I used to be a huge Goo Goo Dolls fan, and by such I mean I liked maybe 4 of their songs, but listened to those 4 songs religiously. This was before Iris, I think.
That's irrelevant though.
Yesterday, it was recommended to me that I start another blog. A secret blog, one where I could keep things I didn't want other people to know. Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time I've been told this. I've decided against it. Secrets only lead to complications, hurt feelings, and just all around, well, crappiness.
I like to vent, I vent quite frequently, but I find that venting to the people that are not involved is somewhat counter productive, and I usually regret it immediately afterward.
So here it is, me venting.
I miss being a teenager, in the worst way. Don't get me wrong, I love my life, in every aspect. Sure there are things that I would have done differently, wouldn't have done at all, or definitely would have loved to have tried. But I'm happy.
I miss wandering aimlessly for hours upon hours. I miss talking about absolutely nothing at all. I miss that feeling, when you first meet someone, and you really like them, but you don't know what to do about it, and they sort of brush by you, just barely touching you, and your heart skips a beat. Okay, that last one was a little specific, but I miss it none the less. I miss how everything was so life-altering. I miss forever lasting a week.
Thinking about it, I'm pretty sure I already wrote chapter about missing things.
Let's get back on track.
There's a sense of adventure missing from my life. I've fallen into a routine. No surprises (except for hospital visits and fire alarms). There is a lack of excitement, and passion. I used to look forward to doing things, experiencing things, seeing new people, new places. Now "new" makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Now I look forward to the weekend, and the weekend is often over before it begins, and I find myself waiting for the next one.
I've been about to walk the Humber Trail "this weekend" for the last month and a half. I have yet to actually go out and do it. There's always some reason not to, more often than not, my own laziness is to blame. I'm not even sure why I've designated this a weekend activity. I'm just as able to walk the trail any given day of the week.
I went to see Nine Inch Nails last year, and I absolutely loved the show, they were awesome, as usual, however that excitement, that giddy-happy-hyper "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God" feeling wasn't there. And that saddens me. It makes me wonder if I've maybe strayed from who I am a little too much. All I really wanted to do was go to bed.
I miss my guitar. Don't worry, I'll be home soon.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Chapter Twelve: Twelve is a funny looking word.
I find twelve to be a funny looking word, along with awkward. Perhaps the letter "W" just doesn't register for me.
Anyway, we are now on day three of our family vacation.
Yesterday, I was momentarily in Quebec (Hull), for the first time since the summer of 1995. What's different once you cross the provincial border? Well, for one you can say "bye bye English". My favorite difference is that the traffic lights are horizontal. I should have taken a picture, I will definitely try to get one.
We also visited Ottawa.
I have this theory that cars are the magical cure-all when it comes to infants and toddlers. I stand by this theory. Abby is happiest while strapped in a car, and having Diego in her hand certainly doesn't hurt.
I also squished a mosquito yesterday that left a big bloody mess on the palm of my hand.
That's all I can think of to write at the moment. I'm going to go look for some tissues.
Anyway, we are now on day three of our family vacation.
Yesterday, I was momentarily in Quebec (Hull), for the first time since the summer of 1995. What's different once you cross the provincial border? Well, for one you can say "bye bye English". My favorite difference is that the traffic lights are horizontal. I should have taken a picture, I will definitely try to get one.
We also visited Ottawa.
I have this theory that cars are the magical cure-all when it comes to infants and toddlers. I stand by this theory. Abby is happiest while strapped in a car, and having Diego in her hand certainly doesn't hurt.
I also squished a mosquito yesterday that left a big bloody mess on the palm of my hand.
That's all I can think of to write at the moment. I'm going to go look for some tissues.
Chapter Eleven: Pet Peeves of Mine.
Here is a list, in no particular order, of things that annoy me.
1. Jars that are not closed properly.
2. The word "ain't".
3. Having to return things that do not work correctly.
4. Not being able to return those things that do not work correctly.
5. Not working correctly.
6. People touching my Vantage electric guitar.
7. People who only acknowledge their children when the are misbehaving.
8. Newspapers in my home.
9. Discarded gum.
10. Clothes that are too small for the people who are wearing them.
11. Coldplay.
12. The Tragically Hip.
On any given day, I will probably encounter at least a dozen things that really bother me. About half of those things will be reasonable complaints. There is a specific group of people who live in the same building as me, who do one thing that really annoys me. They hang out in front of the elevator, on whatever floor they happen to be on, and they push the button, waiting for the elevator. Then, when the elevator arrives, they start to get in the elevator, standing in the doorway continuing their conversations, while people are in the elevator! They continue to do this until the elevator door starts to close on them, at which point they choose to get off the elevator, and wait for the next one, or take the stairs. I experience this on a daily basis.
Coldplay and The Tragically Hip make my list simply because, I just don't get it. I really don't. I get that they are talented, I get why some people like them, I don't get why they are the musical icons they've turned out to be. I think that Aqua has left a greater impression on me.
Numbers 3 through 5 might just be me lashing out at the bread machine I have that doesn't work, and I can't return.
Jars that are not closed properly is probably my favorite, because it almost always results in my dropping the jar on my foot, spilling whatever is in the jar, or a horrible combination of the two.
My running nose has just been added to the list.
1. Jars that are not closed properly.
2. The word "ain't".
3. Having to return things that do not work correctly.
4. Not being able to return those things that do not work correctly.
5. Not working correctly.
6. People touching my Vantage electric guitar.
7. People who only acknowledge their children when the are misbehaving.
8. Newspapers in my home.
9. Discarded gum.
10. Clothes that are too small for the people who are wearing them.
11. Coldplay.
12. The Tragically Hip.
On any given day, I will probably encounter at least a dozen things that really bother me. About half of those things will be reasonable complaints. There is a specific group of people who live in the same building as me, who do one thing that really annoys me. They hang out in front of the elevator, on whatever floor they happen to be on, and they push the button, waiting for the elevator. Then, when the elevator arrives, they start to get in the elevator, standing in the doorway continuing their conversations, while people are in the elevator! They continue to do this until the elevator door starts to close on them, at which point they choose to get off the elevator, and wait for the next one, or take the stairs. I experience this on a daily basis.
Coldplay and The Tragically Hip make my list simply because, I just don't get it. I really don't. I get that they are talented, I get why some people like them, I don't get why they are the musical icons they've turned out to be. I think that Aqua has left a greater impression on me.
Numbers 3 through 5 might just be me lashing out at the bread machine I have that doesn't work, and I can't return.
Jars that are not closed properly is probably my favorite, because it almost always results in my dropping the jar on my foot, spilling whatever is in the jar, or a horrible combination of the two.
My running nose has just been added to the list.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Chapter Ten: Vacationing with a Toddler.
So it's not exactly what comes to mind when you think vacation. No palm trees, no pool side bars, and no hotels. It's better. My daughter gets to see her family.
Abby is getting to see her fathers side of the family for the first time since New Years.
Day one of this almost sudden vacation, consist of John trying to get off of work early, Abby deciding she doesn't want to wear diapers, and me, procrastinating as usual, having done zero packing, killing time by "blogging", and having my "blogging" interrupted by what seemed to be a personal crisis.
Luckily, there was no crisis.
After throwing some stuff together in a duffel bag that I hardly recognise as my own, I proceeded to put some cartoons on a video MP3 player, in hopes that it might keep Abby entertained on the 4 hour train ride I was already dreading.
Upon barely making it to the train station on time, our sold out train was already boarding. After taking our place at the back of the line, we were informed that we get to pre-board. What is does "pre-board" mean? Apparently pre-boarding is what you get to do when you travel with children, or are somehow disabled. This means that we get to walk the walk of shame to the front of the line, while getting horrible looks from people who are just as eager as we are to be seated, who have been waiting longer than us, so that we can be seated first. I can't really complain, except for the fact that it wasn't anyone else fault that we were late. I guess what I'm trying to say is that to pre-board means that you get priority seating.
We were lucky enough to share our block of seating with a wonderfully more than patient woman, who was very nice to Abby, even while Abby was trying to steal her laptop. She was most definitely the most pleasant stranger I've ever had to sit with while traveling.
Here is my advice though. If you must bring your toddler on a train, or any other method of transportation for a 4 hour venture, if there are no seat belts, bring a car seat. Abby, like most children I'm sure, has the mentality 'if I can move, and you don't want me to, I simply must move". Luckily, after about 2 hours of John and I playing "hot-potato" with her, she fell asleep for the remainder of the trip.
We spent the rest of the trip trying to take pictures of things outside the train while moving. I'll be sure to post some pictures later or.
We finally reached our destination around 11pm.
Day two of our vacation was spent mostly with me at the hospital for asthma related discomforts, followed by a delicious barbecued dinner of steaks and smokies, peppers and potatoes. We then had a game of dominoes, and rice crispy squares, and it was off to bed.
And so day three begins. More to come...
Abby is getting to see her fathers side of the family for the first time since New Years.
Day one of this almost sudden vacation, consist of John trying to get off of work early, Abby deciding she doesn't want to wear diapers, and me, procrastinating as usual, having done zero packing, killing time by "blogging", and having my "blogging" interrupted by what seemed to be a personal crisis.
Luckily, there was no crisis.
After throwing some stuff together in a duffel bag that I hardly recognise as my own, I proceeded to put some cartoons on a video MP3 player, in hopes that it might keep Abby entertained on the 4 hour train ride I was already dreading.
Upon barely making it to the train station on time, our sold out train was already boarding. After taking our place at the back of the line, we were informed that we get to pre-board. What is does "pre-board" mean? Apparently pre-boarding is what you get to do when you travel with children, or are somehow disabled. This means that we get to walk the walk of shame to the front of the line, while getting horrible looks from people who are just as eager as we are to be seated, who have been waiting longer than us, so that we can be seated first. I can't really complain, except for the fact that it wasn't anyone else fault that we were late. I guess what I'm trying to say is that to pre-board means that you get priority seating.
We were lucky enough to share our block of seating with a wonderfully more than patient woman, who was very nice to Abby, even while Abby was trying to steal her laptop. She was most definitely the most pleasant stranger I've ever had to sit with while traveling.
Here is my advice though. If you must bring your toddler on a train, or any other method of transportation for a 4 hour venture, if there are no seat belts, bring a car seat. Abby, like most children I'm sure, has the mentality 'if I can move, and you don't want me to, I simply must move". Luckily, after about 2 hours of John and I playing "hot-potato" with her, she fell asleep for the remainder of the trip.
We spent the rest of the trip trying to take pictures of things outside the train while moving. I'll be sure to post some pictures later or.
We finally reached our destination around 11pm.
Day two of our vacation was spent mostly with me at the hospital for asthma related discomforts, followed by a delicious barbecued dinner of steaks and smokies, peppers and potatoes. We then had a game of dominoes, and rice crispy squares, and it was off to bed.
And so day three begins. More to come...
Friday, June 26, 2009
Chapter Nine: Love.
What is love? What is true love? What's the difference? No, seriously.
Nicole once told me (2 days ago) that "true love" is when every time feels like the first time. Naturally we were talking about sex at the time, but after giving it some thought, I think this can be taken in any context. I started thinking about the movie 50 First Dates, and how Drew Barrymore's character repeats the phrase "nothing beats a first kiss" throughout the movie. I completely agree, unless of course, the second, third and fourth are equally as earth moving, in which case, you have a keeper.
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, Adam Sandler ends up winning the affections a girl (Drew Barrymore) on a daily basis, because she has a short term memory disorder, and never remembers the previous day. Now that's what I call love, and determination.
I've also heard of a few couples in which one has tried to kill the other, and yet they've managed "work through it". Is that love? The ability to overcome anything?
Other movies, like The Notebook, also move me. Where love survives anything, even other love. Is it really possible to still be that in love with someone after not seeing them for so many years? One can only hope.
I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. I believe in the fairytale, happily ever after, and forever and ever. I believe in wooing, and being wooed. I thrive on passion. I used to think that I was a passionate person, everything I did, I did with everything I had, whether it was loving, or losing. I'm not sure I feel that way anymore, but then again, I can barely keep my eyes open as I type this. I know that I am an emotional person, overemotional at times. But I wouldn't change that for the world, because as far as I'm concerned, nothing is more honest than what you feel.
Nicole once told me (2 days ago) that "true love" is when every time feels like the first time. Naturally we were talking about sex at the time, but after giving it some thought, I think this can be taken in any context. I started thinking about the movie 50 First Dates, and how Drew Barrymore's character repeats the phrase "nothing beats a first kiss" throughout the movie. I completely agree, unless of course, the second, third and fourth are equally as earth moving, in which case, you have a keeper.
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, Adam Sandler ends up winning the affections a girl (Drew Barrymore) on a daily basis, because she has a short term memory disorder, and never remembers the previous day. Now that's what I call love, and determination.
I've also heard of a few couples in which one has tried to kill the other, and yet they've managed "work through it". Is that love? The ability to overcome anything?
Other movies, like The Notebook, also move me. Where love survives anything, even other love. Is it really possible to still be that in love with someone after not seeing them for so many years? One can only hope.
I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. I believe in the fairytale, happily ever after, and forever and ever. I believe in wooing, and being wooed. I thrive on passion. I used to think that I was a passionate person, everything I did, I did with everything I had, whether it was loving, or losing. I'm not sure I feel that way anymore, but then again, I can barely keep my eyes open as I type this. I know that I am an emotional person, overemotional at times. But I wouldn't change that for the world, because as far as I'm concerned, nothing is more honest than what you feel.
Chapter Eight Point Seven: Apparently I Need More Sleep.
I've just spent the last 10 minutes staring at the Blogger log in screen, trying to think of a title for Chapter Nine, then proceeded to log in with it. Apparently you can't do that.
Anyway, after being determined not to make Chapter Nine about Michael Jackson, I figured here in 8.7 would be a good place to mention him. You know, I kind of always assumed that the guy would live to be 110. I guess I was wrong.
So, now that I've mentioned him, I should also mention the death of Ferra Fausset.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Nicole just gave me inspiration for Chapter Nine, so I shall get to it.
Anyway, after being determined not to make Chapter Nine about Michael Jackson, I figured here in 8.7 would be a good place to mention him. You know, I kind of always assumed that the guy would live to be 110. I guess I was wrong.
So, now that I've mentioned him, I should also mention the death of Ferra Fausset.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Nicole just gave me inspiration for Chapter Nine, so I shall get to it.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Chapter Eight: Maca Paca and the Infinite Something or Other.
For those of you who don't know, Maca Paca is one of the characters on "In The Night Garden", which I can only explain as Nightmare Before Teletubbies. Okay, so I guess it's technically after Teletubbies.
Yesterday, I was informed that I am not cool, because I'm not part of the great socialist movement that Twitter has become. What can I say? I've never been in the in crowd anyway. I stand by my own commandment, thou shall not tweet. Or twat. Or whatever you want to call it.
So I guess today's theme will be random things that occur to me while typing.
I don't understand what happens to people once they start to grow up. Instead of chasing the happiness that they really want, they try to change themselves, force themselves to be happy with what they have. In the last few years, my life has changed so drastically, I've lost sight of the things that used to make me happy. Sure I've made a few half-assed attempts at re-introducing these things to my life, but there always seems to be some strings attached. A great example of this is, I could have my band, but not the time I need to pursue it.
Maybe it's the responsibility factor.
I really like chocolate milk. I also really like mint chocolate Iced Caps, and still haven't had one.
I have an issue of MECHANIX ILLUSTRATED - the how-to-do magazine. It sold for 25 cents, and was published in October of 1957.
On page 4, there is an ad that reads "This Remington Typewriter PAYS FOR ITSELF Puts $10 to $50 in Your Pocket Every Week!"
On page 8, "Shrinks Hemorrhoids New Way With Out Surgery" then something about "for the first time..." blah blah blah. The ad ends "This substance is now available in suppository or ointment form under the name Preparation H.* Ask for it at all drug counters - money back guarantee."
I never realized surgery was the main treatment for hemorrhoids, ever.
On page 16, "BUILD and FLY Bensen Helicopter - Glider type 'copter - easy to build, simple to fly. Can also be mounter on floats or boat. No pilot's licence required. Order 3-view drawings, specs, and photo for $1. Motor powered Gyro-Copter drawings $2. Ask about detailed plans and construction kits."
It also has a page (76) dedicated to Street Signs in North Carolina entitled "Smile and Slow Down". I don't know how real they are, or were, but they read:
Don't be half safe SLOW DOWN
Not too fast, not too slow
If your trip is too fast, it might be your last
A mile a minute, there's not future in it!
Are you driving yourself to death?
*my favorite*
If you must kill yourself, get off the highway
And lastly
Heavy foot Light head Bad curve Stone Dead
The rest of the magazine is dedicated mostly to new cars, power tools, jobs that will earn you maybe $900 a year, and rifles.
Anyway, I'm done.
Yesterday, I was informed that I am not cool, because I'm not part of the great socialist movement that Twitter has become. What can I say? I've never been in the in crowd anyway. I stand by my own commandment, thou shall not tweet. Or twat. Or whatever you want to call it.
So I guess today's theme will be random things that occur to me while typing.
I don't understand what happens to people once they start to grow up. Instead of chasing the happiness that they really want, they try to change themselves, force themselves to be happy with what they have. In the last few years, my life has changed so drastically, I've lost sight of the things that used to make me happy. Sure I've made a few half-assed attempts at re-introducing these things to my life, but there always seems to be some strings attached. A great example of this is, I could have my band, but not the time I need to pursue it.
Maybe it's the responsibility factor.
I really like chocolate milk. I also really like mint chocolate Iced Caps, and still haven't had one.
I have an issue of MECHANIX ILLUSTRATED - the how-to-do magazine. It sold for 25 cents, and was published in October of 1957.
On page 4, there is an ad that reads "This Remington Typewriter PAYS FOR ITSELF Puts $10 to $50 in Your Pocket Every Week!"
On page 8, "Shrinks Hemorrhoids New Way With Out Surgery" then something about "for the first time..." blah blah blah. The ad ends "This substance is now available in suppository or ointment form under the name Preparation H.* Ask for it at all drug counters - money back guarantee."
I never realized surgery was the main treatment for hemorrhoids, ever.
On page 16, "BUILD and FLY Bensen Helicopter - Glider type 'copter - easy to build, simple to fly. Can also be mounter on floats or boat. No pilot's licence required. Order 3-view drawings, specs, and photo for $1. Motor powered Gyro-Copter drawings $2. Ask about detailed plans and construction kits."
It also has a page (76) dedicated to Street Signs in North Carolina entitled "Smile and Slow Down". I don't know how real they are, or were, but they read:
Don't be half safe SLOW DOWN
Not too fast, not too slow
If your trip is too fast, it might be your last
A mile a minute, there's not future in it!
Are you driving yourself to death?
*my favorite*
If you must kill yourself, get off the highway
And lastly
Heavy foot Light head Bad curve Stone Dead
The rest of the magazine is dedicated mostly to new cars, power tools, jobs that will earn you maybe $900 a year, and rifles.
Anyway, I'm done.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Chapter Seven: Who Are You to Tell Me What it Feels Like?
Alright. Gotta give Jamie something to read apparently, so here it goes.
I got a phone call around 3-ish yesterday, from my beloved friends upstairs. They wanted to know if my air conditioning was working. Luckily, I was sitting in front of it, and it was in fact working, for about 15 minutes. Then nothing. As usually, the temperature rises and the machine on the roof magically stops working. Our theories on that will be kept for another time though.
I have this problem, I can only sleep bundled in blankets. It was 24 degrees in my apartment last night. Needless to say, being bundled wasn't the most appropriate way to sleep. However, after a few hours of wrestling with tricking my body into thinking it's covered, but sticking my feet out in front of the fan, I was allowed to sleep in this morning.
So I wake up this morning to find that was still 24 degrees in my apartment. Which really, was livable, until I realized that the simple act of standing caused me to overheat. Jamie emailed me a posting from the news "Extreme Heat Alert". Since when is 24 degrees extreme heat? I guess we're all doomed as far as the rest of the summer goes. Anyway, as I was laughing at this, as I was reading this, the temperature climbed 4 degrees.
I have The Weather Eye installed on my computer. There's this little yellow icon on the right of my task bar, constantly telling me what the temperature is. If I click on it, there are more details. So, if I click on it right now it says "28*C, A few Clouds feels like 33". If it feels like 33 degrees isn't it 33 degrees? And how do they know what it feels like? I can tell you what it feels like. It feels like an oven. It feels like part of the apartment building might be on fire, but mostly, it feels like I'm pissed.
Why am I pissed? Obviously I can't control the weather. I'm pissed because paramedics are picking and choosing who they are going to help. I'm pissed because pools are closed. I'm pissed because my air conditioning is probably working and just turned off. I'm pissed because they've cancelled ferry service to the island, where it is significantly cooler than in the city. But mostly I'm pissed because not only did everyone choose a horrible time to strike, but assholes are leaving their garbage everywhere. It's like everyone is hellbent on causing other people misery. Not only do I have to hold on to my garbage, but I get to walk all over other peoples garbage? Give me a break. I don't wanna see your garbage. I certainly don't want to smell your garbage, but mostly, if I have to look at one more empty Iced Cap cup, and don't get my hands on my own Iced Cap, I won't be held accountable for my actions. *In case anyone is wondering, I like mint chocolate iced caps, with no whipped cream.*
Now that I've gotten that out of my system. I've learned how to cool my apartment. I've actually got goose bumps. My windows are cracked, my drapes are all closed, my shower is running cold water, and my fan is running in front of the bathroom door. Don't expect immediate results, it took about half an hour to really feel a difference.
Hurray for summer.
I got a phone call around 3-ish yesterday, from my beloved friends upstairs. They wanted to know if my air conditioning was working. Luckily, I was sitting in front of it, and it was in fact working, for about 15 minutes. Then nothing. As usually, the temperature rises and the machine on the roof magically stops working. Our theories on that will be kept for another time though.
I have this problem, I can only sleep bundled in blankets. It was 24 degrees in my apartment last night. Needless to say, being bundled wasn't the most appropriate way to sleep. However, after a few hours of wrestling with tricking my body into thinking it's covered, but sticking my feet out in front of the fan, I was allowed to sleep in this morning.
So I wake up this morning to find that was still 24 degrees in my apartment. Which really, was livable, until I realized that the simple act of standing caused me to overheat. Jamie emailed me a posting from the news "Extreme Heat Alert". Since when is 24 degrees extreme heat? I guess we're all doomed as far as the rest of the summer goes. Anyway, as I was laughing at this, as I was reading this, the temperature climbed 4 degrees.
I have The Weather Eye installed on my computer. There's this little yellow icon on the right of my task bar, constantly telling me what the temperature is. If I click on it, there are more details. So, if I click on it right now it says "28*C, A few Clouds feels like 33". If it feels like 33 degrees isn't it 33 degrees? And how do they know what it feels like? I can tell you what it feels like. It feels like an oven. It feels like part of the apartment building might be on fire, but mostly, it feels like I'm pissed.
Why am I pissed? Obviously I can't control the weather. I'm pissed because paramedics are picking and choosing who they are going to help. I'm pissed because pools are closed. I'm pissed because my air conditioning is probably working and just turned off. I'm pissed because they've cancelled ferry service to the island, where it is significantly cooler than in the city. But mostly I'm pissed because not only did everyone choose a horrible time to strike, but assholes are leaving their garbage everywhere. It's like everyone is hellbent on causing other people misery. Not only do I have to hold on to my garbage, but I get to walk all over other peoples garbage? Give me a break. I don't wanna see your garbage. I certainly don't want to smell your garbage, but mostly, if I have to look at one more empty Iced Cap cup, and don't get my hands on my own Iced Cap, I won't be held accountable for my actions. *In case anyone is wondering, I like mint chocolate iced caps, with no whipped cream.*
Now that I've gotten that out of my system. I've learned how to cool my apartment. I've actually got goose bumps. My windows are cracked, my drapes are all closed, my shower is running cold water, and my fan is running in front of the bathroom door. Don't expect immediate results, it took about half an hour to really feel a difference.
Hurray for summer.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Chapter Six: I Hate Money.
I really do hate money, I'd love to have a little, but for the most part, it sucks almost as much as people who lead people on.
Money is the root of all evil. Money is the reason people are trying to convince me that I should be working instead of raising my daughter. Who knows, maybe if I did put my daughter in daycare, my walls wouldn't be covered in marker. But I probably also wouldn't have learned how to take Vaseline out of hair, which in my opinion is a very valuable piece of information. I also love how people assume that just because I stay at home to care for my daughter, that I'm abusing the welfare system. I've never in my life been on welfare. I'm a strong believer that the system is there to help people who need it, and I am not in need.
Money is the reason the summer is off to a less than impressive start. A summer in which we are all expected to carry around garbage wherever we go, while of course, supporting our fragile economy. So when I want to take my daughter out to the park for the day, I'm expected to carry her used diapers around with me. I expect that an insane amount of mothers have started trying to toilet train their 6 months old. Not to mention the fact that plastic bags are now frowned upon, so I guess we'll all be carrying around those diapers in the reusable cloth bags we carry our groceries in. Yummy. I suppose that they'll probably be an increase in the H1N1 outbreak too since people will be leaving their used tissues on sidewalks, in alley ways, and my favorite, in parks. Way to ruin the summer for the kids guys, seriously.
Money, in all of it's glory, is partly to blame for violence, war, depression, homelessness, divorce, and just generally crappiness all around. I'm sure I'd feel a bit different if I had some of it, but I don't, and I'm kind of (I do mean kind of) grateful for that. Now I shall proceed to follow my dreams of one day becoming a lottery winner. Until then, I'm sure I'll have lots more to write about.
Money is the root of all evil. Money is the reason people are trying to convince me that I should be working instead of raising my daughter. Who knows, maybe if I did put my daughter in daycare, my walls wouldn't be covered in marker. But I probably also wouldn't have learned how to take Vaseline out of hair, which in my opinion is a very valuable piece of information. I also love how people assume that just because I stay at home to care for my daughter, that I'm abusing the welfare system. I've never in my life been on welfare. I'm a strong believer that the system is there to help people who need it, and I am not in need.
Money is the reason the summer is off to a less than impressive start. A summer in which we are all expected to carry around garbage wherever we go, while of course, supporting our fragile economy. So when I want to take my daughter out to the park for the day, I'm expected to carry her used diapers around with me. I expect that an insane amount of mothers have started trying to toilet train their 6 months old. Not to mention the fact that plastic bags are now frowned upon, so I guess we'll all be carrying around those diapers in the reusable cloth bags we carry our groceries in. Yummy. I suppose that they'll probably be an increase in the H1N1 outbreak too since people will be leaving their used tissues on sidewalks, in alley ways, and my favorite, in parks. Way to ruin the summer for the kids guys, seriously.
Money, in all of it's glory, is partly to blame for violence, war, depression, homelessness, divorce, and just generally crappiness all around. I'm sure I'd feel a bit different if I had some of it, but I don't, and I'm kind of (I do mean kind of) grateful for that. Now I shall proceed to follow my dreams of one day becoming a lottery winner. Until then, I'm sure I'll have lots more to write about.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Chapter Five: Blogging Away.
Alright, so I kind of like this blogging thing.
Summer has finally started, officially, and I've been dying to flee the city for weeks already. Waiting to feel the waves and sands of Sauble, the warmth of the sun, the relief of the cool breeze at night, hearing birds instead of sirens, playing guitar around the fire pit, and the cool refreshment of a nice glass of wine.
So, now that I'm all good, depressed and reminiscing, I'll go on, about other things that I miss.
House (yes, I know it's only been a few weeks).
McDonald's Pizza.
My 12 string.
Being flexible.
My rabbit, Marshmallow.
Thursday night parties at my place.
Band practice.
Nicole (there you go, happy now?).
Chocobo's, Rikku, and the neverendingness.
Mr. Dressup.
Mint Chocolate Delato's.
Not knowing how to play pool.
Pure Source.
Having 4 different seasons.
Weekends.
Star gazing.
Friends.
Memo cookies.
The pit.
The art room.
Jasper, Wanda, and Mark.
Jeff's Van.
My basement.
Doing nothing.
Jen's Basement/Garage.
Being able to "do the monkey bars".
Uncle Nick's Pizza (apparently I like Pizza).
Knobhill Farms (especially the Woody Wood Pecker movie box).
Not worrying about getting shot when I leave home.
Watching Kimberly and Tommy on Power Rangers.
Coffee Tea and Me.
The Bedford Ballroom.
Elm Park before they ruined it, though the new one is pretty cool.
SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS
Computer class.
I think that about covers it for now, I'm sure I'll update frequently.
Summer has finally started, officially, and I've been dying to flee the city for weeks already. Waiting to feel the waves and sands of Sauble, the warmth of the sun, the relief of the cool breeze at night, hearing birds instead of sirens, playing guitar around the fire pit, and the cool refreshment of a nice glass of wine.
So, now that I'm all good, depressed and reminiscing, I'll go on, about other things that I miss.
House (yes, I know it's only been a few weeks).
McDonald's Pizza.
My 12 string.
Being flexible.
My rabbit, Marshmallow.
Thursday night parties at my place.
Band practice.
Nicole (there you go, happy now?).
Chocobo's, Rikku, and the neverendingness.
Mr. Dressup.
Mint Chocolate Delato's.
Not knowing how to play pool.
Pure Source.
Having 4 different seasons.
Weekends.
Star gazing.
Friends.
Memo cookies.
The pit.
The art room.
Jasper, Wanda, and Mark.
Jeff's Van.
My basement.
Doing nothing.
Jen's Basement/Garage.
Being able to "do the monkey bars".
Uncle Nick's Pizza (apparently I like Pizza).
Knobhill Farms (especially the Woody Wood Pecker movie box).
Not worrying about getting shot when I leave home.
Watching Kimberly and Tommy on Power Rangers.
Coffee Tea and Me.
The Bedford Ballroom.
Elm Park before they ruined it, though the new one is pretty cool.
SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS
Computer class.
I think that about covers it for now, I'm sure I'll update frequently.
Chapter Four: He's/She's Just Not That Into You, or Maybe He/She is, But He/She Sucks Anyway, AND Not in a Good Way.
I've recently watched that movie, you know the one... He's Just Not That Into You. I found it humorous, because I've watched my girlfriends chase after guys that we're just clearly not into them, and have done it a few times myself. But, in our defence, my guyfriends are way more prone to this. This is what I have observed.
She's just not that into you if:
She's just not that into you if:
- You fly across the country to see her, and the only one who gets laid is her boyfriend. (Harsh, I know, but true).
- You ask her out, repeatedly, but you're still single.
- She uses the term "I don't want to use you". This means she already is using you.
- She tells you it's bad timing.
- She calls you at times when EVERYONE else she knows is busy.
- When you tell a joke, she presses her lips together and giggles nervously.
- After spending some time together and you start to think things are going well, she mentions her exes.
- Did I mention the one about flying across the country???
She sucks if:
- After rejecting you, she still calls you everyday.
- After rejecting you, she still lets you buy her things.
- After rejecting you, you notice she's been showing a little more cleavage, a little more leg, her clothes are a little tighter, but that person that you like so much starts to fade.
- After rejecting you, she parades around in her lingerie, long enough for you to get excited, the jumps in bed with you, and her BOYFRIEND.
She doesn't quite suck if:
- She's tried, really hard to tell you she just wants to be friends, actually tries to be your friend, and encourages you to move on.
Alright, so as a whole, us girls kind of suck. We're either completely hooked on you, or completely hooked on abusing you. But the same goes for you. Which brings me to my question... why can't we all just get along?
Chapter Three - The Big Decision.
So, I've decided on a theme for my blog, and that is to have no theme at all (original, I know). Anyhow, here is another entry for you.
HOW TO REMOVE VASELINE FROM THE HAIR OF A TODDLER (and I mean half a jar of vaseline):
Step One: Laugh (especially if you are a virgin at this).
Step Two: Run a bath.
Step Three: Wash hair as normal.
Step Four: Repeat step three, about a dozen times.
Step Five: Google "how to remove Vaseline from hair"...
Step Six: Read about how nothing works.
Step Seven: Consider trying a bar of soap, and then ignore it since "nothing works" .
Step Eight: Wait for your friend to try soap in her kid's hair.
Step Nine: When nothing horrible happens to said kid, and his hair is Vaseline free, proceed to try this on your own child. Wash with Soap about 3-4 times (depending on the severity of the problem) followed by a regular shampoo. This should leave your child's hair cleaner than it has ever been.
Step Ten: After drying your bathroom floor, prepare to google "How to remove permanent marker from skin"...
I recommend skipping right to the soap, and hiding all permanent markers prior to this. Especially the ones you don't know you have. Which brings me to my next rant...
HOW TO REMOVE PERMANENT MARKER FROM CHILDREN AND WALLS...
For children: Start with a baby wipe, immediately followed by a bath, using toothpaste on anything that won't come off with soap. Don't expect this to give a perfect result the first time, but by bath number three, marker should pretty much be gone.
For walls: I tried a lot of quick fixes I found on the net, with the exception of the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, which I will be trying on my doors later today. Nothing I found on the net worked including:
Nail Polish Remover
Dish Soap
Baby Oil
Vaseline (surprisingly, I had some left)
Hair Spray (kind of worked, I'll get to this in a minute)
Oxy Clean
So, as I was saying, the Hair Spray kind of works. By kind of, I mean that it liquified the paint on my wall. I also had a very small amount of hairspray, but I've found that bug repellent also works to the same effect. You'll still want to repaint when you're done, but it works as a temporary quick fix.
The moral of this story... don't go to the bathroom, don't cook dinner, don't leave the room, or peel your eyes from your toddlers, for even a second.
HOW TO REMOVE VASELINE FROM THE HAIR OF A TODDLER (and I mean half a jar of vaseline):
Step One: Laugh (especially if you are a virgin at this).
Step Two: Run a bath.
Step Three: Wash hair as normal.
Step Four: Repeat step three, about a dozen times.
Step Five: Google "how to remove Vaseline from hair"...
Step Six: Read about how nothing works.
Step Seven: Consider trying a bar of soap, and then ignore it since "nothing works" .
Step Eight: Wait for your friend to try soap in her kid's hair.
Step Nine: When nothing horrible happens to said kid, and his hair is Vaseline free, proceed to try this on your own child. Wash with Soap about 3-4 times (depending on the severity of the problem) followed by a regular shampoo. This should leave your child's hair cleaner than it has ever been.
Step Ten: After drying your bathroom floor, prepare to google "How to remove permanent marker from skin"...
I recommend skipping right to the soap, and hiding all permanent markers prior to this. Especially the ones you don't know you have. Which brings me to my next rant...
HOW TO REMOVE PERMANENT MARKER FROM CHILDREN AND WALLS...
For children: Start with a baby wipe, immediately followed by a bath, using toothpaste on anything that won't come off with soap. Don't expect this to give a perfect result the first time, but by bath number three, marker should pretty much be gone.
For walls: I tried a lot of quick fixes I found on the net, with the exception of the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, which I will be trying on my doors later today. Nothing I found on the net worked including:
Nail Polish Remover
Dish Soap
Baby Oil
Vaseline (surprisingly, I had some left)
Hair Spray (kind of worked, I'll get to this in a minute)
Oxy Clean
So, as I was saying, the Hair Spray kind of works. By kind of, I mean that it liquified the paint on my wall. I also had a very small amount of hairspray, but I've found that bug repellent also works to the same effect. You'll still want to repaint when you're done, but it works as a temporary quick fix.
The moral of this story... don't go to the bathroom, don't cook dinner, don't leave the room, or peel your eyes from your toddlers, for even a second.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Chapter Two - Monkey See, Monkey Do
So, seeing as almost everyone I know (of) has started a "blog" of some sort, I've decided to do the same. I actually came across the idea while I was looking at a friends blog (thanks Keith), trying to get over the fact that my walls and doors are now covered in permanent marker.
Upon creating my "blog", I quickly became stumped. After filling out a little (very little) about myself, playing with colours, and trying to figure out if I could actually make a custom template (I'm sure it's possible, but I'm hopeless), I have discovered that I have nothing to say.
Alright, so anyone who knows me, like really knows me, knows that I always have something to say. I guess my dilemma was more along the lines of knowing what I wanted to write about. I've yet to decide, so bare with me, and I'll figure it all out. In the mean time, I'll be looking up ways to rid my walls of marker.
Upon creating my "blog", I quickly became stumped. After filling out a little (very little) about myself, playing with colours, and trying to figure out if I could actually make a custom template (I'm sure it's possible, but I'm hopeless), I have discovered that I have nothing to say.
Alright, so anyone who knows me, like really knows me, knows that I always have something to say. I guess my dilemma was more along the lines of knowing what I wanted to write about. I've yet to decide, so bare with me, and I'll figure it all out. In the mean time, I'll be looking up ways to rid my walls of marker.
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