Conversations With…The Dog

Me:  Mags, stop eating the sock.

Mags: I love socks.  Socks are heaven.  This one is my precious.  You can’t have it.  STOP LOOKING AT IT.  IT’S MINE.

Me: If you get all paranoid and possessive I will take that from you.

Mags: Oh, no you won’t!  You have to catch me first!

Me: Oh, God.  I’m not chasing you.   This is me walking away.

Mags: Okay, but look at the sock I have.  I’m going to follow you, and jump on you and pee on the floor from how exciting this sock is.

Me:  Ugh, stop being so annoying and PUT DOWN THE DAMNED SOCK!

Mags:  No.  I love the sock.  The sock loves me.  We are inseparable.  We Looooove each other.

Me:  You know the sock is a thing and not a living breathing thing, right?

Mags: Tsk, you doubt my intelligence human.  Now stop bothering me and look at my sock.

Me:  No

Mags: YES! LOOK AT MY SOCK. IT’S A GLORIOUS SOCK!!!

Me: Stop chewing bits off of it and eating it.  You’re going to get digestive problems

Mags: NO, I WON’T!  I LOVE MY SOCK!!!!

Me:  Here look.  Cheerios.  Cheerios are better to eat than socks.   Gawd, I think I said that to one of the kids before….

Mags: WHAT?!   YOU HAVE CHEERIOS?!

Me: Yes, and I’m just going to casually lay them here on the bed so you can eat them…see?

Mags: Hmmm….but, sock though…

Me:  Cheerios, Mags.  Come and have some cheerios…yummmm…

Mags:  Well, maybe just one…

Me: *snatches sock from floor as Mags eats Cheerios*

Mags:  I love Cheerios!

Me:  I know, Mags.  I know….

Maggie 2013

It’s like she’s saying, “Fuck You and give me a sock” but in a cute puppy way…

 

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….

Conversations with Mags…the Dog

Me: Mags, we need to talk about this ‘attitude’ you seem to have developed.
Mags: What?! Attitude?! Me? ! I have no ‘attitude’. I’m just a better dog than all the others, that’s all
Me: Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re not better. In fact, you are anti-social and don’t like humans or dogs. You’re a downright bitch.
Mags: Well of course I am. I’m a female dog. The smartest and prettiest dog ever. AND, humans that come to MY door need to pass a security test. I smell them to make sure they are okay to enter MY house. I’m protecting you. I don’t know why you get so upset when I bark at intruders. They need to be screened. You humans are so trustworthy and stupid. Gawd.
Me: Okay, first of all we are NOT stupid and since when did you use the word “Gawd”?
Mags: Our human child says it all the time when you’re not here.
Me: ‘Our’? Ugh, I suppose she does. And not all humans are untrustworthy, Mags. You trust me, right?
Mags: Barely. You need all the help you can get. You let anybody come traipsing in here with their little humans who incessantly chase me around and try to pet my head. I hate that.
Me: I let people we know in the house. Not complete strangers.
Mags: The dude that fixed the fridge was what? Your bestie? I hardly think so. And you let those other humans sit in my spot and mess up my blankie. Poor blankie….
Me: Yeah…okay. Speaking of ‘bestie’ you need friends and you can’t have friends if you bark at them and antagonize other dogs all the time. You’re getting a bad rep and you need to be friendlier.
Mags: Other dogs are stupid. They slobber and walk around as if the world is a happy place. It isn’t happy! It’s scary. Stupid.
Me: Mags…how about Howard?* You like him, right? You guys play together after you ‘screen’ him, right?
Mags: Howard is an idiot. That dog just sits there and stares blankly into space. Does he not know how to chase a ball or run? Seriously, what’s wrong with him?! I run around the yard and he just sits there and looks at me like I’M the one that needs help.
Me: That’s because you scare the crap out of him! If you let him sniff you and…
Mags: Wait a minute…YOU WANT ME TO LET THAT IDIOT SNIFF ME??!! ARE YOU CRAZY??!! That dog is going nowhere near my butt….
Me: It’s how you animals make friends, Mags.
Mags: Where do you get your information from, Mom?
Me: Ugh, anyway Howard is adorable. He’s all fluffy and cute and is actually FRIENDLY TO PEOPLE.
Mags: Yeah…dummy. Just like I said.
Me: You need to at least try, Mags.
Mags: Okay, I’ll let our human daughter’s friend in. I like her.
Me: Yeah, obviously. You pee on the floor every time she walks in the door.
Mags: I get so happy. Is she coming over now?! IS SHE HERE?!! HERE?!!
Me: NO! Stop it.
Mags: Ugh….let’s play ball! I wanna play ball!
Me: We aren’t done talking, yet.
Mags: BALL! BALL! BALL!
Me: NO
Mags: BALL! WUBBA!! WUBBA!! *runs to the door* I GOTTA PEE!
Me: Okay, but NO BARKING AT THE NEIGHBOURS!
Mags: JUST LET ME OUT I HAVE TO GO!!
Me: Okay, okay. There.
Mags: *stands stationary for five minutes surveying the yard, then…* BARK, BARK, BARK!!!
Me: Mags!! Come here!
Mags: *runs happily to me* WHAT?! GAWD, THEY STARTED IT!
Me: Ugh….
*fictional name to protect the innocent…and adorable.
I think Mags just rolled her eyes at me. Can dogs do that?

I'm so pretty, it hurts.

I’m so pretty, it hurts.

Saving the World One GPS At A Time

D1: OH MY GOD THE DOG JUST SHIT AND NOW SHE’S PLAYING IN IT! 

Me:  Perhaps you should tell her to stop

D1: OH MY GOD NOW SHE’S RUNNING ALL OVER THE HOUSE!  EWWWWW!!

Me:  Perhaps you could catch her so it doesn’t infest the floors with dog feces

D1: OH MY GOD SHE THINKS I’M PLAYING WITH HER AND NOW SHE WON’T STOP! 

Me:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

D1: IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

Me:  I used to have to run after you for the exact same thing when you were a baby!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

D1:  WHAT??!!  That’s not helping.

Me:  No, but it is funny….

What?  It wasn't me!  WANNA PLAY?!

What? It wasn’t me! WANNA PLAY?!

Below is an excerpt from an email I sent to ma DH ladies last week.  It seemed to generate a lot of discussion.  Hmmm….

Now that spring has sprung and kids have already begun to get lost, I suggest the following to keep the kiddies safe and the mommies sane:

 

* have a GPS locator installed on your kids’ shoes.  It saves a lot of texting, calling, yelling, screaming and crying.  AND, it’s kickass to have a GPS installed in your kid’s shoe.  True Story.

 

* Circulate a map of the area with the areas highlighted where the bodies may be buried with instructions that the kids stay away from there.  Then, because we know our children so well, have zombie-like mannequins buried in very shallow graves so when they do look for them, they will have the shit scared out of them.  Then they can come running home and you can all say what all mothers have been destined to say for centuries “I told you never to go there!!  Listen to your mother!  I know what I”m talking about!  Now get upstairs and put on clean underwear!”  

 

* Post signs for a non-existent neighbourhood watch program and install fake video cameras at every lamp post.  It’s creepy and the kids will be ominously looking skyward and waving at the cameras.  Visitors to the street will wonder what the fuck is wrong with these kids who are randomly waving and looking at the lampposts.  They’ll call city hall and then city hall will inspect the street, find the name-withheld-for-obvious-reason’s in violation of every lawn infraction imaginable and evict them.   Perfect. Solution. 

 

I could so solve the world’s socio-economic problems if just given half a chance and some alcohol…

 

This is why I get invited to DH every other week.  I may actually do some of this shit!

Big Things…I Bring Cups!!

 coffe girls

I’ve noticed recently that if I ever get the least bit annoyed with someone, I instantly refer to that person as an asshole.   Incidentally, there are A LOT of assholes around.   Due to the current economic climate in this province, we are constantly being inundated with emails about lobbying the government.  After each email, I refer to the writer as an asshole and delete it.  I’ve deleted so many emails and labeled each author according to his asshole seniority number.  So far, the seniority ends at number twenty five.  Asshole number twenty five sounds like he needs therapy and strong intervention techniques to quell his over-riding anger management issues.  Asshole twelve is immature and requires some English translation lessons.  Of course, this whole thing could be attributed to my over-active sensitivity issues due to the lack of grains in my diet and my heightened need for sugar.  Just sayin’….

I was on Twitter when I noticed that the winner of the Pulitzer Prize in Literature was a book about North Korea and carries the reader “into the most intimate spaces of the human heart” Sounds totally depressing to me. If I ever win a Pulitzer for my awesome book, I won’t be carrying readers to any totalitarian countries that are ready to aim missiles at your head just so the reader could experience it or visit intimate spaces in people’s hearts.  That’s too weird, even for me.  My book would probably cover the wild and wacky world of taxidermy…or the controversial world of flatulence smell reduction underwear inventors…true story.

I’ve realized that I’m totally addicted to caffeine and sugar.  Since limiting my carbohydrate intake to a few spare pieces of fruit and accidental bread crumbs that happen to land on the floor that I invariably fight the dog for, I have noticed my dependency on coffee has risen substantially.  I’ve also become distinctly aware that if I don’t drink said coffee in a timely manner, I become a snarling bitch ready to stab you in the face should you decide to get in my way.  Case in point.  This morning’s conversation with Hubby:

Me:  Can you get in the shower soon please?  I have to get ready too.

Him:  Relax it’s only 6:20!

Me: *grumble, fuck off, grumble, bitch*

Ten minutes later:

Me:  Can you puhlease get in the shower?  Ugh, I KNEW I should have got in there before you!  God, I was going to, blah, blah blah, blah

Him: For Pete’s sake (Author’s note:  That would be me: I don’t know who Pete is, but for his sake, I should have shut up already)

Me:  I HAVE TO GET TO WORK

Him:  It’s 6:30! You don’t need to be at work until 8:00!!

Me: *irritated silence*

Ten minutes later

Him:  I’m getting in the shower now

Me:  It’s about time!  I’ve been waiting…I so should have gone first.  I don’t know why I was….blah, blah, blah…*stocks off to the kitchen whilst the dog is biting my pant leg which leads to dragging said snarling dog along the kitchen floor while I attempt to pour more coffee and continually complain about Hubby’s slowness and lack of consideration for others who have to get to work, dammit*

Fifteen minutes later

Him:  Didn’t you hear me?  I yelled I was out of the shower so you could get in since you’re in such a hurry this morning

Me:  NO, I DIDN’T HEAR YOU SINCE I WAS BUSY MAKING YOUR LUNCH AND HELPING TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE AND TRYING TO GET THE FUCKING DOG DETACHED FROM MY PANT-LEG!!

Him:  Okay, you don’t have to get all snippy about it.

Me: Was I snippy?  Hmpft.  You would be too if you had to wait for you to get out of the shower.

Him:  *rolls eyes and leaves*

Good idea….

A Word To Your Mother

Me: I’m awesome.

Daughter:  *silence*

Me: Obviously, you didn’t hear me…or you’re not listening.

Daugher:  I heard you

Me:  You should say it

Daugher:  What?

Me:  You should tell me I’m awesome.

Daughter:  Why?

Me: Because if I prematurely die at the hands of a violent psycho killer, I want you to be able to say that to all your friends.

Daughter:  Okay.

Me:  YOU THINK I’M GOING TO DIE PREMATURELY AT THE HANDS OF A VIOLENT PSYCHO KILLER??!!  AND WORSE, YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!!

Daugher:  Ugh….You’re awesome mom

Me:  Thanks, but I don’t know if I can believe you now

Daughter:  And this is why I never invite my friends over….

I met someone recently that I haven’t seen in around 25years.  Upon first seeing him, I didn’t readily recognize who he was, but once I got closer (my eyes are totally fucked, yo) it dawned on me who he was.  And then I made the fatal mistake of attempting a greeting.  Here it is:

Me: Hey, what up dawg?

My mind just freaked at me from the inside.

My mind: What the fuck was that?!!!!  Did you grow up in the projects and not tell me about it?  Who SAYS that?!!  Are you Snoop Dogg or Snoop Lion or whatever the hell he is calling himself these days, are you his mother?  Sister from another mother?  What the hell?  You haven’t seen this person for YEARS and you come up with that??!!  What shit are you smoking?   Seriously.

As my mind internally gives me a beat down for my ghetto greeting, I attempt a strained smile that says “I’m really not a white Nicki Minaj…just go with it here, pal”.

I’m living in Newfoundland.  This is apparently how Newfoundlanders greet other fellow Canadians now.  We have developed an affinity to our brothers and sisters of color.  We are attempting to relate to each other with verbal greetings that resemble meager attempts at becoming members of hip-hop bands.  Next I’ll be donning a wide brimmed hat and saying ‘yo’ a lot.  Tourism NL should so consider me for their next advertising campaign.  Instead of showing the red-headed children frolicking precariously close to the Atlantic ocean as if not a care in the world upon those cliffs that appear dangerously high and jagged, but really aren’t that scary since the film crew is there to catch them if they step the wrong way, they should so show me and my whoop-ass deadly wide brimmed hat and chains with my “What up Dawg?  Come on down to ma ‘hood.  We show you how to paaarrrtttaaaayyy”.   My phone should be ringing off the hook.  It’s dope, yo.  Word to your mother.   I think dude will return to Ontario with a much broader appreciation for the cultural diversity of this province…or he’s saying to himself “glad I dodged that bullet.”

 Yeah, probs the latter….

rapper hat

The Word Game

words

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….