries to work the Quinnster through her fear, but the five-foot drop is just too high for Harley to overcome her demons. She wails about this failure on the entire walk back to the car, calling to mind the ear piercing incident from last week.

The tears at an end, we head back to the hotel and relax for a while. I hook up Jen’s new battery and plug and then the three of us play some Bingo and
SpongeBob
Uno. Jen goes outside to grab a smoke, and Harley and I start on two separate puzzles. Harley goes for the giant-sized big piece
SpongeBob
, and I go for a 100-piece Kodak photo puzzle of a bear cub in a pine tree. Naturally, Quinnster finishes first, and my puzzle kicks my ass for a bit before I conquer it.

Following that, I retire to the bedroom for a bit to lay down and watch the
Assault on Precinct 13
remake. When I emerge, Jen and Harley announce they’re hungry again. We decide to head down the street to the Great Canadian Bagel joint and then walk over to Virgin to see if the
NewsRadio
box set is out.

Post-Bagel joint, we decide to add the place to our list of Never Agains, alongside Denny’s. We take the short walk down to Virgin and pop inside.

Based on her fascination with ‘Fantasy’, I grab a Mariah Carey CD for Harley. As Harley and I hunt for the DVD, Jen weaves through the aisles then comes back, delighted to report that not only are some of my InAction figures on display, but HER InAction figure is on display. It’s a nice moment for us both, that’s quickly dashed one floor below.

We head down to the DVD department and peep out the selection. They do, indeed, have
NewsRadio
, and I flip-flop on whether or not to buy it, based on the fact that I’ve got Ron from Laser Blazer sending me out each week’s new DVDs that I check off on a list he provides. The
NewsRadio
I bought from him will be arriving in two days, but I’m needing a fix now, so I throw it in the basket.

Jen asks about the hesitation, and I explain about the Laser Blazer set-up I’ve got going on. She deems this stupid and a waste, since I can just come down here to Virgin to grab the new titles every week. I argue that Virgin doesn’t stock everything, and that I won’t always have the time to get to the store while I’m shooting. The whole discussion leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I pout for the rest of the time we’re in the store.

Mewes calls to let me know he’s coming up on Friday to record the
Degrassi
commentary track. We chit-chat for a bit, then I get off the phone to pay for our booty:
NewsRadio
, Mariah remix CD, Batman Uno,
Kim Possible
soundtrack, a yoga mat for Jen, and other stuff.

On the way out of the store, when prompted, I finally speak my mind on what I feel was a criticism of my decision to have new DVDs shipped to me, and charge the wife (awfully melodramatically and, in retrospect, wrongly) with shitting on something simple that makes me happy. This spoils the short walk to the Louis Vuitton store, and I slam the final nail in the coffin on the way into the store, when Jen suggests we just go back to the hotel, and I counter with “No — we’re here now, let’s stay. At least one of us should enjoy shopping today.” With that, Schwalbach storms out of the store with Harley, and I stay behind, looking around, assuming she’ll be back. Five minutes later, she is, so as not to confuse the kid as to why Dad’s shopping in Mom’s store and Mom isn’t, without a birthday, anniversary, or Christmas on the horizon.

We head back to the hotel in relative silence. Once up in the room, I rethink my petulance and apologize to Jen, giving her a hug.

The thing about the wife is, there seems to be very little point in getting into snits or fights. Granted, you spend as much time with anyone as I spend with Jen, and you’re bound to get on one another’s nerves from time to time. But in pretty short time, I always arrive at the conclusion that my options are limited: I love this woman, am fascinated by, enthralled over, and obsessed with who she is, and have zero desire to ever be without her. Blowing off steam is one thing, but full-blown fights (particularly over opinions) are always a complete waste of time — especially when you never want to get divorced.