Tag Archives: Humor

Expiration Dates

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Based on my level of joy over the return of refrigerator operation in my kitchen yesterday, I’m thinking I will pee myself with over-the-top excitement at the prospect of finally having my fireplace fixed with actual heat emanating from it.  The downward spiral of malfunctioning household equipment started with an expired water heater (it expired all over my basement floor), then the blower in the fireplace refused to blow any heat (it was like it was on strike or something) and culminated in the all-out total short-out and horrible death scene from my fridge. After a few sparks flew, it finally said ‘fuck this’ and quit.  No ‘good bye’, no ‘see ya around’ , no ‘it’s been nice, but I’ve had it’ tirades, just a few sparky moments and total blackness.  Thanks, Fridge.  Nice knowin’ ya, too.

The speedy repairman only took 30mins to fix what was wrong, but it took 2 weeks for the replacement part to arrive at my doorstep.  I love efficiency!

 That should be it for the malfunctioning appliances for a while…I hope. I remain ever optimistic at the prospect of having everything in working order simultaneously without short-outs, leaks, weird grinding noises or agonizing deaths by electrical sensors for the next couple of days at least.  I hope I’m not TOO optimistic…come to think of it, I take all that back. I don’t want to entice the Universe into fucking with my car or D1’s car or have son spontaneously combust or have a random window pane randomly become loose and fly across the street and break on the neighbour’s cat (wait…).  That could happen…I’ll shut up now.

I’ve been ranting about son’s hockey fundraising, hockey practices…just hockey shit in general, for the past few months.  It bothers me.  Seriously, I have a disorder about hockey.  It’s kinda scary, really.  I know very few people who suffer from Hockeyphobiatitis, but I have that.  I know I do.  It’s like a tumor that seeps into your brain and every time somebody mentions the word ‘hockey’ one goes into spasms of sweary-filled tirades of ire and physical convulsions that rival a dance-off between Carlton (from Fresh Prince..old show) and Elaine from Seinfeld.  It’s like the Tourrette’s squirrel with more sweariness and less cuteness…

I’m lucky that only one of my children participates in that sport, otherwise, I would have to find a good therapist and invest shares in a vineyard somewhere so I could get a discount on my alcoholism…seriously.

The hockey season is coming to a close…by April, I’m hoping.  So until then, you won’t find me at a rink near you, but if you do, I’ll be the one with the bottle of booze wrapped in the paper bag while singing “Oh Canada” and yelling obscenities at the referees…at least, I think that’s what everybody else does.

MY KIDS LOVE ME….

 

Shit I Learned This Week

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1.Just because one is approaching the dreaded 50 year old mark at an alarming rate, does not mean one has to look OLD.  “Jesus, I’m going to bed with Rosie O’Donnell”…yeah.

2.   The Sears Repairman is as nice as nice can be, but knows shit about fixing shit, promises a part that is not in stock and hasn’t been since hockey was invented, and really has no interest in returning phone calls.

3.   Working is a part of life and it may not be your dream job, but it’s a job and be thankful for it…and heat is optional.

4.   The bathroom scale likes to fuck with your head on a weekly basis.  It’s basically that asshole on the back of the bus who says mean things and throws spit wads at you so you can turn around and give him the finger…then you get caught for making ‘inappropriate’ gestures.

5.   Exercising is painful but needs to be done.  Just like cleaning the toilet or cleaning up the dog poop or fundraising for hockey so people won’t send a torch-lit-pitch-fork-carrying posse after your ass…although, that sounds like more fun to me.

6.   People generally want to be left alone…unless you have cake.

7.   Beer is the only way to get a man to do anything useful.

8.   There’s a place for everything and everything in its place…unless you forget where that place is and then shit gets lost forever.

9.   When a young adult who is living in your house laments she has no money, she really means “I don’t wanna spend my money on stuff you can buy for me if you were a nice mom and not a mean mom like we all know you really are”.

10.When the neighbour’s kid stays for supper and you invariably serve something only one level above canned soup and grilled cheese but it’s really a mish-mash of left overs you threw in a casserole dish and poured sauce and cheese over it, and he says “it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.” You know he’s lying but you love it anyways because the kid finally ate something at your house that didn’t involve stale chips and flat pop.  I hope his mother is reading this.  I ACTUALLY FED YOUR KID SOMETHING KINDA SORTA HEALTHY AND HE DIDN’T DIE!  THERE WAS BROCCOLI IN IT!   And then, when your kid gives you a kiss and the neighbour’s kid jokingly asks for one too and you give him one on the cheek…he gets all giddy and runs downstairs.  Best. Time. Ever.

11.Downton Abbey is the show that doesn’t mind killing off main characters, being controversial and throwing Dame Maggie Smith all the cool one liners only a badass British Grandmother with a couple of Oscars on her mantle can handle. In other words, it’s awesome.

Badass...

Badass…

12.The U.S. banned all the cool Super Bowl commercials from being shown on Canadian television stations.  Does that mean they can ban the Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo from showing up here, too?  Please??????

13.People still can’t explain Chandler Bing’s job.

14.I think most days at work when I’m asked a totally bizarre question, my reaction is close to resembling Jim from Taxi.

Ugh...my head hurts

Ugh…my head hurts

I HAVE NO SWEET CLUE!

I HAVE NO SWEET CLUE!

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

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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…

Namaste and Other Yoga Words I Can’t Say

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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

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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.