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What A Bitch

No not me.

Blogger.

It's been a week and my header font was still white and I couldn't change it. Instead I had to change the whole damn thing. Ah well. Not so unlike me I guess. I have this thing with rearranging furniture. So consider it rearranged.

And I'm on the mend from a nasty bout of the vomits. Let's get this straight. I don't puke. There have been moments of alcohol induced up chucking. But that is a given. And other than that my innards are made of 18/10 stainless baby.

So what better time, than when the hubby is away, for me and the childrenz to be sick. There is nothing like barfing while cleaning up barf. Counterproductive really. But thanks to my little green machine we are all cleaned up, as if the *spaghetti had never hit the pile.

*and why is it always spaghetti? Isn't it enough that Parmesan cheese already smells like puke?

A Different Language

I love people. With the way I complain about guests you might think the opposite. But really, most folks are quite entertaining. And fodder for my brainstorming tank. Tonight I had numerous samples to take note of.

Sample #1

If someone asked you for a twist of lime what would you bring? I brought a twist. This was met with a nasty-roll-of-the-eye and the following lines of conversation:

uninformed diner- "um, excuse me miss. But is there actually lime in this drink?"

me- "yes."

uniformed diner- "well ok. But I actually need like some lime. Like a few wedges. What is this?"

me- "That's a twist. I'm so sorry, I thought you asked for a twist."

uniformed diner- "Well yes, but (insert sarcastic laugh here) I actually need some lime in my drink. Whenever you get a second would be fine."

me- (wtf? do you know what a fucking twist is????)


sample #2

This guy takes the cake. He was actually referring to his wife in the 3rd person as he was speaking to her.

fucked up grammar guy- "Would she like mashed potatoes with her chicken?"

FUGG's wife- "I'm not sure. I think she might like fries."

me- (wtf?...who are you people talking about????)


sample #3

This is a mild example but happens frequently. It's the old 'you asked us a question and we said no, but we're going to ask you for it as though you never asked in the first place.'

me- (clearing dinner plates)"Would anyone like me to bring a coffee or some dessert menus?"

Cattle- "mooooooo." (no)

me- (brings the bill)

moments later...

Cattle- "moooo. mooo mooo mooooooooo. mooo moo." (um excuse me. But we'd like a couple of coffees and a dessert menu here.)

me- (wtf??...silly me I meant, moo mooo mooo moo moooooo?)

My Facebook Response: re crushes

OMG!! Wanna know who spies on you 24 hours a day? Who peeks in your bathroom window? Who sniffs your garbage? Who is that freak anyhow? Holy shit. All you have to do is hit Ctrl alt F5 Backspace Enter and then forward it to everyone whose middle name ends in the letter e and who has been to Florida at least twice. And if you buy 200 shaved hamsters for the low price of $5 you can have 10 more if you invite 567 of your friends to shave some hamsters too. It's unreal. Try it. I Fucking double dare you. Stamped it. No erasies...unless you add the Dick Cheney App too then it'll only cost you 3 bucks.

Paranormal or Cat?

I like to watch shows about ghosts. I'm not totally convinced of ghosts per se but I am sure of there being a whole lot to be filed under Unexplained. And that I like. It's freaky good. Which probably explains my affinity for the horror flick. The hubby on the other hand claims he hates this stuff. He's tried to tell me it's because he doesn't believe in it, but last night I discovered it's actually because he DOES.

He told me that when he was a teenager he was at a girlfriend's place with a few friends, watching a movie. He had been lying on the floor near the t.v. and when he tried to get up he felt a hand on his back pushing him down again. He completely flipped out and all of his friends were laughing and asking what the hell he was freaking out for. He told them and his girlfriend admitted that her grandmother had passed away in the house. So I asked him if he had been intimate with her in the house and he said yes. I laughed and told him it was probably her granny's way of saying, "take your sweaty mitts off my granddaughter."

So after all this ghost talk we head to bed. I (like Liz) take a leap into bed so as to avoid anything that might be lingering underneath. Now, I mentioned earlier that I like watching ghost shows. One of them is Paranormal State; a show about kids from Penn State that are investigating claims of paranormal activity. Apparently there is a time between 3 and 4 AM called dead time, when paranormal activity is most active. Sure. I don't ask questions. So last night I'm awoken suddenly (by what I'm not totally sure) and the light is on. And my cat is there on the night stand. As I turn to shoo her away she knocks the light to the floor and slinks around the corner. I am confused. WHY IS THE LIGHT ON? It's a pull switch. Did the cat pull the switch? How can a cat pull a switch? Then I look at the clock. 3:06. Yikes! Dead time! WTF. Now I'm scared. I manage to drift back to sleep only to be awoken again exactly 30 minutes later: 3:36. And by what I don't know. Just awake. So I pull the blankets up over my head and curl into the hubby, cause everyone knows that ghosts can't get you when you're snuggled under blankets.

A side note: When Grace was a newborn I had her in bed to feed her. I had removed all her clothes because newborns tend to fall asleep when they're eating, so keeping them cool helps keep them awake...yaddayaddayadda...when she finished I went to redress her and her little hat was gone. Vanished. And we've never seen it since. We've also lost several soothers. They go into bed with baby, but they don't come out. And there have been numerous occasions when certain baby toys go off all by themselves. Now I'm not sayin'...I'm just sayin'...



*update: since posting this, my blog header font is white and I can't change it...weeeeirrrd

The Red Carpet

Work on Friday wasn't the most exciting of evenings. No one fell down the stairs. No one was unusually rude or ridiculous. But I did receive an interesting prop. One of my first tables was a family of four. Really nice. Just out for a quick meal. When they left I cleared the table and found that they had left a red carpet swatch. Interesting. This could be fun.

Me- "I had a table of lesbians and they were hitting on me all night. And then they left me this piece of carpet as a tip."

Gullible Co- Worker- "Are you serious?"

Me- "Ya! Isn't that crazy?"

Gullible Co-Worker goes and tells the rest of the staff. Me laughs. Carpet licking jokes ensue for duration of evening.


Speaking of red carpets, my brother has discovered our family's claim to fame and where our love of single malts(aka alcoholism) has come from. Apparently we are responsible for introducing Scotch to the rest of the world. You can thank me later.

The Head Bleeds A Lot

Usually when I talk about work it's to complain. Of course. Conflict is the basis to any story; so is drama. Especially when there is blood involved.

I walked into work on Friday with barely enough time to fix my tie and I was already being sat. I wondered if folks hadn't gained enough weight over the holidays because it was just as busy as any weekend over the last month. No worries though, it's all good for the pocket book. Or as my dad used to say "all the more for me." (And he was talking about food so it's doubly fitting.)

All my tables sat within seconds of one another so I was basically slammed. In. The. Weeds. And what better way to get out than by complete distraction. Like say, a man falling down the 14 stairs that lead to the washroom. It's a loud sound. Quite distinct. Not as much a sack of potatoes as maybe a pillow case full of prime rib with a watermelon-hitting-the-pavement finish. I looked to see the man flat out at the bottom of the stairs with a slowly expanding pool of blood around his head. Holy shit.

"Someone call 911!" I screamed, maybe even twice.

I ran (carefully of course) down to help the guy, who was already trying to get up. I urged him not to and put my cloth to his blood soaked head; a cloth that is usually for carrying hot plates. "Gosh, I hope it's not dirty", I thought. But it's not like I'm usually armed with an arsenal of sterile pads so I told myself to stop worrying about it. I moved on...to the idea that he could die in my hands. People die from falls all the time and this guy was bleeding A LOT. Ok. So that wasn't the case here. Thank God.

In the mean time two other staff had joined me along with the manager. Suddenly I remembered that I had tables and that I had been in the weeds. So where was I now? With blood on my hands. Someone else's blood on my hands. Shit. There was a lot of blood everywhere. And I had been lucky enough not to get any on my clothes. The other staff relieved me of my head-holding duties and I went to wash my hands and arms. 4 times.

And I went back to the weeds.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. I guess I work well under stress. I was quite impressed with myself. But I just can't get that image of the pooling blood and the weight of his head out of my mind. I hope he's ok.

"A couple is 2"

Finally. No more holidays. There are officially no more cookies (of the nineteen dozen I exchanged at work...), turkeys, candies, gravy or 5 varieties of cheese and crackers lingering in my kitchen. No more giant dinners for breakfast, brim with champagne and croissants, tongue and Branston or bagels and lox. The only thing left is the tedious task of putting away the decorations. I think I may even be done with the copious amounts of wine and other spirits...for a little while anyhow.

Last night, for the first time in over 4 years, I actually slept for 12 hours. And although I am not inclined to make resolutions I am entertaining the promise to let myself get more rest. The fine balance I maintain between mothering, working and having fun has been stretching thinner over these last few months. So far, I have not discovered a bean of caffeine that will sufficiently replace my lost hours. And since purchasing my ultra -comfy, new linens I'm considering moving the entire house into the bedroom and setting up shop around my bed.

I've also decided that I need to find the kids daycare for a couple of days a week. And as my daughter always reminds me, a couple is 2. The hubby is taking off again some time in the new year to work on another hotel. But this time he has to stay from start to finish, which means an easy month in Alberta. If I am to keep my sanity, I cannot have work as my only time alone. So with my 2 days I plan to write. I've not been able to do it much in the last year. All of that time and all of those ignored thoughts equals my right hemisphere bulging like a parasitic twin.

If by chance you're hungry I'll be posting last night's dinner later today: Pear and Potato Soup with a couple of years old cheddar.