Grade school crushes

These days, I have been thinking about some of the boys I once thought the sun rose and set upon. The dark haired boy from elementary school who was by far the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The red head who was a year older than I was whom I still see around the city with his adorable child. The troubled boy from Grade 9 whom my friends labelled "Mr. X" so as to be more clandestine. The other red head boy with the freckles from high school who rode a motorcycle and once hugged me in the hallway.

I have wanted to make a list of all their names - the boys I had a crush on in school - in vain hopes they "Google" their own name and stumble across me and my brilliance. Of course, they would discover a great fondness for me and call me up, ask me out and fall madly in love.

Wouldn't that be romantic?

Or, you know, creepy?

My new internet crush

I love this guy, Anonymous Coworker. Sure, he has a paper bag on his head, but whatever. I can look past that. I'm not shallow.

My favourite post (warning - has bad language at the end, but really, really funny) has led to my brother texting me mean things or calling and screaming mean things and hanging up. It has also led to the constant use of the word "incestumo" and the creation of the word "incesbian". Also, his post about Eric Clapton was brilliant. And he has some good tips on why you shouldn't eat fibre first thing in the morning.

Sigh. So much funny.

The good old days

Yesterday, I went to Wal-Mart to buy a bouncy ball for the dogs. I accidentally left all theirs at my Aunt's this weekend and they were getting a little ansty. (That was unintentional.) Wal-Mart usually has these great balls in the toy section. Very bouncy, durable (even under Monty's chewing), colourful and sometimes they flash! All for under $2. I walked up and down the toy aisles and there was nothing. They had some balls that were Disney and sang when you threw them and there were balls on yo-yo strings, but no regular balls.

Are kids seriously so jaded that balls aren't fun anymore??? You can't throw something unless it has a string to make it come back to you? (No wonder kids these days are so fat!!) How is that possible?

I checked two other stores. No bouncy balls. Nothing. No toys at all that don't do something. Heaven forbid, that a toy might possibly require children to have imagination of any kind. It is a sad, sad world when a piece of string and a tin can can't entertain a child anymore.

Mouth open, Brain off

I was sleeping this morning when my cell phone rang. I'd worked last night so I decided to ignore it. It rang and rang and rang. So I figured it was one of my siblings.

I stumbled out into the kitchen, grabbed my phone and said "Did it dawn on you after the 15th ring that maybe I wasn't going to answer it?"

A man's voice chuckled and said, "No actually, it hadn't. Maybe I have the wrong number."

He did.

Handy woman

Or I would have been had I not spent 45 minutes searching for my damn hammer.

How on earth does one lose a hammer? I mean, they are fairly heavy creatures. They do not have legs or wings that I am aware of and yet, mine has somehow managed to disappear.

I don't remember putting it anywhere. It is not with either of my tool boxes or in my junk drawer. I checked under my bed and in the bookshelf. I looked on the television and on my nightstand. I checked the computer table and even the fridge. (Don't look at me like that, I found the phone in there once, now I don't take chances.)

I wanted to put a shelf in my closet so I have more space for shoes and storage. My closet is now emptied into the middle of my bedroom. My suitcases are on my bed, my shoes are in many bags and baskets covering the floor and the whole thing is a mess. But I can't fix it until I find my damn hammer. And borrow my Dad's drill from his place b/c the contractors stole mine last fall.

Why do I find it so hard to hang on to my tools????

Otter face

This picture is the funniest thing ever. I want this otter in my home.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Where the children dress scary and neighbours are wary that ghosts will appear. It's the most wonderful time of the year!

I love Hallowe'en. It's my favourite. As soon as Thanksgiving is done, my Hallowe'en stuff goes up. I love fall and the colours and pumpkins and all that stuff. I can't wait. Lyn and I have already got the dogs costumes ready (they hate us, they really do) and I have mine planned for the Hallowe'en party coming up.

Some people don't like Hallowe'en or don't celebrate it. Some think it's about pagan people from a zillion years ago sacrificing goats. But to me? It's all about dressing up funny and getting candy from strangers. What can be bad about that??

I have gone as Cher and as a fat hill-billy girl (I wore my Dad's pants and plaid shirt and stuffed it with pillows and painted one of my teeth black). I've gone as Maud (Bea Arthur) and as an 80's girl. I've gone as Frank Zappa (with a cow even) and as a vampire. But this year? It's going to be awesome. It's a secret though. I will show you pics after the fact.

I can't wait. I love this stuff.

Practicing our spinstering

This weekend at my Aunt's house, my sisters and I rediscovered our love of crafts and all things crafty.

Ky was a knitting bandit (well, she always has been - she just found more tricks) and learned to make slipper socks. You know, those hideous slipper socks that old women give away with gusto to anyone who's feet are not nailed down. Lyn and Grandma Rita (not our grandma, but everyone's grandma) spent hours using the embroidery machine to stitch adorable teddy bears onto the corner of unsuspecting face cloths. I was given a crossstitch kit to finish and am in seventh heaven (but with no Barry Watson). I worked on it for hours after I got home last night and can't wait to work on it today again.

Why is it fitting that we are practicing our spinstering? Because, we live in the neighbourhood spinster house. Ask anyone in the area about our house. They will tell you "The three spinster ladies used to live there." My house was occupied for 40 years by three single women. When my neighbour found out that Lyn and I had moved in, she excitedly exclaimed that we are just what that house needed.

Ky swears she is never moving in.

*** Okay, even using spell check doesn't help. So I keep having to fix this dang thing. Sorry.

All pent up and no where to blow

I love what this woman of The Ethel Experience has to say.

I just get tired of some people. The "blow sunshine up your ass just to say something" people. The "tell you how to live your life" people. And the "I Think Commenting on Your Blog Makes Me Your Best Friend Forever" people.

That being said, this rant is not by any means directed at 99.99% of you. Most of you kick major ass. I mean, you visit me, so you must be awesome and all. But I can only take so much of the annoying few that make me want to blow this whole f*ing thing up and start again with some secret identity.

I think, sometimes, people tend to stop being as honest as they would otherwise be, just to avoid being annoyed by other people.

Little pisser

Monty has issues. He pees. On beds, mostly. My bed often. Other people's too though. He's not that picky.

For some reason, he loves to pee on my Aunt's bed. At the cabin? He peed. Visiting her house with Dad? He peed.

This time, I determined to make it so he would not pee. I kept my eye on him. I watched him like a hawk. Then, I went to go to bed. I told Monty to "hop up" on the bed. So he did.

And peed. RIGHT in front of me.