Thursday, August 30, 2007

Butt Juice

I have been crop dusted for the second time this week....Jesus Christ cook your food man!

For those who are not familiar with the term crop dusting; To crop dust is to walking in front of someone and release a slow, steady and silent fart. In most cases the "duster" (person releasing the gases) has been holding the fart for some time and the gases emitted are overwhelming and foul.

I walking down the hallway at work earlier this week, when the guy ahead of me laid a ferocious crop dusting. He was coming from the washroom and let it go. Honestly, was there a reason why he could not have done that in the restroom, other than the fact the stench would have made the tiles peel off the wall.

I was in the middle of saying hi to a co-worker as I passed her office when I realized what had occurred. That I was being overcome by the horrific smell of the inside of this guys colon. It smelt like a hamster with another dead hamster stuffed in it's butt, had crawled inside this guys ass and died. I was being consumed by was in my mouth and had to be impregnating my clothing. I finally ducked into the ladies washroom where I washed my hands and face immediately. It was like being sprayed by a skunk, if by a skunk I meant a client's ass.

I hung out in there for a bit to allow the carpet in the hallway to unroll, and of course expressed my experience with the first co-worker I saw.

This afternoon I am walking down the hallway again and I had noticed someone leaving as they turned the corner at the far end. I walked not even 3 steps when I was engulfed in yet another crop dusting. You dirty Bitch...I even said it out loud. Why not there is no one around. This is what I thought until I hear footsteps and see a woman walking up the hall towards me. She is on her way to the washroom. Ah Christ, she is going to think that I am the one with dead hamsters stuffed up my ass. I of course had to follow her in and let her know that men are pigs.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Must post, must post....

Things have been a little wild and I have not had a chance to post.

Work has been beyond busy and has resulted in bring work home at nights which does nothing for my sex life let me tell ya. I hope that normalcy in the work place is restored soon, so the heart palpitations and hair loss will end.

Baby girls is cutting all four eye teeth and is having a real go with it. Poor thing is almost at the point of wearing a life jacket to protect her from drowning in her own drool. She is up through the night and is moody during the day...can't blame her her gums look horrific. In addition she just received her immunization on Friday and that is just adding salt to the wound. On the upside she is doing well according to the doctor. 83cm, 24.15 lbs and talking up a storm. Nothing sounds better after a tantrum than I sorry mama....and a kiss. I am seriously thinking of jumping back on the fertility wagon for another kick at the bucket.

My sister seems to be doing much better. She was in the hospital for a week and a bit and then back at the surgeons office for a consult. She was having terrible pain after eating and experiencing chronic low blood pressure. I mean really low...53/47...almost dead.

She was admitted into Milton hospital which is near her home. Now not to knock the hospital, I am sure they are wonderful for minor illnesses, broken bones, stitches, but I would not recommend going in with something mysterious like unexplained low blood pressure. The staff was nice enough, just no communication between the doctors.

She had one doctor in particular that was in my opinion was taking hit from the bong in the doctors lounge. He was about my age (30ish) and really I have no idea how he got his scrubs on all by himself. He was talking to my sister in this stoned monotone voice coming up with all sorts of ridiculous reasons for her low blood pressure. He finally stated that she was a bit of a mystery and continued muttering to himself as he walked out. The next night he came in while my sister was enjoying a Timmies coffee and announced to that he had been doing some research and may have come up with a diagnoses.

Dr.: Ah, do you like have coffee stains that come and go?
Sis: What?
Dr: a coffee stain. Do you have one that comes and goes?
Sis: Looking at her coffee and then looking at him says, Um I don't think so, but I am not sure what you are talking about.
Dr: Okay, no coffee stains (writes in her chart) turns out he was speaking about a cafe coloured birthmark that appears and then disappears for a few months/years.

Dr: I was reading about this man in the seventies that half of his head had hair and the other half was basically a giant birth mark. Do you think that might be you?
Sis: Eyes bugging out of her head, No. No, I think that I may have noticed that. Sis is beyond confused as he is looking at her in the flesh....can he not tell that she is probably not a candidate for that particular diagnoses.
Dr: Oh, um, yep you're a mystery and walks out muttering to himself.
Sis: Called me right away, and we killed ourselves laughing

She checked herself out the next day after he came back in stating that he was confirming her blood transfusion for 2 pm....after arguing with her about needing it he discovered she was the wrong patient.

Other than that I have not much more to report at this time. Just needed to get back into the posting game.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Hanging with the Frenchies

We recently got back from our first summer vacation in five years. Hubby and I decided that we should take the time and drive up to see his grandparents who are ailing, but by the grace of God are still around to enjoy Iris.

The grand parents are living in Port Cartier Quebec which is about 18 hours by car. Beautiful country side but a hell of a long journey with the Baby girl. The first night we drove as far as Trois -Rivieres and grabbed a hotel room for some much needed rest. I might mention that we arrived at the hotel around 12:30 am and baby girl was still awake.

On our journey between Burlington and Trois-Rivieres we encountered several funny events and odd sightings. One in particular that sticks out is Rosie's Family Restaurant in Colburg. We once again were placing our trust in Anna (GPS locater with a crack habit) and discovered that the only place to eat in Colburg was a funky (in the bad sense) Chinese restaurant or Rosie's. In my efforts to ward off food poisoning I choose Rosie's. We walked in and were greeted with old and tired early 1980's decor with all original silk flowers. This woman, we'll call her Rosie sloths her way over to us and asks;

Rosie: How many?

Hubby: two and a highchair please

Rosie: drags her 40 yr old virgin body to the back of the restaurant and sits us at a table directly on top of another couple.

Me: I am looking around at a vacant restaurant with approximately 20 other tables and give Mark the eye.

Hubby: can we sit here actually as he points to two tables over with a larger table and comfy bench seat on one side

Rosie: ummm ahhhh ohhhh well no because what if a party of six comes in...and she puts our menus down on the table for two.

Mark: looking around, says to me; yeah that's happening

Me: not likely and start pissing myself laughing

Rosie: leaves to the kitchen.

It took Rosie another 15 minutes before she brought drinks and took our meal order and another 30 minutes to whip up a two dollar grill cheese and a chicken club. In the mean time I used the facilities and I report that the toilets recline for your comfort.
I would not recommend stopping at Rosie's Family Restaurant...thanks Anna.

We decided to fill up our gas as we left Colburg and good thing. As soon as we crossed the boarder into Quebec the price of gas shot up from 96.1 to 109.5...and remained there for the rest of our road trip.

In Montreal we hit some serious construction which is pretty much on every road though out Quebec. They don't seem to have a construction schedule...more like they just release crews into the night and yell dig. By the time we hit Montreal they had closed the 40 (main highway) and we had to take a service road...losing an hour but confirming the myth that Frenchies love to yell. The culture on the service road that night was rich....Honking of horns, people darting out in traffic yelling and the man beside us that I like to call Mr. Tabornac. This guy had his fists up shouting Tabornac...honk AHHHH For those whom are not French Tabornac is a french curse, would be equivalent to our Fuck.

On the second day we passed through a small town called Donna Cona. They had the most beautiful little seaside homes with stone pretty. As we drove by I thought about how amazing it would be to live directly on the ocean like that. To be able to whale watch from your breakfast table, truly fantastic. Another point of interest was every ones obsession with the mail. We witnessed many folks waiting at the end of their driveways in anticipation for the mailman. Some we saw running from their home to gather the mail. One man in particular took his time as he waltzed down his driveway in only his bikini image that we never leave me. I don't understand the excitement surrounding mail, but they certainly look forward to Christmas everyday! We actually were lucky enough to see two whales on our ferry ride at Tadoussac...amazing.

We frequently stopped at many Tim Hortons along the way and we're exposed to an odd occurrence. Hubby would order the coffees and then the lady would ask, " do you want a straw"? as she hovered a plunging tool over the coffees.

Hubby: What? No

Lady: No Straw....starring at hubby like his face was on inside out.

Hubby: No Thanks

As he was walking out, he looked around he saw a sea of people with coffee cups with a straw in it. I finally asked a lady at the Provigo as she stated that they do it because the coffee is too hot. This made no sense to me as the straw has no cooling affects. You are now literally sucking the hot coffee from the bottom of the cup. I could not accept this as a valid answer...she was clearly just on the bandwagon and not aware of why. I later found out it is because they don't want to actually open the coffee when they are driving so they use the spillage. Yeah, no....I'll take the risk of 3rd degree tit burns...suck my Tims from a straw, sacrilege!

The actually stay with the g-parents was great. They were so thrilled to see us and Iris. She put years on their lives for sure. They got a kick out of her being able to speak French and all her little antics. It was sheer joy and bliss for them.

The g-parents have a guest bed up stair and downstairs both super twin which equals super tiny when you are use to a King. I therefore took the upstairs and Hubby the downstairs. I slept well except for the trip to the can every 45 minutes. Not me, Pepere. He got up every 40-45 minutes to piss. It would not have been that bad if it weren't for the fact that he requires a walker to get around. I would wake to him getting up with a collection of small noises old people make and shuffling out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom, but not before he takes out every door frame along the way. He would get to his bedroom door and hook a wheel on the frame and instead of backing up for a second attempt, he would just continue to plow and push through until he was clear. Good God man....crash, shake, crash, bang, rattle, crash...shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, turn....crash, shake, crash, bang, rattle, crash....shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Oh lord he is finally in the bathroom, but not out of the woods yet....KABOOM. My heart would stop every time....what the fuck....the old man must be in the tub. Nope when he gets to his 3 foot elevated toilet seat he throws the walker out of his way and it hits the tub. Son of a mother, I was there for four nights and every night I was convinced he had fallen. His piss was also filled with muffled commentary and farts...then the procedure back to the bed starts all over again....whole process 18 minutes. Not much sleep on this vacation that's for sure. Side note, I am not expert on geriatric navigation, but turning on a light may have helped him.

Over all we had a great time and so lucky to have grandparents in our Thirties. We left with an emotional goodbye and were on our way back home. I think for me it was hard to say goodbye to Memere, because I really bonded with her and since I lost my Nana whom I was so close to, it felt so nice to share that kind of relationship with someone else. If felt as thought I was having to say goodbye to my Nana all over again....kinda sad but would not have traded the experience for the world.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

5 workdays

I meant to post this before my holidays, but ran out of time. I am a firm believer in not wasting a good blog and much like Aimee, I have unpublished blogs rolling around in my head and the only way to rid them is to post.

My last week before my vacation was a nutty one and I had many strange things happen to me so I figured that I would put the events to music. As you read the following events sing the Christmas carol tune of 12 days of Christmas.

On the first day of my work week the crazy things I see,

One pair of red dirty hooker knickers.

On the second day of my work week the crazy things I see,

Two steaming piles of human feces

and a pair of red dirty hooker knickers.

On the third day of my work week the crazy things I see,

Three cockroach "hotels"

Two steaming piles of human feces

and a pair of red dirty hooker knickers.

On the forth day of my work week the crazy things I see,

Four condom wrappers

Three cockroach "hotels"

Two streaming piles of human feces

and a pair of red dirty hooker knickers.

On the fifth day of my work week the crazy things I see,

F-i-v-e Pig-eon Car-cass-es

Four condom wrappers

Three cockroach "hotels"
Two steaming piles of human feces
a-n-d a p-a-i-r o-f r-e-d dir-ty hook-er knic-kers!

(taking a bow to your applause)

Yep...that was my work week...the topper was the red dirty hooker knickers that I found in our ladies washrooms. Picture me off to the washroom to brush my teeth after my 2pm coffee. I am brushing away when I look over to spot a red pair of dirty hooker knickers laying there on the floor not even four feet away from me. I had to take a double look, I mean that is not what I expected to see when I looked over. So I now have my toothbrush in my mouth and feeling a little nausea about nasty panties sharing the same air as my mouth.

I naturally reach into my pocket and pull out my cell to take a picture, as no one will believe me (you all think I exaggerate). As I am leaving the washroom I am troubled by the notion of what had occurred before I enter the facilities. I understand accidents happening. I am not better than everyone else...I too have been ill and shit myself, it happens. However, if your knickers are so soiled that you are no longer able to keep them on your body, do your really think that tossing them onto a public bathroom floor is the best idea. There clearly is a waste receptacle available and really a better choice for all.

I call them dirty hooker knickers as there seemed to be no clear soilage so they must be random sex panties. I am shocked by little, but this one certainly caused me to raise a brow and write a blog.