Monday 11 November 2013

I think he drank the gravy train

As a Canadian, I consider it my patriotic duty to make fun of other countries governments, particularly the US. Between shutting down the government (which really amounted to a right-wing tantrum...grow up and learn to play nice with the adults, asshats), Michelle Bachmann (I believe I don't even need to say anything here), the anti-gay marriage sentiment (because straight people have been such a shining example of successful marriage) , Michelle Bachmann (seriously people, who voted this nutbag into any sort of position of authority??) and the inexplicable argument over healthcare (Healthcare for all citizens?? That's communism!! How dare people believe they have a right to not die because they can't afford to seek medical treatment?), American politics have long been a comedic goldmine. Of course, the US gives it back to Canada, ribbing us about riding polar bears to work, mainlining double-doubles from Timmies and the fact our mounties wear the stupidest looking pants in the universe. However, most of that shit rolls off out backs because we secretly feel superior.

Until now. Thanks to Rob Ford. The crack-smoking, drunk, sweaty, inappropriately hands-y mayor of Toronto. As a Canadian, I'm slightly embarrassed and realizing karma just punched Canadians in the esophagus with a dirty old crackpipe. As a person who appreciates an amazing political trainwreck, this is comedy gold. No, platinum. Seriously, watching this thing play out in the news has been breath-taking in it's unbelievability. Public appearances while hammered, close associations with drug traffickers, narcissistic statements, death threats, propositioning and groping a female mayoral candidate...just a few highlights of His Sweatiness's track record of bizarre behaviour that was recently capped off with a video of him smoking crack (for a comprehensive timeline, I will direct you to this blog post, which has probably put the authour at the top of Rob Ford's hit list and very likely gave birth to a rant very much like this one (fyi: surprisingly, Mr Ford manages to making it all the way through this video rant without stroking out. Impressive. And leaves me thinking he sold his soul to some evil entity in exchange for an extremely high drug tolerance and unlimited doughnuts).

So, without further ado, allow me to showcase some of the internet hilarity that has become the legacy of Toronto's mayor...

Toronto, you have some explaining to do

Sunday 7 July 2013

What's next? Anally shooting jellybeans at a moving target??

As a parent, I fight a constant mental battle between wanting to fashion a suit for my kid out of kevlar and bubble wrap and lock him in his room until he turns 30, vs letting him make his own choices, mistakes and decisions that will allow him to grow up into a happy, well-adjusted adult. Usually I take the latter route, partly because I was raised by a very strict disciplinarian father who was (and still is) a major control freak, and I know how much that contributed to a lot of the issues and dysfunctions I have as an adult (not to mention an often-tumultuous relationship with my dad even now). I swore to myself when I gave birth to my son I would not be that parent...that especially when he became a teenager, I would allow him a reasonable amount of freedom and wisely choose my battles. I wouldn't scream or dictate or rule my household with fear as my weapon. And in turn, he would not do the sort of dumbass shit that would give me multiple heart attacks. But even if he did, I was prepared, because I too was a dumbassed teenager once, and figured I knew exactly the sort of dumbassery to expect.

Until he actually became a teenager and I discovered a whole new level of teenaged stupidity disguised as internet "challenges". Apparently getting blackout drunk at lake parties or tying a pallet to the back of a truck and going road-sledding is not quite dumbassed enough for this generation. Snorting condoms and seeing how long you can asphyxiate yourself without accidentally dying is the new 6 pack and a bag of weed. I've already had those uncomfortable conversations with Spielberg about drinking, drugs, sex, STD's, teen pregnancy, internet privacy, and I made him watch Project X to make him believe that any house party he ever would throw in my absence would potentially end with 2000 uninvited guests, an insane drug dealer with a flamethrower and complete destruction of the entire neighbourhood, resulting in millions of dollars in damages, plus a criminal record (lessons learned: do not ever announce you are having a party on any part of the internet. Also, do not steal a drug dealer's garden gnome, because it could be full of Ecstasy and he'll probably want it back).

Anyfuckingways, a couple weeks ago we were watching a Criminal Minds episode about these kids who died playing this online choking game where they would see how long they could asphyxiate themselves for points. I found myself having to grill Spielberg to see if he ever heard of anyone doing this, explain how stupid and dangerous it could be and to make him promise he would never ever do anything that retarded and that he would tell me immediately if he ever came across anything remotely like that online. He seemed a little offended that I would question his intelligence like that and also a little shocked that anyone would choke themselves for shits and giggles, and I seriously could not believe I even had to have this conversation with my 13 year old, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW.

Then the other day I saw this thing on facebook about kids who are snorting condoms and posting it on YouTube (yes, that would be snorting a condom up your nose and have it come out the back of your mouth. Lubed, for your pleasure. Did you just throw up in your mouth a little? I know I did). Apparently YouTube has cracked down and deleted most of the videos, but before they did, at least a couple hundred THOUSAND kids filmed themselves doing the Condom Challenge. I did some stupid things in my day but I can assure you, I never would have voluntarily jammed a slimy piece of latex up my nose and gagged it out of my throat and then stuck a vid of it on the internet so all the world could bask in my epic stupidity. And now I have to have a conversation with my son about the perils of condom snorting, which I'm pretty sure will go down in history as The Most Idiotic Thing I Ever Had To Warn My Kid Not To Do Because If I Don't And He Decides To Choke To Death On A Condom I Will Never Forgive Myself For Thinking This Was Too Stupid To Mention.

I was thinking that I'm off the hook once he hits about 25 and can breathe a sigh of relief that he will have left that level of stupidity behind. Then I remembered my boyfriend's text yesterday, telling me how he almost got struck by lightning at work, and I quote "Yeah, it's right over our heads. Really fucking close. Awesome!!" and realize he's 41 and still enjoys taunting the threat of death with a happily up-thrusted middle finger. So I may be still be screwed even when my kid is an adult if he suffers from Peter-Pan-The-Adrenaline-Junkie Syndrome

Thursday 20 June 2013

Smelly armpits and junk-punching protocol

Today's Theme Thursday topic is concerts, something I have limited experience with, outside of my kid's school concerts, which up until this year weren't really concerts as much as loud noises and an exercise in auditory pain tolerance. My conundrum with concerts is this: while I enjoy the musical thrashy stylings of bands such as Korn, Saliva and Motley Crue, I do not enjoy mosh pits, getting elbowed in the face or having my ass grabbed by a random. Unless we are currently having intimate relations or we're good friends, do not grab my ass unless you enjoy being punched in the junk. And since I think junk-punching is a violation of mosh-pit protocol, this is part of why I avoid any situation that requires moshing. That, and my idea of a good time does not involve my face in someone's unwashed, smelly armpit or having my hair accidentally set on fire with a lighter during an epic rendition of "Home Sweet Home".

The last concert I went to was an Elton John show in Las Vegas. I'm not a huge EJ fan, but I ended up enjoying the hell out of it because 1) everyone stayed sitting in their seats instead of standing in them and  spending 2 hours getting knocked over by some asshat running up and down the aisle was nice, 2) there was a bar and after 5 large cocktails I decided I loved Elton John, as well as everyone sitting in the vicinity, which I think I proclaimed rather loudly every 5 minutes, 3) the whole audience got free feather boas to wear, and 4) the people sitting next to us won their tickets from a "what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done" radio contest and I laughed so hard at her story about how she attacked some guy in a parking garage elevator because she thought he was a rapist but as it turns out he was only trying to push the button for the floor he was going to, and got kicked in the nuts and stabbed with her car keys for his efforts. After the paramedics came and stitched up his face, she apologized profusely and felt so bad she insisted on calling his wife to explain why her husband was coming home with 6 stitches and bruised testicles. Hands down, the best story I ever heard and totally worth of winning a radio contest.

That experience was completely different from the Metallic concert I attended in the early 90's, which made me swear off concerts altogether. To start with, the floor area was seated, which was fucking stupid, because NO ONE at a Metallica concert is going to sit calmly in their assigned seats. We were 10th row center, which was awesome until the concert started and it turned into a fucking free-for-all. I was forced to punch at least 3 guys in the junk, the smell of armpits hung in the air like a toxic cloud and I was deaf for a week after. While it was cool to see my beloved Metallica rock the shit out of that stadium, all the pummeling and chaos was too much for me and I decided the only way to see a concert was from a VIP box that served top-shelf booze and snacks, where boob-grabbing was kept to a minimum and only done by invitation, and the only chance of getting a concussion was from a drunken wipeout due to all that fine, fine top-shelf booze.

So until I can afford to avoid the unwashed masses and smugly perch high in my tower that provides bottle service, the only concerts I will be attending are Spielberg's, where I can listen to high schoolers murder the theme to Mission Impossible and not worry about having to punch anyone in the junk

Tuesday 18 June 2013

It's not the hard way as much as the completely stupid way

Most of the time I'm a fairy logical person who looks for the most reasonable solution to a problem. I'm a firm believer in simplicity, because life is already full of difficult shit you can't avoid, so given a choice between simple and easy vs complex and stupidly hard, I tend to go with the former.

The key phrase here is "most of the time" Because the rest of the time I choose the more difficult path for no other reason than stubbornness and some weird compulsion that I can't explain. Every time I get to the end of whatever ridiculousness my brain decided was a really good idea but in fact was probably the worst idea in the history of ever, I wonder what the fuck I was thinking and swear to myself I will never attempt to operate at that level of dumbassery again. The problem is all the dumbassery comes with a form of amnesia, that causes me to forget what a bad idea something was in the first place and I am doomed to make certain mistakes over and over again, possibly because I think this time will be different, even though it never ever is.

You would think I'd learn. You'd most certainly be wrong.

Example:  DIY redneck projects

While I'm in love with the whole idea of redneck solutions to everyday problems, and think rednecks are the unsung heros of ingenuity, my problem has less to do with the creativity part and more (ok, everything) to do with the actual engineering of DIY projects. I cannot build, renovate or jerry-rig anything without it being a huge production that takes far more time than it's worth and more often than not it becomes a shitshow rife with swearing, injuries and regret for ever thinking whatever I tried to do was a good idea in the first place. Also the end result is never is pleasing to the eye and has the distinct possibility of falling apart if you even look at it wrong.

I finally bought an air conditioner for my living room because my apartment gets hotter than satan's asshole in the summer. The building I live in has a strata council that frowns upon such things as using plywood to block the area above the air conditioner because it looks tacky (note: the strata council also does not approve of putting tinfoil window treatments as an attempt to block out the summer heat and light, giving your apartment a pleasant cave-like quality, plus the added bonus of your bedroom having a futuristic/disco-ball-like decor. Something about it looking like a marijuana growshow from the outside) My long term solution to this problem is to have a piece of plexiglass cut to fit in the space between the AC and the sliding glass door frame.

 However, I needed a short term solution because I haven't got the plexiglass yet and I don't want to wait to turn my living room into the Arctic Circle. So yesterday I spent 3 hours trying to construct a temporary barrier and it did not go well. First I was going to use the cardboard box the AC came in but discovered 1) I was out of duct tape 2) I can't find the stapler 3) eyeballing and measuring are not the same thing 4) a dull steak knife is not a good replacement for a boxcutter, and 5) the cardboard idea was a waste of time once I remembered cardboard is not waterproof, so unless I wrapped the whole thing in duct tape (which I didn't have) or tinfoil (and suffer the wrath of the strata council), I just spent an hour of my life I will never get back on something that was totally pointless.

Attempt #2 was better. Marginally. I went to the hardware store and bought a big sheet of foamcore (that stuff that is kind of like cardboard but made out of plastic), duct tape (white, to match the board) and a box cutter. The first issue was the piece of foamcore would not fit in my car, so I took it back in and they cut it in half, after which it still would not fit until I jammed it in the back and bent the shit out of it. Much swearing ensured on the car ride home. And after another 2 hours of cutting (without measuring), duct taping, more swearing and only one time of getting duct tape stuck in my hair plus 3 near accidental self-stabbings with the box cutter, my masterpiece was finished and working. Or so I thought until this morning when I came out and saw the stupid foam core was bowing inward and needed to be reinforced. Which I did with a hurley stick (gift from an Irish friend that's like a field hockey stick but way more badass) and a stack of hardcover books

It looks much better and way less ghetto from the outside because you can't see the hurley stick, books or the half a roll of duct tape I used. And in case any of the strata people see this, it's TEMPORARY, dammit
Right about now you are probably asking yourself "why the hell would she not have just ordered a piece of plexiglass instead of spending hours constructing whatever the fuck this thing is supposed to be??"

Trust me. I'm asking myself the same thing right now.

Sunday 16 June 2013

Your vagina renders you ineligible for Father Of The Year Award. Who knew?

You would think that a day that celebrates parenting would be pretty straight-forward and non-controversial. Apparently, you'd be wrong. When the hell did Father's Day turn into a catalyst for debate over gender roles, and an opportunity to suggest single mothers are egotistical and selfish, and the lack of a good male role model in their kid's lives rests solely on her shoulders? Sorry, I must have missed that memo.

I was scrolling through fb this morning, reading all the nice Father's Day statuses and then came upon this link which is one woman's rather bitter-sounding opinion that suggests single moms who fulfill the role of both mother and father have no right to celebrate Father's Day because they are not men. The article goes on to further suggest that single moms are egotistical whiny bitches who made the bad decision to allow herself to get knocked up by some fuckwit that never wanted her in the first place (I'm summarizing the article here, but this is exactly what I took away from reading it).

After several re-reads all while choking on my own outrage, I calmed the fuck down and decided voice my 2 cents, which, as we all know, is actually worth about .000004371 cents on the internet when you factor in the whole "internet opinions are like assholes...everyone has one. Or several. Especially if you're an alien from the planet Rectum, a yet-to-be-discovered, far-flung planet where the lifeforms have multiple anuses and use all the poop as a power source" thing.

First of all, the only part of the article I agree with is the fact that women are not men. Mostly because of the obvious penis/vagina difference. I do understand and agree that children need a strong, positive male role model in their lives. But that is where my agreement with this writer ends. In a perfect world, children would have a whole tribe of positive role models and influences in their lives to love, nurture and teach them to grow up to be responsible, caring adults. Unfortunately we do not live in a perfect world and we have to do the very best we can with what we have to work with, and often that means single parents of BOTH genders end up doing double-duty, not because they're a bunch of self-absorbed asshats that deliberately made bad life-choices, but because of circumstance and the fact that some things are beyond our control. I certainly never planned on getting divorced and having my son live with me only 50% of the time, but should I have stayed in an unhappy marriage and have the consequence of that be to have my son grow up thinking that  marriage equals living in seperate parts of the house and barely speaking to each other? How the hell is he going to learn what a happy and healthy relationship is if his parent's broken relationship is setting the standard? Divorce is never ideal, but it's a hell of a lot better than letting your kid see you and your ex being miserable together and thinking that's what marriage and relationships are.

Secondly, while I am fortunate to now have an very amicable relationship with my ex, not everyone is that lucky. I have several friends who are single parents with an ex that has sweet-fuck-all to do with their kids, so they have to be mother and father because their ex is an irresponsible fuckwad. To lay the blame at the feet of the person who is the only parent their kid has is utter bullshit. It takes two people to make a baby and to suggest that women are "too blinded by their own ego to make decisions in the best interest of her children" is stunningly judgmental and asserts that all single moms deliberately made shitty choices and are raising a generation of children who are doomed to be fucked up because their moms are idiots. I'm not sure what parallel universe this writer is living in, but it must be nice to be so fucking self-righteous to declare that single mothers who enjoy being acknowledged on Father's Day for doing the job of both parents are in the position they're in due to "lacking basic intelligence".

Finally, I think a good role model for your kid transcends gender. My son is lucky to have a small village of both genders raising him, but not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. We do the best we can, with what we have to work with and for me, the bottom line is my son grows up knowing he is surrounded by people who love him. We've all made shitty choices in life and we can't travel back in time to undo them, nor can we dwell on the past. We can learn from our mistakes and try to do better. But this idea that all children who are suffering from a lack of strong father-figures solely because their mothers are stupid and egotistical. is not only wrong, it's a fucking slap in the face to so many women who did not choose to raise their children alone, but are doing the best they can given the situation they have found themselves in. Yes, there are women out their who are terrible parents and don't deserve the kids they have, just like there are men out there who are wearing both mom and dad caps because their kids have a deadbeat mom. I think any parent doing double-duty would suggest to this writer she is full of shit, and to spend a week walking in their parenting shoes before she starts flinging that kind of self-righteous bullshit around.

Happy Fathers Day to all dads, regardless of your gender :)

Friday 14 June 2013

Academic excellence and sounding like a broken record

Last night I attended an awards ceremony at my son's school... it's for all the kids who made the honour roll and they gave out a ton of academic/arts/trades awards and $27000 of district scholarships. Some things I observed:

1) There are a LOT of smart and hard-working kids at Spielberg's school because there must have been close to 500 kids that got on the honour roll (including mine...excuse me while my head explodes with pride because when I was in 8th grade I was too busy smoking in the girl's room,  pretending I had a never-ending period to get out of PE and getting kicked out of typing class for inciting everyone to wear those stupid cloth typewriter covers as a burka to worry about academics much)

2) I'm convinced the kid who was sitting in front of us with his family will probably be the person who finds a cure for cancer or discovers time-travel, because he must have received at least 12 academic awards, a scholarship, a citizenship award, plus he was on the Principal's Honour Roll, which requires straight A's for the entire school year. I tried to scootch Spielberg's chair closer to that kid's because if all that brilliance is even remotely contagious, I'd be thrilled if Spielberg was infected with it. Kudos to that kid for kicking hardcore academic ass!

3) This awards thing was excellent incentive for Spielberg, who declared he intends to stay on the honour roll next year, plus he's salivating at the possibility of an award from the music, creative writing or film and tv program. Those plaques they were giving out were like academic crack to him and I will fully support that addiction

In other news, I've spent the last two weeks sick with the fucking plague (maybe not the actual plague, but I forced myself to avoid WebMD because according to that site, I've had the plague twice already, and anthrax. That place is a hypochondriac's nightmare) and working extra at the hair school. I dearly love my job there, and the students, but this is what I posted on my fb yesterday:

Things I would really like to NOT have to say to my students tomorrow:
1) Did you do your job?
2) Put that stuff in your bag or your not leave it on the shelf
3) Whose crap is in The Basket Of Doom?
4) Do you seriously have your cel phone out right now??
5) No, you cannot eat while you write your test
6) Is that toilet clean enough to drink out of? ARE YOU SURE??? I'm gonna be checking that, you know. No, I am not going to literally drink out of the toilet to check
7) If you don't drink enough water, you will end up in emerg on an IV. I don't care if water tastes gross, DRINK IT 

8 ) Everyone hates doing fingerwaves. You have to know how to do one anyway. Yes, you do. Because I said so is why
9) Are you sure you did your job? I'm checking right now
10) Go. Do. Your. Job.

FYI: The Basket Of Doom is where all the unclaimed brushes, combs and clips go to die. Anytime I ask whose stuff is in there, all the students swear that none of it is theirs. Until I make them go through the basket and suddenly, somehow some of it belongs to them. My theory is there is a magical wormhole somewhere in the school that sucks hair implements into it, where they float around time and space for a while, and then get regurgitated into the Basket Of Doom. I'm surprised the Discovery Channel and NASA have not come to investigate this phenomenon yet

I imagine this is what having 9 teenage daughter all at the same time must feel like. Also, I'm starting to channel my mother and every teacher I ever had. Thanks, karma. Yes, you are a bitch

Thursday 6 June 2013

This was supposed to be about inventions, but it turned into a post about my 80's hair. I got sidetracked, ok?

This week's Theme Thursday topics is: Things I wish someone would invent

What I should be wishing for is something that would benefit all of mankind, like a cure for cancer or dinosaur home-cloning kits. Seeing how I'm probably in the top 100 of the Laziest People On The Planet and a bit of an asshole, I'm gonna go with wishing for inventions that would benefit me directly and simplify my life. Also because pet dinosaurs may be a really awesome idea in theory, but I think we all know how Jurassic Park ended. Plus your neighbours would probably hate you when your velociraptor ate their toddler or your brontosaurus left Poop Mountain on their front lawn.

 Why has no one invented professional-grade cordless hairstyling tools? You would think an industry that generates billions of dollars a year and is constantly refining/replacing/reworking all forms of hair products would throw a little money towards fixing one of the banes of my professional existence, which is the snakes nest of elevently gajillion cords I am forced to manuver around every day. Between blowdryers, curling/flat irons, clippers and trimmers, the area around my powerbar that all my tools are plugged into is a hazard, not to mention all the cords are ugly as fuck and keep getting tangled up on my tool trolley.

This pretty much sums up my cord situation at work, except picture blowdryers and curling irons in place of the lights
Technology is almost to the point of being able to implant your cel phone in your hand, but they haven't figured out how to make a cordless blowdryer?? I do have cordless trimmers, but the recharger has to be plugged in, which does not solve the cord conundrum. Apparently the rechargeable battery required to power a professional-grade blowdryer would large and heavy and it wouldn't hold a charge long enough (I know this because I ask every single sales rep, every time I see them). Back in the 80's there were butane curling irons, which were AWESOME and I cooked my wicked mall-bangs around mine at least 7 times a day ( Brush. Curl. Wait until bangs start to smoke a little. Leave iron in just a couple more seconds. Pull off the singed bits. Backcomb. Hairspray. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.)

Neither of these pictures are me. But mash-up the 2 hairstyles together and you will get my hair, circa 1986-1989. Trust me, my hair was fucking glorious

Anyways, those butane curling irons seem to have disappeared off the market. Probably because some dumbass was smoking while curling and ignited the butane (I guarantee that happened because everyone smoked while doing their hair because in the 80's we did not fear death by hair-mishap. It was a fact of life and every woman I know in her 40's has at least one burn scar on their forehead from her curling iron to prove it), so they had to take it off the market. And all the 80's girls cried and hugged their Aqua Net close to their chests, fearing their ozone-murdering hairspray would be the next victim (We were not environmentally aware back then. Only dirty hippies recycled, and being able to braid your armpit hair was like committing social suicide, unless you lived on Denman or Hornby Island...then your armpit hair and BO was overlooked because you had the best pot. Did I mention we were also a tad self involved?)

Back on topic: Someone needs to invent cordless styling tools, preferably with an alternate green energy source, because it's about time we started making up for that giant hole in the ozone layer (sorry Aqua Net, but that is decidedly all your fucking fault).

Tuesday 4 June 2013

The shush heard round the world

In case you were not aware, I am Canadian. The name of my blog might have been a dead giveaway. Unless you thought I was a maple syrup conspiracy theorist expounding my views on maple syrup heists and bootlegged syrup for the black market , which I'm not but why the hell has no one made this into a reality tv series??? It's all about the the sticky battle over who controls the maple syrup industry and has all the right elements that makes for good tv, greed, power and sex. Ok, maybe not sex, but I'm sure they could figure out a way to throw some of that in there. And FYI, if anyone steal this idea from me, I expect compensation. I'll take cash or the equivalent in maple syrup.

All right, I completely veered off-topic. I can't help it. Maple syrup is just that awesome.

Anyhoo, I am Canadian and despite all the stereotypes that we live in igloos and ride polar bears to work (which is not true. Except maybe in Nunavut), the one thing that is generally true is Canadians are polite (except when it involves hockey or Rob Ford after the crack-smoking scandal ...then we are ruthless assholes). However, apparently some rabid soccer fans are making Canadians look like a bunch of douchebags that just ate an entire caselot of sour grapes for breakfast and it's a fucking embarassment.

From what I've gathered, Canadian-born soccer player Sydney Leroux has endured tauntings of "Judas" and "traitor", as well as racial slurs from Canadian soccer fans ever since she decided to play for the Americans. She scored a late goal on Sunday during a game against Canada and her subsequent on-field celebration sent hardcore Canadian fans into a pissed-off frenzy. And what horrible thing did she do to invoke all this wrath?


Yes, because displaying your team pride and shushing your taunters who have behaved like hateful dumbasses is such a terrible thing.

First off, racial slurs are despicable. I enjoy a good insult, especially when it's warranted but insulting someone based on the colour of their skin tells me you're so mentally incompetent and cleverly-challenged, all your tiny brain can come up with is slagging on someone's skin colour. How pathetic, unimaginative and blatantly hurtful.

Second, I call bullshit on the "traitor" accusations. This isn't a war, it's soccer, for fucks sake. Did Ms Leroux suddenly become a double agent and run to the enemy to share Canada's highly classified soccer secrets, to be used against them? Will The Canadian Soccer Association be performing a black-ops extraction and hustling her off to a Guantanemo Bay-type prison, where she will be forced to reveal American soccer secrets, such as defensive tactics and whether next season's team shorts will feature red with blue stripes or blue with red stripes? Will all Canadian athletes, actors and musicians who have flown south to build their careers be declared traitors as well, and the minute they step back on to Canadian soil get sent to internment camps where they will be subjected to various tortures, such as being forced to watch episodes of "The Littlest Hobo", "King Of Kensington" and anything with Mike Bullard in it on an endless loop? Force-fed a combination of poutine and Screech until they vomit? Have them renounce America and prove their Canadian-ness by sending them off to the Yukon in January for a Hunger Games-type battle to the death (note to participants: take out Bieber first. He may look innocuous but I'm pretty sure he's secretly cunning and capable of creating an minion army of rabid beavers to do his bidding), where the victor is proclaimed Canadian Citizen of The Year, which includes prizes such a lifetime supply of maple syrup (the legal kind, NOT the black market shit), a spot on the RCMP Musical Ride team (byo horse) and the hockey team of your choice (except any team in Quebec. Because we don't want to give the separatists anything else to scream about).

I'm sorry, but since we do not live in some kind of Orwellian/dystopian world where soccer players are the enemy and stale bread is currency, perhaps we can be be logical and remember Canada is a free country and our citizens are allowed to move to other countries to pursue their careers without a bunch of blubbering asshats with their panties in a wad inciting a verbal riot against them. Personally, I applaud Ms Leroux for having the self-restraint to stop at shushing the crowd...had that been me, I would most certainly not been at all graceful about it and that shushing gesture would have been replaced with 2 decisive middle fingers pointing skyward.

The greatest irony of this story? Sydney Leroux is being derided as a traitor to her country, yet she's the one personifying Canadian behaviour, by keeping it polite and restrained. It's her haters who are behaving in a manner that is distinctly un-Canadian. Despite the overall ridiculous tone of this post, I think the whole situation honestly sucks and it makes me embarrassed to be Canadian when I hear shit like this

Oh and Sydney, if you ever read this? I will be petitioning Stephen Harper for an official apology to you on behalf of all Canadians who are assholes and have forgotten their manners. I'm pretty sure you could negotiate some maple syrup in with that apology too. Ask Justin Bieber for a hand with negotiations...I'm convinced he's cunning as hell and there might be some truth to the rabid beaver minion army thing. Do not underestimate The Biebs. Ever.

Friday 31 May 2013

It's a twofer!!

I'm a horrible award recipient, due to a combination of procrastination and short term memory loss (either due to all the pot-smoking in the 80's or the pregnancy-brain thing that never did fix itself after giving birth. There was another reason but I just forgot what it was 5 seconds after I thought of it. I wish I was kidding, but I'm not. Fucking irony). I'm also going to blame the Triad of Time-Sucks: Pinterest, fb and that fucking Candy Crush game that will NOT let me move up to the next level, despite finishing each of the first 35 levels because what the fresh hell is up with that bullshit???? UNLOCK THE NEXT FUCKING LEVEL, YOU CAVITY-RIDDEN ASSMONKEYS OR I WILL GET OUT MY IMAGINARY FLAMETHROWER AND MELT CANDYLAND INTO A STICKY PUDDLE....SCORCHED EARTH, MOTHERFUCKERS


Anyhoo, back to these awards. I've been nominated for 4 Liebsters but I'm going to continue to put those off because I'm a lazy asshole and Liebsters are a honour, but labour intensive, especially when you save them up and have to answer 4 sets of questions, come up with 4 sets of questions and dress up 4 monkeys in tutus and teach them to perform Swan Lake (that last bit may or may not be required...I may not have read the rules clearly)

Today I'm going to accept 2 awards:

The first is from Marjorie at Don't Call Me Marge who I consider a member of my blogging tribe aka The Potty-Mouthed Pussy Posse, which I just made up right now and would totally make a badge for except for I don't know how to do that due to my technological ineptness. Also she had a brillo pad giveaway and I just saw I WON!!!! I seriously love her :)

To prove how devoted I am to this team, I promise that in the event of a zombie apocalype, I plan to amputate my leg and  arm and replace it with a cannon and chainsaw, respectively

What I love best about this award is there are no rules or questions or math questions you have to solve before you can claim your I am honoured, grateful and a little relieved, especially about the lack of math.

The second award is from Starr at The Insomniac's Dream, who I also consider a Potty-Mouth Pussy Posse member and she is awesomesauce in human form. Unfortunately her blog will not let me leave comments anymore which is probably due to more technological retardation on my part because seriously, I still don't know even know where the mute button is on my phone, nor can I figure out how to add a fb/twitter/pinterest button to my blog because I can't understand the fucking tutorial

This award is super-cool, not only because it has the word "whore" in it (heehee) but look at those fucking boots!!!

1. Upon receiving this award, you will receive a prompt. You are to write about said prompt. (Whenever you feel like it)

2. Link back to who gave you this award and include the picture of the award in your post.

3. Pass it to just five bloggers. (You can tag back if you want to read what your presenter has to say about the topic you come up with.)

4. Come up with a prompt for the five bloggers you chose.

5. When you do finally get around to writing the prompt, let the blogger who presented you this award know. So they can read it.

So the prompt was Guilty Pleasures, and yes, I have several of those:

Reading: which I never ever technically feel guilty about except for a vague unease after I spend an entire Sunday reading and get nothing else accomplished. But I've learned to ignore the shit out of that feeling because fuck it...BOOKS!

The internet: I spend waaaay too much time online. I think it may be more of an obsession at this point than a guilty pleasure

Nyquil: I secretly get excited when I'm sick because I can dose myself up with this magical elixor. Fortunately I have enough self control to prevent myself from using Nyquil recreationally and turning into one of those people who visits 6 different drugstores so no one will question why someone needs 12 bottles of Nyquil at a time, but it really is the best part about being sick. Well that, and the stomach flu-induced weight loss, which also makes me excited once the vomiting and diarrhea ends.

Coming home from the salon on a slow day to have a nap in between clients: actually I don't feel guilty about this at all. So technically it's just a pleasure

So now I'm gonna pass on BOTH awards to the following 5 bloggers and your writing prompt is this:

If you were dictator of a small island nation whose only export to support the entire island was bananas, what kinds of cut-throat marketing and business practices would you use to insure that your island becomes a monopoly in the banana market?

Jenn at Jeneral Insanity
Kelly at Dysfunctionally Functional
Lily at Incoherent Ramblings Of A Moose
Nagzilla at The Adventures of Nagzilla
Jenn at Something Clever 2.0

Also, I'm totally tagging back Marjorie and Starr...because I can :D

Thursday 30 May 2013

Mental deafness would be nice right about now

Let me preface by saying this: Carly Rae Jepson seems like a very sweet girl and I like that despite her fame, she has so far remained normal and not gone the trainwreck route, a la Amanda Bynes/Lindsey Lohan, nor  is she a serial dater who buys a house next door to her love interest after the second date, and breaks up before the ink is barely dry on the house title, then proceeds to release an album she might as well called "Men Are Dicks and Love Sucks Hairy Donkey Balls" (yes Taylor Swift, I'm talking about you. The breakup songs were amusing up until about 42 boyfriends ago. You may want to find a new kind of lyric fodder...I suggest you join a nunnery so you can avoid men for a while, or maybe the military where you could learn to channel your post-break-up fury by running over drug cartel kingpins with a tank)

Anyfuckingway, while I have nothing against Carly Ray, right now she is the bane of my fucking existance because her catchy tune has burrowed it's way deep into the center of my brain and will not fucking leave

My brain decided to play Call Me Maybe on an endless fucking loop with no off-switch last night. All. Fucking. Night. It was an ear worm of the most horrific kind and when I finally dozed off sometime around dawn, it started up again the minute I woke up. I'm feeling slightly insane today due to lack of sleep and think the lyrics should be changed to "Hey, I just met you/ you're tired and lazy/thanks to my ear worm/you're bat-shit crazy".

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to google DIY lobotomies before I lose what's left of my mind

Sunday 26 May 2013

This post contains taxidermied deer asses and giant testicles. Consider yourself warned

Since my week consisted of work and more work, with nothing earth-shattering to blog about ( although I'm still having a raging internal debate about the penis/middle-finger tree, which is a pretty good indicator of where my life sits on the excitement scale), I looked to one of my favourite sources of writing inspiration for blog fodder...Pinterest. Otherwise known as The Most Addictive Time-Suck In The Universe But Holy Shit I Cannot Stop Pinning all This Awesome Yet Fucked Up Shit.

I truly understand why sex shops need to post this sign because it takes every ounce of self control I have not to start dildo-sword fights with my fellow sex shop patrons any time I go there
This is a testicle mascot for a cancer support group in Brazil. I'm not really sure how effective a giant set of testicles that should invest in some manscaping ASAP will be in promoting cancer awareness, but it would be kind of awesome to parade your balls around town and not get arrested
I have no idea what this is supposed to be, but it's made out of taxidermied deer butts, which is fucking sick and fantastic at the same time
While I understand as a parent that we all think our kids are brilliant prodigies of some kind, deluding yourself into believing your baby is the Monet of shit-art puts you around Bat-Shit-Crazy:Level 127
Arts And Crafts For Serial Killers
I feel like I should end this post on a scientific note, because I am all about educational information. You're welcome.

Thursday 23 May 2013

Something wicked this way comes

This week's Theme Thursday topic is definitely an interesting yet complicated one:  Evil: Does it exist? What is it? How do you define it? Why does it happen? 

The word evil is defined in the dictionary as something that is morally bad, wrong or wicked. Pretty broad, and open to much interpretation, as far as definitions go, and I'm sure if you asked 100 different people to explain what evil personally means to them, you'd have 100 different answers.

Personally, I believe in evil because I believe in dualism. Where light exists, so must the dark. Where there is life, there is death...where there is harmony, there is chaos...ying and yang, etc, etc. I believe in universal balance and I could get easily get sidetracked and start blathering on about reciprocation in nature and opposites and a bunch of other shit that sounds so New-Agey that I have to check myself, lest you all start thinking I'm gonna suggest we all sit holding hands in a healing circle and discuss our charkra alignments, before we move on to protection spells and joyful chanting to charge the circle with positive energy (I mock, yet I've done all these things. And yes, the chanting made me feel stupid and I'm pretty sure mine was way less joyful than it was supposed to be, due to the voice in my head saying "Are you seriously chanting with a bunch of people who smell like BO and patchouli, and that smile way too much for no apparent reason?? They could be nice, zen-ed out, blissful people...or they could be the fucking Manson Family. Run for your life before they start playing a Beatles record backwards, you dumbass").

Wow, that whole paragraph just went completely sideways and turned into one long, run-on sentence, didn't it? It is obvious I'm neither Shakespeare, nor Plato but then again I don't really want to be either, because they probably died of the plague or some form of explosive diarrhea that today could be cured with antibotics and Pepto Bismol...hooray for modern medicine!

Fuck, I did it again.

Anyfuckingways, back on topic...I think all humans have the potential to be evil, just like I think all humans have potential to be innately good. Look at all the evil acts and behaviour in history and you can see that evil is definitely a human trait. While I think that some people commit evil acts because it's in their psychological makeup and their brain wiring is all fucked up (like how there have been studies on diagnosed criminal psychopaths that show their brain reacts differently than a normal person's brain to violent stimuli), I also believe that everyone has the potential to behave in an evil manner, but their own moral code is what keeps it in check. However, given enough negative stressors, whether it's a physical or emotional pressure of an extreme nature I think we're all capable of evil behaviour.

 Phillip Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment is great example of how people can and will react under extreme conditions. The roles of the prison guards and the prisoners were chosen at random, yet by the time the experiment ended rather abruptly after 6 days, it was noted that at least a third of the participants in the role of prison guards were exhibiting genuine sadistic tendencies and most of the guards were upset when the experiment was terminated early. So were those participants closet-sadists to begin with, and they just happened to volunteer for this experiment, where they had no idea which role they'd be assigned to? Or did the experiment allow the evil part of those participants that may have lay dormant and undetected up until that point, to come to the surface when they had an opportunity to behave in a cruel manner with no repercussions? I believe the latter.

And what about the rest of us? I've seen a trailer for a movie who's premise is that for 24 hours of one day every year, people can do whatever they want, with no repercussions at all. They can rob, rape and kill...24 hours of absolute anarchy, where if someone has done you wrong, you have a free pass for revenge, anyway you see fit. I'm sure most people's first reaction when presented with that scenario would be "Holy shit, what a horrible fucking idea!". But ask yourself this, in brutal there someone that has wronged you or someone you love, and if you had a chance to punish them in whatever way you deemed righteous, would you do it? Would that make you evil if you did? Because that's the problem with evil...we may have all thought about seeking some kind of revenge on someone who did us a horrible wrong, but is having to live with ourselves after crossing that line into evil is what prevents us from breaking our own moral code? Or are we maybe more afraid that if we did cross that line once, it would make it easier to cross again, until we moved the line to the point we could not recognize good from evil any longer?

I suppose my point is, when I think of evil, I don't think of some nasty dude who smells like sulphur and pokes people with a pitchfork. In my opinion, every human being has the capacity for evil, but our capacity for good plus our personal moral code keeps it in check

Monday 20 May 2013

Douchebag trees and social rituals that require bending

I noticed this morning that one of the trees outside my apartment looks like it's giving me multiple middle fingers. I haven't decided if this is a personal insult or it's giving the neighbourhood the middle finger salute on my behalf, because it feels a sort of an asshole-ish kinship with me and this is our way of bonding. I prefer to believe the latter. However, on closer inspection it could be penises instead of middle fingers, in which case, I have a motherfucking porn tree and don't even tell me you're not jealous that nature decided to grace me with a tree full of dicks

Stupid technology. I tried to make this picture bigger but it keeps shrinking it back. Trust me, it looks like a middle finger/dick tree. Also, this tree is proof that Mother Nature is either a sarcastic bitch or a pervert. Or both.
In other news, I was texting with Rigger (aka my boyfriend, and I was too lazy to come up with a really good nickname for him, so his job description will have to do...he's currently building an oil refinery up north and rigging is what he does. Not clear on what exactly that is, but it involves massive tanks, pipes and scaffolding that he can plummet off of if he's not careful. Also, a big crane almost fell over a couple weeks ago which would have killed several people, after which he informed me this job is 100 times more dangerous than his old job, which thrills him a bit because he's an adrenaline junkie and makes me want to look up "crushing injuries" on Web MD, but I won't because WebMD is already  a major contributor to my Paranoia: Medical Department.) and I asked him if he had a chance to try out the golf simulator at camp yet (since these camps are generally in the middle of nowhere, the company Rigger works for provides shit like an winter outdoor skating rink, 2 gyms, a game room, private theater and a bunch of other cool stuff for these guys to do in their downtime, to ensure they don't get cabin fever and start running around with an
axe, chopping people's heads off. Or something like that)

So far it's been a no-go with the golf simulator partly because there's a big list to get on it, but mostly because there's a bit of a bowing non-compliance war going on. You see, the company he works for is Korean...I'll refer to them as Company X. Company X works for Company Y (also Korean) and Company Y owns the golf simulator. Apparently the younger Company Y  Korean employees are not bowing to the older Company X Korean employees, which is a big-time cultural offense.I asked Rigger if he bows at work and if he he gets a hall-pass if he does it wrong because he's not Korean. He told me Canadians aren't expected to bow, but he bows because it's respectful. But there's different types of bowing, depending on who you're bowing to and now I'm wondering if the Korean language lessons he's taking at camp include bowing lessons and maybe they should, because he wants to move up in the company, so he should probably become an expert on bowing since maybe it's kind of like French shrugging, which indicates a hundred different things depending on shoulder stance, lip-pursing and how high you can raise your eyebrows.

Conclusion: Bowing is fucking complicated. And my boyfriend cannot golf because some asshole won't bow correctly.

Thursday 16 May 2013

Got my zen back. Apparently it was in Tofino all this time.

I am way behind on the ABC's of Swearing Challenge ( shit, damn, fuck, douchenozzle) and I am totally out of the blog loop but I have a really good excuse. I was on a mini vacation, reconciling with an old flame and I'm happy to say the whole thing went awesome. He's made some huge, positive lifestyle changes and I'm ridiculously proud how far he's come. The only thing that sucks is that he works up north building an oil refinery and the shifts are looooong...long as in he had his 5 days out and now he won't be back out again until sometime in July. However, he's one of those insane people that thrives on busting his ass in a dangerous job in the middle of nowhere, living in camp keeps him out of trouble and, as much as I care for him, having some distance is not a bad thing for us at this point. Plus, we text back and forth throughout the day so we probably spend more time talking then if he was here.

Anyfuckingways, we spent our mini-holiday in Tofino, which is my favourite place in the world. It rained most of the time, but the suite we stayed in more than made up for the weather. It was pretty luxurious, with a fireplace, a king sized bed that was so comfy you didn't want to get up in the morning, heated floors,  a private hot tub on the deck and Chesterman Beach was just steps away.

Part of the view just off the deck, which I would never ever get tired of admiring

At sunset on Monday night, which was one of the very few times the sun came out. They don't call it The Wet Coast for nothing

We surfed (first time for me, and oh, did I suck at it and got totally beat up by the ocean. Plus I discovered it is not possible to look remotely good or breathe well in a wet suit, but the water is so fucking cold, it's a necessary evil. BUT, it was fun as hell and I can't wait to go again), we golfed (rained out on the 7th hole, which was not entirely bad because I was playing like a blind amputee), we ate (found the best fish tacos in the universe!), we shopped (Best find: this t-shirt for me...

Could I have found a more appropriate shirt for the ABC's of Swearing Challenge? Motherfucking doubtful.
...and this paper made of actual horseshit for Spielberg)
Why yes, I find poop humour just as amusing at 42 as I did when I was 8

Of course I smelled it to see if it really was odorless. Also, buying this made me feel like one of those Rainbow Warrior environmentalist people because recycling poop is hardcore

...and we walked the beach, wandered around town, had lots of naps and spent lots of time relaxing. It was fanfuckingtastic and I cannot wait to go back (which we plan on doing in July).

So The Flame is on his way back to The Great White North, Spielberg comes home tomorrow after school (yay,because I missed him!) and I get back into work mode tomorrow.

What's new with you guys?

Thursday 9 May 2013

Ask and ye shall receive

Yesterday I left a comment on a blog post about swearing and in my comment I stated I find religious rhetoric offensive. The blog author asked me to explain why people are offended by religious content and instead of clogging up his comment section with a long and wordy comment, I thought I'd write a post instead.

Let me be clear: I have absolutely nothing against faith, spirituality or personal belief systems. What pisses me off is religious dogma, hypocrisy and the self-righteous, closed-minded attitude that seems to go hand in hand with organized religion. Have your faith in whatever gives you strength and peace...but the minute you start preaching at me and trying to jam your own morals and belief down my throat? Hell, yes, I find that offensive.

Dogma is defined as an official system of tenets and principles concerning faith, morals, behaviour, etc. This doctrine is proclaimed to be unquestionably true...and the unquestionable truth is the part I have an issue with. Faith is defined as belief in something that is not based on proof, which is fine for the individual who has faith, be it faith in God, Allah, The Flying Spaghetti Monster or the deity of your choice. The thing is, not everyone believes in the same thing...and there is absolutely no proof or empirical evidence that any one belief system is right. The only way to find out if your unquestionable truth is actual fact is when you die...and since there is thus far no scientific method of communicated with the dead, the question of God and the afterlife will remain a mystery. So yes, I find it offensive when someone suggests to me I repent, ask forgiveness from a deity that is based on myth, not fact, and if I don't I'm going to end up in some horrible place that no one can prove exists, while the self-proclaimed righteous go on to flit amongst the clouds and play harps all day. Again, believe what you want...but until you can prove that your belief system is based on fact, you have no right to foist your morals on anyone else.

Let's discuss religious hypocrisy. I'm not even going to get into all the heinously fucked-up things that have happened throughout history in the name of religion, because they are legion and we'd be here for the next 10 years slogging through them. But the thing I find most hypocritical about religion is how things like the bible get all twisted around and cherry-picked to suit a particular argument. I'm sorry, but NO ONE in this day and age takes the bible absolutely literally. If they did, then you'd be walking around asking random people if they were adulterers and hucking rocks at them if they answered in the affirmative. Quote all the bible verses you want, but just remember your own glass house is going to get shattered, because if we were to take the bible literally then every single person on the planet is guilty of something, including the most pious of people. Hypocrisy of any kind is offensive. But hypocrisy that hides behind a book and twists words for the sole purpose of pointing fingers and acting as judge, jury and executioner, while sweeping it's own shitty behaviour under the religious rug? Is the worst kind of hypocrisy there is.

I love this, I really do. Judge and condemn by using scripture as your weapon and then have a most un-Christian-like comeback when your bible-quoting gets thrown in your face

This leads me to the self-righteous/close-mindedness part of the story. Having faith is one thing. Declarations like "God kills fags" isn't about being faithful to anything. It's hatred in the name of religious dogma that has been so twisted that it cannot even be recognized as anything remotely biblical. The Westboro Baptist Church may be an extreme example, but it's an interesting one. These asshole picket funerals and claim that soldiers killed in Afghanistan died because God is punishing America for what they claim is the abomination of homosexuality. The part I find morbidly fascinating is these people have convinced themselves they are doing God's work and will be rewarded for it in heaven. So the question is this: if they believe the bullshit they spew is all said and done in the name of God, how is that different than sitting in judgement of how anyone else lives? Sure, it's way more extreme and disgusting, but it all boils down to that pesky unquestioning truth thing. Therefore, if you're a Christian and you find the WBC and their dogma repellant, do you not think that maybe someone else might find your own dogma repellant as well? If you're convinced that the WBC is wrong, how can you be so convinced that your own personal beliefs are right for anyone else but you? That's a hugely egotistical assumption to make...and closing yourself off to any other possibilities except for the one's that are your personal unquestionable truth is your choice. But it's not mine. And I find it offensive that anyone else would want to chose my own unquestionable truth for me.

Ok, religious rant over...back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans

Monday 6 May 2013


Yesterday Spielberg and I found THE COOLEST store downtown. Can't remember what it's called but it's chock-full of awesome nostalgia items like that pink popcorn you get at the circus, Star Wars lunch boxes and KISS bobbleheads. It was like revisiting my childhood and I think Spielberg was getting embarassed because I kept squealing and shrieking "Ohmygod, look at that!!! I remember FunDip!!!. However, once I found The Item, I was not the only person having a fucking delight-induced stroke. Looky, looky what we found...

It's The Old Man from The Christmas Story. With his leg lamp. In bobblehead form. Holy fucking fartmonkeys, this is the best day EVER!
Fraa-geee-lay. That must be Italian

This was enough to make my day. But then the store owner made my fucking year by telling me not only did he fashion a leg lamp last Xmas for his window display that had many people crawling into the display to take a picture with The Holy Leg Lamp, but he's thinking of making leg lamps to sell with the bunch of extra manniquin legs he has in his basement (normally I would have questioned why anyone had a basement full of  fucking legs, but at that point I was beyond caring about potential serial killers with a leg fetish). I politely suggested he put me on a list of leg lamp buyers, telling him I'd be pleased to buy one. Except it was possibly more like I put him in a headlock and screamed "If you don't sell me a motherfucking leg lamp, I will die of sadness and come back to haunt the fuck out of you, so PLEASE put me at the top of the fucking leg lamp buyer list RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!"

I may have gotten a little excited there.

Word/Phrase of the day:

Furvert: a pervert with a fetish for furries (if you don't know what furries are, you really need to google it. Bring brain bleach.)

Farticles: the particles of fart that remain in the atmosphere after a fart has been released

Sunday 5 May 2013

I aspire to be a redneck Eh-hole

Once again it's that time of year when I really should be thinking about purchasing an air conditioner, but instead am looking at hot temperatures like a personal insult and challenge from Mother Nature. Last summer it was hotter than satan's asshole (temperature unverified, but it's fair to assume the devil's rectum would be pretty fucking warm) and my 4th floor apartment was a hellish sweatbox, so I swore that this would be the year I finally caved and bought an AC so Spielberg and I would not be reduced to taking turns trying to crawl into the freezer to escape the heat. I figured since it's only the beginning of May, I had at least another month or so until it got hot and stuffy enough in the apartment to bitch and moan and start a bunch of redneck DIY heat-busting projects until I got pissed off that none of them worked well enough and broke down and bought an AC. Nope. The bitching starts now. So perhaps I should get rednecking it up and get that out of the way to justify spending a couple hundred bucks when the DIY shit goes inevitably wrong.

Top 3 Redneck DIY ideas to keep cool in warm weather:

1) Tinfoil window treatments
Pros: Cheap, easy and only requires a couple rolls of tinfoil and tape. Shiny and futuristic-looking home decor. Completely blocks out all light (especially when you plaster all the edges with black electrical tape) and gives your bedroom a lovely cave-like quality

Cons: Looks like a growshow from the outside, leading to an urge to hang a sign outside your window stating "This is NOT a marijuana grow operation...I'm trying to keep the heat out because it's fucking HOT. Stop judging me, motherfuckers". Tinfoiling your windows is apparently against strata council rules in my building (probably because of the whole growshow-resemblance thing) and I'm assuming I'm on some kind of window-watchlist list because of last summer's TinfoilGate. Also, electrical tape melts when it's on a burning-hot tinfoiled window for 3 months and scraping it off is a giant pain in the ass

Verdict: Would totally do this today, but won't because I prefer not to get evicted

2) Wet sheets/icepacks/fan combo
Pros I have 6 fans, lots of sheets and unlimited ice and water, so this is totally doable. Great at night because I have a hard time sleeping unless my bedroom is the same temperature as a freezer and I can see my breath in the air it's so fucking cold. And I haven't even hit menopause yet

Cons: Too labour intensive because the water sprayer runs out of water, icepacks melt and fans set to jet engine speed dry everything out, and getting up to replenish ice, water and redampen sheets makes it into a stupid fucking ordeal

Verdict: Every summer this is my nighttime ritual. And every summer I swear I will not spend all next summer getting up at 1 in the morning for more ice/water. It's a vicious cycle

3) Redneck Air Conditioner:
A cooler/rubbermaid tub, a fan, a piece of pipe and  some frozen plastic water bottle and voila! Cool, cool air!
 Pros: Way cheaper than a store-bought AC. Supposedly easy to make. The satisfaction of feeling smug and clever as fuck for cooling it down redneck style

Cons: May be easy to make, but I am mentally disabled when it comes to anything remotely resembling a machine or any object that has to be put together. You know on pinterest all those cool diy things you see and then you try it and it's a catastrophic failure? That's sort of what I'm envisioning with this. If it's possible to fuck it up somehow, I will find a way. The cutting of the holes in the lid makes me nervous, due to several near-misses involving knives and/or saws, and water +electricity has some potential for an ER visit

Vedict: A DIY disaster waiting to happen. But maybe I can bribe Spielberg into doing it. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't miss a finger or be too bothered by an electrical shock if the tradeoff is a nice, cool apartment.

FYI: there are really no good swear words for the letter E. However, tomorrow is the letter F, which is ripe with  cursing potential

Word/phrase of the day:

Ex-hole: your asshole ex-husband, ex-boyfriend or just plain ex. a phrase used to refer to that person you used to date that you can't stand.

Ele-fucker: People who will push every elevator call button while waiting at a given landing in the hope of catching the first available ride. Invariably more than one car will stop at the same time, leaving those riders to wait the interminable ten to fifteen seconds it takes to resume their journey--often with a few seconds of eye contact with the offenders as icing on the cake.
Eh-hole:  Canadian asshole

Saturday 4 May 2013

Dildo, Newfoundland. Who the hell comes up with these names??

A couple things...

1) I just discover the weather app on my iphone and spent way too much time last night checking the weather in Moscow, Bali and Tuktoyuktuk (currently -22 C and probably not at the top of my vacation list). Much to my annoyance, this douchenozzle app won't recognize "The North Pole", "top of Mt Everest" or "Hell" (the one where all the damned live, not the one in Michigan. Although maybe it's the same place, but I doubt it because Hell, MI is currently 18 C and that doesn't seem eyeball-searingly hot enough) because none of those places are a city nor to they have a zipcode. For fucks sakes Yahoo Weather, how the hell am I supposed to plan an imaginary trek to the top of Mt Everest if I'm not sure how many pairs of thermal underwear I should pack??? Dickheads.

2) At the salon, I think we are slowly building into a turf war with our new and thank-fuck-they're-temporary neighbours. The Conservative Party (Canada's version of George Bush/Mittens Romney) has moved in across the parking lot until the election is over and we already hate them (ok, maybe hate is too strong a word...then again, they're politicians, so maybe not). Our first issue is with their stupid slogan, "I believe in BC", which as my boss pointed out, does that mean the entire province has been rendered imaginary?? I know that according to Ottawa, the West is the red-headed stepchild of the country, but now we apparently don't exist at all, except if Stephan Harper sprinkles his fairydust and has his right-wing minions chant "I DO believe in BC" 3 times so all of a sudden, poof...look at that, BC is not just a fairytale land where pot-growing hippies and logging companies who want to land-rape the forests co-exist in a somewhat uneasy existence. Tell me, how many millions did you douchecanoes spend to come up with the stupidest slogan in political history? Fuckwads.

Also, when I come over and politely ask you to move your stupid van that's parked in the middle of the parking lot which is blocking access not only to our business's parking, but also the entrance to the entire parking lot, do not impatiently tell me you planned on moving it in two minutes anyways. I may have just given you a frowning of a lifetime in response, but trust me, in my head I immediately starting plotting the downfall of your entire political party, starting with my creation of The Maple Syrup Party of Canada, whose political platform will be a 2-pronged approach: the demise of the blackmarket for maple syrup (I'm not kidding there really is a maple syrup maple syrup theft ring and you'll see) and $1000000 fines and automatic jail time for people who park their cars like assholes. I'm pretty sure either one of these issues would win me an election, but both together is a guaranteed victory. So learn to park your fucking van in a fucking parking spot or feel my political wrath, you dumbass.

Word/phrase of the day: Dildo: not only a sex toy, but also a city in Newfoundland. And yes, it's in my weather app (2 C, mostly sunny)

Thursday 2 May 2013

Unorthodox parenting and some other bullshit

When I saw that today's theme for Thursday was unorthodox parenting, I was momentarily stumped trying to come up with something I consider unorthodox. Therein lies the parenting normal is likely someone else's "ohmyfuckinggod, she's raising her kid to be an anarchistic, heathen-y bastard". It's one of those things, to each his own. The core of my parenting belief is to raise a happy, open-minded, well-rounded you do that doesn't matter, as long as it works for your family. Some of the ways I suppose I parent in an unorthodox manner...

Religion: I'm not a fan of organized religion for many reasons, and half the time I'm not sure where my own spiritual beliefs reside, so I'm not about to decide for Spielberg what he should and should not believe. I want him to place his faith in whatever feels right to him, and to understand there's no one right way or one right thing to believe in. Doesn't matter to me if he's an atheist or long as it makes him happy

Body Art: Spielberg really wants a tattoo and once he's 16, it's fine with me. We have discussed that a tattoo is permanent so he needs to choose his art wisely and not get something stupid he'll regret in 10 years. I've offered to pierce his ear on several occasions but he's totally yucked out over poking a hole in his body and says he'll never pierce any body part ever (irony alert: I used to do body piercing and still have several of my own, yet I have a kid who is Captain Conservative when it comes to body jewelery. How the fuck did that happen??)

Social Conscience: I think most everyone tries to raise their kid to have a social conscience, and to be aware of, and involved in their community, local and globally. I might be slightly unorthodox in the sense that I'm all for Spielberg questioning authority, making his voice heard and standing up for what he believes in, even if it has the potential to get him in shit on occasion. In 7th grade he and his friends started a petition at their elementary school, supporting gay marriage to send to our local MLA. This was not a school-sanctioned petition and they collected signatures on their lunch hour...the kids knew this petition had the potential to be controversial and were aware that they could have been asked to stop or gotten in trouble if someone complained or was offended. I asked Spielberg what he would have done in that case...his answer: wait until after school and collect signatures just off of school property, so they technically wouldn't be breaking the rules (clever thinking there, kiddo!).

He's also vehemently opposed to environmental damage caused by tar sands/frakking/corporate polluting, is outraged over Canada allowing China any sort of control to our natural gas pipelines, thinks everyone has the right to universal medical care and a good education, and the gaping chasm between the wealthy and the poor is bad for society as a whole . He's bitched-out that he's too young to vote in the election on May 14th and wants to lobby to have the voting age lowered to 16 because he thinks it's bullshit that he's not allowed to have an official political voice yet. Good thing the protests over clearcut logging in Clayquot Sound happened before he was born, otherwise I'm pretty sure he's be spending his weekends chained to a tree, blockading excavators and calling for bail money. All fine with me, as long as it's something he believes in.

So basically I'm raising a green Karl Marx. With less communism and more tattoos. Works for me :)

Today's ABC's of Swearing has been brought to you by the letter B
Today's inappropriate word or phrase:
Bitchtastic: a cross of sarcastically bitchy and fantastic

 Bonus phrase: Boner Shock: Expressions or actions performed that causes your boner to go into "shock" or go back into the flaccid stage; a sudden or immediate turn-off

Wednesday 1 May 2013

Assmonkeys wanted

It's May, and do you know what that means?? That this month is devoted to swearing, inappropriateness and a blog challenge where being an assmonkey is not only encouraged, it's other words, the PERFECT challenge for a foul-mouthed asshole such as myself. Please join in the fun and prepare to gratuitously curse your fucking face off for an entire month, with no repercussions and heaps of admiration from your fellow pottymouths for your ability to weave a colourful tapestry of swearing so lyrical your ears are in danger of exploding in inappropriate joy. Visit The ABC's Of Swearing Challenge for details, links to participating blogs and to sign up!

And because I am all about blogging for educational purposes (totally lying, fyi), I will be providing an inappropriate word or phrase for all my blog posts in May, courtesy of Urban Dictionary, which is chock-full of super-fucked words and slang. You're welcome. Today's phrase is:

Alligator Fuckhouse: A daring sexual maneuver: Mid-coitus, one person bites the neck of the other, locks their arms and legs down and goes into a deathroll, all while maintaining insertion. Like downshifting a car!

Anyfuckingway, I'm starting off this challenge by accepting an award I received twice in the last couple days, from The Insomniac's Dream  and Julie You Jest ...I am honoured and thank both of you for considering me an inspiration of any kind :)

So pretty!!!

Now for the rules:
1. Display the award on you blog. .
2. Link back to the person who gave you the award.  
3. State 7 things about yourself. 
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers for this award and link back to them. 
7 things about me that you may not have known and may not want to know, but fuck it, I'm telling you anyway:
1) I broke my nose when I was a kid by throwing a golf ball as hard as I could on the road to see how high it would bounce. My face got in the way, unfortunately
2) I also knocked myself unconscious by running headfirst into metal monkeybars about a month after I broke my nose

3) I never did grow out of managing to find stupid ways to injure myself. On the plus side I have some pretty cool scars, the origins of which are somewhat embarrassing to explain

4) Technology hates me and the feeling is mutual. Electronics in particular. Which is ironic because I'm addicted to my iphone and laptop...I just suck at being able to use them

5) I went bungy-jumping at my best friend's batcholerette party. Swan-diving headfirst off a very high bridge over a river is the scariest fucking thing I've ever done in my life. And I'd totally do it again, beacause it was such a rush

6) I've accidentally mooned neighbours twice because of the same pair of stupid sweatpants that were too big and would suddenly fall down around my ankles with no warning. You'd think I would have gotten rid of the sweatpants after the first time that happened. You would be wrong. Because I'm that much of an idiot

7) My petname and former blog alias for my( former-but-we're-in-the-midst-of-reconciling-because-he-finally-got-his-shit-together-it's-a-long-fucking-story) boyfriend was Asshole. No I'm not kidding and he loved it when I called him that. And trust me, it suited him at the time

Now for the bloggers who inspire guys all fucking rock and make this blogging community such a fun place to be :)



Tuesday 30 April 2013

Hug your hairstylist today. DO IT!!

It's Hairstylist Appreciation Day, which I had no idea was an actual thing, but since it is, I'm going to devote this post to all the hardworking, kick-ass, creative hair artists I've had the pleasure and honour of working with in my 22 years in the industry.

I think a lot of people don't understand what a complicated job we have. Hairstylists don't just play with hair all day...we're chemists, architects, psychiatrists, artists and teachers all rolled into one. Our job is to not only send our clients out the door looking fabulous, but making them feel happy and confidant about themselves too. We build self esteem. We listen. We counsel. We may have our own personal difficulties, but we leave them at the door, put a smile on our face and understand that the person sitting in our chair deserves all our focus and good energy, and we work our asses off to give them the best salon experience possible.

Yep, let me grab my magic wand and I'll get right on that

I'm lucky enough not only to work as a stylist in a salon, but I also have a second job teaching at a cosmetology school. And I say lucky because at the salon, I work with the most kick-ass team of people in a ridiculously fun atmosphere, and at the school I'm surrounded by students who have such huge enthusiasm for the trade they are learning, that I look forward to going to work everyday and spending time with such an amazing group of creative people.

Ok, it's not all rainbows and fucking unicorns...the days can be long, the job is physically hard on your whole body, some of the clients are pretty demanding and a few are a downright pain in the ass. But the long hours, the aches and pains and the occasional client that pisses you off so much that you fantasize about stabbing them in the ear with your scissors are all made worth it because of those clients that are so thrilled with the job you did, they squeal with pleasure, hug you and almost cry because they're so damn happy with their new 'do. And that is a huge reward, making people feel fantastic about themselves.

So to all my fellow stylists, today is your day...may your scissors ever stay sharp, your clients show up on time and you never realize you're out of the colour you really need 2 minutes before the client walks in the door :)