(Laser) Beam Me Up

My kidlet recently got her school photos taken.

I finally got the pictures back.  I thought they looked pretty damn good.

That is, until Viola said..."What the hell, you horrid mom you. How could you not let her get the lasers?"

"There weren't any lasers to pick from"

It's true, there weren't any lasers to pick from.  Instead there were some other equally awful ones...which I'm sure will be remembered as awesome in 20 years.

I can still remember being 8 or 9 and begging for the laser beam background.  My mom always said no, she said that for the extra $4 it was ridiculous.  So,  I never got them.... I always did the whole 'well, when I have my own kids, I'll let them get the laser beams, and I'll let them eat all their Halloween candy in one day too' spiel.

Now I have my own kids.  and I've realized that I am my mother. 

She asked for this background....

 source

and I just couldn't do it.  The thought of those skyscrapers leaning in over her head made my skin crawl.  I thought I was being generous, letting her get one that was supposedly a meadow, because I really wanted the grey or blue background.

But now I think maybe, just maybe, I should have let her get the skyscrapers.  I mean...the skyscrapers of today are probably the laser beams of yesteryear.

you can check out this sexy beast here.

All this guy is missing is a Plenty of Fish profile.

and if you live in Maryland...you're in luck.  They still have the laser beam background available!

http://schoolpix.com/fall.html

so...did you get the laser beams? 

Does A Bucket List Have Rules?

Does a bucket list have rules....

I suppose I should start off with informing you as to what a bucket list is.  (Usually I don't but it seems as though I have several followers who aren't from around these here parts and are sometimes confuseled.)
So a bucket list is basically a 'things to do before you die' list.  Theoretically you can put on whatever you want...or so I thought.  But people always seem to put on things like bungee jumping and climbing Mount Kilimanjaro....neither of which is on my list.

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The other evening I was out with Viola En Vogue and Magnolia A La Mode and a few other friends.  It was a good evening out.   I probably had too much fun, because I recall saying that Fabio's skinny grey haired doppelganger was hot...but I've been in the midst of a drought, so what is a girl to do?!

When all of the sudden the conversation turned to men and someone making out with an Australian.  Upon which point in time, it was discovered that I was the sole person at the table to NOT have made out with an Australian.

"That's fine, it's on my bucket list."  I replied.

"What's on your bucket list?"  inquired either Viola or Magnolia (let's face it...the details are blurry)

"Making out with an Australian."

"You can't have that kind of stuff on a bucket list!" (Pretty sure that one came from Magnolia)

"Why not, I've thoroughly thought this through."

"Oh?" 

"Well you see, my freebie...just happens to be Australian, so if that day ever comes, it'll be like a two birds with one stone sort of incident." I reply.

"Really, well does your husband know about this?"  (I only put this in here, because I know all of you secret reading ladies from about town will turn this into gossip if I don't.)

"Yes...he does. He has a freebie too.....but good luck with that."

So...who knew.  Are there really rules for the bucket list? 

 What is on my list?  You know, I'm not sure...I never gave it much thought until this post...so I'll have to work on it.

So far:
1. Make out with an Australian.... (unless of course that's not allowed.)
2. Go to an Oprah show...but I'd settle for Ellen, since Oprah's nearly over...and I missed the 'favorite things' episode, so I'd probably end up with an interview with a serial killer one.  Never mind, I'm taking this one off my list myself.

What's on your list?  Are there rules?

Divine Affirmation

In your everyday life, sometimes, just sometimes there are signs from somewhere that let you know that you are on the right path in life.  Some people say that is what Deja vu is.  Anyways, no tales of deja vu here...just plain ol' slap you in the face divine affirmation.

As some of you know, since about 1987 I've overused the word Awesome.  It's true...perhaps also somewhat embarrassing, but true nonetheless.  If you need proof, here it is, I'm awesome.

On Saturday night I went out in the city with Butter Ripple Liquorlips, Stella Shutthefuckup, Viola En Vogue, and several other as of yet unnamed awesome people.  Now the four of us only get together about once every 3 years, so it makes the time extra special.  (When I say extra special I really mean extra amounts of alcohol, but don't tell anyone.)  However, I would like to say that I am the most responsible of the batch, (but then again saying that is like the quint who was born 32 seconds before the other four is the OLDEST!) 

We went out and did several ridiculously stupid things...which I'm opting not to mention, just in case there is some sort of legal ramifications for singing death threats in tune with the Karaoke song.  (That would be all about Stella.) Then Stella introduced me to her friend, when she introduced me, I said, "yeah, I'm the awesome one."  To which he replied..."more like double awesome."  (I know this seems to be extraneous information, but trust me...it's an integral part of the story)  (and by the way...it's pretty close to factual information, I've upgraded from awesome to double awesome...especially after a few drinks)

Needless to say the evening carried on... I can't even divulge the good stuff...because it's that bad.

The next morning I was having a little of drinkers remorse...you know the whole..."oh, right, yeah, I did say that"  and "wow, yep, I do remember claiming that guy was a member of a certain racist organization.  I didn't like him anyways."  So feeling a little down about the previous evenings theatrics, we all went for breakfast (I should add that I don't think anyone else was feeling down about it).   So we walked down the way to a place called Ricky's (excellent breakfast, btw)....that's when I knew I was on the right path and that the previous evenings activities were in fact meant to be.

TRIPLE AWESOME BENNIES

if that isn't divine affirmation...I don't know what is!

Viola's Birthday

It's Viola En Vogue's b-day....

Instead of writing some big long rambling speech of the ridiculous things she's done, I'll post this.



They've either made Ringo extremely creepy or insanely bored, I can't tell.
I always found him a bit on the creepy side during that whole Shining Time Station thing, but maybe I was way off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Kemo Treats: Review

Last week, Viola en Vogue...my ever helpful friend, told me to give this new group a little listen.

She guaranteed me that it would be laugh your ass off funny.  Their name is  Kemo Treats. (yeah, its a little bizarre I know.)

So, I decided to take a little look around the Internet to see what all they had out there...when I came across this review for them.
(Don't bother listening to all of it...or really even much of it...this guy is a really annoying douche bag...10 seconds will do you.)


So this guy hates on Kemo Treats, which in my mind is enough to like them.

Kemo Treats is made up of two guys, Smoovie and The Wiz and is "Edmonton's Premiere Gangsta Rappers."  Their words, not mine.  Anyways....they definitely rap...but I don't know about Gangsta rap, (although, they probably live in Crapilano, so that could classify as gangsta., I suppose) more like rap comedy.  Whatever, I like it.  It's funny.

I had to go over to their site to actually check out their music. (wtf...you guys need to put up some full songs somewhere!)  They definitely have to get a music video...at least for Ice Cream Man.  That's right, they have a whole rap song about the ice cream man....and it rocks.  To go with it, they also have a song about pinky swears and straight camping.

Yep...this is them (I wonder where he got them pants...he's on fire!..yeah...I know that was lame...)

Truthfully, the beats and such remind me of ICP's The Great Milenko album...only with funnier lyrics. (And no, don't bother asking why a small town white girl was listening to ICP....it was a phase...lets just leave it at that.) When I finally found video of  "Smoovie and The Wiz" .... well, then, you get the idea that these two are celiac's and allergic to the sun...and perhaps bonded when they were 12 over those dungeons and dragons trading cards....but I don't care, they're funny.

I'm off to go invent my own rap...I  only have two lines so far, but it'll save me loads of time at the bar....that way  I won't have to holler this shit from atop a chair anymore.

"Hear you had Chlamydia,
 I think he should get rid a ya...."

It's going to be classic, I can just tell.


p.s. - since they are so speedy they've let me know that they have a myspace page.
(seriously...myspace still exists!)...and you can check out full songs there...much better.

Telemarketing Troubles

As many of you know, I don't get out much.

Because of this, I often become slightly obsessive about completely nonsensical shit.  Take for example...a few years back when we moved into our new place, I insisted that a neighbour was somehow selling drugs from his rain barrel.  I just couldn't figure it out.  I watched for hours on end as numerous people came over looked into the rain barrel, stuck their arm in and then discreetly wiped it off and left. 

Being a complete chicken shit, I did nothing, but tell Viola en Vouge and Stella Shutthefuckup about it.  They decided to consume mass quantities of alcohol and check it out on my behalf, since I was home with a new baby.  So, after their drunken rain barrel raid....guess what....he had a damn fish in that thing.  A FISH...wtf.  Who puts a fish in their rain barrel?  Oh well, I got to the bottom of it anyways.  And needless to say, ....OK....never mind, I didn't learn my lesson.

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Recently I have become completely obsessed with telemarketers.  Yes, it's true.  The same company phones me everyday, Monday to Friday.  It's Bell mobility or something like that.  Truthfully, I'm not 100% sure, because the call never lasts that long.  A few weeks ago, I was in a pissy mood and answered this telemarketer, who was obviously not an English as a first language person. 

She insisted that her name was Susan.  Yep, she flat out insisted.  I insisted otherwise....

"Hello, my name izzz Suzan, I am calling from Bell mobeelity"

"Oh, Hi, Susan...if that is your name." I reply

"What you mean....'Iiiiif that izzz my name, I tell you my name izzz Suzan."

'Oh...what's your last name 'Susan'?"

"Iiiiit iz Smeeth, uh....Smyth"

"You mean  Smith, because you're saying your own name wrong.....That's the most generic name I've ever heard, I don't think that's your name."

CLICK
yep...she hung up on me!

Source

It's getting bad....I've started racing to the phone....just to get the damn telemarketing call.  You see, now I must prove to myself that they are using fake names.  But no, it's not enough just to know it, I must have one of them admit it. 

So far, I've gotten an awful lot of hang ups.  And I absolutely HATE being hung up on.

This morning, though, my quest has ended...with Sam.  Yep, This morning Sam called.  Sam Smith.

I told him that there was no way in hell his name was Sam Smith.  He reluctantly agreed.  But once he agreed, the damn guy was a chatterbox.  He said that he had to go with Smith because there was no way in hell that I could pronounce his real last name, Kanloodi...or Kamloopi....or Kavlooki...who am I kidding, I have no idea how to say it.  It almost made me want to buy the rip off of a phone that he had no desire to make me buy after I had blown his cover. 

So now that I've solved this mystery, I guess I'll have to find a new one to solve.

I'll Take the 7 Years

I like to think that my husband has good taste...really, I do.  I mean, after all he did marry me.  I know he undoubtedly lost style points when he thought that tapered jeans were still all the rage after 1995, but I've since straightened him out...and he'll now deny ever even wearing the things. 

However, he has horrible taste in home decorating (really, just in the realm of mirrors.)   I decided to paint pretty much most of the upstairs.  At first, the reason was all the dented up walls (courtesy of the two little anklebiters that reside here), but then I saw an even better reason for deciding to redecorate.

THIS:

(I know that it isn't the best photo, but it was either that or a picture of me in the mirror...and I forgot to do it while it was still up on the wall, so this is what you get....crappy mirror next to my robin's egg blue wall...yet one more reason why I shouldn't be allowed to pick paint colors.)

We received it as a wedding gift (from people that we actually like) and I wanted to huck it.  I lost that argument and before I knew it, it was up on the wall.  But not just any wall, not some dark corner or basement bathroom.  Noooooooooooo....He put the f*&^ing thing up so that as soon as you opened the front door you'd gaze into its disturbing beveled edges.  

For years, I had friends walk in and look at the mirror and then back to me and say things like "uh, nice mirror....1987 called..." or "Wow...thats a real awesome mirror you have there...was it your mom's...or was it his mom's"

Nope, unfortunately its ours...

But not anymore....I contemplated giving it to Viola En Vogue, because she does like to look at herself in mirrors (actually she does it rather frequently...can you count that as a hobby?), but she's too trendy, she would die if she had to have that in her place. 

I did think about breaking it, but that's seven years bad luck or something, plus maybe some sucker will buy it at my garage sale. On second thought, seven years isn't so bad if it means I'll never have to see that thing again.

What is the one freaking ugly thing (lets hope there aren't too many!) that your spouse/significant other/roommate insists on displaying?

The Lone Taco

I love weekends. Well, weekends when I actually have exciting things to do. This past weekend, I got to catch up with Butter Ripple Liquorlips and Viola En Vogue. I don't often see them, so it was a good time.

Now everyone in the world has a different sense of style (except for those poor sheep who only wear what 'the man' deems as cool....nevermind...thats me....only I'm like 3 years behind whats cool.) Anyways, Butter Ripple has her own sense of style far different from the rest of the world....or at least far different from me.....which isn't necessarily bad.

Viola and Butter Ripple both have a deep love for leggings. I however do not and keep hoping that leggings are on their way out...but so far, no such luck. I mean I always thought the rule was, 'if you wore the item when it was first trendy (80's), you can't wear it during the next trend cycle (now).' Apparently Butter Ripple and Viola don't adhere to this rule. But then again, I don't think that Butter Ripple adheres to any fashion rules.

I didn't say much when she wore the headband with the giant green feather, and I zipped my lips when she went with the hobo hat/toque do...(in the summer), but this is where I had to draw the line.
Just when I thought I could detest Butter Ripple's fashion sense anymore, I spied her wearing these hot items.

Just what the heck are they? you ask....they're tacos.... (although they could easily be debated as pitas or falafels....even though I'm not quite sure what the requirements of a falafel are.) But she made them and she claims that they're tacos....so there you go.

Not just any ol' tacos though....these ones are earrings. (ok...so that might be a little obvious from the picture above.)

and she lost one.

So if you happen to be in/around Calgary airport....keep your eyes open....

you may come across a lonely taco.