The Fan

We got to Chicago friday afternoon, and settled in. “Dinner” was at 6:00 and was grilled cheese and a serving of crispers. A 350ish calorie meal… fine for me, short for Otto. And that was the extent of food for the night. We ended up making a late-night run to 7-11 so that we had *something* to actually eat. Hadn’t had much that day, and that “dinner” was ridiculous.


So, next day (Saturday) Otto’s uncle and his wife land and that evening is a bbq. (Comments about the food aside. Suffice it to say that you cannot rely on Otto’s father’s wife to feed anyone sufficiently, because *everyone* gets the same amount… from a 10 year old girl to a 6′2″ or whatever man.)

Otto’s aunt gives out gifts… Tshirts with where they’re from… to everyone. The children get cute little girly Tshirts, the adults get your standard “been there done that” tshirts. Mine was dusky pine green and had otters on it. It was cute, and not nearly as “too big” as it should have been given that it was a large.

Next day, Tanya (the annoyingly retarded wife of my husband’s father) asks me what my favourite colour is.
(I don’t have a favourite colour. I have colours I like better than others, but seriously… I love colour. I love working with it. I like how colours change as they play off each other. Basically, I’m an artist, I use colour, I do not fear it. And I do not have a favourite. I have colours I can’t wear, because I become totally washed out, but nothing I despise for the sake of it’s colour.)
So, my answer was that I don’t have one, I like them all. (this was a bizarre and vague question anyway)
She asks if I like pink.
I say sure.
She asks if I like hot pink.
I say, “well, it’s not my favourite” (I’m ok with it as a colour. Hell, I’m even ok with wearing it.. which is funny in a minute.)

So, next day, Sunday, is dinner at some snazzy restaurant where the tab was probably huge. (Otto’s grandfather’s treat.) There were something like 10 adults and 3 children. Before we get around to eating, Otto’s uncle and aunt get a bag from Tanya. In it are two “Chicago” shirts. One in blue and one in something akin to hot pink.

Then, we (Otto and I) get a bag. In it are a couple cards made by the girls (soo freekin cute), a blue “Chicago” t-shirt, and….

…one of those LED fans with a white socks logo that says “world champions”.

Because I said I didn’t like hot pink.


I wanted a pic, but I didn’t get around to taking one, and “forgot” to bring the fan home.

As an additional chuckle…
It didn’t work. I mean, it spun… but fans spin counter-clockwise to blow air, unless you tilt the blades the opposite way. This fan had to spin clockwise to get out its nifty “world champions” message, and the little plastic nothing blades weren’t repositioned.
Didn’t matter though, even if you held it the other way, it still didn’t actually blow any air.

Did I mention it was over 100 in Chicago?

And some ‘tard teased me with a useless fan.


2 Responses to “The Fan”

  1. Otto Says:

    I don’t understand, “What’s your favorite color?” is a perfectly reasonable question for a child. Considering that we didn’t come into any booze calculations that’s obviously what we were. :)

  2. Aoife Says:

    That’s about when I stopped having a favourite colour… when I was a child. As it was, people seemed to get very offended if you picked their colour as your favourite. *rolleyes*

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