Volume 2

2004. My side.

Highlights:

• My nieces and nephews doing the pledge of allegiance with the wrong hand over the wrong side as they are Canadian and don't have a clue. The look of disgust on the extended family's faces.
• My husband getting introduced to someone else with his name to the glee of the religious leader who is somehow related to me. The other person was blowing up balloons with his nose and making loud barking noises too. Just like twins! I helpfully suggest.
• My daughter piping up to loudly sing Twinkle Twinkle during the prayer time.
• Nobody in my immediate family knowing any of the hymns.
• My brother and I completely losing it and laughing 'till we cried while a distant cousin sings a song but in silent sign language. In our defense, we weren't laughing at her.

stories of our family reunions - volume 1

Reunion 2003. Husbands side. My sister-in-law whom is sometimes a creepy princess and sometimes a good drunk and I get so smashed and somehow end up calling one of the great Aunts "Andy Wharhol" in a very small and sober room. Followed by hysterical laughter completely oblivious to the fact that everyone in the room is listening in horror.
Later that night my husband and I retire to our suite upstairs but forgot the baby monitor, which is on, in the main party room and proceed to have talkative drunk sex.

Famous People I Have Met / Received Autographs From

It all started back in the 1970's when my mum came back from a vacation (oddly without my father...) and had two autographs for me and my sister and brother. By the way - Nice gift mom - an autograph?? Anyway, they were Evel Kenevil and Bob Hope. Actually as I write this I remember it wasn't an autograph of Bob Hope, it was a poloroid photo of him playing golf along with a long entertaining story of how she took the photo from across the fence and his bodygaurds jumped out to confiscate the photo. Apparently the jet-set of the day were not hip to the poloroid camera and the sound made them nervous.

By the way, I am calling bullshit on the story right now. If you knew my mum you would call bullshit too because she is the absolute queen of telling highly fabricated stories that bring down the room

So anyway, there we are with a fucking polaroid and an autograph. We did love the autograph, however, because it said "Happy Landing" and then a completly illegible scribble. Probably some drunk guy on the plane after my little mum reliezed she blew all the dough and forgot to buy us something.

Since then I have had very little contact with the rich and famous but I did meet Phil Hartman a week before his wife blew his brains out. He even flirted with me. Kinda makes me understand the gun thing.

My friend and I were in Lake Tahoe for the night and the next blurry morning there was some joke telling compitition going on at the Planet Hollywood at our hotel so we went thinking it would be packed out but, turns out, we were in the front row. Entertainment Tonight was there taping a segment and Phil was one of the judges for the joke telling show down. My friend who shall remain nameless (ANDREA) got up, in front of many children and families and Phil Hartman and told a joke about sheep getting "banged" over and over. Each time she said "banged" I flinched so hard. She could have said a number of things but "banged" is what she went with. Anyway, some kid won and Phil kept turning around and giving me the 'ol perv eye. Okay, I am not gross, and I certainly had a better figure before kids, but never have I been all tanned and hot especially in comparison to his lovely wife. Good one Phil.

So I got his autograph and the next week he died.

A little Advice

Why are so many people constantly giving me unsolicited advice? Do I come off as a feeble minded person? Is it the blonde hair?
Last night Stephanie and I went out for a 'girl's night'. I was thinking tequila shots but she was thinking conservative sweaters and an after dinner coffee drink. I don't really like Stephie but beggers can't be choosers right? What bugs me most is the constant words of wisdom. I guess I could be taken as passive but the truth is I just don't care about some things thus don't engage in long conversation about said subject. When she is telling me all about how I 'should' do this and that I am thinking of what her hair would look like if it didn't look like a skunk. I 'should' really get my girls potty trained. I thinks she was horrified when I told her that I am avoiding potty training as it is way easier to take them out in a diaper. How irreasponsible. Ya ya, I should do a lot of things. Like not make fun of my husband. Not call the cat an asshole in front of my kids. Lots of nots.
She was also rude to the waitress which pissed me off. Yes honey, you are waaaay better then the 20 year waitress. So do you feel better now?
One more thing and then I will shut up about the person I chose to go out with. I made my bed, I know, I know. Just because I am a vegetarian does not mean that I graze on the fucking lawn. She was describing this 'loaf' that she didn't like (I know you are just dying to get in on one of our crazy girls night!) So the loaf has all of this stuff in it. Raisins, every seed ever known to man, and a bunch of other things that should never be put together and called a recipe. She must have said 5 times "Oh you would just love it" Do I assume that because she eats meat, she will eat, like, haggis or animal brain or that sick sliced mystery meat with the little bits of pasta (I think it is pasta...maybe it is not pasta...maybe it is more bits of brain or something) Assuming makes as ass out of her.

There goes Johnny!

Even though I can't stand to see one more Entertainment tonight 'story' on Johnny Carson, I am pretty sad he died. Well more nostalgic really as I am okay with people dying for the most part. Some of my fondest memories of my dad were him letting me stay up reeeeaaally late and watch The Tonight Show with him while he had cheese and crackers or cheese and cheese (the days before the double bi-pass) Sometimes we would watch M*A*S*H* too which was cool. I will always remember that big striped curtain and the little monkey peeing on his head. Ah, the good 'ol days.

Currently I am engaged in the Nap Battle. If I were a less stubborn gal I would give up but, when I think I am right, I can be so painful.

I feel pretty empty creatively lately. I don't have much to say.

It's been a busy few days. My husband is a horrible insomniac which is driving me mad. Toss turn grumble. Toss turn grumble. Flip pillow, pause, violently kick blanket. Eventually sleep on the couch. Or not sleep - whatever.
So I am tired and bitchy at him and bitchy at the world. I ate a whole pizza tonight as a reward for going to the gym yesterday for the first time in (seriously) 3 years. I ran for 15 minutes on the treadmill and when I got home, fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Fucking pathetic but I was really too tired to care.

I have been watching a tonne of tv lately. Yesterday I watched Dr.Phil with Bill Cosby as the guest. Now I have fond memories of Bill as a kid. He is kind of a father figure to millions of americans (and canadians) I am sure but he just pissed me off. I wanted to gouge my eyes out. Serious. He's all yabba dabba doo yop dee dop. He's trying to give these teenagers advice but advice from 1950 where he's cracking all these shit-eating faces to the audience and they're all laughing and the poor oxy contin riddled teen has a look like he may want to cut Mr. Cosby. It was like the old boys club with the richy rich fat men. Blach.


My very elderly step-grandmother is ill with a bad cold and had to be admitted to the hospital which is not funny. What is funny is that she peeled off her shirt in front of my step dad. He was like "they were really ....long" Poor guy, he's so nice. Nobody wants to see their mothers breasts. My mom and I were laughing so hard she peed. It's not like step-granny has lost her mind, she just doesn't care. It's only fair he had to see them as last time I had to take her in for an enema which was described to me in great and horrifying detail all that long long drive home.

My children napped today which was a victory and a half. I wish it didn't bother me so much when they refused. It's actual rage I feel. I just keep smiling a crazy crazy smile but inside I am outraged. I need my stipend of time in the day to recharge. Maybe I will start sending them to the gym to run on the treadmill and I will go and quietly colour at a little table with mean-janice the babysitter watching me. Ah, that sounds nice.

who is testing me?

Why am I having so many problems posting things. I, again, wrote a long post only to have it not work. I am nearly to the end of my Bloggity blog blog.
My long blog basically said that my husband is often an ass and that he is soon to become a balding Sherlock Holmes in order to find my blog. Because I am clearly not entitled to <em>anything of my own.
So just in case. HI HONEY! SCREW YOU! XOXOX

for the love of dog please work.

Things that pissed me off today

• The neighbours damn dog. I have not actually seen the dog but he is there with his nose stuck under our hedge ready to bark like a sonofobitch every time we walk to the car. Maybe an anti-freeze doggy treat for him.
• My husband. Various reasons. One being just his gender I guess. Do ALL men have to think with their dicks? He's flipping around on the tv trying to find a show and ends up watching 14 year girls playing tennis for a half an hour. I give him a hard time, such is my job, and he flips to football for 2 minutes then back to retired supermodel hocking cheap exercise equipment. It's not that I think he shouldn't look at other woman, he should just have some control over it.

time I won't get back

I am pouting over the fact that I have written 2 long posts and had trouble getting them published both times. I wish I could remember to copy everything each time before I publish. Pisses me off that I wasted that time so I will post again once I have forgiven Blogger.

It figures (ines)

In my husbands family there is Nana who is the queen, Flo who is the Princess and Kerri who is the mini-princess.
Case in point.
While visitng Flo one time Kerri and her lap dog..er..husband came to visit as well. After a busy day of tight lip passive aggression (and folding of accident undies) I got my beasts into their pajamas. At the bottom of the stairs I could see upstairs into the laundry room where Flo was washing my husbands already clean clothes. Kerri came out of the bedroom, walked down the hall and said to Flo in the babiest of baby voices "I got my jammies on too mommy" to which flo replied "Ohhhh Kerri you look so beautiful, that colour really brings out your eyes" Kerri had pigtails in and everything. Kerri is 29.
This is not stuff I am making up okay.
I honestly thought they were going to lean in and start necking. It was creepy. Did you see William Shatner on the Golden Globes the other night? When he lunged at, and frenched kissed his date, with those giant wet lips and oversized tongue? It was creepy like that. So I am watching this mother and daughter porn going on up the stairs and I'm seriously wondering when the camera crew is going to jump out with Alan Funt (or whatever his name is) It was pretty funny stuff actually not that anyone will believe it's a true story.

So Nana. She is nearing 100 and sharp as a whip. She hates all women and really doesn't bother to try and hide it. Once she practically broke my wrist at the dinner table because I was trying to pass the buns to the left instead of the right. You know, I didn't know that because I was raised by wolves on welfare. I don't care that she dislikes me so visiting is no biggie.
Nana collects Hummel figurines. If, you too, were raised by poor wolves you won't know that they are German figures of creepy little kids doing various things. Like ice skating, picking flowers and what have you. These figurines are super expensive. In this precious family there is a Hummel to represent each member and everyone is expected to purchase and finely wrap the Hummel for Nana. So two years ago Flo starts in on us about buying Nana a freaking Hummel. She wants us to get one that represents both of our daughters. I was forced to point out that there isn't a Hummel for me. I just give birth to family members after long stays in the hospital - I don't actually get to be a member. Nevermind that we have new twins on one income - the old lady needs a dust collector! So Flo nags us until my very accomodating husband goes downtown on his day off (or should I say OUR day off) to search out Hummels. He calls me from the Birks counter and says "oh honey, I found a really nice one for only $375." smart ass. We bought her dish clothes instead (I told you I don't make this stuff up) Again this past Christmas she started in. Flo mailed me the flyers and signed me up on website to be part of the Hummel Club. Sweetie.
We just aren't going to do it but we thought it would be funny if, when Nana dies, we rush to claim the biggest four Hummels as our representations.

and about those naps

I kicked some toddler ass yesterday.
As they jumped up and down in their cribs yelling "I don't go asleep" and "I luv ew, ew luv me, we a happy fam-ah-leeeeee" I devised a plan. I knew I could do it!
I calmly unplugged their t.v. and carried it out of their room. Yes, we let them have a tv in their room because, if you haven't figured it out already, we are shit parents. There is no description for the sounds they made. They were both sitting on their crib rails howling like wounded animals (I assume wounded animals howl) After a while, I went back in and dragged their big dollhouse out. The horror. I was starting to really enjoy being in charge so, all jacked up on power, I went back in and as cool and calm as Clint Eastwood, told them to "lay down in your crib, put your soother in your mouth, pull up your bubby and start acting like big girls" Even they were in awe of my parental prowess. They had a nap alright and they will do it again or they can kiss the Lego bye-bye. Sometimes I rock.

rain,rain, piss right off

We are trapped in all day today. Too bad too because I was going to... ahem...go to the gym. Oh, the workout I had planned! Treadmill, stairmaster, weights, bike, millions of sit-ups and possibly a fitball class. Too bad for me. Guess I have to drink coffee, do puzzles with the girls and watch Starting Over.
I love Starting Over. I think the network should be giving me kickbacks for all of the people I have turned on to that show. At high noon I know where my family is.
Oh, we are trapped in today because my highly educated husband reliezed this morning that his car insurnace ran out on January 1. We have been driving around in all kinds of treacherous snow all ignorant and uninsured. What morons we are.

bribes for naps

In my efforts to get my darlings to nap I have really sunk to a new low today. So far I have promised that they will get their 'big girl beds' with their 'big girl Dora sheets' if they can prove they are big girls by napping. Gorgeous daughter #1 took one look at the Dora sheets and gently put her little hand on mine and said oh so earnestly "put those in the closet mummy" I think we all knew then that a nap just wasn't going to happen.
We talked a lot about what our jobs are this morning. "Daddy goes to work. Mommy cleans the house." Gorgeous daughter #2 just starts in naming all of this work. "Mommy cooks dinner, washes the floor, drives the car, calls grandma, sweeps...um...um...um...and washes stuff" At least she isn't blind to my efforts unlike someone who shall remain nameless (DADDY)

Things I can carry down the stairs at once

in my arms:
Little People train set. 4 pieces

in my arm pit:
Little people bus. 1 piece.

other arm pit:
Little People People. Sara-Lynn, Eddie, Freddie, Farmer Jed and Michael (he's magic!) 5 pieces.

Betwen my legs:
Little People Merry-Go-Round. Music on. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!! 1 large and uncomfortable piece.

Flo, Kerri and the lap dogs

My mother in law is Flo. My sister in law is Kerri. Shelby is Flo's lap dog. John is Kerri's lapdog/ husband. If they ever find this blog they will kick me out of the family. They never really let me in anyway so no harm no foul there.
I have a list as long as my long long arm of all the things Flo has done to make me feel unwelcome. Let's see:

• I really like listing my hardships with bullets...
• I asked Flo to make a couple of salads for our wedding. I asked her to make them vegetarian as we were already having meat ones made. I offered recipes but she said no. She made a ham and pea salad mixed with mayonaise and also some punch that smelled and looked like vomit.
• We put her up in a cabin on the riverfront for a week. In return she wrote a snide little message in the guest book she ordered me to buy and left the wedding 5 minutes before the gift opening without saying goodbye (or anything else) to me.
• When I was pregnant and hospitalized for 2 months she did not visit or call me once even though she lives an hour away. When my girls were born she made a giant production in the waiting room complete with tears of worry and hand wringing. 'Cause she's so supportive.
• The first Christmas I came to her house (and oddly my last....) she had a stocking hung above the chimmney with care for everyone but me. Shelby the Dog had a super cute one though.
• On my kids first birthday she pushed me aside while I was feeding them the cake I made them and told me in front of everyone that I was traumatizing my kids. She's so cool.
• there is so much more but I best save some good stories for later.
• oh wait. On our last visit she went through my luggage and folded everything in it, including my undies. I had my period.

It's snowing like a sonofobitch. Best go have a glass of wine.

kids versus dogs

I took the girls to the doctor today. Our new doctor has the last name Daveyduke and I honestly am having a really hard time getting past her name. I picture her riding around with Beau and Luke Duke in the ...the...what the hell is the name of their car? dixie something. dusty something. General Lee!
Okay so our doctor is riding around in the general lee and I go in with my guns blazing because I have the internet and therefore I practically have my own thriving medical practice. I need to know a lot of things but I also know waaaay too much. It comes from having preemie babies. It's like reading the inside cover of a book and then trying to teach a course on it. Anyway, I am in there doing my best to not imagine her in daisyduke shorts and my kids are being really rude. And they are usually so sweet and polite. They are jumping on the chair and singing off-key and Daisy Duke has the nerve to say to me "I know how you feel because I have two dogs"
I shit you not, those were her words. I cursed her with triplets right then and there. The weirdest part is that the couple of times we have had to go to the walk-in clinic, the receptionist and the doctors always say to me "ooohhh, you are sooooo lucky to have her as your doctor" Lucky me. And also lucky Spot and Rusty. Small towns are odd.

Dr. Atkins and L.Ron Hubbard

Are definetely the same person. One fat freaky man who conned a bunch of people out of a bunch of money.
Suck-ahs everywhere today.
Honestly I am glad the atkins thing is almost done. All the converts rubbing the horrible dangers of vegetarianism in my face have come full circle (and I mean full circle) and have gained back all of the bacon they breifly lost in their forced ketosis. My parents in law (not Flo, the other ones), god love 'um, sitting there weighing in at a combined 500 plus, jamming butter covered, deep fried, chicken skin in their chops, all glistening and scary. Just one more sunday morning trip to dimsum away from actually dying of meat poisoning.

f-f-f-f-future shop

I went to Future Shop this morning to get my camcorder fixed. Not too sure what the problem is but I think it may have something to do with the giant skidmark along the side of it. It was probably me but I'll blame the children as they are too young to defend themselves.
I just hate FS. The three zitty employee dullards standing around pissed me off to begin with. Actually the icy parking lot pissed me off first. My irritation with most things retail knows no bounds. I have no point really and the story isn't even interesting but suffice it to say, I left with my own icy-ness and promptly sent off a scathing email. Have I mentioned that, as a hobby, I like to send complaining emails to various companies. It's not like I am lying or anything. I am just seriously irritated by everything. It's a cry for help really. I'm bored. It may stem from years of doing customer service.
I have in response to my complaints received a free coffee maker (not a shitty one either), 5 count 'um 5 free big tubs of margarine, countless pizzas, ferry rides and other things I don't care to recall at this time. Complaining pays. Suckas.
Kids are in bed jump-jump-jumping and sing-sing-singing. Nice nap.

super blog envy

I have blog envy. Other people are just so much more funny than me. I hate that.

If I knew now what I knew then

What kind of employer would have you work your ass off all day completing a project only to destroy it once you are finished and have you start all over again the next day? Seems like a waste of good help to me.
The house is a mess.
The kids have snot noses again.
If I hired someone to do this job while I got another, I would never expect them to put up with these working conditions.
I can't believe how little respect we give mothers in this society. Staying at home is way harder than going to work. Wait, did I already say that, like, one hundred times?
Am I whining? You bet I am! Do I care? You bet I don't!
The troubling thing is this. My husband is a smart, well-informed, feminist kind of a man and he still can't get it.
I laugh my ass off at those women on the news a few weeks back who were sitting in their lawn chairs on their front lawn with signs up saying "MOTHER ON STRIKE". Firstly, where do those women live that they can be sitting on a lawn chair in horse-assed old lady shorts in the middle of December and why does this make the news in Canada? Secondly, and more importantly, do these women really think that inside the house the kids are cleaning up their bedrooms while fat Floridian hubby is painstakingly washing the dishes and creating a lovely dish for dinner? F no! The house is probably smelling like a cat litter box and the pizza boxes strategically placed in front of the couch making a new ottoman. And thirdly, I totally understand where these gals are coming from and that is funny in a sad, sad way.
I know I should just lay the fuck down in the bed I made (as per my last post) but the bed is covered in laundry.

sleep eezzz good

So today they napped. Didn't even have to give them Dimetapp or mutter any obsenities. Whew.

whingeing whiner

As a teacher I am sure the days are long and the pain is real. I am positive I would want to strangle the first annoying teenager to look or speak to me even slightly snidely. BUT there is really no way that tending to a class of 25 teens, or 5 classes of teens, is at all easier than staying at home with 2 two year olds. Has my husband met our kids?
My husband is a teacher.
I am a SAHM!! thats internet talk for housewife.
Let me say firstly that I did not intend to marry a teacher. For the most part I have always found them bland and far too moral. Plus they know math which bugs me. The first time I met 'my guy' I said to my drunken self "toooo damn bad this guy is studying to be a teeeecher" He managed to win me over after we opened about 20 pieces of various tenents mail in his sisters apartment after 4 pitchers of draft. I always had a nerd fantasy thing going on so I just went with that.
So tonights argument. I say "I bet you are dying to go back to work" I said this not because I am a holier-than-thou smuggy be-otch but because he spent the most part of today exactly how I did all of last week, trying to get our darling girls to have a nap. The books and the damn message boards promise me that they are not to be dropping that afternoon nap until, like, 4 or something. So we try. I came home from Walmart and he was super pissed off. "Blah Blah they DON'T sleep" Like I'm new. So he says something to the effect of how hard his job is. I want to sceam I KNOW YOUR LAME JOB IS HARD BUT I AM DIGGING FOR SOME FUCKING EMPATHY HERE. Instead I call him a pussy and flounce off. Not too sure if flounce is a word. I bet a teacher would know. There may have been more but my point is it really bothers me that he whines about his job. I mean, he went to school for it. I got pregnant so I have to suck it up and raise these gorgeous beasts and deal with it. What if I went around telling people how shit my job is (I mean besides here, in real life I have a scary "everything is beeeeeeautifuuuuuul in it's own waaaaaaaay" kind of look about me)? I am frustrated because I want him to be happy and fullfilled and clearly he is not. Life is not fullfilling bucko.