And now for something completely different....

I'd like to take a moment to go completely off topic here, and talk to you about something that has great importance to the world today. Something that, in my personal viewing experience, has gotten completely out of control as of late.

As you all know, it is Winter. And, in most cases up here in Canada, it gets very cold. Sometimes it's very, very, very cold. Such as this past week. The temperature's been stuck somewhere in the range of -30 to -40something, so, yeah. chilly. As you might Not know, here in Saskabusch, there happens to be an abundance of old people. And particularly in my work environment, Old men. some creepy, most harmless, but still, unavoidably present.

Which brings me back to my issue.

If it's so damn cold, why must I still be subjected to an abundance of hairy old man chest? I mean come on!

Lemme give an example, just to bring an image to the horror that I've faced lately.

-Scream richie, go on! scream like the little girl you wanna be!

That scary enough for you

X-mas Closure

Ready?

Ok!!

All together Now!!!

IT'S ALMOST OVER!! IT'S ALMOST OVER!! IT'S ALMOST OHH-VHEE-EEE-ARE, OVER!!!

Thank you for your time.

My newest X-mas gift!

I like to dance. A lot. I like to dance for real, I like to dance for audiences, I like to dance when I'm happy, learned some good news, and yes, sometimes I do a little angry dance.




I also like to make up stupid little rhymes and songs/chants just for the fun of it. Usually it's because I'm bored, but sometimes, it's just because I'm a little bat-shite crazy. Okay. The chant thing makes it sound like I'm a hippy (which there's nothing wrong with, but I'm not) or some weird pagan-ey type person, which I am also not. Lemme explain.

Example:

Me and my guy have been looking for a house, one that allows multiple pets, and found two that I looked at and liked, and so filled in the appropriate applications for. Then comes the waiting. Both places said they'd call back this morning, and my guy was feeling skeptical about it, since most places for rent don't allow pets easily, if at all. Well, this morning, I got a call back from one of the places, and let me tell you, the guy I was talking to sounded so enthusiastic about having us live there, I pretty well signed on right away, but he was with the more expensive place. So I told him I'd think about it and get back to him. Not even ten minutes later, the other house called me back.



(Now lets take into account at this time in my story, that I was at work when this happened, although the store wasn't open yet. kay. back to my stupidity.)

So this other guy calls back, lets call him guy 2 for now, and guy2 is telling me how he thinks the place is ours, just have to drop by the office and drop a down deposit so I can guarantee a hold on it. and in the middle of this conversation, my work phone rings. I don't want to be rude to either person on the phone, so I swivel around the cell phone with guy2 on it, pick up the other phone, and do my little "Thanks for calling the gladly-take-your-money-store, can you please hold?" bit, (Multi-talented, that's me) and put that phone down so I can concentrate on guy2 who's in the midst of telling me move in dates, and the such. a short 30 seconds later, I'm off the phone with guy2, beaming stupidly to an empty store, and congratulating myself on winning the bet that both places would call back, even though my guy didn't actually make a bet, but I needed some way to fill my childish competitiveness up for the weekend. In fact I was so pleased, I got up and started doing a little 'winners' dance. And then I started chanting. 'I fukin told yuh, I fukin told yuh, I fukin, fukin, fukin, fukin, fukin, told yuh.' I finished up my dancing and juvenile chanting, and got back to work.



Only half an hour later, when I had just opened up the store, did I realize that I hadn't gotten back to the lady who I had asked to hold. I checked the phone of course, but there was no answer. Why should there be?

So now I'm left to wonder whether some random lady heard my potty-mouthed ranting, or if I got off the hook because she was impatient and couldn't wait for 35 seconds....







on a completely somewhat different topic, I had a lady come in that tried to give me $6.20 on an $8.47 bill. Between my saying it out loud and the computer screen telling her you'd think she wouldn't've had a problem. She blamed it on me not speaking properly, and how I should get my speech problems fixed, and did I know that roughly half of the younger population cannot speak properly? I replied in a properly low mumble,' did you know that about 75% percent of the population over 65 wear hearing aids, and about 35% percent probably need them?'

The Theatre that I work at sometimes gets me to play hostess for the night, so the others can have a chance at making tips (just kidding!) Don' get me wrong, I like the job, I getty to wear high heels and dress up in my fancy pants, boss everyone around a little bit, (a tiny little bit), and so on and so on. But there's one thing that's always kinda bugged me. A thought that's just been burrowing away in the base of my spine, the very fringe of my grey matter. Lemme explain.
We have a coat check room beside the hostess station where the busser, (and sometimes a hostess or two) get to hang up all the coats/mitts/boots/hats/dead ferrets/etc/you get my point. And on the desk of the hostess station there's a little wicker basket that people throw their change into to tip/pay coat check. Now when it's very cold outside, which it's been for a week or two now, both hostesses help out with coat check, as customers tend to appear all at once, totally ruining our calm and collected appeal, and practically turning the front door area into a war zone. okay, that may be a bit of an overstatement, but it gets pretty hectic in there. Anyways, that little wicker basket comes into play at the end of the night, as, hopefully, many people have thrown many bits of change into it, and then it gets split up between the hostess and the busser.
This is where my quandries and thoughts start a-naggling at me. When I was in grade three, we had a school dance. I really don't remember anything about it other than I wore a black 3-tiered mini skirt with neon trim in pink green and orange, and that I won a dance contest with another boy in my class. The prize was a box of icy squares. I remember going to the stage to pick up the icy squares, going over to the bench with the boy, and divvying up the squares equally, because, gosh darn it, we had both worked very hard to win that competition.
How different is a couple of people dancing around a coat check room, working very hard for the prize, then going to the back room(it's where the paying public are prohibited. most of the time,) and sorting through the change til it's in two piles, and having that slightly proud feeling of accomplishment when you get a big tip out? So this is my problem. Every time I hostess, I get swept back into grade three.

Favorite winter tradition pt.2

ok. where was I? oh yeah. at the paraffin treatment.

So after she got through learning her numbers on my back, arms and lower legs, She left me momentarily to grab the paraffin, whatever that was. Now ladies, I know you'll understand me when I say I was a little uncomfortable waiting on a foldable table half nekked, with just a sheet on in too-bright lighting.
NE ways,
So she comes back with four long plastic bags half-filled with pink goo. Think Ghostbusters 2, and the bath tub. I couldn't bathe for a week after seeing that movie, mind you I was only 5, but still, little creeped out when I saw those bags. I swear for a moment there, I was holding my breath to hear a disembodied Vincent Price-like Cackle. But no dice.
So she proceeds to put my hands and feet into the pink goo, squooshing it around some to make sure the wax hit every corner of my extremities, and then tying up the plastic bag like a tourniquet, and then pulling on a white lobster mitt over the whole mess. when she was done this process I'm sure I looked like some kind of rag-doll, with the nosn-descript hands and feet. Sure felt like it. So, then she gave instruction to 'relax, have a quick snooze, it'll take about 15 minutes to set, and then I'll be back.'
15 minutes?
and what did she mean by letting it set? that sounds like cement! will I not be able to move my hands? how will she get this shit off? with a mini jack-hammer? belt sander? where was she when I had all these questions going through my head? gone of course. scarpered off while I was contemplating the probability of amputation.
bitch.
So three minutes into my sentence, and I find that I can still move my fingers and toes a little, having been frantically wiggling them to see if I still had feeling in them. I did. So I calmed down a little, and found myself giggling over my hypochondriatic situation.
Minute 7. My inner ear started to itch. Followed by my right nostril. Lucky for me, I can't move my hands anymore, due to me stupidly trusting the goo and backing off on the wiggling, not too mention that those stupid mitts had no sharpish corners into which I could dig into either orifice to my hearts content. As the itching grew worse, I found myself rubbing my head on anything I could find, pillow, blanket, shoulder, feeling like a retard and wondering if they had a camera set up in the room specifically meant for taping this type of thing. Candid camera or whatnot. piss me off.
Minute 13.? finally get rid of the itching in my ear, can deal with the nose itch now, feeling mighty tired after all that exercise, and I find my eyes closing on their own, despite my anger.
Not even 30 seconds later, my torturer shows up at the door, cryptic smile on her face, approving of how I did get a quick nap in after all.
bitch.
So, all in all, not the most relaxing experience, but certainly one of the most entertaining and challenging ones I'm sure I'll have in my lifetime.

p.s. is it a new standard procedure to wear latex gloves when giving a massage, or did my massager just have a fetish? hmmm....

My favorite winter tradition

I consider myself a connoisseur of Massage therapy.
Well, of any kind of spa massage anyways.
See, I have a little bit of a buggered up back, around the shoulder/neck line, so every year when the cold hits, my shoulder acts like an old guys balls in -20 weather, and tries to escape into my neck. funny image, that. but true. So every year, I make sure I have a couple bills set aside for whoever I find to be the most convincing in their coaxing of my shoulder back into it's original position. Sometimes it works, and I find myself grateful to the Master Negotiator of Muscle. Then, at other times, I find myself ruing the day I ever came across that coupon for
'Free Hot Hamburger with Massage, courtesy of The Ligament Lounge!'

This year was so exceptional as to have a little of both worlds. I was lucky enough to bugger up my shoulder early in the season, so I didn't have to deal with all those crazy outta-control x-mas shopper-extraordinaries, and their pulled hamstrings or loose wallets. ( I hate having to tip extra to someone that didn't do the job properly. Just because that last two people in line to pay have each slapped down 20's, a gift basket, and some homemade cocoa, doesn't mean that I'm gonna do the same.) So I try out this new place, advertised in the phone book as the only physio- centre that hires only seasoned-Rmt's, which sounds both edible and medical, so I give it a try.
Glad I did too, fantastic place. Ended up having to go back only on more time, it was fantastic, and really reasonably priced! But if you think I'm gonna tell you the name of the place, tough luck.
My massage therapists! BAck OFF!


Kay. Now to the second place, and I'll gladly tell you the name in just a minute. So I got this awesome gift certificate from work, got it last x-mas, and it was about to expire, so I thought, gee what better way to start the holiday season than to get a relaxation package, which is a 45 min. relaxing full body massage, and a paraffin hand and foot treatment. For those who don't know what that is, I'll also get to that in a minute. So, I book the appointment for the day after my certificate expired, still got to use it though, and wait dutifully for the day when my back shall be relaxed and my hands paraffined.

Kay. Firstly, I did not receive a 24-hour reminder call, so I didn't actually remember that I had the appointment until about an hour before. that was fun. Found a sitter though, (my casual sitter fuckin rocks!) so I made it there with two minutes to spare.

Secondly, I was given the only massage room without a proper massage bed, so I had to make do with lying face down with a pillow on what felt like a hospital gurney, not just that, but a FOLDABLE hospital gurney. Lemme tell you, when yer nekked, you don't want to be feeling the metal hinges to your bed in the most uncomfortable spots. I swear, I'm sure they had a couple of teenage stoners come up with with the mechanics of that bed.
dumb ass1-"heh, it's cool that the principal let us outta detention to make up for the shop class project."
dumb ass2-"Heh. yeah. the Principal's a tool. heheh"
dumb ass1-"heeeyyy!!! wouldn't it totally rock if we put these cold metal hinges like, right where the girl's boobs are? then we could totally see some frozen tats! heh. heh."
dumb ass2-"Doofus! we aren't gonna see any of the chicks who'll be lying on this thing. duh. dumb ass"
dumb ass1-"ohh,... oh well, it'd still be cool."
dumb ass2-"no man! we already failed this once. dude I can't fail, or my parents won't buy me that x-box."
dumb ass1-"come on!"
dumb ass2-"heh. heheh. alright, let's do it!"
dumb ass1&2-"hehehe....he."
I rest my case.

Thirdly, I happened to get the one girl who they just let past the training stage, so she was pretty new. Didn't understand the concept of 'relaxation', you know, real talky and such, and the point got moot anyway, cuz as soon as she started, you could tell she was still doing the 'audible counting in the brain thing'. So I started to count along with her.
Left-side down, 1-2-3-4-5-6-pause..... drag hands up middle, right-side down, 1-2-3-4-5-6-pause..... drag hands up middle, repeat.
At one point she even asked if I knew the technique she was using, cuz I guess at some point the counting-along-in-my-head-thing kinda turned verbal, unbeknownst to me. I just said no, and went back to my counting.

I'll leave the paraffin for tomorrow, as this post is already getting too long. I know I said I'd tell you in a minute, and it will be for me, but everyone else will have to be patient.

And so this is X-mas, and what have you done? no. really. ???

I take it all back. I hate winter. with a raging passion. I hate driving in the winter time, I hate the icy roads, but most of all, I hate the people. Well, to be specific, I hate those little punk kids who think it's oh so funny to unplug my car, especially funny when they know it's going to be around the -30 mark for a while. Although I admit that I forgot to post a big sign to my car that said,

"ATTENTION! THIS CAR'S BATTERY HAS JUST BEEN REPLACED, PLEASE DO NOT UNPLUG!!! thanks"

and that they couldn't have possibly known the mechanics of my car, in the fact that it's a peice of shite, so it takes twice as long as any other car on the entire earth, to accept and befriend any new part I choose to put into him. stuck-up little bugger. So I was without car for a few days, while my trusty trickle-charger did it's job, and I sucked major ass to get rides to work and back.

So I guess the moral of this story is that if you see a kid with shifty eye, baggy clothes, or even just a smile, Smack him as hard as you can. Cuz you know that they'll deserve it at some point.

Lists!!! Get your LISTS!!! Fresh made LISTSSS!!!!!

I like to make lists. And no, this is not the first time I've noticed it, just the first time I've acknowledged it. Lists are fun. I'm not sure when they became fun, but they might have been around the time when a) I became knocked up, b) I got baby-brain while I was knocked up(which is a technical term for losing your fuckin marbles), or c) after I had baby, I had to move, take care of baby, find baby-daddy a job, and research town I was soon to be living in (which happened to be chock full of baby-daddy-relatives).
see? lists can be fun!
anyways, while I was bat shit retardo-girl, my mother gave to me a beautiful grey plastic folder, you know the ones with 57 thousand different compartments in it? and she said, 'it may get hard, but when you've lost it all, at least you'll have this.'
Actually I don't really have a clue what she said to me when she gave me the folder, if she even did, as I was bat shit, like I mentioned before. R-E-T-A-R-D-O.
But as a result of that folder, given to me by who-knows, I grew a great fondness for coming up with lists, writing them just so, and putting them in that folder so they wouldn't get lost. Of course at the time I was too stupid to actually label the compartments on the thing, so it took half an hour to find anything in there, but I always had that folder with me, so I could never say anything was actually "lost."
since then I have an acute liking for making lists, which I usually lose about half an hour after making them, but the magic and fun is still there, so I won't rain on my own parade until the day I actually make a list that has vital importance and then lose it.

another fun preggo story is when I used baby-daddy's head as a target when he decided to take the first sip of a coke I had just poured. (hint- I used the almost-full glass of coke as the dart, it's just good that I have horrible aim) well, I won't go into that one right now. save it for another time when I'm feeling reminiscent.

Fun with Cut and paste Prt 1.67942/one third

and again with the laziness, as I have only been awake going on 29 hours now, more cute kitties!!!

I'll write something more spectacular when I have a few more functioning brain cells.

Fun with copy and paste!

k, Lazy today, so I'm not going to write anything. I'm just going to put up lots of cute pictures, and

hope that does the job.

My sleep calculator is broken!!!

So starts the daily ritual of being too tired to do anything more than sit drinking coffee and hoping against hope that the caffeine kicks in soon, even though I've noticed I've become immune to caffeine as of late, except for that annoying eye twitch that I figured out was just from too much caffeine. It's gone now, thanks to some muscle relaxants,well mostly anyway. I just feel too apathetic to really be annoyed at my eyeball right now.

I read in a magazine that during the x-mas season, men should be getting an extra hour of sleep a night for a total of 8-9 hours of sleep, and women should be getting an extra hour and a half to 2 hours for a total of 9-10 hours of sleep. This is supposed to help prevent against winter colds and other maladies.
I, however, fail to see the logic in the statement. Sure, extra sleep gives your body time to rejuvenate, slows everything down, and lets you work through the weird stuff that happened during the day. It lets your body fix it self, and gives your brain and sensory thingies a break.

BUT-how can one get an extra hour or two of sleep when there's so much to do during x-mas?

Lets tally the hours here:
1. the roads suck so bad that you have to get up an hour early to drive to a workplace that only takes 20 minutes to get to in the other seasons
-1 hour

2. you have to set the alarm for at least 20 minutes earlier anyways, cuz when it's still pitch black outside, it's harder for you to wake up.
-20 minutes, +35 minutes

3. The Tim Horton's/Starbucks/other local coffee drive-thrus are extra packed, cuz no one wants to actually spend the 5.2 seconds it would take to get out of the car, to the freezing cold, and run inside to get yummy warm coffee only to have to go back outside in the freezing cold for another 7.9 seconds(remember you're holding sweet caffeinated nectar you don't want to spill) just to get back to a semi-cold car, cuz you turned off the engine not realizing it's -26 before you went in. Hey, I get it, not all of us think before a certain percentage of coffee has been injected into our systems. I'm not even sure I'm there yet...
-10-12 minutes


4. The Malls are open later and later everyday, and you realize that the one gift you couldn't find has just been shipped in but won't be out on the shelf until 9:30 in the pm. Due to work shortages and picky pre-teens, This leaves you scrambling with a whole bunch of pissy people and their half-asleep kids still waiting for the same thing at around 10:30 pm, because the kid who was supposed to be unpacking the shipment quit to go work at a McDonald's so he could get the free meals.
-39.6 minutes, plus two bruises on your elbow that will hurt like a bitch in the morning.

5. You stay up baking cookies for x-mas prezzies for coworkers, only to realize that you've sampled the equal of two dozen cookies, and it's already 11 pm, and that new magazine you read, you know the one that had twenty fabulous ways to stuff a turkey cold, says that you shouldn't sleep on a stomach full of sugar for at least two-three hours because your body won't metabolize the sugars and fats while you're sleeping, and you know those two(or was it three?) dozen cookies are at least worth 12.6 pounds on the hip/thigh/ass/second chin scale, but you're so tired, so you try to compromise by doing lunges around your house for twenty minutes, then reward yourself with two more cookies, give up and pass out exhausted around 11:45 pm.
-20 minutes exhaustive exercise, -17minutes guilt trip and sugar rush, + 15 minutes past your last snooze alarm

So taking into account that I usually have a bedtime of 10:30-12 pm, depending on if I'm working double shift or not, and that with taking my kiddo to daycare every morning before I have to be at work by 8am, I'm usually up by 6, 6:30 if I'm lazy, that's a daily sleep intake of 5.5-7.5 hours of sleep a night.

So we add... hmm... no subtract .....*mumble, sigh, carry the four*.....

and we have a total of 118.6 minutes of lost sleep to add on to that already depleted amount of zzzz's. anymore lost sleep, and I swear I'm going to start having spirit visions, complete with my own spirit guide in shape of a platypus. either that or I'm going to sleep 19 hours straight whether I like it or not.
fun

3..2..1... KAABLOOOIIIEEEE!!! just kiddin

I have so much on my mind today, I'm going to implode in big yellow-gooey noggin pieces all over my workplace. so I write those noggin strainers here to save myself the hassle of having to clean up after myself.

To the lady who I'm meeting with to look at a house this weekend, I apologise in advance. When you say that you're new to renting out places and you don't even know if you care if there's animals in your house, I'm going to have to exploit and take advantage of you at every chance I get. I really want that house.

To my left eye that has been twitching off and on for the last four days, Fuck off already! getting really annoying! and if this is an 'only symptom that appears before you get a brain hemorrhage' type thing, I'm going to be really pissed off!

To everyone who wished me well for my birthday, as well as those who laughed at me and then said I'm getting old (like my son) thank you. but it's really not necessary. Next time just send booze. anonymously. works better.

To my son, who loves to give presents as much as receive them, or even just to know that the present he gives can be used by everybody (and by everybody I mean him) I think we're going to have to go over some basic house rules again. even though you bought it for me and picked the colour and everything, there is no way in Hell that I'm sharing my coffee pot with you. besides, it'll stunt your growth.

To my friend, who's having a blast after breaking off a crazy-stoopid relationship, slow down. There's enough yummy boys to get around to, without having to break so many of those boys' hearts. but still, you go lady!

To my absentee Landlord, in the immortal words of someone else I know, 'Go bugger yourself. I'm done.!'

To the customer who loitered in my general working area for 15 minutes furiously smelling something, you gross me out. Stop-no, sto-stop stop... step away, and leave the immediate area. icky (I sit right in front of the porn section of a magazine store by the way, no fault of mine, just where the comp.'s placed)

To my cat, who woke me up this morning by trying to eat my toes, I have many knives, and if one of my toes goes missing, I guarantee that your tail will go the same way.

To my brain-to-mouth filter, which I obviously left at home today, I miss you.


and finally I leave you with this question. When you sell papers like the star Phoenix, and the globe& mail, and a customer asks you if either are available, does the following sentence sound dirty to you?
'No, I don't have any globes right now, but I have a star!'

Singing in the Rain

It's December First. and it's raining. wierd. And I'm going to Nine Inch Nails tonight. Eeek!
that's it.

damn depressing, if I do say so myself

here I sit. At my desk. In the dark. and it's already 9:30 in the morning. Why am I in the dark? because the sun refuses to shine upon us until close to 10am. Then it takes an early leave around 4:15. So that means that I go to work before the Sun comes up, and Leave after it's set. All work and no sunshine to play around in, or even drive in, makes me a bitter person. If only I could have some snow. Snow is helpful in illuminating a dark night, or morning and afternoon with. plus it gives me a damn good reason to get outside. Without snow, it's just dark and cold out. With snow, it's a night-time winter wonderland in which to whisk my kiddo out to play, make forts, have snow-ball fights, go sledding, make snow angels, eat (be careful about this one), and pile on slides only to knock it down. Childish fun!!! where's my Childish fun?!? I demand that it snow. RIGHT NOW!!!
thanks for tuning in to my hissy fit. better stuff next time. I promise(hope)