Monday, April 25, 2011

Never Say Never

Today I found myself cruising the streets of Moose Jaw with Justin Bieber music blaring from the windows of my silver cross-over vehicle which is basically a minivan trying not be a minivan.

Yeah.  I'm cool like that.

Why Bieber?  Because I have a 7 year old boy who has discovered Bieber and thinks he is God's answer to music.  His favourite song is 'Never Say Never'.  If you don't have either  a small child or a teenage daughter and/or you live under a rock, this is a song Bieber did with Jaden Smith and it's from the movie 'Karate Kid'.

So yes. Three times we listened to it today.  All the while I reminded myself that there was a time I possessed a Milli Vanilli tape and thought it was AWESOME...  We all have our moments.  So I support his Justin Bieber fanaticism at present.  At the very least he loves music and that's all I ask of any of my children.

What else should I write about?

Acting like an elderly woman on the brink of Alzheimer's?  I was looking for my black work binder today. This led me to even checking my vehicle.  Which led to me cleaning and organizing my pretend crossover vehicle.  Which led me back in the house, hot and sweaty and I slumped down in my chair and wondered what the fuck I did with it and was slightly panicked.  Then I looked to my right.  And there it was.  On top of my black printer.  Which may or may not be located a mere foot away from my laptop.   The whole time.

And it was Easter this weekend.  Easter.  How do we as society, who largely revolts against any sort of organized religion come together in such a wild frenzy of sugar and a, so I've been told, pretend Rabbit?  We are not a religious family.  My two youngest children know very little about Jesus.  I think they know his 'last name' is Christ and that when I use His full name, I'm not impressed and I will be equally unimpressed if they choose to use His name in a moment of displeasure.  And I have told them, I think, that Christmas is His birthday.  But to connect Jesus with the Easter Bunny would never happen for them.  I'm not even sure how Christians make the connection.  What does a giant chocolate egg shitting rabbit have to do with the resurrection of Our Lord and Saviour?  Why does he hide the eggs/candy?  What's his deal?  Santa Claus has the decency to celebrate the Lord's birth by bringing gifts and placing them in plain sight.  In socks.  Who decided that?  None of this makes sense to me.

Instead I find myself exhausted at the end.  Christmas is especially difficult.  There are weeks of preparation involved and the day itself is a never ending stream of celebrating and cleaning and eating and then more cleaning.  And not enough sleep.  And oh, it's a time to spend with family and friends.  As Easter is.

Super.  Friends are super.  Families have dynamics.  They can be super.   Super dynamics or super good times but why do we all decide that on this particular date we need to get together.  What's wrong with July 17th?  Nope. No way.  There are no fictional characters bringing shit for anybody and so we will not eat together.  It's not acceptable to celebrate as a family unless we are in the midst of commercializing a previously largely Christian/religious celebration.

Sigh, I sound bitter.  Ha! I almost typed I "shound" bitter.  Which may be more appropriate as I've nearly finished my second glass of wine.

Happy Easter Mothertruckers.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Does Don Cherry Suck it In?

I like Don Cherry's jackets.  Don't know who Don Cherry is?  Well come on over to my house.  All we are watching right now are NHL play offs.  My husband excitedly shares scores with me and all kinds of interesting hockey-based facts on an almost hourly basis.

It's great.  My very own Cliff Claven.

Which is probably why I felt compelled to eat a Reese Peanut Butter Bar and 20 five-cent candies while I read an In Touch magazine tonight.  Not just any In Touch but an In Touch featuring a very pregnant Mariah Carey on the cover. 

I hate Mariah Carey.

However, given she's 9 months pregnant with twins and I'm bloated (maybe due to the excessive candy and dairy intake; dairy because I am clearly unable to consume candy without milk, a giant glass of milk), the resemblance between her abdomen and mine is sadly very striking.  She's got two babies in there.  I don't.

My 17 year old is currently on the floor in front of me showing me some ab exercises he's learned in his Outdoor Ed. class.  Core builders.  My core is soft.  The most exercise my abs have had as of late was this weekend.  Saturday night I was at a party and Sunday I did a jewellery show.  Both of these things required dressing like an adult.  An adult who doesn't live in hooded sweatshirts and elastic waisted pants.  So when this gal gets all gussied up like a woman, in public, she must suck in.  At. All. Times.  I swear to God I've been sucking in since I hit puberty.  I was sucking in before I needed to suck in. 

And for this I'm grateful.  Because despite having had four children and eating copious amounts of carbohydrates, sugar and drinking equally copious amounts of vodka, I do not have a visible gut.  Sometimes I catch myself sucking in without even realizing I'm doing it.  It's second nature.

Fuck you Spanx. Spanks?  I don't know how to spell that and am not feeling inclined to Google it.

That's right, I have chicken legs, so don't require any spandex type of control garment there and 20 years or so of unconscious sucking in has allowed me to maintain some control of my abdomen.

Except for right now, of course.  I am not sucking in right now.  So right now I very much look like someone who has a long standing love affair with anything sold at 7-11 and who has birthed four children.

Come to think of it, so does Don Cherry.  And they pile so much make up on that poor man thanks to HD, that he's a rather unsettling shade.

See how that came full circle?  You're welcome.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

TLC vs. The Leader's Debate...Winner?

I apologize for the lack of posting as of late.  I'm busy.  And short on ideas.   Which means things are kind of good and kind of bad.  Good in that there is nothing happening to fuel any anger-filled ranting posts and bad in nothing funny is happening either and some days seem hard but I don't want to write depressing posts and therefore, I write nothing.

Then I feel guilty.  Or I read someone else's great post and I want to write.  I still don't know about what.  I watched maybe half of the Leaders Debate tonight.  Canadians will be heading back to the polls May 2.  Our last election wasn't very long ago.  Our choices are the droid who is currently in office, a highly unlikeable and stiff man who proclaimed to like the States better and I fear only returned to Canada because he thought he'd have a better chance of getting in office here (which turns out to not be the case) and a likable enough guy who doesn't hold a lot of political clout.  Likely because he presents as someone who wants everyone to like him.  There is also the leader of the Bloc Quebecois.  He made some good points and looked mean and was enjoyable to listen to because of his strong French accent which is unlike any I've heard before.

I have no desire to vote for the droid currently in office.  Wait! I forgot to mention that the one female candidate was not allowed to vote.  I'm a poor PoliSci study though and can't really remember why she's not allowed in, but I think it likely has to do with her having a vagina and a b-r-a-i-n.

After the debate I did homework with my 7 year old.  Those of you with young children or who've ever had young children will no doubt remember the joys of reading out loud with them.  It's even better when said child is in French Immersion, which was your choice, but leaves you both sometimes and somewhat confused as to what the story might be about and the actual correct pronunciation.  And it leaves you even more than a little weary of listening to your child read out loud.  Yes, I love him and yes I'm very proud of him and to brag a little, he even reads above grade level.  In French! So yay him!  However, I will French kiss someone the day we are done with reading out loud.  To clarify, I like reading to them.  I'm not against reading.  I clearly like words.  Which is evidenced by my current inability to stop defending myself at present.

Then children in bed and I'm downstairs.  TV on to TLC.  A person doesn't even have to watch.  Just listening to the programming and commercials is entertainment enough.  TLC does not give anyone in North America a great vote of confidence when it comes to intelligence.  Could it be more repetitive?  Simplified?  Addicting?

I'm sorry. I appear to be done.  I'm being sucked into the Extreme Couponing vortex.  What is wrong with these people?  Where do they find the time?  I'm tempted to make that weird sound people make while motioning as if stabbing someone.  This little blond just pointed to her fliers and said, with more than a touch of crazy in her voice, "This is my money".

Um, okay.  She clearly gets her make-up for free too.