Tag Archives: Observations

Parlez-Vous Joey?

Posted in Misguided Musings by

So, Hubby sent me these attachments to read and ‘get to know’ on an intimate level regarding pensions and shit.  After the first page, I started reading this:  A pension under the…blah, blah, blah, annuation perpetuates by a 2% blah, blah, blah….fuck-it-all-and-move-to-Figiblah, blah, blah….

Yeah.  I’m not sure how much ‘getting to know’ and ‘intimacy’ myself and this pension plan has.  There will be no candle-lit dinners involved in THAT relationship…

We have booked an epic journey to New York departing Montreal following the Canada Games row-a-thon that D2 will be commandeering.  Should be a hoot.  After a week of forcibly attempting to speak ma Joey-French (to those of you who missed THE ENTIRE NINE YEARS OF FRIENDS AND IF YOU DID, I’M NOT SURE IF WE COULD STILL BE  CONSIDERED FRIENDS, Joey-French was the mysterious French- language-interpretation that Joey thought he could speak and get away with.  Unfortunately, that did not work out very well for him. HOW COULD YOU HAVE MISSED THAT ONE?  SERIOUSLY. GO WATCH IT SO WE CAN GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS.) 

 The poor people of Quebec will be so confused at my version of the French language they’ll ask that I switch to sign language.  OR they’ll just think I’m high all the time.  OR that I have some disability that makes me speak in tongues.  So, they’ll ask son to speak on my behalf.  Thanks Montreal. 

New York is looking like a sand trap for tourists who revel in getting tragically lost at every turn or high from the exhaust fumes from all the traffic.  SOUNDS PERFECT.  Hubby is not thrilled with this choice…he wanted sand. And sun. And blue water.  SUCK IT UP, DUDE.   AND, we could be forcing him to sit through a Broadway show.  I can’t wait to see his face after an hour of singing and dancing. HE’S GONNA DIE!!!!  (This is the antagonistic asshole part of me. You. Are. Welcome.)

After scouring the internet for days on end, repeatedly pestering Bestie and D regarding our impending Journey into The Great Beyond, I have nailed down exactly NOTHING. Nada. Zilch.  Fucking zero, people.  City pass or Explorer Pass?  Museums?  They have a gagillion.  Statue of Liberty?  You gotta take a fucking boat to get there!  Jeesh, I live on a Goddamned island and I GOTTA TAKE ANOTHER FUCKING BOAT?!!  Ugh…I got the swearing down pat.  AND, I’m working on ma New York accent…FUHGEDDABOUDIT…eh?  Sort of a cross between a young DeNiro and an old Carol Channing with a Canadia twist.  I SAID I WAS WORKING ON IT. 

It’s all confusing and exciting at the same time…great.  Now I’m sounding like a Taylor Swift song. 

As for the Father’s Day gift that I bought for the father of my children, the bread winner, the all-around-great –guy.  He arrived home from work last night and saw it sitting in the living room.  His reaction: “What’s that?  Why did you get that?”  He then continued to tell me I should have spent the money on myself, to which I replied something like this:

“dlkskjieooiwj…and lsiie tet fusi- place un baiser sur mon ass maintenant fblahmuthaslsoifuskcier” 

YOU WOULD TOTALLY UNDERSTAND THAT IF YOU KNEW JOEY-FRENCH.

For all my DH ladies who made the effort to come to the blog to read something different, my apologies.  Your emails are now fodder for blog posts. 

Now get back to watching all NINE years of Friends…

The Email

Posted in Conversations With, Misguided Musings by

The following is an actual email I JUST SENT to all of my DH ladies.  THEY’RE GOING TO BE AFTER ME SOON!!
  Enjoy…

Dear Things,

It is with a heavy heart that I must send you this email.  You have all been trusted and dear friends of mine and I realize this news may come as a shock to you, but I really must impart this most disturbing turn of events.

I don’t want you all to be dismayed by this news or have it shatter your ideal image of me (just go with it), but I feel you all must know the truth.  I have spent the better part of the afternoon rehearsing how I would say this without causing you pain or therapy for your families.  I have agonized how I would word it gently and without undue stress, however there is no easy way. 

I BURNED A BAG OF POPCORN. IT’S NOT JUST BURNT.  IT’S BLACK. TOTALLY INEDIBLE.  FUCKING TOTALLY BLACK. LIKE NOT EVEN REASONABLE.

There.  I’ve said it.  I’ve managed to pick out the white bits, but really it’s the goddamned microwave’s fault! 

THAT’S WHAT THE POPCORN BUTTON IS FOR. 

Seriously, if that button wasn’t there we would have to estimate the cooking time and who among us gives a shit about that? Oh, right.  Nurse Betty.  My bad.

Look it's Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

Look it’s Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

But other than Bree-Clone, who would stand at the microwave waiting for the popcorn to pop.  Watching minute after minute, interminable second after second as the popcorn slowly comes to white puffy heaven, only this time it went to black pieces of soot-like filth. I have more important shit to be at, like, HELLOOO, spider solitaire and ma wonderful stu-dents!  Ugh…

Anywho, I thought I would just let you all know this awful news before you heard it from God knows where and the RNC is called and they want all the surveillance tape from the cameras in the building to document what truly went down.

Jeesh, it’s not like I left a burned bag lying carelessly on the side of the road, or anything….

I appreciate your understanding and truly value our friendship.  I hope you all find a way to forgive me and move on from all of this undue tragedy.

Yours in popcorn-popping,

K

Saving the World One GPS At A Time

Posted in Conversations With, Doggie Diaries by

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!

Fart Dreams. What Else Is There?

Posted in Misguided Musings by

The voices in my head that reverberate incessantly are retaliating in the most resourceful way they can by imposing the oddest dreams imaginable during my REM or whatever it’s called, sleep.  Last night I dreamt about snot and farts.  No really.  The epitome of class and the higher echelons of elegance.  Snot and farts.  My dreams are awesome. 

At one point in the dream, I had a huge booger that was in my nose and the only way to extract it was with tweezers.  When I did, it was a green ball with spikes. Not that I usually pick my nose…or use tweezers for that purpose.  BUT A SNOT BALL WITH SPIKES?!  Who dreams up that shit?  Apparently, I do.  Twelve year old boys everywhere want me as their mom. 

Later in my dream I am participating in a ritual dance of sorts where I am prancing and flailing around as if to dance in procession when suddenly “SQQQQUUUUUEEEEETTTTTT” goes my ass in rhythm to the music.  I stop.  The AUDIENCE, yes, AUDIENCE, withdraws into silent disgust in my abhorrent display of gassiness.  With little choice but to look elsewhere in bewilderment as to the source of the fart, I blame it on a young faceless girl behind me.  “Oh, no that was all you princess” somebody said…I turn to a giggling audience and walk silently offstage, the blond girl following haplessly behind me only to hear, once again a “SSSQQQQUUUUEEEETTTT”.  That was her and I look appalled and not at all impressed that she had the absolute gall to copy me.  I am mortified that she just farted in front of MY AUDIENCE.  Wait…didn’t I just do that?  Yeah, but it’s okay for me.  I was dancing.  Totally justified.  And maybe a little fucked. up.

I’m not entirely sure why these dreams are haunting me in a most peculiar way.  There were other nuances to the dream that I can’t describe just for the mere fact they were so bizarre that I probably would not be able to do them justice.  I mean, when one dreams of spiked snot balls…it’s all a little weird isn’t it?

I’ve had weird dreams that involve people that have been dead for years.  The creepiest one was the other night.  I dreamt I was at my brother’s funeral again. He died in 1986 in a motorcycle accident.  I dreamt that I was at his funeral, but it wasn’t HIS  funeral.  it was different with different people and my boss was there.  There was nowhere for family to sit as our seats were taken and I kept saying “This isn’t my brother’s funeral. That was a long time ago.  This isn’t it” and then the dream ended.  I found out last week, one of the DH lady’s cousin died tragically in a motorcycle accident the day after I had that dream.   Kinda creepy, huh?  As I learned more about him, he closely mirrored my brother….

So, I’m hoping my dream tonight isn’t a tragic one.  I’ll also take one without the spikey snot balls and farts, thank you very much. Maybe one involving Johnny Depp and chocolate???  Hmmm….

 

My sign...notice the decorative heart and flowers...I think Hubby should rethink his position on this. It's awesome

What I said after all my dreaming…

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??