Dish Thoughts...

...Why I needed to know one thing about the Pythagorean Theorem. I am not a roofer or Egyptian...

...Why Bill Clinton is the one who leaked the Monica Lewinsky matter...

...Any goddamn sentence that sounded decent with the word jettisoned...

...hi...

Just Me and the Palmolive

Maybe I am not normal.
I like doing dishes. I always make sure I have a lot. I use extra dishes on purpose. And the fact I have issues with using the same glass for more than one drink twice, abets this.
Sometimes I will wait two days to do them if there is not enough.
I have little systems I go by while I am doing them. I sort as I go. It is more fun to see if you have forgotten silverware at the end from mis-sorts. Bonus points for me if I have not.
The basics: plates, cups, bowls all have their set place in the drain tray. That's when the real fun begins. I look at the dish tray very carefully. I look over the big bowls, pot, pans, trays on the counter. I look back to see if the bowls and plates have taken up all their places in the little plastic rungs. I am a mildly lazy person and a lot of the time, hope they have not been.
Sometimes though, I am excited by the sight of every rung taken up. It is more of a challenge to be able to get every single cleaned dish on the drain tray with such massive odds stacked against me.
I sometimes cook bigger, weirder meals just so I will have dishes I have not used in awhile to wash. Just to add to the game. Sometimes I get bored with the 'same-old, same-old dishes day' feeling.
I do not know why I play this stacking game. I only lose about two times a year. I have become a master.
I also have the "frequently" used dishes game. Certain dishes on certain days get the S.O.S. pad taken to them whether they need it or not. I have noticed in my lifetime that a lot of people have this grunge around the outer edges of plates and bowls. Really. Go look at yours. And while you are there-get out your colander.
But these have become mindless games for me, so sometimes I get a little creative. I pretend I am the heroine in a fantastically sleazy soap opera and I make up dirty little plot lines.
"Oh, Chaz, I am your girl! Why did you have to go sleep with my sister who poisoned your father while they were married so she could be with your identical twin brother who is dying from pinworm infestation?"
Such fun!
But the main reason I find myself thrilled by a sink and counter full is I do my most favorite thinking when I am scrubbing away. I am never sure what my mind is going to get into for the duration. I let it take a wander down any fork in the path it might find. No rescritions. Sometimes all that is there is the everyday ordinary thoughts and sometimes not....

I am glad to be a resident of Blogland.

I am Having an Old Friend for Dinner

I used to kill animals.
Ants, to be exact.
I was on the verge of four in front of the white house on the corner in Leamington, where we lived. I can remember my red polka dot summer dress. My mother was sweeping the sidewalk after mowing the lawn. I was marching along behind her on the already swept parts. I can still see my white-sandeled foot coming down and flattening the fattest black ant I could find every few seconds.
I remember my mother looking at me with horror. Mock; I now know.
"How would you feel if I giant ant squished you?"
I had peered up at her through my brown bangs for a second, shrugged my shoulders and killed four more ants before the novelty wore off. But the last two were far less fatter then the rest had been.
That night I had horrible nightmares of giant black cartoon ants wearing red polka dot bandanas, chasing me.
I have never killed any form of life since, except for my first spider last week. It was a personal triumph-I have always wanted
to kill one of them. Daddy Long-Legs, especially. They have freaky legs. I am working myself up to one of them.
But basically from all the information I have gathered, I am abnormal in my killing of ants. Almost everyone I know has a story of killing a toad, seagull or cat. Some even with things like firecrackers and Pepto Bismol. All I have to tell is my ant story. People look at me like I am crazy when I do. 'Who has not had fun killing ants when they were children', is the air they give off. 'Everybody has pulled wings off of flies.'
Ummm..yeah..not me...
Seems to lead a happy, ordinary life, you have to kill a few things when you were young.
Some murders get blamed on the fact "Jimmy" was always killing animals as a child and and his drunk mother was too busy with her head in the toilet to stop him.
But you cannot even argue the fact committers of human killings were more creative about how they were killing their chosen animals when they were younger. I have heard some weird stories from people.
I know friends who have lit catipillars on fire with W-D40 and played road hockey with field mice. I even know friends of a friend who killed a cat by throwing it repeatedly into the spinning back wheel of an upside down bike.
I know people who still laugh about the little tortures they have handed out as adults. But not one of these people are sitting in jail for murder. It makes me wonder. Everyone seems to have enjoyed a good killing.
So then, where is that fine line between what seems to be "normal" human behavior and the behavior of crazed, watery-eyed, flesh eating serial killers?
And why am I always the abnormal one when my chances are so much less likely I will become one?
I will continue to kill spiders.

Meet Chetney from my work in progress "All About the Rats"

1953

It had been the hottest nine days I had ever known. People were hardly coming out anymore. The last few had been 'only if you have to go out' days.
There was a scent in the air that said thank god it's 3 o'clock Sunday afternoon. Church and lunch obligations were done with.
The streets were next to bare downtown. The air was so dry and without wind; I felt like John Wayne in a ghost town.
I was taking the bus across town to visit my cousin Mick. My mother had sent along some of her homemade marmalade for me to give to Aunt Fiona. I hate the stuff. Just looking at it made my nose prickle.
I was waiting at the bus stop, kicking lazily at loose stones, wishing it was not so hot or I would have rode my bike. I could not wait to get out to the stream with Mick. Being in the water fishing for our trophy trout would make things seem cooler.
Mick and I used to be the best of friends until his parents moved across town 2 years a go. Thick as thieves. Comrades. Sneaking out after dark when we were suppose to be in bed with flashlights; to roam in our backyards, searching for worms to use at the stream the next day. I swear, we have been fishing together since we were in diapers.
They needed to get a bigger house when Beattie was born. Uncle Marvin was in that moving truck honking at Mick to hurry up and we just stood there. What a long moment in time that was.
Mom finally came up to us. "You boys hug now and then get moving, Mick."
Embarrassed, we did and we both started to cry. We unhinged ourselves from each other and we shuffled our feet briefly. He spit fist, then I did.
"See ya 'round," he had muttered, as he took off running for the truck.
The people in my home felt sorry for me for the next few days, but nobody liked me. You tend to get nastier in temperament, the more bored you get.
The bus pulled up, a beast in white and light green and I paid my 15 cents to get on. I looked down the long aisle to an empty bus, save one negro man sitting near the rear.
I took a seat close to the middle, near one of the open windows. I looked out it, not really noticing the stores that passed by. I saw them everyday.
I was disappointed. Even in a moving vehicle, there was not even the slightest of breeze to dry some of the sweat on my forehead. I love taking in the air that is usually made in this fashion. Sucking it deep into my lungs and having to find the effort required to push it back out. Not being able to do this made me want to get across town even quicker.
The next bus stop was in front of the local swimming pool. I was too busy looking at the water to at first notice who was getting on the bus.
The sound of a strangled, deep laugh made me look up. I could feel my shoulders hunch up. I could not believe my eyes. Retards. And lots of them were climbing up on to the bus. I was taken aback by the sea of bent-over, goofy smiling people in swim suits. There had to be at least 20 of them.
Now normally, I can handle a retard or two. They pop up occasionally around town, when one wanders off. They are housed in a place called Lillyville, a few blocks from the edge of town. It is suppose to be a school for them. It is just a way to keep them hidden.
But this was a little much. As they took seats, I could feel a strong sense of unease fill my belly.
I looked back to share a glance with the black man but he was busy reading the newspaper.
The retards' chatter was animated and excited. "Did you see my bellyflop?", "Water makes me think of fish.", "Bobby said it would be funny if my top fell off when I got out of the water." I was suprised my ears adjusted so fast to the sounds of their voices; that I could understand them.
They filled every seat around me, but the one right in front of me. A short drooling girl in a green bathing suit with yellow polka dots grinned at me. She still had on her swim cap and orange life jacket. "Arghhha," she gargled at me.
A ogre of a boy said "Hi. How are-how are-how are you?"
"Fine", I forced myself to squeak out and then I turned to look back at the window. I did not want any of them to talk to me again.
The bus had just started again, when I heard a melodic "Do dee doo doo."
"Dee doo boooo nee." It was a lower voice.
"Boo neee doooo deeee," a female voice answered. I turned to look.
Suddenly, they were all speaking this way. "Bee neee dooo deeee."
I watched as they repeated this chant to each other, sometimes with deep giggles.
Suddenly, I became very dizzy. I felt like I was going to vomit and the day seemed to gain another 10 degrees. It seemed to me like I had grown smaller. Fear tore and gnawed at my belly.
What were they saying to each other?
What if they were talking about hacking up the normal people on the bus? Why were they all leering at me? Are they thinking I would be tasty with ketchup? Are they plotting ways to tickle me to death? Or is there just a booger hanging out of my nose?
I almost gagged at the bitter taste of bile that rose in my throat and I looked back again at the black man. This time our eyes met. He does not feel what I do. He is just glad for the first time in his life, he is not the person on the bus people are staring at with mild revulsion. Today, he gets to feel ordinary.
I ripped my eyes from the scene to stare back out the window.
I know I am being foolish. There is really nothing to fear on the bus, but I could not get over the feeling the retards were like a pack of rabid wolves.
I blocked the rest of the ride and seemed to just wake-up when Sam's Variety came into view. My stop.
I jumped up and did not reply to the choruses of bungled good-byes I heard behind me. I almost could not stop myself from running.
I stood still and let out a huge sigh of relief when the bus pulled away. I bent over, putting my hands on my knees. I wanted to cry.
"You gonna be okay?" questioned a voice.
I turned to look at the black man who had been on the bus with me.
"You look a little pale. You have a rough ride, there, boy?" he continued.
"Yeah," I managed to get out, shaky and low. His eyes held mine. I had never seen a black man with blue eyes before.
"I got me a bottle of pop here. Maybe you need a swallow? You look thirsty. Might calm you down." he offered.
I looked carefully at the man. There is always some crazy stories people like to tell about negros. Some people will scare others any way they know how.
"Yeah, mister, please. That would be awful kind of you," I smiled at him.
"Well, good," he said, nodding before he broke into a wide, white grin. "My name is William. What's yours, lad?"

To Whom This Does Concern

I am patiently waiting for Everyday.

Laid Back Reminders

Every now and then, you need a little reminder. Lately, I have been getting more than my fair share of them. I believe it is because I am just more aware of things(it all goes back to appreciation). I hope you get reminders often, too. If you do not, I hope you come back to read mine sometimes because they make you feel good.

All I Need is a Little Quiet

My kid is playing in his room. He is always noticeable when he is. Loud is better. Even I know this. It is how I like my music.
It is about 20 minutes before you decide to cook supper in the late afternoon. I am doing the cleaning that one can leave for up to two weeks at a time. I am always surprised how much ends up under my couch after this time. But it is fun finding all the stuff I forgotten about but once thought I had lost for good.
I had just found the ugly red pen I hate under one of them when I noticed that not-so-deadly quiet. It is the quiet that makes you go in and check on your child, only to find them totally engrossed in building lego what-evers. They still get loud occasionally because they play with their creations, too.
It is also one of those silences that ends up with you on the floor, playing with your child.
Which is definitely more appealing than the dusting I should be doing.
I do not like it when my heart stops and I cannot breathe. My kid does this to me a lot. Apparently, he wants to kill me for being the distributor of time-outs, early bed times and no ice cream five minutes before supper. I will have to teach my child there are boundaries to revenge.
From the bedroom doorway, I watch my child jump down from his dresser with a big, fat marker. The sunshine is his beaming smile.
I just might pass out this time.
Red marker right up to the ceiling. The big, fat marker is permanent.
It was not a deadly silence I heard because he still had to move stuff around to be able to reach up so high. I just wanted to play.
This is a dirty trick.
The longest wall in the room has been transformed from boring old white to a landscape of coloured-in circles and large lines. There must be some kind of pattern to this chaos.
I rub my head.
I try to sigh but discover I am still not breathing. My voice comes out low and piercing at the same time.
"What is this?"
"It is beautiful," my child breathes, just as awe-struck as I am by his creation.
I look over at him like he is crazy. But he does not notice. He cannot take his eyes off the wall. He is grinning so proudly.
Just as I regain my breath, I lose it again.
He is the most beautiful thing in the world.

The sound of silence reminded me there is beauty everywhere. Sometimes you see it. Sometimes you don't. And sometimes when you really, really cannot see it; all you have to do it look a little harder.

..And I am Enjoying This Whole "List" Concept Too..

***Thank you Moon.

101 Tidbits About Me

1. My name is not Queenie.
2. My middle name is Marie.
3. I grew-up in a small town.
4. I don't live there, anymore.
5. I love coffee.
6. I have brown eyes.
7. I have two kids.
8. I am the best euchre player I know.
9. I do not like pizza.
10. McCain pizza between two slices of bread with mayo is acceptable.
11. I like the fact I have a vulgar mouth.
12. I wear Navy Perfume.
13. I love Mini-Eggs.
14. I have different change containers all over my house. They do not make me rich.
15. I would marry Jay Leno.
16. Mrs. Houting was my favorite teacher.
17. People like my laugh.
18. I can be an expert bitch.
19. I make people feel comfortable in my home by putting my feet up on my coffee table.
20. I love the rain.
21. I have as much fun with bubble gum as I can to see how long it takes before people are annoyed with me.
22. I like watching ants.
23. Or looking at the clouds.
24. Matchbox 20 makes me feel fantastic.
25. So do Flakies.
26. I scored over 8 million the third time I played Bookworm.
27. I cry a lot. But I am never really sad.
28. I loved listening to George Michael with Heather.
29. I have a mailbox in my kitchen.
30. I do not often miss people.
31. I think I am funny. So do some other people.
32. I once stole an apartment.
33. The first one I paid for was in Tillsonburg.
34. "Only" by Winstom Groom is the second best book I ever read.
35. "Anya" by Susan Fromberg Schaeffer sickened me. Every word was worth it.
36. I am reading 5 books right now.
37. I still read "Charlotte's Web" once a year.
38. Danielle Steele can often be found as my bathtub book. And I am actually kind of embarrassed to admit it.
39. I love to read.
40. I cannot own a library card.
41. I used to swallow stones in Kindergarten.
42. Stephanie was my best friend then.
43. I don't like dogs.
44. People I do not know tell me their problems.
45. It is because I want to hear people's stories.
46. I love Quebec City.
47. I am almost half as good at Jeopardy as my mother. She knows every answer.
48. I can talk myself into or out of doubts.
49. I do not care if Milli Vanilli lip-synched.
50. I wish I could force myself to touch a live worm.
51. I would eat a live worm for $50, 000.
52. Everything has a price; except the stuff in my home.
53. I miss playing Yahtzee with my Grandmother.
54. I am not good at riddles.
55. Because I am a blunt person.
56. But I can manipulate situations with ease.
57. I hitch-hiked a lot as a teenager.
58. I am most comfortable in organized clutter.
59. I can be obnoxious.
60. I could not ride a bike until I was 7 years old.
61. Some of the letters I write to people never make it into their hands.
62. I don't eat breakfast.
63. Unless there is a birthday to celebrate.
64. I am not going to win the lottery ever.
65. But I will make 5 million dollars.
66. My house is only clean the way I like it for about 25 minutes a day.
67. I try to make it for the last 25 minutes of daylight.
68. I think the reason I am smart is because I am an insomniac.
69. I do not like candy.
70. I can change a carburetor on a 1977 Bronco(it was actually a 1977 1/2).
71. Everyone I know wants to be in my blogs.
72. I only include who I want to.
73. I have been writing for fun since I was in Grade One.
75. I love to sing, but I am horrible at it.
76. I pick my nose.
77. I know my faults.
78. I want to be Jake's friend.
79. I used to be "Grandpa's Little Newfie".
80. Morgan's father will forever scare me.
81. I grew-up on Oak Street.
82. I have not ate mulberries since I was 11.
83. My kids will always have a bedtime. I like it too much.
84. I hate tobogganing.
85. I once saw a wild moose.
86. I have been arrested on the phone for stealing a shovel.
87. It was not a prank phone call. I like giving and receiving them.
88. I have no desire to ever go skinny-dipping.
89. But I want to jump out of a plane.
90. My dishes do not match the decor in my kitchen. It is bugging me.
91. I do not like music video television stations.
92. My temporary roommate is moving out tomorrow.
93. I would never paint a room pink.
94. But I have painted a room orange.
95. I do not have a favorite colour. They all have something wonderful about them.
96. Adam was the first boy I ever kissed. I was in Grade One. He had orange hair.
97. I knock before entering my children's bedroom.
98. I bite my fingernails.
99. I remember biting my toenails when I was 4.
100. I think I have told you enough.
101. I have to go clean now.

One Fine Day:April 15th 2004 -Part II

April 15th Was a Thursday

...The phone rings...

I know it is my friend, Jean, before I pick up. She has radar. We have days where neither one of us wants to shut-up. We are both conversatation hogs who can pause long enough to appreciate what the other has to say for awhile. But that is only a 3 minute window at a time.
I curl up on my loveseat for a chat and wait for the phone to fall off my CD stand because I have stretched the cord too far. It is a silly, little victory if I can make it through a whole conversation without it happening.
Today we rush the conversation along. She has to leave for work. I have a day that is not like my other days. I do indeed have somewhere to be today. At least it is not where I have to be on every other Thursday.
I have to go to the bank. But not the one that is only around the corner and up the street. No. I was there last night. It seems since I have lost the third bank card in three months, I have to take a trip to my home branch(For all you worriers out there: Two of these lost bank cards have since been recovered. One in the washer. One in the dryer. Little cooked pieces of green plastic meat.). My home branch is all the way across town.
The bank that is only around the corner and up the street would also not permit me to take any money out. I was rather upset since I had no money in my pocket and all I really wanted was a chocolate bar. I was moody all the previous night.
I might have had money had I went to the bank when I noticed my card was missing. But I had money on Monday. I really was not concerned I had lost the card to begin with. I have grown accustomed to this hassle.
This is a good day. My babysitter will be here for her regular shift. That means I can do whatever I want, besides the bank, until 5 p.m.
I start to get ready. I hang my bathrobe up on the back of my bedroom door.
I am excited.
And with no plan...

(To Be Continued)

Run for Your Lives People...Dammit...I Said Run!

I am not required to be anywhere in the world from now till Monday at one p.m. I should spend a lot of time doing what I love to do this weekend, for once. The thing I am enjoying most in moment is this. Blogging. I have an addictive personality.
You should have seen me in the hey days when I first discovered Yahoo Euchre.
Being the wonderfully kind person I am, I thought I would warn you...I might publish post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post, after post this week-end.

(If you could not handle reading 'after post' that many times, you better run faster than the rest. Your brain might explode if you read any further)

I Need a Hero....

Mark is the only person I know who knows more about computers than me. But he knows way more than I do. He does things for sites on the internet. He types..a lot. The words form pretty pictures and..stuff. Lots of...stuff(Web Developer-I am pretending to be stupid). When all else fails, I hope he knows what to do. I am sure he finds it annoying I always have issues(and yes, most that shouldn't be).
The following IM was sent:

okay this is what I want..I want you to come over and figure out the issues with my digital camera--I do not care if you know nothing about them--you are a computer guy and I have every faith you can fix it. What I will give you for doing this is a whole lot of fuck-all with a side order of Tim Horton's. And I will probably talk your ear off. Please allow me the respect to not have to squirt out a few tears to dry with my handgloves before you come to rescue my ass. Buddy, old pal, you rock. Q

I hope it works.

One Fine Day:April 15th 2004

The Bathrobe

I open my eyes to a loud banging of toys. My mind races hoping that second in time was not long enough for me not to get back to sleep. My eyes slam shut, only to re-open. I groan. I roll over and try again. I open one eye to look at my alarm clock. Why do I even care what time it is? 7:12 a.m.
Fine. "Good Morning," I grumble loudly.
I hear happy laughter and "Good Morning, Mom", muffled from behind two closed bedroom doors.
I do not even act like I am happy for the first ten minutes I am awake. I can't put forth the effort required. I need those minutes to learn to be nice for the next hour. My morning ugh's last that long.
I feel myself brighten as I reach for my new bathrobe. It is second-hand from a friend. It too, feels warm and comfortable. It is hot pink. I could hardly resist the colour! It is strange to start feeling so good so quick. My mind takes note of that. I will remember to hang this up every night on the hook, I think to myself.
Now for coffee.
I turn the corner into my kitchen and halt. I am horror-stricken. But how far do I really want to take this? Do I really feel like bursting into tears? Can I just clean-up the mess? How much can one bathrobe really do for my morning mood?
There is hot chocolate. Everywhere.
But someone has used cold water to make it. There are huge, thick water-logged lumps of syrupy brown amongst the mess.
Three blue coffee mugs full. One Big Gulp from the 7-11. One white mixing bowl. And every up-turned dish in the sink.
And oooohhhh...The floor...
I did not even realize I had this much hot chocolate in the house. No one here really likes it. I guess my son's tastes have changed.
He comes up to stand beside me. We look at the mess like we are up top a hill looking below at war carnage. He looks up at me, with his head slightly bowed, wringing his hands.
My son likes to make experiments in the kitchen. And the bathroom. On a regular basis. It is worth any punishment I can hand out. I sigh.
The affects of the bathrobe has made me happy enough to send my son out of the room; instead of getting more annoyed by the way a 6 year old helps clean. I send him to the couch, letting him know his mother would kindly appreciate him not moving or I might let him clean up the entire mess with toothbrush and tongue.
My son grins. It is a rare day indeed Mom is funny before her first coffee.
It is seven minutes into my day and I learn cold water makes half-mixed hot chocolate powder really stick on my coffee mugs.
As I am scrubbing, I find myself hoping there is a method to his maddening source of enjoyment. I really hope he makes hypotheses and has theories he is testing. I find myself grateful it was not one of those Play-Doh days.
Fifteen minutes into my day I sit down beside my son on the couch he has not moved from and enjoy the smell of the coffee brewing. Sunlight filters through my living room curtains, clean and inviting. I take a deep breath and a large stretch. I feel my morning blahs slide right out of me. I smile at my son and ask politely, "Can Mom watch a talk show this morning?"
Before he can answer; the phone rings...

(To Be Continued)

101 Signs He May Not Be Mr. Right

1. He has bad breath.
2. His hair is uncombed.
3. He is married.
4. He is unemployed.
5. He chews with his mouth open.
6. He talks about his "friend" Molly way too much.
7. He shoves his tongue all the way down your throat on the first date.
8. He slobbers, too.
9. His Mother drives you on all your dates.
10. He USED to go to AA.
11. Your first date is to his church.
12. He is scared of commitment.
13. He is scared of spiders.
14. He is scared of kittens.
15. He loses his wallet a lot.
16. His idea of dinner and a movie is popcorn and a porn.
17. He does not share the popcorn.
18. He spends his Friday nights at Bingo with Mom and Dad.
19. His idea of daring is you getting to be on top.
20. You saw him picking his nose and wiping it on his couch when you were coming out of his bathroom.
21. Where there really was napkins for toilet paper.
22. And you think you might have seen a not-so-hidden camera.
23. You have to be home everynight at 11 for the next three hours of Sports News.
24. He tries to sleep with your best friend.
25. And your mother.
26. Saying "Grandma too" is not a very classy attempt at a humor.
27. His living room curtains are Jack Daniels flags.
28. His funniest joke is "Pull My Finger".
29. He tells the joke everytime he has to fart.
30. He has more hair than the members of ZZ Top.
31. He lets Rover "watch".
32. Then asks you politely if you would mind sleeping on the couch, you are in Rover's spot.
33. He is a Postal Worker.
34. He collects Beanie Babies.
35. He goes to a Divorce Support Group every Tuesday from 7-8 in the evening. He has to go early though. He is the coffee maker.
36. He has a gift basket of sex toys on his bedside table the first night you stay over.
37. He cries during The Fast and the Furious when Paul Walker's car gets blown up.
38. He cries during Dirty Dancing when Patrick Swayze said to Jerry Orbach, "Nobody puts Baby in the corner."
39. He is a coupon clipper.
40. He has a TV remote caddy and a beer fridge for an end table.
41. There are issues of Playboy magazine in every room of his house.
42. He watches Star Trek. (Come on...Be honest..No woman wants a man who watches that)
43. His best friend gropes you everytime he leaves the room, insisting his buddy shares.
44. He lives in a trailer.
45. He has yellow sweat stains under the arms of all his shirts.
46. His kids call him Grandpa.
47. He wears mascara. It brings out his eyes.
48. His mother wants to talk to you about you and her son's sex life.
49. He likes to show off the scar from the beer bottle that once got smashed over his head.
50. He is mean to children.
51. He kills cats.
52. He eats them.
53. He thinks bowling shirts are the height of fashion.
54. He is always itchy.
55. His mode of transportation is the bus.
56. His candle-lit dinner for two is KD and hot dogs.
57. He let his Mom and Aunt Doris decorate his house.
58. He might have got really loaded tonight, but did he really have to run to the bathroom to puke after sex?
59. He thinks it is okay to clip his toenails in front of you.
60. He once asked your sister to marry him.
61. He is in the Witness Protection Program.
62. For ratting out Mexican Drug Lords.
63. They have hired an expert hitman.
64. His wife has hired a hitman, too. But she only had $5000.
65. He sports a mullet(a tribute to my friend, Charles).
66. He wears a lot of pastels.
67. He buys you a tandem bike on your third date.
68. He wears dentures.
69. And diapers.
70. He leaves the toilet seat up at YOUR house.
71. He owns a pair of knitting needles.
72. And has really nice hand-made blankets on his bed.
73. You get a really nice blanket for Christmas.
74. His imaginary friend hates you.
75. His imaginary friend hides your underwear everytime they come over.
76. He pimps hoes.
77. His friends make loud gulping sounds and laugh everytime they see you.
78. He keeps a "diary".
79. He looks like Al Bundy.
80. He looks like Tom Cruise.
81. When you cry during sad movies he jumps up and barks "CRYING IS FOR SISSIES! DROP AND GIVE ME 20!"
82. He is proud he was on the Jerry Springer Show.
83. Worse-he is proud he was Oprah.
84. It was a Dr. Phill episode back in 1995.
85. He eats all your food when he comes over.
86. Because he has the "munchies".
87. Actually, he's never not-over.
88. Come to think of it, his friends appear to not have homes either.
89. He has no teeth.
90. He has green teeth.
91. He thinks it is occasionally fun to pull out teeth for the "pleasure factor".
92. After the first time you have sex, he says, "I have always liked the name Rachel for a girl."
93. He hopes "she" has your button nose.
94. He wears couduroys and penny loafers.
95. And a pocket protector.
96. He follows the Backstreet Boys from town to town.
97. He has been charged with stalking.
98. Twice.
99. He cries after sex.
100. He is 12.
101. He says his job is blogging.

My Top Ten of Non-Breathing Things I Love

1. The middle of the night.
2. Reading (even the shampoo bottle).
3. Writing (gosh, I hope that is what it is I do..).
4. Conversation.
5. Tim Horton's Coffee
6. Coffee
7. Rain
8. Loud Music (Help me! I am on a Bubble Gum 80's pop kick!)
9. Mini-Eggs (I miss you so..come back, Easter)
10. Laying in bed for an hour after I wake-up.

Well that was not much fun as I expected. I was hoping for a suprise. I guess sometime I will have to do a Top 50, instead.

The Bike

Teenagers. And cool. To be it. What if you are fine-line? Not cool. Not un-cool. An unknown. Maybe a Sometimes. How do you get from sometimes to all the time? Use a little genius.
There is a teenager in my neighborhood. He has one of those new types of bikes. The eclectic look of modern and old that seems prevalent in most things these days. It allowed for him to construct a wooden boombox hitched well into the molds of the metal of this low-riding bike. He has added a reflector to a lighted speaker. It is loud. He is 16. I think he is cool, but I do not count. I am an adult.
On Friday, I saw him riding it to school. He is an Unknown.
How long must he ride it to school to become totally cool or total freaky geek? I will tell you.
One week.
He must park his bike nowhere near the utmost coolest kids in school. He must pick the middle class on the verge. Enough cool kids like them. They will show interest in it. The next day there will be two cool kids. The next day, more.
Then he must throw it in his garage after one week. He will have to willingly love it there, buffing it, playing it. He will have to do nothing more than then pull it out occasionally when requested. And suprize everyone a year from now by bringing it to school on a hot, summer no one wants to wear clothes day.

Now the bigger question?
Why do I even care?

Getting in the Mood

What is your "Make Me Feel Sexy" song?
Why are you still reading this? Go listen to it.

Appreciation

They say(whoever they are)people do not stop to smell the roses enough anymore. Everyone is too busy to. There is so much to cram in one day, they cannot find the time to. That is a load of crap.
I am a busy girl these days and I am appreciating everything. It takes no time to take the time to think of the things you appreciate. You can think of these things while you are doing the dishes, driving to work, during commercials. Think about all the wonderful things in your life. Your family. Your strengths. The garden you just planted that looks lovely. How good it feels to hear your favorite song. Children on a swing. Coffee......
Appreciate the world. Do it all in your mind. Do it often.
And pretty soon you will find it is spilling over and getting into your everyday life. You will start to appreciate out loud to people you love and care about. Your everyday relationships will strengthen.
I learned this lesson tonight, but I have been living this way for a few months. I finally got to say the words out loud when I made a life-altering decision. But not so life-altering because either way I could have chose, I could have lived happily.
But the thing is, I am already living happily because I just started enjoying everything I see. You betcha, it is a fast busy world. But it is beautiful. Look out your window.
I live happy because I appreciate myself most of all. Tonight I was stronger than I ever have been. I have never taken the time to appreciate fully how strong I can be. I will never forget to again. That is the best feeling you can have. Being right with yourself.
And it all starts right now for you, if you let it. I hope you all find it. This is wonderful.
Thank you for letting me ramble in my blog and for finding the time to read this. I am sure this is not what you have come to expect. I am not rolling my eyes here. I appreciate every hit you guys give me. It makes me feel wonderful.
Now go on..Get out of here. Go get happy. Appreciate.

To Whom This Does Concern

I know you are reading my stuff...So why exactly is it, you haven't gotten a hold of me?

Me, Cindy & the Pens

I have unexpected roommates until Friday. I am a good enough person to help someone. I am also a good enough person to know how long I can force my good temper. I am glad that when I say 'Shut-up now', this person feels comfortable enough in my home to find something else to occupy herself with. She can buy a few extra days for that. Plus, she makes coffee. She is also my employee. My daily Baby-sitter. My almost ex-sister-in-law. And my friend. ( I know! Creepy! )
So, it is during this time she is shutting-up, I am struck with a very profound thought indeed. 'I am going to write that down; I need to read that sometimes', I say to myself.
I get my pen and journal out of the book bag I have to look for. I plop on the loveseat and look over. Cindy is writing. She has a lovely blue pen.
It is her pen from her house. It is in my house and I have never used it before. It seems somehow wrong.
I look at the pen I have grabbed out of the bottom of the bag. This pen is ugly. It is white. It no longer owns a lid. It no longer owns the end of it-the little part that holds only some pens in. In fact, it is made of soft plastic and there is lots of the white bitten, too. This pen is really ugly. And Cindy's is so not...not ate.
My pen also writes with black ink. I am not fond of black, preferring the blue. In richer feeling moments, I have bought new packages of pens and thrown the black in the garbage. Cindy's pen has blue ink. I really want to use this pen.
I look back up at her. She has her pen in her mouth, sucking on it. Hmmm...I think. I ask her a question on purpose, just so she would take the pen out of her mouth to answer. I study her pen while she talks.
It has a few bite marks in the end--only a few but they are deep marks. Even little chews have to be satisfying...My God, how do I get this newer pen of hers out of her hands? She likes pens, too! This is going to be tough.
I say, "Let me use your pen."
"No," she says, her eyes narrowing.
I say, "Cindy, you know I do not like black ink. Trade me."
"No," she says, her grip tightening on the pen.
"Listen dumbass, I am letting you stay here." We can say this stuff to each other after workhours.
"No," she says. She is getting mad.
I know there is only one last chance to get that pen before she would screw off into another room with it. Only briefly, I feel desperate.
"Cindy," I say. "We would be doing each other a real big favor. You like black ink. I like blue. I like to chew pens. You want to chew on that pen. But it is still a bit too new to go to town on. I want to use your pen. I cannot chew on your pen. It is not mine. On the other hand, you see my pen is chewed so you know you are allowed. You have been denying yourself chewing. Chew mine and you can chew yours later. Double the fun for you."
So,Cindy handed me her pen. And here I am using the keyboard.
But anyway, with all this going on, you can see how I might have lost my original train of profound thought.

May 20th is also International Be Kind to Losers Day.

The Life of a Loser

I lose things. Everyday ordinary things. Who has not lost the keys on occasion for 15 minutes? Or found you just cannot seem to remember where you put your housecoat-in the laundry or back on the bathroom hook again? We are all prone to little bouts of forgetfulness.
But I often also find myself wondering about the where-abouts of things like my bankcard. It is my source of money, but it could be on my bedside table, my computer desk, or in the basket on the microwave. Worst case scenario-it is in my new found, sure fire place where I will remember to keep things--and even though I cannot remember WHERE that is now--I will. It is new. Unless, by some off chance I put it in my wallet. I hope not. I will not find it there for days. I also find myself doing this often with my watch.
That is not the worst of it. I also lose things like my brush. My hair is always in need of a good brushing. It is thin and fly-away. I know I should know where my brush is. But I have already remembered 14 times today where it was lost all the other times I had to fix my hair. I also notice the only time I cannot ever remember where my brush is at all, is when I am on my way out the door. It happens most days of the week.
By the way, has anyone seen the TV remote?
Now, this is all a little bit past the ordinary-but while I am confessing-let me do it fully. I lose things that I enjoy the most. Your list is likely different, but mine includes things like the book I am reading, my journal, my funky socks. I can actually lose the pens that follow me around everywhere I go. I love my pens but I am prone to putting them down. I should know better.
Being a person who constantly loses things does something to you. You start to think you have lost things, when you have not. Like the coffee that is permanently stuck in my hand. I lose it many times a day. Here is an example. I put my coffee on the kitchen table while I go to find a pen to do a crossword. I find a pen in the book bag in my bedroom. I get half way between the bedroom and kitchen when the terror strikes. Where is my coffee?? It is not really lost. It is either in one of the two places and in the deep reaches of my mind-I know this. You come to accept these false alarms if you are a person like me.
The anxiety we people feel at times like this can be overwhelming. It is a constant struggle for us to remember all these things, day after day. Please remember we are all not as stupid as we appear. Even if I cannot remember the date-I do know what day of the week it is. I have not lost my mind.

May 18th is International Be Kind to Losers Day.

How to Tell if Someone is of Questionable Standards

As human beings, top of the food chain with more evolved brain patterns than the average animal, we have a need for attention. Thus we sort through others of our species and find those who will give us their best efforts. They have been searching for the same thing. We make friends.
Whatever my life history is, I have developed into someone who is very aware of people and their actions. I have a suspicious nature and can spot a con at a fair distance.
But there are some of you out there who do not have this sixth sense. You have no way of protecting yourself from the pilfering nature of some of the people who inhabit our earth.
I took it upon myself to find a way to help you all. After careful deliberation and ideas that included criminal background checks and personal references, I came up with the simplest of solutions. A sure-fire way to weed out the pariah in your world.
When you are expecting company of any sort, or not at all, place a small amount of money somewhere outside your front door.
One dollar for your friends.
Twenty-five cents for your children's friends.
Make money. Bet with other family members of the outcomes.

The Perpetrator of the Popsicle Presentiment

There was a 19 month at my home today. I gave him and my 6 year old a popsicle for their early evening snack.
I handed it to this 19 month old, placing the wooden part in his hand. He started eating it-he kept his hand on the stick, it appeared he had done this before. I walked away, with no trepidation.
Suddenly, from our place in the kitchen at the Round Table of Coffee; there was a distressing cry that turned into full blown wailing quickly. The suspicion was possibly a popsicle dropped on the floor. He had been strapped, without fight, into his stroller to eat it. Regardless, the mother and I looked at each other with a quiet unease starting to stew in our bellies.
We were up at the same time. Quickly, we marched the 5 steps into the living room, to indeed find a popsicle on the floor. The relief barely lasted three seconds.
In one fluid moment, Cindy bent and handed the popsicle to her son. He recoiled and his screams intensified.
It was than we noticed his poor baby red and frozen fingertips. My eyes darted quickly to the child's face. A-ha! He had never done this before! This is not one of the milestones I wrote about in my son's baby book.
I watched this poor baby boy and watched him more. He was not to be subdued. It was when his screeches had been going on close to 10 minutes, I suddenly felt very sad for his future.
He would likely never enjoy the summertime stickiness of orange popsicle sliding down his chin outside in his backyard in his life. If he did, it would always be with worms squiggling in his tummy at his sense of utmost anxiety.
It was when his mother attempted two more times to hand this screaming, arms thrashing child the hated popsicle, that a worse realization set it. This child could end up with a psychosis and an irrational fear of frozen coloured-water that could fill him with the kind of dread that makes him want to scratch his eyes out at the very sight of them. That popsicle could not be handed to him one more time!
It seemed in slow motion, her hand reached onto the table for the cold, melting offender....
I had to stop her!
Stealthily, I jumped up from my seat on the floor so the baby would not notice my movement and caught her hand a split second before the popsicle came into his line of vision.
"You will only traumatized him more," I said.

Proof Size of the Brain Does Matter

I have a used bird. He was my friend, Brenda's, bird. Briefly. It was a used bird for her, too. Chicky is a budgie. He is dainty and a very pretty white, which makes the fact he likes to throw seed 50 feet a little less stressing.
I have a hardwood floor (I live here because of them based on the fact I have this used, never, ever quiet bird). Hardwood floors must be swept. So must birdseed. My broom is blue.
A daily, counted-on routine in my household, is the floor gets swept. Only the time of day might get changed.
It gets old quick when everytime you approach the bird cage to sweep, the volume of the chirps increases ten-fold and you have to endure watching some moron bird bang it's self repeatedly in to the wrungs of the cage. It is one of those everyday, mild annoyances that makes you want to drink coffee.
But today I found myself looking at Chicky with a brand-new thoughtfulness, all the while holding the broom(he really cannot get anymore retarded anyway). The fact remains, this bird is used and I do not know his history. I do not know what horrific broom accidents he may have previously encountered. Maybe he was poked by an over-zealous, 8 year old boy daily. Maybe a broom knocked him over and his life flashed before his eyes and he realized he had never seen any other room in the house where he lived. Maybe he just likes living having his filth spread far around him.
Whatever the case, I decided to like my bird a little bit better today. I made a pact with myself to remember to feed him more.

1. Bought everyone in the pub a drink?
2. Swam with wild dolphins?
3. Climbed a mountain?
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive?
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid?
6. Held a tarantula?
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone?
8. Said "I love you" and meant it?
81/2. Said I love you and watched the blank stare?
9. Hugged a tree?
10. Done a striptease?
11. Bungee jumped?
12. Visited Paris? Ontario
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea?
14. Stayed up all night long, and watched the sun rise?
15. Seen the Northern Lights?
16. Gone to a huge sports game?
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa?
18. Grown and eaten my own vegetables?
19. Touched an iceberg?
20. Slept under the stars?
21. Changed a baby's diaper?
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon?
23. Watched a meteor shower?
24. Gotten drunk on champagne?
25. Given more than you can afford to charity?
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope?
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment?
28. Had a food fight?
29. Bet on a winning horse?
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill?
31. Asked out a stranger?
32. Had a snowball fight?
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier?
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can?
35. Held a lamb?
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy?
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip?
38. Taken an ice cold bath?
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar?
40. Seen a total eclipse?
41. Rode on a roller coaster?
42. Hit a home run?
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days?
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking?
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day?
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors?
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment?
48. Had two hard drives for your computer?
49. Visited all 50 states?
50. Loved your job for all accounts?
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced?
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied?
53. Had amazing friends?
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country?
55. Watched wild whales?
56. Stolen a sign?
57. Backpacked in Europe?
58. Taken a road-trip too many?
59. Rock climbing?
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice?
61. Midnight walk on the beach?
62. Sky diving?
63. Visited Ireland?
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love?
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them?
66. Visited Japan?
67. Bench pressed your own weight? C'mon. I am a girl
68. Milked a cow?
69. Alphabetized your records?
70. Pretended to be a superhero?
71. Sung karaoke?
72. Lounged around in bed all day?
73. Posed nude in front of strangers?
74. Scuba diving?
75. Got it on to “Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye?
76. Kissed in the rain?
77. Played in the mud?
78. Played in the rain?
79. Gone to a drive-in theater?
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it?
81. Visited the Great Wall of China?
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog?
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better? I like Bill Gates.
84. Started a business? Fuck you a Kool-Aid Stand does not count.
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken?
86. Toured ancient sites?
87. Taken a martial arts class?
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman? Daily. Wtf?
89. Played a game for more than 6 hours straight?
90. Gotten married?
91. Been in a movie?
92. Crashed a party?
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have?
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy? It is cocky of me to assume.
95. Getting divorced?
96. Had sex at the office?
97. Gone without food for 5 days?
98. Made cookies from scratch?
99. Won first prize in a costume contest?
100. Rode a gondola in Venice?
101. Gotten a tattoo?
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on?
103. Rafted the Snake River?
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"?
105. Got flowers for no reason? At least, that is what I was told...
106. Masturbated in a public place?
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything?
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug?
109. Performed on stage?
110. Been to Las Vegas?
111. Recorded music?
112. Eaten shark?
113. Had a one-night stand?
114. Gone to Thailand?
115. Seen Siouxsie live? Just assuming I know what is being said here.
116. Bought a house?
117. Been in a combat zone?
118. Buried one/both of your parents?
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off?
120. Been on a cruise ship?
121. Spoken more than one language fluently?
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone?
123. Bounced a check?
124. Performed in Rocky Horror?
125. Read - and understood - your credit report?
126. Raised children?
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy?
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour?
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars?
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country?
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did?
132. Called or written your Congress person?
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over?
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge?
136. Sang loudly in the car?
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did?
138. Had plastic surgery?
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived?
140. Wrote articles for a large publication? Large?
141. Lost over 100 pounds?
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback?
143. Piloted an airplane?
144. Petted a stingray?
145. Broken someone's heart?
146. Helped an animal give birth?
147. Been fired or laid off from a job?
148. Won money on a T.V. game show?
149. Broken a bone?
150. Killed a human being?
151. Gone on an African photo safari?
152. Rode on a motorcycle?
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph?
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced?
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol?
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild?
157. Rode a horse?
158. Had major surgery?
159. Had sex on a moving train?
160. Had a snake as a pet?
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon?
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing?
163. Slept for more than 30 hours?
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states?
165. Visited all 7 continents?
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days?
167. Eaten kangaroo meat?
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground?
169. Been a sperm or egg donor?
170. Eaten sushi?
171. Had your picture in the newspaper?
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime? Hmmmmm.
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about?
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions?
175. Gone back to school?
176. Parasailed?
177. Changed your name?
178. Petted a cockroach? Put a few in a microwave. Froze some, too.
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes?
180. Read The Iliad?
181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read several?
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them>?
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you?
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch?
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating?
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt?
187. Skipped all your school reunions?
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language?
189. Been elected to public office?
190. Written your own computer language?
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream?
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care?
193. Built your own PC from parts?
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you?
195. Had a booth at a street fair?
196. Dyed your hair?
197. Been a DJ?
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via Blogger? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
199. Written your own role playing game?
200. Been arrested?