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It was while working at a Nuclear Generating Station in Ontario, Canada that the author met many American contractors who specialized in nuclear contract work within North America.

These men and women jokingly called themselves Nuclear Whores and the website in which they found work was called http://www.roadwhore.com/.

According to the online ‘Urban Dictionary’, a Road Whore is defined as: “A temporary worker from out of town. In engineering and construction, road whores seek out and find massive bonuses, high pay rates, hazardous duty pay, per diem, housing allowances and any form of premium remuneration”.

These new friends taught him the ways of the contractor and he soon began a life as a nuclear contract engineer, moving from project to project around Ontario.

Soon after beginning his life as a nuclear contract worker, the author met and fell in love with a news journalist while doing improvisation at Second City in Toronto.

Three years later they got married. A year after that they gave birth to a son.

Unfortunately their love was short-lived. It ended two years into their marriage while living in Kincardine, Ontario while working under contract at the Bruce Nuclear Facility and she was home with their son.

One day, she packed everything including their son and moved to Oakville leaving the author in Kincardine, all alone.


Like many parents who suddenly find themselves inthis position, the author was surprised when told he was not an equal parent of his 1 year old son, but was what his divorce lawyer referred to as a “Secondary Parent”.

As such, he was not allowed to talk to his son whenever he wanted or to see him whenever he wanted. He had to fight to see his own son, and this took time.Without his boy in his daily life, he couldn’t eat, sleep or work. He was absolutely devastated.

After a few days, he went to his family physician who was immediately concerned for the author’s well‑being. This country doctor suggested a personal remedy of his for overcoming difficult times; he told him to concentrate all his thoughts away from the negativity of the present to the funny, happy stories of his past. He suggested trying to relive these memories, by recollecting them through painting, writing, songs, etc...

So, he wrote.

Each day, he concentrated on one funny, true story from his past. He would think about it for hours at a time, sometimes all day, and then would write it down. It took 42 days for the author’s lawyer to get visitation permission to visit his son in Oakville and in that time he wrote the stories that compile this blog.





Ty's Bum



Prior to recently becoming an equal parent, I used to only see my son Ty every Friday and every other weekend. As such it sometimes was difficult to gauge safety and health issues as I didn't see him enough to get a proper baseline regarding what is normal.

For example, when I had him for a weekend soon after he turned 3 years old, and he did not go poop for a couple of days, I got a little concerned.

Erring on the side of caution, I decided to get some child suppositories to aid him in his release.

He had no problem with it at all. I guess I really shouldn't have been surprised given his age...so, when I explained that I'd have to put a little pill in his bum he simply nodded and got into position, bending over with bum held high.

And that was that. Simple as anything.

Right afterwards, Ty and I walked across our street to the grocery store. I figured we'd get some groceries and also kill some time while the pill worked its magic.

For those who have never used a suppository, the pill melts inside the anus which softens up the stool, and in turn causes the user to poop. It usually only takes an hour or so to start to work.

At the grocery store, we walked around for a little while, picking up a few needed items, and soon went up to the cashier to pay. The line at the cashier was packed of people even though it was the '8 items or less' line.

As we arrived at the register, Ty started doing a little dance from one foot to his next. The cashier, a grey-haired woman about my mom's age and obviously a mother and grandmother herself, asked Ty if he was doing the "pee-pee dance".

Ty replied loudly, "No. My bum feels weird. Daddy put something in it"

The woman looked absolutely startled and had a look on her face as if she was trying to convince herself that she hadn't heard correctly.

I looked around. Everyone within ear shot just stopped what they were doing. There was a sea of open mouths and wide eyes staring at us in every direction.

And although I explained the situation as quickly as I possibly could, and everyone eventually laughed, I still to this day, do my grocery shopping on the other side of town.

3 comments:

Rick from Canada said...

My "re-butt-al"

My mom tells the story (I don't remember it) of a trip to the doctor's office.

He wanted to do the thing that he does when he asks you to cough.

I ran out to my mum yelling "Mum - he is trying to touch my balls".

My mum replied, "Richie - you get back in there and let him. One day you will like it."

Rick from Canada said...

As an addendum - I love my mum's quick British wit. And she was right - I do like having my balls touched now!

Beth said...

Love it!