So it sucks being a chick. Period (no pun intended). This is the way it is going to be in my world (I can hear the clickety, clack of chick shoes running to my side now). In my world every chick will get one day a month to call in “Bloated”. Really, shouldn’t we have some benefit to putting up with all the woman stuff we have to deal with? We should have one day to keep our cranky asses at home, wear ugly sweats and nap. It’s like rejuvenation time for our psyche and really it benefits all. The other side of the story here is you need to keep your water retaining, swear word shooting, evil ass at home because I, who happily medicate for this affliction, do not want to be near you so please, do us all a favour and take a day off.
Those of you dealing with the unpredictable, crappy, uncontrolled heat wave time we like to call menopause, you get to call in “Pissed Off”. You deserve it. You have gone all this time dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a woman and now this! What the hell? What happened to that saying “All good things come to those who wait?” That’s the biggest load of crap ever. So you wait 50 years to be cramp free and as a consolation prize you get to be more pissed off about nothing than you ever were before and sweating like a contestant from the Biggest Loser? This certainly has to be considered an injustice.
Of course after menopause you would think I would demand that the women resume a full work week and start sucking it up. Well, not so much. I have been told that after menopause you gain this new found sense of self I call: “Don’t Give A Shit What You Think”. So once you can prove that your post-menopausal you officially get to call in “Don’t care, not coming in, so fire my ass”. (I understand these titles will be difficult for HR forms but we can minimize them to DGASWYT or calling in fu for short.)
Men – sorry dudes you get to pee outside wherever and apparently whenever you want. You don’t get any special concessions. We might cut you a bit of slack if you extend our birthdays to birthweeks and you leave us the hell alone and don’t even look at us for one week a month AND do the housework. Each case will be carefully reviewed on an annual basis, however there will be no guarantees your request will be granted. It will obviously depend on the week you submit your request.
January 8, 2010
January 7, 2010
Stalker Alert
Really? I’m all for stalking people that you admire and stuff but honestly, I checked out MySpace the other day and it seems like a breeding ground for crazy people. Who in their right mind would want chemically imbalanced people sending them messages all the time? It’s like a stalkers toy store. I even have difficulty with the whole Facebook invasion of privacy even though you can block the crap out of it. Is nothing sacred anymore? Remember back in the day when your average stalker would have to hide in the bushes or peep through the blinds in the window? Now they just sit in their jammies, eating pizza, stalker surfing in their own living room! What of it? Wait – does Michael Buble have a MySpace account? Be right back…
January 6, 2010
Like the New Colors or Colours, whatever your fancy.
Yup, you guessed it. Without alcohol and the tv show I would normally be singing along with this evening (stupid REPEATS), I decided to change the layout on my blog to include my favourite (or favorite) colour: red.
Why do Canadians always like to add more letters in their words than necessary? Come on people, its bad enough our kids have reduced sentences to three letter, do we need to keep adding u's in everything. I am a huge fan of the word: Check - like the thing that is a piece of paper with potential of having money attached to it AND a fancy little mark that means you did it right! While we are at it, lets get rid of apostrophies. They are meaningless and have always caused me some angst. (Probably should have taken my bookstore gift certificate and bought myself a fancy dictonary so I don't have to check Word to see if I spell a word right - apostrophy or is it apostrophe. I say, doesn't matter how you spell it, it's a stupid word. Oh, I guess I would then have to spell out does not and it is - crap.)
You might have noticed that I have TWO followers now. No, it is not a coincidence that I have TWO cats. I told you they don't have access to the internet. A dear, sweet friend heard my plea and immediately added herself as a follower. Martini to follow my dear - after the wagon crash (you did not think I would do this "clean up the liver challenge" forever did you?)
Why do Canadians always like to add more letters in their words than necessary? Come on people, its bad enough our kids have reduced sentences to three letter, do we need to keep adding u's in everything. I am a huge fan of the word: Check - like the thing that is a piece of paper with potential of having money attached to it AND a fancy little mark that means you did it right! While we are at it, lets get rid of apostrophies. They are meaningless and have always caused me some angst. (Probably should have taken my bookstore gift certificate and bought myself a fancy dictonary so I don't have to check Word to see if I spell a word right - apostrophy or is it apostrophe. I say, doesn't matter how you spell it, it's a stupid word. Oh, I guess I would then have to spell out does not and it is - crap.)
You might have noticed that I have TWO followers now. No, it is not a coincidence that I have TWO cats. I told you they don't have access to the internet. A dear, sweet friend heard my plea and immediately added herself as a follower. Martini to follow my dear - after the wagon crash (you did not think I would do this "clean up the liver challenge" forever did you?)
January 4, 2010
The Red Shoes
So you all know about the red purse and my lost love. I officially met the absolutely most amazing red shoes that are the exact perfect match for my friends purse. I even devised a plan to steal them. The plan of course failed, mostly due to my lack of surveillance. This is how it went.
We attended a New Years Party at a friends house and after the required amount of polite eye contact I proceeded to check out the outfit choices and more importantly the shoes people were wearing (purses were missing - probably dumped on some bed with the coats - poor things - come on ladies, your purse is supposed to be a statement not a necessity). You honestly can tell a lot about people by their shoe choices (psychological study and book to follow regarding shoe purchasing and personality traits). Well the viewing was slim, some people (myself included) de-shoed at the door, so it did not take long at all. Well I happen to see this chick across the room who exuded sophistication and class and low and behold she is wearing The Red Shoes! They are a sight to behold by shoe lovers everywhere. I slide in for a closer look. Ohhhh they are sooo nice: open toed, the exact colour of red, just high enough to be sexy but not slutty and they made her feet look like a size 5! Oh dear. I move to the inner circle and introduce myself to Dorothy from Oz and another pretty girl I will call You Look To Young to Have a Teenager (Yup, I realize I am out of my element here but hey, they did not tell me to go away. Although they may have wanted to?). We chat a bit and I happen to mention to Dorothy that I really love her shoes and "um, what size are your feet?". She politely tells me she is a size 8. I smile wickedly and while Dorothy is distracted I tell To Young that I was planning to finish my beer and hit Dorothy over the head with the empty bottle and would she mind clearing a path for me. "But why?" she asks all curious and stuff. I guess I thought she might just have been on the same page as me about the shoes (or at least drunk) so I tell her. "I'm going to knock her out with my beer bottle, tear off her shoes and get the hell out of here." She actually chuckles. Dorothy comes back into the circle of fun and To Young proceeds to tell her about my plan. Oh crap. I had better find my people and get the hell out before I get bitch slapped. I anxiously await at least a f u from Dorothy but alas she kills herself laughing and hugs me? What? Sister, did you not hear the part about me hitting you in the head and knocking you out? Dorothy says to me "Oh my goodness, you are the first person to openly plan to steal my shoes. Most people just ask for them." Huh, does that make me smarter then the other chicks? I don't know. Dorothy actually asks me what size shoe I wear and I say usually a 8 depending on water retention and how many cookies I have eaten that week (all the while I am wondering if she wants to give them to me, give them to me, give them to me.... saying it in my head over and over did NOT work). She looks down and says "Where are your shoes?" (I interject here because I am almost sure she grimaces when she looked down at my feet. Not only was I shoeless but I was wearing white running socks! Not a pretty sight! In my defence I thought everyone would be pretty pickled by the time we arrived at the party so I chose comfort over fabulous.) I tell Dorothy that my boots (a lie) were down stairs (they were DC runners) and that I thought we had to take them off at the door. (Another lie: last year I wore a brand new pair of brown boots I had just had shipped to me - to the same party!) This is where my shoe theft plan failed miserably and I was forced to learn another one of those life lessons: Whenever you are going to devise a devious plan, make sure you check every one out first before shooting your mouth off. It seems I was not patient enough in my planning stage to observe long enough. Too Young and Dorothy are BEST FRIENDS! To make matters worse, Dorothy bought the shoes LAST YEAR and I am positive they cannot be purchased any more! Maybe my New Years Resolution should be to be a more patient observer? Or Ask Questions Before Speaking? Do you think it would be obvious at this point if I found out where Dorothy lives and liberated those red shoes? Hmmm, maybe I will stalk her for a bit and make her become my new bff (hate that acronym but alas it cuts down on typing the actual words) and ask to borrow them and then leave town. Or maybe I should just wait till next New Years and ask her for the darn things. Hey, Fabulous Red Purse - Momma's coming to get you baby!
We attended a New Years Party at a friends house and after the required amount of polite eye contact I proceeded to check out the outfit choices and more importantly the shoes people were wearing (purses were missing - probably dumped on some bed with the coats - poor things - come on ladies, your purse is supposed to be a statement not a necessity). You honestly can tell a lot about people by their shoe choices (psychological study and book to follow regarding shoe purchasing and personality traits). Well the viewing was slim, some people (myself included) de-shoed at the door, so it did not take long at all. Well I happen to see this chick across the room who exuded sophistication and class and low and behold she is wearing The Red Shoes! They are a sight to behold by shoe lovers everywhere. I slide in for a closer look. Ohhhh they are sooo nice: open toed, the exact colour of red, just high enough to be sexy but not slutty and they made her feet look like a size 5! Oh dear. I move to the inner circle and introduce myself to Dorothy from Oz and another pretty girl I will call You Look To Young to Have a Teenager (Yup, I realize I am out of my element here but hey, they did not tell me to go away. Although they may have wanted to?). We chat a bit and I happen to mention to Dorothy that I really love her shoes and "um, what size are your feet?". She politely tells me she is a size 8. I smile wickedly and while Dorothy is distracted I tell To Young that I was planning to finish my beer and hit Dorothy over the head with the empty bottle and would she mind clearing a path for me. "But why?" she asks all curious and stuff. I guess I thought she might just have been on the same page as me about the shoes (or at least drunk) so I tell her. "I'm going to knock her out with my beer bottle, tear off her shoes and get the hell out of here." She actually chuckles. Dorothy comes back into the circle of fun and To Young proceeds to tell her about my plan. Oh crap. I had better find my people and get the hell out before I get bitch slapped. I anxiously await at least a f u from Dorothy but alas she kills herself laughing and hugs me? What? Sister, did you not hear the part about me hitting you in the head and knocking you out? Dorothy says to me "Oh my goodness, you are the first person to openly plan to steal my shoes. Most people just ask for them." Huh, does that make me smarter then the other chicks? I don't know. Dorothy actually asks me what size shoe I wear and I say usually a 8 depending on water retention and how many cookies I have eaten that week (all the while I am wondering if she wants to give them to me, give them to me, give them to me.... saying it in my head over and over did NOT work). She looks down and says "Where are your shoes?" (I interject here because I am almost sure she grimaces when she looked down at my feet. Not only was I shoeless but I was wearing white running socks! Not a pretty sight! In my defence I thought everyone would be pretty pickled by the time we arrived at the party so I chose comfort over fabulous.) I tell Dorothy that my boots (a lie) were down stairs (they were DC runners) and that I thought we had to take them off at the door. (Another lie: last year I wore a brand new pair of brown boots I had just had shipped to me - to the same party!) This is where my shoe theft plan failed miserably and I was forced to learn another one of those life lessons: Whenever you are going to devise a devious plan, make sure you check every one out first before shooting your mouth off. It seems I was not patient enough in my planning stage to observe long enough. Too Young and Dorothy are BEST FRIENDS! To make matters worse, Dorothy bought the shoes LAST YEAR and I am positive they cannot be purchased any more! Maybe my New Years Resolution should be to be a more patient observer? Or Ask Questions Before Speaking? Do you think it would be obvious at this point if I found out where Dorothy lives and liberated those red shoes? Hmmm, maybe I will stalk her for a bit and make her become my new bff (hate that acronym but alas it cuts down on typing the actual words) and ask to borrow them and then leave town. Or maybe I should just wait till next New Years and ask her for the darn things. Hey, Fabulous Red Purse - Momma's coming to get you baby!
January 3, 2010
Welcome to Cranky Town..just the beginning...for now.
Just in case you were all wondering (and at least one of you did wonder, OUT LOUD) my ONE follower you see on the bottom right hand side IS NOT ME. I write this sarcasm, I don't need to follow it. That just happens to be my biggest fan and huge source of inspiration. No, it is not my cats. They can't type (however I think one of them can read).
Now that Cranky Town is coming my Rule the World posts may get a bit dark for some of you. You have been warned.
I promise to not try to eat my purse this time as a replacement for bread, heavenly bread.
Now that Cranky Town is coming my Rule the World posts may get a bit dark for some of you. You have been warned.
I promise to not try to eat my purse this time as a replacement for bread, heavenly bread.
January 2, 2010
Two Days In.....
All right. I apologize for the lack of entertainment and using you all as my silent cyber life coach but seriously, I think I broke out in a sweat today just thinking about the thought of not drinking AND not eating bad food AT THE SAME TIME! What the hell was I thinking? What happened to baby steps? I am not sure right now which evil I miss more: beer or carbs. Oh goodness... there are carbs in beer! Carbs are evil. Carbs=rolly, polly, olly. That is my mantra. Hummmmmm me rolly, polly, olly. I'm not even going to beg my running partner to come back to me until I can at least run 10 km without crying or stopping for a latte. Next stop: Cranky Town.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)