February 24, 2007

I really, really should be doing laundry right now. You know what though? My laundry isn’t going anywhere, so I say, to hell with it. Except, that I do need my laundry because it’s basically my clothes and I’m not going out in public naked. At least not today.

Did I tell you that my neighbours still have their Christmas tree up? Yup, they do. I don’t think it’s so much the old man that is in charge of the tree, I believe it’s the old battleaxe wife that is so weird that she can’t tell if it’s December or if I’ve punched her in her ugly someone’s shat on my face kinda face or that it’s actually February. I think they still have their Halloween lights up too. Freaks.

I’m going to another hockey game tonight. Isn’t that just the shiznat? Amazing really because this is only my second time. Remember I was a hockey virgin just last month? Well I’m reminding you. Geez, you have a short memory. Have you been drinking? You should lean towards the example I set, and that is being sloshed 24/7 a model person who never does anything that would make anyone’s eyebrows go up in shock. I’m all innocent like that. Near perfect really. It’s kind of embarrassing. Oh well. Such is life.

Oh ya, I forgot to tell you about my wrong number. They follow me like flies to shit. Ah. Hmm. Anyway, goes like this:

Hello?

Hi, is Mrs. Begoenogowiulknlngsslijtoy there? (People never get my last name right. And it really sounds like it looks) (Ah that’s not my real last name. It aint’ that fucking weird.)

Ah ya, sure, close enough.

I’m wondering if you would prefer a new phone, 2 extras for 2 months for free or 5% off of your bill for 5 months?

What? Who is this?

Oh I’m calling from *insert stupid phone company name here*.

Well I’m quite happy with the company we’re with now. Thanks anyway.

I’m thinking, that my last sentence pretty much signals the end of our stimulating conversation but alas it does not.

If you could just tell me which ‘free’ option you’d like, then I can get you started.

Get me started on what? Unless you’re offering me a free trip to Africa, $10,000 in cash, a new car and a hot massage, I’m not biting.

Excuse me? Ah, well, I, ah, well we can give you a free phone. *Insert asinine fucking retarded fake laugh here*

I have 2 phones that I’m happy with, we get along very well.

Well you could get the 2 extras such as call waiting and call forwarding, and they’d be free for 2 months! Two months!

Wow! Fantastic. But I get SIX free features with my current phone service provider. All. The. Time.

You could save 5% off of your total bill for 5 months!!!!!!!!

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No.

Can I just…….

Listen, I know it’s your job to call me and mispronounce my name even though it’s quite simple to pronounce (my daughter could spell it for shits sake at age 2) and I know you’re all excited when you tell me about your ‘free stuff’ but I’m telling you, I’m not switching. Never. Ever.

But you can even keep your same phone number!

Super. I’m still not switching. You have yourself a nice day now. See ya. And by see ya, I mean I’m going to get out my voodoo doll and stick needles in it, pretending it’s you. What’s your name again?

Are you sure……….

I hung up. Geez. Like I have things to do mister annoying telephony man. I have M&M’s to look after. I have hair to flat iron. I have booze that requires my attention church functions to attend. Sigh. It’s hard being me.

Okay, time to get in the shower. It’s like 1pm-ish and here I’ve sat for most of the day. I did clean earlier and feed my kids so it’s not like I did nothing. Close to it but not quite. Ya’ll (don’t I sound cute when I say that? No? Well then.) have a super friggin’ Saturday.

February 23, 2007

It’s Friday incase you didn’t know. I had to go to the bank this morning and it was really quite uneventful. *Crickets* Soooo, how ’bout that weather?

I was reading some stuff today (that’s why I decided to call this post ‘just stuff’, because it’s going to be a big jumble of shit all over the place ramblings) and there was a story about a woman who swallowed her lovers false teeth. Apparently they were trying out a ’special type of passionate kiss’. Like kissing is kissing for the most part unless you’re into sucking the gums/teeth (literally) out of your partner’s mouth and then swallowing them and then shitting them out. Yes, she shit them out later on. You know, I’m just going to stick with the boring ole’ French kissing stuff, you know touching tongues etc etc. Call me old fashioned.

Oh, guess what? A beaver was spotted in the Bronx River recently. Apparently they haven’t seen a beaver in those parts for like 200 years. Huh. I’ll show you a beaver. *Wink*

Some postal dude in Mexico was caught with 10 tonnes of mail in his house. Ah. Okay. Gosh I love people.

I’m listening to the song ‘Nasty Girls’ from back in the day. Nice lyrics. ‘I guess I’m just use to sailors, I think they got water on the brain, I think they got more water upstairs than they got sugar on their candycane’. Damn that’s deep.

Hey I flat ironed my hair today AND I did it in less than an hour. That’s a miracle. If you saw and/or felt how much hair I have and how thick it is, you’d be cheering for me right now and possibly awarding me with a medal or trophy of some sort (or sending cash. I’ll post my address later). I’m quite pleased with myself. Now I just need some place to go to show it off. Like who’s going to see my fine lookin’ hair if I sit here on my ass all day? Maybe I’ll go to the grocery store and hopefully some old coot will hit on me again today. That’d be fun. I love being visually assaulted by someone with cataracts and 8 inch coke bottle lenses. That’s just how freaky I am. That’s hot. Hot like a nasty ass rash

My daughter has a half day at school today so that means I have to entertain her all afternoon. She’s a hard one to entertain sometimes. There will be no quiet for the rest of the day. That child talks like there’s no tomorrow or the next day or the next day. I wonder what kind of drama she’ll tell me about today? I’ll let you know when I know.

Oh gosh, did you hear about the loser that called 911 because he couldn’t get into some club? Like, what the fuck? Here’s what happened. Well, now my version might be slightly different than the actual voice footage released by the 911 operator. But what the hell, here’s my take on it.

911: What’s your emergency?

Douchebag: They will not let me in! Help!

911: Who won’t let you in where sir?

Douchebag: They won’t. I can’t get in. I wanna get in you know?

911: Sir, tell me what the emergency is. Are you hurt?

Douchebag: Damn straight I’m hurt sista! I want in and they won’t let me in. I got all gussied up and am lookin’ mighty hot if I do say so myself. So I want you to order them to let me in!

911: Who sir?

Douchebag: The club owners. The bouncers. Or doormen, whatever you call them.

911: The club owners sir?

Douchebag: Yes! I wanted to go dancing tonight, I have my little ‘bojangles’ type shoes on, all set to get my freak on and boogy down and these asswipes said I can’t get in. I want to get my freakin’ freak on, get it freak?

911: Sir, this is not an emergency. Any establishment has the right to refuse you sir. I’m sorry but this is not a legitimate call.

Douchebag: That’s what you think! I got out my purple shiney shirt with the ruffles and my black pleather pants and my pointy shoes and dammit, I want in. I looook gooood. Soooo good.

911: Sir, I’ll have officers there right away. They’ll take care of it. (and by take care of it, she means, they’re going to kick him in the face and make him eat the ruffles on his shiney shirt)

Douchebag: Thank you. I knew I would have the law on my side.

I guess he was arrested for drug possession (ya think?) and unlawfully calling 911. There truly are some wonderful human beings out there.

Okay, peace out. Time to pick up Miss Chatterbox and then maybe we’ll go to Subway so the ’sandwich artists’ can oogle over my drunkeness hair.

February 22, 2007

*Warning* This post may contain whining, bitching, moaning, a big pity party atmosphere and general complaining.

You may remember that I’ve secretly, all spy like, kinda mentioned a “fugly pink house” that we were hoping to buy. Well I found out yesterday that the house has been sold. And not to us. So thus the reason I feel like whining. Who would have thunk it? That I would want a really super ugly pink house. I do love pink just not for the outside of my house. Oh wait, it’s not my house. Anyhooo, moving on.

I have a migraine from hell because it’s not only making my head feel like it’s about to blow up but it’s making my teeth ache like someone punched me in the face. Hard. This is day two of said hellish migraine.

I went to the grocery store this morning and almost stepped in someone’s big gob of spit in the parking lot. How freakin’ gross is that? I can tell you, along with the disgusting spit, people would have been stepping in VOMIT had I indeed stepped in it. I cannot handle anything resembling snot or snot itself.

As I’m shopping this morning, I’m pretty sure I was hit on by two old men. One guy followed me through at least 4 isles, oogling me up and down. I know I’m hot but please, noone over 100 50. And the other old guy was standing behind me in the checkout line and I think he touched my ass with his hand. Or maybe it was his trouser snake. Or maybe it was his shopping basket that accidently hit my arse. I dunno.

Then. Then. Then. The cashier screamed that I ate her baby and punched me in the neck. Or maybe she said, ‘here’s your change, have a nice day’. One can see how I could mix that up. They’re so similar.

I decided while I was out getting groceries, that I would purchase vodka, rum, beer and chocolate celery sticks to comfort myself. Nothing like getting smashed and fat a long, green crunchy vegetable to cheer a person up.

Oh. Oh. Oh. I have to do more packing this weekend because well, we have to move out soon. And ya, we don’t have a house now. Oh I mentioned that up there. I’m mentioning it again, because I can. Why does a male dog lick his balls? Because he can my friend, because he can. I rest my case. I warned you that this would be whiney and mopey. So bring it.

I’m going to go now and flush my head in the toilet because that’s the trend now for complaining bitches. And everyone knows I’m nothing if not trendy.

February 16, 2007

See that Barbie? She’s cute right? Sure.

And this is the cat that comes with the Barbie. That’s cute too. If you’re into plastic cats. And who isn’t?

And Barbie’s cat comes with a litter box. Of course you have to have ‘litter’ to put in the litter box right? So the Barbie people put in little bags of sand. Not regular sand though. Special sand. Sticky, messy, goopy sand when you add water. Because you add water to the plastic cat’s back so you can then squeeze the plastic cat and thus make it pee in the litterbox. Genius really. And by genius, I mean fucking stupid. Who bought this toy? Oh right. Me.

This is me when I saw this in my sink:

Not only was the fun, goopy sand in my sink, it was all over my counter, the floor and a trail from the bathroom led me to the diningroom table. Count to ten. Count to ten.

After counting to ten, ask the Calgon gods to take you away. Far, far away.

And by far, far away, I mean bring on the vodka cookies.

February 13, 2007

It’s snowing out today. I hate snow. I’m quite certain I’ve mentioned this before but if not, I’m telling you now and if I have said it before, you probably forgot, so I’m being sweet and reminding you. That’s just the kind of person I am.

I was going to go outside and take a picture of the snow for you but you’ve probably seen snow before at some point and that would require me getting off my ass, putting on layers of clothes, getting boots on and taking my camera, turning it on and snapping a photo. I’m really lazy sick so I can’t. So I improvised and used a picture that my 6 year old drew of 2 snowmen/women/people. You get the idea. On a brighter note, we’re getting a chinook in a couple of days so hopefully that bitch, Mother Nature will get her freakin’ ass in gear and MELT THE SNOW. Like come on, you’re getting help from the chinook winds, so it’s not like you’ve got to do the whole process yourself. Just get it done.

Not only is it snowing out, it’s cold. Cold like a witche’s tit. Not that I’ve EVER felt or even seen a witche’s tit, but that’s how the saying goes. My 2 oldest offspring have decided to take a bus ride all the way down south to the other end of the city so Sean can buy dead mice babies. I know that sounds slightly like serial killer-ish behavior but the mice are for his reptiley thingies. I think they’re called geikos. I’ll show you a picture of one. Hold on while I find one. Like you’re hanging on the edge of your seat with baited breath, waiting to see a picture of a stupid creepy crawly thing.

My youngest son is home today sick. That’s all I have to say about that. I’m sure you don’t want any graphic details of that sickness. You can well imagine stuff all on your own.

Well I’m quite a bore today so I won’t make you suffer through any more of this drizzle. No, drivel. See, I can’t even think of the correct words. It’s the snow. It’s made me snow blind. Or snow retarded. You choose.

*Edit*
I found that picture you’ve all been dying to see. Here is a geiko thingy. On my daughter’s face. I was thrilled when my son showed me.

February 10, 2007

You’ll notice, that most of my posts have G.I.A.N.T. font. That’s because I used Georgia font when I was on blogspot, thus making it look massive here. Am I going to go back through nearly 300 entries to remedy that? No. I’m far too lazy for that. So if you’re interested in reading old stuff, just stand 800 feet from your computer monitor and you should be fine. Thanks.

I was awarded the ROFL award by Karen. Did you even know that? No? Well I’m not even kidding. I, however, am not sure what I win. A trip? Cash? Jewelry? A plaque? So far nothing’s been delivered to my door but I’m expecting my doorbell to ring NNNNN-EEEE minute. Thank you Karen for awarding me because I made you laugh your back fat off. Ah not that I think you have back fat but that’s what Izzymom said that ROFLMBFO means, so I just went with it. Honestly, you have a lovely back. Okay, now I’m just starting to sound creepy. Aaaannnywaaaaay, I appreciate you laughing at me. With me. For me. Whatever.

Oh.My.Gawd. I’m so totally a grownup now! I’m on my own domain. My own. Can you even believe it? Okay, so I’m like the last person on the planet to get their own domain, but humor me here, mmmkay?

I have to thank my bestest friend eva, Karen for making this a reality. Remember how I mentioned she spoiled me? Well this was it. All I had to do was make some graphics and she did all the hard part, like BUY IT (Gosh she’s swell!), code it and do all her fancy schmancy magic and voila, here I sit, staring at my blog because I’m so in awe of it. It’s so weird to type ‘dotcom’ but I love it. And by love it, I mean, I freakin’ love it.

We’re (and by we’re, I mean Karen, I’m just sitting on my ass looking crazy pretty) still working on little stuff so things might be a bit funky so like don’t hurt me. Thanks. I’m such a happy camper right now. Not that I like camping per say, but you know what I mean. Oh and feel free to stare, I am.

I’d also like to thank Emily for adding extra plug-ins so Karen could make the switch, transfer, move over, whatever the proper term is, and thus making me happy. So anyone who makes Karen happy to make me happy, makes me happy. Huh? Anyway, I’m happy.

February 8, 2007

Do I look a tiiiiiiny bit nutters to you? Ya? I thought so. Here’s a run down of my last few days. You might want to grab a snack and by snack, I mean vodka. And pills. And more vodka.


I’m still on pins and needles waiting on news about the house we want. I mean what are the chances it will still be on the market when we’re finally able to purchase it? Slim to none but who’s counting? Yes, it’s very ugly, straight out of the 80’s but still. Maybe someone else will think it’s an undiscovered gem and snatch it up. I’ll just kick them in the neck and steal it back. I’m kinda ninja like that.


I have a recommendation to make. Never, ever, ever, take a big ass grocery cart out on slippery parking lots that are sloped. Why you ask? Lemme tell you. I went to the grocery store yesterday and it was snowy, cold and because it had been mild the day before, the pavement had developed a thin layer of ICE. Now cover that ICE with a little bit of snow, put groceries in a huge, heavy shopping cart, going downhill and then have a 5′2″ looney pushing it. And by pushing it, I mean losing control of it and skating/sliding/being drug behind the cart like some kind of drunk ice capades has been. It was not pretty. And neither is my ass after being slightly bruised. Not to mention my ego. There were witnesses.


I did buy some chicken though. And cooked it in this:

Do you like my roasting pan? Not that you can really call it that. It’s one of those $1.99 tinfoil-y jobies that you get at the grocery store when you’re a loser like me and have no roasting pan to speak of. I mean I do have a big roasting pan, however, it’s been missing since 2004 and I’ve been too drunk busy to search for it. Plus, really, do I cook that much that I need it? Hardly. However, I bought 2 chickens that I decided to cut up and needed a big roaster. So I happen to find that monstrousity that I had purchased a while back but because it was so big, I had rammed it into the cabinet, thus it came out looking a little mashed. I had to kinda pound it back into ’shape’ (I use that term loosely) and recreate the sides as they were not looking too healthy. Oh and it leaks. I found that out once I put the chicken in there and then poured the marinade all over it. As I carried it to the fridge, there was a trail of brownish soupy mess behind me. Nice. But surprisingly my chicken turned out and my family didn’t die of food poisoning, which is really cool.

Next on my list of whining, is these two:

My oldest offspring, goofy and goofier. However, I suppose I have to give them credit for being creative. Remember my ghetto dryer here? Well it finally crapped out and was sorta shooting sparks out of it’s ass, so I’m thinking it’s bit the big one and gone to dryer heaven.

So we needed to get the dryer that came with this house back in here. Hubby told me to ask the boys to take the old one out and bring the other one back in from the shed. Well after much huffing and puffing and complaining, they managed to get the shitty dryer out and get it to the shed. I had told them, they can’t drag the newer dryer in the snow and get it all wet. So they hummed and hawed and figured a way to get the dryer over to the step without getting it all snowy. Now, I’m thinking they’d just CARRY it since, honestly, it’s not that heavy for 2 big strapping young men, a bit awkward yes, but heavy no. But no, no, no, they don’t want to carry it because that would require WORK. So naturally, they put the newer dryer on top of the ghetto dryer and drag them both over to the step. Quite lazy ingenious don’t you think? Me too. Kinda white trashy too. Whatever, the other dryer is back and now working. Hooray!

Oh and on a final note, not of whining but of praising. I just have to say I have the best, best friend ever, as she spoiled me the other day. I swear it was just like Christmas and she was Santa, except it was February and she’s not in a red velvet suit with a big fat gut and a long, white beard. And big man hands. She’s actually quite lovely. I would totally marry her, well, you know, if I was a lesbian and she was one too and we weren’t already married to men, with children and stuff. Nevermind. I probably should have just kept that part in my head. Anyway, she’s so good to me and I wuv her alot.

February 2, 2007

Do I look shifty to you? Would you think I’m someone who smuggles soup in my purse? Should I be wearing an orange jumpsuit? Well apparently some people think all of the above.


I was at the bank the other day and after I came out, I decided to drive over to the gas station to grab a bottle of water and some peanut M&M’s healthy snacks. I didn’t even actually park in the gas station parking lot, I parked across the street and walked over.


I go up to the counter with my purchases and the cashier/owner asked me if I put gas in my car.


No, I just have the water and M&M’s.


She looks out the big window at the gas pumps and then looks at me with a very suspicous look on her face.


Are you sure you didn’t get gas?


Yes I’m very sure.


Again, she looks out the window and then back at me.


So you didn’t get gas?


No I didn’t. Geez what is this woman’s problem?


You’re sure?


OMG, I didn’t even park here. My van is parked across the street. Holy accusatory.


If I didn’t have a major hard on for M&M’s thirst for water, then I would have told her to shove it.


Next day, I’m at the grocery store and picked up my son’s Pediasure at the pharmacy. We have it paid through Family Services for Children with Disabilities so the pharmacy just issues a manual receipt to show that we’re not stealing it so I can get out the door without any hassle, HA. I go pick up a few groceries and get to the checkout and pay for my groceries. As I’m bagging them, the cashier sees I have 5 boxes of Pediasure in the cart and the receipt is laying right on the top box.


What’s that? Pointing to the boxes.


It’s Pediasure.


Give it to me.


Pardon?


Give me a box so I can ring it in! You didn’t even pay for that! Why didn’t you tell me you had it?


Ummm it’s paid for. Hence the receipt that I got from the pharmacy that’s laying on the top of the boxes.


It’s paid for?


Yes, that’s why I didn’t mention it when going through the checkout. Not like I tried to hide 5 giant boxes right on the top part of the cart. *Smile* *Fakely* (Is that a word?)


She glares at me and goes back to her other customer. Geez. I’m walking towards the door and there’s a lady (sometimes a man) (I don’t mean that the lady is sometimes a man, I mean that sometimes instead of the lady, they put a man there, but I digress), that stands at the door to offer customers change for the carts, provide fliers, and also harrass people apparently. My favorite part.


Whoa. Get back here.


Pardon?


What’s that?


It’s Pediasure.


What’s that? Is that for kids? What is it? Hmmmm?


It’s a nutrition supplement for children. That’s why there’s a fucking teddy bear on the box.


Did you pay for it?


I have a receipt right here. I don’t pay cash for it, but I have a manual billing receipt issued by the pharmacist.


Who’s it for?


Nunya. Nunya fucking business you old bat. My son.


Well I learn something new everyday.


That’s great, haha. Did that sound fake? I hope so.


Did you get porked?


Did I get porked? First I’m made to feel like a criminal and then I’m practically assaulted sexually with the pork talk by an 80 year old woman.


Did you get your pork? If you spend more than $150, you get free ribs. Here’s a coupon.


Oh. Oh. Great. I was really craving pork. *snort*


I gotta go, get on my black and white stripped sweater and get out the old ball and chain, get my left boob tattooed and make a shank so I can escape later and maybe get a strawberries n’ cream from Starbucks.