September 8th, 2009 | 20 Comments »

I may have mentioned that I brushed the dirt off the bathroom scales a while back and was surprised to discover that I had lost 25 pounds. You may have wondered “How the hell does that even happen?” to a woman who spends most of her days in pajamas. Because, clearly, elastic waistbands just beg for expansion of the waist. And really, who knows? Physio means more exercise, less pain=MUCH less wine to manage pain. Like none. Wine is strictly recreational now, as it should be.

So I got mildly giddy and got me some of those mid-rise jeans and a few tops to go with them, so I could have something non-elastic to wear outside the house on errands, and of late, on twitter meetups in my local area. Enough of the pajamas for me, yessir.

I was proud to be shopping and to forgo the purchase of pajamas, which has been my favourite article of clothing to buy. Working apparel. Business attire. Gotta look good on the phone, you know?

That plan pleased me.

Until.

I was in the kitchen in front of the fridge. This would be the kitchen with a bigass window, which was open to all the social goings on of the neighbours in the back yard. Can you see where this might be heading? No? I so suck at foreshadowing. Let me put you out of your misery.

My drawahs fell down to my ankles as I was standing there with my hands full of dinner ingredients. And my glorious, white bread, flat arse was exposed to all and sundry who were hanging out in the yard, or even possibly passing by on the sidewalk.

I mean, aren’t elastic waisted pajama bottoms supposed to be self-adjusting? I hadn’t given it much thought until the waistband FAIL.

The drawahs were stepped out of, laundered, and put aside with others I immediately drop tested. My awesomely warm polar fleece jammies with the periwinkle background and all the cute sleepy moons and stars on them. A goofy pair of red polar fleece with penguins. Warrior Woman agreed to give them a home. When she travels, her colleagues have these goofy pajama contests, and she thought these might qualify. She was really holding out for the jobbies with big honking frogs on a pink background, a pair that even makes me wince with the fugly.

So a few days ago, she accompanied me on my quest for polar fleece jammies THAT WOULD NOT FALL DOWN EXPOSING MY BARE ARSE. And lo, it was good, for I bought many pairs.

And I presented Warrior Woman with the freshly laundered fugly green frog jammies, because, oh, how she coveted them in the work fugly jammie competition.

I caught her hints for my green, red, and white HOHOHO jammies, but I’m holding out on those bad boys. They have the drawstring type waist. Totally adjustable.

Back away from the HOHOS, beetch.

May 13th, 2009 | 20 Comments »

I had a TMI post all written about how Herman got his name, but then I recalled two things:

  • I had stupidly sent emails to the people where I do my banking (Hi! wonderful banking people!) that contained a link to my blog in the sig line. Since they have met me in person, I knew they would associate that post with me every time they saw me.
  • I had promised Kelley, who is having blog problems, a guest post, even though I, myself, have been posting maybe once a week. But I love her and she is all kinds of the awesome, so someday, Kelley will let you know about Herman. He has a twitter account, really.

Did you know it was mercury retrograde? Consider yourself warned. Back up your data. Expect miscommunications, misunderstandings, and old issues to resurface. Travel plans, especially short term travel plans, are certain to be a fool’s errand.

I am embarking on a fool’s errand tomorrow. I was supposed to leave today for a sibling type reunion, but hello?? Merc retro.

A client had insinuated herself into my life because she was hurting so much. I didn’t give much thought to the fact that she had ABSOLUTELY NO EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. (She had alienated everyone else in her life. Hah! How smart was I? But, she was suffering. She really had some terrible things happen in her life.)

As a result, I worked less hours (logged on) than usual to accommodate her many visits, even though I was trying to collect enough hours to take a week off. (I need to be firmer with my boundaries)

Then last week, (full moon in scorpio, uh oh) she showed up (while I was logged on) and proceeded to berate me with all the crazy ways that I was not BEING HER FRIEND. (Did I mention boundaries?) How does a client I felt sorry for become a friend? A “friend” that gets extremely unhinged if you don’t meet her needs in the way that she wants them met? I would say see a therapist, but a therapist has those pesky boundaries where you have to actually make an appointment, and can’t just drop in to dump all your shit on because you have been dwelling and DWELLING on it and cannot stand it another minute unless you share the misery RIGHT NOW.

After placing the entire blame on ME for her being so stressed she had to take a leave of absence from her work, she stormed out. Great. It usually takes me about three days for my energy field to clear itself after such an intense encounter. I was useless to work. So, I took a mini stress leave, because I didn’t feel I could serve my clients properly.

That might have been over and done with, but she wasn’t finished with the demands. By email. My refusal to meet these demands were met with vicious assaults on my character and psychic abilities. I had to block her email and instruct her not to call or drop in ever again.

I don’t know why I let her upset me so much, but I continued to be unable to work. I was planning for last week to be a humdinger, so I could make up for the week I was planning to take off to visit with siblings a short journey away. (Siblings and short journeys are third house matters, which are ruled by Mercury, which is retrograde.)

Now I don’t have the reserve funds to travel that I had, and am trying to contact my brother, Dizzee, who I cannot reach by phone. We are supposed to meet up at Skinny Bitch’s place, and we can travel to the gathering together, then afterwards, he and his long-lost daughter, Hidden Treasure, will come to my place to visit, driving me home. Except I can’t reach him to determine if he will be also travelling with another brother, Mr. Trick and his daughter, Cutie Pie,in which case there would be no room. Mr. Trick is not answering his phone either. Damn you, merc retro!

March 10th, 2009 | 19 Comments »

Here we go. This shows you just how scintillating my life is. I got out of the house last Saturday. Took the whole day off.

I bought curtains.

Photographers? Close your eyes. I know it’s blurry. It’s a limited camera, and my eyes are blurry as well. I didn’t want to use flash because of the sunlight from the side window showing up the guitar

Just so you know, I didn’t buy all three on the big day. No, only the side panels, which were on two for the price of one. The middle panel has been up since I moved in. It’s a sheet. I bought the clip on hardware so I could convert any fabric into curtains. I figured in winter, I could grab the quilt from the loveseat and slap it on the window for insulation. I like the simplicity, and umm…frugality of the concept.

Bite me. I don’t get out much.

November 6th, 2008 | 20 Comments »

I confess that I shed a tear or three during Obama’s speech. I also imagined that the G(reedy) O(ld) P(ricks) were rubbing their hands in glee at the mess they have left for the president elect to clean up. (Robbing Old Age Security to the tune of three trillion dollars to fund an illegal war comes to mind) It evokes images of the Agean Stables. For those of you who forget your Greek Mythology, Hercules had to clean up a never-ending pile of horseshit. Remove one shovelful, two more appear. I would have fed them cheese, but I understand that constipation is fatal for horses.

What struck me vividly, and left me weepy,was the sense of leadership that this man exuded. He knows what a mess has been made of the country, and he is calling upon Americans to help with the task of returning it to greatness. He is a force for unification.

My country isn’t quite fed up enough yet. We showed so much apathy in the federal election three weeks ago, it was pitiful. The major opposition had no real leadership, and voters felt that a vote for the New Democratic Party was a vote for the present ruling party. It was. A minority government was formed, a Conservative coaliton with the New Democratic Party. The bum sniffer is still in power.

I can’t see any way to vote that will give us a good government, that will give our people hope.

I’m feeling jealous of you folk.

I want a Canadian leader who will stir the hearts and minds of our people the way Obama has.

The liberal leadership machine is gearing up to replace the un-electable Stephane Dion. It’s already spitting out party machine soldiers. The hope of our country, Frank McKenna, is a man of his word. He gave his word to his family that he would leave politics after ten years. He kept his word. To address the clamouring for his candidate status, he announced that he was not prepared to devote the time it would take to resurrect the Liberal party and the country. Disappointing, but not unexpected, from a man of his word. We all looked up to him.

I want a leader who is not spit out by the machine.

I want hope.

Posted in the mundane
November 4th, 2008 | 21 Comments »

To my dear, dear friends to the south of me:

I am praying that each of you will today brave those long voting lines and stand up and be counted. I pray that you will do so intelligently. I pray that you will want your country run by people who may even have your best interests at heart.

And you? Yes, you, the one who thinks Obama=Osama? You should not be allowed to reproduce, let alone vote. Of course none of you with that particular confused mindset reads my blog anyway.

Just vote. Take your country back. Allow yourself to feel respected when travelling abroad for what your country represents, and not just for your big tipping habits.

If you haven’t already done so, read about Straight Party Voting. Just to circumnavigate some dirty tricks built into the voting system.

Your friends and neighbours to the north of you are counting on you. Your country is counting on you.