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.

10 things I honestly don't give a crap about


I was tagged the other day by Tiffany over at My Random Wisdom with this meme, which is apparently supposed to be given to bloggers who are honest.

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 the rest of my life now.

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)

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 heifer pregnant woman.

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 psychotic energetic dog. So she went in after them, barking madly. Well, ducks are smart enough to stay out of her way, but too stupid to move very FAR, so she just kept swimming after them. Eventually she got too tired to bark, and just kept swimming, back and forth. Panting after my little impromptu exercise, I bellowed at her from the shore, totally panicked that she would tire out in the middle of the lake and drown, because she is JUST THAT FUCKING STUPID.

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 rip that fucking animal in half get her back. I squelched back to the house with the dog in tow, pissed off and smelling strongly of lake algae. She'd taken up my entire lunch break so I quickly changed, scarfed a sandwich and went back to tell my tale.

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.

Is there such thing as a graphicnovelworm?

I was tagged by Dad to Two for the 'Bookworm' meme. The rules are:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 56.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next two to five sentences.
5. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book or the intellectual one. Pick the Closest.
6. Tag five people to do the same.

Since most of the books to my right sport such insightful prose as "Dinosaur ROAR!" and are amputated at about page 10, I'll lean to my left...The first book in that direction is actually a graphic novel, but that counts, right?

"That's why I'm going to Australia to find out for sure."
"The hell you are! Yorick Brown, you may very well be the last man on earth! You have a responsibility to the world now!"

So...lazy Sunday post. Ya'll get like, a million nerd points if you know what that's from.

And I'm going to tag:
SavvySuzie (she may out-nerd me)
Kelly at Per Se (dude, school texts don't count)
Julie at the Cool Mom Guide (what DO cool moms read? Cause I'm not one)
and Pauvre Plume (cause I might look like I have smart friends).

Slightly overwhelmed

This isn't a real post, because I'm not feeling that great (I'm pretty certain it's the lack of caffeine and/or red wine in my system). And, well, I have all these comics to read, and I haven't logged onto Warhammer in a week. Priorities, people.

But it pays not to be a social retard, even in the blogosphere, so I have some awards to graciously accept. First, Julie at the Cool Mom Guide, smacked me not once but twice!

Both of these have memes attached, of the "random facts" variety, but don't you people know enough random crap about me already? You'll become addicted to Un Mom trivia, and be rooting through my garbage for your next informational tidbit in no time.

Nobody wants that.

But I will pass these along, to people I actually DO want to know more about:

Private EYE
April's Little Family
Isolated Existence

And then savvysuzie at the $200 Mission presented me with another award, but blogger for some reason says that her blog has been removed, and that had better be a big fat lie, or I'll cry. I WILL BE BACK to edit this post, dammit.

It was there, I swear. It's not the Neo-Citran talking.

And Ane at Life According to Me gave me the following, which is just further proof, as if you needed it, that people in the blogosphere DO NOT REALLY KNOW YOU AT ALL:

But it was a very sweet sentiment, and I'm not going to pass it on to anyone specific, because if they're setting the "Best Mom" bar at my level, then it's a contest anyone can win.

7 embarassing things about like, omg! my highschool self

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As promised yesterday, here are 7 cringe-worthy vignettes from my blunder years...

1) Once, my mother came down to my basement cave VERY early on a Saturday morning (well, okay, like 10am. Considering she gets up at 6, the anticipation must have been killing her) and told me very seriously that she "needed to talk about something when I got up". Right - like I could sleep after THAT. So I dragged my carcass upstairs, with not a clue what I could be in trouble for, and she sat me down and told me she'd read a letter of mine in which I detailed an acid trip I'd taken. And, in all sincerity, she told me she would feel so much better if I "promised to never smoke acid again.". And I managed to keep a straight face as I promised, deadpan, that I would never, ever, smoke LSD again.

You can go google that, Mom. I'll wait.

But actually, I never DID do it again. My drug use was pretty minimal after that. Pot still smells good, but it just enhances my natural sleepiness. Which makes me one VERY sleepy kitty.

2) I had a Grade 11 Algebra class that I would show up for, put my head down on the desk, and nap for 45 minutes. Every day. And I still got a pretty good grade. My formula? I dressed like I was going to cause trouble, but I didn't. Set those expectations low.

Oh, and don't be as dumb as a bag of hammers. That helps.

3) In my senior year I dyed my formerly blonde hair jet black. After I did it, I heard a couple of people in the hallways hissing, "There goes the girl who dyed her hair black". Which just goes to show you that MY high school existence was no sadder than anyone else's.

4) I once made out with a guy I didn't know very well in the backseat of someone else's car at the drive in. Except, hello? Teenage self? It was a hatchback. Which meant that everyone parked behind us could see his hand up my shirt. So everybody else in the free world found out pretty quickly as well, including the guy that I had been kind of seeing but who hadn't called me in 3 weeks, who apparently still felt we were going out. He felt strongly enough about it that he made a point to come by my house and tell me what a skank I was, and that he didn't want to see me anymore.

And people wonder why teenagers are fucked up.

5) I wrote a lot of stories and poems for english classes that were about suicide and abuse, despite the fact I had never been abused, nor did I feel suicidal. If a teen submitted those stories these days, I think it would be a guaranteed date with the guidance counselor.

6) Once I was riding my bike back to school from lunch, and for some ridiculous reason was steering only with one hand in the middle of the handlebars. I took the turn too wide and brushed up against a wrought-iron fence. While wearing sandals. My baby toe caught on the fence and brought the entire bike to an abrupt halt, as well as ripping and breaking the toe sideways (it's the only bone I've ever broken).

7) I broke that toe right before graduation, so I had to wear sandals to the prom. It didn't really go with the whole 'Elvira' look I had going on.

...and the rest has all be healthily repressed. I guess I should go tell those other people I tagged them, huh?

What goes around...

I got tagged with the "7 facts" meme again by Ken over at Dad to Two, which means I'm either way more fascinating than previously suggested or the blogosphere is starting to run out of people to tag. Or Ken is a big stalker fan, which might explain the pizza delivery van that has been parked outside my house all week. *waves*

So without further ado (ado! It's 'ado', people, not adieu! Get it right!), 7 more totally fabricated scintillating factoids about yours truly:

1) I don't grind my teeth, but I clench them. Motherhood seems to have exacerbated this little habit, so much so that by the time my kid is a teenager I'll have shattered my teeth into tiny pieces and be sporting a full chrome grill, yo. I figure when my kid's a teenager, I'll be wanting to smash my own face in with a waffle iron anyway, so really - same outcome.

2) I have a tattoo on my left wrist, which I was dissatisfied with the instant the tattoo artist finished it. It also didn't heal well, and part of it got infected so there is a big chunk of colour missing. I have never gone to get it touched up and probably never will, because FUCK, that hurt.

3) I'm not big on regrets. I can probably count on one hand the amount of things I regret about my life. I'm also not all that familiar with it's kissing cousin, Guilt, although that one blindsides me once in a while. When I was a kid, we spent a lot of time at the lake catching frogs, which we would corral into Mom's roasting pans (I've no idea whether she roasted things in them subsequently. I'm guessing probably). One time I had no lid for the pan so I put a sheet of glass over it and promptly forgot the dozens of tiny lives I had so wantonly collected. Guess how that one turned out for the frogs?

Anyway, I felt SO guilty about it that twenty years later in art school I made a piece to work through my angst over those poor frogs. When I produced it for critique my grad friend said, "It's about your childhood, right?"

"Well, yes," I admitted, surprised. "How did you know?"

"We're artists," he said. "Everything is about our childhoods."

4) I have the most useless university degree ever created, a Bachelor of Fuck All Fine Arts. It's so useless you can't even make it better by getting a Masters. Nevertheless, I enjoyed every second of it, and I wouldn't change a thing.

5) I often skip the number 5.

6) I have hairy toes.

7) In 2003 I wandered around New Zealand and Australia for several months with a friend of mine. I was dating some guy who made me promise to come back, so I did, and then he broke up with me. THAT is something I actually do regret, although if I hadn't come back I wouldn't have my husband or my son. So I guess I don't regret it, except sometimes when my kid wakes me up again at 3am, I secretly wonder what's going on in Byron Bay.

So now I get to tag a bunch of other people, except I'm going to change the meme, because it's my blog and I can do that (can too!). I still want to know 7 things about these people, but I want to know 7 things about them when they were a teenager. Don't worry, I'll fess up too, tomorrow as part of abdpbt's List Mondays.

Frogs in my formula
Web-Betty
The Neurotic Mom
Savvysuzie
Harmony

Tag, suckas.

9 things I'm thankful for

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I thought I'd join in the Monday listiness over at abdpbt, since I was going to write a list of things I'm thankful for, since it's Thanksgiving (here in Canada. Unlike you Americans who procrastinate until like, 3 weeks before Christmas. I can't even fit in a sneeze 3 weeks before Christmas, let alone a whole holiday. Oh, don't tell me there's a real reason for that date. That's just an excuse).

1. My husband and son. Well, duh. This one is kind of a given. It's like remembering to thank the Academy, or your mother on your wedding day. Of course I'm thankful for my family. Most of the time. When they're not whining, or wiping snot on me (no, I'm not excluding hubby from that category...it's a long story), or interrupting my blogging time. So, yeah. I think that still adds up to 'most' of the time.

2. Running water. You probably don't think about that much, but I spent a day without it once, and it was literally shitty. I have a new appreciation.

3. My metabolism that lets me eat pretty much whatever I want. Except oh, um, wait, I don't have that anymore. But let me tell you, if I DID still have it, I would totally be thankful for it.

4. Ziploc bags and post-it notes. Possibly two of the greatest inventions ever. How did anybody ever half-assed organize anything before they came along?

5. Curbside recycling. Nothing makes you feel as good about throwing crap out as having someone come and take it away to be "recycled". Yes...recycled. That's it.

6. Blogging memes and theme days that distract from the fact I'm not doing any actual writing. I'd say that one is pretty self-explanatory.

7. Shopping buddies who are hipper than me. "Hipper", or "more hip"? See, I don't even know. But without these people, I would have fallen into a sweat-pants-and-comic-tshirt frump a long time ago. Not that I don't look hot in that, of course.

7. My ability to count. It has served me well.

8. People who are more creative and talented than me. Because they inspire me to take it to the next level, and light the proverbial fire under my own ass. What? I needed to have at least one semi-serious thing in here. Shut up.

Huh, that didn't hurt

I've been tagged. Or memed. Or magged? Or whatever you call it, by Isolated Existence, who apparently finds me interesting enough to want to know 7 more useless enthralling facts about me. The deal is, you share the seven nuggets of info, you tag seven other bloggers, the love continues.

So in case you were wondering:

1. I am deliberately obtuse when it comes to politics, current events, sports, etc. Pretty much anything anyone else considers "news". I would rather save my emotional energy for other things.

2. I've seen The Blues Brothers approximately 1282 times.

3. I'm supposed to be cleaning my house and baking a cake for my son's first birthday party right now, but I'm not. I'm blogging.

4. When I was 10, my family moved to New Zealand for three years. If you want to mess your children up, culturally speaking, do THAT.

5. I'm an atheist, my mother is an atheist, my grandparents were atheists and my great grandfather was an atheist as well. That's a whole lotta non-godliness.

6. I have a mole on my hip that is supposed to be removed, but I decided it had been in my life too long so I didn't go to the appointment. Well, that and I'm slightly terrified of people cutting bits of my skin off. Only slightly.

7. I can grow pretty much anything, except, apparently, corn.

Now I want to know random facts about these people:

1. April over at April's Little Family
2. Kelly at Per Se
3. Mary Anne at The Stiletto Mom (who's probably already gotten it, like 24 times, and this'll be spam for her. Also, she's on a beach somewhere drinking a lot and may use that as an excuse not to pay attention)

Meh....that's all I'm going to tag. The eighth fact on that list, which would be of NO surprise to ANYBODY, is that I'm friggin' lazy.