postscript - Jehovah Witness content

Oh, postscript - The same old Jehovah came to the door today, the same one I told off last time and told her she was perverting the word of God. She was with this other woman, also old as dust, and I open the door, and the kids are all "there are old ladies at the door!" and the dogs freaking out, and I said when the new one said "do you think you will see dead loved ones again someday?" - oh, sorry, Jehovah's Witnesses? You go against the true word of God." And they get that concerned look and say "against the true word of God??" and I said "Yes, you go against the true word of God. I pray for your souls every night" and closed the door in their faces, and THEN I tried to call the kingdom hall to have our address removed from their list. I am such a loser.......

I'm more of a Gretzky, with Lemieux looks, but call me what you will

Well yes, I am finally posting. I just haven't felt like it, you know? I guess because it's the holidays and all, and that's how it always is. But then I always sort of feel like I should be writing something. I don't know. It just feels good to write, even when you say nothing. Hey, isn't that an old country song?
Anyway, I don't know how good this will work out because the "E" on my laptop is sticking. Sort of like that letter sticking on the typewriter on the Brady Bunch, when Alice or someone was sending Jan shit in the mail because she was a middle child - tell me you know what in the hell I am talking about....
Ok, Coles notes version of the holidays - they were wonderful. Everything went too quick, but otherwise it was great. Not stressful at all, really. We actually had our shit together. The kids loved all their presents. We went overboard, by accident. We just kept finding shit they would love, so we had to buy it, because usually we are all "what the hell are we going to get them?" They got their High School Musical barbies, and a shitload of dvds and a shitload of games, and a shitload of books and a shitload of clothes, and Hooked on Phonics, and Fisher Price stuff, and dolls and God knows what else.... And the piano - I completely suprised Rachel! It was priceless. The thing was sitting in a box at my parents' place, and so Rachel's dad said we'd pick it up on Xmas Eve and take it to our house and set it up. We were at their place for supper that night because her uncles Pete and Repeat were there, and right after we ate, her mom goes, "oh Hon, get JT to help you move that fridge at the building" (they are caretakers of this seniors place down the road from them). So then he says some long story about this new fridge in the common room that has to be moved because of some non-existent xmas event, and so we go and pick it up, bring it to our house, and then set it up in the book room in the basement. THEN, we go back and since we took so long we invented a story about a broken hose on the second floor washer at the building and Rachel was all "good thing you were there!". So I wanted to move the piano out to the tree area but my damn wife wouldn't go to bed, and since I was feeling amorous and was trying my smooth moves, I thought fuck it, so I came up with another plan. I had tried in vain all week to buy her the Daughtry cd because it's the only cd she has ever said she wanted in years, but that bitch was always sold out. So in desparation, I bought her season one of Kathy Griffin and put it in a box, with a note from Santa saying that her other present was in the bookroom because I didnt have time to wrap it. Everyone loved it. So that's good. It's still sitting there because the tree hasn't come down yet. Hopefully tomorrow. The upstairs one came down yesterday, but we've been too busy to take the other one down.
Anyway, speaking of Daughtry, I started growing this Daughtry type beard for shits and giggles. Actually, I was shaving, and since I hate shaving almost as much as I hate flossing, I had this fucking hillbilly face already, so I just left this Daughtry thing on my jawline to make the Mrs. laugh, but I still have it, because I think it somehow makes my face look less fat somehow. I dont think I'll keep it, but you gotta do something different for the holidays. I keep serenading her with Daughtry songs too, and it hasn't gotten old yet, but it will in a day or two.... You know when the joke gets old.
What else... OH! You will never believe this shit - You will NEVER in a million years guess what I have done! SOmething I swore I'd never be able to do, or would attempt to do. I have gone skating. I shit you not.
You see, daughter #1 got skates for Xmas and one of those skating pushing thingies for kids from Santa, because her class is going skating each week after xmas, and because she's always so nervous and weird about new shit like that and weepy about it, we wanted to get her out there and make it a positive thing before she had to go with school. So I told the kids I would learn to skate with them. You see, as I've lamented here before, I am one of only a few Canadian men who cannot skate. But it's not my fault! I lived in BC until I was 12, and we seriously had no ice. Nobody in my class played hockey even. In the winter, boys just played soccer in the rain every day. Once, the big puddle in the back alley, by the blackberry bushes and the neighbor's compost heap, froze over, so my sister took her figure skates, stuffed them with socks, and put me on the ice on the puddle, but that was the only time I was on the ice.
So, Boxing Day, since I wanted to keep my promise to my pumpkins, I went to Zellers and bought the last pair of skates there. Then we went skating - the kids did great - daughter #2 is a natural, and #1 did great too. It took me probably 20 minutes until I could get on the ice. I actually ended up using the kids' skating pusher thingy. Then we went today again, and I can go by myself. Not fast. Nothing fancy. But I was out there with them for an hour. Didn't fall once, stayed sort of close to the side so I could grab the chainlink fencing (don't ask me to explain the set-up because it's complicated - there is a hockey rink, with boards and chainlink around it, with just plain old ice outside of that...), but I did it. Felt like my legs and feet were going to fall off. But I did it. And I can't wait to go again. And each time I tell the girls I am proud of them, they tell me they are proud of me. So I am glad I came through for them and tried it. Of course, now all the jokes are that I will be playing hockey soon. And motherfucker, I have a newfound appreciation for hockey players now. Seriously. How those guys can fucking skate and hold a stick and move fast and shoot a fucking puck and beat the snot out of each other, well... I am envious. Seriously, I have a respect for them now. Watch, I'll be on some oldtimer team by the time I am 50....
What else..... My kids have been up late the entire holidays. We've been sleeping in, but still, we are all out of whack. I told the girls we'll go to the library tomorrow if it's open ( we haven't been for a year or so and I think it had something to do with like a billion dollars of fines we had, but I'll suck it up) and that we'd go skating, so that sounds like a nice Sunday.
What else... OH. Remember my friend, "Ruby", my oldest friend in the world, from B.C., who I found out last Xmas that she was a drug addict and on the street? Well, I heard from her. It was worse than I even imagined. I can't even describe it. Email me and I'll send you the more detailed story. I am so nervous for her - sober 6 months, but it's gonna be hard. It was crack, heroin, prostitution, organized crime, jail, craziness, violence.... I can't even comprehend. But as I told her, she's lived through this shit, so she's gotta be here for a reason.
So today we drove by that house again. I am starting to hate it because I feel guilty even talking about it. And we just got another compliment from this oddball friend of my brother in law, who was at our house this summer. He was really drunk, and said our yard was the nicest he's ever seen, the most kid-friendly. Well, apparently, he must have remembered it because he told my bro in law the other day again that our yard was the nicest he's ever seen. And motherfucker, he is right. We've got a nice sized deck off our kitchen, with our natural gas BBQ on it, and a built in bench around it, and a slide that comes off of it, and goes directly into the sandbox below. Then we have a deck next to the sandbox, and the sandbox is huge, with the swingset in it too. Then we have the playhouse next to that. And the trampoline next to that. And then two garden boxes for my veggies, and my raspberry bushes, and then the plants that line the entire side of our yard, and don't forget the view of the North Saskatchewan River from my deck. So, that old shitty house with the 4th bedroom doesn't compare. I think I need to see it to rule it out though. Why is it still bugging us? I don't know.... Because, bitch, if I had to go back to carpet, I'd throw up in my mouth. Oh fuck. Screw that old piece of shit, I just realized it has no central vac even. I ain't going back to Compton, fuck that bullshit.
Oh what else.... I realize this must be horribly boring. I just had a glass of wine and I feel it sorta - that tired, tingly feeling, you know what I mean. My father in law gave me shit and told me he was getting me pissed this xmas because I always buy this booze at xmas and don't drink it, and so he hauled out the pomegranite liquor from last year (that cost me more than I want to think about) and the Lychee Liquor, and the Blue Bols from a few years ago.. so I bought some cream de cacao to make Blue Nuns (do you remember those Margo my dear?). You take a shot of cream de cacao, and a shot of blue Bols, and then add milk, and it tastes like fucking cookies. That's as close as I can describe it. We used to drink those at Bourbon Street (a bar that is long gone). Anyway, they are so good. You have to try it. I also bought a bottle of... hmmm... what is it called... Trocken something or other... cheap Canadian sparkling dry wine, which you are supposed to mix with the pomegranite shit. Haven't had that this year either, but if any of you come to town, we will be well stocked, I suppose. I hope booze never goes bad, because all I ever go through is wine, and that's because I always use the whole "it's good for the heart" thing - everything else I turn my nose down at. I'm such a judgmental loser.
Well, I guess I should get my sorry butt to bed. I really have nothing to read right now. Fuck, we need a good bookstore in this one horse town.
Perhaps I should color my front teeth in with black washable marker and throw on one of the kids' skating helmuts and a jockstrap and ask the Mrs. if she's ever slept with a hockey player? You think that would work? No? Well, it's worth a shot!
hehehe.... have a good Sunday peeps. Say a silent prayer that my library fines are under 50 bucks.... and I ain't joking peeps, it was a billion books that sat here for a few seasons because we drove the 10 blocks to the fucking library - stupid arsehole I am, I know.....

whatever you think of the title

I don't have time to write, but let me just say I agree with the comments. As I looked out the kitchen window this morning while I made coffee and spied the river, I knew I could never leave this house. And I knew Margo would see the vision in the other house, because I see it too but Chunks knows me enough that since I can't hammer a nail into a board (thereby ending my dreams of entering String Art projects in the summer fair), the prospect of lots of renos just wouldn't work for me. And Devo was right in telling me to dummy up.
As for the school thing, don't get me wrong - I love our school. It's just that because parts of the neighborhood are transient (due to the closure of another school in the area, thus giving us the transient population now that the closed school used to have), we are overrun with so many sad stories and such, and you know, I want my kids to remain kids, you know what I mean? Like, the middle class is almost non-existent there now. The reason we chose our school was because we wanted a good mixture of classes and races and such for our kids. Most people in the area seem to send their kids to this one particular school via bus, because it also offers French immersion (which I dont' support, let's not debate it, ok?) but it is so white and rich and elitist and snobby that we would never want our kids there. But this other school I talked about, in the neighborhood where the other house is, is the PERFECT mix of kids from all sorts of backgrounds. But alas, it ain't gonna happen. And if it is, it will come to me in a dream.... LOL.
I better get to bed - it will be a crazy 48 hours coming up.
Oh, I am so mad at this book I am reading. I ordered from Amazon this stupid book about Joni's "Court and Spark" album - part of some series profiling classic albums or something. Anyway, I fucking HATE it when people try to be all wordy and literary when they aren't. And to get a point across about anything, he rambles on and on about songs NOT on the album, and I want to throw the book at his head. But enough of that - I am going to go to bed and try to finish my 101 Reykjavik book. If I don't talk to you peeps, have a great Xmas.

a whole bunch o rambling

In addition to "My Dingaling" (see previous post), I've been annoyed by the Jingle Cats - remember them? Those cats meowing Xmas carolls? Well, the kids loved it, so we had to watch it over and over (damn this Tivo-type thingy that lets you rewind!). Then, I watched Sheena Easton's "Strut" a couple times. Then I saw Depeche Mode's "Master and Servant" and that brought back memories because that used to be one of my favorite songs and I bought not one, but TWO stupid 12 inch single remix imports of it - the "Black and Blue Mix" and the "Slavery Whip Mix" and brother, let me tell you, they were hardly any different, and so I was out 10 bucks. Anyway, it reminded me of Margo, because, long story short, she was in Edmonton visiting mama one summer and the record store called her house and said her EP was in, and she thought it was her rare copy of Duran Duran's pre-major label EP (Carnival? ), but it was actually my Depeche Mode EP. How sad, eh? She was so let down. Ah Margs, I am sure that bitch sucked, anyway.
So anyway, I am taking Devo's advice and having some wine (as for her other suggestion, the seranading was successful - hurrah!) and chilling out - I think I am over the Dan Fogelberg thing... lol. Chunks, you DO know a Dan song - you must know "Longer", a song I actually don't like. Anyway, I'll yousendit some Dan to you sometime. OH! I've got a funny one to tell you about - you won't believe I actually did this. WELL. Remember when I said a long time ago that I read a handful of Christian bloggers from my town? Well, the one who I keep up to the most is this pastor of a church, and he lives a few blocks from me. His blog is sort of famous actually, been featured in the media and shit, and I just really like him. Well, turns out we know his wife sorta - we are on the same school committee, so last month we all got talking and i said I read her hubby. Well, then yesterday, she sends out an email to the commitee that they are having their annual xmas "open house" from 2:00-9:00, so stop by if we want. I check her hubby's blog, which I hadn't read in like a month and he says something like "even if we don't know you, feel free to stop in for cider" and then I read the post below - stating his sadness at the loss of.... you guess it.... Dan Fogelberg.... and then two songs of Dan's. They also had a web cam set up in the kitchen for the open house, and so I called the Mrs. at work and told her we were invited and she logged in and was fascinated at watching their empty kitchen, so anyway, I leave work early, and then since they live almost across from the kids' school, I just marched up and went in! LOL, there was nobody but me and an old lady there, but I said to him "I figured it was a sign because nobody else was mourning Dan Fogelberg with me" and it was awkward, but the point is, I went. Even though I knew the wife, I actually went to meet someone who I only know in blog land. So that was cool.
What else..... almost done all my shopping. I just have two last minute things to get tomorrow. The crowds and crabby sales people bring out the worst in people. I've had some really hideous service lately. Last night I was in Zellers, and this fat bitch was so fucking rude and hostile to take my fucking money, I wanted to tell her to shove it up her fucking fat ugly arse and hopefully the coins would contain traces of e coli and she'd be on the shitter for weeks with bloody diahreah and roids. But instead, I took the high road and thanked old fatass shitface. Because it's the holidays.
Then today, I am in Sears. Now, I don't know about Sears wherever the hell you live, but in my town, Sears is so ass-backwards in terms of check outs. Like, there is no glaringly apparent tills anywhere - they are just sort of hidden. So the store doesn't even appear all that busy, and I grab my jeans really quick (501s over 50% off, along with all of mens wear - a wet dream for a clothes whore like me) and head to the till. There are like 6 people ahead of me, and I see this old bat with, seriously, about 4 stacks of sweaters, stacks of like 5 or 7 in each. They are having this debate about how she wants them packaged and then the cashier wraps one stack in a bag, and tapes it up, when sweet old granny asks for gift receipts. The cashier says "OH! I'll have to do all of this over again" (remember, there are seriously like 30 sweaters in there) and sweet old granny says "That's ok - I've waited a half hour in line, so they can too" and this lead to the woman behind me saying "SHIT!" and me, who NEVER says Jesus's name in vain, to exclaim just that, and I grab my dungarees, march off to the fucking back of the store, and lo and behold I find a till with no line up and in 80 seconds I am paid and walking by my old comrades. So, to make the old sweater bitch feel like a douchebag (because it's the holidays), I proclaim, like Shirley Maclaine telling the Peruvians that their village is full of aliens who will make them live forever, to my former line up that "there is absolutely no line up at the check out in back!" and everyone is all "really?" and "WHAT check out?" (because remember I told you that they hide all their check outs like the fucking condoms in a Catholic drugstore), and I loudly proclaim, like the pied piper, "OVER BY THE WASHERS AND DRYERS! TWO CASHIERS!" and the fucking people run like Lance Armstrong running for a 19 year old cycle slut. I felt i did my civic duty. I can sleep peacefully tonight.
The Lance Armstrong reference - let me explain why he was on my mind tonight. As I was putting the clean sheets on the kids' beds tonight (it was laundry day in Jt's house), I was thinking about old Chunks posting about the Motley Crue book and how people are raising their daughters to not have respect for themselves and all of that, and I totally agree. I take it further and think people aren't raising their sons to respect women - really, we read this shit, like 42 guys gang-banging some girl or Motley Crue shoving a phone up some chick's hoo-hoo while her mother is on the other end, and we all feel shame for the girl, but we seem to let the guys' behavior slip - let me tell you, if this baby in my darling Rachel's womb is a boy, he is going to learn that shit like that is sick. Tommy and Vince and Nicky should be ashamed, not that poor drunk girl - fuck you, Crue, you women hating, ugly-ass no talent shitheads.
Anyway, I was thinking about that post, and that got me thinking about Kid Rock and Tommy getting into that fight, and then it got me thinking about how humiliating it would be for Tommy to have his ex sleeping wiht Kid Rock. If Rachel and I split up and she started sleeping with Kid Rock, well, that would be the biggest insult. And how could you sleep with anyone who EVER slept with Kid Rock? Like, I'd need to shower for a week, get a penicillin drip, and I'd slough the skin off of lil' JT with a pumice stone and tea tree oil to try and get rid of any traces of Kid Rock DNA. Which got me to thinking about Lance and Sheryl Crow. Because poor fucking Sheryl Crow. Sheryl Crow has so much going for her. She's a great musician, has a great voice, can actually write a song, can put her heart on her sleeve, and she is a beautiful woman - not as beautiful as my darling Rachel, because readers, that woman is the cat's ass, I kid you not - I must have washed the feet of many poor lepers in a past life to be blessed with her in this life - but Sheryl has it going on. And then she does whatever gross things she does with old Kid, and then ends up with Lance. Who she wants to marry. And have babies with. Remember she's like 44 and her eggs are getting anxious. Then fucking Lance, who we all know has a dick that can't seem to find his way home, ditches poor Sheryl. And I mean, my immediate thought when I heard that (because it was like 2 weeks after she proclaimed her love for him and his kids and her wish to have babies on Baba Wawa or something) was that she should have kicked that remaining testicle of his straight up to his fucking Adam's apple, or at least taunted him on national tv for his one-ballededness. Because who does he think he is? And I mean, she picks Kid Rock. She picks old one-ball Armstrong. What next? Howard Stern? Stick to Armstrong cheese, Sheryl.
So that was a tangent and a half, wasn't it? Wait, there are three people standing on the road in front of my house - are they drunks? Why the hell are they hanging out in front of my house. Yes, they look sort of drunk. Wait, someone just picked them up. Whatever.
Ok. The fucking dog is in the doghouse with me. Brutus. You see, the dogs sleep together in this "soft" kennel every night. We keep it by the door. Three times this week, Brutus has somehow broken out of the kennel. Of course, being 5 months old, he needs to pee the second he gets up, so when he broke out this morning, he pissed under the table by the back door. Since we have ceramic tile and grout in the kitchen, his pee flows like the rivers of motherfucking Babylon, and it looks like fucking Venice under the table, with pee filled grout. So then I have to get on my hands and knees like I am Carol Burnett and scrub the floor and grout with Javex. SO tonight, the kennel is going into the garage. The floor is heated, so they won't freeze. Suck it up, doggies.
And finally, I need someone to tell me to be happy with my house. I mean I am very happy with my house. I love my house. LOVE it. It is new. It is beautiful. It is tasteful. I have a double car heated floor garage. I have a heated floor basement done in ceramic tile. I have a huge bedroom that we use as a playroom for the kids. I have another bedroom downstairs that we use as a bookroom/exercise room/clothes room for me. We have a rumpus room and computer area downstairs. Upstairs we have a beautiful kitchen. Maple cabinets. Hardwood floors. three bedrooms up. A yard to die for. A view of the North Sask. River from my back windows. Awesome neighbors next door who shovel a path from our house to theirs. Awesome neighbors behind who told us they like us so much they want to move in with us. My sister lives directly across the street. I can see into her kitchen as I type this. My other sister lives almost directly behind her. Our house most likely will appraise for about 110,000 dollars more than we paid for it less than 5 years ago. We love it.
So then yesterday, when I was on the MLS out of boredom at work, I found this house. In a "desireable" neighborhood. Our neighborhood, I love. I love the river. But there is a bunch of small rental "shacks" on my street. The socio-economic reality of the school my kids are/will be going to is really showing that there are a lot of impoverished families in the area, and I sort of wonder about that. Just the other day, I said to darling Rachel that "Such and Such school would be the best for the kids, because it would have the poor kids,. and the rich kids"- this certain school that is in an interesting area, with sorta upper class kids and poor kids from these apartment complexes, and I think it would be a cool mix. Anyway, we love our house, but the only thing that would tempt us is a house with 4 bedrooms up - which we need since we are like fucking rabbits on Meth. WELL. On the MLS, killing time an hour before I left work, I found this house. In that neighborhood. ON a Cul-de-sac that is quite la-de-da and quiet. With FOUR BEDROOMS UP. Of course, it's priced so low, it must need a shit load of work. The kitchen is so fucking ugly. There is carpet everywhere. But 4 bedrooms up. And priced just a little more than our house is probably worth. So I was intrigued. We drove by. And I felt sad as soon as we talked about it because we love our house and the riverbank, and the neighborhood. But still, I have this nagging. The whole fucking thing looks ugly and would need a shitload of work I can't afford, and I would miss the river. So tell me to shut the hell up, ok? Margo, think of my house and look at this one, and tell me I am retarded, ok? It must be a sign that we feel so sad even thinking about it. But what does it mean that we didn't just dismiss this house? hmmm....
http://www.mls.ca/PropertyDetails.aspx?vd=&SearchURL=%3fMode%3d0%26Page%3d1%26vs%3dResidential%26ret%3d300%26sts%3d0-0%26beds%3d0-0%26baths%3d0-0%26aid%3d2566%26MapURL%3d%3fAreaID%3d2805%26mp%3d0-0-0%26mrt%3d0-0-4%26trt%3d2%26of%3d1%26ps%3d10%26o%3dA&Mode=0&PropertyID=6223337
Holy fucking link... wtf? Anyway, I am staying put. But for some stupid reason, this tempted me. Anyway, I gotta get the stupid dogs in the garage, so I bid you good night. May you all have a sunny sunday peeps.
xo

Be Careful What You Ask For...

... because, when I woke up this morning and seranaded my wife with that classic "My Dingaling" (because I wanted her to play with my dingaling), what I thought was cute and funny has grown increasingly more irksome as the day and evening has progressed, because at 30 minute intervals or so, the frigging song will go through my head... it doesn't get any worse than that, really, does it?
I hope you all sing it all day too, so I can share the misery...

Dan Fogelberg, RIP

I'm just not in the mood for writing tonight. Tired, and melancholy from listening to Dan Fogelberg, who died this week. I know I've mentioned it continually each time Margo and Chunks emailed this week, but I feel blue that he died. 56 years old. Prostate cancer. Way too young. And I love his music. One of my favorites is "Same Old Lang Syne" - he's probably best known for "Longer" and "Leader of the Band", but SOLS has always got me. I also love "the Language of Love" but that one isn't melancholy.... and "Heart Hotels"... yeah, love that one. And "Netherlands".... anyway, here's to you, Dan.
I'll post all about the reunion and all of that this weekend.... I just don't have anything in me right now. Also, I am reading this crazy book, 101 Reykjavik, which is a trip - I can't even describe it, but it is translated from Icelandic, and now I wish I could read it in the original. Anyway, it's something else......
LOL, oh I've got to stop listening to this music - I feel so blue at the loss of Danny boy....
When Joni, Stevie, and Rosanne kick the bucket, Lord help me........

I really don't care

I know nobody ever watches any of this shit, especially when I go off on my Rosanne Cash binges, but I've never seen her perform this before, which may be my favorite Rosanne song, simply because the chorus is one of my alltime favorite song chorus's ever. One of those that I wish I would have written. Clever.
And I don't care if you don't watch because it's my blog, so goonie fucking goo goo, bitch!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13hpHpCi2NY&feature=related

we all want a love bizarre, don't we?

Watch the other one first, then this one: I always think of Tender Love and this one together - I had them back to back on a mixed tape I made, and I was equally obsessed with this one - I thought this song was so damned sexy and funky. Man, nothing beats the Minneapolis sound, does it? That was fucking good music....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5yNpmW2cMA

tender love

Feeling very nostalgic this evening, and I found this, which I listened to obsessively over and over again late at night in grade 10 in my overdramatic, teenage angst way. Such a beautiful song, but the video, which I've never seen before, totally detracts... play it but don't look at it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LGLXkvWejg
Enjoy