What Happens When a Writer Writes

Bye Bye Blogger!

2008-01-07T18:48:00.000-08:00

If you're patient enough to follow this blog, maybe you'll follow my new one.

www.writersblogsucks.wordpress.com

See you there!

Bright Yellow Pee and Other Miracles of Modern Medicine

2007-05-18T19:36:00.000-07:00

So I got to see the inside of my eyeball today. Not to sound too much like a science geek, but it was WAY COOL!

Background - I have a condition called Migraine Equivalent. I experience the aura of a migraine without getting the pain. Which is much better than the other way around, if you ask me. I've had it for years, and the aura event always follows the same pattern. Until Tuesday, when instead of 40 minutes or so, it lasted all day. So I went to the doctor, who sent me to an opthamologist. He spotted a shadow on my left retina, so he sent me to the hospital eye clinic for a test called a Fluorescein Angiogram. They dialated my pupils - always fun - then injected a yellow dye into a vein in my arm and took pictures of my eyes as the dye moved through the blood vessels.

It had to be one of the freakier experiences of my life thus far. The pupil dialating part always sucks - you basically can't see for shit for a few hours - but the picture-taking was OK. Then when they turned on the lights, everything was pink for about 30 seconds! And the grooviest side effect of all - my pee is bright yellow for the next day or so as my body gets rid of the dye. and when I say bright yellow I mean Bright Fucking Yellow. This is definitely not a colour found anywhere in nature. But it sure looks cool. And here comes the science geek again - I'm wondering what would happen if I drank blue Kool-Aid ...

Celebrity Poop

2007-04-27T09:29:00.000-07:00

So, Alec Baldwin has now apologized for calling his daughter a disgusting pig. While I don't condone his behaviour in the least, I think what he really should be apologizing for is being so monumentally stupid, he didn't figure his phone message would end up in cyberspace. As one of my colleagues so astutely pointed out when the whole thing broke - you can't fart anymore without it ending up on Youtube or TMZ. I initially thought sweet little Ireland leaked it herself, but that's apparently not the case. Too bad - if I had been her, I would have been bawling on CNN within an hour of hearing it. The poor girl is caught in the middle of that horrific trainwreck that is the Baldwin/Basinger divorce, which would totally justify her using it as ammo. A girl's gotta fight back somehow.

Rosie's gone from The View as of June. What's truely unfortunately is that she'll still be on the planet. I cannot. fucking. stand. her. Big mouth and no brain = annoying to the nth degree. And all this "ooh, ooh, ABC and Babwa Wawa were embarassed by her." Whatever - the woman drew better ratings than Britney Spears shaving her head. Every time Rosie opened her mouth and stuck her foot in it - which was pretty much every single time - the execs at ABC started rubbing their hands together in glee. I did like some of the late night jokes, though. Jay Leno said the news was so big, they woke Barbara up in the middle of the show to tell her. Insert rim shot here.

And Richard Gere is now a wanted man in India, after planting a good one on a Bollywood actress during an AIDS charity event. The buzzes on the cheek flagrantly defied the country's purity laws. It's outrageous that the actress has now been charged as well, because a judge figured she didn't do enough to stop Gere from "assaulting" her. What's even worse - I suspect Gere did it on purpose to make a point, then hightailed his ass back to the U-S-of-A where you can rape a woman and get a slap on the wrist and a "bad boy" by the courts. While I of course don't agree with the laws, "when in Rome" man. He should go back and face the charges like a man. At least he kissed a woman and didn't do anything obscene with a hamster.

2007-04-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

More Windmills Of My Mind

2007-03-09T08:32:00.000-08:00

I was leaving the gym the other day when I saw a woman pulling out of a parking space, workout top on, with a cigarette between her lips. What the fuck? I mean, if you're going to pay money for a gym, shouldn't you quit smoking? Or quit the gym and then you'll have more money for butts. I'm just saying.

One of the ZZ's is pathologically affectionate. And I mean PATHOLOGICALLY. When I get up in the morning and I'm getting dressed, he'll sit on my dresser and try to climb onto my shoulders. He looks genuinely distressed when he can't do it. The other one just bites my toes, which has gotten me into the habit of putting my socks on first. And let me tell you, there is NUTHIN more attractive than an overweight woman with nothing but slouch socks on looking back at you in the mirror at 4am. Playboy, here I come.

Speaking of nuthin, I am fascinated by my daughter's vocabulary. Watching a 5 year old try to figure out the impossible-to-figure-out English language should be a spectator sport. She says "gunna" instead of "going to," "gooder" instead of "better," "fishes" instead of "fish," that kind of thing. Well, actually, it's "fishies," but that's my fault. You know, the things that, when you try to make English make sense, actually make sense. I think she should wrote a book.

After having watched Oprah's show on housewife lesbians, I'm pretty sure I'm not one of them. OK, very sure. While I find women's naked bodies attractive in an empirical sort of way - compared to, say, men's naked bodies (ew, gross) - I've never been attracted to a woman in that way. But I must say, even if I was a lesbian, I'd fight it. I could never date a woman. They're way too fucked up. I should know. At least men are simple. Stupid sometimes, but simple.

I am extremely pissed off at the media coverage given to Betty Krawczyk, the 78 year old raging environmentalist who was just given 10 months in jail. Sorry, lady, but if you break the law as many times as you have, you go to prison. And you didn't just break the law, you defied court order after court order telling you what not to do. And when the judge offered you a conditional sentence - to be served at home - or hours of community service, you said "no." It was jail or nothing for you. So guess what you got? Exactly what you deserve. If you're hardy enough to camp out on a bluff or lay down on a logging road, you can stand a few months in a cushy women's prison. Suck it up, lady.

The Joy of Sleeping With Cats

2007-03-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

Thank you for picking up this copy of "The Joy of Sleeping With Cats." If you're reading the back of this book, you are acknowledging that you a) want to sleep with cats, or b) are already sleeping with cats and want to improve your cat-sleeping experience. However, we feel we must clarify - this book is about sleeping with cats only in an innocent, non-sexual way. If you're interested in something else, we're sure the clerk at the front of the store can help you. Or there's always the internet.

The following is a chapter summary of the contents of "The Joy of Sleeping With Cats." We appreciate your interest, Dear Reader, and we're sure you'll be well satisfied if you choose to purchase this book.

1. It Won't Leave The Bedroom - Now What?
Whether it's a precious new kitten or a grown up tomcat, all cats want, need, and seek out human contact. And where do most humans spend a lot of their time? In bed, of course! This chapter will guide you into accepting things you cannot change - like your cat's penchant for sleeping with you. It will also explain why common techniques like closing your door won't work - unless of course you love the sound of yowling at 3:00 am.

2. Cat Scratch Fever
Learn the common signs that your cat is preparing to settle down for the night. Foot-chasing, burrowing, kneading and loud purring - right next to your ear, of course - are extensively covered. We'll teach you a fabulous meditation to use while your cat goes through the complex, lengthy, and hard-to-understand bedtime routine.

3. Defying The Laws of Physics
A common question among cat owners -- "how can something so small take up so much room???" Our colour-coded charts and graphs explain in minute detail how a 10 lb cat slowly and insidiously pushes you off to a corner of the bed over the course of the evening. We have several techniques to help you relax and stay comfortable even as your cat sleeps directly on top of your head, smack between your splayed legs, or spread out in the crook of your neck. Morning stretching routines also provided.

4. One Pussy Too Many
Yes, a cat can be a crowd in a two-person bed - but really, how much sex do you need? Cats are like children, after all. The last thing you want is a cat walking in on you and your partner. Or staying for the show. We provide tips on cooling your ardour, since once you let a cat start sleeping with you, your sex life is basically over.

5. Tag-Teaming Tabbies
If sleeping with one cat is a joy, sleeping with two or more is absolute rapture! Take all of the advice above and multiply it by a factor of 10! We have shopping tips on picking out a king sized bed and yoga poses to stay comfortable while squishing yourself into a fetal position roughly the size of a basketball.

6. Just Call Them Angels of the Morning
It's guaranteed that your cat will want to sleep longer in the morning than you. After all, the poor thing needs its beauty sleep to prepare for a long day of napping, lazing around, and ignoring you. This final chapter will give you a few techniques for easing out of bed gently enough to not wake your precious bundle. You may have to step on your partner's head to do it, but that's a secondary issue.

From the authors that brought you "Help! My Cat Won't Leave Me Alone" and "If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em - the Fine Art of People Training For Cats," "The Joy of Sleeping With Cats" makes a fine addition to bedside tables everywhere. You're not sleeping, after all, so why not do a little reading? Enjoy!

I Say It's My Birthday

2007-02-09T07:55:00.000-08:00

I thought this would be an appropriate day to rescue my blog, which has been mouldering in a dark corner of my mind for the last couple of weeks.

Thoughts on my birthday:

I don't feel any older than I did yesterday. In fact, I don't feel any older than I did 10 years ago.

I think 37 still qualifies as "mid-30's." Next year will definitely be pushing it. Can finally admit that "late-20's" just isn't cutting it anymore.

Am fine with my age. In fact, more than fine. My 30's have seen a huge jump in my self-confidence, my career, my family, and just as importantly, my sex drive. To all those scientists who say a woman hits her sexual stride in her 30's, I say "yes, yes, yes, YES, YES, OH YES, YEEESSSSS!"

Having a bit more trouble with the concept of 40. Like the Olympics, it's just 3 years away. And like the Olympics, I have a lot to do to make sure my 40th year comes in on time and on budget.

Anna Nicole Smith and I were the same age when she died. What a fucking train wreck she was. Very glad I have my life and not hers. It's extremely sad, but at the same time, she's at least not torturing herself anymore. Let's hope whoever gets custody of that little girl is a better parent than Anna Nicole would have been. Quite frankly, they couldn't be much worse.

Edited to add: OK, just found out she was 39, not 36. But still.

It's a beautiful day in my neighbourhood

2007-01-27T12:57:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well. What is that bright glowing orb in the sky? A meteorite? A crashing UFO? Britney Spears' career burning to the ground? Nope, it is, in fact, the sun.

There will be thousands of collective "hip, hip, hooray!" 's coming from my good-sized burg today. After weeks of rain, and wind, and snow, and ice, we have managed somehow to string two sunny days together. Not sure what planets are aligned, or who kissed who's existential butt to make this happen, but really, who the fuck cares? Let's enjoy it while we can!

I, on the other hand, am one of the rare people who really should live in the climate where I do, where we have two seasons - rainy, and damp. I love it when it's cold and soggy and wet and foggy. It's just so moody. Besides, it makes it really easy to snuggle down and nap during the day, which I have to do thanks to the unholy hours I work.

Apparently the sun is here to stay for the week. That's OK, but I prefer the clouds and rain. Besides, now I have to hunt up my batman mask to nap.

The Hair of Many Colours

2007-01-05T08:19:00.000-08:00

So, I kind of blasted a co-worker the other day. I'll refer to her as Blondie.

We were doing a story about blonde celebs like Britney, Cameron, et al going brunette in an effort to gain more respect. Um, newsflash ladies, it's not your hair colour that makes people not respect you. But I digress.

Blondie pipes up that she's only ever been various shades of blonde because other colours don't look good on her. Then she remarks that some women haven't seen their natural hair colour in 20 years or more.

So I prairie dog up over the desk - there's a 4 foot wall separating us across the workstations - and give her the raised eyebrow ... "Um, excuse me? What are you saying? Are you making some sort of editorial comment? Are you suggesting there's something wrong with that?" Of course I was saying all this and laughing at the same time, and everyone else was laughing too, but she looked a little startled and taken aback.

Now Blondie herself is a piece of work. One of those always-negative energy-suckers, a black hole of emotional crap. Always a chip on her shoulder. Very defensive - takes every comment as a personal attack. "Wow, Blondie, you look nice today." "What, don't I look nice every day?" You know the type.

I'm sure she didn't quite know what to do with my little performance. Oh well.

I am proud to say my hair colour changes with the seasons, and pretty much always has - at least since I was old enough to reach the drug store counter with the box of dye. From those first disastrous attempts at copper, to the favourite dark brown with blonde streaks, my hair has run the gamut. I joke that I have a winter pelt and a summer pelt. The only time I saw my natural colour for any length of time was when I was pregnant. And guess what? I hated it. A mousey, drab, washed out brown. Now liberally sprinkled with grey at the temples. The two camps have spent a few years amassing at the borders and are now marching around my head, soon to meet in the middle where I'm sure the all-out assault will begin. Bring it on! I'm sure I'll be going to hair-dying parties with my great-granddaughters, so no one will be the wiser.

The other night K was in the bath and we were talking about hair colour - she wanted to know why her friend A's hair was brown and her hair was brown. I told her a lot of people have brown hair, like daddy and mommy. She looked at me and said "but mommy, your hair is orange!" I patted my copper-tinted locks, laughed and said to her "you're right, honey, it is orange."

Guess it's time for another box of dye.

What do you mean, the chocolate is all gone?

2007-01-02T10:47:00.000-08:00

Well, happy freakin' new year.

Spent my Christmas sick. And working. Working sick just sucks the big hind tit. Husband was sick. Child - currently sick. Got the first good sleep in a week last night. Note to self - doubling up on pain meds knocks child on ass. Could become regular Friday night routine. "Here's your night-night juice, sweetie - drink up!"

Seriously, though, December was very nice and action-packed but I'm glad it's over. Took K to see "Beauty and the Beast" the play on the 23rd, and she was just enraptured. Must do more of that Kulture thing. Christmas Eve/Day - one big blur of gifts, food and family. New Year's Eve - quiet. Me, martinis and "Lisey's Story." Can't get much better, you ask me.

Gifts - good! Hubby got me some bling - a diamond circle pendant. Woo hoo, now I look like Oprah! Except my pendant cost a couple hundred dollars and hers cost a couple small countries. Still.

Definitely feeling the pain of food withdrawal, however. I basically ate my way through the month of December. Even the week after Christmas, when I thought it would be over, people at work were bringing in their sugary leftovers. And I was eating them. Nonstop. Chocolate ball? Yummy! Square? Delicious! Unidentified, slightly flat treat on the floor with shoe imprint? Finger lickin' good! And I fell off the wine wagon - possibly because I drank a vinyard's worth at my company Christmas party. So it was hard liquor and fruit juice all the way, baby. Nothing says Chrismas like mango cosmos and pomegranate martinis. Mmmm, tastes like another!

No gym time either, thanks to the serial head colds.

So now I'm bloated, perpetually hung over, and can feel my fat cells swelling as we speak. What a great way to ring in the new year!

Happy (Insert Your Holiday Here)

2006-12-22T17:45:00.001-08:00

Peace On Earth ... please.

That's it.

Fa La La La Cough, La Sneeze Wheeze Achoo!

2006-12-19T07:56:00.000-08:00

So, I go on vacation for 10 days and all I have to show for it is this lousy cold. Sniff. Hopefully it's gone in time for Christmas and the 15 lb turkey I'm cooking for 12.

This is post number 36 for me. Refinnej just topped 500. I'm feeling a little inadequate. And I have post envy.

Almost done Christmas shopping. Which is good, because it's a fucking nuthouse out there. Just need stocking stuffers and a toaster for the hubby - yes, a toaster, in which I'm putting his concert tix for Eric Clapton - and a loft bed for K. That and the groceries for Christmas eve, Christmas breakfast, and Christmas dinner. REALLY looking forward to grocery shopping on Friday. Joy to the world, now get out of my fucking way. And put those carrots down, bitch.

And, because it is all about me, 3 Things - with shouts out to Refinnej and Betty.

Three things that scare me: losing track of my kid, bees, a room full of Sparks
Three people who make me laugh: my husband (in a good way), my kid, Jon Stewart
Three things I love: my life, my family, my car
Three things I hate: raisins, Mondays, intolerance
Three things I don't understand: football, organized religion, physics
Three things on my desk: my Christmas coffee cup, hand moisturizer, kleenex
Three things I'm doing right now: answering this thing, pretending to work, trying to stay awake
Three things I want to do before I die: watch my daughter get married, see the world, feel good about my body
Three things I can do: wiggle my ears, sing in tune, compose a sentence
Three things you should listen to: Your gut, your personal truth, your children
Three things you should never listen to: bigots, racists, the internet
Three things I'd like to learn: piano, guitar, patience
Three favorite foods: pasta, bread, chicken
Three beverages I drink regularly: water, tea, white wine
Three TV shows I watched as a kid: Looney Tunes, Bewitched, Gilligan's Island

Enough about me - what do you think of me?

2006-12-05T07:48:00.000-08:00

So, I haven't been here in forever again. Two weeks at another job does not a productive blogger make. But I'm back again, and I thought I'd make it all about me - with a shout out to refinnej. Cheers!

1. EggNog or Hot Chocolate? Egg nog - preferrably in a Starbucks Latte or with a generous kiss of rum. Yum!

2. Does Santa wrap presents, use bags or just sit them under the tree? Wrap.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Coloured on the tree, white on the house and windows.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope.

5. When do you put your decorations up? Usually 2 weeks before Christmas, this year will be a little later.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish? Turkey with all the trimmings.

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child? Driving around to look at Christmas lights.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I don't remember how old I was, but I remember crying to my mother and insisting he was real. I was pretty broken up about it, actually. Not looking forward to my daughter finding out.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We did when I was a kid - usually new pj's - but we don't now.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? Lots of ornaments, red LED lights, strings of beads, usually tinsel but probably not this year because of the Zeds.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Both. Love it on the mountains, hate it on the roads.

12. Can you ice skate? Yes, but I haven't in many years and would probably bruise my kiester if I tried.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? They're all my favourites until I open the next one.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? The feeling of peace and wellbeing, and the fact people are marginally less rude than during the rest of the year.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Christmas cookies from my grandmothers' recipes.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Opening stockings before the 'rents get up. Now that I am a 'rent, I still get up early and open them with my daughter.

17. What tops your tree? an angel

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Giving is the nice, politically correct answer. But honestly, I like both.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? Right now it's "The River," an old Joni Mitchell song redone by Sarah McLaughlin. Along with "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree," "The Christmas Song," "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," and on the religous side - even though I'm not religious - "Oh Holy Night."

20. Candy Canes or Chocolate Covered Cherries? I'll take the chocolate any day.

21. Favorite Christmas movie: Liking the newer ones, like "Home Alone" and "Love Actually." And I still watch all the old stop-animation TV Christmas specials like "Rudolph" and "Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town" - I own them on DVD.

I'm Back, Baby!

2006-11-13T07:32:00.000-08:00

Whew! Long Hiatus! I hate it when work interferes with my recreational activities.

Started slogging through almost three years of crap in our storage area yesterday. Jesus. I thought it would take me the day. I underestimated ~~a bit a lot~~ a whole wack. I can't believe the amount of stuff in there! I haven't seen most of it since we moved in almost three years ago. My husband has about five boxes of shit he insists he needs. Yah, well, if you need it so bad, why is there a three-inch layer of dust on the lid?

Then there are the pictures. Wow. When you haphazardly throw pictures and kids' artwork and miscellaneous stuff into a heap, it tends to stay in a heap. Who knew? Now I have all those pictures to go through too - making me feel guilty for not keeping up with the whole scrapbooking thing. I have a tote my mom got me for Christmas 3 years ago that's still in its box. I have a cutting system I bought from Creative Memories at about the same time that's still in its shrink-wrap. Maybe it's time I just admit - I don't have the time, or the inclination, to scrapbook. It's too bad, too, because I enjoy doing it while I'm doing it. It's just that on my list of 20 things to do at any given time, it's number 21.

I think it's time to have a scrapbook supply sale. Everything must go - for my own sanity!

Zis Vey to Zee Pool!

2006-10-23T08:49:00.000-07:00

Wow, finally get to post again! Every time I've tried to log on the past week, I can't get the page to load. Stupid Blogger.

So, how can you tell fall is setting in? The leaves are changing colour, the weather has turned from "sunny with a chance of clouds" to "shitty with a chance of crap," and I am growing my winter coat. I'm starting to look like a member of the East German women's Olympic swim team. The spousal unit is unimpressed, to say the least.

I am still shaving, because it's easy. I shave my lower legs and my pits. I figure it's the least I can do, and there's no way I'm showing up at the gym with hairy legs and armpits. What does that tell you - I'm more worried about what the gym-rats will think than I am about what my husband will feel. Priorities, right?

I keep up with the waxing in the summer. My upper legs and the dreaded bikini area. They should rename it, though, because most women can't wear a bikini that small, thank you very much. Hair is the least of their worries, ya catch my drift?

Everything seems to go to hell after Labour Day. The sandals get put away, so no more painted toenails. The tan starts to fade, so the cellulite is a little more cottage-cheese-like. So very attractive. No more body moisturizer. No more highlights in the hair. I may as well turn into a man.

There is some hope for the husband. I bought a waxing kit last week. That should get me to January at least. Maybe he'll stop asking me to cook bratwurst.

Another One Bites The Dust

2006-10-11T08:50:00.000-07:00

First I was the dumper. Now I'm the dumpee.

My first new show of the fall season has been cancelled.

I thought the first 3 episodes of "Smith" were pretty good, actually. I love Ray Liotta, Virginia Madsen, and Amy Smart. Apparently not enough people agree with me. CBS has toasted "Smith" due to poor ratings. They sure don't give new shows much of a honeymoon, do they? "Smith" had barely laid back on the pillows and lit a cigarette before the network execs were shoving on their pants and walking out of the room. No money on the dresser, either. Bastards.

Picked up another new show last week, though. "The Nine" is following "Lost" - talk about a ready-made audience. I liked the pilot - we'll see how this week's episode does.

$50 for a ride, $25 for a blow

2006-10-06T08:25:00.000-07:00

I feel like a prostitute. A fundraising prostitute. And I guess it won't end until my kid's out of school - or I become a worn-out, $2 a shot, toothless hag in a back alley whispering "hey honey, wanna buy some chocolate almonds? They're for a good cause!"

First was the Terry Fox Run. K's whole school did it, and while she wasn't required to get pledges, we as parents were "strongly encouraged" to solicit donations. So I sent out the requisite emails and K did make some money. Luckily it's a tax write-off, which encourages altruism. Good think someone benefitted from it, because my kid sure didn't. She ended up being "buddied" with a little 5th grader because there weren't enough parent volunteers (which I never heard they needed, or I would have gone along), and the 5th grader LOST her for few minutes. I'm sure my friends are SICK. TO. DEATH. of hearing about this by now, but it was pretty traumatic at the time. Anyhoo, I digress.

Then came the dreaded Girl Guide cookies. As a Spark, we have to sell them. It's the GG's only fundraiser and happens twice a year. We took our required 3 cases - 48 boxes - and because I'm a leader, we also took an extra one. Luckily the people I work with are carb and sugar hounds - it only took me 3 days to unload 3 cases. The following week we show up at the Sparks meeting to do a "cookie blitz" with the girls who still have some to sell, only to get 3 more cases shoved at me by an irate mother - who dropped her kids off late, no less. The cookie distribution process was ~~a clusterfuck~~ ~~a nightmare~~ a little logistically challenged, and she ended up with 6 cases instead of 3. So she unceremoniously dumped her extra 3 cases on me and said "I'm not selling them." Great, lady, thanks. I'll just do it then. Because I love going door to door, exposing my 5 year old to any number of perverts and letchers, shlepping $4 boxes of cookies.

Now it's coupon books, courtesy of the school again, or should I say the Parent Advisory council. At least people get something out of them, besides getting fat. I've sold a few books at work, and I'm going to buy one.

I used to find fundraising freak parents annoying. Now I am one. Joy.

Someone Wake Up Green Day

2006-10-02T08:39:00.000-07:00

October already.

Holy Jesus - gotta get on that Christmas shopping!

Yes, I am one of those annoying people who has most of her Christmas shopping done by the first couple of weeks of December. Not because I'm anal, but because I'm frugal. I can't afford to do it any other way. I buy gifts every 2 weeks when I get paid. With the proliferation of children in my family - 1 kid, 2 nieces and 1 nephew at last count - there's no other fiscal way to accomplish shopping.

Have already knocked off a couple - clothes for the nieces, also some for my own kid. And a cheap Santa present for K - a three part nylon crawl-through-it-tentlike thing. $15 - can't beat that. And it's big, which always impresses the wee ones. Also know what B and I are getting K - one of the loft beds from Ikea. We had told her she needed to be 6 before we got her one, but I think she's ready and she'll totally love it. B won't totally love putting it together, but that's not my problem, right?

And now begins the annual shmozzle over splitting our time between our home and my parents' place. We alternate years, and on the years we're with my parents it's not a big deal. On the off years we still travel there - a 4 hour drive in bad weather - on one weekend in December to do "Christmas." We've never minded, but this year December is already so packed the only time we have is the first weekend or New Year's weekend. Unfortunately, my snow bird parents don't want to wait until after New Year's to leave, so we may be stuck with the first weekend in December, which means it's doubly critical for me to get my shit together early. I'm a little annoyed with them, actually - we've bent over backwards every year to make sure we see my family. No one else travels but us. The fact my parents aren't willing to postpone their multi-week getaway is slightly galling. They're retired - what the fuck else do they have to do? I guess we'll see - things are still up in the air as my sister's inlaws have yet to get the fence posts out of their asses on whether or not they're coming, or will fly the whole fan damily to their place.

It's the most wonderful time of the year, right? Bah humbug.

It's not you, it's me

2006-09-25T08:28:00.000-07:00

So, I've started a few new relationships this fall. Some satisfy my need for humour, some my need for excitement, some my love of drama. My husband is OK with it, too. In fact, we're doing a menage a trois with one of them.

I have to say, this fall's new crop of TV shows is the best I've seen in years.

But I've already dumped one. I'll leave you in suspense as to which one. The cliffhanger will be resolved at the end of this post.

So far the favourite of both me and my husband is "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." I love Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford together - they have great chemistry. It IS kind of like watching Josh without Donna, though. Matt did a great turn in "The West Wing" either last season or the season before, so I'm already used to him not being Chandler.

Also enjoyed the first episode of "Smith." Ray Liotta has gotten pretty swarthy-looking - must be all that hard living. But he's still sexy as hell. And Virginia Madsen, well, let's just say, if I played for the other team, she'd be on my list. Oh, what the fuck, let's put her on the list anyway. I also really like Amy Smart. And the British guy is cool.

I have also watched "Six Degrees" which I liked, although I was pretty disappointed that they got the characters together so quickly - I thought they'd leave a little more to be developed throughout the season. "Shark" was another one, but I think James Woods has an awfully big job to carry that show all on his own. And after all the L&O shows, the audience is savvy enough about legal procedure to know that first courtroom scene was pretty weak. But I'll give it a chance.

Looking forward to "Ugly Betty" and "The Nine." Between the new shows and my returning faves - ER, Lost, and CSI:NY - I haven't watched this much TV in ages. Thank heaven the networks are offering up more than reality tripe. Sorry, reality fans.

But unfortunately, there is only so much room on the PVR, so I've had to let a show go. "Men In Trees" just doesn't do it for me. I don't know if it's the hour-long comedy, or Anne Heche, or what, but I was watching the second episode and about a quarter of the way through, I realized "I just don't give a rat's ass about what happens to any of these people." So it's outta there. With a Friday night time slot, I don't give it much hope anyway.

My Friday nights are already taken up with my only nod to reality tripe. "What Not To Wear" is my very favouritest show on TV. Give me an hour with Stacey and Clinton - and a half a bottle of wine - and my weekday stress just melts away. God bless those two. Hopefully one day there won't be a visible panty line or a tapered pant left anywhere in the world.

Bland = Blarg

2006-09-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

So, now I'm seeing a nutritionist. From here on, referred to as The Nazi.

It's been good so far. She's very knowledgeable about stomach issues like mine. A little too knowledgeable, it turns out.

My studiously healthy diet may be the culprit. All those whole grains and non-soluable fibres. You know, the brown bread and salad. I've always liked the fact that I like that stuff. I would pick whole grain bread over white bread any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I'd rather have a salad with my burger than french fries.

Good for me, right?

Wrong!

Turns out all that stuff can irritate the gut. And with a gut that's constantly irritated - kind of like my personality, really - it just leads to all kinds of plumbing problems.

So now I'm on a bland diet. Like, really bland. Elevator Muzak bland. For breakfast I had a third - yes, a THIRD - of a plain white bagel with 1 tablespoon of light cream cheese, an egg, and a cup of peppermint tea. No coffee, just tea. For a snack I had a slice - yes, ONE SLICE - of light swiss cheese and a small banana. And more tea. For lunch I get a bowl of chicken vegetable soup, a white dinner roll, and 6 soda crackers. I think I'll skip the fucking tea. Afternoon snack is two slices of turkey and another roll. Dinner is meat and very well cooked vegetables. Oh, I'm also off starch at dinner for awhile, to "kick-start" my metabolism. It's going to need more than a kick-start with this diet, let me tell you. It's going to need a can of gasoline and a blow torch.

All this is meant to "calm my stomach down." Oh, it's calm alright. It's fucking comatose at this point. I find myself longing for the days when I could have plain oatmeal for breafast. It would be a party in my mouth, I swear! The wasa crackers and salt/sugar free peanut butter is a distant memory. Why didn't I appreciate it while I had it? Chicago was right - you don't know what you got until it's gone. And I found out a little too late.

Hopefully it doesn't take long to resolve these latest digestive issues, because I can't wait to eat normally again. Unfortunately for The Nazi, "normally" won't really cut it anymore. No more letting it all go on the weekends. I can't afford to sabotage myself, because it's affecting my health - and my waistline - a little too much.

But a little plain oatmeal would taste pretty good right now. So would a cardboard box. Can't eat that, either. Too much fibre.

The Windmills of my Mind ...

2006-09-15T08:34:00.000-07:00

So, I have become what I swore I never would.

I have become a person who relies on a daytimer.

I've always had a crack memory. Never needed lists or reminders or anything. Grocery list? Pshaw! Sure, I'd forget a couple of things every time I went shopping, but that's what makes it exciting, right? Calendar for birthdays? Forget it - my mind's a steal trap! So I can't remember my mother in law's birthday, so what? She never remembers mine either. Bitch.

But the steal trap started rusting a few years ago. I found I'd have to park in the same area of the mall every time I went, or I'd get lost. I'd be one of those people aimlessly wandering the parking lot, hunting for my car. Never resorted to the humiliation of having one of the little golf-carts zoom me around, though. Thank God for that. I'd also have to keep my keys in the same place, or I'd never get out of the house.

Now it seems the things I have to keep track of have exploded into a mess of lists, tables, and notices.

Take this Sparks thing. Sparks is like pre-Brownies. My daughter is a Spark this year, and gullible me, I have been talked into being a leader. That means a meeting every Monday night, with different activities. But some Mondays don't have meetings, because the night has changed, or there's a special event at some other point. Or a holiday. Oh, and don't forget about Sparks CAMP, either. In December. Can you say "pass the electric blanket?" I bet they won't even let us drink. Fuck.

Add in the Ballet Saturday mornings - but not EVERY Saturday morning. And the swimming lessons that start up in October. And the Parent Advisory Committee meetings for K's school. And the ridiculously busy social life I have somehow managed to create for myself. And the doctor's appointments, the trips to see my parents, my parents' trips to see us, etc, etc, ad infinitum.

Jesus, I don't need a daytimer, I need a secretary! And a chauffeur. And to win the lottery, so I can eliminate the biggest time sucker of all - my job. T fucking GIF, BTW.

The Incredible Lightness of Ebaying

2006-09-11T08:40:00.000-07:00

Hello, I'm T. And I'm an Ebay addict.

Can't stop bidding no matter what I do. It's a good thing I don't smoke, or drink a lot, or gamble. I'm already putting us in the poorhouse with all these bloody auctions I "have to" win. If I were a normal non-addict, I would put in my maximum bid and just sit back and wait to see if I win or not. If I do, great - if I don't, oh well, there's always another one. Right? I wish. I get the bloodlust in me, especially when I'm sitting there lurking over the auction as the final seconds tick down. I've been sniped too many times - I'm wise to all those tricks. Suddenly the bids are WAY past my maximum, but I'm still in there with my quick little fingers. I end up paying more for the stuff used than I would have new, if I'd just waited for a sale. I almost always regret it when I'm done. I must stop. I think the only solution to this problem - is to start selling.

And the exclusive thing I bid on? Clothes for my little angel. You know, the one that was running screaming around my house on Saturday afternoon? If that weren't bad enough, 7 of her friends were running screaming behind her. What is the official name for this 9th degree of hell? "Birthday Party." Yes, on the day of my kid's 5th birthday party, it has to rain for the first time in THREE FUCKING MONTHS. Eight 5 year olds, supercharged on sugar and adrenaline, tearing K's room apart, terrorizing my cats, and breaking the sound barrier with all that yelling. All the other moms desterted me - cowards. They went to STARBUCKS. I would have snuck out with them but my husband collared me - there's no way HE'S gonna be trapped there alone.

Anyway, back to the clothes. I buy Gymboree. If you're not a parent, you don't know, but for moms, especially of girls, it's like the Dolce & Gabbana of kids clothes. Great fabrics, interesting styles, and they wear really well. But they're fucking expensive, man! The only time I can afford to buy them at the store is when I get a special email giving me 30% off - and then I still usually only buy on sale for the extra discount. Jesus.

And then Ebay came along. It's no longer parents selling their hand-me-downs, either. An entire economy has sprung up, with people (I don't know who they are - Gymboree employees?) selling huge lots of clothing, with the buyers then splitting their lots up into outfits and making an absolute KILLING. And boy, are there some stupid people out there. The newest craze - putting up an auction that promises to double the winner's bid in value of clothing. So if you pay $100, they'll give you $200 worth of clothes. Well, we're talking full retail here, people. In Gymboree terms, that could mean 2 pairs of pants and 3 shirts. Big whoop. Especially when you can order off the Gymboree website when things are on sale AND get free shipping if you pay enough. I usually only buy used clothes or new with tags IF the price is right.

I've been toying with the idea of selling myself, but I need some serious capital to get going. I also get a migraine when I think about dealing with buyers. I, of course, am a model buyer, but I'm sure I'd get every crazy wack-job out there. No, you can't return it because your kid doesn't like it. No, I won't ship it to you in Timbuk-fucking-tu for $3.50 when my auction CLEARLY STATES I will ship only to the continental US and Canada. No, I won't put it "on hold" for you or take more than the winning bidder, and reneg on the auction, just because you "really, really, REALLY want it." Anyone have a Tylenol?

Gack!

2006-09-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

My daughter is now 5. And starting kindergarten.

I feel old.

Milestones

2006-08-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

Learning to live with the fact that I am not the size of a supermodel, nor will I ever be, has been a constant struggle in my life. I can blame it on a lot of things - watching my mother diet all of my life, believing she only finds me worthy if and when I'm thin, watching my size 4 sister eat whatever she wants and not gain an ounce. But it really is my fault. I have been ashamed of my body for as long as I can remember - even when I was thin, as pictures prove. Strange, isn't it, how powerful your psyche can be?

The milestone I hit last Friday was seeing 200 lbs on the scale.

I've been telling a lot of people, mostly close friends, to erase the power of that number. It's working for the most part. I've been to my doctor to talk about the fact that I have gained about 20 pounds over the past 6 months and want to rule out any medical issues. She was less than helpful, pretty much telling me that I'm eating too much. I am being tested for thyroid problems, celiac disease, and blood sugar issues, so we'll see how that turns out. I'm off dairy for a couple of weeks to try and get a handle on the IBS, and may try a gluten-free diet as well if the "cow free zone" doesn't do anything. She also went so far as to suggest weight loss medication. When I expressed some surprise that I'd be a candidate, seeing as how I'm not morbidly obese, she said to me "well, at 200 lbs, you're well on your way." Gee, thanks, Doc.

I'm also taking matters into my own hands. Still in therapy to deal with my body issues, and that's going well. Going to see a dietician, to devise an eating plan around my strange work hours and my digestive issues. And after the epiphany that plus-size clothing stores start at size 14, of which I belong, I now have some better options for dressing myself in clothes that are actually made for women, not girls. Halleluja. Still working out, and feeling good about that.

That's the good thing about milestones - they are not the end of a journey, they just mark a place.

Spam - it's not just for breakfast anymore

2006-08-23T08:24:00.000-07:00

For the last couple of months or so, I've been getting this weird spam in my in-box. The sender is usually a name - not anyone I know - and the subject line is two words. The weird thing is, the two words are totally random and 99.9% of the time, make no sense whatsoever. I don't know what the emails are, since I've never opened one, but I thought it would be fun to share some of the choice subjects and try to guess their cosmic meaning.

Ulterior Apprehend - the motive for tracking someone down, maybe?

Enlightening Remorse - oh, that's why I feel so shitty!

Persuasiveness Artifact - a wily old grandmother?

Stork Estuary - kind of makes sense - I can see a body of water filled with long-legged birds...

Subdue Persecution - OK, I agree with that one ... but I still won't open it.

Savings Bank - Hah! If that isn't a contradition in terms, I don't know what is!

Simple-Minded Proper Noun (sent by Siegfried Wang) - well, I guess that would be Siegfried Wang, wouldn't it?

And my favourite one of all ...

Manure - about says it all, doncha think?

Whut I Learnt On My Summer Vaykayshun

2006-08-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

1. Carefully, thoroughly, and concisely figure out how much alcohol is needed for camping trip - then double it. When camping with mother, triple it.

2. Sleeping bags rated to +3 degrees may keep you alive at that temperature, but won't keep you even remotely warm.

3. The word "camping" seems to be synonymous with "eating everything that's not nailed down."

4. Don't be fooled by 4 year old who says she wants s'mores. Especially when she says she doesn't want the graham cracker part. Or the chocolate part. Or the cooked part. She's just jonesing for marshmallows.

5. When a man says he's going fishing "for a little while," understand that time apparently stops while on board a fishing boat. It's sucked into the same vortex that manages to consume the half sack of beer that also disappears.

6. Motorhomes that look like mobile homes with steering wheels on a sunny day feel more like small walk-in closets when it's raining. Especially when they're occupied by a whiny 4 year old, a whiny 2 year old, and my mother. See Lesson #1.

7. No matter how many times you wash them, no matter how many times you go swimming, feet will stay dusty and dirty for the entire duration of the camping trip. Learn to deal, or wear galoshes the whole time. Even in the sleeping bag.

Ciao for now!

2006-08-04T08:05:00.000-07:00

Wow, way too busy at work this week to slack off. How annoying.

Plus dealing with the Client From Hell, who, now that her damn project is done, can kiss my left cheek. Muah!

Off work for two weeks, so I'm not sure if I'll be posting here or not.

The world needs a break from my incessant ramblings anyway.

TTFN!

Missing and Almost Dead

2006-07-28T08:56:00.000-07:00

Missing: the month of July.

Last seen 3 weeks ago, pushing June out the door.

July was last seen wearing sandals with white socks, baggy bermuda shorts, and a wife-beater, with a baseball cap on backwards and zinc oxide on the nose.

July is supposed to hang around for 31 days and deliver one long weekend, but instead was only here for what I swear was 8.3 FUCKING SECONDS before taking off.

August, who is next in the batting lineup, has been seen squealing "I'm not ready!" while hastily shoving herself into a tube top, denim shorts, and Birkenstocks.

All the noise has woken up September, busily napping on the couch.

If you've seen any sign of July, or can accurately pinpoint its whereabouts, please call me.

Save me ... I'm melting ...

2006-07-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

As one of my co-workers astutely pointed out yesterday, normally we pay thousands of dollars to travel to exotic locations in order to sweat the way we're sweating right now. I then more astutely pointed out that those exotic locations also include all you can drink swim-up pool bars, all you can eat buffets, and air-conditioned rooms. Along with no kids, no pets, no laundry, and no housecleaning. Not that I do the laundry and housecleaning, but still.

It has been deathy, ridiculously, fantastically hot the last few days. When temperatures are in the mid 30's here, it feels like 40 thanks to the humidity. I break a sweat reaching into the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Making toast heats up the kitchen too much. The cats need to take a nap walking from the living room to the dining room. I can't shower with the bathroom light on. It's a relief to be at work, where the temperature can be best described as "balmy meatlocker."

Not that I'm complaining. When it's November and it NEVER. STOPS. RAINING. I'll look back on these lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer and sigh wistfully. I'll remember being able to go to the gym in just my workout clothes, and still need the air conditioner on in the car on the way home. Sitting out on the back deck on a Friday night with a cool beverage and my book, able to read until 9:00 at night because it's still light out.

I love summer, but 10 degrees cooler would make me fall in love all over again.

Just Call Me Cranky Crankerson

2006-07-21T07:53:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I honestly just want to take this little side business of mine and toss it in the trash.

I've worked for HOURS on the second edition of a newsletter for a client, finally have it ready, and sent it to her last night. That's after sending it to myself a few times to make sure it works. Well, of course, it doesn't work for her. Instead of seeing a beautiful newsletter, she sees broken graphics and text in the wrong place.

This is after having a serious mental meltdown with the first edition. I did that one in Word and sent it to her, but she couldn't get it converted to HTML so it became my problem. She ended up sending it out as a PDF file which looked RIDICULOUS. So this time I created a whole new format in Publisher, and it looks fantastic if I do say so myself. Now to figure out how to get it to her whole.

I am so sick of dealing with this.

The worst thing - I told her I'd charge her $150 for everything, which is peanuts in the world of e-publishing and media. That's 3 hours worth, and I've probably spent three times that amount of time so far, with more to come.

What a great way to ruin my Friday.

I'm Fine, Thanks ... And I don't Care How You Are.

2006-07-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

It is seriously the most dreaded question in the English language to ask.

I'm fine thanks - how are you?

I hate it. Hatehatehatehatehate it.

Why?

Because most people don't know how to answer it.

Don't get me wrong. When I ask good friends and family, I mean it. I really want to know how they are, because I have an investment in their health and well-being and care about the answer.

Strangers or aquaintances? Could give a rat's ass how they are. But you ask to be polite, right? How else do you answer the question "How are you?" You can't just say "I'm fine, thanks" because it sounds rude. You're expected to ask the follow up "how are you?" That's how it's done, it's how it's always been done. People get ticked off and think you're a snob if you don't.

Unfortunately, you're then subjected to the answer.

You know you're going to get a doozy by the signs. You know the ones. Like the person who starts out with a big sigh and "well ..." Then you get an indepth analysis of their assorted medical conditions, marital problems, issues with the job. It's endless. And you have to sit there and listen to it all, right? After all, you asked. You moron.

The other one I love is the "oh, well, you know ..." and then nothing. Prompting you to ask the follow up "oh, what's wrong?" Hah! I don't fall for that trap anymore. An almost stranger? Forget it! You want to be passive-aggressive with someone, go home and take it out on your family. Not me. Not interested in the slightest.

So I think from now on, when a co-worker or mere aquaintance asks me "how are you today?" I'll answer "I am absolutely fabulous! Couldn't be better! Thank you SO MUCH for asking!" and leave it at that. I'll just breezily walk away, leaving the next poor sap to be asked "how are you" holding the smelly bag of the response.

Does that make me a cold-hearted, anti-social bitch? Probably. Don't care. Rat's ass, remember? What it will gain me is some relief from the way-too-personal glances into someone else's life, and a few precious minutes of my day.

I swear to God, they're buffalo

2006-07-18T08:50:00.001-07:00

So, here is a typical half hour period with Zack and Zipper, the two kittens from hell.

7:30pm - run over to kitchen table yelling "Zack! Get down! GET DOWN!" He gets down.

7:35pm - see above. Detour into kitchen to get Zipper off the counter.

7:38pm - see above

7:40pm - see above

7:42pm - put slippers on as Zipper is biting my toes. Put newspaper down as Zack is trying to claw his way through it.

7:45pm - comfort crying daughter, who has been scratched for the zillionth time after trying to "cuddle" with one of the kittens. Cuddle. These two would as soon eat your nose as look at you. I discourage her from trying to cuddle with them.

7:48pm - do kitchen table dance again. Put B's dinner in the toaster oven - not to warm it up, but to keep it safe from the ravenous beasts. Who were just fed their dinner.

7:49pm - take my one chance to open patio screen door and go outside. Why now? Because it's the perfect opportunity - Zack is currently chasing his tail, and Zipper is in the best place to ensure he doesn't try to escape outside. He's hanging by his claws halfway up said screen door.

7:51pm - make it back inside without the escape artists getting out. Much to their disgust. They ignore me. For a millisecond.

7:55pm - back to the kitchen table. Feeling murderous at this point. Zack would make a nice muff.

8:00pm - two kittens finally settle down in my lap, purring contentedly. I, of course, have to get up.

Fuck.

Yes, I am a rock star!

2006-07-17T08:32:00.000-07:00

Isn't it bizarre how the littlest thing can make you so happy? I got total fucking ROCK STAR parking twice this weekend! Once at the movie theatre on Saturday night for "Pirates of the Carribean," and once at Costco Sunday morning. It was the zen parking experience, I have to say. It's also kind of sad how excited I am about this, but hey. Little things, etc etc.

Traffic court - well, don't get me started. I've already vented about this to anyone who will listen. I'm sure some people are now hoping I'm arrested because that will finally shut me up. The condensed version - the cop didn't show up, the case was dismissed, I was royally pissed off, I complained to the RCMP, they followed up with me and were appropriately humble, the officer involved (who apparently FORGOT about the court appearace ... yah, whatever, I call bullshit) now has a note in his file, and I am mollified. Somewhat.

Also had a good lesson in how NOT to run a kid's birthday party this weekend. Totally unorganized, and the little birthday girl was quite the brat, actually. As she was opening her presents, she'd just rip the paper off, take a disinterested look at the gift for a nanosecond, then toss it to her mother and tear into the next one. Watching the gifts being opened is K's very favourite part of the party - other than the lootbags, of course. My heart was breaking for all those little girls - my own included - who spent more than a nanosecond picking it out. At K's party this year I am determined to make sure every gift-giver feels appreciated for the time and effort it took to bring a gift. It's just common courtesy, after all - something the entire planet seems to be sorely lacking these days.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

2006-07-13T09:54:00.000-07:00

So, I have to go to traffic court today. How white trash does that sound? No, not for something I did - they haven't caught me yet. For something I saw last summer. A girl doing Mach-10 on a rainy highway rolled her car right in front of me and my daughter. I stayed behind like a good citizen to give the cop my statement - and this is how I'm rewarded. I have to testify at the stupid girl's hearing. They have you dead to rights, sweetheart. How 'bout you do us all a favour and plead guilty? That way I can go home and have a nap. It's all about me, after all.

I do, however, have to take a big chunk out of my car insurance thanks to a run-in I had with a log on the girls' Weekend Of Debauchery. Scraped my car up but good. Luckily I'm a good little driver - see above - and have an exemplary insurance rating. The repairs will cost me $200 for the deductible, then an $80 increase in my coverage for the year, but then it starts going down again as I build my rating back up. So it'll probably cost me about $500 all told, still totally worth it for what will likely amount to a repair job that's worth at least $1500. Fucking car companies. Long gone are the days you could pound out a dent and repaint it yourself.

And, against my better judgement, I will become a Girl Guide leader this fall. Crazy, you say? Possibly. I'm getting K involved in Sparks (pre-Brownies), and they desperately need leaders, so I foolishly put up my hand. Let's see - full-time job that has me working atrocious hours, a consulting business, a husband, a daughter who's starting kindergarten, and joining the school's Parent Advisory Council. I'll be lucky to have enough time in the day to pee. What's wrong with me??

You Will Be Assimilated

2006-07-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

More "convergence" - the polite word for monopoly formation - happening in the Canadian media industry. It looks like Bell GlobeMedia is buying CHUM. Bell already owns CTV and The Globe and Mail along with Bell ExpressVue and all the cellphone stuff. Now it will own a bunch of TV and radio stations, if the CRTC approves. Not sure what the nazi Canadian regulators will say about it, though. Not that this is anything new. In the US, GE owns NBC and Disney owns ABC. Freedom of the press? Yeah, right.

Exceptionally tired today. Can't seem to get to bed until 10:00 these days. Bad news when you get up at 3:00am. Only two more days to go until the weekend. After two weekends in a row of go-go-go, it will be nice to be at home. It looks like MIL is all teed up to watch the girl for Saturday night so the man and I can get out and see a movie. Johnny Depp, here I come!

1 Down, 4 To Go

2006-07-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

Tuesday. Terrorists blow up train stations in India. Yadda Yadda.

Founder of Pink Floyd dead - turns out he died a few days ago, only the band waits to say something until today - the day its DVD "Pulse" comes out. That's pretty fucking cold, considering Syd Barrett lived in obscurity for years after being kicked out of the band for "erratic behaviour." Yep, acid will do that to you, man. See you on the dark side of the moon.

Not much else is going on. I feel like a single mother. My husband is working like a dog and looks frustrated and distracted most of the time. This has been going on for YEARS. I've talked to him about it, but he doesn't want to leave his job, so what can I do? I'm not his mother. I'm hoping to get MIL to babysit this Saturday night so we can go out. Maybe we can talk then.

Monday. Fucken' A.

2006-07-10T08:36:00.000-07:00

Back at work after a whirlwind trip with the homegirls to a little house on a not-so-little lake. A little too much drinking and chemical debauchery on the Friday night led to a mostly subdued Saturday. But it was a nice bonding weekend and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Feeling gross, though. Gotta love my sensitive digestive system. Any kind of change throws it off entirely. It's like a cranky old woman in there. Jesus.

I did a big thing a couple of weeks ago. I went through my entire spring/summer wardrobe and disposed of all the things that don't fit me anymore. Very liberating. I felt very pressured by those clothes in there, which all fit fine about 15 pounds ago. I felt like they were mocking me. There's nothing worse than a pair of slim-fit black capri pants smirking at you. So they're outta here. Of course, the upside is that I need new clothes. What a shame. So I've done a bit of retail damage lately, but now I'm done. I can't afford to do more.

The first two days of the new workout regime went great. Manoman was I sore after - which must mean it's working. Wahoo!

Might as well make the most of my time

2006-07-05T08:14:00.000-07:00

So, I've finally figured out a good time to post in this thing. That's been my biggest issue - no time. Gee, with a full time job, a casual small business, a husband, a kid, a home, and a nice social life, you'd think I'd have all the time in the world, right?

So I'm going to start posting from work! They pay me to write, right? So I'll write. Just not for them. What they don't know and all that.

So, Kenneth Lay died today. You know, the chairman of Enron. Lied about profits, lived a champagne lifestyle on a Fresca budget. He supposedly died of a heart attack. I figure he's faking his death. I would. The guy was facing a kajillion years in prison and would likely be lynched if he ever got out. So he pulls a Bre-X, except without the helicopter in the jungle this time. Need more proof of my theory? The announcement came from his LAWYER'S office. Yeah, right. You want to know how to tell if a lawyer is lying? Their lips are moving.

Work is kicking my ass. I'm so tired these days. Can't seem to get enough sleep. Napping is going well, although I feel like a 2 year old most days.

Changing my diet and workout routine slightly. Not dieting, since I've sworn off all dieting. Just adding more protein, changing some of my choices. And ramping up the workouts - less time, more intensity. This all comes from my new diet and fitness guru - Lawrence at GNC. Stopped in yesterday in a moment of weakness - asking about weight loss aids. I know I can't take anything really, because I'm so sensitive to stimulants. So Lawrence suggested upping my protein and my workouts, and taking something called CLA, which is supposed to help build lean muscle mass and get rid of fat. We'll see. My body likes its fat, and is pretty cranky when asked to give it up.

Styx was talking about these people

2006-06-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

So, I've discovered two groups of people who I think have a little too much time on their hands. Or they're crazy. Or both.

The first is the group that has turned the TV show "Lost" into some sort of real world event. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally hooked on the show. The SHOW. I don't do all the web stuff or anything, although I did just read "Bad Twin," which was supposedly written by one of the passengers on Oceanic Flight 815 before it went down. But in my defense, I read it because I heard it may have been written by Stephen King, of whom I am a huge fan. My official opinion - it wasn't written by SK. And it wasn't that good. But anyway. I have hit a couple of the Lost message boards, and man-o-man, these people way overthink the show. It's a TV SHOW, for Christ's sake. A good one, absolutely, but still a show. Trying to infuse it with any more meaning than that is just a little loony, if you ask me. And I've seen more and more posts start with the letters OT, meaning Off-Topic. Don't they have friends?

The other group of somewhat crazy people are soccer fans. The World Cup is on right now. Yes, that's what all the horn honking, flag waving, and general mayhem is about. The games are in Germany, which means there are a lot of drunk people early in the day. Like they need an excuse. Although, I must say, it is kind of embarassing that Canada hasn't qualified a soccer team in like 800 years, but countries like Ivory Coast can get a team in. Like, Ivory Coast has about 12 people living there. I guess we're not good at soccer because we can't figure out the optimal way to hit the ball with a hockey stick.

Well, how sad am I?

2006-06-06T08:58:00.000-07:00

Haven't been here in awhile, have I?

No excuse, really. Just haven't had much to say.

May was kind of a busy month - visiting relatives, a trip with girlfriends, and we adopted two kittens. Although when we're in the basement and we hear them running around upstairs, I swear we've adopted a heard of fucking buffalo.

I've also turned into a kitten nurse - the poor babes had upper respiratory infections, so we've become good friends with the vet. We're also putting his kids through medical school, I'm sure.

What else is going on? Not much. My husband is about to go fishing for a week. I understand the need for solitude, but fishing? Sorry, not my bag at all. But because of my unusual work hours, I can't care for our daughter alone. So she's being shipped off to the 'rents for a week. I get a whole week all to myself. No lunches to make, no daycare pick-ups, no dirty rooms to clean. But no hugs, no kisses, and no "I love you mommy"'s. Not much of a toss-up, is it? I'll enjoy the peace and quiet for about 20 minutes, then desperately miss my family. Oh well, it's just a week.

Be back soon, I promise. Why waste blog space if I'm not going to use it, right?

I'm Just Sayin'

2006-04-23T19:07:00.000-07:00

"Mister Harper, give me back my national daycare program, and I'll give you back your nose! Fucker!"

God, I love that picture. I have it taped on my locker at work. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Why is it my daughter can say she's full, "I'm soooo fuuuulllll" when she's eating something that's good for her, yet five minutes later she's "sssssooooo huuuunnngggrrryyy" when the chips, popcorn, or cookies come out?

OK, dumb question.

So, I pack the dishwasher like clowns pack their magic trunks - throw everything in, then shut the door fast and brace with two feet so nothing gets out. That's apparently the WRONG way. My husband packs the dishwasher like we're eating off Queen Elizabeth's Limoges, with maybe three things in there. That's apparently the RIGHT way. So why do my dishes come out clean, and his come out dirty?

How do pharmaceutical companies manage to make a gazillion dollars a year, when the side effects of their products often sound way worse than what you're taking them for in the first place. I mean seriously, a side effect like "bloody diarrhea?" What do you have that's so bad that you need to risk having that side effect? Ewwww!

If Tom and Katie had birthed a boy, would they have named him Elron?

George Dubya is now being described, in some circles, as the worst president of the last 100 years. I'm racking my brain to think of who was president back in the 1800's. I'd hate to be the guy who comes in as worse than Bush. Scary thought.

That's it. I'm out.

Only, the Lonely?

2006-04-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

I took my daughter to a birthday party for one of her little daycare friends. Of the kids there, she was the only only child. One of the moms asked me if she was my only one, and when I said "yep" she answered back "wow, that's ... great!"

Isn't it amazing how one little ellipsis in a sentence can say so much?

Here are my thoughts on just what was contained in those little dots.

Wow, that's ... too bad! You must have some sort of strange and debilitating medical condition, because who would willingly choose to only have one child?
Wow, that's ... horrible! Your poor daughter will grow up lonely, spoiled, and strange.
Wow, that's ... incredibly selfish of you! How can you just think of yourself for such an important decision? Did you even ASK your daughter if she wanted a sibling?
Wow, that's ... unbelievable. Sometimes I wish I only had one. But it makes me feel too guilty when I do, so I think I'll look down my nose at you and cover my brief spurt of envy with a heavy dose of superiority.

There was another mom there, with three girls, all under 5 years old. I guess she looked happy enough, but she also looked incredibly tired. It makes me tired even thinking about it.

I don't think it's so rare anymore to encounter only children. For one thing, living where I live, daycare is not financially viable with two kids, especially one being a baby. I may as well not work. And if I was a stay at home mom, my children would either be dead or sold off within a year. So I think I made the right decision. I'm just saying.

Luckily for us, my daughter is incredibly well adjusted. She must get those genes from my husband, who I'm told was the original Gerber Baby when he was a kid - all smiles and giggles, no temper tantrums. My kid has her moments, but for the most part has always been pretty good. Which is fortunate, because I was a mess for the first year after she was born. It took a lot of time - and therapy - before I got to a point where I was comfortable with her and with my role as a mother. Gotta love post partum depression. Me and Brooke Shields, baby. Although I never considered ramming my speeding car into a cement wall. Brooke, you're all alone on that one, sister.

Do I ever have twinges? Not really. Sometimes I watch siblings play and think - actually, I know - my kid would make a great older sister. But I can't have a baby for her. She has her own womb for that. I look at my sister - pregnant with her second - and can't wait for the baby to be born so I can hold her. And then give her back.

So yes, I know in my heart I made the right decision. Despite ... those uncomfortable reactions from people.

Size Does Matter

2006-04-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't it be nice to look like this? I mean seriously, I would bankrupt myself in clothing. I would own every pair of jeans there are. I would gorge myself on tight little t-shirts. I would never cover my stomach. In fact, I think I would walk around in whore-wear most of the time. Work, grocery shopping, whatever.

Can you tell I've been trying on clothes?

Surprise, surprise, I don't look like this girl. Actually, considering all the photoediting these days, she probably doesn't look like her either.

Imagine the exact opposite of this, and that's me. I'm about 5'8'' and a size 14 or 16 depending on the manufacturer. I have what's politely called an hourglass figure, and most of the time I don't mind. I like being curvy and looking curvy. If I were a car, I'd be advertized as "built for comfort, not for speed."

The only time I mind is when I'm trying on clothes. Not tops. In shirts I'm a size large normally, an extra-large if I'm lured into one of those cheap and cheerful tweenie kind of stores, and every once in awhile, when the stars and moon are aligned just so, I'm a medium.

It's pants that are the bane. The BANE of my existence.

First off, I'm considered "tall." How 5'8'' ever got to be tall for a woman is beyond me. Finding pants that don't make me look like I'm about to go off and build an ark is next to impossible. Especially since I also like heels.

Then, try and find a pair of pants that allow for baby-birthing hips, a definite waist, and some square footage in the backyard, if you catch my drift. They either fit in the waist and not in the hips, or vice versa. And heaven forbid a woman actually has some meat on her thighs.

I wish the fashion industry would actually wake up to the fact that women aren't shaped like men. And you can be a size 14 and still have a shape. And still want to wear all the cute clothes the size 3 and 5 girls get to wear. We just want them a little bigger. The same shape, idiots, just bigger.

Luckily for me, I love to shop. Lovelovelovelovelove to shop. I should be a professional shopper, but I doubt I'd make it because I'm way too bossy. "No, you really don't want that. You want THIS. Give me your credit card." So I'm usually able to find something, with a lot of hunting around. That way I'm not naked at work or anything. Trust me - no one wants to see that.

The 4-1-1

2006-04-06T18:27:00.000-07:00

So, it's official. My life is boring. My life is SO boring, I actually make boring a three-syllable word. BO-HO-RING.

Here's the skinny.

Monday to Thursday look virtually identical. I get up at 3am - yes, you read that right, the crack of oh-my-fucking-God-it's-early. I'm at work by 4am, usually off work by 10am. God bless a job that pays me what I get paid for not doing a hell of a lot. I love the news business, even with the brutal hours. I'd probably do it for free. If I didn't have to get up.

Then I come home, eat, maybe read a little bit, watch a bit of TV, then have a nap. How depressing is that? I'm 36 and I need a sleep in the afternoons. Oh well, whatever works.

Then I get up and go to the gym. Even after years of working out, I still hate it. I love what it does for my body, but I still hate the physical act of exercising. And I still don't look like Eva Longoria. I think I'll demand my money back.

Then I pick up my daughter, come home, make dinner, eat dinner, play with the kid for awhile - yay for kids' board games - then herd her into bed. My husband usually comes home during this time, but sometimes he's late. Then I read for another hour or so, and it's off to bed by 9pm.

Needless to say "People" magazine isn't beating down my door for a 10-page spread.

Fridays can be different, in that I often skip my afternoon nap. I'll sometimes go shopping and for lunch and a movie with a coworker. It makes for a long day, but I get to sleep in on Saturdays. By "sleeping in" I mean 6am. Whee.

My husband and I often make Friday night our "date night." We eat together after the progeny has gone to bed, drink a little and watch TV. "What Not To Wear" is my current, and only, reality TV vice. Except for Dr. Phil. Whut wure ewe thinken?

Weekends are a frantic and futile attempt to do everything I didn't do during the week. I pay someone to clean my house, so I don't have to do that at least. But every second Thursday morning I frenetically "clean up" for the housekeepers. Stupid, I know, but I don't want them spending their time tidying, I want them to spend their time cleaning.

Tomorrow is a big adventure. I'm going shopping south of the border with some girls from work. Can't wait. I am a self-admitted shoe whore. Finding a good deal on a cute pair of shoes is, at times, better than sex. Admit it, you know it's true.

Open Letter

2006-04-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

To the little bitch who passed me in single lane traffic - on the right - as we were driving through a school zone with a high school on one side and a daycare on the other.

You know who you are. In the crappy blue Chevy Cavalier.

Maybe you didn't realize it was a school zone. They don't make those yellow triangular signs nearly big or bright enough, do they? Or maybe the picture of the small stick figure on the front is too confusing. That cellphone conversation you were having also looked pretty distracting. You probably had to yell over the music, too - Mariah Carey, was it?

I just want you to know something. Karma is a real bastard. He's a big, fat, ugly bastard that loves to shit on people. And one other thing - he has a finely honed sense of irony.

So I pray to God you don't grow up and have a kid one day. A little kid that looks just like you, that's the absolute love of your life, that you'd die for and kill to protect. A little girl with long brown hair and blue eyes. A little girl who goes to daycare, a daycare that takes field trips. All it takes is one split second for that teacher to look away - maybe a loud noise, or one of the other kids falls down. A split second for your little girl to step into the street without looking. Maybe she's laughing at something someone else said, or just excited to be getting out for the morning.

Then someone like YOU comes barrelling along. Someone who's not looking out for little kids - maybe because they're on a cellphone, with the music just a little too loud.

Let me tell you - a car versus a little kid is no contest.

So slow down, wouldya, and have a little patience?

I obey school zones because my daughter starts kindergarten this fall. Because when your little girl steps into traffic without looking, I hope to hell it's ME behind the wheel of the car - a person who is looking out for little kids.

Sunday, Sunny Sunday

2006-04-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

Wow, what a great day here. It's so nice to have a sunny Sunday every once in awhile.

Where I live, it rains. A lot. A whole lot.

Not that I did much in the sunshine. I have a whole front yard full of last year's bamboo that has to be hauled to the dump. I sat in my living room and looked out at it, and thought about maybe doing something about it. That's about it.

We call the bamboo area Fangorn Forest - after the ancient forest in Middle Earth that eats things. I'm sure small animals get lost in our bamboo every summer. Come to think of it, the neighbour's 4 year old hasn't been around in awhile. Hmmm ...

Maybe I could start a small bamboo business. Build rafts for people. Or decorative art. If they can pay a million dollars for a picture of a blue line with a red circle in it and hang it in the National Gallery, I can duct tape a few pieces of bamboo together and call it art. And charge an arm and a leg for it.

My kid is currently in the backyard playing with her grandmother. I'm trying to decide when a good time would be to start the bedtime machine going. With the time change, it's really only 6pm, and it seems cruel to call her in.

Screw it, life sucks sometimes. She'll have to get used to it.

One of these things is not like the other one ...

2006-04-01T08:53:00.000-08:00

Ok, here's my first rant. Stephen Harper had to get up Thursday morning, root through his garment bag - which he may or may not have packed himself - chosen this outfit, put it on, looked in a mirror, thought "damn, I look GREAT!" , and then went outside. In public. In front of TV cameras.

Jesus Christ, this is the leader of our country.

The "Globe and Mail" described him as looking like the next Canadian Tire guy. I think that's pretty polite, considering.

I think MY best line of Friday morning was "we elected him Prime Minister, now we may want to nominate him for What Not To Wear."

Another thing. He has a whole ENTOURAGE of people with him. Are they all blind? Were they all hung over on Mexican margaritas? Did NO ONE think to say anything to the man?

Clearly his wife wasn't with him. I wouldn't let my husband leave the BEDROOM with that get-up on, much less the house.

Thank God he looked better at a news conference on Friday. I was ready to grab an image consultant and go down there myself. An emergency style intervention in Cancun - it would have been a chore, but I would have done it for the good of my country. I'm such a patriot. Sniff.

In the beginning ...

2006-04-01T07:31:00.000-08:00

Wow, here I am. Blogging. Weird.

Not sure why I'm doing this. Some of my friends do. Actually, probably a lot of my friends do - in the dark, in secret, anonymously. Maybe I'll go looking for them ... he he.

I've been thinking about this for awhile. I've kind of felt like a lemming, watching all the other lemmings barrel over the cliff. I've been standing at the side, peeking over, thinking "man, it's pretty dark down there. Are y'all sure you want to go there?"

I guess this is my leap.

There will probably be lots of political commentary in this blog. I'm a journalist. Have been a journalist for 10 years. I love the news - can't get enough of it. Sick, I know. In fact, it's made me sick. I'm sure I'm a much more paranoid, anxious person because of it. You would be too if you heard about car accidents, fires, murders, and child abuse every day. Should probably be in therapy. Maybe this will help.

Ok, let's push "publish post" ... and see where it leads us, shall we?