Well, for most everyone I know that has children last week was indeed a hectic one. Why? Well, back to school of course! Gone are the days of loafing in the park staring up at the clouds,  or taking in a extra inning ballgame. Now, there were lunches to prepare, supplies to be bought, clothes to be checked for fit and fashion, and for the wee ones, a little extra reassurance that the school they had yet to attend would not swallow them up, and they would indeed safely return home later that same day.

When I was a child I often felt a bit awkward in school because of our families past. It made making friends difficult and I was never allowed anyone over to the house. But, I still always enjoyed school. When talk of college came up (and which new town we needed to move to) my parents were very liberal and decided no ordinary college was right for me.

They assumed (mistakenly) that a B Sc (Bachelor of Studying Clowns) would lead to a very prominent job, as those initials were written into all the want adds of the time as a requirement.

So, off I went – in face paint and baggy pants – and happily completed the highly prestigious 3 year program (in just under 7 years!). I graduated ‘Magnum Cum Louder’ as my clothes were outragiously gregarious, my voice loud , and the hair shockingly….purple!!!!

I definitely stood out (at least that’s what the first 95 employers that interviewed me said)

Some told me my skills were outdated (court jesters faded out centuries ago one implied), while others suggested my degree wasn’t worth the macaroni it was printed on.

So, I went back to school to upgrade and perhaps learn a second language. (I was the only one to graduate this class because I ended up eating all of the other students. They went well with my burger)

Upon graduation – again – I still had no luck in finding work. It seems no on wanted a bilingual clown. (at least not outside government)

So, shifting gears, I entered automotive college but was expelled (driven out?) as every time we crashed into the wall I left face paint on the windshield (that took forever to wash off.) Also, they said that my baggy pants acted way too much like a natural airbag and defeated the purposes of many of their tests. (They should have mentioned all of the this before I had gotten those weird symbols tattooed on both sides of my head)

 (a fellow classmate instagrammed me this photo of their graduation.)

So, what was a comedic person with numerous degrees to do? Well, I was fortunate enough to bump into another like-minded (heavily degree-tattoo laiden) clown by the name of Alexandre Rouillard.

(see ‘Our story’)

Together, we decided to open this virtual diner; one stocked with fresh jokes, tasty asides, and generous portions. We offer an interesting asylum to experience the usual events of life, unusually.

Bon appetit!