Monday, December 17, 2007


Had the most interesting table the other night. The Christmas season is perfect for bringing out all the virgin diners. These 3 chicks took the cake. First of all only one of them would even look at me. (Apparently I am a offence Joe). And luckily for the 2 mutes she was also nice enough to speak on behalf of the table...else they might have had a problem actually eating because unfortunately I do not read minds. After their whopping $50 bill of fajitas and salad they all wanted separate checks. One of the mutes gave me a credit card that declined her $17 portion. So mute number 2 payed her tab and left no tip. The one who spoke gave cash and left me about .70 cents. Yay. I cleared the table which included an apparently untouched bread basket. Wrong. I opened the linen to toss the bread and discovered that they had stuffed chewed food into the cuts in the bread. THANKS. People are so disgusting.

In other news, the hubby is still far away and I am missing him greatly. Being a single mom is tough shit. So I now give great props to all of you (like mel and liz) who go at it every day like the machines that you are. As a side note I must say that it is in fact easier to keep my house clean without the extra body around...but I still miss his mess...sort of ;o)

And lastly, due to recent copious amounts of snowfall, Smudge used the litter box for the first time in over a year.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

That's It. We're All Becoming Tapers.

Allo allo allo. Sorry I've not been around. It's been a hectic week. The hubby is off earning a living on the other side of the country or taping up a small fortune. Here's a hint. If you're looking for a career change become a tradesman and move to Northern Alberta or Alaska. You could pay off your house in a little over a year. It's almost too good to be true, except that it really is that good. Needless to say I've been on my own with the childrenz. Thank 8lb 6oz baby jesus for good friends like Lizzy who are helping out with the babysitting while I go off to earn my own pittance. I wouldn't bother except that money's money, sanity is an absolute necessity and serving tables makes for great stories. I'll be back later with one. Right now? Baby crying...

Thursday, December 06, 2007

House Hunting

Last night the man and I went to look at a couple of houses. We've never owned, for various reasons, but now we're getting ready to buy. And I think it's going to take us longer than we thought to find what we want. In fact I am shocked by how some people live. I'm all for slapping some paint on the wall or ripping up the odd carpet, but there are some homes out there that should be demoed. The first house we saw was nice. Ready to move in with all the appliances but maybe a little small. Number 2 was pretty average, a little older and in need of some minor tlc. Really it did nothing for me. But the last house was a freak show. From the outside it was a dream; 2 stories standing on a large corner lot with a wrap around porch and hidden garage. As we entered we were smacked with a wall of stale cigarette smoke, as rank as if the owners had puffed 2 packs a day since the house was built 20 years ago. And on top of that a mask of perfumes and sprays that did nothing but contribute to the stench. It was large. It had potential. But dear god it stank. Carpets would need to go. Walls would have to be re-boarded, taped and painted. Even the windows would need replacing as I'm sure they had some permanent nicotine damage. Kitchen and bathrooms all gutted. But who has the time for all this? Never mind. We went to have a look at the bedrooms. The master was a nightmare, again reeking of smoke and perfume. The once white ceiling now yellow and the wall paper fused with years of curly smoke. The wall paper in all of it's fuchsia and black floral glory. A den of masochistic hell complete with a torn leather bed and pad locked chains on the black lacquered bed side tables. Normally I might be curious as to what they contained. But today? Not so much. I was starting to feel sick. So why not head to the basement then and see what treasures awaited us there. All the lights were out and the tv on. Odd. The space was divided into to 3 equal and unfinished rectangles. The first contained the tv and some furniture fit for a fire. Beside the couch stood the most confusing display. 2 dried flowers, hideous and gigantic, propped by a thin and peeling brass stand. I'm almost at my limit for tolerance when we make our way into the far room. It is nearly bare with exception to an old dresser and a single bulb suspended from the centre of the ceiling. I try to make my way through the room and I am stopped in my tracks near the far end of it. Like a wall. As if something were in my way. I had to step back and leave. That's it. I'm freaked out and feeling nauseous. There was certainly something wrong with this place. Of course we decided to leave. We hadn't even been outside the house a minute when our Realtor pointed back toward the kitchen window. A male figure stood there, still and watching. We thought we had been alone. Where had he come from so quickly? Suddenly frightened we couldn't get the kids in the car fast enough. It was like being caught in the shark tank at sea world. "He's got ma legs, he's got ma legs!"

Needless to say we're still looking.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Tis the Season...

...for that yearly visit. The ladies know what I mean. Nothing is worse. (Except maybe being strip searched at the border or waterboarded. But I'm only guessing cause luckily I've never been subjected to either of those.) Really. Trying to carry on a normal conversation with my doctor while one of us is dressed in a white tissue outfit is more than a little bit awkward. As for on the table? Well. There is no normal conversation to have when in that position. And no conversation at all is even worse still; it's the loudest silence.

So. Why not exemplify this taboo in a good ole freaky flick? Maybe you've heard, maybe you're blissfully unaware. In any case, I am at the same time most pleased and horrified to see that someone has actually gone there.

Speaking of cunts. There is one loose at work. I want to throw steaming mashed potatoes at her.

And finally I need to leave you with a scary bit of trivia. Apparently the song Sweet Caroline by Mr. Diamond was inspired by Caroline Kennedy. Innocent enough...unless you know that the picture which inspired him was of her on horseback at the age of 10! Let me remind you of the lyrics and then you can decide.

Hands, touchin hands
Reachin out
Touchin me
Touchin you

Warm, touchin warm
Reachin out
Touchin me
Touchin me