That Day Where Hiding is Better With Wine…Yeah, That Day

I had a hard time with my run today. My legs felt like they were filled with cement and I just didn’t have my heart in it. I was too quick to give up and no matter how hard I started, I ended up flailing and fumbling. I finished it, but it was sucky at best. Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow morning and I will have a better go at it.
The rain is coming down and I’m feeling tired and cranky. I don’t want to do anything but curl up under the covers and watch bad movies. Maybe the dog will settle down enough to do that with me…wine would be good too. Yeah…some wine.
I have a bunch of projects ahead of me that need tending to, and daughters who need attention (even adult daughters seem to need me) and a son who is flying through exams and a Hubby who is busy at work…I’m feeling in over my head…did someone say wine?
I have holes in my stockings, my head hurts and I STILL can’t finish this god forsaken book that drowns everybody in its path with depression and rain soaked misery. Anybody want to borrow it? Ugh…
It’s obvious; I’ve lost my enthusiastic verve for anything resembling flowers and sunshine today, so I’ll just give you this:

Pretty much sums up today

Pretty much sums up today

I hope your day is going better than mine…

Drive-Thru Etiquette You Didn’t Know Existed

My daughter tells me very matter-of-factly one day, that I am rude in the drive-thru. Seriously, do you even know me?

Me?! Rude to the drive-thru attendant? How is this even possible?
We are Tim’s obsessed, probably due to my overzealous need for caffeine and Hubby’s need for tea that’s made by somebody other than me. Whatever the reason, we can’t help ourselves. Whilst attending the drive-thru on the way home from work one day, the attendant person pleasantly asks for my order and, in my sincerest nicest voice ( I swear, I was nice) I give my order…or so I thought.

MOM! Why are you so rude?!” I hear from the passenger seat. D2 was appalled and looking at me like I had just turned into a Zombie and was about to snack down on a stranger’s arm. Geez, it’s not like I tried to tell her a joke, or made a Dr. Seuss rhyme out of my order like I so wanted to. “Can I have timbits in box with a fox in his sox? I do not like tea on a train or in the rain or by the plains. I do not like green tea and jam, I do not like that Swiss cheese and ham.”
I was shocked.

ME?! RUDE?! WHAT?!

Everybody thinks I’m nice…well, everybody who I declare my niceness to on a daily basis and have no evidence of the contrary, unless you count that time I called somebody a jackass for putting out notes all over the place regarding my apparent total disregard for putting my trash away when really, in my defense, it wasn’t technically ‘trash’ so much as compost and I had left it in the wrong place. Then maybe….
What was not nice about that?” I ask.
You just said ‘Yeah, give me blah, blah, blah’ DON’T SAY ‘YEAH’ SAY ‘HELLO’ OR ‘HI’”
Obviously, I missed the drive-thru tutorial on niceties and politeness while giving a Tim’s order.
Okay, former McDonald’s drive-thru chick, I’ll say ‘hi’ instead of ‘yeah’. Anything else?” I hadn’t even realized I had said the totally offensive ‘yeah’.
No, just try to be nice. They WORK IN A DRIVE-THRU FOR GOD’S SAKE”
Okay, okay….but I did say ‘thank you’!”
Yes. That’s good, but drop the ‘yeah’. It’s rude”
Can I rhyme? I want my coffee in a box with a fox….”
NO! NO NO NO A THOUSAND TIMES NO!”
So…no? Hmm…then saying ‘ yeah’ is rude?”
Yeah…I mean ‘yes’”
Hmmm….”

Ugh…”

Yummm...

Yummm…

Running Amok

So, time to come clean.  I’ve gone and done it.  Last month I took another leap. I’ve managed to wrangle myself into running another Tely. My fourth. It was something I’ve been thinking about since January, but was unsure if I would remain healthy enough to see it through. Self-doubt always being my biggest obstacle, I had to put that aside and look at the goal. Running another Tely.  And a good virtual kick in the ass from Hubby was appreciated…after the fact, of course. After my first outdoor run in January and I realized running a mere 3 kms was a struggle. Scary.

I think this would be way more fun....

I think this would be way more fun….

I’ve been following the training schedule from the Tely 10 website since the first day it came out in early May and I’m surprised to say I haven’t missed a day of training. Not one scrap, one kilometer or, as painful as they all were, not one hill repeat went unnoticed or unrun(?) The Hill O’Pain remains the bane of my existence, but I persevered and hauled my ass up that hill…eight times last Wednesday. There was a lot of swearing that day. And cars driving by wondering why some lady was running up and down that big ass hill in the fog, and last week in the rain…I loves St. John’s, right? Admittedly, I had to train for the training, which means there was some daring tiny runs in January and February, some cross training going on thanks to D2 and her Cross fit schedule laid out in the basement in March and April, and then finally, some runs as the weather became less frigid and more less-frigid…I’m still waiting for warmth, but that should happen some day in July…you know, that one day…
My love/hate relationship with running is hitting the love meter, right now. After six weeks of pain and agony, I can finally feel my stride returning. I felt strong after my 10km on Sunday instead of tired. I felt capable of running a few extra kms if I had to, instead of flopping on the roadside looking for a ride home. Dare I say the training is working? Shall I say that I may remain uninjured and healthy long enough to see race day? Hmmm….let’s not say that too loud. The universe is watching…

NOT the infamous Hill O'Pain...this one looks almost easy...pffft.

NOT the infamous Hill O’Pain…this one looks almost easy…pffft.

You Want Me To Wear WHAT?!

Me: Women’s shit should be free. All of it: make up, feminine hygiene products, Midol, Prozac, tampons, razors…FREE, FREE, FREE! If men had to buy all this crap, it would be discounted or there would be special payment plans so all they had to do is walk up and pass it over the scanner. The readout would say “you’re a guy. So sorry it’s THAT time. Here’s a coupon for free beer and sports all day. No charge!” Ugh.
I’m reading the saddest book ever. Not sad, like ugh it’s boring and sad, but SAD like tragic and totally depressing. I picked up this novel-of-misery probably because it had a one word book review from STEPHEN KING blaring on the front cover, saying it’s a ‘TRIUMPH’. A triumph?! REALLY STEPHEN??!! A kid’s mother dies in a bomb attack while they’re at a museum of all places! He’s dumped off to his rich neighbour’s where they merely tolerate him until his estranged father returns and moves him to Vegas! VEGAS?! Then the kid gets into drinking and drugs and left alone for days while his father gambles away any money he has….It’s one thing after another….I’m not sure how much more I can take. Next time Mr. King reviews a book, he should add more words like “only read this if you like tragedy and kids struggling to survive”…then, perhaps I could be a better judge on what I’m about to invest large quantities of time and valuable anti-depressants. Thanks, Stephen. I blame you. If it wasn’t for your recommendation, I may have picked up something a little more upbeat like War and Peace, or finished Jane Eyre… I’ve now taken to stabbing myself with mini cocktail forks until I have tiny puncture wounds all over my arms.…it somehow eases the pain from the book which I am forced to finish BECAUSE I HAVE TO READ A BOOK I START NO MATTER HOW AWFUL AND TRAGIC IT IS. I’ll be over here with the cocktail forks and a bottle of Merlot…
I wore a dress to work today. The first one I’ve worn in a while. The comments are a little over the top. Nice, but a little bit too embarrassing. Maybe I should stop wearing jeans every day, and then people would get used to me wearing something different. The only problem with having to actually work at dressing up is the work. And the dressing up. Shoes other than flat running shoes, bother me. The undergarments I must wear to hold in the giggly bits, bother me. Especially this one since its one piece with the bra and everything all attached. The ‘bra’ part actually flattens the boobs, so wearing another bra underneath is recommended. And it hooks in the crotch area so when I have to pee, I have to unhook it THERE. It’s a tad difficult because of its location. I have to bend over to see the invisible hooks which is ungodly in its design in that I have to stare at my vajajay like I’m inspecting a flat tire. It’s also tragic when trying to re-hook. I can’t see what I’m hooking and I miss (no I don’t hook THAT, because if I did the loud swearing would ban me from the washroom altogether) and I swear and it takes what seems like forever…. it must seem strange to anyone who glances under the stall to see my feet so wide apart and all the swearing and wondering what’s going on over there… Ugh. Of course, if someone is looking under the stall in the first place, that’s questionable behaviour and I’d have to reconsider the public washroom thing, but then I’d have to hold it all day and that’s just not possible. I could do the alternative to the unhooking which would be pulling off the girdle-from-hell entirely, but then my dress would have to come off and then I’d be naked just to pee. I’m now George Costanza. So, really the logical part would be to just do the slutty unhooking bit, but it’s tedious and a little risque for an office environment washroom, don’t you think?

Don't say it, Sue....

Don’t say it, Sue….

THIS is why I don’t wear a dress.

Talking to Teenagers Mother’s Day Edition

18870-the-walking-dead-the-walking-dead

NOT a teen prom pic. although, it would make those grad pics a little more interesting…

Since Mother’s Day is drawing near and there are some mothers out there who need your love, I have compiled a list of tips for dealing with the strangest and complex of animals, the Teens.  Read it.  Frame it.  Present it to her on a silver tray with her FULLY PREPARED BREAKFAST, FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE and you will be her favourite person EVER.

You. Are. Welcome.

Teens don’t want to talk to you and often appear dazed and confused at the best of times, so having any kind of logical coherent conversation is a minefield of babbling randomness or total silence.  It’s a crapshoot, really.  AND, they would rather be connected to their phones than anywhere in your vicinity.  They don’t even want to acknowledge your existence in the universe let alone in their sphere of the world, so having any kind of repartee demands skill on your part…and actually paying attention, which let’s face it, to some of us is quite difficult.

Here are some tips when talking to teens to keep in mind:

  1. They think you are lame and so far from knowing any of the real shit that goes down that it amazes them that you are able to operate a motor vehicle or any other major household appliance, so keep whatever you want to say short and to the point.  They already think you’re dumb…don’t make it worse by trying to expand your street cred with them by going on long explanations of the mechanics of making paper airplanes.  I’m begging you.
  2. Feed them first. They respond well to food of any kind and are more likely to talk to you whilst downing their fourth hot dog, than after said meal and The Walking Dead comes on.
  3. Trap them in the backseat of a motor vehicle with their friends by offering to drive them wherever they want to go. They often forget you’re there and will start spilling stuff with their bestie, unknowingly giving you fodder and further gossip for later wine dates with the other moms…not that I’ve done that of course.
  4. Don’t try to be their friends. Seriously, they have those already.  They need parents.  Do that.
  5. Try not to trivialize the drama that they have going on. My eldest is a total drama queen, while my middle child is more level headed and logical.  We see the drama emanating from D1, but instead of making fun of her, we try to be listeners and silent supporters.  She just needs to vent most times.  She vents and moves on.  AND THEN we roll our eyes and mock her endlessly…we’re allowed.  We voted on it.
  6. Humour is awesome. I think we’ve been through this before.  There’s ALWAYS a good time to use sarcasm and puns to prove a point.  They realize they’re being silly…and maybe a bit DRAMATIC.  AND then they’ll stop it to save the onslaught of mockery and endless teasing they’ll have to endure later.  Because that will happen…oh, yes it will.
  7. Using the dog as an excuse for your overprotectiveness is quite okay. For example “I only texted you a million times last night because the dog was obviously worried you would forget to feed her the next morning and was up all night pacing and panting.  So, really.  YOU NEED TO BE HOME TO TAKE CARE OF THIS DAMNED DOG.”  See?  Like that.
  8. Guilt is in your repertoire for a reason. So use it.  “You’ll be sorry for that when I’m not here to take care of you anymore because I’m locked up in some home for the insane due to the torment you and your brother and sister did to me for all of my adult life.  And THAT is why I need wine.”
  9. Hone your poetry skills for those late night texts that go unnoticed by your little darling and are spread around the bar at 2:00am to her friends who now think you are either A) a poetry genius or B) as drunk as they are. Either way, you win.  AND, don’t worry about coming up with something original.  Using Dr. Seuss rhymes and other children’s authors is highly recommended.  It makes them remember their long forgotten childhoods of you reading Hop on Pop for the millionth time when they were four. They get all sentimental and want to go home…or will text you begging for you to stop.  Yay you!  Epic win…
  10. Distraction is your friend.  Learning the art of distraction is so much a skill I highly recommend.  You can use it during an argument with Hubby: “I know, the Visa bill is high this month and Oh MY GOD ISN’T IT YOUR MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK?!  We so have to get something for her.  GET ON THE PHONE AND CALL HER RIGHT NOW! When was the last time you called her?!  WE NEED TO KNOW IF THERE’S ANYTHING SHE NEEDS. YOU MIGHT HAVE TO DRIVE OUT THERE!”   The visa bill is forgotten and it’s his fault his mother’s birthday is next week and he callously forgot…bastard.  Anyways, you can use this ‘technique’ on the kids too: “You are so right.  I had no idea that it was so difficult being you.  By the way, did you know that Sephora is going in the mall?  Have you SEEN their new website?  Maybe you should apply for a job there!  Let’s see if you can apply online…”       So, so easy….

Why I Don’t Like You and Other Truths

It’s true. There are some people in this world that are just hard to like. You know the ones. The obnoxious guy who always tries to make puns out of ridiculous things; the girl who incessantly judges all the other girls; the sarcastic narcissistic boss who decides you are not worthy of his time and/or discussion hence he ignores your pleas for a meeting and constantly schedules you to clean out the photocopy machine during lunch; the highly OCD/Religious lady who declares you Hell-bound lest you fall on your knees and immediately repent for the wine you drank last night and the garden gnomes you stole off her lawn during your drunken escapade… You know. THOSE people.
I’ve decided I should write down all the things I DON’T like about people, so I can discover all the things I DO like and compare. It’s a shit-list, but well worth my time…since the photocopier is a lame-duck anyway. WHO NEEDS LUNCH, EMMIRITE???!!! Ugh…
Since we all love a good list, here’s a list of characters I don’t like:
The “I-don’t-drink-cause-it’s-bad-for-you-and-not-because-I’m-a-recovering-alcoholic-which-would-be-way-more-understanding-if-I-was” person – WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! I know, I used to be in your crowd, and as the saying goes, the rehabilitated are the worst…so that would be me. Instead of being the rehabilitated alcoholic, I’ve reinvented the program and did it backwards. I’m the rehabilitated non-drinker…tea-totaler gone alckie if there ever was one. I’m the worse…I love a good glass of wine…alcohol and I are good pals…in moderation. BUT REALLY? Nothing? Nadda? Cocktail? No? I just don’t see how we could go on being friends. Hand in your friendship rewards card. I just can’t deal right now…

MAGOO TOAST
Bad drivers – Ugh. I think everybody admits to knowing a bad driver, but never admits to BEING a bad driver. With so many of BD’s out there, you would think SOMEBODY would cop to being the one and only asshole who takes pleasure in cutting you off, or speeds up as you are about to pass, or texts and drives then is surprised by rear-ending someone…I’m actually a pretty decent driver…seriously, I’m an excellent driver…just don’t talk to Hubby… no, don’t do that.

Diaz Bad teacher
The Narcissistic “I’m- fucking-awesome-and-you’re-the-lamest-lamo-evah” dude – GET OVER YOURSELF. YOU SMELL. WE ALL FIND YOU HIGHLY OFFENSIVE AND AWFUL TO BE AROUND. GET OVER YOUR MOMMY ISSUES AND GET SOME MANNERS…AND STOP BEING AN EMOTIONAL FUCKWIT. I think that covers it.
Competitive, much? – Seriously. I can only handle the ‘you vs me’ thing so long before it gets old. I’m done. If we just come to a mutual understanding of cohesiveness and team work, all will be good. There is no need for this competitive bullshit that takes up way too much time and effort. It’s too hard…let’s move on. By the way…I WIN.
The Russian Judge just gave you a -10. – Judgey people are the worst, right? They decide who is right and who is wrong, who is ‘in’ and who is not, who wore it best, who wore it like a burlap sack, who has too much eyeliner on today, who is an idiot, who doesn’t belong because she has the wrong colour of hair, the mommy who looks down her nose at you after you had that glass of wine at breakfast lunch…seriously. If you can do better, than do it. Otherwise, be supportive…be objective…be open minded. Oh, Goddammit, just be Oprah.

That's right!  I'm awesome!

That’s right! I’m awesome!

The “You’re-going-to-Hell-and-I’m-not” person– okay. Jesus turned water into wine, right? He saved Mary Magdalene from being stoned to death, right? He told people not to judge others unless they want to be judged, right? Hmmm….

My Jesus toast says 'Be non-judgey'

My Jesus toast says ‘Be non-judgey’

The Whiner/Constant Complainer – OH MY GAWD STOP IT ALREADY. It’s not going to get better by incessant whining…DO SOMETHING. If it’s not the way you want it, CHANGE IT YOURSELF. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone. I’m busy making lists…Ugh..

That should be a pretty exhaustive run-down of all that is annoying in this world. The awesomeness is below…
Givers
Considerate drivers
Tolerant
Positive
Good Sense of humour. Imperative.
Social people who make unsocial people less awkward and more social-ish. It’s a talent. They can draw people in and make them feel at ease, instead of reminding them of their usual awkward and self-conscious selves. It’s a rare gift.
Happy

So, the truth in assigning what’s wrong with people vs what’s right with people is as individual as the person. Unfortunately, it’s human nature to judge, its human nature to complain and its human nature to drive badly…so I’m told. I guess the human condition requires us to be more supportive and less rigid in our expectations, to be more tolerant and to be accepting of everyone as they are…as annoying and as difficult as that may be. We are all in this together…so putting up with each other’s idiosyncrasies is imperative if we are to have some check marks on the ‘awesome’ side of the list. Tolerant, giving, positive…words to define humanity at its best. We all have people we don’t like and think we could go on without, but if we did that, we would lose three quarters of the population! Who wants a world of ‘perfect’ people?

Wait…I’m thinking….
Sorry. ‘Perfect’ is an unreal ideal.
We are all human, afterall….

I'm not Human...I'm a Sloth.  But I'm still cool...

I’m not Human…I’m a Sloth. But I’m still cool…

Monday Thoughts

I forgot my chocolate in the car. Is it wrong to get my daughter to drive it over to me?
Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I plan on taking more of them because I’m getting too lazy to write shit down

Huh?

Huh?

After forty-eight years of struggle and fear, I finally accomplished a real push-up. Not the wussy modified knee-pushup…the real ‘military’ style one. AND, not just one. I can do up to FIVE! IN A ROW. I was ecstatic about it until I started bragging to everybody I knew and they all gave me that look. You know the one…the ‘oh-that’s-cute-and-sad-at-the-same-time-cause-she-thinks-she’s-conquered-an-acutal-life-skill’ look and go ‘yeah. EVERYBODY can do those’. Fuck. I thought I was being awesome. Turns out I was just being average. So, now I’m asking everybody I see if they can do an actual pushup and not the wussy modified knee-pushup but an actual pushup, and they go ‘yeah’ and then I go ‘show me’ which they do, which makes me feel only slightly adequate and not at all as awesome as I did when I finally completed my FIVE IN A ROW. Ugh. I’ll have to up my game and brag about my expert crafting skills at building a tower out of Popsicle sticks and white glue. That’ll show’em…

This one...this.  I did this.

This one…this. I did this.

I must have driven to work like I was in the Indy 500 this morning, because by the time I arrived in the parking lot, my lunch had spilled all over the back seat of the car…I think half of it landed somewhere on the floor under a seat, but I was too lazy to look for it. It’s buried under there somewhere. Maybe D2 will find it…eventually. Then it will be like “Gawd. Something died in here. What’s that smell?” I’ll blame the dog…It’s good to have a plan.

What?!

What?!

I just tried to call D2 to bring me my chocolate. She’s not answering. She probably found it in the secret hiding space in the car where everybody looks first, and is not answering my calls because she knows that I’m going to ask her to deliver it. Dammit. I hate it when my kids know me too well. I’ll have to text her with the word ‘emergency’ and then she’ll call me and be all like ‘chocolate isn’t an emergency’, but I beg to differ. CHOCOLATE IS ALWAYS AN EMERGENCY. THAT’S LIKE SAYING BAMBI’S MOTHER’S DEATH WASN’T A TRAGEDY!! Have you no heart? Ugh.

TRUTH!!

TRUTH!!

We are planning the next all-ladies all-inclusive boozer vacay that hubby has decided he needs to be apprised of just in case he wants to go off somewhere warm alone and without his awesome lovely wife…whilst we ladies are contemplating sand, sun and visions of drinks and shirtless waiters, I may have to give a false not-so-sunny-and-hot location just to make him feel better. Like, instead of Jamaica or Cancun, guess what dear? We have decided to go to Bell Island or Greenland instead. Or, we’re foregoing any awesome vacay altogether, just so we can spend all of our saved cash on you guys…
Hahaha…I know, right? Good, one Kayjai.