Holy Mackerel

I had a bad day yesterday. Joanna from the Czech Republic would be happy for me. But then, it turned into being a pretty good day, so maybe Joanna from the Czech Republic would instead be lolling in her very own misery. Hard to say. Maybe I'll put a poll up and you guys can vote. I slept in until 9 a.m. because I couldn't sleep the night before. I don't know why. I tossed and I turned, and I turned some more, and then I burped and probably even farted a couple of times, but still, no sleep. And then I finally fell asleep and had a dream I was in paramedic school, and I was the youngest one in the class (which is beyond hilarious, unless you're Joanna from the Czech Republic), and then I got lost during the break when I went out into the hallway to get myself a soda, and then I found a washroom, and there were all these tough girls in there, and they gave me a look, and so I hid in a stall and then I woke up and had to pee. I got up and realized it was late and that m...

Today's post is brought to you by my favourite neighbours. Thank you for supporting my site, assholes. Today's post was actually going to be about something totally different, maybe about how it sure feels like spring around here, which is like a month early. I even saw a few flies outside the other day, which made me do a triple take while driving around town, and I almost drove into the postman who was probably in the middle of the road, so it wasn't even my fault. Whatever. So, back to my scintillating post of today. But before I do, I just wanted to apologize in advance for YET ANOTHER FREAKING POST ABOUT THE NEIGHBOURS. I clearly cannot help it. It's beyond my control. It's become an addiction of sorts, I'm starting to think. I might have to get help. And here is where Mr. Handsome would say, "Might?" So, like I think I was saying, the neighbours. Here I was, minding my own business (because that's what I do), and I happened to look out ...

So it looks like Mr. Handsome is going to Geneva. As in, that place in Switzerland. And I'm not. So I've been wracking my brains trying to think of a way to make it necessary for me to go along with him, besides the fact that he is lost without me. Lost, I say. Not that he would even remotely realize this perpetual state of lostness because, guys, THAT's just how LOST he is! Mr. Handsome is heading over there to present some nonsense to the United Nations blahblahblah. And what did YOU do today, Mary? Oh, I changed my underwear, picked three toes and called the cops on some guy who thought he could just park in front of our house and use his cell phone, as if I wouldn't know he was actually a spy, or a ninja. Probably both. I begged and pleaded with Mr. Handsome, but alas, he said there was "NO WAY, NO HOW" that I could accompany him because a plane ticket would cost us our firstborn, to which I said, "Where do I sign?". So, as a form of revolt, I...

You know spring must be upon us when ... the goddammed neighbour across the street empties his garage and vacuums out both his vehicles, taking all day to do said tasks. And so starts his spring/summer/fall ritual in our suddenly-too-small neighbourhood. Lest you think that all I seem to do is complain about the neighbours, you'd be absolutely right. Not really, but I guess, recently I am, so yes, I am. But, I'm pretty damn sure you would too if you had Mr. Clean McCleantwit out there every damn Saturday AND Sunday (the freaking Day of Rest, people!). I suppose I'll give him this much: his daily vacuuming and cleaning regimen is a wonderful reminder of the gorgeous weather, and for that, I am thankful. So, thanks Mr. Cleantwit. Now, please go back inside and have a nap, until October. Onward. I've just decided to make this yet another post about neighbours, because I know you like it. So, I found out that our other neighbours, the ones who are moving , will be o...

So, this is the plan. As you read this, I will be traipsing through my lovely neighbour's house. In disguise of course. This just may be the best day of my entire life, including the birth days of both my children, the day I met Mr. Handsome, and the day my left nipple hair finally decided NOT to grow back. It's a huge deal, and I cannot divulge all the top secret information, but let's just say I know someone who knows someone who used to do know someone who knows this person who is a realtor and is going to take me through the house. Because she is as nosy as I am. The disguise is in place because I am a neighbour, and used to be a realtor, and a lot of people know me in the neighbourhood, and it would really cramp my style if someone told these assholes neighbours that I went through their home, pretending to be an interested buyer. Although, now that I think of it, it could also be all sorts of awesome. UPDATE: We went through the house. No poops disposed of int...

Here I was, listening to Furry and Mo, our guinea pigs, bite into each other's flesh in a moment of frenzy, as I sat trying to come up with something to write about, when -- KAPLOOEEE!! -- Em bounces in the front door and exclaims, "Hey, mommy, did you know the pokey neighbours are moving?!" And I'm all, "Wha'?! Who!?? Where?" And she's all, "The POKEY NEIGHBOURS." And I'm all, "What the hell does that mean, child?! Go to your room!!" And then she points, and all was made clear, like the ocean parting for Jeebus, or whoever that was. And I then genuflected and promised to anyone who would listen that I would never sin again or take the lord's name in vain, or steal my husband's goddammed cookies. Because these are the neighbours I cannot stand , and guys, THEY'RE MOVING! As in, AWAY FROM ME!! These are the neighbours who come and pick my trash up off my lawn , and dispose of it for me. Like I said, they...

I am so thankful that I am unemployed at the moment. Otherwise, I would never know who it is that keeps coming on to our property to pick up little pieces of garbage, or the odd dog poop we haven't yet scooped up because HELLO! the dog only barely made it back into the house!!! Yes, that deserved THREE exclamation marks. I was sitting in the living room yesterday, enjoying my morning coffee and MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, when I happened to look up from my MAD magazine and what to my wondering eyes should appear but Mrs. Arsehole from next door (aka our neighbours to the right ), and she's ON OUR LAWN picking up the remnants of a bag of garbage that the garbage men had left behind because that's how they roll. Why does this peeve me, you ask? I'll tell you why this peeves me. It peeves me because it's got to be one of the most passive-aggressive things a person could do to another person, and also a really great way to make a not-always-the-most-secure-person-on-the-b...

I'm afraid it's spreading. All our neighbours are now assholes. What the hell is happening? Did we move into the Asshole Neighbourhood without knowing it? Or did these neighbours all take some course in asshole excellence one weekend when we were gone? Because I'd just like to know. Sunday morning, 7 a.m. The Nasties across the street from us, next door to Vacuum Man (oh, you must remember him and his van vacuum , right?) decided that would be a great time to pull out the lawnmower and give the lawn a good cutting. Em calls these people The Richies, because they have an intercom at their front door and a giant silver and white seahorse in their garden. I had to explain to her that they are, in fact, not rich, and only have the intercom because they are extremely anti-social, think they're better than the rest of us, and refuse to meet anyone face-to-face. And the seahorse ... well, that's pretty much inexplicable. One of these days, when I've had an extra vodka...

Warning: This post is not for the weak, or for those who are easily bothered by sexual innuendoes. Also, this post is not for you to read, Em. Go wash the dishes or something. Guys, remember our neighbour across the street who likes to clean out his garage every weekend ? Remember him? Remember how I thought he was kind of crazy and strange because that's what he'd do, starting every Friday, and repeating it Saturday and Sunday, as soon as the weather warmed up? Well, now he's pissed me off. He's no longer just weird and irritating. Now, he's bothersome, in a bad, bad way. Because, now, he vacuums his van at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. And if there's one thing that really pisses me off (and, in case you're thinking there's only one thing that pisses me off, there's definitely more than one, but I'm only focusing on this today because it's enough stress already, people) it's making unnecessary noise early in the morning on a weekend, when mos...

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...