Showing posts from March, 2009

Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'

Toronto was a blast.

Dee and I did a Mommy and Son Travelling Team and booted it down there last week for a couple of days with my nephew, sister-in-law and brother-in-law.

We met Em there, who had travelled down on her own at the beginning of last week by train. I don't know about you, but I would never have been able to take a train, bus or wagon on my own at the tender age of 14. And she's been doing it since she was 12!

So, I thought it would be so nice and thoughtful of me to post some photos of our voyage, because I'm sure you've all been waiting with bated breath for the images.

Remember, my camera sucks. I am trying to save money to get a really nice one, but at this rate , I'll be six feet under before that happens. Oh well.

Here goes:

This is my nephew, Oscar. Oscar, meet the world. He's pretty damn cute, wouldn't you say? Yes, those are really his cheeks. No fillers. No Botox.

Here, he's looking lovingly into my eyes, as most people do when they fir…

Dennis Rodman Needs Help, And I Need Jesse James

I never thought I'd see the day when I'd cry tears as I watched an episode of The Celebrity Apprentice. I mean, who does that? I've cried over Donald Trump's freaking hair, but that's another story.

I cry, that's who. I'm here to tell you that I cried last night. No, I'm not pregnant and, therefore, extremely hormonal and hence, overly emotional. However, I may be PMSing for the fourth time this month, so that may explain some of it.

This is the real deal, people. I cried real tears of sadness.

This was mostly the result of watching the latest episode of The Apprentice, where Dennis Rodman was planted as project manager, and we watched as he went into his downward spiral, which he has done before a couple of episodes ago, but this time, you saw in more detail the reason behind it.

He's an alcoholic, and he's a sad man, and he needs help.

And it makes me so sad, because here is this man who has the whole world in his hands, and could do anything he w…

Bunny Attack

This cute little bunny was sitting on our front lawn yesterday. We named him Harry. As you can see, he is excellent in the art of camouflage.

He must have sat like that, staring at our window, for a good half hour. I thought he might be stuck to some dog poop or chewing gum, but he eventually skittered away.

We have a relatively high number of the little critters in our neighbourhood, considering we live in the middle of a pretty large city. We also have a large assortment of raccoons and skunks, but they're not as cute (just my opinion -- don't want to be ruffling any feathers here!).

Gryphon was very interested in Harry's presence. It was very tempting to let him out to see what he'd do once face-to-face with the little furball, but even we're not that mean.

(photos courtesy of Dee)

A short little anecdote: Harry reminded me of a time many years ago, when Em was just a little imp, and I was trying to get her to remember important things like our phone number and addr…

Peace and Contention

Bit of a mishy-mashy bish-bash of a blog post today.

Here I sit, feeling very content at the moment. Me?? Content?! Yeah, I know. A rarity, to be sure.

Mr. Handsome has gone to work (yes, on a Saturday -- it's year-end, don'tcha know), Em and Dee have decided to go to the movies to see Monsters vs. Aliens, and I am left alone with Gryphon and the guinea pigs. So, here I sit, in absolute quiet, with the warm sun streaming in through our gargantuan front window, and I feel okay, peaceful even.

It must be spring: the neighbours across the street are emptying out their garage and cleaning. This is what the husband at that house does once the warmer weather hits. I can't wait for spring because he is my entertainment. Every Friday evening, without fail, he begins to empty his garage. Everything comes out and gets put on the lawn. Why, you ask? I don't know. Because what happens after he empties the garage? He puts everything back in. Saturday morning, same thing. Sunday as wel…

My Life Is The Disaster Movie

So, I got up yesterday morning and I looked like this:

That is, my hair looked like this. Nothing else did. Not the smile, nor the enthusiasm, nor the jazz hands.
And that is how my day started.
Still haven't got my old blogging moves back yet. March has been a tough month. Four funerals. Count 'em. Four. That might even be a record of sorts. I'm calling Guinness tomorrow.I think there might even be a movie in there somewhere. Four Funerals And A Wedding.And what with my mother passing away, it's thrown me for more of a loop than I was expecting. Let me correct that. I didn't know what to expect, and so now all these feelings keep popping up, and all these memories, and thoughts, and I often feel like I'm drowning in a vat of mac and cheese. And if you're wondering, it's not a good feeling. And it's very fattening.I spent the majority of the day yesterday either on the phone or on the toilet. Neither one was very productive.In-between phone calls and t…

Your Friday Night Partay No. 11!

Waxing Poetic

I've just re-read the past few posts, and I'm ashamed.

I apologize profusely to every one of you, my faithful readers, who continued to read my posts, regardless of the painful, egocentrical blathering I did about myself, my mother and my teenage-angsted daughter.

I also wanted to thank each and every one of you for your warm thoughts and great advice. I am so fortunate to have so many friends throughout the world. Amazing, really. Boggles the mind (which, mind you, doesn't take much in my case).

You've had enough of this, I'm sure. I know I have. Time to move on.

Uh oh, I think I'm now getting a cold sore due to the stress of re-reading those posts. I can feel it brewing under my skin, right above my lip. This does not bode well for all those job interviews I know are about to come my way. I mean, who wants to hire someone with major issues who also has a blown-up, pus-filled balloon hanging off her upper lip?

I thought a great way to de-stress would be to finally …

Another Day Of Hell

I just finished calling my daughter a f*cking bitch ... to her face.


I'm pretty sure she's old enough now to hear the truth, no mincing of words necessary...

She accused me of not being fair, once again, and I guess I've just had it. Today was not the day to play with my mind and play the old guilt trip on me.I just buried my mother today. Do I need another reason?I'm bitter, and I'm exhausted, and I'm sick and tired of being accused of never being good enough, of never having her best interests at heart, of not loving enough.This time, it was about asking for my money back that I had given Em for her trip to Toronto. She didn't use it there, and it was given to her as an emergency fund. She immediately accused me of being unfair because she didn't have to spend the money, and I wanted it back. Somehow, this is all my fault and I should now feel bad about it. Then she had some other choice things to say about how I never do anything for her, and how …

The Mind Is A Very Strange Thing

I really don't have much to say today, except a huge thank you to all the generous and kind comments regarding my mother's recent passing. They really mean so very much to me. So, thank you.

I've spent the past few days in Toronto with my gorgeous baby nephew, and if that's not the best way to forget about one's troubles, I don't know what is.

Today's the visitation for my mother. The funeral and burial take place tomorrow morning.

My feelings are all over the place. One minute, I'm so very sad. The next, I'm almost fine.

I didn't know how I would react when the inevitable happened, and now it has, and I still seem very confused. I'm so sad, but it's not the same sadness I felt when my dad passed away three years ago. This time, it's a sadness for the loss of what might have been between my mother and I, the concrete disappearance, perhaps, of that one last chance that things might be good again between us. Although the chances of that h…


My mother died last night.

I don't know how to feel or what I feel. I am sad, but not just because of her passing. I am sad for a wasted lifetime of anger, resentment, and hatred.She'd been in and out of the hospital over the past few years and was getting on, but you know, when it actually happens, it's always a shock. It doesn't matter how much time you have to mull things over, knowing this is bound to happen sooner rather than later. It's still unbelievable when it finally does happen.This last time, she had been in the hospital for about two weeks, but had been doing quite well. They were just waiting for a bed to open up for her at a longer-term care facility so that she could further recuperate before returning home. She was in the hospital for multiple spinal fractures. Thank you, osteoporosis. Nothing at all related to her eventual demise.Last Sunday, she was walking the halls in the hospital. Monday, she didn't feel so great. Tuesday came and she began…

Bits Of This And That, And Even More Complaining

My computer is still pretty much on the fritz, so I thought I'd try and post if I could, and if I can't, then so be it...

Mr. Handsome keeps working and working on his, trying to figure out what to do to save our computers from a long and sad death. I'm thinking to just ship the two computers to the service repairpeople who do this kind of debugging stuff for a living, and let them figure it out. Well worth the money, I should think. But hey, what do I know really, in the grand scheme of all things important and worthy of knowing? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I do, however, know that having a laptop that does not work properly makes this Blogging Goddess right ornery and quite awful to live with. I can barely stand myself, it's that bad. I've been gritting my teeth all day long, and couldn't even focus long enough to do a load of laundry.

Luckily, I am on my way to Toronto on Thursday with Dee to meet up with Em and my sister-in-law and her little 6-month-old bund…

It's A Sucky Day In The Neighbourhood

St. Patrick's Day. The day of celebratory drinking for a little Irish saint who did something.

I'm not in the mood to celebrate, so I decided not to even wear any green, let alone have green beer. I'm in a foul mood, though, if that matters. I think my underwear (Day 4!!) may have a bit of green in it, though. Does that count? Sure it does. Dee just reminded me that I have green eyes, so I think I'm good. Not that I care.

This computer stuff is just making me crazy. I didn't realize how attached I was to my computer, to my Internet, my blog, my friends, my world. I think it's a problem, actually. Mr. Handsome has actually told me more than once since I started last October. But I just think he's jealous, because he knows he could never rise to the occasion, even if he wanted to. Which he secretly does. He just doesn't know it.

I spent the better part of today wandering the streets with Dee. It's March Break, don't you know, and the kids have the we…

I Hate Viruses And I Hate This Office

Oh lord.

It seems our home computers have been infected with a nasty virus, one so nasty that it frightens me to even speak of it here, for fear it will track me down and slowly strangle me, one thought at a time, a slow and terrible death.

Mr. Handsome's computer started it all. Seems it got sick over the weekend. So, on Sunday, when I was busy going to my third funeral in as many weeks (just call me the Kiss of Death), he took my laptop in an effort to find an answer to his computer's ills.

Then, he did something that doesn't make much sense to me, but somehow, the USB key that he used to download something from my laptop on to his very ill computer then transferred the ugly virus disease back onto my laptop...

So now, here we are.

I'm very very sad. I know not what to do. Heck, I can't even access my email, not to mention any of the porn sites.

Mr. Handsome's computer now works a bit, but my laptop is at the moment just a sad lump of metal, a sad and lonely metall…

Loit and Slut Go Out To Dinner

I went out for dinner with my friend Slut the other evening.

That's her new name. Slut. It used to be Pick, as in Pickerel, as in the fish. Now it's Slut. She's very nosy as well, so I could very well call her Nosy, but Slut is just much more appropriate. I suppose I could call her Nosy Slut. Or Slutty Nose. Something to think about.

Why? I don't know. It just is. Well, there's actually a story behind it, but it's really too long and inane to go into here. Besides, it doesn't really matter because, chances are, she is a slut, and I just don't know it yet.

I've known Slut for about 11 years now. Amazing, really. We met at CHEO when our sons were both diagnosed with cancer. Her son had leukemia, mine had neuroblastoma. Cancer is cancer. The same shock, the same terror coursing through every mother's system as they helplessly watch the poisonous chemo make its way through their children's tiny bodies, and hope that this is all just a terrible, aw…

Yes, Virginia, We Do Have Igloos in Canada

Today's post will be all about me. That's right, the moment you've all been waiting for. The answers to your many deep, profound and juicy questions about who I really am.

Just who is this mystery woman, you've all been asking yourselves for months now. I know. I've been pretty secretive, pretty quiet. But since my 166th post celebration, I decided to open things up, make things a little more exciting around here, and get some more audience participation.

So, here we go.

Jobthingy asked: What is my favourite food?

Answer: I love most food, except maybe slimy mushrooms that my husband might cook, thinking they're still okay to eat, especially since they're going to be cooked. Who does that? I would have to say, however, that some of my very favourite foods are Chinese food and anything Mexican. Good question, Jobthingy!

Elisabeth Dean cheated a bit and asked a few questions. Not sure what to do with this besides spank her, but I will be generous and answer them …

Prayers Needed

One of the amazing things about the Internet and blogging is that the world becomes your neighbourhood, and everyone in it is a friend.

One of my dear blogger friends in India has just been in a terrible accident. You can read about Braja's accident here and here.

Please send both her and her husband plenty of good wishes, positive vibes and prayers.

Be well, Braja.

I Am Not Amused.

I am not amused. Let me read my paper in peace.

Your Friday Night Partay No. 10!

Patrick Hernandez - Born To Be Alive - Click here for funny video clips

Gotta love this ditty. Brings back memories of disco pants and wedge-heeled shoes. Is that what they're called? I don't remember, because I was, and still am, a nerd.

Review -- Hassle-Free Disney World Vacation! Here We Come!

Going to Disney? Just thinking about it?

The Hassle-Free Walt Disney World Vacation 2009 is the definite "go to" book for you. And at only $15.95, it's more than worth its weight in gold.

Written by Steven M. Barrett, author of Hidden Mickeys: A Field Guide to Walt Disney World's Best Kept Secrets, this book is chock-full of everything you need to know (and then some) to plan your vacation to the world's favourite fun spot. Well, maybe not the whole world's, but certainly this family's. We've been three times. Three. Times. Yeah, I know.

And one of those times was without the children! In fact, that one time was even more fun than I thought it could be, because everywhere I looked, there were whiny and unruly children, and they weren't mine!
This is one of the best books on planning your WDW vacation that I've ever laid eyes on. Just when you thought your vacation was going to be anything but relaxing, Barrett comes to the rescue. His book focuse…

I Live Inside Myself...And I Dance With Myself Too, IF You Know What I Mean

There's this guy, like the diplomats here in our wonderful capital city, or the Natives in our country, who claims the law does not apply to him.

You see, he was recently accused of drunk driving somewhere in Pennsylvania, and while standing in court in his own defense, while wearing a Coors Light sweatshirt no less, he stated he is "a sovereign man", which he went on to explain meant "I live inside myself."
I've got to meet Scott Witmer. He's my kind of guy.


Update on Dee and Ass:

Thanks to everyone who left comments yesterday regarding Dee's run-ins with Ass. Seems that their teacher had a little talk with both of them. As well, the vice-principal spoke to Ass and his mother. However, because this society is all about political-correctness and all things la-dee-dah, I am not privy to what was said, nor what the results may be. All I know is that the teacher was pretty darn gentle in his dealings…