The Pictures I Promised, Getting Tagged, and Other Shit
April 19, 2006
Okay to the whole quitting smoking thing sucks. My thoughts are everywhere, and I can’t seem to concentrate. Many apologies to my customers. This is what I’ve been up to for the last two days. It used to be a salmon colour (because we had a salmon and chili pepper Mexican themed duvet cover before this). I love this new dusty-blue-grey. It’s soothing and I can’t wait to go to bed tonight.
Yes, the trim isn’t on the window yet. That is not my department. Now I must hound the shit outta hubby until he gets it done. I’m really good at that though!
So I was tagged by my lovely cousin Jessica and I’m supposed to name six weird things about me and tag 6 others. I’m not tagging anyone, but if you want to do it, have at ‘er.
Here’s my weirdness:
1) I can do this thing with the muscles in my eyes and look like an alien. I pull the bottom lid muscles in toward my nose and I tried taking a picture of it, but in all of them, I look drunk or you get a great view of my forehead. Ha.
2) I am afraid of squirrels. Deathly afraid. Our neighbourhood is full of them, and they run amok, among trees and on the ground. I would love a major ban put on those fuckers instead of pitbulls. Or maybe in addition to. Whatever.
3) My favorite sandwich is a fried egg, canned salmon, onion and mayonaise sandwich. Yeah it stinks, but it’s SO GOOD. Don’t knock it till you try it.
4) When I know people are going to come over, I obsessively clean for days before. I actually get down on my hands and knees and up on chairs to inspect EVERYTHING, just so no one can say, “Did you SEE the top of her fridge?” or “Did you SEE behind her toilet?”
Yeah. Because people do that.
5) I’m on the phone at least 6 hours a day with Sassy. We blog together, we post at our MSN group together, we make graphics together, we pee together, we eat together, well, you get the picture. Co-dependent? Oh yes. We’ve been doing this for over 2 years.
6) I didn’t cry at my own wedding. I was too nervous. There were too many people there. I cannot cry in front of people I’m not comfortable with. If, for any reason, I don’t trust you, I won’t cry anywhere near you. Under the wrong circumstances, I can make myself completely void of emotion. Must be a survival tactic from childhood.
And because I don’t follow instructions, here’s number 7: I sing. Well. Friends and family love having me at Karaoke bars and sneak those little slips of paper to the Karaoke person while I’m in the bathroom. My favorite song to sing is “Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin. I’m been told I nail that song. The only thing about this talent is that I have to be pretty lubed up to do it. And afterwards, I’m completely sober and shaking. Stage fright city. What a pussy.
Moving right along, I have to share a few things with you, but forgive my lack of brainpower in the whole segway and lead in shit. I’m not up for it since there is no longer fresh nicotine corsing through my veins.
Thomas has learned to say a few more phrases:
“Love ya bizatch,” (I taught him that….ha ha)
In the morning, “The sun-ah, is on-ah.” I don’t know what is with the extra syllables on the ends of words, but it’s incredibly cute, and I do believe Troll Baby will be a preacher one day-ah.
At night, “The moon-ah, is on-ah.”
“Maka-row-neeeeee.”
My girlfriend Nic (who has a 12 year old and a 7 year old - both boys) and I were on the phone tonight and she was telling me how the 12 year old is really sporting an attitude and refuses to brush his mop of hair, and he’s always hunched over with his hands in his pockets.
Nic: “Why don’t you brush your hair?”
Son, dopey voiced: “Why? It’s my hair.”
Nic: “Take your hands out of your pockets, you look lazy or sick or something.”
Son, dopey voiced: “They’re just pockets.”
We laughed so hard at this tonight - maybe it’s my lack of brain activity, who knows, but “They’re just pockets” is SO gonna be my excuse for everything for a while. Dopey voice and all.
Dinner’s not made? “They’re just pockets.”
Kid not at school? “They’re just pockets.”
Didn’t do the laundry? “They’re just pockets.”
Hey! You know what doesn’t have pockets? The Queen wanted to know how Dylan’s karate was going - well his Gi arrived today and it does not have pockets:
