Well yeah, nobody else reads this but Chunks anymore but I don't really care, because I love myself and so if nobody else does, then that's their friggin' problem, isn't it? You don't know what you are missing, people out in blogland! I am the walrus, baby!
Anyway, I am spending my evening supervising an exam, but I do not mind. It's a good group of kids and the exam looks so easy and they are completely freaked out by it, so I just want to give them a big hug, pour them a glass of warm milk, and tell them everything will be allright.... LOL, ok, not really, but I wish them well.
What else.... I have no desire to write anything lately. I have a stack of good books, so late evening has been reading time. Maybe it's the winter doldrums that have moved into spring fever, I don't know, but I am too restless to write. And as it is, I can't keep up with my hectic television schedule. I am always days behind on everything. It takes a lot out of a guy.
So anyway, I had almost a week off last week. Monday was a holiday, I took Tues. off and we took the kids to Saskatoon because i had a meeting Wed. morning, so we hit the big kids sale at Old Navy, where we got them decked out in some good duds, and then hit the Children's Place and the Gap and the Body Shop (my kids are starting early!) and then waterslided for a good 4 hours, and then cleaned Costco out and went home. Oh, we hit the bookstore too, where we bought a huge stack of books for the kids and I grabbed a couple too. But back to Costco. You know, I love me some Costco, you know I do, but I get so fucking mad there because of the stupid way they do things. What I am talking about is how they get you hooked on something and then once you are hooked, they pull the rug out and baby has no bottle. For example, for ages they carried the big honkin' bottles of Johnny's Jamaica Mistake salad dressing. Now, in the regular supermarket, a small tiny bottle costs 5 bucks. But at Costco, the huge bottle that must be 4 times as big as the supermarket bottle costs a mere 7 dollars. Well, we've become addicted to it, eating it easily a couple times a week on salad, brushing it on chicken, you name it. But suddenly, WHAMMO, they no longer sell it. Instead, they introduce this Johnny's dill dressing and peddle that shit for a while and I mean, it's ok, but nothing that I would blog about, you know what i mean? But whatever, I figure they are just diversifying. And then they start peddling this Johnny's Jamaica 'Me Hot and Crazy dressing, which is hideous on a salad but is the cat's ass on chicken (if you like spice), and so that's another thing I am addicted to. But lets fast forward a year or so - now there is still no Jamaica Mistake, and no more Hot and Crazy. How frigging stupid is that? They are still peddling that dill ranch shit, and I mean, who cares? Don't get me all hooked on this stuff and then take it away. I mean, at least I can buy the small Jamaica Mistake bottles from Safeway, but the Hot and Crazy is nowhere to be found. SO now what do I do? I feel like some sort of teenaged girl who is waiting for the prom king to call, and he doesn't. Why do you do this to us Costco??
They did the same thing a few years back with these Waffles they used to sell - they were thick and coated in some sort of sweet maple shit, and were so damned good and boom, they don't have them anymore. I live in fear that they will stop carrying Hampton House chicken because that's the main staple of my diet. And then sometimes they have those Talking Rain drinks and sometimes they don't. I also am scared they will stop carrying that blueberry oat something or other cereal that used to be made by Weight Watchers but is called something else now. I mean, why get us to try this stuff if it will go away? It's such a mindgame. I just want to say Ruby, don't take your love to town.
What else..... oh, I came home today and was so pissy when I turned the tv on. Rick Springfield was singing "Love Somebody" on some show and it was so cool to hear that again, but then they zoom in and its all these uppity middle aged ladies clapping away and then they zoom on Oprah, singing and clapping and dancing and you know, nothing annoys me more than seeing her flailing around all pigeon toed and clunky, and pretending she knows the words to songs and acting all goddess like. I was just complaining about her today, in fact, because this woman at work was saying she watched A Raisin in the Sun last night and how absolutely horrible it was, but she wanted to watch it because Oprah said to. So then I went off on my Oprah rant, because I think I shocked her with my "fucking Oprah" comment. I said that the bitch has been dieting for 20 years, and I've bought right into it. I bought the stupid fucking Cooking with Rosie book, which would be fine if I could get my hands on fresh elderberries, organic cous cous, kale juice, authentic saffron, and water ionizer. Otherwise, I can't make half of that shit. Actually, I never wanted to make any of it. It all sounded hideous and the only thing that sounded any good was the sweet potato pie, but again, is there anything different from that and pumpkin pie? I bloody well don't think so!
So, bitch has a cook, but the weight stays on. Then her and Bob get with the program and I follow it and lose weight too, and I follow everything they say and drink so much water my urine has no color for months and I make sure I eat nothing after dinner, not even a grape, just like Queen Oprah tells me to. Then we both get fat again and look at her now - big and ropey and still with the cook and still with Bob and still saying "this is the year we take it off!" and I mean, it's been 20 fucking years Oprah - how much money do I have to give you to get the fucking thing right? You get all pissy when people say you have a cook and a trainer, saying "they aren't the ones stepping on that treadmill" but honey, you can make the time. You don't have kids demanding attention. When I want to get on the treadmill, it's after work, after straightening up, after cooking supper, dishes, playing, bedtime routines, homework, reading to kids, getting kids to sleep, talking to spouse, hopefully taking a shit or something, and THEN maybe getting 30 minutes if I am lucky. On the other hand, there is you. You have fucking DOGS. Throw the fuckers out in the motherfucking yard, and boom, you have no distraction. I can't do that. And I mean, I'd love to have someone come over and say "ok, we are going to run now, you can do it!" That don't happen. And when you are trying to feed a family of picky eaters, it's not like I can just say "tonight we are having 1/3 cup of brown rice, some fresh purple cabbage, and a piece of lean turkey the size of a deck of cards." So you know, the chef makes it a lot easier. So don't give me this song and dance. Anyway, it's been 20 years and you are in the same spot, so you know, I'll go it alone, Ops.
Anyway, that's my rant so I guess I better run - hope y'all have a good evening.