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Monday, 20 July 2015

I'm a pretty good time aka gong show Shannon

OMG hi guys!  You know what?  I've missed you.  Every single one of you.  I know I know I know, it's been fooooorever since I blogged.  Not for lack of material, as you all know I basically live at the circus.  And not like the happy daytime fun carnival, but the creepy night time circus full of freaks and blood and penises and mess and crying and.......I regress.  So I wanted to share with you all a lovely experience I had while camping this summer.  So lovely.  Let me set the scene....

It's hot.  It is fucking HOT.  You remember that week we had where it felt like the world was melting?  A big old puddle of goo.  That week.  So we're camping out at syringa that week and on this particular Saturday night, I'm out there staying alone with the two little boys (who so aren't little but that's another story).  Like, usually it's hot as balls in town, but then you drive out to the lake and get out of your car and it's like aaaahhhhhhhh, cooler and a breeze coming off the lake and feels like drinking and awesome.  But this Saturday, it was hot as balls in town, and like hot as bear balls at the lake.  Not even a bit cooler.  We have a tent trailer and had all the window screens unzipped and open, which normally would provide some breeze through that hot box of sweaty boys, but this night, it totally didn't.  Me and Lenny went to bed in the one far side of the tent trailer and Kohen got the side closest to the door, and we all climbed in on top of the covers and tried to get some sleep.  Now here goes.....ready?  Okay.  So.  Around 2am, I'm half woken up.  Like I'm still in that half asleep but semi aware of my surroundings state that is so weird.  I can feel this delightful breeze....finally.  It's coming across my bare legs and up around over my face over and over and over.  I'm semi aware that it feels more like a fanning then a breeze but I'm okay with it.  My half asleep mind momentarily decides it's some kind of bird or large insect outside the tent trailer and must be flying by the open screen windows.  I almost go back to sleep when I hear it..........the unmistakable fluttering sound of bat wings.  Oh.  Huh.  There's a bat outside and it's flying around the tent trailer and the breeze off it's wings is blowing inside the screen windows.  Well that's neat.  All of a sudden FWAP FLOP SMACK something crashes into my bare leg and stops moving.  I am now fully awake and laying there trying to process this when I feel the thing semi crawl/drag itself all the way down my shin and onto the top of my foot and now onto the screen window at my feet.  I glance over and HOLY FUCKING CHRIST ON A CRACKER IT'S A FUCKING BAT INSIDE MY GOD DAMN TENT TRAILER AND IT JUST LANDED AND CRAWLED DOWN MY LEG THIS IS HOW RABIES START DONT SCREAM THE BOYS ARE SLEEPING IT'S GOING TO FLY INTO MY HAIR IF I PANIC DON'T PANIC DID I JUST PEE MYSELF ITS A FUCKING BAT.....well, you get the picture.  I lay there trying not to move or hyperventilate as the thing takes off again and resumes flying around the tent goes around and around and around and then....stops.  Silence.  Nothing.  I peek out from my bed and see nothing.  Fuck.  Now what?  The boys are still both snoring away, totally unaware.  I try to form a plan but it's hot and I'm creeped out and it's a fucking bat guys!  In my tent trailer!  I decide I could make a run for it, for the door but I'd have to stand up completely and go all the way to the other side and if that thing starts flying around again, I think I'd freak out so I try talk myself out of it....out of the entire thing.  No bat.  Probably was a bird.  It's sleeping now...shhh shhhhh.....there there go back to sleep now.  OMG there's a curtain!  A curtain to separate my bed from the rest of the trailer.  It's ripped off the top a bit but I close it manages to cover like 3/4 of the way across the bed, sealing me and Lenny off.  There.  Fixed.  I try to go back to sleep and decide to take another look.  I shine my flashlight around the gap in the curtain and the fucker starts flying again......flap....flap.....flap....flap......flap.  Round it goes.  All of a sudden FWAP and it lands right on the curtain.  Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.  I can see its silhouette and it's crawling towards the gap.  Holy shit if it gets in here, it'll JUST be flying around the bed Lenny and I are sleeping in.  I panic and smash my flashlight onto the inside of the curtain and send the bat flying off. I hear it hit something....and silence.  Okay what now?  I decide I can climb out the side of the tent trailer!  Yes!  Brilliant! 

Now for those who don't know, the tent trailer has the beds that slide out and then canvas that goes around the outside and bungee cords attach to the underside to keep it in place.  So I try to reach my hand between the bed and the canvas to undo the cords so I can slide out.  Holy shit she's tight.  I get panicky when I realize this might not work and start smashing my arm through the side and ripping at the bungee.  I manage to get one or two unhooked and decide it's just enough space for me to squeeze my ass through so I stick my legs out and am just about to slide out.  Wait a high up am I again??  What's under me??  I force myself to grab the flashlight and look.  It's a bit of a drop so facing forward might not be the best.  There's also two bags of garbage hanging beneath me and a bag of recycling.  I kick those away as much as possible and decide it's probably best to drop out feet first, but facing down.  Here I go!!!!  I push myself off and throw my arms above my head and that fucking trailer births me out onto the dirt and bag of recycling.  I hit the ground in a heap and jump up because now I'm convinced a bear or a cougar is probably outside in the dark woods waiting to eat me.  That's when I realize, it's drafty out.  My fucking shirt is missing.  Ever go to pull off your sweatshirt and wind up taking your shirt off underneath as well?  Same thing only my shirt is now left in my bed where there's a fucking bat flying around.  So there I am, bare tits and a pair of short shorts scanning the woods all Charlies Angel style for bears and cougars while my children sleep and a fucking bat is flying around my tent trailer.  Fuck it.  I sit in a lawn chair and debate sleeping right there.  I mean, the bat isn't bugging the kids right?  Just like, deal with that shit in the morning.  So I open the trailer door and creep inside and the stupid thing is in hiding again.  I'm scanning around everywhere, trying to find it with no luck.  If I was a bat, where would I hide?  I decide that thing is probably in the dust ruffle curtain topper or whatever the hell all trailers have around the top of it so I start walking around the outside of the tent trailer banging on the canvas sides thinking it'll start flying again.  And yes, my kids still slept.  I'm getting annoyed now, like what if I was a bear??  They'd be eaten before they even realized it.  Two rounds around the trailer, and nothing.  Images of a bear ripping me to shreds and someone finding my body in the morning, topless, outside of the trailer has me deciding to try find my shirt.  Thankfully I manage to reach in far enough to snag it and shows over.  I take another look in the door and scan all around and all of a sudden I see something weird and fuzzy on one of kohens shoes, just inside the door.  It's the bat.  That fucker.  I grab a broom and drop to the ground and army crawl towards the door swinging the broom handle in front of me.  The bat starts flying again thankfully and after what feels like a hundred times round the trailer, it finds the open door and flies out, narrowly missing my face.  It's now 4am and I'm pretty much ready to start drinking.  I notice there's a light on in the trailer in the site across from me and decide had someone been watching me, they probably got a pretty decent show.  You know me, give it your all!!!!! 

I managed to get back to sleep after much tossing and turning that night.  The next day the boys didn't even believe me that there was a bat in there.  Jerks.  I made Barry bring me some duct tape and I spent the morning taping up the entire roof and where the canvas comes to the roof.  I think it's a classy addition to the dust ruffle curtains!  And that's what it's like to camp in my life!  Oh and my arm was black and blue and fully bruised up from fisting that stupid tent trailer canvas so that looked fancy.

Anyone need any topless bat removal, just let me know!!

Friday, 23 May 2014 usual...about my girl usual.

It's been a while since I've blogged.  Things have been busy but I knew I had to make time to share this with you all.  At supper the other night I even exclaimed "I have the best blog subject to write about!" to which my mother responded "please tell me it isn't about your vagina!" and yes, yes it is.  God she knows me well!!  I mean, yes, I know there are certain things about ones vagina that shouldn't be shared, but so help me, I just have a shorter list of those things then other people do.  Let me start with a little lesson or two.  Now I'm assuming we all know the definitions of professional, skilled, educated, training and Brazilian wax right?  For those who don't, a professional can be defined as; (of a person) engaged in a specified activity as one's main paid occupation rather than as a pastime, having or showing the skill appropriate to a professional person; competent or skillful and even denoting a person who persistently makes a feature of a particular activity or attribute.  Let's apply this to the term Brazilian wax (the process of removing all or almost all pubic and other hair in the pelvic area by applying hot wax) and realize that indeed, there are people out there who are professionals in Brazilian waxing.  I myself am not one of these.  But of course I am a professional googler and after reading a few articles on the subject, decided I was basically a pro and should definitely attempt my very own Brazilian wax.  Now I am a fan of yoga and would like to say I'm quite flexible and knew the positions the regular waxing lady I saw put me through.  For those who have never had one, let me tell you, your legs wind up in all sorts of places that either should be left to the most skilled yogi and or those practicing the kamasutra.  But like I said, I googled it right?  What could go wrong??  So one Friday morning, I wound up with some free time before work, headed in and heated up the wax.  After stripping down and dousing myself in baby powder I realized I didn't do an amazing job of trimming to the correct length (it was months since my last professional wax and I could have put most beaver pelts to shame) but hey!  Should be okay.....right??  I take a few deep breaths and remember what I read about examining the hair growth pattern.....try my best to bend on over that stuff and spend an uncomfortable amount of time examining it.....hmmm yes, it does indeed seem to be growing in an outwards from my body motion.  Got it!  I slather on the first bit of hot wax and HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT'S TOO HOT.  Okay, small burn, let's turn that stuff down.  Eventually it cools enough and I give it another shot.  Smooth on the strip annnnnnnnnd take a deep breath RIIIIIIPPPPPPPPP........instant tears to my eyes and I realize I have an entire pubic region left, minus maybe 6 hairs.  What time is it?  Too early to drink?  Dammit yes.  Okay....let's try another....RRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPP holy fuck there's blood.  Tons of little dots of blood....uhhhh more baby powder....yeah slather that on there...the thing with this is, once you start, you are committed.  Like, there is no turning back or stopping.  I get the top stuff done and then spend another half hour trying to contort my legs so the folds are not so foldy and I can get strips in and around the girl bits.  At this point I'm bleeding and on the verge of tears and then I have a moment where I get a giant strip stuck to myself....try twice to pull it off and only manage to take off a layer of skin.....annnnnnnnd now everything is totally glued together with the wax.  Everything.  My entire vagina is welded shut by dried, cooled wax.  Panic sets in and I'm imagining the phone calls I'm going to have to make to someone for help "yes that's right, the entire thing.  Good thing I'm done having kids right?"....holy shit I'll never pee again!  I start awkwardly running around the room with everything all glued together then stuck to the insides of my legs having a mild panic's okay, calm down, what would google say???  I gently try to pry stuff open and quickly give up to just give it one swift tear and hooray, she's free!!!!  And I'm not even close to being finished.  Fuck.  So I plug on, finally finishing and realize there's still the back side to do.  I really should have gotten myself drunk first.  Somehow I manage to contort myself and get one smear of hot wax down one side of like the butt cheek, and get the strip on and it's impossible to pull off.  I manage to pick it loose while crying and decide I probably did a pretty good job.  Google tells me to use baby oil to remove the wax residue and it stops most of the bleeding and I remember my waxer using tweezers to finish up any strays.  I have a good close look with a mirror and suppress a gasp as I realize it looks like I lost a fight with a meat grinder.  Good times.  Also there are giant missed patches everywhere which I frantically start pulling out with tweezers HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS!  Now I know my waxer uses some kind of soothing after lotion and I look around our esthetics room and see a bottle labelled 'tend skin' for after shaving to minimize unsightly bumps...hmmm....slather some of that on and FIRE!  OH MY GOD IT'S ON FIRE!  Oh, first ingredient is alcohol.  I resist the urge to drink the rest and put my pants on and awkwardly work my day until the best part...........I also have a pap scheduled with my dr that afternoon.  When I get to my dr appointment I try to explain to her that no, I wasn't gang raped by a group of blenders and I try to tell her the story and laugh it off.  Now all of this story may have been cringe worthy to you but this is the part that was cringe worthy to me.  My doctor proceeds to get all in there inspecting my aaaaalllllllllllll up in there.  She exclaims I did a pretty good job......and then she grabs a chunk of long hairs I missed on the inside of my right ass cheek and pulls it.  Tugs it.  She pulls my ass crack hair and announces "except for that bit there!".....I almost died.  The rest of the appointment was spent talking about waxing vaginas and my quiet resolution to spend whatever money it takes to have this professionally done next time.  Took a few days for all the wax to melt off in the shower and all the hairs I missed to pop back up.  I now look like a sad molting bird instead of a beaver with an afro so I guess that's almost a success right?  Thanks for nothing google.

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

An old blog started but not finished from a million years ago....full of urine.

This morning was one of those mornings.  You know the ones where you threaten to move away and leave everyone behind?  Go join the circus, or become a carnie or something.....lose a couple teeth, start doing some know, carnie folk style?  Not saying all carnies are toothless drugies, but the ones who usually hit on me at the fair are soooo.....anyways I had one of those mornings and it was not pretty.  It all started out with the realization that instead of cleaning up after supper last night, I sat at the table with Nicole and got drunk instead.  Whoops.  So then there was supper mess all over the kitchen AND I'm nursing a slight hang over.  No biggie, I'll just unload these clean dishes from the dishwasher and reload it, wash a couple things and BAM, good to go!!  Upon opening the dishwasher I realize it's decided to up and die on me.  Like, it's busted. now I have all the dishes from supper as well as an entire dishwasher full of dirty dishes to wash.  My poor dish pan hands!  As I'm slowly working through that, the youngest comes into the kitchen with such stories as "I'm hungry...feed me....I want chocolate milk....Kohen peed in the garbage can in the toy room....put a show on for me!" and in all honesty, I was 99% certain Kohen had NOT peed in the garbage can because even though he's a brat, he wouldn't have a death wish that early in the morning.  So I chocolate milk him and put a show on and keep washing my dishes.  A little while later I hear the boys arguing about something in the toy room and overhear Kohen say "there's pee on the floor!!" and so I head on in there and Kohen says "Lenny peed in the garbage can!!" and Lenny is yelling "YOU DIDN'T SEE ME!" which is his new way of denying something that he did indeed do.  So I ask him if he peed in the garbage can and he attempts to say no but is really bad at lying (thankfully!) and yes, yes he did.  I have a look in there, there's a bag at least and garbage and now everything is covered in urine.  Lovely.  It's also all over the floor and garbage can itself because he's not very good with his aim. So now I have an entire kitchen full of dirty dishes, a smelly broken dishwasher full of dirty dishes and a garbage can in my computer room that smells worse then a back alley dumpster on East Hastings on a hot summer day.  Oh and don't forget about the hangover!!!  Joy!!!  But I guess all this is only fair....karma has a way of finding us, even years after the fact.  A story from my childhood was quickly brought to my attention by my sister upon telling her of this event....

My mom dreamt of an ensuite.  The space was there, it just needed to be built.  I swear that bathroom was in a constant state of being built my entire childhood.  She wanted it clean and white and tranquil and hers.  My Deada came by one day with a gift for her....a new tub and surround for her ensuite.  He got a great deal on it, basically for free!  With three young kids at home and one income in the family, how could you go wrong with free?  He confessed it had a bit of a flaw, a small crack running through the surround that could easily be fixed.  That was it's only issue.  Upon unveiling it, my moms dreams of a tranquil gorgeous bathroom were quickly murdered....the giant tub/surround was yellow.  Like a greeny yellow....pee yellow if you will...chartreuse?  Gaudy, bright, horrendous pee yellow.  So once that tub got installed, much of the rest sat unfinished while she tried to plan how to work that yellow tub into her design plan.  An impossible task.  Me and my sister were having a bath in there one evening...just for the novelty of it.  The rest of the bathroom was unfinished...roughed in but nothing else was there.  We were probably 6 and 8?  7 and 9?  My sister had to pee but there was no toilet and I wasn't letting her pee in the tub.  There was a cap covering the plumbing drain for where the toilet would eventually go.  Looked like a little cup.  Just pee in there, I suggest.  She's having none of it.  I of course nag and nag her to do it....promising it would be fine...I wouldn't tell...nobody would know.  My sister wasn't very adventurous but could quite often be talked into something by myself.....who could sell an idea to anyone.  Eventually she caved.....had barely squatted and started to pee in the drain cap when.......MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMM TIFFFFFFY IS PEEEEEEEEEING ON THE FLOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Annnnnnnnnd then Tiffy had to use a bucket and a cloth to soak it up and clean it up and I sat in the tub pretending I wasn't quite sure what had happened there.  So my dear friend karma, touché.  

Thursday, 11 July 2013

Nothing says summer like soccer and god.

So it's summer vacation.  Anyone with kids knows how this works.....that first week off " getting up to make set routine of early mornings....this is great" and that slowly gets shifted through the second week and then into the third week you're all "these DAMN kids have eaten every item in the house......GO TO BED.....why are you up at 6am??  You didn't go to bed till midnight!  Why are you in my space all the time??  THIS SUCKS".....sooooo we're kinda there.  So this week we find out there is a soccer camp.  That would at least take ONE of our three kids out of the house for a few hours every morning.  And he would be happy as heck to go......of course the sporty one being Kohen.  The only thing is, it's a "high powered" soccer camp.....meaning it's run by a church.  Now anybody who knows me knows my beliefs and they are made up of this.....

A) What beliefs?

.....and that is all.  Now I respect anyones choices to believe in what they shall....except maybe for that Church of I'm not even making that it.  I'm actually even jealous of people who can hold on to such strong beliefs and have such a passionate faith.  But it's not for myself.  I try really hard to keep my opinions open and vague about the subject, especially when it comes to raising my kids because I would like them to develop their own ideas about how this world is made up.  Now Kohen is a little more....ummmm.....mouldable?  He yearns for attention and acceptance....he would totally be that guy drinking kool aid waiting for the spaceship so I feel a little more protective over him and what he's exposed too.  Needless to say, I was a little skeptical of this soccer camp, but seeings how we personally know (and like!) the youth pastor at the church, I figured it couldn't be too bad.  I even voiced my concerns to Barry and he put my mind at ease....well....

Me - Are they gonna be all......*jazz hands*
Barry - All what?
Me - You know....*jazz hands*
Barry -

Sooooo away Kohen went to High Power Soccer Camp.  Now I figured things were going good...lots of talk about a slip and slide and new friends.....until this happened yesterday morning...

Kohen - Hey mom?  You know that guy God that they strung up....what happened to him??

Me - uhhhhh.........hey!  SpongeBob is on!!!!

Okay yes, I deflected.  And you know what?  If not being able to deflect strange/stupid/hard questions from my kids isn't my right as a parent, then I don't know what is!!!!!  Yes, Kohen is learning some religious aspects at soccer camp this week....and yes, he's having a great time and making some friends.  And that's okay....I mean, there isn't enough room in Hell for allllll of us.

Saturday, 16 February 2013

Email to my Mother....boner, wiener, balls, crapping....all the things one should send to ones Mother.

I don't know if any of you have noticed....but I'm pretty close to my family.  I actually enjoy my parents and we hang out....a lot.  Call me crazy.  Now I also don't know how you all communicate with your parents......specifically your mother.  I was going through some emails I sent her and all of a sudden it hit me....these might not be appropriate ways to email ones mother.  What do you all think?


Hi Mom!

I got your last email but found myself sick with what Lenny had. Finally. I guess I had avoided it long enough. I started feeling strange on Wednesday....and by Wednesday evening was really icky and thankfully my last clients were just Dennis and Lisa....but i tried to suck it up and get finished and was almost done when Auntie Lisa said "You gonna make it Shan?" and no, no I wasn't. So I spend the next hour or so lying on the bathroom floor at work, in between almost crapping my pants, until I could actually get up and drive myself home. I was up most of the night sick and then on Thursday felt like a truck ran me over. I wasn't upright for more then 5 minutes and managed to only go from bed to the couch and back to bed a couple times. I slept all Thursday night no problems and was good as new on Friday. Well, minus the 11 hours worth of clients from Thursday that I now have to rearrange. So needless to say, between Tuesday and Wednesday this week I have 13 ladies hair cuts (at 1 hour each) and 3 full colors (at 3 hours each)....the math on that isn't looking so awesome. So if I don't make it to work on Tuesday, just keep driving to Trail and come visit me at the crazy house there. I checked on Friday and I can't bring any wine, so maybe sneak some in for me? That'd be great.

The kids are all doing well.....have actually been getting along the last couple days. All of them. The common ground at the moment is..............Pokemon. All of them. Lenny included. Why, dear god why?? What have I done to deserve that mind fuck of a tv show? I mean, I put up with a lot of horrible shows...can we not just go back to Steve and his awkwardly pleated pants, ever eluding to a secret boner as he chases after his make believe dog and talks to household items???? I guess I shouldn't complain though. Kohen got to play hockey in the intermission of the Selkirk Saints game and that was pretty exciting. Barry took Dad and Darren brought Ethan and they all went last night and had a good time. Yes, we've all been checking up on Dad while you've been gone and even have fed him a few times and forced him to feed us. Robin Tomlin took him out one night and he saw Good Kevin a few times I hear. Tiffany has been getting him to watch Ethan while she does her report cards so it's been a bit of a funny role change for him I think. Even Brett has been over a few times (don't cry, it's not cause you weren't there) so Dad has been busy cleaning house and entertaining. There was one studio night at the beginning with Kevan but I heard it was pretty lame for them being such old guys from the neighbour (no names) who found reasons to go out and shovel every little bit and listen in while texting me updates. We got this. Dad did say Airmiles called and left you a message regarding a flight change to Vancouver I believe so you have to call them back.

Oh funny story.....went to bathe Lenny last night.....well I HAD to bathe Lenny because Dad found his makeups on top of the cupboard while looking for a lost ball....Barry must have hid it. We gave it to him and he went and played quietly while I made supper and Dad and I had a glass of wine. Lenny comes in the kitchen a few short minutes later and his hair is one giant glued mess of sparkles and glitter. He had a tube of glitter body gel I guess in there that he squeezed out in entirety in his hair. Looked like he was transforming into some kind of merman. So as I'm undressing him for his bath, I notice the tip of his wiener is green. Slightly concerning. I ask him "what's on your wiener?" and he holds it up and I can see the word "POSTED" revealed on his balls. Yeah, he took Barry's POSTED stamp that he uses for the business stuff and stamped all his junk. It was pretty funny.

Also, you might not understand Kohen when you get back. He's got his R's down now.....and I think it's worse. He kind of rolls them maybe? Or just really announces them? Starting to sound a little less Liverpool and a little more Shakespere.....or less Liverrrrrrrrrrrrpool and more Shakespeerrrrrrrre. You'll see.

Big hugs from all of us and we'll talk to you soon!!!!!!


I mean....I thought it was fine....until Mom said she made my aunt and uncle read it and my uncle was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe and my aunt wasn't impressed by my use of "boner".  And YES OKAY THE THREE YEAR OLD STAMPED HIS JUNK AGAIN.  Sigh.....I was going to blog about it, but how many junk blogs can I have about him?  And was POSTED all UP on that junk and all over his butt did he even reach that??  One day I'll wake up, he'll be 30 and on Kink on TV as a guy who likes people to step on his nuts or to sum up....maybe I don't talk to my mom like a "normal" person, but who's really surprised by this?  Really?  And yeah, the moral of the story is actually how my dad left alone is like leaving your impressionable 16 year old the house for the weekend....the booze cupboard is locked up but you know he's sort of crafty and has those "bad" friends who can push him around.  Maybe when he's 70 we'll fully trust his level of responsibility....who am I kidding?? Ha!

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Weak stomachs be warned....

Goooooood Morning!!!  So my three year old is just at that exact perfect age where you want to keep them this way and never let them age a bit!!  He says the funniest things....does even funnier ones and is old enough to basically entertain himself when needed and engage with the older boys.  It's perfect......except for a couple little things that he can't quite do on his own yet....we'll get into that in a minute.....let's talk about my day a few weekends back....sssiiiiiiggggggghhhhhh........

Sooooooo remember how I'm not really a morning person?  Yeeeaaahhhh well, for those of you who have forgotten, to me, the entire world starts at 6:30am.  Any earlier then that and it doesn't exist.  You get up at 5:30am for work?  Sounds made up.  I refuse to believe there is any ungodly hours out me, 6:30 is bad enough.  So now let's bring hockey into this little equation.  My middle son plays hockey.  Anyone who has had kids play hockey KNOWS the hours that that involves.  So for those of you not paying attention me, hockey and an ungodly hour are having a little threesome here.  What could possibly go wrong??  Now Barry and Kohen ARE morning people.  Me, Lenny and  So we have a hockey game in Grand Forks that we need to be at for around 8:45am....meaning we have to leave our house by 7am....meaning I have to get up at 6:47am so I can be ready in time....just kidding....sort of.  So Barry is up and showered and ready...Kohen is up and ready to go all happy and excited for a day of grand forks....allllllllllll day....with hours between games and honestly, there is NOTHING to do there!  Nothing.  An entire Saturday spent dragging the kids around Grand Forks between hour sessions in the freezing cold rink...I know what you're all thinking, wheeee where can I sign up??  Barry is waking me up and my alarm is waking me up and i'm slapping snooze on not Barry....he's smart enough not to get that close to me when trying to wake me up.  And he has Lennys bedroom door wide open while everyone stomps around trying to get ready for the morning and he's not budging either.  Finally I get up and I have a huge headache and I'm really really grumpy and already on the verge of tears.  I come downstairs and Kohen starts crying "I dont' want you to come!!  I just wanted it me and dad!!  I don't want you and Lenny to come with us!!" and he's like really crying.....and I'm crying "you know what?!?  I don't want to go either!!!!" but of course Barry doesn't want to be trapped there all day by himself so he's not getting involved in this discussion.  We haul Lenny out of his crib and off we go.  The boys want breakfast....Barry asks me where we're going....our options are fast food restaurants, or fast food restaurants or fast food restaurants...I say it's all the same shit.  So they pull into Tim Hortons.  Now my mistake was not specifying....buuuuut I HATE Tim Hortons.  And everyone in that car with me knows, hate. 

Now I feel like a total bitch.....because I know I have clients who bring me Tim Hortons coffee....and at that point in my day, I'm totally okay with it!  And I will drink it and not even cry.  This story and my upcoming freak out is not reflective on the coffee you bring me, solely the fact that my husband and family knows this isn't my favorite and at 7am a girl just wants a fucking cup of coffee.  So please, this is not an attack on any of the Tim Hortons coffees I have happily consumed from my amazing fantastic clients.  Okay...on ward...

So now I basically act like a spoiled rotten child and refuse to order anything.  There is not one item on that menu I want to eat/drink at 7am on that morning.  Barry is quickly sensing that something is building here and he's ignoring it.  I have tears welling up in my eyes and finally grudgingly order a yogurt which I chuck under the seat in the bag and don't eat.  The boys in the back order wild berry smoothies and bagels and Barry of course gets a large steaming hot cup of coffee.....which I won't drink.  And alllllllllll I wanted in the entire world was a coffee for the drive......just I'm devastated.  I'm a huge whore for a cup of coffee in the mornings.  And off we go.....I try my hardest but the tears start coming and I can't stop them....I sob all the way to Grand Forks....or almost to Grand Forks.  We are just about pulling into town when we hear a strange noise.....Lenny kind of coughs....and then hiccups and I turn around and through my tear blurred vision see him start to THROW UP ALL OVER EVERYTHING.  Now here's the thing that at three, he doesn't get yet.  Throwing up.  There was no warning....he doesn't know to pull over or get a bag or he's strapped into his carseat, with a blanket on his lap and he's projectile vomiting wild berry smoothie all over the car.  We all start freaking out "HOLY FUUUUUUUUCK PULL OVER PULL OVER PULL OVER!!" and Lenny is just staring at me not really sure whats happening with fountain of puke shooting everywhere.  It just keeps coming and coming and coming.  Barry pulls onto this little road that heads to the mill and we search the car for napkins or anything and find ONE MEASLY scrap of a napkin in all our Tim Hortons bags....thanks alot Timmies ya douchebags.  I chuck the blanket out of the car and Barry and I are basically just running around the car freaking out....and Lenny is sitting there crying, covered in disgustingness and Kohen is plugging his nose trying not to gag.  We load everyone up again and drive to a gas station where I bathe Lenny in a freezing cold bathroom in the sink and Barry tries to scoop the puke out of the car and needless to say, I'm crying again.  We decide to head home and drop us off.  I get bags from the gas station and sit in the back with Lenny, who is green, waiting for more.  It's a long drive home.  Kohen is crying about how Lenny ruined his hockey game....and halfway home, he pulls my new ipod shuffle out of his smoothie....but has NO idea how it got in there so that was awesome too.  So there you go..........the thing that three year olds can't do by themselves.  And our exciting trip to Grand Forks.....and why we all just should have stayed in bed.

Saturday, 1 December 2012

Shoe Shopping.....basically Hell, but better style.

Soooooooo shoe shopping.....UGH.  Am I right??!?  Shoe shopping can be the single most frustrating event in the planet.  I adore shoes, and really really stupid expensive ones always fit me well, but try and find a decent pair for under $100 and it's torture.  I'd rather pull out all my toe nails one by one then try and do this sometimes.  Recently we were in Vancouver and on my wish list I had a pair of black boots suitable for work, and a pair of those cute new wedge sneakers.  So off we go....navigating all the shoe stores down Robson street.  I find varying possibilities of what I'm looking for but nothing is really quite right.  Finally I find ones that for the price, will work.  I try on the sneakers and they are a little too tight....I agonise over whether they'll stretch out or what.  The store is PACKED and it's "black Friday deals" all weekend and it's impossible to get in or out and so I give up and leave.  After trying every other shoe store in all of Vancouver, I decide the slightly too tight wedges will have to do.  So I find these shoes at a chain called Spring....which also there is a Call It Spring with the exact same stuff so there's basically two of these stores per block.  We head out to the metrotown mall and there are a few of these stores there so I hit up one and try the 8 on's not going to work after all.  Okay, no problems, I'll just get the 9 and get an insole.  I try a's like, giant too big.  Frig.  Is there an 8.5?  Yes, in brown.  Ugh.  I try on the 8.5 in brown and it's PERFECT.  Okay, don't panic, there is another of these stores not too far away in the same mall, I know I need a 8.5 so it's under control.  We get lost and can't find the store....and can't find a directory anywhere.....we go round and round and the mall is packed and everyone is super annoying and in the way and why do couples holding hands walk so fucking slow when you're behind them trying to pass????  CAN SOMEONE RIDDLE ME THAT?!?  Anyways....also, fun fact....we had a croissant for breakfast and haven't eaten since and it's like after 6pm and we're grumpy so there's that tidbit of info.  So we finally figure out where we are going and find the store and I march in knowing exactly where the shoes are in the store....stomp half way into the store and stop on the spot.  There is a friggen LADY LYING ON THE FLOOR.  She has a blanket over her and an oxygen mask on and 2 paramedics talking to her and helping her and she is RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SHOES.  Just my luck.  I turn around and my mom, who hasn't see the lady yet, looks questioning.  It's all a bit confusing too cause there are people still shopping....all over the store....trying shoes on....acting like the lady is just taking a nap or something...on the floor.  I ask "what should I do??" and we stand there like morons for 10 minutes debating do we leave?  Do we shop like everyone else?  We decide I know what I want for size, I don't have to try them on, I can just get someone to grab them for me and get out of there.  So I find a guy who works there and while standing about a foot in the door to the store I gesture weakly towards the shoes beside the horizontal lady and say "um excuse me...I'd like the black on black wedge sneakers with the 3 velcro straps in a size 8.5 please" and he looks confused and walks over and points to like some flat sneakers with studs on them.  Seriously?  I know you work here buddy.....if there were studs on the ones I wanted, I'd have pointed that out!!  I point again....uhhhh, just over there, on the bottom right....the black ones with the wedge heel and velcro?  He walks over and picks up some brown loafers......again, SERIOUSLY???!!!  So I walk over a little closer and point....he's reaching over the ladies legs and randomly grabbing shoes and I'm trying to direct him No!  To the right!  No....those ones over there....SIGH and I march over and lean over the lady (cue lightning bolt!) and point dead onto the ones I want.  Ooooh he gets it now and says "oh this is the 8.5 here, the sample one.  I'll grab you the other from the back."  Great....perfect.  I go and stand beside the till....which is directly beside the lady...and I try not to stare but she looks like she's not going to die....and actually she's pretty young....and I stand there....and stand there.............and stand there.........................and stand there.....................and stand there.......................and finally a girl goes to help him............and stand there..............look at the weakly at her friend holding her hand...........and stand there........try not to stare..............and the girl comes back and says "I'm sorry.  We've lost the other shoe.  I can order you a pair?" and I want to scream and yell and stomp my feet because I was this close to having them.....but I realize, hey, there is a lady LAYING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR and I want to whine about a shoe??!!  So I just say a polite no thank you and rush out of there telling my mom I'm about to lose my shit and we have to leave right away.  Sigh.  Good effort.  I did later get up to a different store on Robson street again and get my shoes and late that night, trying to fall asleep after too many bottles of wine in the hotel bed across from my parents, my mom and I get the giggles about the poor woman laying on the floor.......between giggles and gasping for air my mom blurts out "maybe the other shoe was on her foot!?!?" and that's it....we're toast....laughing till we cry.  Don't get me wrong, I felt bad for that woman laying on the floor but if my blogs have taught you anything about me, it's that I can exhibit the completely wrong emotions for the situation.  Also, shoe shopping isn't for the weak.