Monday, September 18, 2006

Since when did Bologna become part of the Holy War?

I am beyond tired, but I just have to get this odd thing off my chest. Now you know that I pride myself on being so open and such, but I had a stereotypical thought yesterday whilst eating a piece of bologna that sort made me wonder if I was indeed harboring stereotypical thoughts about Muslims. You see, it all began about a week ago when we were shopping in Superstore. Yes, it was a week ago on Saturday. Well, we were buying like 300 smackeroos of groceries, and my darling wife said "I bet the kids would like baloney." Now, having grown up in a family where cold cuts and balogna were lunch staples, I sort of have had my fill and hence we never buy the shit. So Rachel went and grabbed some as I sat there in the frozen meat aisle trying to decide which box of chicken fingers didn't look like it had been unthawed and refrozen.
So flash forward to Sunday. The kids did indeed enjoy the bologna and so I thought I would try it too. My wife told me it was chicken baloney, so I was intrigued. So I grab a piece and munch it down and it was darn good. I even commented, I think, that it was good. So I go to grab another piece and as I am shoving it into my mouth, I get a look at the package, and it looks.... odd. Not like good old Oscar Meyer or Maple Leaf or anything like that, but something odd and foreign looking. It still doesn't really click with me, but my eyes scan the ingredients for some reason and I see the first ingredient is something like "Hallal deboned chicken" or something like that. I immediately think "what the fuck does that mean?" I take a closer look at the package, and see it's some weird brand name, and then I see the Arabic writing. THEN I see the red Islam symbol thing and the assertion that this product is certified that the chickens were slaughtered as according to Islamic law or something to that effect.
Well, do you think I could enjoy this last piece of chicken entrails? No, I couldn't. Instead, I had images of a darkly lit chicken plant, with Islamic fanatics running around, holding a chicken up by it's neck, speaking loudly and harshly, with a knife to the bird's throat, and then they slit the poor thing quickly while yelling about how good Allah is, and then broadcasting the whole thing on the internet. I just couldn't eat it.
Now, the whole thing struck me as funny, but it also struck me as sort of sad that I would have this awful image come to mind, like I was equating terrorism with the good, peaceful citizens of Islam, all in this piece of lunch meat. Ah well, I blame the media.
But I wonder what DOES constitute a properly slaughtered chicken?
Anyway, that's food for thought tonight.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

When you realize you have nothing to say, it looks like this:

Ah, the week that was... I don't want to talk about it. Let's just be glad it's over.
It's raining cats and fucking dogs here. It went from 30 degrees on Monday, when I thought I was going to be able to grow rice on my body, to a cool 8 degrees and just torrential rain for the past few days. And you know what? I frigging love it. Love it, mates! I love rain, and rainy days, and clouds, and the nice cool breezes, and the fall smells.... ah, love it. Also, since it hasn't seemed to have rained here since 1985 or so, it's refreshing.
So, we are going to a wedding tomorrow night, and so I went to get my hair cut this afternoon for the occassion, and so I didn't go to the stupid hillbilly discount haven, but instead to the religious barbershop. It's got about 3 people working there, but I always get this old religious guy who I sort of know. Well, he always does a good job and chops it nice and short. Indeed, I look like a marine right now, or almost anyway. But this old guy is just so touchy I want to burst out laughing when I am sitting there, because first, when he puts the cape thing around you, he always does it up and then gives you this loving pat on the shoulder, whilst he still has his arm around your neck. And when he's done, it's the same thing. I seriously want to start laughing or make a smart-ass comment when he does it. Sorta like how I always want to say to my doctor when he tells me to roll over for my prostate exam, "shouldn't you at least buy me dinner first?"
But the whole thing brought back memories of this place that I used to get my hair cut at. This chick did such a good job with my hair, because I have such thick hair, but the one uncomfortable thing that also made me almost piss myself is that she used to always stick her... hmmm, what do you call it..... as my brother in law calls it (don't yell at me), her "gunt".... you know, it's like a belly, but it's below her gut, and above her "thang", hence "gunt"... anyway, she would press her hard old gunt into my arms and sides as she was cutting and damn, that fucking thing was hard as rock. My gut is just jelly flabby, but she had some serious hardness to that round thing. But anyway, it was feeling strange because you don't usually feel that part of a stranger. So it's always interesting getting a haircut.
So, I have nothing to say about Big Brother, nor Rock Star, because what is there to say? Boogie is a gross arsehole, and I was offended for Erika. That was so ignorant to tell her she was played in the way they did it. Anyway, Survivor was ok, but not the big fucking deal they made it out to be. I am cheering for the Asians. I admit, I thought the creepy guy was funny, Kung Pow or whatever the hell his name was. I immediately was cheering for Sundra when I saw her, so I dunno what that means. Probably because she is a middle aged Black woman that looks sort of like a young Toni Morrisson. You know how I am a sucker for that type. That sort of motherly Black woman thing. I am so predictable. Amazing Race is this Sunday, but I don't care for it as much. I've missed the past two seasons or so and don't really give a shit.
So I just got out of the tub because I had to wash my hair, to get all the loose hair off of me from the haircut, and I used this Superstore kid's shampoo that was sitting there, and it was blueberry scented. Well, to me it smelled like stale beer - like, when you are cleaning up the next morning after a party and you are confronted with that beer smell from the little bits left in the bottles all over the place - that smell. So now I am grossed out. It really stinks. And speaking of stink - you know that stupid Axe deoderant? It's 7 fucking dollars. I shit you not. I am in Superstore tonight smelling around and was going to get some, and it's 7 bucks. Fuck that bullshit, capitalist pigs! 7 dollars.... give me a break.
Anyway, baby waking up, gotta run, have a good weekend dear friends.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Augusten Buroughs needs to write me something quick

Singing with Celebs - let me say this: Wynnona - Wynonna - Wynona? However you spell it - was on singing with some "Celebrity" that we have no idea who he is or what he is supposedly famous for, and let me just say this - bitch looks frightening. Now, I really like Wy, and she'd be someone I could see myself hangin' with, but if I did, there would come a point where I'd have to say "Darling, you are dressing and doing your hair like Liza Minelli during one of her drug-adled marriages to a flamboyantly gay man." Honest to God, that's who she looked like. She looked sort of like she was wearing a Camaro with flames painted on the side. It was this long coat thing with flame-colored shit on the sides. Like a muscle car, I kid you not. And then she had that freaky make-up she always wears, and that sort of woman-mullet she has that sort of "I want to look like a lesbian, but I unfortunately like dick" feel to it. You know what I mean. So to sum up, she was wearing a muscle car, with lots of funeral make-up, and a lesbian wanna-be hairdo. And the very fact she was on this show freaked me out because you gotta be some sort of freaky has-been to do this. They had Randy Travis on last week, and let me say, bitch is even uglier than before. He's so creepy, and remember he married that manager that was old enough to be his mama? I am not even going to go there. Jeffrey Osborne is on right now, and I actually own his greatest hits cd. I really like him. He's singing with Alfatso Ribero - oops, did I say that out loud? Oh, and someone answer me: what the fuck is up with Little Richard? Really, what is the deal with him? Why would you make yourself look like that? He's like a black Liberace. Ain't no way he's ever gotten laid in the past 30 years. And what the fuck is he ever saying? And Marie Osmond looks like someone took an iron to her face, and then grabbed some fun-tack and squished the shit in the corner of her eyes. David Foster is just a frigging loser. I am so sick of all his trite bullshit - I hated the St. Elmo's fire "Man in Motion" song and all that other crap he's done. Well, I have a soft spot for Chaka Khan's "Through the Fire" that he produced, but ain't nobody can fuck up Chaka, so that cancels that out.
As you can tell, I am avoiding talking about BB7 because I am just so fucking mad. SO. FUCKING. MAD. If that piss face wins, I'll be choked because he didn't do a damn thing. I'd like to wipe my ass with his fucking Dolce t-shirt and then shove it down his throat while I push him out the door, yelling "that's a class act!" Then I'd throw Erika in the chair and tell her to dummy up and not be so desparate and give the bitch a couple bowls of slop to fatten her up and fill in those hollow face bones. Ah, they are all crazy.
So then on Rock Star Supernova, Dilana is so fucking crazy and has sucked. And so she does her lame original song, a week after saying she was sorry for talking shit about her bandmates, and what does the bitch do? She fucking says "this song is a big fuck you to the fans on the internet!" Can you say STUPID? I wouldn't trust her to clean my frigging cat box now, let alone front my band. So she shot herself in the foot. And then her song last night they loved and I thought was terrible. Absolutely terrible. Storm did an awesome encore. She sang one of my top 10 favorite songs, "Wish you Were Here" by Pink Floyd, and she nailed it. I always have to fight the urge to cry when I hear that song. It reminds me of my brother in law who died 9 years ago. But anyway, she was cheated. She was good, but she sort of creeped me out. She was butch in this weird way that was just unsettling. And I hated when she tried to sex it all up because that was unsettling too. She is sort of a creepy asexual thing, when you get right down to it, because the butch thing and the slut blonde thing both don't add up. I actually liked Lukas' song, don't hate me. Tobey was good. Magni is nice, but I probably just like him because I was obsessed with Iceland as a child, and still have this weird obsession with it. But he's just fucking boring, to be honest. So I dunno, they will pick Lukas or Tobey. Probably Tobey. But really, they will suck shit no matter what.
Ok, what else.... we survived first day of kindergarten. I cried all frigging morning. I'll post about it on the weekend - not in the mood tonight.
Tomorrow she starts her first ballet class. I hope she doesn't get scared and will do it. She will love it once she gets over her shyness, so I hope it goes well. Then we are going to our neighbors for supper and I hope the kids, being the picky eaters they are, won't say "I don't like this". LOL, the shit that stresses you out.
Work is so hectic, I don't have time to piss, because I am fielding calls or seeing people or putting out fires. Another week or so and things will slow down, but FUCK, that seems like a long way off. But anyway, the days go fast.
Well, I have shit out enough useless babble to choke a horse, so I'll leave it at that. It FINALLY cooled off tonight, after a couple days of 30 degree heat, and there is even a frost warning, so I think I will hop in the tub and reread Augusten Burrough's Dry. Fuck, he needs to write faster. Auggie, if you are reading this, give me some grocery lists or something of yours to read. You hear me? I need more, bee-otch!
Anyway, I just saw a commerical for Friday's and they sell deep-fried mac and cheese. I can't decide if I am revolted or intrigued.....
Kenny Loggins and Lucy Lawless are singing "Whenever I Call You Friend" and bitch ain't no Stevie Nicks.... and Kenny Loggins is all into this colonic bullshit and he's so thin and always sweating like a mofo, and I think he needs to stop the colonics and have a fucking hamburger.
Well, that's about all I have to say. Oh, and I am sending out good vibes and hugs to Chunks as she had to say goodbye to her beloved dog today. I know the hideous, horrible shitty-ass kick in the gut feeling of losing a dog - I still have Daisy's bowl in the garage with food and some of her hair in it that I refuse to dump. I still have a lump in my throat thinking about her. It still breaks my heart thinking of Kelly asking us who drove Daisy to Heaven in the stars. And the kids still say hi to Daisy when they are out on starry nights. So here's to you, our puppies in the stars.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

the year was 72-73, and this was my life

Most people don't believe me when I say I remember being two and three years old, but I really do. I remember so much from those years, 1972 and 1973, when we lived on Windsor Street in Chilliwack - we moved there when we moved from Saskatchewan in 1972.
I remember being two years old, lying in my crib and refusing to sleep, and finally my sister "Libby" came and got me. That was the last time I napped as a child. I remember shortly after that getting a double bed. I remember one day right after that, on a Sunday afternoon, walking with my parents and 3 sisters to this store called the Bon Marche, which really was just sort of a smoke shop/gift store (shit, remember smoke shops?), and then being tired on the way home and riding on my dad's shoulders, and having to pee really bad, and when we got home, instead of going to the can, I knocked on the door of my room, then went in it and said "yesssss?" and then said "Exuse me madam, may I use your bathroom" and then going back and saying "yes" and then walking over to the wall and peeing on it.
I remember staying home during the days with my mother, and her watching the Edge of Night on this yellow black and white television in her room, that had rabbit ears. I remember listening to "Danny's Song" by Anne Murray and her singing it to me all the time. I remember her putting on make up and "Second Debut", which was either make up or lotion - I am not sure but I remember the smell. My mom had a friend named Verna who lived at the end of the road. Verna had 5 kids, but she always had a box of Nuts and Bolts in the house to feed me, so I loved going there. My favorites were the Shreddies, and I would bite the ends off of the pretzels and put the Cheerios on the ends and make wheels. Do they still sell Nuts and Bolts?
I used to play with these kids across the street with white, white hair. Cory was the name of one of them. One time, one of them puked out on the sidewalk, and there was this spot that was sort of pink on the cement and I was always convinced it was the puke.
Two of my sisters had rooms in the basement, or make-shift rooms anyway, with bamboo dividers. The basement always flooded because of the rain, and we had a sump pump down there and I was always scared when there was water down there. I still get irrationally freaked out by flooded basements and broken pipes and water and such. Really freaked out. I remember going down one morning and my dad put me on this shelf while they mopped the floor up.
I remember I would stand on this wooden mandarin orange crate and watch the washing machine all the time. My strange laundry obsession started then. We had this weird washer with a green agitator.
I will always remember our yard. It was like Eden. We had a huge Golden Delicious apple tree in our yard, and concord grapes on each side - green on one side, purple on the other. We have a picture of my grandma posing with all these grapes and I never understood why until I moved here and realized the shit you take for granted. We also had a blueberry bush back there, and a fish pond. We would feed the fish these big round things that looked like gall stones. In the winter, sometimes ice would form on the top of the pond and they would swim under the ice.
I remember we also took my grandma to Fort Langley and we ate soda crackers out of a big barrel, which I thought was the cat's ass. I also remember driving to Chilliwack from Saskatchewan with my parents, 3 sisters, and my grandma in the car, and then picking up my 10 foot cousin Barry in Calgary and all of us driving through the horrible summer heat in one car, no air conditioning, with towels in the windows to block the sun. Mom, dad, and grandma all smoked, and everyone had the farts from cherries we bought at fruit stands. We also used to stop at this one mountain stream (strange now that I think about it because my parents never stopped for anything other than a pee break and an ice cream cone at Revelstoke, or the A & W in Golden, or at the Swan Lake fruit stand in Vernon that our relatives owned) and fill up on the coldest, best tasting water around.
I also remember being at grandma's at that age, in Herbert, Saskatchewan. Grandma's back yard looked out into a field. I remember the curtains in her bathroom, which my mom used for years after she died. They were gold and had oval holes in them. I remember we slept in grandma's basement and I was terrified of being down there, and the dank smell, and not wanting to look at her wringer washer, because I thought it was some kind of machine that would get you - sort of like the Jetson's robot maid. I also remember the plastic kleenex box cover in her bathroom.
I remember on Sundays we would walk down the road to the Little Mountain Deli where my parents would buy pickled herring (Chilliwack was a Dutch town) and I wouldn't taste it, but it smelled so good. We would also drive out about 5 miles out of town and buy fresh corn from this stand that was a windmill. I remember when the mall first opened in Chilliwack, Cottonwood Corner, and drinking grape pop with crushed ice from those pop fountain thingies (remember those?) in the Skillet at Zellers. I remember we bought our dryer in 73 from Zellers, a Bradford, the brand was, and I now realize my fear of electricity comes from then - when they were waiting for the dryer to come, the wires were exposed where you hooked it up and the folks told me not to touch them or I'd die or the house would burn down or something.
I also know it was from then that I got my fear of the house burning down if a lamp fell over. I don't know why that was, but my sister "Leslie" and I think our mom told us that. I remember running around the house, through the kitchen, into the dining room, then the living room, and over and over in circles and my mom saying "don't touch the stove" and so I did, and burned my hand. I remember we had a room in the basement called "the funny room" which was where we kept the trunks, filled with old clothes, diapers, mom's wedding dress, etc. It was a treat to go in there.
And that, my friends, is my memories of the years 1972 and 1973, when I was 2 and 3. Perhaps tomorrow we'll do the next year. I am sure you are waiting with baited breath.

Friday, September 01, 2006

John Waite, my beloved dead pooch, and hairy Rudy: a play in one Act

Long time no see. It's my busy time at work, and at home too, so I haven't even caught up on my blog reading, let alone writing. But anyway, enough of that.
So tonight I was watching Fame, the tv show, not the movie. It's on every night now on MuchMoreMusic, and I am addicted to it. I have always loved that show, both the movie and the tv show, and it's so cheesy, it's good. I was always jealous of those kids. I want to be the one who lives forever, where people will see me and cry. But, alas, doesn't look like it's gonna happen. I also had this crush on Coco when I was a kid, and it's funny now to see it because holy hannah, bitch had quite the hair...
So anyway, Debbie Allen was on doing her usual sassy bullshit - Leroy didn't have his tights or something - and I started thinking about her sister, who was Mama Cosby, and I have to say this: I loved the Cosby show (except when they did all those fucking skits and songs and things for all those famous old jazz musicians and such who always seemed to pop over), and all that, and I suppose I thought them to be such a cool family, but really, Mama was such a supreme bitch. That's not to say I didn't like her, but when you look at her as a mother, she never cut those kids any slack. You knew just watching that the kids lived in fear of her, and she always had something to say. She never went after Sondra or Denise really, but poor Theo and Vanessa. Those two always got shit on. I mean, even though Theo was a fuck up in some ways, you just wanna say Mama let the boy play some rock and roll, you know? Like, it comes to a point where you just want to scream "Claire, just let Theo and Cockroach skip out for an afternoon to buy concert tickets" or "Let Vanessa take a cosmotology class as an elective at school." But no, bitch would never let that shit happen. My five year old just told me when she grows up she's getting a tatoo and working at the slush store. I will let her have that dream for now. Claire Huxtable wouldn't let her kids do that, nosiree. Yet, she let Denise return with a husband who is some high-ranking military dude, but yet lets them all free-load off of her and Cliff? I dunno, so much never added up with that show. And why is Cliff never delivering babies? I used to be a nanny for my doctor, and he was always running out to help new life spring into the world. So that didn't fly either. Also, since they were so fucking tight-assed with money and the kids could never buy anything, why did they dress so well? They always had new clothes. And why, pray tell me, didn't they get Rudy electrolysis for her mustache once she hit puberty? Or buy Vanessa some fucking hair relaxer? It all didn't make sense.
So why the rant on the Cosby Show? I don't rightly know.
SO I was just reading this 80s song quiz that my friend sent me, and was reminded that the lyric "every time I think of you, I always catch my breath" is pretty much one of the most beautiful lyrics ever.
I just took some gravol to get to sleep - do you think that has anything to do with this odd post?
Anyway, I better cart my arse to beddy-bye land, because I do feel rightfully loopy. It was one year ago tonight that my beloved dog Daisy was killed, so send some good energy up to the heavens to her, ok? Love ya always, Dais...