Lose Your Jack

I was perusing Facebook last night and was surprised to see a post from a lady from our neighbourhood who was appalled and ‘disappointed’ that a pumpkin had gone missing from her front porch. Apparently, she was hoping some wayward homeless child picked it up and brought it home to treasure for Halloween, but lest, she was more taken with the thought that given the state of our ‘hood lately, it was probably stolen by some mischievous teens out for a good pumpkin-robbing time. The wording she used felt like she was saying our neighbourhood was falling into the skeet category of ‘hoods. The Compton of St. John’s. It was like she was comparing our white-bread middle class family oriented neighbourhood to 8mile.  In the spirit of neighbourly neighbourly-ness, I decided to write a little diddy using Eminem’s “upbeat” ‘hood inspiring song Lose Yourself in hopes she realizes the erroneous choices of words in her post. Or not. Whatevs, Yo.

Lose YourJack

Look

If you had

One shot

Or one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted

Like a pumpkin

Would you capture that pumpkin?

Or just let it slip?

Yo.

His palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy

With the burden of a pumpkin weighing his hoody

He’s nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

To pick jacks, but he keeps on forgettin’ the address

That he wrote down, the whole ‘hood goes so quiet

He opens his hoody but the jack won’t fit

It’s too round, times up, over, Splat!

Uh, oh, he dropped it, at the park. He needs another.

Oh, there goes Skeeter, he choked

He’s so scared but he won’t give up that easy. No

He won’t have it, he knows his whole back city’s ropes

It don’t matter, he’s dope. He knows that but he’s broke

The rules to the ‘hood jackin’ a jack, it ain’t right but he needs his cred

He better go capture another and hope it don’t pass him

 

You better lose that jack in the ‘hood, at the park

You don’t own it, you better never let them see

You take a pumpkin without asking, it ain’t fantastic

You gonna be known as a Skeet

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to throw

This jack to the ground, it comes once a year. You better…

 

The souls escaping, through this hole that is gaping

In the pumpkin, where the smile should have been

It’s gone. He smashed it. He knows he’s not askin’

He’s goin’ on to another.  

Jacks are easy to find. On the porches, in the backyards

He only needs one more.

He’s stealth. A monster. A Jackster of Jacks.

 

You better lose that jack in the ‘hood at the park

You don’t own it, you better never let them see

You take a pumpkin without asking, it ain’t fantastic

You gonna be known as a Skeet

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to throw

This jack to the ground, it comes once a year. You better….

 

There you have it, yo.  

Word.

Original lyrics to Lose Yourself by Eminem  

The porch of the skeet who stole the Jack O’Lantern. 

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Nice Face! 

Hubby says I’m grouchy today. I’d like to say I’m verbally defiant. Borderline verbally abusive with a touch of snark that could be perceived as being passive aggressive if someone listened hard enough, but most people just slough it off as the weather being a bitch and mildly pay attention so I’m down with that. I’ve told more people to ‘fuck off’ under my breath today than I’ve said most of the year. Not sure the reason for my sourness. Could be the 4:30am starts to drive daughter to her job. Could be the monster pimple that has developed dead mark between my eyes making me look like I have hand drawn target for any wanton marksmen wandering around. My glasses sit right on top of it. It’s so big, they slip down my nose. Downrightmotherfuckingappallingandinsulting to have pimples at my age. Thanks, middleagedom. Could be the state of the world and neighbours to the south who have had to endure floods, fires, hurricanes and now mass shootings, mayhem and death. Could be that Tom Petty died. Could be the Ass President who never ceases with his pouting, whining and childishness. Could be my lack of patience, my overabundance of frustration and my unflinching ability to point out the obvious. Could be the lack of gas in my car and my defiance at filling it up. Could be Tuesday.  


At some point I’ll run out of gas.

And sentences.

Whatever the reason for my insulting verbiage, I wholeheartedly apologize to those who I’ve told to suck it, today.  

Even though you probably pissed me off with your talking too loudly or eating at your desk. Or having the audacity to sit there with your coffee. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE AND WHY ARE YOU NOT SHARING?!

Ugh.

I think I may have some wine left at home if somebody didn’t already drink it. AND, since I’m being so ‘grouchy’, I may have to have a glass or the entire bottle in order to sort out this wonderful mood I’m in. Whatever.

You know what? Just…never mind.

You go on with your life and never mind about me. I’m fine. My zit and I will be over here contemplating the state of the world and how we are going to move past everything without impending scars.  

Then you’ll be all “OMG what the hell happened to your face!”  

Yeah.  

 

What’s The Colour of Paprika?

I was having difficulty writing last week, hence the non-blogging, non-posting non-thinking non-action from me. Saturday, I decided to head to Chapters to see what’s up with books lately and wandered in with my expensive coffee and daughter in tow. Whilst perusing the aisles, I thought in order to kick start some ideas I would invest in a daily writing book. I wandered to the back where all of the discounted we-still-have-these-and-price-them-ridiculously-low-so-you-think-you-are-getting-a-deal books are located. I found one stuffed on a shelf under the heading ‘Writing and Other Shit’. I swear that’s what it said. Anyway, I bought the book for ten dollars and really should have taken a deeper look at it. It hails that it has 365 writing prompts to “INSPIRE YOU EVERYDAY!!” It looked good to me, so Sunday I cracked it open. The first prompts were to write about colours of herbs and spices and describe something that same colour.  I shit you not.  

What am I, in Grade 1?

By the way, BOOK OF INSPIRATION, I have no idea what the fuck herbs and spice look like other than salt and pepper. They’re spices, right? All I know is that most grow out of the ground and are green. Basically, you want me to describe everything that’s green. Awesome.


The only thing this book has accomplished so far was to make me even more of a sarcastic wise ass. Which is not really a bad thing and pretty par for the course, but I was expecting something a little deeper. More meaningful. More adult and less Grade 1 and what colour is Paprika? Answer: Reddish orangeish like Pippy Longstocking’s hair on acid. Kinda. I’M SO DESCRIPTIVE.

Today’s writing prompts were three events from different eras in history and it asked to describe a mundane event that may have happened on the same day. The first date was William Shakespeare’s death on April 23, 1616. Now, I’m no historical expert, so what the hell do I know what folks did on a daily basis in fucking 1616?!

This sucks.

Want to know my answer for that one?

Here it is:  

Too bad for William Shakespeare. 1616?! How am I supposed to know what folks did in 1616?! Killed kittens? Planned murderous plots against the King and Queen? Had their pantaloons tailored? Wrote shit poetry and answered everything with ‘where art thou?’ WTF…

If nothing else, I get to be a sardonic jerk without actually failing a course or having an actual writer person tell me I suck at this.

Which I do.

Tomorrow’s prompt?

Jesus Wept

Why? Because He read my last answer? Great. Can’t wait.  

Jesus isn’t the only one weeping.

Ugh 
 

I Need One More Day Off To Do Shit I Won’t Do Anyway 

Mondays are tough days to get through especially if it’s the beginning of a work week. Memories of the weekend are still kinda fresh, unless you occupy my mind where I forget to brush my teeth some mornings, then really it’s all kind of a blur. But, for the most part you wish you could have just ONE MORE DAY off to do those million and one things you were supposed to do all weekend, but you never got around to do because people needed insignificant things like food and dinner and a clean toilet. Then, wine. 

 Never mind that you had things PLANNED. Organized shit you were getting done no matter WHO OR WHAT GOT IN YOUR WAY YOU WERE MAKING A STAND. And then you caved and made banana breads and a nice dinner where no one showed up and then oh, wait I have to go for a run because it’s such a nice day and oh, wait that chair outside looks lonely maybe I should sit in it with my fourth cup of coffee that afternoon and oh, look at the dog, she looks like she needs a bath….And on and on it goes.

What were those PLANS AND ALL OF THAT ORGANIZED SHIT YOU WERE GOING TO DO?

Huh.

I forget, but one more day off would be AWESOME so I could finish what I had in my head to do.

If my head would cooperate and remind me what the actual fuck I was going to do.

Probably had something to do with the bathroom needing painting and my car needing a good clean-up and I should really organize the kitchen cupboards…

You know. Useless crap like that.

I’ll make a list next time and keep it by the wine, that way when I go to grab a glass on the weekend I can have a laugh while I pour…

 

Friday, Fall and Garden Gnome Gary

Friday is finally here and the rejoicing has begun. Even the dog is happy….for a change. The sun has finally appeared and all seems to be almost right with the world. Now if we can only get the world to cooperate.Fall is knocking on my front door and I’m thinking I should get my ass in gear this year to be ready for a festive season, unlike previous years where I bought a pumpkin the day of Halloween and made the kids carve it after school. It was an interesting looking pumpkin. Sort of like Quasimodo meets Mickey Mouse.  

This year, I should be preparing early for Halloween by making up some treat bags that have actual treats in them and not pencils or small ghoul-shaped erasers or left over Froot Loops…what? Desperate times….

Or, find some pumpkins and paint them freaky colours so my neighbours think I actually do something besides throw a random pumpkin on the front step and take a sharpie and draw on a weird-ass awkward smile…then blame the kids for not being ‘motivated with the spirit of Halloween’. Damned kids.

I’m thinking of scoping out a local field and thieving a hay stack to throw on my front porch. A) Field? B) Will a haystack fit in my Corolla? I should have asked that ever important question when I bought the car. Note to self, ask next time.

My garden gnome Gary has been hanging out in the front garden all summer. I found him toppled over face first in the dirt. Poor Gary. I stood him upright and vowed to include him in my fall-planning. I’m thinking I could make him more fall-like if I hide him inside a plastic skull and sharpie on some fake blood. He could become Ghoulish Gary by Halloween. I bet I’ll start a trend and the ‘hood will be filled with blood-stained garden gnomes strewn all over front porches…It’ll be like the Walking Dead only we could call it the March of the Garish Gnomes….WHO’S WITH ME??!!  

I love getting out the scented candles and lighting them on crisp fall evenings…yes, I just took that from a Good Housekeeping magazine. HAHAHAHA. So cute. The rest of us just throw on the washing machine and hope the fabric softener makes the house smell clean.  

There are so many DIY sites with awesome ideas for fall decorating, that I should check them out. Or not. I’ll see if any include Sharpies and colouring garden gnomes, otherwise I’m out.

My biggest tip to get ready for fall is stock up on that wine before we have another wine shortage crises and the world comes crashing down around our feet and we have to actually think of something creative to do with our time. Pffft…STOP ME NOW BEFORE I GO TO MICHAELS AND SUCCUMB TO THE SMELL OF THE CRAFT PAINT.

OH THE HUMANITY…..    

 

 

Just NOPE

I’m a big ball of frustrations these past few days with little explanation for it. Not sure if it’s the adults who occupy my world, or if it’s just me. The weather may have some kind of influence on me. It’s a total shitball of crap. 

 The cloudy/rainy/drizzly/foggy/never-gonna-see-the-sun-again weather is getting exhausting, so I would rather be hiding under the covers in my bed with a bottle of Cab and some chocolate, than doing anything that requires my immediate and undivided attention. I don’t want to drive anyone anywhere, pick anyone up, cook anything, clean anything, buy anything or sell anything. I don’t want to order anything, pet anything, feed anyone, pick anything off of the floor, wipe the dog’s arse, clean the toilet, fill up a washing machine or have anything to do with any kind of motorized shitty moving appliance. I don’t want to sprint, run, jump, pull, push, sit up, sit down then stand up again, dance, flail, or otherwise move in an unconventional Gawd-did-not-intend-my-body-to-move-like-this kinda way. I don’t want to hear complaints, idle shitty gossip about the lady that didn’t like her husband’s car so she drove it off the ledge and into the bottom of the lake kind of story that I just made up in my head so don’t go looking for that headline in some newspaper because it doesn’t exist; I don’t want to hear a bad joke, good joke or any kind of humorous anecdote or “OMG THIS JUST HAPPENED AND YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT” because, no. Nope. I don’t want to be nice, or mean or happy or sad. I don’t want to be excited or surprised; guilty or upset; worried or anxious; gleefully joyous or blissfully ignorant…

Although, I MAY want to be that last one.

That pretty much covers it.

Have a nice day….ugh.  

Mother Teresa Died in 1997 And I Feel Kinda Guilty About That Now

The warm weather is hanging around making me believe summer is not yet over, but I know better.  The Weather Gods are just lulling me into a false sense of security with all of this warmth, only to blast me with cold weather in a few days or so.  Then I’ll be shocked and appalled and lighting the fireplace and lamenting the summer.  I’ll be shaking and quivering with the chill, rummaging through drawers looking for warmer sweaters and the Snuggie I bought daughter for Christmas, one year.

Trying to de-clutter my environment is like trying to set water on fire.  I just get one thing away and two new things pop up.  I have so many things I want to do, that doing one thing at a time seems wasteful and boring and not at all accomplishing anything, when really, it would be so much better than spinning my wheels.

Maybe I should get my attention span checked out.  Can someone do that?  I just don’t think I can sit still long enough to take all the tests that are probably required to determine that shit.  Maybe there’s an online version, but then I would get distracted with the other stuff happening online, then one of the adult/children would need me to rescue them from the new devil-printer that seems to be possessed and prints whatever the hell it wants, or Hubby will need me to figure out the phantom pain he has in the back of his neck that’s really not the back of his neck but more like the back of his head that maybe some bug bit him while he on his walk because it really hurts….

Maybe it’s not my attention span at all.  Huh.

It’s a good thing I have hobbies and you people to walk this journey with me and tolerate all of my nonsense.  And wine.

Ps.  I just wrote this on the front of my agenda because at the time, I thought it was funny but now my Catholic conscience is getting the better of me and I feel guilty about the whole ‘dead’ thing.  I’ll be over here saying ten Hail Marys…

IMG_2996 (1)

And hoping my water will turn into wine because, Jesus.