temporarily me

whatcha doin'?

2007-05-01T10:33:00.000-04:00

Slow poke. Git yer arse over to the new spot.

Y'ain't (like it?) gonna find anything here. Not anymore. This is your LAST invite. You snooze, you lose.

get with the times, I've finally MOVED!!

2007-04-28T12:30:00.000-04:00

This will be my last post. Blogger and I just can't take anymore of each other. Frankly, I want more. I've called it quits.

After months of complications and re-learning everything about coding and designing, I've FINALLY got my shit together and I'm outta here!

There's still a few bumps, things are kinda messy since I haven't categorized everything... but it's all there, 'cept for some comments which were lost in the shuffle.. they've moved over, but have been lost in cyberspace on the way... all 1300 of them.. so if you have some idea how to help me recover them I will be forever indebted to you!

So you're officially invited - join me at .: temporarily me :. finally in my own domain!!

Update your feeds and get over there!!!

i'm just bitchy; these title things suck

2007-04-26T09:26:00.000-04:00

I am bitchy. Annoyed. Fed up.

I have no clothes. Well, not completely true because I am wearing something even though it slightly resembles rags. Tattered and worn out rags. At least you're not seeing my albino white ass walking down the road neked. That would be a sight.

As many other women, I am inflicted with Ihavenothingtowear Ihateallmyfuckinglclothes disease. Every morning is faced with utter hatred for my closet and dresser. Everything either doesn't fit, out of style (who am I kidding, what style did I ever have?), even worse.. so hideous it should be burned instead - whoever thought that men's polyester golf pants were cool should be shot. Wait, that's ME!. A paper bag would be more appealing then some of this shit that I've held on to.
I can't tell you how many shirts and pants I have hoarded away thinking that I'll be a size 9 again. Really? It's been almost 5 years since I've worn them, do I honestly think that they're going to be worn again? And even if I could wear them, they would probably be fit for the burn pile too! Gah!

I avoid change rooms like the plague; with those judgmental florescent lights and fun house-like mirrors (or is that just my ass?); it's enough to make me want to shatter that fuckin' mirror and slice my wrist with a shard of broken glass. (Too far?)
That just got me thinking. You know what the funniest job would be? To watch people try and squeeze their fat asses into tight pants through a one way mirror in a change room. Sick, but freakin' funny! Sign me up!

I delayed far too long. Me and my new "mombody" just have to get over it, bite the bullet and go shopping. Find something to tuck in the muffin top, strap the girls together and get my shit together.

Should be good times. I'm looking forward to it. Really. I am. Can't wait.

:::

Hey you working parents! Remember your first day back to work after the birth of a child (be it the first or the fourth)? Come tell us about it!

parenting from the sidelines never felt so good

2007-04-25T08:08:00.000-04:00

For the past three weeks Mike has been on course for workwhich means that he is up with us in the morning as opposed to out the door at 5:30am.
It's been GREAT for me! I sleep in (until 6am), have a leisurely shower, a chance to shave (if i want to. note to self: do it!), even get my make up and hair done; all without the whines of a toddler wanting a bottle and an ass change.
Since Mike's been on course he offered to take on the morning responsibilities of getting Carter ready as well as pick up and drop off (I think he did it so that he can drive the better car). I've been loving the "vacation" from my usually so hectic mornings. Mike, not so much.

From the day I returned to work and took on the responsibility of getting Carter up and ready as well as daycare pick up and drop off. Mike always had some dig:

What are you complaining about, it's not like it's hard...
You have to dress him, sit him at the table and then take him to daycare, how hard can it be?
You're always complaining about it, maybe if you were more organized...

For any parent that has a set time to get there shit together and get out of the house with a toddler in tow, you know what a feat this is.

Toddlers are one of the most unpredictable beings on the face of the earth. Forget the fuckin' wild animals. No lion, tiger, shark, or even a ChowChow has anything on a stubborn, tired and picky toddler. You have to watch your back with these little ankle biters; for one second they are happy and laughing ... then you utter words "Want breakfast?" all hell breaks loose and the kid loses his damn mind! I don't think Carter is dealing well with having choices. If you tell him what he's eating and tell him where to sit, he's better off.

Mike has this thing with liberating a 20 month old and letting him make his own decisions. What he wants to eat, where he wants to sit, what fuckin' spoon he wants to use! Granted it's a great plan, but not always necessary and more times then not, it's a hindrance.
After Mike goes through the list of choices of what colour spoon, what chair, what sippy cup the kids eyes are practically bugged out of his head, he's delusional with hunger and annoyed to his very core. It's a tailspin of utter chaos from that point on. The rest of their morning ends up with Carter crying and both of them frustrated.

Where am I? In the washroom, peacefully applying my make-up and smirking. I am so bad. He thinks it's so damn easy. Sucker!

Now instead of him telling me that he understands how hard it really is and that he won't assume how it easy it is anymore, you know, since he's been in the situation... he says that I don't do anything! Carter's crying, won't eat and all I do is ignore him without offering to help out. *sigh* Will I ever win?

Kids are temperamental and difficult, especially when they sense your frustration. It's a lose lose battle as far as I'm concerned. Just keep your cool and realize that children don't have concept of time.

See? Cool as a clam.

(Until I am back in the front line in 2 weeks.)

Let the vacation live on! I'm living this up as long as I can dammit!

shift work? I thought I was done with you.

2007-04-24T09:10:00.000-04:00

Don't you just love when you get a call last minute about having to work on the weekend? And to work through the night on the weekend? That's even better. I love those calls. Love. Them.

Piss. Piss. Piss. I have to work this weekend starting at 2am until 7am because that's the only time that we can get inside the subway tunnels (the trains aren't running and we have to be at track level), all to check and see if anything is different then it was before construction started adjacent to the tunnel. Very interesting work, yes. But at 2am? Nah.

Though this happens very rarely now, since I am more of a 7 - 4 (yes, not 9 - 5 - how'd I get screwed in that deal anyways?) worker, WITH WEEKENDS OFF, it really sucks when I get The Call. It throws off my entire weekend since Carter's usually bright eyed and ready to go as I am pulling in the driveway from a night's work. Only one thing was shitter then this; getting called into work when I was a teenager and a college student. Those were good times.

I think that's why I hate The Call so much. Remember how much of a damper it puts on plans with your friends? Everything's set and you're ready to get your drink on and all of a sudden, work needs you. Can't say no because you need the money so bad, right? Why with all that bar hopping and socialization, can't do it with no funds. Or worse? Having a scheduled shift the morning after some heavy partying; at 5am, pissed drunk, adamant that you're going to be up and ready to go at 8am.

During college I worked in retail, at a chain clothing store (clothing store chain?) for about 30 hrs a week - nearly full time since student loans were insufficient (read: not enough to support my partying ways as well as pay for school) my second year. It was a mediocre job, nothing to it and it was money in my pocket as well as a clothing discount - can't go wrong there.

To be honest, I can't believe I actually lasted as long as I did. I was probably one of the worst employees there (though I could sell you a paper bag if I tried). All the other kids were high school students and I was The College Student. I set a great example for those children, their parents should be proud.

If I came into work on a Saturday I was hungover more often then not, sometimes un-showered with too much perfume masking the stench of stale cigarette smoke, mascara smeared under my eyes and ratty hair hauled back into a messy bun. I. was. hot.
Sometimes getting to work was a small feat on it's own. They probably thought I was the worst cook ev-ah after I seemingly had food poisoning *wink, wink* about once a month. Those were actually the days that I spent most of the time visiting my porcelain friend. I can honestly say I don't miss that porcelain guy, since I've upgraded to cars and public washrooms.

To live that lifestyle today would be utter torture for me. Now? To stay up sober past 10 o'clock is challenging enough, throw a couple beers into the mix and I'm a complete write off. Good Times.

As parents how do you find the shift work treating you? Is it really as hard as it seems to be for me? Or am I a complete whimp?

call it what you want, I got nothin'

2007-04-23T09:07:00.000-04:00

What a gorgeous couple of days! Many hours spent basking in the beautiful sunshine, family, friends and an all around great weekend.

Tell me, how'd you spend your time?

We went to visit my parents. My mom turned "The big 5-0" on Saturday; our immediate family congregated for the weekend which was wonderful, since it's a rare occurrence. Though we all live relatively close to each other it seems like we are never together as a family anymore; guess that's what happens when you get older and have your own lives and families.

I can't even tell you the number of times someone ~~shield their eyes for fear of going blind~~ commented about my lily white ass legs, already. My meager attempt to give them some colour resulted in my first burn of the season. My skin can attest to the amount of time I spent taking in the rays. Oh. My. I. Am. Red. Like a lobster, so I've been told.
Stupid me thought that the sun can't be that bad since it is the first time it's been out in Oh, FOREVER! and chose to forgo the sunscreen. I was sorely mistaken. After 26 years years you'd think I'd understand that the sun can (and does) burn even the first time one sits out for the season.

But as this lobster-like shade of red begins to fade, you think I'll have a tan? Nope. Albino white again. Guess I should take what I can get. Can't blame me for trying, right?

:::

I've decided to start Weight Watchers again. Since my winter was spent indoors ~~doing nothing but sitting on my ass and binging on anything and everything like a fucking pig~~ I've gained back 10 of the 20 lbs I had lost last fall. So, back on the wagon I go. I wanna get this fatso ass of mine lookin' tight(er), so seeing my reflection doesn't result in gaging and convulsions anymore. My goal, to lose 20lbs by June is quite attainable, but will I succeed? I dunno. Depends on how many Dairy Queen ice creams I consume over the next couple month. Mmmmmm Dairy Queen.

Is it fair to blame it on having a kid? I mean sure, it definitely loosen things up and change your body composition... but can I still blame Carter after nearly two years?

Funny how one becomes so much more conscious of body image once the weather warms up and one if forced to wear less clothing. Hiding under sweaters and pants dose wonders for my self esteem, summer weather - not so much. The thought of getting into my bathing suit makes me want to sob into my pillow.

Not to mention, the sun shining off my glowing lilywhiteass body would be like the ultimate beacon to be seen at the Space Station. Maybe like that search light they use for the The Bat Signal. Seriously, I bet it could be done.

It takes skillz to pull off being this white. Don't be a hater.

:::

I just don't have any creative juices flowing lately. As hard as I am trying to form sentences and conjugate (I mis-spelled it the first time, and spell checker suggest copulate. tee-hee! Dirty spell checker.) something remotely worth reading it's damn hard sometimes, even harder when I'm not "in that frame of mind". I'm even getting bored by this trash I am spewing. My apologies.

:::

Come, pop by my new digs for a visit and a read. You know you wanna! We're up and ready, tell us what you think! I'm a lit-tle late with the invite, but it's an invite nonetheless.

summer is (almost) upon us! watch out for the albinos

2007-04-20T16:25:00.000-04:00

IT'S FRIIIIIIIIIIIDAY!

I don't think I've been this excited for a Friday since I was in school. When Friday signified two nights of freedom and two mornings of sleeping in. The weekend used to be a thing of glory. Nowadays, not as much. I still get up and I still have to work my ass off. Nothing different really, except I am with my family (awwwwww, right?).

The weather is absolutely fabulous! It's sunny (FINALLY - Mama Nature, you take this away one more time I may have to seriously fuck you up - more.), the birds are out, people are pleasant and I have an incredible urge to sit on my deck in my lounger with a nice ~~glass~~ (who am I kidding?) bottle of wine.

Deck weather is upon us friends! I am beyond excited.

Down fall? I noticed today as I had my arm out the window during my ~~long motherfuckingstupidass~~ commute home that I am paler then a mo-fo. Frig, Carter had more colour then me the minute he was freshly born (minus all the funk). *sigh*

I am forever Albino.

Fuck it. This summer I will NOT care if my white legs cause a shining glare requiring you to shield your eye for fear you may be blinded.

Should you be blinded, I don't give a rats ass. I can still see (sorta).

The other kinda-sorta down fall? My backyard is in serious need to some TLC. That's putting it mildly frankly. It's hideous and quite scary.

What are you doing to take in this wonderfully summer-ish day, and weekend for that matter?

Off to ~~drink on my deck~~ spend time with the family. See ya later!

Oh, and ...

Dear Femme d'ailleurs;

I let your comment slide about my "problems" requiring more then my use of anti-depressant medication, as well as a couple of your other off the cuff remarks I didn't pay any attention to, but in light of your recent response posted on yesterday's entry "This is the saddest thing I've read all day. Gimme a break!" I figured I may as well give you what, apparently, you're looking for.

I just wanted to say I believe the term is C'est la vie.

You don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. That's the reason I don't read your blog.

Hugs and kisses mon cheri.

wanted: BOB. maybe.

2007-04-19T08:20:00.000-04:00

For those of you that are a tad prudish or have more pride then I, divert your eyes. Close the page and walk away for what you will encounter in this post may cause you to be a little uncomfortable.

Despite what you may have read in the past. I have never divulged in the world of BOB's (Battery Operated Boyfriends). There's no explanation for it really, it's just not something that I've ever become interested in. I don't find it dirty or weird at all, and I've been known to venture into store carrying such paraphernalia, even purchasing something, just never something for me.

(I pray no one in my family is reading this. *waves* You've been warned. Heed the warning. Respect the warning.)

My sex life has always been very healthy. I haven't had a lot of partners, just ones that were as active as I, so lack of the sex (good sex) was never really a concern.

Until now.

Sure Mike is as horny as ever, but it seems to always be about him and his needs. Never mine. Getting to the goal is the main priority, nothing else. Lately it seems every encounter ends with him completely satisfied. And myself? Far. less. Which, in turn, has decreased my need for it entirely since I already know the outcome; plus I'm just about as satisfied sitting here at the computer, blogging. So horrible, I know. Don't judge.

Lately my thoughts have wondered to exploring the world of self-gratification. As odd as it sounds, I am not sure where to start, or how to start.

(That sounds even stupider written down then it does in my head.)

My self unconsciousness makes it harder for me to contemplate it because what if I get caught? Mike is not one for self gratification either, (weird, I know, I've asked about it a lot and it's just not something that he does either) and what if he caught me? Would he be upset that I was finding time to please myself while I constantly turn him down (since he needs it all. the. time.)?
It's not like privacy in our house is abundant either. I can't even have a moment in the washroom without someone barging in, be it Mike, Carter, the dog or the cat. I can just imagine being in the shower, pleasuring myself and Carter swings open the shower curtain (like he always does): Hi Mama!
I would be scarred for life, he's too young to remember, but I would.

(You're probably thinking: Just lock the damn door, idiot. But that's not so easy either since we never close doors, let alone lock doors. Mike would know something was up for sure.)

See, these are the fucked up things I consume myself with. Who cares really? Buy the damn thing and ask him to join in. That's what you're thinking, right? Well, knowing Mike he'd bitch about his arm getting tired or it's too much work. So I'd be right back here, where I am now, wondering what the hell I should do, for me.

I can just picture it. I go shopping for BOB, bring him home, whipping it out of the bag and saying: Honey look what I got today, it was on sale! As it jiggles back and forth in my hand, while Carter starts a screaming tantrum because I won't let him hold it.

(Can you believe that I just wrote this whole post sitting in my office?)

parenthood is like .... what?

2007-04-18T07:44:00.000-04:00

Even as a child, I knew I wanted children. I'd be a good parent, always there, always understanding, never judging. At eight years old I was helping out in the infant room of the daycare centre that we attended before and after school. I loved - and still do - love babies.
During the summer, between grades 7 and 8, I stayed with my aunt after the birth of her second, to help out. Though, I may have been more of a hindrance since I was at that age where I didn't comprehend how sacred nap time was; I wanted to play with the baby all. the. time. Now I understand how much more of a nuisance I may have, been then help.

When it came time in our lives to discuss having children many were surprised that I was the one putting on the brakes. I just wasn't ready; I was enjoying the selfish and busy lifestyle and thought of a child as a road block. I assumed that my career would bomb and I would be stuck in a dead end job if I became a parent; that I would miss out on many of the things that other people my age were so enjoying.
But one day it clicked. I was on a business trip to Virginia which had extended from 2 weeks to one month. Long distance phone calls to home every night brought back many of the memories of when Mike was working out of town (more like on the other side of the country) for 5 months and how were weren't enjoying this lifestyle anymore. It was time. Time to settle in, start a family and actually live together. I was definitely ready.

Now, as a parent, I wonder if I was truly ready. I am feeling that my career is at a stand still and that I am inevitably in a dead end job. There's really no need to feel that way, because really, my career is not in a stand still at all.
I love Carter with all my heart, I am so glad that he's here. So why do I find it so tedious to do bath time, to sit and watch the same shitty cartoons over and over, to play with him, to interact with him?
Last night I was ready to pack it in and walk away. Carter was miserable. His eye teeth are coming in; he was crying and whining from the second that he came in the door. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to take his clothes off, he didn't want a bath, he didn't want a diaper on, he didn't want to go to bed. Nothing was right. It took everything I had not to shake him and scream at him to SHUT UP!
I left him to cry in his crib for 15 minutes as I tried to relax while Mike just gave me that look of disapproval, as though I am a mess of a parent. I went back, took Carter from his crib and rocked him to sleep. I haven't done that since he was an infant. Why? Why haven't I done that? Am I the only one who can say I haven't rocked my child to sleep in over a year (and he's not even 2 yet)? Why do I feel so distant from my child lately, my own flesh and blood? For someone that has always loved children, I feel as though I've failed him.

My relationship with Mike is so different now with Carter in the picture. I heard that this happens, but I thought it won't happen to us, and wasn't prepared at all. Our relationship has somewhat turned into a business transaction. We work together to provide for our child, and lately, that's about it. There's no interaction after Carter's in bed. I do my thing and Mike does his; we talk for about 5 minutes before bed, roll to our respected sides, backs to each other, and say goodnight.

This can't be our life now! Can I survive another 30 years of this?

How could bringing another child into this type of relationship be healthy? How can raising the one we have be any good either? He may learn affection, love and happiness, but lately, it ain't from us, especially from me.

This site seems to mesh well with what I am feeling lately. Take a peek, leave a comment, peruse other mom's feelings! made me feel better already! I'm not alone! I'm. really. not. alone!

cops and robbers, but i don't fit the description

2007-04-16T15:29:00.000-04:00

As of late my work has brought me to a somewhat intimidating area of town; it's one of Toronto's poorest neighbourhoods. Poverty stricken, the streets are riddled with those that are homeless, ongoing illegal activities and some sketchy characters to put it mildly.

Sketchy, like the older gentleman that approached me the other day to let me know of the damages inside the shelter he's staying at (A Salvation Army shelter for men is adjacent to where I am working). As he shared his story of cracks and peeling paint (which I am actually looking for, just not a guided tour from the freaky old man), he smiles, baring his toothless grin before he turns to walk away, continuing his conversation - with himself.
Or the dear lady, tragically stuck in the 80's with her multi-coloured florescent ski jacket, dirty pink jogging pants and ratty un-kept hair, walking towards me. I noticed, but not enough to realize that she was walking STRAIGHT towards me. At the last second, she frantically hits herself across the face and turns 90 degrees to cross the road, all the while having a conversation - with herself.

I've been around here long enough to be a little more comfortable with the drunk and/or high men standing outside the men's shelter watching me while I fight the urge to yell at them: Take a picture, It'll last longer! I can handle the police presence and the inordinate amount of sirens on a daily basis.

Today was a little different.

I started on my way, doing my normal thing but kept getting distracted. More sirens then normal, more police cars too. Strange, but not completely unusual. Shortly after my co-worker arrived, a police car patrolled by rather slowly eying someone across the road from us; he then quickly drove across the road blocking the man's path with his cruiser.
Being the creeper (people watcher) that I am, I was loving this. A regular COPS episode right in front of me! Oh how I wished that the Tazer would come out as the officer approached the man asking him to drop his bag.
Assuming it was just another drug bust, we carried on our work. I kept peeking back, trying to see what was going on when the cop signaled us over. WTF!? I thought I was in shit for creeping.

Damn me being a creeper! Dammit straight to hell!

Apparently my co-worker fit the description of someone they were looking for - as did the man we assumed was being busted. The officer then called over back up. Back up?! What the fuck for? What the hell is going down, and what am I all of a sudden apart of!? Am I going to be Tazered?

After a brief questioning (Have I seen anything suspicious today? Um. Look around, what not suspicious?) from the H-O-T-T-E-S-T police officer I've ever seen (Talk about back up; he could back me up ANY DAY. I would have allowed a strip and cavity search (too far?) for sure; Yes, officer, you can cuff me. Please. And spank me too while you're at it. Harder! Harder! ) we were sent on our way. I was hoping that he'd keep us around a little longer (well, me), why do I always find guys in uniform so. damn. hot.?

Turns out, there were two bank robberies very close by this morning.

Who needs money, I got all the eye candy I needed today.

:::

I know I said I wouldn't whore myself out more, today I feel compelled to do so. (Everyone else is doing it, so I can too.) What can I say, I'm a whore for attention (and comments *ahem*). I am craving some (of both) today.

Vote for me!

You know you want to.

~~And just because I nominated myself doesn't mean I'm not worthy.~~

saturday night's alright for - nothing

2007-04-14T23:13:00.000-04:00

Saturday night and here I sit in peace, alone. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself, it's late, but I'm not tired. Mike's out with my brother and a friend. GNO (Guys Night Out) which is great for him. He needs it, and deserves it. I didn't put up a fight at all since I got to sleep in until 10am!! That's right bitches. Ten-o-freakin'-clock!

I completed a really fun design job today for the Impatient Blogger. She's so great, and really easy to work with. Pop by and say hi! ~~Tell her how beautiful her template is , and that you're now so utterly jealous that you have to hire me!~~

So, here I sit. Drinking beer alone. I haven't done this in a LONG time. Blogging and drinking, with nothing even remotely intelligent to talk about. (Maybe I should have waited until I finished a couple more bottles.)

Do you feel that it's bad for people to drink alone? I used to think that people definitely had a drinking problem if they sat alone and had a couple. Maybe it was my upbringing; drinking was only a social thing and never to be done alone. Now? Not so. I love to have a moment to myself, listen to the station I want to hear, sit here at the computer - with a brewskie in hand. Nothing says Awesome Saturday Night like that! ~~I am such a fucking loser. There's no excuse for me~~

What happened to me? I used to get depressed on Saturday nights that had no plans; there was ALWAYS something, anything to do. I would bar hop, go to house parties or just sit with friends as a local pub. But now? Now, I would trade a night out at the bar to sit here alone, in peace. Hands down. Really. I would (and do).

(Tonight didn't really count because someone had to stay home with the kid and it's GNO).

I'm such a hermit.

So, tell me. What did you do for your Saturday night?

Let me live vicariously through you.

OCD is like dinner theatre - well, not really

2007-04-12T13:16:00.000-04:00

As sit here waiting for my report to print, for the 4th time, I think about Why? Why does formatting have to be such a pet peeve of mine. If even one little thing is off, I break out in cold sweats and start shaking uncontrollably. I have to re-print. Proof reading and print preview cannot (and do not) help in determining if my margins are off because for some reason, they like to show them as though they are, then The Evil Troll of the PDF changes all that and I cringe at the sight of my botched up piece of shit report.

If I ever catch The Evil Troll of the PDF, he's a dead man. Dead.

Speaking of botched up formatting and my OCD-like tendencies.

I started working on a different product line last week. The guy that's been running the show (or 3 ringed circus, depends on how you look at it) has this thing with creating his own inconsistent formats and passing them off as "company standards". I can't even see straight when he tells me to correct Actual. PROPER. Formats. for his ass-smear child-like report. AND he acts all superior, like his rendition is God's gift to reports and formatting.

I could go on and on about how much this irritates the hell out of me. Gah!

Instead, I'll think about the wonderful dinner (at the Epicure Cafe) and show (at the Factory Theatre) that I'm going to with work friends ~~and other co-workers that I can politely ignore for the night~~. She be lots of fun!

Hopefully that damn Evil Troll of the PDF stays away, and his damn ring leader too.

queen of diversion

2007-04-11T07:46:00.000-04:00

Mornings in our house prove to be a challenge. As I hate getting up, and dear hubs is an early riser we constantly bicker over the fact that I am a notorious snoozer. The snooze button is my dealer; I am addicted. One any given day, I will hit snooze three times. THREE. TIMES. This drives Mike to the brink of insanity since the first one wakes him then he's up for the day; not to mention the fact I have it set for about a half hour before I have to get up.

Since he's on course for work until mid-May he's actually getting up at the same time as me, (instead of being out the door while I pound away on my snooze button), which definitely is a cause for more conflict in the mornings. For the past week we've been feuding over my addiction which as left me to one (sometimes two) hits of the button.
Today I was so sure I would try to get up at the first sound of the annoying - beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep, just to appease my ever-loving husband.

I didn't succeed.

After the first one, I tried so hard to get the next one before he stirred. As it went off I started hitting the headboard trying to turn off the alarm, to my dismay the damn thing wasn't turning off, at that point I realized: Dumbass, you're hitting the headboard. The clocks over there.

I got up and headed for a shower. Mike soon to follow. Bitter. Bitter as all hell. Like he's been everyday for the past week.

I will say, it's been nice that we can have a shower together in the mornings again though (with no interruptions). Today, may have been a different story.
I sluggishly climbed into the shower while Mike was cursing me from his perch (on the can). Why can't I just get up like a normal person? This fuckin' snooze button has to stop. I'm going to take away your alarm clock. Blah, blah, blah-fuckity-blah.
While he went on and on I persuaded myself to make an effort at some foreplay, this would all go away (for the time being) if I just did something - anything, to redirect his attention for the snooze button to .... his penis.
He joined me in the shower, still chattering on and on about the fucking snooze button, so I made my move. I slowly reached down and touched it. He looked at me - and. stopped. talking. HE STOPPED!! So I continued a bit, but (faster then I thought he would) he clued into my intentions and turned to get past me; a bit flustered he started to bring up the alarm clock. Again.

Then it happened.

He stepped on the edge of the shower curtain and fell, bringing down the entire shower curtain rod with him.

There I stood, stark naked, water trickling everywhere as he was bent over, ass in the air, bracing himself against the side of the tub, the shower curtain, in a bunged up mess on the bathroom floor.

My initial reaction was to point and laugh, but I held it together long enough to ensure that he wasn't hurt and to get the curtain rod in it's rightful place. Then I bust a gut laughing. Oh, did I laugh! Thankfully, he thought it was pretty fuckin' hilarious too. Though a little off target, I completed my mission.

The morning conversation was not that of my inability to get my ass out of bed anymore.

But that I tried to kill him in the shower by pushing him out of my way.

Sweet success.

reason 1, 567, 397 why I suck (or not)

2007-04-10T19:44:00.000-04:00

If it wasn't enough that I was sitting her admiring my blog this afternoon because I so enjoy my new design, I also felt compelled to nominate someone for the Blogger's Choice Awards. Yup. I nominated a little known blog, with a couple readers; a girl that tries her hardest even though she may not always be funny or witty. Some posts are long winded, others are almost as interesting as watching paint dry... then there are a couple that (I think) are good enough to make one pee their pants.

Yeah, loser here. I nominated myself. *shakes head* I didn't read all the rules nor did pay full attention to what I was doing and started filling everything in... for myself. To my defense... it does say at the top that you're allowed to nominate your own blog.

I'm a fucktard. I know. Seriously though. I admit it. I am a dirty dirty attention whore.

But if you'd be so obliged, you can vote for me too. I ain't postin' a link, I think I've whored myself out enough.

On the bright side.

Costco fucking rocks my socks.

We bought one of those FoodSaver vacuum thingies for all the bulk meat that we buy; because we're a couple of savages and stock up like it's going out of style. Well, the damn thing broke. It wouldn't suck anymore (Mike says it's like me, apparently I'm broken too - cuz I don't suck anymore).
We didn't have the box, let alone a receipt, so we were hesitant about taking it back. I figured they'd say: "No such luck. Idiots."

But then I remembered THIS. It's pretty much the funniest damn thing I've ever read. Go on, read it.

And low and behold they took it back. Costco gave us a brand new vacuum sucking thingy. So, all's right with the world now. Mike is so utterly gitty he's vacuum sealing just about anything he can find at the moment.

Maybe he can vaccum suck the fat outta mah ass fer me.

I'm so great, even I'm addicted

2007-04-10T14:01:00.000-04:00

I just love my new design. So much so, that I have been lurking on my own blog. (Is it really lurking, when I know I'm here?)

I'm such a friggin' loser it's not even funny.

I am a geek. With a capital 'G'. The G Unit.

*sigh*

preservatives = mouth breathers

2007-04-09T21:45:00.000-04:00

Carter's eating habits are the absolute shits lately. My anxiety levels have reached an all time high over the fact that he will not eat anything that's remotely healthy for him. He scoffs at anything that smells like a vegetable, gives The Royal Shove-off to meat - unless it is a breaded chunk of chicken-like-meat substance or pigs assholes. French fries - yes; baked potatoes - no. The kid will eat a plate of fuckin' ketchup with a side of margarine if I let him.

For the past three days he's consumed two chicken fingers (more ketchup then fingers since he likes to use the chicken as a dip stick to eat his ketchup), one 1" x 1" square of toast, a pancake dosed in margarine and syrup, and half a grape.
Considering all the crap he's been eating lately, I'm surprised he hasn't been shitting chucks of plastic or deformed chickens.

His father is partially to blame. Mike is a connoisseur of preservative laden "foods". He will eat just about anything that has been prepackaged and riddled with chemicals. Most nights he makes dinner, it consists of something that is premade, precooked and frozen. I'm definitely not knocking it (too much); I too enjoy a good TV dinner once and a while. But every night makes for smelly asses that just won't quit and a boulder-like blob in my stomach. *gag*

At the rate they're going, Carter's going to end up a mouth breathing, 100lbs three year old with the imprint of his ass developed into my couch cushions while him and his father take turns sharing the oxygen tank.

:::

I plan to answer more questions but I was a busy bee trying to get WordPress set up (Yes, I decided to make the change, though it's a bit down the road yet) and workin' on these new awesome digs; I'll get to more questions. Promise.

This is the post where I bare my family

2007-04-08T09:55:00.000-04:00

This is the post that also goes on and on because I haven't posted in a couple days and I actually have time to write. It's long winded. Suck it up.

Happy Easter!

Easter has never been a religious holiday for me. As a child I was not raised with religious beliefs; I have a vague idea of what Easter is about, much to my paternal grandparents dismay. Jesus, resurrection, a cross, blah, blah, blah... ask me to recite something from the bible and I will just give you a blank stare and change conversation topics rather steadfast.

To me, Easter is chocolate, bunnies, eggs and family. In that order.

The family, though we tend to be somewhat close, grates on my last nerve. My mom, bless her heart, is quite a character. She's overbearing, opinionated, protective... quite frankly. A nag. She means well, I know that; but there's only so much a person can handle and she is the epitome of Too. Much. I find myself compelled to ingest my entire bottle of anti-depressants to be tailed by the contents of my liquor cabinet (read: top of the fridge in the basement) in preparation for her arrival.
My step-dad has a heart of gold and the patience of a Saint (though he's an atheist), which play a HUGE part in his ability to tolerate my mom's ~~backseat driving, OCD-like cleaning habits, incessant need to state the obvious, constant bickering~~ unique characteristics.

I feel guilty that I don't have the patience that he has; patience like his are a true virtue in every sense of the word. I find myself constantly short with my mom; I can't help it. When she carries on and on I want to tell her to shut up, but resist the urge while I bite my tongue. As my thoughts drift to other things (like laundry, mopping, cleaning the soffits) I smile and nod as she carries on.

When people tell me I am like my mom I tend to retort rather quickly that I am nothing like her. Am I perceived to others as I see my mom? She's really not a bad person; she can be delightful at times, she caring and loving (to the point where it can be suffocating).

Until now, I haven't blogged much about my family. This is the first in-depth post really. It kinda makes me a little nervous and sweaty. I don't have anything to hide; it's just a part of my life that I don't really share, for their sakes. Many members of my family tend to have more pride then I, and are very much about keeping family issues just that: family issues.
But for me, this is a release. I keep everything bottled up until I explode and Mike, the poor bastard, must suffer the wrath of my continued embellishment of everything family that just irks me.

And since my pride is not that of my family members, I am not shy to share. It's nothing horrifically embarrassing or terribly tragic. Sorry.

:::

More answers to your questions:

These question works well in conjunction with my post: Suburban Oblivion wonders "Do you feel like you had a normal childhood?"

Is there such thing anymore? I don't even know what normal is.
My parents divorced when I was 2 years old, shortly after the birth of my younger brother. My mom raised as best she could while living off only the child support provided by my dad; $1000 a month; she returned to the work force when my brother and I started school.
She made a modest living and provided us with the necessities. She was always there for us. which was more important then anything money could ever buy. We had many happy times as children and I have quite a few fond memories. So, for the most part, I'd say yes. We had a "normal" childhood.

Emily asked me to expand on #49 of my 100 things: "I hadn't seen my aunt for 8 years and when I saw her this past February she was a complete bitch to me"

This is our family drama - for the maternal side of my family as the paternal side is especially secretive, I don't even know most of it.
It started in the mid-90's when my mom's Godmother passed away. She was a hearty woman, typical European elderly lady I've come to realize. The booming sound of her deep Hungarian voice always made me nervous; I'd shyly approach her only to have my cheeks pinched as though the skin was cleaved from my tiny skull. I don't remember much about her expect, her husband had passed away many years before I was born, she spent her winters in Florida and she was wealthy.
After she passed, her Last Will and Testament was burned by another family member (not a family member of mine) and her money was stolen. My mom spent years and all her savings trying to bring this person to justice; which she somewhat succeeded years later.
My mom had asked her sisters to help fund the attorney only to be told that this was her fight and they wanted no part of it; they only wanted information, with no risk.

My grandpa then passed away in 1998 of cancer. He was a strong and wonderfully bitter Hungarian man with tons of love for his family. Sadly, at the time of his passing our family was still at odds because of the conflict that was ensuing with this legal battle to bring those thieves to justice.
He had some requests before he passed; such that my grandma didn't move in with any of the three girls, he wanted her to retain her independence. He did not want his Last Rights read to him, and he wanted to go peacefully in the comfort of his own home. Unfortunately, none of these wishes were carried. My mom was livid that her father's dying wishes were not carried out; as much as she tried to fight for him, she lost. At that point all ties were cut. I was too young, and too self absorbed to realize the impact that this had caused.

Seven years later, February 2006, I went to see my Grandma who now lives with one of my aunts. Carter was born and I only thought it was fair for her to meet her first born great-grandchild. When I arrived, my aunt was there; she was cold, bitter and made snide remarks my entire visit, as if verbally abusing me would make her feel better about her conflict with my mother, because really, her rivalry is not with me at all. I haven't seen or heard from either of them since.

Keep those questions coming!!

there's a world outside your little bubble with answers to your questions

2007-04-04T18:59:00.000-04:00

I was born in the outskirts of Toronto where we lived for the first eight years of my life. It's fair to say that the City of Toronto is very much multicultural. There is no defined "culture" because it's really a confluence of the world's nations.

We moved to rural Ontario when I was eight years old. I remember the sense of culture shock, if you will, since it was vastly different then what I was used to. Children at that age don't like change and this was beyond the sense of the word. I was transplanted into a hill-billy redneck town with a population of about 5,000 people. There was one black family in the whole town. Nope, sorry two. Two black families.
I went from a school of every nationality to a school of white rednecks. The two black families didn't even have children that went to our new school. I made friends quickly and enjoyed my life in that town until I left at 18. Until the day I left, I couldn't get over the fact that nothing was open past 6pm as well as to that very day, there were still only two black families and an East Indian family that had come and gone.

Moving back to Toronto was a no-brainer for me. It was in my blood. I belong here. But upon returning I sadly noticed I had inherited much of the close mindedness that surrounded me for the better part of my adolescence. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I had subconsciously succumb to racial profiling. At first I didn't even realize I was doing it. Then it became more profound that I was bold enough to say something to a friend. Thankfully, a good friend because she corrected me, politely; but it was correction that I needed so much more then I realized. Taking a look back I really feel awful for some of the assumptions I was so quick to make and the judgments I passed without a second thought.

And you know what brought all this back? I went for lunch today at a quaint Vietnamese restaurant. As we sat down the waitress promptly removed the chopsticks and brought over a fork and knife. That's it. As I asked for the chopsticks back, I began to wonder if my request may have been "the one" and she would realize that she had profiled us as two uncultured white people who wouldn't have the faintest idea how to use chopsticks. (Wait. Did I just profile myself?)
Maybe I was the one to give her a wake up as my friend had done for me.

:::

So, yesterday I gave people the opportunity to ask me questions if they felt so inclined, and wouldn't you know, I got a few! So here ya go, I'll answer a couple everyday, but keep them coming!! We'll start off light, then get into the hard stuff... kinda like how I drink.

Why do you submit your blogs to sites you know are gonna shred them? from Suburban Oblivion

Well, to be fair. I don't know that they are going to shred it. They could think I am absolutely fantastic. I could be a blog favourite that they shout from the roof tops and the readers will come. I will be shot into Dooce-like fame and live happily ever after.
Besides that, I love a good spanking once and a while. Whips and chains preferably. Nasty.

Honestly, I had submitted my blog to those two sites about mid-summer '06 when I had started blogging, thinking that it would be fun. The anticipation was better then the climax, that's for sure.

Who does your hair? (GORGEOUS highlights!) from Suburban Oblivion

Well, thank you! I love it too! Funny you ask because it's the first time in about 4 YEARS since I've had my hair done professionally.
I tend to wear my hair up in messy buns everyday, I get my haircut about once a year too. I have been trying and trying to get better at it and do something about it more often - like a hair cut more regularly. A friend recommended a place near by, so I went and LOVE it! So, I'll be back there soon. I asked them to call me and tell me when to come back - so that I do it regularly.

Are you one of the Nirvana fans that believes Courtney Love really killed Kurt? From Jia

I sense a tone. Is there a tone? 'One of those people' type tone. Yes, I truly believe that Courtney drugged Kurt and shot him. I don't think I really have to expand on this because it's all over the internet, movies and books. Maybe I'm gullible, maybe not.
I do wonder though, with all these horrible allegations of murder would Courtney not sue for slander or something to stop people from saying these things? *If* I were guilty of committing such a heinous crime I wouldn't sue either, for fear that they may actually investigate and find something out. Having said that, if I were innocent and the media was saying that I killed someone I truly loved, I would fight to the death to clear my name and make sure it was known I had nothing to do with it.

i can't tell a lie

2007-04-03T19:24:00.000-04:00

As I sit here and read many blogs I think about miscellaneous things pertaining to that author. I wonder why she hates dogs? Does his family members read this blog? They can't be serious?!

Then I go about my day, not really giving it a second thought; which is too bad really. Maybe I should email and ask the questions that are randomly consuming me for minutes at a time. What if they think I'm a crazy person stalking them because I'm getting too personal. Meh.

But, the good news. Now's your chance to ask me whatever you like. Whatever? YES. What-evah! And I promise to answer truthfully. Maybe. Some.

And to start... Metro Mama had a couple (that I practically begged like a crazy for).

What is your favourite meal?
Simple. Spaghetti and meat sauce. Not meatballs though.. it has to be meat throughout. As a child, my Godparents would make spaghetti and meatballs; I couldn't get the whole ball in my mouth and I would be livid. Not sure why really, since a simple slice with a knife and it would be fixed, but I turned it into a huge deal which has stuck with me since.

What is the best concert you’ve ever been to?
I'd love to say Pearl Jam since they are my absolute F-A-V-O-U-R-I-T-E, but I really, really, really enjoyed a David Wilcox concert in a small town arena (like town of 4800 people, small). He played with Alannah Myles and Sass Jordan. Crappy concert, but I've never had so much fun.
My best friend (at the time) and I were big David Wilcox fans. That past summer had consisted of cruising around in her 1989 bright red Camero, singing every Wilcox song from her dad's *gasp* tape cassette. We found out about the concert from her parents and were dead set on going.
We got all dolled up; thinking we were the shit, headed off to this tiny ass venue; little did we know the local drunks would migrate to this concert instead of their regular bar stools at the town's only bar. We had to be two of the youngest people there but couldn't have cared less as we drank, sang and danced the entire night. Well, until it came to an abrupt end with my head between my legs, sharing my entire stomach contents with about 50 people as I leaned against a port-a-potty. *shudder* To this day I can't drink rye and ginger ale.

What is your earliest childhood memory?
I actually have quite a few from around the same time frame. I was 5 years old. We lived in a townhouse subdivision where we were bound by two major streets and train tracks. My brother and I were allowed to play anywhere that fell within those limits. We would ride around all day on our Big Wheels which had huge orange flags so we'd be visible to oncoming traffic since they rode so low to the ground. One day, I was so upset with my brother I pulled up along side him, grabbed my flag arching it right down to the ground; and released. The force left a hue welt on the side of his face and sent him home crying. I was able to ride from the wrath of my mother until dinner since we were rarely to be found during daylight hours. Something I wouldn't even consider letting my child do now.

If you could have cocktails with anyone in the world, dead or alive, who
would it be?
Kurt Cobain. Hands down. I would have a cocktail and he could have a cocktail of his drugs of choice. Does that count?

What is your favourite part of the male body and why?
The feature that I notice first on the male body is usually his mouth. I am a stickler for good teeth, you have to have good teeth. I love dark features. Dark hair, dark eyes...

But my favourite part would have to be a penis. Can't lie. I like penis. I hope I don't have to explain why.

There you have it.

If you're dying to ask me something. Anything. Post it in the comments or send me an email and I'll answer everything (Kinda. Sorta.).

best evah!

2007-04-02T20:01:00.000-04:00

When you've met "the one" you know. You just do. There's something about the way your heart skips a beat when you see them approach; the way you forget to breath when you hear their voice, and the way you ache to be near them when they're gone. You wonder if you'd survive a moment without them in your life. It's unmistakable the way they make you feel.

Though some times the light at the end of the tunnel seems bleak, that person can make you smile. You forget all your troubles with the tiniest gesture, a hug, one gentle kiss; everything that once seemed so profound is suddenly minuscule.
That person can, without even trying, brighten your day; make you feel alive, love life.

I've found that person. I (finally) married him two years ago today.

He's the person that I am at my utmost comfortable self with. Not a care in the world, because no matter how loud I burp, or fart, his looks of antipathy cannot disguise the utter adoration (or jealousy cuz I'm better at expelling gas then him).

After seven years together, we still laugh and love like it was the first time. Mike is my rock. He is my love, my one and only, my life. I love him like a fat kid loves cake.

Today while washing dishes together, Mike had a rather large knife in his hand and requested the dry towel I had hanging haphazardly over my shoulder; I leaned in for him to take it, but instead he just wiped the knife blade as the towel remained on my shoulder. I moved to avoid the shiny sharp edge that we strategically aimed towards my jugular.

He says: "Don't worry, I wasn't going to hurt you!"
To which I reply, "I know hon; just not keen to have a knife blade aimed at my throat."
Mike then retorts: "I'd strangle you before I'd stab you. That way I can watch your life be slowly drained away- kinda like you do to me every. damn. day."

See how thoughtful he is? *swoon* I'm so in love.

Happy Anniversary honeybear.

give it to her - HARD!

2007-03-31T20:02:00.000-04:00

Why is it that every conversation has to have some sexual innuendo?

Me: You clean out the box? referring to the cardboard box for recycling
Mike: Oh, I'll clean out your box alright!

Everything seems to become a sexual conversation at some point.

Me: What are we having for dinner? Legitimate question, right?
Mike: I don't know about me, but you're having a hot dog with mayonnaise.

Nothing is sacred. Always turns to sex. Always.

Me: Wanna watch a movie tonight?
Mike: What kind of movie? Can we watch it in bed?

I guess I can cope with the dirty talk. After all, I am still able to thwart any advances with one wonderful tactic.

:::

After the whole "cocktail playdate" shenanigans, I was none to pleased with Meredeth Vieria; so when I saw this clip I enjoyed it even more.

Give it to her Will! Beat her down!

For you, enjoy!

please pass the xanax

2007-03-31T15:28:00.000-04:00

We've all heard it before. Pet ownership can have many benefits for people, including reduction in stress. I believe it to be true, for the most part.

Greeting from my beautiful pit bull, Briggs; her tail wagging wholeheartedly, whipping the walls as she waits patiently (as possible) to smother us in kisses is a wonderful way to end a stressful day at work. Her warm kisses and gentle nuzzling are very much welcomed as we sit down together after evening chores are complete.
Life without pets is just not the same to me. The unconditional love, even on the bitchiest of days; their complete and udder lack for the ability to judge us bodes well on the days I decide to let Carter sit in front of the TV with a box of Corn Pops while I read USWeekly. (Don't judge. It's only happened ~~once~~ a couple times. )
Even Connor (the cat) has his affectionate moments, when he's not scared shitless of his own shadow; he will jump up on the desk for some belly rubs as I read blogs. After his futile attempts at suffocating me in my sleep with his fat ass, he curls up at the end of the bed at night. It's enough to make your heart melt.

Where am I going with this you wonder.

Were all the facts considered while conducting these studies? I don't think so because their judgments are slightly skewed considering the tremendous stress and anxiety I endure trying to take these animals to the vet.

Hunting down Connor has become a two day event in preparation for his yearly visit. The cat box comes out the night before so he can investigate. Check it out for traps and poison. After he's given it the all clear, he'll embark on the task of cramming his fat ass in. He'll turn, ever so slightly trying to keep even a whisker from touching the side of the box. Once his attempts are foiled by his fat ass, he slowly backs out of the crate and bolts like there's a chance I'm going to strap him in there and hang him as bait in front of cat hating rabid dogs.

The next morning, I walk around the house meowing like a cat, which sounds vaguely similar to the raccoon fight in my backyard last summer that woke me from a deep sleep; as I'm calling his name I'm cursing him to no end. Most times he will appear, maybe I sound like a cat in heat to him; I dunno. This cat is a boarder line circus freak. A pet store special. He's so inbred, he doesn't know his ass from his head most days. I love him so.
If all else fails, I can usually find him huddled in the farthest corner beneath the bed in the spare room. Nothing can coax that fat bastard out like a bowl of dry cat food shaken slightly in a metal bowl. He's then crammed into the cat carrier, ass first so he doesn't have to endure the ride trying to turn around. Thoughtful, I know.

The dog. She loves the vet. So much so as soon as we pull down his road she's bounding all over the back like her ass is on fire. Crying, panting and jumping at the window hoping that, just once, if she hits the glass at the right angle it will set her free. She bounces, whimpers and whines as we walk through the door, gasping for air since she's tugged her collar so tight, which doesn't phase her in the slightest, as she makes a bee line for the reception.

What's so bad about this you say? Well, throw in an 18 month old toddler who turns in to a blubbering mess because he wants to hold the carrier and the dog's leash; all the while getting into everything in sight. Carter's to the point where putting him in a stroller is like subjecting him to a straight jacket. (Which I've never thought about doing. Not even once.)

Where's his father? Sitting on his ass reading a fucking magazine.

As Briggs is trying to sniff the ass of the chocolate lab, Carter is running in behind the reception desk and the cat is shaking the shit out of the carrier. I see Mike out of the corner of my eye, reading this fuckin' magazine; not a care in the world. My lasers of death searing a hole through his temple don't even phase him. I politely (as possible) say. "Mike? A little help?" His gaze meets mine. "What? What do you need help with?"

Nothing asshole, just wanted you to critique my ability to balance awkwardly on one foot as the cat shakes the shit out of my arm, the dog pulls in the other direction, and I try to corral our child who's embarked on his own little journey.

Men. I wish life was always as simple as theirs.

it's a day for mental health; not enough, but it's a start

2007-03-30T11:56:00.000-04:00

Since returning from Maternity Leave I've been running off my feet on a daily basis. Before you get your panties in a knot, this is not a pitty post. I work for a living, that's my life, I accept it. But dammit, it's trying on good days.

Today is a day for me; a mental health day; though one day will not change my mental state, it's a start. Gawd knows, one day is not enough; more like a padded cell and a frontal lobotomy to fix this bitch.
Things have slowed at work as I am in the midst of changing positions and I decided that today, I would stay home. Alone. Do what I want for a change. And so far, I haven't done a damn thing. Sweet and utter bliss I tell you.

Carter and I got up at normal time, I shipped him off to daycare, and here I sit. I've taken a leisurely shower, taken time to apply my make-up, straightened my hair... all to sit here and blog. Do I give a damn? Nope. I haven't washed any dishes, I haven't cleaned anything. I am sitting here on my fat ass, eating a Twix and reading blogs that I've been so far behind on, and it feels great. You're so damn jealous right now; your jealous envy is oozing through my computer screen. Don't hate the player, hate the game, beotches.

And with that, I leave you with this.

What Every Girl Should Know

introvertive thinking

2007-03-29T18:45:00.000-04:00

Spring. That time of year where we anticipate new beginnings, a fresh start, a clean slate. The days are longer, everyone's (relatively) happier that the cold, dreary days of winter are behind us; and there are signs of life trickling into the streets again.

It's also, I find, a time to reflect on myself. I always find that spring brings me to where I dredge up old memories of past loves and friendships that have gone awry. It happens every spring; I seem to cogitate past relationships, friends that I've grown from.

Do aspects of new friendship emulate past ones? What could I have done differently? Have I changed in how I perceive my friendships? What is so different about Mike that made him the one?

Am I sad to see old friendship fall apart? Yes. Absolutely. Most of them. But I can say that I've grown from it; and looking back at some of them, I realize that they should have fell apart long before they actually did. Some boyfriends that I thought were the one, definitely were not; some that I didn't give much thought to and were just for fun *wink, wink* at the time, just may have been.

I received a wedding announcement the other day from a person that was a big part of my life through elementary school. We were absolutely inseparable; considered ourselves sisters. But throughout the years, we drifted. We had different friends in high school and in our final years, didn't even talk to each other anymore. Sad. But life. I haven't spoken to her in about five years. I heard through a mutual friend that she was getting married. I was happy for her, but not like you should be for a girlfriend.
When I saw that marriage announcement I felt worse about how everything had ended between us. She looks great, physically. But there's something about her face. She looks lost, miserable, changed. Neither of them are smiling and it's a dreary December day. I hope she's happier then the image reflects. But will I ever know? Probably not.

It the worst feeling when you just fall out of friendship with someone. It's not provoked. No fight, no mutual decision not to be friends. Conversations dwindle to the point where they are not your "go to" person anymore and then eventually, you don't talk at all. You don't even realize it's happened until the friendship is so far gone you're not sure where to pick it up again, or if you should even try.

Life is funny that way.

following the leader, the leader..

2007-03-29T12:12:00.000-04:00

I did it too. For shits and giggles.

I'm at work, on lunch and wanted to kill some time. Apparently, I'm awesomer then I thought! Who knew?

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

:::

Like the new template? I'm trying out new things, so if you have a suggestion or a comment, please speak up!

Also, check out temptation designs There's great deals to be had for Blogger designs for the month of April!!

boobies, clowns and bitch slaps

2007-03-27T20:23:00.000-04:00

I'd like to thank the ladies that never warned me about the effects of child birth on your ta-tas; thanks. Had I known, that once giving birth and nursing was complete, I would be left with these hideous boobs that look like oranges hangin' out in tube socks... I would have considered saving money for a boob job prior to getting knocked up; then I'd have new boobs already and not these.
Nevertheless, keeping these puppies ~~rolled up and tucked away~~ in a bra has been fun, they tend to have a mind of their own. Every time I bend over to do something they seem to migrate out the top of my bra requiring me to be constantly adjusting. I play with myself almost as much as a man touches his dick!
I've tried just about every bra on the market. Different sizes, different straps, different everything.

What haven't I tried?

New boobs!

Please, send money.

The only thing that I am even more tired of seeing(besides my saggingorangeinsockboobs)?

Man boobs.

The weather is getting warmer, t-shirts tighter, and the MAN boobs are coming out *cringe* I think I saw about four men with boob big enough I could cup one in both my hands. I'm talkin' full on boobs here!

Speaking of boobs.
Anna Nicole Smith? Accidental Overdose? Dude, am I the only one that saw THIS?

I got bitch slapped.

kung fu on your arse

2007-03-26T10:35:00.000-04:00

Ever feel like just kicking someone in the throat because? I've been having one of those ~~months~~ days. No one in particular. Just everyone. Watch out, I'll mess you up muthafucka!

It's not you. It's me.

Every time someone asks me a question, I wanna ram my pen up their ass.

If they so much as question something I am working on, or finished, I feel like slamming their head on the table, then kneeing them in the throat and kicking them repeatedly as they stare up at me with tear stained cheeks and beg me to stop.
Every time Mike asks me what's for dinner? I want to shove his head in the stove after I've ripped it from his body with the help of a spoon.

I want to stand on my desk and scream at everyone.

"FUCK YOU!!! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

Am I PMSing? Nah. Not this week. Just in a generally bitchy mood.

Gimme some chocolate - me love you long time...
Or you can go fuck yourself too.

Real Moms

2007-03-24T17:07:00.000-04:00

Fashionably late to a party, I like to make an entrance *ahem*

I was memed again by Haley, finally the Real Mom meme!

Real Moms Have Fun at Their Child's Expense

What good are children if you can't have fun at their expense?

Like letting them try and maneuver under the coffee table

Dressing them like an Oompa Loompa

Shoving them in flower pots
The latest trick - putting tape all over him and watch him try to get free.

When I am an old lady and in need of diaper changes and someone to wipe food off my face, Karma is going to get me - BAD.

So, I think I'm one of the last ones... I tag everyone else!

never wake a sleeping beast

2007-03-24T12:35:00.000-04:00

Exhaustion has sent in. I think I've actually overextended myself to the point where my body has decided to defy my requests to function.

Yesterday at work I was overcome with dizziness and couldn't stop yawning; I pushed through the entire day only to crash on the floor at 8pm after bingeing on enough Swiss Chalet to actually be overwhelmed with the desire to purge everything (it's a run-on and I like it that way). Yes, I crashed on the floor since Mike had staked his claim to the couch as he does every (Friday) night.
I was able to overlook his selfishness, as he let me sleep until 9:30 this morning! Glorious 9:30. I was in heaven. I haven't slept for 13.5 consecutive hours in nearly 3 years. What an absolute blessing that was; and I'm ready to head back to bed for a nap right now.

I utterly love sleep. I crave it all the time. I think about it incessantly. Disturbing me from my peaceful slumber is considered worthy of death by incessant nagging and bitching for the remainder of the day. Ask my husband. I am not someone that can force out of bed, against my will, then function in a pleasant and peaceful manner.

And for that reason, I don't know why I had a child; I knew that once it arrived I would be forced to forgo sleep as well as be awaken forcefully by a little being who would inevitably wake with the rising of the sun.
Who I was kidding when I actually thought that Carter would play peacefully in his crib until I was ready to get up and face the day? Once he's awake, it's for good. If I attempt to catch a few more minutes of sleep, it's disturbed by the crib banging against the wall as he jumps up and down screaming "Maaaaaaa!".

Yesterday morning, as I fought off utter exhaustion, I was awaken in regular fashion. Shrills and screams. I dragged my ass into his room, with bottle in hand. While rubbing sleep from my half open eyes I cursed him for being an early riser, like his father. I walked into the room to see him holding the baby monitor to his mouth and screaming "Maaaaaaaa!" (We haven't used that thing as a monitor in ages; it's a globe that also lights up so we use it for a night light).

He smiled as he diverted his gaze from the glowing globe, which had fallen to the ground, and said, "Hi Ma-ma!" with arms outstretched.

He doesn't get his morning charm from me, that's for sure; but it's enough to transform me from an utterly hateful bitch into just a regular catty bitch.

how to: for the ladies

2007-03-22T17:36:00.000-04:00

It's a PSA if you will. Girls, I've got a great, yet absolutely disturbing, way to get your man to stop, momentarily, begging for sex. I don't know how we got on the topic, but it works. It really works!

I warned you, it's a little disturbing.

Mention something pertaining to his arse-hole. Really! Sick, I know; but it works.

Mike has been constantly bombarding me with requests for sex. Lately, I just haven't been in the mood - less then normal; I have a feeling it has to do with my medication lowering my libido. Every night when he gets home from work it's the same old story. Not How was your day honey? Not You look pretty. It's ALWAYS, Wanna have sex? And I can't stand it; nothing puts me in a shittier mood the that. I can understand that my hottest is decidedly overwhelming, but it's a little ridiculous.

We were having a conversation one night and it came to "going down south", as it usually does since that's all he thinks about; and no, I don't mean Florida. Being that I am so lady like and never say or do anything offensive or vulgar *cough, cough* I blurted out about licking his ass crack.
I have NEVER seen a man so turned off. Child birth had nothing on this. Nothing. The look was positively priceless. Oh, like he's never thought something so horrendous before. Please.

So, now, my escape from sex? Talk about licking out his ass crack. He stops dead in his tracks and turns away. Every. single. time. Seriously girls. This is paramount!
Now, just picture it; if you're actually more womanly and proper then me, and your husband isn't a total freak in bed this will work magic. Absolute magic.

(I can't believe I posted this. God, I pray that no one in my family EVER finds this blog.)

P.S. The house of shits and pukes are not quite in the clear yet. Carter was sent home because of two diarrheas today and I haven't been feeling shit hot lately either. Oh, I hope this passes. I can't stand the thought of more vomit.

in a blurry state of nausea

2007-03-20T19:01:00.000-04:00

number of sickies: one toddler
days without shower: 2
puddles of vile disgusting vomit to clean: 5+
number of horrid overflowing diarrhea diapers: 3
nights without sleep: 3

the opportunity to lie and cuddle my toddler while watching him sleep blissfully : PRICELESS

We've made it over the hump (I think). Carter was at daycare today and wasn't sent home, so that was a bonus. He's been more or less himself, with exception for a HUGE absolutely vile diarrhea shit that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
I was debating skipping bath time tonight, since Mike was coming home late; frankly, I don't enjoy bath time. It's something that Mike does really well and I tend to pass on it when he's not here, unless it's necessary.

But Carter had other plans. No need to share (more) of the gore-ish details, I'm sure many have been there before.

But. it. was. not. pleasant. I think I need to bleach the entire bathroom.

Bad news. I've started to feel a little queasy since dinner. I hope it was my cooking and nothing else.

Off to wallow in my self pity for the night in front of the tube.

Oh, before I go.

Excuse Me Mister,
I can understand the desire to be clean and freshly shaved (trust me, I crave that as well). I can even understand being in a hurry and not wanting to waste another precious moment; but please, while you're shaving the back of your hairy neck on the highway during hush hour, please don't dump your electric razor holding cartridge as I drive behind you. Once, okay maybe. But three times? If I see you again, I will ram the back of your car while you're shaving your jugular.

Sincerely,
Yours Truly

(Gosh, everything I've been writing lately makes my stomach turn)

rejection of the most disgusting kind

2007-03-19T10:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Jay-seus, someone help me through this day.

I am not disgusted by too many things, but wookies and vomit are my vices. I'd rather lick the side of my toilet bowl then deal with either of them. That might be an over exaggeration, but it's not far from the truth. I didn't think there was truly anything worse then seeing someone throw up. But there is. Oh, is there ever. A toddler that just doesn't know what to do when they barf.

Carter has his first real stomach bug. Bastard stomach bug has finally reached our house. Thanks for nothing! Last night while visiting my parents Carter was running and playing, chasing their dog then stopped dead in his tracks. and. puked. Projectile vomit everywhere. I froze. I couldn't react (or didn't want to), I just turned and walked away; Mike ended up having to clean him while my dad cleaned the floor.
Poor kid was scared shitless since he had no idea what was happening to him, and all I could picture was that scene from Big Daddy when "Frankenstein" was doing the Kangaroo Dance and pukes everywhere. My initial reaction was the same as "Sonny's" - cover the puke with newspaper and walk away. I so could have done that.

After three expulsions of fluids and dinner, I figured that we may have overstayed our welcome and headed home.

This morning has been more of the same. Except I have to take care of it all by myself. *gag* Thinking that he may be a little better I gave him a bottle when he woke. That lasted all of 45 minutes before it was all over me and the blanket we had to protect the couch as we cuddled. Fucking sick. Oh so fuckin' gross. I started to gag as I rushed him to the kitchen ceramic floor. All I could think about was myself, how horrible of a mother am I? Just don't get more on me, please, don't. get. more. on. me.
Breakfast consisted of the norm - crackers and water because that's all I ever give my child. But those came back up too. Then another time... after a bath he's in bed. Hopefully for a LONG time; just sleep it off.

I can't stomach anything now from the lurking aroma of vomit. I've laid down the newspaper to soak up it up until Mike comes home, and have candles going in ever corner of the house but they have yet to de-funk the odour. I wanna curl up in the fetal position and hide. I don't want to do this anymore!

And to top it all off, I smell like something the neighbours cat (because mine's a chicken shit) puked up since I can't have a shower yet as they're working on my crack(ed) pipe. FUCK! Make. this. day. end!

crack(ed) pipe

2007-03-18T11:41:00.000-04:00

What is it about house ownership that is so fantastic? Why is it that when someone doesn't own their house they're somewhat looked down upon? Pffft. You don't OWN your house? Tell me. What is so fuckin' great about ownership? You get to deal with mould in the basement, the yard needing a new fence, the diveway (yes, that was intentional) needing to be replaced. What's so wonderful about that? And to top it all off we have to be responsible for taking out the trash, shoveling the driveway, cutting the grass and doing something about the gawd awful "garden" that was as overgrown as ... well, my nether regions I've been meaning to trim up, when I have a moment...

So, tell me, what do you love SOOO much about the fact that you own your house, because truthfully, I can't think of a damn thing.

This morning after Carter's bath I went to the basement to be greeted by a huge puddle on the carpet and a sagging ceiling tile that is threatening to explode revolting bathwater as soon as it's touched.

Fucking great.

A fitting is cracked on a pipe, which is not a HUGE deal, just a royal pain in the ass. Hopefully it's a small job and just a couple ceiling tiles will need replacing.

Couldn't Mike do it? You ask. Well, Mike is about as handy with household stuff as he is a programming computers. Did I mention that he was able to erase an ENTIRE hard drive and not know what he did? Yeah. Handy. But give him a piece of heavy equipment - a crane, a drill rig, or a loader - then he can actually accomplish something besides destructing it.

Thank God for the fact that we have a contractor friend who is on the way over because, dammit, I wanna have a shower. I think I smell like something the cat dragged in (not mine though, he's such a damn chicken shit).

pass the wad please

2007-03-17T16:11:00.000-04:00

While I was getting hot today I was ~~deep in thought~~ half asleep, practically dozing when the stylist opened her drawer to pull out a brush. I haphazardly glance in the drawer and saw a round brush full of hair. I don't typically find this disturbing when it's my own hair, but a brush of someone else's hair? Absolutely grotesque.

Thoughts about brushes moving from head to head without the clump of nastiness removed slowly crept into my mind; which then led to thoughts of hair in the drain. A wave of hottest swept over me, I started sweating just thinking about that brush touching me. I prayed that she wasn't planning to use it because I didn't know how to express, Can you please remove that fuckin' disgusting rats nest of wadded hair before touching me with that? Lucky for me (and her) she didn't use it; though if she was going to, I bet she would have removed the hair. I'll give her that much.

Is there such thing as a phobia of wads of hair? Specifically wet wads of hair? If there is, I may have it.

Wad, that's a loathsome word. Ugh.

supah star! that's me

2007-03-17T14:26:00.000-04:00

I had my hair makeover this morning. I am so in love. She did an absolute fabulous job reading my mind considering my brain and mouth were not functioning in sync this morning. I knew exactly what I wanted, but the ability to put the words into a complete coherent sentences escaped me. But chicka got it! She really got it! (Note the exclamation points. I am truly that happy with the outcome!)

My skills for take pictures in my ~~dirty ass~~ bathroom mirror are so tremendously amazing. I know you're jealous, but don't be a hater. And don't mock the stupid ass look on my face either; bitches.

I got mad skillz, I know. It's difficult to tell, but I have platinum blonde highlights and dark mahogany lowlights, mixed with my ~~natural~~ other colour. I got the whole bottom the dark mahogany.

I am the hottest mama on the block.

The fact that we live in a subdivision of old geezers doesn't matter. I. am. hawt.

I'd almost go as far as saying I was a MILF.

Hey, I said Almost.

i asked for it

2007-03-16T08:32:00.000-04:00

I haven't always been one to follow the crowd, but it seems over the years I have lost my edge and am now *ahem* mainstream; I'm not very unique (less you count the constant burping and my endless sarcasm, not to mention my ability to be as crass as any man). I don't dress to impress, or have a style of my own, or any style at all for that matter. Boring some would call me.

And I was called out.

I had signed up for a blog review back in the earlier days of blogging. (Okay, it was Monday, who's counting really?) When I thought that I might actually get some constructive criticism or *gasp* they would love me, and I would rocket through the blog world into super stardom and I. Would. Be. Someone. Special. The flocks of bloggers would come and I would be unconditionally loved by all. A blog celebrity if you will.

What? That's not the reason you blog?

Well, I was sorely mistaken. I have been unrelentingly labeled a 'mommy blogger' I didn't think I blogged that much about my kid. Frankly, he's boring and not worthy of my blog, but I digress, lately I have had a couple entires about Carter. I've been having emotionally difficult days dealing with his inability to cope with the fact that he's growing up and had to move to the toddler room. Big deal.

To be honest, I was disappointed by my 'review', being labeled a boring ass mommy blogger, and most of the review bitching about my broken header in my template. Good thing I didn't have to pay for it. So, my designs suck too. Good. That was my goal.
Oh, but it was mentioned that I have decent taste in music - except for Hinder, which was compared to a can of Spam - fine by me too because I actually agree; since it was song that I was listening to at the moment; and it was part of a tag. No biggie.

So the gist of it. I am a motherfuckin' boring ass mommy blogger with an alright taste in music and my designs suck ass.

Meh. Nothing I didn't know already. I was really hoping for a kick to the crotch and bloody lip; or at least a short bus and a flaming finger. Bitches.

Off to watch this week's ANTM and laugh at the poor girls lives come to an end as they receive shitty makeovers. I can pity them instead of myself.

Must go cry in my wine now.

Edited to add:

Please, don't think that I've lost sleep over this review. I was a bit disheartened for about an hour as I cursed them and cried in my pillow, but I've since gotten over it.

Cheers!

I have a crisis and a tag too!

2007-03-14T20:47:00.000-04:00

The tag; Haley-O got me again! I swear, she sends every tag my way because she knows I'll do it. It's a musical tag so I like it. I like it a lot.

This is the deal:

Instructions: “List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Post these instructions in your MySpace / Blogger / Wordpad / Squarespace (or whatever it is you use) along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to. Include your sender as a non-tag.”

1. Old Apartment - Barenaked Ladies (here) It's old, I know, but I've been listening to it, yo!

2. Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (here)

3. This Ain't a Scene - Fall Out Boy (here)

4. I Wanna Love You - Akon ft. Snoop Dogg (here)

5. Sweet Escape - Gwen Stefani (here)

6. Lips of an Angel - Hinder (here)

7. Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol (here)

I tag Mia (because I know she'd lauv it) and Slacker Mom (cuz she might actually do it.) I (sadly) don't have seven people to tag because most of the people in my bloglines ~~are stalked~~ don't know I exist.

:::

Now, my crisis.

It's been exactly 1 month and 3 days since Carter's move to the toddler room. The transition for the infant room I assumed would have been easier then the initial Holy shit, mom's leaving me alone at daycare all day stage when he first started.

But I was wrong.

He did wonderfully when the infant room teacher brought him over to the toddler room during the transition period; when it came to me physically dropping him off in that classroom he freaked. Everyday he cries. Wails actually. Bloody murder. Like I've unsuspectingly sold him to Brangelina's ever growing brute of adopted children. He reaches for me and attempts to claw his way out of the arms of his wonderfully patient teacher.
I say good bye quickly and tell him I will be back.

Then turn away from him, and walk away.

I walk away from my screaming baby.

Every.

Single.

Morning.

For 1 month and 3 days and counting. *sigh*

Since the first day in this new room he's become even more attached to his blanket and soother. I've decided that it's not a battle I want to fight right now. If they make him feel more comfortable, then I will leave them with him. (He does relinquish them to the teachers soon after I've gone.) But I have begun to wonder where I may have failed along the way. What (if anything) did I do to encourage this behaviour? What can I do to encourage him to accept being dropped off in the morning?
He's fine minutes after I've left, but it's HARD to start every single day like this. Emotionally draining - to the extreme.

Any ideas? Encouragement? Anything?

Spring Break fever

2007-03-13T20:25:00.000-04:00

It's spring break this week. Doesn't really mean much to me now as I have to work through it except that traffic is so much lighter; but I can remember just how great it was when I was in school.
March break was the identifier that winter was in fact coming to an end. The sun would shine, the temperature would rise ever so slightly and we'd find any excuse to get outside in a t-shirt. Ah, summer was finally on it's way.

We were never a traveling family. Never once, as a child, did we leave the comfort of our house for a break down South in the sun as a family. My mom worked hard and wasn't able to take us away for a vacation, which I completely understand now, but didn't at the time.
I remember the jealousy when a friend would share their family plans for spring break. Why don't we EVER do anything like that? I would think, and some times voices my selfish concerns to my mother. As if she didn't have enough to worry about - like getting dinner on the table, or having a mortgage payment. As a self-indulgent teen, I would make her feel like whatever she did just wasn't good enough because we weren't lying on a beach somewhere. I ~~was~~ am such a bitch. I know.

Then my prayers were answered (and maybe my mom's as well). Grade 9, a classmate whom I had been friends with since we were eight years old; inseparable at the time, invited my on her family trip to Florida for the March Break. I was in heaven! So excited that I would finally live the dream of March Break in the sandy beaches of Florida with friends and no family! A dream of a life time for a 15 year old.

Then, reality hit.

We drove down in her family's mini van. Four adults (since her parents friends came along) and 3 teenage girls sharing the back bench of the van. Little to no room, and we're drove straight through so that our week is not wasted just traveling. 23 hours trapped in a vehicle with her whole family and her parent's friends. Torture. The shrills of laughter, the constant bickering between sisters, the whining and complaining (by all three of us). Good. Times.
Upon arrival we were so excited to get in our bathing suits and head to the beach. There was not a soul in sight as it was a mere 7C (45F) and near dusk. It was as though we were released from confinement and free to soak in the world. Alas! Freedom!

The week was dreary and cool for the most part, the last two days were the only ones we had sun and warmth. Because of that, we had to make up for lost time in the sun. It would be devastating to have to return to school without a suntan after our getaway. So, we opted to skip out on the suntan lotion and use straight baby oil. Hardcore, I know.

Had I realized the effects of baby oil in the sun, I may have deliberated a little longer before abstaining from the sun lotion. After about 4 hours, I think the first epidermal layer had bubbled and detached itself from the rest of my body. That thin layer was what remained between an oozing liquid and a fresh clean and yet painfully unprepared layer of skin awaiting exposure.

The good point. This was at the end of the trip.

The bad. I had to endure a 23 hour car ride, squished in the back of a minivan between feuding sisters also in a similar predicament as myself.

Bad part, part two. It was that trip I realized my inability to tan. I am fair skinned and do not tan. I burn and then turn back to white. All. That. Effort. For. Nothing.

Who says you have to go away for Spring Break to be popular? So overrated if you ask me.

remember, don't shake the baby!

2007-03-12T19:44:00.000-04:00

When we moved here I found it difficult to cope. I was closer to family, but I had no friends within an hours drive. That can be really hard sometimes when you just need someone other then family and your spouse.
There are things you can't necessarily talk about with family and husbands expecting that they'd find the humour in it like a girlfriend might - like how your boobs have magically transformed into tennis balls inside pantyhose since having a child. See.. I don't think my dad and I could laugh about that over a beer together. Not cool.

So, a good friend, who I have now affectionately given the name MarthafreakinStewart, moved closer. She's now situated herself as the halfway point between me and another good friend. Perfect for us. Not so much for the husbands.
We've been having GNO (girl's night out) much more often since her move; the latest being this past Friday when the three of us were able to get together (for the second time in about 3 weeks). During this ~~bitchfest~~ ~~wine night~~ get together, she reminded me of a story she'd shared at a previous GNO; a late night telephone call to Telehealth.
You know, those calls, when you've just arrived home after giving birth, things just don't seem right and you have a compulsion to ask questions about anything and everything that just may seem off? She had a legitimate reason to call.. her son hadn't pooped in as many days as he was old.
So, she calls Telehealth. They go through the spell of questions which leads to the same conclusion every time. Go to the emergency room; cuz that's not going to freak the shit out of a new mom.

At the end of the call the nurse very calmly says, "Now remember. Don't shake the baby."

This is a very real danger, shaking the baby; but for some reason we thought this comment was the funniest thing ever! To this day, when one of us pissed off about something we always remind each other; "Now, don't shake the baby."

Only ~~drunk~~ moms I tell ya.

I highly doubt that others could ever see the humour in a comment like that.

Or it's just me?

comfort zones are for wimps

2007-03-11T15:36:00.000-04:00

I've always been one to try and stay within my comfort zone. I rarely step out to meet the world with a clear vision, and an open mind; I very much stick to what I know. It keeps me relaxed, complacent and stress free.
My boss is the type of personality that insists on challenging people to get outside that box and try something that one may not be typically very comfortable with, or very good at. That's why I am doing this. I'm not particularly uncomfortable with the writing part; it's the public speaking that makes me want to crap my pants.

As of late I have found myself slowly moving to the outer realm of that zone. I have been trying some new things; food, activities and blog designing being pretty much the bulk of it and I'd say I am pretty happy with my progress to date.

Until today.

I decided to make the leap to Wordpress. I've bought my domain, hosting and set up the basic template, etc. I fixed all my settings and got everything together and that is where things get hairy. I then messed up my FTP somehow and now I'm in the midst of resetting everything after about 2.5hours of working on it. So aggravating!
I want to work on getting one of my templates in Wordpress as well, I just don't know quite where to start and it's pissing me off. Have I ever mentioned that I have little to no patience? I want this just to be done and get blogging there.

I'll be around for a while at Blogger, until I get my act together... so don't rush to change any bookmarks or anything, this could take a while.

state of consciousness

2007-03-09T18:25:00.000-05:00

It's been one of those weeks; you know the one. Where you feel even though you've tried to make yourself noticed, you're a complete wall flower. Where every good deed has gone unnoticed and you've shrunk into the background of your own life.

I started blogging for myself; having a captive audience is not what keeps me blogging or got me started in the first place. Even though it's great to hear from people I have to realize that, like myself, life does get in the way of reading and commenting... but it's hard to avoid the thoughts of;
"Do people like me?"
"Am I funny?"
"Is anyone even reading this shit?"

I often feel self conscientious; sometimes more then warranted. My body image is slightly askew since I often torment myself with thoughts of a model-like appearance; which just ain't possible girls. Not with my figure. I have a larger frame which I used to refer to as one of a football player - wide shoulders, and I've had a child. I know that's no excuse for not exercising regularly, but it helps me cope, alright?
I have been blessed with the a muffin top and a flabby belly leaving much to be desired. Nothing will likely cure that except surgery which is somewhere I am not willing to go at this point since more children are likely.

Even though I am more or less outgoing and have a few close friends, days go by where I find myself feeling lonely; and those days are long and hard when I get like this. I find it difficult to break free from the looming thoughts of not being good enough, and I care entirely too much about what people think.
My ass is fat. My stomach's fat. I need a makeover. I want new clothes. *sigh* It's a never ending circle of self torment which makes it hard for me to legitimize getting my ass out of sweatpants many days.

So, to revive my spirit and make myself feel a little less frumpy I've made myself a hair appointment; the works. Highlights and lowlights, cut and style... should be a small fortune that I don't really have at this point, but it's justifiable really. I need to feel pretty again.

*breaking into song* Man, I feeeelll like a woooman!

getting to know you, getting to know all about you!

2007-03-08T22:01:00.000-05:00

Thank you for a fantabulous Ultimate Blog Party! I hope you had as much fun as I did!

We will now return to regularly scheduled programming.

Hi friends!

Well, our Ultimate Blog Party is underway and I haven't been that great a hostess. I failed a proper introduction, so here it is.

*waves* If you're a regular reader (ha!) you know that I am very rarely ever serious. I am sarcastic and a little crass. It's my charm really. Guys dig it. I swear. When you can burp just as loud as them, there's love in the air. It's the fairmones I tell ya!

I am a mama to a very rambunctious 18 month old little boy, Carter (or Capitan Poopypants) and wife to Mike, who I affectionately call Manchild when I am mad at him. I work full time in the construction industry, which is a very time consuming career. Since returning back to work after my maternity leave I have had to re-learn my job by prioritizing what really matters, and that's now my family.

I have been blogging just short of a year now, but am absolutely loving it. I have been loving it so much that it has progressed into creating a website and designing templates for Blogger (more platforms to come in the near future). I have also just become a new contributor to mommyblogstoronto (with none other then Her Bad Mother and friends), I'm so new that my introduction post is just hot off the email and just arrived to them! I can't wait to get started!

So, there's a bit about me!

it's a historical day for me

2007-03-08T20:41:00.000-05:00

I thought about posting the previous entry and this one together, but they are completely unrelated and are great stories in their own right, but a bad, bad combination.

:::

South of Front Street in Toronto's downtown was once wharfs and shipping slips. The shoreline was essentially filled with litter and street sweepings for years, which in turn, extended the shoreline to the existing location. The area from roughly Strachan east to the Scarborough Bluffs and from Front street south used to be water. The area was then all industrial when shipping was at it's peak. There are many items buried in this area which were just trash at the time; including papers, bottles, shoes, and household items.

Today I was walking around while I waited for someone to return and happened upon an old clay jar. As I picked it up and cleaned the side to read the inscription I found that it was a marmalade jar from the 1800's as well as a glass bottle and a tea cup.
Many of the guys on site find items and keep them, others have sold them to dealers. Some dealers will even come to site with sheets of paper describing certain items and what they'd be worth if sold. I kept my find today.

one for the books

2007-03-08T19:31:00.000-05:00

One of my (many) aversions is picking anything out of a drain. I'm not sure what it is that I find so repulsive, but pulling something from atop of a drain cover or out of a sink drain instantly induces my gag reflex.
Oddly enough, I can push items down a drain with ease, but to pull - out of the question. Countless times I have mutilated food by forcefully pushing it through the grated drain cover; I could stand there all day and force vegetables, pasta, meat - it can go down, but It. Must. Not. Come. Up.

I honestly think I am my husband's worst nightmare. He's had to open the catch of the bath tub numerous times to remove the wookie that has worked it's way out of reach because I refuse to pull it out. I clogged the kitchen drain yesterday evening because I forced too much down. I had to wait until Mike came home from work this evening (he was out of town) to get it fixed.

Last night I made a little progress though.

Carter had a bath; but the tub just wasn't draining properly. Mike wasn't home for me to ~~ask~~ beg repeatedly to get the wookie out.

I had to do it myself, and I did it!

I pulled it out and put it in the toilet.

And only barfed in my mouth a little.

a tag with a side of mommy brain

2007-03-07T19:42:00.000-05:00

That title sounded so much better in my head.

Mommy-brain is definitely here to stay. My beloved, and once useful, brain has shrunken to the size of a walnut.

Seriously.

I can hear it roll around when moving my head from side to side. The hamster has fallen off the wheel; it's taken up with the walnut, trying to crack it's shell.

I can't remember a damn thing lately. I asked a coworker about another coworkers whereabouts this week - everyday so far! Today when I asked he told me, "He's on vacation Sam, just like yesterday and the day before."

All I could do was laugh. It's THAT bad.

:::

I slept through my alarm once again this morning. I am an absolute bitch without 8 hours of sleep; lately it's been turning into 9 hours or more. I go to bed at 9pm and still can't get my ass up at a reasonable time. What can I say, I love my sleep, I'll take it when I can get it.

But I will say this, I have a love hate relationship with the snooze button. I don't know if I should kiss the creator of the sacred button, or drag their ass out back and beat 'em.

:::

I was tagged by none other the gorj and ever so sweet Haley-O today! So here it is:

Five Reasons Why I Blog

1. It's something I can do for me. It's a release in so many ways. I can be creative with my writing, which in turn has really taught me to better express myself and my feelings.

2. I love to "meet" new people and know that I am not alone (since many would rather blog about the anti-depressants, hard parenting moments and loneliness instead of sharing with girlfriends over a cup of coffee).

3. It's actually a lot of fun; I enjoy reading everyones posts.

4. I'm more open online then IRL. I think it's the thought of being "safe" behind the computer screen.

5. I've met such great people and continue to on a daily basis. That makes it all worth it.

So, I tag... HBM, Blonde Chick Bloggin', and Bella Mommy

Now, off to watch America's Next Top Model. I just LOVE the way Nigel Barker says my name. I'd totally hit that.

sniff, sniff Hmmm....

2007-03-06T17:31:00.000-05:00

Do I smell or something? *lifting arm and taking a whiff*

Where's all the party guests?

I am strategically placed at number 19o-something. Right smack in the middle where I can never be found. *pouts* I want some friends, dammit! *crosses arms*

I am baffled by the number of people that have signed on... last check I saw 810 signed Mr. Linky! Can you believe it? I wasn't anticipating this party to be so huge!

Please, this is in NO way a pitty post. There's 800+ guests; I'm like finding a golden nugget in the Yukon Gold rush, a diamond in the rough.. yes, I'm a Dooce waiting in the wings.... right? *ahem* Right?

Anyone up for a sleepover party tonight? This thing is a week long... it's bound to happen sometime. Get your jammies and slippers on and come join me!

Hot Chocolate and marshmellows with strawberries, melon, raspberries and bananas in chocolate fondue. Leave a comment and yours will be on its way over. *grin*

I'd take a picture of myself, but I want you to stay.

I'm wearing deodourant. Promise!

:::

I'm really late with this but Stephanie from Adventure's in Babywearing's photo tag was a preggo picture of yourself. I said I would do it...

Can you believe there's a 9lb 6ouncer in there? That's 2 weeks before I was due.

*sigh* Baby Fever again.

I never...

2007-03-05T18:27:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to get out there and mingle, I just can't believe the number of people that have logged on to the party! That Mr. Linky is outrageous! I really want to see more people.

For those stopping by; glad you're here! How are you? What's new?

Tonight's treats are mini eggs, brownies, reece's pieces and popcorn! Dig in, don't be shy!

I thought we could play a game. It's a drinking game called "I never" what you're puposed to do is go around the circle and someone says something that they've never done (example: "I've never been skydiving"; those that have, take a drink.) Get it? Well, since it's kinda hard to play that version, I'll switch it up a little and you tell me something that you've never done, but would like to do during this lifetime. Fair?

I'll go first.

I've never been to Hollywood and since I am such a celebrity hound, tabloid and gossip lover I want to go ~~stalk~~ mingle with the stars for a week or two. I'd love to run into my baby (step) daddy Matthew McConaguhey.

How about you?

What have you never done that you really want to? Leave a comment and share me!

cocktails with a side of awesomeness

2007-03-03T21:06:00.000-05:00

Hey, hey! Back again!

How's the party? Hope you're getting around (in a good way) and mingling. I've been working for a bit on this and this today ~~I tell ya, I am soooo worth hiring. You'd be very well taken care of and for a great price too. Are you tempted?~~ ... now I am off to mingle. All work and no play make me want to drink more.

:::

Carter and I had a play date this afternoon with my friend from work and her little boy. So fun. Drank (more) wine and gossiped while the boys played around each other. Since they are both a little young grasp the concept of playing together, they kinda play in the same vicinity which is fine by me.
It's amazing to see the difference in social skills between the two. Carter is a daycare child and her son stays home with her husband. Her son is an absolute doll and perfect in every way, there's just this difference in the way they interact with their surroundings. They are 3 months apart in age, which I think, also still plays apart even though the developmental gap is closing.

While driving home from my friend's, I was thinking about the Cocktail Playdates. Now I, personally, don't feel guilty or like I am neglecting my child if I sit to have a drink with a friend while in the same room as our children playing. I don't want to get started on this topic; it's beating a dead horse as far as I'm concerned. It's been bludgeoned by now actually.
But I was thinking about the perception we are giving others. When I blog about the fact that I had a drink with my friend, do people assume that I am neglecting my child for a chance to socialize with friends or that I am a bad parent because I chose wine over Diet Coke?

When Carter was a mere 7 months old we met frequently with a mom group. We were a bunch of moms on Maternity Leave and met while taking a baby yoga class. When the class ended we decided to keep seeing each other.
Every week we would rotate houses and have snack and drinks (never alcohol) and chat while the kids played (if you can call it that at that age). One Monday we decided to get out and went for a walk by the lake. We ended our venture at a restaurant/pub and we all had a drink (alcoholic).

I never thought anything of it, until my drive home today.

Six moms with children in strollers, all under the age of 8 months. In. A. Bar.

I can hear the whispers now.

a treat, for you

2007-03-03T13:18:00.000-05:00

For some reason this has become my favourite song lately, and it has NOTHING to do with yesterday.

Don't be getting' any ideas.

'Cept for you IAI.

You can still send me a Taser!

KAATN

2007-03-02T19:45:00.000-05:00

No, not Irreverent Antisocial Intellectual's husband. Me. I am kickin' ass and taking names this evening.

I am in the most hateful, vengeful, bitchy mood tonight, I just have to get it out.

Manchild was so great today. My heart was exploding with love this morning as he called to tell me about his venture out with Carter.
Seeing as Manchild was home from work , he opted to keep Carter home from daycare. They went for a walk to a near by hill for some sledding. Even though all the snow that had arrived in a matter of minutes yesterday had melted just as fast as the rain poured down at dawn, Manchild thought they would at least get in a run or two down the hill. Once they arrived he realized that nothing but a slushy mess had accumulated at the base of the hill so they returned home, a little defeated but spirits high.
By the sounds of it, they had a great day together; went grocery shopping and all!

I had a great day at work. Nothing stressful, I was inside and had a chance to have lunch with some girlfriends. I left work feeling relaxed and content. The traffic was great, everything was just peachy.

I asked Mike to take a trip to IKEA with me so I could show him the big boy bedding that I wanted to get for Carter and buy some baskets. I really didn't think it was such a burdensome request, but that's where it all went downhill.

One thing you should know about my husband is, he can be the most selfish person I know. It infuriates me to no end when he won't do something unless there's a benefit for him. Sometimes it would be nice for him to stuck it up and do something because it makes ME happy. It can be anything little from a song on the radio to a trip to a store he hates. (That store, being IKEA.) He will be pushy, snide, inconsiderate and just plain difficult to deal with. It's like he's pouting because it's not something HE wants to do.

As we're driving there's a song on the radio that I like, I turn it up a little and he changes the channel.
Me: "I like that song; I was listening to that." I change it back.
Him: "I hate that song." And he changes it to another station again.
I let it go even though I felt like smashing his head through the windshield.

He did agree to go to the store; no whining or begging on my part, even though he had NO interest in IKEA at all but he made bitchy comments the whole way through the store,
"That's fuckin' ugly."
"Why the fuck would someone buy something like that?"
"I hate this fuckin' place."
"Are you done yet?"...

I wanted to rip his beady little eyes from his miss-shaped skull within minutes. We finally arrive at the children's section. I show him the bedding that I was in love with and thought that it would be perfect because it was right up Manchild's alley - dragons and knights.

What does he say?

"That's it? It's fucking ugly as hell Sam."

Great. Thanks. Asshole.

I'm frustrated, he's frustrated, Carter's getting hot. Manchild freaks out and insists that we get the hell out of there.

On the way home we're listening to some fucking teeny bopper horrible dance shit. I change the channel, not realizing that Manchild was actually enjoying it. He changes it back. Always whatever he wants.

I commented that he changed the station on the way to the store because there was a song that he didn't like, and if I do the same it's the end of the world.

He says "Are you done talking?"

Oh.

My.

God.

I can't even stand to look at him right now.

Am I really out of line? Am I blowing this out of proportion?

One thing I do notice though. When I forget to take my medication (which I did the past two days) my ability to cope with my husband is more and more difficult. I think cruel and vengeful thoughts and can't stand to be in the same room as him when he is like this.

I shouldn't have to be medicated to enjoy spending time with my husband.

Wine should be enough.

No gas? I have enough for everyone!

2007-03-01T19:24:00.000-05:00

Um, have you heard? We have no gas left. It's just short of a crisis if you ask me. I couldn't be more pleased because, except for the extortionate prices at the pumps, I could soon have a valid reason not to go to work! Mind you the shit (literally) that I put up with yesterday was COMPLETELY valid and really wasn't all that fun.

I didn't think it was that big an issue, I actually didn't put much thought into it at all until I drove past THREE gas stations in my neighbourhood that were shut down. Nadda, nothing, zero, zilch. No. Gas. For. You.

Too bad it's the dead of winter, in the midst of a HUGE snowstorm (that got me out of work 2 hours early day, thank-you) and we can't ride bikes or walk instead of paying for the gas that does exist. Mind you, even if it was a million dollars a litre many would still pay for it without a second thought, just bitch under their breath and keep pumpin'. Moi included. Because I can't cope with *gasp* mass transit.

The City of Toronto really has a dismal excuse for a public transit system. Quite sad if you think about the size of the city and the number of condo building that are forever growing in an attempt to rob the remaining sunlight that enters the downtown core. The Toronto skyline is littered with condo building after condo building now more then ever. How are all these people getting through the city? Walking, bus, street car or subway. I can't complain too much about the system really because well, I don't use it. I have maybe a handful of times in my life. It's just too difficult with my job because I am constantly on the go; driving from one end of the city to the other and the existing system is just not reliable for me.

So, like the others that commute into downtown, I bitch about the price of gas, sit in never-ending traffic jams and skip out of work early during a snowstorm to avoid sitting in traffic for hours on end (more then it takes on a good day).

So really, no gas is a blessing in disguise for me.

If they used that other kind of gas (Pfffffffft) which, according to my husband mine is an unlimited supply, I could sell it, make a fortune and never have to work again. See win-win either way you look at it.

new tenant this week

2007-03-01T19:13:00.000-05:00

Lonnie is an American professor/writer/editor living in China. Frankly, by the looks of it there is nothing that this man can't do; tons of accreditations and accomplishments.
He actually makes me wish I stayed in school longer; because compared to him I am S-M-R-T. Seriously. Arts Fellowship in Writing, a Fellowship at the Millay Colony for the Arts, written several books as well as produced plays and hundreds of publications.
I have been getting lost in his writing. It flows so well and before I know it, I've read more then I did my entire college education.

S-M-R-T I tell ya.

So visit, onemanbandwidth. You'll enjoy it; totally worth your time.

Plus he paid an extortionate amount of credits to be here this week. Make it worth his while, M'kay?

brilliant mommy moment

2007-02-28T14:45:00.000-05:00

I just fed a kid with diarrhea weenies and beans for lunch.

Tell me.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I hope I don't reap the rewards of my mommy brain fart.

I want daddy to come home soon.

poopy thieves

2007-02-28T12:02:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm home today. Carter's fever had broken and he was running around like a bat out of hell last night. I thought we were in the clear ~~and I would be free of him today~~ I would be able to send him to daycare this afternoon. He was a'ight this morning, ate breakfast and he played as normal. I left him to sit and play in the living room while I worked (on this) ~~I'm such a horrible parent, really; my skills are nothing to brag about in that department. But they are in the designing department. Man, you should SO hire me!~~
He was whining a little, so I went to check on him and noticed something smeared on my linen colour sofa cushion. WTF is THAT? I didn't give him any food in here.

Then he turned his back to me.

IT crept up the top and out the back.

You know what I'm talkin' about.

SHIT.

All over my couch. Forget my kid, IT'S ON THE COUCH!

Spent a bit scrubbing the cushion and cleaning Capitan Poopypants. Fun, fun. My idea of a great morning.

:::

So I checked over the credit card bill that came in today. *gulp* I tend to use my credit card for my daily parking downtown. Ten bucks all day, no biggie. So I just checked over the charges and noticed that one of the parking charges came to 35 dollars! Thieving bastards takin' my money!
So now I have to jump threw hoops with the owner of the parking lot to get back my 25 bucks. *gag* THEN my credit card company to reimburse the charges.

I'm in such a great mood now.

I need more caffeine.

mad skillz yo

2007-02-27T21:26:00.000-05:00

Another day, another template.

These are a couple of the free ones that I was giving away as part of a promotion of my designing "company"

Here's the most recent! *woot woot*

:::

I still have this damn pimple the size of a newborn on my face. Pissin' me off man. It's huge and there is NO hiding it. Mike has been begging incessantly to pop it for me but I'm afraid... it's worse when it's a big scabby oozing mess then just a huge mound on my chin. It's not to the point where it's white and threatening to pop in an onlookers face. I won't let it get to that, trust me. But I'm just not ready to submit myself to the pain that Mike will inevitably create all while in his glory. That man has issues.

:::

I was home with a sick kid this afternoon. Carter had his 18 month shots yesterday and developed a pretty high fever of 101F. At that point the daycare policy is to send the child home and they can't return until 24 hours after the fever has broken.

So that means working from home for mama tomorrow morning. Sweetness!

He was actually a blessing when I got him home. Quiet, cuddly and sleepy. We sat together for a bit until he got a little restless; that's when he went for a FOUR hour nap. Count 'em FOUR people! I got a bunch of work done too. Sweetness x 2!

crusty linens anyone?

2007-02-26T19:49:00.000-05:00

My mom and step-dad are big on saving money where they can. Really, who's not wanting to save a penny or two? And they recycle; recycle e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. The Kleenex boxes are broken down and the plastic thingy that hold the tissue is even ripped out. It's something they are proud of and take rather seriously. I don't blame them really; it's excellent practice and I wish that more people (myself included) were so diligent. Even though I was scolded and forced to pull something recyclable out of the garbage and into the corresponding receptacle - disgusting - I still pick and choose what I feel like recycling. I know, Haley-O is on the verge of a heart attack this very moment.

My parents were also big on hanging the laundry outside. Now, this I would do provided I actually had a clothes line. Don't think my neighbours wanna see my husbands drawers draped over the top of the backyard fence... nor do I for that matter. I remember how great it would be to have my freshly washed and dried (outside) clothes. To raise them to my face and breath in their freshness. So wonderful.

The part I didn't enjoy? Still to this day makes me cringe? Bath towels hung on the line; and bedding. Yuck. The LAST thing I want is to get out of a nice warm comforting shower to a crusty sand paper-esque towel. *shudders* Yeah, it may smell nice but freshly grated skin from the friction of the towel does not. My mom was big on this. There's a simple remedy really, put them in the dryer for a couple minutes after bringing them in - just to soften them. Nope. Not this lady. That would defeat the purpose.
I just dread going to my mom's in the summer time because I KNOW that the towels will be hard.

So, now I am anti stiff and hard (hee hee) towels and any linens. ~~I like other stiff and hard things though... SICKO!~~
We bought these bed sheets last year. Really funky colourful stripes. They so cute - to look at. No matter how many times I wash them they feel like sand paper on my skin and unfortunately have been banished to the spare room. But these other bed sheets? To. Die. For. Bought them at Costco at Christmas time. They are microfiber fleece. They are practically orgasmic they are so soft.
I felt that we were in desperate need of new bed sheets since my fleece one were getting pills from being used to often, and the pills begin to feel like sandpaper. That's a no-no. So, I was walking down the aisle and feeling all the sheets. I would open the bag and shove my hand between the layers of sheets and rub it back and forth. (Bet you're hoping you don't shop at the same Costco as me. And if you do, you're hoping that you washed your new sheets before using them!) So, I would rub back and forth to see if they were sufficiently soft, then move on to the next bag and so on.

Until.

I met them. The sheets from heaven. Literally.

They are soft as a newborn baby's bum (but not the one growing on my face).

I was rubbing back and forth in the aisle of Costco and then rubbed them on my face and moaned. I was moaning in the aisle of COSTCO!
Mike came around the corner just as I opened my eyes, he looks at me and looks around to see if anyone just witnessed what I had done.

Then as if it was nothing he says, "Guess you found ones you like? Put 'em in the cart."

I love my husband.

Even if they were a million dollars, I bet you he still would have paid for those sheets after all that moaning.

up for a party?

2007-02-25T19:31:00.000-05:00

Since I've always been one to follow the crowd, I thought, what the hell? why not? so I'm gonna join the Ultimate Blog Party. Meet new people, have some new guests, maybe *gasp* win something (dammit, I better win. I NEVER win!) Good excuse to drink some wine if you ask me.
So, come join us... all the information is there if you click on the button in the sidebar.

:::

Check out this awesome, spectacular, uber terrific template. I so rock!

You can see it in action here. Go tell her how fab it is. Go on. Tell her.

Cheers!

teenage angst is back!

2007-02-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

As many young adolescence I was blessed with unfortunate acne problems. I had really bad acne. Not the huge pulsing kinda; you know the ones with their own heart beat? Yeah, none of those. Just small and consistent. Always there, always visible and never ending. I was about 15 when enough was enough. The time in your life where everything and anything is life altering and completely over emphasized. Acne for me was a life or death situation; I was miserable, and everyone around me suffered because of it. Oh the drama! I was so melodramatic during the whole ordeal really.

Lucky for me my mom was very supportive. I think it was primarily for her own sanity, but we'll go with it, m'kay? She made doctors appointments for me, tried various acne topical solutions and medications which only decreased the severity to an extent. As a very impatient teenager that was NOT enough. I was livid and all, why me!? why is this happening to me? I hate life. I hate this. Kill me know!

My mom must have hit her breaking point. It was either throttle me and put and end to my drama queen antics or put out the big bucks for Accutane. Acctane is a severe form of acne mediation with likewise side effects; did that matter? Nope. I didn't care. I wasn't disturbed by the fact that it required quarterly blood tests for liver damage and the risk of depression or other side effects including, but not limited to dryness of skin, lips and mucous membranes, skin fragility, skin peeling, rash, nose bleeds, dry eyes, eye irritation, conjunctivitis (pink eye), and hair thinning.
None of that was a concern to me. Apparently I thought my acne was bad enough that I could (and would) suffer through losing my hair with my skin flaked off all I while I had pink eye and nose bleeds! MUCH more attractive if I do say so myself. All that would have been better then acne? What a moron.

How could I have thought that acne was that bad? The risks I was willing to take to get rid of a couple bumps on my face.

Then this morning.

I woke up to a visitor.

A pimple the size of a newborn on my chin.

Mike has been begging to pop it all day.

I think it may have its own heart beat. Seriously. It just might this time.

top mama woot woot

2007-02-24T22:18:00.000-05:00

I'm a Top Mama today! Come check me out! Help me stay a top mama by clicking on my picture and get me some points! I wanna stay on the front page! Pu-lease!

I look like this (on the best of days).

deprived in so many ways

2007-02-22T18:56:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been 6 months since I returned to full time work after a years maternity leave. I am a full time working parent of a toddler. Did I ever think I would say those words? Nope. Not really.

This lifestyle is not easy. Don't let anyone ever tell you it is. Working for 8 - 12 hours a day and then on top of that raising a well adjusted child. Not effortless at any point really; especially when you commit to daycare for a considerable part of the "raising".
We've been very lucky with our daycare. I am so pleased with it. The only thing that I have a really hard time with is the pain MY CHILD inflicts on OTHER children. Carter is a biter, he bites a lot. I thought it may be to the point where he would be removed during his first months of daycare; but they assured me that it's a phase and something he will, in time, grow out of. Fine. But when I have TWO sheets to sign because my child has bitten and broken skin in BOTH instances I feel responsible. I also feel guilty when he attaches himself to me like Velcro in the mornings because he's not fully adjusted to his move into todder hood - meaning new room, new friends and new teachers. These are things that, as a parent, no class or advice (solicited or unsolicited) can prepare you for.

Then, on top of that, leave the daycare and sit in traffic for hours to get where I have to go, not my cup of tea really. I resign myself to the fact that this is the way it has to be, but it's draining. So utterly exasperating, emotionally and physically. I feel like I can never catch up and I am constantly overworked, overwhelmed and sleep deprived. Is this my way of life now? Is this something that I just have to become accustomed to?
This evening, before Carter went to bed, I dozed off on the couch as he played around me. 6:30pm. Now, I am more then willing to amble off to the bedroom and submit myself to a long peaceful slumber at 7:30pm.

Unfortunately, my priorities are another matter.

Have you seen Y&R lately? Wow. I have to watch today's episode, THEN off to bed.

here's trouble

2007-02-21T09:17:00.000-05:00

Blonde Chick Bloggin' is here for a visit since she so generously rented from me this week. She's trouble, watch out for her; go over and give her a spankin'. Tell her s@m sent ya!

act fast! supplies are limited

2007-02-21T09:10:00.000-05:00

** Congratulations to those that were the five who contacted me. LOL I will be working on your templates this weekend!! **

With the launch of temptation designs, I have a request. I would like some help.

I need to get a portfolio going. I have designs I've done for myself, but I want to have a couple more that are actually "out there".

Here's my proposition to you.

I am want to design FIVE sites for people FREE of charge - a basic Blogger design (all designs are in Classic Blogger) - with graphic sidebar titles and a masthead; installation and sidebar clean up are included. No additional content will be added, but I will install what is already there. Can you believe how generous I am being? Take advantage (of me) while you can; this is NOT normal behaviour!

So, the first FIVE requests emailed (temptingmamaATgmailDOTcom) to me with all their information (colour schemes, font, image etc.) will be selected and you will be contacted if your design will be completed.

Good Luck!

are you going to eat that?

2007-02-20T18:50:00.000-05:00

Dinner in my house was the time of day that my brother, mom and I would gather after school and work to be together. No matter what we were doing, dinner time was family time. We'd turn off the TV and sit at the table. I remember the laughs, the fights and the family meetings that we would have. I remember just how bland my mom's cooking used to be too. Oh. My. God. Bland is really an understatement; to her benefit, I'd say that it's improved over the years. Maybe she cooked that way because we were young children, figuring anything seasoned would be rejected very audibly with much exaggeration. As a parent, I am yet to be in the realm of fussy eating but can imagine cooking for two young children must be faced with great trepidation on the best of days.

I am a lover of food. I wouldn't say that I was a very picky eater growing up, though boiled potatoes and a slab of grey pork; lacking any imagination or even colour to conceal the consistency of the shriveled animal flesh really leaves much to be desired.
I'd say for many years I carried on the cooking habits of my mothers, which I was accustomed to. No seasonings, no imagination.
When I moved to college my diet consisted of Kraft Dinner, spaghetti, Zoodles, chocolate pudding, junk food and alcohol. The only ethnic foods I had ever really enjoyed to this point in my life was Chinese food. That was until I met some people. People that ate. People that had imagination, pizazz - and tasty food!

One thing that made a significant improvement in my limited food selections was moving to the city. This city has more then enough culture to make your head spin. I've tried almost everything whether it was a favourite or not is negotiable.

I love to eat. I love everything about food. I love that it's always there, to comfort, to console, never to pass judgment and will never leave.

I admit it.

I am an emotional eater.

I eat when I am happy, sad, angry, anxious, and depressed.

I have been eating like it's going out of style for the past 2 weeks. I can't stop. I think about it a lot, I want everything and anything.

It's like I'm pregnant, even though I am not.

I contribute it to the overwhelming anxiety over Britney Spears and her manic behaviour as of late. What? You don't believe me? You don't think that a celebrity could have that much ply over moi?

You're right.

It's work.

I notice a considerable change in my eating habits when I am over worked and stressed.

I've had a very busy and extremely overextending couple of weeks with 2 out of 3 members of my department on vacation at the same time. Seems fair right?

Anyone for a snack?

heat wave! just go with it, alright?

2007-02-19T20:54:00.000-05:00

I can't wait for tomorrow. We're expecting rain and -1 degree (that's 32F friends)! It's a heat wave for mid-February. I never thought that I would be so excited for warmer cold temperatures.

I have been struggling with the cold lately. Last week was the hardest by far - on the "warmest" day of the week none the less. At -20C (again, -4F) it's damn cold. Damn. cold. But at least it's a dry cold. The worst is the moist days with wind. Wind. OMG. I hate wind. I was on the verge of tears this past week - I work outside some days in case you're not aware - because my poor toes and fingers had met their match. They were ready to shrivel up and fall off. You're wondering what sane person puts themselves through this torture just for money aren't you? Well, not this one. I am paid in pocket lint and stones; don't worry about me.

I think my year of Maternity Leave softened me. I was more tolerable before. I could take it. I didn't like it, but I could at least pull through. This winter has been especially tough.

Doesn't help when my dear friend writes from Florida where she's enjoying her long overdue vacation. Thanks friend. You're great.

um, yeah. what up with dat?

2007-02-17T22:43:00.000-05:00

Have you seen THIS?!? What the shit?!!

I can't believe it. I really have nothing else to say about that. Weird. Very weird.

On another note. How was your day? Mine was great, fabulous and wonderful all in one.

Carter and I had a play date with my neurotic cleaning friend and her son today(I'm just kidding, I love her, and she's not that bad). We went to her house for the latter part of the morning until the evening. The boys played we gossiped and it was pure heaven.

We would have done Meredith Vieira proud as we downed half a box of white wine during lunch and nap time. So yummy, and so well deserved.

Put that in your bottle and SUCK IT Meredith.

I was memed

2007-02-17T21:55:00.000-05:00

A crazy lady - who I may consider a blog friend (someday) memed me. Since she couldn't suffer on her own, she decided to drag a few of us down with her.
Seriously though, go give Mia a hug; she's had a bad couple days. Tell her I sent you.

So, here goes the meme.

1. Open your library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod) and put in ALL of your music...yes, that means even all your closeted Bee Gee's and Leif Garret tunes.
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. New question - press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool
7. Tag five people who adore you muchly and want to amuse you while you sit in finger agony to do this too.

Opening Credits: Drowning - Jack Johnson

Waking Up: How Do I Live Without You - Faith Hill (it's how I feel about my coffee in the morning)

First Day At School: Spin Cycle - Pearl Jam

Falling In Love: One Step Up (Home) - Eddie Vedder Solo

Breaking Up: Margarita - Great Big Sea (I could use one of those)

Prom: It's My Life - Bon Jovi (hahahaha, I almost DIED, seriously!)

Life's Okay: Gold Digger - Kanye West (hmmm.... no comment)

Mental Breakdown: Half Full - Pearl Jam (I have A LOT of PJ on here)

Driving: Smooth Criminal - Alien Ant Farm

Flashback: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (this is a PERFECT fit, it almost seems set up)

Getting Back Together: It's All Understood - Jack Johnson

Wedding: Thumbing My Way - Pearl Jam (again) live

Birth Of Child: ABC - Jackson Five

Final Battle: Numb (encore) - Linkon Park & Jay Z

Death Scene: If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher

Funeral Song: Tiny Dancer - Elton John

End Credits: Waiting on an Angel - Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals

That was TOO fun! Thank you Mia for that meme... and because it was WAY too fitting, an encore....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Opening Credits: Olympic Platinum - Pearl Jam

Waking Up: Yellow Ledbetter - Pearl Jam (Mm FAV! - seriously too much PJ on here)

First Day At School: Boot Scootin Boogie - Brooks & Dunn

Falling In Love: Jenny from the Block - JLo

Breaking Up: All Out of Love - Air Supply

Prom: Till I hear it from you 0 Gin Blossoms

Life's Okay: Touch Me - Samantha Fox

Mental Breakdown: Sweet Child O' Mine - G n' R (baby!) live

Driving: Funkytown - KC & the Sunshine Band

Flashback: Paranoid - Black Sabbath

Getting Back Together: You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This (I don't even know this song.... must be Mike's download) - Toby Keith

Wedding: Paradise City - G n' R (yes!!!!!)

Birth Of Child: Everywhere - Michelle Branch

Final Battle: Dirty Frank - Pearl Jam

Death Scene: Girl You Know It's True - Milli Vanilli (ROTFLMAO!!!!!)

Funeral Song: Still - Macy Gray (love, love, love this song)

End Credits: Evanescence - Call Me When You're Sober (but bring the drinks along please)

Who to get... who to get...

Let's go with Haley-O, Slackermommy and Blonde Chick

those were the days that are pretty much a blur

2007-02-15T20:03:00.000-05:00

Today a colleague and I went to a job fair at my alma mater to recruit some staff. I was a bit leary of returning. Not sure why. It's been five years and a lot's changed in my life since those days. The days I have had fond memories of, yet little recollection. Is that possible? I remember that I had a great time, but doing what, I'm not sure.

Once I stepped foot on campus it all came back. I remember chatting out in the smokin' section with coffee in hand before class started. I remember drinks in the campus bar after a challenging test. I remember our free time spent in the upstairs pub where we played Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf (which is older then me, but still a wicked song) on the jukebox continuously until we were cursed at repeatedly.
I remember where I met certain people the first time, conversations, parties, everything. It all came back. The rush of the first day walking on campus, not knowing a soul; the panic, the worry, everything.

For two short years that I was at college, the impact of that time is unbelievable. Post-secondary school is more then just an academic necessity these days; the social aspect, the experimenting, the freedom and lack of parental control all sculpts us into the adults we ultimately become. The trouble one causes, the heartbreak, the responsibility incurred... all make us or break us.

Over the past year or so I have been having reoccurring thoughts about what I would have done differently had I been able to go back. I wouldn't goof off and ruin a great academic career; don't get me wrong, I learned a lot; but there is more I could have learned had I been a more mature student and realized the impact these years would have. Other then that, I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't change one single thing; thanks to today.
It did, however, really make me miss the friends I had made, the freedom I had and the intensity (or lack there of) in college life. But had it not been for that place at that time, I wouldn't have met Mike and I wouldn't be where I am today.

I haven't decided if that was a blessing or a hindrance.

As for the job fair itself; it was enlightening and somewhat beneficial. I hope that we have a couple prospective employees, because GAWD knows I need some relief.

thursday thirteen #16

2007-02-15T18:56:00.000-05:00

Thirteen Things I Miss About Being a Child

1. No concept of time. Why rush? And what exactly are we rushing for?
2. No bills. Oh, those were the days.
3. The biggest concern was if someone was going to play with you during recess. Remember how traumatic that could be if you were without anyone to play with?
4. News? What news? I had NO idea what was happening next door let alone over seas.
5. Where's my blankie? - Now it's were's my keys/cell phone/report. *sigh*
6. The worst thing that could happen was losing your Cabbage Patch Kid.
7. No concept of death, deceit, or destruction.
8. You could never lie, and if you did there were no significant ramifications. I mean, what's the worst that a child could lie about?
9. You could sleep where ever you were, whenever you want and people thought it was cute.
10. Dinner was made for you, laundry was done and you never even thought about cleaning up or putting away.
11. Cleaning. Pffft.
12. Never aggravated over rush hour traffic. Going for a drive and reading sign and seeing the lights was a great road trip.
13. Going to the mall at Christmas was a blessing, not a curse.

Happy Thursday! I've been seriously slacking on TT's and I'm sorry!!!

Not sure what's going on, I can't use Mister Linky... but if you comment, I will add you onto the bottom of this post!

Thanks for stopping by forever ranting, Haley-O, Jill

whhooohooooo SNOW DAY!

2007-02-14T07:41:00.000-05:00

Yes, yes, yes!!! It's a snow day!

So I didn't get snow up to the roof tops, I did, however, get a snow drift that's about 4 feet high. That's got to count for something right? So, no work today. The roads are too bad and frankly, it's not worth it. We're home for the day.
I always feel so guilty though. It's this damn conscience of mine. Always gets the better of me. Why can't I be like some other people and just not care? Why do I always have to feel like I should be doing something about it, even when it comes to risking my safety to travel into downtown. *sigh* See - I'm really such a thoughtful and caring person; sometimes it's not so great being me.

Though, I don't think it's the mental health day I was counting on since Carter and Mike are both home too.

Maybe a mental day.

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Edited to Add: Look what I accomplished today! It's finally coming along... a little more to do yet, but it's really getting somewhere. I was able to fiddle around with Dreamweaver a little and actually accomplished something!

you learn something new everyday

2007-02-13T19:07:00.000-05:00

Sorry I have been a bad bad girl. I haven't been reading lately. I will admit, I was complete immersed in trying to learn Dreamweaver to make a web page, I am getting impatient though, it takes so damn long and I don't want to read everything! I thought that I could easily just mess around with the program and get where I want fast, but that's absolutely not the case. User-friendly my ass.
Do you think that many items say they are user-friendly to help people overcome with fear that learning is just too hard? I don't know if it's the fact that we (people) seem to have little free time anymore, or the lack of patience to learn something new. For myself, I am impatient; I want to see the end result fast and if I don't I get bored easily and turned off. I do enjoy learning HTML and trying new things in design, I really want to get this website up and going, so that is my motivation, but it's. so. damn. confusing.

I am not computer illiterate, I would consider myself "aight" when it comes to learning and understanding these computer mumbo jumbo words, but it seems this past week I can't, for the life of me, get my head around this shit. I am overtired and overworked lately. I can't concentrate and dammit, that's taking the fun right out of it. I need a break, an early bed time (earlier then 9pm I think, sad eh?) and I need a mental health day.

We're in the midst of a fairly large dumping of snow this afternoon. It's actually so bad right now that I can't even see across the road from my house. I am really hoping that this snow is going to get my a mental health day. I think I could handle being trapped inside tomorrow with snow to the roof tops and no way to the outside world. *sigh* I can dream right?

Oh, guess what? Funniest, weirdest thing happened yesterday. I kinda just shook my head because well, I wasn't sure what else to do.

I was waiting on someone at work, I was on a construction site, wanted to sit down; there was a piece of steel. I sat on it. I was wearing snow pants and was bundled up - since it was about minus 100 degrees. I really didn't care. I wanted to sit down.

Later on this man walked up to me and said; "I saw you sitting on steel earlier."
I nodded. Good observation buddy, you want a ribbon?
He says; "That's not good you know."
Once again I nodded. At this point I was curious as hell where this conversation was going to go.
The man then says; "I used to do that all the time when I was young, now I'm paying for it."
Oh shit. I know where this is going. How do I escape?! I nodded again.
"Hemorrhoids." he says, "Hurt like hell. Don't sit on steel or concrete."
M'kay thanks buddy. Thanks. a. lot. *shudder* Why me?

So, there's your PSA for the day.

Hemorrhoids hurt like hell. Don't sit on steel or concrete. *gag*

please, don't mind the mess

2007-02-11T14:04:00.000-05:00

So, how was your weekend? Mine was just fine, thank you.

Friday night was GNO (Girls Night Out) , even though we stayed in at a work friend's house, I was out of my house, so it counts. She's just made the conversion from a downtown city girl to the life of a suburban mama; transitioning well I might add. He brand spankin' new house is so gorgeous, I am in the bowels of jealousy, BIG time. It's everything that I love, and already she's done a fantastic job of getting it organized and prettied up. I'm not surprised though, and you wouldn't be either if you knew her. She's borderline OCD with her organization; to the point where she gets all hot and sweaty if something it out of place (okay, almost that bad). She does have her own label maker, that's got to tell you something, right?

Anyway, every time we have a ~~bitch fest~~ get-together at her house, I feel an overwhelming urge to come home and clean. Weird, I know. Maybe it's the fact that you could eat your lunch off her kitchen floor, hell, even her bathroom floor; but every time I come home, I want a cleaner house. This time was no different.

First thing Saturday morning I had an urge to declutter and clean. It started in my bedroom and worked it way to the basement. There was no particular area that was safe; everything had something wrong with it. But, now, I think I have satisfied this urge for the time being (right now, because I'm tired and getting distracted). I've spent about 8 hours or more cleaning over the past two days but feel only slightly better. I need more baskets for storage.

I am a basket freak. Ask Mike, he will vouch for me. Though everything is cluttered and messy most of the time now, I can always find a need for more baskets. Must make a trip to Winners for more baskets.

Damn friends with clean houses. Damn you!

it's in the works

2007-02-08T20:10:00.000-05:00

I have been very preoccupied with my new baby lately. I am so excited I'm oozing with giddy! I can't wait to share the news with someone! Congratulations, you're the first!!!

I am in the midst of designing my template web page! I am finally doing it! I can't believe it! I feel so great about it, yet very nervous.

There will be pre-mades, some free and definitely do some custom work as well. There is just so much that has to be done and I want it to be great. I just hope I'm not setting myself up for a face dive. I've done that before; off the top of a slide when I was six years old. Lemme tell you, that ain't pretty.

More details to come, so watch out for the unveiling sometime in the near future!!

Yes, I am a procrastinator, but this is REAL. I have graphics, terms of use, everything!

lipstick makes me feel better

2007-02-06T20:26:00.000-05:00

It's been one of those nights. A night where Mike and I cannot agree on anything. It's enough to drive you to drink; but if I were to do that I would be a very bad mother according to Meridith Vieira ( Since this item has been blogged to death all I will say is she can kiss my chubby white ass. If you were a "normal" parent that cared for your own child you would completely understand the rest of society).

What was a simple trip to run some errands turned into a full fledged "Why the fuck did I marry YOU?" fight. Yup, one of those nights. All I wanted to do was go to the bank, WalMart and the drugstore (since I ran out of crack earlier in the day). Could it have been that simple to complete those minor tasks, as a family? No. Hell no. Why the fuck should anything be simple? Gawd forbid. This is why I (almost) never run errands as a family.

We fought about Carter not wanting to be in the cart, about what plastic plates to buy, the list goes on and it's quite trivial.... I wanted to go to the bank before WalMart, no reason in particular, just did. I told him ahead of time and what does he do? Takes a completely different route. Had I reminded him I wanted to go to the bank I would have been called a nag. But he didn't go to the fucking bank did he? Nope.
So we stopped talking to each other. One last stop, the drugstore (for my crack). Did he go there? Nope. Straight home.
I've had it up to my freakin' eye balls and wanted to cause him the worst kinda pain. Pain he's never felt before. Something like pulling each and every pubic hair from his nether regions one buy one. Severe pain. What do I do instead?

Get back in the car and go for a drive. I finish my errands at the ~~crack~~ drugstore and buy a new lipstick while I'm there.

Then...

I put on my new lipstick, blare my favourite album and ~~sing~~ belt out lyrics at the top of my lungs.

What could make you feel better then that?!

I'd rather be working for free

2007-02-05T13:17:00.000-05:00

I do enjoy my job. I enjoy the wok that I do, the people that I work with (for the most part, except for these guys) and I enjoy the summer months outside. What I don't enjoy is the days that it's minus a million and I have to work outside. Minus a million people; and I have to work OUTfuckin'SIDE!
Okay, so a slight exaggeration on my part. It was only -17 degrees (that's oh, 3F for my American friends).. with the wind chill, it's a balmy -30 degrees (-22F people!). It's so damn cold even your snot won't run; it can't even stick because it won't run!

It's on days like this that I hate my job. I have utter contempt for my job and wonder why the hell I couldn't have a cushy office job like the rest of the smart people (not saying that I'm smart or anything... just that smart people have office jobs). I had to opt for something different and not so monotonous. What the fuck was I thinking? Answer me that!

Today's the day that I would trade my career for poopy diapers and no paycheque. Oh, to be a SAHM.

template whore

2007-02-04T14:17:00.000-05:00

I love new templates. I love changing templates. I love fixing templates.

I am a (template) whore.

Better get used to it!

it takes a very sadistic person to enjoy something like this

2007-02-04T10:35:00.000-05:00

For those that know me, you already understand that it takes very little to amuse me. Farts, burps, Conan O'Brien all get me laughing; but the one thing that makes me laugh, a gut wrenching, side splitting painful laugh is seeing people being tazered. That's why I have an undying love for the show Cops. Bad boys, bad boy, whatcha going' do when they come for you?

Tazers are not all that funny themselves, but seeing (and hearing) the people that, unfortunately (for them), have antipathy for an officer of the law, or the law itself. Seeing them flop around like a fish out of water just gets me every time. Especially this guy. I near peed myself watching this video.

I asked Mike to buy me one for Christmas, to my dismay, I got this instead. What a jerk.

I am a little sadistic, I know.

they're back and just as good as I remember

2007-02-03T13:05:00.000-05:00

Impulse buy.

Yup, that's what it was - I'm sticking by it, so don't doubt me.

I bought more swedish berries today. Yup a 3lb bag of them.

yes, I hate everyone equally

2007-02-02T16:50:00.000-05:00

What is the distance of a 20 minute drive into downtown Toronto very rarely takes less then 2 hours during the morning commute. There is very little to do while slowing watching your life slip from your grasp as you sit in this horrible traffic; I tend to amuse myself by thinking up stories about the other drivers, or I try and see what they're doing to distract themselves from the mind numbingly slow pace of commuter rush hour traffic.
I tend to get creative (some would call it disturbing) when I think up stories; like the man the other day in the car with the license plate "IDODIRT" Wow. What the fuck were you think when you picked that one buddy?

The days that my mind just won't think; the days that I am stuck behind some ass that decided to rear end someone, the ass that wouldn't pull off to the side of the road when their car broke down, I tend to be a little (more) crude and a ~~little~~ lot more pretentious.

I caught myself earlier this week thinking some atrocious things about some of my fellow citizens; it didn't matter who - different races, different sexes, different age categories. I caught myself being very judicious of a lot of people. I couldn't believe that I was so harsh. Me, the thoughtful, loving, and always so mindful person was really so horrible and callous - a huge bitch! I didn't realize how boorish I am, until I took a step back and thought about what I was thinking.

I promised myself I was going to change my outlook. I would be more positive and not so judgmental.

Today, we were driving home from picking Carter up at daycare. It was our green light, we were going straight. Then out of nowhere, a car comes through the intersection to make a left hand turn in front of our car. I thought for sure we were about to have a serious accident; either we T-bone this car or we get severely rear-ended. Luckily Mike's quick skills averted an accident completely.
As we drive up beside the car, Mike's cursing and swearing ready to just tear a stripe off this inconsiderate and very dangerous driver. I look over. It's an elderly lady, not a care in the world - didn't even realize what could of happened.

What comes out of my mouth but, "That crazy fuckin' dig-bat! That degenerate geriatric should not have a license. She's going to fucking kill someone! Fucksakes!"

*ahem* So maybe I'll start being on my best behaviour - tomorrow.

I'm a gooder righter then ewe

2007-01-30T20:13:00.000-05:00

Remember waaaay back here when I mentioned that I was writing a paper for a HUGE technical symposium for work? You don't have to pretend, I know you don't.

Well, I found out today that my paper was accepted! I can't believe it! I am so nervous/excited/scared/worried. I'm not sure where to go from here; I don't know where to start or what to do first. I haven't even been working on anything because I thought that it would be denied. I have TONS of research to do and so many hours of writing. My mind is boggled.

I'm going to be a published writer.

Who would have thunk it? Moi? A writer.

I'm sorry, I can't hear you through your moustache

2007-01-30T17:45:00.000-05:00

This past weekend Mike and I spent some quality time together - watching Miami Vice. The "new" movie with Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. I was kind of excited to see it only because Colin Farrel is so yummy. Good eye candy - can't pass that up. Boy, was I mistaken when I was faced with this.

I couldn't enjoy the movie because of this pedophile like moustache. I couldn't enjoy the scenery (of Colin's hard body and gorgeous eyes) because of this dead animal posing as Colin's handlebar moustache. Blech. Don't even get me started on the greasy mullet like hair do.

I forgot to mention this as one of my all-time deal breakers; how on earth did I forget this one I'll never know, but moustaches disgust me to the very core of my being.
I don't care if it's well groomed and full, it's ugly; or if you're a prepubescent young man who has just begun to grow a sparse and scraggly masterpiece. Shave that shit off your face.

I'm okay with beards or goatees; there's just something about a moustache that make my stomach turn.

It may be the childhood trauma of my father's moustache that was always there when I gave him a kiss and it would stab me like a thousand little needles - thank GAWD it hasn't been there for years now; or the maybe teacher I had in high school who would always have his lunch stuck throughout in the afternoon. It could even be subconsciously the fact that studies show that men with moustaches are more likely to lie. It's true. I can't find a link, but I KNOW I heard it on the radio, and the radio never lies.
Nevertheless. Gross. That about sums it up.

a whole new world of celebrity

2007-01-26T18:35:00.000-05:00

Have you heard about parisexposed.com? This is the weirdest, most messed up thing I have ever heard about.

The story:

Paris Hilton ~~has~~ had a storage locker where she kept a pile of crap while she was in the midst of moving. Well, she didn't pay the bill. A whole $208! 'Cuz that would have broke the bank! and some sleaze bag celebrity exploiter bought the locker that was auctioned off for a cool 20 million. And parisexposed was born.

I am intrigued. I will admit it; but not intrigued enough to cough up the cash to get a subscription to it. Free sample footage shows a neekid Paris flashing he tatas everywhere, illicit hard drug use and mostly sex stuff. I guess that's their selling feature, I don't know.

My question is how can someone be so careless? Though, it is Paris; can't assume to much can we? I wonder if she has something to do with this... she is a bit of an attention whore, I wouldn't put it past her.

This is just embarrassing though. Down right embarrassing. I wouldn't be seen in public again if this happened to me.

If you have the 39.95 to spend on a month's subscription... do it! Then come back and spill it; I wanna know. Puu-lease!

long over due, like throwing out rotten food

2007-01-26T16:05:00.000-05:00

So I must apologize. I've been very lax in the update department. I know, I know, you've been just dying for an update. Seriously, what update is she talking about? You're thinking. You didn't even noticed did you? Forget ya then.

For those that do care.

Hello? Where'd everyone go?

Excuse me, I'm in a weird mood - might have something to do with the ~~ten glasses of wine that I've consumed~~ fact that it's Friday.

Seriously though...

Remember Mike's quitting smoking? How can I put this nicely. He quit quitting again. I knew it would come to this. I was very supportive and didn't bring it up at all. He came home and confessed couple weeks ago (yes, see, I was behind in updates); which I greatly appreciated. I'm just disappointed that it's another attempt that's come and gone with no success. Now it's going to be another 6 months to a year before he's going to contemplate quitting again. It's so damn frustrating. He cops out every time with some lame-ass excuse; just drives me batty is all.
(And for those that didn't read the original post; I am a born-again non-smoker, so yes I know how hard it is to quit.)

How about sleepy socks? You remember me writing about that? Go on. Read it. I'll wait.
So, how about those sleepy socks? I am in the midst of testing my hypothesis and believe it to be true. I do in fact sleep better with socks on. The kind of sock does not affect my ability to sleep through the night, but rather just that they are there. I finally sleep through the night! Who woulda thunk that it was because I didn't sleep with socks on!? All those years of hating the feeling of socks on my feet in bed; if only I had been dead tried every night to be able to get past that. Maybe if I had children earlier in life... I would have figured it out so much sooner (though, to my parent's dismay, 25 was much too early as it was).

And, overindulgence does not cure my addiction. I really craved them last night. I thought about them and contemplated going to get some. Any sane person would have been far over this addiction after consuming so much. For that reason, I denote, I am not sane. Bob!, tell her what she's won! Do you remember what my addiction is?

Did I miss anything that you wanted to hear more about?

Barbie hair

2007-01-26T15:45:00.000-05:00

Okay, so nasty.

Now, I've never had a weave but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do something about it before it comes to this.

It looks like a doll scalp. Ick.

Yo, Brit.

Your doll called.

It wants it's hair back.

thursday thirteen #15

2007-01-25T17:09:00.000-05:00

Thirteen of my Favourite Movie Clips

I've used up my youtube quota for this post, I promise. I just did funny clips this time.

1. Dirty Dancing - the final dance scene

2. Napoleon Dynamite - again, the dance scene

3. Money Pit (just because I love it so much, here's the whole clip)

4. Big with Tom Hanks - the dancing scene too(again)

5. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

6. Liar Liar - the elevator scene

7. My Girl - the part where Aunt Flow comes, hahaha

8. Uncle Buck

9. Beetlejuice - the part where they dance Day-O

10. Little Mermaid - my favourite Disney song, Under the Sea

12. Sixteen Candles - I just love this whole movie.; I found a montage that I like. LOL

13. Dazed and Confused - I can't find a decent clip.. but the part in the car when Slater says "Check ya later" and the guys rag on him for it.

you dig it?

2007-01-25T11:27:00.000-05:00

Mike and I were having an in depth conversation this morning...I don't remember what about; my attention swayed - as it normally does first thing in the morning. There was something different about him. His face looked different; he was close enough that me not wearing my contacts didn't blur his features.
Something. different. can't. quite. place. it.

Ah ha!

He has, what appeared to be, a dimple in his chin. Maybe it was the lighting, not sure. But I know it wasn't there before. Weird! Can you just acquire different features like that? Now, I know it wasn't there before, because it's a personal dislike of mine. Not sure why or what the reason, it's just a deal breaker for me. I am not grossed out or disgusted by chin dimples per say... just not attracted to them.

It's been bugging me all morning if it was just my vision or if it is in fact there!

Deal breakers for me - I am big on smiles - they have to have decent teeth, little to no body hair (not like a child, but not a sasquatch), and that chin dimple.

Is there anything that is a deal breaker for you? What features do you not like in a partner, and what do you look for?

You an either post in your blog or a comment here, but I wanna know!!

P.S. Did you see the clip I put at the end of this post? Freakin' hilarious!!

a confession

2007-01-23T20:39:00.000-05:00

So, riding on the heels of my previous post about depression and this ~~shit hole of a so-called~~ house. I thought I would share something. Now I haven't been intentionally keeping it a secret as I am not embarrassed. It's just not something that I felt like blogging about. Plain and simple.

I have been dealing with major mood swings ~~and the urge to slaughter my husband in his sleep with a spoon~~ and anger for the past few months. More like half a year. I didn't think it was that bad until the day that I completely snapped about a small minuscule piece of dirt on the kitchen floor.

My mom, step-dad and Mike had a mini intervention with me in the fall - September I believe it was.. when I was the at the worst, "fuck the world" mode. I wasn't happy with a single thing... I then took the opportunity to take a step back and realize exactly what I was doing to my family and myself. I was, in someway, dealing with depression.
I have since been taking antidepressants for my mood swings and anger. I don't yell half as much as I had been, my patience has increased and I can deal with stressful situations much better then previously. I feel better. I have more ambition and I am happier, which in turn has improved my marriage over the past 6 months.

And not to mention, I have to drink only HALF as much as I used to until I am a belligerent drunk. Life is grand.

remember the movie "Money Pit"?

2007-01-23T17:28:00.000-05:00

What a hilarious movie. I can in vision Shelly Long's character getting ready for a bath, the pipes are oozing brownish tar-like gunk from the taps... she has to bring buckets of water via pulley upstairs to the bathroom for her bath....the oven malfunctions and the turkey flies through the window... the tub falls through the floor and smashes to a million pieces on the floor below.... Tom Hanks' character is laughing hysterically at all their misfortunes. I remember laughing right along... what a hilarious movie.

Until.

It.

Happens.

To.

You.

Minus the tub falling through the floor, the tar in the pipes and the flying turkey; we have a Money Pit on our hands.

I haven't been in much of a blogging mood lately. I am so disheartened about my ~~piece of shit, mutha fuckin', sonofabitch, rip off, of a~~ house. We have more then a mold problem.. that's basically the START of it.

We've been here for a little more then a year. It's not a spectacular house, but it's home. I like it, we've gotten comfortable here. We've put a bit of money into it to make it more of what we want. There really has been no intention to stay here indefinitely, but longer then two years was the plan. I think that's changing, rapidly.

So my contractor friend came to do a mold remediation; he cleaned out Carter's closet, and re drywalled everything, and did an abatement on our basement crawl space about 3 weeks ago. He came back today to review it and finish up the last of it. There's mold on the cinder blocks in the basement and the drywall is damp in the closet again. There's a leak where the hydro enters into the house because it wasn't sealed correctly. So all that work is virtually lost in the closet.

He says our best bet is to do the visual stuff and get the hell out of here ASAP. We have to try and treat the mold in the basement, paint the affected area and re-drywall. Or sink thousands of dollars into this house; thousands of dollars that we just don't have.

There's pretty much nothing we can do at this point being that we're in the midst of winter here; we have to wait until the spring to see where the leaks are coming from and seal them correctly. THEN put the house up for sale.

I am so crushed. Not that I really fell in love with this house, it's that moving right now is not something that we can hack. There's just too much involved. But Carter's health is our main concern and we have to do this for him. *sigh*

So not totally in a blogging mood lately. I hate to be such a downer.

This week has basically been the shits and it's only Tuesday.

Yesterday I had to get a filling. Ugh. Then a doctor's appointment to freeze a wart. I've never had one before and this ~~stubborn piece of shit~~ one won't go away. I don't know where it came from; I didn't even know it was a wart for the longest time. But away, the freezing hurt like a bastard for about the entire night until I went ~~into an Advil induced coma~~ to sleep. This morning, I got up to sit in 2 hours of rush hour traffic to get to the other side of the city to find out that the site I was supposed to be at cancelled. Nice. Fucking nice.

That's my week so far.

Hey, did you know that yesterday was supposed to be the most depressing day of the year? By some mathematical calculation they came to the conclusion that based on the amount of daylight, Christmas bills coming in and the cold, that yesterday was so damn depressing.

Bet you're glad you read this post, eh?

ETA: thank you to the person googling the Tom Hanks laugh from Money Pit I was able to find it for this post!

Enjoy!

Gawd, that makes me feel better! I could watch it a billion times!

wow, what a great armpit, is it yours?

2007-01-20T16:48:00.000-05:00

There are many unattractive parts to a human body. Many. But there are some parts that one could be attracted to while another would find repulsive. Feet for instance; some have a complete aversion to another's feet, while some (like my baby (step) daddy) like feet.

You're wondering where the hell I am going with that aren't you.

I'll tell you.

Armpits are one of the part that just aren't attractive. Who has ever heard someone utter the words. "What a great armpit, I'd do him (or her)." Nothing is ever great, hot, likeable about an armpit. So tell me this.

WHY?

Why does Beyonce pose like this? Is it something to do with her new movie? Does she think this is attractive?

I don't care who you are. Armpits are NOT attractive!

my babies are home

2007-01-20T16:24:00.000-05:00

According to my last post, I obviously had no idea what I was talking about. I was the labour part, we went to do the work! I actually really enjoyed it!

For those that don't know about Brew-Your-Own, you're not alone. I am very new to the whole concept even though my parents have been doing it for quite a while now. This place they use; all you do is tell them what you want, it takes a couple weeks to be prepared and then you go back and bottle it all! It's a very simple concept, the bottling part; it only takes about an hour (to do 60 bottles as we did today) and it's far less then buying it from the store!

I may become an alcoholic this is so easy (and relatively ~~cheap~~ inexpensive).

call me a lush, see if I care

2007-01-20T12:50:00.000-05:00

Going bottling homemade wine today! Yum, yum!

Now I am no connoisseur by any means. To say I was would be an absolute lie that I could never live with myself for telling. I am more of a cheap wine kinda girl. Like a 9 dollar a bottle wine; heck, gimme a box and I'm happier then a pig in shit. I couldn't even tell you a quality red or white wine. All I know is what I like; that's a good blush, fruity wine or white - sauvignon in particular. My gawd, I even spelled it right (I think)! Go on you can say I have no class. I don't mind. But, I do not live in a trailer, let's just get that straight.

My dad and step-mom have made a couple batches over the past two years. My brother's girlfriend and I ~~begged~~ asked them to make a batch for us to split, and they finally complied! I am really looking forward to this!
I didn't even do the actual labour part, like make the appointment. I'm just there to put it in a bottle and take it home. That's all I care about. Bringing my babies home.

I'll have a glass of milk, with a side of dink please

2007-01-18T19:58:00.000-05:00

To test Carter's comprehension of sentences Mike asks him, "Carter, do you want to put your dinky in the milk?"

WTF?

Mike "says" he wanted to see if Carter understands what we're saying to him or if he just nods at anything.

Sure, I can understand that, but Do you want to put your dinky in the milk? How about "Do you like the colour blue?

And... how does that tell us he doesn't comprehend a sentence? Maybe he does want to put his penis in a glass of milk!

Men.

thursday thirteen #14

2007-01-18T19:17:00.000-05:00

I'm running out of ideas. LOL I'm only 14 weeks in and can't think of 13 things anymore.

Alright... let's see.

Thirteen Things I Want to Accomplish this Year.

It's not a resolution list by any means. I resigned not to do that this year. Look at it as a TO DO list of tasks I want to accomplish.

1. Learn to design more templates. I think I'm getting the hang of it, but there's more I could do.
2. Get my paper done for the conference at the end of the year. There is too much work to procrastinate too long.
3. Write more. I am really glad that I picked up this blogging thing. I'm getting things out and "on paper". I feel better, and don't worry as much. ~~I'm getting out the shit that makes me mad and not fighting with Mike because all I do is bitch.~~
4. I want to rip the gawd awful wallpaper down in my basement. I'm not exaggerating either. It's that old lady wallpaper - silver backing with flowers. Been here since we moved in a year ago. HAVE to get it out.
5. Make up my mind about moving to Wordpress and just do it if I'm going to and shut up about it.
6. Spend less time on line and more time cleaning, walking the dog and reading. I feel guilty, sometimes; obviously not enough to do something about it. LOL
7. Tidy more often so I don't have to spend about 4 fucking hours a weekend cleaning top to bottom because I haven't done anything all week.
8. Eat more fruit. I've been slacking so bad; not sure why, I like fruit.
9. Increase my blog traffic for regular readers. I think I've been doing alright with that so far; slowly but surely people are coming. I just have to remember that I haven't been blogging that long yet. ~~and make sure that majority of my content is interesting and readable~~
10. Make up my mind about having another baby soon. Carter's getting older and older everyday and I really don't want them to be too far apart in age.
11. Catch up with old friends, IRL and online. have severely been lacking in this.
12. Eat more swedish berries. Hahahaha!
13. Be able to complete a full list of thirteen ideas, right up to 13 dammit!

upgrading

2007-01-17T20:55:00.000-05:00

I am still contemplating a move to wordpress. I just don't know. I like the features they have to offer ~~but I am just damn cheap is all~~; I'd have to pay for an upgrade to be able to design my blog templates and I don't know if I want to do that. Soooo, for now, I think it's here I stay.

I did, however, make the leap to Blogger Beta today. So far, so good. I haven't a complaint (yet). Though, if you're noticing something "off" drop me a line and let me know!

Cheers!

piss off

2007-01-17T19:19:00.000-05:00

I know that I am a bitch. I know that I whine and complain about a lot of shit. But so be it. You don't like it, you don't like it. I'm not going to lose sleep over it.

Dear Drivers;
I appreciate that cleaning your car in -20 degree temperatures is unpleasant. I have had to endure the piercing wind howling through my jacket as well while I scrape, scrape, scrape my windows. One thing that I can not tolerate or understand is not taking the time to get the ice off the roof of your car. I don't know if it's happened to you, but it's fucking freaky when you're driving 130km/hr (80ish mph) and a chunk of ice flies off the roof of the car in front of you. Fuck you.

Dear City Planners;
Now I don't know who's plan it was to abolish numbers on buildings, but they should be dragged out back by their nipples and shot between the eyes. Why doesn't anyone have an address number on their buildings anymore? Am I supposed to guess or know where the building is based on the number of structures from one fucking intersection to the next? Lord love a duck! What the hell is this shit? Get some damn numbers up! This isn't the first time this has happened; I am sick. of. it.

Dear Elderly Man;
I can understand that it's difficult to give up your freedom when you've been driving for so many years; but when you have to take SIX attempts to wedge your boat-of-a-car between two vehicles in a suburban parking lot, it's about time to hang those keys up for good buddy. And for the record. I knew you were there, you didn't need to honk (a million times), I just didn't have the time (or patience) to sit around for attempts number 7, 8, 9, and 10.

Dear Wendy's;
I'm not fully versed in your hiring techniques for counter staff; but I do believe that talking, being pleasant and fast are some things that you're looking for - hence the phrase "FAST FOOD". I am sick and tired of the CUSTOMER service staff that can not do just that. They are slow, rude, inconsiderate and plain ol' stupid most of the time. Get some decent damn help for a change!

That's better. Now, off to veg in front of the TV. I have about 5 days worth of Y&R to catch up on.

So, how was your day?

new york nitty-gritty

2007-01-17T15:45:00.000-05:00

Visit my renter this week! Frederick Otilius's site New York Nitty-Gritty combines two of my favourite things. New York and photographs.. I could look at this site forever.

Go. Take a peek. Enjoy!

PSA: pit bulls

2007-01-16T19:17:00.000-05:00

A letter I wrote:

Dear Sir/Madame;

It's very important that all the facts be considered in the proposed ban on pit bulls. There are three sides to every story; it appears there are only 2 sides presented through out this "investigation"; the citizens for the ban and the citizens against the ban. Where have the facts gone?
The public is entitled to hear and read the fact surrounding this proposed ban. Where is the scientific information? Why is it that the Attorney General can reiterate myths about the ban? There is no such thing as a "locking jaw mechanism" or that pit bulls tasting blood it will thrive for it! Where is this information coming from? There are stats regarding bites and attacks; the Attorney General, of all people, should be privy to that information to present his argument in a knowledgeable and informative way.

We have heard nothing but him stating his personal opinions regarding the breed. We as citizens deserve to understand how the government will fund the increases for officials to regulate the imposing ban. We deserve to know what will come of the animals sitting in shelters as I write this. We deserve an educated, informative and thought out plan; not a rash of emotional thoughts and opinions. We deserve to know how the government plans to have criminals register and sterilize their dogs. How will they enforce the muzzle bylaw? How will they regulate the breeding of "dangerous" dogs?

Many organizations and citizens of both sides of the argument deserve an educated argument as to why we should ban these dogs. We deserve to know on what basis the Attorney General is pursuing this legislation. The information is out there and Mr. Bryant needs to look at it. For this law to be just it needs to encompass all breeds.

Discrimination is discrimination, regardless of species.

It's easy to make a popular law; it take courage to make a just law.

As many have probably heard (or are facing in their province/state) Ontario has a pit bull ban. The Attorney General set forth a law to ban breeding, fighting and owning pit bulls after August 29, 2005, with a grace period to October 28. 2005. All existing dogs are grandfathered (they can be kept, but cannot be replaced after they pass away).
He did this based on personal fear and hatred of pit bulls. He did not consult any veterinarians, breeders or any animal experts when making this decision.

I wrote the above letter previous to the ban; emailed it to every MPP and paper, as well as the Attorney General. It was printed in many of Toronto's papers. (tooting my horn dammit! *toot toot*)

I could go on and on about why pit bulls are not the monsters that people believe they are. I could share story after story about the good dogs that are not in the news. But it's wasted breath (or typing in this case); fact is, people have already made up their minds from fear mongering and discrimination in most cases.

It should be known that ALL dogs are in fact dangerous. It truly and honestly depends on the owner of these animals. An animal's treatment and training is reflected in their behaviour.

I am a pit bull owner. I am fully committed to this breed and keeping my dog safe. It's bad owners that give this breed a bad name; it's irresponsible owners that have killed so many of these animals and have tarnished this loving and loyal breed.

** back to our regularly scheduled programming **

my fine is $635.60

2007-01-15T12:32:00.000-05:00

I stole this from Denise, who stole it from tug.

I'm going straight to hell... but only after Denise and tug. LOL!

Here’s how it works: You don’t have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine. And NO, it is not PER incident (otherwise, some of us would have totals more than the national debt - like mine almost does!).

Smoked pot — $10
Did acid — $5
Ever had sex at church — $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you — $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace — $25
Had sex for money — $100
Vandalized something — $20
Had sex on your parents’ bed — $10
Beat up someone — $20
Been jumped — $10
Crossed dressed — $10
Given money to stripper — $25
Been in love with a stripper — $20
Kissed some one who’s name you didn’t know — $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work — $15
Ever drive drunk — $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk — $50
Used toys while having sex — $30
Got drunk, passed out and don’t remember the night before — $20
Went skinny dipping — $5
Had sex in a pool — $20
Kissed someone of the same sex — $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex — $20
Cheated on your significant other — $10
Masturbated — $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend — $20
Done oral — $5
Got oral — $5
Done / got oral in a car while it was moving — $25
Stole something — $10
Had sex with someone in jail — $25
Made a nasty home video — $15
Had a threesome — $50
Had sex in the wild — $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex — $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars — $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older — $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 — $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time — $50
Said you love someone but didn’t mean it — $25
Went streaking — $5
Went streaking in broad daylight — $15
Been arrested — $5
Spent time in jail — $15
Peed in the pool — $0.50
Played spin the bottle — $5
Done something you regret — $20
Had sex with your best friend — $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work — $25
Had anal sex — $80
Lied to your mate — $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good — $25

Tally it up and Title it…”My Fine Is…”

Let me know if you participate…I wanna see how naughty you have been!

sex toys, hardly

2007-01-14T14:46:00.000-05:00

MamaTulip wanted to hear about my battery operated toothbrush. I believe she even mentioned the word dild0 in her request. Pfft. What a pervert. I found it odd that this what part of her request, but reminded me of one of my business trips....

I enjoy brushing my teeth as much as the next person but I have a new found lust for it since getting my electric toothbrush. Now, it's not one of those fancy Sonic Care toothbrushes, which I wouldn't mind; it's just one of those ~~cheap~~ Oral B. This thing is what dreams are made of. I could never, never return to using a "manual" toothbrush. It's manual, but with less work. The head spins and cleans better then any regular ~~shitty~~ toothbrush. Anyone unknowing would definitely mistake the sound and vibration for a dildo.

I know this because...

I was on a business trip in September 2004. From Toronto to Virginia for a month. Pack my shit and away we go. Trip there was uneventful; get to the rented mini van and load up my stuff in the back. Take a short trip from DC to Maryland to pick up some equipment. There's me, my boss and some guy from France that I'd never met but was to stay and work with me for the entire month. Great. Fine. So in Maryland we load up our equipment from the office which required some shuffling of the luggage in the back. No biggie. Right? *Ahem*

The guys are shuffling some stuff around and I come walking back to the van with my arms full of computer hardware, what exactly is not important. I get to the van and my boss turns towards me and diverts his eyes very quickly. Huh? What the fuck was that about? He then looks down at the ground, up at the sky, to his left. "There's something going off in your luggage." He says and quickly makes a dash for the building. There I stand dumbfounded as to what the fuck he's talking about. I take my time and load the shit I was carrying and walk over to my bag thinking that he's seriously got to lay off the crack. What the hell could be going off in my fuckin' bag? I touch it. It's vibrating. It's fucking vibrating. *sigh* Je-sus. I know what it is.

My damn toothbrush. I hadn't taken the batteries out before I packed it and with the shuffling something must have depressed the button. I think he was more embarrassed then I was; all I could do was laugh. I pulled it out to prove to him that it was in fact my toothbrush and not some sex toy that I planned on getting freaky with while I was away from hubby!

You'd think I'd learn my lesson after that? Oh, no. Not this one.

So, I'm in the airport on my way home at the end of the trip. Check my luggage in Dulles Airport and think nothing of it. Send it through the security check points, x rays, etc., and I'm on my way home.
Get back to Toronto and head to the baggage department. Wait for everything to unload; everything does, but my bag. Fuck! Where the hell is my bag!? I walk around, check other spots and then go to the baggage claim counter and ask. The bitch there doesn't even look up and points to where the unclaimed bags are stored. I walk over wondering how it would be there if I just arrived here. Whatever.
But low and behold, there it is. With bright orange tape around it and a sticker that says "INSPECTED". I grab my bag and head off; feeling a little violated and wondering, Why me? What made you want to search my bag?

I get home, still pondering the reasons that they chose MY bag.

As I open my bag, it hits me. There IT is, sitting on top of everything else, opened and batteries removed.

My ~~dildo~~ toothbrush went off in my bag again!

I can just imagine the inspector that had to check for that! A big sigh of relief must have washed over them when they realized that it was in fact a toothbrush and not a sex toy.

it's a mouldy situation

2007-01-14T11:18:00.000-05:00

We moved to this house a year and a half ago. I remember how excited we were to finally escape the world of high rise condos; elevators, trips to the laundry mat, and midnight false fire alarms. It's a nice life if you're not into having a backyard and some outdoor living space. But it just wasn't for us anymore. We wanted that dream house, big backyard for a place the dog and baby could play. I honestly think that we got more then we bargained for. We have a 60 foot deep backyard and we're in the midst of a smaller city and commute. That's the great part. And then we found out that we have mould.

It's an older house, built about 50 years ago.. when back splits were the in thing. It's a smaller house, a starter house. But we were really happy with it. It was a far cry from the 900 square foot one bedroom apartment that cost us a small fortune.
We noticed about 6 months ago that we may have a problem when the basement would leak in the crawl space after a rain storm.
Our driveway was old and in dire need of replacement. It was crumbling and had numerous patches that looked like a kindergartener fixed it. So, the driveway was replaced in September. The leaking stopped... but there was insulation and framing there... which would have gotten wet, right? We didn't know the extent of the wetness or how long it had been occurring. I suspect it had been for years.
So, then we had a minor flood on the opposite side of the house during another rain storm and noted that the carpet was wet as were all our boxes that we had stored. Nothing was ruined, thankfully, except.. where the fuck was this water coming from now?
Then we noticed, just above that spot... in Carter's closet - wet and soggy concrete board. That's not good. Mould throughout Carter's closet!

So, up to today. We have a contractor friend here (on a Sunday) to clean out all the mould and fix everything for us... for the cost of materials!! I can't believe it! I am jumping for joy (okay, not literally, that would require me to get up), I hope this solves our issues and we won't have to move yet.

dental (hi)jinx

2007-01-13T14:35:00.000-05:00

Is hi-jinx a word? My thesaurus doesn't know it, am I even close the right spelling?

When I was a child I remember trips to the dentist as being a bit intimidating. They take you in a small room, little to no natural light, seat you in a chair, shine a bright light in your face and ask questions. Do you floss? Afraid to say no for fear of what they may do to me I would lie. I'd lie like my life depended on it. A big hearty nod, "Of course." I'd say, not really knowing that as soon as I opened my mouth he'd know different. I didn't have many cavities while I was growing up. I'd make sure that I brushed well, and often, to avoid the scrutinizingly evil glares I would get from my mom when the dentist announced I had a cavity. Those glares could melt steel. Put Superman's heat vision to shame.
Plus, as much as I feared my mom, I was scared of needles more; and every filling meant two needles in the gums. That's enough to (almost) swear any child off candy and pop for life.

I'm not entirely sure where my fear of needles came from. I can definitely tell you where it escalated though. My memory is a bit jagged, but I can still envision most of it.
I was no more the six years old. I had to get a booster shot, or a needle for something. My doctor used to scare the shit out of me. I was young, innocent, and unknowing; but he had a stroke years before and was paralyzed on the right side of his body and required a cane to walk. Actually it was more of a shuffle. As a child I can remember how I used to stare, and be scared that if he touched me "it" would transfer and I would get "it" too.
So, I was there for this needle; I can't remember what provoked me, but I know that I ran. I ran and hid under the secretary's desk, he shuffled along behind me trying to catch up, all the while my mom is yelling at me. Scared out of my mind I huddled in the corner trying to avoid his grasp. I didn't want to catch "it", and at this rate, I was doomed. No where to go. I had to act fast. As he bent down and tried to reach me again I bit him. I bit him hard. Right square in the hand. Must have hurt like a bitch too because he backed a way really fast and made me mom come in and get me.
I was in for it now. She was going to beat me like I was a redheaded step child when we got home. I surrendered and went back to the room. At this point my little brother was sitting there crying in hysterics; waiting his turn for a needle too. I hadn't heard him while I was running for my life, but I could hear him now, and the rest of the office was looking at my mom (with what was probably pity or hatred) because of us.
I must have blacked out after that because I have no recollection of the needle itself, just a fear that has been with me to this day.

Which brings me to this.

Went to the dentist today. We're so fortunate? to have one that open on Saturdays. He's really good - sensitive, understanding, gentle and fast! Which is great for me because I have anxiety when it comes to the dentist. Not a fear, just anxiety. Maybe it's the bright lights and the big chair?
I have one cavity again. I am really good about brushing... but yet it seems once a year (almost) I have a cavity. Meanwhile Mike eats shit food all the time and yet, he has nothing. So I have to go back in a weeks time to get a filling. So, if you read above you understand. I'm far from thrilled about this.