Got a bite... now to reel it in

I will be happy to note that I have an interview this Thursday. Anyone whose been reading this blog over the past several months will know that my job search has not been exactly jumping with offers. I know... who wouldn't hire me? Well, a lot of people apparently. But my tide is turning, my ships are coming in and I'm ready to take another voyage. Enough metaphors? Yeah, I thought so too.

I don't want to go into detail as to not jinx this chance. Suffice to say, it pays a hell of a lot more and it's not working with the douche-canoes with whom I presently spend my days. That's enough for me at the moment. I'm sure there will be opportunities for growth. I will make sure of that. But, let's get past that first hurdle -- the interview.

I need to wow them with my stunning personality, my vast work experience and my never-ending work ethic. Should be a piece of cake...

I know I had you at turd...

It's closing in on 4 a.m. and I'm still up, catching up on blogs but really trying to make my brain tired that it will shut off. I'm at my friend's house tonight debating on whether the couch will be the lucky recipient of my post-sleep drool or whether I will actually make it to the bed they've made up for me. It's still a toss-up, but in the meantime I will share a story that had me laughing my ass off. Literally.

We were talking about our pets tonight ('cause we're nerdy like that) and what they do that makes us laugh. I could bore you with hours of stories of how clumsy Kao is, but I won't. I won't tell you how he ran headfirst into a recyling bin or how he rolled off of the one couch we let him sit on, his gangly legs taking out a whole coffee table and everything on it. Instead, I have two words, a name actually: Turd Burglar. I never get tired of saying it. Turdy-Turdy Num Num. Nom Nom Nom.

Now that I have your attention (I had it at post-sleep drool, didn't I?), I will save you from your curiosity and tell you about the origins of the Turd Burglar name. Apparently, it's quite common that dogs eat their own and others' feces. My friend Dar's dog, Cody, liked to go one step above and beyond by raiding the resident cats' litter box. With multiple cats in the household, it was a buffet. A smorgasborg. Free-range grazing for turds.

Cody, whose name shall now be written as Turd Burglar, loved the little nuggets, raiding the box at every turn. Of course, we were all disgusted, throwing up in our mouths disgusted, but somehow curious. What made the litter box so appealing? I for one used to hold my breath whenever changing it but to Turd Burglar it was heaven.

I must be deliriously sleepy now, since I'm still giggling and repeating over and over again... come on, repeat with me - Turd Burglar, Turd Burglar. Turd. And I'm wondering why everything about shit makes me giggle. Another friend relayed a story a while back about his first post-puberty date where he stretched out to look cool while he shared a moment with the girl du jour, ready to make the move and put his arm around the object of his adoration only to reach his hand back on the grassy knoll for more leverage only to find a pile of shit. That's right, Brady Brady Shitty Hands (as he is now called) put his hand square in a pile of shit.

See? That shit is funny. Now if only I could stop saying Turd Burglar and Turdy-Turdy Num Num. Bloggers, I really need sleep. Or a life. Both would be great right about now.

Scribe out, but never forgotten.

Turd Burglar. (Still funny).

He's still a stinkpot

I’ve spent the last few days with my honourary nephew. He’s not blood but he’s pretty damn close, and sometimes it feels like he’s closer to me than my own family. To say it’s been hard is an understatement, but there’s been some lightness too and that’s what I will share today.

Christopher knows what he likes and what he doesn’t and has never been one to mince words. “No offence, but could you stop singing please? You’re not very good,” he told a good friend. “No offence, but I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him,” he said, pointing at The Man.

While he is speaking less and less these days, he still manages to communicate his likes and dislikes. Give him one too many kisses and he’ll gently swat your face away. Tickle his arm and he’s more than likely to move it to a position where you can’t reach. The oxygen is another story altogether and this is where the sneaky stinkpot comes in.

Christopher has many nicknames to match his moods. Grumpy Gus – that’s self-explanatory. Stinkpot. Sneaky Pete. He becomes both when it’s time to get his oxygen levels up and this means keeping the oxygen tubes in his nose for more than five seconds.

At first, he’s obvious about it, trying to whip the tubing away from his face. He sighs when we tell him he must keep it on, for at least a little while. He’s not happy but (we think) he’s accepted the situation at the time. Until the hand sneaks under a pillow – out of sight, out of mind, right? Yes, he thought so too. Ever so slightly the hand would creep up and out and before you know it, he’s trying to remove the tubes again. And, when we notice it, he quickly (or as quick as he can at the time) moves the hand back to his hiding place, ready for the next escape.

Auntie Leenie knows his tricks and has made a game of it, playing thumb wars, hand wars and generally teasing him so while he knows he’s lost the battle, he’s okay ‘cause he’s still in the running to win the war.

And yet, despite all of his moods and his knack of being brutally honest, people still love him and flock to him, all because he’s Christopher. The number of visitors through the house in the last four days has been astounding. One of the “Life Skills” classes at Christopher’s school even made a pot roast dinner for the family, complete with asparagus, potatoes, carrots and gravy. Coffee has been bought (and made), casseroles lovingly packaged and even pizza delivery arranged. One of Christopher’s EA’s even dropped off a sample of pool water to the pool company since Dad couldn’t make it out of the house.

And me? Besides throwing all of my love over Christopher like a blanket and watching over when his parents catch a few winks, I’ve become an expert at keeping the coffee carafe full, even grinding the beans for an even better cup of Joe. They’re just lucky they didn’t get my first vat of coffee when I was still learning the coffee making ropes or they would get coloured water or a vat of tar, all depending on the scoop levels I would choose.

It’s all for Christopher, my (and everyone’s) little stinkpot. I just hope there was more – more time, more we could do. But there certainly wouldn’t be more love.

Peace out, yo

Bloggers, I'm taking a small hiatus. I'll still be lurking around and stalking your blogs but will be off the radar when it comes to updating this blog for a bit. It's nothing you've done - I  love you all - but I'm spending time with someone who needs me more. Besides, I always pride myself on being upbeat and that's been hard to do over the last week and I don't want to bring anyone down.

Not everything sucks. There are definite positives, most importantly my outlook on life, so I've decided to create a thankful list before I depart on my sabbatical.

1. A great group of friends, both online and in the flesh. Your words of inspiration make me smile, laugh, live.
2. A renewed quest on the job front. I've handed my updated resume over to a firm with a promising venture. It pays well and I get a chance to work with great people. I believe I'm on the short list, so fingers crossed. Eyes and toes  too.
3. Dedication and work in the gym and out. I'm still a little sore from my weekend warrior workout, gardening on Friday (planting) and hitting the gym and the treadmill and  eliptical on Saturday (I was up early, motivated and energized). And, it felt like a two-hour stint in the garden transferred into the feeling and fatigue of straight-legged dead lifts in the gym without the personal trainer screaming in my ear to do five more, four more, three more... you get the  picture.
4. The Man. He may still give the dog a run for the money in  the flatulence department, but he's incredibly supportive. I'm blessed.
5. Excitement for the future,despite recent happenings.
6. Realization of my own greatness. I'm a good person and people like me, damn it. More importantly, I'm learning to like myself, flaws and all.

Okay, so it's ta-ta for now, bloggers. I'll be back before you know it. I've got to give you a chance to miss me and all my awesomeness.

Scribe out, yo.

My Gusafus

I don't have a lot of words for you  guys today. I'm fighting a cold and have had some terrible news too late into the night to do anything. Instead, I'll post a single photo.

It's a great photo taken by a very talented, tongue-pierced photographer of her little brother. I love her and I love him, and I wish I could take away the pain during an impossible time.

Gus is a wonderful little boy and I've had the joy of knowing and loving him for almost a decade. He's designed "contraptions" in my house and promised me he'd be careful if I let him ride a mattress down my stairs (I didn't, but laughed as I said no). He starts every sentence with "Actually" or "No offence but..." No matter what he's doing or what's going on he tells me he loves me and brightens up whenever he hears that I'm coming over or even if he says my name. His mom tells me he makes his happy noise. He has no idea how much he's brightened up my life.

Please take every opportunity to hold your loved ones close and tell them you love them. If you've lost touch with those people, make contact again. If you've had a fight, take the first step to forgive them. Life is short. Every moment lost is one you will never get back.

Just 'cause I can...

Thanks to Claire @ car dancing, I have a blog topic. Well, sort of. I had to share what I learned from her today while surfing the internetz.

When typing in the alphabet (yes abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz!) into Google search, you get a multitude of answers, especially when you're typing the letters one at a time and hitting search each and every time in between. I was too lazy, so I typed it all in. This is what Urban Dictionary, the first site to pop up, had to say: It's the fucking alphabet, dumbass. Yeah, I know...

It was also suggested (through mind control, obviously) that I should copy and paste these questions and then provide the answers since you know very little about me...

Here goes everything nothing...

Question #1 – What were you doing 10 years ago?


1. Living back with the parental units in my childhood home. It was a much-needed step back to regroup but damn! Living with one's parents again sucks donkey balls!

2. Working at a trade association, writing and editing their magazines.

3. Living and breathing the gym. It was a wonderful time, albeit a bit obsessed!

4. Debating on if March was a good time to take down the Christmas decorations.

5. Traveling, with visits to Scotland and Mexico. I learned that going on a gym-sponsored trip involves early morning workouts and stories that get back to the gym well before you do!

See, I have a really good long-term rememory. It's the short-term that needs help. Now where did I put my car keys again!?!?

Question #2 – What are 5 things on your To-Do list today:

1. Reworking my resume for the millionth time.

2. Heading to the WeightWatcher meeting to be inspired for one more week of greatness (and back for more inspiration on Saturday).

3. Putting curses on my work colleague. He's a douche-canoe and deserves to have needles placed underneath his fingernails.

4. Dishes. The Man made dinner so fair is fair.

5. Pay some bills online. Money doesn't seem to stretch as far as I thought it would when I was all grown up.



Question #3 – What 5 snacks do you enjoy?

1. Popcorn - with Sour Cream shakers (yummm!)

2. Sour Cream Pringles (do you sense a theme here?)

3. Weight Watchers Red Velvet bars. At only 1 pt., it's downright heaven.

4. Poutine (pronounced Poo-tin, as The Man keeps pointing out. Anasatan declared during Doristasia Night that "You're Feckin' English, Linda, It's Poo-TEEEN!).

5. Peanut Butter. It's the goodness and evil all rolled into one.

Question #4 – Where are 5 places that you have lived?


1. Aberdeen Crescent, Brampton, Ontario

2. Epsom  Downs Dr., Brampton, Ontario

3. Hanover Dr., Brampton, Ontario

4. Another damn street in Brampton, Ontario

5. Future living quarters - anywhere but Brampton, Ontario!



Question #5 – What are 5 things you would do if you were a billionaire?

1. Quit my job and take a year to travel - everywhere!

2. Pay off my brother's house and put my neice and nephew through university

3. Donate a hell of a lot to cancer research, brain tumours in particular.

4. Start my own communications company

5. Have two massages a day and pedicures every other day.

Now it's your turn! But don't try the alphabet thing or you'll get told you're a feckin' moron!

Out of contact, out of time

I’ve been away from the computer for too long. My Facebook status is weeks out of date, there are 50 billion emails in my hotmail account and Twitter no longer recognizes my tweet.

It’s been a full weekend away from the keyboard, from surfing the web and checking everyone’s updates. It’s been so long that I didn’t realize an old friend of mine was no longer. He was a year younger than me.

We’d been out of the loop for a while. He was my friend’s ex-husband’s brother and we had bonded over wedding preparations, me in a phlegm green dress with lace and roses and him in a rented gorilla suit in an equally appetizing “mint green” bowtie. We both looked dyno-mite, as defined by J.J. Walker.

A divorce later and there was little contact, as happens in many divorce situations, including mine. I hadn’t meant to pick sides but without that common bond, our friendship went on hiatus. I always thought of him with warm memories and a knowing he would always call me friend.

I logged onto Facebook this morning to catch up on the news, the gossip, the goings-on. My heart cried when I read the words: My brother is dead.

Which brother? He has two others. No, it was Gary - Gary of the great massages, Gary of the infectious laugh, Gary who will be missed even though I didn’t have direct contact with him. I wish I had kept it up, despite the drama and the labeling of his and hers. I wish I could have said goodbye.

I wondered earlier why I was so affected. After all, I hadn’t seen or talked to him in many years. But, I knew he was always there, living his life and smiling. It’s not the case now.

The fact it was such a shock played a factor too. There were no reasons. It was sudden. As far as I know, he wasn’t sick. He was here on Thursday and on Friday he wasn’t. I cried for his family’s loss, for the memories we made when we were in contact and I mourned the fact that they will never happen again. There will be no reconnection over an impromptu dinner party or a night of direct-to-video movies and a foot massage.

My only opportunity now to honour his memory and let people know of the impact he had and continues to have is at the visitation and funeral. It's a sad occasion, but what's even sadder is that I didn't get to tell him how much he meant before this. Damn tears. Damn death. Damn loss. Just damn it.