Yeah... what to do..... I just don't know. We called today to find out our cancellation policy, and we have until Saturday, when we will be charged 100 bucks. Then we have, I don't know, some other time where we will be charged 200 bucks, and then it's half the cost of the booking. This is for the 5 nights at Disneyland hotel and the tickets. So I don't know what the hell to say. Part of me says no fucking way about going down, because going to a germy theme park seems crazy. Also, germy hotel rooms make me nervous, especially with the proximity to Mexico. However, the cheap Ukrainian in me thinks "we'll get upgrades up the wazoo because nobody will be travelling." Also, there will be no lines at Disney. If it was just me and Rachel, I'd say for sure, we'd do it. But since we are bringing 4 children 8 and under, well, that complicates it. What if they all get it? What if they get hospitalized? It's just so complicated. Being so far from home in dangerous times... I just don't know. And who knows what the next few weeks will bring? We actually called to find out the cancellation policy when we saw on the news that California declared a state of emergency. Look at Mexican travel - they pretty much have suspended all travel as of tonight. What if that happens to California if it gets bad there? I don't know. I just know that I feel like it's all doomed, this trip.
Of course, I said today that now I have no FM tickets, a vacation that doesn' t look promising.... I was just feeling sorry for myself, and then I thought "this fucking thing will probably be here next week - let's all get it when it's mild." Then daughter #2 was fevered tonight and I got freaked out....
I just don't know what to do... fuck me sideways.....

I can't remember if I posted about the potential money hog that we faced? With the water main? Well, long story short - we agonized over going to California, about not affording it, since Rachel is taking an extra 3 months off of work, but I think we sort of decided that regardless, we are doing it because it was such a shitty year, and that because if we went this year, Rachel isn't using her holidays next year to go (she's going back to work 60%, which means she get's 40% less holidays... or something... LOL, whatever. Also, we didn't want baby to be a terrible two when we went, and since kid #1 will be 8 in a few weeks, she's still innocent and full of wonder, but the wonder of Disney might not be the same in a year, where right now she'd be happy watching the little ones on kids rides and such. So, we book rooms and sort of decide. Then, long story, we have a water main leak. If it's on OUR side of our water main valve, we pay for digging it up and fixing it, including re-paving the driveway. The cost would be abuot 3000 dollars. After having to wait for a weekend, we find out it's on the city's side, and thus they pay FOR EVERYTHING. In fact, they repaired it already. Paving to come before fall. Whatever.
Then the Fleetwood Mac thing happens. I read the awesome set list. And resist. I'm fine with it for the moment. So yet ANOTHER thing standing in our way that works out. NOW, it's the fucking SWINE FLU. I am TERRIFIED. SERIOUSLY. Don't laugh. You see, diseases and epidemics are of a certain interest to me. I wrote my MA thesis on AIDS memoirs, and as such, did tons of research in disease and epidemic literature, including the flu outbreak of 1919. So yeah, I am an alarmist, but I also know on an intellectual level that this can be serious, and deadly, and we gotta be careful. So... it's taking off like wildfire right now. Do we throw ourselves into the fire and get closer to Mexico, closer to heavily populated areas? Am I being crazy? I don't know. It just seems like this trip is full of odd obstacles. It's freaking me out.
So yeah, that's my day. I'm gonna go check out the latest flu numbers, I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Seacrest Out (he sure is Zverg-ish, isn't he?_

Lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice

Yes, I know there are people starving all over the world. I know people are dealing with aging parents, dying spouses, runaway kids, drug habits, bad jobs, no jobs, bad breath, sadness, political strife, communism, you name it - I have no right to complain, right? Well, bitch, that ain't stopping me. I can't remember if I posted here that the Mrs. and I are planning on taking the kids to California. We still aren't sure about affording it, but with the shitty year, and with the Mrs. returning to work in the fall, and the good deals, we decided now is the time to break out of our rut and do what we usually DON'T do - so instead of doing our usual "let's go to Edmonton" trip, we decided we would think outside the box and go to Disneyland, hit the beach, have a fun roadtrip, money be damned.
So, because the world economy is collapsing, Disney, which never has good deals, has a great deal on now, so we are jumping on it. We kinda sorta told the kids we probably/maybe are going. But then - but then.... long story short, our water meter in the basement has been loud for the past month. It has been getting progressively louder, like there is water running, even though it isn't. We were hearing it in bed even. So, we called the city on Friday and they said it would be a water main leak - if it's on our property, it's our penny - we've heard it could cost 3000 dollars. So, we told the kids maybe no trip. Every night for the past 9 weeks, I have literally been pouring over books in bed like "Disneyland 2009", Disneyland and Southern California with Kids, California for Families, and every fucking CAA guidebook for every fucking state. I've made a binder of google map routes, and caa triptik routes, and could tell you every family friendly attraction in all the western states. I've obsessed about routes, because we want to make the road trip fun. So anyway, on the weekend, I couldn't even look at anything. They were supposed to send the leak people here on Monday morning to detect if it was on our property or the city's. They came late. The ground was frozen so they couldn't shut the water off. But finally, in the afternoon, they did whatever and the leak was on the city side. At the same moment, the mailman arrived with our passports. Rachel yelled to the city crew and our mentally slow paper lady, who was hanging around, "I'm going to Disneyland!" The kids are ecstatic that we aren't paying for the leak so we can still go to Disney.
It ended up being a good day.
Then there is today - remember a few months ago, I was saying I was thinking of spending 1100 dollars to see Fleetwood Mac in Edmonton, second row? I was serious. I'd pay it. They somehow skipped Saskatchewan. Fast forward to today - All the news is full of "FM coming to Sask.!" THOSE FUCKERS ADDED A DATE IN SASKATOON, A MONTH AFTER THE OTHER CANADIAN DATES! WHY THEY ARE COMING THIS WAY, I DUNNO. But they are coming WHEN I AM FUCKING GONE!!!!!!!
People have been calling me and emailing me all day saying "DID YOU HEAR" and then when I have to say "I won't be here", it's like awkward, and I sure people will be dropping off casseroles soon. Now, I bought the new live Stevie album this week and I've been boring the kids with tidbits about it - "this is Waddy Wachtel on guitar...." and I keep thinking how great it would be to see them now, since they are in their 60s... and I can't.
I won't admit this anywhere else, because it's psycho, but seriously, I've been choked up all day. WTF? What grown man fucking cries because he can't go to a fucking concert? A retarded arsehole, that's what. My wife, bless her soul, said "if it's that important, change the trip dates" but that doesn't work because we really need to be in Disney in the beginning of June, because by the second week, American schools are out, and it gets crazy. But I've thought it.
Anyway, it sounds crazy, but let me try to explain why it's so important to me. Most people I know don't have artists who have made such indelible impacts on their lives. I know it's hard for my wife to get my obsessions - but how do I explain it? It's like FM is a part of me, some weird, unspoken, almost mystical part of me, and Stevie Nicks is... I dunno, I want to say my muse, but that makes me burst out laughing.... But seriously, they've been in my life, literally, since I was 6 years old. I am not lying. I listned with big can headphones to the self-titled white album in grade one, and in grade two, Rumours took over the airwaves and I know every song, note, picture on the sleeve.... I must be the only 6 year old who could say "Crystal" was their favorite song. And it made me tear up, even back then. I'm not lying. I collected pictures of Stevie as a child, I remember the excitement of hearing Christine singing on AM radio, and I still jump when I hear that awesome guitar solo at the end of "Go Your Own Way". "Landslide" still, to this day, makes me choke up, especially now that I am motherless. FUCK, even my mom liked them. I used the pretend that "Beautiful Child" was written about me. As an adult, I have fallen in love with "Tusk" and now realize Lindsey's genius, and, dare I say it, it's my fave FM album now....
Their 1982 album Mirage has a soft spot in my heart because it was the first cassette I ever bought. I got my sony walkman for my 13th birthday from Consumer's Distributing, and I know it cost like 80 dollars, which is like 200 dollars nowadays, but my usually cheap parents bought it for me, probably because they were feeling sorry for me having to move to saskatchewan and being friendless and sibling-less. Anyway, Dad drove me to South Hill Mall, I ran into A & A Records, I bought Mirage, and still have it. I loved that tape. It had Hold Me, Gypsy, and Love in Store, but also one of my fave Stevie songs, the country-tinged "That's Allright." That whole tape reminds me of sad times, but also comfortable times - driving in the winter to my aunt's place, 4 hours south of here, the cold Sask. highway, driving at night, eating some take out in the car, being with my parents.... it's bitter sweet, especially since I don't have my parents now - I know I still have dad, but it's not really him. So the whole album is comforting in ways now that I can't explain. It reminds me of driving to BC at xmas in grade 8, with butterflies of anticipation and excitement to be "going home" to my friends, family, and hometown, and it also reminds me of the sadness of leaving after xmas, and driving back to the place that made me physically ill, where I was bullied and miserable, and sad, and alone. It just encompasses so much, but more than anything, my parents were there. So now that my mom died (I am repeating what I have written before, but suck my ass, it's my blog), "Gypsy" has become even more elavated in my mind now - the song was written after Stevie's best friend, Robyn Anderson, died of leukemia after giving birth, and it makes me think of my sweet mom - when I listen to the boxed set version now, which is extended, and keeps repeating "I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes", well, I openly weep. Seriously, I can't listen to the song with anyone around now. I know, I've got to get over it, but fuck if I know how. ANYWAY, the song takes on new meaning for me now, especially since mom and Robyn had the same disease. She was just a wish, she was just a wish....
And when I hear the lines "... And a memory is all that is left for you now....", well, I choke up even typing it. Fuck, there are times I wish I still smoked, cancer be damned. Now is one of those times......
Anyway, let's just say that Stevie and Fleetwood Mac have been with me through all of my life's milestones, from the first day of school to the birth of my kids (Stevie's Trouble in Shangri-La was released the Tuesday before child #1 was born) to the death of my mom and the aftermath and void that shit has left on me. So, it's important to me to see them. I did see them in 1990, but that was without Lindsey, and Stevie was all pilled up. I need to see them again, up close. But, family trips trump this - family is what is important, and this trip is important, and my family comes first. But i just needed to mourn here what is lost in not seeing FM. And everyone thinks I have this crush on Stevie Nicks. I don't have a crush on her - yes, i am obsessed with her, but really, the connection is on a cosmic level - Even as a 6 year old, I felt the pain and knew the depth of the lyrics, and the lyrics to "Crystal" meant something to me which I couldn;t explain. It sounds absouletly crazy, I know, but I owe Stevie for my obsession with the sea. It's a cosmic thing. But, alas, it isn't in the cards to see them now. But I had to vent and bitch and I feel sorta better, for now. I am sure I'll keep on bitching tomorrow, but just tell me to shut the hell up, ok?
Anyway, peace out - so I'm back, to the velvet, underground...

Ok, so how do I make this interesting and clear.... well, let me just mention something I don't think I ever blogged about. I think I mentioned "the stalker" a few years ago, but never told the story - well, long story short, there used to be this Durango that would come into the 'hood a couple times a day and would pull up at the house next to my sisters, and this dude would run out, ran half-way on my sister's sidewalk, peek around her house, turn back, get in his car, back into her neighbor's drive way and speed off. So, we finally figured out he was looking at a house behind her, in the back alley. He would do this at 11 am and 11 pm. Long story short, we FINALLY staked him out, got his plates, and called the cops. I literally staked him out at 11 one night, chased him all over hell's half acre, lost him, and then my brother in law, who happened to be driving by on the way to get milk at midnight, and who called me to make fun of me for doing the stake out, suddenly came face to face with this dude, and chased him in the car and got his plates, and he never came back. We figured out he was humping this married woman who lived behind my sister - long story how we figured that out - and the woman and her hubby both work at the casino and work 12 hour shifts - 11 to 11 - and so this dude was seeing if hubby was home. Anyway, everyone laughs at us for cracking the case and being "busybodies".

Fast forward to this year. So, I think this was all going down before the snow fell, actually. One Saturday, I was in the backyard and saw this blue truck drive down my alley, and then back up and disappear. For some reason, I thought this person was pulling into this house's yard two down from us - it's been empty and for sale for like a year and a half, and it's a fucking dump. The owner's inherited a house and so this one is already paid for and empty, so he is asking an arm and a leg and it is a veritable dump. Anyway. I thought someone bought it, because this person was backing up with such purpose, and since I am always worried about places in my hood becoming rentals, as I live in an older 'hood with the only new house on my block, I pay attention because I am a freak. Anyway. A few days later, I see this blue truck again doing the same thing. I think it's this middle aged sorta bald or blond guy driving a GMC truck. So, again I keep thinking someone is backing into the back yard there for some reason- I assume they are parking back there to haul old panelling out or something - the house is full of panelling and apparently there is an odor of dog piss, according to my next door neighbor, who says all the time "Gary isn't going to get $________ for that frigging house, it's got odor from his damned dogs!"
So, all winter, I keep seeing this frigging truck, and what it would do is this: It would drive east past my house, and would go as far as the house next door - it's like his front bumper would stop at the eastern-most part of the next door neighbor's property line, and then they would back up. Now, if someone was driving down my alley, there is no street access for a few blocks, EXCEPT for two doors down from me, when an eastbound car could just turn right and hit my street. HOWEVER, instead of doing that, this truck would stop one house from the path and back up for about 7 houses, THEN turn around in this open spot, and go the other way. VERY FUCKING STRANGE.
So, I immediately think back to Mr. Durrango and every time I see this truck backing up, I start pointing and running on the deck and pointing and shit. Being winter, however, I never have shoes at the back door, so I can't get outside until they are gone. It sucks. My wife and I get obsessed with this. We make a mental note to ask Sebastian and Lisa, our close friends who live behind us - actually, they live right behind my next door neighbors where the stopping and backing up begins. Let me preface this by saying that the back alley IS NEVER PLOWED in the winter. I have had to push Sebastian out of the alley many times (their garage is in the back alley, and they drive a Focus wagon with no weight in the back, as they are hippies who don't believe in having two vehicles), and so I know that there is absolutely no freaking plowing going on, so why someone would back up instead of turning out is immediately suspect).
Ok, so, Rachel and I get out usual high out of trying to figure this out (not like in the movie Crash or anything - you know, where the people get all horny watching car crashes - we don't get off on this shit, but we spend lots of time trying to figure out what is happening - we have a huge front window, and a big kitchen window, so we aren't sitting there looking for shit - keep that in mind).
Anyway, this shit starts to intensify. So, one day Rachel calls me at work and said she was watching the woman in the gray truck in the alley. I am like "it's a man in a blue truck" and she's all "whatever" and we both think the other one is full of lizzard mixture. Well, then later that week we have an "AHA" moment, just like the kind my favorite sex goddess Oprah has (I jest - just trying to humor this up, relax Stedman or Gail or whoever is playing touch the button with Opie). We realize that THERE ARE TWO VEHICLES - a blue GMC driven by a man, and a blue/grey truck driven by a blond woman! They do the same thing- drive past our house, go to the end of the property line of the house next door to us, and then back the fuck up for 4000 fucking miles down our snow-filled, un-paved, un-plowed back alley, INSTEAD of driving past one more house and turning right and entering our always-plowed (bus route! whoo hoo) street. I can't even remember now how we figured this out, but it was funny, because blonde crazy bitch almost got stuck one day and I am sure she pooped a little in her panties - bitch has streak marks, mark my words!
Anyway, this was happening multiple times a day. OH! BUT LET ME PREFACE THIS WITH SOMETHING - Ok, my sister "Leslie", who lives on Avenue B, told me at XMAS that they too now have a stalker - she said that this blonde woman in a truck would pull up to the path, and she'd run down the path, halfway, going north (remember my geography lesson about the path) and then she'd run back and get into the truck again. She said the bitch would come so often, her dogs recognized her and wouldn't bark - my sister has three fucking dogs - a mutt that we gave her, and two boxers, so believe me, they bark. Well, at Xmas, I chalk it up to "people sure are crazy and sure fuck other people lots" because, well, I find it so frigging weird, but I don't put two and two together.
Until the beginning of March. This one particular Friday, Rachel calls me at work and tells me she's seen the vehicles a couple times that day and she's literally camped out in the girl's room watching and she's got the first 3 #s of the plates of this woman, and thinks she's got the rest. Well, I come home that night from work and I am starting supper or something and see this neighborhood old man, Mr. Ragey, walking from his house on Lakeshore to Sebastian's and Lisa's house, 4 doors down. So I am saying "MR. RAGEY IS WALKING ON LAKESHORE - WHAT'S THAT ABOUT!" because you never see him walking on the street, especially with a shirt on and teeth in. Anyway, then the phone rings and it's Lisa, and she is all freaked out (because she's fucking excitable and a worry wort, like me) and she says "Abraham Ragey was just here - have you seen a truck....." and I was all "OMG, ALL THE TIME, I MEANT TO CALL YOU" and she had noticed for months too and was all nervous, and then I guess Mr. Ragey came over and said "I think someone is watching you" because they are teachers, so she was pooing in her pants too, so I told her not to worry, that they aren't watching them, they are obivously watching someone on Avenue A. Are all y'all with me still? Ok, I am leaving this for now - if you don't get it, ask now. Tomorrow, I finish the story. It all ties together.
I have to get to bed - Jon and KATE'S re-wedding is on again, and it is angering me. She's such a harpie - that poor Korean fool.
xo

Ok, I know the last post was confusing, but the point I was trying to make is that there are these streets that go east to west, each has a back alley, and there is no street intersecting them around my house, EXCEPT for the walking path, which you CAN turn out of my alley and get onto my street (and this is two houses down from me, where this path out of the alley is).

Fuck, that just confused me. Alas, I don't want to google earth it, because I don't want all y'all knowing where I live. So anyway, I hope it makes some sort of sense.

Ok, so anyway, I am going to tell this story in little parts, just so you know how odd it is. Tonight I will just tell you this bit - remember I blogged once a year or two or so ago about this oddball woman who would walk down my street all the time? She would be all gussied up with this bleached hair, and for a while it was in these hideous cornrow braids, and she'd be all tanned and full of make up and we'd always laugh at this woman who would get all dressy for her walk. Then, after seeing her do this for months, we began to wonder why the hell she was walking down Avenue A. You see, Lakeshore Drive is right behind us, with new, beautiful paths, and it's made for strolls. Instead, she walks down busy Avenue A, which, other than houses, has nothing to see. Well, because she's so gussied and tanned and bleached and has fucked up hair, we always noticed her. Anyway, last spring, as I was cutting the lawn and watched her saunter down the road again, I had an aha! moment! I recognized her! In fact, I actually sort of dated her one summer in high school. She looked like Barbara Streisand back then, when I think about now, but now, she's all freaky and shit. ANYWAY. Remember me telling you here about that odd woman walking? Well, it's her. Michelle, you know who I am talking about? Let's call her.... well, she had the same first name of someone we were very close with, Jim and Corey's sister, and the same last name as the friend of "Craig", the guy "Barbara used to sleep with, and who you hooked up with one drunken night in Cowtown. You got it now?
Anyway, she's the one who walks all over my neighborhood.
Ok, I am going to leave it at that for now, just so I can tell this chronologically. LOLOL, it's not some huge freaky story, but it's..... weird. And it just proves Rachel and I should be investigators. I'll get into the heart of the story tomorrow.

Right now I am watching MMM, and Luba's "Storm Before the Calm" is on. It is taking me back to grade 9. I don't really understand the jerky movements she makes in the video. But she's a good Ukrainian girl, so I forgive her. Now Chantel Kreviasik is on (I spelled her name wrong, didnt I?) and I gotta say I hate those fucking commercials of hers. You know, the "fuck mom, you are retarded and don't know anything about hair colour" ones. As someone who is minus a mother, I implore all of you who do have mothers NOT to call them and rattle on about hair color and make her feel stupid for not knowing about the latest color trends. Instead, tell her you love her, or ask her for her recipes, or find out what your grandma's maiden name was, or SOMETHING you can actually gain knowledge from. But calling her and saying "this shit will even color YOUR gray, you old hag", well, come the fuck on.

Sweet Jon and Kate, Wake me up before you go go is on right now. George Michael, Pleeaase....
This song is just hideous, and the video, well, wtf? Choose Life? Bitch please, Frankie say Relax.

Did I ever mention (I think I did) about how I just DON'T understand Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax?" Like, I remember it being banned in England on the good old Beeb, but what does it MEAN? Like, when they say "Relax, don't do it, when you want to come", DON'T DO WHAT? Like seriously, don't do WHAT? Don't think about dead kittens or nuns or George Michael dancing around in short shorts, or Whoopi Goldberg's rude bits, or Rita MacNeil touching herself? Honestly, don't do WHAT? And why? Trust me Frankie, I don't think most guys have a problem in that department - ain't nothing that we need not to do. So, what the fuck is the song saying?

And finally, is it just me, or did D'wayne Wayne's backpack thing annoy the hell out of all of you too? (There's some rapper on right now who looks like Dwayne Wayne. Kardinall something or other. Some Canadian bullshit by the looks of it.
ANyway, I better get to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Seacrest out.
(hey, remind me to tell you about Zvergs, and my mother's hospital hallucinations about "zvergs" - LOL, it's funny).

time to map it out

Ok, this post is going to come in little bits, because it's complicated to describe the whole thing without a good visual of where I live - but anyway, this will end up being a weird story of something odd going on in my neighborhood involving this freaky woman. But for tonight, I am just going to try to explain my neighborhood so you can eventually figure out what I am talking about. So, go get a pencil and paper - I'll wait - and then draw a map if you wish to get the picture. It's the first time I've used cartography on the blog - it'll be fun!

Anyway, try to wrap your head around this. My street runs east to west. Got it? I live on the north side of the street. Still with me? Good. So, behind me, to the north of me, is Lakeshore Drive, which also goes East to west. So there is my side of the street, then behind my backyard is a back alley, and then the backyards of the houses on Lakeshore, and they all face the park and the lake - got it so far? So let's be simple and call my street "Avenue A". Let's say I live at... 480 Avenue A. Across the street from me lives my sister Libby. She lives at, oh, let's say, 481 Avenue A. The next street behind her is Avenue B, and our sister Leslie lives there, at like 500 Avenue B. Can you picture it? I'm on the north of A, and my back windows all overlook the back alley and the houses on Lakeshore, and indeed, the actual lake itself. My sister is directly across from me, and my OTHER sister is like a street behind her.
Got it? Ok, so there are no streets that intersect our street for a little ways. There is 3rd street to the west, and 6th street to the east (remember Margo, these are made up names, not actual 6th street....lol....) but no road intersecting in the 500 block. You know what I am saying? However, there IS a PATH that links Lakeshore all the way to Avenue D - so about 2 doors down from me, we can hop on the path to Lakeshore, or walk down and go to Leslie's, who lives on the path.
Oh fuck, this is getting so confusing.
Ok, so if you map this, there are two houses next to us and then the path that intersects, and across the street, there are two houses next to libby and then the path that intersects and then on the NORTH side of Avenue B, there is a house on each side of the path and then on the south side of the path, there is a house on either side, the one to the east being Leslie's. You got that? If so, then we can continue tomorrow - but let me make this complicated - you can drive down my back alley going east, and where the path is, you can turn right at that spot and exit onto my street. Otherwise, you have to drive a ways to get out of the alley. Got it? (google earth would make this easier).
I'll post more tomorrow once i know you got all this.

what's the big deal with Susan boyle?

Ok, so I don't get the big whaa-hoo about this Susan Boyle thing. She was all over the MSN homepage yesterday, and then today, everyone sent me the link, from my sister who said I'd get misty-eyed, to a big boss man at my work. So, finally, I put it on, and you know me, I see someone sort of homely and I get all "good for you!" and teary. Well, this didn't do sweet fuck all for me. As I emailed Chunks, so what that Alice from the Brady Bunch can sing? It didnt' rock my world. Maybe at the end I missed something, because after 3 minutes I finally quit. I don't know what the hell she was singing, but it sounded show-tuney. Well, I mean, it is better than listening to "Rum-Tum Tigger" or whatever the fuck all that Cat's bullshit was back in the 80s (although Betty Buckley's "Memory" was a secret like of mine, but probably because I remembered her as Abby from Eight is Enough, and I wanted to be in their family). Anyhoo, I don't get it. And I mean, she's not that hideous - so why are people all "whooo hooooo, the ugly duckling can sing!" because she's just sort of frumpy, is all. She's not like the dude from Mask or anything. Come on, people, let's get it together. If Bea Arthur gets humped, so can this woman....
Hey, on a totally different note, did I ever tell you that a friend of mine ended up next to Fergie for a while one night, and said that Fergie is sort of homely up close? Just repeating the story, Fergie fans.
Hey, did you also know that Britney passed through Sask. on her way to wherever the hell the Circus was going? Well, she was in... you guessed it... the North Battleford Burger King. I shit you not.
You know, I haven't had a Whopper for years. Fuck, I love me a Whopper once in a while. I really should get my fat ass up there. My favorite fast food burger is the A & W Mozza Burger. Just in case you were wondering and wanted to buy me lunch, or something. I still wish A& W had fish and chips. My mom and I would eat that when we'd travel. Ah, nostalgia.....
I have this throat infection, which I use as an excuse to load up on Nyquil, aka bedtime crack for middle-class white men, and mutha fucka, I've been having fucked up dreams that make no sense. So the first night, I dreamed I was at this cabin with this woman from work, and she was making me and her son do the dishes and she was insisting we use "Finish" detergent - I don't even know where that came from, so it must have been a commercial before bed. And then there were donkeys and shit, and it just got stupider. THEN, the next night, I dreamed the women from the View called me and wanted me to come on and talk about Valentine's Day and I didn't call them back. And last night, I dreamed I was in my parents' old house and these bad people died in the house, tied to the couch, and I had to air the stink out before my parents came home. WTF? God love Nyquil. Then my son, who is very sick, kept puking and pooping our bed, and I would be roused from sleep, all groggy.... I feel like I've been awake for a week or something.
I bought the new Stevie live cd (with the sounds of the crowd deleted, so it just sounds like some weird studio mix of her songs) but I couldn't find the concert dvd, which is what I wanted. She remakes Dave Matthew's "Crash into Me", which is like my 3rd alltime favorite song. She does a good job too. is there a more romantic song than that? "CRASSSSHHHHH into meeee... babbbbyyyy.... and I'll come into yooooooou" Damn that muthafucker can write a good song.
Anyway, I better get to bed, as I have another busy ass day at work tomorrow. TGIF like you fucking wouldn't believe....

blah blah whatever

Well at least I wrote something. Chunks is the only one still reading here, but who knows, some of you may be hidden. God knows I don't comment half the frigging time on most of the blogs I read, although then again, that's because I am retarded. However, tonight I did comment on 14 million people on FB, since I haven't logged in there forever.
So yeah, we are still thinking of going to CA, and have some stuff booked, although I am not entirely sure we can afford it. But part of me keeps thinking "it's been a shit year, I am still in mourning in a major way, Rachel is going back to work in the fall and we are done having babies, so let's just do something crazy and go." I am obsessed with planning different routes and such and spend all my free time studying maps and CAA travel guides. I'm some sort of freak, let me tell ya.
What else... we spent Friday-Sunday out of town at a dance festival my kids were in. The oldest two did a ballet number and a jazz number at the competition with their group, but they also did a duet, like last year. Well, they fucking ROCKED it. They got a platinum medal, the only ballet group to do so at this thing. We were so proud we burst into tears. LOLOL, yeah, we've become dance parents.
What else... hmmmm...
Spring is slow in coming. Very slow. Also, since we've been gone with dance, our house is filthy. Seriously, we have like 14 loads of laundry to do, the house is a complete, unorganized mess, and our moods reflect this. Rachel called me at work this morning and asked if we had diapers, and she said "I hate this, it's like we're living in the ghetto!" and I totally know what she meant. it's hard when you are a neat freak and life takes control of your will to keep things neat and orderly. It didn't help that baby has had a cold for over a week and is still grouchy and having bad nights, and child #2 had the cold and a stomach bug and child #3 had the runs for a week, and then me, Mr. fucking Baryshnikov, had some divine retribution when I got mad at my dogs last week. You see, last Wednesday, the dogs were in the garage for like a minute and the opened the fridge in there with their paws, which they know they shouldn't do. So I go in there like Alec Baldwin on a frigging bender, and scream and chase them into their kennels, and then, for one last dramatic flair, I kick the doors to their kennels shut and end up bringing my foot down onto one of the kennels and pierce the bottom of my right foot with the kennel door post. Well, the fucking thing is made of metal covered in dirty dog germs and the bottom of my foot is bleeding, and then bruises like fucking Rhianna's face, and I can hardly walk and I end up having to get a tetanus shot and I am still watching for infection in a state of cat-like readiness, like the doctor told me. So yeah, life has been sort of shitty. But not horrible - just enough for me to whine. OH! And the nurse at the dr. office goes "Now you are good for tenanus until you are 50". Well, that didn't make me feel better. Who the fuck wants to be 50? I mean, I don't want to be dead, but 50? I still can't get over being 39 - I mean, I still eat fucking FUN DIP, for shit's sake - who does that at 39? But my beard has an alarming # of gray hairs, and the hair in my nose is turning gray, so now I am feeling so pathetic. Sweet Jesus, I can't be almost 40. I dunno, I am having a hard time with aging, I will admit. My friend who is 41 has bifocals. BIFOCALS. Enough said.
So is anyone watching IDOL? What the fuck was with that fucking Megan Joy flapping her arms and clucking like a chicken last week when she was in the bottom three? Let me tell you, I was happy she was gone, just because of that. Stupid-ass antics. They wanted them to sing something current and she sings Bob fucking marley. Dummy the fuck up, bitch. Sing some damn Kelly Clarkson, or go the fuck back to Utah.
What else.... ER ended but who the hell cares.... my kids are in love with FULL HOUSE and we bought them two seasons this weekend, just because they did so good at dance. Seriously, if you luck out to be my kid, you can get me to buy you anything.
Chunks mentioned "Non-Stop Erotic Caberet" by Soft Cell this week. That brought up random memories of a simpler time for me. We had just moved here to Queen town, and I was like 12 or 13 and my parents were going to this Ball - LOL- yes, a Ball. Well, since we jad just moved here and since my siblings were two provinces over and I was with them, all shell-shocked and depressed, they of course wouldn't leave me alone until all hours of the night so they paid this teenaged boy with the same name as me to babysit, if you will, at their house - he was two years older than me, and his dad worked under my dad, and they lived in the "rich" neighborhood, and his mother had these tits that must have been sized double EE or something - anyway. So me and older JT are hanging out, and his older brother Ricky comes home and puts on "Non-Stop Erotic Caberet" full-fucking blast on their stereo, which is this expensive thing, and the walls shake as we listen to "Tainted Love". Then we listened to most of the album and then we went and sat on the older JT's waterbed and watched the GoGo's on "Solid Gold" sing "Vacation" and he was all excited, like he was going to start moaning in ecstasy any second. Anyway, that Soft Cell album and the Go-Gos go hand in hand for me. I hear "Vacation" and I imagine teenaged hormones lusting after Belinda's mini-skirt. Why I cling to memories of the past, I do not know.
Now for the boo-hoo part of the post - I remember last year, when the girls did their old duet at this particular dance festival - they also got a platinum, which is very rare - well, I called my mom and told her, and she called her sister, because right after mom died, my aunt called and said "did the girls get platinum at the competition because your mom was so excited" and yada yada, and so when they did this year, me and Rachel burst out in tears and she then called her folks and I then realized that I didn't hve my mom to call and I cried silently on the way home on and off for almost 3 hours. I guess I should call my mom's sister and tell her, because she asked me how I was doing and I said I had a hard time cooking supper because that's when I would call my mom to chat and she said she had a hard time on Saturdays because that's when they would talk, so she said I could call when I cooked if that made me feel better. God, I love my Aunty.... anyway, it was a hodgepodge of emotions this weekend.
Well, my foot is hurting like it got Chris Browned, so I think I am going to hit the hay - I'll yak at y'all soon.
xo