Holy Mackerel

If you're reading this, it means you are here, and I'm not. I must be in Switzerland by now, or if you're only coming here late on Wednesday or Thursday, I'm already in Venice, trying not to drown. I promise many delectable stories and photos on my return, but you'd better be quick, because a few days later, I'm leaving again for my trip to New York City with my fabulous Slut and her sister and momma (who apparently loves me more than she does Slut, which is typical). Of course, NYC could be a total wash-out if the Icelandic volcano decides to ejaculate again and ground us in Venice. Get it? GROUND us in Venice?!! Fine, don't laugh. I thought it was rather witty, and that's all that matters. See you soon! P.S. And all you stalkers out there, don't even bother starting to think about figuring out where I live. I have guards surrounding the house, five people occupying every room, and alarms on every door and window. I dare ya.

Well, I'm back from my hospital appointment in Toronto. The end, and good night. Just kidding, guys. But I'm tired. Really tired. It's a long drive to Toronto, and I did that and back again in two days. That's a lot for a princess. Just sayin'. The appointment went very well. I have no answers yet, but they took gobs and gobs of blood, did so many x-rays that I now glow, and told me they'll be in touch soon for step 2, which doesn't mean anything to me at the moment, but I'm sure it will at some point. Maybe. Me. Glowing. And why does my nose look 10 times as large when glowing? Getting to the hospital was the hardest part. Well, maybe not quite as hard as leaving, but almost. This is entirely due to the fact that Toronto is insane. Imagine a rat maze, and then fill it with cars and people. Then, add a few gajillion construction workers, barricades and one-way-only streets, as well as a stoplight at every corner, and you start getting a bit of an i...

I'm on my way to Toronto today for a hospital appointment with a new rheumatologist who, I hope, can help me with my ever-painful and swelling joints. I've been waiting eight months for this appointment, so I hope it's worth it. Here's also hoping I don't get more than three speeding tickets. Just kidding, Mr. Handsome. Of course, I'll be driving all by myself with wonderfully painful menstrual cramps, because my period has decided to once again annoy me, although it only happened two weeks ago. Have I mentioned how much I love peri-menopause? Meanwhile, back on the farm, Mr. Handsome and I had a bit of a free-for-all mishmash of The Internetz vs. Old Technology (aka the yellow pages) the other day, whereas he tried looking up the phone number for a business in town to see if they were open on a Sunday, while I tried to beat him to the punch by looking it up on the internet. He won. The internet wasn't working so well in our house that day. No doubt Mr....

It would be just my luck to have our European getaway cancelled because of some silly volcanic eruption and a bit of spewing ash . When does it end, people? The conspiracy widens. I mean, I've been growing my leg hairs out for the past two months (well, more) just so that I fit in with all the Europeans. And now we may not even be going. All that effort for nothing. Typical. Is it just me, or do you find people often make a really big deal out of nothing? Yeah, that's what I thought. Sheesh. On another note, I really scared myself on Friday. No, not because I looked in the mirror. I decided to finally visit this relatively new Chinese grocery market in town because (a) I was curious and (b) I was hoping to find some cheap eats to take home for dinner, and hopefully something that would require simple unwrapping and throwing onto a plate. I'm nothing if I'm not classy. I call it Freedom Fridays. Yes, you can borrow my idea if you must. Just give me the appropriate c...

Remember her? I couldn't stop thinking of her. Here she is, sitting behind a counter at the provincial courthouse, giving people directions. All.Day.Long. Not that that's a bad job, because it's not. You get to meet people, help them, and sit. All at the same time. And she obviously loves her job, because like I said in Wednesday's post, she was extremely polite and helpful. I think she might be my new BFF. However, being the perpetual doer of all  things good, I kept thinking of her, knowing that there must be better things out there for her. For instance, I know she'd be awesome as a protection officer, with eyes like those. Just imagine the opportunities. Clearly, the perfect job for her. Nothing would get by her. Not even a star-nosed mole. Yeah, she's THAT awesome. And imagine how super her eyes could be trying to find things, like her husband's wallet, or perhaps her children's protractor. In fact, she would most probably be quite fine f...

I was a ninja yesterday. I had to go down to City Hall to renew Dee's health insurance card, but instead of City Hall, I ended up going to the provincial courthouse, which could have been disastrous, seeing as they have courts of law there, and maybe even a jail cell or two. Instead, what happened was brilliant (say that last word with an English accent and with vigour).Because as I walked into the courthouse, I realized almost immediately that I was in the wrong place. Actually, that's a complete and utter lie. I had no idea where I was. All I knew was that the place was buzzing with the po po, and I was as happy as a sandboy (what the hell does that even mean?!). The lady at the counter told me I was in the wrong place, and I couldn't stop staring at her because her eyes freaked me out. It was difficult looking at her because I was never sure which eye I should be looking at. Ever had that experience? It sort of feels like you've had a few too many vodkas and cranb...

Today I was going to write about the stupid squirrel in our neighbourhood, but I'm agitated and annoyed, so I'd rather just bore you with complaints and whining about how I feel useless and worthless and how I have so much stuff to do before the end of this month that I think I might die from the stress of it all. But, as my friend Slut would say, I just need to relax. Remain positive. Breathe. But honestly, how do you breathe and relax when you have an anxiety disorder to begin with, coupled with having to plan for three trips in the next four weeks, clean the house, finish up more Grade 11 Biology stupidity, and decide whether to enter the paramedic or the nursing program? I've also been having all these weird dreams that include visions of my deceased parents mixed with strange houses, and very creepy and undesirable themes. Oh, and I have to get my son's health card renewed so that he can actually have health care (yes, actually, I AM a good mother, why do you ...

I'm trying something new out here that may or may not kill me or you, or may instead help me conquer the world, which is totally my goal in writing this blog. Obviously. I am actually stealing this idea from a few places, so I'm not even pretending that it's my own original idea. Not only that, but this way, I also hold no responsibility for it if it ends up being a totally stupid idea worthy of nothing but shame. Ahem. What's the idea? I hear you all asking me, impatience and utter frustration in your voices. And to that, I say, "Hold your ponies, people! Remember, patience is a virtue, whatever that means. Didn't you ever listen to what your momma told you? Me neither..." Anyway, the idea. Actually, before I tell you, I'd just like to say that the fact it's taken me this long to actually come up with this idea is a testament to how utterly stupid and useless I really am with anything and everything to do with blogging, social netw...

So, here I am, doing Grade 11 Biology because I was too stupid to take it in high school, and because it is a prerequisite for me getting into any kind of health sciences in college or university, I must have biology. And my question to the bigwigs is this: Is it seriously not enough that I continuously watch Mystery Diagnosis , 19 Kids And Counting , and the National Geographic channel? My biology knowledge is more well-rounded than your neighbourhood biologist, this I know. What I don't know is whether there actually exists a "neighbourhood biologist".Because that would probably be all kinds of weird. Or maybe kind of fun. And very useful for me right about now. Although, now that I think of it, we sort of have a neighbourhood biologist IN OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD!! WHOA!!! Although he doesn't actually live in our neighbourhood, but his brother does, so it's basically the same thing. Right? But, I think he mostly deals with birds and twigs and things. Which makes m...

I just discovered something about Mr. Handsome that I did not know, which is huge (and possibly dangerous), because we've been together now 23 years, and I was pretty sure I knew everything about him, including the location of that strangely-shaped mole just under ... oh, never mind. I found out that speaking a foreign language in his presence really turns him on. As does me wearing granny glasses. Can't imagine what would happen if I wore my granny reading glasses AND talked to him in Swahili while holding a whip and handcuffs. I will wait while you imagine this scenario. Let me demonstrate: And now, replete with granny glasses and Swahili speech: Yeah. I know. All this to say that we went to the local bookstore the other day to peruse the travel section, because it's been decided that Mr. Handsome is going to Switzerland this month to give a presentation at some United Nations blahblahblah, and I am apparently accompanying him so that he makes it there and back in...

We had an international incident here the other night. It does not bode well for our country. Nay, our world. Well, at least for my well-being, and sometimes, guys, that's all that matters. It was late evening. The kids were fast asleep. All was quiet. I had taken out my contact lenses, washed my face, and was ready for bed. And then, I heard it: The unmistakable wailing sound of Mr. Handsome singing to Gryphon...at midnight. So, of course I had to come downstairs. It was a rare "cute" moment for Mr. Handsome, and I wanted to experience it. It's often the only joy I get in our marriage. Once it was over, I got up to go back upstairs to bed, but I noticed that one of our recycling boxes was still out on our front lawn. It is normally Dee's job to put the garbage and recycling out and back in every week, but he had forgotten. So, I decided to do the right thing for a change and bring the box in myself. Being lazy and very stupid at the best of times, I decided...

The strangest thing happened the other night. Okay, okay, get your filthy minds outta the gutter. I was asleep, having one of those weird dreams where nothing really makes sense, but in the dream, it all TOTALLY makes sense. Sort of like Alice in Wonderland. Or my marriage. I don't remember most of the dream, but suffice it to say that it had to do with the house in which I grew up, lots of strange music playing, mazes of dark rooms, and my family. All in all, one of my better dreams. Believe me. It could have been the one where I get chased through dark, rainy streets by two men with knives and heavy Estonian accents, and I try calling 911, but my phone doesn't work, or else I actually can dial 911, but they put me on hold and the dispatcher then goes out and buys a submarine sandwich two blocks down the street before coming back and taking me off hold, at which point I have been properly bludgeoned and molested to death. And then mutant robot skeleton zombies take off my ...