Bunnies, more spiders, and huge bazongas: Random Tuesday Thoughts


It's Tuesday again! I'm starting to think that all my blogging genius goes into Tuesdays. There's like, this huge spike in my Google Analytics chart once a week. Then the rest of the week people are all, "Oh, well...I guess I could stop by...but she's not as funny on WEDNESDAYS".

That's okay. I'll take that.

So - let's begin! If you're new here (yay!), it's pretty simple - grab the button, write your rather random post, and then leave your link with Mr. Linky so we can all visit.

So after my post yesterday (the one where I basically told the whole interwubs that I was planning to have tons of rabid bunny sex), I immediately felt better. And then you people started commenting, and some people sent me emails, and I felt AWESOME. Seriously, why did I wait so long to start blogging? I could have written many, many more "woe is me" posts.

Also, FoN called me to check that I wasn't wallowing in my sorrows too badly (which I wasn't - it was only about mid-shin deep wallowing), and offered me one of HER kids if things don't work out, because she's pretty much the best friend ever.

Although, she's been trying to pawn one off on me for years now, but still. My statement stands.

I didn't post a HASAY update yesterday because I was busy wallowing. But there isn't much to report. I've had a really, really hard time convincing myself to work out, but I've been doing it anyway. Which is good, because "you should probably devour that Lindt chocolate bunny and then have waffles and bacon" has NOT been that hard to sell. The bunny (and possibly a few friends) haven't shown up on the scale yet, but I think they're conspiring with the glazed croissant from today and are going to attack like a fucking ninja.

On a related note, I was working out earlier with Maya the Wii Fitness Trainer, and I really had to pee. There's nothing worse than doing a bunch of jumping jacks when you're threatening to leak all over the basement carpet. So when Maya called a "water break" (which, now that I think about it, I've never seen that pixeled hussy drink any H20 herself. Man, she's a terrible trainer), I dashed to the downstairs toilet.

Now, the downstairs toilet is pretty much just that. A toilet. Downstairs. Oh, sure, it has some walls around it, and at SOME POINT it was probably considered a bathroom, but right now it's a gross, water-stained hole with a concrete floor, containing a rusty-looking porcelain seat. But whatever, I was in a hurry (if there's a way to pause Maya, I haven't figured it out yet). So I was doing my thing, and I reached for the roll of toilet paper.

Turns out, if you leave those unattended, sometimes spiders use them for a lair.

So I shrieked and jumped off my throne. Mid stream.

Good thing that bathroom is already gross hey?

I posted last week about how I was all into the virtual piracy, but I TOTALLY LIED. The very next day my usual gaming addiction, the superhero MMO City of Heroes, went live with its Issue 14. CoH is pretty awesome in that it regularly releases new content for subscribers and doesn't ask anything in return except your undying fealty and $15 a month. Anyway, the new Issue includes a "Mission Architect", where you can write your own story lines and other people can play them.

Are you kidding? I can write goofy awesome comic book stories and publish them for other people? It's kind of like blogging, but with spandex. And punching things.

So I've given up on the pirates. They have a bad rap these days anyway. Plus, in CoH I can make my characters' bazongas even BIGGER.

The restaurant that Paul manages is closed for two weeks while renovating. He gets one of those weeks off, but the rest of the time his schedule is totally messed up. Normally he works nights, but suddenly he's working days. So we had to call in the troops (his parents), who drove 2-1/2 hours to hang out with their grandson all day today. Turns out, we didn't need them today, but thanks to an informative text message at 8PM TONIGHT we could have used them TOMORROW. Fuuuuucccckkk.

Which brings me to a regular rant of mine, that I have entitled "OMG ya'll am I the first person to notice that juggling child care SUCKS?".

I mean, REALLY. We have it good here in Canada - we get a year for maternity leave, and the government pays us 55% of our previous wage during that time. Except, most daycares don't take children until they're 18 months old. So everybody - EVERYBODY - has to fucking fake it somehow for 6 months. And like 6 years ago, mat leave was only 6 months, which brings your time spent "faking it" up to a year. There are no supports in place to cover this - everybody just has to work part-time, or find a (elusive) sitter, or not go back to work and then find a whole new job in 6 months, or ask their mother, or SOMETHING. It's fucking ridiculous.

And what the hell do you Americans do? What do you get - 12 weeks, if you're super lucky?

Anyway. That has nothing to do with the fact that my husbands employers can't get their poop in a group, but it sent my brain in that direction.

What directions is YOUR brain going in this week? Let us know - grab zee button, slap it up there, and randomize! Happy Tuesday!