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.

Dream journaling: Those who work in glass office buildings...

I woke up oddly disoriented after this one. It's been a while since I've been able to recount the details of a dream vividly.

I'm in a kitchen talking to one of my best friends about a party she's throwing for her daughters. She's freaking out a bit because in this reality, it's custom to purchase gifts for party guests, not the other way around. I'm not on the phone but I'm not really sure I'm speaking to her in person either. While we talk, I'm trying to get at a small CD player on the counter because I am determined to make my ex-husband listen to "Lovecraft in Brooklyn" for nor reason other than it's a pretty awesome song that I think everyone should listen to.

Having given up, I drive into work. Downtown is jam packed busy, so by the time I get there, it's after dark. My friend is there with her daughters. She is meeting me since I decided to give her some money to buy my kids present, since I don't really get why she's buying them anything when it's her kids birthday.

Getting out of the car, I notice that a huge crowd has gathered outside made up of my co-workers, Tim horton's employees (in this reality, Tim's hasn't moved down the street yet) and other various people who also work in the building. There is the sound of commotion and crackling electricity. Lights in the windows are flickering off and on and I vaguely recall that the building is scheduled for demolition. It seems odd to me that we all showed up for work anyway, and distressing that we're all standing in the parking lot instead of getting the hell out of there.

There an eerie silence as suddenly all the lights in the windows flicker and go black. I start to turn and run, but not before each individual glass pane starts shattering and blowing out wards. Shards and bits of glass rain down on the crowd and I run, admits the screaming, eyes closed against the bits of glass that have blown into my face and hair. Blind but aware of my friend and her girls near by I run across the street, oblivious to oncoming traffic, until I reach the opposite parking lot.

Once across the street, I carefully brush the glass off myself and pick it out of my hair and turn to survey the damage and wait for the eventually collapse, expecting something like what you see in those stock-footage reels of collapsing buildings.

I look over and a group of people have picked up my car and have managed to fold it like one of those collapsible laundry hampers. No, no no, I tell them but they carry it across the lot, unfold it and lovingly dust off the debris.

Later I am at an outdoor cafe, run by the guy who hosts our open mike. I can't get to my guitar, the place is too crowded. My Nanny is there and I'm trying to have a conversation with her, but my phone rings. A voice on the other end speaks in a muffled voice in a language I can't understand. The voice sounds apologetic, so assuming they have a wrong number I try to disengage, but each time I do, the voice on the other end gets belligerent and threatening. Finally I tell the voice that I am not paying to listen to this and hang up, but I worry after that the voice will call back to berate me some more.

In regards to today's teacher's strike.

I've been meaning to say a few things on this, aside from the few comments on teacher-bashing Facebook posts that I've been seeing.

The work-to-rule thing sucks for the kids.  I know that, and I totally get it.  No after-school clubs, no extracurriculars, no field trips - it sucks for them.  I'm not about to deny that.

The one-day strike happening today.  It sucks for parents.  One of the functions of public schools is cheap daycare, along with the education of our children.  I sit in a position of privilege here, I realize that.  Between an ex-husband that is generally available and willing to take his kids; a boyfriend also willing to hang with my kids and a job that, worse come to worse, will let me stay home for a day to watch them myself, I'm not going to be horribly affected by this action.  That's a privilege and I recognize it.  Many parents are not in such a lucky position.  I get that too.  I'm glad for their sake that this is only a one day action.

Teachers work damn hard.  I've watch my sister go through the rigors of constant training and upgrading skills (the courses which are paid out of pocket).  Lesson planning and grading that goes well into the nights and weekends.  I barely see her between the months of September and June, she's so busy.

I entrust my kids to their teachers care for 5-6 hours a day.  Damn right I want them paid and compensated well.  It's not greed, it's what they have coming to them.  I've read time and time again that they are doing wrong by the children by holding out and taking job action.  No one has pointed a finger  at the school boards and government who also continue to hold out on negotiations.  No one seems to be up in arms about school board trustees with six figure salaries.  It's the teachers because "That's my tax money!"

If my kids teachers are well compensated, that means they're going to be happier and more satisfied with their job.  Which means my kids get a better education.  I'm okay with my taxes going towards that.

Source

Frankly, everybody deserves to be well compensated for their jobs.  Not just teachers.  Labour organizations and unions have helped people with that in various sectors.  Other sectors, such as the retail and service sector are starting to organize.  Read up on your labor history.  If you have eight-hour days, or paid sick leave or vacation time or benefits, that's the result of the work of labour organizations.  

"Are there no Burger Kings? Are there no No Wal-Marts?"*

Oh, Mr. Flaherty, you've really lost touch with the common Canadian, haven't you?

I can only assume this is the reasoning behind the statements you made today regarding those receiving unemployment benefits and the seeming unwillingness to accept employment that is 'beneath them' or 'too far away'.  

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty said Monday new rule changes to define "suitable employment" and "reasonable" efforts at finding work have yet to come down, but as far as he's concerned people should be prepared to take pretty well any available job.

"I was brought up in a certain way. There is no bad job, the only bad job is not having a job," he told reporters. "I drove a taxi, I refereed hockey. You do what you have to do to make a living."

I'm sure on a six-digit government salary it is easy to adopt a boot-strap attitude, seeing as how you, Mr. Flaherty, will likely never be faced with the prospect working two or more minimum wage, part time jobs to put food on the table.  The truth is that no, it is not always a case that any job is better than no job.  

A family faced with deciding between paying daycare and paying rent because even a full-time minimum wage position doesn't always cover both, especially in cases where there is only one parent, or more than one child.  This may not have been an issue if the National Daycare Program had ever come to fruition, but I guess that $100.00 a month bribe to make us forget about it made it ALL WORTH IT.

As far as working out of town, I like how you assume that this is an option for most people.  Consider those without cars... That's right.  Some people do not own their own vehicle, or may have medical conditions that prevent them from obtaining a drivers licence.  Shocking I know.  Also, shitty and/or non-existent mass transit systems are also a thing.  Let's assume that a vehicle is readily available.  Consider the current price of gas, sitting at between 1.27 and 1.35 per Litre in Central Ontario... once again, one falls into the trap of spending a good portion of their wages on fuel, which is aggravating enough when one lives relatively close (my own commute is a decent 10-minute drive) but becomes teeth-clenchingly frustrating when one is earning minimum wage and paying (in fuel) for the privilege to do so.  Not to mention, coming back to families, commuting adds time to the workday that ends up covering the cost of.. you guessed it! DAYCARE.

I've known people who have, repeatedly, found themselves in the position of having to decide if a job is even worth taking once expenses such as fuel and daycare are considered.  Often, it's not.

As far as the lack of laborers in Alberta and Saskatchewan, well it'd be pretty awesome if everyone on EI benefits had the resources (money, transportation) or the lack of ties to their current geographical area (oh, like schools, family, support systems) combined with the skills for the jobs available out there to relocate for the sake of work.  Ideally, anyone should be able to do this if they wish.  Here's the thing.. packing up and moving across the country the size of Canada is kind of a BFD, if you read my acronym.

Jim, you make it sound like the unemployed are all simply turning their noses up at jobs deemed 'unworthy' but mostly the need to turn down employment is a simple case of logistics, as illustrated above.  Does pride play into it as well?  I'll be honest.. as someone who worked their ass off through three years of school earning a Bachelor's degree which was supposed to help me escape a life of convenience store servitude, if today I were to find myself unemployed (she says, knocking on wood), I'd be more than a little fucking hesitant to get behind a counter for 10 bucks an hour while trying to pay off the crippling amount of student debt that BA earned me.

And do you know what, Jimmy?  Canadians pay into their EI benefits.. EI is not a government handout.  It is a fund that we as workers pay into, and should be able to use to our full advantage.  If I pay for auto insurance on a brand new 2012 Lexus and someone rears ends me, the insurance company shouldn't be able to hand me an '84 Chevette and say "Well, any car is better than no car!"

Should people on EI benefits be making a concerted effort to seek employment?  Yeah, for sure.. and I am willing to bet that most of them do.  But to say that people who have found themselves without work through no fault of their own should be satisfied with any given job offered them is condescending at best, downright insulting at worst.

Some would rather die.*


*is invoking Dickens melodramatic?  Maybe a touch.  I offer no apologies.

Five Years in the Saddle and Other Things of Varying Import...

Ah yes, so here I am again.  Two weeks since my last post and doing what I said I wouldn't do... the obligatory “I'm such a bad blogger” post, apologizing for not posting.

Meh.

I'm not really sorry.  Well, kind of.  Maybe a smidge.

But life happens, you know?  I've had lots to do and not a whole hell of a lot to say.  Or maybe lots to say, but not much time put it all in words.  And since those things distracting me from the computer are ultimately good things, I don't feel much like apologizing.  I will only ask that you bear with me and express my gratitude to those humble few of you who choose to stick around.

I've done some housekeeping here, to freshen things up a bit.  New layout and such.  It's a bit dark, I know.  I tried to avoid the light text/dark background thing but my aesthetic tastes got the best of me.  I'm a bit dark, myself.  At any rate, it's nothing compared to my newly-created Tumblr account, which I am still trying to decide on a layout for and as such is a complete and utter mess.  I'm still not sure what I'm doing there.  If you click on that link, shield your eyes.  It's pretty garish at the moment.  What can I say? I loves me some animal prints.

Today marked a grand total of five years at my current place of employment, who shall go unmentioned here for the sake of preventing embarassment should their name come into connection with my various ramblings, off-color humour, strong opinions and penchant for saying shit and fuck a lot.

But yeah, five years.  Not bad for what was supposed to be a temp job.

Fresh out of university I was faced with the ungodly task of actually trying to find a job.  Having recently attained a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology (because fuck employability) attaining paid work seemed a daunting task indeed.  As I was contemplating what to do,  my sister gave me a call to let her know her workplace was looking for a temp to come in for a week and do some data entry work.

I said sure.

A day or two before I was due to start, I called her in a panic.  I had not done paid work in over four years, and previous to those three years of university and one year of maternity leave before that, I had been more or less steadily employed as a convenience store.  Office work seemed way over my head.

Quickly bringing me back down to Earth she reminded me that I was being hired without an interview or a resume.

“Really, Andie?  How hard do you think it's going to be?”

So my initial fears turned out be pretty unfounded.  By the end of the week it had been mentioned that I would be needing work for the summer and after being impressed by my ability to listen to and follow instructions I was asked to stay on.  Summer turned into fall and I stayed on part-time my initial plans to go back to school and upgrade my degree from a general to an honors degree fell through.  When my sister decided to leave the following winter, I figured I was pretty much in it for the long haul and moved into her cubicle.  The work was challenging and even stressful at times but I knew I liked (and still do like) all the people I worked with.  To this day, I can honestly say that I do not dislike a single one of my co-workers.  Given stories I've heard from others regarding workplace drama, that's a pretty rare thing.  I've collected a fair share of customer service stories and this last Christmas I came to a shocking realization that I'm no longer ‘the new girl’ (although learning as I went I got a lot of mileage out of that title) but actually kind of a veteran around the place.  Which kind of blows my mind.  That's what happens when you just kind of show up and never go away, which is the abridged version of this story.

In other news, my asshole cat, Simon, had his visit with the vet and has been officially rendered sterile and female cats in the area rejoiced.  Bob Barker would be proud of me.  Simon, not so much.  That's a post for another day.

G'night.

A post in honor of Movember or "Dirty Porn-staches Abound"

Oh Movember.  So many dirty pornstaches.  Secretly, or not so secretly, I love it.  Last Thursday, a group of mustachioed men at karaoke lipsynched at my friend Tess and I and it was the greatest, funniest thing ever.

I'm reminded of a story of a few years back.  A co-worker of mine had grown out a rather nice goatee.  It was working for him, until he shaved off the ... um.. the 'tee and left the goat?  Is that a terrible way of putting it?  Okay well, the beard was gone, and just a mustache left.

It was distracting.

I had to say something, in the name of the public good.  "Dude," I said, being awesome and definitely not a dork and never EVER too old to use the word dude. "What is the deal with your porn-stache?"

"I beg your pardon?"
"The porn-stache.  What is up with that?"

My friend looked rather indignant.  "That's a little personal, don't you think?"

I thoroughly confused by his indignance.  Okay so my question wasn't exactly tactful, but I didn't think asking what possessed someone into a particular style statement was overly personal.  I asked him what he meant.

"I don't see that my reading material is your business, and besides that's hardly suitable conversation for work."

Light bulb.

"NO!! no no.. PORNSTACHE.  Like, Mustache?"
"Oh.. oh Jesus."

This why you choose your words carefully folks, or you may accidentally out co-workers on their questionable reading material.

If you're reading this now, I still apologize.

On that note, with Movember almost over, I leave you with this classic clip from The Tick

Of bars and bunk beds

A quiet but relatively busy weekend this weekend.  Friday night was spent moving furniture and cleaning the disaster area that is my children's room to prepare for new bunk beds.  

Back when we had the house fire we were fortunate to receive a great number of donations to replace the furniture we lost, including a beautiful set of metal bunk beds, the kind that sleeps double on the bottom and single on top.  The younger kid, about 20 months old at the time, was forced to make the transition into a 'big girl' bed rather quickly as who wants to buy a brand new crib for a kid who will likely be out of it in three months anyway?  

These bunks served us well for the last 6 years but about 8 months ago I started looking out for a set of twin bunks either for sale or by barter.  You see, the bedrooms in our little cottage are rather small, and for two growing girls, I figured I could free up a lot of floor space this way.  Plus the mattresses were getting old and the children were complaining of discomfort sleeping.  It was pretty ridiculous, but I was holding off on buying new mattresses because I still hoped for new beds  - no use buying a new double when I wasn't going to use it.  

It got to the point where the kids would rather sleep on the couch or on an easy chair than in their beds.  I'm the only person I know who still - quite reluctantly because Gawd knows, I LOVE having my bed TO MYSELF - had 'the family bed' with a 10 and 8 year old.  I was about to break down this week and buy new mattresses just so EVERYONE could get a good night's sleep when one of my dearest friends texted me to let me know she had located some bunks that would well suit my needs.  So being the Amazon I am, I dismantled the old bunks and carried the damn things out to the shed all on my own and then set to work cleaning the room, including what was once 'under the bed' - aka where socks, Webkins, spare earrings, books, more socks and barbie clothes go to die.

You know it.  Amazon.

My friend, her significant other and another friend of ours made it out to my place with the beds after having to fashion some hardware that was missing from the set.  After everything was set up I attempted to make conversation while surreptitiously gazing at my children's bedroom, in awe of all the extra floorspace.

Saturday was a day of laundry and yardwork and removing Halloween decorations, as there comes a time sometime after November where it is no longer fashionable nor socially acceptable to have dead babies on your front lawn.  Philistines.  Also, the yard was getting jungly and the freaky mysterious 'Where-the-hell-did-they-come-from' Morning Glories had long ago taken over the front porch.  They were, by this time, quite dead though so I decided maybe it was time to take my porch back.

Seriously, though.  I don't know where they came from.  I have not in my history planted Morning Glories.  My sister did when she lived there, but that was four years ago and to the best of my knowledge they are not perennials by any means.

Saturday night my other friend and her SO and I headed to Collingwood to see the Schomberg Fair... again.  This is my fourth show now so I imagine that puts me into some kind of weirdo Dead-head category now.  Truth be told, I'm going to be a little sad when these guys make it really big (which I am pretty certain is bound to happen).  I'll miss that recognition and appreciation one gets for showing up and supporting a pretty awesome trio of local musicians.

A great show, even with a smaller than usual crowd - then again, it's Collingwood and I didn't gather that the downtown had a thriving nightlife.  They played pretty much every song off the new EP, Mercy  as well as a number of older tunes I had not heard played live before.  Even "Dark was the night, Cold was the ground" which had been requested by myself at previous shows, so I was stupidly excited over that one.

Sunday the girls came home to their surprise and were quite happy with the new beds and their newish mattresses.  I haven't had any company for the last two nights and I couldn't be happier.

a little bit o' twisted nostalgia

When I first started my job, I had the pleasure of working with my sister.  At that time I was doing a lot of internet research and data entry, so I'd pop my headphones on and well.. my mind had some time to wander.

Nicky was the lucky person that got to be subjected to whatever happened to cross my mind.  I just found these emails yesterday.

Remember way back when on the Y & R and either Cricket and Danny, or Cricket and Paul had their honeymoon (or some random ‘romantic getaway’) in Newark?  Did they ever clarify which Newark it was?  Because apparently there is a Newark Delaware, and a Newark, New Jersey.   Which begs the question… How effin' lame do you have to be to honeymoon in Delaware or New Jersey?  I mean if your heart is absolutely set on Jersey, at least go to Atlantic city, so you can gamble and junk.

Just my .02

I totally stand by that sentiment.

Exciting Delaware
Wayne's World at MOVIECLIPS.com

Next:

The Business development manager for M2M Imaging is HAWT.  http://www.m2mimaging.com/aboutus/profiles.html - Cameron Barnard.

P,S.  The depths of my idiocy knows no limit.  I've been driving around without a health card or drivers licence for the last week.  Why, you ask?  Because they have been in a safe at Staples, where some good Staples employee placed them after I LEFT THEM IN THE PHOTOCOPIER.  Gah, me=moron.

I checked that link.  Sadly it appears that hottie Cameron Barnard no longer works for M2M imaging.  Sad.

I wanna make dirty monkey love to my own hair today… it looks THAT good.

Well, it DID.

I think I’m in love with Mike Ness. I also think I’m becoming a country fan.  Of the old school, not the new.  Should I be disturbed?

 A lot of thoughts came to me via the hours I spent on my iPod:

I’ve tried and tried, for years to like Rage Against the Machine.  But I just don’t.

Nicky got to be privy to some of my geological discoveries as well:

Arkansas… Copycat? 

Let’s see, first there is the spelling.  If you pronounce it how it looks, it could say “Our (pronounced ‘are’) Kansas”  It’s like they wanted to be Kansas, but it was already taken, so they decided that parcel of land would be “Our Kansas”

Now I come across a site for the Ouachita Baptist college.  Doesn’t that look like it could be pronounced like a bastardization of Wichita?  And where is Wichita? 

….

That’s right.

KANSAS.

Buncha plagiarists, I say.

 Not to mention my observations about the lovely building where we work:

I found myself in the washroom on this end of the building, and avoiding the larger stall in much the same way I avoid parking in handicapped spots.  And it occurred to me:  How odd is it to have a wheelchair stall on the upper floor of a building that is clearly not wheelchair accessible?  And I said ‘AHA! I must email Nicky…”  But once I came out of the washroom, I looked at the so-called ‘wheelchair stall’ and realizing that the door on the stall was not nearly large enough for a wheelchair to pass through.  This is not a wheelchair stall, just a case of lousy designing resulting in two average size stalls and one freakishly large one.  Curses, foiled again.

*sigh* 

 Nicky doesn't work there anymore, so I don't have her to send my random musings too.  Thank God for Twitter.

Conversations with my kid coworker: Happy International Women's day

I'm returning from a walk downtown, on my break with a grocery bag

Coworker: Ooh, what'd did you get?
Me:  Lunch, Buns and Tampons.
Coworker:  .....   That's what I get for asking.
Me: You betcha.

*pause*

Me:  I have to go to the bathroom now. 

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

I don't understand getting freaked out about buying tampons.  In honor of International Women's Day, I challenge all actively menstruating women out there to, next time you're picking up supplies, don't ask for a bag. 

Don't hide it.  Fuck.  Buy tampons.  Buy pads.  You're a girl, and a whole lot of girls have a period. Anyone who has seen a fifth-grade health class knows this.  It's not a secret.  It's not a vast conspiracy.

Don't creep up to the counter and quietly try to bury them under all your other groceries.  I dare you, women, to unapologetically plop those babies down on the conveyor, and HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH.

Why?  Because this is nature.  This is what we do.  Why would we hide it?  Why should anyone feel shame walking into a store and buying hygiene products?  Are we trying to pretend our periods don't happen?

Okay, well yeah. That's exactly it.  Because it's not pleasant.  It's kind of gross and sticky and painful and yeah, generally unpleasant.  But it's how we're made.  Don't apologize for it.

Fire, Fire, Fire. Fire in my Brain.

I woke up this morning with no alarm.  Thankfully I startled myself awake about ten minutes before I usually get up.  I showered and when I returned to my room, I was confronted with the unmistakable odor of a feline that had decided to declare something as 'His'.

My winter coat that, in a moment of sheer and utter laziness, I had dropped on the floor just behind my bedroom door upon entering the house the previous evening.  Lovely.  That will teach me to be more fastidious.

The fire alarm went off while at work today.  I promptly evacuated, and to clarify I mean that I left the building, not that I shat my pants.  Thanks, Vicky, for making sure I am more careful about that particular word in the future.

As I left I glanced at my wallet on my desk but decided to leave it.  I did grab my coat, as why escape a potentially burning building, only to die of exposure to the cold.  This is Canada, after all.  Always thinking.

As I stood in the parking lot with three out of my roughly 15 to 20 co-workers, along with a handful of Tim Horton's employees, I wondered what all of our elementary school teachers would think of this gross lack of respect for the fire bell.  In the time it took our staff to wander their way out, half of us could have been dead.

Source

I entertained the fantasy that if the building was indeed about to burn to the ground with my wallet and all identification within, I could jump in my car and assume a new identity in a new place.  I could be a dancer, or a surly truckstop waitress, or join a carnival.  I could buy a farm and grow tomatoes and sell pie at the side of the road.  I'd send for the children and they could join me.  We'd live in relative obscurity, off the grid.  Maybe open a small restaurant.  The cats would be left the little dollhouse, free to leave their smellieness where-ever they please.

Like Edward Norton's character in the 25th hour, just drive.  "Nothing at all for miles around"  Like Monty Brogan in that fantastic ending, that ending that you are never quite sure is the actual ending or just a work of Monty's imagination.  Like that, but without all the drug charges and such.

There was no fire.  I returned to my desk.  My wallet was there, my identity safely tucked inside each of the little slits meant to hold licenses, credit cards, rewards cards.  Life goes on as usual.

Sometimes, my mind wanders.

Rip-snortin' ass-kickin' Sunday Round-up

Pretty darn good.  That's probably my best way to describe this weekend.  No complaints here.

Friday night I picked up some Sushi for dinner at the local RCSS, and since they've changed the delivery day to Friday, it was very very fresh.  I really want to go out for actual restaurant sushi but I'm good with grocery store grade in the meantime.

Headed down to the Legion for karaoke with mom and Sharon.  Dad was already there for darts.  I haven't been out since before Christmas so I was having some withdrawal.  Ended up having a blast and getting some work out of the deal.  Looks like I might have a gig hosting the karaoke night on my kid-free Fridays.  I go in on the 11th so that Lance, our current KJ can train me on the equipment.  Pretty awesome.  Some extra cash to go towards my house-downpayment-fund for two nights work a month, for being where I might already be any given Friday.  Can't beat that.

Speaking of house hunting, mortgage calculators of the ilk that you find on real estate sites are bullshit, and depressing as hell.  According to the mortgage calculator, I can afford roughly $278 a month for a mortgage (which puts me at about $38,000 for a house.  I can't get a mobile home for that little around here).  I pay $700 bucks a month rent, plus hydro and I am not behind on my bills, and I'm managing to pay down my debt so CLEARLY I can afford more than $278 a month for a mortgage.

So eat me, mortgage calculator.

Back to happier things.  While at the Legion a group of about 10 snowmobilers/cottagers from Strathroy come walking in, most of them around my age (couple older dudes, and at least one paperboy).  My first thought, as one of the youngest available women in the Legion was "Oh! Hello Boys! Happy Birthday to Me!"

Normally I'm about as socially awkward as they come but on Friday, whether it was the beer or just a general sense of well-being and oneness with the world coupled with just feeling like holy-shit-I-am-one-hawt-mamma I was kind of on that night and lapping up the attention, especially from one of the cuter guys, who bought me a beer and asked for a dance.  He was a riot, and we spun and twirled and made clumsy attempts at dipping while his friends hooted and hollered and we all sang along to any given songs.  What a fun bunch they were, and I was feeling full of confidence.

Saturday I got up and went into town to take some clothes to the Salvation army and attempted to find a plain wood frame I to use for this print that I bought at the craft sale I did a few weeks back.  I can't for the life of me remember the photographer's name but if I remember it I will link back. In the meantime, please, no one steal this image, kay?  I'd feel really bad if you did.   'preciate it.  I just want a plain wood frame so I can paint it.  I'm thinking either red with white polka dots, or black with white polka dots.

Got a source now - Corey Ramsbottom Photography

Saturday afternoon I went ice skating with my friend Tessa and her boyfriend and her kids.  My ankles felt like jelly and I think I need to invest in some hockey skates.  I think they'd be more conducive to my skating style than the figure skates I currently have.   We left soon after Tess fell and bruised her arm pretty good, which was unfortunate and quite surprising since Vegas odds would be on me being the one that wiped out, but I miraculously didn't fall once.

Saturday night I grabbed my guitar and headed to the local church for their coffee house night.  I showed up a bit late so as a result I was dead-last on the roster, but I held out and managed to get a few songs in.

Here's what I played:

When I Come Back - NQ Arbuckle and Carolyn Mark (I posted a vid of myself playing this a while back.  You can see it here)

I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory - Kathleen Edwards (I've always kind of considered her a poor-man's Sarah Harmer, but I enjoy this tune a lot.)


Tina's Glorious Comeback - Dan Mangan (Future Husband and Stepfather to my children.  I wish.)

If You're Gonna Be Dumb You Gotta Be Tough - Karen O (This song is fun as hell to play)

Just a little Open Mic Ettiquette 101.  Everyone wants a chance to play.  If the mode number of songs people are playing is four, it might be poor form to play seven,  you know?

Because I was very last on the bill, I was a little late to catch the free show being put on by Run With The Kittens at one of the local restaurants, but I did manage to make it about halfway through their first set.  I've never actually heard of them before, but I found them enjoyable.  Their sound is an odd mix of experimental sounds and blues-based rock.  When I listened to them, all I could think of was the Moldy Peaches tune Downloading Porn with Davo (NSFW people).  Later I found a similarity to catl as well.

Sadly, although a great restaurant, I found the Explorer's Cafe lacking as a live music venue.  Lacking space to move, that is, so I left at the intermission as my claustrophobic tendencies were making me a bit twitchy.

Today was laundry and grocery shopping day.  I met up with my mom and sister at the seventh circle of hell and promtly informed them that I was totally compromising my principles just to hang out with them, because I rarely shop at Wal-Mart if I can avoid it.

Feeling accomplished as I managed to make both Jello and Rice Krispie Squares for the girls lunches. Making them homemade is way cheaper than buying these things. A box of Jello costs about 69 cents and makes around six servings.. a pack of jello cups is about 2.99 and they have four.

With a box of Rice Krispies (4.99), three bags of marshmallows (@1.27 each, so $3.75 let's say) and a half pound of butter (1.50) you can make 4-6 dozen rice Krispie squares.  A box of 8 individually wrapped ones are about 2.99.  Plus by making the stuff, you get around the litterless lunch manifesto of the schools.

Don't get me wrong,  I love the idea of a litterless lunch, and we should all do our parts to cut down on garbage.  But telling a kid to take a granola bar out of it's wrapper and bring it in a container is bullshit.  And I doubt the school is going to come to my house and wash all my bloody plastic containers.  So I tell the girls "No, it's not litterless, but it's still less litter."

Who is Snoop Dogg and Why is he hanging around my dog house?

Today, over at Simple Dude in a Complex World, SD posted a blog about internet porn, which reminded me of a story from my convenience store days.

For most of my early 20's I worked off and on for a independently run Convenience store (as opposed to a chain like 7-11 or Mac's).  Our magazine rack was topped off by what was possibly the largest collection of porn to be found outside of any adults-only shop.  We also had a wide array of X-rated video-cassettes for sale, well out of reach of any young shoppers.

In SD's post he questions why anyone still buys porn when it's readily available on the internet.  I maintain that some people would rather shell out cash for DVD's than to pay someone to clean their hard-drive once a month.  Much like in real-life, the cheaper and easier porn is to acquire, the better chance of picking up a virus.

I have two stories related to the giant porno-fest that was the top-shelf of our magazine racks that stick out in my mind to this day.  One day, a girl about my own age comes in, and furtively starts checking through the tapes.  After picking one out, she approaches the counter, eyes down.  I ring it up, trying my damnedest not to smirk, but I'm kind of a child so I'm not doing a great job.

"It's not for me."
"Okay." It's none of my business, you know?
"It's my friend's birthday and we want to get him a gag gift.  My asshole friends made me buy it so they don't look like perv's."
"No worries.  That'll be [book value of VHS porn circa 2001], please"

She pays, takes the tape and skulks out.  I allow myself a bit of a giggle.  A few minutes later, the door jingles and she comes back in, beet red in the face.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"I can't fucking believe I'm asking you this...", she says, grumbling.  "Do you have anything with more lesbians?  Apparently I picked the wrong one because it doesn't have enough friggin' LESBIANS."
"I.. uh.. um.. don't really know what the um.. lesbian ratio is on any of these movies.  I haven't seen them.  Sorry."
"*sigh* it's okay.  gah. Idiots."

Goes over to shelf, grumbling to herself.  Comes back and slams another tape down on the counter and proclaims "I'm getting this one and if they don't like they can bloody well come back here and pick one themselves!!"

My other story involves a group of about 3 college aged guys that came in one day.   I smiled and giggled to myself as they were very loudly talking about the selection and I got the impression that this was another gag gift purchase.  They made no bones about being in a small-town convenience store buying porn, and I was having a hard time hiding my amusement.

Now, although I was fully aware that we had a well-stocked porn selection, I can't say I was real familiar with the specific titles we carried.  So I was totally unprepared when they came up and put this on the counter:

Source

I lost my shit, right then and there.  At that point in time I was complete unaware that Snoop Dogg had even produced porn, let alone that we had this little nugget right in our little convenience store.

I lost it.  In a completely uncompromising professional manner,  I started laughing hysterically and could not stop.  I tried to duck down behind the counter, but that was a completely pointless pursuit, so between giants gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath, tears streaming down my face, I attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry... hahah... I just... I mean I didn't know... SNOOP DOGG... BWAHHAHAHAH... omg.. don't mean to... *gasp* ... just didn't know... *giggle*  ....I'm so sorry.. *gasp*.... heheheheheh"

The guys, being in the jovial mood that they were, took my embarrassment from my outburst and just ran with it, feigning great indignance.

"Well, I never!"
"Where's your sense of professionalism?"
"They wouldn't have treated us like this at the Triple-X store!"

Finally I managed to catch my breath and ring them through, but I continued to giggle like an idiot for a good hour after they left.

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

In other news, my friend Sean who blogs over at SeansJeep got called last night for the lung transplant he's been waiting on.  Last update was that he had come out of surgery with no complications.  So, although he's not completely out of the woods, that is very very good news indeed.  He's got a great support system and we've all be sending our thoughts, prayers, hoodoo and whatnot out for a good recovery.

Karaokeing tonight, haven't been down to the Legion since before Christmas I believe.  Feel like having some beers and belting some tunes.  There's a coffeehouse tomorrow night as well at a local church so I'll be packing the guitar up  and playing some songs there as well.

Enjoy your weekend, all.

The pain of age and impending cultural irrelevance.

I'm gettin' old.  I'm training a new guy at work on the system I work on and I had expressed excitement about the Finger Eleven show that I'm going to tomorrow night.

Blank stare.  No idea.  This is not the first time my cultural references have gone over the young lad's head.  Some of my references are pretty obscure but I thought this'd be an easy one.  No such luck.  So we had a laugh and I mentioned that it made me feel kind of old.

Not as old as this, however:

I mentioned feeling old when I saw this.  He didn't know who Nirvana was.  I was in shock.  I had to explain who they were and how Kurt Cobain's suicide was one of the uniting events in the adolescences of my particular age cohort.

No idea.

When you figure this all took place around '92/93 it doesn't seem like that long ago.  It's when you figure his death was EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO that I start to go "Oh.. fuuuuuu.  I'm OLD.  Like, older than Dirt (which, incidentally, also came out around the same time)."

Is it sick that part of me secretly hopes that this is not so much a case of my own impending irrelevance but maybe a situation where maybe my co-workers parent's kept him in a closet for the better part of the formative years?  Yeah, it's probably really sick.   Add another bouncer and a VIP lounge to my special place in Hell.

If you're reading this, I don't REALLY hope you were locked up for the better part of your life by your parents and if you were, I'm sorry, that's horrifying.

It's probably even more sick that this scenario puts me in mind of one of my favorite Kids in the Hall sketches:

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

In other news, I've been given another blog award, this time from Bruce at Just Another Day in Paradise.  It seems I'm amusing to some.  This gives me the warm fuzzies.

So the rules for this one are as follows:

1. Link to the person who awarded you:  Done.
2. Seven unknown facts about yourself: Done.
3. Award to seven other people - I'll get back to ya.

So all these random facts get overwhelming but I'll see what I can do.. I'm gonna get back to y'all on the recipients, as it may take me a while to pick em all.

• I'm descended from the Clan Campbell whose claim to infamy was the Glencoe Massacre of 1692.  Oh yeah.  We are bad-assed Scots.
• I was reprimanded in high school on Tacky Tourist day for wearing a T-Shirt promoting Puerto Vallarta that read "Lick It, Suck It, Slam It."  Seems this was innapropriate for school.
• The first two songs I learned on guitar were Knockin' on Heaven's Door and The Needle and the Damage Done
• As a child I was assessed as gifted.  Smirking my parents asked the school "so what, she could be a brain surgeon or something?" the psychologist looked them dead in the eye and was like "Yeah, she could"
• My left leg is about 1.5 centimetres bigger around than the right leg.
• I used to swim competitively.  Couldn't win a race to save my life, but I competed.
• I have a lisp that manifests itself in slushy sounding 'S's, although I am told it has become less noticeable in recent years.

Goals (a Venn Diagram)

My basic conundrum:

You see my problem here?  Yeah.  Thought so.

Secret Santa, Office Style

Once again, I consider myself lucky to work with a great bunch of people.  We did our Secret Santa christmas exchange today, which generally has two parts.. opening the gifts, then trying to figure out who bought yours.  I was a little worried about my own choice this year.  The guy whose name I got, well, we have some unfortunate history.  Living in a small town, this is not a rare occurence.  Hell it's pretty much guaranteed to not six, but more likely 2 degrees of separation.

At any rate, myself and who we'll call Mr. R (as in Recipient) have the unfortunate history of having gone to high school together, and we were not exactly what you'd call bestest buddies.  I think it'd be pretty safe to say we hated each other.  He was mean to me, and I can admit, I was a pretty malicious bitch to him as well.

I am not proud.

So roughly 2-3 years ago, Mr. R comes to work with us, which was pretty awkward for me.  I decided rather than get all weird, I'd take the mindset that "Hey, high school was 10 years ago.  I've grown up in that time, it's entirely possible he has too."  Thankfully, I've not been wrong about that, but I think the concern may have been mutual, because for a long long time around the office, we were excruciatingly polite to one another, to the point that it's kind of funny to look back on now.

So, gift-buying for someone with whom you once shared a mutual loathing can be harrowing.  Humorous gifts are tricky because what you think is funny could be construed by another as a passive-agressive declaration of war.  Or maybe I just overthink.  Anyway,   I think I did okay with bike-themed buttons.  Not my most inspired gift idea, and it would have been more effective if they had gotten here in time for the exchange, but Canada Post is an imperfect institution.

Myself, I was gifted with a set of guitar strings (with bonus decal! more stickers for Juicy Fruit!) and a bag of little round chocogasm balls.. I mean Lindor chocolates.  I had a hard time guessing who my gifter was, since i think it's almost common knowledge that I play guitar, but through the process of elimination it was eventually figured out.

MY guitar strings are celebrity endorsed.. are yours?

There was a bacon theme with the gifts this year, with at least four people receiving bacon-themed gifts.  My personal favorite was the bacon T-shirt one girl recieved.  Keep in mind my T-shirt fascination.

The first year I was with this company, we did the gift exchange, and I made a royal ass of myself.  At this point, I had been doing the weight watcher thing for about 8 months and had lost about 25 lbs, through busting my ass.

So I was admittedly less than thrilled to have been gifted with what was possibly the biggest motherfucking tin of cookies I had ever seen in my entire life.  Pretty and decorative, and yummy but holy shit, this tin was GINORMOUS.  There must have been 500 cookies in the damn thing.  Really?

I tried to be gracious about it, but I was admittedly not doing a good job.  Part of me wondered if my gifter was some insensitive thoughtless person just went "Oh, I got the fat chick.  Fat chicks like cookies, I'll just get cookies."  So when I found out that my gifter was a co-worker who I actually like and respect a lot, I felt like a complete assbag because A) he was sitting right behind me as I made my not so-successful attempt at graciousness; and B) because this person would not have given cookies for lack of any better idea, but would have because to them, cookies would be THE BEST GIFT EVER.  So yeah, I've felt kind of bad for that ever since.

If you stumble across this, I'm a jackass, my apologies.

Oddly enough, I'm trying to remember who I had to buy for that first year, and I've been drawing a total blank.

Posted in response to a post by Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka.  Go, Read, and Love.

BRAF. That is all.

Got a bug, it seems.

I had to leave my kick-boxing class early last night.  I was feeling kind of gross and bloaty upon leaving work, but I chalked it up to coffee OD.  Usually some hearty excercise is enough to get me feeling better.  However, after warm up and a round of jabbing and crossing while madly leaping around the room, I felt rather nauseated, and my body was hurting but not the good way it usually does during class.  So after attempting another round of increasingly high kicks and round houses, I decided I needed to go home.

By the time I got home I felt absolutely terrible and shaky.  I threw on a movie (rewatched The Trotsky - you can see my review here), and nearly fell asleep during it.  After putting the girls to bed, I tried to sit up a bit, then promptly ran to the bathroom and threw up, after which my body temperature dropped about 6 billion degrees and I was shaking uncontrollably.

In opposition to my usual night-owlishness, I went to bed around 9:45, under my duvet and a couple more layers of blankets.  I dreamed weird dreams, of which I remember little except for their weirdness.  Woke up drenched in sweat, and cursing my alarm (what else is new?)  For reasons unknown, even after a dizzy spell in the shower I still made my way into work.  Chomping back some ibuprofen seemed to help with the aches, but now I'm home and chilly and gross again.

The kids are eating Pizza mini's for dinner, because I'm totally half-assing it on the mom front tonight.  I'm hoping they clean their room without a fight, because frankly I'm too blah to really argue about it.

Time to retire to the chesterfield.  Yes, I said chesterfield.  This bugger is too damn big, heavy and unweildly to settle for the mere label of couch.

All shall quiver in the face of the immensity that is the

CHESTERFIELD!!!!!!

Snowbound

I'm working from home today as I think I may have contracted pinkeye from my friend's child, and none of my co-workers need to catch that shit.  That's the logical conclusion I've reached, anyway, since i woke up this morning and my left eye was beet red, with some goo, and itchy as all hell.  (I think, if there is a hell, there'd be plenty of itching involved, as it's definitely one of the more irritating sensations one can have).

I've come to the conclusion that I love the idea of working from home, but in my current profession, the reality doesn't match the fantasy.  I miss the double screen at work, and in my wee cubicle, there's no piles of laundry and dirty floors mocking me.  Those are someone else' problem.  And it's a snow day, so the ladies are here, and unnaturally loud.  Distracting.

I set myself up my first Etsy Treasury yesterday.  I'm a bit of a comic nerd (not hardcore or anything.. my budget doesn't really allow for it) but I love stuff with superhero themes.  Go, look, comment, click on stuff.  Apparently the more comments, the more of a chance that it gets featured on the home page.  I'm at 15 clicks right now.

I've got a few things ready to list soon.  I'm going to try and list a bunch of stuff at the same time, as I don't find I get much traffic listing one or two things at a time.  I have two new switchplates, one featuring Deadpool and one made from an old cover of the cassette version of Guns N Roses Lies EP.  I haven't taken pictures of these yet. 

About a year ago I bought three small pier 1 frames at the Salvation army that I knew i could do something fun with.  Finally inspiration struck, and I came up with these:

I got the idea from www.latfh.com.  I'm hoping that having pimped their site, they'll hesitate before sending me out a cease and desist order like the one I received from the estate of Shel Silverstein.


It was fantastic staying in last Friday and just having a few glasses of wine and creating.  I have a few painting ideas, and some ideas for coaster sets.  I wish I had thought of this stuff before Christmas, but such is life.  Up goes the tree tonight.

God help us all..

Dear Buyer,

When an email from a seller says 'Smartphone Sent', it indicates that the email has been sent from a Smartphone.

It does NOT mean that he is sending you a Smartphone.

Relax, already.

Sincerely,
The HelpDesk.

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.

This is me and here's my song...

So just some updates in general:

Wrangled me up a guest for my staff xmas party.  So that's fun, looking forward to it.

I'm quite excited about some changes in my workplace duties that have been taking place.  Normally to protect the innocent I try not to blog too much about work, and when I do, I like to keep it as vague and anonymous as possible,  but from past posts it can usually be assumed that I A) work for an internet company and B) I was in the Customer Service end of it.  Recent changes have my duties focusing less on customer service and more on web content and marketing via social networking, plus some SEOing which i find funny, because in some of my other duties, I've grown to have a vague contempt for SEO guys, mainly due to their tendency to play around with web-sites.  If I had the time and motivation to explain the one area of my job, my contempt would be easier to understand.  However in the name of again, keeping things rather anonymous, and reducing confusion I'll just say SEO guys make my life difficult so it's funny that in other aspects, I'm kind of becoming one, and leave it at that.


At any rate, the changes in my job description have been interesting in a good way, since I'm finding I'm actually excited about work, this past week, and feeling my potential to be a greater contributor overall.  Although for the most part I generally like my workplace and get along with my co-workers, customer service can be a soul-sucking exercise in frustration and futility that leaves me at the end of the day weeping for the state of humanity and the average's person's complete unwillingness and/or inability to click, scroll, read or otherwise do ANYTHING that would help them figure out things for themselves.  So some days I'm less than enthusiastic about making the 10 minute commute.  So to be excited and looking forward to new tasks and projects is a good thing, indeed.


Not started my Christmas shopping yet.  No big surprises there.

Spent some quality time with the guitar tonight, as there's a coffee house I plan on attending tomorrow night with the girls.  My parents have asked me to take some pictures for their magazine, [pimp]The Tay Township Report [/pimp], as my dad will be working and mom is entertaining.

This particular song has been eluding me for months, despite a relatively simple chord structure.  It's the odd syncopated rhythm that threw me off, and the face that as a relatively unknown performer, except perhaps among the alt-country crowds, NQ Arbuckle is kind of difficult to find tabs for online.

Yeah.. took me three tries to record this, and I still screwed up near the end.  Such is life. Just glad I have it down now.

A picture of Matt Good showed up in my Facebook feed, and I was struck again by the whole 'ugly-hot' phenomenon that guys, especially in the field of rock stars, are able to pull off.  There's a distinct subset of men that while nowhere near what could be called conventionally handsome, are able to make suck in my breathe and momentarily forget what I am doing.   Some less enlightened folks may chalk it up to money+power=sexy, but I think it's more attitude that plays into it, along with the whole creative mystique.  I don't see it as often in sports figures or politicians, but then again, I'm less inclined to pay attention to these types as I am musicians, artists, writers, etc.

Oh, Hai, Matt Good.  You want me come away with you?  mmkay.

I'm thinking I may start a theme day, something like 'Reverse Objectification Friday's' so I can just arbitrarily post pictures of dudes that provoke thoughts in my head of the type that would at best, make old lady's blush and at worse, make baby Jesus cry.

Because hell, who doesn't love a good theme day?