pain.vs. Shut you face

Hubby's just gone back to work on Monday after a week off with a bum knee. Before he went on workers comp, he was ready to quit because, well, the week he hurt his knee also happened to be the week his head went 'Fuck Sleeping!' and since he thinks a man isn't supposed to see a doctor unless it's broken or gushing blood (and even then), he just let his injuries fester until his boss noticed that he was limping and looked like shit. (That's my brave strong man...) Of course he works out of a truck, so his boss didn't get to see him like this until friday when he went to drop off paperwork.
Then he spent this last week at home, bored out of his mind and unable to leave the house, since the injury turned out to be a second degree MCL sprain on his right knee, which is the driving knee. So he spent the whole week rearranging my kitchen, critiqing my mommy skills, rearranging those, writing out new schedules for youngest so that he can get the most out of the day, and then bitching that youngest doesn't like him, because, while youngest is teething, he prefers my shoulders to daddy's to bite, so he's not been really all that cuddly to daddy at all.

 Therefore, I was extremely excited for this past Monday to come, as I would have my house to myself, my kitchen could be put back to order, and my son's schedule put to rights as well. But on Sunday night, I heard murmers and whines of what he had said on the days leading up to his week off, about him hating the company, and wanting to quit, though there were no ways out of it, that he really should just take me up on the offer of transfering the remainder of the parental benifits over to him and having Me go back to work(yes, people I offered to go back to work just to shut him up, because I know within three weeks of us having switched places, he will be begging me to switch back.)

So I sent him a love note on Monday, via video text, with this lovely contraption. I have to say my Efforts were not all that greatly received.




Here's the link if you want to try it out yourself. DRAAAMMAAA!!!!!!!

Nanana boo boo, I stick my tongue out atchoo

Any one remember Dawson's Creek? Anyone?

Well, there is n entire website dedicated to James van der what's-his-nuts, and memes of him making facial expressions.




this one's my favorite.

oh yeah, the website. Here.

or just click and paste.
http://www.jamesvandermemes.com/page/2

Resolute to resolve yourself. wait. what?

Okay, So 2011 got off to a...... slow... start. Much like 2010 ended. Nothing has changed, and no resolutions come to mind, as whenever I make resolutions, I pretty much fuck them up the first day, which turns into  big downward spiral of self-pity and more doing of the thing I was resoluting not to do. So. I'm not making any resolutions this year, in the hopes that my gym visits will stay frequent, my smoking habit continue to decrease, my healthy eating stays where it is, and my children grow, as they will, with or without my help.

Also, I think I finally convinced my husband that my job makes more money and is more useful than his, so when I get off mat. leave I;m going back to it.
List:

My job: Quasi-Governmental
His Job: Chips.
My Job: Benefits and Pension Plan
His Job: Benefits as long as he doesn't take a distributorship, and if he does, then nothing.
My Job: Starting wage of Awesome, with due increase every whenever, due to union, steady.
His Job: starting wage of blah, with surprising increase of pretty okay with sprinkles of commission every once in a while.
My Job: Bids to get better positions, seniority (even while I'm on mat leave!)
His Job: Sort-of Seniority, depending on whether there's anyone available for the job, or whether the company just decides to hire it out to someone else.
My Job: Gets me out of the house on a daily basis with weekends off, guaranteed
His Job: Gets him out of the city, sometimes for weeks on end, and not always guaranteed weekends off, keeps me locked in our house..

Overall, My job seems to have a bit more appeal. just a bit. So, maybe in april.....sorta exciting!

Shhh, it's quiet time

My quiet time is when my eldest and Hubby are at school and work, respectively, my youngest is asleep, and I'm downstairs sitting on the dryer having a smoke and coffee. There's a little crack in the wall of the basement where the dryer vent goes, and in the winter, and when the dryer is on, it is simultaneously the coldest and hottest place in the house. It's perfect.

So here's my question. Where and when is your quiet time?
few, if any will probably answer this, but whatever. Get it out there if you want.

How coffee helped me turn into a Real girl

I started drinking coffee when I was 11.

Along with my two bestest buddies, we'd get together on a regular basis at one or the other of our houses and brew a pot to share throughout the evening. There was always mounds of sugar and truckloads of creamer(powdered at the time-it was the 'in' thing) or milk injected into our cups, and at least a few times we experimented with melted chocolate, caramels, and once, candy corn. That one didn't go well at all, we almost exploded the microwave trying to melt the niblets down and those suckers basically turn into plastic when radiated heated.

The point of these meetings however, was not really the coffee, although it helped some, but to register the fact that we were growing into young women. The coffee was just a fancy sophisticated drink that let us feel ourselves as fancy and sophisticated, we often dressed up( although we weren't going anywhere)to show that we had grown-up tastes that didn't revolve around caffeine levels, and when the parents got sick of our shouting and experimental swearing and we got kicked out of our respective houses and had to find another place to hang out, we found a little Greek hole in the wall and took such pride in ordering our coffees 'black' and sitting in the smoking section like we were responsible and mature young adults.

It makes me laugh still, because that restaurant was forever getting fined from the police for letting minors in the smoking section without adults, and so we constantly had to keep an eye out for cops so we could make a break for it if we had to. It was a bit of a rush to be doing something illegal without actually committing the illegal act, since none of us had started smoking (actually smoking, not just carrying a pack and some matches around, only at school and pretending to inhale so you'd look like The Shit) until a few years after. But we were growing up. We were gossiping, and sharing stories and remember when?'s, although our remembrances were pretty tame at that time, after all, we were only 11/12.

We all met our respective first 'real' boyfriends in that place, broke up with them, cried and bitched over family issues, big or small, learned how to flirt with the waiters (who were much too old and probably thought us crazy when we finally got ballsy enough to slap their arses on the way by) and generally learned how to interact in a close friendship setting. I treasured those years, before bitches and backstabbers, before the hell years of high school and the horror of having to keep a budget, etc.

I'm friends with those girls still, although our coffee dates don't happen as often as we'd like. In fact just the other day, one of those girls and I had a coffee date while picking up our respective random crap in Walmart because, god dammit, that was the only time we had to spare. And that's okay, because it was one of the most enjoyable shopping experiences I've had with my kids in tow.

And it's all to the gratitude of a simple cup of coffee.

Is this the ending of the age of the innocence?

The year I stopped believing in Santa I was 8. or maybe 9. Anyway, sometime during that month, my dad had tried to start a fire in the upstairs fireplace, but the flue was clogged, and we almost got smoked out of the house. Both my sister and I nagged our parents about how Santa was going to get in the house when our fireplace was broken, or if he would skip our house all together. It was a very distressing time.
Well, on Christmas morning, we got up, half-worried there would be nothing under the tree from Santa. When we got to the living room, there was a big white snowy mess from the sliding door to the tree, with boot prints going both ways. I'm pretty sure my sister freaked out for a second, thinking burglars had broke in to steal the remaining presents, until she saw the box from Santa. I was curious as how the snow hadn't melted yet, so I tasted it. It was lemony fresh, and probably a little poisonous. So then I went all CSI on that shit, getting all the shoes and boots from the front door, matching the size to the boot prints in the "snow", looking for trace residue, etc. By the time my parents got up they were completely helpless to defend themselves, as I was firmly aware that Santa Clause was  a ruse. I wasn't unhappy though, and I didn't spoil it for my sister. I became aware that my parents were buying these 'Santa' gifts, and though it took me the better part of a few months to realize it, I became aware that they would keep buying them until they caught on that I knew their naughty secret.

Now my Son is only 6, but he's not quite as gullible as I was then, at least I don't think he is, though he might be...
anyways, even this year I'd become paranoid that whenever we discussed santa with him, he got this little glint to his eyes like he knew something more than I, and he even told me once that the Mall Santas were just people who really like to dress up, but they kept microphones in their costumes so Santa could still hear what everyone wanted. Then he laughed. (I fear he's becoming more like Hubby everyday, telling me something to see my reaction before he says it's bullshit... li'l ol' gullibull me)

So When we went to get Santa pictures with both the kids I was a little curious as to what reaction my eldest would give. Youngest I was well prepared for. Being only 6 months old, he dutifully sat on Santa's lap, until he looked up at the great masses of beard, and then promptly started looking for an escape plan. No tears though. that was nice. Eldest walked silently beside me until we got to Santa's village, and when we got up to the Chair, His eyes lit up, glazed over, and when he sat on Santa's lap, he was almost speechless, which is pretty much fucking impossible in it's own right, and he remained glazed and dazed for the rest of the day. When he went to bed that night, he said to me, 'Santa knows what I want for Christmas mom, so Don't buy it. He'll be mad if he gets a double. '

I needn't have worried so early.

X-mas things that should be year round

You know it's X-mas when you hear crashing and can yell out 'Cat's got the balls again!' and the reply is 'What Colour?'
My hubby's obsessed with X-mas trees now. Not in the getting of the tree, nor the decorating, nor even the looking at, but at the smell. That natural resiny smell that permeates the entire house, no matter what else in it to stink it up. He now wants to have a pine tree in the house at all times. I don't blame him, My childhood house had these big pine/spruce trees dotted all along our front yard, and lining the fence of the back, and it was like playing in my own personal forest. I used to climb up on the roof in the summer to suntan, and the treetops would be there, wafting their delicate scent over the baking roof. The people who moved in after us cut down all but three of the trees, and cut our apple tree down too. Bastards.
Anyways..

We need to have eggnog in the grocery year round. I know, I know, you can make it yourself, but what homemaking mother with a lonely looking bottle of rum wants to go through the trouble of all that cooking when you can just pay the 3.95 to get liquored on a weekday? And besides, it would bring more Festivity to the rest of the year as well, so Bonus.

Boxing Day should be once a month. That way everyone could go crazy at Walmart for the 30% off on everything that nobody needs.

Gingerbread should be in style year round too. What else am I going to dip in my Happy Mommy Eggnog?

Other than that, everything else can go. I have spoken.

An X-mas Ditty.

In the spirit of Eldest going around the house singing the Twelve days of Christmas non-stop for the last couple of weeks while not really knowing all the words so filling in the blanks with -bags of poop- (believe me it's a treat to hear that 9 out of twelve days his true love gave him poo) I have come up with my own version. But to keep the repetitiveness out of the game, because it's annoying, I'll start with Twelve and work my way down.

*Ahem*

"On the Twelfth Day of X-mas my Hubby Gave to me:
-Twelve tries to guess what he got me
-Eleven dirty dishes hidden
-Ten Hours to find a sitter for a
-Nine o' clock X-mas party
-Eight cups of Coffee
-Seven Farmville requests
-Six last minute presents to send out
FIVE BROKEN  TREE BALLSSS!!!!
-Four loads of laundry
-Three unpaid bills
-Two stinky kids
And a BAR FULL OF VODKA FOR MEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

thank-you.

Tips for the half- awake mom:

1. When making Mac and cheese, Check the label on your soy milk to make sure it's not vanilla flavoured. There is not enough hot sauce in the world to tone that shit down.

2. Turn on the light when making Coffee. Yes, I know you know where everything is, and you're a master at the squinty pour, but when your hubby decides to be helpful by pre-making the pot the night before, it won't go well.

3. Take the Damn Dog to a groomer. He is a 90 pound lab.  He is sooo Not as easy to trim nails on as the cat is.

4.  Turn on the light when putting on your clothes.  come on. Even just a lamp. *sigh* you better be relieved you don't own any thongs. (due to the big butt collapse of 2009, in case any of you actually needed to know that )

5. Dammit, just because you go to the gym now does NOT mean you can reward yourself with cheeseburgers! No! Bad Mommy, that's NO! *face squirt from water bottle* that's a Baad Mommy.

6. Remember the laundry detergent when you do laundry.

7. Remember you did laundry.

8. Please, please, remember to let the dog out at night. He thinks he's a cat if you don't and it just scares Eldest when he has to clean the cat litter tray and he thinks daddy's been sleep-pooping again. (High-fives for the sleep-pooping thing though, wonder if hubby will ever catch on...)

9. Remember to let hubby help around the house, even if you have to reorganize what he did after he leaves the room. He offered to help, it's his funeral.

10. If you stopped drinking what's left in the coffee pot at night, maybe you'd get some actual sleep, and then maybe you wouldn't have to write these stupid tip sheets for yourself, dumb-ass.

We all need men like this, but maybe with less eye make-up...

In keeping with yesterday's theme of X-mas music, here is the only X-mas song I've found that is recent and actually meaningful. Damn you Tim Minchin, for making me all weepy.

Wham! Bam Thank-you maam

So, the Bulgarians have named Wham!'s song Last Christmas the most annoying holiday song ever. I agree.

*FLASHBACK!*

When I was young we always went to my grandparents for Christmaas, and sincew I was studying the piaano at the time, they had an electric piano they would haul out of the garage every year for me to bugger around on. Now I'm not sure if the new electric pianos have a demo song, I assume they do, since you can't step into the piano section of any music store without some annoying kid pressing all the demo buttons like a drunk at Walmart in the tickle-me-Elmo section. This particular keyboard had Wham!'s song as it's demo, since at the time it had probably just come out and was really popular. I didn't know what it was at the time, since my first big musical memories start around the time Aqua's Barbie Girl came out, so I didn't know how annoying it was to become. I used to push that damned demo button all the time and  pretend I was playing the song every Christmas, and my Gathered Family would all smile ingratiatingly and cheer at my "Skillz". I didn't even know what the song was called until a couple of years ago. But ever since I pulled my Big Girl pants on and moved out, I've hated that song with a passion.

At least I know the Bulgarians have my back if I decide to go all Bat-shite cRazy on George Micheal or that Ridgeley guy.

False alarm

So apparently when I said we had a virus, it was actually a firewall that had been built by our 22 year old computer genius buddy to keep out viruses. This kid's a little bit weird, but he built our computer from scratch, put all sorts of junk in it to make it run Really fast, with all the newest programs on it. Verry nice.


p.s. the A on my new keyboard sticks so much that when I was writing alarm I had to do it 6 times cuz it kept looking like lrm. aalrm. alrm...... yeh....a........

Not perfect.

I'm following with the theme of showing you people things that I think are important to today's society. Well, maybe not important, per Se, but we all obviously think  about them now and again, and in fact, there's no better way to convey this meaning than in a well-written, extremely well-played comedic Song. Careful though, you might get swept away a little too much by the sheer awesomeness of this to realize all the little jokes written in.

Wordless Wednesdays #5, X-mas Songs, re-did

In light of me having a pretty slow life, and still writing bout the Zeitgeist of the world, during X-mas no less, Here are a few of Cultures most Favoritest songies.



cuz everyone loves pop songs about latkes!






you know, he has a point.an extremely annoying crap-rap point, but still...



Just cuz I can. Every blog needs more bum.

Everything sounds better in the Bathroom. Except frying meat. That's just disturbing.

 Here. Have one of the Best Canadian Bands Lead guitarist. In a Bathroom.

No, I'm sorry, I can't play Pattycake, I'm left handed.

I'm left-handed. Not a big horrible thing, I know, but an imposition no less. I've always had issues with writing, my hand smearing ink and pencil alike, and my words cramped and slanted. But since the Computer got popular in school not too long after I started writing, that was never a Big issue. Even in Grade 4 when my Teacher had lunch-time Calligraphy classes, and she had to spend several hours extra with me because I was the only lefty she had taught other than herself, it was no biggie. It wasn't until I got into baking and cooking that being a leftie started to seem like a horrible thing. You would be amazed the utensils used in cooking that are for the majority, can-openers, pizza cutters, knives, etc. Even when I was stirring, it seemed so much more natural for everyone else than it was for me. I'd try to stir, and my shoulder would go up to my ear, my elbow out, my spoon or spatula getting constantly stuck in some invisible rut that only lefties could feel, while righties were smoothly stirring away, like they were whipping up a cloud. I began to try to do things right-handed, as some of the sports I learned were taught me by a rightie, and so it was easier in some ways, but it was of no use, as I felt like I had cut off some vital limb and was limping through my tasks, watching with tearfull eyes at everyone who glided past. I was teaching a friend to make fudge one time, and even she seemed to note that, while my finished product was amazing, putting it together looked painful. And all the sudden, Writing was important again, and though supremely tasty to clean up, I knew I could never be a cake decorator.
And of course, lefties have been made fun of for forever, from the Internets, to Religions, to bully-kids with nothing better to do( I still have fingers that don't point in the same direction thanks to them), to the Simpsons and South Park alike.
This post, like many others of mine, fails to have a point that I can match up in my brain, since my brain seems to have ADD when making valid points, but I think the gist of this rant was to say that we are all different, we all have things that we do differently. That does not make us bad. Or slow. Or Evil. It just makes us different. And as much as we are all the same, we are all different. So get over it.

Disconnected thought stuffs, and longing for a sundae

I would put these into some kind of story for you, but they're all mostly too random to connect, so here ya go.

Pineapple.

-On this next Saturday, I will be 25. One Quarter of a Century. That is all.

My hubby and eldest went shopping on the past weekend for birthday gifts. After an hour of being gone, they called to ask me what I wanted, them both being too self-absorbed to notice my not-so-subtle hints,( 'gee I'd really like an mp3 player for when I go to the gym', 'We should get a proper speatzle maker, maybe for X-mas?') So I repeated the hints, a mite disappointed to have the surprise ruined, the only thing I actually like about birthdays. When they got home, they both pestered me about opening my gifts straight-away, both lacking the patience. I have so far successfully declined, although when I went in my son's room today to get his laundry hamper, his gift was right out in the open. I will pretend to not have noticed, although my disappointment has ceased, since it was none of the things I had told them on the phone.

-My youngest has had a running fever for the past two days, nothing but the fever. Right before the tylenol kicks in  he is somewhat delirious, and the effect makes him very giggly and cuddly at the same time. He laughed at the cat coming into the room for ten minutes. He grasped faces and gave big sloppy kisses on my cheek(something he has just learned) then he puked down my shirt and laughed for another ten minutes. Helped along by daddy, of course. 

-My hubby's schedule has been changed, due to the fact that he is soo badass at his job, they're keeping him in town until after New year's so he can help train others of the relief persuasion. This means that the food bills go up, but my general stress level goes down. 

-Leslie Nielson died this weekend from Pneumonia, or complications thereof. I know a lot of people who will miss him, as he either directly influenced, or was copied by, a lot of the comedic actors I know. He was 84, so I hope he did at least most of what he wanted to do in life. 

-I watch more than my fair share of t.v., since even at the gym they have it blaring in my face, and lately I've gotten obssessed with "Man VS. Food" Which is basically a show about some guy who loves to eat so much he looks constantly on the brink of heart attack, but he visits some of the coolest restaurants in the states, so I can see why. 

The challenge he's doing is called the kitchen sink, which is 2 gallons of ice cream and toppings in a sink. yup. I couldn't find the video I wanted with the perfect sundae, but this one's just as, well, interesting. He does a lotr of challenges, and most of them make me never want to be hungry again, but I always come away craving chicken wings, or a fat and sexy sandwich, or pancakes.

A really, really bad apology, that doesn't really apologize in any way...

I know. I haven't written in a while. Lemme explain.

On Wednesday I tried to post a video of my youngest and hubby giggling like little school girls, but apparently it had not been filmed in the right definition, and I'm not techie smart in any way, so I don't know if you can even change that, and it kinda made me really mad, and random thing throw-y, and I ended up smacking myself in the head with a surprisingly resilient eraser, so I gave up.

Hubby came home from his first of four weeks out in Lloydminster on Thursday. Hence House had to be spotless to show him that indeed I was right, he was the main cause of all the mess in the house.

Friday was hubby's birthday, and so we did hubby birthday things, which strangely always includes shopping, which he always says he hates, but seems to take great pleasure in on his birthday.

Saturday I'm sure I had some excuse, but I don't remember it, so just remember I had some excuse, and it was probably awesome, and would have made you forgive everything I ever did, like that time I accidentally dropped your fish down the toilet, but I couldn't get him out with out sticking my hand in the toilet, and that's just gross, so I flushed him so he could be with fishy friends back in the river. No one wants a lonely toilet fish. But I digress.

Sunday was the football game. Well, actually, it was several football games, all day long, with some hockey thrown in just to be funny, but somewhere in the mash of sport viewing was the game that was actually meant to be watched.

And then yesterday, I got a really good post together, and then forgot about it, so now you're probably not going to see it until Thursday, which is okay, because I plan to add to it.

So there. I explained. And I actually don't give two, or even three shits what you think anyways, so this was basically an exercise in futility.

And I just found out that my name means blowjob on Urban dictionary.com. That's not Funny Urban dictionary!!
Can you sue a public forum website?

*sigh* Boys. surrounded by boys...

So, My Eldest went to our Local History Museum, The Western Development Museum, on a field trip with his class to learn about how school worked in the 'olden days'. They learned how the boys and girls had different doors they went in and out of, how punishments worked, and how houses were made and how long it took to make them. They Learned about hard work, and the long days they endured. And what my son got out of this?
Direct Quote.
" There was this outhouse! it was just a hole in the ground! and they didn't even have toilet paper! They just had to shake their bums to get the poo off or something. I wouldn't like living there, because it would get too smelly with poo on everyone."

Fantastic.

It's Sunday, Right? Kay...

As a tribute to Sundays, and the laziness that ensues, at least with the other members of my family, Here is a lazy post. Done entirely in Youtube!


I would've like to see this with the Police, since I can never understand what they're saying, but it's just as well. Plus, poo.





Take that Historians! For all you know, you don't know shit!





yes. I see. shun you say?





Did anyone else know that Kermit is Multilingual?






And Finally, Not having to do with Music at all, or poo, Here ya go.