Wednesday, November 28, 2007

RIP Skanky baby

Yo homies. I should be in bed, but just am not in the mood to go. Actually, waiting for the towels to dry to i can put my coat in the dryer, which is sure to wake everyone because the frigging thing has more zippers than Michael Jackson.
I don't know why but I just feel blue tonight. One of those sighing, listening to Joni's "Judgment of the Moon and Stars" over and over again kind of nights. Ah well, life's a bitch sometime, isn't it?
For some reason, I keep thinking about this cashier from a few years ago. This would be at least 3 years or so ago, when I was at my old job and worked downtown, right in the core of poverty and crime. One day Sharon and I decided to take a coffee break and walk down the road to the Red Apple, which is like SAAN in Butcher Holler, to get some chocolate. It was located on the scariest street in the downtown, where all the drug dealers, convicts, and pimps hang out. On the street, they call it Hep Street, because of all the Hep C junkies. But anyway. We go to the Red Apple, because we had been there a few weeks prior to buy some blankets for a round dance giveaway (I am not making any of this up), and they had Hershey Bars, the plain kind that you can't get in Canada anymore. So being the nostalgic whores we are, we went there, and it was around this time of year. Working there was this woman who looked like she had just got out of the clink or was on some rehab work placement thing or something - she was all tatooed and street looking and shit, and she served us and struck up a conversation with us - well, more with Sharon, because I was the uptight looking white guy and Sharon was the high class Indian girl. So anyway, she was blabbing on and on and asked us if we had our Xmas shopping done and we said yes or whatever and she said she kept thinking she was done and told her kids they were just getting 2 things each but then she kept getting other little things for them and couldn't stop and when she bought another thing for one, the rest had to get something too, and on and on, and I mean, she worked hard for the money, you know? I am sure she lived in the hood, and the toys for her kids were probably the little things from the Red Apple she got on discount, and I was just somehow incredibly moved by this woman and how she still made Christmas for her family and all of that, and I got all choked up, and I have never forgotten her. So then, today - Rachel, if you are reading this, stop right now, because I am going to talk about a gift for you -I'll give you a line or two to stop:

Anyway, today I was contemplating a gift I want to get her for Xmas. You see, since we had kids, our policy is to not buy each other anything, because we buy what we want whenever we want anyway and why waste money yada yada... but we don't always follow it - a couple years ago i broke that when she got her Kitchen Aid, sewing machine, and digital camera. She broke it the next year she i got a treadmill and mp3 player. Last year, I think we stuck to it. This year we plan to, but there is this one thing I've wanted to give her for a year, and it would be a huge suprise because she doesn't even really know that I know that she wants it. But it's a huge pile of change. However, it would be worth it, and sort of practical in a way. But anyway, I was trying to figure out if I could pull that money out of my ass somehow, and started thinking that whole poor poor pitiful me thing yet again, and then I got to thinking: My kids will be spoiled rotten at Christmas. We always go overboard. We have so much. But, alas, sometimes I don't realize it, when I think "oh, if only I could buy this" for her, a hugely extravagent gift. But then, after I looked at this wanted gift lovingly on the internet today, I felt ashamed and dirty and thought of the Red Apple woman, who scraped and sacrificed to get her kids some dinky-ass shit from the Red Apple. And that got me to thinking how lucky I am and how it is only by the grace of God that I am here in my new house and she is there 5 miles away in the hood. And so yeah, I feel ungrateful and bad and defective because it's never enough with me - it's always "I want and need more!" and I don't, really, but I always feel like I do, and that's so wrong. I hate realizing when I'm selfish and shallow and all of that. But it's a good lesson, too. And then it's rough with my dad too, and that makes me sad, but at the same time, i think I have to stop being so pitiful because I think of so many people younger than me who have had horrible things happen to their parents or have HAD horrible parents, and on and on, and I just need to be thankful for what I had, and what I have at the moment. I just get disgusted when it's all me-me-me, because I pretend I am not like that, but I am. It pisses me off. So, that's my melancholy for tonight.
But let me leave you with a funny story - this one IS me whining, and I don't care, because it IS all about me. I need to sadly report on the loss of a member of my family. Though not connected by blood, really, last night, at 1:50, I lost an intimate member of my inner circle. I lost a member of the inner circle that has seen me through the worst - I've laughed on his shoulder, cried into his neck, hugged him like a mother, rolled all over him whilst playing hide the sausage, bled on him, sweated in heatwaves and illness on him, revelled in his comforting smell, and tucked him under my shoulder and neck every night, while he sat on top of my head, keeping the bad energy away.
Yes, at the tender age of 30, my beloved feather pillow from childhood, ceremoniously named Skank by Rachel, imploded last night.
I've had Skank since childhood. He was one of those feather pillows that you can't buy anymore. You know, old school feathers. Heavy, mallable, comfortable. I've always had to have a pillow over my head to sleep, and Skank worked wonders, because I'd tuck him under my neck on one side and wrap him around under my neck on the other, and he'd keep the noise and light out. He's been all over Canada with me and nary a trip was taken, even overnight, without him. Rachel wanted to kill him for years, because he got heavier and heavier, and leaked feathers everywhere, up to the point where he was in 4 pillowcases at the end. She thought he was heavy with dust mites and thought he was going to kill me. Not a week would go by without her wanting to get rid of him. I just held him lovingly and told him he was not going to go live on any "Farm".
But last night, it happened. It was 1:50, and daughter number deux was crying horribly for a reason I never did find out. The mrs. poked me and I got up, grabbed Skank, and off we went to go to her bed and calm her down.
Only Skank never made it. He dropped unceremoniously in the hallway between the rooms, exploding on impact. I never had a chance to say goodbye. Poof! I looked and the girls' room was knee-deep in feathers, and bam, our room was too, and the rest was in the crime-scene - the hallway. So, what does one do with a house of little feathers at 2 am? Well, I couldn't vacuum, because it was too loud, so I had to sweep piles of feathers and that kept me up for ages. Then this morning I had to vacuum before work. I put the feathers in our bedroom bathroom's garbage and Rachel was blowing her hair this morning and feathers were flying and it was a gong show.
So I dont' know what to do. I have some other older feather pillows at the lake, but who wants to drive 45 miles in this weather? It's just not right. So, expect me to be complaining of neck spasms and stiffness and such until I figure out what to do. Donations made to the hen house of your choice would be appreciated.
Now I must get to bed because ultrasound comes bright and early - and no panic about twins now because now we are thinking she might just be a little farther along - we are remembering a weird, short period and unprotected sex now, from the month before, so perhaps that's what all the fuss is about! Hurrah, as Briget Jones would say!

Monday, November 26, 2007

Soapboxes aren't just for racing anymore

So, as I said to Chunks on her comments, I just caught up on 3 posts all at once and it's all too much to comment on separately, because I really have issues with the word verification thingy. Really, it makes me so angry, because you leave a three line comment and then have to type out zyggutrqqurit and THEN enter your user name and password, and I mean, I just don't have it in me. I always swear when I see the long word thingy because I am convinced everyone else who comments just gets "aim" or "qwerty" or something easy, and I get something that sounds like someone speaking in High Russian with a cold.
So now I can't remember what all my comments are - Oh, I know. First off, the grad meeting - I too am like you. I really don't think they should be drinking at a Safe Grad. However, it's different in Alberta. You guys can drink at 18 - I think everywhere else, it's 19 for the legal age. So here, there are no more wet grads. In fact, we, the class of 1988, had the last one, and it was stupid, really. You see, all our stupid grad shit went until like almost 11 o'clock (it's run so much better now and I am jealous), and then we didn't get there until after 11, and THEN I misunderstood. You see, I thought they said "all drinks must be DONE at 2:00 am, but they must have really said "the bar closes at 2:00" so, picture it (and remember we are all still underage, so this drinking thing in the open was the cat's ass), the beer was like 1.25 or something each and I remember buying, I totally shit you not, 14 beer, that was served in these stupid plastic cups, and sitting down at my table with my fellow alcoholics in training, all of whom were miserable for a myriad of different reasons, and not fucking moving until every one of those fuckers was gone. I remember drinking, smoking, drinking, not wanting to pee because I was so worried I wouldn't have a buzz before 2 when they took the drinks away. Well, retard Cletus that I was, finally realizes that they aren't going to take the booze away, but this is after I drink all 14 fucking beer, and I've never been one to suck back beer like that because really 7 or 8 would be enough to make me nicely pissed - so after 14 in less than three hours, I was so fucking drunk, but not in the good way, but in the "really stupid slobbery way" and all my friends as I said were pissy about everything so I wandered around the damn place talking to and dancing with nerds because there was nothing else to do. I remember proposing marriage to this uptight grade 11 girl named Cheyanne who was my neighbor and who looked like she never had a day of fun in her whole life, and dancing to "Fascinated" by Company B with this really large girl and trying to act all club like and really shaking it because some chick I was in lust over for like 4 years was next to me. And, there were TABLES of beer just sitting there that we just blatantly stole from all night.
I remember somehow hopping in one of the vans on impulse at 5:00 and going home, with my shirt ripped to shreds and tied in this weird knot like Chrissie Snow. It was a melancholy way to end the high school years, actually. It sort of depresses me to think about.
But anyway, we were the last wet grad. All the rest have been dry here and they are pretty cool - way better than the drunk we had. They have hypnotists and all this shit, usually. And I mean, it was ok for seasoned drunks like us, because at this point, we were probably drunk 3 days out of 7 already anyway, so it was just another night. But honest to Betsy, I've gotten prudish or something as I have gotten older because I resent focus being on drinking to have a good time. I am glad the legal age is 19 here. I am glad grad is dry. And I will watch my kids like hawks because being drunk as a teenager is NOT acceptable, sorry. I think back to my childhood and you know, I am traumatized by every fucking time I saw my parents drunk, and I am traumatized by what Margo had to go through with her dad, because I can tell stories that make my heart hurt, and you know, it's just not right. So no, I support Chunks on the whole drinking teen grad thing. Fuck that shit.
And I totally know what you mean about the... what did you call her.. a bunch of letters... the FNBMB or whatever it was - the parent who knows it all. Just grin and bear it. I dont' know if I told you guys that my lovely Rachel and I are on the parent council of our daughter's school - we joined last year and this year we are sharing the duties of secretary and treasurer. We are right involved, and since no other parents give a fucking shit, it's just us and about 5 other parents. And we are right in there, doing fundraising, asking questions, etc. I quite like it and I am glad we are doing this, and I cant' believe the parental apathy. I am by no means a model parent, but let me say this - if you are adult enough to spread your legs and procreate, than get involved in your fucking kid's life - if you aren't willing, then take Pink's advice, keep your drink and give her the money because it's just you and your hand tonight.
Ok, off the soapbox.
As for the dog Chunks found, I dont' know if she's still got it, but if it's still there, it's a sign my dear. Doggie one will deal. Eventually. If the vet put it down, that's a sign too, and you did good.
And if it's been wandering, it could be senile and lost. My sister's beloved Boxer "John" (making that name up in a veiled way) was like 8 and he disappeared. They found him something like almost a month later in the fucking COUNTRY miles out of town, just wandering. Then like 3 weeks later, my sister's husband died. It always seemed like some sort of last gift, to bring the dog home right before his master died. The dog wandered off again the next spring never to be seen again. But anyway, my point is that this dog might be old and wandering. I don't know.

It's going to minus 32 tonight. I don't remember this kind of Novemeber cold for years and years. it's the shits, really. As my friend from Saskatoon keeps telling me (because they don't have snow, or if they do, it just happened) "you guys must be paying for something" and my response is that God is protecting us from global warming, so when you all are drying up in the sun, we will still have a green oasis. Viva la winter!

Ok, that was forced excitement. I can't remember if I had anything else to comment on. Of course, margo and Devo never write anymore, so I guess not. We go for the ultrasound on Thursday. Even though I am sure its only one baby, because she's always this showy this early (due to the fact that she carries our babies waaaay up high, like Urkel), and he's only asking for this because she's never been his patient before, i still wonder about the twins because the second that second line appeared I said "its got to be twins because you have hormones detected 6 days before your period" - I said it as a joke. But I am sure it's just one. However, I get freaked out here and there because we have never lost sleep from having babies, and, well, two of them will mean that we lose sleep. LOL, I feel selfish even saying that. but anyway, I am positive there is just one in there.....
Tomorrow, Sebastian and Lisa are coming for pizza so I guess I should get to bed. Sebastian is going to help me with French. I am sort of trying to learn French because I need to pass a translation exam. It is the last requirement for my Master's thesis, and I've avoided it for years, but I had a message from my advisor who said "why don't you try cree?" and so I thought I should just learn French once and for all, pass the translation exam, and then this bitch is done. So, since Seb is a teacher of French immersion, well, maybe there is hope. But I fucking hate every second of this shit.
Anyway, I should go wake my wife off the couch to come to bed. Well, maybe I'll make some toast too - I know how to party down, don't I?

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Seeing Double?

OK I am completely in love with the new Springsteen track, Radio Nowhere - motherfucker, he's another one I am just completely apeshit over, even though I can't stand his wife. It freaks me out how these guys who sort of change your life with their music 20 or 30 years ago, can still keep bringing it home again. I am also completely loving the Dixie's Taking the Long Way Around, and, as I said before, Stronger by Kanye, although I hate to admit it.

Ok, enough of the music talk because nobody cares.

Anyway, as the cat is pretty much out of the bag, let me announce it here in case you don't already know. My dear Rachel is with child. Yes, we've mated again. She will be 12 weeks tomorrow. We've known since week 3, which was very bizarre, but anyway, the secret is out. We are due in early June. I really don't want any comments of the "four kids, are you crazy" variety because everyone looks at us like we are freaks. Well, as the Dixie Chicks would say "I could not follow and I'm taking the Long Way around, motherfuckers" - well, they don't say the motherfuckers part, but I thought I'd throw some Kanye in there. You know how it is - the kids were sleeping, and so I looked over at her and said "You can be my Black Kate Moss tonight", and the rest is history (if you don't know either song, this will make no sense to you).

But anyway, this is the funny part: So I've been trying to get Rachel to go to my doctor this time. My doctor is also our kids' doctor and he's wonderful. I've known him since I was a teenager and I used to babysit for his kids, all five of them, and if it came down to it, we can always run our kids over to their house if we needed any after hours medical help. She's always said she'd love to go to him but is weirded out because we know him.

Anyway, we were visiting over @ their house a couple months ago and when we left she said "ok, I think I can do it". So, last month, she went to him and he told her "I do a complete physical the next visit" to prepare her, and she got prepared for it all month.
So yesterday, she has the appointment. She's all nervous but deals. In all her freak out all week, I just tell her that at least it's something that's not repulsive and tell her that when she's got her feet in the stirrups to think about me having to go with my little problem last month and how he had to make pleasant conversation while I had to reveal my hairy ass nubbin with some sort of dignity. I dont' go with her to her appointment because she's getting the old poke and prod and it would just be weird to be there for that - I usually go to all her prenatal check ups though.

So I am sitting in the coffee room yesterday afternoon with my posse of 50 year olds, and I see through the window my dear Rachel standing there, so I go out and she looks flustered. I ask how it goes and she says ok, but then starts telling me how she had to wear this paper gown and blah blah blah, and then she mentioned to him that she thought she was bigger than usual for 11 weeks and she thought he'd say "oh, it's because it's your 4th" but he instead said "yes, you are, are your dates right?" and the next thing she knows he's saying he's sending her for an ultrasound early to rule out twins, because he's seen lots of twins lately and the last woman he saw who measured bigger had twins. So this is all while she's being probed and the nurse looks at her and says "BREATHE! BREATHE!" and my sharp as a tac wife says "well... I'm not thinking about my pap test anymore!" to which they all laugh.

So, next Thursday, we go for an ultrasound to "rule out twins" as the requisition states. Now, I know that she really isn't having twins, because she hasn't gained much weight, but is just showing early, and she always does, because she carries those kids so high in her stomach I swear she'll get a fist up her throat one of these days, but just the fact that we are doing this is bizarre. Then I kept thinking about it and all I could say is "we won't all fit in the van and we'd have to rent two hotel rooms when we go anywhere." So anyway, everyone thinks this is hillarious. And I'll keep you posted on the status of Bert and Ernie, as I am calling the possible child(ren).

And that' the rest of the story..... And I think my wife is more truamatized by the paper gown than anything....

Monday, November 19, 2007

AMA post-mortem

My few thoughts on the AMAs last night, as I only saw like 45 minutes of them. First off, I know these ones are based on sales, so tell me, why do the know losers still show up and look disgruntled in the audience? Are they being paid to look sad and shocked that they lost? Rascal Flatts lost to Carrie Underwood and they looked sort of bummed and I mean, she's sold 14 trillion albums, so really, what was the shock? And her speeches, well, they annoyed me. She's way more hardened and bitch-like than she seemed at the beginning. She's no country bumpkin like Kellie Pickler, spending her time sewing mushroom patches on her torn jeans. No, Carrie is all about Louis Vuitton bags and intimidating her Central American illegial alien housekeeper and making notches on her liquor bottles to make sure Lupe isn't drinking on the job. It's all a farce, really.
And then there's Daughtry, the other cog in the Idol machinery. I give both him and Underwood props, I really do, and my wife is this huge Daughtry fan, but I take one look at that ridiculous beard thing that is shaped like a fucking uvula in the middle of his big, bald head, and I just can't take him seriously. I cheered for him at first on Idol because he was a regular Joe, who married his former stripper and raised up her babies and whatever, but as the weeks went on and that hairy uvula popped out, well, it was like looking at a white, bald, Prince without and funk or soul. So, his clownish looks just sort of distract from whatever the hell it is he is singing.
Oh, but back up to Underwood - glad she also beat McGraw, because him and Faith are just too cocky. Sacred love my ass.
And then, I was ready to change the channel to the frigging stock reports because I was scared I was going to have to see Beyonce, because, bitch, that bitch has always irritated me from day one. From Day fucking One. I have never been able to stomach her. She thinks she some sort of Diana Ross. Bitch, you ain't no Diana Ross. I ain't calling you Miss Ross. I'll call Diana Miss Ross, because she's earned her horrific reputation through a combination or hard work and raw talent. Now I'm not a big Supreme's fan, because frankly all that shit sounds alike to me, but what she's done solo is fantabulous - take a look: Ain't No Mountain High Enough, which still sends me into ecstatic fits of nostalgia of childhood, and Theme From Mahogany (Do You Know), which is one of the most poignant mass-marketed loves songs in my opinion. And then bitch discovered her disco shoes, and motherfucker, I feel like a coke whore writhing in disco bliss at Studio 54 when I hear some of that shit - Love Hangover - Damn, Miss Ross sounds like she's having some lovin' that makes her purr like a Motown kitten. Upside Down, I'm Coming Out, Pieces of Ice, Swept Away, Eaten Alive, all pure dance goodness. And then she does that poignant tribute to the late, great Marvin Gaye which makes a nice companion piece to the Commodore's Nightshift - Missing You. So, Beyonce, your roll in Dreamgirls may have been based on Miss Ross, but remember, Jennifer Hudson got the Oscar, not you. And honey, Destiny's Child ain't the Supremes and you ain't no Miss Ross, and while Stevie may indeed have let you sample "Edge of Seventeen" and appear in the very beginning of that video for Bootylicious, but she was just being nice.
But anyway, I was pleasantly suprised to see Sugarland doing that country version of "Irreplacable" with Miss Beyonce, even though the Sugarland woman was doing these annoying things with her hands and looked like she was old enough to be Beyonce's mother. Definitely not the tortured young woman who resembled Lisa Hartman Black in the "Stay" video I linked here the other night.
Finally, Duran Duran. Let me be short and sweet with this - the new song sounds great and I am glad that my homeboy Justin Timberlake is involved with them, because that shit is bananas. However, I couldn't look at them all that much because they are so old and puffy. Like, Simon indeed looks like someone's Dad. Nik sure has been eating well through the years, hasn't he? He just screams "PASTRIES!", doesn't he? I was screaming ""put the fucking make up back on!". Then they launched into Hungry Like the Wolf, which is my favorite of theirs, but then I got to thinking that it was indeed 25 years ago that the song was out and fresh and they were probably on these awards 25 years ago, and I felt so very old, and so very uncool and Simon looked like he was huffing and puffing and I wondered what Princess Diana would have thought of all of this.
Then Mary J. Blige came on and I watched a nano-second and went to bed, told the Mrs. that MJB was on and I thought she was lip-synching and she replied "I dont' get the big deal about her" and I had to echo it - what the fuck is the big deal with her anyway? I don't get it, I really don't.
And on a totally unrelated note, as much as it pains me to say it, I frigging love Kanye West's "Stronger". He just completely irks the living fuck out of me, but mofo, that song is classic, dawg.
Anyway, I gotta get to bed because I am pooped out and I am reading an 800 page bio of Virginia Woolf, so that should have me sleeping in no time.
May all your ups and downs be in bed,

Friday, November 16, 2007

rabbit teeth we all love

Well, I was just going to make fun of strange looking people, but that video just has me so sad.... when she does that pleading "we don't have to live this way" thing after the first minute, it just breaks your heart. I really must find out what else they sing.
And now I can't even remember who I was going to make fun of now. Damnit, I hate when that happens. Hey, but speaking of funny looking people I can't remember at the moment, I have been meaning to ask you people something - does anyone else watch Corner Gas? And, if so, what is the deal with Brent and Wanda's teeth? They are married in real life, you realize, right? Well, do you think for a wedding present someone gave them some dentures or something? His teeth are so strangely large and fake looking, they must be dentures or something. And Wanda has the same sort of rabbit toothed mouth that looks fake, and she's got that strange lisp where it sounds like she's tripping her tongue over those monsters. Really, teethwise, they look like brother and sister. It sort of reminds me of our old neighbors, Monty and .... hmmm... I can't remember her name.... but anyway, they used to dye their hair the same color and it was hillarious - my mother used to piss herself with laughter when they'd be walking down the street with their new color jobs. Well, Brent and Wanda have the same vibe going on with their teeth. Sad, really. They have this weird sort of Stephen King teeth thing happening. He's got the same sort of weird tooth thing happening. And motherfucker, I have said before I am no Willie Aimes, Grant Goodeve, Adam Rich, NOR Dick Van Patten, but bitch, Stephen King is one ugly mofo. And his wife is a miniature version of him. Google her, Tabitha King - you will throw up in your mouth a little at the thought of them knocking boots. You know, she wrote a couple really good books, too, but I always wondered if he wrote them in her name. Like, the same way I always thought Louise Erdrich wrote Michael Dorris' novels. They were married and he wrote these books that were just as weirdly intricate and difficult as her books. She used to be almost my favorite author. You really need to read The Beet Queen and Love Medicine if nothing else, but you won't quit there. But anyway, I always thought she wrote his books. He's dead now. And THEN, there is the whole thing that I am convinced that Kurt Cobain wrote Hole's classic album Live Through This, because the lyrics just screamed Kurt - especially "Doll Parts" with the lyric "I want to be the girl with the most cake/and someday you will ache like I ache." That's pure Kurt. I wonder who really wrote the album Celebrity Skin because that is one of my personal top 10 desert island picks. COurtney sure as hell didn't write it. So anyway, that's my thoughts on Corner Gas, Kurt and Courtney, Stephen and Tabitha.
I am now watching Kate Bush videos on youtube. Man, I forgot what a Kate freak I was. I still think RUnning Up that Hill is the coolest video. But some of her videos... oh man, if I still smoked dope, it would be fun to turn on "Baboshka" or something and get a good laugh.
LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL or this: Imagine smoking a big fattie and seeing this: by 30 seconds, when the rollerskates come out, I'd be throwing up a lung:
Well, la dee da, I have nothing to say so I think I will head to bed and go read something.
Have a loverly Saturday as they would say across the pond.


Ok, you know I am not a country bumpkin, but holy mother of fucking pearl, this is the saddest video I have EVER seen. Bear with me, watch the whole thing, it really heats up after the 3rd and 4th minute - she's really crying. Holy fuck, this is the most heartbreaking song and video. Watch it. Who the hell are these two? They are amazing....

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

What ever happened to Apollonia? Discuss.

Fuck me Dorothy, it feels like such a long week for a 4 day week. My dear Rachel is sick to death with the worst cold to hit since my sinus trauma in September, and baby has it too, although not as bad. She looks like a bag of shite, I ain't gonna lie to ya. I feel so bad for her because what can you do? I picked Kelly up from school today and brought her in the house and my poor wife was lying there on the couch in the basement looking like death. It was horrible. Of course, right this moment, my nose is stuffing up and my throat has a hint of scratchiness, but motherfucker, I refuse to be sick. Do you hear that? Ain't gonna fucking happen, douchebag germs. My positive thinking will prevail!
So anyway, poor Rachel is suffering like hell, and I think I am just annoying her more than anything. I was trying to sing the Oak Ridge Boys' "Elvira" to her with the word "Vagina" used instead of Elvira, but she didn't even let me get all the words out, while she usually humors me with these things, and my usual "you know what would make you feel a whole lot better?" innuendos have been shot down with the evil eye. When you are randy like a goat and she is sicker than a barnyard dog, well, the goat can go to fucking hell, lemme tell ya. And then, the fucking dogs - oy vey, this is a good one. I came home tonight and there was this huge pile of something on the ledge in our basement - baby got a bag of chocolate chips while Rachel was dying on the couch and dumped them on the ledge. Well, fucking Lady went down and ATE them (remember how poisonous chocolate is supposed to be to dogs) and then she fucking puked this whole schmear of liquid chocolate on our area rug in the living room. You have any idea how much fun that was to clean up? Both the dogs just annoyed the everloving piss out of me today. And here I am, talking the dental receptionist into getting two dogs. I'm so daft.
Anyway, that's all I really have to say at the moment. As to the Thor thing, for Dev and Chunks, I really am sorry that he is gone. Sorry if I was ever crass about him, because I really did forget that he was your first love, among other things, and that right there earns him a place in the nostalgia of the heart that I am so infamous for. However, I will say that it was slightly creepy when he was reliving the past and all that shit recently. It was beyond creepy. And now I feel bad for looking at the pictures of the old band of his for shits and giggles that time and the pleather pants. Great, now *I* feel guilty for not being nice about Thor. Any idea what happened? Are you guys going to the funeral? Chunks, it will give you an excuse to see your folks? C'mon, I dare you. I double dare you.
I really should go to bed. Hey, question - what is your favorite pasta sauce and do you add anything to it? Let's start a poll!
Anyway, I am going to dreamyland. May you all have a wonderful Thursday and may that anorexic Courtney go the fuck home tomorrow night. Viva le manly-looking-lunchlady-person!

Saturday, November 10, 2007

That Line is in the fate of us all

Good evening from the theatre of the absurd. Because, truly, that's what the past two days have been. Not in a bad hideous way, really, just in a wtf kind of way. First, though, let me back up to the last post and all the hideousness.
Ok, Coles notes version - My sister goes to the bank with my dad and long story short, the massive amounts of money were payments he made to credit cards at other banks. Like, the 4600 dollars or whatever the hell it was looks like maybe he paid that instead of the minimum payment of 46 dollars or something like that. Anyway, it was accounted for - we just dont know why the fuck he was doing that. BUT, the troubling thing was his constant taking out of money from the teller in the amounts of $100 each time. One day, he took it out 3 separate times at three separate machines. He claims he has no idea what the fuck happened and doesn't know where it is. So, I immediately think someone is scamming him, but then again, he hoardes things now, so perhaps he's hoarding. He ALWAYS has had a big envelope of money in his underwear drawer - we've always known that, and I am not sure why he's always had that, but it's always like a couple hundred dollar float he's had going. So he could be taking it and shoving it somewhere. Apparently, he's been hoarding plastic bags like a motherfucker in his closet, and weird shit like that, so maybe he's got it stashed. My mom's gonna snoop around. Anyway, we took his bank card away but he was so distraught and humiliated and he will not go to my mother for money, so the next day he went out and got a temporary bank card, and then went and told my sister so she cut it up. So anyway, the very fact that ANY of this shit is going on just completely freaks the living fuck out of me - until you go through it, you have no frigging clue. I know two women who are going through the same thing - Margo, our friend with the kidney failure - well, her mom is the same way, and Peggy (I'll use the real name here because I can't think of a fake one that Margo will catch on to), well, her mom is all freaky too now, so when I run into them, it's a relief to share horror stories. But anyway, at least that shit is being dealt with and it is what it is and whatever. Nothing I can do but figure out a way to deal. Fuck, if only I could drink more than one drink of Kahlua at a time..... bummer.
Ok, so let's move on from that and talk about the dentist. I think because of all the shit the day before, I was just a fucking nutcase about the dentist, so I was completely freaking out. I take 2 ativan before the appointment and then go there, but I realize I need a good hour for ativan to work, and i didn't give it an hour, so I was literally shaking in my boots. Thankfully, it was busy so I had to get an x-ray and then wait like 20 minutes before they decided what to do. The dentist comes in and calls me "brother" and that amused me so much that I suddenly realize that the shit is kicking in. WELL, fuck me Dorothy, I was higher than a kite by the time I left. Usually, ativan takes the edge off and makes me a little tired and makes my legs ache. This time, I was happy and high and chatty. So.... he asks about the tooth and I say what it's been doing and he said he maybe it doesn't need a root canal so he'll put a crown on it and we'll take it from there. SO he freezes the shit out of it, and I start taking amusement at the Herman posters on the ceiling that I have enjoyed for over 25 years. Then they come and start drilling. And I squirm because I can feel it. So they freeze some more and leave me alone. They come back. Drill again. I feel it again and shudder, but I am so high I try to reassure them that I can handle no freezing. He then gives me like 400 little weird needle things right in the drilled out tooth and then comes back and does whatever and he says "I think we are doing the right thing" which translates to me as "ok, it's a root canal". SO I find out he took the nerve out, but I am so high and relaxed I tried to hint that he should just keep going. No dice. Then I am all "hey, I need a cleaning. Can I get a cleaning without a check up? Because i am covered for one check up but two cleanings in a year, and I had the check up in Feb., but I can get another cleaning..." and they are all like "yeah, whatever, just make the appointment" and I am all "well, you see, I have coffee stains on the back of my one tooth..." and I can't shut up. So then I leave, and as I am making my next appointment, the receptionist has this dog there because she's dogsitting and they drop the dog off early to her, and holy fuck, I was almost rolling on the floor with this dog and asking questions and asking if she has a dog and then I see a picture and ask how old it is and if she considered getting two dogs and told her I had two dogs and how it makes having dogs way easier and then I went on about the fucking CAT, and I just couldnt shut up. SO then, I go downstairs (Dentist is on the second floor of this strip mall) and march into this hair salon and go "any cancellations? I was just upstairs and thought what the hey!" and the dude (Margo, it was Pierre, remember his salon back in the day?) said no, so then I go into the drug store for some reason rather than going into my car, and call Rachel on my cell, and I am wandering aimlessly in the store and ask her what we needed from Safeway and I am suddenly studying the deodorant like i was studying for the SATs and smelling everything in sight and find myself muttering rhetorically out loud why there are no deodorant gels anymore, only antipersperants, because I have this belief that antipersperants are carcinogenic, and then I don't even buy anything although I peeled the silver foil cover off of about 40 dollars of the shit, and then leave to go to Safeway - a store waaay out of my way, and remember, I am high, and I forgot to mention that we got the first snow of the year that day and it's snowy and freezing rainy and the roads were shittier than Andrew Dice Clay's ass, and off I go to Safeway - the reason I chose there is not because I wanted Starbucks, but because I wanted to buy some bottled water with the sippy cap thingy, and they sell it - their Refreshe wateer. Anyway... I am going to pour some wine now, because I need a buzz just reliving all of this. Ok, no wine glass even - just a tupperware glass, God help me. ANYWAY. I get to Safeway, and I have no quarter for a cart. So do I go in and buy a pack of gum to get a quarter? Noooo.... I grab one of the carts for people with children - you know, the front is a car that two kids can ride in, with a cart on the back, and it's horrible to push, but it helps you shop with kids? That thing. I have no kids with me. They only have like 3 of them and people always want them for their kids. But there i am buying all this weird shit, all by my lonesome, with this cart. And THEN, I decide that we need to buy one of those 40 lb bags of dogfood. So I throw the dogfood INTO the front of the cart where the children would be sitting.
THEN, after the shopping spree, I then wonder down to the newly reopened Winners, where I bought some gitch the other day that I fucking loved. They look like something a porn star would wear, some sort of spandex/polyester/microfibre blend, but bitch, those things hold everything in place like nobody's business, so I grabbed two more pairs - one of them a delightful bumblebee yellow. I completely forgot doing this until last night when I saw the bag in the van and thought "wtf?" Anyway. That was the dentist. It was de-fucking-lightful. But in January, well, I'll need some help. HEY - Ativan taking readers. I need some more. I don't want to go to the doctor just for that. Please, send me whatever you can spare. I need like 10, for the 4 dentist appointments and the one meeting I have to be a part of. I am not kidding. Can anybody spare some Ativan? Lemme know, I'll fucking pay the shipping. LOLOL, I am so serious, you know?
Ok, so let me take you into yesterday. I can't say much because I have that fear that I never know who is actually reading this and whatever, so contact me off-blog for a more detailed rundown. But let me just say this - The kids' friend, from a couple doors' down, was having a birthday. She lives with her grandma, mom, and teen brother with the same condition Augusten's brother has. Grannie basically raises them, at 70 plus years old. ANYWAY, this kid, who we have around all the time, had a birthday yesterday and was telling us all week we party was Friday at the bowling alley. So, dear Rachel calls them on Thursday night to see what was up, and we find out that maybe next week would be the party. WELL. Then they ask if we want to go to DQ for cake with them (?) on Fri. and she said we'll see. So anyway, in the meantime, we decide we'll get a sitter for baby and take the kids to Pizza Hut for supper and then to Bee Movie. So we make up some story and say "how about Saturday" and mama says yes, but could we just come to your house with a cake? to which my wife was all "SURE" and then after she was all "WHAT THE FUCK????? THIS IS FUCKING WHACKED!" Well, let me say Bee Movie was pretty funny. So then let me lead into tonight with a story of today.
We went shopping today with the kids and were hungry so we decided to go for lunch. We went to Zellers, because we went there a couple weeks ago with the kids and it's the perfect place for kids - noisy, quick, and they give colouring books and crayons to the kids. Back when I was a wee lad, we used to go to Zellers almost every Saturday for lunch. My mom and dad would take me there and we'd meet my sister "Lois", who was the cosmetics manager at Zellers for lunch. I'd always get a plain hamburger and douse it with ketchup, and then get grape pop to drink, from those funny pop fountain things. They would always have lots of crushed ice in their drinks. Good times.
So anyway, we go to Zellers today, because they make a mean fucking quesadellia or however you spell it. WELL. Motherfucker, it was like being in the motherfucking twilight zone, minus the creepy music. Ok, so you know what you are in for when you eat at the Skillet. It aint no shi-shi poo-poo bullshit. You aint' going to see the Mayor chowing down on vittles, that's for sure. You'll see the Zellers crowd, which is usually grey haired and odd, and that's allright with me, I ain't no snob. But holy mother of motherfucking pearl, it took the cake today. It was mega busy when we got there, and I snag the last booth. Finally, after a long wait, this rollie pollie waitress named Mary comes to clean the filthy table
- wait, interlude here. I am feeling the tupperware cup of wine. Don't lecture me Chunks, it's been one fuck of a week and if I feel a little shiny from a tupperware glass of wine, well, goonie goo goo bitch! hahhahahahah! My wife just told be to listen to the fucking RAIN falling outside. I just stood on the deck and got soaked from the rain. We have snow, remember? It's gonna be a fucking arena tomorrow, God help us all....
ANYWAY, rollie pollie Mary - she is cleaning my table whilst my wife takes the girls to the shitter, which, I might add, are the grossest shitters in the world. Our Zellers has the worst bathrooms. The women's room always makes them feel like they are going to leave there with hepetitis, and the men's room, well, pretty sure it sees more action than a San Fransisco Bath House - not a place you want to go in, let's leave it at that. So Mary is clearing the table and this old biddy comes up and gets like an inch from Mary's face and says "on your way back, can you bring me a slice of lemon merangue pie, and also clear off the dishes on the table? The table is littered with dishes!" and Mary gives a heartly laugh and says "sure!" and mutters to me "not MY section.... but she's a nice lady!" I believe her at this point. THEN, I see this woman I went to high school with who took a chair from the table next to me, and we strangely decided to acknowledge that we knew each other (because I usually ingore everyone I went to highschool with) and we make pleasantries. I know she is married to this Spanish guy and she is there with her kids and this table of Spanish inlaws and I note that they got there the same time as me, and are also in Mary's section. SO, we order. We wait. The kids colour. The high school Spanish-loving girl and her posse get fed. I note their meals are fucked up and shit is sent back and whatever, because they got some of the wrong food. "Sucks to be you, motherfuckers" I think. But our food isn't arriving. My coffee isn't being refilled. I need my coffee. The kids are getting antsy and bored and sick of colouring. In walks this woman who I recognize from around town, in her late 50s I'd say, and looks like the Zellers crowd type of woman. Heavily made up, big-ass lips, freaky Aqua-netted hair, rodeo looking... Anyway, I recognize her because she used to work at Shoppers and I used to buy condoms from her and hated going through her till with condoms because, well, I don't know..... but it just seemed wrong.
So she is sitting there and fucking Mary doesn't come. And THEN, to make it weirder, this woman comes in pushing some old woman in a wheelchair, and they go by the big lipped woman's table (it must be popular with the wheeled set, because some wheel chaired bitches were sitting there before she was) and she says "does she want to sit here?" and the woman pushing the chair says "Oh, are you moving or leaving" like a normal person would say, and bigged lipped bitch says "NO, I just got here and sat down" and then wheel chair pushing woman looks freaked out and pushes Wheels to another table. So I whisper to Rachel "did she want that woman to sit with her?" and we are almost hysterical at this. And then I am looking at the shelf where the "order up" food is, and I am convinced our food is sitting there, but almost 15 minutes passes. I see old Mary goes to the table behind us and I hear the guy almost yell "how long will THAT take?" and she's all "30 seconds!". Anyway, then, she comes up to us after and says "SO! HOW WAS THE MEAL!" and I look at her blankly "Um... we haven't GOT our meal" so she is all "oh!" and then goes and finds out food, which is languishing under the lights, and brings it and is all "So, do you need anything else"? to which I must reply "yes.... CUTLERY!"
She never does serve bigged lipped bimbo, and she storms off in a huff. THEN, Spanish family is getting ready to leave, and "Papa" says something to his granddaugher, like "Lisa, go blah blah blah.... Papa will blah blah blah." But his voice is identical to Tatoo. Rachel almost chokes on her egg salad and goes "TATOO!" which makes me want to pee. And THEN, when we finally leave and I am paying my bill, I notice "NANA" is behind me, and I see a pack of ciggies in her purse, and of course it always freaks me out to see old people smoke, but then I heard her speak. I was trying to weasel by and was doing my high-voiced "excuse me" voice and Papa sees I am trying to bypass so he's all "Valencia!" or whatever and she answers in a voice akin to Patty and Selma. Tattoo and Selma together at last.
Oops, sorry, I took a sweet diversion to have marital relations with my wife. And I have a funny story to tell that came from the post-coital glow. I don't know what we were talking about, but somehow sexual metaphors were spoken and I quoted a line from Carly Simon's "All I want is You", from an album I was going to blog about earlier this week, I shit you not. Anyway, I said that Carlu said the line "All I want is you and your freight train loving jumping me jack... oooh jack...." and said that it was hard to hear it, and that the line was in the fade of the song. Like when the song was ending, so you either had to have headphones on or be really listening for it. But SHE thought i said "that line is in the fate of us all" and she was all "wtf? You really analyze your music way too much." You had to be there I guess - we laughed for like 15 minutes straight after that.
So then tonight, the neighbors came over with the cake, along with another woman we didn't know. It was fun. We are having the neighbor's kids' birthday cake at our house, with the grandma, brother, mama, kid, and their friend. Then I drink wine out of a tupperware cup, stop blogging to have sex with my wife, and then resume my Zellers stories. And you don't believe in my theatre of the absurd? Trust me, that line is in the fate of us all....
over and out,

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Ok, just a quick poor poor pitiful me update from my shitty week in suckassville. Everything is all fucking screwed up right now. It begins on Monday, when I get this frantic call from my sister literally 2 minutes before I go into a meeting in Saskatoon, that my aunt, our closest aunt and the one who is my mom's only surviving family member, fell and broke her hip and they think she's got bone cancer. So of course hearing that is like hearing it's one of your parents, because she's that close to us. So I somehow just sort of absorb that so I can get on with my crazy day, and indeed I somehow process it, which makes me wonder if I am either in denial, or grown up finally, or just emotionally deadened. ANYWAY. She's in the hospital in Regina and I contemplate going there on Saturday but rule it out - long story.

Then, to add to the pity party, my sister tells me this morning my uncle (married to a different aunt, in Surrey) is getting surgery today for liver cancer - I somehow missed that diagnosis, but apparently it's the operable kind of liver cancer, not the one that spreads to everything right away and kills you - didn't know that kind existed, since I assumed all liver cancer just killed ya like a fly in a trap, but then my OTHER uncle had it and got half his liver chopped out and lived quite nicely until senility finally took hold.

So then, this afternoon I get a call from my former banker "Liza" who left me a message saying she wanted to talk about my dad because she was concerned. Let me back up that my dad, in the midst of losing his marbles, is fixated on bank statements and shit and i know he's always down a the bank bothering Liza. Anyway, Liza said my dad said she could call me, so in the playing of phone tag with Liza I call dad, who is all fucked up and some statement and 8000 dollars and I don't know what he's talking about, and he tells me him and my sister are going to the bank tomorrow morning. SO I call my sister who says she called Liza herself after seeing dad's statement and all these huge cheques he wrote and to find out who they are to and blah blah blah, so anyway, I don't know what is going on, but he's out like 8 grand in cheques to someone or something. Well, that just takes the fucking cake, so anyway, at least now we'll have my sister put on as a signer for his cheques but fuck, I could handle that if it was the only thing in isolation, but coupled with my aunt, the uncle, my mother who isn't coping well, a stressful day at work, the possible root canal tomorrow which almost has me literally gagging in fear right now, and the election tonight that saw the NDP lose and the crackpot conservatives win, well, it's enough to make me want to down a bottle of wine. But i can't because i can't be hung over for the dentist.
Anyway, that's my pity party. There IS some good stuff on the horizon which I'll post about next week because it's too long to type them and I am too crabby to do so, but anyway, it was nice to vent. I was supposed to start swimming lessons tonight with some friends, where you learn to do strokes and stuff, but i just said fuck it by the time i came home. maybe next week.
Anyway, cross your fingers for my appointment. I really feel dread and panic and such, no matter that I will have 2 ativan in me. Shite......

Friday, November 02, 2007

39 Reasons Chunks is the Shit - Happy Birthday Kiddo

39 Reasons That Chunks is the Shit:

39. When she accidently creates evil looking angels, she will share the picture with you.
38. She coined the phrase "No Mother, Kahlua can't solve ALL problems."
37. She admitted that she shares the same dirty thought that when someone mentions a midget having sex, she pictures someone being spun around like a top (and don't tell me the picture has never entered your mind either, you prudes!)
36. Her "Vagina Monologue" has put a huge dent into the "kootchie plastic surgery" market - of course, her monologue came too late for Joan Rivers, Dyan Canon, and Marie Osmond, but those ones can't see much action anyway.
35. Her sudden turning on that sanctimonious (I know that's spelled wrong but I don't WANT to spell check, ok?) Oprah helped all of us break free from her evil clutches, stopping her bid for world domination (Bitch, you have Bob Greene, Dr. Oz, and a chef on the payroll and you still get all jiggly every year or two? Honey, someone's blowing smoke up your ass when they sew those size 8 labels in your clothes.)
34. We know her cycle better than she does.
33. Her knack for naming people gives us all distinct visuals of all who she talks about - I could spot Tanorexic out of a crowd of Hepatitis patients anyday.
32. She is the only person who can say the C word and get away with it.
31. She knows when she gets a fucked-up haircut and can admit it.
30. She poops while on the phone to Devo when they have their marathon phone conversations and doesn't tell her. (HAHAHAH... just kidding, Dev... I think).
29. She googles and finds people from grade school and they remember her.
28. She googles and finds people from high school and sends links to us so she isn't laughing at them alone.
27. She believes Mars Bars are a food group to be eaten at breakfast.
26. She can ride a tractor like nobody's business.
25. She still secretly wishes she could look like Nik Rhodes.
24. She makes sure her servers get tipped eventually.
23. She floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee.
22. She talks to angels.
21. She is his only need.
20. She's an easy lover.
19. She's come undone.
18. She works hard for the money.
17. She Bop.
16. She's been to Georgia and California and anywhere she could run - took the hand of a preacher man and they made love in the sun, she's be undressed by kings and she's seen some things that a woman ain't s'posed to see... she's been to paradise but she's never been to me. (39 points is damn hard to come up with at midnight, so sue me if the song stuff was lame - I ain't Oprah with a staff of writers, you know?)
15. She makes a mean roast beef.
14. She is a good nursemaid to her husband - as long as he doesn't ask her what she's doing every 5 minutes.
13. She understands that we need regular VLOGS.
12. She gets the humor of cousin Geri from The Facts of Life.
11. She gets turned on by Regis Philbin.
10. She reminds me of Elaine Nardo from Taxi before she became a crazy bitch in the 90s.
9. She will comment on any retarded thing you post.
8. She will always reassure you that it's THEM who are crazy, not you.... even when it IS you who is the nutbar.
7. She is on a first name basis with James Frey.
6. She will read any book you tell her.
5. She could make a grocery list funny.
4. She drops about 6 eggs at a time.... sort of like a salmon.
3. She always knows what swear word to say to make you feel better.
2. She hides nothing.
1. She's chunkerific.

Happy Birthday, Buddy. May the next 39 years be as interesting as the past 39, and may we all be able to come along with you for the ride. Rock on, sister friend - you're awesome.
And as Rachel said to say, Happy fucking birthday!

Thursday, November 01, 2007


PS - Margo, we went trick or treating to Kama's parents' house, and her fucking tightwad cuntbag of a father (don't ask me why I keep saying cuntbag - I am just pushing the envelope I think) says "chocolate bar or chips" and Kristen says "ummm.... both!" and he's all, well, cunty, and so I have to say "chocolate bar, you have lots of chips." First off, she's not one of those 13 year old trick or treaters. She's 4. Dressed as a fairy. Naive. Shy. Cute. GIVE HER THE FUCKING CHIPS AND BAR, ASSWIPE.
Oh, I am so mad just thinking about his old crochety asshole nature, I want to march down there (I can see his house from my deck) and fill his mailbox with rotten eggs and phlegm. Rachel grew up next door to them and her parents had some sort of war going on with them, and I know that her dad went over and stole the fucking clanger in their windchimes one night.... I thought that was mean at first but now, bring it on, motherfucker!