Holy Mackerel

Holy crap, guys. It's almost July! And I have so much stuff to do between now and the end of July that just thinking about it makes my anus clench in a perpetual cramp. Either way you look at it, it's not pleasant. On a somewhat brighter note, I've pretty much finished the Biology portion of my pre-requisites for the paramedic program this fall, so I'm halfway there. Sort of. Fact is, this chemistry is kicking my butt. I almost enjoyed biology, and even learned a few things. Chemistry? Not so much. I mean, who really cares what happens when you mix 4F + 3(CO) 2 ? Not me. And what's worse is I'm pretty darn sure I don't need to know one iota of this in order to be a paramedic. I have now spent the better part of three days trying to figure out how to balance chemical equations, and I can now finally say that I UNDERSTAND!!! And now I also understand why I should have taken Grade 11 chemistry BEFORE Grade 12. And then I found out that Michelangelo has been...

I'm having a good hair day today, guys! And I'm also tearing the same hair out of my head as I try and try and try again to get through page by page of this Grade 12 chemistry course that is whipping my butt sentence by difficult sentence. Help . Meanwhile, * Feeling really old, and other fun crap * Garbage. Sarah Jessica Parker, horse nostrils, and dead mice. Oh, and earthquakes. Story of my life. That would be about it. I'm too tired to even attempt to write anything witty or rude.

Okay, I give up. Here I was, innocently and diligently (I might add) studying away, when suddenly my very keen nose sensed a not-so-wonderful smell. Not quite old garbage, not quite rotting flesh, more like a little of both. Thanks to my amazing sense of smell, I was the only one in the entire house who noticed this smell. But "notice" isn't the word, folks. This smell, over the day, overwhelmed me. Imagine trying to study Grade 12 Chemistry while sitting in the middle of a fetid dumpsite. Yeah, that was me. By nightfall, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I went on the hunt. My nose told me the smell wasn't coming from the garbage in the kitchen. I quickly narrowed down the area to the stove. Upon further investigation, I found this in the drawer at the bottom of the stove. I came very close to throwing up. Then I told Mr. Handsome he had a job to do, and I went to bed. Got up the next morning, happy the stench was removed, and sat down to get back to my ...

I've been working really hard these past few weeks, trying as hard as I might to get my Biology and Chemistry done. It's damn hard work, guys, going back to being a teenager when you're actually almost at retirement age, but feel more like you're about to hit the ground six feet under. In other words, instead of this: I am like this: but feel like this: Very confusing. I know. I can only imagine what college will be like in the fall, when I walk into the classroom on the first day, and everyone in there (including the professor) could easily be my grandchild. I can hardly wait. The prospect has definitely had me stressed out, to say the least. I am either going to be pitied, ignored, or laughed at. None of these choices are good. I can see it now: I am being tested in CPR, and I run out of steam partway into the examination. I just can't do it. I don't have the energy, the stamina, the wherewithal to bring the fake person back to life. But, i...

We went go-karting and mini-golfing Friday night, as part of a family fun event put on by Camp Quality. And it was lots of fun, and laughter, and all that good stuff. We even had hot dogs, chips and pop for dinner, which made the kids very happy. I wish I had brought my camera (when will I learn?) because there were some awesome moments to capture, like when Slut put on her go-karting helmet and her face got smushed, or when Dee was speeding around the track, or when one of the kids got stuck in a cart with his legs sticking up in the air (well, it wasn't really funny because he's blind and has cancer, but then, if you can't laugh at that, what can you laugh at?). I also missed a really nice sunset. Luckily, Em at least took a photo of Slut with her ill-fitted helmet, but she couldn't upload it to my computer, so I'm screwed. You're welcome. Meanwhile ... * Whereby I find out that using fake tan lotion is less than I expected, and yet again, so much more...

My very very good friend Slut and I are about to embark on yet another adventure. I KNOW! I can hardly believe it myself, which is actually really a stupid thing to say, when you think about it for more than a split second, because obviously I'm one of the people embarking on said adventure WITH Slut, so why the hell WOULDN'T I believe it?! Unless, of course, I'm either schizophrenic, or maybe narcoleptic, in which case, who cares. Exactly. So, like I said, we're going on another adventure. As if New York City wasn't enough. Slut picked me up Monday evening and off we went to learn more about our adventure. We had decided to volunteer for the HOPE Volleyball Summerfest , which is an annual charity event that gives the money raised to chosen charities. This year, one of the charities chosen is Camp Quality Eastern Ontario, a camp for kids with cancer. As most of you know, Dee had cancer and has been going to this camp for something like eight years now. Slut also ...

With the coming of summer comes the appearance and importance of The Tan. Especially when you live in Canada, where summer weather is at an all-time premium. I'm sure you all do this at home, with your family and friends. As the warm weather progresses, you begin comparing tans. Of course you do. I was committed to winning The Tan Wars in our house this year. Every year, I seem to lose, even against the dog. Let's just say I don't tan all that well. I just burn. Burn, then peel, then freckle. Part of the problem is obviously the fact that I don't sit out in the sun in the first place. I'm afraid of something called Cancer. Especially skin cancer, because that would just suck, getting huge holes in your flesh and all that. Moving on. In our house, Em and Mr. Handsome seem to get the best tans, without even trying. It's like they decide it's time for summer, and they come home half an hour later glowing like the sun. Must be nice. In an effort to win the...

Oh, happy day! Because this means this: because ... The neighbours have left!! The neighbours have left!! Although Mr. Handsome has warned me that the new neighbours, who have not yet moved in, may be even worse than these guys, so I'm going to be smart for a change, keep my mouth shut, and silently pray to the gods above for a little luck this time.  Meanwhile ... * Check out this post for all the information you'd ever ever want about how utterly boring my life really is * And then go here to find out about absolutely nothing at all.

Bleccch. That about sums it up. It seems that studying biology 10 hours a day, in between driving Em to and from school, making dinner, and doing laundry is more than I can handle, especially when it's coupled with a migraine that just won't go away. Kind of like a spouse. Or a needy poodle. Same difference. This post should have been out yesterday, but I couldn't do it. I spent the morning driving Em to school, drinking coffee and studying. And then by noon I had to take too many Tylenol and a codeine to try and block out the intense head pain that was knocking me to the ground, and I gave up studying and went to lie down in bed. Then I had to get up again and get Em from school. By that point, I had decided I wasn't making dinner because the only thing I'd be able to manage was making it back up to my bed and crawling under the covers, which I did, and there I stayed until 8 p.m., only waking up to turn over and cover my head up again. I then came downstairs...

Today's post is about nothing, like a Seinfeld episode, but without the millions of dollars attached to it. Or the laughter. I have a headache that I've now had on and off for a week. I'm thinking brain tumour. It's probably just my sinuses, but I like living big. If that can be called living big. Does "living big" even mean anything? I have no idea. Moving on... Em has been in a leg cast for a week now (she walked into a wall last Tuesday and broke a toe -- a spiral fracture -- right in two), and she's getting pretty good at hobbling about on crutches. We got back to the hospital in a week-and-a-half for a check-up, whereby they'll probably tell her she needs to stay in the cast for another three months because she keeps standing on the side of that foot, and I keep telling her it's going to hurt the healing process, but does she ever listen? No, she doesn't. Anyway, I feel for the kid (although it doesn't really sound much like it, do...

I've been a bad blogger. I don't comment on the comments, I don't visit other blogs, and I don't even update my own blog as often as I'd like. I'd like to take this amazing opportunity to apologize for all of the above. You guys mean more to me than just about anything, including that nice, really soft toilet paper that is kind to my butt, and really cold apple juice. It's just that I've been busy. Really busy. I don't know how people do this blog thing. Honestly. Where do you all get the time to write, read everyone's blogs, comment, etc.? I've been studying biology every minute of every day lately, trying to get an entire year's course done in two weeks. Crazy, but true. And then I have chemistry to do, which is scaring me something fierce, but truck on I will. Add to that the fact that Em walked into a wall early this week and broke her toe, resulting in a visit to the emergency department at the children's hospital, where she w...

I once again saved my family from a most certain death on Monday, and I have my nose to thank. You see, I have an extremely keen sense of smell. Until Monday, I felt this talent -- nay, this gift from the gods above -- was just a joke, a funny little thing the gods do to people just because they can: giving various people in the world totally useless gifts. The gods have a not-so-funny sense of humour. Please click if you want to read the print that is clearly too small to read, unless you have 10/20 vision and are a freak. In fact, my acute sense of smell is actually a great pain in the ass most of the time. Because I am always the first one who smells something, often the ONLY one who smells something, and that "something" is most often something most people would not want to smell. Case in point: Gryphon eats something out of the garbage and ends up having two days of very bad gas, which no one but me notices. Another case in point: the guinea pig cage needs to be...