I was so desperate for a subject to post today I went searching on Google for writing topics.  I began reading down a list until I realized they were grouped into categories of grades.  Grade 1 topics were those of picnics, favorite zoo animals, my bestest friend;  then there were Grade 2 topics that had to do with my family, the best thing to do at recess, and so on.  I kinda liked the topics from Grade 1 the best…not sure what that says about me.  So tomorrow’s topic should be titled ‘Zebras, The Misunderstood Zoo Animal”.  Bound to be an engaging and stimulating topic.  Maybe I’ll color a picture and post that too!

Inadvertently, while searching for topics I decided to do some family tree hunting. Funny how the topic of zoo animals prompted thoughts about my family.  Oh, yeah.  Live inside my head for a while…Anyway, researching dead family members is probs not the thing to do without oodles of time and energy and cash in your wallet.  Holy Crap, I thought was supposed to be a free service.  It’s only free as far as entering your name.  Everything else seems to be a pay-per-view service.  Dammit, Jim I don’t have that kind of power!  Pay to see obits and death certificates and census reports?  Hmmm…let me think.  Uh, no.  No thanks.  As wonderfully dry as that sounds, I think I’ll move on to something with a little more juice in its container…. Cartoon videos?!  Yee-haw!!!

I’ve not visited my Twitter account in weeks, but somehow I still get new followers.  Are they following me because they think I’m awesome and just the quiet type?  Or are they following me because they think they’ll get a ‘follow’ back?  Or is it my winning smile and effervescent personality??  Hmmm….they must think that I’m following them back.  How can they tell my personality from a few random tweets? I should shake them up a bit and tweet “Yo, assholes.  What up ma homies?  Y’all givin’ me ‘noia to the most. Stay outta ma ‘hood, yo.  Word”  Yeah.  That’s the essence of my personality right there.  That should bring on a whole new group of followers who should NOT be on twitter…or any other form of social media….

In the meantime, I’m practicing my drawing and coloring for the zoo animal topic.  What do you think so far?

zoo animal

Yeah.  I’m practically awesome.



Get Off Of My Cloud


I’m surrounded by assholes.  Seriously.  What is up with people?!  Has the Asswit Squad decided to descend among the general population and dispense it’s flagrant idiocy to us unsuspecting innocents?

I have found lately that I am more sensitive to the shit that is routinely dispensed in my environment.  I refuse to acknowledge the presence of jackwits who fuck everything up then complain that others aren’t doing their jobs.  Ugh. I realize that the current economic fragility has people more than a little anxious, but fuck off and get on with it.  Really.

Is it necessary to vent that you are ‘not a chauffeur’ even though you volunteered to drive people to the event in the first place?

And excuse me asswit, but who made you the king of all things right?  I realize you’ve been around the block, but bragging how you know everything, does not win any popularity points or put you in good with anyone deemed responsible for your pay cheque.  Dough-head.

And telling people to use another door when you demanded they come in, then not have adequate snow removal is fucked-up.  Just sayin’.

I probably could go on a little more here, but you get my gist.  Stop complaining and do what you need to do.  I’m reeeeaaallly trying to be positive here, so either get with the whole ‘the-world-is-fucking-magical-and-I-love-it’ thing, or move on.  I’m tired of assholes messing up my more than rosy outlook on life.  I’m freakin’ happy here!


Can’t you see the effervescent glow of my joy and the glare of the sunshine and rainbows projecting out of my ass? The unicorn you just ran over with your Jeep was my one piece of happiness that was getting me through my less-than-blithesome day!   That happy face you just shot a hole through with your sawed-off shotgun was the symbol of my everlasting faith in humanity.  It gave me hope that peace and love prevail over the evil and negative forces that invade my space on a daily basis…meaning you, you fuckhead.  Get off of my cloud!  Ugh…..

smiley face

In conclusion, I would just like to say for you asshats to keep your negativity out of my space, please.  It takes all of me to be this friggin’ happy during the worst month of the year and I’m currently basking in the glory of a job well done on that front.  AND…I said ‘please’.  That should count for something, dammit.

Life Lessons I Learned From My Dog

Maggie and her best "Am I adorable or what?" face

Maggie and her best “Am I adorable or what?” face

Eat when you’re hungry

Run like you’re chasing a car and your life depended on catching it

Find a warm spot and take a nap

Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something.  What do they know?

Snow is for playing in, puddles are for splashing and dirt is for digging.  Any questions?

Cuteness will get you everything you want

Vacuum cleaners are horrid things and should be avoided at all costs

Walking is for sissys

Stairs are for jumping

A kiss is worth a thousand ‘I love yous’

The best spot in the house is under the covers

Always greet loved ones at the door by running and jumping into their arms

Play games every day

Good grooming is the key to gleaning compliments

Daily treats are a must since good behavior is a virtually impossible feat

Never under estimate the power of a good hug

Know that you are loved

Nickels And World Domination


Sometimes I feel as if I am walking around and have no idea what I’m talking about.  Other times, I hear other people talk and think THEY have no clue either.  So, really.  Nobody knows jack.  I’m good with that.

My zipper broke on my suede jacket this morning causing me to swear loudly, which caused the dog to jump, which caused the kids to scoop her up, which caused me to feel badly.  My contact lense was clouded which caused me to rinse it thricely (?) which caused my eye to be bloodshot and watery, which slowed me down in preparing for work. Running out the door,  I then had to scrape twenty inches of snow from my car, which was cemented by the freezing rain, which required more time spent on the scraping since daughter felt the need to sit and watch, which caused me to mumble expletives under my breath, which caused me to take a different route to work since the roads had not been ploughed and I was too busy mumbling to pay attention to where I was going, which then caused me to endure traffic , which caused me to be late for work, which caused daughter to be late for her exam, on which she did badly which resulted in everything being my fault.  Again and as per usual.   Ugh.

Eating raw carrots is like watching a slow agonizing rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ while repeatedly jabbing a fork into my thigh.

My stash of nickels should come in handy when my plan for world domination comes to fruition.  We’ve already done away with the penny…I declare that nickels are now worth more.  And bacon should be free.

The best things are left unsaid.  Who said that?  I guess if it was said, it wasn’t ‘the best thing’.  Shit.

I’m missing the Die Hard marathon playing at the local theatre today.  Twelve non-stop hours of yippe-kay-yay MoFu along with witty repartee, stinging banter, blazing machine guns, hanging from skyscrapers by nothing but a fire hose and crawling through ventilation ducts with lighters.  Okay, maybe the banter isn’t so great…but ‘welcome to the party pal’!   Oh how I wish I had my popcorn and my seat in the theatre right now.  Another time, McClean…another time.  I wonder if anyone would notice if I sneak out for a few hours.  I could ‘work from home’…maybe.  What?  Ugh….I’m suddenly feeling ill…I have a fever?  I contracted T.B.?  That malaria shot I got a few months ago is working against me!  I have the measles!  Look at all the red spots…no, those aren’t freckles…just look through these 3-D glasses and tell me those spots aren’t red…AND SOME ARE BLUE??!!  Holy shit I need to go home and rest!  Get the paramedics!  I know…a few hours in a theatre might do me some good.  Some nachos, pop, a comfy chair and Willis…I think I almost convinced you.  Maybe.  I could give you some of my nickels….

Yippee-Kay Ay mutha...ugh.  I so should be there!

Yippee-Kay Ay mutha…ugh. I so should be there!

My Factory Gig

woman worker

One summer I worked in a car parts factory on the outskirts of town.  Close to the Detroit border, our town was booming with new factories supplying car parts to the American companies from the sweat of their good Canadian neighbours and we were more than happy to oblige.  I was about seventeen and was responsible for putting shiny new bumpers into plastic bags and moving them along the conveyor belt. I wondered how many parts the factory supplied given this was a mere one insignificant portion of a whole car, but I didn’t have time to ponder the complexities of building an entire shiny vehicle.   I was a fill-in for someone who had called in sick.  I don’t really remember how I got the job exactly, just that I had to be there from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon with a half hour lunch and two fifteen minute breaks.

My first day on the floor I was shown the conveyor line.  Glittery new bumpers hung from the ceiling and were floating by.  I was to grab one, inspect for scratches, put it into a large plastic bag and hang it back on the line.  Easy-peazy…I guess.  I started in and my hands instantly became scratched along the edges of the bumpers.  I was thrown a pair of work gloves and started again. One guy noticed my two left hands and my slow ambling at getting the bumpers into the plastic bags.  Instead of berating or calling me down, he stepped beside me and helped me out.  He never said a word.  Just made it look easy and showed me a tip about inspecting the bumpers at a quicker pace.  He couldn’t have been more than twenty himself.  I was grateful for the lack of conversation at my obvious awkwardness.

I ate my lunch outside with some of the women from the factory.  They were older, some married and had kids.  I must have looked green and pretty shiny myself, still in high school and dumber than the bumpers I put into the plastic bags.  They wore kerchiefs around their hair and wore bland uniforms, some stained with paint from the bumpers.  Their hands looked rough from handling car parts all day and they smoked their cigarettes while eating sandwiches.  They didn’t seem to mind the quick pace of the factory or that their lives were so regulated by a boss that neither knew them nor acknowledged their presence.  They just seemed content to be working.  The young man that had given me a hand on the line came out for a cigarette.  ‘You’ll get used to it’, he said.  ‘Don’t worry about being slow right now.  It’s better to check for scratches and be right, than to be quick’, he assured me.  I felt better after that little pep talk. The women continued to eye me with long suspicious looks and mocked disdain, wondering how I got into a factory job so quickly with no union ties and no family around the business.  I wondered that myself, I told them.  Just lucky, I guess.  We all headed back in to get back to our lines.

My luck was short-lived.  I was told after my shift the following day the person I was replacing was coming back.  ‘Thanks for filling in, but we’re okay now.  We will call you if we need you again.’  That never happened.  I learned a few things about my very short time in a factory.  I felt awkward and slow and the name Norma Rae was what every woman was whispering around the factory floor.  Work that was repetitive, extremely fast paced and one that demanded strong arms, hands and a quick eye cemented my belief that I was no factory girl.  Norma Rae would have to live on without me.

I suppose had maturity and desperation been on my side, I could have made a more valiant effort in sustaining what little employment was offered to me, but my heart wasn’t in it.  At seventeen, a factory was not where I wanted to be.  I think that summer I moved on to becoming a waitress/counter person girl at a local restaurant.  It proved to be more my speed, although my awkwardness would rear its ugly head at the worst times.  I almost dropped a pizza on a table of customers and a freshly brewed pot of coffee inexplicably ended up on the floor…but, the tips were okay despite my clumsiness and I didn’t have to worry about scratched bumpers….and no, I did not suffer any bruised chins.  Thanks.


The Eternal Question

Since the dawn of time, or the dawn of electricity, the eternal question of ‘does the light really stay on when you close the refrigerator door?’ has elicited even the most scholarly of persons to scratch their heads in collective wonder.   The unknown is always a frightening journey and this one is no less daunting.  The task of determining the answers to such life altering questions such as ‘if a tree falls in the forest does anybody hear it?’, ‘what is the true meaning of life?’ and ‘Why is Paris Hilton famous?’  has fallen to the most highly regarded intellects, revered for their intelligence and respected for their unique perspectives.    All have made summations based on scientific fact or philosophical pondering, but none have determined the ultimate answer.  Theories abound, yet citizens everywhere lie awake at night determined to discover the truth and unlock the secret to the eternal question.

fridge door

The quest for the answer has begun quite similarly to the quest for the Holy Grail.  The clues are right in one’s very own kitchen; the catch is to know what to look for.  Every two year old on the planet has spent hours opening  and closing the refrigerator door numerous times, staring blankly at the little light emanating from its depths wondering what it was doing there and is it still on keeping the Mini-Go’s from getting lonely?   Alas, we continue to wonder the same thing.  The light in the refrigerator has baffled many a genius, and two-year old alike, with its constant brilliance and warmth.  The clues, all held in the surrounding tile floor of the kitchen, are hidden to the naked eye, but at closer glance reveal the true answer; the one solid  reality that fails to be recognized.   We only see the light in the refrigerator because we have been conditioned to see it.  There isn’t one true light coming from the fridge, the light comes from the…oh, wait.  I was about to divulge the secret.  I can’t be held responsible for the ultimate secret being revealed to society at this juncture.  I’m afraid the world can’t handle that kind to truth, or that kind of mind-blowing genius.

The Eternal Question of ‘does the light stay on or go off when you close the refrigerator door?’ will ultimately be answered by future generations.  The brevity of such a revelation will transform the patterns of thought of philosophers and scientists alike for centuries.  Until that discovery, the secret is safe with me….

If this kid is in charge of discovering the answer, there could be trouble.

If this kid is in charge of discovering the answer, there could be trouble.



The Word Game


There’s a wrestling match going on inside my head and so far Rogue is losing to the opponent.  Problem is I’m not sure who or what the opponent is.  He remains nameless and faceless.  I resolve to write a great post full of wit and wisdom and end up with this…this…rambling and fumbling of words.  I fucking hate that.

In order to free up the creative process, let’s play a little game.  I’ll say a word and the other me will write down the first thing that pops into my head.  It’s easier when there is more than one ‘you’ inside your head.  Yay for mental health!  Ready, people?  Let’s go!

Ball- Run

String- This is stupid

Room-  With a view!  I win!

Desk- A Fucking mess

Lindsay Lohan-  Also, a fucking mess

Pen- With which to write which I haven’t, thus the need for this idiotic exercise. Next.

Apple- Crunchy

Chair- Dumb chair.  Fell over it this morning…oh. Sorry.

Dog-   The cutest wittle doggie evah…ahem.  Again, sorry.

Weight- Wait?  Or WEIGHT!  Like HOLY SHIT I WEIGH HOW MUCH? Or HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO WAIT HOW LONG?!!  Which one?  Both are evil.

Fruit-  Owns a hair salon and totally denies he’s gay…oh!  You mean FRUIT, like apples and oranges and stuff…again with the apples? Ugh.

Heat- Totally absent in this space and therefore I am FUCKING FREEZING!!  Hello?!! Oh!  I meant house.  I’m home today…back to the words…

Keys-  Ima gonna need a new set when they change the locks on the door…to my HOUSE of course, because that’s where I currently am.  HOME.  Yeah.

Florida- where I should be at the moment.

Book- Love them all, read them all, wrote a couple…awesome stuff.

Paper- Umm….white, blank lately, some have lines, trees died for them?  What do you want from me?

Elvis- We went from paper to Elvis?  Really?  “Thank you, you’re beautiful”.  All I got.

The lights are on but no one’s home-  The story of my life…This is supposed to be ONE word.

Money-  Apparently not something young adults take downtown so instead of  YA being able to get home independently, she feels the need to call the mommy so she can meet her at a location only to have that location change when mommy gets there due to the absence of money and the YA’s ability to avail of the public transportation system therefore, after much yelling and throwing of cell phone in car, (which sadly now works intermittently at best) mommy dutifully drives all over fucking town (since the location of pick up changed twice after the first time) to rescue daughter and friend only to hear  “thanks” and “well, if you had let me take the car this wouldn’t have happened”…. Good thing my phone is due for an upgrade….

Fuck off- See above.  ‘nuff said.

Thank you for playing.  See you next time on WORD ASSOCIATION-THE BEST GAME FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH.

Disclaimer Clause:  It should be noted that no harming of any cars, horses, dogs, cats, wandering hobos, daughters or cell phones occurred in the above scenario.  Swearing was kept to whispers and loud voices in my head…I think it was implied in the yell of “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY?  WHO GOES DOWNTOWN WITHOUT CASH?!!  TELL ME!  WHO DOES THAT?!”   Ugh….