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

Monday, April 30, 2012

Back When All The Cute Boys Were Named Corey

When I was a budding teenager in the 80's, and my boobies rode HIGH on my chest, there seemed to be a lot of guys named Corey.

hey! There's that FREAK Kirk Cameron!
Ew Yucky @ Kirk Cameron

Names go in cycles, right?  So, there are more girls my age named KAREN, than there are nowadays, and there's probably a whole crop of Britneys out there who are all around the same age.

But you know what I'm talking about.

Back when I was 13, and in grade 8, all I did was dream about cute boys.  Where are the cute boys?  Where can we find some cute boys?  I hope there'll be some cute boys when I go on vacation!  And to that end, did every girl have a fantasy that a CUTE BOY would move in to the neighbourhood?!?

Well, that's what happened.  A boy named Corey moved into the neighbourhood.  He had super feathered hair

good old MacGyver
and braces


and he was a little bit cocky, and totally conceited. cocky and conceited go hand in hand?  Anyway, he was the new kid in the neighbourhood and he was cute!  Well, I thought he was cute anyway.

So, one day, some neighbourhood kids and I were all hanging out at the park.  I was probably there wearing my Adidas half shirt and shorts,


and I probably thought I looked pretty cute. After all, I had lost 10 pounds not too long ago by not having desserts and doing jumping jacks after every meal.  So, at the park was me, and a bunch of other girls.  And this guy  ♥ Corey ♥, who'd been to the park to flirt with all of us a few times before.

It was the usual crap:  one of the older girls would say something to tease him, he'd chase her around the park, and then catch her and they'd roll around in the grass for a bit.  But Corey wanted more.

He wanted a girlfriend.

So, he asked this girl out:

Corey:  "Wanna go out with me?"
Girl #1 " NO!"

and then he asked everyone else out:

Corey:  "Wanna go out with me?"
Girl #2:  "NO!"

Corey:  "Wanna go out with me?"
Girl #3:  "NO!"

Corey:  "Do YOU wanna go out with me?"
karen:  "OKAY!"


And so he became my boyfriend for the next TWO WHOLE WEEKS!

It was pretty boring.  And awkward.  One time I was with my new boyfriend and his friends in his basement.  Corey said; "wanna make out?"

I was APPALLED, and DISGUSTED, and FILLED with disapproval. I gave him a firm NO.

"Ha ha, I was just kidding," said Corey, abashed.

After a fun date of going to McDonalds, when he walked me home and asked if he could kiss me good night, I pointed to my cheek.  That's right, MISTER, no funny business!

I invited Corey home to meet my Mom one day.  I was dying a little bit, because I could tell that Corey was a stuck-up doofus in front of my Mom and older brother, and they thought he was a bit of a tool. He tried to be a little too cool, and he had to pop in to the bathroom to check his lid.

Oh yeah, and he carried a giant hairbrush in his back pocket.  All the time.


The brush kinda grossed me out.

Then, when I invited him upstairs to see my room, he totally flipped on the stairs.  Like, totally flumped out.  It was an older house, and the stairs were unusually tall, and of uneven heights.  We were all used to it, but EVERYONE who EVER came into our house, tripped on those stairs.  So, it wasn't that Corey rolled back down the stairs or anything, it was that as he was trying to sprint up them all cool, he fla-bumped onto his knees and elbows.  I didn't know whether to be embarrassed for him, or crack up.

But there was a bigger problem.  A bigger problem than the hair vanity, the brush in the back pocket, and his slightly bubble butt:


Corey had a big, thick, spit string from the top of his braces to the bottom almost all the freaking time.

So, it had to end.

And besides:  what the hell was a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GRADE 10 HIGHSCHOOL guy doing with a 13 year old ELEMENTARY SCHOOL GIRL anyway?


Tuesday, April 24, 2012


Well, April's almost done, so let's get ALL CAUGHT UP!

First things first:


Oh, I don't get many spam comments at all here on my blog, but when I do, they're so enjoyable.

Have you read Dr. C's hilarious post about SPAMBOTS and the stupid, inane messages they leave on his blog, in the guise of being helpful?  Well, I've got a few of those comments now in my spam bin!

Dig this:

*  " Thanks in favor of sharing such a good opinion, paragraph is good, thats why i have read it fully"

and then they link to their website, which apparently features "bondage kits and kinky sets."

Well, where were they BEFORE my birthday???  That comment, by the way was left on "I'm Burning That Hat, And Then I'm Going To Pee On It."

Good opinion indeed.

And then there's this:

*  "This paragraph is genuinely a good one it assists new web visitors, who are wishing for blogging"

This follows with a link to a weight loss site.  But, the best part is, that it's a comment left for a post I wrote about FARTING IN FRONT OF MY BOYFRIEND.  HOW DOES THAT ASSIST NEW WEB VISITORS?

I can't believe I wrote a post about farting.  Sigh.


Less than two weeks ago, my 8 year old son Jack's EA, AND his teacher both approached me on their own to specifically tell me how pleasant Jack had been of late.  He was happy.  He was agreeable.  He was his old charming self.  Before the March Break, he had adopted a fine attitude of  "f*ck you and your curriculum.  I'm not interested."  But after the break, everything was GREAT!  We were BACK ON TRACK!

Whatever that means.

and then, THE BEES CAME BACK from wherever it is bees go when it's cold and shitty outside for months and months.

hello Jack.  Remember me?
We're old friends you and I.  OH yes.  YES, YESSSSSSS! 

and do you know who's even worse than THAT honey bee guy up above???



And then it all went down the toilet.

Yes, my friends, spring is here. It's a lovely time for some warm days to sneak in here and there, and remind us that summer's peeking around the corner.  Lovely, balmy weather, which is perfect for kids to play outside!  Why, the teachers think that it's PERFECT to go have gym outside!

This is how life turned into a nightmare for Jack. He is TERRIFIED of bees.  Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking: we ALL hate bees, karen.  MY KIDS are scared of bees too.

Yes, but are your kids so terrified that they can't even go outside?  Are they so terrified that the first day of the season the bees returned they immediately developed a full body twitch--nay a full body JERK, and look like they're nearly convulsing as they try to walk home from school?  Do they now have purple circles under their eyes from going to bed at night and fretting that the next day at school they just might have to go outside for gym?  Do they say "YAAAAAY!" when the weather shows RAIN for the next day?

this is how the playground looks to JACK now

Yeah.  Let's just call it a "little challenge", shall we?  It's getting worse every year.  Jack almost ran out in front of oncoming traffic last year as he was flailing away from a bumble bee.

So, I sat down and had a comforting chat with him one night. I pointed out that he is faster than a bee.  His younger sister is faster.  Even his just-turned-4 year old tiny cousin is faster.  "If a bee comes near you," I said, "just run away."  I told him if a bee comes near him when he's on the playground, run to the little kids' playground. If a bee comes to the little kids' playground, run to the school door.  If a bee comes there, run to the baseball diamond, etc, etc.

That seemed to help.  A bit.  So, I did some hunting, and read online that bees and wasps don't really like the smell of mint.  Thus, I'm going to dab him with peppermint oil for these last weeks of school, and make him feel like he's armed against them.

Also, Jack's teacher actually bought a little craft looking palm-sized stuffed bee to be Jack's "bee buddy," and when Jack feels stressed, he can give his bee buddy a squeeze.  Jack loves his new bee friend. I told him that this guy is there to always be brave for Jack when he can not be.  Jack has named him Tyler Joseph Honeybee, and what's most amazing is that he's been doing lots of imaginative play with him; chatting with him, drawing with him, etc.  Jack does imaginative play with Dave, and now with Lego, but since he did none as a little guy, the novelty hasn't worn off.

Still, tonight at bedtime he was hoping for a cloudy, windy day tomorrow.

Poor kid.  There's always something.

♥♥♥ Maxi Pads

Oh come on.  I haven't talked about LADY TSUNAMI stuff in a while.  Believe it or not, last night, when my little red amiga arrived, I was horrified to discover that I, karen tenderheart, was out of pads.

Thrilling story so far, yes?!!

So, I did the frantic dig through every purse I own, and luckily found one.  But, this morning I had to make a trip to Wal of Evil for a few things, and I decided that I would CHEAP OUT and buy their generic crap brand of pads, and not my beloved Always.  I decided that I would give up my love of driweave™ in order to save about three bucks.

Well I'm not happy.

I only had the pad on for a couple of hours and it looked like this (I arted it for you):

What you're seeing here, people, is, of course, my pink gitch, with a pad stuck on.  What you should note is how scrunchy, stupid, folded over, and NOT  WELDED IN PLACE it is on the bottom.  Looks like a disaster waiting to happen to me.

Let this be a lesson to you, karen:  NEVER SKIMP on your feminine paraphernalia.


Yes, this is tomorrow morning.  Bright and FREAKING EARLY.  By the time many of you read this, I'll be hugging my knees and rocking back and forth, with a big bandaid over my throat.  I will be taking the CALM DOWN PILL the doctor prescribed for me, and hoping it totally gives me that WHO GIVES A FLYING EFF feeling I'm really hoping for.

Actually, I don't even want to talk about it, so I'll just give you the picture I arted for you instead to show you all the places I'm going to get jabbed:

I call this "Stabby Throat."  

Oh wait!  There IS one last thing I want to say about nodule stab-a-pa-looza:  THE MAN will not be here tomorrow.  YES, that's right!  He'll be out of town for a meeting!  I also want to point out that said meeting was SUPPOSED to be LAST WEEK, but because FATE LURVS TO POOP ON MY HEAD, it got RESCHEDULED.  WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN?!?

This means, that my dad has to get the kids ready for school, and karen has to wander off to the  sadist's  endocrinologist's A-LONE.  FREAKING ALONE AGAIN AND I CAN'T TURN OFF THE SELF PITY.

Enormous sigh.

At Least I Have THIS To Make Me Happy

People, as you may know, my sister and I love trolling around junk/second-hand shops now.  A few nights ago, I found THIS FABULOUS LITTLE TREASURE

This is a pic I found on the net.  My little buddy
looks EXACTLY like it

IT'S A CAMPBELL'S SOUP KID SPOON REST!  BOO YAH!!!  I want to hug it and kiss it and love it and marry it.  Do you know how much I spent on that, lovies?  ONE FRICKIN DOLLAR, AH YEAH.

I read online that these little spoon rests were made in the early 1970's, and some dude on another website is trying to sell his for $26.

It's the little things that make me happy in life.  The little things that cost a dollar.

And now you're all caught up!  HOORAY!

Friday, April 20, 2012

But What If I'm A GLAMOUR ADDICT Now?!?



Remember my one day brush with SUPER GLAMOUR, when lovely Leanne sent a TRAVELING RED DRESS to me?

That was FUN! Wasn't it!?!  Yeah...and then you're supposed to put that dress back in the magic box and send it off again.

It's not supposed to stay here.  It's supposed to be a TRAVELING red dress.  TRAVELING.

It's supposed to have been on its way back to Leanne.  Like--a long time ago.


But... what if I kinda liked it.  What IF, this awakened a WHOLE NEW KAREN?!?



Glamorous Life by Sheila E. on Grooveshark












My Grandma made me this shawl for my wedding.
It was freakishly hot that day though,
so I've only used it as a scarf.
xoxoxo Grandma!

super fun brooch ~ $2 ~ Church Bazaar 

fabulous red dress from fabulous Leanne
earrings ~ H&M
$14 fake hair ~ Ardene
hairbow ~ Dollarama
Super awesome glam bracelet (not pictured here) ~
presie from my lovely sister!
Super glamourous makeup courtesy of my new SMASHBOX
birthday makeup pallet!


Okay, okay.  I'm sending the dress back where it belongs so it can do MORE GOOD!  You'll have to stay tuned for that.

Oh, and Leanne......forgive me!    

I was taken over by


Thursday, April 19, 2012

Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off, and Start Again.

Please press PLAY

Back In The Saddle Again - Gene Autry - Traditional Country - Sleepless In Seattle by Gene Autry on Grooveshark







American actress Jane Russell stars
as Wild West sharpshooter Calamity Jane in "The Paleface."



The Annie Oakley Motto

“ Aim at the high mark and you will hit it. 
No, not the first time, nor the second and maybe not the third.
But keep on aiming and  keep on shooting for only practice will make you perfect. 
Finally, you’ll hit the Bull’s Eye of Success.”
Annie Oakley

Yesterday was hard.  What good friends you all are.  Thank you.  



Monday, April 16, 2012

I want to be here.

Daffodils are a symbol of Spring.

April is the month in which we use the daffodil as a symbol of those we have loved, and lost to cancer.

"There is a cigarette for the two of you."

These are all ads I scanned from a popular 1969 magazine.

This is hard.

My mother smoked.  She smoked like crazy.  She smoked all the time.  She was almost never without a cigarette.  A long time ago, I made a terrible joke that if Mom could find a way to smoke in her sleep, she would.

Ha ha, very funny.

If you were to look through our family photo albums, you would see so many pictures of my mother with a cigarette in her hand, or with that ashtray nearby.  My brother and I wished so much that she would quit.

But then, everyone's parents smoked, it seemed.  Most of my friends' parents smoked.  I think, in the 1970's,  most of us kids rolled into school smelling like cigarettes.  I remember getting a ride home from a friend's house, in the winter, and his dad was puffing away as he drove us home, and he didn't even crack the window a millimeter.  I wanted to die from the unbreathable, toxic fumes.

We tried to hide Mom's cigarettes a few times, my brother and I.  Boy, did she ever get mad.  Scary mad.  We gave those cigarettes back in a hurry. It was weird because our Mother was the most frugal, sensible person with money ever, and yet she forked out a ton of money each week for those cigarettes.

When I was a much younger woman, getting ready to head out for a night of dancing, my Mom would sometimes stand in the doorway of the bathroom and chat with me.  And smoke.  I hated that.  I wanted to ask her not to smoke while I was getting ready.  Sometimes I did, but it would hurt her feelings.  I hated going out smelling like smoke.  I wanted to go out smelling fantastic; like soap, perfume, and squeaky clean hair.

My Mom had terrible, destructive rheumatoid arthritis.  Her feet were ruined.  She could never wear beautiful shoes.  Ever.  She could barely wear the matronly, frumpy "dressy" shoes she so hated to special events.  Her hands became twisted, gnarled versions of their former, long, sleek beautiful ones.  As the disease progressed, Mom was forced to move on to more heavy-hitting meds.  One of the last drugs she took meant that she wasn't able to drink alcohol anymore.  This was very hard.  It seemed like smoking was her last pleasure.

This drug came with a high risk of cancer.  More so if you were a smoker.  Mom became sick.  Very sick.  She went into the hospital on Easter weekend, two years ago, and she never came home.  Stage 4 lung cancer.  We were all shocked.  I don't know why we were shocked, but we were.  Maybe it was because my mother never, ever stopped moving, or stopped doing things.  Even though her every day life was painful, she still vacuumed the house every other day.  She did all her laundry every Monday.  She went for groceries every Thursday.  Even as the cancer was advancing, she still made Sunday dinners.

You know, I've heard smokers say all the same things:

"I LIKE smoking." 
"I enjoy smoking." "
"I love to have a smoke with my coffee."
"I like to join the other guys for a smoke."
"The most sociable people are the smokers. "

and my very favourite:

"I'm only hurting myself."

My Mom was in a lot of pain at the very end.  The pain was so great that the morphine couldn't touch it.

After she died, when I'd see other people smoking outside grocery stores, department stores...anywhere..I'd be so angry.  I'd feel like marching right up to them and telling them how selfish and stupid they are.  Especially if I saw parents sucking away on those stupid cigarettes before they went into Walmart, as their little kids stood their waiting for them, I felt myself fill with rage.

I'm not as angry now--just sad, mostly.  But, I do want to say that I am extremely passionate about NOT smoking.  Because in two days, it will be two years since I lost my beautiful mother.  She was not there for my 40th birthday.  She will not be there the next time my kids lose a tooth.  She will not be there the next time one of the kids gets some weird illness and I want to call her for advice.

If you think that smoking only hurts you, you are wrong.

When Mom died, I made a promise with my brother.  We said that we are going to be here for a LONG time.  We made a pact outside of that stupid hospital.  Nuh-uh.  No way.  I am NOT going to leave my kids until I am good and old.  I'm going to eat right.  I'm going to exercise. I'm going to be strong and in shape.

Life is hard, and mostly not fun, but I want to be here.

I want to be here.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Almost 40 In A RED DRESS

The day before April 13th...

Today was one of those really bad days.

It's my last day of my 30's, but that's not such a big deal.  Not really....

...I think.

It was one of those days in which I've been racing around like a maniac, trying to get things organized before my birthday.  Laundry, vacuuming, dusting, organizing TOY HELL, etc, etc.

I knew I wanted to take some photies of me in that fabulous red dress my lovely friend Leanne sent me.  I had all these high hopes yesterday:  I was going to get a good night's sleep so there'd be no humongous bags under the eyes, drink lots of water, exercise, eat lots of veggies....


I went to bed too late, and I've been really emotional today.

I was crying a few times today.  See, my Mom won't be there on my birthday.  Next week will mark two years since she died.  I miss her.

Then I had a LADY PARTS scare, and because I'm an A to Z kind of karen, the first conclusion I drew was UTERINE CANCER.  I'm sure it's not, but let's just say I did NOT need this TODAY.

Then, I totally, totally forgot that I was supposed to have a meeting with my son's principal half an hour before school ended to discuss what we should do about him suffering slings and arrows from fellow classmates due to all his little Autism Spectrum Quirks.  I never forget important shit like that.  The principal even had to phone me to see if everything was okay.  I apologized like crazy, and she sounded pleasant enough but underneath I could sense...DISAPPROVAL.

Enormous Sigh.

oops...sorry girlie, I eclipsed you with my hair!

try again...

And then, I almost couldn't get anybody to take my pictures.  I had this vision of going someplace scenic and just beautiful.  You know:  me beside a field of spring flowers with the sun at just the right level in the sky, or something?

But that just didn't work out.

Looks like it would have to be in the back yard.  With the kids' toys strewn around, and the towels drying on the clothesline.  But you know, life is like that, right?  It's messy, and there's laundry everywhere--whether clean or dirty--and there's hardly any time to fit in what we really want to do.

And I have to confess:  I was scared.  I was so scared to put on that red dress.  I'm used to being inconspicuous.  I'm used to hiding, trying to blend into the scenery.  I'm shy. I'm conservative out in public.  I don't do wild and crazy things out of my own home.  If I put on this red dress and go out in public, I thought to myself, I'll look like an asshole.  Who am I trying to kid?  Just because I exercised hard for a month?  I still don't make the cut.

I came so close to saying forget it, and putting my shlumpy jeans back on.

But you know what?  FUCK THAT.

I'm going to be 40 in a couple of hours.  I can take care of my family.  I am a mother.  A protector.  A warrior.  Yeah, my post-baby stomach didn't lie smoothly under the dress.  Who cares.  That size 14 Calvin Klein dress fit these 48 inch hips.

And I took those pictures, because I may not be 20, but thank god, because I don't want to be.

It's good to be here.


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