April 30, 2006

………I’m not married to an idiotic, redneck, dirtbag hillbilly who doesn’t bathe. I’m sure that’s what you’re all thinking. It’s probably being spread around the internet as I’m typing this. **Insert sarcasm here**. Lemme explain.


A couple of days ago, my husband was reading through my archives. I was curious as to why and he explained:


Me: Why are you looking through my blog? You’ve seen it all before.


Him: I’m not happy.


Me: Not happy about what?


Him: About how you’re portraying me.


Me: Huh?


Him: Well you have all these nice pictures of yourself on here.


Me: Ah ya, well, it is my blog.


Him: Well you only have 2 pictures of me and both of them make me look like some kind of stupid redneck who doesn’t bathe.


Me: Huh?


Him: It’s true. The last pic you posted of me, I’m standing beside the bear and I’m wearing work clothes.


Me: Yes. It’s a cool pic and I’m sure anyone with half a brain realizes that you are wearing work clothes and are not assuming you’re a dirty pig.


Him: Well I want people to know that I’m not a dirty pig. (He’s not a dirty pig). And the other pic of me on your blog is the one where I have the stupid ‘billybob’ teeth in.


Me: Yes honey, it was a joke. Our whole family has ‘billybob’ teeth in. I’m sure they realize it’s a joke and that we, and you’re included in this sweetie, don’t really have hillbilly teeth and we’re not retarded. Nor dirty. Nor pigs. Nor rednecks.


Him: Ya well I want people to know I’m not a redneck with no brains. (He’s not a redneck with no brains and he has all of his teeth).


Soooooooooo, yesterday we went to the Drumheller Badlands and had a little rock climbing adventure and I took over 140 pics and some of them are of my husband (who is not a dirty, redneck, retarded pig, who doesn’t bathe and has all of his teeth, mmmkay?), so let’s all relish in the photographs that prove this.

April 26, 2006

Okay so this isn’t very sexy or alluring. I spent most of my day holding my head because I am suffering from a kick ass migraine…and by ‘kick ass’, I mean it’s kicking my ass big time. I’m wishing when I wake up tomorrow it will be gone. One can hope for a small miracle. Happy HNT.

April 25, 2006

Okay so I’m gonna give myself a pat on the back. As you can see I made some changes on my blog…new graphics! Can you give me a ‘woo hoo’? Anyhoooo, I’m using the same template that Karen gave me and she gave me the tile for the background, then I ran with the rest! I also do premade skins if you’re interested and you can click the banner above to take you to the link. I’ll have more samples as time goes on. Karen also does kick ass work of course, so maybe you’ll want one of her skins instead. My skin, Karen’s skin, whatever floats your boat.


I realize that I like pink and maybe you don’t. Perhaps you think someone threw up pink puke on my blog (although it’s more of a deep rose than pink). Do I care? Not at all. But I do hope you won’t hold that against me and come back and let me entertain you. I’m a showoff, so I need the attention. Oh I like Cheesewhiz, just FYI.

April 24, 2006

This weeks theme at Mama Says Om is ‘Wild‘. So why not post a picture of ‘wild’ life? What a cute bear huh? And the guy ain’t half bad either.


My husband was a taxidermist for many years and back in 2002 and he had mounted this bear for a customer. We decided to put it out on our front lawn and see if anyone would stop. Well stop they did. Many people drove by, obviously took a double take and backed up. Some people got out of their cars, pointing excitedly, while others got out their cameras to take snapshots of the bear in our front yard. Our kids thought it was the funniest thing to see all these vehicles stopping and people freaking out over the bear standing out in the open. Such tricksters we are!

April 23, 2006

Someone googled, ‘fatty pants slapper’. Yeeehaaaaaaw. Now that sounds like some fun.


Someone else googled ’sexy tigers’. I think tigers are majestic looking for sure. But sexy? Nope. Don’t see it.


This one is priceless: ‘How to make meatloaf’. Okay people, if you want to know how to make meatloaf, this is definately the wrong place to get information. I’ve made it once in my life and we all know how that worked out. The thing that cracks me up, is my blog was # 1 out of 269,000 links. What the hell is google thinking?


Ummmm this one is just plain creepy: “mom fucking my best friend’. Your mom needs some serious therapy. Now I do too. And the post that they got directed to from my blog? The one down below about me finding dog poo in my son’s grocery bag. What the hell? How is that related to some mom getting her jollies from being a freak? Not sure.


This one: ‘my 10 year old daughter wears high heels’. Well, that’s better than your 10 year old son who wears high heels. Count yourself lucky.


An oldie but a goodie, ‘pooping in your panties’. That is so 2005.

April 20, 2006

Hello?



Hi is this Tim Hortons?



Nope.



Is this 226-****



Yes it is but it’s not Tim Hortons.



I looked it up and that’s what it says in the phone book.



Ah huh. And I bet you’re looking in a phone book from 1999. My number used to belong to Tim Hortons. However, we are now in 2006, and guess what? There are new phone books to reflect any changes that may have occurred in the last 7 YEARS.




I don’t think business places change their phone numbers.



Ummm well a miracle has been bestowed upon us and Tim Hortons did change their phone number. I’m hanging up now. And if you call back, it will still NOT be Tim Hortons.



But, I…………



Insert joyful sound of me hanging up on moron stuck in 1999.

April 19, 2006

I asked my husband to drive me to McDonald’s today. Why oh why do I even bother? Here is my conversation with the idiot cashier.


Cashier: Hi can I help you?



Me: Yes, I’d like combo # 5, no lettuce, rootbeer and a barbeque sauce (I like dipping my fries in it)



Cashier: It’s 10 cents.



Me: The whole order?



Cashier: No, the barbeque sauce.



Me: Ummm why?



Cashier: Because you didn’t order McNuggets.



Me: Okay. So?



Cashier: Well, because the barbeque sauce is for nuggets and you have fries.



Me: Okay, but I’m guessing the barbeque sauce has no knowledge of whether it will have nuggets or fries dipped into it. None at all.



Cashier: Ya. It’s 10 cents though.



Me: Would you give me ketchup for free?



Cashier: Ya.



Me: Okay then, let’s pretend we’re trading. I will trade you the ketchup that you’ll give me for free and you give me a barbeque sauce and then we’re even. I’ll ask for like 5 ketchup but you’ll only have to trade me one barbeque sauce.



Cashier: **Blank stare**



Me: Okay let’s pretend I’ve ordered nuggets.



Cashier: I can’t.



Me: Sure you can. (In my mind I’m pretending you’re not such an uptight dickwad)



Cashier: Will you pay the 10 cents?



Me: I guess I’d better ’cause I wouldn’t want Rotten Ronnie’s to go out of business and have to file for bankruptcy seeing as it would be my fault for not paying that 10 cents for my barbeque sauce. I know they’re on shaky ground as it is and maybe only raking in a few billion a year so Heaven forbid I should feck that up for them.



Cashier: **Blank stare**



Me: I have a question for you.



Cashier: Okay.



Me: If I ordered nuggets and had wanted like 4 barbeque sauce, would you charge me 10 cents each for the extra ones?

Cashier: No.



WHAT THE FUCK????????????????????? Pardon me while I smash my head on the brick wall.

Well long time no see. I have a few things to rant talk about, so I might as well get busy with it.


First, I’d like to mention that my 5 year old daughter was admitted to the hospital on Friday. She had not been able to keep anything down for almost 10 days and was so weak and frail that it was scary. She was suffering from a migraine and was severely dehydrated. Needless to say, we were pretty worried about her. She’s now home and has recovered nicely. We are so thankful to the nurses and doctors at the Children’s hospital. Everyone was wonderful to us.


Now speaking of the hospital…..while in the waiting room, there was a scary unique family there. I had the pleasure of sitting near the father of the said family. He was wearing a strong cologne, I think it’s called au de vodka. And if you think by ’strong’ I mean fucking gross and smelly, you’d be right.


He was dressed really nice too. By nice I mean, sweaty sweat pants, dirty old, filled with holes t shirt (so we got to view his cute, fat, white beer belly) with some gravy and/or pit stains, no socks on his feet and his feet inside dirty old work boots that he didn’t even bother to lace up. So the vapours from his paws wafted up near the surface and made their way over to me. Super. He had a loud gravelly voice that annoyed not only me but the other parents in the waiting room. I noticed several others rolling their eyes on many occassions.


His wife was right out of a Paris runway……..well she was tall and thin. But I guess that’s where the similarities end. And end abruptly. She had on dark blue splash pants with a white racing stripe down each leg. Her shoes were big chunky high heels, straight outta 1995. She had on a long black shiny jacket with a hood on it. Her hair may have been nice at some point but I’m guessing it had been days, perhaps weeks since a brush has gone through it. Her voice was not gravelly but equally as annoying as her man’s.


They had 2 boys with them, one was about 11 and the other was 3. The older boy was well behaved and seemed polite and kept to himself. However, the 3 year old, well, he was a handful let’s say. He touched everything and everyone. He even came over to us and picked up my daughter’s barf bucket. Ummmmm hello? His mother was standing right there and saw us sitting there and saw Maddy’s bucket and yet, she let him saunter over and pick it up and beginning to carry it away. Yes, it was clean but still.


There was a couple there with a newborn baby, only a few days old and you could tell they were first time parents. They gave everyone dirty looks just for breathing. So little terror rushes over and starts touching the baby and the baby’s seat and the baby’s bottle. The parents are mortified. Their faces frozen in shock that little monster toddler is going insane and his parents just look on. Finally drunk super dad starts yelling at his 3 year old. But he doesn’t get up. He is laying back, reclining as much as possible and the only thing missing is his flask. Maybe it’s in his pocket. Dunno.


The mother finally starts chasing the toddler around, trying to keep him from tormenting anyone else’s baby. Her clompy high heels weren’t too annoying, banging all around the waiting room. *Rolls eyes*. Finally they were called into the room to have their kid’s forehead stitched up. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.


I get a call today from my son Matt from school. He’s telling me that he is going to see a play with his English class. Okay. Dandy. Then he tells me his teacher needs to have my permissioin so he can attend the play. Huh? He’s 18. Why would they need to call me? So the teacher gets on the phone and explains that her class is going to see a play. I tell her, that’s fine, not a problem. She then says that they are going ‘off campus’. Ya? Okay. So? So is that okay with you? Ummm ya. He’s 18. He can move out and rent an apartment, go to a bar legally, have a driver’s license, have sex, smoke, eat pizza until his colon screams. So if he wants to go to a play with his English class, then I’m thinkin’ he can. No questions asked. But whatever.


Oh totally off topic of anything about my life, Tom CruiseI’mAScaryCouchBouncingFreak and Katie HolmesI’veLostMyDamnMind had their alien baby today. Yipee. Apparently Tom is going to eat the placenta or maybe the baby. I forget which. Happy parenting.


Okay, I must go to bed to have sex sweet dreams and get caught up on my rest. Sigh.

April 13, 2006

It’s been a week from hell as mentioned before. My poor daughter is still sick, going on a week now. The little wiffet can’t keep anything down and I’ve cleaned up more vomit than is humanly fit. Not that any vomit is fit for humans but you get my drift.


I’m thinking our Easter will be pretty low key, not that we’re big party people when it comes to bunnies and eggs, regardless if we’ve got sick kids or not. And speaking of bunnies and eggs, ummmm, well read on.


My 10 year old gets off the bus around the corner from my house. It’s about a 2 minute walk or so and he tends to dilly dally. He usually comes up the back deck and puts his face up to the glass on the patio doors and waits for me to let him in. When I go to the door today, his face is lit up like a Christmas tree, and I know he’s bursting to tell or show me something.


I open the door and he holds out a grocery bag and wants me to peek inside. So I do. I see 2 Kinder Surprises and a smashed up cookie. Well I’m assuming it’s a cookie. I take out the Kinder’s and ask who gave him those? He tells me his bus driver gave them to him. I’m thinking that’s really nice of her to hand out a little treat to the kids for Easter. I peer into the bag again, and I’m swearing to you, that the smashed up cookie, had a slight bunny shape to it. I ask Ryan if the bus driver gave him the cookie too. It appears to be a ginger cookie in the shape of a rabbit, I’m not even kidding. I bring the bag up for a closer look. And when I say closer, I mean I practically inhaled it. I love the smell of ginger. There’s only one slight problem with this scenerio. It’s aroma is not ginger. Nor is it a cookie. It’s FUCKING DOG SHIT.


I, with the speed of lightening, drop that mother fucking bag and in a high pitched shrill voice unrecognizable to anyone I’m sure, ask Ryan where he got that bag? He looks at me like I’m sprouting an extra head or I’ve grown horns. He then tells me, he happened to find the bag on the way home. OH MY GAWD. You’ve picked up a bag that someone has picked up their dog shit with and then tossed it on the ground. What’s the point of picking up the poo that spewed from your dog’s ass only to throw the bag on the ground? Sheeh. By this time, I’ve grabbed Ryan and practically ripped his hands off to get him to the sink and scrub his hands. I think I may have worn off the top layer of skin. I then wash my hands and try not to vomit. Remember I talked about vomit above? Well I sure as hell did not want to clean up my own. I tossed the eggs out and informed Ryan that he may not want to pick up bags or any other containers from the sidewalk or surronding areas, EVER AGAIN. Sweet Jesus.


Happy Easter indeed. I will never, ever crave ginger cookies again. Barf-o-rama.

April 11, 2006

Can I just say that my week has started out rotten? My daughter has been sick for days, she’s not slept much, nor have I and we spent the whole day at the ER. Is it Christmas yet? Because Santa needs to come and give me a present. I deserve one.


I wasn’t even going to pop on here tonight but as addictions go, I couldn’t help myself. And as per usual, I just had to see how some freaks people get to my blog. Someone googled ‘awkward wedgie’ and low and behold, I was the first one on the list. Well duh. Whateva. Oh and of course I had my daily poo search when someone googled, ‘people who shit their pants in public’. Ummm if you shit your pants in public, you’ve definately got problems. However, if you’re searching for people who shit their pants in public, well then you’ve got even bigger problems. You’ve obviously got issues. Big ones.


My wedgies, poo and tenderizer (posts, I mean posts about that crap *PUN INTENDED*, not my actual wedgies, poo and tenderizer, just to be clear) bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right. Sleep well my friends. I sure hope I do.