this spuds for you

The saga of the 50 lbs of potatoes continues.

I’ve heard of Weight Watchers lugging 50 lbs sacks of potatoes around the grocery store just to get a grip on how much weight they’ve lost. You know what, that’s my lunch. But hey, if you want to lug my lunch around Sobey’s so you can feel better about your fat ass - then fill yer boots.

This week past I could barely haul my ass down the street to work. And that evolution gets me a paycheck, so you can see how motivated I was.

Irish and potatoes eh?

I’v had both, and the 50 lbs of potatoes lasted longer than the Irishman did.

It’s been a good day, except for Stinky at the gym. Why is it that stinky people always find me? Or is it that I find them? Now, is it that I secretly seek out stinky people? I hope not, cause then I’d be a Stinky People Seeker. I found todays Stinker at the gym this morning. Couldn’t this guy have showered since he worked out last time(s)?  I was trying to move my enlarged seat around the track and this Stinkhole was a few paces in front of me. I was moving and huffing and puffing in his Stink Wake. There’s a new word for ya.

I gave up, left the gym track, HAD A SHOWER, and got on with my day. Then it was Witchy’s, wine and somehow, now, a conversation about potatoes. So……this spuds for you.

psychotic maniacal serial-killer

That’s what PMS stands for in my world.

It’s been the week from hell and PMS  is to blame. I’ve been cranky, psycotically so. I’ve been anti-social and just generally crazy. Lucky me.

I gave up dairy because I’m not only severly lactose intolerant but allergic to the fucking stuff. The doc once told me that a treatment for PMS is calcium supplements. So if calcium is so good for PMS, then I’m really fucking screwed.

This PMS stuff is just getting worst.

Will I reach a point where I must lock myself in a steel cage for a week at a time, like a werewolf at the approach of a full moon?

me me me

meme’s are alright - if they’re done by someone else

1. can’t stand the sound of children in restaurants

2. I never throw up

3. I don’t do headaches

4. am extremely glad I’m apple, not pear shaped

5. coffee is a neccessity

6. if you believe you’ve pulled one over on me, you are sadly mistaken

7. looks aren’t as important as honesty and honor (I don’t have any looks so I have to say that)

and #8. sex outside saves bacteria buildup on your mattress

Have a great day.

Myst - I’m not screwed up, just misunderstood

grandma is dead

So now she’s 24, knocked up AND short one granny.

I just got her, they just delivered her a couple of days ago, she was all mine and now I’ve lost her. She’s gone off to her grannies funeral and I’m left all alone. Alone to finish this project from hell by myself.

It’s just so unfair.

Seriously, couldn’t her grandmother have waited for another two weeks before meeting God. Did she have to be in such a hurry. What could she possibly gain by dropping dead now? Is there a Bridge Tournament in heaven or something? Is there a sale on heavy beige stockings that she doesn’t want to miss. Damn the Angel of Death, I got some words for him.

My misery will never end, I’m forced to do all the work myself, unnoticed, unappreciated and horribly underpaid.

Loves me a good pity party, I do.

the full brazillian

Fridays are a great day in my life. It is the end of five days of torture, otherwise known as work. It is the end of getting up early, then end of smiling through the idiots at the office and the end of five days at the gym.

I love Fridays.

I don’t like going to the gym. I don’t like thinking about going, don’t like walking through the door, don’t like the actual rat-on-the-wheel workout, don’t like much about it all actually. I do like the moment when I’m leaving the gym, walking out those doors, the whole thing over and done with. Yahoo.

And I hate communal things, like the locker room at the gym. I mind my own business, change in the toilet stall and all that. Some women don’t have that problem. Take for instance, the freak at the gym on Friday. I was almost finished putting my shoes on and about to leave. She came in and stood about a foot away from me. I was bent over doing something. From my position, with my head now at knee level, I saw pants slide down and bare leg and thought, “seriously.”

Why is it that some people think no one will mind? What the hell makes her think that I want her that close to me in her birthday suit. “Lady, move over. It’s not like there isn’t room.” But I said nothing. As I straightened up I got to crotch level and freaked. There it was, right in my face, her fucking Hoo Hoo. I made some sort of sound and bolted. Don’t ask me what she looked like because I didn’t get that far.

But I can tell you that she had a full Brazillian.

 

morning coffee a la mouse

Saturday morning at my place is coffee and cigarettes for breakfast. A nice slow, quiet wake up ritual that I enjoy. A pleasure that isn’t possible from Monday to Friday. This morning I was halfway through the java when a little thing with a long tail ran across the kitchen counter and jumped onto the floor. The next thing to move was bigger and black with a much larger tail.

What did I do? 

I screamed like a girl.

The cat chased the mouse and I chased the cat. He had him in about 15 seconds. I had no idea what I was going to do next. My first thought was “he can’t eat that thing, it might have disease.” I’ve spent too much money to cure his stomach issues, and he’s on a strict diet. That damn thing will just give him more problems.

“Mouse isn’t on the menu Fluffy.”

Funny how fast your mind can compute these things when you’re running, looking at the back end of your cat. Who knows what this mouse ate last, who knows how many make-the-cat-sick-germs it has.

“There’s no more money left for the vet Fluffy, STOP!” 

He got the mouse and crawled under the kitchen table. I thought very quickly, “what the hell am I going to trap it in?”

I grabbed a small tin that I got cookies in last Christmas - good enough. Ran back to the kitchen and found Fluffy still under the table holding his prize. He had grabbed it by the back so its head and legs and tail were all wiggling, trying to get loose. I sort of felt sorry for it at this point. But not sorry enough to want to let it go.

I put the cover of the tin on the mouses tail to hold it but couldn’t convince Fluffy to give it up. He growled at me. It sounded vaguely like, “Back off Bitch, the mouse is mine.”  And so a power struggle ensued. I pulled on the back of his neck, he let go and I had the mouse, I let him go and he got the mouse again. And on and on for a minute or so. I got tired of this and somehow got the mouse, which by this time was regaining it’s will to live. He let go of the thing for a second and what happened next was I made the fastest move I think I’ve ever made. I managed to get the cover on the thing, trapping it to the floor, and then moved the cover and used it to scoop him into the can. I slammed the lid on and had to contend with dirty looks from the cat.

“Too bad cat, no mouse for you.”

she’s 24 and knocked up

that’s why we have her. She showed up today, two months up-the-duff. I heard that expression once, no idea where it came from but it sounds funny to my ears. She can’t work in the field until after junior is born so they sent her to my office. This morning I started training her to do my job, I’ve been working so hard since the other guy left (asshole).

It will be good to have some relief from the constant work strain I’m under, I work far too hard. I should be paid more. I’m sure they have plenty of ole money just lying around, just hand it over people. Dream on huh.

So, anyway, she showed up this morning, all pregnant, all 24 years of her. When I was 24 I was slinging beer in a shitty little pub, which was haunted by the way. Then again, what isn’t haunted?

She catches on quick so I see freedom from my chains soon. I can see the light at the end of the Tunnel-Of-Love-Not-My-Job.

Something went wrong with my internet connection and so no internet for a day or so. Today I called the internet provider gods and as I was on the phone, on hold, because they know that “my time is very valuable”, the net came to life. Man they’re good!

Just as I started work this morning the boss came in and asked for photo copies. He’s nice but the aliens must have taken too much of his brain for research. How can I leave my desk when I just started this???? He’s just going to have to learn how to press ‘copy’ all on his own.

I picked up the mail on the way home, the book club wants $25 for a bounced cheque from last month. Good luck. It was good to have a laugh at the end of the day though.

evil is a necessary work

……….or at least thats what I get when I say, “work is a necessary evil” backwards. I never played country music backwards though, to see if I could get my boyfriend back or my dog would come home. Well, the boyfriend dropped dead and fuck the dog - I have a cat now. Fluffy doesn’t bark. His bite is worst than the dogs was, but he doesn’t bark.

Work is a collection of non-interesting freaks. Why am I there then? Cause it comes with a paycheck of course. They pay me far too much for the work I do, but I accept. I get the money from them and then I turn it over to Visa or the Vet. Visa = Bastards & this arrangement is working out for the vet.

I love the vet, she made Fluffy better. She has all my money but - I HAVE A CAT.

Crank is an interesting man, he’s well over forty, he’s even older than me. He wears a comical expression when he’s not scowling. The man goes from one extreme to another, I never know from one day to the next, who I’m working with, Jekyle or Hyde. He does make life interesting though. Yesterday I lost my concentration completely when I looked around and he was bouncing in his chair, chanting something about stupid people. I agree Crank but shut the fuck up. When he’s happy the office is great and when he’s not, it’s not. No one lunatic should have that much power.

Today I found him staring off into space contemplating life, or trying to figure out how to kill us all. You can never be too sure.

So, my work load doubles this week, the pay doesn’t. I’m not liking this situation.

When I got home this afternoon, Fluffy had gotten into the cupboard and got his paws on the dry cat food. The stuff that makes him sick. Payday is tomorrow, good timing cause if Fluffy get sick again, it’ll be a good day for the vet.

“woman, let me go”

I went to visit a friend in Saskatchewan a few years ago because, well, she invited me. So being a good hostess she took a few days off work and drove me here and there, showing me the sights. Now there isn’t much to see in the prairies unless you look at what’s right in front of you. The fact that most of the land is flat is quite a sight to behold and the quietness will make you hold your breath. It was like an empty canvass and the farmers were the artists. Anyway……..

One day she told me about the valley. My thoughts were the same as yours, “where do you get a valley if you don’t have any hills?” However, there was a valley, of sorts. The land was cut away and there was a large lake nearby too. Beautiful area but lets get to the ghost.

We went into a souvenir/tourist shop. They had all the regular stuff such as, “Kiss me I’m from Saskatchewan” keychains, and “My Grandpa went to Saskatchewan and all I got was this T-shirt” and hoardes of dream catchers. We looked around for a while, I picked up a few things cause it was a good shop as far as souvenir shops go. The lady at the checkout struck me as sad and lost like. As she was ringing in the keychains I watched an older man sitting on the stool behind the counter. He was heavy set, had dark hair mostly gone grey, wore a sweater over his shirt and tie and his head hung to one side in sadness and resignation. I also noticed that he was attached to the check out lady, some force held him to her. He was tired and wanted to go but her force kept him with her. It was the oddest thing I’ve ever seen in the ghost world.

So, being too damn nosey, I had to ask, “Is this your shop?”

“Yes”

“Have you been here long?”

“Well, yes, since my husband died”

Bingo.

We chatted, and chatted, and chatted - let me spare you the long conversation.

Her husband was a professor and quite well known in the area, had done great things in his life, they were married for more years than I had existed and she was very surprised I didn’t know who he was.

Lady, do I look local to you?

Anyway, this is why he was miserable in his afterlife. She couldn’t let go of him, he was grounded, stuck to her because of her sense of loss and misery. I imagine if she could hear him he’d probably say, “woman, let me go.”

burn in hell you little bastard

What a lousy week.

It all revolved around work. I had to pick up the slack for someone who couldn’t quite make all his committments. I had to adjust my schedule because of another co-worker. My schedule got thrown off and then cancelled on Tuesday. Nice. It’s been up and down all week.

Then on Friday, to cap the week off nicely, I got screwed over by a co-worker who couldn’t have cared less. Who’s only concerns were his own. Who, when he couldn’t get what he wanted, went around me and got a better deal from his supervisor. Nice.

Well I hope he burns in hell.

I don’t feel like being nice anymore.