My Kitchen is falling apart! Luckily someone's here to put a new one on...

My landlord's brought  in a contractor to redo the kitchen in our house, so Yay! Trouble is, he decided that the best time for them to come would be the first week of School, which will be interesting... I wonder how kiddo's lunch-packing will go when we don't have any food. I just learned that they're even replacing all the appliances, and I mean all!!! Yes! no more secret-handshake-latch-or-death dance with the dishwasher, no more of that sticky green shit holding my fridge doors together (you know the stuff- Billy Mays hawked it, was probably made out of his rib-bone or something...)

Thumbs up Billy!

On a completely unrelated note to my kitchen, but completely related to billy mays, do you know how many people idolize billy? I found like, 28 pages just of pictures on google images. They even had a few of his funeral , and all the pallbearers wore blue oxyclean shirts.... somewhere out there is an army of billy. Scary..... Oh well. houses will be clean and nothing will break. 

Also? I won't be able to get to my computer for about a week, so I'll just have to take shitloads of piccys  to show the complete demise and re-institution of my kitchen. 

Hey, my kitchen's just like jesus! tore down before everyone and will rise in three days! (except my kitchen's being built by carpenters, it's not itself a carpenter. oh, and it's real.)

This is why people don't see movies with me...

The following conversation took place between 2 pm and 3pm on a Saturday, before the Nickelodeon started their 'Avatar: the Last Airbender' marathon:

M. Night Shyamalan: Okay, we need to make a movie that will restore my reputation! something down and gritty! something that brings the love of movies back into peoples hearts.

Writer: We could do something on the oil spill, and how devastating that's going to be on our planet and generations to come, you know,  how it's going to take at least 50 years to clean the oil up

M. Night: No that'll take to long, I don't have fifty years to make  a movie.

Writer: Okay, how a bout a biopic?

M. Night: On one of the artist world's greatest masters?

Writer: Yes, but I don't know if Cat Stevens is available...

M. Night: No, no, I'm thinking more along the lines of a rock legend. I got it. Aerosmith!

Writer: Hasn't one already been done on them?

M. Night: But we can have a twist by integrating all their songs into the movie, we'll have them acting out their songs too, so it'll be like their lives really did revolve around those lyrics!

Writer: But that's not a biopic, that's more along the lines of what they did with all those Beatles songs, you know, how they made it into a musical? what was it called... across the planets or something

M. Night: And we can even use a song title as the title of our movie, you know, a little director's humour

Writer: Not really sir..

M. Night : Devil in an elevator!

Writer: Ummm, that's Love in an Elevator, sir...

M. Night: We should make the movie based on that song, you know, 'I kinda hope we get stuck, and no one comes out alive"

Writer: I don't think that one line is what the song is all about...

M. Night: Oooohh, and we could get Steven Tyler to play the devil, he's got such a sixth sense for artistry, I bet he'd be really good, and then the movie can be based on the song, but people won't know it unless they look for the signs. 'I'll show you how to axe the new mail boy then I'll hack you up  inside'

Writer: Umm it's actually..... oh never mind...

M. Night: oh this is going to be soo exciting! and then those stupid journalists won't be laughing anymore, no, just because I wanted to recreate my favorite TV show, and they laughed at me, those mean little-

Writer: I just called Steven Tyler, he says he doesn't want to be in your crappy movie, and if you use that title, he'll sue you.

M. Night: Oh. That's unfortunate. Oh well, we'll just call it Devil, with one of those cool symbols for the V right? And we can still keep the story the same, just replace Steven Tyler some nobody, it'll be a happening, like I created a Star! Like remember how I made Paul Giamatti a star?

Writer: *sigh* He was a better actor before he knew you... I quit.

And then I showed my boob...

I had a picture up on Facebook that got deleted because it showed I was breastfeeding my little one. My husband took it because he wanted to show me the weird face I got when I read grocery flyers. Apparently I do.

So I put up another picture on Facebook, that also got deleted because it mimicked the action of breastfeeding.

Facebook sucks.


by the way, I have waayyyyyy more offensive pictures on facebook, and they haven't been touched. example, you say? well:

For starters. And then they get worse. So, really, Facebook, I think if you're going to be offended, do it on all sides.

Let's giver a round of 'applause'!

Wow.
Ever have one of those moments where you write a word down and it just doesn't seem like you spelled it right?
And then you go and look it up and it turns out you didn't, but the real word seems even more wrong than the way you spelled it? My whole day has been Me psyching myself out with stupid words that I could have just avoided by using a simpler word instead. Case in point:

Applause.
Doesn't that look wrong?
I tried auplause, aplaws, aplause, auplase, applauze.
but the real thing looks even more weird. And thanks Spell-Check, I know the others are wrong. You are king Spell-Check. A fucking genius. Lets all clap for Spell Check.

Other words that have been kicking my ass recently:
weird, genius, seriously,  and psyching.
I've been psyching myself out on psyching. Fantabulous.

ps. fuck you Spell-Check. Fantabulous is so a word.

Mr. Burns's Revenge of the Poo..

my two month old has it out for me.

I don't know why, but I seem to be the only receiver of the "oh no, Cover it, Cover It! awww...." poops. I swear, he does it on purpose.

So I'm changing the diaper, thinking that the coast is clear, when he gives a massive grunt and a smile and this crazed almost religious glow comes into his eyes, and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you swear you can hear a deep and ominous voice crying VENGEANCE!!! and whoosh! boy can that kid project. and you know if it's comin from the back end, the front will surely follow. So this kid lays there all happy with his shit-eating grin on his face (sometimes literally) and pee all over himself, and poo all over mommy and the trail from him to me shining like the path to salvation...

I swear I've done this before. I've been a parent once already! Don't I know what I'm doing? I don't know if I was just more aware when my first one was in diapers, or if my kid really does have a price on my head. He probably consorts with his dad on the next move to crush my sanity and self-esteem.

Once, after a vigorous sneeze from him mid-change, and a shower and redress from me later (poo was everywhere.) I passed diapering and holding duties off to dad so I could escape from his clutches to grab something from the grocery store. While waiting in line to purchase my nessecities, I noticed a smell not unlike poo-cheese... I thought maybe myself or someone around me had bad breath, but I couldn't very well ask everyone to close their mouths while I weeded out the cause of the smell. It was only when I stepped up to the register and the cashier there pointed and then gave me a kleenex, did I realize that  in the midst of changing over from the poo laden clothes into cleaner ones, that somehow I must have dragged part of my stylish-yet-affordable t-shirt through the gobby mess in the laundry basket.

So My bright Blue T-shirt ( I don't know why I even think I can get away with colour. Black, girl, Black is the new whatever's going to get shit on..) had this Bright Greeny-Yellow mess leading from mid-back to upper rib-cage. And it was fresh. I can't get away from it. Back at home my son is probably losing his breath from newly formed maniacal laughter, while my poor naive husband is getting out the camera to capture baby's first laugh.

'Aww, cute', husband will say.

And in what I can only describe in my vivid imagination to be the voice of Mr. Burns, Baby's first word will be, 'Excellent'.

Seriously? Seriously. Serious...

My eldest likes to play board games and make-believe with his baby brother, which he can't do in actuality since littlest is like 2 months old, so he just pretends that baby brother is playing and does his turn for him. It's part of his baby brother time, when he gets to be the big brother and 'look after him all by himself ' by playing tickle games or giving him the occasional bottle -or pretend the baby is playing a board game with him(I'm usually in the kitchen making lunch, or on here) which is kinda cute and usually mostly quiet, so i say whatever. They're spending  time together and not fighting or breaking shit, and how long am I gonna get that for, right?

Anyways, today was Scrabble day, apparently. So kiddo brought out his kid's version Scrabble game to the living room,  and set it up next to littlest's baby recliner so that they could 'play together'. Some time passes, and then kiddo comes up to me, a little mischief in his eye and a fake pout on his lips.
"Mom, I don't think baby should play the game anymore, because he's not taking it seriously."

Seriously? Seriously....

My son chooses to kick his little brother out of the game because he spelled 'cornpoop'.
So I tell my son that technically that's not a word, so he can't kick his little brother out of the game, and he says,' is too a word, it what happens after you eat a corn on the cob and then you have to poop and you can see the corn. cuz it can't turn into poop. cornpoop.'

Klassy.

Oooookkaaaaaaaayy...........

(by the way, I showed husband these pictures and he said none of the words on there were actual words you could use in scrabble, palm tree being two separate words, and doc being an abbreviation, which isn't allowed. Leave it to my hubby to take cornpoop seriously. shit.)

My 6 year old doesn't understand me. also I think I might need some more Coffee

So My 6 year old walked into his baby brothers room this morning while I was changing a diaper and cooing at my littlest,(because it's only if I coo that he doesn't pee on me) to talk to me.
Kiddo: Do you wanna know where I got these cool scars? (shows scars)
Me (in baby voice, while keeping an eye on littlest's wiener to make sure he's not just waiting until I drop my guard): yessss, where did you get those scars? those 3? yeah 3 scars? whaaaat happened?
Kiddo: Well I was playing with Freddie (his pet rat, yep, R.A.T.) and he scratched me.
Me(still in baby voice, still keeping note of the wiener): Why did he scratch you? Did you forget to feed him? and then he was like,'I'm gonna gitcha boy' and then he put on his little rat-boxing gloves and was like pow-whacka-whacka Pow! Only his gloves had little claws on the end of them so he could still scratch you and then you'd be all 'why Freddie, why' and he'd be all 'Cuz you never pay attention to me anymore' and you'd be all ' well I feed you every day and that takes like an hour and a half cuz you have to store every single damn piece of granola in a different part of my bedroom, and then the same thing with the carrots, and then you get to the yogurt last and then it's warm and then you don't eat most of it, so the next time I come into my room I step on half-eaten yogurt and then I have to change my socks and frankly, after all that is done I NEED a little time a way from you so stop gettin all up in my biznez RAT.' and then Freddie's like, ' You don't understand me! I need to burrow things away, because I grew up in the great recession of 2009 and there wasn't much food to go around, so you made the most of what you had, and I just can't go back to that, not ever!' and then you're all,' it's okay freddie, I can get you help, they have this show called Hoarders:buried alive on TLC, and I'll send them an e-mail and see if I can't get a professional to come in and help so I don't have to evict you from my room' and then you call the TLC people and they're like, 'it's gotten so bad you have rats in your room? Whoa dude.' and you're like 'no, it's for my rat. my pet rat.' and they're like,' uhhh.... we don't do rodents, just people' and you're like,' you know I think thats pretty discriminatory of you, I'd like to speak to your boss. what's your name again?' and then they hang up on you.
Kiddo: ..... he just scratched me. that's all. you're weird.

I have one of those pretty water features everyone raves about. Apparently.

My child's been singing 'I've got a moldy basement", to the tune of I've Got a Golden Ticket from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Which is funny cuz he's never seen the original movie with Gene Hackman, and he's only heard the South park and Family Guy Versions of the song.
And yes, our basement is moldy, we've had so much rain here that our ground is fully saturated and it just kinda pours through. We had a plumbing guy who came in when we first moved into the place, and he replaced the taps in our tub and tightened up the connection to the tap in the backyard because that's what the landlord said needed fixing. (I found a lot more stuff over the year, btw) So this spring, when the snow had thawed and the grass was green again, my son found the irresistible urge to play with his water guns, and tried to fill them with the tap in the backyard. (the first time we've used that tap since the guy came and "fixed" them) So he comes in the house, all happy and smiley and said,' hey mom, when you turn on the water in the backyard, it makes a waterfall!'
and I was all, whaaat?.....
So I go check, and sure enough, when the tap is turned on, the water drips down under the siding from one edge of our wall to the other, giving it a waterfall effect. And where does this water go? The Basement.  So the tap is not allowed to be used right now until the landlord gets it fixed properly.
And from the two of these things combined have left my basement wet and musty smelling, little white moldy patches sprouting up from cracks in the cement (at least the basement was mostly unfinished, if that'd been carpet, it would have really sucked) and The only three cardboard boxes in our plastic mounds of  storage, just happen to contain all the baby books and pictures. Which are now all grey and bubbly and before the time of digital so there's no backup shots and we just have to salvage what we can.
And since no one goes to that side of the basement, no one realized what had happened until a couple of weeks ago. so that sucks.

ps. oh and the bathroom taps gave on us a couple weeks ago, so until the plumber came last week to fix (different plumber this time, really yummy to look at too, you could tell he was fresh out of an apprenticeship and still full of hopes and dreams, not like those old experienced plumbers who are now wishing they'd chosen a different vocation, because at some point digging around in other people's Shit just isn't fun anymore) So for a coupla weeks we had to use a pair of pipe wrenches to turn the tiny little knob that's hidden inside the tap just so we could have a shower.


pps. what my son neglected to tell me until after I found the sopping mess that was my memories for when I get Alzheimer's, was the amount of time the water was on in the backyard that day. thinking a couple of minutes? try almost two hours, because my son thought it was pretty and didn't want to turn it off. heh heh...

Mmmmmmm, anus. no wait! that's not what I meant to say!

So I just entered myself into a Coca Cola sponsored contest to win meat for a year from President's Choice.
They ask for your personalized best burger, including name, what kind of PC patty you used, your dressing choices, and how to assemble the burger.
So I fill in the information, and just as I press the submit button, I look over my work.
I have a pretty slow-ass computer wait time, so I was able to fully realize, without being able to do anything of course, that I mis-typed the kind of burger patty I used. And the coffee I was drinking tried to escape through my nose.
I can just see the Coke contest deciders looking over my application and wondering to each other:
"I didn't know President's choice made an anus patty....."

Aww, a hemmorage? for me?

I'm going through menopause. At 24.
I have been having hot and cold flashes for the last couple of days, and dizzy spells to boot. Something's not right.
My husband says that it's due to the humidity,(cuz it's like 100% right now, which is practically unheard of for prairie land!) that I'm just getting too hot, and I should drink more water. or I have an earworm and I'm going to die.
Thanks a lot jackass, now I'm going to spend the rest of my day in the bathroom with a pair of tweezers, trying to look deep enough in my ear to see if I have an ear worm and try to get it out. I'll probably have a dizzy spell while I'm in there and crack my head on a mirror and have hemmorage in my brain, and then it will be your fault stupid husband. Thanks a lot for the hemmorage.

Starbucks should totally make this a flavour

I went to make a pot of coffee this morning, but I didn't realize that there weren't enough coffee grounds to do a full pot, and I had already poured a full pot of water into the coffee maker. well shit. So then I asked myself what the most effective tool in my kitchen for removing a quarter of the water from my coffee maker would be.......and Ta-da!!!
A Turkey baster will do the trick in a jiff.
Only now my coffee has a slightly meaty taste to it. oh well. Caffeine is Caffeine.

Put up yer Dukes!

From the time my first son was born, before he could control his movements very well, he had this habit of raising his little fists up to stare at them that we came to call the 'Put up yer Dukes' pose. Well, he did this so often, and we said it so often, that he soon started to do the pose whenever we said the phrase. Ahh, selective conditioning through word association. 

It's been so long now since my eldest 'Put up his Dukes', that I virtually forgot the phrase, until my newborn started doing the same movement. And guess what? My eldest looks at him and says, 'Put up yer Dukes!' talk about memory retention...

I have to say I'm slightly wierded out by this, as I think the phrase got lost before he started talking, so either my son has a Super-brain and just chooses to wield it at odd times, or he's psychic. or has a brain tumor. either way, it's creepy .cute as hell.