Thursday, 28 July 2011

What's your favourite movie?

Guys.  Twitter Movie Night is only 3 days away. 

I've been pimping out my very official and scientific poll for several days and the votes are finally in. 

Actually, you technically have a few more hours to cast your ballot, but we'll assume the current winner remains.  Well, I'll assume that.  Because I'm in charge of this game and I can make up whatever rules I want.  And tomorrow is the first day of my vacation and I don't really feel like spending my new-found freedom counting movie ballots.  It takes a long time to count ballots.  If you're an election volunteer.  In a country where actual humans even count the votes.  For me it wouldn't take any time whatsoever, but I've still decided to close the polls now.  This is a dictatorship, people.  Except that you were allowed to vote for your movie choice.  I guess that makes it a democratic dictatorship.

What the hell is the point right now?  Oh yeah! 

We're watching...

RANGO! 



It was very close.  Jay and Silent Bob (my secret preference, just for the fun of it) ran a close second.  But I heart Johnny Depp so I'm happy.

So get your hands on a copy of Rango and set it up for 7:00pm Eastern on Sunday night#movienight

In the meantime, here are my top ten favourite movies. Just because.

Number 10
City Of Angels. I loved this movie when I was a kid. I've seen 633 times.  And one of my favourite songs of all time is Iris - from the soundtrack.








Number 9
Dirty Dancing. I was in high school before I saw this movie for the first time, but I've seen it at least 261 times since then. It has love, and intrigue, and honour. All the best plot points of a truly remarkable film.



Number 8
Chicago.  I have a soft spot for it.  And I have the soundtrack on my mp3 player. (Not ashamed.)










Number 7
Finding Nemo. 
P. Sherman!
42 Wallaby Way!
Sydney!







Number 6
Baby Mama.  Tina Fey and Amy Poeler are my heroes. 








Number 5
Pirates of the Caribbean.  I saw this 3 times in the theatre (which is rare for me) and countless times since then.  Johnny Depp pretty much gives me an orgasm. 








Number 4
Home Alone. I watched this movie every. single. day. for MONTHS when I was seven. I could quote you the entire thing from beginning to end if you asked me to.





Number 3
Christmas Vacation. Clark Griswold is my best friend and his cousin Eddie is runner up. Hubby and I quote it constantly.    









Number 2
Mary Poppins. I love myself a good singing chimney sweep, and a spoonful of sugar truly is the solution to everything. Or peanut butter.  Whichever.  Also, I love the idea of jumping into a chalk drawing on the sidewalk. 












And my Number 1 favourite film?
The Notebook. Don't judge me.  I love Ryan Gosling (who kinda looks like Hubby, actually) and Rachel McAdams.  And they're both Canadian.  And this is the sweetest love story of all time.  Except I always turn it off a few minutes before the end. 



_

Monday, 25 July 2011

Twitter Movie Night!

I always wished I could have been an actress.

I was a very melodramatic child.  I threw the BEST temper tantrums and loved to watch myself laugh/cry/dance in the mirror.  My friends and I used to perform shows in the basement and the yard.   And I was an only child, which meant I spent a lot of time talking to myself and making up characters.  There was Aunt Jemma, and Huckleberry, and I think Mister Whiskers.

As I got older I was in a few plays, and I was a huge fan of pretending I was in a soap opera - yelling through tears, or talking away from a person toward the "camera", or holding a necklace and squeezing the chain wrapped around my fingers and waving my fist in the air. 

I think I'm a performer at heart.  Probably.

Sadly, however, I never fully explored my true calling, so all I have is tv and movies and the occasional play to feed my need for drama.  I love letting a show make me cry, laugh, sing, and pull on my heart strings.  And I HATE it when Hubby starts yapping is big mouth before the credits roll - I need to follow it through to the VERY end. 

What's my point?

I love movies!  Best of all, I love watching them with others so we can laugh/cry/sing together.

So I've decided to host a live twitter movie night.  And the date is set. 

Sunday, July 31 at 7:00 Eastern! 

We just need to decide on a movie!  So I've provided a few options

Rango




Harry Potter, Chamber of Secrets (#2)



Source Code




Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back



So vote!  Over there -->

And then join us on Sunday with the #movienight hashtag and watch! I'll announce the movie choice Thursday.

_

Saturday, 23 July 2011

For my pregnant friend

I know this is crazy.  You have two miniature humans growing inside your body. It's fucking WEIRD. 

So it's totally reasonable to be overwhelmed.  It's ok to want to kill everyone.  I don't blame you.  In fact, if you asked, I'd probably help you commit the necessary murders. 

Here's what you need to do:

Tell your family to lay off.  Tell them you're tired/stressed/in a murderous rage and they might not survive the day.  In the absence of that option (which is often easier said than done) tell your husband to come to your goddam rescue for once and hit them over the back of the head with his hockey stick. 

Next, escape whenever the opportunity arises.  Go to the bathroom (ie, surf twitter).  Go have a nap (ie, surf facebook).  Hell, go for smoke outside if it will shut them up.  And when you can't escape, sit quietly in a corner and make people come to you. With your dog at your feet as a guard/ankle biter. 

Finally, call you friends.  Friends are just better than family.  Sorry, but we're WAY less annoying.  We'll come clean your kitchen while you watch tv.  We'll make you tea without expecting you to chit-chat.  We'll watch soap operas in silence.  We'll walk the dog. We'll help you launder new baby clothes and fold them neatly in little stacks in the nursery.   

And when the little munchkins finally arrive, we'll change their diapers for you.  And we'll watch them while you nap.  And we'll take you out for lunch when you need a break.  We'll babysit if you want to leave the effing house already.  We'll bring you flowers on a bad day. 

Ultimately, we'll do all these things without annoying the shit out of you.  We'll do it because you need it, not because we have some insane need to be involved.  We'll do it for YOU, not for us.   And we'll be happy to.  We'll leave you the eff alone when you need it, and all you'll have to say is "I need some space".  We'll butt out.  But we'll be there. 

Oh, and one more thing, don't forget:  everything will be fine.  Those little buggers are going to join you soon and it will all be a glorious happy time.  And you'll have your strength and sarcasm to get you through. 

Oh!  And the presents! Bask in the glow of all your presents.  That will help. 

_

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

A first kiss to be proud of

Over at our cheesy blogger headquarters, Miss Sarcasm In Action came up with a genius writing prompt for this week.   First Kisses.

See?   Genius.   Miss Sarcasm is amazing.  Without her, this whole administration would crumble.

So I'm going to tell you about my first real kiss.   By "real" I mean a kiss that was exciting and fun, and that I actually wanted to partake in, rather than a kiss I simply felt obliged to give up.  The first un-boring, un-planned, and un-awkward kiss of my young life.

I was 17.   It was a gorgeous summer and I did nothing but work at my retail job, swim in my mom's pool, tan on my mom's deck, and drink pink grapefruit Loaded Soda in my mom's basement.  All of which set the stage for some intense flirting between yours truly and a cute blonde kid.

He was pretty much in love with me, and I took complete advantage of it for weeks - like all reasonable 17 year old girls would do.   I had him wrapped around my little finger.

Little did I know I was wrapping myself around his, too. 

It seems, in hindsight, that our friends were working against us.   Or with us.   Whichever.   They were implementing their master plan to get me and the cute blonde kid together.   We were left alone on several occasions, and teenage infatuation began to blossom.   One night in particular our friends took off like pranksters, and we were left alone in my basement. 

Once curfew began to approach (his, not mine), we started to walk up the stairs.   The adorable blond kid led me up the steps with my hands on his hips behind him.   I walked him to the front porch.   It was late on a warm and lovely July night. 

Then my crush asked me, gently into my ear if I would "go out with him".  Of course I would. 

He started to walk away down the porch steps, with our hands still linked and beginning to separate.

And then, then something must have come over me.   I grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward me.   Me one step higher, him coming closer.

And then I kissed him.   Kissed him the most memorable kiss.

Two weeks later we were head over heels in love and inseparable.   We were intertwined.

After a few years we got an apartment together, and then packed up our lives and moved away from Hometown together.   And almost two years ago we got married.   Finally.   And not. one. single. thing. changed.

Next Tuesday will be our 10 year anniversary.  A milestone.  Even more than nine years, and eight years, and every milestone before it.

Although Hubby would tell you he initiated that first kiss that started everything, he'd be a damn liar. But he wouldn't be lying if he said that without his patience and tolerance and incomparable heart we may not have made it this far.

But I did make that first move.  At least I have that.


Back in the old days. Ok, so 2004. But that's as far as my digital pictures go.
(And yes that's a young Patches on the right!)
_

Monday, 18 July 2011

Death coffin water slide and other news

I got a lot of questions about what the death coffin water slide was really like, so I drew it for you.  Just so you can truly understand what I've been through and what I've accomplished. 







 




In other news, I finally got my new bike on Saturday! And I love it! It took forever, but I finally found the right one and an awesome sales dude to help me.  Get ready for the waves of envy that shall wash over you. 



Oh, and here are some cute pictures of my cats.  Just because. 

Patches hiding under the kitchen stool during a thunderstorm.
(And also some gunk on my floor.)

Tuxedo and Patches eating beside each other.
I don't care if you don't think this is cute. 
YOU'RE WRONG.
_

Sunday, 17 July 2011

I'm gonna be a polygamist

Friday was the best. day. ever.

I love Friday so much that I decided to marry it.  Even though Miss Jacqui pointed out that it's too late for a bachelorette party and that I might change my mind once Saturday or Sunday comes.  But I figure it's no big deal since I can just be a polygamist and marry as many days as I damn well please

At least Friday will always be my first.

Unless I can go back in time to marry my wedding day, because my wedding day really was the best. EVER. day. ever.  But is it even possible to go back in time to marry days from the past?  If someone figures out how, please let me know.  I'd be very interested.  I'd even host one giant joint wedding ceremony so y'all wouldn't have to make more than one trip.  But I'll still require more than one gift.  You can't come if you don't bring multiple gifts.

Do you know what's going on right now?  I think I lost myself.  Let's start over.

Friday was awesome!

Before this week, I'd been doing ok - going to work, seemingly doing my job...  But this week was a GIANT ASSHOLE and I fell back to bad mornings and anxiousness and inability to concentrate.

So I asked my therapist what the eff was up.  And, as it turns out, someone died.

Poppy died last week and it's been sad and worrisome, and apparently, according to my doc, troublesome to my Depression.  Imagine that.  The death of a loved one causing a set-back in the Depression recovery.  Huh.

So Friday I called in a vacation day, and Hubby and I ended up taking off to the new biggest and best water park in Canada.
Calypso Water Park

We hit up the wave pool, which, other than twisting up that stupid bra insert thingie in my bathing suit, was effing FUN.  We also flew down some piss-inducing vertical drops, (which made me think of this...)


Will you take us to Mt Splashmore?
No!
Will you take us to Mt Splashmore?
No!
Will you take us to Mt Splashmore?
NO!



(You should watch the first few minutes of the episode here. You will laugh.  Promise.)

... Then we coasted around an AWESOME lazy river with the strongest possible current, complete with all kinds of jungle paraphernalia - pirates included.

And THEN, then I almost died - thanks to the coolest friggin water slide known to humanity. I was forced to stand upright in a one-person coffin capsule. Then I heard a robot counting down from three. Then the goddam BOTTOM FELL OUT BENEATH ME and I dropped straight down before twisting in an UPSIDE-DOWN LOOP and exiting from the bottom stunned and stumbling.

Seriously.

I thought I might pee.  Or die.  And I definitely screamed bloody murder.  But I could not wait to do it again.  I'm proud of myself, and Hubby's proud too.  He was surprised I did it.  I said I was surprised too because "my chicken-shit mom basically ruined me."  Love you Mom!

I strongly recommend Friday to anyone.  Except don't be a marriage-wrecker.  That's just rude.

_

Thursday, 14 July 2011

That'll learn ya, Hubby

We love our cat Tuxedo.  As stupid as he is, he's pretty damn cute. 

And Hubby likes nothing more than to mess with the little shithead. 

When Tuxedo looks entranced, Hubby likes to kick his feet to spook him.  When Tuxedo is sleeping, Hubby likes to yell "Ooooooo!" in a high-pitched voice and scare the shit out of him.  When Tuxedo is pacing around Hubby's feet, he likes to roll him up in a ball and slide him like a bowling ball across the floor. 

Even as we speak, Hubby is knocking on the wall and Tuxedo is looking all around trying to figure out what the eff is happening. 

Tonight Hubby was messing with Tuxedo as usual.  This is what happened. 











The end.

Monday, 11 July 2011

Why I hate baseball

My friend hoodyhoo just returned from vacation which included an I'm sure very boring baseball game.  She made me think of the one and only major league ball game I've ever been to. 

In eighth grade we went to see the good ol' Toronto Blue Jays at Skydome for our graduation trip.  If you've never heard of them it's because they haven't won a game since the early 1990s. 



The whole class was seated behind one of the bases.  I don't know which base.  Are there three?  Maybe the second one.  Yeah, behind base number two. 

Anyway, it was surely the most boring thing I've ever witnessed.  Throwing fuzzy peaches at your eighth grade ex-boyfriend can only entertain a person for so long. 

At some point we realized that our classmate Collin was way up in the nosebleed section.  WAY up there.  I don't know how we knew that.  Eighth graders didn't have texting devices in 1998. 

But there he was.  Sitting and waving from the upper atmosphere.  And of course this was a friggin GENIUS idea. 

So off we went.  Wandering up through the ballpark as high as we could.  I don't remmeber much of the trip.  I must have been too lightheaded to commit it to memory.

Once we got situated and waved to our friends, some douchbag Ball Cop found us and asked us what we were doing away from our seats. 

Wtf?  There was nobody - not a single soul - up there.  And those seats cost, what? Three, four bucks?

Perhaps we should've explained that it was just for fun.  But we were too chicken.  So we did what any reasonable fourteen year olds would do. 

We lied. 

We lied through our fuzzy-peached teeth. 

We claimed we were looking for our friend Michael - Michael who was the ultimate dork and didn't even come on the trip in the first place.  But for some reason his was the first name that came to mind. 

We said he was lost and we were worried about him. 

The lie seemed to work, until we were walking behind the Ball Cop down the layers of walkways, with him on his radio searching for a weird kid with high jeans and shaggy hair. 

Yeah.  It was like a park-wide search party.

So what did we do?

We lied.  Again. 

When we got back to our bleacher level, we raced down the steps, ran up to a random kid in our class (Jacob) and whispered for him to play along. Then we started yelling: "Michael! Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!"

He half-smiled with giant question marks written across his face while we nervously waved away the Ball Cops with a thumbs up.  I have no idea if they bought it or not. 

This is the kind of antics I got into as a kid.  The dorky loser kind.

_

Friday, 8 July 2011

I hope Hubby and I are that happy after 60 years

Grandparents.

Something special about grandparents. 

I only really had one set.  My bio-dad's certainly don't' count.  I guess they were around when I was little, but not in a good way.  Except that maybe I learned to eat marzipan and had a favourite homemade polka-dot blankie. 

But Mom's parents?  They were good to me.  I was their favourite.  I mean, obviously.  

Papa used to hide money in his side table from the "Money Fairy".  I used to sit with him in his lazy boy and watch Judge Wapner's People's Court (dun dun dun... dun dun dun), followed by Golden Girls and Polka Dot Door.  Papa had emphysema and couldn't really play with me.  But he did let me mess with the up-and-down buttons on his home hospital bed.


Nana used to make Mom and I dinner every night.  I'd have a little side-dish of frozen peas. I used to pretend they were pills and pop them with my milk.  Shut up.  She also used to sneak me the second half of the Joe Louis that Mom didn't want me to eat.  Nana was English and very proper.  She always wanted me to sit with my legs closed - -n hindsight, a good tip.  She taught me fun little hand games (like "here's the church, here's the steeple," but better).  But she wouldn't let me play in the bird bath - wtf?

Papa died when I was nine.  Nana got Alzheimer's shortly afterward and lived in a nursing home.  She died when I was in high school.  I wish I'd had an adult relationship with them, but no such luck. 

I do have another set of pseudo grandparents that are wonderful.  But they live far away and I don't get to see them very often. 

I have, however, been with Hubby for 10 years.  And if there's one good thing about that, it's that I get to benefit from Hubby's THREE awesome sets of grandparents. 

Grampa Alan, who always treated me like one of the family.  He died a couple of years ago, and sadly, he missed our wedding. 

Gran who has a special place in my heart, and Gramps who is about to be 90 and is basically more lively than I am.  Actually, not basically, he totally is. 

And Nan and Poppy, who are HILARIOUS and sarcastic and so much fun.  Nan who loves Bingo, and Pop who loves his Jack and Pepsi.  Y'all would really get a kick out of them.  They've been together for more than 60 years, and they're as in love as ever.   

But Poppy isn't doing well, and he's not going to make it.  I'll miss him.  I love him.  And I'll cherish my many laughs with him.

Grandparents.  Something special.   
_

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Canada is my hero

I'm sure everyone who reads this is still recovering from too many beers, overwhelming firework displays, and several portions of poutine and/or potato salad.  Good luck with that. 

If you STILL don't know what poutine is, Google it.  Shame on you.

I love my country.  Here are my top three favourite things about it.  

1) Nature.  

Canadians love nature.  We go to cottages at every opportunity and tie our beers to a string and hang them in the lake to keep them cold.  We ski and snowboard and carry beers in our pockets for those long rides up the chair lift.  We have mountains, and prairies, and oceans, and polar ice caps - and we have beer that comes from all those places.  Nature is a defining feature of this country.  All this space and so few people filling it up.  Gorgeous.

This kinda looks like nature, but really it's my neighbour's backyard.  Just pretend.

2)   Socialism.

I know that's a bad word.  How about Communism?  Better?  No?  Ok, well, sorry, but whatever you think about those words is probably inaccurate.  Canada is not defined as either, but I wish it were.  We have social programs that are meant to HELP people.  They're not perfect.  Lineups in emergency rooms are damn long.  And those friggin baby boomers are stealing all my pension money.  But it's a start.  It's something.  And I just can't be mad about 13% (or 15%) sales tax.

Second cutest couple on Parliament Hill on Friday. (Thanks LB!)

No way to get close enough for a good picture. 
They were so adorable though! You'll have to take my word for it.

3) Culture.  And People. 


We're very diverse.  And despite our current Conservative Government (curses!), we're tolerant of people.  Generally.  We like immigrants. And we have a lot of them.  Gay marriage is allowed.  We have TWO official languages, et j'étudie français!  We have Newfies, and Quebecers, and West Coasters, and Northerners, and Cowboys.  We have a rich Aboriginal background, with so much to learn from our First Peoples.  And yet we all have one precious thing in common - the love of our country and wanting the best for it. 

That guy is my Uncle.  No, not really.  I've never seen him before in my life. 

Canadian streets aren't normally blocked off for observers.
The craziness downtown was something of a shit-show for sure.
But totally worth it.  
_

Sunday, 3 July 2011

Shitionary. Topped with cheese. UPDATED

Updated below...

I've had a goddam cold since Tuesday.  It started with a sore throat and then sniffles and then sneezing and then fever and now a nastyass cough with all sorts of yellowy green shit discharging from my lungs.  (Special thanks to my *wonderful* Quasi-Step-Dad who had this cold last weekend and must've given it to me.  How kind of him.)

Despite my illness, Canada Day was good.  I'll tell you about it later. 

More importantly, as part of the celebratory holiday weekend (on both sides of this glorious border!), we have officially launched our Cheesy Blogger Movement!

Thanks to the help of my friends SarcasmInAction at Musings of a Sarcastic Mind and Angela at Begging The Answer, the three of us have launched a new blogger community to share and link and laugh. 

Click on this.
It's the hottest thing, y'all.  Be there or be square. 

There are games, and jokes, and lots of opportunities to guest post.  It's all about spreading cheese.  And if you follow our site, not only will you be part of the coolest club in town, but we'll pimp you out to other bloggers.  Seriously.  What are you waiting for?  Go check it out.  Like, now. 

And when you get back, play Shitionary!  Because it's fun.


You guys were awfully quiet this time, but against all odds, someone did actually win.  In fact, she was DEAD-ON. 

Now.  Here's my problem.  I don't want you all thinking I cheated after the whole Shitionary Gate scandal, or just because the winner happens to be a fellow Cheesy Blogger founder, because I TOTALLY DIDN'T CHEAT. 

Congratulations Miss Sarcasm!  You finally won!  (I knew you'd eventually make a real guess if you actually had a clue.)  For you, my dear:



_