Me: Did you go vote for me for Best Use of a Cussword, honey?
Hubby: Yes, but I looked all over and I couldn't find a link to the post that you got nominated for.
Me: Oh, I don't think it was for a specific post. Just that, y'know, I swear a lot effectively in general.
Hubby: Oh. But I get to listen to you talk like that ALL THE TIME.
So he does! Isn't he lucky, folks??
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Shameless, really.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Friday Fill-Ins, please don't call the authorities because I'm mostly joking. Mostly.
And...here we go!
1. I'd really like my personal waiter to show up with my drink right now.
2. "Oh my, that stings" is the word you'd most often hear me say if I stubbed my toe. Seriously. I have no fucking idea how I got nominated for "Best Use of a Cuss Word" over at Mom Dot. Nor do I think you should go vote for me, because clearly I do not belong there.
3. Possession is a good way to end up doing community service. Or to make friends.
4. I maybe had a teensy crush on Captain Jack Sparrow when the first movie came out, but I'm so over him. Really.
(Call me, Cap'n Jack!)
5. Marshmallows and fire go together like most things and fire, with the burning and the screaming and the melting. And the tastiness afterwards.
6. Please stop me, or I'll just go on and on.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to toasting some marshmallows or possibly some arson, tomorrow my plans include posting bail and Sunday, I want to celebrate my freedom!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Things I Do for HASAY
Perky boot camp instructor: "You're my party people! It's a tricep party!!"
Me (sarcastically): "Where's the booze then?"
FoN (looking around in hopeful surprise): "What? There's booze?"
Me: "You know, because it's a party?"
FoN: "...oh."
"...this party sucks."
Clearly, so do my jokes.
(In case you're just tuning in, HASAY is a weight loss support circle masterminded by the evil Casey over at Half As Good As You. I promise I wasn't picturing her while trying to convince my exhausted muscles to lob a hand weight at the boot camp instructor's pigtailed head. Really.)
(What kind of 40 year old wears pigtails anyway?)
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Wordless Wednesday: Wheeeee!
(Actually it was more of a shriek of abject terror. This was the world's oldest continually operating wooden roller coaster in Melbourne, Australia. Can you say 'sketchy'?)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
'Fess up, ya'll!!
Okay, who did that? Seriously, guys. Who nominated me for a Dottie Award for "Best Use of a Cuss Word"?
Fuck me.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The skinny, the poop: in other news...Random Tuesday Thoughts
Soooo....here we are again at Tuesday. How the hell did that happen? I swear I was JUST waking up from a nap on WEDNESDAY.
Wait, I don't get to nap anymore. That must have been somebody else.
So! Ya'll must know how this works by now, if not...check these out. Then grab that button, and randomize!
When I typed 'check THESE out' just then, I instinctively hoisted my boobs. What a ho.
I think I used all my randomness on my post yesterday. Which was fairly chronological, but random, nonetheless. Hm. Perhaps I need another glass of wine.
Can someone please explain to me why my toddler can ingest practically any food hefinds on the floorsees, and suffer no ill effects, but the second the grocery store is out of 'his' formula and I have to substitute, it results in the most toxic, planet-poisoning, nauseating diarrhea ever? What the fuck is IN that stuff??
Some comments on my post yesterday in regards to orange picking (and sucky jobs in general) made me start thinking...why is it that the most horrible stuff always sounds the coolest? Like terrible jobs sound really awesome to other people. And drinking so much you vomit a lung for some reason impresses them. Exercising until you can barely walk up a flight of stairs is awe-inspiring. Seriously - do people just secretly want to hear about your suffering?
The exception to this, of course, is parenthood. People WANT to hear about the baby snuggles and the tender moments and the first time they say 'Mama' (instead of calling you 'Bob'). But we insist on regaling them with tales of sleep-deprivation, stretch marks, vomit, peeing involuntarily when you sneeze, and...diarrhea.
Hey, I never said I was any different.
Michele over at It's a dog's life has heard a rumour that the word 'news' is like crack to search engines. In case you were wondering about the title of this post. Which I'm pretty sure you weren't. Also, I'm guessing that combining it with the word 'poop' probably cancels out the effect.
Waiter, where's my drink??
I really need a personal waiter.
Why is it always the skinny girls that insist on offering weight loss advice? I mean, I guess they got skinny somehow. But can't they just fuck off and try not to snicker too loudly while I'm flailing around?
(Somewhere there's a skinny girl wondering, "Why are all the pudgy chicks such whiners?".)
Can anybody tell me What. The. Fuck. went on in 'Superman Beyond 3D'? No? Damn. I was hoping someone could explain it in small words.
All the windows in our house got replaced this week, which means they took the blinds down. So naturally now I want new ones. I should probably do that. Or at least stop grabbing my husbands ass in front of the very large kitchen window.
And with that, I'm off to grab someone's ass. Won't say whose! Feel like being random? Leave your link...
100th Post (I'm a conformist)
Today marks my 100th post. Yay! I wasn't going to be like all those OTHER bloggers and list 100 facts about myself. I was going to do something clever and different.
Except I couldn't think of anything clever.
So you get 100 facts about me. Um, yay?
I'm going to totally rip off aspire to be the Stiletto Mom and just start at the beginning. Hers turned out well.
(Probably because she's just an interesting person, and I'm not, but shut up. It's my blog).
1. When I was 2 the neighbour kids pretended to befriend me for gum and then locked me in an outhouse. I only know this because my mother told me.
2. She was outraged. I'm pretty sure those poor neighbour kids have more emotional scars now than I do.
3. We lived in a small prairie town (like, 500 people) until I was 5.
4. All I remember from that is making mud pies with the dog's poop and once getting my leg so stuck in a snow drift that I just stood there for what seemed like hours, imagining that the ambulance would arrive any minute to rescue me.
5. I'm pretty sure it was about 5 minutes.
6. I went to a french immersion program in elementary school.
7. I dropped out in grade 9. I can barely speak a word of french.
8. When I was 10 my family picked up and moved to New Zealand. I cried. A lot.
9. We lived there for 2-1/2 years.
10. I hear the NZ school system has gone in the tank lately.
11. While there I met friends who played D&D and started imaginary armadillo farming businesses. Once, we "kidnapped" one of our other friends wearing black masks (oddly, she wasn't fooled), brought her home and kept her in a closet for an hour.
12. What still baffles me is that our parents (and hers) went along with that plan.
13. When I was 13 we moved home. When I was 17 we went back to visit. It was like I had never left.
14. No, not really.
15. I slept through most of high school. I kept going to the doctor to find out if something was wrong with me, but I was apparently just bored.
16. I lost my virginity at 16 to a boy whose last name I can't remember. I just wanted to get it over with, I was the last of my friends to get laid.
17. No, my friends aren't sluts. Honest.
18. Oh, and it sucked.
19. Ironically, shortly after that was when my mother decided to have "the talk" with me. Um, Mom? See that barn door, and that horse disappearing over the horizon? Yeah.
20. Immediately after graduation I moved into an apartment with my best friend.
21. I don't recommend that. If you were wondering.
22. I started working at the job that I'm working at now.
23. The end. ...No, just kidding.
24. In 1993 I decided to go to college. I wanted to do a graphic arts program, and I wanted to move to the coast. None of the ONE graphic arts program I applied to accepted me. I had applied to a Stagecraft program on a whim, and they sent me an acceptance letter. So I did that.
25. No - I had never done anything in theatre before. Ever.
26. It rocked, and I met one of my bestest friends in the world there. It was our first day of Props class, and there were various supply boxes on shelves. One of them was labelled "Dead Things And Their Fur". I giggled. She whispered, "Are you laughing at that too?". Then we bonded over chocolate chocolate chip cookies.
27. "Dead Things and Their Fur" still makes me giggle.
28. Theatre tech school involved a lot of building, painting, and drinking. Not necessarily in that order.
29. One of us "techies" acquired a large, ugly, glass vase thingy on a stand. I think it was actually an ashtray from the 70s. We dubbed it "The Graille" and drank from it at every party. After everyone had contributed booze to it, of course.
30. I was the Queen of the Graille.
31. No, I'm not particularly proud of that.
32. After that diploma I went to the Banff Centre to do their summer program.
33. They had some of the most spectacularly crappy food there EVER. I lost 10 pounds, despite the copious amounts of alcohol I was consuming.
34. I returned to Vancouver and attempted to actually make a living working in theatre. Um, it's hard. And I'm a wimp.
35. So I moved back home.
36. I moved in with FoN and her then 2-year-old daughter.
37. Her daughter ruined the movie Grease for me by playing it repetitively all. day. For several weeks straight.
38. I used to love that movie.
39. Remember what I said about moving in with best friends? Yeah...that didn't last long. So I got my own apartment.
40. I miss living on my own sometimes.
41. I started dating a guy who was a pilot.
42. He was a cheating, manipulative, lying bastard.
43. I stayed with him for almost 3 years.
44. At one point I moved back out to the coast to try to work in theatre, just to get away from him. But he still had a hold over me, so I moved back and started going to university.
45. I also started waitressing.
46. This gave a lot of my good friends pause. Apparently, I never seemed the waitress 'type'.
47. When I finally decided I'd had enough of the asshole pilot, he didn't want to let me go. I literally had to punch him to send him the message.
48. It felt pretty good.
49. I've never punched anyone else.
50. Even though I wouldn't cross the road to piss on him if he were on fire, I appreciate that the relationship taught me valuable lessons. Like how to pick your battles. And when to listen to your radar.
51. I kept going to university. Eventually I started dating someone else.
52. He was a nice guy.
53. Are we only half way through? Yeesh. Kudos if you're still with me.
54. In 2001 both my maternal grandparents passed away. My mother took this opportunity to let me in on the fact that they were raging socialists commies. So THAT'S why they visited Cuba so much.
55. I graduated with distinction.
56. My grad show was a ceramic and plaster shrine to my alter ego, Super Keely.
57. A friend of mine took the 6' Super Keely after the show and hung it up on a pole on his farm with a light over it. It's creepy.
58. After graduation I had planned to go travelling with my friend Fashionista. We had intended to go to Europe in June, but couldn't get our poop in a group.
59. We worked for 6 more months and decided to head to Australia and NZ in February.
60. Fashionista's luggage got searched 3 times on the way out. Mine, once.
61. We spent 3 months in NZ.
62. I visited my old school. It was unimpressive.
63. I started a webpage so the peeps back home could see what we were doing. I scripted it from scratch in HTML.
64. Why the fuck didn't anybody say the word 'blog' to me??
65. We ran out of money and went to Australia, where we had working visas.
66. We worked for a month picking oranges.
67. I don't recommend THAT, either.
68. Did you know orange trees have thorns? And spiders? I was terrified that I would touch a spider while on the top of the ladder, because my first instinct would be to JUMP BACKWARDS, and then I would die. On an orange ranch in Australia.
69. After the orange ranch we hooked up with Fashionista's second cousin in Sydney, who had a candle making business.
70. The candle-making business was way easier and paid way better than oranges.
71. The nice guy I had been dating had made me promise to return, so I did, 8 months after leaving.
72. He dumped me a couple of months after I got home.
73. Fashionista came back too and we moved in together.
74. CLEARLY I DON'T LEARN. But we assumed since we'd been practically breathing each other's air for 8 months we'd be okay.
75. I started working for a film company.
76. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. On my first week an extra called in sick so I had to strip to my underwear and sit in a freezing cold river pretending to be a corpse. Luckily they were only filming my legs, otherwise I probably would have quit right there.
77. It didn't pay enough so I got another waitressing gig.
78. A guy I'd worked with at the first waitressing job was working there. We started hanging out again.
79. Someone asked, "Are you two dating?". I said no. They said, "Well why not?".
80. So I jumped him.
81. Fashionista moved out and he moved in, 3 months after we became a couple.
82. Some people we knew were going to open a restaurant/bar, so we signed on.
83. It was a complete fucking disaster. There were 7 owners.
84. The bar part was pretty successful at first, so we made some money and got the hell out.
85. I went back to working at the same company I'd worked for right after high school.
86. We bought a house.
87. Paul's parents had offered to help with a down payment, but changed their minds when they saw the house we'd chosen.
88. We bought it anyway.
89. It's now worth almost twice what we paid for it.
90. I do a little 'neener neener' dance occasionally. When I'm feeling juvenile. Okay, that's a lot.
91. A few months after moving in we got a dog.
92. A few months after that I got pregnant.
93. We never actually discussed trying to get pregnant. We just stopped using contraception. I assume he's okay with it.
94. I was an ambitious pregnant woman. I planted a garden.
95. I planted one this year, too.
96. I slept for three months, glowed for three months, and felt like crap for the remaining three.
97. In October 2007 Xander was born.
98. I started a journal. In August 2008 it turned into a blog.
99. We have logistical hiccups but life is good.
100. The end.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Crank it, Work it
Pump It - Black Eyed Peas
Take a Chance on Me - A Teens
Call On Me - Eric Prydz
Sandstorm - Darude
Because We Can - Fatboy Slim
Run - Gnarls BArkley
Holding Out for a Hero - Bonnie Tyler
Scotty Doesn't Know - Lustra
Family Affair - Mary J. Blige
Throwing Stones - Paula Cole
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor (shut up)
Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder (Workout Remix)
Hips Don't Lie - Shakira
Don't Stop the Music - Rihanna
4 Minutes - Madonna (feat JT)
Take a Chance on Me - A Teens
Call On Me - Eric Prydz
Sandstorm - Darude
Because We Can - Fatboy Slim
Run - Gnarls BArkley
Holding Out for a Hero - Bonnie Tyler
Scotty Doesn't Know - Lustra
Family Affair - Mary J. Blige
Throwing Stones - Paula Cole
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor (shut up)
Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder (Workout Remix)
Hips Don't Lie - Shakira
Don't Stop the Music - Rihanna
4 Minutes - Madonna (feat JT)
...this ensures that I am NOT at the gym. I am on the dance floor, shaking my tight size 8 (let's be realistic) ass, I am dancing perfectly choreographed moves with sequined drag queens as backup, I am NOT AT THE GYM. There is no guy that smells like vomit on the elliptical next to me, and I am not becoming hypnotized by the jiggly butt of the woman on the treadmill in front who really should not be wearing those hottie hot shorts. I am on the dance floor, I am hawtness itself, I am grooving all night long and laughing with friends.
And when the fat lady sings, I am down one more pound*. Go, team HASAY! See ya at the club, yo.
* Which puts me at 5 lbs below Christmas Disaster, which means I owe myself a new laptop bag.
(DISCLAIMER: I do not, in fact, ever go out dancing any more. I can't stay awake past 10. Also at this point I'm not sure anybody wants to see that. That doesn't stop me from being 19 in my head. Whatever works).
Friday, January 23, 2009
Friday Fill-ins, you'll be assuming I'm a drunken sot by now
And...here we go!
1. Oh, I am so gassy!
2.Nature abhors changes, big and little. Oh, wait, that's a vacuum. (My dog doesn't like the vacuum much either.)
3. During work, I try really hard to resist the urge to check for comments on my blog. Actually, the same could be said for pretty much everything else. Except maybe sex. Checking for comments rarely occurs to me during sex.
4. Please gawd no; are you kidding me???
5. Right now I'd like to be drinking wine, but I forgot to go to the liquor store. Where the hell are my priorities??
6. The wine opener is my favorite gadget. Without it I'd probably resort to a hammer. Glass shards and shiraz rarely mix.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to buying out the liquor store, tomorrow my plans include checking to see if they restocked and Sunday, I want to lie motionless on the couch until my stomach unties itself!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Poet Laureate, dontcha know?
The Spin Cycle assignment over at Sprite's Keeper this week is to write a poem. But I'm really more of a dirty limerick kind of girl.
(ahem)
There once was a girl from Regina
(which sadly DOES rhyme with vagina)
She had her a kid
Down the tubes her mind slid
So she packed up and moved 'way to China.
Hm. Hard to rhyme with Regina. Let's try:
There once was a girl from Saskatchewan
What the fuck rhymes with Saskatchewan?
Nothing, that's what
No gratuitous smut
Can't even think of a way to get 'snatches' in.
...Sorry.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Plus those clothes would look ridiculous on me: Random Tuesday Thoughts
So! It's that time again? Who wants to get jiggy with it random? Grab the button from below, ramble your little butt off (I hear it's good exercise!) and leave your link!
Who's going to BlogHer? Anybody? Anybody? FoN thinks it would be a good road trip. Personally, I'm intimidated. And broke. Intimibroke. She's pushing for Vegas as a second option. Do they have casinos in Chicago? Because whichever trip we go on, I'm going to have to win back my expenses at the poker table.
Crap. I should probably figure out how to play poker.
Radio ads are getting stupider. The other day I heard one in particular that made me cringe. (Vaguely creepy male voice): "You've seen her wearing them...and you've seen HER wearing them...and you know if YOU could wear them...your booty would look great.
Really? My inner voice has never used the word "booty", thank you very much. And it rarely, if ever, is stupid enough to assume that the JEANS are the reason that size 2 over there looks good. Marketing FAIL.
I wonder what I would do if I suddenly got flung back in time? I mean like, 200 years back, not to last week (although, I wonder that sometimes too. I wouldn't have eaten those fries and I would have gone to the gym instead. No, really). I have NO marketable skills for a medieval environment. I seriously doubt Queen Whoever would be in need of a graphic artist who spends too much time blogging. I can't hunt or sew or make a bow & arrow out of a rabbit's rib bone. I can't sing for my supper. I'd have a complete meltdown the first time I tried to cook or clean without, y'know, electricity.
This concerns me.
Maybe I should become one of those survivalists. You know, the people who can make a shiv out of an eyeglass lense and a rubber band (well, them and MacGuyver), hunt and cook their dinner and then make a nice table arrangement out of the remains. Then if I were inexplicably sent back to the 16th century I'd be covered, AND as a bonus I'd be well prepared for the upcoming zombie apocalypse.
Those people are a little weird though.
Unlike those of us who choose to post our mental leavings on the internet.
Hm.
I'm thinking these Random Tuesday Thoughts often present their own closing point, no? Like where I start to think that maybe ya'll are phoning the nuthatch to come and get me.
But if they took me away you couldn't play! So get randomizing!
We're trying out Mr. Linky again today...he better perform *shakes fist threateningly* But just in case, leave your link in your comment.
Spay and neuter your pets, kids, lest they spawn one like this
Since you were all so highly amused by the tale of my dog's antics last week, I thought I'd share with you the story of the day she came to us.
I got her from the Humane Society, because I personally think thought that paying top dollar for a dog when there are so many in need is ridiculous.
(Now, however, I think I see the wisdom in some kind of predictability of temperament).
Two months after we moved into our house, I announced to hubby that I was going to go get a dog that weekend. It wasn't a surprise to him, as I'd been talking about getting a dog for months, but he was working those days and wouldn't be able to join me.
Animal shelters are horrible places for softheaded hearted people like me. I went on Saturday, froze in horror as 25 pairs of doggie eyes stared at me mournfully, and bolted.
I went back on Sunday. I'd love to say that I saw my dog and knew she was the one, but in fact I had no idea what kind of dog I was looking for and took the recommendation of the kennel technician. I 'met' two dogs; the other was older and had some issues with people touching his back. Our dog was young, seemed gentle enough, and didn't jump up. Much. I signed the contract, they put a leash on her and handed me the other end.
Whereupon she instantly morphed into a lunging, drooling, manic devil dog. She dragged me towards any and every other animal, she jumped up and clawed at me, she pulled so hard on the collar that she was gagging. I stuffed her into my truck and she almost ran us off the road twice on the drive home. She panted, she drooled, she barked at everything.
I got her home, tied her to the kitchen table and immediately texted hubby to inform him that the dog was INSANE and I'd completely ruined our lives.
The dog paced at the end of her leash and barked at every minor sound outside, jumped up on me and chewed on my ankles, while hubby tried to console me (which is difficult, via text) and I tried to hold it together until he got home.
I finally got the bright idea to put her in the backyard, where she began a joyous cacophony with the neighbour dog. Good. She could stay there. I went inside and started doing some dishes to calm myself down.
(I find it therapeutic. Shut up).
Hubby came home shortly after that and went straight to the backyard to meet this rabid canine I'd been telling him about. A little miffed that he hadn't rushed straight to ME, I followed him back there. The dog ran excited circles around him and tried to bite his ass, but was not nearly the hellspawn I'd made her out to be. We chatted with the neighbours about how "she'd settle down" and "she looked like an intelligent one", hubby gave me a hug and I started to feel a little better about our new acquisition.
She was so rambunctious that I had already designated her an "outside dog". So we left her in the backyard and went inside to make dinner, but halfway to the door I stopped short.
"Um - why is there water pouring out of the side of our house?"
We rushed inside and realized I had left the tap running while doing the dishes. While we had been outside. For half an hour.
It had filled the sink and poured over onto the floor, flooding the kitchen and, as we could now see, the house sloped a little so it was leaking out the side of the building.
"It's not that bad - " hubby began to say, but I had heard water running downstairs and gone to check. The water had not only leaked out the side of the building, it had poured into the heating duct in that corner of the kitchen and returned BACK into the house, and was pouring out EVERY SINGLE HEATING VENT ALL OVER THE BASEMENT.
And that was when my head popped off, rolled down the rest of the stairs and came to rest in a puddle.
My headless corpse collapsed on the stairway, my disembodied voice wailing, "WE JUST BOUGHT THIS HOUSE AND I BROKE IT!!"
Hubby rallied the troops, ran to the neighbours for a shop vac, reattached my head and we started cleaning. At midnight, when we finished, we went out for a sub. And some dog food and dishes because, clearly? I did NOT think this whole process through.
The dog barked at everything all night long.
I took her for a walk the next day and she tried to eat someone's poodle.
The end.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
HASAY update and some observations on the gym
So it's week...something...of HASAY.
(Crap, I feel like I've been shipwrecked on Diet Island and I have no idea what day it is).
This week of The Plan went okay - I'm kind of slipping on the food front. I've been good with the 'no snacking', but the office coffee has been seriously tar-like this week for some reason so I've had to add some sugar. And some creamer.
Really, it's that or slip into a coma, people. It's for the greater good.
Although a coma would be restful...
ANYWAY. I went to the gym three times, walked once (with ab work after every couple of laps around the track!), and played squash once. When I was flogging my brittle self to the gym in the -40 weather the other night
(no, that isn't a misprint. And -40 in Canada is the same as -40 in the US. It's the only time they line up. Or something. Anyway, it's fucking cold)
I came up with a few observations on the whole 'gym' phenomenon. To wit:
1) People look funny when they run. Some more than others. Like the woman on the treadmill in front of me who ran like a duck. A duck with a stick up its ass. Wearing a do-rag made of terry cloth.
2) Which is why I almost always use other equipment, because you're supposed to look like a flailing idiot. But they need to ensure the TVs work, because staring at my own reflection for 45 minutes, no matter how sultry I look glaring and sweating like a pig glowing, is not nearly as motivating as a good episode of Relic Hunter.
(What? I watch with the sound muted, so I can't hear it sucking. You telling me YOU don't want to look like Tia Carrere?)
3) Too much resistance on the elliptical = aching perineal scars. Um, TMI?
4) No, I'm sorry but you CAN'T get away with not washing your gym clothes. You're frickin' RANCID.
5) Wait, is that stench ME?
6) Oh, no, definitely him. Never mind. Carry on.
7) Honey, don't waste your time, he's SO OBVIOUSLY GAY.
8) The whole idea of driving somewhere else in -40 weather to somewhere crowded with stinky idiots in order to do something I could do just as easily at home is kind of stupid.
But I guess it works. Last Monday's weigh-in I was down to my pre-Christmas Fiasco weight (where I was stuck for so long), which is a loss of 3 lbs. And I'm feeling hopeful for tomorrow.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Friday Fill-Ins, you'll have to make do with this until Sunday
1. Enough with the fucking forty degrees below zero already, I can't even get frisky with my husband without making him warm his hands up for 15 minutes, and I'm pretty sure I'll never feel my toes again in this lifetime. We'll be reunited in the afterlife (me and my toes. Not me and my husband. Well, probably us too, but that's getting a little existential for a Friday).
2. Hearing stuff I'm not supposed to know or repeat causes me to be conflicted.
3. I've been craving pretty much anything bad for me.
4. This makes me laugh. And cringe a lot. And make me so, so proud to be an art school graduate.
5. I wish I could go to the spa next week. Or Hell. I hear it's at least warm there.
6. My friend Heidi has been on my mind lately.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to dinner with my parents, tomorrow my plans include bashing my novel into shape while my parents generously babysit and Sunday, I want to play squash!
Oh, wait, no I don't. I want to eat a sickening brunch with waffles and lots of syrup. But I'm going to play squash.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Spare a Minute?
(Edit: The info on J's site has been taken down at the request of their DCFS office, as they unknowingly broke confidentiality by posting some of their story. They are still allowed to take donations for the lawyer, and have already raised enough to pay for their first visit next week!)
This blog is mostly for a laugh. It's a game. Now that I don't have as much time to play my beloved MMOs, I make up for it by blogging.
Back when I was playing MMOs, I made a lot of internet 'friends'. I 'knew' people in Florida, Washington, exotic Ohio (heh). Some of them I even keep in touch with now, on Facebook and Twitter. I may not have ever met them in real life, but I still consider them friends. WITHOUT the quotation marks.
One of them has asked for help, so I'm helping by blogging. He needs to keep his family together. You can read his story here. If you have a spare dollar or two, you can help out here, or if you have a blog, please blog or Twitter about his family's need.
I try to keep this joint light and entertaining, and save the lecturing for my other blog. But this time it's important, so if you can help, I'd really appreciate it.
"Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten."
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
10 things I honestly don't give a crap about
I don't think she reads very closely. I make shit up all the time.
Anyway, here are the rules:
A) First list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!
B) Pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap.
Uh-huh. Well, since I don't want to venture into TMI territory (that's for Tuesdays), I am listing 10 things I don't give a shit about. Honestly.
1. The Golden Globes. I only know they were on because of Twitter. To be totally honest (which is apparently what this is about), I don't even know what the Golden Globes are an award for. TV?
2. By extension, pretty much any other award show. I don't even care enough to find out who wins after they're over, never mind dedicating a whole precious evening to watching them.
3. Canadian politics. I swear, I try to do my civic duty. And I vote every time so I guess I care for like, a week and a half. But other than that - meh.
4. Brangelina, TomKat, or any other couple in Hollywood. Or any POTENTIAL couple, or who's shacking up with who, or anything else that belongs on a gossip mag. I've never seen an episode of the Hills, I don't know who you're talking about. And I don't care.
5. Television in general. This is a recent phenomenon; I used to love it. Then I started watching my shows on DVD. Now, we have the 8th season of CSI that's been sitting there still in the cellophane since it came out.
6. Finding a new and better job. Really, I should probably care about this. I've been at the same place for a total of 10 years over a span of 16, and it's somewhat limiting. But I like my job, it's comfortable and we're not starving and finding a new one seems like a whole lot of WORK. I mean, if something falls into my lap - if someone wants to pay me to blog, for instance - I'll do that. But otherwise, this'll do for
7. Sports. Sorry. Not even hockey.
Especially not hockey.
8. How other people live their lives. Seriously. I do not care if you're gay/bi/polyamorous/have a harem of goats. I don't care if you do drugs, drink to excess, or have had 19 children. I do care if you're selling drugs on my block, or driving drunk, or otherwise affecting my life in some negative way. But other than that, have at 'er. I realize this is a bit of a foreign concept to some people, so if we're in conversation and you feel the need to sound off about your neighbour's parenting techniques, stop and ask yourself: Does Keely really care? Or should I use my mouth for something useful, like stuffing a jelly doughnut into?
(Psst, MIL, the answer is B)
9. If my kid's socks match or his hair is combed.
10. Whether or not I'm supposed to tag people for memes.*
*(But I do like BEING tagged, so don't feel threatened)
**(Also, if you want to BE tagged, take the meme. Go on. You know you want to)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A wine whine and some other drugs: Random Tuesday Thoughts
Well folks, it's Tuesday again and the squirrels behind my eyes are back, thanks to a toddler who is apparently being visited by Freddy Krueger when he dares to go to sleep. Also, hubby works in the restaurant industry, and regularly brings home every plague, pox, and pestilence that is making the rounds. And I think this time I'm actually catching it, despite the extra helping of Robot Mommy Secret Can't-Get-Sick-Gotta-Care-For-Others pills. So I better start rambling before the NeoCitran kicks in.
Oh, NeoCitran, nectar of the gods. I can't quit you, even with your fuzzy-tongue-inducers and mild coma enhancers. You're just so full of snuffly, sneezy, coughing, wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-kitchen-floor goodness.
Rather than serenading you guys with my random thoughts while indulging in wine and chocolate, these days I'm dimming the lights and having a cup of...tea. Yeah. It's not really helping with the sleepiness, or getting the thoughts flowing. Fucking diet. It's even affecting my blogging. How rude is that?
Okay, I'll just have a half glass. I hear it goes well with NeoCitran.
I should be putting away the Christmas decorations. Today hubby said to me, "If you take the decorations off the tree I'll drag it out to the trash tomorrow". Which, y'know, if he's volunteering? Probably means that it's more of a fire hazard than I thought. So I managed to get all the decorations off (the toddler only smashed one! Christmas miracles!), but do you think he meant the lights too? I mean, it's way easier for HIM to do that part, since he's 6'4" and all limbs - right?
Plus, it's all dry and pokey.
Also, I know you're all sitting out there judging me for still having my dessicated, flammable kindling tree up, but Ukrainian Christmas was just a few days ago. And hubby is Ukrainian. So nyah.
Can I just say, EW, smoking? Because my boss smokes and even though he TRIES not to smoke around me I still come home stinking. Even now, I smell smoke.
Oh, fuck. I hope that's what it is, and not the tree.
I haven't bought an actual cd in like, 5 years. And I haven't downloaded an entire album in probably 4. I just pick a few songs I like and grab them. Do people even GO to "record stores" anymore?
(Did I just totally date myself?)
(When you use that phrase, does anybody else picture yourself out on a date with...yourself? Would you be able to agree on what movie to see?)
(Um, I think the wine is partying with the NeoCitran now).
I think I'll just stop now. And go pass out in a puddle of my own drool.
You know you want to play! Grab, the button, slap it up there, and start babbling! This week we're trying out Mr. Linky, cause I hear he gives good link. Just to be safe - leave your post link in the comments.
(I'm not being lazy, I swear. I'm going to be in meetings all day at work and I don't want anybody to go unlinked!)
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A pic, a story, and an update
Quick HASAY update: All things going according to The Plan. Added a cheat day to The Plan after I ate 7 cookies on Friday. Worked out twice, walked once, played squash once. Haven't weighed in yet (tomorrow) but I feel good.
There, that was efficient.
Debbie over at Buzzin' By tagged me for the '6 pictures' meme that is currently infecting the blogoverse. You're supposed to pick the sixth picture out of the sixth folder in your documents file, but my documents are like the rest of my life not that organized, so I just picked the sixth picture out of the main file.
Like the cute little doggie eyes poking out of the bottom left corner? Yeah, she's lucky she still has them.
Those were brand new, rather expensive maternity jeans that I was wearing one day when I was about 7 months pregnant and going home for lunch. It had been raining for about 3 days, so the dog hadn't been out for a walk, and was feeling rather...pent-up.
My mom met me at my house for lunch and held the door open a fraction of a second too long. The dog realized, "Frreeeeedooommm!" and bolted. Fuck. I jogged (7 months pregnant, remember) after her in my flip-flops, and Mom chased after us in the car. The dog led me on a merry chase throughout the nearby condo complexes, always getting close enough to grab, but too quick for a
Finally she got tired of that area and headed to the nearby park. There's a lake in it. It's not a deep lake, but it's wide enough, and there are ducks.
Ducks! thought my
She did that for 45 minutes, getting close enough to the shore that she could touch ground, and then she was off again. Some helpful people stopped to watch the show. I stopped yelling and started muttering under my breath.
Eventually she got close enough to shore that I could grab her collar, but only if I waded in. Which I did, because it was worth it to me to
Except, I forgot that I'd stuffed treats into my jeans pocket to try to entice her back. The jeans were sitting in the laundry basket, the treats forgotten by ME but certainly the dog was aware of them. Lacking opposable thumbs, she got them out the best way she knew how.
I discovered the destruction 2 days later, which is lucky for her, because I'd almost gotten over the ducks episode. If I'd found them the same day, I'd have replaced them with a nice black fur HAT.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Or possibly you're flashing me? Either way, UNHELPFUL
The other day I was at work and required a fire extinguisher symbol for what I was working on. It's often always just easier to google it than to venture into our vast and labyrinthine archives. There are scary things in there.
While I was at it, Google spat forth this image, which is the international symbol for "fire blanket". Apparently.
I mean, obviously that's what it is. Because when I first saw it the first thing that sprang to mind was NOT "Omigod! OMIGOD! What are you doing?? Can't you see my fucking LAP is on fire? You bastard, are you just going to stand there at your desk and lecture me? AAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!"
No...that would just be silly.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
How to eat for free (if you're an asshat)
Dear Old Screechy Hag Women Seated One Booth Away,
I understand that your meals didn't turn out as you requested. Really, I know the disappointment. But it's one thing to have specific preferences, it's quite another to expect five-star dining from a place that specializes in five-dollar breakfasts.
I mean, look around. Are the words "greasy spoon" ringing any bells? Also, did you notice that it's BUSY?
I'm sorry that the kitchen didn't manage to produce your "well-done toast, extra-crispy bacon, half-scrambled eggs half-over easy" order to perfection. But to send it back, have it redone, while the other person waits for you and then complain that the other meal is cold seems a little, well, STUPID.
And then to have your entire meal comped, and be offered free dessert, only to pronounce it "HORRIBLE" so loudly the poor server actually takes a step back? YOU REJECT FREE DESSERT? I mean, you had minor sympathy from me up until then. But that's just plain wrong.
And then - then! - when the server who is clearly wishing she called in sick today goes and gets you "fresher" dessert, you mutter to each other about how one piece is taller than the other?
Can I speak with YOUR manager? Because I'd like to lodge a complaint. Your excessive complaining totally fucking ruined my dining experience.
Thanks,
The Woman Quietly Glaring One Booth Over
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Body Snatchers and the Impending Apocalypse: Random Tuesday Thoughts
I can't believe it's been a week. How time flies when you're stuck in a small town. Doing nothing. At all.
Anyway...
I looked into the vegetable crisper this afternoon and saw what I thought was an orange. It looked a little dilapidated. Then I realized it was actually a tomato of the orange-skinned variety. You know, the kind I grew in my garden this summer?
Yeah. That's how long it's been sitting there. I didn't want to touch it in case it had become sentient and touching it would compromise its structural integrity, releasing the spores of a new, mind-controlling, life form into the air. So, naturally, I made hubby do it.
He seems fine so far. I'll check the back of his neck for any tell-tale Body Snatcher marks later.
Tonight the dog rejected her dinner. I'm pretty sure that's like, the third sign of the impending apocalypse or something. Right after I write this post, I'm going to stockpile canned food and guns.
The guns might be hard to come by, but you don't ignore signs like that.
I don't think I'm going to spend much time on Twitter anymore. It's kind of fun, but the other night something happened that is still bothering me. Mostly because I don't know how to feel about it. Someone tweeted something about their child that I personally interpreted as a very frustrated mother venting (on the internet..shouting into the wind...where it BELONGS), but someone else became concerned with it. That someone else retweeted it to their (considerably more) followers, and someone took it upon themselves to call the authorities. The tired and frustrated mother ended up with a police visit.
I don't know about your area, but even the most baseless allegation here can cause miles of red tape and investigations. Obviously the person was just concerned for the child, and I get that. But you don't KNOW anybody over the internet, MUCH LESS in the 165 characters that Twitter allots you. At least if I write something here in the blog that inspires someone to call the authorities on me, it'd be in context - y'know?
Also, with the phishing scam I'm terrified someone will hack my account and tell the world I secretly pick my nose.
Not that I DO that, of course. It would all be lies. I don't know what made me think of that, it was just off the top of my nose. Er, my head! Off the top of my head.
No, I don't know why I sound nasal. Look, you don't know me, okay??
This whole "no snacking" thing SUCKS. I caught myself with a handful of Goldfish halfway to my mouth at least twice today (the crackers, not the actual fish. But, yum, SUSHI....).
I think hubby wants sex. So, gotta go.
...out.
HA!
Just kidding. I should really check him for Tomato Body Snatcher marks, though, because sex with a tentacled alien sounds...well, kind of kinky, but y'know, unfaithful too. Even if it IS his body.
Is this one of those days I should have stopped while I was ahead?
Probably. Too late! Your turn! Grab the button, write a random post, and leave a comment so I can link you up!
Monday, January 5, 2009
4 pictures that pretty much sum up my New Years Eve
So after whining so much about going off to hubby's hometown for New Years, you didn't think I'd skip blogging about it, did you? Well actually the trip turned out to be rather pleasant. And we did go out with his sister & BIL for a New Years Eve dinner which, while providing a great steak and some great conversation, had a distinctly small-town flair to it. Here's four pictures that sum up how:
1. If "Leesa" is indeed her real name.
2. As this was explained to me: They open a bag of Doritos. Throw in some ground beef, salsa & sour cream and shake it up. Then they hand it to you, breaking all kinds of health regulations in the process, I'm sure. Nom nom nom *gag*
3. Um, yeah.
4. Note to Self, if Self ever gets the bright idea to open a bar in a small town: If your patrons feel they have a personal relationship with their Video Lottery Terminals, they may be inclined to gamble more. You know, to show their new friends "a good time". Use handmade signs for that personal touch.
...that was all. We were home by 8:30. But it WAS good steak.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
You know that book I was going to write? Yeah, this isn't it
So, this isn't so much a HASAY update as a refined plan, because I was stuck at the inlaws all last week. And I totally got a pass from Casey for that. And, to be honest, I wasn't THAT bad. Unless you count the massive Christmas dinner and the whipping cream in my daily cup(s) of coffee because everyone else drinks it black and that's all they had.
Okay, okay, you're right. I should probably count that.
I've decided that there just isn't any way I'm going to stick to the Weight Watchers thing this time around. It's just TOO MUCH WORK. And then there's the starving. I don't like that part. So I've created a new plan of attack, which I refer to as "The Gee It's Pretty Fucking Obvious But It's Not In A Book Anywhere So It Doesn't Feel Legitimate Somehow Plan".
(Henceforth just known as "The Plan").
Here's The Plan:
1. NO snacking.
2. ONE sweet or junky thing per day (but the sweet is my weakness so that's what I'll focus on). It can be sugar in my coffee or a big honking piece of cheesecake, but if I already put sugar in my coffee that morning, no cheesecake for me!
3. GO TO THE GYM. But even before that, try to work out with friends, because I'm far more likely to follow through if someone's expecting me to show up. *
See? Not hard. I could write a book.
It just wouldn't be very long.
What worked for me last time was to reward myself at milestones. I got myself things that I probably would have bought anyway, but this way I could feel all virtuous about it. You know, like for sticking to the Plan for two weeks I get new workout gear, for losing 5 lbs I get a new laptop bag. For hitting my goal I get a new pair of Sevens.
I should get something just for coming up with this plan in the first place, now that I think about it.
Ah, retail therapy. A balm for my girthy soul.
*(Oh, and I think I'm going to do a six-week boot camp with my friend FoN. That may help).
Friday, January 2, 2009
Friday Fill-Ins, for the first time
Found this over here. LOVE IT when people do half the work for me.
Erm, I mean, how inspirational....
1. The world is probably not as round as everybody keeps saying. I mean, there are phrases like "the four corners of the earth", so I bet part of it is square. Or maybe rhombus shaped. (Okay, I just wanted to say 'rhombus').
2. "What, that's it?" was the last thing I said.
3. I wonder if that sour cream was past its expiry date. Or if it just tasted like ass because it was fat-free.
4. There is a tiny wizened merchant named Phil at the end of all things.
5. There's something to be said for not having to leave the house during a blizzard.
6. Jamaica, Cuba, Hawaii or possibly Fiji is where I want to be. Can you be in all of those places at once or would it become redundant?
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sleeping, tomorrow my plans include probably not leaving the house and Sunday, I want to continue not leaving the house!
Except I'm supposed to go to the gym tomorrow. Ah, crap. Shouldn't there be exceptions when there's 2 new feet of snow outside?
(ETA: omfg I'm an idiot. Just posted this accidentally to A Letter to Xander. What is my problem lately??)
(Oh, rriiiigggghhhtt - the WINE)
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Rabbit.
Yes, rabbit. Do I need to explain the rabbit? I think I probably do.
When we were kids my mother informed us that traditionally, if the first thing you said in the New Year was "rabbit", then you would have good luck all year. So Tiny Keely and her Tiny Brother would dutifully try to remember to declare, "rabbit!" before uttering anything else when they awoke on New Years Day.
Later in life it became a little confusing as to whether it was supposed to be the first thing you said the minute it turned midnight, or the first thing you said when you awoke hungover in a ditch with some guy named Stan, or possibly Joe bleary-eyed after staying up all night watching that guy in Times Square on television and drinking diet soda. I would regularly baffle people by bellowing "HAPPY NEW YEARS RABBIT!" at parties. And by regularly I mean that one time when I actually remembered the tradition. And by baffle I mean they all rightfully assumed I was drunk. And weird.
So, "rabbit", ya'll. Did anybody else's mother regularly make shit up just to screw with her children's heads have that tradition?
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