Wal-Art Via KJ
I thought you all would enjoy a little culture to kick off your weekend. I present my rendition of the burning of the popcorn. I call it “Burnt Popcorn Escapades in Pink”
Life will go on…just believe! BELIEVE
Peace, yo.
So it seems Maggie is a hypo-allergenic dog that is allergic. That is, she had an allergic reaction to a vaccine the vet gave her. Of course, at the time she was having the reaction, Hubby and I erroneously thought the puppy was choking. Which set off a chain of events that included panic stricken exclamations of “DO SOMETHING! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?! IS THERE SUCH A THING AS PUPPY-HEIMLICH?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS DOG?!” Of course there were multiple episodes of sticking our fingers down her throat to see if there was a foreign object lodged down there that we thought we could get out. Something like a string, a penny (although where would she get a penny? It’s not like we’re throwing random amounts of change all over the floor and expecting her to suck it up like a vacuum cleaner) a piece of foam from her bed that she is determined to maul into chunks, a piece of my coach pillows which she has vehemently attacked, I’m sure out of sheer spite for me not allowing her to chew the baseboards…the list is quite endless so my death scenarios about my dog choking to her early demise were alive and well.
I was then imagining having to tell the neighbourhood how we killed our dog through a choking episode gone horribly awry. I would have to explain how it all went down with the Mags playing with me one minute, then choking wildly on some accidental piece of (insert object here). I would be branded the WORST pet mommy on the planet and banned from ever owning any kind of animal ever again. I would be ostracized by my friends and community, forced to move and never able to show my face in public again. It was all so traumatizing. And how did I manage to raise three children virtually unscathed, so far? Beats the fuck out of me. They have more sense than to eat baseboards or suck up an arbitrary cache of loose change, I guess.
I was quickly on the phone to the Animal hospital who patched me through to the vet, who coincidentally, I had just met for the first time that morning, and she said she would meet us at the Animal hospital in half an hour. In my mind I was screaming, ‘HALF AN HOUR?!! SHE’LL BE DEAD BY THEN, BITCH!” , but in real everyday voice I said “okay” and hung up.
We were there in twenty minutes and waited for the doctor to show. Maggie continually pawed at her face and made that “I’m-fucking-choking-and-you-evil-humans-are-sitting-in-a-random-parking-lot-doing-nothing-important” face, along with that open-mouthed gagging crap. It was all so dramatic.
At precisely 8pm, the technician arrived and let me in. She took Maggie to the back to where I was sure she was to be x-rayed and examined with laden tweezers shoved down her throat all in attempts to remove the multiple layers of change I was sure she had inexplicably sucked up off the floor like a Hoover. The vet came out a few minutes later to tell me Maggie had an allergic reaction to the vaccine she had that morning and after her antihistamine shot, and her anti-inflammatory shot, she would be fine. I sighed with relief. I was given directions in administering liquid Benedryl to my doggie prior to future vaccines in order to avoid all of the dramatic allergic reactions and panic-stricken shouts of “HELP ME, MA PUPPY IS DYING, DAMMIT!!!!”. They patted my head and sent me and my puppy on our way.
So it turns out, I’m not a bad doggie mommy after all…as long as I keep tabs on all that loose change littering the floors….
Maggie’s not dead. Just sleeping. I know. Drama Queen!
Last night was grocery night. A veritable joyous occasion and of course I head to the mecca of all shopping locations, Costco. There is NO good time to arrive at Costco unless it’s in the middle of a raging snowstorm and the population has decided not to endure the trek and remain home in their cozy houses snug as a bug. Since we live around the corner, it’s hardly a trek but it is a royal ass-pain when it’s blocked to the gills with ‘out-of-towners’ who flock to their doors like the world is ending the next day and they HAVE TO HAVE the package of 12 toothbrushes for mega-sale price of $12.99. Not to mention the 100 rolls of toilet paper and the 50 pack of batteries. Since it’s the ONLY Costco location in the province, we locals do have our ‘special’ visitation times. Dinner hour is the most opportune, hence my decision to hit it forthwith. I like that word ‘forthwith’…it’s a cop word. “Boscorelli, I need a bus forthwith!” Yeah.
Of course, I wind up with the ‘special needs’ cart. You know the one. The misshapen rusted bucket of steel with the wonky wheel that heads in the totally opposite direction in which I want to go and it seems to swing at total random times forcing me to apologize to every other person the cart rear ends. Yeah, that one. That’s the one I get EVERY TIME. It’s like it has a homing device on me and locks me into its path the second I step into the doors. ‘Oh, look SHE’S here. SHE’LL take me’. Ugh. AND now, my eyes are giving me sauce, so I look like Mr. Magoo trying to figure out the aisles and what’s down each of them with my cart haphazardly banging into shelves and people at an alarming rate. My squinted gaze at the deodorant aisle only heightened my attractive gait as I swung my cart to the left, meaning to go right and narrowly missing an old couple with a cart full of toothbrushes. I guess those were for the visiting grandkids every weekend…. I thought they were going to call security on me until I swung the cart around towards the bedding aisle and crashed into the shelves of duvet covers and down filled pillows. Nice save, Rogue. I rock.
I managed to end the painful shopping experience in under thirty so headed home before I counted any further casualties from the assault-cart. I think people were grateful for my less-than-graceful departure. I believe I even swore a couple of times in the presence of youngsters…they didn’t look shocked so I’m thinking Mommy and Daddy have encountered the ravaged ‘special needs’ cart a few times themselves….I unbagged my groceries a little while later to find a few items I didn’t realize I bought. WTF do I need a package of 12 toothbrushes for? I bet that old grandpa threw that in there when I wasn’t looking! He had a shifty look to him….Dammit……
Anybody need a toothbrush? Apparently I have enough for a small African village.
So the weekend happened and the exhausting task of searching for dead bodies in the melting snow has me a little freaked. What? You think I’m kidding? Pfft….I wish. Seriously, the snow has melted in exponential amounts and everyone is afraid to go into their backyards right now in fear of what they’ll find. I know some runners who refuse to run the path around the ‘hood in case something pops up that they would rather not witness. I should back-story this a bit. See, in January or February of this year a young man was last seen exiting a cab in our neighbourhood never to be seen again. Many people believe he headed for the wooded area that a new subdivision is currently under construction and is also home to a walking path. They think in his distraught state, he fell or fell asleep out in someone’s backyard or lawn somewhere. That weekend he went missing there was a violent winter storm and the thoughts are that he succumbed to the weather. Inhabitants are put on the lookout by the local police to scour their backyards before the full-on melt is on. Has me a little jittery. I hope he is found so he can be put to rest and his family has some closure. I hope he is found to be living downtown after joining a band and dying his hair blue. I can hope!
Spotted: I so wish I had taken a picture of this when I saw it happen on Saturday afternoon. My neighbor who lives across from me and beside Miss H has the reputation of being, not only a busy-body, but a lawn fanatic. I guess she doesn’t give a shit about dead bodies, because she and her Hubby were out shoveling what’s left of the snow onto the road. Yeah, I see you laughing. I shit you not. She’s pissed because as she gazes longingly at my house, its brown grass apparent and void of any snow or ice like everybody else on my side of the street, she looks down at her lawn and all she sees is a big pile of brownish frozen crap. Her snow bank remains piled on the edge of her front lawn, its brown ice and shit-colored edges egging her into a maniacal fury. (insert wicked laugh here) So out she goes after wrangling hubby out of his comfy armchair, with shovels in hands to set to right a definite wrong and swing those shovels as if it was the last thing they were put on earth to do. Poor, Mr. Pat. I would have paid good money to see him heave a big shovel full of snow at her in playful spitefulness. Good money, I tell ‘ya!
Son played hockey on the weekend and ended up in emergency department with a possible concussion and sore ribs. Have I ever told you how much I hate hockey? Yeah. Now I have reason to pile on the hate even more. He is 80lbs soaking wet and the kid that power- drived him into the corner FROM BEHIND weighed as much as me…or more. (okay, he weighed a lot…) Son bounced back up instead of staying down reveling in his pain and made it back to the bench. He sat with his team despite the pain until the end of the period. He followed his team into the dressing room for the intermission. He came back out to start the third period with his team. He sat on the bench and wanted to stay. Then the nausea set in and Hubby whisked him to emerg. Two hours later after seeing nice doctor and, by all accounts cutie x-ray techie, Son is fine. He ended up missing the whole celebration on the ice, the medal presentation, the fun, the frivolity. Kid that hit him received no penalty. Nada. Nothin’. They said if son had stayed down on the ice like we tell him NOT to do, the kid who committed the illegal hit would have been given a 5 minute penalty and tossed. That’s not Son. He has heart.
He was visited at the hospital by one of his friends and given his medal. He is feeling fine now, just tender ribs but hockey has forever placed a sour taste in my mouth.
Hockey=yukky-poo-poo.
AND, for all of you who need a little reminder why I love to blog, read this and revel in the glory that is logic.
The Playahs: Miss H, Mrs. Jacked, Mr. Frankie, KS, Mr. Toyota, Rogue, Coach
Nurse Betty, Birthday Girl, Mr. Bing, Frankie, Mr. Jacked, Bestie, Mr. Banker
The Event: Couples Poker
The Place: The lovely and lively abode of KS and Mr. Banker…three dogs and two kids….lively.
Where was Rogue’s other half? Sick in bed
Who took his place? Why, Bestie of course. Her Hubby was AWOL as well…so we coupled up. We’re trampy like that.
Who won? Stop rushing me, I’ll get to that.
The evening began like any other. The house was alive with the sound of puppies barking. Yeah, I’m not the only intelligent human who decided to get a dog…only KS went a step further and bought TWO. Must have been a BOGO sale.
Anywho, we were all placed at our tables after reading the seating arrangements and deftly mocking Mr. Bing’s poker table cloth. What? IT’S A POKER TABLE CLOTH!! So funny. I was swiftly seated at the GROWN UP table with the first Playahs listed. Not sure how I registered as GROWN UP… must have been my maturity and professionalism on one of my rants when I referred to everybody (not as in my lovely neighbours ‘everybody’, but everybody else…) as assholes. Obviously a step-up from my usual reference of ‘fuckwits’ and ‘asshats’. Score one for maturity.
Seated at the Kid table was the second line of Playahs listed…interesting mix. There is strategy in everything people, so there was strategy in this one. No couples to sit together. What? You were expecting something more complicated? Uh, nope. That’s pretty much it. I was fairly confident at the beginning of the game especially with two previous wins under my belt and since I was seated next to Mr. Toyota whose track record for winning at Couples poker is a little, well, to put it nicely, suck-ish. Yeah. Just sucks. Coach, was the previous winnah since he took me out big time last game, was seated on my right…I was looking for payback. So didn’t happen, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
The first few hands were getting along quite nicely with everyone pretty much winning one each. Miss H was sneaking up on all the men…where did she come from? Mr. Toyota was the biggest come-from-behind-the-garage-and-sock-me-over-the-head-with-a-monkey-wrench that I have ever witnessed in my 7 years playing this game. Holy fuck, Batman what was that?! He took virtually all my nice chips with his ‘a full house beats a flush’ …WHO MADE THAT UP??!!! Crap. I was confident I had him in the palm of my little hand with my Ace high club, then he full-housed my ass…what?!! YOU??!! No, seriously. You’ve played this before, huh? Ugh… Coach was nice enough to pat my shoulder and say ‘there-there’ and not say ‘Idiot, Ray Charles could have seen that one coming’. Yeah. To my credit, I didn’t get humiliated only once. I allowed it to happen a second time which took me right out of the damned game. I love poker.
The game went on quite long before someone was declared as the first loser. I think Mrs. Jacked got a prize for that. I was second out since Mr. Toyota/Uncle Jesse found it necessary to call my ‘all-in’ and win it with 4 fives. WHO HAS FOUR OF A KIND??!! KS, that’s who with four Aces (in a totally different hand that has nothing to do with this mini-rant over Mr. Toyota/Uncle Jesse) Yet, sadly she didn’t win.
Several glasses of wine later, the four aces happened….a little scant on the details, but I was still stinging from the ass-burning I just took.…I think KS was hiding one of those Aces down her top. Mr. Frankie was seated next to her and with all the references to his new cat and how was he getting along with his new puss-??? So many jokes, so little time. He barely cracked a smile! He was playing cagey, that one. Yet, sadly he didn’t win.
Miss H was holding her own against the Biggest- Loser -Ever -Turned -Gagillionaire -Mr. Toyota/Uncle Jesse, eventually having people folding all around her. It gets a little fuzzy at this point until we hear that Nurse Betty, who is seated at the Kids table (wait, what?) who reportedly HATES to play poker, would rather catheterize a thousand pound gorilla than play, GOT THE BEST HAND EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER, as documented below. A straight royal flush. Fucking amazing. Yet, sadly, she didn’t win.
As for the Kids table, we were all amazed that Bestie was not the first, second or third out…After that, who the fuck knows? Frankie managed to make it to the Final table and frankly, Frankie, can I call you Frank? That’s all that matters. THE FINAL TABLE. Yet, sadly, she didn’t win.
All I know is that I was seated deftly at the Loser table with Mr. Jacked (sadly, also a loser) , Birthday Girl ( I was secretly rooting for you ), Mrs. Jacked (a previous champ) and….it escapes me. Memorable You. Us losers…that’s all I know. With a bottle of wine as the big prize, I was going for it…and lost again. I rock! Birthday Girl won the Loser trophy bottle of wine which she so graciously shared with us DH ladies the next evening…you didn’t think we were going to cancel a perfectly good eat and drink night just because we had a perfectly good eat and drink night, the night before when we kept KS up past her usual bedtime of 9:30pm and trudged on home at 2:30am, did you? Wimps!
At the Winnahs table, everybody was battling it out for the big prize..the cash and the bragging rights to claiming SLS Couples Poker Champ! I have no clue how it went down, but by all accounts, Mr. Toyota/Uncle Jesse lost all his chips bit-by-bit to Miss H, who incidentally took out her Hubby Mr. Bing ( WITH A PAIR OF DEUCES) and EVERYBODY ELSE AT THE TABLE!! Dats right. Miss H was the Winnah!!!! If you guessed Miss H, than you are more awesome than even I give you credit for. Rock on!
Miss H…SLS Couples Poker Champion 2013
Congrats to Miss H and now you join the ranks of the few, the proud, the SLS COUPLES POKER CHAMPS!!
I hope you enjoyed this installment of SLS Couples Poker run-down. Next time, I’ll try to stay sober enough to report on actual events at the opposite table. Dammit, Jim I can’t be everywhere! Ugh….
Kayjai 