Goodness, where to start?

I have a TON of stuff to write about.  Most is so funny.  I just need to stop and put sentences together that all relate to one single topic, all in their own paragraphs with headings that relate to the topic and mostly so that I make sense to others because the jumbled up stuff makes complete sense to me (see, just there, I created a run on sentence that doesn't make sense.  I do that a lot.  Thank goodness for editing or every post would be like that without a single bit of punctuation or paragraph structure.)  Geez.  I would like to start by saying; "Happy Thank Heck Christmas Is Over!" and a "Happy New Year" even though this is not the actual new year to me because the new year actually starts in September when everything new starts, like school, sports and winter hair. 

Stories to come:

Babysitting a four year old.  Story includes birth control and duct tape.  (I have kept texts on my phone to various people for the sole purpose of reporting/recording this adventure.)

Breaking one of my most serious life rules and the struggle within.  (This includes beer, the pub, sacred ground and children.)

Finding a messed up author who writes like I speak and is just as clearly screwed up.  She writes what I often say in my head but am not brave enough to do, mostly because I don't want to use the word "vagina" out loud in front of respectable people. (Or the efff word because..... I don't know.  Maybe I might offend?  It's a conundrum.)

The cat/kid dilemma.  Because cats are awesomer than kids and easier (unless cleaning up fur ball puke is an issue for you - then stick with the kid.... or not..... we will talk.... later.... over wine.)

Where the name "Doochy Buck Nuts" came from and how universal it is and how many times it can really be used. 

Why it is actually a good parenting tool to tell each one of your kids at various times where they "rate" on your love and affection scale.  As in "ya, you are number one right now son.  Don't fuck up or you will be demoted to third place".  Of course, after doing the stupid Mudder thing I adopted two beautiful girls, who are always jockeying for first and second, and a pack of new boys who are at the top spots mostly because I don't have to clean up after them and I think they are awesome.  Kids you don't have to live with are so much better than ones you have to live with.  On that note it is important to tell the ones who think your wallet belongs to them how much better the other ones are.  Gives them something to work towards.

Why my career as a "Beer Blogger" has to come to a stop.  (Think can't afford new wardrobe in size so bloody big.  If I could just ask the beer to just make my boobs bigger and leave the rest of me alone we would still have a contract.  As it stands, Beer Blogger will have to be put on the back burner for now. )

Enjoy this last day of the year and take my advice: if you make a stupid new years resolution DON'T TELL ANYONE!  That way you don't look like a failure/loser at the end of January when you start eating fried foods, drinking, stop working out or any of that other shit we all resolve not to do, or do.  Just tell people you are going to try to stop being an asshole next year (Notice I put in TRY.  Key word to get out of actually doing anything.  Brilliant, no? )  Then, next month, when some asshat says "How is your new years resolution going?", you can say "I TRIED to not be an asshole but I didn't really like it so I went back to my old asshole ways......"  and other sentences that you would like to add depending on the askee.

Insomnia Has its Perks???

Even I had trouble typing the heading.  As you might have guessed from previous posts, I do not sleep much.  During stressful times I sleep even less.   That being said, I was up a couple of nights ago pacing the "track" from the kitchen to the family room to the living room and back when I noticed a fella walking briskly to my neighbours house across the way.  Well, this is something interesting!  So of course I stopped the walking and started the watching.  I figured he was going to my neighbours house at 2:15 am for one of two reasons:  to visit?? or to do something he really outta not be doing.  I watch as Buddy tries the doors on all three vehicles and then moves on to the car in the next neighbours house!  Huh.  Perhaps I should alert someone?  I jump back on the Insomnia Track and get the phone from the kitchen and call the police while walking back to my perch in the front window.  As I am doing this ole Buddy Bad Guy has now proceeded to check about ten car doors in five neighbours driveways and is on his way to my house to pay a visit!  This is the point in the story where I want to say I ran outside with the road hockey stick that is propped up at my front door (Yes, a hockey stick in my house.  Youngest Money Sucker is pushing the envelope daily with what he gets away with and what his brothers got away with.  THAT is another post.  A really long one.)  Anyway, I am sure you are all envisioning me running outside, hockey stick flying all over the place, hair everywhere, no shoes on, pajamas flapping in the wind?  I would have then proceeded to smack Buddy Bad, Bad Guy in the head with the hockey stick all the while screaming "this is my car you just put your grubby, germ infested, no good germs on asshole!"  (Seriously did not touch the door handle the next day.  Bad guy germs have to be worse then just regular guy germs.  Just guessing.)    Alas, I was on the phone with the dispatcher sorta freaking out.  She was gently trying to get a detailed description out of me while I watched him walk across the lawn and proceed to check the door handles on the vehicles in our driveway.  He was literally 7 feet away from me!  I could not believe that he did not see me standing smack in the middle of the front window on the phone with the cops.  I guess on the plus side, Buddy "Hope you got Busted" is so focused on his job that he did not notice his surroundings.  Perhaps he can find a freaking legitimate job to focus his energy and attention to detail on.  Big jerky asshole.  Anyway, the old boy hears my squealing on the phone and figures out what is going on before even coming downstairs.  He, ever the tough guy, runs outside with a big flashlight (strangest weapon choice but what can I say, I was going to use a hockey stick) and proceeds to try to find Buddy.  About 5 short minutes later the police drive up at mock speed (which I appreciated because had they driven up at 30 km I would have not thought they were very concerned) and tell us that one of their coworkers was "talking to a guy".  In my head that means they caught the bad guy and losing almost an entire nights sleep was worth it.  No, I did not fall back asleep very easily after that.  Being outside in your pajamas with no shoes is not a prelude to a good rest.  I did however realize that all these years of battling insomnia finally paid off.  I am putting myself on zombie watch as well.  Just in case.......

(On a completely unrelated note, I did mention a short time ago that if I did not leave the house soon I would have nothing to write about.  Well "suck it outside world" I have stuff come to me!)

Less is More - Christmas 2015 Theme (theme song forthcoming!)

Well, since it is so late in the game (December) and I have yet to do anything Christmasey (except shop) I am going with the "Less Is More" theme this year.  I only pulled out half the decorations and will only be putting out half of that half!  Why the heck not?  I am the only one who packs it up at the end of the year and puts the damn stuff away!  Adding to my ever increasing festive fun demeanor is the Christmas Cold that was shared with me this week.  Super, fun.  Just super.  I have been forced to put away the "spirits" and replace it with Nyquil.  On the plus side, I have almost completed all the necessary shopping and that makes me want to go to the mall and skip around singing "I am done shopping, suckers!"  Might just pass on the skipping/singing and go to the Starbucks and sit with a delicious latte and watch the crazy shoppers!  Nah, that's too peopley (see side bar for definition).  I figure if I don't get my butt outta the house I certainly will have nothing left to write complain about.  So off I go.  Out into the world.  Before I go, I leave you with this question I was asked a couple of weeks ago.  "Why doesn't the liquor store have Black Friday sales?"  Huh?

Freaking December All Ready!

Goodness, it is officially the month of too much spending and way to much eating!  Every year I seem to get a little less "into" Christmas and a little more into thoughts of a warm sunny vacation.  The whole holiday is just a ton of work!  Shopping, wrapping, tree and house decorating, more stupid shopping, baking, cooking and driving around like fools looking at Christmas lights.  I think the whole concept of spending time with friends and family over a good meal, drinks and delicious deserts has been lost.  It seems to be all about running around buying stuff.  Now that the youngest money sucker is days away from being a teenager, he to seems to have lost the love when it comes to all the Christmas traditions as well.  I knew this attitude was coming.  It has happened twice before around here.  Yes, the following picture depicts how my festive mood is.....

Oh, and if I have to hear that song "It's the most wonderful time of the year" one more time I am going to start drinking at breakfast!  See how the baking turns out then!

I've Got Too Much Time On My Hands.....

Remember that song from way back in the day?  (Styx, 1981 apparently.  Damn.  I am not even doing the math on how old I was back then.  Let's just assume super, super young.)  Back to the too much time issue.  I have found myself suddenly plunged into having way to much time and not enough intellectually stimulating things to do.  I have found myself, for the first time since high school, suddenly without a job!  The first few weeks of this little adventure were okay because I was recovering from the nasty surgery and it was a blessing in disguise.  I would most certainly have gone back to work to soon and not healed properly, however, now that the healing is over I am bored out of my mind.  Incredibly, painfully bored.  I am embarrassed to admit that I anxiously await for the oldest money sucker to come home from university with homework so I can help!  Sad.  So very sad.  Yes, I could be scrubbing down the house from top to bottom and cleaning out cupboards and closets, however that sucks.  Really, really sucks.  The shit is just going to get dirty and cluttered again anyway.  I need better things to do with my grey matter.  I do spend at least a couple of hours every day looking for a job which has turned out to be a serious form of entertainment for me.  (I am quite honestly shocked at the gall of some companies and what they are asking for in a job posting and what they are willing to pay!  Now I understand the angst of those university educated students out there who are waiting tables for minimum wage!)  This has given me time to sit back (way back) and reflect on the work/education choices I have made and give myself a few kicks in the you know where.  The "if I had onlys" are on a repeat cycle right now.  I figure this is as good a time as any to figure out what I really want to do (Yes, I still don't know. So sad.)  All my work choices the last twenty years were geared solely around family and children and not around making me happy or increasing my neuron activity. 

What I really need to find is a small company to work for who appreciates hard work and dedication.  Not a huge corporation whose employees are just a number to all the executive level management types.  Of course the dream jobs for me are most certainly fictional.  Book reviewer (problem with this one is I would only want to read the books I want to read and of course, there will be sarcasm in the write ups!), Magazine/Article Writer (again, not to sure how many people want to read articles dripping in sarcasm and only on topics of which I wish to write), Alcohol/Food taster (would be super good at this job if I could find it, however part of the medical package would have to come with Betty Ford/Fat Farm stays) or Eccentric Novelist  (this to would be excellent if I could write in my voice using a myriad of inappropriate curse words and, yep you guessed it, sarcasm!)

Until the time comes that I find my dream job (orrrr any job if it comes right down to it) I will continue to read every book in the library (sort of not kidding on this one), drink more coffee than I care to admit and try not to turn into a couch potato.  Because if there is going to be a potato in the carb free zone I call my kitchen, I will most certainly be eating it!

The World Is A Wonderful Place. Look...... (edited version ..... don't look?)

I have been trying for three days now to post a picture of the most amazing thing I have seen in a while.  I cannot understand why the picture will not post???  It's making me truly crazy because everyone should be able to see the progress of man (or woman) kind.  Since the picture is eluding my every effort to post I will explain here:

I was at a restaurant last week and, after careful consideration, decided to use the ladies room (not a decision that is taken lightly.  In some cases I spend at least a half an hour trying to decide if the germ infusion is worth the busted up bladder.  In this case, a couple  few beers had been consumed so it was a necessary trip.)  I did the business that was duly required in order to have another beer and realized with glee that I did NOT have to fight the toilet paper holder!  The required paper was unleashing itself in a manner of which did not include me piecing together bits and drabs as is the usual procedure.  So I grabbed my phone and took a picture (no, there was no one else in the washroom wondering what the hell I was taking a picture of! That would have been embarrassing - for me anyway.  Young people apparently take pictures of themselves anywhere, any time!  Gross!)  If I can get the damn site to cooperate I will share the photo with you.  For now please feel free to use your beautiful imagination and imagine a world without ripping single ply bits all while performing a circus act of "hover, hold the purse".

Just an observation...

Now that the stress of having to have and then actually having surgery is over I am here to report my findings.   Let me first start by saying that surgery sucks!  Any kind of surgery.  I have no idea why in the heck someone would actually volunteer to have any kind of surgical procedure done (for some reason I keep thinking about people who have butt implants done because WHAT?).  So Butt Implant people happily submit themselves to being poked and prodded by strangers, drugged up (jury out on how bad that one is though), cut up and I am assuming beat up (while under) and subjected to whims and whimsy of whether or not the nurse of the moment had her coffee or stubbed her toe getting out of bed in the morning.  I was, for some crazy, unexplained reason, super concerned that my surgeon NOT have a hangover that day.  Honestly, I don't even know if the woman drinks and I certainly did not want to ask her how her night was the night before so I just requested copious amounts of Ativan to help me not worry about this and the three million other things that could have gone wrong.  It truly is a situation where you have absolutely no control over what happens to you (and I found that sometimes no matter how nice and not a bother you might be, some nurses are just overworked bitches and should consider working in the lab and leaving the patients alone!).  Within six minutes of coming to some kind of level of consciousness in post op recovery I absolutely changed my mind (not that I had a choice on the surgery but oh how I wish I did!)  Yes, I realize that was way to late to go back but holy hannah that was not an experience I would line up to do willingly again.  At least I could comfortably sit down afterwards, that poor elective surgery butt implant crazy person obviously could not sit (I am of course surmising at this.  I truly have no idea of the post op recovery of butt implants - or any implants at all.  Who would willingly want scars as well?  I just don't know.)  Well, four weeks in and the truck that hit me has moved from Mack Truck (with a tandem axel trailer) to a Toyota 4X4 (lifted and covered in dirt for those visual readers) soooo progress no?  (Side bar: I never did work up the nerve to ask my surgeon to take a bit of extra fat from a few areas.  My sense of humor went right out the window and all I could think about was 1. Not dying and 2. How bad my hair was going to look after the surgery.  Both turned out pretty good!)

Slaker? Yes!

Yes, I have been slacking off with posting.  I would like to say I have been so crazy busy that I simply do not have time to post but alas, I would be lying.  I have had an abnormal amount of "stuff" go on in the last few months.  Probably enough to send a person completely over the edge and I am not going to lie, I was starting to think about running off and joining the circus again but avoidance will not make a lot of the "stuff" go away so I sucked it up and just decided to deal with it.  I have also instituted a new life policy - deal with the current events with as much positivity as possible and move on!  Stressing out does not do me any good!  So first up - surgery for me.  Positive outlook - I will most definitely lose weight after this and I will have many recovery hours to read!  First off though, I need to find a way to tell my wonderful surgeon that, if possible, could she please take a little extra fat along with all the other parts and gunk she is already taking out!  Maybe I will bring her donuts??  Do doctors take bribes?   I hope to report back in just over a week that I have lost 20 pounds and woke up in recovery with a flat stomach, perfectly toned legs and less arm fat!  hahahaha. 

Where do I begin?

Honestly, the last four days have been so insane I do not even know where to begin.  How about this.......

That was the "hotel" we stayed in for the 2015 lacrosse provincials in Kelowna, BC.  Yes, my friends as you can imagine my OCD Radar was pinging (read: screaming at me).  Friends who got to the Cockroach Motel a day earlier had already texted us to provide valuable information about what rooms we did not want and to recommend we pick up roach/bug spray on our way into town.  Very reassuring.   My roommate Scrappy and I were absolutely horrified to say the least and instituted a "wear shoes at all times" policy.  Thank goodness 80% of the entire trip was spent at the arena because if we were there any longer I would have had to commit myself to a cleaner, more sanitized facility (psych. ward?).  We were pretty sure the rooms at this fine establishment were rented out monthly and some possibly hourly (grosses me out even typing that!).  One of our dear friends, LJ, could not find a room available in the entire place that did not smell either like the smoking section of a monster truck rally or a decomposed body.  Good thing we had extra room or LJ and her boy would have been sleeping in the parking lot!  The inclusion of two more crazy people made the experience that much more fun (AND LJ was sensitive to my need for coffee in the morning which was a bonus, not just for me but my other roommates as well!  Think justifiable homicide here please.) 

Just as entertaining during the stay was the couple of homeless guys trying to "get fresh" with two of our lax moms!   That will provide fodder for us for years to come!

To absolutely top our stay off, during the check out proceedings, a "lady" and her "gentleman" friend started moving all their worldly possessions from outside the office into one of the rooms.  Pretty sure they had moved out for the weekend into the bushes across the street.  Scrappy, LJ and I made the best of it and managed to laugh at the circumstances we were in.  I, however, got home and proceeded to take a shower with an sos pad and bleach (just kidding, but I thought about it).

 



On another, much nicer note, this is what a Provincial Championship Lacrosse banner looks like:

 



Our boys brought it home baby!  What an amazing weekend of lacrosse.  The team won all five games and brought home gold, the banner and bragging rights! 

Fire Drill? No.  Gold Win Baby!

There is more to this story as you can imagine, however, if I get started on the story of actually holding a baby kangaroo I will go on and on and lose you.  THAT story will be coming.  Just have to go out side and feed the roo I "borrowed".........

Well, that was bloody stupid!

Seriously though, Mudder had its awesome moments.  I was completely thrown out to left field many, many times.  The obstacles that I thought were going to be the most challenging for me were not that bad and a couple of ones I looked at before hand and thought "no big deal" turned out to be effing frightening!  From the inspirational speech given at the start of the challenge to the extremely crazy 17 kilometer terrain we had to cover, this was one insane day that I will never forget!   
I did have a moment of extreme fear on the "Walk the Plank" obstacle.  I happily followed my team mates up to the top of a platform, only to find that I would then need to jump a huge distance into water.  Uh, NO.  I let (read: pushed) a few of my team members ahead of me then politely asked the Mudder staff member if I could pass and go back down.  He promptly told me "no, your gonna have to jump".  Well crap.  I was scared shitless!  Why, I don't know? It was just water.  I eventually jumped and struggled to swim to the edge.  I have been  having nightmares about it since!  If I had known that was going to be the obstacle that was going to send me over the edge I would have trained at the damn pool! (swimming with runners on also proved to be challenging!).  Of course everyone keeps asking me if I would do it again and so far my answer is a very clear, absolute HELL NO, however if it had not rained and hailed on us during the event it may not have been such an uncomfortable situation and I would consider doing it again.  We were beyond freezing and it made some of the challenges much more hard, if not impossible (for me anyway).

Although I sit here now two days later covered in bruises and so sore I can't lift my arms, I am still glad I did it (weekend in Whistler was a definite bonus as well)!  The team of young lads and ladies I went with were amazing and so inspirational (not to mention totally effing hilarious)!!  Participating in an event like this with your kid is a truly rewarding, humbling experience.  It's amazing to watch a person who you thought was always going to be dependant on you become a source of encouragement and pride all wrapped up in one.  I feel like I officially adopted two amazing young ladies and four new crazy young men as well.  I suppose its on to the next adventure.  Of course after my poor, old body heals!

 

The Countdown is On

One week today I will be driving up to one of my favourite places in the world (Whistler) to be subjected to all kinds of physical stupidity and fat old lady ridicule.  I have had a few hiccups in the training since January but for the most part I have been focused and have now resigned myself to the fact that I am seriously out of time.  I am still, daily, stressing about my hair, outfit and where I am going to put my ID (because you know I am sure to get asked for ID at the end of the race when I try to buy more beer!).  Out of all this crazy training I have found that I CAN get stronger with hard work (because I can do more than one girly push up now!) and although I still can't stand exercising I have renewed my love of running (Please insert the word "hate" here instead of love.  What I do love is how I feel AFTER running, not the actual disgusting act of running!)  I have also found that working out with my oldest money sucker has not been an act of humiliation as expected but a pleasure that I hope we continue after this insane act of foolishness we all call Mudder. 

 

 

I do not plan to bring my camera to this event (because I have clearly run out of stress time as to where to put a camera!) so I will leave you with this picture that I found online.  This will be me. Count on it!

 

Mud Napping or Death?

 



Checking In (Or Out?)

This post is really just for me to document the incredible hellish and then not so hellish last couple of weeks.  It really is a test of human mental endurance when huge life changes are thrown at someone and the resulting ability to cope or not cope in some cases.  It makes me very certain that having a solid foundation of friends and family behind you is the basis of many coping mechanisms.  That may be cryptic but it is very important to make sure you have checks in place in your life just in case the rug gets pulled out from under you - in any aspect of your life.

On a way better note, we went on another tournament trip this past weekend and I have to say it was one of the best tournament weekends I have attended.  Games were good, kids were not assholes and the parents were awesome.  (It obviously helped that I was not hung over or tipsy the entire time! Yes, still not partaking!  Mudder cannot come fast enough!)

We did have a small issue before we left for the trip.  Seemed one family member was insistent he come on the trip.  So sad.  So very sad.

Never to "old" to try something new....

Old in quotes because I was quite obviously NOT the old in this story however I did try something new.  Sort of....

We were given tickets to attend a concert and in most cases when this opportunity comes up I usually say "nah, not going".  First and foremost because I try to avoid being around crowds of people and secondly because concerts just are not usually my thing.  Usually, in my experience, the band or singer is just never as good in concert as when they are digitally re-mastered in the studio.  (Except for you Ms. Bette Midler - you rock lady!  As six million drag queens would attest!)  So this one time, even though I had knowledge of just a few songs of this artist, we decided to pack up our friends and hit the show.  Got ya  guessing?  Neil Diamond.  Seriously.  I went to a Neil Diamond concert!  Even though I only knew a few of his songs (because my mom did not listen to him when I was younger, which apparently is a strange occurrence) it truly was a great concert.  After finding out the dude is 74 freaking years old I have to tell you I was a little worried about the man.  Every time he put his hand over his heart (visualize every love song, so often) I wondered if he was having a heart "episode" right there on the stage!  His performance was solid and unwavering.  It was absolutely the first concert I have been to where the predominate smell was not weed but old lady perfume!  Oh the old birds were dressed up to take that Singer Man home!  Being in crowds of people in this case provided the most interesting people watching.  We did a little research study before the start of the show and the results were 7 old to 3 young.  (Debate on what the age is for the term "middle age" ensued after.  All agreed "middle" must be around 60 with the caveat to change number at any given time).  All in all we had a great time and you can never have enough "Sweet Caroline!" (right Hawkgirl?)

What the sign says?

The youngest lad and I had the misfortune of having to take the train into the big city not to long ago  (We all know what train.  Public transit.  Super gross. Perhaps a slight phobia involved.) and during this trip we happened to notice a sign posted right inside the door.  We both looked at each other and then proceeded to interpret the sign.  I took a picture to share with you all.  Here are some of our guesses: Man with cane, Hold the hell on to the bench in front of you, Sit the hell down, Man seating only (because the figure is quite obviously a man), Mime seating area only, Imaginary seating area and Bald guy seating.  Honestly, the longer I stare at the picture the more confused I become.  Is it really supposed to be seating for people who need assistance and use canes?  Seriously, I live in this country, could you imagine someone who visits here from another land trying to figure this out?  I understand that having to put words on any given sign presents problems because the sign then becomes seven feet long with all the mandatory languages but really?  Do you want people using their own discretion when reading something that you have spent time, money and transit resources to put there? (On a small side bar here one must note that they are right now asking us for more money for transit.  Why? So we can hire more qualified sign creators? So they can form a Sign Creation Committee that meets bi-weekly to discuss the importance of signs, the creation of said signs and sign placement? I don't think so.)  Consider this the riddle of the day (or in my case riddle of the year because I will most likely not be posting another riddle for some time.  Perhaps.)

Annndddd The Raccoon Came Back The Very Next Year

The persistent little bugger is back!  Presumably to make a nice, dry nest in the attic of the house because that is definitely one of the places it seems to want to get into.  This time around it is making no bones about wanting to get in.  Any way it can.  A couple of nights ago it tried to get in through an upper window of the house (freaked me out when I looked out the window and there it was looking back at me!).  My theory on this one is that, at some point, ole Rocky looked in the house, saw the larger of the two cats (who coincidentally has a raccoon like tail) and thought "Damn Brother, you got a nice gig going on here. Think I wanna get me some of that! - presuming this particular raccoon talks a little gangsta.)  Well I don't think so dude.  We are again waging an all out critter war on this bad boy because the last time it tried to create a nice little home in the attic it cost us thousands of dollars to replace the roof (Which it tore up in various different spots.  Even pulling out the insulation!)  The only problem is, this fella/lady (don't know is it is a she or a he but we keep calling it a he because he is clearly an asshole!) is the most stubborn critter I have ever seen!  It is not scared of us at all and no matter what we do to scare it off it just sits there and glares at us or very slowly walks to another portion of the roof.  I keep telling the other members of the Raccoon Brigade that we need to block its access to the roof but apparently I am the lowest member of the troupe so this idea has not been considered.  Yet.  I am sure the men folk will come to the same conclusion soon.  Now to find a way to make them think its their idea, quickly, before we have another roof to replace! (Or a litter of new, super cute, raccoon babies up in the attic!) 

When Companies Don't Stand Behind Their Shit

I apologize for the profanity in the title.  There is no other way to put it.  I think it is a serious disgrace nowadays that companies do not stand behind their products and/or the work they do on those products once the damn things break.  Case in point - My Lemon - The cute little car I bought brand spanking new off the lot of the Seedy Car Dealership (No, it was not a back ally, buy car for no money down car lot, it was a reputable, very large car dealer who will now be forever referred to as Seedy!).  Ok, yes the Lemon is eleven years old now but so much has gone wrong with the damn thing I should have just sold it a LONG time ago.  The writing was on the wall when the speedometer kicked the bucket less than seven years after its birth.  That wasn't even the beginning but up until that point was the most expensive of all the "repairs" this damn thing has needed.  So I spent the thousands of dollars for the dealerships extremely over priced mechanics to fix the speedometer only to have the damn thing start to malfunction AGAIN.  I am sure you can already figure out the next chapter in this story?  When I call, the helpful Mechanic at the dealership tells me to drive directly to the Service Department next time the speedo malfunctions so they can see it when it is not working.  So two months later I do just that only to have the Chick Working in the Service Department look at me like I was bloody crazy but humored me anyway and got a mechanic (only after she promptly informed me that, of course, the warranty on the parts they put in the Lemon is for only one year.)  Mechanic (who seemed appropriately sympathetic) checked it out briefly and talked to his "Service Manager" who then informed me that they just install the parts they don't actually guarantee the damn things will work once they charge people a million dollars to put them in!  He tells me I need to call the Head Office of the Dealership.  I already know where this is going but as an exercise in my patience I make the call anyway and was informed that I need to have the car diagnosed by the dealership (read - pay a ton of money for them to find out the speedometer that they installed is faulty) and only then would Head Office decide if they will cover the cost of fixing the part, AGAIN.  Doesn't help that the Woman I talk to at Head Office says "Wow, I have never heard of two speedometers going in one car."  Really?  But yet you don't feel obligated to maybe stand by the last speedometer you installed?  Huh.  To me it's just a big corporate bag of bullshit that they do to rob us of our hard earned dollars.

AND ironically I missed a call the very next day asking how my service was?  Can you effing believe it?  They did say in the message that they would be also sending me an on-line survey (from Head Office no less) and they would appreciate me marking "yes" to the excellent service question.  I cannot wait for the survey to come!  So excited to tell them that they suck, their service sucks and I will never buy their brand of car again!  BRING IT ON!

Spin Class - The Ride to Hell

Let me just start by saying that I thought I was on the path of being in pretty good shape (physically).  After last night, I think now that I have a long, long way to go.  About a half an hour into the class I was both almost puking my dinner up AND shooting hate thoughts to the spin instructor.  Every time that woman told us to increase the tension on the bike and increase our rpm to anything over 55 I was pretty much telling her to eff off in my head!  My poor legs were on fire!  I watched the clock for the last 30 minutes with bated breath for the damn class to end.  Spin class made running look like a leisurely stroll around the mall! 

The after class Mexican bath idea would have been good however my only focus was getting myself to the arena without crying and or curling up in the fetal position in the parking lot.

Within an hour of finishing the class my lax friend, who is clearly mentally unstable, suggested we attend another session.  I was shocked.  Like birthing a child, are you not supposed to wait until you forget about the pain and suffering before you are stupid enough to do it again?

Although today is now filled with copious doses of Advil and I am currently sitting on a pillow because my ass is so sore, I will do this stupid bike ride to nowhere again.  If nothing else to try to get to 31 minutes before I start spitting venom at the spin instructor.

This could be the end....

Of me.....  Yup, signed up for my first ever spin class with one of my lax ladies.  We plan to spin before our money suckers game tonight.  I have, of course, spent at least the last thirty minutes obsessing about how yucky I will look (smell) during the entire game (fixed that persistent little ditty with plans for a "Mexican bath" - deodorant swiped on top of existing smell.  Should work.  I hope.)  Long story short - I have pre-booked an ambulance to stand by and will ask one of the other lax ladies to just keep the kid if I don't show up during or after the game.  I got this!  Or not.  Will report back tomorrow if I still resemble a functioning human.

The Public Biffy

This is one topic I could go on and on about but I will spare you all the gory details and focus on just one (or three) aspect(s) (this time).  This particular protest has to do with the size they make damn public washrooms!  Seriously, I am fully aware that I ain't getting any smaller but come on!  Once you get in the squishy little stall how do you get the darn door shut?  I  know you have all been there - running to the ladies room get in the stall and practically had to stand on the bloody toilet to get the door closed!  Don't even get me started on where to put all the crap we drag in there with us.  Shelves people.  Give us shelves! (or more hooks - whatever).  Our fellow "man" must have designed these things because common sense would say have the door open OUT.  Not only would that make it easier for us, with purses and potential shopping bags, to get IN but it will also be a better indicator to us upon walking in that the stall is free and available for use!  Oh, and how about making the toilet paper come out in more than one small square at a time increments?  Would that be so hard?  Put a little WD40 on the paper rollers people.  Its called Washroom Customer Service.  Should be mandatory!

Workout insanity? Yes!

I have to admit that this whole Mudder Madness thing is all consuming to the point of closely resembling symptoms of psychosis (insane, psychopathic, lunatic, mad, disturbed.... you get the point).  I now have less than three months to attempt to lift my own body weight (which I am embarrassed to admit I still cannot do!) and get myself into shape in order to run/walk/obstacle 19 kilometers.  I as well need to do this all without looking like a very old, fat chick with incredibly bad hair amongst my "team" of 20 year olds who will no doubt be running ahead mocking and snickering about my lack of fitness.  Oh the stress.  To make matters worse when I Google Mudder these are some of the messages I am getting:

If that isn't encouraging enough there is also this:

Which I entirely anticipate happening!

The Helicopter is coming.... The Helicopter is coming.....

I know you have all heard me harp on this topic before but in order to keep an accurate train of events for me, I have to reiterate some original points.  What the hell are we doing to this generation of children if we "helicopter" over them and never let them learn a single life lesson and also learn to deal with things on their own?  Are we setting ourselves up for "adult child management" for the rest of our lives? Can you imagine: Little Johnny goes to his first job and gets trashed by his boss and now we are making calls to his employer because we "just don't think his boss was being fair" (Oh, and don't forget to add that My Little Johnny's feelings got hurt too!).  What about when Little Johnny has a fight with his wife (that is assuming he has managed to find a girl, move out and get married)?  Is he going to run home to Mommy and have her deal with all his marital shit too?  Seriously?  Where does it end?  At what point do we let the "Little Johnny's" of the world take their lumps?  If we constantly hand hold and coddle the little buggars they are NEVER going to deal with the realities of life!  We are setting ourselves up for a generation of humans who are going to be medicated because they are "stressed" if they have to deal with any situation themselves.  I have heard a few times as of late that "my Little Johnny is only *insert age here*, and shouldn't have to deal with these things".  Guess what Helicopter Asshat - if you don't teach them to deal with shit when they are *insert age here* they are most certainly never going to be able to deal with the bigger shit when they get older.  Personally, I think by doing everything and dealing with everything for them you are stunting their growth (not to mention, in some cases, alienating them from their peers).  Parental disclaimer here: I to have driven the helicopter, especially with my first child.  It took me a few years to realize that I was raising a sheltered little girly boy and was doing the young lad a disservice.  So yes, guilty, that's why the youngest money sucker is raising himself.  So far, apart from a few hiccups, he seems to be doing an ok job. (Oh, and when his first boss yells at him and tells him his is incompetent, I expect he will just shrug his shoulder and keep on because it won't be anything he hasn't heard before!)

The Ultimate Challenge - Insanity? Yes!

Yes indeed, I am officially losing my mind (and seriously questioning my mental stability).  I made a commitment last week to join a team of Tough Mudders.  Not just any team - a team that consists entirely of 20 and 21 year olds!  In hindsight I wonder if they invited me to race so a) they look really good beside a fat, old gal or b) because it truly is fun to mock the weak!  How on earth I plan to do this I have no idea.  My upper body strength is nil (think struggling through maybe five girly push ups).  Hell, I don't even like carrying groceries into the house!  Five months to train!   I had to honestly admit to a friend today that, yes I am stressing out about this adventure but my first and most consuming concern is how bad my hair is going to look.  What does that tell ya?  I might just be a little out of my element.  I will keep you posted.

The Flu - Nature's Way of Kick Starting the New Years Diet Resolution

Seriously, kick starting the diet is the only good thing I can think of about having the damn flu.  Weight loss baby!  I am convinced I jinxed myself by saying to my sister (who was in week four of a nasty cold) "If I get sick I want the bloody flu so I can lose some weight!"  Ask and she shall receive!  So the last week and a half have been full of aches, pains and chills (oh, and my super warm, never wear out of the house, ugly sweater).  Loss of appetite happens to have come with the package so as long as I don't binge eat when I finally start to feel better, this has turned out to be an excellent way to start the New Year's Diet.   However, it is NOT a diet I would recommend.  It sucks.  My head is still foggy and I have this overwhelming feeling of not giving a shit about anything.  Giving a crap takes too much energy.  All I really want to do is nap.  Nap all day long with my new friend Nyquil.  I now have a new rule of course: "no flu blogging".  It is a necessary evil based on my lack of compassion and head fog.  Until then........ have a cawfee! (Sound it out people.  Or watch re-runs of Rent A Goalie.)