Kickin' ass and takin' names. Or not.

Today was going well.  Better than yesterday at least. 

Baby Fraggle woke at a decent time, and we were on track - on track for our newly created get-the-baby-to-nap-so-we-don't-go-insane plan.  She had a half-nap this morning IN HER CRIB (never mind the fact that I sat there with her) before we walked over to the grocery store and pharmacy. 

I was kickin' ass and takin' names.  These are big accomplishments, people.  Don't doubt me. 

Furthermore, on the way home I encountered an actual mail man at the actual mail box, with whom I had an actual conversation and he even mailed my actual letters. 

By the time we arrived home, Fraggle was still sleeping in her stroller (WIN), so we sat on the front step allowing me a precious 10 minutes to soak up the sun and tweet up something fierce.

Then something went awry...

About 15 minutes after coming inside, I noticed the front door was open. 

Fucking holy hell shitballs craphole dammit where are the fucking cats. 

Tuxedo was, as usual, under the shrub by the front step, since he's too damn stupid to venture far.  I spooked him, so he came flying into the house - covered cobwebby junk.   

Patches though.  Where was Patches?  I called her name, no luck.  I clinked her food bowl, no luck. 

Umm, uh oh. 

And a tiny human inside that I couldn't, ya know, leave alone. 

This is when it happened.  A matter of time, really.  The "turns out I don't love the cats as much as the child" moment officially occurred.  It's been coming for a while (such as when they are meowing like lunatics at 3am), but this was the true moment in which changing and feeding the baby was potentially more important than hunting for the stupid cat...

But then it wasn't. 

So back in the stroller goes the baby, and off we go, wandering through the neighbours' backyards, clinking bowls and shouting PATCH for everyone to hear.  The little shithead emerged from a backyard a few houses down, running for the food her clinking bowl seemed to indicate. 

Thanks to all that I missed the baby's "sleep window" so Fraggle is now accidentally sleeping in her swing, rather than her crib (but at least sleeping thank heaven). 

Oh, and I just unloaded the grocery bag and it turns our that I bought the wrong fucking coffee.

So, not acing this motherhood thing yet, eh?

Hubby should never leave me to my own devices

Hubby is working today (yes, on a SUNDAY) so I'm all alone to entertain myself and/or accomplish things.  I wouldn't be so worried about the accomplish-things part, except that this tiny human is coming in, like, three months and oh my god there is so much to do.

We went to Ikea last night to purchase some I-need-this-or-I-will-be-a-bad-mother items, including: some shelves, some picture frames, and a stupid little white end table to sit next to the rocking chair so that I have a place to set my wine bottle while I'm breastfeeding.  

As I'm sure you can imagine, Ikea usually means Hubby has some work to do.

But Hubby's not here.  He has basically abandoned me to raise this poor child all on my own.

Or he's away for a few hours.  Whichever.

In any case, at 10:00 this morning I decided I could probably put the little table together myself.  This is how it went:

10:00
This doesn't look so bad.  Just one little box.

10:01
DAMMIT BOX OPEN.  OOOPPPEEENNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnn

10:02
Oh, much easier with scissors.

10:03
Only a table top, three legs, a few screws?  I can do this.

10:04
Oh my god these legs are all wonky.  Which way is up?  Why does the picture show TWO screw holes.  There is only ONE.  Oh.  There's the other one.

10:05
Ok Tuxedo, not a toy.  Also, not even safe.  Like, you're seriously gonna get hurt.  These big metal poles are flailing around like nobody's business.

10:10
Fuck this.  FUCK YOU THREE WONKY LEGS AND A MILLION GODDAM SCREWS.

10:11
Oh.  It goes like that.

10:22
My hands smell like metal.

10:23
DAMMIT TUXEDO.

10:31
This doesn't fit.  This.  Doesn't.  Fit.  THISDOESN'TFIT.

10:32
OUCH MY HAND.

10:34
*Starts crying*

10:40
Perfect! Those screws don't have to be tight.  Hubby'll fix it.

10:44
Nap time!

 

Phase three of growing a tiny human

Hello dear friends.  Amazingly, I've managed to keep up with my iPhone pregnancy journal.  I know.  Incredible right?  So, picking up where I last left off...

December 26

[Telling the fam…]

Whoa THAT was a lot to take in. Glad everyone is excited but holy, overwhelming is an understatement.  

December 27

What do you mean the baby might not be ok?  Oh.  So that's the panic and fear everyone is talking about that will last for the next 50 years.  I was not AT ALL prepared for that.  The only thing keeping me sane right now? Tuxedo Cat is in a bag.

December 29

Much more emotionally stable today.  For now anyway.

December 31

I'm gonna be the dancin mom. All 90s all the time. I'm gonna learn all the backstreet boys dance moves. Mmmm Bop baby.

January 4

Dr appointment today. I love my doctor. I trust no one else. Everyone's a HACK. [And yes the baby was ok.  This is a reference to the fact that emergency room doctors are apparently not at all qualified to deal with such an array of medical concerns. My own doctor is never allowed to leave me.]

January 6

My doctor got me thinking about a midwife. Never considered it before. Don't know why. I guess I thought a 19 year old hippie named Willow wearing a hemp skirt would come to my house and whisper at me while I pushed a human out of my vagina “naturally” in a plastic kiddie pool. Turns out? Not exactly.

January 7

Hubby just came home from work with the RANKEST odor.  And proceeded to blame MY heightened sense of smell... uh, no. Do something about that.  Immediately.  

January 8

Wow. So, going to sleep at 7:30 every night is a real thing, eh.

January 9

I can't decide if dinner in bed is good for the soul or a very bad sign.  

January 10

Hey pants. You're too small. Fuck off.

January 11

Hubby was reading about baby proofing. "You're supposed to go around on your knees to see stuff from the baby's perspective. Luckily, Honey, I guess you won't have to do that."   Nice. Throw a short joke at the grumpy pregnant lady.

January 15

THERE ARE WINE SAMPLES IN THIS GROCERY STORE.  FUCK YOU, WORLD.  

January 30

Yay Hubby building the crib! I helped.  Mostly by sitting in the rocking chair.  But when asked to hold up one side, I totally did it.  I held that sucker up for at least 10 minutes.  ("held" = put my hand on it until I realized my hand was no longer needed because it was all done anyway)

My handywork

February 4

I was TOTALLY just advised by my doctor that my extra 300 calories per day can be junk food if good food is unappetizing.  Even better, Hubby needs to back off giving me a hard time about it. Bring on the Crispers.

February 8

So sleeping on my stomach is uncomfortable, and sleeping on my back will apparently result in the apocalypse. So, sides only? MY HIPS HURT.

February 9

February 10

I've had the most bizarre change of heart in the last couple of days. No more baby. Ha just kidding. I actually just think a boy would be good. Girls are assholes. I vote boy.

February 11

First day with elastic pants. I've put it off as long as humanly possible. One benefit: peeing is way easier when all you do is slide down your waistband.

February 19

Ultrasound day. Sitting in the waiting room.  No, Hubby, I don't have any games in my purse.  And to the lady filing her nails: STOP IT.

What do you MEAN it's a girl? What does that mean? 

February 20

Remember when I wanted to be kicked? So masochistic. Now? Stop kicking me you little brat! Ok don't,  But still.

February 28

Worst. Sleeping. Ever. Ouch my back. Ouch my hips. OUCH.

March 1

I'm beginning to think this baby is like Hubby. Can't sit still! My whole insides are flailing.  Either that or she's like me - a total asshole.  

March 3

My new nemesis? Indigestion. Which is particularly terrible for someone who physically does not know HOW to burp. (Swallow my air, I know I know. DOESN'T WORK YOU GUYS.)

March 4

We bought a stroller yesterday! And now I wish I had a baby to put into it. So far, all I have is a Tuxedo Cat.  But he likes riding around, that's for sure.  

March 5

My mood today equates to this: 

March 6

Bought our bassinet! And the cats love that too it.

March 7

Pregnant women resemble toddlers?  Um, yes.

March 9

Whatever you do, do NOT google "placenta images"

March 10

Ok. Who gave this little thing a bongo to play inside my uterus?  She could also probably stop jumping trampoline on my cervix.  

My life: the movie.

Life in this house is a matter of several stupid moments strung together into a series of idiocy that must at least merit a low budget short-film with a cast of unknown actors.

==================

Hubby:  I vacuumed the whole basement yesterday. 

Me:  Oh, great. 

Hubby:  And then, once I finished, I noticed that the vacuum hose was detached.  Just the beater was working.  Nothing was getting sucked up.  ...  So I vacuumed the whole thing again. 

Me:  *laughing at Hubby's expense*

==================

 

I was in a deep sleep this morning.  It was 4:38 am.  I was dreaming.  And then I was shockingly and abruptly awakened by a giant anvil falling onto my chest! 

 

Ok, so it was less of an anvil, and more of a Tuxedo Cat who got spooked by Hubby's pillow-flip, ran onto my chest, and pushed off into the air. 

 

But it felt like an anvil.  And I was so dazed and confused that hyperventilation quickly followed, while both Hubby and Tuxedo Cat stared and waited for calm to return and logic to reign. 

 

==================

 

Hubby:  The new IOS6 came out today.  You can update your phone. 

 

Me:  Yeah?  How long does it take?

 

Hubby:  Oh, about 30 or 45 minutes I guess. 

 

Me:  And can I use my phone while it updates?

 

Hubby:  Well, no .

 

Me:  ...

 

Hubby:  You're never going to do it, are you?  You'll just have the old version forever. 

 

Me:  Yeah, that's what I was thinking. 

 

==================

Another "Wow, I'm awesome" installment. And also? OUCH.

Remember that time I ran upstairs in the dark, carrying the cat, stubbed my toe, and impaled my ribs with the vacuum?

That was good times. 

And I was unceremoniously reminded of how much fun that had been early this morning. 

I was in the closet, in my underwear, trying to find something to wear to work.  Hubby had already left, so I was just watchin' the news and hangin' out with Tuxedo and Patches.  And Scarlet. (Scarlet is my iPhone.)

And then I heard Hubby return.  And when he called up "Hello?" I quickly stepped out of the closet to respond. 

Or, rather, I tried to step out of the closet. 

Before I knew what the fuck was going on, I caught my right foot somewhere between Patches' four feet and her fat droopy belly, stumbled, sidestepped, attempted some sort of martial-arts-double-flip-swivel-kick, and then landed sideways with my back smashing into the closet doorknob. 

"FUCK.  Fucking CHRIST mother effing ass shit fuckface FUCK!"

The dutiful Hubby that he is: "Are you ok?!"

"NO."

But I was.  I mean, I lost some lung air, I'm pretty sure there's a tender dent in my back flesh, and my bus ride to work was way too fucking JOLTY, but, yeah, generally I survived the incident. 

And so did Patches, thank goodness.  She sat on the floor looking up at us with shocked "innocent" eyes wondering what in the name of all that is holy fucking happened.  And she may or may not be afraid to go in the closet from now on. 

But we're both fine.  Ice and advil fixes a lot of stuff. 

I'm a risk-averse cat mom.

Y'all know I love my cats. 

But did you know that I love them so much that I would never ever in a million years let them outside? 

It's scary out there! There are threats around every corner.  Poisonous plants, and pesky fleas, and SKUNKS.  And we all know how I feel about skunks. 

Way to risky.  Especially for a particularly risk-averse cat Mom.  Not to mention once they get out, there's no stopping them.  They'll want out all the time.  There's no going back. 

Hubby, on the other hand, has been bothering me for years - YEARS - to just let the damn kittens out already.  Just in the yard.  They'll be fine, he says.  We'll monitor them.  They'll keep us company.  They'll love it.  Look, they want out so badly! Ahhh, poor kitties.  Yadda yadda. 

Well, last weekend, after years of resistance, I gave in.  Just for Patches.  Patches is seasoned.  She is trustworthy.  She's calm, reasonable, and entirely disinterested in anything but grass and shade. 

Tuxedo, by contrast, is neurotic and as stupid as sin. 

So, after all my concern, I guess I'm glad I finally allowed this.  Not only was Patches over the moon with pleasure... she was the cutest. friggin. thing. EVER. in the history of the world. 
 

And yes, she paces and cries to go outside now.  But whatever.  I can live with that.

Leaping. Or something.

Some things I did today to make this extra 24 hours of leap time particularly spectacular and productive:

I fell back to sleep after showering this morning.

I got a stripey mark on my cheek from the towel on my head. 

I took this picture of my cats. 

I cried about a funeral I couldn't go to. 

I got a ride with Hubby to work, leaving him to attend a funeral on his own. 

I did some work. 

I threw a donut/cookie/coffee party for my colleagues.  Yay. 

I ate a giant ginger cookie. 

I drank a cup of coffee.  SCREW YOU, TEA. 

I ate a double chocolate donut. SCREW YOU, ARTERIES. 

I annoyed my boss by being forgetful at an inopportune moment.

I remembered to eat lunch. 

I annoyed my boss by being slightly argumentative all afternoon. 

I re-wrote someone else's work. 

I made Hubby pick me up from work at 6:30, on his way home from funeral services.

I had a bath.

I twittered. 

I "blogged".

And now I'm watching Modern Family. 

Click here.  ABC .com 

I call all that success. 

Num num, rum rum in my tum tum

You guys.  I've made a dramatic discovery.  I've identified the one and only CURE for Ebeneezer-itus.  I can't believe I haven't found it before.  It's so obvious.  Are you ready? 

It comes in the form of eggnog. 

RUM and eggnog. 

Mmmmmm...

I've had fun this week. 

Thursday at work was extremely uneventful, and I may or may not have arrived very late and departed very early.  Maybe. 

Friday was even better.  I got to the office in time for the children's pancake breakfast with my adorable twin-mom friend, LB.  I toured around showing off her babies as if they were my own, and then we ate pancakes.  Well, LB and I ate pancakes.  The babies drank some milk.  Actually, it could've been eggnog. 

When I finally got to my desk, a coworker came into my cubical:

"Ok! Let's go!"

"Let's go?!  I just got here!  I'm LOGGING INTO MY EMAIL RIGHT NOW. It's five minutes to 12, for godsake." 

"K. I'll give you five minutes."

And so we left.  I did send one work-related email, so at least there's that. 

After I battled the Christmas Eve downtown traffic (I don't want to talk about it), Hubby and I went hopping about town shopping and eating and doing all things Christmassy. 

And then it happened.  My Holiday Spirit finally made itself officially known.  Via eggnog.  And RUM. 

We watched the Griswolds and drank rum. 

Click here for Youtubey. 

Yesterday we wrapped gifts and then opened them almost immediately afterward.  I even got a kickass new iPod!  We ate duck breasts for dinner and then drank more rum, and then Tuxedo ran away with a duck breast and left dirty little paw prints across my floor.

As for today, the snow started last night and has been falling at a slow and steady pace ever since.  Even though all the weather experts said it'd be a green Christmas.  But they were wrong, weren't they?  Because CANADA NEVER FAILS.  Want snow? You got it, Canada says. 



See?

The fam comes tomorrow, which of course we're looking forward to.  I just hope I don't run out of rum.   

Happy holidays y'all.  If I can find my Spirit, we know it's not all lost. 

The little shit knew JUST what she was doing

As you know quite well, I'M A CAT PERSON. 

I have two adorable family members of the feline variety, as well as several cat relatives and cat friends.  I fancy myself a bit of a cat whisperer. 

I'm like Elmyra.  I see a cat - any cat - and I run toward it.  "Kiiiiiitttttty!!!"  It could be a flea-infested, matted mongrel in a little New Orleans bistro and I'll still chase it down.   

My Quasi Step Dad has a cat.  Breyer.  She's grumpy and rude, but I bribe her with treats. 

My pregnant twin-mom friend has a cat.  One time her husband was calling it and I responded with repeated meows from the basement.  It took him a few minutes to figure it out, while my friend and I laughed hysterically.  The cat was outside all along. 

I even have blogger cat friends.  Miss Jacqui and Miss Sarcasm have cats.  But Jacqui thinks hers is evil, and Miss Sarcasm says hers belongs to the devil.  At least I adore them - even if it is from a distance. 

One of my closest cat friends is Miss Mittens.  Mittsie lives next door.  Her legs and head are disproportionately small for her body and her toes are white.  She cuddles with me when I house-sit.

Mittens is a rabble rouser.  

One time she took off out the front door.  It was cold and rainy and I just couldn't leave her, so I followed her out into the front yard.  She led me across her yard, then across my yard, then into my other neighbours' yard - all the while staying just out of my reach.  Then she ducked under my fence and into my backyard.  "Damn it Mittsie!"

I gave up and went back to her house.  But when I glanced out the back door, she was sitting on the edge of her pool drinking the water.  "You little shit."

I crept outside to get her, but her mama didn't raise no fool.  "Nope" she said.  She was obviously cold, the little r-tard, but she led me around the pool anyway, allowing me to inch closer and closer, but not close enough.  Finally she stopped, so I scooped her up and brought her in. 

The stupid bugger knew JUST what she was doing.  She was happy to come inside. It just had to be on HER terms. 

Well, I guess I can relate to that.   

Adorable Mittsie

Mittens died last week, very tragically and unexpectedly.  Thinking of you my little darling. 

It may be Thanksgiving, but I can do whatever I want AS MUCH AS I WANT

Yes, I'm still alive and kickin.  I just haven't felt all that inspired lately.  Sorry.  Don't leave me!

That said, I did write a little something for my lovely friend Elle at her new group site A Nervous Tic Motion.  I'm so proud to be associated with this great group of writers.  You simply must go check it out.  They cover every possible topic under the sun, and they do it well.  Elle is even looking for a few more semi-regular contributors, so you should totally contact her. 

This is my Nervous Tic for today. 

*****

I recently bought myself a kickass new iPhone.

Actually, I didn’t buy it myself as much as I took the money from Hubby when he sold some random power tool or something. I happen to have a hard time treating myself to fun new things, but that may be a story for another day.

The point is, I GOT A KICKASS NEW iPHONE. Go me.

Now. I’m Canadian and we already had our Thanksgiving (although it’s not nearly as fun as yours with all the shopping, and the sugar-covered meals, and Mayflower plays, but still).

So in honoUr of my many wicked-ass American pals, I’ve decided to list the things I am grateful for. Regarding my kickass new iPhone.

1) I can pitter patter my butt all over twitter AS MUCH AS I WANT.

2) I can take random pictures of my cats AS MUCH AS I WANT.

3) I can send texts to everyone I know AS MUCH AS I WANT

4) Autocorrect.

5) I can text pictures of my cats to Hubby AS MUCH AS I WANT.

6) I can tweet pictures of my cats AS MUCH AS I WANT.

7) I can play Diamond Dash as much as I want. Or as often as my lives get renewed, which is stupid because it should just let me play it all the time, but the effing thing only gives me 5 lives every half hour or whatever so I have to wait between games and so I lose my rhythm and get pissed off.

8 ) I can find a map as often as I need to, which is ALWAYS because I’ve only lived in this city for three years a short time and I never know where I am.

In conclusion, I am thankful for my kickass new iPhone. And my cats.

"Yeah. I'm sitting on the vent.  So what?"

"Really? More pictures? Seriously?"

Thank god for autocorrect.

Proof positive that mornings are assholes

Hubby bought a car.  He bought a car and he did so even though I was supposed to be the one getting the new car. He beat me to it and I'm going to kick his ass. 

As much as he loves his pickup truck, his new job doesn't really require it, and he's actually been driving more (if that's possible).  I'm not sure if you've heard, but gas is a little pricy. 

[Sidebar:  When we were in New Orleans, gas was $3.30 per gallon.  I want to point out that up here in Canada, we pay $1.25 per litre.  My calulation reveals that we pay 32 cents MORE per litre than Americans do! And there are almost four litres in a gallon! Which means we pay, like, $4.50 a gallon!  $4.50! WTF you guys?]

So gas is expensive.  And Hubby had to make a tough decision to let go of his precious pickup and buy a car. 

Oh, pooooooooor Hubby. 

What's so bad about Hubby buying a new car, you ask?  Of course the problem is that it's an inconvenience to me.  I had to help him drive it home, seeing as he can't really drive two vehicles at one time - especially if he's texting. 

Well, I totally effed up the whole car-switching plan (two people, three cars, and asshole mornings that make it difficult for me to take the bus).  So... the shit-show ended with me leaving my car parked at the office last night. 

This morning I was supposed to take the bus to work and then drive my car home. 

But as I may have mentioned previously: mornings are ASSHOLES. 

I had a tricky time getting up today, but even when I did manage to get my ass out of bed everything still went to shit. 

First Tuxedo wouldn't get off my neck.  Which is ok, becasue he is the cutest thing in Canada, but still. 

This is real.

Then I had outfit issues. 

Then I had to let the neighbour's dog out, but I didn't have the key because I left it in my car (which was, of course, still at the office). 

So I struggled through the neighbour's garage and then struggled to get Doggie outside. 

By then I was late for the bus.  But I was determined. 

I drove half-way to the mall bus station (in Hubby's truck) before I realized that I wasn't wearing my glasses and I couldn't see a fucking thing. 

So I TURNED AROUND and drove home. 

Then I spent 10 minutes searching for my goddam glasses. WHICH I FOUND IN MY LAUNDRY HAMPER.  No, I don't have a clue. 

Then I decided to change my jacket to a warmer one. 

And of course forgot my phone in the pocket. 

By this time I was way too late for the bus, so I drove to work - in Hubby's truck... WHICH REQUIRED GAS - and parked his truck RIGHT NEXT TO MY CAR at the office.  So we have three cars, and two of them were parked in my office parking lot. 

The same office parking lot that has some remarkably passive aggressive parkers who leave angry notes on windshields.  Including this one that I saw on someone's window the other day.

Luckily this one wasn't on my windshield, but I still took a picture of it.

So I left my car at the office again tonight, and I'll attempt the whole damn thing once more tomorrow. 

Christ. 

_

Another Wordless Wednesday - of guess who

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.

_

Somebody get me a baby. Immediately.

Hubby and I recently went to our friends J & M's house, and luckily for us, we got to visit with their 8 month old baby boy K.  

CUTEST EFFING BABY IN CANADA. 

This baby has the biggest happiest smile you've EVER seen (just like Papa J's) and the biggest brownest eyes of ALL time (just like Mama M's). 

When I started walking up the stairs into the living room, Baby K leaned out of Mama arms with that big smile spread across his face and reached out for me.  I kid you not, that child has NO idea who I am.  Not a damn clue.  And yet he was so excited to see me.  "Oh! Somebody new! Gimme!"  It was PRECIOUS. 

We played with Baby K on the floor, watching him try to walk and hearing all about how he's the nicest, most pleasant baby that has ever graced Gaga's green earth. 

So then I put him in my purse and took him home. 

Ok, not quite, but almost.  I did insist that I be allowed to babysit.  Well, I demanded it.  Whatever. 

Hubby agrees that the cuteness of Baby K is completely infectious, and I don't think he was even particularly opposed to me kidnapping the little guy.  But he swears he's not ready for kids yet.  And it couldn't hurt to get my own shit together first, too.  

So fine.  We're waiting.  And in the meantime I plan to steal and/or babysit all my friends' babies. 

Hubby, on the other hand, has a different plan.  He wants a dog, dammit.  He talks about it all the time.  Problem is, I'm not sure he really understands how much work is involved with a dog, nor does he appreciate how much I friggin hate them. 

But today Hubby spent some more time with Baby K, and guess what?  He admits that a baby might be just as good (if not better) than a dog.  He says he just needs a little minion - something to mold, influence, train.  Something to teach tricks to and play with. 

And then, immediately after we talked about having a baby and being excellent parents, our fat cat Patches started eating our dumb cat Tuxedo's food and Hubby proceeded to shout at the top of his man-voice lungs:

"PATCH!!!  PATCH!!!  PAAAAATCH!!!!!!"

And then he banged on the coffee table with the palm of his hand three times. 

BANG.  BANG BANG!

And then, and I am not exaggerating here, he shouted:

"I WILL BEAT YOU!"

And then he stood up and started to march over to Patches with that murderous stomp and evil glare mean old men have when they want to intimidate a child who is playing on their front lawn. 

At least Patches stopped eating Tux's food.  And at least I know my babies will be scared senseless into submission well-behaved. 

_

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.

_

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.

I effing hate AC/DC

You have never heard thunder like we heard last night. 

Unless you live near here.  Then maybe you have. 

You'd think the Zombie Apocalypse was upon us.  Because only something like the Zombie Apocalypse could bring rolling, booming, crashing... um, thunderous thunder like that.

It started around 2am. 

Mother Nature:  FLASH!  GRUMBLE... RUMBLE... CRASH!

And then continued striking on semi-regular intervals every hour until about 6am. 

The perfect time for Mother Earth to be as loud as all-get-out. 

NOT.

Don't underestimate me, either.  I'm not exaggerating.  These were the brightest, scariest blasts of lightening known to humanity, followed by thunder that sent people across three provinces (and probably a few states) quivering under the covers and wishing they had one of those plastic mattress liners.  

I guess I would have been more scared had I not been so effing pissed off.  F-ck.  What a disruption.  A person can't sleep through that.  I don't care how many beers you drank to wash down your sleeping pills. 

And you especially can't sleep through it when it causes your neighbour's house alarm to screech like an effing tornado/Apocalypse siren after every effing earth-shattering lightening flash and thunder crack.  

Mother Nature:  FLASH!  GRUMBLE... RUMBLE... CRASH! 
Neighbour's House:  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

And you really can't sleep when your fat (but normally very brave) cat Patches sits out in the hallway on the stairs crying as if some crazy person/zombie is slowly eating her brain. 

Mother Nature:  FLASH!  GRUMBLE... RUMBLE... CRASH! 
Neighbour's House:  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! 
Patches: Meeeeoooooww...  Meeeeoooowwwwwwww...

And then, to make matters worse, you hold Patches under the covers in an attempt to assure her that, you know, death is not necessarily imminent, but then she's even more scared because she doesn't really know any better, and because this clearly isn't in her "safe spot" on the stairs, and because you are apparently the last person to be trusted, so she basically claws (or in this case, paws) your face off in the process of frantically escaping your heartfelt love-grip.

Mother Nature:  FLASH!  GRUMBLE... RUMBLE... CRASH! 
Neighbour's House:  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Patches:  Meeeeoooooww...
Patches again:  Rrrrriiiiaaaaahhhhoooww...

Don't worry.  I'd still prefer a warm rain (however terrifying) over an effing blizzard any day. 

And I love my cat. 

And I'm especially glad I don't have a real baby for which I am required to hold under the covers as a form of protection (and sensory deprivation) from the Zombie Apocalypse taking place outside. 

Patches, forgive me for this somewhat unflattering photo.  No judgement. 

_

Pass the Oreos

Spur of the moment home improvements.  Love 'em. 

As an alternative to another Sunday jam-packed full of sitting, Hubby and I made a game-time decision to paint the master bedroom. 

It's one of those upgrades that we've wanted to do since we moved in - over two years ago. 

We've managed to paint nearly every other room in the entire house (sometimes more than once, including when the basement came out looking like an underground zombie dungeon). 

So we went out Saturday night to get the paint.  Painting began bright and early Sunday afternoon.

As much as I love doing home improvement projects with Hubby, I'm not sure we're cut out to work together.

It started with Hubby insisting that we nail and caulk all the crown moulding to eliminate the apparently very visible lines and cracks. 

This is me pretending to caulk the crown moulding.  Yes, those are my penguin pajama pants. 



This is Hubby actually caulking the crown moulding.  Notice the blue rubber gloves.  That's hot. 


It didn't end there though.

Hubby decided he needed to blow his nose.  So he made his way into my bathroom - blue rubber gloves included - and pulled some toilet paper off my roll.  

Me, shocked and appalled:  Ew!  No!  Now I'm going to put that on my hoo-hah!
Hubby, confused:  Put what on your hoo-hah?
Me, indignant:  That toilet paper you just touched with your gross rubber gloves!
Hubby, laughing:  They're a brand new pair.  
Me, insistent:  It doesn't matter!  I don't want that rubber on my hoo-hah.  
Hubby, with a clever grin:  It's just latex.  You've never had latex on there?
Me, defeated:  ...
Hubby, laughing:  That's the quote of the day.  


So, then we rearranged the furniture.

Patches lovin the upside-down box spring - aka, fat cat hammock.  And Tuxedo, contemplating the possibility of joining her.

Hubby, taking charge:  We have to move all the stuff into the middle of the room.
Me, apathetic:  Nah.
Hubby, insistent:  Yes!  We do.  I refuse to paint around stuff.
Me, dismissive:  Don't be silly.  It's fine where it is.
Hubby, losing patience:  No!
Me, with no patience whatsoever:  Fine.  Move it yourself then.
Me, later in the day, trying to paint the wall behind a dresser: This dresser is is my way.  We should move it.

But aside from these few little run-ins, we managed ok.

Oh, well, until the paint wouldn't dry quickly enough and a mutual hissy fit ensued. 

But we're happy with how the room turned out, despite ourselves.



Cream on three walls and dark brown on the other.  Like Oreos.  Yum.

_

Being positive was harder than I thought

This is my 101st posting.  Tah-dah!

I was tempted to just leave it at that, but that's not really fair to you, my loyal readers, now is it?

So then I thought, how could I make this post special?  I could make it exactly 101 words long, or I could post 101 pictures, or I could make it really introductory. 

But I decided that in honour of 101 posts (most of which in some way bitch about shit that bugs me, or people that piss me off), I'm going to turn over a new leaf.  For one post.

So, here are 101 of my favourite things.  In no particular order (because that would be way too much work). 


  1)  The sound of Patches purring on my pillow.
  2)  Nurturing my love-hate relationship with The Young and the Restless.
  3)  The fact that my childhood baby sitter's husband was the one to introduce me to The Young and the Restless.
  4)  When Hubby adds "midget" to the grocery list. 
  5)  Jenny The Bloggess.
  6)  Rick's road trips. 
  7)  When, in an effort to soothe my headache, Hubby makes me a grilled cheese sandwich and he reads my mind and puts a bowl of pickles on the side even though I didn't even have to ask for them. 
  8)  Ellen. 
  9)  The fact that I'm so Hip it's Tragic. 
 10) Dairy Queen ice cream cakes.   
 11) Fireworks.
 12) Kiwis. 
 13) Listening to Hubby play You Belong To Me on the guitar. 
 14) My new-found love of books.
 15) Including Gone With the Wind.
 16) And Jane Eyre.
 17) And the Twilight Saga.
 18) And the fact that Pa-In-Law was the one to introduce me to the Twilight Saga. 
 19) The 1990s.   
 20) Russel Brand. 
 21) My parka cape. 
 22) The fact that Mom knew to buy me a parka cape. 
 23) Swimming - in a pool - when it's hot out. 
 24) The SUN.  Hot and glowing and soaking into my soul. 
 25) Andy Dancing.
 26) Sexy vampires.
 27) Sunlight streaming through the clouds in the morning. 
 28) Rainbows. (And here too.)
 29) The fact that the Honey Badger doesn't give a shit.
 30) Leo. (*Doctor Evil whisper*)
 31) Looking at my high school yearbooks. 
 32) Crying at cheesy movies. 
 33) Hubby massaging my neck. 
 34) Hot, strong, bold, caffeinated tea. 
 35) My Pledge pet hair eraser. 
 36) My wedding. 
 37) Paris. 
 38) And Nice. 
 39) The Beatles. 
 40) Peeing when I really have to go. 
 41) Sleeping in. 
 42) Going to bed early. 
 43) Hand lotion.
 44) Lip balm.
 45) Fresh local raspberries. 
 46) Saying the 'p' in rasPberries. 
 47) Windmills.  The new kind, and the old kind. 
 48) Walking in the wilderness.
 49) Boxing.
 50) Pointy high-heeled pumps in random colours.
 51) Sitting on my back deck in the summer. 
 52) A bath so hot that it burns my skin. 
 53) An hysterical contagious laughing fit with my Mom. 
 54) The fact that I take a moral (and slightly irrational) stand against over-hyped movies, such as Lord of the Rings and Avatar.
 55) Getting Hubby to slow dance with me in the kitchen - so rare but SO worth the effort. 
 56) Shooting stars. 
 57) Being reminded that this cannot possibly be all there is. 
 58) Pajamas.
 59) CHOCOLATE.
 60) Chocolate for breakfast.
 61) Chocolate on rasPberries. 
 62) Hubby fixing everything around the house. 
 63) Email.
 64) Pretending to like gardening. 
 65) My dish heater. 
 66) My dish washer. 
 67) Wii.
 68) Having a good Yoga day. 
 69) Friends, the sitcom. 
 70) Friends, the real thing. 
 71) Learning something new about Hubby that I never knew before. 
 72) Coming to the realization that my mother had a life before me. 
 73) Tuxedo head-butting my face. 
 74) Candles.
 75) Toasted marshmallows. 
 76) Halloween.
 77) The smell of lilacs.
 78) The first time every summer when I can wear a tank top outside at night and not be cold. 
 79) Sunsets. 
 80) Blowing bubbles - soap and gum. 
 81) Ice-cold water when I'm really thirsty. 
 82) The fact that my head fits right into the crook between Hubby's shoulder and collarbone. 
 83) Songs that remind me of specific moments in time. 
 84) Talking about people who have died.  Remembering them.  Missing them.
 85) French fries.  With ketchup and vinegar.  Or with gravy and cheese curd.  
 86) Kraft friggin Dinner.  
 87) Having an adult conversation with smart young women / girls.  
 88) Seeing a live band. 
 89) Seeing a celebrity. 
 90) Goat cheese.  
 91) Hubby's 1988 shit box - ahem - white Chevy Cavalier with spray-painted white hubcaps and ghetto sub woofer. 
 92) Spearmint gum.
 93) Thin-crust crispy pizza. 
 94) Mangoes.
 95) Slippers that are so comfy they're gross. 
 96) Franglais (the effective and hilarious combination of English and French).
 97) The acoustic version of any song. 
 98) The fact that Hubby only needs to sing one line of a song for it to be stuck in my head for hours. 
 99) Making fun of strangers (sorry).
100) Stainless steel wine glasses.
101) Blogging, and the world wide interwebs. 

_