The Refrigerator Challenge

The Challenge:  To see if I can stuff all of the food from the big refrigerator/freezer currently taking up space in ma kitchen and put it in the smaller refrigerator/freezer residing in the basement that we use as a beer fridge.

Why?: The pretty refrigerator that is now a pretty upscale picture hanger, shorted the fuck out.  Not my fault by the way!!

The Story: One day, after a hard day at work, I decided that I would enjoy a nice cold beverage.  In order to achieve the desired cold temperature, ice was a necessity.  In retrieving said ice from the ice dispenser…crushed, not cubed, the refrigerator made a loud ‘pop’  sound, followed by sparks and a random shut down of all systems.  On the ‘mutha board’ of the fridge, the ominous green glow of the following statement made me rethink ma stance on a robot invasion:

U R SCRWD

Thanks, Fridge.

WTF?:  Exactly what I said.  In hopes of discovering the cause of such a dramatic ice dispensing event, I opened the ice dispenser.  Lo and behold, I noticed the two dangling wires…WIRES??!  Yes.  Dangling wires.  Not a good sign.   Further investigation provided the cause of the shorting out.  There was a white sensor-thingy wrapped tightly around the ice dispensing auger which can only suggest that the sensor thingy was also dangling and thus became entwined in the auger when the ice dispenser was engaged.

What now?:  The pretty fridge has since been unplugged and remains a menacing reminder of all things digital that can go horribly awry simply by using it.   All food has been removed and promptly stuffed in an alternate location.  If you’re looking for ketchup, its search and rescue time, kids ‘cause I have no sweet clue where it is in that beer container we call a fridge downstairs.  Oh, yeah.  And sooo happy to be running up and down the stairs to get milk every five fucking minutes.

As for the beer…good luck with that!!!  I think it’s stuffed behind the lettuce and the sour cream on the opposite side of the mayonnaise and inside the pop container that we emptied and filled with apples…cause, where else are we gonna put the apples???

First question at DH which I hosted on Sunday night:  Got any ice??

Barney awesome

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Tips For Everyday Life and Cheezies!

Shopping made easy

When loading the truck/car/vehicle of your choice (please make sure it’s actually YOUR vehicle) ensure that any boxes of canned soft drinks are securely placed on the floor of said vehicle and not thrown haphazardly onto the back seat of the vehicle.  Upon returning home and opening door of said vehicle, the box of canned soft drinks will subsequently, NOT inadvertently take flight and fall angrily to the ground sending cans of drinks wantonly all over the driveway and under said vehicle causing you to lose your shit (aka laugh so loud you scare the neighbour’s dog who barks in unison to your raucous laughter)which then makes you pee your pants a little whilst attempting to retrieve said cans of pop from under the vehicle causing Hubbie to stare unbelievingly at his wife from the screen door as she is laughing, peeing and crawling under the truck in what he can only hope to be a short-lived dropping of groceries and not her final foray into mental instability.  Yeah.

Gliding is Easier than actually walking up the stairs…so they say

Hey Grandma!  Me next!  Wait, I gotta get ma wine and cheezies...

Hey Grandma! Me next! Wait, I gotta get ma wine and cheezies…

I must be getting old.  I was watching TV one night and the Acorn Stairlift commercial comes on and instead of getting up to get a snack I watched it in rapt attention while thinking  “What a great idea! We should SO get one of those!” …totally oblivious to the fact that the main guy selling the damned thing had oxygen tubing in his nose and was close to ninety…I could picture me gliding gracefully up the stairs while the dog is chasing me, nipping my toes and me gleefully laughing at her saying “Hahaha…You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me”…I’m so mature.

Is it me, or is that breeze a little strong today?

The wind was close to 100km an hour this morning and when I let the dog go out to pee, she almost took flight.  The first thing that popped into my head was “Toto come back!  Come back, Toto!” and  “Aunti Em!  Aunti Em!”  Of course, watching Twister the other night probably didn’t help.  Nobody even broke out in a song…and no munchkins were hiding in my backyard ready to deliver flowers to me in Technicolor…so disappointing.

They’re called GRAMMY awards, not GRANNY awards…ugh

So, Sunday evening is DH at ma house so the ladies will be gathering for the GRAMMY awards…this is where we gather in our yoga pants and ponytails and dish on the dresses and how Kanye can’t possibly embarrass himself yet again by jumping onstage…can he?  That would be awesome.  Somebody pay that man to do that again, will ‘ya?  I’ve put together a little contest to make the night  interesting…not that it isn’t usually, I mean we’re a fun group even if some of us leave at 9:30…and have one glass of wine…and manage to NOT injure, drop, spill, spit or harass anybody.  The harassment and spitting usually takes place AFTER 10:00.  We save the best shit for later in the evening, yo.  I was going to ask the ladies to either dress up or dress in jammies, but that was done last year and we can’t be copying shit.  That’s like plagiarizing only without words…We could wear housecoats and don curlers to look like GRANNIES AT THE GRAMMYS…if only I had an Acorn stair lift installed, we could take turns riding it and teasing the dog, whilst drinking wine and throwing our cheezies at Kanye.

BEAT HIM DOWN, TAYLOR...jackass...

BEAT HIM DOWN, TAYLOR…jackass…

I see THAT as a DH for the future….

The Book Bag Has Gone A’Missing! Oh, Mon Dieu!

Case of the Missing Book Bag (2)Son’s book bag took to hiding this morning.  My pictorial version of the events, with Mags the Wonder Dog looking on in all of her cuteness. My artistic talent knows no bounds!!  We sent son off to school thinking he left it on the bus.  Oops, our bad.  Turns out, D1 had taken his book bag down to her room the night before mistakenly thinking it was hers…they’re both black.  Hence, the argument for hers to have some colour in it and not simply the big MEMORIAL UNIVERSITY written on the outside in white lettering.  Yeah.

So, son rode the bus in utter panic thinking it was gone forever.  I called the school once it was found and the secretary knew that ma little Rain Man was upset at the impending doom of his book bag.  It was returned before lunch.  Tragedy averted…order was restored to the universe.  You. Are. Welcome.

AND, we are a  bi-lingual household…even the dog speaks French!  And the inanimate objects!  Okay, no we’re not, but it makes for interesting bubble chatter…

It’s Like the Golden Globes but Without the Pretty Dresses and the Awards and the Celebrities

 

golden globe

I was watching the Golden Globes the other night with the ladies.  As we were sitting around laughing about our Yoga class escapades in our yoga pants and downing wine and chocolate,(which is necessary after Yoga.  It’s the rules.  We looked it up) we listened to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler crack jokes and make fun.  Then the awards started.  And the speeches.  Aside from the Bissetian Diatribe of Death where Jacqueline Bisset decided to enlighten us about her ‘beauty secret’, (apparently it’s forgiveness.  Okay, so I forgive you for being drunk and rambling.  There.  I should be gorgeous in the morning.  Thank you, Jackie!) it occurred to me that we shouldn’t have to thank people we think are awesome and who have made indelible marks on our lives only after we are presented with an awesome award…really, we all deserve Globes just for sitting through Bisset’s rambling and Diane Keaton’s weak singing.. really, we should. AND, Gorgeous George was nowhere to be found.  Ugh. We should take that golden opportunity to thank our peeps now.

So, in the spirit of the Globes, I hereby give my thank you speech in advance in case I win an Oscar, or a Golden globe or a Razzy or even a tube sock as a booby prize (although, winning a booby prize would infer winning a booby…not a tube sock) and at the time of the illustrious award presentation,  I am unable to form words recognizable to the human ear…or by some unfathomable twist of fate, morph into Jacqueline Bisset.

First of all I want to thank my husband of twenty something years for only being a douche half the time.  I understand that living with me can be painful and downright bizarre, so I’ll forgive you for being Mr. Crabby Pants on occasion…or twenty.  I can’t imagine living my life without you and I love you to death.  And you make me smile when I think you’re being a total asshole, so there’s that.

Thank you for my children for surviving all of the crap we put you through with moving and then forcing you to be responsible little people.  I know it’s painful to live with a father who likes rules and a mommy who thinks Teletubbies are an alternate alien life form, but through it all you have somehow survived.  And have become people!  Actual living and breathing people.  By some miracle of the universe you are not only intelligent, caring and cute, but you are all funny as shit.  I take credit for that.  You. Are. Welcome.  I mean…I love you all to the depths of my being and I am honored to be your mommy. 

To my family in Ontario who like to take credit for my upbringing in some happenstance, I thank you for letting me sleep in your kid’s room, holding my hand through my mother’s death and giving me the advice of a lifetime, “Don’t eat the gum that’s stuck to the bottom of the table”.  You all rock.

Thank you to my brother who managed to survive my awkward shyness, and not totally deny my existence to his friends…all of the time.  I know there was an unsaid understanding that you would be my brother forever and for that I love you.  Thank you to his wife for being the sensible one and the nephew for being the creative one and putting up with my new-found sense of humor. I know I take some getting used to, but let’s face it your family is waaay more crazy than me, so really I think as a SIL, you hit the jackpot lady.   

To my parents who had the daunting task of raising a shy redheaded freckle-face, I love you both deeply and I carry you with me everywhere.  I see you in my son’s blue eyes, my daughter’s round face and my daughter’s expressions.  You are the reason I have a beautiful family.

To Oogie and Floyd who somehow decided that becoming a part of three kids’ lives was a great idea, I think you got way more than you bargained for with us.  You have left us with loving memories of a summer cottage on a lake, a first plane ride and countless Christmases and weekends filled with laughter and love.  I miss you both desperately and carry your smiles with me daily. You gave me a sistah from another mutha who thinks I’m a bit ‘out there’ but still has the guts to admit she knows me.  Awesome.

To my in-laws who, after our first meeting said , “She’s sarcastic as shit but maybe we can get to like her on some level”. You all have put up with me for so long, I’m surprised you still want to associate with an asshole like me.  God love ya’s.

To ma family out on the West coast, you’ve known me from being a shy introvert to a sarcastic wino and I love you to bits.  If we ever get the chance to live in the same coast, the island will never be the same.  I’m lucky to have besties on two coasts.

To ma Facebook friends and family, it’s a wonder you all admit that you know me.  You still ‘like’ my stupid remarks and lame comments which totally floors me.  I’m always expecting to get a message in my inbox saying “Please stop being an asshole and stop leaving shit on my wall. I don’t really like you that much, I’m just your friend because your brother told me I had to be.” But that has not yet happened…maybe after this post it will.  You all have been so supportive and nice and even inspirational!  Thanks for that. 

To ma girls in St. John’s, you all have become more than just neighbours, you are ma friends and despite ma annoying emails, ma ability to make fun of lost children and wayward puppies, you still by some bizarre happenstance, put up with me. Thank you for being my entertainment, my confidants and my besties.  I manage to write a bit because you all encourage me to keep going and at the same time, laugh at all the shit I throw down. You all rock!

Finally, to ma blogging buddies who inspire me to write a bit and visit me on occasion to say nice things, thank you for making ma blogging days a little brighter.  I look forward to your posts, love hearing your comments and take a little joy in thinking I may know you just a bit. 

There, I hope I didn’t go over ma time limit and the hokey music isn’t playing to try to push me off the stage.  I am truly grateful to all of you for making me a better person, despite my asshatery.  You have all made huge marks on my life…and some of you, on ma carpet and F’s chairs.  Clean that shit up, will ‘ya?

Reallly, Jackie you should stop talking...like 5 mins. ago

Reallly, Jackie you should stop talking…like 5 mins. ago

Namaste and Other Yoga Words I Can’t Say

I attended my first yoga class evah, last night with Bestie, D and KS. We thought it would be a good way to start the New Year off right and it may be fun!  Apparently, ‘fun’ is relative.  The location was a small structure that I kindly referred to like this:  “OH MY GOD WE’RE DOING YOGA IN A SHED!”  Had it been equipped with a dart board and a wood stove, we would have rushed to the nearest liquor store for the wine and snacks, Yoga class be damned.  As it turned out, it was a small daycare complete with cubbie holes and manipulative block area.  The room NEXT to the daycare room was where I would experience the Downward Dog and the Tree pose ( I was more of a stick, than a tree.  Yeah.)

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

We managed to secure prime location spots at the back and to the right side of the room so as not to disrupt the rest of the class with giggling that may have escaped us during any portion of completing the poses.  We managed to be somewhat mature adults (yay us!) for the majority of the time.  There were some serious students of the Yoga practice who attended and we did not want to appear rude or inconsiderate.

Apparently, Yoga is a meditative and QUIET activity where they try to instill an aura of inner peace and tranquil contemplation.  Oh, yeah sign me the fuck up.  Sure…I can be quiet, in fact I AM quiet ¾ of the time…except, at the end of the class when we were supposed to lie down and be COMPLETELY STILL.   Yeah.   I reached for my water to have a sip before I fell into a near catatonic state of relaxation.  As I reached for my water bottle, it erroneously decided to explode in ma face sending water spraying into my eye like a whale expelling air from its blowhole.  Meanwhile, the instructor was going around the room dimming the lights and getting everybody blankets and pillows.  It was like nap time in kindergarten going on.  I was confused…and soaking wet from the spray of water in ma face.  I felt the urge to proclaim “WTF?!”, instead simply looked over at KS who was laughing, which got me laughing, but we were QUIETLY laughing, so no rules broken there.  We rock.  And then came quiet contemplation time and we had to be PERFECTLY STILL.  (which never really happened as I was hearing everybody else breathe and then some random bell started ringing and I thought I was hearing things or was that a poor excuse for a fire alarm?, and then some guy began to ‘sing’ and I use that term loosely ‘cause it was more like he was yodeling really…not actually singing.  My eyes darted open as I was half expecting the room to rise up and start getting their shoes on to escape the fire that was surely blazing out of control in the closet where all the cork bricks were stacked and the yodeler was truly hiding, but as I stealthily looked around the room so as not to get caught cheating, I noticed everybody else was laying still so I assumed this bell-ringing and yodeling was SUPPOSED to happen.  Ohhhhh.) No flames, no fire and no hunky firemen…damn, this Yoga thing kinda sucks.

Ugh…I bit the inside of my cheeks so I didn’t have to be the totally immature one and break out in an inappropriate amount of laughter.  It’s like that laughing disease people have…spontaneous uncontrollable laughter at the most inappropriate times.  KS thinks she is a victim of this disease.  I think I am a victim of KS’s thinking of her victimization and the impending laughter that will surely ensue if we ever stop biting various appendages…she her hands, me my inner cheeks.  AND, by ‘cheeks’ I mean the ones on my face.  I would be a Yoga MASTER if I could bite my own ass cheeks. I think I just invented a new pose….I’ll call it “Crunching Idiot”.

This ain't gonna happen any time soon.

This ain’t gonna happen any time soon.

That would be a feat of brilliance I’ll save for maybe my second or third class…AND the hunky firemen.  What?  I gotta have something to think about during Catatonic Rest Time.  Geesh.  (there is a more accurate yoga term for that, but I can’t remember what it is…and too lazy to look it up.)

Until next time, as Joanne and Hal say, keep fit and have fun.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks...betcha.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks…betcha.

The Plight of Math Homework…and Blizzards…and the Icicle Apocalypse

So, it seems the ‘Blackout of 2014’ has abated..for now.  After a few days with no power, then rolling blackouts, it seems we’re almost back to normal.  The blizzard conditions, the mountains of snow, then rain and now back to a frozen ice rink has left us all dazed and a bit disoriented, but with lights on in most places (AND THE MALL IS OPEN AND TIM’S IS SERVING COFFEE AGAIN.  I AM SAVED!!), we are almost at that crucial I-am-so-over-this-blackout-shit and moving on.  T-shirts with “I Survived the Blackout of 2014” are at the press right now.

 School has been closed all week leaving us home with the youngins unschooled and wrangly and me not able to return to work until the building has been deemed acceptable to the sufficiently ‘warmed up’ stage.   That leads me to believe that my office is currently suffering from an icicle apocalypse, frosted with ice as clear as glass and dangerously hanging low, ready to stab the innocent by-stander in the face.   It stands to reason that my office is probably a danger zone for humans, so when the ice has melted to some degree, we can all return.  Good.  Otherwise, I could have used a random trash can as a hub for a latent bonfire…could have been epic.  Anybody have any marshmallows?  Wow. Now I want to go back.  Just for the roasted marshmallows and the bonfire.  We could sing songs…great start to a new year. Of course, the stabby icicles would start melting and falling downward at an alarming rate, sending everyone for cover and wondering if stabby-icicles are supposed to be here?  Yeah.

My front screen door...minus the screen and add the frost.

My front screen door…minus the screen and add the frost.

The days have all melded together in what seems like a time-void.  When the power goes out and one is sitting by candle light and attempting to read by the little book light that gives about as much light as a firefly, it really made me think about all those women in the ‘olden days’ who did this every bloody night for eternal years and years.  Gawd.  It’s all about what you’re used to folks, and unfortunately only the bold go forth and prosper…the rest of us plod on and read by crappy book lamps.  Those ladies had serious fortitude and if not for their strength and endearing spirit to read by candlelight, stock the firewood, cook on the open hearth,  we would not be sitting in front of our fires and wishing the internet would spring it’s lovely glow to light our internal world with news from the outside.

The Mags and I cuddling by the candles...no reading to be done

The Mags and I cuddling by the candles…no reading to be done

The days when kids sat in one room school houses with a pot-belly stove and slate boards for doing math are long gone, but I was thinking if the blizzard we had on Friday had happened a century ago, kids would still have walked to school, still have sat by the warmth of the pot-belly stove, still would have a teacher there to teach them their ‘lessons’  and still would have math homework.  Progress??  Hmmmm….

So, as we sit and wait for further updates as to whether everybody will be plodding on to school and work tomorrow, savour your good fortune in being warm and having a light to read by.  And do your math homework, will ‘ya?  Geesh….

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework.  Fair trade...I guess.

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework. Fair trade…I guess.