Oh Sherrie and Aunt Jemima - together at last!

Well I want to edit my old profile, since as someone told me, the information is old as hell. But anyway, I don't know how to do it or I am too lazy to look for how to do it, or whatever, but the point is, I didn't do it. LOL, I have no idea what the hell I am even talking about. But anyhooo, I just had to throw in this interesting tidbit from tonight. It looks like, for the very first time of my life, I will be getting an income tax refund. I am not kidding, I will be getting a refund for the very first time. Thank God we threw extra money in our rrsps at the last minute, because that's what saved me from paying 3 grand again. So, I'll actually believe it when I see it, but all fingers point to a refund. Let me say, I was singing a few bars of "Our God is an Awesome God" after I found that out - you know, the song that chokes Chunks up and all.
Oh man, it's going to be a long week - work is really hectic right now and I just feel like I am flying by the seat of my pants. Then we are having a family BBQ on Wednesday night here which I really don't want to even go through. It's my parents' 49th anniversary tomorrow, so we are having the BBQ, but it is so stressful with my Dad being the way he is, because... oh, it's too frigging long to get into, but it's not the fact that he's being forgetful and confused a bit here and there, but the fact that apparently my mother is being a grand bitch to him (his words) because she's freaked out by all this (my interpretation), but to be honest, I don't know what's true and what's not, and my family is just so fundementally mental when you really get to the bottom of it - LOL, it's a long frigging story, but I made my sister call my mother today to ask how dad was, because he called her on the weekend and was going on about how much of a bitch dear mama was being and calling him on everything he says, but she apparently told my sister he's fine, so I don't know which one is crazier. But as I said, I don't even want to get into it because then I'd have to get into the whole wierd dysfunction of my family, and well, who really gives a fuck? So, I am just crossing my fingers it's all good, and can't wait until the frigging thing is over. So anyway, as I said, I don't want to get into it. And no, I am not in a funk, but with the whole adoption post the other day, well, every few years that one throws me for a loop, and then the thing with my dad and not really knowing how he really is, if he's better than I think, or whatever, so, I am do for a pity party every once in a while. It's just so freaky because my parents have been the most loving, mushy cute couple for the past 48 years, but now.. honest to God, they seem so grim, but whatever. I am sick of talking about all that, so enough.
So, anyway, I am watching Project Catwalk right now, I shit you not. It's the cat's ass, it really is. The British are so damn bitchy, and I love it. I have said before that my 4 year old is addicted to "How Clean is Your House" and we watch a lot of the British real estate shows, and I am always amused that they have those little fridges and washing machines in the kitchen with no dryers. Isn't that the strangest thing? So, like, if you air dry all your clothes, you'd have to do a lot of ironing. And I mean, if I had to iron my knickers, I'd be gobsmacked! Ok, so I can't pull off an English phrase - shut your gobs, all of you!
So remember when I paid a million dollars and ordered a book that has every Billboard Hot 100 Chart from the 80s? Well, it's an addiction. I have been making a 1984 playlist on my mp3, because I want to get every song charted that year (wonderful, meaningful goals for me, hey?), and I came to the realization that I never really understood the lyrics of "Oh Sherrie." I never realized it was "Oh Sherrie, our love, holds on, holds on". I always sang "Oh Sherrie, on and on, hold strong, hold strong." I even owned the frigging tape. So anyway, I have no idea why I am addicted to 1984 right now, but I am in a grade 8 frame of mind.
I've had an itchy toe since the weekend - does that mean anything in old wives tales?
So, I don't really have a whole lot of nuthin' to say, so I s'pose I should go finish the catwalk show. Have a good day y'all.
xo
JT
p.s. I just noticed that the British name their children Jemima on a regular basis. WTF? I am sorry if you are reading this and your name is Jemima, but honest to God, it's just not a name to have since the advent of Aunt Jemima.
Speaking of aunt Jemima, did I ever tell you about my freakish fear? I am sure I blogged this last year, but here goes again: We always used to borrow this cabin that belonged to friends of my parents, and in the kitchen they had this little decorative plate (I have deja vu of telling this, sorry) of this Black cook, with a white hat, holding a spoon. Well, I have this memory of being there visiting when I was like 6 and being completed freaked out by this little plate on the wall. Well, every time we stayed there, the first thing I would do was get my mom to take the plate down. The last time we used that cabin was when I was 13 - first thing I did was rip that fucker off the wall and throw it under the bed. Hmmm, I am afraid of a questionable plate, sock puppets, and flooding basements (another fear from childhood that freaks the ever-loving shit out of me - a flooding basement - I never said I was normal). How I scooped up Rachel, I will never know.
So, the connection with the plate reminds me of Aunt Jemima when she still wore the scarf on her head, because she used to hold a spoon too.
But the little plate freaked me out enough that I also was scared of Mrs. Butterworth and whenever they'd have those commercials where she comes to life and the syrup pours from her head, well, that just gave me the heebie geebies.
But you know the funny thing about all of this? I still love pancakes!
The Golden Globes are now over, y'all y'all y'all!