Scram!

This is me.

Minus the unibrow and the green fur.
Although sometimes having green fur all over your body would be pretty awesome. 

The unibrow wouldn't be so bad either. 

I'm mean.
I hate things.
I hate crowds of people.
I say mean things to hurt you.


Because I'm angry.


I push friends away.
I feel sorry for myself and my son.
I hate when good things happen for you
Because I feel like we are against eachother.

I'm depressed.
I'm lonely.
I'm bitter.
My only friend is a worm named slimey
...okay that wasn't true
I could only dream of having a worm like slimey.

This is the end though. 
No more pushing people who love us away.
No more judging people, trying to find flaws.
No more comparisons.

It's time to live again.
It's time to be happy.
If not for myself, than for this guy

Because he deserves it.
I deserve it.
My friends and family deserve it.

I'll give myself a couple more hours of grouchiness
Just to make the transition easier.

But tomorrow the new me will emerge.
Sort of like a butterfly or some shit like that.
I will see the beautiful things - and probably take pictures of them.
I will live without fear ehhh....let's not go too far with this.

I will love me.
I will love him.
I will love you.

Because we all deserve it.

Resolutions Smesolutions...

Snow angels have absolutely nothing to do with resolutions.  Unless you're some kind of philosopher wizard or something and you can find some distant connection.  Snow angels are pretty much awesome though. 

Last year I made resolutions.  Just your basic everyday resolutions, lose a bunch of weight and fall madly in love.

Neither of those happened.

Resolutions really mean nothing to me.  I guess I'm just more of the "live for today" kind.  I get that from my mother.  In ways it's a bad thing, but it's also good.  Makes life more exciting, sometimes more stressful, but usually pretty exciting. 

In my case not so much I guess because I am a pretty boring person.

...but I am a spontaneous boring person.

I don't really know what that means or how that is good, but it looks good all typed out like that, no?

Here's the thing though, this year I'm feeling ambitious.  I want to do something I have never done before.  I want to get myself into a routine.  I want to have self discipline and learn some shit along the way.

I want to blog every single day.

That's right, this year I have a resolution and I am going to stick to it.  I will blog every single day.  Just a warning, it may end up being blogs about toe jam and how much someone pissed me off while driving that day, but regardless, I will write something (or post a picture if I'm feeling lazy and wordless) every single day.

This probably isn't my wisest decision ever.  Just like that time when I decided to run at the Royal Winter Fair and I ended up slipping in cow shit.  That wasn't a very wise decision either.  For some reason though I just can't shake this plan.  I want to do it.  I'm motivated.  Watch in a month I'll be blogging about how much I hate blogging or I might even mysteriously disappear. 

No, no, no...it won't be like that at all.  It can't.

Unlike my other resolutions, this one is going to stick.

In fact, I'm making another resolution right now.  My new resolution is to stick to the resolutions I make. 

So beginning on January 1, 2010, things are going to change around here. 

Until then I will be working on preparing myself mentally beating that Spanish kid at Mario Kart, so you probably won't see much from me until then.

I ask for your forgiveness in advance for the posts about toe jam and underwear you are about to read in the future.

If you are not so interested in reading about that kind of stuff, maybe you have some other blog topic ideas for me? 

It came with packages, boxes and bags...

I love Christmas.

I hate having to find places for all these new toys though.   I could also live without having to open a new toy every ten minutes and surely could live without having to put together the 55 billion pieces of Lego to form a stupid bulldozer (what was I thinking?). 

My living room looks like Toys R Us took a big giant dump in the middle of it, leaving behind mounds and mounds of toys.  All of which are in need of a permanent resting place.  Even though it is now officially three days past the big event, the toys still litter the living room floor simply because I have nowhere to put them. 

It doesn't end here either folks, there is a birthday coming up in less than a month - help me!

Our Christmas was wonderful.

Seeing family, spending time together, playing Operation for hours with your kid is what it's all about. It's funny how this seems to be the first year that I actually have noticed how wonderful this time of year really is. 

On Saturday we drove three hours to visit more family. 

A family that took me in as one of their own and I cannot even begin to explain how happy that makes me. 

I love that family so much. 

I especially love how my Baba puts post-it notes on the table where each food item will be and how my Dedo writes everything that is in their freezer on a note on the side of the fridge.  Organization people, more people should learn it because it makes life a heck of a lot easier. 

I wish I had more organizational skills. 

We made the three hour journey home the next day after sleeping on the hardest bed in the world (the kid's words, not mine, I swear!) in a room full of eclectic treasures from my childhood like Beanie Babies and Spice Girls collector plates. When we finally arrived home we spent the rest of the night playing Mario Kart (addictive!).

Now it's over and I have an entire week to spend with the kiddo.  We have plans on Tuesday to see a movie but other than that we will probably be trying to beat the Spanish kid at Mario Kart.

and what Christmas re-cap post would be complete without a picture of a little puppy (yaaay!).  Don't worry, he's not mine, although he did mark his territory on my carpet - twice :/

Happy Holidays All!

I don't like to share.

Especially when it comes to food.  The other night Mason and I shared a #2 special at the food court in the mall.  We ended up scarfing that plate of yumminess like a pack of rabid wolves.  I don't even think either of us took a breath while we ate. 

Apparently he doesn't like to share food either. 

Starting out we were both a bit apprehensive about who had more shrimp, which side of the plate was ours.  Eventually we ended up drawing an imaginary line in the food and declared "halfsies".  Which eventually ended up with Mason invading my territory and me threatening to stab his face with my plastic fork. 

I said I wasn't good at sharing.

Never mess with someone else's food within your wolf pack.

So yes, I hate sharing.

Unless it involves saving me money, do not even offer to share because I hate it that much. 

I was the only child for eight years.  Eight whole years.  The rest of my childhood was spent protecting my Barbies, Beanie Babies and POGS from my sister and brother. 

So I don't like to share. 

Tonight I am going to share my turkey, and my home, and my veggies and my mom's cooking with family - but I don't really mind.  \

It's Christmas afterall. 

I'm not sharing my cookies though. 

Have a happy holiday everyone and be nice and share and I hope you get everything you ever wanted soo much like a Snuggie or a Hello Kitty phone case.  You deserve it ;)

The Weekend (photo version)...

I am in love with this time of year right now.  Seriously.  In love.

Like so in love I could totally make out with this time of year.

Everyday.

Although I could live without the pushy shoppers who run you over with their cart.  It hurts.  Ask my friend.  Though it's different when your friend runs you over with their cart because you know they are sorry.  It hurts a little more when an old lady with cigarette smoke stained hair and orange teeth runs you over.  Mostly because she doesn't apologize and gives you stinkeye.  It's different when your friend runs you over and then laughs hysterically (I can't help it, I laugh when I'm nervous!).

The Christmas party for my work was on Saturday.  A few weeks ago I ruined the zipper in my favourite dress when I zipped up a whole bunch of thread through it and the zipper got stuck.  Then when I tried to get the thread out, the zipper got stuck even more.  Then when I finally picked it out from the zipper teeth, the zipper was no longer in line and tragedy ensued from there.  My favourite dress...the only dress I didn't mind wearing was now only a potential wardrobe malfunction.

I had to buy a dress.

A cheap dress.

That was used.

So I went to Value Village where I ended up finding a dress that an old lady might have died in, either that or somebody probably had sex in it *shudder* ...but at least I would be let into the party now and be escorted out when they mistook me for a hobo in my street clothes.

While I was checking out, I looked over my shoulder and saw a Playmobil advent calendar.  I LOVE Playmobil things.  I used to play with them when I was little.  I just adore them, I think it's the attention to detail.  I picked up the box without even looking, just knowing that some pieces would be missing anyway, but for $1.50 it was well worth it as Mason has a few sets of Playmobil and the pieces could just add to his collection. Imagine my surprise when I opened it to find this:

Every single piece was there, and it was completely unopened.  So I stayed up late Friday night after Mason had went to sleep to put together each of these little boxes:

Only to be awakened early Saturday morning  by a kid who couldn't wait to get his little paws on the treats inside.

I'm excited to open up the box for December 24th and unleash this little dude....

Today I had to finish my Christmas shopping.  With Mason at his grandmother's house, it was perfect timing to sneak out into the mobs (of maniacs) to finish up my list. 

Well that didn't go so well.

I am a terrible present buyer.  I think for the most part, it's because I'm cheap. 

I said it.

I'm cheap.

...but I have to be, because I am also poor.  So I am poor and cheap.  Which is a good combination if you have time to find bargain items for the people you love, and you know if you start shopping early enough you can find some great deals. 

My mind always plays tricks on me though.  I think about how much people will hate about the things I buy them and then have a bitch fest later about how cheap I am and how stupid the gifts I pick out are.

and that used to bother me a lot.

but now I don't care. 

If you don't like it, good.  You're an asshole anyway. 

It's not like I go into the store and pick out the cheapest item I can find and put someone's name on it.  It's not like that at all.  I spend a lot of time making the decision as if it is the most important decision in the world.  I try to think of that person and things they would like and I try to stick to a budget. 

Even thought they are not mind-blowing gifts, they have a lot of thought and care put into them. 

and that is what should matter.

One group I have always had a hard time picking out items for is men.  People like my dad, my uncles, my mechanic... men are just hard to shop for.  Of course that is my opinion, and I'm sure a lot of you think men are easy to shop for.  Not me.  No way! 

The only man I could shop for comfortably was R.  I knew what he wanted, pretty much because he gave me a very specific list each year, as I did for him as well, and that worked well for the both of us.  Even though he would specify things like The Rolling Stones' greatest hits album, I always found things like a little skeleton box carved out of wood, that I knew he would like.  Again, that's what it's all about.  Showing somebody you care enough to pick out a gift that reminds you of them, something that they would appreciate (hopefully).  It shouldn't matter how much it costs.

So I'm not entirely done my shopping.  In fact, the only people left on my list are men. 

My intention was to buy boxes of chocolate, but after seeing the price tag and not getting the "perfect gift" vibe from the boxes of chocolates, I decided to bake cookies for the people who were getting chocolates instead.

Those who know me will note here that I am not a baker.  Heck, I just recently learned how to cook, so baking is way out of my league. 

...and okay so maybe they didn't turn out perfect, and we had a few casualties:

 At least I can say that some turned out pretty nicely and that I think my mechanic will enjoy this little gift.

 

and I do know it is kind of weird to give a gift to your mechanic at Christmas, but my mechanic has done so much for me this year. 

(plus I'm overdue for an oil change and I don't want him to yell at me)

Loved.

I always wonder if I am making the right decisions when it comes to raising my child, especially with doing it all on my own. Other parents can look at the other one straight in the eye and tell them "you are making the wrong decision, you idiot". 

I'm the idiot parent. I was always the one who made the stupid decisions without thinking them through.  R. was the one who steered me back into reality, and it worked.  Sometimes it was annoying as hell when he gave his opinion and we would fight over my stupid decisions (like spending hundreds of dollars on pictures when we were poor).

but they (almost) always made sense, and I miss having that confidence of a second person, even if sometimes it was annoying when he would shoot down my idea of giving Mason brownies for breakfast .  He was my safety net for stupid parenting decisions - and I miss that. 

I've been struggling these past few weeks with some tough decisions, life-changing decisions that I will probably never end up acting on anyways so they will just stay dormant, a dream (or maybe not) in the back of my mind nagging me at what could have been.  I just don't know what to do. 

and even though worrying about these things is really just in the preliminary stages, I have to admit that I do love my life - sometimes.  Maybe not so much the circumstances, but I am comfortable where I am.  Even though I am comfortable and happy(ish), these past few weeks have had me a little frazzled and I needed a safety net - badly. 

So I asked begged my mom to come rescue me, even if only for one day, I needed somebody here. 

Lucky for us, it ended up being a sort of 2-for-1 deal because my aunt came with my mom. 

and it was nice.

even if they are naggy sometimes.

it was nice to go to sleep and not worry about a burglar coming in the house and stabbing my face while I sleep.

because that could really happen, trust me, my mind tells me that each night before I fall asleep. 

Which reminds me, I was supposed to get the pepper spray out of my car and put it in my nightstand just in case a burglar comes (and in case it freezes and blows up in the car, that would be bad!).

As I was saying, my mom and my aunt came to my rescue.  And they brought chocolate which made them even more heroic. 

We laughed and had fun and watched Christmas Vacation because that is what we do in my family, we watch the movie and then reenact our favourite scenes while laughing (with tears). 

and I liked that. 

Then we went to Mason's Christmas concert at school (yes another one...).  We were joined by R.'s side of the family and we ended up taking up the whole first row.  Which is kind of assholey in a way, but in reality we got there first, and besides my kid needs all the love he can get. 

So there we sat like a bunch of fools, waving to the kid who sang the loudest and sang his little Alfalfa(ish) heart out up there on that stage (that I sang on when I was a kid too!).

They sang "Let There Be Peace On Earth" but I secretly told him to sing "pizza" on earth instead of peace, which is kind of assholey and I probably could have used a safety net for that decision, but he used his judgement (aww) and sang peace instead of pizza.  He's reminding me more and more of his father everyday with his wise decisions and the hairyness. 

Babies are weird.

...and by weird I mean cute little bundles of lovies who tug at your ovaries and scream at you for only having one.

I love babies.  I love their curled up fingers, their long and awkward feet, the way their hands almost always curl up to their cheeks for reasons that I will never know, but it's pretty damn cute. Their little cries, their hair, the SMELL.  Have you ever smelled a new baby? One that doesn't have crap in its pants I mean of course.

The way they can pee in their own eye, their little diapers and clothes, and the way they look at you, as if nobody else in the world exists.  Their little eyes, barely blinking, gazing at you lovingly, until you realize they are a breast-fed baby and they really are just sizing up your boobs thinking how great that meal could be.  Babies just don't get it.

The truth is, I'm afraid of babies.  Really afraid.  I'm afraid of their necks and how floppy it is, I'm afraid of dropping them and their mom beating  me up and I'm afraid of getting barfed/pooped/peed on.

I probably won't hold your baby unless you plop the thing in my arms, which is usually what happens.  I'm much more content shaking their hand with my pointer finger, or making silly faces and cooing at them.  Holding babies freaks me out, not to mention it makes my arms tired.  I often wonder how my arms were not like those of Michelle Obama's arms when I had a baby of my own. 

Today I realized I didn't know how old I was.  Somebody asked me and I answered 27, no wait 28.  I was hoping I was 27, but soon realized I was 28.  How does that happen? Where does the time go?  I had Mason when I was 23 years old.  I wanted to be done having kids by the time I'm 30.  Now realizing that I am 28, going to be 29 soon, I realize that goal is never going to happen. 

and it's kind of sad.

I mean, I made a pretty cute kid.

He was an adorable baby.

I should be making more.

Heck I should make like a whole bunch of them and sell them like Cabbage Patch Kids

...but that would be wrong.

...but I bet I'd be rich, and famous.

You may be wondering where this is all coming from.

Why is this girl off her rocker today?

What is wrong with her hormones?

I held a baby.

A cute baby who looks just like his cute older brother did three years ago.  I held this baby (after he was plopped down in my arms) and he stared at me the whole time, which I realized later was probably because my eye makeup was kind of runny and I looked like a hooker.  I hate when hooker makeup ruins beautiful moments.

He was tiny, and cute, and he smelled divine.  Have you ever looked really closely at a baby's wrinkly little hand? Or their fuzzy hair or the little white dots on their noses.

Beautiful.

Architecturally-Challenged of the gingerbread kind

There are certain things in life that people fail to mention.  Things like your baby will take his/her diaper off during nap time and paint the walls with it and that gingerbread houses are bloody hard to put together! 

I mean is there some kind of secret?

There has to be. 

I've tried everything.  A lot of icing, which ended up making the walls fall down and then a little bit of icing which also made the walls fall down.

I learned this lesson last year.

This year I prepared myself and bought a pre-fabricated gingerbread house.

Which is great for the architecturally-challenged people such as myself.

Some people are really good at gingerbread houses.

Others not so much, but they sure make it look pretty darn easy when all they have to do is decorate it.

....although I would probably think twice about eating his creation:

You know times are tough when Dumbledore has to get a second job.

 Me - 7 months old

 There is just something magical about mall Santas.   I mean, you really have to be a good person to be a mall Santa.  You have to be old, preferably with a white beard/white eyebrows and have a whole lot of patience for the hundreds, if not thousands, of kids that come along, and possibly pee, on your lap.  You have to love children, you have to be a good actor and it helps if you don't smell like beef and cheese.   It also helps if you're not a pedophile, because that is just all kinds of wrong.

My family loves mall Santas.

It's like some sort of tradition.  We don't have too many Christmas traditions in my family other than opening one present on Christmas Eve, serving gravy from "the barfing bunny" (who is now lost! *sniff*) and one member of the family unit becomming so drunk at another family member's house on Christmas Eve that he/she passes out and has to be carried up the stairs wrapped in a blanket and out to the car by like ten other family members and then once we get home realize that we can't lift tubbo family member out of the car so he/she spends the night in the car and wakes up the next morning and barfs in a bucket by the front door while us kids open our presents - which usually consisted of cards of money.  Good times.

Another tradition would be having people over for Christmas Eve.  We did that fairly often and one of my favourite things that I remember about Christmas was having all this company in our house and going to bed with them still having fun downstairs.  I know, it's weird. 

One thing us kids never skipped out on at Christmas time was a visit with the mall Santa.


Some kids cry, bite, kick, punch, pull beards or piss on his lap.  Not us.  We were so eager to sit on that potential pedophile fat guy's lap and always cooperated for our annual Santa picture. 

It wasn't just Santa either.  If there was some creepy old dude dressed up as a character, my mom would dish out the cash to get my picture taken with it.  Even the creepy Easter bunny at Eatons.

Eventually as I got older, the Santa visits faded out.  All of a sudden it just wasn't so cool to be on his lap.  One year I was sick and my friends went out and sat on his lap for me.  It was so nice of them.  I wish I could have been in that picture, but I wouldn't have fit in there anyway.

I think it was around that time that I stopped going to see Santa.  Just like many old Christmas traditions in my family, the mall Santa visits faded away and I grew up.

and then I had a baby.

He became the most photographed child that my family had ever seen, so of course I had to start the mall Santa tradition all over again.  Our actual first encounter with Santa didn't go so well.  He wasn't dressed properly, and he cried.  Imagine that, my child crying on Santa's lap.  We couldn't leave without a picture though, so this happened:

 Yes, I realize I look like a bingo lady here.  The truth is I wasn't planning on getting my picture taken that day  - so be nice!

Maybe he just wasn't feeling the vibe from that Santa because a little while later we got our official first Santa pic:

and you guessed it, my kid was not safe from the creepy Easter bunny:

 The next year he was excited to see Santa:

(but I think he was mostly excited for the free candy).

Then he actually started to get excited to see Santa.  It was pretty cute how he tried to butt in line and got jealous of all the other kids sitting on this guy's lap:

...and the next year I guess I forgot to buy a holiday sweater because he ended up with the same one (mom fail!)

Then in 2008 we were in Florida for our annual picture.  Nothing says Christmas like sitting on Santa's lap in a pair of shorts:

The shorts thing didn't sit very well with me, so we got a more traditional shot as well:

 This year I had a bit of a dilemma.  I actually doubted the Santa tradition.  The malls have been crazy lately, my level of irritability was at a high after a lady ran over my ankles in The Superstore today and I was really not in the mood to pay out big bucks for one picture - BUT it is tradition.  Besides, check out how awesome this Santa is:

I've found Dumbledore!!!!! He's alive and well at the mall posing as Santa!

I'm listening...

Oh Internet friends,

I can't thank you enough for stopping by and leaving me lovely comments and being all nice to me and stuff.  I want you to know that I am listening, if there is something you need, I here to help (err..sort of).  I notice that there were quite a few searches that brought you to my site that may have not been all that helpful.  I want you to know that I am listening. 

I know you were disappointed to not find "tommorrow target sing feel pretty" when you stopped by.  I would be glad to help you with that, but I'm not too all sure what that means and besides, I live in Canada.  We don't have Target stores here like you guys. We have Canadian Tire though which I think might be somewhat similar, but no Targets so I can't help you there.

and those that came here for "i am afraid my teeth are loose" I have to agree with you there, I am also afraid of my teeth being loose. Teeth are creepy.  You know what though? You can't eat yummy food without them, I can't think of anything yummy that you wouldn't be able to gum down into swallowable mush but I will totally get back to you on that one.  If your teeth were loose, I hope they didn't fall out. 

but one search term used to come across this site really pulled on my old heart strings....

example letter to a friend in jail say hi
I'm not very good with words and everytime I do a job search I find myself Googling example cover letters for ideas to make myself sound smarter.  Sometimes words just don't make it from your brain to the paper, and that's okay.  I have decided to help you out by writing your example letter to a friend in jail say hi.  Feel free to copy and paste this or write it down, either way I think you will find it very helpful.

Dear Steve,

Man that car chase was whack! You probably would have got away too if you had only had a sports car and not your girlfriend Vicky's mother's mini van.  Filling up with gas probably would havehelped too.  Just some pointers for when you get out in 2012.

The way you tried to rob that bank with your little brother's BB gun was wicked cool!!!! You were like Scarface all up in there, yo!  Only like you don't have all those scars and stuff.  Nobody expected that old lady in line was packing heat, just glad she only grazed ya because an inch further and we all know that there would be no more mini-Steves running around.

We all miss you around here.  Your mom cooks up a mean meatloaf (by the way she says hi and she says you owe her $10).  Your girlfriend Vicky says hi too.  She and the kids miss you lots, but don't worry I've been keeping her company for you. 

Anyway, just wanted to say hi.  I've thrown in some cigarettes that you can use as an offering so that shower incident doesn't happen to you again. 

Your friend,
Joe

PS - Thanks for the license plate with my name on it.  Vicky and I hung it above our bed.

********************************

I have been asked on a date...and I need your help!

....a play date that is!

I have never been invited on a play date before.  Afterall, I am an evil black (err..or not so much black) widow who wants to steal away your husband and cackle laugh as I drive away in my widowmobile with the windows down blasting Wind Beneath My Wings (because that's how I roll, yo!) for much longer than I have been a coupled parent.  I actually lost a few friends after R. died.  I don't know if it was because they just liked him a whole bunch more than me or if they were actually afraid I was going to prey on their hubbies now that mine was gone.


I don't even know what a play date is?  Do you go to their house? Do you invite them to yours? Because I was kind of getting the hint that she wanted me to invite her kid to my house, but I'm confused.  I don't exactly know what a play date is or what one does on a play date? Do the parents have to be on a date too, because I'm not so sure I'm cool with that.  I don't know what to do!!!

We exchanged numbers and e-mail addresses but it's been two days and she hasn't called.  Am I suposed to call her?

So then say I have this play date at my house, what do I do? Do I have to entertain two kids now or should I send them downstairs to play Twister or something?  Do I feed them? Do I read to them...I don't know!

I need your help...what is a play date?

Holiday Fun: PNP (Portable North Pole)

Dear Internet Friends:

I vowed to stop posting more than one blog entry per day, but this is just so cool so I absolutely have to share it with you guys.   Special thanks to @Evil_FaerieGyrl for letting my kid know that Santa is real and that he won't put up with his bad behaviour anymore...uhhh or something like that!
PNP is a web site where you plug in all your child's info and Santa sends a message to them. You can completely customize this message so Santa acknowledges something they have been working hard on (I picked brushing teeth before bed) and then tells them to keep up the good work. 

You should have seen the look on Mason's face when he saw this message.  It was magical.  There was not even an ounce of doubt in his mind that Santa is real.  Plus as an added bonus, I'm pretty sure he won't argue with me about brushing his teeth before bed, well at least until the night of December 25th. 

If you want to see an example of our video you can do so here:
http://santa.sympatico.ca/watch/b94e493643e76418b71b13e7af619ecd

or you can make your own here:
http://santa.sympatico.ca/

Jerks.

Tis the season....for people to be jerks. 

Some of them cut you off while driving without an ounce of second thought.

Some fail to hold the door/elevator for you (welcome to my office building)

Some even give you stinkeye.

I don't blame these people for being jerks, heck sometimes I'm a bit of a jerk too.  Like today when I made my whole office listen to Michael Bolton's Christmas Album.  I sure as heck enjoyed it, them not so much, but they did the right thing and didn't bad mouth my Michael Bolton until his CD had been out of the player for four hours.  They had the kindness to keep their bickering in for that long, and for that I am thankful.

After all, Michael Bolton is a god.

There I said it.

and even though I totally (heart) Michael Bolton, I hope you hear me out when I say this...

Let's work on our kindness people.

I know life can be a big ball of suck sometimes.  Case in point, myself.  I get everything I want, I get to touch it, love it, make babies with it, drive around in it until a deer smashes in my passenger door and takes off with my mirror.  I had it all at some point, and then just like that it's gone.  That is a big ball of suck. I often wonder what else I have to lose at this point.  Almost makes me invincible since I feel like I've got almost nothing left, and it's a pretty shitty deal and I am a jerk about it sometimes.

Sometimes I cut people off while driving (only if they deserved it), sometimes I have a short temper, sometimes I yell at people until I want to cry, and it's tiring.

Being a jerk is pretty hard work.  You have to push your emotions away and just be mean without fearing reprocussions like a punch in the face or someone following you home and smashing out your taillights with a baseball bat.

Being nicer is so much easier.

I think a lot of people are under the wrong impression that being nice always means having to spend money, when in fact it really doesn't have to be that way. Here are some ways you can be nice without having to reach into your pockets:

• Saving tabs from pop cans before you put them in the recycling.  You know some kid is going to be collecting them for their school at some point, why not leave them behind in a little jar until then. 
• Donating your time.  I know it can be a strain to do such a thing when you already work a full-time job, but there are lots of organizations out there that could even use help like stuffing envelopes from your home or making phone calls in your spare time.  
• Saving small insects from certain death.  This has been huge for me lately.  Ladybugs have been appearing in our office mysteriously.  There has been 2-3 everyday and nobody knows where they are coming from.  So I have been collecting them in tissue and releasing them outside.  It didn't occur to me that this was probably just killing them faster since it is so cold out (thanks for telling me that after I've been releasing these little guys for weeks now a-holes - oops that wasn't nice!).  This morning I rescued a worm that was in the middle of the parking lot.  I put him in the sand and as I sat here tonight thinking about that little worm, I realized that worms don't live in sand and that he was probably trying to get away from the sand.  So I guess be nice to creatures, but do your research first. 
• Don't call people a-holes. Apparently they don't like that. 
• Hold the elevator/door open for people.  Even if they are jerks who never do it for you or walk right by when you do hold open the elevator and don't say anything, and even though it frustrates you and makes you want to go and pull that beehive hairdo off her stupid head, you should just smile and chuckle to yourself, that person totally looked like an a-hole for doing that and you are the nice one.  Way to go champ!
• Let people in when traffic is congested - but only one person because if you let a whole row of cars in then you will look like the a-hole. Chances are the person you let in is going to drive like a total moron and slow down your whole late, then everybody will hate you.  If you only let one in then your chances are slim that the person drives like a moron so you look like a nice person. 
• Listen to Michael Bolton. He makes beautiful music that makes you a happier person.
  
• Smile at people.  Besides, you're uglier when you frown. 
• Listen to what people have to say.  Even if they are boring as crap, sometimes people really need to be listened to. 
• Bring an extra snack with your lunch.  People love free food!
• Work on somebody's farm on Farmville.  People love when they think that you love them (but really you will get coins and xp points so you really love yourself more than them).  
• Maybe work on a real farm.  Nobody likes to shovel their horse's crap.
  
• Bake cookies for the whole office.  That way you don't eat them all by yourself while watching re-runs of Grey's Anatomy and yelling at the TV for McDreamy to get away from Meredith because she's creepy. 
• Pretend you like Twilight.  You will be doing a teenage girl a favour.
  
• Recycle. Save the earth.  Seriously. 

I'm sure there are many more, but you get the idea.  If everybody vowed to be a little nicer each day and did a couple acts of kindness here and there, the world would be a greater place for everyone.  If everyone was nicer maybe there would be no wars (dreamer) and maybe those stop the TV tax ads would stop being rolled out every other commercial.  Maybe the Swiss Chalet commercials wouldn't make me cry so much.  Maybe our kids would learn to be nicer and maybe Michael Bolton would make beautiful music again.

Kindness is a powerful thing.

Now with less Grinch!

The holiday season is now in full swing! You pretty much know the season has begun when every other commercial is a holiday tear jerker and you hear four different versions of Feliz Navidad on the radio every day.

Even though I said I wasn't okay with it, I think I kind of am.

We decorated the office reception area the other day.  I was in charge of the window clings.  Apparently if you get drunk on fireball egg nog at the office one year and lick all the window clings one time, people refuse to do that job for years afterward.  I should have licked something awesome like the star on the top of the tree so I could have been in charge of that too.  Maybe I will go to work and lick it on Monday.

I did a wonderful job with the window clings though.  I really should have taken a picture to prove to you my awesome window cling sticking skillz.  As I was licking the big giant Santa cling, I noticed not only was I putting them on backwards and that they actually stuck better if you used the proper side, but I also noticed that I was in a Christmassy mood!  Then the clings started to taste gross so I let the dog lick the rest of them.  I just have to make sure I remember that for next year.

I am in love with the holiday season right now.  The lights on the tree, those little dangly stuffed animal things that jingle everytime the door opens, the smell of the cool night air, the lights in the park, Christmas specials on TV, the holiday coffee cups that now litter our sidewalks (pick up your litter, yo!).  These are all things that remind me of happy times, except the littered coffee cups - that kind of angers me.

I have to laugh at myself for getting so worked up for nothing.  This is all great.

If R. were alive, this would probably be the year he would reenact a scene from A Christmas Story (not the Mary and Joseph version, I mean the movie).  If you knew him you probably already guessed the scene from A Christmas Story where the dad points out the wrapped Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time behind the desk.  It would have been exactly the same way. R. would hide it from me, and I would disapprove but allow it anyway because I could see that glimpse in his eye (that he would end up shooting out after our son would go to bed that evening). 

I want to bake.  I want to turn off all the lights, except for our tree, and watch Christmas Vacation in my snowflake pyjamas.  I want to drink egg nog and lick your Christmas decorations.  I want to wrap presents and listen to Michael Bolton's Christmas album and do emotional hand movements while doing so. I want to be with my family, as crazy as that may sound.

It might be the great deals I've been getting ($130 wii!) or the fact that my shopping is almost complete *evil laugh* and that we are not almost homeless after getting some great deals during my shopping excursions, or the fact that I am in love with telling grinchy people that they will be visited by three ghosts, but it may have been that my heart was two sizes too small.

Keep your germs off my crap...

I don't get paid sick days, and it sucks.

but it is probably for the best because everytime I do fall ill, I convince myself that my illness is something much worse which usually ends up with me thinking that I am going to die. 

I'm a wimp.  I will admit that openly because I feel comfortable enough to admit that to the 40 of you that regularly read this blog.  I feel like this is a therapy session in some ways.  I am a baby with a low tolerance of pain, fevers and boogery noses. 

My kid handles being sick better than I do. 

I am a bit dramatic. What can I say?  Everytime I get sick I try to pinpoint where the illness came from.  Then I whine about it and then eventually I convince myself that this illness/injury will eventually lead to death/disability or put me in a mental institution. 

If I have cold symptoms, it's lung disease. A papercut? I need stitches.  Headache? Tumour. Blurred vision? Stroke (nevermind that I forgot to take my contacts out the night before, that doesn't mean a thing!). Sore arm? Heart attack.  Heartburn? Heart attack.  

One of my greatest enemies is Google.  When I had this weird eye discharge one time I Googled it which ended up having me convinced I had Syphilis.  Then I remembered there was absolutely no possible way I have Syphilis and after an embarrassing appointment I discovered that I am STD free! yaaay (wanna date?). 

I guess what I am trying to say here is that you really shouldn't Google your symptoms unless you want to end up naked from the waist down in the middle of winter in a cold room staring at the ceiling and just hearing your doctor walk in from the cold -27 degree weather.  Because that really is neither fun, nor necessary if you would have just went to the eye doctor in the first place to discover that you really just had an eye infection.  Good times, now I'm embarassed a lot. 

To further embarass myself, I should probably describe my humiliating hypochondriac problem a little more.  I know a lot of women complain about their husbands being whiners when they are sick, and I have in fact seen many examples of this in person, the fact is, I think I might secretly be a man.  A man who does not have STDs (wanna date?).  This is a pretty shameful confession for someone who lived with someone who had cancer.  I was the one who would yell down the hall, "Honey, when you are done puking and having your hair fall out, could you please run to the pharmacy and get me some Nyquil so I can go into my Nyquil-induced coma now?"

Actually, when we met I was in a Nyquil-induced coma. He should have known better...

Last week I was overcome with a bout of H1N1 the common cold but I still had to go to work because I was still trying to financially recover from the last time I had to miss work when Mason was sick. 

So sometime as I snotted around the office, touching doorknobs, keyboards and photocopier buttons, I noticed a strange trend going on with my office mates.  Nobody would come near me.  Which was kind of nice.  Maybe it was the rolled up kleenexes shoved up into my nasal passages like disheveled tampons, but I definitely got the vibe that these people really didn't want to be around me, and even worse they had no sympathy for my germs.  Which upset me.  Afterall, I'm not the only one who spreads germs around that place.  At least I'm not washing my poopy hands for only 2 seconds in the washroom, yes I listen to the sink after you go you jerks.

They pretty much followed me around with Lysol wipes the entire day.  I mean not literally, but if following someone around with Lysol wipes wasn't creepy and/or weird then they totally would have been.  Luckily my office mates are neither creepy and/or weird, sometimes annoying with their renditions of Beyonce's "Halo" but really are a very loveable group of people. 

No wait, sometimes they are mean to me like when they make fun of me for things I say that might be stupid.  Like when I told my boss she should flash Andrea Bocelli at his concert.  I didn't know he was blind...I DIDN'T KNOW STOP MAKING FUN YOU JERKS! ...and that's all I have to say about that.

My illness was horrid!  Like you know when you get a cold and either your nose or your chest is congested? My nose AND my chest were congested.  I was pretty sure I was drowning internally by my own boogers. Then the next day I coughed up something that looked like a little yellowish salamander and I felt so much better (sorry was that too much info?). Seriously though, one time I was way sicker than I was last week and I swear I blew a salamander out of my nose.  It was the worst nose pain I have ever felt and I'm pretty sure it enlarged my nasal passage on the way out. Thinking back now that might have been a piece of my lung.  I survived though (yaay me!).

I've been feeling pretty great for a few days now.  Things are pretty much back to normal.  The dishes have been done, the floor has been partially vacuumed and the McDonalds toys that I tripped on every single day last week have been picked up off the living room floor and promptly found themselves in the Goodwill donation bin in the parking lot at my work (shows you for leaving those stupid toys on the floor when I told you to pick them up *shakes fist*). 

I came in to work trying to whistle a happy tune, I say trying because I am a terrible whistler.  Seriously, I was whistling this morning.  I take a look around and it's like booger zombie apocolypse all up in my office.  Three people with bright red noses complaining of their boogers and coughing every five seconds.  I reognized those booger and cough symptoms, they caught my germs!

Of course I felt bad, but now I know they must have some sort of sympathy for what I went through because they are experiencing it first hand now.  What can I say? I'm a generous person.

Wordless Wednesday: December 2, 2009

I love wordless Wednesday when I am too tired to write about anything. 


Post coming tomorrow...I promise!