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 trailer....it 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 anyways....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 second.....how 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.  Ugh....no.  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!!

TMI....as usual...about my girl parts...as 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 attack.....it'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 work....like 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.

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?

Ahem...

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!!!!!!

Shannon

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 honestly.....it was POSTED all UP on that junk and all over his butt cheeks...how 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 something.....so 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!

Real Men Wear Pink

Oh back to school.....so much to do!  We went through all the motions last week buying school supplies and a couple new outfits for the boys.....new gym shoes and backpacks.....which actually brings me to something here real quick like, backpacks.  Now, I always let the kids pick out their own.  And yeah, lots of times they aren't the most practical of back packs....why do they ones with the best Disney pictures have the LEAST amount of padding and pockets?  Just one big open compartment for everything to get mangled together...books squishing their lunches and that one corner ALWAYS ripping open eventually spilling pens and garbage on their walks home.  This year was no exception.  Kohen wanted this "Hockey Canada" backpack....and it had a horribly small one large compartment.  Gavin wasn't with us so I picked him out a very practical one, with tons of padding and lots of room for all the binders he's going to have to pack to high school.  All my practicality went to waste when he showed up after a trip to the states with my sister with a name brand backpack, smaller then Kohens.  And our dear boy Lenny, who's starting preschool this year gets a backpack too.  I bring down a couple Cars ones....do you want the red car or the tow truck?  He stands there debating in the way that only 2 year olds can....while holding his junk and ignoring you.  He scans the wall of backpacks in walmart and screams "THIS ONE!!!!!" while excitedly running over and grabbing the one he wants for school!  Instantly I have to put it on his back and he proudly goes running over to show Barry. 

Yes, this is the backpack that he picked out.  Why?  Cause it's pink....his absolute favorite color.  Barry and I stand there having a loud argument over letting him buy this one for school....mostly consisting of "you can't let him buy that!" "oh yes I can!" "no you can't!" over and over and over, both of us kind of laughing, but laughing in that way that's like "I dare you to make this a thing!".  In the end I shove the back pack into the cart explaining that this is going to be the only time in his life where he doesn't have to be "gender specific" and I'm not going to stifle him!  And for those of you early morning assholes who are now laughing cause I have three boys and this was my last chance at a girl....those assholes who remember that Lenny also has a large baby collection and a pink princess hair styling kit....I know who you are.  And when I see you next, I'm going to punch all of you because that fact has nothing to do with stifling my last male child's wants and letting him blur the gender lines and if he wants a princess backpack then mama's gonna get him a princess backpack!  Shut up.  SO MOVING ON (I didn't want a girl you know.....I'm happy with my boys......just saying.....) we get up to the check outs and unload our hundreds of dollars worth of back to school shit.  The lady is ringing it through and I'm making conversation with the people waiting behind us.  It takes like half hour to check us out and as the last of the items are going, I scan and count one backpack....two backpacks...........and that's it.  Where's Lennys?  No pink back pack already went through?  My eyes dart around the check out and there I spot a glimpse of a pink backpack sticking out from under a gum display at the beginning of the moving belt.  BARRY!!!!  I scold him and dig it out making a big display.  The couple I'm chatting with get awkward as we argue over our son having a pink back pack and we all just smile nervously at one another.  I'm glaring at Barry and he's laughing at me.  We head out to the car and I look down on the ground and somehow that backpack has managed to flip OUT of the shopping cart and is laying in the parking lot......for fuck sakes BARRY MOORE!  And finally all three backpacks are in the car and we can head home.  My mom sees the back pack and freaks out too.....he can't carry that to school!!!!  Which makes me even more determined that YES HE CAN!  I ask my sister, who's a teacher, and she says it's fine....I even go so far as to ask his preschool teacher, who also says it's FINE and possibly we'll start a trend!  Now just to pacify those who think it's a bad idea, yet keep the pink backpack for Lenny, I have altered it slightly and I think this works for everyone.....

Oh those princesses never looked better!!!

"This does not bode well for your tattoo" says Mom.

So I might be ready to share this story now.  Might.  I didn't think I was, but as my mom was telling it to my dad last night and laughing till she cried (it's not even a funny story), I found my self chuckling along.  This story took place the last week in May.  Now, May for me is insane.  Work is insane, the kids start getting excited for summer and antsy and my husband starts obsessing over the opening of the pool.  May is one of the busier months at the salon too....with our graduation and Miss Castlegar events, there's a heck of a lot of hair to get did.  I always feel like May starts and it's already pretty much over so just head down and plow through...which makes for a really stressful month.  I was working tons and lots of late nights....as were all the girls at the shop and we were all feeling the stress, sleeping less, drinking more and inventing lots of new swear words.  So this one day in May, Barry comes in the house in the early morning to tell me about a injured crow he found in the back yard.  It was over by the pool fence and couldn't fly.  It's wings and along it's back were pretty mangled.  It's pissing rain out, and cold and it's huddled in the yard.  Barry tried to catch it, but it half hop/fly/spazzed away.  I know most people dislike the crows around here....they are a bit of a pain in the ass....but I love them and have my favorites around the yard......and yes, I do come from a long line of family crow lovers, just talk to my mom Val the Crazy Bird Lady (kidding...sort of.....we're giving her 5.4 more years before we officially give her that title).  So instantly I'm upset by this news.  I call my mom (the Crazy Bird Lady.....just testing it out....) and she instructs me to get a box, cut a door and some windows....craft glue on some nice curtains, no like cheap roller blinds...maybe a nice tile for the floor and paint on some shingles.....hahaha.....no she didn't go that far, but I know she was thinking it.  She told me to cut a couple openings and put it over the crow outside and give it a bowl of water....maybe a plastic garbage bag on top so the box doesn't get soggy (pissing rain).  I'm running late for work and I'm panicked and I have nothing to wear and now I'm worried about this bird.  I manage to get ready in time and I get my box etc and head out into the yard to find it.....and it's totally gone.  I search all the bushes around the area it was, and okay, maybe I was making kissy noises or whatever that universal noise is people make to all animals.  Nothing.  I head into the neighbours field behind us, searching in in the long grass with my diaper box and bowl of water. So I can hear this really obnoxious crow noise from low down in this big tree and I think maybe the crow managed to half hop/fly/spazz up into this tree.  Okay great.  Off to work.  In my blue minivan and I'm heading down the driveway....when all of a sudden this black thing comes half hopping, half flying, completely spazzing towards me out from under a row of trees.  I scream and drive my van up the side of the neighbours yard along our driveway and almost take out their fence trying to avoid this zombie crow who looks like just threw itself in front of my van.  I can't tell but I think I hit it.  I put the van in park and sit there chanting "Ohhh no.  Ohhhhhhh no.  Ohhhhhhhhh no" for a while, looking in my rear view mirror at a very compact looking black blob a bit up the driveway.  I'm close to hyperventilating....I mean, I was going to save this bird....and now could I have killed it??  I get out and walk up the driveway and sure enough, it's flat.  I completely smoked the thing and squashed it under my tire....dead on (literally).  I instantly start crying my head off.  Now, I'm not like quietly shedding a few tears...I'm full out SOBBING....complete with all the noises, snot and tears you could imagine when someone just murdered a living thing.  MURDERED!  I get in my van and call my mom (everyone now....1....2.....3......the crazy bird lady) and sob my way through the story.  She's upset too cause she loves birds but does a good job trying to reason with me......at least I put it out of it's misery, it probably wouldn't have survived anyways, way to smoosh it full out and not just further mangle it and at the end she throws in a quiet "this does not bode well for you tattoo"...thanks MOM.  I get off the phone with her and sob all the way to work.  The rest of the day followed appropriately for a day that started out with killing.  The girls at work lovingly prodded me about it and managed to only set me off crying once or twice.  I shared the story a few times that day and yes, I cried every time.  I think I cried all that week now I think of it....some of it over the bird, and some of it cause May is such a cold hearted bitch.  And yeah, I guess it was probably best I ran it over, it was quick and painless....or so I hope...I mean, do any of us really know if that stuff would be painless or not?  Who are we going to ask?  The smooshed thing from under the tire?  And what does it all mean anyways?  Do you think this bird committed suicide?  While I have you here, what's the meaning of life do you think????? 

Pe-naus....if I say it all fancy like, does it make it fancier?

What is it with little boys and their junk??  And by junk, of course I mean their goalies.  Oh, and by goalies, of course I mean dongs.  What are dongs?  Well, I'm trying to say their wiener.  Wiener and balls to be exact...put them together, and voila!  Their junk.  So again, what the heck?  It's like, a handle or something....better hang on for dear life in case it decides to up and fall off!  Like yesterday for example, we're potty training the youngest (okay so he's old enough that he should be potty trained already but life is just so busy....and why do I feel the need to justify my non-potty trained 2.5 year old to you anyways?  Thanks alot "society" you filthy two faced whore, he could be in diapers till he's seven and that's my business and not anybody elses....well, mine and social services because I'm sure his grade 2 teacher would have them knocking on our door.....sigh....this is probably another blog post all in it's self so I'm just gonna drop it and back away slowly...okay?  Ready....one....two......three!) potty training the youngest and so he's running around, all free ballin it....flapping in the breeze, attempting to slide down the plastic slide....which sounds as painful as I'm sure it must feel.  And every few seconds he's gotta reach on down and give it a little tug....or cup it and hang on to it while making directing eye contact...just long enough to be awkward.  I mean, he's young enough, it's not horrific to see his little dingle dangling.....but there are things to be on the watch for.  Like yesterday, I send Gill to my house to drop off some stuff and she comes back to the shop and tells me Lenny is running around naked.....and eating chips.....and SHARING chips....which seconds after she ate, the ol hand went back down to his junk to give it a loving tug and you KNOW that chip you just ate, was covered in penis.  Over dinner, my mom shared such a story too....her moment of realization after eating a few chips out of his hand.....that second you know you've eaten a chip that touched a toddlers schlong in a round about way...and I mean, those hands are all up and on that junk!  Anybody with boys knows what I'm talking about.  Such an early fascination with that thing.....it's like he's already making peace with the fact that it will be making the majority of his decisions for him during "those" years in his future.  He just needs to make sure it hangs in there, and doesn't get lost anywhere.  And I mean really, there is nothing cuter then having him hop up on your lap and his cuuuuuute little butt cheeks dimple all up on your leg....and then you feel the ball sack settling in on the front and the cute factor drops a notch.  But in the end, during this potty training phase, it's just one of those things we have to endure...I mean, yesterday he peed in the potty ALL day long for the babysitter....and my mom came and relieved her and he peed in the proper places for her too........until five minutes before I'm due to arrive home.  I'm leaving the shop and we have this conversation via text....

me - Will be laving in 5.  Have to stop and get wine Bary said.
Mom - Your child just shit outside, and down his leg, and ya he stepped in it.  I'm having wine alone now, no guilt.

..........so then there's that.  No amount of junk pulling can distract you from that.  So I get home just in time to pick up little turds dropped all along the walk way......and just in time to witness Kohen ride a scooter through one of them...on purpose I think.....and continue riding it along the rest of the driveway.  OH BOYS and your junk.....at least when they're holding on to it, their hands aren't free to cause much other trouble I suppose.....or at least in this house of four junk holders and me, I can only dare to hope.

This one time at Catholic church.....

So I don't know if you guys know this about me....but one time, I used to go to church.  I'm talking the Catholic church!  I'd go once a week, sometimes twice and spend anywhere from two to four hours there....in the hall, church and the fathers house.  Now I know it's early, and I'm sure lots of you have headed to get more coffee because you're pretty sure you aren't reading this right, thinking what the H E double hockey sticks is Shannon Koochin doing at church!?!?  So let me finish my story....I used to clean the church, hall and fathers house....OH and his motor home but that's another story.  When Gavin was a year old or so I did a stint as a cleaning lady.  I didn't mind the job....it was quiet, nobody bugged me and I could just crank my tunes and go.  I also didn't mind cleaning the hall at the church, or even the fathers house.....all tho.....I used to have to change his bedding and do the shower, and he was as bald as a cue ball and whenever I'd see like a hair I'd instantly think ungodly thoughts as to where they might have come from and yes I know I'm going straight to hell and really can't believe I just shared that with all of you.  I'm sorry I'm a horrible person and please pray for my children.  Anyways......out of the gutter Shannon for petes sake.......really the safest thing would be to just sign off and stop writing now, but we all know me!  I'll just plow on and see how many more times I can sound like a moron!  Okay and here we go!!  So back to the random hairs...NO WAIT.....I mean, back to the CLEANING.......yes, cleaning....I used to clean all sorts of strange areas at the church....including this scary basement area that kind of connected the church with the fathers place....and always had bugs and strange rooms all painted different shades of bright ugly colors.  But I didn't even mind the basement....what REALLY creeped me out was cleaning in the actual church.  I get the heeeeebie jeeeeeebies just walking in there, never mind the fact that I was alone.  There was a few back rooms and some strange areas....I used to actually like cleaning in the confessional booths, always muttering my worst things under my breath pretending I was confessing, but really if there was another person on the other side they would have probably put me in a straight jacket and sent me off, or called my mother to beat me with a wooden spoon.  Cleaning in the main open area, around all the pews was the scariest for me.....especially having to get up on the podium at the front to vacuum while statues of Jesus and others would stare at me.....and I could tell they were all judging me and my relationship with Kevan and our bastard child.  I'd make up little conversations in my mind with them and for some reason my inner Jesus voice always sounded like he was right from Monty Python.  I'd have to run this big ol vacuum cleaner in that quiet cave of a place and it would echo off the vaulted ceiling and stained glass and make it even spookier then it was.  So this one time, I was in there vacuuming and it was a pain in the ass because I'd have to unplug the vacuum like 912374 times to get around all the pews and replug it in and I swear that took longer then the actual job.  So I'm muttering to myself, and go to plug the vacuum in again and ZZZAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!!!!  I'm super confused and can't figure out why I'm laying down all of a sudden and I can smell burning.  I come to my senses and realize I'm laying about 2 feet away from the wall socket with the plug to the vacuum still in my hand and my hand is burning and there's black smoke all up the wall around the outlet and I vaguely remember seeing blue flames.  Awesome.  I was just electrocuted.  IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.  All of this took just a second and while I'm still stunned I see the Father come in cause he heard a loud explosion noise and he sees me and realizes what's happened and I must have looked totally surprised and he starts to laugh.....and laugh......and laugh!!  Now, anybody who knew him knows he was a pretty funny guy.  I actually really liked him....he used to love to tell me religious jokes....and then he'd laugh at the fact that I wouldn't understand the punch lines.....like I'm talking laugh until tears came rolling down his face and he was gasping for air.  Anyways, that's pretty much what he looked like as I lay on the floor of the church, still vibrating with electric currants.....he doubled over and grabbed his belly and between laughing bouts manages to get out "GIRL!  You need to find some faith!!!" and I yeah yeah yeah and tell him I'm going to the hospital to have my hand looked at and stomp out of there.  But as I leave....and the sun is shining and I realize I'm done work early for the day and don't have to vacuum in that place that makes me so uncomfortable it's kind of like the right thing to have happened.  And I know the Catholic Church isn't a place for me!  And for those who have been attending safely without getting electrocuted, it's probably the perfect place for you and just stay away from the one outlet on the far right wall with the black soot stains around it. 

What is love? (crap, now I got that song from Night at the Roxbury stuck in my head)

So I woke up in the middle of the night like a bolt of friggen lightning with this amazing idea to blog about the subject "love".  I lay there awake, debating getting up and coming down to write while the blog unfolded in my mind.  It was magnificently worded, a picture weaving in and out with such a beautiful flow that it was almost like I could actually answer the question "what is love/in love" with my reasoning.  The words formed in my mind for probably 45 minutes and just when I finally decided that I should get up to write, I had to go and ruin my life by falling back asleep.  Now, here I sit, staring at the flashing cursor on my screen drawing a blank.  Awesome.  Now, why love you're probably asking....I mean didn't I just post yesterday my own love story, thus proving that maybe I somehow have something figured out about it?  I just....hear it a lot.....from friends, clients etc.....that search for love, or whatever it may be....the desire to fall in love.  And I don't know if it's the almost change in the season from dreary to spring, that all of a sudden everyone is looking for change and feeling lonely from the long winter.  I still think it's hard living here, meeting people...I don't know what it is exactly....the lack of places to actually go and do things with people who are in the same boat as you (if someone suggests fishing on the arrow lakes, I will fight you).....or if it's the small town thing where everyone you run into, chances are you made out with them awkwardly in high school at a bush party.  Or is it just part of that human thing, being evaded by love.  Oh and why do some people just like, walk right on it to it....falling in love at the mention of a coffee date and others, you'd have to beat them with your feelings for them before they'll even reluctantly try and return the sentiment.  And okay, I get it, trust is a big issue....but let's even pretend that trust doesn't exist anymore and just straight up, falling in love is the thing to do.  Still, I bet still, there's some people out there who just naturally have a wall that you have to chip away at bit by bit.  So what is "falling in love" and how do you know when you've done it?  Someone asked this question once before on facebook and I responded with "when it happens with the same person more then once" but can I distinguish between just loving someone and that moment when you realize you do love someone?  OMG this reminds me of a time in high school......hahahahaha....okay, I was dating Ryan....my first love....that total high school type love....I would have thrown myself off a bridge for him!  So we just are like starting to be "going out" as one does in high school and I'm out shopping with my mom and walking down the milk aisle and all of a sudden like a ton of friggen bricks I have this realisation that I LOVE him!  And I still, to this day, remember exactly what my feeling was at that exact moment....standing in Safeway with my braided pigtails, giant awful thrift store baggy pants, tie dye shirt, looking like a total skid and grinning like a complete idiot.  Have I felt that feeling again since?  Yeah, I'm sure I have!  Okay, take the teenage hormones out of the picture and it doesn't feel quite the same way anymore....I'd like to think I'm a big more profound then that!  I love being in love.  Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but sometimes I have fleeting moments of love for others....like this one time, I was waiting for my halloween costume to come in the mail....and you all know how I feel about halloween...well, it was the last day that the mail would come before we were going out and I was freaking out and the mailman walked in at the last second with my costume and I swear I fell in love right then and there!  I said to him "you'd better get out of here cause I'm going to make out with you!" and he laughed and started to leave, then said "maybe I shouldn't!" and then it was just awkward.  Or, okay, confession time....I'm secretly a little bit in love with this mortgage broker Paul who we've used in the past buying houses.  Now, I've never actually met or seen Paul but he has the sexiest accent and I fell in love with him just talking on the phone!  It's okay, you can tell my husband...he knows I'm a floozy like that.  So what's your opinion??  How do you fall in love?  What's your love style?  Do you know when it happens?  Does it sneak up and surprise you?  Or do you keep it at bay, and not let it in.....fuck off love, not today!