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!)