Day 31: The dance...

Do you ever hear a song on the radio and you just stop what you're doing and your mind drifts off into a memory.  Sometimes it's a good memory, sometimes bad.

You hear about it all the time.  Couples are in a heated argument and their wedding song comes on the radio and they stop arguing immediately or you hear your dead grandmother's favourite song and it brings back good memories of homemade fudge at her kitchen table.

Today I heard a song.

It wasn't *the* song, but it was a song.  The song does have some good memories, like the time R. got up and sang karaoke with his *crazy* friend.  R. sang the woman's part.  Something he normally would never do, but he did and it was hilarious.

and then he died and his mother suggested we play that song at his funeral.

but I couldn't have that song playing.  It just didn't seem like the right one, although it reminded us of a happy time, the lyrics were just awful, and I had one in mind that just wouldn't rest.

I mean there we were sitting in the exact room that he died in, the following morning.  I was making frantic phone calls to get the hospital bed out of my house.  I wanted it gone that day.  Immediately.  That never happened, in fact it took a couple days.  Which I never understood.  I remember leaning against the wall watching them disassemble the thing and take it out piece by piece.  I don't even know why that is significant but it's one of those things I can never forget.

In case you were wondering what the offending song was, it was Picture by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow. In case you are not familiar with that song, I will post the lyrics below:"

Lyrics | Kid Rock lyrics - Picture lyrics

I mostly thought about what my grandmother would think listening to a song like that at a funeral.  She probably would have fallen off of her little wheely car thingy holding her chest (she's very dramatic). 

I didn't care about flowers, I didn't care about the casket, I didn't care about what clothes he wore, but I just couldn't let this one go.  I had to pick the song.

and I chose this song:

Watch The Dance - Garth Brooks in Music  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

and you're probably thinking how perfect the song is and how fitting the lyrics are.   Truth is, this was just picked from one of my favourite memories.  R. loved this song, me not so much, until now of course.  Back then it was just another one of those country songs like "my dog stole my Chevy truck and took off with my wife" kinds of songs.  Even though the song was not my cup of tea, when I was feeling down about something or angry about something, R. would put this song on and sing it to me in my face.  Literally two inches from my nose.  Close enough that I could probably count each hair in his goatee.  

He used to sing it with his fake country voice and sometimes even threw air guitar in.  Eventually I would end up laughing, and sometimes I hit him in the face because he was bugging me.  


I never realized at the time that those moments would affect me so much, or that the song would become one song that I wish to avoid for the rest of my life.  

yet I can't bring myself to delete it from my iPod. 


So that was the song I chose.  Him singing that song, waving his air guitar around my kitchen is a memory that will always make me smile and I really thought I could use that kind of thing at the funeral.  

The funeral that I don't remember other than sitting there emotionless while my 15 month old ran up and down the aisle (is that what they're called in a funeral home?).  Someone speaking, another person speaking, people crying, why wasn't I crying? Someone taking my baby.  Someone grabbing my hand, someone who sat beside me that I don't remember who it was.  


I do remember this song being played on the crackly old speakers though. 

It didn't make me smile, not that time. 

Then playing it over and over again, hoping to get that memory back.  Instead I just cried.  I tortured myself with that song for a long time.  Until I decided to take it out of my playlist (but keep it on the iPod in case I ever needed it).  

and I haven't.  


*Happy 35th Birthday.  Today you would have been really old and I would have made fun of you.  We would have had cake which you probably would have shoved in my face so hard it would go all the way up my nostrils and I would be smelling cake for a week and then you would laugh at me, the same laugh your son has only older.  Hard to believe...you would have been old.

Day 30: They don't like my back end...

Long story short, my insurance went up (again) and now it is at a completely unfair rate.  I found out it was because the car I chose has a high rating for claims and accidents with the insurance company so in turn I get totally screwed over not because I am a bad driver, but because I picked the wrong car. 

Strangely enough, if I get another Beetle, my insurance will go down to my current rate (which is still higher than the last time I owned a Beetle).  I decided the best thing to do is to sell the car.  I never really fell in love with the car, and it was just used to get me to and from work, but with the price of gas, insurance, oil changes and maintenance, not to mention the stupid drivers/pedestrians in this city, it's really not worth it. 

Seriously, I've had people walk out in front of me with their baby strollers, I've had a guy swing his shoes at me (rollerblader), I've had old men try to run me off the road and I've had wild animals who like to give me loads of stress. I'm just done with it.  The way I see it, why am I driving a car that I never really wanted in the first place and paying so much to do so.  It just doesn't make sense anymore.

So I am on a mission.  Again. I found another Benny, Benny II if you will.  I first saw this car last fall.  I fell in love with it then and propositioned the car lot to do a fair trade of my current vehicle (which is a year newer and has less mileage).  They wrote down my info and promised to call, which they never did.  So I forgot about Benny II.  Until the other day when I was browsing Kijiji and there he was.  The exact same Benny II at the exact same car lot, for a cheaper price. 

I contacted the owner who told me that Benny II had sold shortly after I looked at him last fall, but that he was returned because the buyer wanted to a Mercedes and this car lot got the Mercedes in.  Benny II got a new tint job and new tires while he was owned by someone else.  Lucky Benny II. 

The thing about my car is that it was in an accident before (not by me) and so I got it for pretty cheap.  It was hit in the back end, but this was all fixed up, so other than it saying on my ownership that this had happened, the car is excellent. 

At least I thought so. 

I decided that I was going to go and propose another trade for Benny II today.  So I took Eileen (my new car) in to the little spray and wash place (which is never a really great idea when it is -10 out) and sprayed her all down so she looked good as new.  I mean I scrubbed and froze my fingers off making that car look pretty. 

Then I drove down the street to the car lot, where in that time the water had all frozen all over the car and made it look horrible again (me and my great ideas).  Also a case of Diet Coke had exploded in the trunk of the car this morning, I was really pushing my luck. 

Of course the salesmen put on their charm, let me molest start up Benny II and check out all his new work (I had previously driven this car in the fall so I felt no need to take it out again at this point, didn't want to get myself too attached).

But I wasn't there to fondle a Beetle, I was there to wheel and deal.  I've dealt with a lot of car lot people in this past year, I feel pretty experienced in my ability to tell them what I want or I walk away (and cry about it...a lot....later).  We got talking and the car salesman pointed out that he didn't like my car's back end.

Offended I was.

Pardon moi?  You don't like my car's ass?  WTF dude? He said he could see where they had done the repair job and that it was a pretty bad job they did to fix it.  I have had this car since July, I am a very picky person when it comes to my expensive things and I never had problem with my car's ass...until he pointed it out just today.

This is the best picture I could find of the car, which hardly shows the back end where it was hit, but you get the idea.  Anyway, this salesman said they wouldn't buy my car, but they could bring it to an auction where they could get anywhere from $1500 to $2000 for it.  I paid $8000 in July for this car. 

I'm not stupid.  This is a 2004 with 91000km on it.  Tell me where I can find a car with that low km on it for $1500 and I'm sold.

After that, we made a pit stop at the grocery store where we bought all the necessities for big huge banana splits.  I put the bags in the trunk and shook my head, just thinking about how ugly my car's ass is.  So then we came home and made this:

Which helped, for a little bit. Squirting a glob of whipped cream into my mouth also helped a little bit. 


So now I have to drive around town worrying about my car's ass.  I will wonder if people are looking at my car's ass, and I will be grumpy about it because now I feel like I will never be able to sell this car.  This all sort of reminds me of my own ass actually.  My mom always made comments about my "bubble butt that I couldn't have gotten from my father because he has no ass" so I have always been so self conscious about it. Long shirts have been my savior for many years, you know to hide my big bubble butt. 

Oh Eileen we are one and the same.  I only hope that someone will see past our asses and pick us to be their very own.

Uhh..that was weird.  I know.

Day 29: ASK EVILFLU: How Makeout-able is Abraham Lincoln?

 On a scale from one to ten - ten being the most makeout-able - how much would you rate Abraham Lincoln? by dianashamdai

 Oh man, this is a hard one! I mean Abraham Lincoln had some pretty great makeout-able features, most of them personality wise, you know that whole "honest Abe" thing is a major turn on.

I guess it depends on the context you look at him from. If he was just regular old Abe, there really isn't much potential there, rather than personality so I would give him a 5/10.

Then we have Abraham Lincoln in the Night at the Museum movie. Totally cool guy with his shiny stone body...that brings him up a notch or two. Let's say 8/10 for this Abraham.

This Abe is totally makeout-able. 10/10!!

Now let me just take a moment here to pay respect to the best makeout-able Abe ever.  The Abraham Lincoln from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure who unfortunately died in 2000.  I had no idea I had been living in a world so long without this Abraham.  He will be missed.    Also sad is this is the only picture I could find of him (yes this was the biggest one).  This is tragic. Someone should make a fan site or something to honour this Abraham. I have to admit though, Napoleon was the best in that movie!

This question was submitted by one of my super-cool readers using my formspring.me. Questions are still being accepted so feel free to ask me anything!

Day 28: What ever happened to customer service?

This is our "NOT HAPPY" face

The past couple days I've been going through Evilboy's clothes and toys, gathering stuff up to get rid of.  It's all about downsizing right now.  I am in downsize mode, or spring cleaning before spring, if you will. 

I gathered up quite a bit of stuff, most of which were probably worthless to this store (how on earth does one child have so many jeans with holes in the knees??) so I donated them to Goodwill (hey, the hole look is in sometimes, or maybe they can be cut into shorts or recycled?). 

I figured anything that didn't sell at this store could then be passed on to his younger cousin, and then to his younger cousin, which would lead to his younger cousin...the list goes on and on.

So I packed the stuff up all neatly in Rubbermaid bins.  I packed up some toys, especially the ones that hurt the most when I step on them, and put them all in the trunk of my car with the intention of bringing them in to the store.  In the end I had two Rubbermaid boxes of items.  One of clothes, one of toys.

Right after work I picked up Evilboy from daycare and drove all the way across town (in rush hour) to arrive at this store at 5:15pm (this is important, trust me).  I wasn't sure if they were purchasing toys at this time because the last time I was in, the aisle was so messy and overrun with toys that it seemed to me they had too many, so I decided I should go in and ask first before lugging in the bins. 

I went in and asked, and I was informed that they were purchasing toys and clothing.  When I told them I was going to retrieve my bins from the car and I would be right back, Mrs. RudeFace "Buyer" told me not to bother because they were too busy to look through items and that she was leaving the store soon anyway and the other girl there Mrs. BigDumbFace, was not able to purchase items.  I figured it was because I told them I had a whole bin of clothes so I offered to bring in the toys only, to which Mrs. RF rolled her big rude eyes and said no. 

The thing is, there is a big sign on the store which states their buying hours are until 6pm.  I was there at 5:15, and after arguing with these tools it was now 5:20.  So if that were the case, why not tell people their buying hours are until 5:15 and no later.

So I left.

and I will never return.

but I had to write a nasty letter to the manager and cc corporate as well.  You see, being an administrative professional makes me a good letter writer.  I have taken to writing letters  to all kinds of companies and people that piss me off.  Sometimes I send them, sometimes I don't, either way it is a good way to relieve stress.

The thing is, this company has been treating the people of this city like assholes for far too long.  I know many people who have horror stories of this store and the rude staff.  I never had to experience it first hand until now, and I am pissed!

I hope they enjoy their nice little letter I wrote them.

Now I must go and start listing my stuff on Kijiji.


One good thing about our wasted trip, we got to see a pretty awesome police takedown!

Day 27: Wordless Wednesday January 27, 2010

I keep this picture on my desk at work.Not only does it represent my son so well, but it was the first picture that I took with my SLR that I was actually happy with.  The expression on his face just shows his character so well and reminds me so much of the way he was back then.

Day 26: The Hannah Montana Complex....

Hannah Montana and I are like the same person.  Not including the time I got my bangs cut like hers, I mean like we are the same person, but not in looks, or age and I'm pretty sure my daddy isn't Robbie Ray, but you never know.  My mom did meet him a couple times *shrug*

What I am really trying to get at here is that I have a secret life.  I am a rockstar in one life and dull single mother who works all day long, all the while working on ideas for her rock star life.

That is me, in a nutshell.

Someone asked me a really great question the other day in my Formspring.me asking me why I blogged.  I did answer the question honestly, but I really think I can elaborate on it a little more.

I began blogging a long time ago.  I became hooked on it after getting my first comment.  Realizing someone was there listening to me and offering support and advice, I couldn't stop. I blogged when things were going good, I blogged when things were bad, I blogged when I was devastated, the whole time having support of strangers.  People I've never met in my entire life offering advice and words of encouragement.  Blogging became therapy for me.

When I thought I didn't need therapy anymore, I changed it up a bit and began blogging about my photography (If you travel back into the early archives here you will find some of those photography posts).  At the time, I kept a private blog where I let out my emotions.  I mean it was some pretty deep stuff I wrote about.

The two separate blogs didn't represent myself very well (not to mention I didn't take the greatest pics) so again I changed it up and merged the two together and I decided to write and take pictures.  I love being a blogger, and even though most of the times I struggle for things to write about, I just love writing about anything.  I like to share things, I'm a presenter - but in real life I am ridiculously shy.

I have never shared this blog with my family, my friends or my co-workers, with the exception of a very small few who have discovered it.  Each time someone discovers my blog I get butterflies.  Shy girl FREAKS out.  First I think "did I write anything bad about them?" Which is usually never the case, but I can't help but think that for some reason. 

Mostly I am embarrassed.  Because this is not really real life me.  This is Internet me...evilflu.   I would never admit to someone that I am depressed, although I'm fairly certain they all know by now, I just choose to ignore that they would think that, or maybe they don't, I don't know and that's how I like it to be. 

There have been a few cases where people I know have stopped by.  At first I'm not really okay with it.  I get really embarrassed and feel like taking the whole site down just so they can't read my feelings, but I can't stop now. 

This is my therapy.  This is my space (not to be confused with MySpace which is a totally creepy site).  This is where I tell you I like Hello Kitty and taking pictures.  This is where I tell you that I have crushes on bus drivers and air conditioning men and this is where I talk about being a single mom and what it's like to want to stab your eyeballs out when your kid throws a tantrum in the store.

So to answer your question, 
I blog because I like to and because it makes me happy.
I blog because this is how I really feel and this is a place where I'm not afraid to feel it.
I blog because I have a terrible memory (yes, sadly I use this as a memory tool)
I blog because I like Internet people.  You all are friendly and kind and you are always there.

Day 25: Peek A Blocks...

These have always been my favourite baby toy.  I have held on to these things for years.  They have moved three times with us. Three different houses these blocks have been lugged around to. The thing is, this isn't even half of them.  The collection goes on and on.  Another one of my obsessions I guess.

I collected these blocks insanely.  I would dig through bins of Peek A Block packages to find a set we already didn't own, because I loved them so much.  Mason played with them maybe a total of five minutes his entire life. 

I tried to sell them on Kijiji last year.  I started to panic when I realized I was about to get rid of these toys. I thought of all the uses for them.  When the person didn't show up, I took the ad down and kept them for Mason to play with (which he never did).  

Since then they have been sitting in a basket in the basement, and with big changes to come, I'm afraid it has come time to part with "my" "collection" and move on to downsizing. 

Yep.  Downsizing.

Ever since my mom told me I should be on Hoarders , and some other things that came up recently, I have decided to do a sweep of the house and downsize everything.  Beginning with the Peek A Blocks.

I'm tough. I will get through this.  *sniff*

Day 24: Who We Are....

Even before he was born I knew what he was going to be like.  I was absolutely starving every morning before 5am when I was pregnant.  I would lay in bed thinking about food.  I would dream about eating things like cheesecake and banana splits and lemonades with big giant lemons in it.  I used to go to sleep with a pack of those Special K bars (mmmm...Special K bars).  It all started when we went to visit R.'s brother in Windsor and I was worried about how I would deal with being so hungry and waking up everyone in the house as I raided their cupboards and shoved my face full of their favourite cereal.  So I brought my own snack.  To prevent disruption even further, I slept with the box and then I went around thinking I was a genius for coming up with that idea. I still kind of think I am.

So I wasn't surprised when Mason was born as a ravenous hunter of food.  He absolutely loved food.  He would make this sound when he ate that was kind of like a gasp and I was so worried that he was broken or his throat hole didn't shut right.  Turns out he just liked to eat...as fast as he could.  None of that really changed.  It's just who he is.

Then he went through the vehicle phase.  Everything the kid touched was a car, complete with car noises.  This began really early on, as soon as he started making noises, everything sounded like a car.  Dad's shoes, baby wipe boxes, a live lobster we bought to eat one time.  They were all cars. Cars are his life.

That's just who he is.

Poor lobster had no idea what was coming next.

Just today I learned of the next phase of Mason. It's magic.  He is a magician, and I have to brag a little, he is a pretty darn good magician!  While I was busy tidying up after a wild sixth birthday party he watched an instructional DVD on how to be a magician with a kit he got at his party.  Some of the tricks he showed me blew me away.  Okay, that's not really that hard to do, but still his tricks were pretty amazing (and he was a pretty cute magician I might add).

 

I've enjoyed learning about who he is for six years now (and yes, that makes me feel super-old). 

Who am I?

I am a lover of photography.

 I love taking pictures with my most favourite boy.

 

I love cat hats (not just in the winter).

 

I love Hello Kitty

I like messy hair and big sunglasses

 

I love my phone.

Who are you?


 

Day 23 - The End of Birthdays...

It's over.

Mason's sixth birthday week is finished and done. 
No more presents.  No more parties.  No more CAKE.  Today was the last of it all (and I am a little glad it's all over).

Usually I have two separate birthday parties. One for his school friends and one for family.  I thought it was a brilliant idea last year when I was feeling like I was neglecting the family over the friends at the museum parties because I didn't want to miss a thing. 

Two parties is exhausting, and expensive!

The whole point though was to spend time with family separate from friends, and although I like the idea, every year when the family party rolls around and I have to get the house ready and decorate and buy a cake and balloons and have a whole bunch of people squeeze into my family room, I find myself getting crabby.  Which doesn't mix well when you have family over.  It makes dealing with the fish food dumped on the floor of your office a whole lot harder to deal with when you are already stressed from pre-party preparation.

This is the last year of separate parties.  From now on we will be united again, school kids and family alike.  I'm sure at some point this was a good idea, especially the year when we had something like 20 adults and 14 kids at the museum for a party.

Of course there were more toys to join the pile of unopened toys that are still sitting from Christmas and last week's party.  Of course there were tears over possessions from my "only child" and pin the tail on the donkey that turned almost tragic, but being with family is what it's all about and I really think everyone had a good time.

Day 22 - TALONS

This post is not ridiculously late, well maybe it is actually but I think it's a good thing because then I can write about my day. So here is my 3:30am drunken blog post. What? Also please note that the owl gang is the coolest and we eat mice!

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

Day 21: Girl Talk Thursday, January 21, 2010

This is my first time playing "Girl Talk Thursday" so be nice.  I'm pretty excited though because to be honest I had absolutely nothing to write about today.  Well I did, but I couldn't get my thoughts out in writing, does that ever happen to you?

So this edition of Girl Talk Thursday focuses on pet peeves, which is also pretty exciting because I am a chronic complainer.  However, I thought this would be an easy topic for me to write about, but I'm having a really hard time remembering what all my pet peeves are.  I usually only think about them as they are happening, but I promise I will try my best to list them out for you.

Rude People - This would include those who butt in line (I'm thinking of you "Dollarama Man"), and those who cut you off while driving or take your turn at a stop sign.  I especially don't enjoy the people who let a door slam in your face rather than holding it for a quick second, but even more so I hate the people who don't say thank you when you hold open a door for them.  I don't know why it bothers me so much, I mean it's two little words.  I say thank you fifty bajillion times a day, and I mean it, so I guess I just want people to return the favour once in a while. 

Whiny People - Those who whine about how shitty their life is, how someone did something wrong and now they have to fix it or when they whine about their figure and they are a size 0.   I especially hate it when they start to cry as they are whining.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for hearing about your issues, otherwise I would be a pretty shitty friend, but when you are crying because someone hung up the phone on you too quickly or a store wouldn't give your money back for the bikini bottoms that didn't fit your size 0 ass, I don't want to hear it.

Lazy People - People who use you as a door mat.  This is the age of the Internet, smart phones and yes even your regular telephone.  If you want information on something, call yourself to get it.  Don't call me and ask me to look up movie times for you on my "Internet thingy" because it just aggravates the heck out of me.  I'm not going to drop everything I'm doing to look up the number for the movie theater for you, I don't want to read your entire report back to you over the phone and I sure as heck will not write an e-mail and say it's from you.  Do. It. Yourself.

Bad Drivers - I kind of touched on this before with rude people, but it has to be said.  The way people drive around here is appalling! I've seen people yapping away on their cell phones and almost running over pedestrians/cyclists, running red lights just from not paying attention, driving so close that they are almost touching my bumper. I am not the world's greatest driver by any means, but I am careful and I do follow the rules.  Parking is a whole other thing though.

Dollar Store Toys - I'm sorry if you are a dollar store toy lover, but I honestly think these things should be banished.  Every single time EvilBoy has been given a dollar store toy it has broken as soon as it came out of the package, heck most of the time it was broken IN the package.  Everytime I walk through the toy aisle in these stores I just think of all these toys and how they are hurting the environment (shut up, stop calling me David Suzuki). These toys last a day, at the most.  There is the packaging that goes to the landfill and then the toy is soon to follow.  Then there is the energy and materials it takes to actually make this item.  It just makes me sick to think of it.

Gossipers - The people who find your life fascinating, so fascinating in fact that they must go and rush to tell someone else where you are or what you're doing and try to analyze every thing you do. Even though at first it did make me feel all like Brangelina-ish to have someone so interested in everything I do, after a while it got pretty much annoying so ties had to be cut. I'm really not a fascinating person, I don't know how this person found so much to talk about and to have the other person listen.  I mean you can only tell how someone went to Wal-Mart shopping so many times before it gets to be old news. 


Internet Acronyms - I'm terrible for this one myself, mostly with LOL.  I used to love these things back in the IRC days, but ever since my mother started using them I find them to be a bit of an annoyance.  My mother told me she wrote "FFS" on someone's wall today on Facebook.  I don't want to know whose, but I hope it wasn't mine.



Pushy People - Those who won't take no for an answer, especially when they ask over and over.  No means no.  It doesn't mean  maybe or oh yes please I really enjoyed that you asked me twice so now the answer is yes.  It means NO.  If I say "maybe" this gives you the opportunity to ask again in the near future.

Smoking- Smoking is so bad for you, but you can quit.  I hear it's pretty hard, but if you are having trouble quitting, let me tell you what I went through with a smoker.  Let me tell you about his struggles with smoking and how it all ended.  It's not a nice story.

Day 20 - Wordless Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I'm mad at myself for not taking more pictures at the party. 

Day 19: Psychic(ish)

Sometimes I feel like I'm a little bit psychic.

...but not in the creepy crystal-ball, come in and clean my house, we built a shower in our apartment that leaked into yours sort of way.

Don't try to understand that last sentence, it probably doesn't make sense to you at all.

But sometimes I have dreams and they come true.  Which is really kind of scary because I have some pretty messed up dreams!

These "visions" play out more like déjà vu. Like one time I was standing in front of my dryer loading in clothes and for some reason I remember the exact same thing happening in my dream. Right down to which clothing items I was holding in my hand at that very moment.

Then there are the times when I have these strange coincidence things, which is normal, but when they start happening in multiples it gets a little too creepy.

 For instance, yesterday I was at my desk, daydreaming and such as I usually do on Monday mornings.  Usually I daydream about shopping or Disneyland or my bed, but this morning in particular I was daydreaming about new glasses.  I was just thinking how I should get a new pair of glasses because I keep falling asleep with the old ones on and now they are all bent to hell.  Not to mention, they are two prescriptions old.  So I never wear them, and when I do I end up looking like this:

(stupid) or maybe even (Harry Potter's twin sister).

So I was thinking about these glasses and how wearing them would be so much easier than poking my eyeballs in each morning with my contacts.  Not to mention think of the money I would save by not having to buy contact lens solution. 

So I figured out a way I could afford new glasses (barely) and made plans to visit the glasses store after work.

Plans changed slightly when I decided to put off glasses shopping for a day that wasn't Monday and I went straight home instead.  I checked my mailbox and there was a flyer for a new glasses store that was opening up . It was buy one pair, get two free PLUS you get a free eye exam.   It sounds like a great deal, but I'm a little freaked out by it.  You know in movies when this sort of stuff happens something bad goes along with it.  For some reason the only example for a movie with this sort of situation is Gremlins.  I don't know why, but that movie was pretty damn scary.


Even though it was Monday and it was a pretty dull day, somehow we ended up talking about windshield wiper fluid in my office.  I love talking about windshield washer fluid because I have a pretty amazing story!  When I bought the Beetle, one of the first things I bought was windshield wiper fluid.  Unfortunately I never got to use it (see: unfortunately).  That wasn't the amazing part though, I have had my current car for a few months now, some of which during pretty crappy weather, and I have put a lot of mileage into this car.  I was amazed that I still have that full bottle of washer fluid in the back of my car, still unopened. 

I bragged about my huge wiper fluid  tank and how amazing it was that I have never had to fill it, not even once.

Then my *lovely* co-worker pointed out that I recently had an oil change and that I bring my car to the shop pretty much every other week (because I'm a paranoid loser) and that the mechanic was most likely topping up the fluids when I brought it in. 

I'm not gonna lie, I felt like a dumb ass.

I feel like even more of a dumb ass now though because wouldn't you know it, as I was driving home after work I caught a glimpse of a bright orange light on my dask. 

Right away I think OMGTHECARISGOINGTOEXPLODEIHAVETOPULLOVER, but then rational flu kicked in and I decided to wait until I saw the flashing light blink again.  Sure enough, as I went around a corner the light flashed again and guess what light it was.

The wiper fluid light. 

Which makes me wish I had talked about winning the lottery that day. 

Remind me to dream of winning the lottery more often, and then remind me to play because I never do. 

ASK EVILFLU: Have you ever met one of your followers and would you ever consider it?

Have you ever met one of your followers and would you ever consider it?

I like this question, it makes me sound like one of those crazy cult leader dudes *my followers*. Has a nice ring to it!

I have met a few of my followers and they are all totally awesome people. One time I met a follower (aka Internet dude) and he locked my friend and I in his bedroom with his Star Wars paraphernalia. I know it sounds funny as ass, but truth is I was a little bit scared. We traveled pretty far to meet this jerk, by subway. Which was scary enough.

In the end we were okay, it turns out it was a joke about locking us up with Star Wars figurines.

Now that I'm older, I know that if I ever find myself in such situation you a) bring pepper spray b)don't go in stranger's houses unless you know they are cool c) hold Princess Leia hostage with a pocket knife and threaten to cut off her plastic head.

This question was submitted by one of my super-cool readers using my formspring.me. Questions are still being accepted so feel free to ask me anything!

Day 18: Co-Sleeping Confessions...

My six year old still sleeps in my bed. 

There,  I admitted it.  This is the first step, right?

The thing is, we have a problem.  I have a problem, he has a problem.  Unfortunately my problem is a little worse than his when he has an accident and pisses all over me.  That's sort of a bigger problem because nobody should have to wake up drenched in someone else's piss.  Ever. 

Okay that hasn't happened for a long time, at least not since he's been six years old anyway.  Piss is disgusting.

So his problem is pissing the bed not wanting to sleep alone, in the dark, in his dark scary room and getting the covers stolen from him, because they all belong to me after all. 

and my problems are: getting pissed on, getting kicked in the back, face and legs and having to hear his teeth grinding. 

It's quite obvious who has the disadvantage here.  Getting pissed on pretty much takes the win.

There is just no arguing that. 

Having to listen to him grind his teeth comes in at a close second place.

The thing is, I have no desire to have him sleep in his own bed.  I think with a little hard work and a cute night light with some beloved character on it, it could be a pretty easy transition for him.

but I'm afraid.

Like really afraid.

I am afraid of fires and not being able to reach him. 
I am afraid of a gas leak in our stove and because his room is closer to the stove he would die first.
I am afraid of burglars and kidnappers stealing him away.
I am afraid of earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes and not being able to reach him in time. 
I am afraid of not hearing him breathe (and grind his teeth) beside me. 

The world is a pretty terrifying place. There are a lot of bad things that happen. We have had some bad stuff happen to us, and I know I wouldn't be able to handle anything else. 

So I keep him close.

but I know it is wrong but selfish me can't let go. 

and I tried to get help, but right away I was given a ridiculous diagnosis, which I still can laugh about now because that really isn't who I am, and I was given pills that made me not who I am at all. 

So I put an end to that, the diagnosis and the pills.  That diagnosis and those pills are not the answers.  At all.


So last night when I came up at dinner how six year olds shouldn't be sleeping with their mommy, my heart started to race.  I watched as his grandma set him up with a special night light and set up rewards for him if he slept in his own bed. 

When I had finally heard enough I blurted out my secret.

It's my fault he sleeps with me.  He sleeps with me because of gas leaks and fires and earthquakes and bad people in the world.  He sleeps with me so I can reach him, hear his breath and know he's okay, because I know what it's like to wake up one morning and things are not okay, after months and months of waking up hour upon hour each night to make sure things were okay and to wake up one morning and they suddenly were not okay is hard to accept.

I couldn't imagine letting it happen again.

and I watched in amazement when she asked Evilboy where he wanted to sleep.  When he told her he wanted to stay in my bed, even though I steal all the blankets, she took back the night light and put it up "until he needs it". 

and I really appreciated it. 

There was no judging, no arguing and no telling me what had to be done.  She understood.  She understood something that I thought for sure she would never understand, but she did. 

Which really just goes to show that you can't always assume the way people are going to react.  It's not fair to do that.

Day 17: Six Year Olds Should Come WIth A Warning....

I now own a six year old.

Well not really own, but I do take care of him and he did come out of my womb so I guess yes, I do own him. He's mine. I like to remind him of that when he's being a little jerk (read: tantrums).

My six year old is pretty tame compared to the ones I met this weekend. TAME!

I am the type of person who gets walked all over. I'm a pushover, I have a soft heart. I like to appear to be tough to protect my soft heart because chances are if you ask, I am going to say no, but feel really bad about it and call you and say "yes yes oh yes I will get you a huge ass bag of dog food on a Saturday morning because I feel BAD that I said NO."

Just one of my many flaws.

My intentions on Friday were to bring cupcakes to Mason's kindergarten class. My intentions were to bring the yummiest and prettiest cupcakes to the class, the kids would each sit in a perfect little circle and eat one cupcake each and nobody would get messy, not even a crumb.

At least that is what my mind told me would happen.

Unfortunately the way my mind sees things and the way they actually play out can be quite different. Before I knew it, there were cupcakes on the floor, there were kids crying because they couldn't have two napkins (WTF??) and kids double-fisted with cupcakes.

It was slightly disastrous, but apparently the cupcakes were yummy!

The next morning we had Mason's party at the Children's Museum. We have his party there every single year, for many reasons, mostly because the price is within my budget and I don't have to clean up or control the children, for the most part anyway. They also have some pretty amazing lighting in their party rooms which makes for some great photos.

Mason had 11 guests. Eleven kids all between the ages of 3-8. Eleven kids who were the rowdiest bunch of kids that I had ever seen in my life. The parents were dropping their gremlinskids off, and asking if it was okay if they left. I really didn't see a problem with it so I waved them all off to go have their afternoon martinis and get their hairs did while I stayed to party with their demonschildren.

Within five minutes of the parents leaving there were kids crying, kids getting lost, and kids running into a big exhibit room at the museum probably never to be found again. As if that wasn't bad enough, I had forgotten how many kids we actually had with us. When the party director counted heads and said we had eleven kids in the room with us, I just sort of squeaked and nodded, uhhh yeah, that sounds about right, as I counted in my head, at least tried to. I still kind of hope we didn't lose any kids, because that will be totally embarrassing when I have to drop Mason off at school tomorrow if I lost someone's kid and didn't even know about it.

So they locked us in a room (phew) and turned off the lights to show us a star show. Which would be really interesting and all if these kids weren't more interested in Pokemons and Bakugans and gouging each others eyes out.

Strangely enough, even though I was sure as heck nobody was listening to this poor dude go on and on about his star show, these kids knew all the freakin answers. Answers to shit I had no clue about.

Kids scare the shit out of me. Especially older kids that are smart. Smart kids are freaky because there is no fooling them, and sometimes I think they are smarter than me.

Then we brought the kids back to the room, this time I took a mental note to count each kid's head before we left the star room. We only lost one kid on the way down the hall, so that was pretty awesome. Then they did crafts where they built constellations out of marshmallows and toothpicks.

and their constellations were amazing. The scary thing was I was so certain nobody was paying attention to that stupid star show, but these kids quietly poked their stale marshmallows onto toothpicks and didn't make a peep (note: buy old marshmallows and toothpicks in case I ever have a play date at my house).

and then it got scary again when the toothpicks could no longer contain their hyperactivity.

I don't get it.  I always felt uncomfortable at birthday parties when I was younger.  I remember sitting there, picking my scratchy leggings out of my ass the whole time, angry at the pigtails my grandma put in my hair and wishing I was back home, with my own toys and not having to play stupid birthday games and eat disgusting cake that was smothered in icing that gave you a cavity as soon as it touched your teeth.  Yes, sadly I was the definition of party pooper.  Until I hit my 20's and became the party drunk, which totally made up for it.  Who wouldn't want 20-year-old me at your party telling you about my mom selling dildos and drinking all your gin.

Then the kids ate cake, which I'm pretty sure was of the instant-cavity sorts:

 ...and my kid blew out all his candles in one big blow, which in his mind symbolized that he was now officially six and to him and his friends that meant, LET'S TRASH THIS PLACE!! Which made me glad this was not my house, but sort of made me feel sorry for the man with the red beard and the strange adult lady who wore Hannah Montana boots (where did she find Hannah Montana boots in her size? One of life's mysteries).

Strangely, the only thing that tamed these wild monsters was a little science experiment that involved blowing shit up.

...blowing shit up scares me too.  Just for the record.

After the longest hour and a half of my life was over, and the parents came to retrieve their "little angels" who were covered in cake and sweat, we had to go straight to his cousin's birthday party.  In a huge indoor jungle gym for some more torture. By the end of the day I was wondering why they don't serve martinis in places like that.  I think I may be on to something here, I'm going to write up a business proposal now.

Even though the day was pure torture and I sort of want my Saturday back, seeing the joy on this kid's face as he is surrounded by his best friends makes it totally worth it.

Day 16 - Sesame Street Goodies

Evilboy was watching this episode around Christmas time. It was a Sesame Street Christmas countdown. After watching this clip, I couldn't stop laughing. It reminded me so much of when I was younger, watching Sesame Street at the end of my grandma's bed, my nose merely two inches from the screen (which is why I probably have to wear glasses).

Evilboy never really got into the whole Sesame Street thing. When he was young it was Elmo's World that gave him the belly laughs. I went to YouTube and of course my dreams of old Sesame Street classics came true. So without further ado, I will now share with you my all-time favourite Sesame Street Videos!! (yaaay)


Aaron Neville you have the voice of an angel and I would totally make out with you if you weren't a little bit creepish...(I still love you I swear!). Props for the dolphin shirt though. Dolphin shirts FTW!!


"and thank you lambies"


La La La La....Lemon (this song always gets stuck in my head!)


I LOVE this one!!


Cookie Monster is my hero!


Oh Kermy!!


Classic!


Caribbean Amphibian!!


"Snap your fingers here I come!"



Earth. Earth? Yip Yip Yip Yip... (I think I found my Halloween costume for next year!)



I love Brad!


Listen at 2:48 "Charlie I think we've got a weirdo here..." CLASSIC!


"Heeeeeere FISHY FISHY FISHY"


This one always scared me :/

Day 15: Now We Are Six

Now We Are Six

AA Milne

When I was one

I had just begun

When I was two

I was nearly new

When I was three 

I was hardly me

When I was four 

I was not much more

When I was five

I was just alive

But now I am six,

I'm as clever as clever;

So I think I'll be six now

Forever and ever

Dear EvilBoy,

AA Milne couldn't have said it any better, you are very clever.  You always have been, but just this past year some of the things you do completely blows me away.  You still haven't mastered how to tie your own shoelaces or how to say "Bah Humbug" properly just yet, but those things will come in time.  Besides, there is always velcro shoes and speech therapy to help us through these little obstacles.  You can set up the television to your favourite shows like it's nobody's business and you can even buckle yourself into your booster seat.  Those two things alone pretty much make you a genius to me, mostly because now you can entertain yourself with mindless kid shows at 6am on Saturday mornings without having to wake me from my slumber and I no longer have to wait to get into the car in minus fifty billion degree weather to buckle you into your seat.   I appreciate those things you do, more than you can ever imagine.  When you start to cook your own meals I will pretty much think you are right up there with Einstein.  You already can ride a bike with no training wheels so that pretty much puts you ahead of your Uncle Sam in the smarts department (just kidding Sam, looooove you!).

Your recent love of old school Little People play sets fills me with glee. I love the way you park your Cars characters in the Little People movie theatre.  I love how they each have their own little voices and how they usually all end up saying  "C'mon man, c'mon man let's go!".  I think it's charming.  When I was your age I had a dollhouse and I pretty much did the same sort of thing with my Sylvanian Family dolls where for some strange reason Papa Evergreen had ran off with Mrs. Cottontail and they were raising young Thistlethorn as their own.  What can I say, it was a messed up dollhouse that sort of reflected my messed up childhood.  I'm not sure what you're trying to say by making our family cars, but it's okay, I will accept that.One year I even went across the street (by myself *gasp*) and cut a small end off an evergreen tree across the street.  I did it so stealthily, like some sort of  dollhouse accessory thief, and I put that little twig of evergreen in my dollhouse and made it their Christmas Tree. I will be waiting for you to do the same because that was pretty damn clever of me if I do say so myself.

I love that you pretend play so amazingly well which just proves you have a healthy imagination, which also comes into play when you wake me up in the middle of the night after having a bad dream about alligators chasing you on motorcycles and eating your old daycare teacher right in front of you.  That is your imagination dear, never lose those wacky dreams, as bad as they might be sometimes, they give you something really awesome to talk about with your friends at school, or you could even write them down into some sort of successful dream blog or tweet about it on Twitter and people will accuse you of doing crack before going to bed and you can just chuckle about it because you know it is just your healthy imagination at work. 

This year you really started to get into video games.  I'm not too sure how I feel about this just yet, but I bought the game for you so I guess the only one to blame for your rotting brain is myself.  Even though I sometimes look at you and pray you don't become a "gamer", I just think that I have to love you no matter who you turn out to be.  Unless you turn out to be a serial killer, that would be a little hard to love.  I just hope you don't end up living in my basement until you are 45.

Who am I kidding.  I would love it if you lived in my basement until you are 45.  We could put up tents in the living room on the weekend and have tea parties and go to the grocery store together with our little fold-up wheely cart and we could wear sweat pants every single day.  We would be so totally awesome.  Like a team of sweat-panted aging people who were really good at pitching tents in the house.  I would love that because I've secretly been dreading every single birthday you have because I know it is a year closer to the time when you will leave me and I will be alone.  I will have tea parties all by myself and I will probably end up living in that tent I became so good at putting up.  Sweat pants and wheely carts just aren't as cool when you are alone.  It's kind of depressing actually.  So here are your options:  1) Stop growing up now or 2) Live in my basement and pitch tents in the living room with me until you are 45 and I will probably be dead already - or something like that.

You started school this year and you love it.  You love "big school" so much and you love "Hamilton-Hicks" more than anything.  In fact, I think you have a crush on your teacher.  When we had to pick out a Christmas gift for her a few weeks ago you stated that you wanted to get her jellybeans because she needed to work on her estimating skills.  In fact, estimating has become your new favourite thing.  Which is really cute because you don't really understand what estimating is.  You count things and call it estimating.  Which is pretty smart because it makes you look like a genius.  We should go into street vendorism or something and we could set up an estimating booth and trick people out of money.  I would never have to work again. We would just travel from city to city and rip people off for their spare change through estimation.  Think about it.  It would be pretty awesome.

This year you have also pursued your talent in the music business.  You were in not one, but two holiday concerts where you sang louder than any other kid up there...and you wore a tie. Nobody else wore a tie... which made it so much cuter when you did, even if you fought with me for ten minutes causing me to lose my shit and not want to go to the concert at all, which in turn made you feel guilty and you put on the tie to make me happy again.  I think I should start saving for therapy sessions now.

Our family took up the whole entire first row of your "big school" concert.  The whole row.  That is how much you are loved.  Everyone was there, even family that drove for hours to watch you sing up there on that stage, and they certainly were not disappointed by your performance.  You are like a miniature Frank Sinatra up there.  I hope you never lose your entertaining ability.  I lost mine pretty early and soon enough going up on stage became a stressful thing for me, eventually playing sports in front of people, speaking in front of the class and making friends all became stressful.  Having no fear is such a great thing and I'm happy you have that. It makes me so proud.

Another thing I have noticed about you lately is your concern for others.  Your heart is just so amazing.  You think of others, most often before you think of your own needs.  I've witnessed you going without mittens just so your friend could have a pair because his got wet at first recess. At first I was a little annoyed that you had no mittens, but when I heard what you did for your friend my heart melted into a big mushy blob.  I'm sure your friend had important snow business to do which is why you sacrificed your warm hands.

Then you lost your hamster friend earlier this month, and I saw you cry the biggest tears I have ever seen. You were strong as you said goodbye and promised that your dad would take care of him in heaven.  I saw you cry but it definitely was not a sissy cry, it was a big boy cry.  Your lips were tight, your eyes were wet and a single big tear ran down your cheek every few minutes, and that was it.  I could see you were upset, but I could tell you didn't want to cry.  Then you taught me that life goes on and even though you are hurting the best thing to do is to go out and have fun.

I look forward to your sixth year of life.  I look forward to pillow fights and riding bikes and teaching you how to tie your shoes and how to improve your reading skills.  I look forward to the moment when I realize I can't spell curse words in front of you anymore because you already know how to spell and the moment when you tell me you want to call your friends on the phone and discuss Bakugans, because that is what six year olds do.

-Mom.

Day 14 - Ask EVILFLU: Do You Like Pancakes?

Do you like pancakes?

Pancakes? I *LOVE* pancakes!

In fact, I think pancakes were the first food I ever "pigged out" on. My grandma made the best pancakes in the world and I remember I just kept eating them and eating them. Then I think I threw up shortly after that from eating so many, but they were just so good, I couldn't help it!

I'm not a huge syrup fan though. Which is so non-Canadian of me, I know, but I just don't like the taste and how sticky it makes everything. If I do buy syrup, I buy the butter flavour because somehow that is more acceptable.

Now that I'm a grown up, I think the thing I love about pancakes most is how easy they are to make. Just add a bit of water to pancake mix and you have a meal! Which is good to know, in case I ever become a hobo, I would just have to find some water and a camp fire and I could make dinner for me and my hobo friends!

I saw a show on TV the other day with instructions on how to filter your urine so it would be drinkable. That would solve my hobo pancake problem!

 This question was submitted by one of my super-cool readers using my formspring.me. Questions are still being accepted so feel free to ask me anything!

Day 13 - Wordless Wednesday, January 13, 2010

I find it hard to believe that six years ago on this exact day I was walking up and down slushy parking garage steps trying to make this person remove his feet from my ribular area and come and join us in the real world. 

Hard to believe.

Day 12: Mistakes Happen, admit it.

  This picture was a mistake.  But it still ended up being pretty cool. 

When something goes wrong people are quick to throw the blame.

There is no way I could have done that because I was in the bathroom at 1:30 on Tuesday, I distinctly remember.
It was an administrative error.

I don't write with blue pen.  Ever.
I know better so it wasn't me.
I had to cut that guy off. 
It was the dog.

and I've heard excuses like these used for the STUPIDEST things.


We all make mistakes. 

We all do. 

You.
Me.
My kid.
Your kid.
Your grandmother.

Everybody.

So I'm not too sure where these people are coming from when the blame can never be placed on them.  Nobody is perfect.  I'm certainly not perfect, I make mistakes all the time.

That doesn't make me better than someone who doesn't make mistakes though, and you know why?

Because we all make mistakes!

Admit it.
Embrace it.

We learn from our mistakes. In fact, if we didn't make mistakes none of these cool things would have been invented:

Corn Flakes:
Corn flakes were invented when some cooked wheat went stale and these two guys rolled it out and it became flaky. I have a bit of a problem with this whole story.  I mean the guys left the food out overnight and were going to feed it to their patients anyway?  Food poisoning much?  I all of a sudden don't like corn flakes.


Silly Putty:
You see, when an inventor guy was trying to make a rubber substitute, he "accidentally" dropped boric acid into silicone oil and voila! Silly Putty was born.  I actually couldn't imagine living in a world without Silly Putty.  Without it what would other things would I be able to transfer pictures from newspaper and stretch the crap out of them. 

Post-It Notes:
These little treasures came to be when one dude decided he wanted to stick a bookmark in his hymn book and he remembered another dude he knew had made this glue that was a complete fail and nobody knew what to do with it until Mr. Hymn Book guy used it to stick his bookmark in his hymn book, then he probably stuck a note on his computer monitor reminding him not to turn off his work computer on Wednesday nights because that is when updates are installed but he would get so used to it being there that he would forget about it and always turn his computer off on Wednesday nights.  Not that I know anything about that or anything.

Slinky:
The slinky was created when a guy was making springs for a boat or something like that and then it fell off the shelf and it kept moving and he thought it was awesome (who wouldn't) and he probably became a bajillionaire.  I mean really, what walks down stairs, alone or in pairs and makes a slinketty sound? Only a Slinky, that guy was awesome!

Play-Doh:
Play-Doh was supposed to be wallpaper cleaner.  Which is really a shame that it turned into colourful playing dough that wouldn't poison children because wallpaper cleaner would be pretty awesome. Apparently it was sold as wallpaper cleaner at one point but then some brilliant teacher decided to let the kids in her class play with wallpaper cleaner, because you know, she wanted them to die from playing with something used to clean wallpaper.  Is it just me, or does the smell of Play-Doh make you want to make out with things? Like madly.

So the next time you make a mistake, shrug it off.

Maybe you just invented something awesome.

or maybe you accidentally blew up your office.

Either way, you learned something from the experience.

So please stop blaming others, especially the dog, we all know you did it.

Day 11: The end of all jokes...

I came across an interesting article today on Parentconnect.com called 'Don't Wear My Genes' by divaraven. This article really hit close to home because I had experienced something similar just this morning as we were getting ready for our day.It was a great article, although this sort of thing is not just for something of parents of little girls to look out for. 

Then as I'm reading the article, this ad shows up on the site:

Really? Walmart? Thanks for showing us that family moments consist of food that clog our arteries and make us all fat as I'm reading an article about a mother worrying that her child will end up fat.  Lovely.

EvilBoy has always been a chubby kid.  When he was a baby he had the biggest belly I have ever seen on a baby.  Ever.  He still holds that record.

Yes it was that big.

and it was all my fault. I was a new mom, and in my mind whenever he cried he was hungry.  So everytime he cried I fed him.

and I thought I was the best mom in the whole wide world.

and I also thought my baby was a rabid baby wolverine who needed to eat all the time.

In fact when I tried to breast feed him I gave up completely within the first few weeks, I was convinced he was a wild beast who had no patience for my inability to whip my boobies out within seconds. 

Until one day I took him to the doctor.  The doctor asked about his feeding schedule, and when I admitted that he really didn't have one and that he was hungry all the time, the doctor almost fell off his stool.

You feed that baby how often? He eats HOW much?

and then I was told to put my baby wolverine on a diet.  Sort of.

Apparently feeding a baby everytime it cries is not the right thing to do.
How was I suposed to know?
Okay maybe I should have known. 
He was happy jolly.

He's always been cute and chubby. 

I like to worry.

I worry that his weight will become a health concern.
I worry that he will be made fun of.
I worry that he won't be happy.


and this morning the realization hit me like a stack of bricks.

He's not happy with himself.

and it's my fault.

We've always jokingly teased him about his pants not fitting.
We've poked fun saying that if he kept growing he would have to wear grandma's pants (she made that one up herself!).
We've made comments in front of him about how many pairs of pants he goes through because he grows out of them as fast as I can buy them for him.

He's a growing boy and I never realized just how much these comments really affected him until this morning.

He came to me to help him do up a button on his jeans, and of course they were a bit snug.

I laughed a little as I tugged on the material, trying to make ends meet and casually mentioned the pants being too small.

EvilBoy looked at me horrified, tore the material out of my hands and said they fit him fine and he stormed out.

Then I realized I'm a shitty parent.

How could I not notice these comments affected him.

How did I not notice his concern when the Wii Fit game we got recently said he was "overweight".


I never saw the hurt on his face when people made comments about how "big" he is or how his pants are too tight.

So now I work on damage control.

My child is not fat.
My child is not big.
He's not overweight.

He's loved.
He's got a big heart.
He's going to be more active and eat healthier.

and his pants will fit just fine, even if he has to "suck it in", there will be no comments from now on and certainly no more jokes.