Note to self: Don't throw your elderly cat in the garage for an entire day if you don't want her to piss somewhere. This morning, I threw the cat in the garage with the dogs when I went to work. You see, yesterday, we caught this stupid young punk trying to steal bikes from people's backyards in our neighborhood, and after watching the balls this stupid idiot had in scaling fences and checking out yards, I declared that we must now always turn our alarm on when we aren't home. We never turn it on unless we leave town - we just wanted it for the signs to deter thieves. Anyway, this morning, I threw the whole fucking zoo in the garage because I am always afraid the cat will trigger the alarm. She only has once, but that's enough - I didn't want to have to run home if she set it off. So, from what I can figure out, she must have peed somewhere in the garage because it now smells funky. But where... but where.. where must I bleach, and what must I throw away? That is the question. It sounds Shakespearean, no? Anyway, I gotta deal with that tomorrow. Hells bells, I have a lot to deal with tomorrow, but whatever. Today was just one of those days. I had a solid night's sleep, or so I thought, but I woke up so tired I thought I might be sick. As soon as I got to work, I loaded up on coffee to try to wake up, but i didn't really accomplish that. I was tired all day. You know how people say, when they have an unproductive day at work, that they fucked the dog? Well, I didn't fuck it, but we were involved in some heavy petting. I just couldn't' get much done, because I was dragging my ass, and everyone and their fucking dog had the day off, so it was dragging. I ended up sending these long, exaggerated emails to people and the few appointments that I had of people coming to see me, I kept them in my office for double time. Anyway, it's shaping up to be a busy weekend, but whatever, we'll deal with that when the time arrives.
So, other than that, I have nothing to say.
OMG, I am on the facebook right now, but on REAL FB, not just on my phone, like I always am. ANYWAY, on real FB, I forgot about the chat feature. There are two people on there right now that I seriously don't want to talk to. Oy, it's really a dilly of a pickle, hey? I think it's time to "camouflage myself". LOL, I dunno if Margo still reads here, but that was this saying we once had in high school. You see, I can't remember why, but me, Margo, and this chick, Lolita, skipped outta something or other in grade 10 - our first year of high school. Well, I remember it like it was yesterday. We were standing in the hallway, and some teacher was coming towards us, and we didn't know what to do, so "Lolita" yelled "camouflage yourself!" and pressed herself against the wall and then startly laughing hysterically like she'd been rolled in LSD. Anyway, that was the buzz-phrase for the rest of the year. And here I am reprising it again, 25 years later.
I am having a problem with this aging thing. i can't quite grasp that 15 was 25 years ago. I remember so much from then, and still feel like some bumbling child.
OMG, FB is a horrid thing - I am thinking I just realized that my cousin's daughter has had a baby and I didn't even know.. LOLOL.....
I was really worried about today. Today would be my aunt's 79th birthday, and as she was my mom's sister and last surviving member of that side of my mom's family, I was worried how i would react, since I was really close to this aunt. I remember one year ago tonight, after calling her and her saying "you better ask me what you need to know about our family - I won't be here forever". And then she isn't now.... Anyway, I am just carrying on with the day. it would be her birthday, and my grandparent's anniversary, etc. And I am just rolling with it. Life is hard.
Anyway, I just send my aunt's granddaughter a message saying "OMG, DID YOU HAVE A BABY?" LOLOL, the things you don't know when your loved one passes away. It's all so crazy.
And I have to admit that I am petty. My aunt asked my sister to do her eulogy at her funeral, and my sister, just in the same way that happened when my mom died, made ME write both fuckng eulogies, with no input other than "mention this" once or twice. So with my mom's, I didn't think twice, and my aunt apparently my cousin said "I never heard a eulogy like aunty E's" and wanted a reprise. So when my aunt died, my sister ORDERED me to "help" her write this eulogy. I wrote the whole fucking thing, the WHOLE THING, and all she did was read it at the funeral, and she got applause at the funeral, and hugs, and special honour at the gravesite, and all I got was a card a few weeks later from a cousin saying "Thanks for helping Libby wth writing the eulogy" and I still want to claim the whole thing for myself. Does that make me terrible?? I wrote the ENTIRE FUCKING THING, and she claims all the glory, over and over again. Am I just a shallow person????? ARGH, why did I bring this up?!?
OMG, my nephew, LLF, is a friend of this daughter of my cousin...... why can't I let things go? Don't answer that, Roxanne!!!
My garage door is open, and i am smelling.... unpleasant cat urine. And it's my own fault.
I feel a little delicate tonight because the kid that lived across the street from us back in the day, when we first got married, was killed in this bizarre hit and run last weekend. OMG, I can't imagine. How do you let your children go?!?
Anyway, have nothing to say, so I am going to run and try t d/l some music. My kids and myself are in love with the new Katy Perry. Here's hoping I can d/l it for free.
Peace out.
Rest in peace, Aunty A. I love you more than words can say.

Heather B. Armstrong - if you google your name, I am reviewing "It Sucked and Then I Cried". It made me Laugh.

Hey hey hey, it's Fat Albert! How are all y'all doing tonight? TGIF like you wouldn't effing believe, my friends. I seriously think it's been the longest week ever - sort of like the week added Shitsday, Repetitiveday, and Tiredday to the 7 day cycle. It's just been incredibly long, so now that the weekend is here, I'm throwing my panties on it's stage. That's a joke - I don't think they'd make panties that would fit me, although I did go to highschool with a guy who has to weigh twice as much as me, and he's now becoming a woman, and so he must be wearing ladies' knickers, I would think. I can't imagine what they'd look like, but that's neither here nor there.
Speaking of transexuals, have I ever said how I just don't get that whole deal? Like, I'm sorry, but you can whittle a penis outta the best silicone that money can buy, and surgically attach it, but honey, if you can't feel the fucking thing, what the hell good is it to be a dude? Like take good old Chas Bono. I have no problem with him or her or wherever he or she is at right now, wanting to dress and act like a man, but without the equipment functioning like it does, well, what's the point? But then again, whatever floats Chas's boat. You know, I say just let go and let love.
Hey, I am reading a really good book right now. It's sort of a funny story. Did I mention here that in the spring I decided to man up and go and pay my 100 dollars of library fines, that I have had sitting there for years and years, and when I did go, they had just implemented a new computer system, and all the old fines were erased?? Well, anyway, it was like Christmas during wartime -- a cheap gift that burned goodness in my heart forever. Anyhoo, so I start using this library card like my first Visa card - I was checking shit out like crazy, much like I was buying shit with my first Visa that I really had no use for. I can remember buying things like a set of martini glasses with black stems for my live-in love (who eventually became my wife, but live-in love sounds so much more European and sophisticated, which we weren't. Indeed, since we shacked up the second we moved out of our parents' houses when we decided to go to the City to go to university, we were like an old married couple, and since we hung out with a couple who lived in our building that I've known one half of since childhood, we spent our weekends watching "Sisters" and other NBC Friday night shows, while i would cook a big pot of borsht or something for us to feast on. Other people our age were puking in bar bathrooms and regretfully sleeping with classmates on the hoods of cars in said bar parking lots, but we were eating Ukrainian cuisine, watching Swoosie Kurtz, and making love in our bed, rather than with gross drunken strangers in parking lots). Whoa, that was a tangent... where was I.... oh yes, the first Visa - well, I'd buy shit like those martini glasses, even though I don't think either of us have ever had a martini, and a poloroid camera, which was a piece of shit and we never used, or a set of halogen lamps that in hindsight could have burned the frigging house down, and on and on. Anyway, like that first Visa, I was checking shit out of the library which wild abandon. And, like some sort of chronic alcoholic or like Priscilla Presley vowing to give up plastic surgery, I too promised never to have a late fee again. Well, as we all know, that's a pile of bullshit. It began easily enough. One day, I was checking out a stack of books, and I grabbed at the last minute this book by Heather B. Armstrong called "It Sucked and Then I Cried" (yes, I know that in true MLA format I should be underlining or italicizing the title, but I am too lazy, so bite me), which, the back of the book said, was by the author of a blog. I grabbed it, because it looked like it was about childbirth and such, and since I have 4 kids, I thought "bring it on, bitch!" (In a good way - I didn't mean that this Armstrong woman was a bitch). Anyway, I signed this book out and whatever, I didn't read it in the end (yes, I know that's a comma splice - leave me the fuck alone, already!). Anyway, I didn't read the book. This was before we took our big, money-sucking trip to Oregon (that ended up extending itself to California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Montanta, etc.), and I was more concerned with this fucking book I renewed like 4 frigging times called "Pacific Northwest Road Trips" or something equally stupid. It was a really good book, but written for those hip, childless couples that I guess must take road trips. It listed many things to see in Washington and Oregon, but it was written in a way so as to make a family vacation seem like it was the spawn of the devil or Sarah Palin or something. I got some good info, such as where to find good fruit stands (the "fruit loop" in Oregon, even though that fucking thing set me back an hour and 40 bucks, when I coulda bought cherries for half the fucking price at a roadside stand), but it also told us where to go in case we were looking for a "naughty" bakery, such as the punk rock bakery in Portland where they would throw donuts on erect penises in some sort of competetion each Halloween, and where to skinny dip in natural hot springs. So, I knew I wasn't "cool" enough for that book anymore, what with my 4 kids and all, but I kept renewing the damn book. So, I kept renewing that book, as well as this "It Suck and then I cried" thing. I didn't read the book, but since I kept forgetting to take it back, I just would renew the damn thing.
Then we went on holidays.
Then both books ended up overdue.
Then both books ended up like 2 and a half fucking months overdue.
SO I decided the other night to take both books back, and to man up again and pay my fine and move on with my life. But right before I left for the library (my wife was at dance with my 3 girls - I was taking baby boy on a man date to the library), I get a call from said wife, who told me that girl #1 was all crampy and shit and didn't think she could go to her class, so I said I'd pick her up. Well, the boy and I sat in the car in the back alley for like 20 minutes before she came out of dance and into the car, and since I had this unread book in front of me, I started to leaf though it. WELL. My eyebrows immediately raise when I see the words "Mormon" and "Utah" mentioned. I don't remember if I even mentioned here before, but I have this immense obsession with Mormons, and those who leave the Mormon Church, and with Utah. The Mormon thing, well, that's just fucked up - they believe the CRAZIEST shit. As for Utah, well, being there two summers in a row now, I have to say that the place is like the frigging promised land - it's that frigging beautiful. Seriously, I could talk about it forever. Forest, desert, mountains, lakes, red hills, valleys, canyons, parks, etc. - it's just the most beautiful place on earth. Add to that some really good shopping, and some freaky Mormon shit like the Missionary Mall in Orem, with the big 10 foot blow up Mormon missionary on the roof of said mall, well - it was enough to make me completely understand what it sounds like when doves cry.
So, it was a no-brainer that I would love this book. HOWEVER. However. The book was written by one of us. A blogger. Oh, the range of emotions when you see those words. You see, I think we all get our back up when we see those words on a book jacket. It's like "What the FUCK?!? I blog. I'm funny. I could be published. Fuck that SHIT!!" It was sort of the same reaction I had with the "Julie/Julia" thing. I saw the cover of that book, with that actress who looks like Juliette Lewis without the down syndrome features, and Meryl Streep as an over-acting Julia Child thrusting her ample bossom into the farmer's market, holding a handful of onions or whatever, and immediately, I KNEW I would just HATE that fucking book. I knew it would suck. But then one night, in the city, in Costco, I picked the damn thing up. And saw the mention of the blog. SO I bought it.
And I started to read it.
And I frigging LOVED it. Loved it. It was caustic and spastic and funny in the "I am going to piss myself" way. It had nothing to do with the cutesy cover of the movie actors. Or Actesses. I use the term because I know it pisses people off. ACTRESSES. HAHAHAHHA!!!! SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUPS!
Anyway, instead of returning the two month overdue book, I decided to keep it. I am glad I did.
That shit is funny. Besides the content about being Mormons who left the church (the sort of thing that I love like teenage boys love pornography- I guess ex-Mormons are my own version of 40 year old porn), and the mention of Utah (which seriously is the promised land - fuck me, I'd live there in spite of all those kooky Mormons), the thing was just so... TRUE in terms of pregnancy and childbirth. While my wife, Rachel, unlike poor Heather B. Armstrong, was never sick (other than not being able to stand the new car smell of our car, which made her gag), and who was full of energy and sensuality, and everything awesome, during her pregnancies, I still related to the whole labor thing, and post labor thing. Like Heather B. Armstrong, Rachel got an epidural during her first pregnancy and could not fucking push. Couldn't feel it. They ended up using a vacuum and a forceps and such other gross things, and nobody prepares you for the AFTER thing - the 2nd degree tears that make your hootchie look like hamburger and such. We didn't know! So it was really nice to read that stuff from somebody else. And this Heather B. Armstrong is funny. She really is. And, of course, since she's one of us, we don't like admitting that, but it's true - she's got it. Her blog is something like dooce.com or something. I haven't gone to it yet. But she's funny. And her story is universal. And while parts of it aren't completely my experience - our kids haven't ever really kept us up at night (We just sleep with them and let them nurse until 2 and a 1/2), and while my wife didn't have depression or anything, being the anxiety/panic attack sufferer that I can be, I completely understand this woman's problems. So even though I am not through the book completely (And even though the last bit I read made me confused, since she's always complaining about the kid not sleeping, but in the next breath she says the kid is sleeping 11 hours at 6 months, which, to be honest, none of my kids have ever slept YET), I gotta say, this woman is funnn-yyyy. Read the book. I bet it's even worth the 37 dollars in late fees I will have to pay so I can take my kids back to the library again.
Finally, Canuck readers, wasn't that the BEST fucking football game ever tonight? We rock!
Peace out, babes!

Rosie O'donnell, if you google yourself, there is a quick mention of you, darling.

Yo Yo Yo, Homeslice - how goes it? I don't know if this will be a melancholy post, a funny post, or a boring post. I have nothing to say, but I'm just a rollercoaster of moods lately, so who the hell knows what will pop out of my mouth tonight. I actually tried to blog twice last weekend. The first time, I ended up backspacing everything I wrote because it was so boring, and the next time, I got about 3 paragraphs done, but then I was interrupted, so I didn't even finish. I think it was some stupid Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus thing - if i remember, I'll post it later, because I think I hit save.
Anyway, it's not even 11 o'clock, and the entire family is sleeping. We were all watching House Hunters (my kids are old souls), me, Rachel, and the older two kids (baby boy was sleeping, and littlest girl was sleeping on me), and by the time we found out which house they picked, they were all sleeping! And it was one from Amsterdam (Rachel's Grandma was from Amsterdam, and Rachel went there as a child, so I thought she'd stay awake, but I guess even Holland wasn't strong enough to keep her awake).
So here I sit. I should go to bed, but it just seems too early. I also just had a night poop, which is always so disturbing. Something about pooping at night just seems wrong. I know, I share too much. I've said it before, but it is akin to someone flying a kite at night - it's just wrong.
Anyhoo, as I said, I've been just a weird sack of moods lately, and they all hit at once. I'm not exactly "down". I have been dreaming, for weeks, of my mom. She's either alive, or she's sick, but not dead, and while it's sort of comforting, I guess, to still actually "See" her, and hear her voice in these dreams, it nevertheless disturbs me in a way. My dreams have just been so weird, and so vivid, and I bet that's why I'm tired all the time. Anyway, I think at some unconscious level, that whole dead mother dream thing is bugging me. Also, it's fall, the season for introspection. And then there is getting the 2 younger kids used to the new sitter. Baby Boy is totally fine with it, but the girl isn't. She goes every second day (until now - she starts school on a regular schedule next week, so she will only be at the sitter every second Friday, thankfully) and she spends a great portion of her day quietly weeping. It's horrible. But she's so brave, and just sucks it up and gets ready and goes in. Of course, this morning, as soon as I dropped them off, I sobbed like a premenstrual Kathie Lee Gifford all the way to work, and then had to tell myself to suck it the fuck up before I went in. So there's been that going on.
And you know, this parenting thing is hard. I am just wrestling with something right now. Long story short, girl #2 is really shy and is just starting to come out of her shell. She met a new girl in school and befriended her at recess, and we don't know anything about her, really. However, she and her older sister deliver papers to my inlaws, and they have seen the parents, and have said, quite sincerely "they are sort of... retarded", not in a prejorative way, but in a literal "something seems not quite clicking" sort of way. Anyway, today, the girl comes home with an invite to a birthday party for this kid, for TOMORROW, and it's a frigging sleepover. They are 7, and we don't know these people from a hole in the ground, and we have it on rumour that the older sister had lice. So I say no right away. And the girl says later she isn't ready for a sleepover, but could she go and hang out there. Now, we don't think ANYONE is going to this thing, and we have this fear of lice, so we talk to her about lice and yada yada, and she's fine not going, and I said we'd drop off a present. HOWEVER. These people called tonight (we didn't get it) and since then we've been haunted with the image of this little kid dying to have a sleepover party and nobody coming, and I've got this lump in my throat for this kid like a premenstrual Tammy Faye Baker. Just tell me I'm not wrong. These people live halfway across town in the hood, so I don't know why they are at our school, and I don't want to be a snob, but really, we don't know these people, so I am just not comfortable with it, especially with the lice thing. Ah, what the hell do all y'all care... LOLLOL.
OMG, I have to mention my other thing that is depressing me - I am fatter than I've ever been, apparently. I didn't realize it initially, because in the States, I bought all of these nice summer clothes from the outlet malls, and apparently, they are slimming, because I actually had people say "oh, losing weight again, hey?" Really, I think it was the fact that I had this freaky George Hamilton tan this summer and grew a beard that covers my chubby face, so I looked just different. However, it suddenly turned cold and rainy this week, so I went to put on jeans for the first time in months. WELL. Fuck me, Amadeus, I first tried my Aeropostle ones with the bullet holes on them, and I couldn't really get them up. Oh oh. So then I found my fucking FAT JEANS, and while they did up, those fuckers were tight. I actually had to run out last night and buy some new jeans in a size that almost made me vomit. I should have puked - maybe I would have lost a pound or two. Anyway, I refuse to weigh myself, but am pretty much steeling myself for a serious diet, so this weekend will be spent eating and drinking all the fattening shit out of this house. By tomorrow night, I'll be comatose on the couch, with chocolate on my face and a trail of Kahlua on my chin. Last night Rachel was all "I don't understand why you are so extreme and so up and down!" And I thought "Stedman has probably said the same thing, too". Or Gail. HAHAHAHAHHAHHAHA.
So. As I said before, I am reading the Oprah bio by Kitty Kelley. Yes, STILL. You see, I have like 10 books on the go, and for some reason, I can't finish anything. I am almost done all of them, but I just am not finishing anything yet. Don't ask me what the hell THAT means. Anyway, the Oprah book is ok, but it's almost annoying me, because she wants to make Oprah into this monster, and she probably is, but OMG, it's almost fucking BORING. It's just about how Oprah might be this cold bitch, but nothing else really interesting, just innuendo. I was kind of hoping she'd say Oprah and Gail would be in one bed, Stedman and Travolta in another, yadda yadda yadda, but it's not sensational. So I started a literal stack of other books, and am almost done most of them, but, LOL, I am not finishing anything.
Oh, I finished the Rosie O'donnell book, Celebrity Detox. I have to admit that I liked it, alot. True, I do not pretend to understand why the hell Barbara Steisand is so fucking wonderful in her eyes, but then again, I can't ever convert anyone to Joni Mitchell or Stevie Nicks, so whatever floats your boat. I was trying to tell someone how "Gyspy" is one of the best songs ever recorded, and then thought "never fucking mind. You get it or you don't." I don't really get the whole Streisand thing, but whatever. However, I love how honest Rosie is. In most ways. She admits her foibles and faults, which I like. She's always saying $$ won't solve problems, but fuck me, she's never had to budget with 4 kids like we have. Let me tell you, unlimited grocery and clothes allowance would really fucking solve some problems. And not worrying about their education. Or look at us - we've put ourselves in debt for two years in a row to take the kids to California. Florida vacations aren't a harship for her. Give me the money NOT to worry about that stuff, so I have time to worry about other problems.
So yeah, that annoyed me. But otherwise, I am convinced Rosie is somehow related to Chunks and myself on some other plane. And yes Rosie, if you are googling your name, you WERE hot in Exit to Eden. And Ro, what would YOU do in the lice kid situation?
OMG, this must be soooo boring for all y'all. I guess I should just shut up and go to bed. So I guess this post was neither funny nor melancholy. Just boring. SOrry. I'll try harder next time.
xo

Draft Post from Last week - consider it a bootleg!

Good Eeeevening, as the late great Vincent Price used to say. It's nice knowing that it's midnight Sunday evening, and I do not have to be up in the morning for work. Thank the Lord for Labour Day! Anyway, I tried to blog a couple times this week, and I just had nothing to say. One night I backspaced everything I typed and then just quit, and the next night, I saved the paragraph I wrote, but really, I just have nothing to say. However, I am not really feeling like going to bed just yet, so I will just blab on for a few minutes, and too damn bad if all y'all get bored.

Anyway, I should be exhausted. I had a shitty, shitty sleep last night. My wife and I have caught colds, and we were tired and snuffy and coughing last night, so I made us a nice round of Neo Citrons and we went to bed, and I turned the light out by about 12:30. However, for some reason, I was awake around 3, and then again at around 4:00 am. I was sweating like fucking Frank from Trading Spaces all night - I don't know why, but I am just a frigging heat box at night. I just sweat and sweat and wish I could cover up, and sometimes if I get lucky, I can. Anyway, last night it was muggy, so I was hot and headachy, probably from the weather changes, because shortly after 4:00, this big-ass storm moves in. It begins with thunder in the distance, then thunder up close, then the room being lit up with lightening, then thunder and lightening occurring all at once, you know the kind I mean - you hear that whine and the room lights up like an xray machine, and it just cracks, and you are sure the house was hit or the power will be out. Anyway, that occurred many times, but the power didn' t go out - I know, because I was up peeing, and then closing windows because rain was coming in, and taking pills for my headache, and wondering why I looked so pale at 4 in the morning, and on and on. Anyway, the storm would leave, and then come back, and I am pretty sure I heard it going on until about 5:30. I actually ended up getting up at 5:00 and took a couple allergy pills too, to make me drowsy, because I was getting that panicked "I haven't slept" feeling.

Then I was immediately tossed into dreams, one where we lived in this big, old, rambling 3-story house, and it was sort of haunted, and i kept yelling something like "with the sacred blood of Jesus, I cast you out!" at the haunted stuff in the attic, and then the water pipes burst, and for some reason, we were ok with that. THEN, I was driving a truck and I must have been some sort of teacher and was transporting these kids here and there, and these two gross moms were making moves on me and wanting me to come back to visit them, and I was all panicked trying to get away from them. Anyway, it was one of those nights.

Then today, we woke up early, and since it was now cloudy and windy, we thought it would be a good day to throw something in the oven, so I went shopping for stuff for supper (I made a gigantic roaster of stew and cooked some of my garden beets and made some cole slaw, and an apple crisp that has not one frigging apple in it, but instead was made with zucchini that I grew. And let me tell you, you wouldn't know the difference!

But I am getting ahead of myself. We had some run-ins with the kids today, but they apologized for being awful, and we spent the entire day cleaning. We have a room in the basement that is a playroom - it's a bedroom that's probably twice the size of our master bedroom, and it's full of toys. It hasn't been cleaned for months, and it was disgusting. It took all day to clean it, and we got rid of boxes and boxes of books and toys from it, and I cleaned the upstairs, and we were working like dogs. Like, for about 10 hours. Of course, I was randy as usual and kept trying to lure Rachel away for some afternoon delight, but she's from Venus and wants to get the tasks at hand done first, whilst I am from Mars and think some rock and roll hootchie coo would motivate me more. Also, she was all sick and said "if I started coughing halfway though, God help you". LOL, you know, it's so funny, this difference between men and women. A woman will be all "I'm sick and stuffed up and I just want to rest" and a man will be "I am sick and tired and stuffed up, so hell yeah, hop on Pop!" If only we could trade penises and vaginas for a day, maybe it would all make more sense to us, hey?

So, that brings me to now. I am sitting here watching All in the Family, but it's a stupid one, where Meathead gets all hot about Gloria's black wig. Seriously, I just can't believe people used to wear wigs.