Tag Archives: Life

Rainy Day People

Posted in Misguided Musings by

Everyone will be relieved to know that I am officially an iTunes purchaser.  I know, right?  I can feel your excitement! The fifteen dollar card I’ve had in my possession since last July finally came in handy. Good thing my kids know a thing or two about i-stuff…I could still be sitting at the computer screen staring at it ominously while the thing lists even more songs I don’t recognize for a teeny iPod I will probably misplace.  A joyful experience, really.  Sort of like a coming of age.  ‘Remember when you bought your first song on iTunes?  Yeah.  Good times.’   I received ten songs and still have two dollars left over!  I’m gonna need more iTunes money, I fear. I know there’s songs out there that I haven’t yet begun to download.  This could be a new obsession for me.  I could be like the computer peeps who sit hunched over at their laptops downloading the latest version of ‘whatever’ and HAS TO HAVE IT while eating Cheetos and drinking down slurpies until 3am just waiting for a new song to hit the play list.   That will be me, I just know it.  I’ll need a new iPod and have to buy new versions and have to have them all full of thousands of songs that I couldn’t possible listen to in a lifetime.  The future looks bright!

The rainy cold weekend has brought out the best in all of us.  The fam is getting a little cramped and cranky I’m afraid.  The daughters are busily doting to their Mcjobs while the rest of us hunker down in front of the fire watching hockey.  It’s like a repeat of winter during the onset of spring.  The trees are budding but will probably be confused by the lower-than-Snooki’s-IQ temps.  Snow has hit the central portion of the island, hence the curtailing of the weekend road trip extravaganza that was close to occurring. God works in mysterious ways!  Or the weather does, at least.  As for the crankiness, I choose to pursue other avenues of misadventure and turn the proverbial rosy cheek.  The Canadian long weekend will come to a screeching halt soon enough…no need to wish it away.

Below I’ve decided to add for your enjoyment, (or lack thereof, depending on your musical taste) a little J.T. to get you movin’…or to make you spit out your coffee.

  You. Are. Welcome.

An Interview With A Legend, Mr. Buzz Phone

Posted in Misguided Musings by

Today at Kayjai.com, we (really I mean ‘I’. ‘We’ sounds more professional and like I have a team of peeps working for me like Microsoft or Google or something.   Really, it’s just me..’I’…’me’, ‘myself’ and ‘I’.  So, technically the three ‘mes’. As long as we’re clear) so ‘I’ would like to introduce my first interview ever!  I know, right?  Exciting.  Joining us today is the irreverent and highly entertaining author of everybody’s favorite book, Mr. Buzz Phone.  

That’s right.  He is the author of the telephone book. The King of numbers. The Wizard of all things numbery.    It takes exhaustive research and analysis to come up with every single person listed in your area and Mr. Phone works tirelessly to deliver a top-notch albeit predictable, product.  He was able to extract himself from his life’s work for a short time to sit down with yours truly for a little heart-to-heart.  Sorta like Al Capone’s vault only minus Geraldo.  Yeah.

telephone-book

Kayjai:  Thanks for taking the time to sit and speak with me today, Mr. Phone. Much appreciated.

Mr. Phone:  Please, call me Mr. T, everybody does.  But don’t confuse me with the other Mr. T.  I don’t have a Mohawk and say ‘I pity the fool’.  That’s his gig.  Mine is a whole other ballgame, sweetheart.

Kayjai: Yes, I bet it is. The illustrious and ever-changing telephone directory has been in existence since, well since the invention of the telephone, so-

Mr. T: Don’t hurt yourself, lady.  The telephone directory or the TD as I like to refer to it, has been around since the late 1800’s when the very first book, if you can call it that, was made in Connecticut.  It was just a piece of cardboard then listing about fifty businesses that had telephones and-

Kayjai:  Yeah, anyway.  It must take countless hours of research and painstaking exact census grabbing to get all of those phone numbers and extensions and names down pat.  How do you do it?

Mr. T:  Well, first off honey, all those names, numbers and addresses are collected by the government.  All I do is take what they hand me and reprint.  Now, with the invention of the computer, I copy and paste and send it out.  My workload has drastically been reduced.  Kinda frees me up for other ‘enterprises’ if you know what I mean.  *winks and grins a toothless grin*

Kayjai:  Mmm-hmm, okay.  Speaking of computers how has the internet and the rise of smart phones and desktops impacted your work other than giving you ‘enterprise’ time?

Mr. T:  Are you fucking joking??!!  The ‘internet’ has been a royal pain in my ass since Gates first went all ‘Microsoft is fucking awesome’ all over the place.  Fuck him!   It has practically ruined my little corner of the universe, thank you very much.  All you people think ‘Google’ is God-like and fucking necessary to even function during the day!  What’s wrong with opening a nice legible LOGICAL book and finding everything at your fingertips?  I remember back in the day when the arrival of the phone book was synonymous with getting your first lay!  Come on, what happened with society?!   Ah, I need a drink.  Got any vodka around here?

Kayjai:  Umm…I see. Uh, no.  No vodka, sorry.  Some critics would assert that since the rise in technology and instant messaging that a need for such a large wad of paper listing names, numbers and addresses would become a bit unnecessary. 

Mr. T: LARGE WAD OF PAPER??!!  Has that what my work has been reduced to?!  I’ve spent my entire life looking over phone numbers, going through listings, writing down addresses.  My eyes have gone permanently crosseyed!   DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE NAMED SMITH THERE ARE??!!  Fuck me…seriously.  Know the old joke ‘that lady has more Chins than a Chinese phone book” ?!  WHO DO YOU THINK CAME UP WITH THAT LINE, LADY?!!   That book has more uses than simply a cache for EVERY PHONE NUMBER IN THE FUCKING WORLD.  Some kids used the book as a seat stuffer in the car so they can reach the gas pedal on mom and dad’s Lexus.  Remember Guiness and when ripping phone books in half was considered a feat of strength?  What about that, huh?  AND,  I seem to remember somebody used to carry a copy of my book with her in her car when she first moved to a new area, since I implemented a map of the city…hmm…ring any bells, sweetheart? 

Kayjai: What?!  How did you know- ?! I mean, yes, I heard that some people enjoyed your map addition to the pages, however, with the economy the way it is, global warming, the calls for a greener environment, don’t you think the telephone book is soon to be extinct?  What job prospects are you hoping for if or when this happens?

Mr. T: I’m like goddamned Santa Claus, baby.  I see all!  AND, I don’t expect to be booted out of my job so soon into the future.  There will always be the phonebook diehards, as I like to call ‘em.  You know, the peeps with no computers, or smartiephones.  They need to have something to hang on the hook in the phone booths! 

Kayjai:  Yeah, there are virtually no phone booths around anymore either.  In fact, according to my research, areas such as Seattle and San Francisco are moving to ban the phone book.  They say it is irrelevant and a ‘waste’.

Mr. T:  Damned hippies!!  They always want ‘save the planet’ this and ‘recycle’ that.  Bullshit!  My phone book is the only fabric that is holding this society together!  Get rid of it and there ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ the Commies from comin’ in and takin’ over!  *stands and rips off microphone*  THIS INTERVIEW IS OVER!  I AIN’T NO COMMIE AND I AIN’T GONNA TAKE THIS SHIT ANYMORE!  I HAVE RIGHTS!  I’M VALUABLE, DAMMIT!  I MATTER!  THIS IS BULLSHIT!  I’M OUTTA HERE!  *stalks out of the door, slamming it behind him.  A tattered phone book falls to the floor*

Kayjai:  Umm…thanks??

You Weren’t Sleeping, Were You?

Posted in Doggie Diaries by

Since allowing our precious puppy to sleep with us, we have encountered a plethora of interesting late night/early morning goings on that can only equal that of a crack house during peak operation.  Here’s a little rundown of last night’s exploits:

10:30pm – Magilicious takes up position at the end of the bed and begins digging.  She’s a digger.  Don’t ask me what she’s digging, I don’t’ know. 

10:31 –  I promptly replace Mags on her cushy brand new orthopedic bed with chew bones and toys and say the command ‘stay’.  Which she does.  I then secure myself in under the covers and set the tv up.  I’m all comfy and cozy.. 

10:31:03 – I’m suddenly pounced on by a seven pound mound of hair that thinks my face has been dipped in bacon.  After I extract her from my face I again, replace her back on her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed with the command  ‘STAY’.  She looks at me like this:

Really? Yeah, right.

Really? Yeah, right.

 

10:34 – Magalicious cautiously creeps onto the end of the bed as if she’s sneaking up behind a masked villain stealing her doggy treats and she’s about to take him down.  She sees me eying her.  Her ears go down and she gives me that “What?  But I’m cute, right?”  I get up and move her AGAIN to her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed with her chew toy.  “ANNNNNDDDDD  STAY”  She gives me the stink eye.  I return to my comfy position.

10:45 – I feel a paw, then another paw, then another one caaarreefully walk on my ankles, then I feel a sudden ‘thump’.  I raise my head to see her walking in circles around my ankles in an attempt to get comfortable and plop herself right on beside my leg.   

10:46-  the door opens and Hubby walks in.  OH NO!  The dog is suddenly on high alert.  She’s standing at attention as if the president just walked into the room, her tail is wagging and in an excited flurry, she jumps down to her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed and retrieves her toy and brings it to him like it’s a gift for his majesty for gracing us with his presence.  Give me a fucking break.  Her ears are down, her tail is wagging and she’s just so damned excited she just may pee on her bed.  Which she does.  Great.

11:00 – Everybody is settled…ON OUR BED for the night.  Magalicious eyes me and is smiling smugly…I just know it.

1:00am – A flurry of activity has aroused me from a raucous dreams about Johnny Depp, helicopters and chocolate…dammit.  I feel my fingers being chewed off.  Then my arm is being used as a scratching post. I feel Magalicous climb on my head and try to chew my hair to its roots.  WTF?  I grab her and place her not so gently on the end of the bed.  I lay back down. 

1:00:03am –  A flying object with hair has inexplicably landed on my face and my ear is being chewed off and licked excitedly.   Ugh…I make the fatal mistake of standing up.  She thinks its morning and takes that as a sign we will be getting up now to play!!  “Yay!  Lets’ all go outside and run around and eat grass and bark at the neighbours!”  I grab her but not in time…she leaves a puddle on my comforter.  UUUUggggghhhh….

1:05am –  Magalicious is in her crate for the remainder of the night.  Hubby rolls over.

  “Where’s the comforter?”

  “The dog peed on it”

   “Oh.  Where is she now?” 

“In her crate where she’s staying” I say emphatically. 

“Aw, that’s a sin.  She likes sleeping with us” 

  “IN THE PAST TWO HOURS WHEN HAS SHE SLEPT?”

  “Huh…I didn’t notice anything

Yeah….

A Swamp Holiday

Posted in Misguided Musings by

You may or may not have noticed depending on your attention span and ability to notice things,  that I have changed crap around here.  Didn’t notice, huh?  The whole fucking thing is completely different.  How did you NOT notice that?!  It was black, now it’s white.  I have an iceberg in my header (that sounds oddly disturbing like some kid is running up and down the halls of school shouting “I HAVE AN ICEBERG IN MY HEADER! I HAVE AN ICEBERG IN MY HEADER!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!!”)  My name is back to Kayjai, notice the pretty blue background design? and apparently my fonts are too small.  I said FONTS…let’s keep it almost clean, people.

Anyway, in getting my shit together and trying (very inadequately I might add) to change my gravatars, the name, my username, my address, my social insurance number, my alias, my passport information and any other shit I needed to change in order to revert back to the persona I was before all this shit went down.  I of course in my infinite wisdom, contacted Miss H who lives across the street then the astounding WordPress Happiness Engineers.  Who, by the way, take longer than Hubby trying to choose a family vacation destination (which is taking fucking forever by the way, ugh and If he leaves it up to me we could end up in the deep woods of Mississippi or the alligator-infested waters of some random swamp because who doesn’t want to see Hubby wrestle an alligator?). I wonder how much it would cost to rent one of these puppies?

I hope I get to drive!!

I hope I get to drive!!

  I’m still waiting to see how my most amazing pic for my blavatar is not loading so you all can enjoy the newness of my pic…or maybe you can’t see that pic.  I’m not sure.  Anyway, I’m still waiting…for the Happiness Engineers, not Miss H.  She promptly replies to my over-exuberant and exhausting emails….I know right, like why???

So, as I’m impatiently waiting for ma lovely artist rendition of somebody that I picked up on the web to upload, please enjoy these pics of my future family holiday.

He's waiting for Hubby to take him down.;

He’s waiting for Hubby to take him down.

Well, this looks kinda pretty...and spooky.

Well, this looks kinda pretty…and spooky.

Hey! Shrek! Maybe we could hunt for Shrek while we're dodging the 'gators and snakes and creepy things...

Hey! Shrek! Maybe we could hunt for Shrek while we’re dodging the ‘gators and snakes and creepy things…Watch out summer vacation!!

A Special Mother’s Day Story. Rockstar Edition

Posted in Misguided Musings, Pessimistic Parenting by

 Happy Mother’s Day to all of you great mom’s out there!  To celebrate this momentous occasion, here is a special story about the first time my son learned to speak.  It’s all very dramatic and tears at your heart strings so get out your tissues…okay, it’s actually an embarrassing tale of music and Walmart, but still.  It was traumatic for one of us.  Maybe two of us.  The innocent lady who witnessed my child’s descent into the debauchery and the morally deficient world of rock music and was probably scarred for life and myself, who led him there.

Once upon a time, in a land called Grand Falls Winsor, lived a nice little family with a mother, a father two daughters and a young son.  They all lived happily in their house playing and frolicking in the meadows. ( okay, there were technically no meadows in GFW.  AND we don’t frolic as a rule. Only on very special occasions like Christmas, or when some of us are really drunk. No pointing any fingers, just sayin’. )  Anyway, the boy, who was three years old, had not begun to speak any language intelligible to any human life form.  The mother, being very concerned, took said young boy to a Speech Pathologist.  The Speech Pathologist was a young woman of very good bearing and simply stated “There is nothing wrong with the boy.  He will speak when he’s ready.  Go home and rest your head, lady” 

So, the despairing mother took her young boy home and after a lengthy car ride listening to the young son speak something akin to the Cantonese and Ancient Tibetan Mongloid tongue , wearily escorted young child into the house.  It was during this phase in the young mother’s life that she began experimenting with music.  Music she adored when she was young and single and had somehow lost in the day-to-day tedium of Barney and Caillou episodes (it should be noted here that Caillou was seen as an evil child full of whininess and annoying shit that led the mother to bouts of anxiety and desperate pleas of “LET’S ALL GO OUTSIDE AND GET SOME FRESH AIR BEFORE MA HEAD EXPLODES!” ) Yeah.

One day, while playing her music very loudly, she noticed her young son sitting very attentively.  The daughters, heard the rendition of Bryan Adams’ “I Wanna Be Your Underwear” and asked repeatedly to hear the ‘underwear song’.  Mother was happy to appease her young daughters as she found this tune particularly humorous, obliged…often.  After the young daughters had ventured off to school, the mother took young son to Walmart for a bit of shopping in the afternoon.  The son, being very sleepy and ready for his nap at that time, was readily dosing in the cart and humming a tune the mother recognized as Joan Jett’s “I Hate Myself For Loving You”…Joan rocks. The mother, knowing the son was unable to speak, allowed the son to sing the song at will, while all the Walmart staff looked on adoringly saying how cute the little boy was singing to his mother.  Yeah.

As the mother approached the checkout line, she noticed a woman behind her who seemed particularly taken with the young boy.  She was smiling and cooing to the child as the mother flung her intended purchases on the conveyer belt. Knowing the young boy was securely occupied, the mother paid close attention to her groceries when suddenly she heard a most familiar sound.  “I WANNA BE!” being sung behind her.  She went swiftly over to her son.  Could it be?  Was that him?  Had the spell of the Cantonese speak been broken and replaced with the x-rated lyrics of an old Bryan Adams song?  The lady who had been occupying and smiling at the young boy thought the boy to be speaking to her.  So, she replied “What do you want to be?”  The mother, knowing the son was merely repeating the words to a raunchy song, attempted to intervene by pointing to a random balloon and distracting the boy.  Alas, the boy could not be sidetracked.  Again, he sang out “I WANNA BE!!“.  Full of fear for the next line, the mother hurriedly began to throw her groceries onto the belt all the while, the nice lady said again, “What do you want to be?” and leaned closer to hear the boy.  The young boy looked innocently up at the woman, his sparkling blue eyes dancing with joy as he sang, quite in tune I must say, “YOUR UNDERWEAR”.  

The lady, aghast and shocked by what she had just heard, recoiled in horror and glared at the young mother.  Washed with embarrassment, and stifling a laugh, the mother simply retorted “Oh, it’s a song his father taught him” and pushed the cart out of the store, praising the child for his speech and promising to teach him more ‘appropriate’ songs.  Like more Joan Jett, whose song son repeatedly sang henceforth as “I hate myself for lubbing you….”  yeah. 

The son, now thirteen and three quarters has had a varied singing career.  I have been called regarding his poor song choices including the popular titles “My Humps” by the Black ‘Eyed Peas, “I like Big Butts” and the infamous “Save a Horse Ride A Cowboy” which I am totally not responsible for.  That last one was definitely Hubby’s country music influence.  I did teach son how to do an awesome rendition of Blue Rodeo’s Bad Timing when he was four.  I wish I had recorded it. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women and men who care for their children everyday unconditionally, allow them to sing dirty rock songs to strangers and endure endless episodes of Caillou all in the name of love. 

Son,..speaking clearly and no singing at this point.

Son,..speaking clearly and no singing at this point.