Happy birthday Hubby!

It was Hubby's 27th birthday yesterday.  Yay!  Happy birthday Hubby!  Today he officially entered his 28th year.  Yay! Catching up to me!

More than any other birthday, this one seems to really annoy him.  Which of course makes me smile from ear to ear. 

When I got home last night he was in a pretty pissy mood, which oddly didn't seem to improve when I pointed out how close to 30 he is; that his mother birthed him nearly 30 years ago; that his whole childhood take place more than 20 years ago; that he is most certainly a GROWN UP now. 

Ha! Welcome to Hell, mothafuckah. 

I had a real problem with turning 26, and 27 was even worse, and I expect that when I hit 28 in February I will very likely LOSE MY SHIT.  You see, there is something friggin miserable about these - gulp - late 20s that makes me want to PUKE. 

Hubby and I are on the wrong side of 20, y'all, and I don't like it - proven by the fact that I spent five minutes prancing around last night with Hubby's birthday balloon under my shirt.  #babyenvy 

But Hubby is a better person than me.  By far.  He makes the best of it. 

He spent his entire birthday playing guitar.  The whole day.  For nine hours. Non stop.  Using the new iPod guitar recording device thingie I bought him. 

Now that's how a person should spend a birthday. Doing what you like.  All day. Without any interuption or breaks. For showering or eating or brushing your teeth. Because we should all have one goddam day each year that is entirely amazing and entirely guilt-free.

To make matters even better, he went shopping today with his birthday gift cards and came home with a bunch of household stuff for us.  Because he basically IS is mother.  (His mother who once returned her expensive Chirstmas gift from Pa-in-Law and bought at least a hundred bucks worth of Brita filters instead. Because it made her happy and forget all of us who thought she was nuts.) 

This is the email Hubby sent me this afternoon.

I made some good purchases with my CT gift card that I am proud of. Just a few things to make our lives or my life easier.

- A collapsible strainer – love it and you will too
- Proper coffee filters that don’t collapse and fuck over my morning coffee
- A digital hygrometer to tell humidity level so I know if I need to put my guitar in its case or not
- Another lighter for the bbq/fireplace
- Stovetop scraper – present for me and you J
- Small extension cord for my bedside light/blackberry
- And a block of white printer paper that we’ve needed for years

It took a lot not to buy a sweet cooler with wheels haha.

Oh Hubby, I love you.  Happy birthday darlin. 

_

Another Wordless Wednesday - of guess who

Grocery shopping is an asshole

One of the absolute worst fucking things in life is grocery shopping.

I hate everything about it. I hate the aisle-wandering, the cart-pushing, the retard-avoiding, the shelf-searching, the conveyorbelt-loading, the cashier-waiting, the bag-loading, the PAYING, the bag-lifting, the trunk-packing, the pile-as-many-bags-on-my-arms-and-struggle-into-the-house-ing, and of course... the cupboard-stuffing.

The unpacking is the worst because I have to look at everything I just spent all my money on, only to come to the painful conclusion that not. one. thing. is appealing to eat.  Except the chips.

Usually, Hubby and I stop over at the local grocer on a daily basis before dinner.  It's the same routine every night.  (You can read about Men and their meat here.) 

But once in a while we head over to Wal-fart for the big'un.  The giant "let's get every little thing we might ever need if the world ever ends - and every other little thing we can think of while we're at it" shopping trip. 

Making the whole thing worse? Hubby's starting a new job in which packing a lunch will become a necessary evil.  So this particular shopping trip was spent with me reminding him once or twice in each aisle that he needs to buy things he can eat during the day.  Snacks, drinks, treats, meals. 

And of course each one of his decisions is a huge deal. 

Me: "You like pitas, Honey."
Hubby: "Yeah..."
Me: "Well how about some pitas then?"
Hubby: "Well, they always get stale really fast."
Me: "True.  Ok, wraps instead."
Hubby: *squeezes the pita bag*
Me: "Ok, well make a decision."
Hubby: *stands pondering*
Me: *walks away*

So we continue to make it through this giant disgusting supercentre (which basically represents everything that is wrong with the world), piling at least one of everything in sight into our cart. 

Hubby: "I need some decent bathroom cleaner."
Me: "So get some."
Hubby: *stands and stares at the wall of cleaning products*
Me: "Yeah, that Greenworks one is decent. Less cancer."

So when we get home, what do I unpack?  The Scrub-Free bathroom cleaner.  The carcinogen.  With BLEACH. 

Hubby: "That's the one you said!"
Me: "Noooo, I was referring to the green one.  Less cancer, remember?  This is the most cancer possible in one gigantic jug. Cancer in a jug is what this is."

Hubby waves me away me while he tries to jam about 10% more almonds into the almond jar than could ever logically fit, spilling them all over our counter. 

And then he plops down next to me on the couch eating - what else but chips - and crunches on them like a camel with lock-jaw. 

And then he paces the kitchen opening the fridge and asking me what I'm having for dinner. 

Yep. Grocery shopping is an asshole.

Now.  If you can guess how much I spent on this particular shopping trip, you'll win something. I don't know what, but at the very least it will be bragging rights, as well as the pleasure of knowing that you have never EVER spent this much on groceries. 

PS - Now he's making me a cucumber snack, so I guess he's not all bad. 

_

Day 3 - My Zombie Survival Kit

Welcome to Day 3 of my 100-day Blog Challenge!  I'm so glad so many of you are doing this with me.  I added a link-up to the bottom of my Blogger Challenge posts so I can read all your awesome stuff.  So link up!

Day 3 requires me to share a picture of something I cannot live without.  Well, if you know me at all, you know I'm way too selfish to pick only one thing.  So here are a few. 

K, so this picture represents CHOCOLATE. And although I normally like better quality chocolate, I'll stuff my face with eat whatever cocoa-inspired product is placed in front of me. Check HERE for the whole story.

My darling Hubby, of course - who makes me laugh, and rubs my back, and holds me up when I think I might not make it.  And who finally threw out 5 pairs of DISGUSTING underwear today. For the whole story on this pic, click HERE.





Mama!  Basically me, just 32 years sooner.  For some great Mama stories, your positively must click HERE and HERE.

Obviously. These are my children. Patches is fat, but clever. Tuxedo is also getting large, but is, it seems, a total moron. You can read all the adorable stories by selecting their label, but my fav is HERE.

There are so many more things I can't live without!  I'm a spoiled Canadian girl!  Gernally, anything I'd need to have even if zombies took over the world is an un-live-without-able item.  My zombie survival kit, if you will...

In no particular order:

My family, my friends, my computer, my MEDS, my blogs, my blogger girls, my fuchsia x-trainers, my ability to curse like a dirty trucker, my Tetley Bold tea, my backyard, my WINE, my massage therapist, my brain therapist, my many pj pants, my peanut butter, my wedding band, Monica (my GPS device), my books, my mp3 player, my body lotion, my lip conditioner, my toothpaste, my shampoo, and likely my cable tv recorder. 

There's probably more but I need to go to sleep, and worrying about the Zombie Apocalypse is friggin exhausting.

_

UPDATED: I'm an AWESOME cyclist

I was having a pretty good weekend. 

If you follow me on twitter you might know that 5 hours of my Saturday were spent on a MAJOR cleaning spree, the likes of which this house has NEVER seen in the three years that we've lived here.  And perhaps in its 25 years since it was built.  

I cleaned so much that I was actually sore this morning.  I cleaned so much that my cuticles are a disaster.  I cleaned so much that the top of my kitchen cabinets will NEVER mess with me again. 

As for today, I planned to make some progress in my Diversification Plan by going for a nice bike ride with my friend V.  It was a gorgeous day and it feels great to get out into the fresh air. 

So I went out and got myself some new gym pants and asked Hubby to load my lovely new bicycle into the back of his truck.  There I was happily sitting in the drivers seat of the red pickup, ready to trek out to V's new house and go for a ride by the river. 

Everything was going fine.  V may be an expert bicyclist, but she's very patient with my novice skills.  Needless to say, it was a leisurely trip. 

Until we got to the half-way point, when she asked if I wanted to actually get a work out at all.  Um. What has the last 30 minutes been?  But ok, sure, sounds good.  The next thing she said was worrisome. 

"Ok, so the hill is pretty big, so use your gears."

Fuck. 

Well.  That douchebag of a hill can lick my ASS because I managed to make it to the top.  I almost died, and I still can't feel my legs, and I was about 10 minutes behind V but I still did it.

Don't congratulate me yet. 

Remember how this was only the half-way point? Yeah.  I had to ride all the way back. 

That was ok.  I made it through, and then V says: 

"Oh, you mind if we just ride a bit further to find a better way back?"

Ummm.

And we were about 5 minutes from home when it happened. 

Ok, so this might be a slight exaggeration.  Maybe.  But still. 


UPDATED:

It turns out that there was a 4.1 earthquake here yesterday afternoon, so I was obviously knocked off my bike by the sheer force of the tremors.  For the record. 

Also, my crotch/ass bones hurt like you would NEVER BELIEVE.

_

Day 2 - What's the point?

Holy shit, I've made it past the first day of my 30 (or 100) Day Blog Challenge.  I can call it a success now. 

Day Two is supposed to be an explanation of my blog.  Well, that's a tricky one, because the only point - the only purpose it has ever served - is to amuse me. 

Selfish?  Sure.  But that's the reality of it.  So sue me. 

This blog has never been anything but JUST FOR ME.  I've said this before.  I say it all the time.  I write what I think is funny, or what I think is a pain in the ass, or what makes me think carefully. I write to clear my head, or to get my thoughts organized, or to document a good day.  I write FOR ME. 

Whenever anyone says they've got writers block, or their readership is falling, or whatever, I always bestow the same remarkable advice:

Your blog is YOURS.  It's a representation of your thoughts and feelings.  Your best posts are always the ones that come from your own unique inspiration.  The ones you don't filter, the ones you don't censor, the ones in which you express an honest feeling from the particular moment in time in which you are feeling it. 

I rarely pre-write my posts.  I type, I spell-check, and then I click PUBLISH.  Sometimes the honesty I demand of myself - the honesty that makes this blog MINE - does put a knot in my stomach on occasion. Sometimes I wince when I click that PUBLISH button. But I click it just the same. 

Don't get me wrong.  I adore comments and encouragement from my readers.  I love hearing from people in real life who say they liked what I wrote.  I even love walking up on a colleague who just happens to be reading my words as I approach. 

And usually I get at least one amusing or supportive comment (if not several) and it makes the honesty (whether brutal, or sarcastic, or bitchy) 100% worth it.  Either I learn that I'm not the only picker.  Or I start up a conversation about guns.  Or I gain strength from everyone who tells me it WILL get better. 

Best of all, I might get a comment that makes me think I made someone else's day better, or I inspired someone, or I helped someone in some small way.  Those comments are the best ones - because they're the ones in which my honesty (the honesty that was originally just for me) shifts into being for someone else too. 

Getting two birds stoned at once.

Which is where CheesyBloggers comes in.  Cheesy Bloggers is the place where it's about everyone else.  About spreading cheesy blog love, meeting new people, and having a LAUGH.  You can even win prizes! Because life is tough - laughs are a requirement. 

Blogging is about ME, but it's about all of you too.

_

An Open Letter to Hungry Hobo

This week's Cheesy Bloggers theme is Open Letters.  So if you have an open letter (which of course you do) or if you want to write one (which of course you should) then email it to us at CheesyBloggers@gmail.com and we'll feature it on our awesome blog. You should do it.  You're not cool if you don't.   

Also, don't forget to read this - my most recent open letter to a hobo Hubby and I encountered this weekend. 


Dear Hungry Hobo:

I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. I’m sorry you can’t get back on your feet. You seem like a nice guy.

When Hubby and I emerged from our fancy anniversary steak dinner last night and you approached us, we weren’t afraid or offended. You seemed polite and we sympathized with you.

When you asked us for our doggie bag, we weren’t sure. We had SO been looking forward to enjoying our steak, mushrooms, and rice a second time. It was a real perk for us. We were particularly pleased that we would get a second meal for the absurd $130 we paid.

But there we were, standing outside a steak restaurant, dressed up in fancy clothes, and on our way to get a delicious Beaver Tail for desert.

And there you were. You weren’t even asking for money. Just food.

So of course you could have it. Enjoy the steak and have a good night.

Hubby and I felt pretty good about it. We felt guilty that we are so privileged. We were happy to help in some small way.

Until we met another hobo on the street. He made a speech about how he was having a hard time and thanks for not pretending he was invisible. But we got a totally different vibe. A swindling vibe. A vibe that said “I may look rough, but the cell phone and pack of cigarettes in my hand tells a different story.”

We had to pass on this one. We can’t help everyone, and we just gave our dinner away. That was all we could do for today.

And then we were walking back to our car and you, our friend the Hungry Hobo, approached us again. With your hat out. Asking for spare change.

“Dude. We JUST gave you our dinner.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Was it good?”

“Uh... yeah.”

I really am sorry. I do feel shitty about the fact that I have so much and you have so little. But, Man. This is why people resist helping. How did you even eat that meal in under 5 minutes? And you ate all that rice without a fork?

This is all very curious. Now we wonder if you were some kind of swindler too. Did you not really care about our dinner? Do you get a free steak dinner every night outside that restaurant?

I guess we’ll never know.

Best of luck, enjoy your steak,
Marianna Annadanna
_

It looks like the fourth of July

30 (or 100) Day Blog Challenge

I’ve seen this fun little game in a few different places, and so I’m jumping on the bandwagon. Because I’m a bandwagon kind of girl. Unless it’s a bandwagon full of drugs. I avoid drug bandwagons. Come to think of it, I tend to avoid wagons of all kinds.

I’m not sure what I’m saying.

Let’s start over.

Today is the first day of my 30 day blog challenge.  I won’t be doing it in 30 days, however. I might do it in, like, 100 days, let's say. If I feel like it.

Day 01- Introduction, a recent photo, and 15 interesting facts about yourself.

Ok, well, I think the above counts as an introduction.

Here’s a recent photo. It’s not of me.

It's a pig head.

Fifteen? Fifteen is a lot. Also? “Interesting” is a relative term.

1) Peanut butter is my ultimate comfort food.
2) I HAVE to sleep with feather pillows. HAVE to.
3) I never take out the garbage. I make Hubby do it.
4) Nothing tastes quite as good as pizza with Pepsi.
5) I’m a picker. If I have a scab? Pick it. If I have a torn cuticle? Pick it. If I have a nail polish chip? Pick it.
6) I play no instruments.
7) I wish I learned to play an instrument.
8) Actually, I wish I wanted to learn to play an instrument.
9) Passive aggression annoys me to NO END.
10) Hubby’s socks gross me out.
11) My second toe is longer than my big toe. And it’s WEIRD.
12) I have a thin little line scar on my tummy from surgery when I was seven weeks old. It looks like an oddly placed roll of fat.
13) I could never go back to a non-power toothbrush.
14) My favourite books are Gone With the Wind, Lonesome Dove, and Jane Eyre.
15) I’ve only had one sexual partner. (Don’t tell Hubby.)

That’s it for today! Stay tuned over the coming, like, 100 days – or however long it takes – and I’ll fill you in on the rest of the list below.

Will any of you join me?  You don't have to do the whole 30 days.  I'm not a blog cop.  But maybe when I write one you can relate to, you'll do it with me?  I like to be on a bandwagon with other people. 

Day 02- The meaning behind your blog.
Day 03- A picture of something you cannot live without.
Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have.
Day 05- List 15 songs that represent your life’s soundtrack.
Day 06- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to.
Day 07- A hobby you have.
Day 08- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you.
Day 09- Short term goals for this month and why.
Day 10- Something/someone you’re proud of.
Day 11- A story about a past relationship.
Day 12- A picture of something you dislike.
Day 13- Share a secret.
Day 14- Write a letter telling someone something you could never tell them.
Day 15- A picture of something you ate and 10 confessions.
Day 16- Put your iPod on shuffle & share the first 10 songs that play.
Day 17- Something you could live without.
Day 18- Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why.
Day 19- Plans/dreams/goals you have.
Day 20- Nicknames you have & how or why you have them.
Day 21- If you had 3 wishes, what would they be.
Day 22- Share a picture from your day.
Day 23- What makes you different from everyone else.
Day 24- What is something you crave.
Day 25- What I would find in your bag.
Day 26- Places you want to visit before you die.
Day 27- Why are you doing this 30 day challenge?
Day 28- A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?
Day 29- In this past month, what have you learned.
Day 30- A picture of you today & 20 goals you want to accomplish.
_ _

Not a *total* fail

My first day of school at my new job went fairly well.

7:30 – Got out of bed.  30 minutes late.

8:20 – Managed to get out the door only 20 minutes late, so that’s not a total fail.

8:21 – Forgot my office pass, ran back into the house, fell up the stairs, cursed like a dirty trucker.

8:22 – Drove to the mall to “park and ride”

8:30 – Didn’t get a ticket for parking at the mall before hopping on the bus, nor did I get into a fight with a mall cop. Check.

9:15 –Arrived at the office and managed to remember to turn right instead of left off the elevator to get to my new desk. Check number two.

10:00 – Had a meeting with my new colleagues in which I had absolutely nothing interesting/intelligent to say.

10:30 – Successfully reset my voicemail. Another point for me.

(Clearly, this was a particularly productive morning.)

12:57 – Came back from lunch only to realize that I very nearly missed a meeting – that was in my calendar – that I had completely forgotten about – on my first day.   Narrow escape.

2:00 – Read a bunch of stuff.   Ya know, to figure out how the hell I’m even supposed to do this job. No better way to feel stupid than by having to admit you don’t know anything about anything.

3:00 – Managed to find a way to feel smart again by going to talk to my former colleagues – at least they’ll always have questions for me.

3:35 – Enjoyed a delicious Eatmore chocolate bar – of which I friggin EARNED, if I do say so myself.   Don’t judge me.

5:03 – Made a joke to my new boss about her favourite hair stylist – at MAGICUTS – that was pretty well-received.

5:12 – In true George Costanza style, made a hasty exit on a high note before my little comedy routine backfired in my face.

_

Time for a fresh start

Remember when you were in school?  And remember being so excited when summer finally came? 

The last few weeks of classes are just one big mash of field trips, popsicles, and late sunsets.  And the energy is so high.  Freedom is on the horizon and you can taste it. 

The last day finally arrives and you'd spend the whole time getting people to sign your yearbook and cleaning out your locker.  The halls are filled with empty binders and trashcans full of notes and homework that you don't give two shits about anymore.  And then the final bell rings and you take off like the wind into the free world. 

Summer.  Gorgeous.  Hot and sweaty, romantic and sexy, wet and sandy.  You have fun.  You experiment, you stay out late, you forget whatever worries were plaguing you the previous ten months. 

But in the blink of an eye you start to feel it fading.  The nights get cooler and the days get shorter and the mornings get that very distinct crisp breeze that you are so tempted to enjoy.  You hate to love that breeze.  It's bringing what you dread - the doom of reality - but there's something so refreshing about it.  Something that makes you walk outside and take that slow, deep, cool breath in, and then let it out in a single relenting huff. 

So you start preparing for the inevitable.  You pick your classes and set your schedule.  You buy new binders and matching colour-coded pens.  You spend all your hard-earned summer income on a new wardrobe that you won't even be able to wear until October because it'll be too damn hot.  You get excited about seeing everyone again, and meeting your new teachers. 

And above all, you promise - nay, VOW - that you will do all your homework on time and study for all your tests and get 90s in everything. 

Ultimately there is something so optimistic about that time.  Every year you know it will come, and every year you think you'll hate it.  Sure, part of you is a little scared, and part of you wishes the easy summer could continue. 

But the other part - the larger part - is ready to get back.  Ready to find a routine and feel stable again - to allow yourself a fresh start. 

~~~~~~~~

I start a new job on Tuesday.  It's not totally new.  Same job, really, just a new project with a new boss and new content.  It's my fresh start.  My carte blanche.  My opportunity.  It won't be perfect.  But even still, I believe it will be just what I need.