July 14, 2006

See the above pictures? Ah ya. Wipes. And see the second picture, that I’ve nicely highlighted? In the red there? DO NOT FLUSH.


I was happily being super lazy busy, when my 10 year old comes running and screaming, “Mom, there’s water, like everywhere”!!!!!!!!!!!


In a state of near panic I ask where? He tells me that our bathroom is kinda filled with water. Hmmm, kinda filled with water. I’m skeered now.


“What do you mean, kinda filled with water?”


“Well mom, the toilet has waaaay more water in it that it’s supposed to.”


“Oh that ‘kinda filled with water’ scenerio.”


We take off running and to my horror, my bathroom is now a swimming pool. And I’m pretty sure the mock swimming pool had teeny, tiny bits of chocolate floating in it. Okay, so I’m delusional and I know in my heart of hearts it’s not chocolate but please, for Godsake, let me live in my fantasy world and believe it’s chocolate.


I start screaming for someone to help me but there’s noone here. I’m the helper. Ryan is quite frantic now and frankly so am I because the water is still rising and overflowing. I have ceramic tile in the bathroom so I know the chocolate water is not going to damage my floors but now it’s creeping towards the door and will hit the nice hardwood floor, which I’m pretty certain will not look so nice after chocolate water has graced it’s presence.


I start throwing towels down on the floor and begin the lovely chore of mopping up the mess. As I’m doing this, I’m grilling my son about how this happened.


“I don’t know. I came in here to pee and it was already like this.”


“You’re sure? You’re telling me the truth?”


“Yes, really I am. But I’ll find out the truth for you mom, be right back.”


So my little detective comes back in a minute or two, as I’m still on my hands and knees mopping this shit up, literally.


“Mom, I found out what happened.”


“Oh ya? Spill it then.” No pun intended.


“Maddy put some wipes in the toilet.”


“Oh. Lord. How many?”


“She said all of them.”


“All of them? There’s 80 wipes in a container and there was at least half left!”



So my darling pumpkinpie put about 40 wipes in the toilet and then flushed. Dear God.


“Miss, you’d better come here right now and explain yourself.”


She comes out of the bedroom and stands outside the door, with her finger in her mouth and a pouty look on her face.



“Okay, I’m listening.”


“Well, I’m sorry.”


“Well that’s good that you’re sorry, but I really want to know why you’d put that many wipes in the toilet? Especially since they’re not flushable at all. Not even one is supposed to go in the toilet. Not even one.”


“Well mom, I really really wanted a clean butt, so I used them all.”


“Listen, if your butt is that dirty that you feel the need to use 40 wipes on it, how about next time, we just put you in the tub? Mmmkay?”


“Okay mom, that sounds good.”


And she walks off to play Barbies. *Shaking my head and hoping I’ve got vodka some lemonade.


PS…I would have taken pictures of the flowing toilet water but I had to decide, do I want some fun flood pictures or do I want to clean the mess before it ruins my hardwood? The hardwood won out.

July 13, 2006

Ride a cowboy, save a horse…that’s how the saying goes right? We went to the Calgary Stampede this year, actually twice. We took our darling children on Sunday, Family Day. And then hubby and I got to go alone on Monday evening. Yes, you heard me correctly…alone. Anyway, here is a run down of the excitement on our adventure on Sunday.

To start our day, I rise at 6am and prepare all what we need to take, which apparently is almost everything but the kitchen sink. I wake everyone else up around 7am since our goal was to leave the house by 7:45am. Anyone arriving at the gates before 9am, gets in free. Hey, saves us $30 bucks!

I pack extra clothes for the kids because I have visions of one or both of them puking on themselves after going on a ’spinny’ ride. I truly like to be prepared. I pack ice water, snacks, wipes, paper towels, toilet paper (hey you don’t know if the bathrooms will be out or not), camera, sunglasses, batteries, cell phones, spoons, cups and you know, the list really goes on, so I won’t bore you further with it. Both hubby and I had to wear backpacks to carry it all. You’d swear we were going out into the wilderness for a month as opposed to going out for the afternoon.

We decided to drive downtown this year and pay for parking. Last year we rode the C-Train but honestly, once you pay for two ways, it’s just cheaper to pay for parking and be done with it. Plus the C-Trains are so bloody packed during Stampede days, it’s really not worth it to be squished all up in someone’s grill especially when they have disgusting, rank body odor. And there’s no where to run. Yuck.

We arrive downtown, find a very close parking lot, walk about a block and arrive by 8:30am. Plenty of time to get in free. We’ve pre-warned the kids, that we will get to see and do all that you want so please don’t bombard us with ‘we want, we want, we want’ the minute we get through the gates. Ya, scrap that.

Our first stop was to buy the credits for the rides. You get a little bank card type thing that has electronically put all of your credits on it, so there’s no hassle of ripping of ticket stubs. But holy freakin’ Batman, they’re expensive. We bought 110 tickets for $100. So the first ride we went on (the pic of me at the top is taken on that ride), we esentially paid over $20 for the 4 of us to go on it. When you break it down, it’s truly scary. Enjoy dear children because next year, your father and I are taking a cruise. *Insert evil mom laugh here*

We then took the children to the kiddie ride area and let them decide which ride they wanted to try first. They both eyed the new ride called Badland 4×4 or something to that effect. So we wait in the fairly long lineup and just when it’s their turn, the guy working it says to Ryan, ‘you’re too tall, you can’t go on it’. He’s literally like an inch over the height and we did not notice that or we wouldn’t have tortured ourselves standing in said line. I look at the guy, like, come on, can’t you make an exception, meanwhile the people behind me are getting antsy because I’m holding up the line. Worker dude says no. Maddy trots off and gets in with some kid and at that same time, Ryan runs off crying.

Now, if, say we were at home and he ran off crying, well he’d most likely be in his room and pretty easy to find unless his room as acquired a new hiding spot that I’m not aware of. However, he ran off crying at The biggest outdoor show in the world. So, my friends, that’s not good. My stomache is now turning to mush because I can’t leave Maddy on the ride and not be at the exit gate when she’s done. Hubby seems less concerned than me but then again, I’m a freak mom and he’s a dad. He says to me that he’ll wait over by the bench, that he’s sure Ryan didn’t go far and will come back momentarily. Ah huh.

Maddy gets off of the ride and asks where her brother is? I inform her that he’s acting like a 12 year old, spoiled girl and she raises her eyebrows at me. We go join hubby at the bench but by this time I’m almost to the point of having a meltdown myself and tell the hubster that he’s got to go looking for our son in the giant sea of people. He goes off and within a couple of minutes has Ryan with him. Geez, nothing like giving your mother a heartattack kid.

I decided that I probably shouldn’t have a freak out session in front of thousands of people but lemme tell ya, it sure was tempting. We talk to Ryan and give him the lowdown. Either he gets a new attitude or we ship him home on the bus (which we totally wouldn’t do but that’s all we could come up with as we’re so brilliant and all). Hubby tells him to look behind the bench, in the dirt of the planted flowers and hope to hell there’s a new attitude waiting there and he’d better grab it and put it on. So after about 5 minutes or so, Ryan decides he’d better put on that new ‘tude and move along with the day. We promised the kids we would be diligent in checking all rides to make sure both would be able to go on. Lord help me.

We let them go on a few more rides and then decided to take a break since it was so hot and we all needed a drink. I needed crack Advil too. We find a spot in one of the buildings and sit and have some ice cold water and I look at my watch. Holy shit, it’s only 9:40am. We told the kids we’d stay until 6pm. That’s like a million hours from where we are now. I start to panic and wonder how I’m going to survive for the rest of the day?


The next few hours of the day went on without too much trouble until we went back into the Round Up Center to look around. Miss wanted to get a little bunny tattoo (airbrushed on), so she and I stood in the line while hubby took Ryan to walk around. After she got her pink and purple tattoo (gosh she’s such a rebel at 5 1/2), we met up with the guys. Maddy is walking a little bit ahead of me and the boys are off to my left. I lose sight of Miss for about 3 seconds and then I look to my left and don’t see hubby or Ryan either. I look back in front of me and my daughter has vanished. Okay, I’m really going to freak now because this is now the second time one of our children has gone missing today. In a crowd of hundreds, if not thousands of people, it’s a little daunting to say the least. I’m turning all around and am thinking, we are going to pack our shit up and move to the mountains, away from all civilization and children snatchers. Yes, children snatches. You know damn well that my mind has raced to the next logical step and that’s that she’s been kidnapped.


I frantically pull my cell phone out of my bag and am dialing my husband to tell him the news and that we have to now call 911 and we have to get a search party out asap! As I’m waiting for the first ring, I see my husband through the crowd. I rush over and am just about to yell at him to call the police and I see my daughter standing next to him. All 3 of them are standing there, wondering why mommy is sweating, hair frazzled, pink cowboy hat sitting lobsided on said frazzled hair and out of breath.


“What’s the matter with you?”


“Ummm hello? Our daughter was kidnapped!”


“She’s standing right here. Are you on drugs? Did someone spike your slushy?”


“No. I was just calling you. Because she was kidnapped. I couldn’t find her.”


“Ummm she was with me the whole time. I think you need to see someone. Professionally.”


“Shut it. Let’s get on with this fun filled day shall we?” Someone please pass me the crack pipe.


We pass the rest of the day with more rides (no vomit sessions, thank God for small miracles), lunch, more rides, taking in exhibits, more rides, more snacks and then it hit. The dark clouds rolled in around 3:30pm. Up until that point, it had been hotter than the halls of hell, no breeze and the sun seemed way closer to the earth than it was the day before. But now, there were big black clouds threatening the day. Hubby took the kids on one more ride, a water ride,while I waited, watching all of our stuff.


They get off of the ride and then we see the lightning and hear the big booms of thunder. Ryan is terrified of storms, so he starts to panic and we start to calm him down. We took shelter under a cement stairwell, sitting in the back of one of the 2 golf carts parked there. It poured rain, hailed, and thundered for over an hour. So there we sat, with about 20 other people, waiting out the storm that never seemed to want to end. Maddy wasn’t bothered by it in the least and she decided she would dance in the rain. You can see her HERE. You’ll notice that the people in the background are running for cover. Not my child. Oh and you can hear the fucking shit make my ears bleed noise music in the background. Ah huh. We endured that for 90 frickin’ minutes.


Finally the storm let up and we decided we’d take the kids on one last ride to use up the last of the ticket card. But to our surprise they both wanted to leave. Amen! Of course Miss just had to have one more treat, so she got a candy apple, covered in white chocolate, carmel underneath and oreo cookies smashed up on it. She’s quite enjoying it HERE. The damn thing is almost as big as her head.


As we’re leaving the Stampede grounds, the skies open up again and the storm begins once again. We’re soaked by the time we get to the truck but at least we can head home and start drinking heavily get dry.

July 12, 2006

I believe I may have been abducted by aliens and perhaps some kind of ‘probe’ was performed. I’m not convinced it was an anal probe but something sure happened.



On Friday as I was being lazy busy, I ended up watching some cooking show on TLC. That, like, never happens. Cooking shows normally make me vomit up green ‘peasoup like’ stuff and my head spins. They’re just not my thing. Anyway, for some reason I’m totally enthralled by this show and can’t turn away. The chef is cooking something called Chicken Kiev. He’s making it look so easy. I can almost feel that proverbial light bulb going off on top of my noggin’, which when pertaining to cooking, is certainly not good.



On Saturday morning, as my husband and son are in the kitchen getting breakfast, I declare that ‘I’m cooking supper tonight’. They both look at me and say, ’so’? No no no, you don’t understand, I’m not just going to whip out the box of Kraft Dinner, I’m going to try a new recipe! They both dive for cover, cringe and shriek, God NO! No, it will be good, I swear. I watched a cooking show…….’wait, you watched a cooking show? You?’, they both say at the same time. Yes I did as a matter of fact. And the guy making this recipe made it look sooo easy. I think I can do it.



My husband looks at me and says, ‘oh you mean like the meatloaf? Or the homemade mac & cheese? Or like the mushroom chicken? Ya, I think you should not attempt this. For all of our sakes’. For the good of mankind, step away from the ‘I’m trying something new’ mantra. Ha. Well I’m going to try it, I tell them and hopefully all will turn out. They both look very skeptically at me and I can see the doubt on their faces. Too bad, because I’m trying it anyway. I mean it did look so very easy on tv.



I head to the grocery store to get all of the ingredients I need and decide I will have everything ready around 5pm. So I figured I’d better start making it at around 3pm even though the guy on tv said it was an easy, quick recipe to make. I’d better prepare well in advance so I can make it turn out properly. I had to buy a mallet tenderizer thingie. I didn’t have one previously and now I was the proud owner of a shiny, metal handled meat pounder. Ah huh.



I get everything out that I need and begin. Here are the ingredients if you’re interested:



Chicken: boneless, skinless breasts
Wax paper
Asparagus
Bacon
Butter
Flour
Eggs
Bread crumbs



Okay, now my relaying of the recipe may not be cook book standard quality but here goes:



First you beat the chicken breasts. Beat the little bastards until they are flattened out and relatively thin. Now while you’re beating the meat (hahahha, I’m so mature), you’re supposed to be cooking the bacon and steaming the asparagus (like I have 8 freakin’ arms or something). Don’t over cook the bacon and only steam the asparagus for about 2 or 3 minutes max (bossy bossy).



Next, you take one of the breasts and lay it out and put a couple of sprigs (is that a word?) of asparagus on top of the breast and also a piece of bacon or two (I used one slice per breast but broke it in 2 pieces).



Next you take a little pat of butter and place it in there too. Now, you roll that sucker up and lay it on a plate or something. Do that for all of the breasts.



Okay, now you put some flour in a bowl. Then put some eggs in a bowl (crack them and you know, get the egg out of the shell and beat them), then put some bread crumbs in another bowl. Now on the show, the guy suggested making your own bread crumbs, but hello???????? Let’s not get crazy people.



So you take a breast that’s all wrapped up and dip it in the flour. Roll that sucker around. Then you take it and dip it in the egg, roll it around and finally roll it around in the bread crumbs. Place it on the baking sheet. The tv chef suggested putting a small pat of butter on the outside of each breast as well. Once you do that for all of them, you bake it for about 2o-25 minutes on about 350 degrees. See how easy that was?



Something magical happened. Are you listening? This is big news. Big. Because if you look at the picture below, you will see that by the grace of some miracle, I actually cooked it properly. It didn’t ooze anything it wasn’t supposed to, didn’t taste like shit, didn’t make my family get severe cramps and/or diarreah and I didn’t burn it. I say, if I may, job well done

July 8, 2006

It’s Saturday morning and I’m all alone. Well not exactly, but my husband is gone and my older kids are all at work and my 2 youngest troublemakers sweetiepies are still sleeping. I guess that rum in their bedtime drink really worked. Thumbs up.


Now what to do while I have some quiet time? I know, I’ll just listen to the quiet. How exciting is that? Pretty darn fun if you ask me when I normally listen to ‘circus performers’ most the day.


Wanna hear something? Okay good. Yesterday, as I’m lying on the couch drooling reading, I happen to look up and see something on my ceiling. It’s over by the fireplace wall. I slowly put my book down and get up only to find out it’s a spider. I’m sure most people who saw it, would think, you can hardly even see that, are you sure it’s a spider? But to me, it looked like the King Kong of spiders. It was so gross. I ever so carefully back away (like the spider is going to pounce on me from the ceiling and start doing Ninja moves on me) to get my broom. I had to make a decision. Either kill it myself, as noone else was here except my monkey’s or have that thing crawl somewhere and then I’d not know about it’s whereabouts and worry the whole day. I decided I’d kill the asshole myself.


I stealthily move towards the wall and ever so slowly lift the broom up until it’s just about touching the fucker spider and am almost ready to squash it but then it falls. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Great. I jump back in extreme fear and quickly scan my floor to see where it went, broom outstretched, ready to kill that 8 legged bastard the second I see it. Only there’s one problem. I can’t see it. I start to panic that maybe it’s landed on me, conjuring up all sorts of visions of the spider releasing it’s fangs to suck my blood, bite me and leave me for dead. Which, looking back now, I’m thinking, is perhaps a little extreme since I’m pretty sure (not 100% sure though) that the spider doesn’t have fangs and as far as I know, here in Calgary we don’t have poisonous spiders. And for Godsake if someone from Calgary comes to my blog, please do not correct me and tell me that we do have poisonous spiders here. Let me live peacefully in my fantasy world. Thank you.


My eyeballs are going a mile a minute, looking all over the floor for this creature of doom. I look on my loveseat (gawd I’m getting itchy as I type this), check the couch, the fireplace screen……no sign of it. Just freakin’ great. Now I’m really panicked because I have no idea where it went and where it may end up.


A couple of hours goes by and I’m still keeping a watchful eye out for this holy terror. I’m talking to Karen and relaying my story of near death (for me) (so I’m a bit dramatic) and then she says, ‘oh you won’t want to see a certain blog then’. Okay, now listen. You just cannot say that to me and expect me not to go look. I tell her she must show me the link immediately (I’d link you but I didn’t book mark it) so she warns me and then gives me the link. I threw up a little in my mouth. A mom had found her stroller taken hostage by hundreds of baby spiders all entangled in a web. It was so gross. That poor stroller. And that poor mom who took the picture. I’d die right there. Oh you think I’m kidding? Listen, I’m dramatic and all but really, I’d die right on the spot if I saw those things on my stroller. Yuck.


Needless to say, I was itchy and my skin was crawling. Yes, I know, it was my own bloody fault for begging her to show me the link but I can’t help myself. When you tell me I cannot look at something for whatever reason, that just makes me want to look at it all the more. Anyway, as we’re talking and grossing out over these baby spider pictures (and I say baby spiders loosely because when I think of babies, I think of cute and cuddley. And these fuckers were not cute or cuddley), I look up and what do I see? You got it, my arch enemy (Dun dun daaaa), the asshole spider. It’s crawling all up my wall like he owns the place. Ha. You’d better rethink that dickwad because your day is done. I’m feeling all tough and macho now (shut it Karen, I did not scream or whine, well maybe a bit) and slowly get up off of my computer chair and go retrieve the broom. I outstretch it so I’m at least the length of the broom away from it and smash that sucker to pieces. I fling it on the floor to look at my kill, ready to barf at any moment. Luckily for Karen, she did not have to hear me hurl. I kept my cookies in. *Insert applause here please*


I continued to be itchy for several hours thinking about what could have happened. That intruder could have gotten on me people. How sick would that have been? Oh by the way, I am super scared of spiders if you haven’t realized that yet. Just thought I’d tell you incase you were unsure. Is she or isn’t she? Well she is.


Well, my quiet freedom has ended as I finish this. My daughter is up, ready to start her day of torturing me playing. Have a wonderful, spider free, Saturday.

July 7, 2006

Something triggered a long ago memory of my 10 year old son. You know, the one that I have contemplated calling Dennis the Menace, because really, he’s a handfull.


It was back in 1998 that the ‘incident’ happened. Ryan was about 2. We were at Walmart on a Friday evening. It was our usual end of the work week ritual. Head to town for dinner out, get groceries and stop at Wally World to pick up a few things.


I had Ryan in the shopping cart, he was happily playing with some toy I grabbed off of the shelf to help keep him occupied. He was not the kind of 2 year old that you could trust to walk beside you. He’d be gone in .07 seconds flat. Warp speed.


As we’re heading to the checkout, my husband says that he’s going to go wait in the van with the other boys. That was fine since we were almost done. I pay, get almost to the door and Sean comes back in because he has to go to the bathroom. I tell him I’ll wait here right beside the door while he does his thing. By this time, I’ve taken Ryan out of the shopping cart and am holding him. He’s kinda hanging over my right shoulder. He’s tugging at something since he keeps pulling me backwards. I glance over my shoulder and see something red on the wall but don’t pay much attention to what it actually is.


Sean comes out of the washroom and we head out to the van. As I’m putting Ryan in his car seat, I hear sirens. The boys are freaking, telling me to look at all of the firetrucks pulling into the Walmart parking lot. My brain is starting to slightly hurt and I can’t figure out why. Then I see that Walmart employees are gathering around the front of the store. Then I notice that there are also alot of customers gathering too. Then I hear it. The announcement. Some Walmart employee is telling people that the store is now on lockdown because it’s on fire. Now I know why my brain hurts. Ryan was playing with the fire alarm on the wall in the store. Ya, that’s what the RED thing on the wall was. PULL INCASE OF FIRE.


I instruct the boys to quickly get buckled, yell at hubby to pull away before our toddler is arrested and thrown in juvie for deliquent behavior.


As we’re pulling away, the fire fighters are getting out of the fire trucks to assess the situation. I slid down in my seat and hoped we didn’t look like a family on the run. I look back at Ryan and he’s playing with his sandal, totally oblivous to what havoc he’s just wreaked upon us and Walmart.

July 5, 2006

Why do I take my children to the grocery store with me? *Silence…crickets chirping*. I dunno either. I was hoping someone out there could possibly tell me why I torture myself (and others).


We’re walking around, not particularly there for anything specific, just to kill some time. No, how ’bout you kill me? Mmmkay?


My 10 year old picks up a candle/tart burner type thing. Oh they’re so lovely! Lots of different colors, such a pretty rainbow of glass. Ya glass. Glass, as in breakable. I’m so mesmerized by all that said glass, that I didn’t notice my son and how he was actually handling these tart thingies.


He handled them so well, that he dropped one and broke it. Wonderful Sir-Clutz-Alot. Quick pick it up and put in back on the shelf and shove it behind the others. Was that wrong? *Blink Blink Blink* Okay, let’s move on to a different section of the store. Hopefully we weren’t being filmed by the security cameras.


We decided to walk over to cosmetics because I want to see if I can find some lipgloss. As I’m slightly distracted by the shiny lip products, Trouble One and Trouble Two go around the corner. What’s around the corner? Birthday party supplies. Oh and what kind of birthday party supplies? Hmmm, well things like streamers. You know, streamers……basically long pieces of tissue paper. Long. Ah huh. So after choosing a wonderful shade of dark pink gloss, I turn around to see lots more cosmetics but no sign of my offspring.


I take the cart and walk around the corner. Wow, there’s a celebration going on in the aisle because there are pink and blue streamers wrapped around items hanging on the shelves, streamers littering the floor and there stands my 2 children, holding some of those streamers. They quickly drop them and run over to see what I’ve put in the cart. She won’t notice anything. Let’s distract her with our compliments on the wonderful color she’s chosen for her lipgloss. Ummm what have you done? What mom? What do you mean? Nothing. Nothing? It looks like a block party gone wild in aisle 32 and all you can say is ‘nothing’? I instruct them to quickly pick up the streamers and put them back on the shelf. Noone is going to notice that mess. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.


I decided then and there, that clearly I’m insane and I’ve given birth to demon spawns albeit with adorable faces. We practically run to the check out and I pay for my lipgloss and silently pray that we won’t be arrested later for grocery store aisle vandalism. It’s September 4th right? Tomorrow is the fifth right? My kids start school tomorrow right? Right? *Rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…………….*

July 3, 2006

It’s only about a week into summer vacation and already I want to poke forks in my eyes. Is it September yet?


How many times will I hear, I’m bored? I want to go to the park. I want something to eat. I’m bored. I can’t do it. I want a drink. Can I have another drink? Can you tie my shoe? Will you play Barbies with me again? Wanna play pretend house? I’m bored. Can we go to the park again? Can we? Huh can we?


As I type this, dribble is pooling in the corner of my mouth and I can feel a ‘rock on the couch in a trance’ episode coming on. I can’t remember what day it is or the date and time goes by slowly some days. I truly love spending time with my kids, don’t get me wrong. But every few days, I need some adult interaction. Some peace and quiet. Just an hour of alone time. So far, I’ve not gotten it. None. Zip. Zero. Where’s my booze chocolate?


Tomorrow starts the 2 weeks of Miss Thang’s swim lessons. When I signed her up, I’m thinking, let’s do it early so we have the rest of the day to do whatever. I realize now, that I was a huge moron in doing that, because we have to get up and out the door by 8:30 am. If it was just me involved, no problem. But I’ve got to get the 2 youngest monsters up, fed and watered, dressed and out the door by the crack of dawn. Okay, so 8:30 isn’t exactly the crack of dawn but in the summer, it’s damn close. Yes, I realize I only have myself to blame for this. Someone knock me upside the noggin’ please.


In other non related news, I got a call from my credit card company the other day. I thought they were going to try to tell me I hadn’t made my payment, which I certainly did and I was ready for a phone fight. Bring it bizatch. But, to my disappointment, they were calling to tell me I could prepurchase gift cards and save 20%.


Me: Ummm, well I’m just not interested.


Lady: But you will save 20% on the purchase of the gift cards. So let’s say you spent $100, then it would only cost you $80.


Me: Yes, I can add. Or subtract. Or divide. Or whatever math term we’re performing here, but honestly, I’m just not interested.


Lady: You probably shop at some of these stores (she goes on to list a few).


Me: Yes I do shop at most of those stores but I don’t want to prepurchase gift cards. I mean, I don’t know what or who I’m buying for at this time, so really, investing in gift cards for God knows who, is silly to me.


Lady: You save 20%.


Me: Ya, I know. You’ve only said it 3000 times. I get it. Honestly, just shut your cakehole already.


Lady: It’s really a good deal.


Me: I’m not buying anything for anyone this year. I’m on strike.


Lady: Pardon?


Me: I’m not interested. At all. Not even a tiny bit.


Lady: Okay, well thank you for your time and if you change your mind, feel free to give us a call.


Me: Right-o.


Geez. Why can’t they take no for an answer? It reminds me of the conversation I had about 3 weeks ago with some organization (can’t remember what it was as I was basically zoning the guy out) but they wanted me to donate money. Now mind you, I’m sure it’s a worthy cause but when you just don’t have the money, I don’t want someone asking me to hand some out. When I have it, I’ll donate it to the charity of my choice people.


Me: Hello?


Guy: Hi, I’m from the Donate to the Starving Sasquatch Foundation and I’m wondering if I can have a few minutes of your time?


Me: I’m not interested, thank you.


Guy: Well I just need a moment. You could really help us out (they don’t even take a breath while spewing all this either) by donating just $50. It’s really a wonderful cause.


Me: I’m sure it is. I don’t have $50.


Guy: Well we do have smaller donations of $40 or $ 30 or $25. Even one of those amounts could really help.


Me: Ya, see the thing is, I don’t have it. If I could pull money out of my ass, I’d get a few bills for you buddy, but since I can’t, then forget it.


Guy: As luck would have it, we do even take donations of $15 and $10. Even though they are on the small end, we appreciate any amount you can give us.


Me: How about you give me money to help support my 4 children? Really, any amount is acceptable.


Guy: We do even have $5 donatons. Doesn’t even acknowledge what I’ve just said to him. No fun at all.


Me: Okay, I’m going to give you a donation. Of $0.00. That’s all I can really afford at this time. Do you take a cheque? *Blink Blink Blink*


Guy: Thanks for your time.


Yes, thanks for wasting my time buddy. Geez, you didn’t even respond to my witty conversation skills. Jerk.


Well I must go wipe the drool that’s pooled on my keyboard as I’ve been typing this and gotta go dig out my straight jacket and matching shoes. It’s been a slice. I’ll keep you updated. Peace out from the nuthouse.