Figuring out what I wanna be when I grow up.
Oop..I AM grown up...

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Share YOUR ANGST! Your ANGST Is Good Too!


Okay fellow sympathizers and friends!  I just did a post on my poor girly flopping onto her face at the playground.  And we have ALL lived through those nasty lumps, bumps, bruises and tumbles.  You guys listen to me waaa waaa waaa all the time, and I lurv you and want to hear from you.


Now it's YOUR turn.  I want YOU to post a picture of your OUCHIES on my  Ow, my angst FACEBOOK PAGE!

Think you can do it?

Here's How!

* for starters, find me on Facebook.  You can either click HERE, or you can always find my Facebook link on the left hand side of my blog as you scroll down.

* scan or upload a photie into your computer, or choose one you already have, then post it onto my Facebook Page, with a small blurby about the BOO-BOO! (you know, like how it happened)

* you may have to "like" me first in order to do it.  NO, this is not my sneaky way to get LIKES, that's Facebook's stoopid modus operandi.  But, try it without if you want, and see what works :)

* the photo can be of your little person, (or even you, you need huggums too)--it just has to be your favourite oh-my-poor-widdle-buddy picture

* No nudity please.  I mean, come on.

*Nothing so gross we can't look at it: no eyeballs flopping out, no super gore--nothing that will make us totally yark as we're drinking our coffee.

* No spam.  You can't even imagine how quickly spam will put my boot in your ass.


Find Ow, my angst on Facebook!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

New Improved Tuesdays-Now with HEART ATTACKS!

hair is wet and clean, not greasy, but look at that bump :(


not so happy after coming home from the hospital. I don't know why--it's such a fun place!

I had to take one of her being "stylie"

3 stitches = GOOD TIMES

Have I told you about my 4 year old daughter?

Oh, that's right, I have.  She says outrageous things.  She's very funny.  She's much easier to feed than her brother.  She's giving me WHITE HAIR.  Actually, I've added the "Ella" label to some of the posts about her, so if you care for a laugh, just click her keyword at the bottom of this post.

Oh yes, she's very clumsy.  Clumsy's actually not a good enough word for her. She hurts herself so often, for the most part it makes me look like a bad mother, because I barely react now, and I seem to hardly care.  Sorry, but if you're kid WIPES OUT about ten times per day, you start to become a little desensitized.

So, there we were, as usual, at the playground after school.  I always let the kids play to burn off all that pent up school rage.  So, she was climbing up this metal spiral thingy, that goes up to the top of the slide structure.  She was a HORRIFYING TWO FEET OFF THE GROUND, when suddenly, she pulled an Ella, and just, well, fell off.

Even as I watched her fall off from where I was sitting about 10 feet away, there was a small part of my brain, confused, asking  how the hell did she fall off???  She wasn't being crazy.  She wasn't having a race with anyone.  No.  She was just being her little Ella self.

So, she hit the ground and started SCREAMING.  She pretty much smashed everything she could smash on the way down  Kind of like a human pinball.  You know the scream of which I speak, parents, and careful observers:  the scream that tells you something truly STOOPID has just happened.

Thus, I raced over to pick her up, and then saw


Ohdeargod I hate blood.  Lots of blood, but coming from 2 places, so I was CONFUSED.

"Oh my god!"  I said.


So we raced into the school, the custodian let us in, and we were soon surrounded by:

1. the principal
2. Jack's E.A.
3. the custodian
4. the kindergarten teacher
5. the french teacher
6. and the school health nurse, who just happened to still be there

It was like a freaking PLAY.  The kindly nurse, in her scrubs, muscled in and asked if she could take a look.  Go right ahead, lady, because I sure as hell don't have enough backbone to EVER be the person who can check out the BOOBOO to see just how serious it is.

So, Ella's sitting on a chair in the middle of the hallway with ice on her head and ice on her chin, and the nurse is telling me she'll need stitches, and Jack is standing there completely quiet with eyes the size of saucers, and I had to call The Man and nearly shout


and then I'm trying to convey to the crowd that I'm not a total dirtbag mom, not paying attention to my kids because Ella was --literally?--TWO FEET off the ground.

My favourite part, now as I look back on it, was when I ran to the front door of the school to see if The Man had arrived yet, and as I was walking away, the nurse was saying;

"Ella!  Ella!  Stay with me, Ella!  Stay with me!"

and I was thinking; "STAY WITH ME?!?!?  MY GOD DO WE NEED AN AMBULANCE?!?"

Stay with me.  Sheesh.

Nobody should say "stay with me" unless that person is DYING, okay?  That shit is horrifying to panicky moms.

And so, Ella was loaded into The Man's car, and off the two of them went to the hospital for 3 stitches, and some oo-ing and ah-ing over how cute the nurses thought she was.

In the meantime, I walked home with Jack.

Hi, do you happen to know that one of the common traits of a SPECTRUM kid is a noted lack of APATHY?  Yeah.  That sucks when you feel completely maxed out.

Me:  "that was TERRIBLE!"

Jack:  "Mom, stop being so grouchy."

Me:  "I'm not being grouchy, I'm stressed!"

Jack:  "why are you stressed?"


Jack:  "I don't know!  Tell me!"

Me:  "okay, yeah, good one Jack.  Why am I stressed.  WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"

Jack:  "I don't remember?"

Me:  "UH, your sister got hurt?  Blood everywhere?"

Jack:  "Mom, stop sounding so grouchy."


Jack:  "Okay, mom, okay.  Just try to calm down, because you're really, really, really making me angry."

Then I turned into the hulk.

Then we inhaled a whole lot of McDonalds.

My children will be the death of me.

P.S. Ella's okay today. She's been happily running around--as The Man and I wilt with terror and say "ELLA TAKE IT EASY TODAY", and saying that the doctor's had to "sew her back up."

P.P.S.  I got all that blood out of her shirt.  BOO YAH I AM A ROCKSTAR!  SUCK ON THAT B*TCHES!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Monday Gobbledegook

flower pot!

Okay, first of all, do you ever have this raging fantasy that you just say whatever you want to people without censoring yourself all the time?  I have that fantasy.  Lately, the top guy on my list I'd like to be blunt with is the freaking crossing guard.

Oh the crossing guards.  How they do drive me mental.  I mean, we're talking months and months of inane conversations about the weather.

"Nice day today."

"Sure is."

"Have a good day."

"You too."


"Kinda chilly out this morning eh?"

"Yeah, but it's supposed to warm up."

"Oh, is it?"

"yup.  Then rain tomorrow."

"Have a nice day."

"You too."


"Hasn't started raining yet."

"I think it's going to blow over."

"Have a nice day."

"yup, you too."


Okay, but it's the GUY crossing guard on the opposite side of the street who is on my list right now, because honestly?  If he makes that joke about our sunglasses again, I might lose it.  So, I'll just clack up a fake letter instead:

Dear Man Guard,

You know that joke you've made about five times now--the one where you say; "I see everyone's got their 'JOE COOL' glasses on!" or, "Looks like everyone's got their JOE COOL glasses on today", or "here comes JOE COOL", and then you chuckle likes it's the first f*cking time you've ever made that joke?  Well, we GET IT.

Yes, we wear our sunglasses whether it's cloudy or sunny, okay?  It's not because we're SUPER COOL, it's because I'm 39 AND LOOK LIKE A BAG OF HELL IN THE MORNING.

with fond annoyance,


Damn I'm too tired today.

You know what else is sad?  The guy who is putting in new basement windows for us (F*CK OFF ANTS, TRY TO GET THROUGH THESE WINDOWS A$$HOLES), just shuffled in a few minutes ago and said; "can I use your washroom?"  So, now I'm wondering, in a sad, wilting way, if any of my gitch are lying on the bathroom floor, and how many bras are in there, or if anyone changed the toilet paper roll.

See, I clean the bathroom every day, but there are no promises it looks pretty after the morning headless chicken rush to get the boy off to school on time.


Furthermore, that guys been up there for more than a minute.  Thanks so much for the fab windows, and for taking a dump in MY bathroom.

Oh, but everyone, what I really wanted to talk about was this week's offering of SEARCH STATS.  When I log in to blogger here (for those of y'all who don't blog), there is a section from my homepage titled "Stats" and I can go in there and see how many page views I've had for the day, week, month, or ever.  I can also see what posts are catching people's eyes, and I to digress for a second here and say

Why isn't anyone looking at THIS POST?  It has WHISKY in it for crying out loud!  It's much more entertaining than a stupid post about flying ants, which, by the way, has had a ridiculous number of hits.  I have no idea why.

Anyhoo, here are the search terms that people used, and the number of people who used said search terms, in the past week that helped them find me, either on purpose or inadvertently:

* ow my angst - 15

* very ugly hairy lady - 5

* fisher price sesame street house - 4

* fuzzy hairy boys legs - 4

* the wiggles drawings - 4

* feel better funny - 3

* feel better soon funny - 3

* flowerpot in ass - 3

* karen somethingorother blogspot - 3

* barbie camper 1976 - 2

Okay, that's all fairly straight forward.  3 people found me by actually searching my blog url (which I myself can almost never remember. Perhaps it's time for a change).  A few people stumbled upon me thanks to this fantastic photo:

"While The Man Is Away"

Some peeps found my blog while trying to feel better through humour.  Aw!  That's magical!  Hopefully they didn't read some pms posts.  Those aren't too HA-HA HAPPY.

Some were looking for Wiggles Drawings, which is cool, because then they got to see some of my little guy's art.

And someone...

wait a minute.


flowerpot in ass.


Can someone help me with this?  It appears I may be completely out of touch with what's HIP nowadays.

I need a coffee.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

I Still Miss You Jim Henson


Oh Jim Henson, if only you'd lived to see your 75th birthday.  How come all the good people in the world kick the can, and all the jerks live FOREVER???

Anyhow, I was a huge fan of The Muppet Show As a kid.

I loved Pigs In Space
MEE MEE MEE MEE MEE!!  (image)

I watched every episode.  I thought it was fantastic.

And then, in 1982 something exciting was about to hit the silver screen:  "The Dark Crystal".  It was such a departure from the usual, snuggy, Sesame Street, Muppet Show world of Jim Henson.  It was dark, and serious and even scary in some parts.

oooo...remember when the Skeksis sucked the VITAL ESSENCE out of the Gelflings???  HORRIFYING...and yet..not unlike what my kids do to me often....

From Wikipedia, "The Dark Crystal"

"The Dark Crystal is a 1982 British-American fantasy film directed by Jim Henson and Frank Oz. Although marketed as a family film, it was notably darker than previous material created by them. Characters for which they are famous do not appear, but some of the same performers are used. The animatronics used in the film were considered groundbreaking. The primary concept artist was the fantasy illustrator Brian Froud, famous for his distinctive faerie and dwarf designs. Froud also collaborated with Henson and Oz for their next project, the 1986 film Labyrinth, which was notably more light-hearted than The Dark Crystal"

Still, when I thought of Jim Henson, I thought of "The Muppet Show." and the Muppet movies (does anyone remember Kermit the Frog RIDING A BIKE?  I freaked out over that as a kid!), and that lovable Kermit The Frog voice.

"The Muppet Show featured Kermit as host, and a variety of other memorable characters, notably Miss Piggy, Gonzo the Great, and Fozzie Bear. Kermit's role on The Muppet Show was often compared by his co-workers to Henson's role in Muppet Productions: a shy, gentle boss with "a whim of steel"[14] who "[ran] things as firmly as it is possible to run an explosion in a mattress factory."[17] 

Caroll Spinney, the puppeteer of Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch, remembered that Henson "would never say he didn't like something. He would just go 'Hmm.' That was famous. And if he liked it, he would say, 'Lovely!' "[3] Henson himself recognized Kermit as an alter-ego, though he thought that Kermit was bolder than his creator; he once said of Kermit, "He can say things I hold back."[18]"  

...Henson died on the morning of May 16, 1990 at the age of 53...On May 21, a public memorial service was held in New York City at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Another one was held on July 2 at St. Paul's Cathedral in London. As per Henson's wishes, no one in attendance wore black, and a Dixieland jazz band finished the service by performing "When the Saints Go Marching In". Harry Belafonte sang "Turn the World Around," a song he had debuted on The Muppet Show, as each member of the congregation waved, with a puppeteer's rod, an individual, brightly-colored foam butterfly.[30][31] Later, Big Bird (performed by Caroll Spinney) walked out onto the stage and sang Kermit the Frog's signature song, "Bein' Green"...

...In the final minutes of the two-and-a-half hour service, six of the core Muppet performers sang, in their characters' voices, a medley of Jim Henson's favorite songs, culminating in a performance of "Just One Person" that began with Richard Hunt singing alone, as Scooter. "As each verse progressed," Henson employee Chris Barry recalled, "each Muppeteer joined in with their own Muppets until the stage was filled with all the Muppet performers and their beloved characters."[32] The funeral was later described by LIFE as "an epic and almost unbearably moving event."

-Wikipedia: "Jim Henson"

Why did we love Jim Henson so much?  Why do we still feel so much fondness when we think of his work today, or if we hear "The Rainbow Connection"?  Is it because there's something so wonderful about anyone who is able to create so much magic and joy?

Perhaps that's it.


Thursday, September 22, 2011

While Rifling Through My Computer Files...

I came across this little gem from 2007!

Enjoy 3 year old Jack in all his rock and roll glory.  It's a bit of an ear-blaster, but that's because you can't hold back when you need to rock.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


I wonder if my daughter still thinks this is a "happy banana"...


Did you hear that?  That's the sound of all my homeboys quietly clicking over to another website.

Sorry dudes.

Wait!  Don't go!  You can join in the fun too!

Listen, you may or may not be interested, but my LADY TSUNAMI is almost done.  WOO HOO!  FREAKING WOOOOOO HOOOOO!  I can sleep on my back again without fear that the river will run right between the mountains and onto my crisp white sheets!  I can switch the dark brown towels to the white ones with flowers!  Hooray!  HOORAY!

Sorry, I'm getting a little carried away.

I'm tired of maxi pads.  I know, I know--you smart girls have already tried the DIVA CUP, and you lurv it.  I have yet to go hunting for this special cup, because I am a) burnt out, b) forgetful, and c) obsessed with spending my money on NEW SHIRTS. It would be a wise investment--this reusable lady equipment.  It would also be wise to invest in more new underpants, because two pairs kind of disintegrated in the same week.  I guess four years is a pretty long life for a pair of gitch.

Anyhoo, I need to compose a small letter:


You are a very well-known brand of maxi-pads.  You also make something stupid and weird called "ultrathins" and "pantiliners":  two things that I will never have any need for, but I'm guessing you make them for TEENS, who have not yet popped a baby out of their hoo-hoos, and their hormones didn't go completely berzerko yet, so their periods aren't RIDONCULOUS.

But I digress...

Your pads are so much better than the no-name, grocery store, super-pack, economy brand my beloved Mom used to buy.  Those things were stupid.  I might as well have rolled up a t-shirt and stuck that in my gitch, because that is what those old-skool pads felt like.  They were bulky and never ever came with "wings" or "dri-weave", so they were only okay if you were only ever just sitting and not moving.

Also, as I just mentioned,  you have something called dri-weave, which is much better than all the other pads, and as I've now had somewhere around 300 periods, I've come to NEED these fabulous little details, and even though I am a giant cheapskate in nearly all things in life, I no longer skimp on pads.  But here's what I want to know:


Yes, that is my dream:  to find that somewhere out there, there is an ultra-thin, night-time absorbancy pad with all that dri-weave stuff and wings--big, long wings.  I would only need it for about three nights a month.  Am I the only girl in the world who wants this??!?!  Am I???

Because as it stands now, I have two options:  to sleep on one of the ugly towels at night (you know, the ones you save for when you colour your hair?), or I can craft up my own SUPER PAD by carefully overlapping two pads, end to end, so I'm protected from navel to the top of the crack.  Can't you guys just make these arm-length pads?  Please!  Please!  I'd be so happy to roll these magic carpets out onto my underpants, and not wake up with the big red dot on the top of my jammy pants, because I forgot and slept on my back for a while.

Yours truly,

karen somethingorother

Monday, September 19, 2011


As a parent, you have to become skilled at many things--not the least of which is....


Yes, that's right, children are cunning, clever little things, and they listen to EVERYTHING you don't want them to be listening to, even if they never hear you call them for their baths 500 times.

All parents do it.  They have to, otherwise kids would be ruled by their own ridiculous, arbitrary rules and paranoia.  For instance, when I was a kid, I thought that french fries sometimes tasted funny, and the funny tasting ones tasted gross because they had POTATOES IN THEM.

I have a distinct memory of sitting at the kitchen table, with a little paper sleeve of McDink's fries that I was finishing up, while my family watched Evil Knievel on TV.   Sure enough I hit one of those yucky fries--you know--the ones that are all dry and suck the spit out of your mouth?


Mom:  "no."

And then I happily resumed eating.

Sometimes parents lie for fun, like when my Dad told me (when he used to play amateur hockey) that he was "friends" with Lanny McDonald.  So, one night when Dad and I were watching a hockey game, the camera was filming the Calgary Flames as they headed out onto the ice and I wondered dreamily if Lanny was thinking of his good buddy, my Dad, as he was about to hit the ice.

I had an argument with a kid in class about it even.  You know, one of those DOES NOT--DOES TOO!  kind of stupidities?  So, when I got home from school I said; "Dad, you know Lanny McDonald, right?!"  and he said; "sure--I see him on our TV all the time."


My father also conned me into believing that the windshield wipers on his car "sensed" rain on the windshield and automatically turned on.  I believed that one for quite a while.

So recently, I was at the grocery store with my girlie, and we were buying this and that and I said that we'd better get some chicken.  Her eyes got all wide and horrified and she asked;

"like...the ANIMAL?!?"

Me:  "nooooo...the chicken that you EAT.  You know--the eating chicken.  Not the animal chicken."

Yeah, whatever.  There'll be plenty of years for her to ponder/agonize over eating creatures.  So, I'm a wimp, OKAY?!?!

Oh, and then there's Jack.  Jack, Jack, Jack, who will panic at the drop of a hat.  Does anyone remember the back-peddling I did over that whole botched "gently explaining death" fiasco about my grandmother a couple of years ago?  No?  You know, the one in which Jack started to FREAK with visions of heads underground? Well, you can read about it HERE.

I think I lie to that kid more than anyone, because I JUST CAN'T TAKE THE PANIC, or deal with his un-contestable rules.  Take this school year for instance:  the second Labour Day ended, summer packed up and left, and the weather turned nearly immediately to CRAP.  It's been chilly some days.  Do you think I could convince the kid to wear pants?  OH HEAVENS NO.  After all, don't be stupid people:  you don't wear pants in SUMMER.

One day the kid was freezing when he was playing outside with shorts, a t-shirt, no jacket, and no footwear.  He came in the house and complained about how cold he was.  So, I went upstairs and got him some track pants and a long sleeved shirt.  He flat out REFUSED to wear the freaking pants.

"I WANT MY WINTER JACKET!" he insisted.


And he was ANGRY with me, and a little disgusted too.  All the while, he's been asking me if it's autumn yet.  Nope, I say, because technically the season hadn't changed........until yesterday.

Jack:  "is it AUTUMN, Mom?"

Me:  "yup.  It is.  It's autumn."

Jack:  "it is?"

Me:  "Oh yes."

So, BINGO BANGO, this morning when he was about to get dressed he chose to wear PANTS.  It was acceptable now, because IT'S AUTUMN in his world.

heh heh..


Oh, are you wondering where I got that stupid expression from?  Well, there was this hilarious little video I saw on youtube a couple of years ago, and it still cracks me up.  Ever since we watched it, my sister and I have been using that expression for bullsh*tty things that occur.

So, I'm leaving you with that video now, and I want you to tell me about all the little lies YOU tell.

Watch the video--pariticularly Michael Moore at the end--I almost cried when I watched it again this morning.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Funerals Make Me Cranky

There is absolutely no way the title of this post isn't going to come off sounding glib, but eff it.  I've got a headache.

I went to a funeral yesterday.  A friend's father had passed away just 10 months after his mother died.  Brutal.  Absolutely brutal.  I feel just awful for him and his sister.  I have even more empathy than ever before, and as I sat there the fact that they are now parentless wasn't lost on me.  Nor was the imagined image of the two of them having to sit in a funeral home to make those last, horrid details, guided by some slick ghoul who has made a business out of (mock) soothing the bereaved and befuddled;

Yes, Mr. Smith, this is a very difficult time for you.  We understand.  *pat pat on the hand*.  We've been in this business a long time and we're here to help.  Here, let us show you some ridiculously over-priced caskets.  We KNOW that you don't want to put your loved one into something cheap and tacky...there, there, now...have a tissue.

Blech.  The death business is recession-proof, isn't it!  I hate funerals.  I'm not critical of anyone who chooses to have one.  We all have to deal with death in our own way, and I do see that they are necessary to say goodbye to someone we love who has died, and allow others to do the same.


I hate the near-choking atmosphere of sadness and loss;  the heart-breaking photo montages near the front of the room--times when the departed were so vibrant and beautiful--so beloved.  I couldn't help but think that when we die, all that is really left to represent us in any kind of tangible way is a small, select stack of photos.

Granted, I am damn cynical.  

I hate the sermons with their heart-breaking memories interspersed with typical, seemingly-soothing biblical passages that are read each time, that must bring comfort to someone, yet not to me.  Prepare a place elsewhere for my Mother all you want, but I want her here.  Then, after we all have a good cry, we go eat little triangle sandwiches with gusto, because DAMN, nothing makes you hungry like death!

....why is that?  Is it a sort of literal hunger for life?

But let me say this:  I don't hate the memories people share.  I think they're wonderful, and always interesting to hear these verbal vignettes.  They just make it even more torturous, because if I wasn't a softy before, hoo boy am I ever now.  I'm telling you--I can't take these things since my Mother died.  Okay, nobody likes a funeral.  Nobody thinks they're a GOOD TIME, so I don't expect it to be pleasant.   After all, we are the ones still here, yearning for the person who is gone.   

There's something WAY creepy about the funeral home too--all done up like someone's good living room, except there are kleenex boxes everywhere, and business cards.  Don't forget the business cards.

Maybe, before I go to the other side of the dirt, I'll plan things a little differently, if I'm lucky enough to die an old woman, as I fully intend to do.  No funeral.  No black polyester clothes and pinchy shoes.  No triangle sandwiches--no, wait--good eggsalad rocks.  Those who love me best can bury me, but have a celebration on the first, nice, sunny, warm day thereafter--in someone's back yard.  I'll choose the music.  I'll write the words.  Maybe I'll even set aside some cashola for a caterer, and maybe someone will say:

damn.  That was one hell of a party.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

My Pre-Teen Diary

Do you still have your diary(ies)?  Probably most girls kept a diary in highschool and I bet they all sounded a lot alike as far as content is concerned.  I don't know if most of you dudes kept diaries--I figured that was a chick thing.  Anyhow, my highschool diary isn't funny at all.  It's all teen angst, coming to a crescendo with the death of my first love to cancer.  


So, let's back up a few years to my PRE-teen diary.  Now that's one hot piece of garbage!  I bought it from one of those class book sale lists, and the thing barely had enough space to write anything for each date.  I wrote in it sporadically from the ages of 11 to 13, and now I'm going to foist it on YOU.  

You're welcome. 

So, cast your mind back to a time when Madonna was first hopping around with really, really rat-nesty hair, and a ton of wrist bracelets, everyone went to the movies to see "Back To the Future", and EVERYBODY tuned in to watch LIVE AID, and absolutely NOTHING happened in your life, but you still managed to turn anything and everything into drama...  

March 1 1984

Dear Diary,

Well here it is the first day of March/84 and there's snow up to my knees.  I am now 11 years old and I've got such a crush on Mike.  It's too bad that he's got such a big bum.  My rabbit had babies a while ago and I'm trying to save him/her (premature rabbit).  Today my period just started.

March 2

Dear Diary,

The little rabbit I was trying to save died

March 4
Today I felt sick

March 5

The Duran Duran concert went on today.  I couldn't go.

March 7

I've been keeping a diet lately. Still no sign of good looking guys.

March 8

I've forgotten about the diet but I haven't been eating as much.  Today we played baseball and after only 6 strikes I hit the ball and noone made fun of me.

March 9

We had a day off of school today and I'm beginning to think of a routine for gymnastics.  Today my brother hit me and I cried

March 13

Life is so cruel.  I'll never understand it.  Just today I found a dead fish.
Why do things have to be this way?


May 30 1985

Well here it is May 30 1985. I think K. is a Jerk and Jason is a gorgeous babe and he's really nice too.  I still think Mike is cute but not as much as Jason.  I am so sick of school I could just barf.  I wish Jason loved me.

June 21

I don't think it's fair that I can only stay out til 8:45 on friday nights.  It only starts to get dark at 9:30.

June 23

I went to play tennis today with T. and the only other person that showed up was Brian and he had his shirt off and I almost threw up because he looked so wimpy.  Only 2 more days of school.

June 24

Today in school I saw a gay movie called "The Gold Bug." Thank God tomorrow's the last day of school.  At grade 8 graduation Jason got the athletic award.  I'm so proud of him.  I love ya Jay.

June 25

I'm gonna miss Jason so much.  He was and always will be the nicest and most gorgeous guy in the world.  I'll miss ya Jay.  I could have killed T. when we went to the movies because I was all set to sit beside Jason and she took his seat.  I got a certificate and a game for having the highest percent in the class for french.

June 26

Today I hung around with Lisa and played video games.  I slept in till 10:40.

June 27

I went to Fabricland with Lisa today because she had to get some stuff for her Cabbage Patch Kid.   I saw gorgeous Jason at the Park and after he left Cam came and told some funny stories and then rode part way home with me.  I have a crush on him again.

July 2

We got a new couch today and it's really nice.  I'm on a diet and I wish it were so easy to lose weight that I could lose 5 pounds a day.  I didn't do anything today.  What a boring summer. I wish I had a pool. I hope Cam likes me.

July 3 

Today I went swimming in Lisa's pool it was 80 degrees and beautiful. I got a bit of a sunburn.  I've lost a pound.

July 5

I didn't do anything today.  I hope I can see Cam some time.  I really want to be GOOD friends with him.  If my brother finds this diary I'll die.

July 6

I now way [sic] 124 pounds!  When I started my diet I weighed 135 pounds.  Isn't that awesome!?!  I walked over to Foodbarn to get some milk and the rotten store was closed.  So I walked over to A&P and the stupid broad didn't give me a bag so I had to walk home with 4 ice cold litres of milk in my hands  brrrr.

July 8

I'm going to the movies tomorrow with Lisa, Matthew and ♥Cam♥.  I'm so excited.  I haven't gotten any mail from Christy and Kate yet (away at summer camp) and I'm mad!  I didn't do anything today and I'm still on my diet.  I wish I could get skinny fast!  I just noticed that we're leaving for up north on the 13 which is my lucky number.

July 9

I went to the movies tonight and the show was great!  Cam was hilarious as usual but I was surprised to see Jason who didn't socialize with me, Lisa or Matthew.  Cam says Gowan is coming to town.  I hope I can go.

July 10

I got a letter from Katie yesterday. I got a letter from Katie and Christy again today.  I saw Rocky II on T.V. and I cried at the sad parts.  That movie was good.  I can hardly wait till we leave!

July 11

I am not in love with Cam.  I just want to be fantastic friends with him.  I am praying there is a cute guy up north that will be attracted to me.  I didn't get any mail today.  I forgot to write that on Tuesday I found out that Jason has a girlfriend named Crissy.  Boo hoo!  What can possibly be so hard about losing 10 pounds and getting a boy?

July 13

We left today and the drive was long and boring (4 hrs).  The cottage was plain and the first night I got a mosquito buzzing in my ear, a flying spider by my bed and a daddy long legs crawling on my arm (Yipes!)

July 14

Lots of blackflies here.  The chipmunks are sooooo cute.  The outhouse makes me want to puke.  The Live Aid Concert went on yesterday (14 hrs) and my brother taped it.

July 15

There are 2 girls that stay near us they are:  Tory (aprox. 10 yrs)
                                                                      Morgan (6 yrs)

They're from a place near Toronto and they come to their cottage on weekends.  I rowed the boat and got a blister on each thumb.  Today we went into Dorset.  I saw a cute guy.

July 17

I got a deerfly bite today and the bastard bit me on the bum.  I got to row today it was great.  I miss P.(brother).  We're going home tomorrow instead of Friday because everybody wanted to.

July 18

I am sooooooooooo glad to be home!

July 19

I'm going to learn how to play electric guitar.  How could I ever have loved Cam? I get my period again on the 25th.  It'll be my 17th.

July 20

I've decided to give up on all the boys at school.  I hope some cute guys come!!!!!!!!!!!

July 25

I went swimming next door today and put Aimee in the tub but I had a heart attack because she went underwater with one of her hearingaids on.  Luckily it seems to be working.  Actor Rock Hudson has AIDS.  No sign of my period today.  Oh well maybe tomorrow.

Sept 12

Sorry I haven't written in so long.  Today while hanging out with my friends, Louise's friend Missy was there with a gang of her friends and they were all smoking and one of the girls offered me a drag but I didn't except [sic].  Yay Karen!  I saw Brin, who was Louise's boyfriend in grade 4.  He is sooo gorgeous now!  I'm in love with Russel.

Sept 17

I'm not in love with Rus any more.  I'm in love with a new guy named Cory.  He's gorgeous.  He told me today I have a nice body!  I could have died.  He wants to phone me bye!

Sept 18

He didn't phone

Sept 22

I am the luckiest girl in the world! Cory asked me out! I said yes!

Sept 23

T. was jealous today.  I could tell because she wasn't talking to me.  I met Cory's parents they seem to be nice.  I also played a game on his computer.  While I was gone Lisa told me that T. said she was gonna try and get Cory away from me so she could have him.  I hate her for that.  At 9:00 I brought him home to meet my mom.  He likes the song "The Rose."

Oct 5

My how quickly things change.  I dropped Cory today. He is an arrogant conceded [sic] and thoughtless asshole.  His friend Adam (who is the nicest guy in the world) wants to as me out tomorrow. I just might say yes.

Dec 6

I went to the Platinum Blond concert today!  I could see the guys perfectly.  Mark and the rest of the band were gorgeous and had their shirts undone exposing their gorgeous chests! (Muscles galore!) Mark said:  "Toronto - you look mahvelous" I swear that he saw me a couple of times.  Chris had a long amazing drum solo.  They sang "Twist and Shout" and "Back in the USSR."  I screamed and got a sore throat and the crowd was so loud that I couldn't hear very well after a while.  There was a gorgeous guy sitting near us with spiked hair, pink pants and a white fingerless glove.  I've never had so much fun in all my life.

Friday Aug 23 1986

Boy I sure haven't written in a long time!  I just got through reading my entire diary (Talk about Queer).  Don't I fall in love easily?  blah! As I've grown older I've grown wiser.  I do not fall in love with every cute boy I see!  School on Sept 2 (Wah!)

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


Tonsilar Crypt Tonsillolith.jpg
Dig this quote from Wikipedia:
"A tonsillolith lodged in the tonsillar crypt"  Crypt?!  CRYPT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.  (Source)

Okay, has this ever happened to you:  you get some gross little blobby of food stuck in your tonsil, and one day you notice it because you feel something really uncomfortable at the back of your throat, and when you look into the mirror, you see a white spot way back there, and you assume that your tonsils are infected, but really you just have some disgusting, smelly little gloop that was once food stuck back there, and if you reach WAAAAY back and pick it out either with your finger or a toothpick, you realise that you're essentially gross, and have probably been walking around with terrible breath for a while and not knowing it, as that little bloop of  stuff rots away at the back of your mouth?

Anyone?  Anyone???

No, don't look at me like that--I'm not crazy.  It's called a "tonsil stone," or a TONSILLOLITH, which, come to think of it, sounds like a GODZILLA MONSTER.  ARGH!  THE TONSILLOLITH IS DESTROYING THE CITY!!!!  Anyhoo, you can read all about that HERE.

This has happened to me a few times in the past--especially if I eat oatmeal daily for many weeks in a row, it seems.  It's gross.  I feel like I'm gross, but I get rid of it, or it comes out on its own, or you can knock it out with some scratchy Doritos (like SOMEONE I know once did.  Yeah, you know who you are), and it's not painful or life threatening, so you get on with it.

But, this has now happened to Jack twice.  Jack isn't exactly the posterboy for "getting on with it."  He's also not a big advocate of "rolling with it," or "taking things in stride."  He's not very good at "mellowing out" and he certainly doesn't "go with the flow,"  and as much as I'd like him to, he just won't ever seem to take that "chill pill."  Okay, you get my point.  Can I also tell you that he is particularly good at


So, last night I was reading him his bedtime story, and The Man was still at karate, when suddenly Jack started WAILING:


And off he ran to the bathroom in a total panic.  So, I'm thinking he's been at school just long enough to pick up some filthy bug, better go get the Motrin and see if he'll take some to quell his sore throat.

After much freaking and frantic gesturing, I realised that he didn't have a sore throat, but had one of those gluey things stuck behind his tonsil.

FREEEEEEAK!  He freaked.

Needless to say, as much as I tried to be super casual, and reassure him that this happens to people, and it's happened to me, and all you have to do is reach up there and get that thing out, it was quickly becoming a major crisis.

So, I was desperately trying to get the thing out for the poor kid, but there was one problem:  his MASSIVE TONGUE.  How come you tell kids to stick their tongues out and say "Ah," and they somehow make their tongues tripple in size?

I tried the toothpick (blunt end, people).  I tried a spoon handle as a tongue depressor.  Then I got a wooden skewer--you know, one of those shish kabob things?  All the while the kid is gagging like a maniac, and the spit is rolling out of his mouth in great rivers.  Then we have to pause because the gagging is FREAKING him out, and he has to cry and scream and lament that it's NEVER COMING OUT!!!!

Finally The Man returned home from karate.  Oh good. He's very hands on, plus he's RELENTLESS, so I figure that's the magic combo for getting past Jack's gag reflex to get that thing out.  A gag reflex SO STRONG, that all I had to do was stick the skewer in his mouth and not touch ANYTHING, and "HO-EP!"  the super gag, with watering eyes and all.

But The Man couldn't get it out.  He kept trying. Jack kept gagging.  They moved around under the light.  The Man went and got his little pen light.  He tried to dig it out with his big, blunt finger.  Good luck.  Jack started to lose his mind a little with despair.  Clearly, this was not working.  Nor were the crackers I tried to get the kid to eat in great, unsafe bites, and just swallow the scratchy things without chewing too much.

So, just give up, you say?  Oh, my love, my dear one, you have NO FREAKING IDEA what it's like to live with a relentless child then.  And by "relentless" I mean BRUTAL AND WILL NEVER EVER EVER GIVE UP.

And so, back to that stubborn little piece of shit stuck in the kid's tonsil...

The Man:  "isn't it just an infected tonsil?"

Me:  "no.  It's food.  It's a gross little thing of food that gets stuck in the little pits around the tonsil."

The Man (who has no tonsils):  "aah...all the bread he eats?"

Me:  "nah--probably oatmeal.  Happens to me when I eat a lot of oatmeal."


Me:  "NO!  IT'S NOT OATMEAL--it's ANY FOOD.  It could be BREAD or COOKIES or whatever!"  

My favourite part of the evening, was when Jack was sitting on The Man's lap, with his head craned back over his dad's shoulder, me with the penlight in one hand, and the blunted shish kabob skewer in the other, and The Man holding the tip of Jack's tongue with a tissue so as to get better grip.  

Me:  "Okay.  Okay.  We can DO THIS!  Yes!  Let's DO THIS THING!  Okay, sweetie, grab hold of his tongue and pull it out.  Pull it out.  Pull that thing out more!  Jack, say 'aaah'.  No, make your tongue flat!  OKAY, THERE IT IS!"

and as I reach the stick toward the back of Jack's throat:


Finally, at 10:30, one hour since the whole drama started, the hour of my bedtime, and basically the end of my evening free/quiet time, I lost all my sympathy and said;

"how bout you GIVE UP and just go to bed?"

Amazingly, Jack agreed. I nearly fainted with relief.

This morning, with little zombie circles under his eyes, Jack came up to me and said;

"Mom!  I think THE FOOD came out while I was sleeping!"

Nothing but good times here, people.  Nothing but good times.

Sunday, September 11, 2011


So let's call today DONE. 

It was a sad enough Sunday--hell, all Sundays are a little sad to me now (hi Mom, I miss you).  But now that it's calm, and all the dishes have been washed, and my boy is having his bedtime story read, and I'm just waiting for some laundry to come out of the dryer, I'm thinking that Sunday doesn't have to be entirely sad.  It is, of course, a new week, and another day to pick ourselves up and try again. 

Besides, as always, I've got a few songs stuck in my head.  This one in particular I heard on the radio the day we all piled into my Dad's minivan and took the one and half hours drive down the country roads to the beach.  My Dad, my sister, Jack, Ella, and my two nieces.  Two of the kids are seven, one is four years old, and the last is three.

When this song came on, my eldest niece knew all the words by heart and was singing away in a young clear voice, perfectly in tune.  The rest of the kids caught up at the chorus, and all were singing away in the back seat.  I'll turn around one day and realise that they're not little anymore, and who knows how many sunny trips to the beach there'll be. Do you have those moments too, that you try to freeze in your mind, hoping you'll never forget them?

I was struck at the moment that it was a special day, a good day, and I took a mental snapshot of all the little people singing away, hoping to remember always when they were all so young and happy, and the day was hot, the sky was clear, and I was happy too. 

"I'm taking a mental picture of you now

Cuz hopelessly

The hope is we have so much to feel good about

Just a Thought

I won't watch that terrible, surreal footage anymore.  I won't listen to any "new" audio tapes" of voices filled with terror and desperation, but I do remember.  I remember I was at my desk at the office when the news came on the radio.  I remember my idiot boss and his wife at the time made some small noises of shock and then went back to work; back to "business as usual," and I was so angry.  I was so angry and disgusted that anyone should have been able to finish their work day that day. 

I don't need to watch any of it again.  I still remember.

Where were YOU on September 11, 2001?

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

I Can't Fight This Feeling

I love EVERYBODY right now (here)

Tuesday, 2:19 PM..The boy child has been in school for 5 hours..

 Oh my god, people.

I CAN'T TAKE IT!  I wasn't going to do this--I told myself I wasn't going to write an "OH ME SO HAPPY" post about my son being back to school.  It would make me sound like a jerk, I reasoned.  It would maybe make some people think I was insensitve to my son's back-to-school jitters (I'm not.  My armpits, FYI, were JUICY this morning).  Besides, most kids have already gone back to school, so now that your kids have been back for a good week or more, chirping out my happiness would be REDUNDANT.

BUT I'M SO F*CKING HAPPY! No!  I can't stand it!  IT'S MARVELOUS!  I feel like I just snorted a BAG of COCAINE, and I don't even have any idea how that feels, because that's how much of a FREAKING STRAIGHT ARROW I AM!  But, I imagine that if you pack a whole bag of coke into your shnozz, and by BAG, I'm picturing a plastic grocery bag that they still give you for free at WAL OF EVIL, then you'd be


Oh, I want to take your hand and run naked and barefoot down the streets singing our song of love and FREEDOM!  You know you want to join me.

Five hours, people!  Five hours of no verbal abuse!  Tantrums!  Freaking out!  Losing his drum stick, the remote for the dvd player, his light grey crayon!  No requests for endless cinnamon toast and chocolate milk!

Oh my god...I'm getting light-headed.  Give me a moment to luxuriate in my own crapulence...


Okay, so I'm not a total douche.  I"m sure once the poor, worn-out little guy gets home I won't feel so CLOUD FREAKING 9-ISH any longer once I hear about those little jerk boys in his class, who were in his class last year, who I really could not stand by the end of the year.  Plus, maybe his teacher (because she doesn't completely know him yet) will have written some cautionary note to me about some garbage like maybe Jack didn't get along very well with the other kids at lunch, or, he was so upset at having to stay for lunch they STRONGLY recommend he come home for lunch, OR, another typical thing like this:

"we had a surprise fire-drill today and Jack was very distraught by the noise."

I DON'T KNOW--THOSE ARE JUST GUESSES. Who knows what's in the grab-bag of life???

But, for now, I have done YOGA with my girlie.  We made muffins.  I've been to blogville and Twitter, and I just had a second cup of coffee, and if this little post makes me a huge jerk, I am NOT apologizing! 

After all, I made the muffins JUST for Jack!  There, see?  MOTHER OF THE YEAR, RIGHT HERE, PEOPLE!!

Jack honey!  Mumsy made you muffins! 


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