Tag Archives: Give me a break

I Was a Directionally Challenged Pirate Named Kevin in Ma Previous Life. True Story.

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Bestie’s on tap to redo ma ‘do tomorrow night which is a good thing.  I haven’t seen so much grey since dude at the Halloween party dressed as Fifty Shades of Grey.  Lame costume, BTW dude.  I can paste a bunch of paint swatches to myself and proclaim it a costume too… in fact I do that almost on a daily basis.  It makes for a fun and interesting conversation piece.  You should try it. They love me at work.  “What’s that colour  you’re wearing today, KJ?  Ecru?  What’s that?”  and then I have to explain the colour palette and the colour wheel and what colours go with others…it’s all very artistic and shit.  Totally worth the hour it spends duct-taping those swatches to ma pants.  What?  OH, you thought I would tape those to ma shirt?  Most people look at the asses of others.  True stat.  Look it up.  So, I tape the swatches to ma ass.  There’s more space… It’s like the size of Quebec down there, so pahlenty of swatch taping room….

Not only is he wearing the costume...he's showing attitude. Work it!

Not only is he wearing the costume…he’s showing attitude. Work it!

Christmas is coming!  Only 28 more days, in case you were all wondering and didn’t have a calendar handy and can’t count.  I’ve done all the work for you.  Consider it your Christmas present.  Merry Christmas!  You. Are. Welcome.

I know there are those who walk among us who loathe Christmas and all it stands for, but I am not one of those people.  I fucking love it.  I love the music, I love the lights, I love the decorations and I love the excitement and shit.  I’m not down with the whole ‘Christmas Magic’ b.s.  That’s not me, but Christmas day is the BEST day.  I guess because the kids are older and we all just hang out in our jammies and put the fire on, play Christmas music, down all the chocolate one can eat in an hour and then eat turkey and pie and drink wine. Well, I drink the wine while I cook the turkey.  It’s amazing we have a dinner on the table at all. 

It’s awesome.

 Now that D1 is over the legal age for consuming alcohol, I don’t feel so awkward handing her a glass of white wine to toast at dinner.  Not that I’ve let that stop me. A couple of years ago, her bestie’s mom had a hissy fit with the news that I ‘allowed’ my daughter to have a glass of wine at Christmas dinner.  No shit.  She went Bat shit crazy.  She must have had some issues around alcohol to have a fit about ma kid having a bit of wine at a family dinner that she was not a part of and had no business commenting on.  Maybe she was drunk when she said that. Or had some bad crack. Some people can’t handle their liquor. Or their drugs.  Maybe she took the drugs BECAUSE  she was drunk…apparently that’s all the rage now.  AND, making ranty videos WHILE you’re drunk.  I think I should so do that.  It could make me a more famous drunkard that what I already am.   Either way, we kinda don’t talk…it’s a good thing.

I’ve been having conversations with myself all day, and it’s pretty freakin’ scary.  Most of the discussions have been religious based (not sure what that’s about) and I tuned in to watch Long Island Medium last night just to see the whole scam at work, when she was going to do a ‘past life regression’ session with her ‘spirit guide’.  I think I want to do that.  I wanna see what awesome past life I can reconnect with to freak people out at parties.  Maybe I was a saloon girl in the Wild West and helped Billy the Kid shoot up a couple of towns. Or maybe I was a business tycoon on Wall Street and was murdered because of my totally bad ass money making skills that resulted in the downfall of the Russian mob. Or maybe I was a spy that got turfed into the ocean when divulging secrets to the Americans and got caught by the mean Italian mafia who decided instead of shooting me, they would see if ma swimming skills were up to par.  Probs not.  Or, maybe I was a pirate.  Yeah!  That would be way more exciting and more accurate given my penchant for eye patches and alcohol.  Hmmm….

Yeah…maybe I was a directionally challenged pirate named Kevin and got lost out at sea and floated aimlessly for months, dying from starvation, scurvy and yukky sea gulls pelting at me, while I was searching for the lost treasure of Red Beard and his Angry Band of Asshats.  Excellent. 

Totally worth it if there’s a treasure map involved…I’ll let you know if I regress far enough to remember the map.  Of course I’ll get lost trying to follow the damn thing….

BEST PIRATE EVAH! Maybe me and Captain Jack taking on the high seas and Read Beard. AWESOME

BEST PIRATE EVAH!  Me and Captain Jack taking on the high seas and Read Beard. AWESOME

Growing Pains

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My postings have taken the proverbial nose-dive…it’s not due to anything specific, just time and energy.  It seems I am lacking both these days.

Life is marching on and with it comes kids becoming awkward young adults.  Case in point, D1 and her purchase of her first new car.  After listening to her pleading and begging, three years of it to be exact, we took her out Saturday for ‘car shopping’.  A somewhat daunting task that had us juggling dealerships and models and bi-weekly payment schedules.  In the end, she bought the car she liked the most or in her immortal words ‘the car I’ve always wanted’.   The white car shall take a place in ma driveway whilst my little Toyota shall be relegated to the street…tossed aside and left to wonder its fate as the daughter’s car, all shiny and bright, gets admired and awed over like a…well, new car. Daughter is thrilled, however, her new life as a bill-payer is also becoming a weight that we warned shall be hers forever more.  Don’t wish to grow up too fast, dear one.  It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be….

It’s been a busy time, me adjusting to life as a mother to adults living all under the same roof and subjected to daily musings of ‘do you need help seeing that mom’?  or ‘Did you forget I told you that already?’  Ugh.  I’ve caught myself singing their baby songs in the morning, remembering that a song could settle even the middle one on a restless night (which invariably lasted for four years) and could bring a smile to a bouncy baby boy.  Now the babies are practically grown (or are grown) and I’m left feeling empty-nested, but without the empty nest.  When did that happen? I can still see them settled next to me for Chapter One of the new book that’s all the rage, Harry Potter.    I insisted that when the last one came out, we would be reading it together.  Big dreams die hard, and that one fell to an awful fate of “Mom, we are too old to have you read to us.  We think we can read that ourselves” and “I’m waiting for the movie.  I’m not reading all that” (D1)  Ugh.

How I see ma little girl…good commercial.

Nursing school, University schedules, junior high school yearbooks and new cars are taking the place of Harry Potter stories and baby songs.  I’m lamenting my new role as Mom, The Chief Food Supplier and Educational Supporter.  Give me a good book surrounded by pajama clad kids and a round of You Are My Sunshine, any day.

This growing up stuff, sucks….

My Pre-Menopausal Timeout

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Last week, I went through my first foray into pre-menopause.  Okay guys, if you want to look away, I’m with you.  If I could look away, I would too.  We all hit the age of no return and it seems that I’ve hit that age.  With a vengeance.  My emotional state has been anything but stable.  By the time Saturday night hit, I was just coming out of what I can only refer to as my HOLY-FUCK-WHAT-THE-HELL-IS-WRONG-WITH-THE-WORLD time.  It was like I became possessed. I couldn’t understand why everybody around me was so totally insane!  You want to borrow my car??!!  Why is there bird shit on my car?!!  What do you mean you can’t control the birds?!  Where’s the guy with the bb gun!  Let’s get him to shoot the birds who shit on ma car!! Yeah.

 AND, that was just ONE day.  I was Grumpy Cat, but without the fur.  I was sure there would be a knock on my door any minute and I would open it to find a priest with incense and Holy Water summoned to give me an exorcism.  Yes, it was that bad.

Kinda what I felt like that week...ugh.

Kinda what I felt like that week…ugh.

I’m a pretty even-keel kinda girl.  I can go with the flow and am pretty affable and easy going most of the time.  Last week, I was not that girl.  I moped, sulked and generally went through a “woe is me” kinda week.  Everybody has those days, BUT A WHOLE WEEK??!!  Come on…ugh.  If somebody asked me to do something for them they got a look…a stare down.  A ‘WHAT ARE YOU ASKING OF ME YOU LITTLE PLEEB?  CAN’T YOU SEE I’M HAVING A PISSY DAY AND WOULD RATHER SUCK LINT FROM THE DRYER HOSE THAN DO ANYTHING FOR ANYBODY RIGHT NOW??!!’ look.  Sometimes, I would reply a tad sarcastically.  I remember saying at one point “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOUR LEGS?  YOU GET HIT BY A CAR AND NOT TELL ME OR SOMETHING? CAN’T YOU GET IT?”  Yeah.  MOM OF THE YEAR is surely to be on a coffee mug destined to be thrown at my head any day now.  The fact that my family hasn’t moved out yet, is a testament to how much they love me…or how much they can’t do for themselves and know how fucking good they have it and need to stay because, afterall, who would MAKE SUPPER FOR THEM?!  See?  *breathe*

I began researching pre-menopausal symptoms and I’m pretty sure my face will be right next to the title of ‘MOOD SWINGS FROM HELL’.  I’m now the poster child for uncontrollable ups and raging-irate-crazy-mom downs.  My kids are so proud.  I’m sure they’re out telling all their friends how totally awesome I am. If anybody in my family survives this whole ride into craptastic-raging-

hormonal-shit-crappy-poop (now the official title.  Learn it. Use it. Embrace it) it’ll be because they don’t wish to starve and they are enjoying the witty banter that will surely ensue when something awesome happens to set me off like the dog chewing up a new piece of furniture.  Then they would be forced to watch in horror as I fling her out the back door to eat grass and yell “CHEW ON THAT FOR A WHILE!”   and then bawl because I was mean to the puppy and get all blubbery and mopy for the rest of the day.  Yes, that’s how it goes.  The dog will look at the rest of the fam like “That bitch be crazy, yo”  (because we all know that Mags talks like she is from the ‘hood) and the kids will nod sadly in her direction.  It’ll be like a scene from Les Mis From The ‘Hood.  This is working out to be epic, peeps.

After a weekend of wine and a lot (is that right, Archon? Not allot, or alot but, a lot? Yeah. I READ!!) of sleep, I think I’m on track to becoming back to semi-normal.    Or at least not ready to pitch puppies out a window and yell at babies for sleeping too loudly.  My kids on the other hand, may want to continue to tread lightly….

This is How The Universe Repays Kindness, Apparently

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The universe is enjoying my sudden generous spirit and has decided to kick my ass for it.  I thought I would dispense some good cheer early this morning by helping out a fellow coffee connoisseur, and this is how the program ‘payback-for-nerds’ works.

: I get a parking ticket…I could go into further detail but I would have to commit Hari Kari and that would be a Japanese faux pas.  Maybe.  I think.  I’m not up on Japanese faux pas, so I really can’t say.  I’m totally guessing.

: I had to cancel my dentist appointment that I had previously cancelled due to my being out of the country and all, only this time it was to escort D2 to an all important job interview with Target, who said the interview would last for like 2 hours, but really only lasted long enough for me to fly back to work, attain said parking ticket and fly back to get her.  Awesome, really.  And the lady on the Dentist office phone was kinda bitchy at me and all “why are you cancelling this time and on such short notice?” and I was all like “I have a really important meeting I can’t get out of” which really, was sort of the truth with a side of fries.  Kind of. Karate.  Thought I’d throw in a Japanese word to just confuse you and distract you from my obvious little tiny lie…I guess it could be classed as “white”.  Not sure why it would be white, really.  What if it was a little black lie? Or blue?  Or maybe fuchsia?  Yeah, fuchsia…definitely a pretty pink lie.  White is totally boring….who tells a boring white lie?  Ugh..if you’re gonna lie, totally commit to it and make it a vibrant pink!  I guess now, I’m endorsing lying…I’m an awesome mother.  All the kids say so.  What a role model!  “Kids, if you’re gonna lie, make it big, bold and beautiful!”   I think that’s my new motto/slogan/life credo. 

The pink hearts really bring home the 'lying needs commitment' theme

The pink hearts really bring home the ‘lying needs commitment’ theme

:  the air conditioning at work decides to be a temperamental menopausal bitch and work only if it feels like it and only if you say please and buy it cold caramel cappuccino with extra whip cream on top…. on this surprisingly humid day in September, which is odd for our province this time of year.  It totally throws a wrench into the obvious plan for the heating system to be booted up and ready to blast copious quantities of heat to every nook and cranny in the building, except of course, for my office.  I’m stoking firewood for the winter.  S’MORES!!  

: My digestive system decided to hit it into high gear sending me dashing awkwardly to the washroom every ten minutes…mid sentence or not, I was ‘on the go’….people were left baffled by my quick exits and others were wondering how I knew so much about the cleaning habits of the washroom attendant and which stall had an alarming lack of paper.  It was during one of these dashes that I spied the toothpaste splashes on my top and attempted the ill-fated water mark disaster.   See below….

: I erroneously decided to wear a deep purple top, which would normally be lovely except for the toothpaste splashes adorning the top portion of said lovely top.  It looked like I walked through a screen door that had been coated in white paint.  In my attempts to correct said Fashion Faux pas, I quickly smeared water over the dots which left a big dark stain that stretched ever so slightly downward, encompassing my entire right boob.  It looked like I’d been lactating for quadruplets.  I rock.

I should try to remember that wearing purple can be iffy

I should try to remember that wearing purple can be iffy


 

The Post Birthday Aftermath Mashup

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What a great title.  I have no clue what it means, but what a great title.  I hope I can live up to all of your expectations after reading that. 

Yeah, so yesterday was my birthday. I found it to be quite…meh, at first. I went home to grumpy children, a messy house and an incessantly barking dog.  Awesome.

After that, the evening was much better.   Out to dinner and friends for drinks.  Can’t be depressed with alcohol, feuding dogs and besties in my house.  AND cake.  Fudgy icing…the. Best.

Birthdays are one of those occasions where coming up with something original and fun to do is kinda old hat by the time you hit your…older-years.  I’d rather just kick back with a glass of wine, eat good food and visit with friends.  That’s perfect.  Sorta like a DH night Spectacular only happening mid-week.  That’s what I’ll do next year for ma birthday.  Get all the ladies together mid-week for a DH Special Edition…I’ll remember to get the next day off of work so it should be spectacular.  Only 364 more days to go!  Rock on, winos…

I’m drinking a coffee from yesterday that D2 bought me, but I was too full to drink.  Is that bad?  It tastes okay…just a little funky.  Probs should have tossed it, but couldn’t bring myself to toss a perfectly good coffee.  If I get sick, I’ll be sure to post something of my untimely demise…or get one of ma family members to do so.  I’m sure they’ll be all “If she just hadn’t have drank that day-old coffee, she could still be here drinking yukky wine instead.  She bequeathed me this here blog, so I’ll be the one writing here from now on.”  (I imagined one of ma family members talking like a southern redneck…not sure how or why they would spontaneously become southern…maybe it had to do with the fumes from the day-old coffee.  Turns peeps into rednecks…you have been warned.)  Good luck with that, kids….I should try to stay alive to save you from hearing about D2’s rowing and constant living at the boathouse and how she tragically missed ma birthday supper; or son’s escapades on the golf course with 80 year old men who threaten to sue him because he hit a line drive and almost hit an old geezer who was just about to finish on the green; nice;  or D1’s attempts at securing her own car whilst working two jobs and whining incessantly about all of the above; or Hubby lamenting about his job and the knee surgery he’s about to undergo in the fall and how it really is tragic and sad that hockey isn’t a year round sport.

  It really is awesome being me.

  Just think, by keeping myself alive, I’m saving you from all of that shit.

 You. Are. Welcome.

So here are a few fun facts to keep you entertained and enlightened on this auspicious day:

·       25 – the number of times I’ve said ‘fuck- off’ in my head today.  It’s only 9:30 am.

·       3 – the number of  times Mags bit me on my ear to try to wake me up at 5:30am to go out and pee.  Most of the above bullet could be from the Mags episode alone….

·       A Year and A Half – the amount of time it’s going to take me to read Under The Dome by Stephen King that one of my Besties gave me last night and I’m dying to start.  It’s friggin’ huge.

·       10 – the number of glasses of wine I WANTED to drink last night

·       3- the number of glasses of wine I ACTUALLY  drank last night

·       29 – had I been turning 29 yesterday, that would have been the number of candles on my cake

·       74- The number of candles Hubby actually put on my birthday cake.

·       5- the number of pages in the divorce package

Miss H, had I voted on your ‘who’s the couple most likely to be divorced first?’ question last Saturday night, I would be able to say “I WIN!”…ugh.  I kid, I kid….Hubby still wants to be married to me, and vice-versa…despite the candle explosion.

There you have it, some enlightening numeral facts that you all should be proud to know.

 I live for this shit….

Apparently, this describes me quite accurately...ugh.

Apparently, this describes me quite accurately…ugh.