Wet Wet Wet

As per any good Canadian long weekend, it’s raining.  Regular people are up in arms about this but as nothing about me is regular I am excited by the prospect of rain all weekend.  Mainly because I’ve been chomping at the bit to reorganize a few things at home and read.  I love the rain and curling up with a good or bad book with the sound of the rain outside is one of the best things there is.  Seriously.  This morning when I had the dog out I felt like a little kid.  The rain was heavy enough to create a good little flow in the gutter so in my flip flops with my little dog up on the grass I walked right in the gutter feeling the flow of water all around me.  It was wonderful.  I walked extra slow to enjoy even longer since I was sure the dog was not going to tolerate the rain for very long.  We walked up and down the side of the street allowing me to enjoy the flow covering my feet while he sniffed then begged to go back home.  If I had of done this alone I would have looked like a crazy person.  Thank god for that little dog not blowing my cover of weirdness.  Good Boy!

Scooters

So I’m done sugar coating this blog to save anyone’s feelings.  Right now I am at work with a wicked case of the shits.  I place full blame of this on my mother and the shake mix her friend told her she had to get while in the states.  Right now I am sitting on what feels like a lit curling iron up my ass.  Everyone at work has been very understanding however I don’t need everyone knowing the 15 minutes I just spent in the bathroom was me praying that I don’t shit myself while at work.  I think we have all been there.  I know if I got the shits at home I would be on the bowl reading happily and not focused on my now burning leather cheerio. 

I choose to take this as a sign that I should order the 20 dollar gel filled toilet seat from Regal.  That and my ability to read 1000% better while on the bowl.  Plus I just like to read on the toilet.  I sit there reading and peeing or pooping at will.  Yes, sometimes my legs fall asleep but when all is said and done I love it.  I’m like someone’s middle aged Dad.  Reading on the bowl is my deal.  My Grandfather (as was told to me) used to sit on the toilet with the newspaper on the floor in front of him.  Bent over he would leaf over the pages while taking his time releasing  the hounds.  Yes, I’ve actually been shitting while looking at Norman Earl and saying “Release the hounds!”  He loves it. 

Why am I telling you?  My loyal ten(‘s) of readers.  Why not?  We all do it and most of us manage not to shit themselves while at work.  With some of the stomach problems I’ve had over the years I could open a beer with my butt.  Honestly.  I’ve clenched my buttocks for miles without one drop of excitement leaking out.  As I get older my trust for both my bowels and my bladder is shaky at best.  You never know.  As women get older they pee when they laugh, sneeze, cough, bend over, lift something heavy and breath too deeply.  Amazing deal.  Not every woman mind you.  I of course am painting with a very broad (ha! Chicks are also called broads) stroke.  Still, it happens.  I wonder if Mrs. Duggar has a catheter at this point.  I mean so many bodies have pressed on her bladder I’d be shocked if she didn’t have a cotton towel under that skirt catching what falls out.  I bet she pee’s if hit with a good strong wind.  Gross.  How does Jim Bob even manage to get her pregnant at this point?  Don’t think about it.

Either way thank you my ten(s) of readers for helping me win my wrestling match with the extreme scooters today.  You are a great listener.

Books in the yard

Apparently putting on my underwear correctly was a bit of a stretch this morning.  I don’t fully know what’s wrong but thus far I’m waiting for appointments to cool down before I fix myself.  These are one of my good pairs too!  Either way should my pants fall down I will be wearing clean and excitingly cool looking underwear.  That’s a bonus. 

Look at me boring the shit out of you people three days in a row.  I’ve decided that during my downtime I will do my best to blog since I need to both look busy and keep my comedy mind working at all times.  Writing helps with ideas so really this blog deal is an investment in my writing future and exercising my smart ass remarks to you guys.  So really you should all be thanking me.  You’re welcome guys.  No problem.

Last night after a long day at work and a bad night for Basement Girl (Lets just call her what my Mother calls her from this point on.  BG.)  So BG and I opted to have some share the same home bonding time with a burger and some Value Village Shopping.  Swank I know.  We both have a slight addiction to the book section of Value Village so every few months we end up there scouting the books.  Last night and 28 dollars later (a little much for used books but I have no self control) we both walked out feeling happy with out purchases.  I of course gave into one of my biggest guilty pleasures.  Biographies of almost any sort.  I love a good biography of an interesting celebrity or historical figure who has lived an interesting life.  These books I mostly read in the shitter or on rainy days when no one is around to mock the glint in my eye and smile on my face.  I am sure my mother wishes I had discovered this type of book when I was young.  Summers at the cottage usually cost her and my grandparents about 50 bucks in books to keep me busy.  I think this was where I began stealing books from the school library.  Needless to say the security of Cartier PS Library was non existent.  You filled out the little card and put it in a little bucket.  I learned early on to leave my card blank and not return the book.  Good luck finding me Mrs. O’Brian!  This lead to the great cleaning out my room in grade 8 resulting in about 60 library books that had been stolen over the years.  Sneaking them back into the library was no small event.  I ended up filling my back pack about 3 times and hiding the books in the closed off area where crap was stored.  I managed to get them all back without being discovered or my Mother calling to follow up. 

Clearly my obsession for books started early.  My mother was and is still a reader.  I don’t know how you can not be a reader when one or both of your parent’s faces are pressed into a book much of the time.  From the age of about 12 I tried to relate to my Mom via books.  At the cottage I would read the books she had just finished.  Usually a mystery or a Danielle Steele book.  You would think I had an unrealistic view of love based on the romance books I was bored enough to read while with my family.  As an only child I had to read to amuse myself.  Reading eventually turned to writing and coming up with my own story ideas.  If I could only focus enough to write my own book. 

So the purchases made last night were as follows:

* Margaret Trudeau Bio.  Newer and talks about her mental health issues.

* Meredith Baxter (Elyse Keaton – the Mom on Family Ties) is a lesbian now.  So that should have some good action.

* Book about a dog that races and 2 people have told me I need to read.

* Barbra Walters far to publicized autobiography Audition.  This was a book I have been avoiding since I came out.  I am not a real fan but one thing I can’t take away from her is a life full of interesting shit.  If there is a full chapter on Hasselbeck I’m going to burn the book in backyard fire.  Either way I might burn it as I don’t want to die and be found with this book in my home.

A tiny part of me wished I was both unemployed with a stunning yard to sit out and read in for the summer.  I guess I should also wish I didn’t burn in the shade and had a pool but the other two aren’t happening either so lets not get all caught up in my sense of dream entitlement.  Either way its not going to happen so reading on the shitter and in my backyard is going to have to be all I’ve got this summer.  So is life.  As usual I will be happy with what I have and just deal.  I’ve enjoyed being out more with Norman and Fred and think honestly more time this summer with the boys would be wonderful.  At some point I hope the neighbour gets his ass in gear and builds me up a privacy fence.  If I had one on both sides I could be pants free, reading in my yard...in the shade. 

Sandwiches and the North

It might be early today but I might be on the track of getting back to my normal level of tired.  I typed that and yawned.  Damn it all to hell!  I did managed to sleep without moving until 3 am when I woke up with a full bladder.  For about 5 seconds I thought about peeing myself then got up and staggered to the bathroom.  I might have fallen asleep on the toilet for a bit because at some point I noticed that my head was against the wall and my eyes had been closed for a while.  Either way I went right back to bed and slept like a large baby.

Basement Girl will often work nights and another morning shift on no sleep.  This is not something I could do.  I was offered some relief hours at one of the group homes but aside from the fact that I would be working with hardened criminals I would have to work nights much of the time.  Now I could work nights and it’s not that I’m a princess and I’m too good to work nights, which could be part of it since I am a princess and could maybe be a little too tender to work nights.  Anyway, enough about me being tender.  The issue I have with working nights is that when my father was working nights be was very sick with the diabetes and got worse.  It jacked so bad with his system and his memory that he “retired” early.  I always felt bad for him.  He loved working at the College and still talks about it like he just stopped working last week.  Mom and I roll our eyes but aside from us it’s really all he had. 

I went to the store on lunch and when I was getting a diet coke I noticed in the cooler of the store they had those variety store sandwiches for almost 5 bucks.  Jesus.  How hungry does someone have to be to buy one of those?  You don’t know when or where they were made and the meat I’m guessing is all slimy.  I wonder if people eat these on a dare.  I’ve seen the hamburgers in there too.  Who just buys a 5 dollar burger that’s been in a fridge for who knows how long and heats it up?  Gack.  That doesn’t seem right at all to me.  I don’t think this has ever been ok but honestly besides stoners with the angry munchies who would go into a store and buy this?  I seriously might buy one just to analyze this.  By that I mean to take it apart and do some quality testing and not that I bought one and ate it already.  I promise.  That did not happen.

I guess sometimes I wonder about things.  I think it comes from being a people watcher, evaluator and general 5 year old about the world.  Last week I grilled another new staff who spent 4 years working in Nunavut.  The poor girl.  Thank god she’s the new Mental Health person or she might not have been ready for my barrage of questions for 45 minutes.  Bless her.  The highlights that were not sad included fun food facts such as paying $9 bucks for a cucumber, fresh food being flown in and freezing on the way due to altitude and a huge pack of 24 rolls of toilet paper on sale for $58 dollars.  I am assuming in those homes 2 ply is unfolded to 1 ply and the 3 squares rule is law.  Jesus.  One of my after a weekend of eating bad poops would cost about $6 bucks.  I don’t want to think about my period.

Another fun fact is she confirmed they do have 30 Days of Night (minus the non English speaking vampires) and 30 days of light.  Seriously!  I could do the dark as I love the dark but the light would jack with my system too much.  I can nap the shit out of a sunny day but I think it not being dark when I have my big sleep would mess with me.  She did say that when it’s dark, it’s dark.  Black.  The streets have some huge lamps so you can see in the downtown but that’s it.  Some times it gets a touch light.  Kind of a dusk but that is it.  How awesome?!?!  She did say that when it’s light all the time the native people are up at all hours and think nothing of not going to work and hunting all night and camping.  It’s a cultural thing.  Fascinating!  I would love to go for a visit but I could not live there unless I was rich.  Also I could not live there if I was rich due to the poverty and I would end up giving up a ton of money to kids without teeth or food. 

Sometimes I look a the world  from the eyes of a jaded approaching middle aged chick with bills to pay and other times I amaze myself with my hilarious innocence at the places I have yet to go and the billions of things I don’t know.  Aren’t I just a ray of sunshine today.

Punch-drunk

punch-drunk (p nch dr ngk )

adj.

1. Showing signs of brain damage caused by repeated blows to the head. Used especially of a boxer.

2. Behaving in a bewildered, confused, or dazed manner.

My friend Sheena (not real name to protect innocent) used to tell me she felt punch-drunk all the time.  I didn’t fully get it until this week.  Now I am completely behaving in a bewildered, confused and dazed manner.  So after a long break this blog could be interesting, confusing and bewildering.  Be worried.

Again I have let the blog slide.  Sorry to those who check and find nothing updated.  I have started many topics but end up getting distracted and not finishing my thought or posting.  No excuse really, just busy and spending my time keeping up with house stuff and friends.  The new bed is still fairly amazing.  Still firm and I still feel like it’s a big girl bed.  High, well made, and with the headboard snazzy.  I do have a funny story about my headboard.

So as any adult knows sometimes when things are happening the headboard hits the wall and it sounds like someone is being murdered.  Sometimes.  Anyway.  After getting the new bed I was determined that this nonsense stop so I can enjoy sex without the fear of basement girl thinking I’ve joined an armature wrestling team.  (Team as in two, it’s a queen size not a king.)  Anyway so when the bed was delivered and I had it all made up I trotted off to the bathroom and got two of the thickest most industrial maxi pads that I could find.  Why?  Well they are now protecting my newly painted wall and the back of my headboard from hitting the wall during…wrestling.  The wrapper is not visible and the wrestling thus far has been muffled by the good people at not-name-brand maxi pad company.  It hasn’t marked the wall and basement girl can’t tell when I have company.  SCORE!

I wish I could take full responsibility for that idea.  Sadly many years ago my Great Grandpa decided that with a free sample panty liner would prevent a wall mirror from touching the wall.  This is the kind of handy people I come from.  In his defense he had no idea what the pad was for as Granny hadn’t had a period since just after WW2.  Always a thinker that man was. 

So thus far I’m at work still exhausted.  It’s Tuesday for Christ sake and I am acting like I was at a rave all night.  Yesterday was worse.  I was up late Sunday on the phone with a friend and that seems to have jacked me all over the place.  I have had a few late nights over the weeks but I have been able to bounce back quite well.  Sadly yesterday, Monday, I spent most of my day trying to stay awake and focus on some fairly simple tasks.  That didn’t go amazingly well.  I came home, got a 2^nd wind, pulled some weeds, BBQ’d and then showered.  In bed by 9:30 I passed out for the night and woke up bewildered in a confused and dazed manner.  So of course Norman Earl had to get up when I got up and needed out right away.  Only able to see out of one  eye I managed to get clothes on and get him out before any accident’s happened.  Shockingly I managed not to fall down my front steps or kill myself walking across the street.   Now I’m at work, semi more alert then yesterday but still oddly tired.  I’ve checked my sugars and they seem ok.  Maybe I just need a good rest or a vacation.  Laurie and I are debating on another weekend away but for now I think resting up and getting things done quietly around the house would prove to be less stressful for me in the long run. 

I have about 6 home projects on the go.  Sadly my own adult ADD has gotten the best of me so a few things are half done and it’s getting on my nerves.  I wonder if Amazon has a book for adults with ADD who can’t finish a home project?  I’d only order it and read the first chapter anyway.  I own that.  Perhaps this weekend I can get a few things done.  Sometimes I seriously think I should have gotten a condo.  One of those fancy apartment ones really high with a big balcony.  Then again I wouldn’t have found Fred.  Stray street cats don’t make it up to the 20^th floor. 

Despite being exhausted I am blissfully happy.  My off the blog life has been wonderful lately, work is going great and I’ve got some serious irons in the fire.  If I could just get some extra sleep…