tidbits

January 31, 2006 BlogPants

My dog is highly neurotic and weird. I think I’ve told you before about her musical abilities where she meows, twitters like a bird, and does the usual howling and barking thing. Oh and the constant need to be at Daren’s crotch the entire time he is home. It’s kind of hard for him to walk around with an 80lb dog between his legs, but it’s been 4 years, I’m thinking he’s managing okay. Kind of hard. *snort*

Sorry. Ahem.

She is also a sexual voyeur. Well maybe in the audio sense. An audyeur? When we go to bed, she curls up on her hand-woven mat, and waits to hear if hubby and I are going to, well, you know. She likes to stay there and listen to the show, then she retires to the couch. It’s like clockwork. We’ll start to fall asleep and she drags her ass out of the room. “G’night bitch!” Daren says, lovingly of course. Uhh to her, not me. She is his favorite crotchrocket.

It doesn’t really bother me too much because we can’t see her and she usually doesn’t move at all. But a few nights she has stunk up the room with her Iam’s farty fart bum farts or she’ll let out these weird sighs, low and grunting-like, like a hippo giving birth. Kinda puts a damper on things. So we’ve started locking her ass out of the bedroom. Now we hear the muffled hippo-dog sighs from the hallway as she slumps into our door. Attention whore, I tell you!

80% chance you’re about to slow down your car.

BlogPants

sweaty cheese

BlogPants

Okay this is disgusting. The mere description of sweaty cheese makes me sick to my stomach. 8 people in total went to the In-and-Out and ordered a 100×100. For you fellow Canuckleheads, that’s a burger joint I’m talking about and these crazy jokers ordered 100 patties, each with a piece of sweaty cheese on top, all smushed together between two very soggy, very greasy buns.

You have to see it for yourself. NASTY!

Your wish is her command

BlogPants

Update: Sweetney has created the PG-version of those awesome t-shirts!

troll baby might have a future in advertising!

January 30, 2006 BlogPants

of green tea and muthabloggers

BlogPants

Troll Baby is high-maintenance at the best of times. He needs constant entertainment, feeding and kisses. I have no problem with all of that, (especially the kisses part - I’m a serious kissoholic when it comes to my offspring) although he is a conundrum most of the time, Troll Baby with a cold/fever/whatever is kicking my ass.

The little man came down with a fever Friday night and the world as I know it has not been right since. He stayed up half of Friday night, crying his little heart out, only to drop for an hour and a half Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon, until 3 a.m. it was Cryfest 2006. He had a few quiet moments where he snuggled with Daren or I, while we watched late night Food Network. You shouldn’t do that ever ever ever, it makes you hungry and when you have a sick Troll Baby all snuggly-quiet on your lap, you can’t move to make a piece of toast, much less pee, for policemen will show up at your door and cite you for disturbing the peace.

At 3 a.m., my sweet little snot-wad finally drifted off in his crib, only to wake again 6 hours later and start up with the whining and crying again. Sunday afternoon was slightly better while he napped until MY IDIOT HUSBAND STARTED WORKING IN THE FAMILY ROOM BELOW THE BABY’S ROOM. Knowing that my in-laws were coming for dinner, I OBVIOUSLY wanted the baby to get as much sleep as possible. After hissing at him several times in hushed whispers, dripping with distain, he continued his work and wouldn’t you know it: woke the baby.

I WANTED TO KILL HIM.

Dinner was interesting. Poor Troll Baby whined and cried through most of the visit and went off to bed without incident at 6:30 or so. My mother-in-law figured out that perhaps on top of the cold from hell, Troll Baby might also be teething. Seeing as he was doped up on Tylenol, I didn’t think it would hurt to entertain her a little, so I got him a teething ring, which managed to entertain him for quite some time, and calmed him down! She was right. Note to self: don’t doubt more-experienced mothers. I should really learn to listen more.

I thought about listening more through dinner, and when my mother-in-law was talking about her use of green tea to lose weight, my ears perked up. I’ve lost 18 pounds slowly and on my own, but I have more to shed, and I’m always looking for tips and tricks, besides the painfully obvious exercise and eating healthy bullshit that really isn’t bullshit. And by healthy, I don’t mean Mississippi Mud Pie, which was left here last night and glares at me every time I open the freezer.

So my mother-in-law has been drinking 4-5 cups of green tea a day. She looks fan-fucking-tastic. Since I want to look fan-fucking-tastic too, I started that little regiment this morning. And since I was listening when my mother-in-law told me this, I have to pass along the information that if you are going to do this, be prepared to shit your brains out.

Also, you need to check this out… Sweetney has made t-shirts. I’m SO getting one. And if you’re a fucking muthablogger, you should too.

how to get rid of cankles, the cure is here!

January 29, 2006 family

Every day, at least once or twice, someone Googles “How to get rid of cankles,” and they end up here. I know Sassy and I were joking about it, but do people not know that the way to lose your cankle-itis, is to exercise, eat properly, and generally stop being a fat sloth? Just checking.

nyquil tagging, yo.

January 28, 2006 BlogPants

I’m doped up on Nyquil and I can barely see the screen, so if there’s typos, I don’t care.

I’m feeling kinda fiesty and dopey, weird and random too, so rather than answer one of those stupid memes which are always absolutely boring as oatmeal, I thought I’d write my own. If you are in my blogroll, if I’ve ever commented on your blog, if you’ve ever thought of me, like EVER, or if your name is Jessica and you’re my cousin, and you’re upset that I haven’t answered your emails because I’m up to my ass in work but I still love you anyway because you are the shiznit, you’re bloody well tagged, and I’m checking it this time so bring it, bizatches.

1) When you were really little, what did you want your life to be like as an adult?

I wanted kids my whole life. I knew I didn’t want to be like my mother (the drunk skunk). I wanted to be happy, married, intelligent, and a mom.

2) What misconceptions did you have about sex?

I thought the man’s penis went in the woman’s vagina to make the hole bigger so there would be room for the baby to come out. How fucked is that?

3) What do you dream about?

Weird shit. Like I’ll walk into my house and it’s my high school and I’m late for class, but my kids need to be fed….it’s always panic. That, and flying. Now why can’t I fly in the panic dreams? It would make handling all these things go a little faster, no?

4) What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do to someone you looked up to?

Report my mother to Children’s Services for abusing her boyfriend’s daughter. (The child is fine and safe in a new home.)

5) Describe each of your family members using only one word.

Daren - unconditional

Dylan - blessing

Thomas - joy

Ruffy - sweet

6) Name something you believed as a child, that you now know isn’t true.

That I am stupid.

7) What interest would you like to pursue further?

Photography.

If you could take back one thing you regret, what would it be?

I honestly have no regrets. I wouldn’t be where I am today if things hadn’t gone the way they had!

9) What are you most thankful for?

Family, Health, True Love.

10) Describe yourself in one word.

Unique.

sew crazy!!!!!!!

January 27, 2006 BlogPants

I did some graphic work for her and she was so sweet to make a collar for Ruffy. The quality is amazing and the colour is perfect for our girl!

Take a look!!!!

misery loves…….bingo?

January 26, 2006 family

Last night we had to volunteer at a Bingo Hall for Dylan’s hockey team. We thought it would be kinda fun to get out together to do this and I needed the break from the monitor and the kids. I wish I had brought all of you with me. You would have laughed your asses off.Have you been to a bingo hall lately? The atmosphere is very interesting. Walking up to the bingo hall, we could smell the stink of wet cigarettes. Sure enough, there are 4 stand-alone ashtrays at the front door, overflowing and soaked from snow. We got to the front door and another smell hit us before we stepped in. Think dirty sweatsocks soaked in urine. The urine that you smell when someone has been eating a gassy vegetable, like broccoli, or asparagus. We rushed through the sets of double doors. I don’t know which was worse though. Inside the bingo hall, my eyes burned. I wasn’t the only one feeling it though, it was as if they were siphoning ammonia through the air vents. There was a tinny, burnt smell wafting through the place, which I later found out was the garlic bread maker. Aluminum garlic bread? Uh, okay.

We plunged back 50 years from 2006 to 1956. The signs were adorable and I wish I’d brought my camera. Ask Daren how much I drove him nuts, pointing to every sign, saying “I have that font!” There were only a few people sitting at the cafeteria-style tables, and the hall was huge. I had no idea what we were expected to do. Having been to bingo once, when I was about 17 (with my aunt who vouched that I was of age) , I couldn’t recall how it worked as far as the workers went. We searched out the head volunteer, who gave us aprons, money for change, and bingo cards to sell. The place filled up by 7 p.m. and the games began.

The first half of the night went fairly quickly. The Bingo caller was a gentle old man who’s voice was putting me to sleep even though I was walking around. It was fairly quiet, almost creepy-quiet. Crypt-like. I couldn’t help thinking some of these people would be dead soon. I’m morbid like that.

We sold cards to people, cleaned up their messes, despite alot of them being 2 feet from a garbage can. Nonetheless, we were having a pretty good time. Daren was flirting with this lady in a red sweater and she was eating him up like cherry cheesecake. She even said to him, “If my pocket were bigger, I’d stick you in my pocket and keep you forever.” Back off Grandma, he cooks, and he’s mine.

My boots were pinching the hell out of my flattened-from-pregnancy-thanks-very-much-Thomas feet, but I hobbled through. I was cleaning up garbage when a Bingo was yelled and I rushed over to yell out the card number to the caller. Next thing I know, three people have their hands up to buy cards. I work my way to each of them, and the last lady hisses at me, “You’re SUPPOSED to come to the people who have their hands up first.”

I was a little taken aback and said sorry to her. Then she asked me for the Super-Jackpot card and since everyone else had asked by colour, and everyone else had been buying the purple card, I handed her a purple card. She didn’t even look at me. She motioned to her stack of coins and I took the $3. One of my pet peeves is people who are too rude to pick up their money and hand it to you. You might as well throw it at my feet and tell me to pick it up - it’s degrading and don’t EVEN get me started.

I start to walk away and she hisses at me again: “You GAVE me the WRONG card.” I apologize again (why, I don’t know- I have a fever and I’m ready to slug this old bitch.) I ask her which card she wants, and she hisses once more, “JUST FORGET IT.”

“OOOOOOOKAY!” I practically yell and I walk off. People are staring. That’s the best comeback I could offer this grumpy bag lady. In hindsight I should have told her Karma will get her, but meh. Fevers are funny things. I hope she catches my germs, if nothing else. Two minutes later, she waves down another volunteer who is not selling cards and makes her walk all the way back to the kiosk to get her the right cards. Good Lord.

I later told the head volunteer about Grumpy Bag Lady, and she tells me we don’t have to take it. We are volunteers, and I could have told the lady off. Oh goody. Let’s have some fun, shall we?

About 15 minutes later, I’m heading towards Grumpy Bag Lady’s section, and she starts waving me down like I’m a 747. I’m talking high velocity waving, both arms flailing like she’s drowning, “where’s-her-glow-in-the-dark orange sticks and reflective vest?” kind of waving. Wanting to stick out my arms and go “VRRRRRROOOOOOMMMMM,” I get a little closer and she starts frantically pointing at a lady in a pink sweater. Pink Lady wants cards. Pink Lady is NOT having a stroke. I ask Pink Lady if she had been waiting long. She looks over at Grumpy Bag Lady and says under her breath, “No, she’s just an old bitch, don’t worry about her.” Ha! Pink Lady should run for Prime Minister - I’m loving her.

It seems Daren is a lucky man. Out of the dozen or so games that were played, the people who yelled “Bingo!” were within 10 feet of him, about 80% of the time. On intermission, we happened to be standing near the old lady who wanted to put him in her pocket when I point this crazy Bingo fact out. She beams up at him and exclaims, “You’re lucky!” to him. Without missing a beat, I say, “Yeah you’re lucky to have me,” and walked away to help someone else.

“Wow, she can be ugly,” she says, nervously laughing. My womanly superpowers swear she was batting her eyes at him. Don’t get your support hose wet, dollface.

We got to hightail it outta there a little early. Grumpy Bag Lady was sitting by the door, and as we walked by her, she looked up, and I stuck my tongue out at her. For the sweet love of Karma, I hope every sweater she knits for herself catches on something sharp.