Aunt Laura Wasn't Crazy, After All.

Nanny and Aunt Kay. They don't really pertain to this story, but I couldn't find the picture of them with Aunt Laura.

I used to labour under the impression that my maternal grandmother was one of three girls, mainly because I never really heard her speak of any of her siblings besides her sister Kay and her sister Laura.  It wasn't until I was well into adulthood that I found out that Nanny had been one of upwards of around 8 children.

My great-grandparents had so many kids, it turns out, that the youngest had to be given up to foster care.

But, no, for years I thought it was just the three of them. To this day, the only other one of her siblings I remember meeting was Uncle Jack.  One day after class I decided to pay Nanny a visit and a quiet, somewhat unfriendly man opened the door, grunted, and let me in.  I had no idea who he was.

That was uncle Jack.

Aunt Kay and Aunt Laura are the ones I remember.  They're both gone now unfortunately.

I used to think Aunt Laura was insane.

She was married to a man named Gord Arnold.  He died when I was quite young, possibly before I was born.  I have no memory of him, but I knew who he was, and I knew he was dead.  But for years, during family visits, Aunt Laura would make comments about how she had "been talking to Gord the other day" and how "Gord had fixed the kitchen sink last week, it's about time," and so on and so forth.

I always thought it odd, that Aunt Laura talked to her dead husband.  I also thought it was very understanding, albeit a little creepy, that everyone in my family was totally okay with humouring her whenever her dead husband was mentioned in the present tense.

I'm going to be honest.  I'm not always quick on the draw.  There was a very important puzzle piece missing, one that pertained to the fact that Laura and Gord had about a million kids.

I found this out one day when Nanny was showing me the framed picture of her many, many nieces and nephews that she had received for her birthday that year.

"That's Annie and Donna, and there's Tim, and that's Gord..."

*light bulb*

As my mistake became all to clear to me, I dissolved into hysterical laughter.

"OF COURSE! OF COURSE!" I cried.  "AUNT LAURA ISN'T CRAZY! HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO NAIVE??"

I had never met my mother's cousin Gord.  Or if I did, I had no recollection.

Nanny was alarmed at my outburst, and through the tears streaming down my face, I explained that for years, I had thought that my insane Aunt Laura had been talking to her dead husband and that no one in the family had the heart to set the poor woman straight.

She had been talking about her son the whole time.

Years later, I told Aunt Laura of my ill-conceived notions about her mental health, and to my relief, she was more than a little amused.

Whatcha got in that bag, Lady?

My co-workers crack me up sometimes.

This conversation happened this afternoon.

My co-worker who we will call CA (because no one will figure it out) is cleaning her keyboard with one of those compressed-air cans.

Me: I need to do that too.  My keyboard is gross.

(My keyboard is gross.  I'm not lying.)

CA: Just fart on it.  Fart through a straw.

(We're classy)

Me: I'm pretty sure that would result in a much bigger, much more unpleasant mess in my keyboard.

CA: You can't do that, can you? That's right, you can't!

Me: I can't what? Fart?

CA: Yeah, because you got the [ostomy] bag.  Right?  I thought you couldn't fart anymore.

Me: I never got the bag.  Didn't I tell you that?  About a week before my surgery the doctor decided they could save my rectum so they just attached it to the small intestine.  I swore I told you that.

CA: I didn't know.  I thought you had the bag.

Other members of the Grey Carpet Area (hereby known as the GCA): Yeah, we knew.

Me: Yeah, no ostomy. Everything works about 90% the same as before.

CA: Oh jeez! I thought you had the other thing done, 'cause you always had that little red bag with you.

This red bag. From my awesome friend Sammi. Because Sammi is awesome.

CA: You're always taking it into the bathroom with you and everywhere you go.

Me:... that's my purse.  That's why it's with me all the time. Sometimes I'm on my period and need a pad and sometimes I just want to put on some lipstick.

CA: Holy shit! You're kidding me!

Me: (grabs purse and opens it) See?  No shit in here.  Well, okay, there's a lot of shit in here.  But no feces.

Me: That being said, if it ever does come down to an ostomy bag, I'd totally be into a Wonder Woman design.

(Fun Fact:  These exist.  Thanks for the link, SB!)

GCA: *hysterical laughter and smart ass comments.. including something along the lines of "Go for the Wonder Woman bag, because you don't wanna shit in a Gucci."*

CA:  Oh my god.  OH MY GOD.  The other day, when you dropped the plant..!¹  I was all worried because you left your bag on the floor next to all the dirt.. and you were nowhere near it.  I was panicking thinking something horrible happened to you, because you weren't with your bag!  That's why I picked it up and brushed it off and was all worried about getting it back to you!

(I had gone to get a broom. See footnote.)

Me:  I thought you were just being nice!

At this point, I have tears running down my cheeks, I am laughing so hard.  People are coming in from other departments to see what is going on and why we are laughing about pooh-bags and shitting in Gucci.

This must have been especially confusing to anyone who has joined our department since last January. I can kind of understand the confusion, because in all fairness, back when I was first diagnosed with colitis at the tender age of 18 and had the dreaded words "colostomy bag" uttered to me, I thought it would look kind of like a fanny pack.  At this purse, with its shoulder strap, does kind of sit over my hip, where an ostomy bag might go.

It's been a while since I've laughed that hard.  Cancer is bullshit, but poop jokes never get old.

---

¹The other day, coming into work, I attempted to carry two large spider plants, my tote bag, my purse and a coffee into the building in one trip and succeeded in dumping one of the plants upside down on the floor.  Considering I was carrying my travel mug in my cleavage, things could have gone much worse.

Going to get all 'mommy-blog' on you because this was so cute I could have died..

So, while I was cleaning my kids room this weekend, I came across a writing assignment belonging to mine youngest child.

Authors Note:  I was going to scan the pages and transcribe them, but then I realized that when my computer crashed a few months ago, forcing me to install a new OS, I lost a lot of my programs, including all the drivers for my scanner.  That being said, when I get off my lazy ass and find the drivers and reinstall them, I will include photos but for now I'm just going to transcribe what i found.

I may have 'awwwwhhhhh'ed out loud to myself.  I won't deny it.

All About Guitars

Dedicated to My Mom

By: Reagan.

All About Guitars. 

#1 Strings Guitars have Six strings.  They go dark, lighter, lighter, lighter, light and the last one is the lightest.  It also gets skinnier.  There's also these little bulbs on the top and on the bottom.  Six on each top and bottom.

#2 Kinds There are two kinds of guitars.  An electric guitar and a rock guitar.  The sound on a rock guitar comes from the hole on the guitar but the sound on an electric guitar doesn't come from a hole it comes from a stereo because there is no hole on it. 

#3 body Last I'm going to you about the body of the guitar.  There's a head, long neck, and the hips, arms, stomach, and back all together.  There is no legs, hair or butt cause it would look silly.

Once again, I really wish I had my shit for my scanner hooked up but I'm ass-tired and last time it took me DAYS to figure out how to install all the drivers on this bloody Mac, so for now, you'll have to use your imagination.  But as soon as I get it set up, I'll update this post with pictures.  I couldn't even manage to find a good child-like font that could be applied to random blocks of text.

I'm doing it wrong.

Disinformation, Douchebags, Disney and Why You Shouldn't Fuck with Saskatchewan.

The new Facebook newsfeed has some downsides (gee, really?), one of which is that from time to time I'll get something on my newsfeed that a friend has commented on.  I want to weigh in, but since the original poster is not a friend of mine, I can't.  Once again, in the wake of the new changes, we're getting the ridiculously asinine reposts about how Facebook is going to start charging and blah blah, repost and you won't get charged.

And people repost this shit.  It's enough to make my head explode.  But here is what I have a real issue with:

Newsflash, commenter number 1:  Spreading misinformation does not make you smart, it makes you an asshole.  Check your sources before reposting this inane shit, thankyouverymuch.  The friend of mine that commented on this, thus exposing me to this other person's dumbassery via my newsfeed, had a very reasonable suggestion - check snopes.com if you are unsure. At LEAST take the time to do a quick Google search.

Again, it is NOT smart to repost shit 'just in case' if you don't have your facts straight.  In a case like this the worst that will happen is that you'll piss off some people, and maybe lose a few e-friends in a fit of annoyance, but the possibility may arise that someone will re-post something that is hurtful, oppressive or downright untrue and may be harmful to others.  Adam P. Knave posted a great article about the dangers of spreading misinformation through social media last week and puts it more eloquently than I have here.   Recommended reading, indeed.

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Source

As a sociologist with a great interest in popular culture, it's usually a lot of fun to Disney bash, what with the various Disney princesses and their tropes and unrealistic messages of storybook romance.  However, in watching an older DVD with my kids tonight, I was reminded that they're not all bad.  Disney, after all, also gave us Kim Possible which to date is one of my favorite female fictional character geared towards kids.  She's loyal, smart, ass-kicking and genuinely wants to help people.  And although Ron plays the mostly bumbling sidekick, he has his occasional moments of glory, and is secretly a highly-trained ninja, and is often the more zen of the two (except in the face of monkeys).  I love that they end up together without a lot of the typical nice-guy-pines-for-hot-girl-and-continuously-cajoles-her-into-seeing-what-a-great-catch-he-is-because-he's-so-nice storyline.  No, Ron values Kim's friendship and happiness overall (and vice-versa) and that desire to see her happy is his motivation. 

He's like the Ducky (from Pretty In Pink) of the coming generation, without getting fucked over for boring-as-drying-paint Andrew McCarthy.

Did I mention that the main villainess is pretty effin' cool as well?  Of the many cartoon villains I've seen in my time, Shego remains one of my favorite, with the best villainous one-liners - ("Pleased to beat you!").  She's kind of an interesting commentary on the glass ceiling and being taken less seriously in her field as a woman in spite of the fact that between her and Dr. Drakken she's clearly the brains AND the brawn of the operation, but is woefully under-acknowledged and mocked for being a mere sidekick.  I love when she gets to rule a particularly dystopian future in A Sitch In Time.

I will add that everytime I image search Kim Possible, some of the fan art never fails to destroy my soul, piece by piece.

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Based on this post, it has become clear to me that we have a need for a new genre of music which I have decided shall be called 'DoucheRock'.  Theory of a Dead Man is the latest to delve into the land of mysogynist arena rock, which frankly, hasn't been remotely cool since Axl started braiding his hair.  I'm not surprised when you consider how heavily they take their influence from Nickelback.  I'm glad I stopped listening to Rock Radio (ie Rock95, I'm looking at you) so I don't have to hear this kind of crap. And I thought Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" made my teeth itch.   *shudders*

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Lastly, I got a good giggle at this video posted at the Fuck Yeah CBC Tumblr.  My future husband, George Strombolopolous finds out the hard way that a) you don't fuck with Saskatchewan b) You definitely don't want to make 'flat' jokes and c) Word travels fast (and haphazardly) in the Canadian entertainment industry.  This clip was the intro for the 2007 Gemini awards.  It's got a lot of awesome cameos from Brent Butt and Eric Peterson of Corner Gas, the cast of Little Mosque on the Prairie, Sue Johansonn (aka Sunday Night Sex with Sue), Colin Mochrie, Rick Mercer and more.

Everything I Ever Needed to Know About Canadian Geography, I learned from Twitter.

Hilarious trending topic on Twitter today - #badprovincialmottos  Let's all come up with the worst provincial mottos we can think of.

My contributions:

Ontario: It's where the capital is! No, not Toronto.. Ottawa.. No.. OTTAWA.. Otta.. Oh fr' chrissakes...

Quebec: Britain's Angry Step-Child*

Prince Edward Island: Our Dirt is RED. And yeah, Potatoes.

Manitoba: J-Lo came here once.

Favorites from other Tweeters

Alberta: We Gave you Nickelback.  You're welcome.

Saskatchewan:  As Flat as Your Nine-Year-Old Daughter

Labrador: Not technically a province, but we try!

Alberta: We're Not As Racist As We Used To Be

Newfoundland: where everybody knows your name but outsiders can't understand you when you tell them

Manitoba: It's not always this cold. Sometimes it's colder.

Nova Scotia: We've Got Crabs! 

By now, some of you U.S. readers (and those further abroad) may be confused and or bored and about to click to go find some porn or pictures of cats.  So you can laugh along with our blatant stereotypes, heres a province by province tutorial.  I hereby present:

Canada according to Twitter.

British Columbia:  Weed.  More Weed.  Will someday sink into the ocean.

Alberta: Oil, a fuckton of Conservatives and Nickelback.

Saskatchewan:  Flat.  Regina rhymes with Vagina.

Manitoba:  Boring.  Often forgotten by school children learning the provinces. Big-assed mosquitoes.

Ontario:  Self-proclaimed centre of the universe.  Is really big.  People don't know what our capital is.

Quebec:  French people. Still pissed about the Conquest.

New Brunswick: It's there, and it's not Newfoundland

Newfoundland:  They talk funny.  Weird time zone.  No jobs.

Labrador: Technically not a province.  Kind of like that family member that no one likes to talk about.

Prince Edward Island:  Really small.  And there's potatoes.

Nova Scotia:  Named after a bank. Had a big explosion once.  Shaped like a lobster/penis.

Yukon:  Cold

Northwest Territories: Not quite a province.  Also Cold.

Nunavut: Still Cold.  No one can pronounce its capital (Iqaluit)

For your convenience, I've compiled a map of our main exports, by province. Click to Enlarge.

Remember kids, knowledge is power!

*No, really.  Think about it.  In the context of Mother Britannia, the United States is the kid that ran away because they didn't like the rules.  English Canada is the kid that stayed at home until they finally got told to "..get the hell out, get a real job because you're not staying around here, playing your video games all day and get a haircut, ya hippie!"  Quebec is the angry stepchild who didn't ask to be there anyway and "...besides you're not my real mom!!"

My Favorite Search Terms from the Past Two Weeks.

Usually the search terms that bring people to this wee little corner of the internet are pretty, well, boring.  If not boring, they make sense.

This week the Google searchers are doing me proud.  It all started when someone found my site by searching 'Crotch Touching'.

(apparently I rank around fifth on the search results for that one.  Go Me!)

Here's some of the other odd, random and funny search results from the last two weeks:

I need tropes - well, okay, but maybe Rape apology wasn't what you were looking for.
red or purple kneecaps - If this happens, it may be time to take turns.
Ferris Bueller's motivation - (if only I could be)
foghorn leghorn tattoo penis <--- win.
Bible into tibet
"michelangelo's", "hamilton", "menu", "cannelloni" <-- I think someone is specifically trying to look up my vacation.  That's too many coincedences there.

Conversations with my kid: You're lucky you've got looks, kid.

Tucking the girls into bed tonight I had this exchange with my almost ten-year-old daughter.

T (reading off my shirt):  "Karaoke Contest Summer two thousand seven. "  Mom, when did you get this?
Me:... 
T: What? 
Me:  Seriously?
T:  What? When did you get it?
Me: SUMMER 2007!!!!

home made is nice but sometimes I like to leave food prep to the professionals

I'm at the grocery store, and I'm looking for guacamole.  This is a FoodBasics, so it's not like a high-end grocery store.  I check the aisle with all the dips and such and find nothing.  So I head to produce because sometimes they have dressings and stuff.

Me:  Do you know where I might find guacamole?
Stockboy #1: Hmm.. i'm just produce, so I'm not really sure, but I can ask someone.  We do have avocadoes if you want to make your own.

I've made my own guacamole before, and it turns out I'm not very good at it.

Me: I've made my own, I'm pretty bad at it.  Rather just buy it pre-mixed.

I follow the guy about 6 aisles over to another guy.  They discuss.

Stockboy #2:  Are you the lady that needs help?
Me: Yup, sure am.
Stockboy #2:  Here, follow me.

I follow him back to the first aisle that I check.  He scans the shelves.  Looks perplexed. 

Stockboy #2:  *sighs dramatically* They've moved it.  Hold on a second.

Leaves, coverses with a woman in the bread section.  Returns.

Stockboy #2:  So it turns out we don't carry guacamole anymore.  We used to but now we don't.  We have avocados though, if you want to make your own.
Me: I've made my own, I'm pretty bad at it.  Okay, thanks anyway.

Take the girls to the check out.  Explain that we'll be going to another store after this.

Me: We'll go to Foodland after this, they'll have some.
Cashier:  Was there something you weren't able to find.
Me:  Yeah, guacamole.  You guys don't carry it apparently.
Cashier:  Oh.

Pause.

Cashier:  We have avocados.

Me:  ....

Isla de Encanta - Day Six. Sweet sweet eff-all.

"could totally handle a Bill Murray-esque Groundhog day, under the circumstances." - Facebook Status Update - 02/02/11

I feel like I've done my math wrong somewhere, because this post will bring us to day six and there is still two more days.  Maybe the first day when I caught the flight into Puerto Plata doesn't count.  ~shrug~

Wednesday was beach day, all the way.  I had hopped onto a computer just after breakfast because I was expecting to hear if my friend Karen, who lives in Santo Domingo with her hubby and child, was heading up to Puerto Plata that day.  I jumped on the Facebook to try and send messages of love and hugs to my kids via their stepmom, since I had been having a bitch of a time trying to reach them by phone.  Sunday night I kept getting their voicemail, Monday night I couldn't get through to the front desk of the hotel, and Tuesday night I had gotten through to the desk but kept getting a "Spanish spanish spanish, all circuits are busy" message.  So I went the techno route via the hotel interwebs.

It was while on the Facebook that I got word from my friend Mike that his brother and my other friend Sean had gotten the call for the double-lung transplant that he's been listed for.  I went 'Oh shit' at first because I was on Sean's 'to-call' list in case of the pager going off, but our other friend Dan was ready and available to take him down to TGH.  The odd part though was that the previous night when Sean had got the call, the girls and I had been discussing him at dinner.  Spooky, no?  Sadly none of the harvested organs were viable, but this does mean that the real call is that much closer.

So Kiki told me she wouldn't be able to make it up until Thursday so we decided that Wednesday would be an awesome 'Lay-on-the-beach-and-do-fuck-all' day.  And that is what we did.

It.  Was.  Grand.

Okay so at one point we did wander up to a flea market one or two kilometers up the beach.  Once again, I could not handle the uber-aggressive vendors.  THERE IS NO BROWSING.  You cannot express even a modicum of interest in something because then the vendors are ON YOU LIKE FLIES ON SHIT.  Seriously.  One of the vendors who sold under the name "Mr. 100 % Off" (yes, and dude, I'm TOTALLY going to hold you to that) gave each of us free anklets. We were going to buy some fancy wraps, but the day or so previously, Kay and Min had bought paintings from this guy, and upon browsing the other vendors and seeing the same painting and being offered it for five dollars less than what they had bargained down too, we decided to take business elsewhere, as the guy was a con.

But yeah, the over-enthusiastic vendors really made me miss shitty North American customer service.

We created a fun little game of "Horrifying Beach Bingo" which consisted of spotting the following beach Don't's:

• Leather Tan
• Giant floppy hats
• Mankini/Speedo (These are never a good idea. NEVER A GOOD IDEA.  I don't care WHO the hell you are.  Just Don't.  Don't Do It.)  Fortunately we never saw any honest-to-God Borat-inspired mankinis' but Speedos' abounded.
• Thongs (male OR female)
• Sweaterback
• Manboobs
• Blacksocks with sandals
• Gold Chains

I was determined to locate some kind of Perfect Storm of all of these factors, but thankfully it never happened.

Feeling profoundly lame after Sallying out the previous night I was determined that my game face would be ON for that night.  We went to the poolside bar to listen to the entertainment but I found it lacking in excitement.  The band played all the hits from 1986-1994, but I'm pretty sure the singer was making it up as she went along.  Let me put it this way:  Lady In Red was a horrible preachy song back then, and it still is now.

During the intermission they had a 'sexy dance' competition for the men to participate in.  Oddly, something like 7 out of 8 guys who participated were from Quebec, yet they weren't all there together as I suspected (the 8th guy was from Manchester).  To reiterate my second day post:  "It's January.  Canada is Cold.  We don't want to be there."

While poolside we made the acquaintance of a 40-something Revenue Canada worker from Quebec City, and his friend who had arrived the previous night.  Friendly and somewhat charming, we chatted with them for a while before we decided to head to the disco.

I love the DJ.  Here's something about me.  I am a DJ's worst nightmare, because I generally request songs that are A) unknown or B) not really appropriate for the occasion (I've gotten better on the second one though.  Even on my birthday I couldn't get a song played for me.   But when I requested a fairly well-known song (La Roux's Bulletproof) I noticed that this DJ was pretty much just YouTubing videos for the playlist so I took the chance and requested a song that's been absolutely, turn-it-up-to-30, kicking-my-ass lately, Best Est 2019 by Times Neu Roman.

I heard the opening bits, and I tell you, I LOST MY SHIT.  This would never happen in Canada.  I made Kaylee and Mindy stay to dance, because dammit, I was going to effin' DANCE MY EVERLOVING ASS OFF to that shit.  Oh.  Hells.  Yes.  I may have made a spectacle of myself.

Isla De Encanta Day Two. FYI, Canada is cold.

"I swam in the ocean and once again had that lost-in-time feeling.  The ocean water was so calm that for a moment I could have been at home on Georgian Bay, perhaps on the beach at Wasaga.  I ventured into the water that was green under the tropical sun.  When I tasted the salt of the Atlantic, I knew where I was." - Vacation Journal 01-29-11

Saturday morning I woke up to the sunlight streaming into my room and promptly made myself a pot of coffee with the coffee maker provided.  No milk.  Dammit.  No matter, I thought as I wandered towards the breakfast buffet.  I have time to get a coffee and something to eat before the 10am orientation, I thought to myself not realizing that Dominican time is an hour ahead of Eastern Standard time, so rather than an hour, I had roughly two minutes.  No breakfast for me.  We were given a lot of information about various amenities of the resort, some warnings, ie. don't drink the tap water, don't convert your money to Pesos unless you plan to spend all of it, because the banks won't take those back, no way.

By the time orientation was over, I had missed breakfast.  No breakfast, no coffee.  I was not off to a good start.  I went to guest services to book one of our a la carte meals for the next night, as it was Kaylee's birthday. The guest services woman was an unholy bitch who instructed me to go to the front desk if I wanted to order a cake.  Front Desk told me I had to go to Guest Services who told me to go to the front desk.  No food, no coffee and I am dealing with the most unfriendly woman on the planet.  I lost my shit and was like "Seriously, can I not just get a frickin' cake for my friend?  For the love of God and all that is holy!."  We got it all sorted out but not without some tears of frustration on my end.

Starving, I bought some three dollar Pringles in the gift shop (yeah, I'm talking the single-serving can, not the full-stack) and headed to the pool with my book to kill some time and read.  This past summer marked the first time since I was roughly 16 that I have dared to don a bikini.  I was kind of nervous heading out (as I mentioned in my previous post, I was unable to find a decent one-piece) but all told, the trip did a lot of good in the name of my own personal body acceptance.  Were there a lot of people who looked a hell of a lot better than I did?  Yeah, I suppose so.  People whose stomachs haven't been ravaged by carrying two children.  At any rate, I was surprised at my own comfort level.  I didn't feel like people were staring at me going 'What is she thinking??'

Okay, I felt like ONE person did that, but she looked like kind of a bitch anyway.

"I've met some people.  Hoorah! I'm not completely socially retarded!" - Vacation Journal 01-29-11

There should be more bars that you can swim to.  For real.  The Swim-Up bar allowed me my first opportunity for meeting and talking to people.  It was there that I met Joe and Bruce from Long Island, who broke the ice with "Don't worry, I'm buying." Incredibly witty in the context of an all-inclusive, don't you think?  Nah, they were all right.  They played a guessing game at my age, and then commented on the vast number of Canadians in the Dominican.  I explained to them "It's frickin' cold.  We don't want to be there."

Here I also made the acquaintance of a number of the young gentlemen that had boarded the plane the previous day.  One of them called me out on my little piece of home, the Tim Hortons traveller I was using to carry my drinks in.  The plastic cups they pour your drinks in at the bar are little better than glorified shot glasses, so bringing a traveller means less waste and less trips to the bar.  And if you have a nice one, your drink stays cold.  I ran out of conversation quickly though, so after a quick water aerobics class I went and changed for dinner, hit the buffet and then killed some time until Kaylee and Mindy's bus from the airport was due to arrive.

About this time I started missing my guitar and really wished I had packed as my carry-on, since the thought of sitting on the beach and playing some tunes was sounding not only like a great way to relax, but I have always found it to be quite the icebreaker.  There was a beach party after dark and I got up the guts to volunteer for a competition for best reggaeton dancer.  It was fun and embarrassing.  I came in third and got a lot of compliments over the next day or two.

Finally Kaylee and Mindy got there.  Our rooms were messed up but we couldn't really do anything about it until the next day.  We were supposed to have adjoining, ocean-view rooms, theirs a double occupancy, mine a single.  I got a single occupancy, with the slightest view of the ocean and they got a room with a double bed.  On the opposite side of the hotel.  Anyway they got there, unpacked their bags and our game faces were ON!

Coco Bongo in the daytime

We hit the hotel discotheque and met up with our buddies from the plane, who were a fun bunch of guys.  We heard of another dance club just outside of the hotel by the name of Coco Bongo so after the hotel disco closed we headed out that way.  I ended up sharing a drink on the patio with one of the Ontario boys until we decided to walk back to the hotel.  This confused the hell out of the girls, as this guy had a twin who showed up after.. so they're all "Um.. where's Andie?" and he's all "Who?"  Yeah.  Awkward but funny. 

During the walk back to the hotel, J. and I got horrendously lost and ended up going full circle, right back to where we started.  It ended up being a long walk back to the hotel.  The second trip around afforded me the chance during a bathroom run to check out a pretty cool looking rock club I hadn't noticed before.  Sadly I never got to check out more than the bathroom at this particular establishment, and they never had any live music during the week.

I got woken up at roughly 5am by drunken silly giggles and banging at my door.

"What are you dooooing???"
"Hellooooooo!!??"
"Who's there???"
"Hoooussssekeeeeepinggggg!!!"

With one of the other ontario boys in tow, the girls decided to pay me a visit and wake my ass up.  I'm sure my neighboring guests LOVED that.  The whole scene was pretty funny though, once i got my friggin' pajamas on.

Take that, Canadian winter - another half-assed post

I got my snow tires today, finally.  It meant spending a good two hours in the seventh circle of hell that is Wal-Mart, but holy crap it's done.  Just in time to drive two and a half hours to Kitchener on Tuesday night for the Finger Eleven concert.

I also auditioned today for a local production of The Vagina Monologues that's being put on for our local women's shelter.  I think I did pretty good, and it was fun trying out.  I got to say fuck, cunt and vagina a whole lot.  I think my chances of getting even a small part are pretty good.

I was listening to our local station's classic rock Saturday night and I'm reminded once again of the under-rated talent of the Animals and of the equally under-rated hotness of the young Eric Burdon.  In my very honest opinion he should have easily taken Mick Jagger in a battle of British Invasion hotness.  Jagger looks like a troll.

Burdon in foreground - Photo Credit

Holy crap. Loverboy. Classic rock night is AWESOME.



This video embodies every terrible 80's cliche imaginable, while having the added panache of being a CANADIAN 80s rock video. Can-rock in the 80's was a very special kind of terrible. Like Enid says in Ghost World "This is so bad it's gone beyond cool and back to bad again."

Anyhoo folks, this has been another half-assed weekend post, brought to you by myself and the Simple Dude in a Complex world.  Go give him some love.

Teenaged Angst has paid off well..

I've been looking through my high school poetry books.  I tell ya, a lot of this stuff is pretty fucking terrible, and probably shouldn't be consumed by anybody.  But I have found one or two little gems that weren't entirely groan worthy, in my humble un-biased opinion.

D.P.S.

Truth, too much should
We choose to lie
Seize the day, too much should we ever die
Fire in your head, we let ourselves go
Denying real truth, Truths never show
In identity life exists
Life drives on
We concern ourselves 
Not only with death and birth
but love, hate, fire, earth and poison
Inspiration, driven to our souls
Inspired by life
But drive to philosophical 
ecstasy and metaphysical
Euphoria
by the film alone.

This one I kind of find interesting, just because the other day Ozmandias posted about our adult selves in relation to how 12-year-old selves would ourselves.  Not being the comic geek as a child that I sort of am now, I found the next poem an interesting bit of foreshadowing (I think this one was supposed to be lyrical, for a song, perhaps):

Comic Book Girl

Can you see me?  I'm in the back of the room.
I'm looking at you.  Yeah, you.
Can you hear me?
I'm singing an alternate reality to you.



I'm lost in an imaginary animated world
Visited by friends I made real as a little girl
Cartoon creations and perceptions are unfurled
I remain known to you as the Comic Book Girl

My fantasy becomes your reality
My dream is now your life
The truth is never pretty 
So I've built my life on lies


TV's fucked up images in my fractured psyche
Doesn't it sound like fun?
Immortality and a cartoon death
Don't you want to die one?


I'll drag you into my imaginary animated world
Into an acid-trip dementia you'll be hurled
As everything you believe in is unfurled
Under a spell cast by the Comic Book Girl


Hehehe, check this one out.. Oh the burgeoning adolescent sexual awakening!! Oh the grappling with the madonna/whore complex!!  LOLOLOL!

Harlot

When did this pleasure come from pain?
When it's so hot outside 
All it does is rain
Steam and sweat and tears
And happiness throughout the years
All too much can make you go insane
Maybe I can have you here tonight
I never would put up a fight
Yes and No and Maybe Not
What if this is all we've got
Even when I know the timing's right.

I think I may have been too hard on that one.. I kind of like it.  Meh.  These are the good ones of the bunch, if you can believe it.  From roughly 1995-1998 copyright Andrea Lyn Cole

Roughly the age when I would have written this drivel.  Kind of wish I had pics from my vaguely-goth phase. They call em emo's now, I think.

Dating sites make me cry - or - the ironing is delicious.

Online dating sites can be a veritable cesspool of hypocrisy. I'm laughing at some of the stuff I'm finding. (all emphasis added is mine)

From ryanord, age 25:

We won't mesh if:
Your dumb
boring
picky eater

From forever_mann, age 39:

And one last thingy. I'm gonna call the Cops on the next woman who tries to trick me with fake, old or really far away pics, that crap should be a criminal offence!

 ...says the guy with a single pic, head down, baseball cap covering face.

This made me weep for the state of the education system, and our future health care system.  From Treys_song, age 26 Profession - Medical Student:

U can call me a geek or watever..but hey do u not want ur doctor to not know his shit? exactly haha

Oh hell no.  I want my doctor to be able to fucking SPELL.

I kind of wish I didn't think it would be incredibly mean to post some pics, because some of them are hilarious.  Like the tattoo kid, who asks why girls don't like guys with a lot of tattoos?  It really needs the picture with it to get the full humour.

I'm going to add for some unknown reason it really irks me when people list tattoos and piercings as an interest.   It's not that I'm against body modification, I've got one facial piercing and one tattoo with another planned.  I just don't get how it's an interest.  To me it's like saying hair dye is an interest.  Or pants are an interest.  Like, when does it go from simple adornment to an actual interest?  When you start doing it yourself?  When you start researching artists and piercers throughout history?  I don't know.  Maybe someone can enlighten me.

At any rate, I don't quite have the balls to go so far as to post pics.  I feel like I'd be crossing a line.  Maybe if my GIMP program didn't take so long to boot up and do, well, anything I could block out people's eyes and stuff.  But I'll just stick to foot-in-mouth disease.

It's a little one-sided I know.  I used to have a guy-friend who would critique profiles for me, and I for him and man, we'd find some doozies.  We're still friends, we just don't critique for each other much anymore.

Does anyone else have some really bad dating site examples?  Add them to the comments and if I really like them, I'll add them to the post.

Yesterday's post was pretty heavy...

...and right now I'm tossing around thoughts for a post on mainstream porn and feminism in response to Kissie Catastrophe's post at Ethecofem - basically expanding on some thoughts I posted in the comments section.

So to break up the uber-serious monotony, here's a few random awesome things I've found kicking around the internet.  Some are new, some are things I've known of for some time.

1. Brandon Bird.  I love this guy's artwork.  It's what I wish mine could be, a twisted parfait of surrealism and pop culture.  Since I don't personally celebrate the soul-sucking mindfuck that is Valentines day, part of me really wants to buy the complete set of Law and Order SVU Valentines Cards (sorry, you're going to need to scroll a bit) and have my kids distribute them amongst the other little hooligans in their class.  I'm pretty sure that might warrant a call from their teacher though.
   
2. This Post from Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka.  I was in tears reading it, especially when I am reminded of how my now-10-year-old nephew, upon entering Junior Kindergarten and discovering the world of literacy, decided to label everything in his room.  In black Sharpie.  His bed.  His Sheets.  His pillow. Everything.  It also reminded me of how up until recently everything I owned seemed to be covered in a layer of stickers, courtesy of my little one (who also seems to have a tearing/ripping/otherwise destroying paper goods fetish.)
   
3. Nirvana-Themed Ballet Flats.  I rarely drool over shoes (okay I sometimes do..  but I rarely trying to mentally justify 80+ bucks for shoes) but these are too freaking cute for words.  This woman's store also has some wicked cool Wonder Woman wedges. Sweet Jesus.
   
4. This friggin van that was in the parking lot at work today:
   
   
   Is that not one freaking sweet flame job?  Do you think they paid for that?  Or do you think the guy got a stencil and did it himself (or herself, let's be fair).
   

In other news, the mirror I was given to recondition is coming along nicely, but I have to lament the lack of a decent craft and/or art supply store in the vicinity.   Michael's is a good 35 minutes away, and that pretty much leaves the Quest Art Gallery, which has limited selection, or Wal-Mart, which is.. well.. you all know my opinion on Wal-Mart.  Plus there's still a lot of stuff they don't have either.  So yeah, travelling for art supplies is crap.  But my mirror is going to look awesome.  Will post pics when done.  I wish I had thought to get a picture before i started this project.

A single mother's christmas eve.

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house, 
the demon cats were chasing some invisible mouse

The children were playing though they should be in bed,
Believing that their giggling was over my head

With Chevy Chase on the TV and a nice glass of wine
I just had to wrap one more present, or nine.

When out in the hallway there arose a clatter
The youngest AGAIN has to empty her bladder

The oldest kid asks for another glass of water
As my patience gets thin and my temper gets hotter

"Santa won't come if you're still out of bed! 
So on with your jammies or I'll be knockin' heads!"

Jumping and running like their butts are on fire
They dive under the covers, they know it's now dire

'fore sleep takes over I have to wrap these things quick
Life's not always easy when you're playin' 'St. Nick'

Their stocking are hung in their bedroom with care
Now how do I sneak all the goodies in there?

Stumbling on Barbies I curse quietly, but a lot
I hope these kids know what a good mother they've got.

Stockings all filled and presents are wrapped,
I really could go for a twelve-hour nap,

Though worth it to see their little faces alight,
Wake me when it's Christmas, I'm calling it a night.

**************************************************

I left out the part about how gross milk is that's been out for two hours, while you wait for them to get to sleep.  Cookies were pretty good though.

As was this three page missive complete with margin notes they left for Santa.

Transcription:

Dear Santa

The stockings are in our room on our above our dresser.  They Have our names on them.  Hope the cookies are good.  Love Tierney.

P.S. How do you get in our house at night.  We don't have a chimny.  

Here's some spongebob characters for you.

Reagan's Note: If you see the cats doin rong, Spray them -->

Dear Santa can you put the presents aside the tree please. Sorry for the mess for the tree we have four kittens cats and one big one and his name is Spartacuss and if your asking if the one that is big is the one messing up the tree he is not!   I was not yelling at you santa.  Like my sister said hope you like the cookies they are only for you.  The'll be on the end table and we bot the cookies because our oven is not working.  How are the reindeer doing? Reagans Note: I don't think we have cookies.

Love Reagan.  

P.s. how is mrs. claus doing and you?

Yeah, Me, being awesome, forgot to buy cookies so we had to borrow cookies from Grammy to leave for Santa.  Gotta love the grocery store/LCBO/office supply outlet of Mom and Dad.

****************************************

One quick Christmas rant about Christmas and Holiday songs.

Contemporary Artists covering Christmas classics - Good.

Unless you are some 18 year old kid trying to cover the Pogues' Fairytale of New York.  You don't sound old enough to know what a drunk tank is, let alone spend Christmas Eve in one.  But generally, it works, even if it's kitchy as all hell, like when Axl sings White Christmas.

Contemporary Artists composing Original christmas tunes- Mostly Good, although there is the potential for disaster.

I've had fun listening to people bitch about the myriad covers of Wham's Last Christmas, although I maintain that the Jimmy Eat World version is bearable, if not enjoyable.  If you've never heard Better Than Ezra's Merry Christmas Eve, listen and if you do not even mist up a bit, then you are a robot.  I myself enjoy the songs that poke fun at the traditions of the season like Blink 182's I Won't Be Home For Christmas or The Vandals' Grandpa's Last Christmas.

Contemporary Artists Reworking their Hits into Christmas Songs - BAD.  ALWAYS BAD.

Why the hell do they do this??  It's no wonder they mocked the practice terribly in Love Actually.  If there is anything that makes me want to collectively burn an artist's complete music catalog, it's hearing them cash in on a previous hit by Christmasing it up.

I'm looking at you, Bachman Turner Overdrive.

*************************************************

So it's no longer Christmas Eve, it's now Boxing day and I'm sitting at my computer in my underwear, enjoying a silent house and the lovely 11 hours of sleep I got last night after a hectic week.  Yesterday was indeed a lovely day.

I'm going to brag for a minute, bear with me.

But holy hell, I am a lucky mom.  I spent the day marvelling at my girls and how well-behaved and polite they were all day.  I think I (and yes, I suppose *exaggerated sigh* the ex-hub and new-wife have to take some credit here too) must be doing something right, because when present time came - at 6 AM *grumble* - they made sure to take turns opening gifts, remembered their hugs and thank yous when opening the ones I gave them, and even wanted to make sure I had something to open.  I had cleverly marked one of the gifts to all three of us (The Tick Season 1 and Season 2 - SQUEEE!!), so they let me open that one.

They also didn't destroy the house with their gifts while I went back to bed for an hour.  I had been up until 1 am two nights in a row doing last minute wrapping, and of all things, refinishing a jewellery box. Yeah.  See, the girls had both asked me for one, and I had planned to buy them both one from Lori at A Vintage Witch, but ran into a snag when the second box was nowhere to be found.  So rather than give up on the jewellery box idea, I got it into my head that I could take one of the girls old broken ones and fix it up.  In two days. Because I'm a masochist like that.

Here's the thing... not having a lot of money and and spending a lot of time saying 'no' or 'not likely' to the girls various Christmas requests ("Oh, you want a iPod Touch?  Good luck with that...") and then they ask me for something that's actually well within my grasp, then sure as hell I'm gonna try to come through.  The one I did wasn't nearly as nice as Lori's but I think it turned out well anyway.

Care of Lori

My last minute jobbie, that nearly killed me

Anyway, I digress.

Later when we went to my parents and there were more presents to open, they waited patiently for my sister and her kids to show up so we could open the rest, without complaining.  That's not normal.  My Grandma asked me how I did it and I told her "Regular Beatings, and Drugs.  Lots of Behaviour Modifying Drugs."

Hell, I didn't have a better answer.

I'll also add here that I'm lucky to come from a fairly functional family.   Little to no fighting, everybody gets along, everyone is gracious when it comes to gift time.  I'm really glad that holiday time doesn't come with a lot of undue stress that tends to be part and parcel of when you dread gathering your family in any way.

I wish everyone could be so lucky.  Hope anyone reading this had a good Christmas, and barring that, an enjoyable secular day off.

My child begins her career in municipal politics

Today was a shitty day.

After spending 8+ hours christmas shopping and then attending a small wedding celebration and then dancing, 'cause you know, I'm a masochist and all, I was looking forward to some Sunday down-time.

I woke up to it snowing like a bitch.  I have yet to procure any snow tires for my car, so the ride was harrowing at best.  Plus I just had a conversation I was not prepared for and am now in a position where I can choose between putting myself in a hugely uncomfortable situation and disappointing a small child who had nothing to do with said situation.  Hooray.  But that's all I'll say on that.  Stopping at the grocery store on the way home, I got stuck TWICE trying to get up the hill from the Foodland to my house.  Not even on the steep part.  I can get around the steep part, but how do I get home if I can't get my car up a bloody slight incline?  So I curse, and I weep and I struggle to get my car turned around without blowing out the engine.

I end up driving all over hells half-acre so I can get home without facing any incline greater than, oh, say, 35 degrees.  Oh and when I got home, as I was doing laundry, the sink backed up all over the kitchen counter.  And the eldest child got into the trunk of the car and saw one of her christmas presents. Banner effin' day.

This, however, cheered me up.   My oldest took it upon herself to write a letter to the town in regards to their road maintenance.  It's a very well-thought out letter for a nine-year-old, all bias aside.

Dear Tay Township


I theink that you should plow all the road's [sic] in victaoria harbour. first of all, ^some people don't have snow tires so they wouldn't dbe able to go to there homes. secound, what if theres a fire or sombodys hurt and the parimedical fire truck dont have snows tirers thirdly my mom who dosn't have any snow tires couldn't get out of foodland. So thats why you should plow ^allthe roads in Victoria Harboure. Sincerly,


T.H.
Age 9

I love that kid.

Xmas party day woooo!

One of the benefits of working for a smaller company as opposed to a giant corporate conglomerate is that you get to have fun while you work.  I've never worked for any corpo-giants, but I've heard it sucks pretty hard.

Generally when I complain about my job, I'm generally complaining about the actual duties involved, especially on the CSR end of it.  I'm actually pretty fortunate that I get to work in an environment where I genuinely like everyone I work with.  It's a pretty fun bunch.

For Friday afternoon, HR organized a bit of a scavenger hunt/poker run for the afternoon.  We got to team up and (literally) run around town figuring out clues and trying to beat the others back to the office.  Since the rules didn't specifically say NOT to use a car, I got to do a bit of stunt driving.  Which was probably good, since I'm not a runner.  Although at one point the other girl on my team and I did end up running for about two and a half blocks, which for me, is pretty impressive.  I could NEVER have done that a few years ago.  Or hell, a few months ago.

As it turned out, even with my wicked awesome stunt driving, we ended up being the third team back to the office.  However, we did manage to score the highest poker hand.  Go Team Blitzen!

The run didn't last as long as anticipated so we all went back to work to finish up last-minute-before-the-weekend stuff, but still got to get out relatively early.  Headed to my friends place so we could get ready and all dolled up.

I clean up kinda nice.

Similar to weddings, bringing a date to a staff function when you're not engaged in any kind of long-term relationship can be a tricky thing.   There's those possibilities that they'll be bored, or sullen, or get obnoxiously drunk and that you'll end up wishing you just went by yourself.

Fortunately, this was not an issue.  My date and I had a lot of fun, and he got along well with everyone, and I was glad to have brought him.  If you see this, good on ya ;-)

As with each the past 3-4 years I've been with this company (this was my fourth staff party) they put on a really nice night.  Good spread, I had a rather excellent stuffed chicken and a chocolate mousse for dessert.

High Class Noms.

One of our graphic designers set up a project and had jib-jabbed the entire staff into a roughly 20 minute presentation featuring every single staff member.  Some of the images may be burned into my retinas for years to come.  To clarify, I'm sure most have see those 'Elf Yourself' musical numbers that come around at christmas and get more and more elaborate with each passing year?  That's what I mean when I say we were 'jib-jabbed'.

Each staff member also got a personalized nameplate complete with witty caption related to each persons position, quirk, foible or favorite saying.  Mine was 'Please sir, I just need you to FOCUS.'

In customer service land this apparently is an acronym for 'Eff Off Cuz U Suck'.  It's handy.

There were gifts and speeches and I have a lovely giftcard and bottle of wine.  Twas a good night.  If the management is reading this, thanks and good on ya!  

In relation to past parties, this was one of the rowdier years.   After dinner was over, about half the staff headed out to a.. sorry, THE local bar (we lack night life) and I'm pretty sure we made up about half the patrons at Bleachers that night.  There was much dancing to be had.

The next morning I got up semi early as my youngest (who was with her dad this weekend) was scheduled to be in the Santa Claus parade.  Post-night-out roughness notwithstanding, I made arrangements to hitch a ride into town with my mom and sister as the my car was still at the restaurant from the night before.  How responsible am I??  No drinking and driving for this girl.  The weather was dead cold and I had quite the headache (I don't think I mentioned the open bar...) and normally I hate parades.  With the exception of the Toronto Zombie Walk and the Toronto Pride Parade.   But parades in the wind and cold are bullshit, esp when not feeling your best.

So I hope the little knows how much her mom likes her.

I said to my sister "I'm not gonna lie.  As soon as I see R's float go by, I'm leaving."  Karma must have heard me because it would be my luck that she was on the LAST EFFIN' FLOAT.  An hour and half I swear I was in the cold.   Ahh well.  It was worth it though as she looked so happy to get to ride up on the float with Santa of all people.  Just adorable.  I'd post pics but I'm wary of even using my kids' names here, let alone posting pics.  But take my word for it, she was about as cute as it gets.

Freezing cold I made my way back to the car to find it blocked in by a large cube van.  Lovely.  By the time the car warmed up though, someone came and moved it.  Went to Barrie, did some christmas shopping, visited some friends on the way home.  Today I launder and clean and blog and eventually pick my kids up.  Going to town to watch a friend's girls sing in a choir thing, so with the roads being so shitty, I don't really want to go into town twice.  I'm soooo shelling out for snow tires or even all seasons this year.

They Won't Call You Shirley, Anymore.

From TMZ:

Legendary funny man Leslie Nielsen died today of complications of pneumonia in a hospital near his home in Fort Lauderdale, this according to his agent. He was 84.

Here's a better story from CBC News

We've lost a legend of comedy and a part of Canadian cinema's legacy.

I saw Naked Gun when I was around 8 and it was my first real foray into absurdist comedy.  Neilsen's deadpan delivery caught me, and kindled in me a love for the absurd.  From there I moved onto the films of Mel Brooks and Nielsen's own earlier work, Airplane.

In my opinion, he was under-rated as a dramatic actor, though.  One of my favorite roles was as Paul Gross' eccentric, 'shroom-growing, father in Men With Brooms.

As a country up until recently not particularly well known for our entertainers, Leslie Neilsen was someone I was proud to have represent our Nation in the entertainment industry.

Rest in Peace Mr. Nielsen.

Two movie reviews, a rant and an awesome link.

Just finished watching the second of two movies that a friend of mine burned a couple of weeks ago.  It's difficult finding time to do something as simple as watching a movie anymore but I got through them.  My thoughts:

The Runaways (B- oh, and my grading system is pretty arbitrary in case you were wondering)

Not a bad film, but of course with me, you can't go wrong with rock biopics.  It's the first time I've seen Kristen Stewart in a movie and I haven't wanted to punch her in the face, so good on her for that one.  I found her very believable as Joan Jett.  Let's put it this way.. with Dakota Fanning, I was watching Dakota Fanning play Cherie Curie, whereas I just felt like I was watching Joan Jett with Kristen's performance.

I had a hard time getting around the meta-teensploitation ick factor.  They're basically documenting how the Runaways as a band were exploited for their jailbait sex appeal by having Stewart and Fanning make out.  Weird.

That being said, I still thought it was a decent film.

The Trotsky (B)


First of all, since i first saw Highway 61 I've maintained that Canadian cinema is horribly under-rated.  Secondly, I'm officially adding Jay Baruchel to my list of awkward weedy shy-boy crushes. 
It was probably inevitable.  I thought the School admin's were a little too caricaturistically evil, since in real life a lot of teachers and principals are also pawns of the larger system.  But that didn't take away from my enjoyment.

Did I mention Jay Baruchel was fantastically awkward?  he may out-awkward Michael Cera.


So yeah, both pretty good films.  I saw the best friggin' thing on Etsy today.  I work in an office building that shares a parking lot with the Parole office (who have claimed about 15 reserved spots), a couple of smaller businesses and a Tim Hortons.  We have about 10 reserved spots, which was great when we had about 10 employees but now it's closer to 20, and we have to battle for spots.  So it's exceptionally frustrating when I come to work in the morning to this:

Or even more infuriatingly, this:

 

Okay, seriously Blogger and/or Tuxpaint?  That's supposed to say Asshole in Pickup truck.  FFS, people.

Anyway, I digress.. I've been looking for a nice passive-aggressive way to deal with this particular brand of jackass, and I think I may have found it:

Fuzzy Cute Bunnies with a Dark Side


Yes, ladies and gentlemen, handy little cards you can stick on someone's windshield just to let them know what a huge douche canoe they are for not being able to take a couple extra seconds to make sure other people have a place to park.

This may be the greatest thing ever.  Do Want.

Conversations like this make my brain hurt.

Ever have one of those days where you deal with so many stupid people that you start to wonder if you're the one that's incompetent?

I had one of those days.  I actually asked my co-worker if there was something off about my speech patterns, because nobody on the phone seemed to be able to grasp the relatively simple concepts I was trying to explain.

A woman called into the helpdesk and starts asking about getting repair service for a lab balance.  I try to help her navigate the site and she starts getting snippy

"Can you just give me the URL?"

"Certainly, ma'am. *starts spelling url*"
"Wait, what was that.. v...?"
"yes, V as in Victor, two"
"The number two?"
"Yes.  Now See, Aye, Tee, Eee, Gee, Oh, Are, Why..."
"Wait, wait, hold on.. Pee, Ay... Pee... tee..."
"No, ma'am.  See, Aye, Tee... 'Category'
"wait, what?  Pee?"
"No, ma'am.. C as in Cat."
"I'm sorry I don't understand."

I'm getting a little exasperated, so I try to help her navigate to this particular directory from the home-page.  She immediately interrupts.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're talking about.. Pee, Aye.. Pee.."
"No, mam, it's Category.. C as in cat."

She's getting aggravated.

"I don't understand why you can't just give me a phone number.. you're the manufacturer.. " (I've already explained that we are NOT a manufacturer and that we don't deal with any equipment)

"Actually, we're not a manufacturer. As I mentioned, we're a listing service.. "
"Well, can't you just give me a number?  I mean, I don't understand what you're saying..."

No, you don't. 

"... Like, I get phonics but I don't understand.. we don't use C for cat.."

Are you effing serious?  You can't grasp that C is for cat?  And who is we?  You and your spouse?  The company you work for?  The state of Utah? 

I get the make out of her, and it's a very well known maker of lab balances.  In fact, if you google this company, the first 6 or 7 results link to the manufacturers website. 

Why, the effing eff would you NOT A) Ask for the manufacturer and not a repair company?  or B) Google the effing manufacturer?  Crap on a friggin' cracker people.

Speaking of crackers, the next guy is from Alabama, so I know this conversation is a write-off.  I am sure there are plenty of intelligent, if not freaking brilliant people in Alabama and other Southern States.. but holy hell.. people start speaking southern to me and I want to talk to them like they are five freaking years old.  The deeper south, the more i want to talk down to them.

It  reminds me of the clip before, from comedian Leo DuFour when he was on Comedy at Club 54. My family used to watch and tape this show constantly, and I'm excited that more of these clips are showing up on YouTube.

The Alabama College bit is at  0:48 .  (embedding disabled.  Figures)

For shits and giggles, here's part one.  Well worth the wait.

Anyway... that's the way my day was going.  To quote Mr. DuFour.. whatever you're riding, wear a helmet more often.