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 it...it 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.

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)....it 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.

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 Tabornac...lol 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 siding...so 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 briefs...an image that we never leave me. I don't understand the excitement surrounding mail, but they certainly look forward to it...like 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 straw...no 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.

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.

Tagged: Random facts

The Rules: Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The game rules are posted at the beginning of the post. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment to let them know they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Thanks Brianne....

1. I smell everything! It's true I cannot help myself and most of the time I don't even know that I am doing it. My sister and hubby were sitting on the couch with me one night watching TV, when they witnessed sniff the flyer I was reading. I admit that it is weird, and I am not sure why I sniffed a flyer, but I know what one smells like and it was a source of amusement for my family. I also know how my car cell charger smells before and after use...
   
2. Christmas is my ultimate favourite time of the year. In fact I sing Christmas carols year round...my favourite, Let it snow! I become a gentler kinder me. I love the baking, the visiting family and friends, the cards, the pretty gift wrapping, the good food and drink, the excitement of the little kids....everything about it really. I get super nostalgic and forgiving of all those whom I have ill feelings towards. If you wants back in my good books you should try to encounter me at the holidays after a glass of wine.


3. I am an over analysing, super organizing, list loving, neat freak...also known as a complete joy to live with. I cannot watch a program or commercial without uttering the words, "as if"... This then leads into a detailed break down of why the events unfolding before me are not realistic and complete bullshit. Hubby loses his mind every time and starts the crazy downward hands motions while he states, "God babe, it is strictly for entertainment purposes". Well, I don't find it entertaining and I also don't enjoy how easy it is to solve the CSI crimes within the first 20 minutes...Jesus! In Addition to analyzing, when I am stressed or upset I make lists of things to do then obsessively clean and organize...it brings me sweet joy...hubby, not so much.


4. I hate the sun...it's pure evil. I believe in SPF 6000 and lots of shade. I am pastie and proud of it. Tanning beds and oils should be banned....Jesus Christ, respect your skin. I see all these tanned wrinkled old people that look like dried dates and think to myself...that's some tan, she looks 60, but I bet she's 18. PS, Bleached platinum hair and the island tanned skin on a white girl is out! Bo Derek has returned to the ocean she once emerged from, get over yourself.


5. I get frick'n delirious if I go without a beverage for too long. I will go into a full blown fit of buckled over hysterical laughter accompanied with nasal snorts. I am completely taken over when the fits occur and unable to function. Although amusing, it is very unfortunate when I am driving on the QEW or moving large pieces of furniture. Note: Very embarrassing when I happens and I am alone...I look like I have mental health issues.


6. I am one funny bitch and I am proud to admit it. I enjoy making people laugh and entertaining them with my quick wit.


7. My real name is Katherine, but I go by Kate and my nick names are KIT KAT and Snakes, but I have also answered to Ralph, Sherman and Lang in the past.


8. Random health facts: I was 3 weeks over due and my mom and I almost died at my birth. I had croup every winter until I was 14 and whooping cough twice. I suffer from migraines. I have exceptional hearing. I broke my tailbone 3 times, fractured my skull and fractured 5 vertebrates in my back and neck. I have had a collapsed lung. I lost my first tooth at 7 (pulled) first real loss at 8 and I still have 2 molars that are baby teeth. I still have my appendix, but was never born with tonsils and I could die from a bee sting.

I never claimed to be right...you should all nodding your heads.

Who to tag that Brianne hasn't.....I think many on my friends list have done this already....

Hubby Jeff Jay

Respect my authoritah!

The Toronto Park Authority has got me by the tits. I have a permit to park at work and have had one every month since 2001. I had to give my permit spot up to a coworker when I left for maternity leave and since returning all hell has broken loose. A request was put in to get my permit reinstated, I was notified that there were outstanding infraction fines. To which I protested and ignored as I know that I have no outstanding tickets....besides they issued my a permit for April, May, June and July...so whatever.

My employer has been going back and forth with them and yesterday she informs me that the fines need to be paid before July 20th or my permit will be sold off to the public...yesterday was the 24th....

So my boss has handed me a report outlining my fines....

First infraction - expired time in green P lot on 5th/6th street - October 11, 2002...$3.25
Second Infraction - expired time in Green P lot on 7th street - July 17, 2006....$10.00

So lets work this out. According to the parking authority lady ALL fines must be paid each month or the following months permit will not be issued.

October 2002...I have had a permit since 2001 that is issued every month, therefore A) why would I then be parking in a paid lot when I have a permit to park behind my building and B) how have a managed to get permits issued every month up to this point?

July 2006...well my boss had to first tell me where 7th street lot was, and after discovering that it was south of Lakeshore and down the street, I said, "stop...listen to what you're saying....I am the laziest S.O.B ever...I would never park down the street to walk back to here". It's not me. A stronger fight is that during the time of the infraction I was on a Maternity leave. I don't live in Toronto and I don't travel to Toronto unless I am going to work. So how could I have parked in a lot that was unknown to me during my Mat leave. I did come into the office for a visit twice which both times I parked at the meters right outside the office doors....again lazy.

My boss took all this to the parking lady and basically she couldn't give a rats ass. It can't be fought and she is no longer interested in entertaining my plead...so I will be paying it I guess.

I know it is only $13 bucks...Thank God it could be more and according to parking lady...you will bend over and respect my authoritah!

QEW PIG!

This morning I was 10 minutes into my highway commute, left lane typical drive, when the silver VW Passot rolls down the window (automatic of course) and flings a wrapper out of his car. Up goes the window and he carries along with his drive.

My jaw is resting on my steering wheel. What the hell is wrong with people. Is littering not one of the fundamental rules we learn as a child.

• we do not hit
• we do not lie
• we do not bite
• we do not pinch
• we do run with scissors
• we wait a half hour after eating before swimming
• we do not play with matches
• we do not talk to strangers
• we look both ways
• WE DO NOT LITTER

We all know these rules yet the prick in front of me seems to think that the world outside of his precious car is his own personal toilet. Although I cannot remember the last time a threw a breakfast bar wrapper down the toilet, but I digress. I am now driving along fuming thinking this guy is a menace to society if he so easily tosses aside these simple social norms.

The next thing, down goes the window, out stretched is the arm and ditches a paper of some sort...a note or list if you will. I now am in complete shock. I mean this guy is just cleaning out his car and making a mockery of the rules. I would have loved to have slammed on my horn until he got the point, but I am a mother of a young child and being shot or knifed at the roadside is not an option...so I blog.

This piss ant drove right into Etobicoke dumping shit out of his car as he went merrily along. I did drive up along side of him before I got off and gave him the head shake of disgust, but that message wouldn't have made it through if I had actually grabbed him by his giant melon and shook it myself. I continued to work daydreaming about having a sunroof, pulling in front of him and unload the contents of my car out the hatch at a buck 130 or OHH OHH traffic stops and he is now behind a waste management truck and all of a sudden kaboom...his pretty car in buried in a mountain of crap...nobody injured of course. Haha...yeah that one is a good one...KAAABOOOM tee hee!

Sadly, he was my age and quite frankly my generation knows better than that. I had thought that we were more green forward, but he ruined that idea for me. He's just a self centered, lying, biting, eat while swimming, running with scissors, j-walking, talk to strangers, fire starting, litter pig with an immaculately detailed car.

Fan Club!

How nice is it on a Wednesday afternoon of an insane week to have a co-worker show up at your office door with flowers. Yep, flowers to me from her.

Morganna: Lays flowers on my desk

Me: Morganna! What is this...you did not need to do this.

Morganna: A little sunshine for you!

I have a little fan club here at work and she is in the top 10 for sure! She is a wonderful and strong woman who means a great deal to me. I have learned a lot from Morganna and she is always willing to sit and have a chat with me. She probably deserves the flowers more that I do, but I appreciate the sincere thought and spark of beauty the flowers have brought to my otherwise grey office.

Thank you Morganna you are wonderful!

Rich people hire painters!

After three years of living in a builder white house, we finally decided to paint. My dear hubby is all about the white, he loves white paint and white walls...lazy and unimaginative if you ask me.

Two weekends ago we painted the main level...big job, but it looks great. This weekend was the upstairs and the insane hallway leading upstairs. The Hallway is very high and we had originally decided that we would just pay someone to do it as neither one of us is experienced enough or have the equipment needed for the job. When Hubby's dad (WOP extraordinaire) heard this he said, "forget that I can do it...no problem I have the multi ladder and it will be easy. Don't waste your money". I think he believes that we would rather pay someone because we are too lazy, but whatever.

Cut to Saturday morning. My hubby is up on the staircase trying to configure this 8 in one ladder. When it fails he calls over his dad. Then the two of them are on the staircase with a ladder. I am in the ensuite painting when I hear CRASH...I ask my sister what is happening.

Sarah: Ummm Mark is lying on the floor
Me: Jesus fuck..is he okay (getting down from my ladder)
Sarah: I don't know I think he tripped up the stairs
FIL: Nope he fell off the ladder
Me: Babe are you okay
Hubby: Lying with his head in his hands...yeah I am winded
FIL: I am surprised the banister held up...lol
Me: Dad he is not to be on a ladder...he's an idiot without a helmet!

Everyone returned to painting and hubby peeled himself off the floor. On a side note the hallway looks great and in total hubby fell off the ladder 3 times...FIL nil.

Sarah a.k.a the Paint Witch, thankfully yet against her own will came to help us for the weekend. Took her a little bit to get into the groove with being distracted by the caulk and all, but she was indeed a big help. Even though her lack of painting skills equals a lot of touch ups for me. I know she snuck downstairs a few times I think for nourishment and beverage. She was complaining about being dizzy to which I replied with the my painting motto...Less complaining more painting!

I get focused and obsessive about projects of this nature...must carry on...must finish. I am a perfectionist I'll admit it...I am nuts but the two that I was working with are not. I too did not eat or drink and for those of you who have had the pleasure of hanging out with me during these times (Heather)...you know that without beverage I can get very giddie and loopy. This occurred many times throughout the day. I think I provided everyone some much needed entertainment. There is a downside to such dehydration...it burns when you pee...lol.

My hubby did sabotage my painting by distracting my with outings, so I was unable to finish everything. I still need to do all the trim in the hallway and upstairs. Also the office needs to be painted and everything needs to be put back in its place. I was lying in bed last night trying to get to sleep. I was tossing and turning just so unable to get comfortable. Hubby finally asked what my issue was. I tried to explain that I cannot sleep when order has not be restored. He laughed, patted me on the shoulder and returned to his slumber. It is true though, I hate an unfinished project and until the last picture is hung and all the paint cans closed up...I will not be at rest.

TOM TOM

We were invited to attend my aunt's birthday party in New Market back in June. I decided that we would leave early and stop at a nursery just outside of New Market to pick her up a gift certificate. Hubby decided that this would be a great opportunity to use his newest gadget TOM TOM. I had already called the nursery to confirm that they existed and whether or not they took debit...yes to both. I later went to their website to look up the address and noticed that they had GPS coordinates. This excited hubby and within minutes they were plugged into the TOM TOM.

Now lets discuss this little (or not so little) gadget. TOM TOM is the software, but hubby being the geek he is has made his own from random and spare parts. Not the sleek and elegant system that retails to the public, but rather this hideously large and awkward situation that rests between the gear shift and console. It also lacks accessories such as a stylist and instead hubby uses a chopstick to navigate his way through the touch screens. Of course this requires a slight tilt to be able to see the screen which requires one hand to steady the unit and one hand to operate the hi-tech chopstick....real safe.

Cut to the family in the SUV traveling down the 407 merrily on their way to New Market. All of a sudden the voice prompt for the unit...we''ll call her Anne.

Anne: Exit Right
me: What, why, aren't we taking the 407?
Hubby: Yeah, she wants us to take the 403 to the 401 to the 400
Anne: Exit right in 4km
Me: But we are on the 407
Anne: Exit Right now
Hubby: I know but..
Anne: Exit now!
Hubby: She is wanting the 401 route.

So we continue with the 407 and the unit is flipping maps and trying to reconfigure what we have done. Anne gets herself back on track and we carry on towards our destination. At canal rd. Anne is back.

Anne: Exit Right in 3 km
Anne: Exit right
Anne: Next left turn left
Anne: Turn left
Anne: veere right in 4km
Anne: Veere right
Anne: Next left turn left
Anne: Turn Left
Anne: You have now reach your destination

Horse shit....We are sitting out in the middle of nowhere...fields.

Me: your TOM TOM sucks ass
Hubby: I am following the coordinates that you gave me.
Me: No, Anne doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground.

We continue driving. What the hell are we going to do now. We need a gift for my aunt. Where the hell are we going to go now. Hubby whips out his chopstick and is now looking for points of interest and finds snowball nursery and garden centre. Off we go. We finally arrive in town and it looks promising.

Anne: Next left turn left
Anne: Turn left

We carry on

Anne: Next right turn right
Anne: Turn right
Anne: you have now arrived at your destination
Me: the fuck we have.

We are in what will be a new housing development in a few months. Seriously, Anne needs to pull her head out of her ass.

Hubby: The maps are not able to know when a destination has become a building development.
Me: Then what is the point of having a navigation unit. I could get us lost the old fashion way.

So hubby is now looking up another point of interest....

We did this six time before we found a great one 2 blocks from my aunts home by chance on our own. Thanks for nothing Anne!

He now wants to take is shitty little unit to Quebec with us...No harm I guess, I'll send post cards...I hear Newfoundland is beautiful this time of year!

Pick your seat!

I was listening to the Derek the Blind Movie Reviewer on the the edge this morning and realized that there are several movies out that I would be interested in seeing. Most people would just plan to go see a flick this weekend, but I have issues with going to the movies. In fact that last time I was in the movie theater was to see White Chicks.

I have a phobia about my personal space. I don't mind having my friends or family entering my "safety circle", but random individuals...that's another story.

I never go to a movie the first three weeks of being released. A sold out theater is my inner circle of hell. If I do actually go to a theater I like to be there early so that I can scope out the joint and get a suitable seat. Picking a seat is take serious consideration. I don't want to be to close to the front, I have no interest in the DNA rows which are the famous back rows...I was a teen I know first hand what goes on there, it should be quarantined. I like the short rows that have only 3 or 5 seats in them. This lessens the chance of having some irritating fuck sit down beside me.

I remember being out with hubby for a date night and we went to the show. I cannot even tell you what we saw, how sad. I like to claim that I have ADD, but in reality I am just impatient and easily distracted. I remember the theater being quite full, but we were able to find suitable seating in one of the short rows. So the movie is just about to start and this guy comes over and parks his ass right beside me. I sort of look over my shoulder and to the side to seem if indeed this was the only available seat, it was not. I would never cozy up to someone that I didn't know, his thought process when he selected his seat was clearly the furthest from mine.

His guy we'll call him Dick, has taken over the arm rest and now I am sitting there squashed between my hubby and Dick as the lights dim. Sitting in the dark with a random stranger brushing up against your arm is a complete violation of personal space. About a half hour has passed and I am trying to focus on the movie and hopefully laps into my happy place when Dick starts moving around and getting restless. I look over and he is now digging in his knapsack. He pulls out a can of pop, cracks it open and places a straw in it. Super....I thought that when he came in with no food that this was my silver lining, but I was wrong, he's just cheap.

Back to the movie....crowd laughing, someone coughs, oops someone else coughs, another, then another! Good Lord shut up...TB is spreading like wild fire apparently, must be something that mutated from the DNA rows.

okay...movie focus....crowd laughing, I am lost due to the excessive coughing but I think I can pick it up. She love him, he loves....Russel, no wait he doesn't love Russel, Dick is rustling again. I look over and good old Dick has dug out a ziplock bag of baby carrots. He is ramming 2 in at a time in his bong hole. Crunch crunch crunch.....heavy nasal breathing.....Crunch crunch crunch....heavy nasal breathing...Crunch, oh I am going to lose my mind. Hearing someone chewing is my ultimate pet peeve. It really makes me want to harm people. Dick proceeds with his snack.

Okay Okay movie...right...I sit twitching with every crunch and am desperately wanting to get lost in this movie, but I so distracted. Look over at hubby...fixated. Okay you can do this. We must be an hour in or more by now. She loves him, he may love her, this girl...I don't know who she is, why are they in the desert now, they were in the city? Oh he's having flashbacks to the desert, no he's dreaming we're okay their in the city....SSLLUURRPPP!!!!!!!

Dick is going to town on that straw and is trying ever so hard to get that very last drop. See Dick, See Dick chase a drop of pop around the bottom of the can, See dick lose consciousness, See Kate twitching with a bloody fist. I didn't really hit him, but I wanted to!

I have now lost all interest and hope in ever understanding the plot to this movie. Everyone else including hubby and Dick seem to be enjoying it. I guess the best I can do is sit here and try to assume myself without harming Dick. I am getting anxious and can think of a thousand things I could be doing instead of this. I start getting restless myself and then it occurs to me that my feet are stuck to the floor. What the hell, as I peel my shoes up from the stick. That's disgusting, are they not cleaning this place between shows. I am sure one would notice pop running down the rows, I guess not! Oh God I hope it is pop and not run off from the DNA rows. I wonder how many dirty arms have been on these arm rest? Peel my feet up again, "that is some serious stick". Oh God that gross. I bet I am sitting in a fart seat. Yep that is a seat that has been repeatedly farted in...sick. I can feel myself getting hot and just as I about to bolt from the theater the lights come up. There is a calming hum from everyone talking about the movie. I look over at Dick and he is packing up his knapsack, hubby interrupts my snarling glare and asks me how I liked the movie? I basically shovel him into the isle and stated, "it was frick'n wonderful...2 hours and 15 minutes that I'll never get back!

Look out Bikini Villiage!

I am not sure what everyone else purchases at the grocery store, but I can tell you there is nothing fun on our list. I was at the local Fortino's on Sunday with baby girl to pick up a few things and I couldn't help but notice what people had in their carts in my line. It was amazing...I was gaining weight just standing beside it all.

We have a motto in our home, "If it's white, it ain't right". Basically this translates into whole wheat multi grain everything. Everyone knows of my husbands obsession with fibre and I am obsessed with everything healthy. We (no kidding) spend at least 30-50 dollars on produce a week sometimes more depending the season. I am gawking at the carts cookies, ice cream, crackers, chips, frozen meals.......drool. There is absolutely none of that in my house, okay I have thinsations for cookies (lunches), mini chef ice cream bars (so tiny) for ice cream and this week I treated myself to a pack of buckwheat noodle and a tin of lychee fruit. I bet you all want to come for a sleepover eh!

I have been back to work of 10 weeks now and every day I bring my lunch which consists of a container of fruit (raspberries, blue berries, strawberries, sometimes grapes, mango or water melon), and a sandwich usually a slice of turkey breast with honey mustard on a PC bun. I might have a pack of thinsations later and another coffee. Yep that's lunch, breakfast and dinner are just as exciting.

Last week I was back at the specialist and he weighed me....I am down 15.5 oz IN 9 WEEKS!!!! Look out Bikini Village here I come. I was thinking of picking up something strapy so that I look like a strung roast!
Are you fucking kidding me. I'm eating fricking rabbit food and being ever so careful as my coworkers are ramming takeout down their bong holes and I have only lost in ounces. Previous blogs would indicate that I don't exercise, but who does really? I don't really know anyone that hits the gym or fitness routine religiously.

The cardiologist says that my test all came back fine and that there is no indication of heart problems so I was probably right to think that I am suffering from anxiety attacks....yeah thanks. However, he would like to do one more stress test....baaahaaa! Yep, this one will be the same as the last, but I will have an ultrasound on my heart before and immediately after the test. If this shows no issues then I am fine. I cannot imagine that my experience will be any better. I look forward to all the tape and the gentle pep talk the fitness technician!

Magnets, Stickers and Bureaucracy

With the state that the world is in today, who would imagine that little magnets and stickers would be top priority and leading controversy. I of course am referring to the latest issues brought forth by City Council ending the "unofficial, unapproved" one year support-the-troops decal campaign.

Last year the fire fighters, EMS and other front line emergency staff (plus many citizens), decided to display their supports for our Canadian troops by purchasing and placing yellow ribbon magnets and stickers on their vehicles. Many of these emergency workers are ex-military themselves and the gesture is purely to support the men and women currently fighting in Afghanistan, those who have fought the previous wars and in tribute to those who have fought and died for our freedom.

There was mention in one article by a local Council member that the purchase of some of the magnets and stickers where made our of public tax payers money without the city's approval. Uh, interesting. Now City Council is worried about where our tax money is going. Really how much would the decals have cost...few grand for all of them. Seriously, I much rather have it go to that, then another pay increase for Mayor Miller. I would say that the City Council members and politicians have no right to point fingers at this matter regarding tax payers dollars. When is the last time any of them paid for a dinner, drove to Ottawa, or flew coach....but I digress.

I have mixed feelings about the war in Afghanistan, I do agree that we need to defend our national security, but I am not sure how I feel about our Canadian troops being there and being aligned with the U.S.. I think Bush is a very scary man, with short man, small penis complex and way too much power...a modern day Hitler...a side blinker (not quite human. Eyelids close side to side when they blink instead of up and down). I don't agree with much of anything he says and it is unreal that he is running such a massive country.

What I do know is that I quite frankly don't have the balls to leave my family, go abroad and fight of my own freedom. These people have chosen this as their career and I support them in their choice. I am therefore very grateful for all those who have, and continue to do so on my behalf.

I don't display public support for anything really, it's not my style, but I do understand and am not offended by those who do. City Council may want to stop and think about the 57 soldiers so far that have been sent home for final resting since this war began. Maybe while they are bickering back and forth today over the vote and God damn bureaucracy, they could stop and think about the young bride weeks away from giving birth to her first child, who had to stand and wait on the tarmac while her husband is carried off a plane in a casket.

No one can tell me that they do not feel for that woman and her family. We have all seen the media coverage and felt sadness for these families and thank God that it wasn't our own. Because of these courageous people making the conscious career choice to be in the military, Canada currently does not have mandatory drafting in affect. Get over yourself and research what people are actually supporting here before you run your big political mouths offs about something you clearly know nothing about.

Just read...3 more will be returning home this week for final resting.

What's happening here?

I drive by this ad every morning on my way to work. This morning like many other mornings traffic stops just about in fornt of the billboard and I am forced to stare and analyze it.

Maybe some of you would like to offer up your interpretation of the events unfolding here.

I am puzzled as to what exactly is transpiring. What is the message that I am suppose to take away from this advertisement? It is an ad for retirement living. The senior in the red, has a firm two handed grasp on the first young boy's forearm and is pulling him towards her. The second boy in blue, has his hands and arm wrapped around the boy in the middles arm and is pulling him back. What the hell? Is this a disturbing game of monkey in the middle or tug-a-boy? I just don't understand the message. How does this reflect the retirement lifestyle. I am getting a message that the seniors are feeling unappreciated and neglected and living in a far off land. Therefore they lure and steal young children for their companionship, modern day Hansel and Gretel.

Exercise

I thought I would share my experience with a stress test I had. Last week I was scheduled to have a stress test which on my list of things I'd like to do, is right up with root canal and being shot in the foot.

So I get to my appointment and I am notified that the doctor is running late and will be in at an undetermined time. I didn't really care as it is the technician that is doing the test and not the doctor, but then I hear..."So we cannot start the test until he is here, as he must be on site in case we need to use the defibrillator"! Right, the defibrillator...okay I'll wait then. So I am sitting there for the next hour thinking what the hell type test is this that I may or may not require a defibrillator intervention. So my anxiety is kicking in overtime which is the whole reason I am even seeing a cardiologist. As I sit and stew, finally the doctor arrives and the test may start!

So I am ushered into this little room in the back hall which is smoking hot due to the massive window with no shades and has a smell similar to that of a jock strap. The technician with a strong Polish accent asks me to remove everything from the waist up! What! I was specifically told to wear something comfortable (yoga pants and a tee) so why remove it.

Tech: Yes, must remove shirt and bra
Me: really, remove my bra?
Tech: yes, yes, bra too and put on paper apron and she leaves the room

So I am thinking to myself, no bra on a treadmill with triple D tits. This should be interesting.

Now I have this apron on and of course it does not close, because it is made for A/B cup person and the Tech returns.

Tech: Oh, ah, yes, this not close. What we do....ah I know. She runs out and runs back in holding a roll of bandaging tape. I put this on to close front, like buttons haha.
Me: I say you know what would be a better idea is if we took that tape and strapped my tits to my chest!
Tech: I don't know what you speak of...okay apron closed.

So she takes my blood pressure and discovers that the cuff is torn and is not holding well. So she wraps my arm and cuff with several passes of the tape and says, there we go. I questioned if she had another cuff or machine, but she assured me it was fine. So she proceeds with taking my BP and concludes that it is high.

Tech: Oh number is high. You have high blood pressure?
Me: No
Tech: you nervous?
Me: Yep...Inner thoughts, Well I just signed a waiver as 1/1000 have a heart attack during this test. I am standing here bra less and hooked up to a dozen wires about to meet my nemesis and you have the BP cuff taped to my arm. What number did you expect?
Tech: okay you get on treadmill
Me: I should warn you, I have serious motion sickness. I do not cope well with things moving not under my own power. I am not a fan of treadmills.
Tech: no worry get on.

So I am going along and she starts talking about my work and what I do and being back to work and my heart rate is going up.
She tells me that this is basic exercise heart rate should be normal. Then lets not talk about work.

For those of you who have not had the stress test there are four stages and you start at a leisurely walk and progress to a jog/run. Just to note all stages are uphill and the degree also increase with each level. I live in the burbs, there is not much up hill unless I hit the escarpment.

Tech: You exercise?
Me: No! Inner thoughts...of course it do, just look at this ripping body. I am a Gold's Gym junkie. What the hell type question is that.
Tech: You must exercise!
Me: Well I never had to until I got married. Now I am packing it on. I run after a kid and keep a house, that's my exercise.
Tech: 5...4...3...2...1...faster
Me: Inner thoughts....Holy fuck. How is this speed a natural progression? You go from strolling to mall walker on crack.
Tech: See you need exercise
Me: okay, I need exercise...established thank you. However, I am here to take this test to prove that I am having anxiety attacks and rule out that I am having non fatal heart attacks, okay.

So we are now kick'n it up hill even more and I guess most people are either loving this or having chest pain, but my neither. Instead I am experiencing the worst burning in my calves from walking uphill and the running shoes I am wearing are pinching my baby toes. I dug them out of the closet and actually had never worn them before...I should have worn my Birks!

Tech: Chest pain?
Me: No my calves are cramping.
Tech: See exercise
Me: Crazy giggle...inner thought, I swear to God lady, you say that one more time and I am going to tape you to this son of a bitch and take it to 11!
Tech: would you like to stop?
Me: Nope. Cut to inside my head. Would I like to stop? ummm options. Not can I keep going or do I need to stop. Would I LIKE to stop? Yes I would. I would indeed LIKE to stop. Seeing that I am limping and looking a lot like a woman with Polio on a treadmill, oh and lets not forget that my tits are sweating and completely out of my control and if she mentions exercise one more time I will no longer be able to guarantee her safety. Yes I would like to stop.
Tech: In 30 seconds we will be at level 3...much faster. Would you like to stop?
Me: faster, uh. Inner dialogue, Well that will take this wee jaunt to a full scale jog, which will be uphill of course. I have already busted through my tape "buttons" that situation can only get worse. I am hotter that hell and seriously my burning calves won't enjoy the jog. It would also scar my theory that one should only run went their life is in jeopardy and seeing that I don't see a bear in here.... Yep I am out. I have been here too long to get any of this time back and quite frankly my chest is not hurting and I haven't had the defibrillator intervention so I think my time here is done.
Tech: 15 seconds to faster. Would you like to stop?
Me: Yes, Yes I would like to stop.
Tech: Yes, stop?
Me: Yep
Tech: But you're not done, your chest hurt?
Me: nope, my calves kill
Tech: okay stopping

So it is over and I am happy. I put my bra and tee back onto my sweaty body and heading home for a shower as I should have been at work an hour ago. Just as I am walking out she yells...make sure exercise!

Seriously, that is one brave bitch and in the hall all alone I extend my arm above my head and toss her the bird as I walk out.

Inked

Last tax year after baby girl was born, hubby decided that he was going to use part of the income tax return to get a new tattoo. Unfortunately with the new baby it was not responsible to use the money for a tattoo so I promised that this tax return he would get his tattoo!

He like the idea the nurse putting the baby's foot print on a piece of paper or a white tee shirt at the time of delivery, but wanted something a little more permanent.

So on Thursday he finally got inked.

Fresh ink always looks a little red and scabby, but will heal within a week.

Another job well done Peel!

We need to get out!

Since being preggers previous years and now with baby girl in our lives, we don't party much on the long weekends anymore.

This weekend we went over to the garden store and did some work around the house. Baby girl gave us a hand and enjoyed the weather and the time home with us. We were debating going out this evening but hubby preferred to stay in so he started some laundry and I checked my face book. I thought that this was a little boring and we should do something fun with the weekend, but whatever, until hubby got up to get a snack. He comes back to the couch with a bowl of Bran Buds and milk.

me: enjoying the buds
hubby: yep, they're good
me: yeah, not bad
hubby: they keep me regular and I get my daily intake of fiber in this one bowl.
me: looks of horror and then laughter....

Oh my God, What the hell has happened to us? When did the biggest party weekend turn into fibre fest?

TFS

I am going to come right out with it, I have been suffering all day with a serious case of TFS. Yep, Trapped Fart Syndrome!

I had a little rumbling this morning, but there were people in my office and wasn't able to excuse myself. So I sat there and held it. Of course it was uncomfortable, but I had no choice really. I am not completely sure of the logistic of a fart, but the rumbling subsided, although I could still feel the movement and building discomfort. I continued throughout my day and every time this fart tried to resurface I was in a meeting or with people and couldn't leave. The pressure turned into mad bloat and the discomfort, stabbing pain accompanied by the loudest most insane noises. Christ, I need to get into the bathroom and get rid of this before I pass out from pain and while I am down and unconscious rip a ripe one.

Cut to me in the washroom, I am alone, I am in pain and nothing... all rumbling and all urges halted. Of course, maybe if I grab a seat. So now I am in a stall having a little seat waiting for the big release.........waiting..........still waiting.........God Damn It!

Why is it that every time you get into a bathroom all systems fail...complete misfire. So now I have been in the washroom even too long for poop, so I must abandon this mission as I am on film. Yep one of our security cams are located right outside the bathroom and the front desk ladies like to watch it like it's a soap opera.

I open the door take four steps down the hall approaching a group of co-workers and WHAM it's back. Son of a mother. So I spent the rest of the day unsuccessfully trying to rid my body of this fart which by now has multiplied into what feels like a hundred trapped farts.

I practically ran to my car across the parking lot, got in and declared it to be officially the fart mobile. Unfortunately, not so much. I am fearful that they are trapped for good. I really just wish for a giant man fart, come on sweet relief.

Ick...please

I know I am a sanitizing nutter and maybe my OCD has been heightened since having a child, but I am alarmed by the number of people who do not wash their hands!

I am back at work now and this means back to public washrooms...dear God. I have a problem with public washrooms as is, but in the past 4 weeks I have noticed many ladies peeing and fleeing.

Today I was in the washroom and I could clearly hear my stall buddy taking care of monthly feminine business (the wrappers are a give away). I continued on with my own business not thinking about next door, when I heard the toilet flush, the stall door open and the main door open and slam behind her. Ummmm sink, you walk right by them.

So now I am sitting there with my mouth wide open thinking my God, she did not wash her hands. She is now running throughout the building touching everything I might touch with her disgusting little period hands. Go ahead and give everything a lick over too. Oh my God, I could barf just thinking about it. Unfortunately or fortunately I did not get the chance to see if it was someone I worker with or a client. Someone I work with would be worse than a client as I don't touch client common items (pens, counter tops, key boards, phone ick ick ick), but a co-worker....we share everything (fax, copier, cabinet handles, files, Oh God must stop). Not to mention a loss of respect for them. Cut to the next potluck luncheon, little miss period fingers is offering you her handmade meatballs....barf. Oh really, just now a little barf in my mouth!

In case it were the latter, I am secretly running around with a lysol wipes. Oh I am paranoid alright!

For the love of all holy, ladies wash your damn hands. We are women, the more sophisticated and refined of the species. Just one round of happy birthday is as long as it takes.
I beg you I do not have enough time in my day to OCD.

Naked in my kitchen!

This morning I awoke and started my morning routine; shower, dress and get Baby girl ready. I kissed hubby goodbye (still in bed) and made my way down to the kitchen. I was there about 10 minutes when I swung around to find my husband standing there naked in our sun filled kitchen. Our kitchen is not exactly private. I have horizontal blinds on the two windows, but the window on the garden door I keep bare to allow the maximum amount of light stream in. So there's hubby with his twig and berries hanging out for the world, while the young children behind us sit in fear as they eat their wee breakfast.

Me: babe, what the hell?
Him: I coming to feed the dog.
Me: you cannot come down here like this....hello naked
Him: This is how I come down every morning
Me: Oh My GOOODDDDD you are the fat naked guy off of Friends. I am married to that guy.
Him: what, I don't care
ME: clearly!

Needless to say I fed the dog, while I insisted that he stand in the other room with baby girl.
There is only something like forty feet between the neighbours and our house and some of them are on a higher elevation so they have the best seats for hubby's little show.

I wasn't so upset about it when he was doing it in the winter when it is still dark but now it is just inappropriate. I haven't even eaten yet for Christ Sakes. He hears me protest all the time about the neighbour behind us that thinks shirts are optional and that I don't need to be looking at the neighbours freckled back and love handles thanks. Yet here is hubby with his sac blowing in the morning breeze, while he lets the dog out and feeds her.

I especially love when hubby is on call with work (every third week) and he gets calls in the middle of the night. A call from a client requires hubby to use the phone and his laptop and in an attempt to not disturb the sleeping, hubby goes downstairs to work.

So off he goes sneaking downstairs at 4 in the morning, turns on the kitchen light and sits at our glass table with his laptop and phone in hand....naked! I wonder what the hell my neighbour thinks as she peers out the window while she waits for a bottle to heat up for her baby that has woken. To see naked guy on the phone and laptop at 4 am naked and tossing his balls around! She thinks OMG his poor wife!

Yep I forgot to mention, mostly because every woman that knows my husband knows he is the ultimate ball handler. I think it maybe a form of paranoid OCD.

Hubby's inner dialogue:
Have they fallen off? No they can't fall off.
But what if I am missing a nut? No I am sure they are both okay.
I should check, but I am standing in La Senza Girls leaning against a tweenie pantie display and my wife is way over there.... oh man.
(begins to get anxious) I am sure no one will notice if I do a quick inventory of my boys, will they?
Somethings not right though (sweating and bouncing on the spot slightly) They are heating up and beginning to itch. Maybe it's scrote cancer! Ahhh God the itch......AHHH, oh Yeah, that the shit...yep all is good here!

ME: Giving my hubby the death stare as he tosses around a handful of sac, while mothers quickly usher their girls out of the store in horror.

Him: What....