Vacationing in Prince Albert Park

Let me first say that Northern Saskatchewan is absolutely beautiful country. The rolling wooded hills, with lakes and marshes is incredible. I could look at the slow moving streams and marshes as we drove north and never lost hope that I would see a moose. Unfortunately it was not the case this time. I did see a few elk and deer that were so used to humans you could get within 10 feet of them without them flinching. And to sit out on the porch of the cabin as the sun set around 9:30 at night and hear the loons calling each other made be grateful to be there.

Unfortunately it was hard to see the deer, or hear the loons from the hoards of hungry mosquitoes that as soon as I stepped outside the platoons of the blood thirsty bitches (because only the females are the blood suckers God knows what the males do while the females are fighting for the rights to our blood) come swarming in and it was hard to hear the loons from the continual slapping of my face and the buzzing in my ears. I now understand why the blood banks are constantly in need of blood donors, they are in direct competition with the billions of mosquitoes that live up here.

While driving up to the park Rose who was driving asked how far north have I ever been. I said, "This is the farthest North" 1 second passes "this is the farthest North" another second "This is the farthest North" She said Ok I get it. So I am very excited to say that I was up at the 53th Parallel. Which is pretty far north thank you.

Now let me say a word in defense of DEET the bug spray. After spending a weekend up there, if I was asked to inject this stuff into my veins, I would slap a tourniquet on my arm, slap the inside of my arm several times and find you a vein, cause those bugs have no mercy. I am not a wimp. We have them blood sucking flying freaks there, but June seems a particularly fine time for them.

I only got one mosquito bit the entire time I was there. But after considerable thought I think that the mosquitoes I met up with were from Fort McMurray Alberta. The buggers bit me once, only once yet I believe they all went to that one place and continued to feed off the vein, somewhat in the lines of an oil well.

I hope to visit again soon, with full body mosquito netting.

And truly there is nothing funnier then to watch your partner step outside and start slapping herself and yell out THESE BUGS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME GO INSANE. Really quite funny.

Quote from Mark Twain


He said that two of them could whip a dog, and that four of them could hold a man down; and except help come, they would kill him--"butcher him," as he expressed it. Referred in a sort of casual way--and yet significant way-- to "the fact that the life policy in its simplest form is unknown in Lake Providence--they take out a mosquito policy besides." He told many remarkable things about those lawless insects. Among others, said he had seen them try to vote. Noticing that this statement seemed to be a good deal of a strain on us, he modified it a little: said he might have been mistaken, as to that particular, but knew he had seen them around the polls "canvassing."- Life on the Mississippi

Rolling Stones Might Be Coming to Regina

The Leader Post's front page screamed the headlines about the chance that a rock group older the King Tut might come to Regina to perform. Would you go? I wouldn't for the simple reason that they charge from 40.00 to 150.00 and that is based on the Euro. Wouldn't be so bad if they gave maybe a bit away to good causes like Keith Richards getting a facial or a smoking cessation class, but they don't, they just keep coming back like a bad case of herpes.

Honestly if they do come, I suggest performing in Moose Jaw. At least there they would be performing in front of their own generation.

(For those of you not familiar with Moose Jaw their average age is 41, but in a town of 34,000 - 7600 are over the age of 60 which is 44%)

Right and for anyone thinking about being a groupie and sleeping with this guy, a good suggestion for the babies name would be Damian.

Tupperware is designed by aging ex-hippies

I went to a Tupperware party last night. What you exclaim, a hip person like you Claudia foraging into the world of High-Tech Plastics, what's up with that?. Now before you destroy the shrine you have built for me and snuff out the candles that you made in my likeness let me explain.

It was a guilt and I was fucking lonely Ok? Cause if you lived in a foreign country in a small town where there aren't any 6 degrees of separation here, you would lower yourself to the extreme of inviting yourself to an Amway meeting or even invite the frigging Mormon Missionaries over just so you can have a conversation.

So I went. For in my age group we were raised with the burping of Tupperware. As children our mothers would come home after their first Tupperware party with pale green and yellow bowls with lids and it was very, very important that you burp each time you put the lid on to get the excess air out which kept the food longer. All of us became experts in the art of burping, many of us went on to baby sitting because of this talent. I was not one of those baby sitting pros. I chose the root of cleaning horse stalls because I felt the urine from a horse was perferable to that of urine shooting out of a small penis into one's face after they have taken the diaper off. Ah but I digress let me get back to the subject of plastics.

Tupperware had other drawbacks in my day. Strangely lids or bowls would disappear leaving one with 13 lids and 8 bowls and you were lucky if you could find one that fit that hadn't been warped by scalding water or having it too close to the stove. And having the lid colour match the bowl, after about two weeks like who cared. Plus storing the 13 lids became a problem. No one wanted to open the door to the Tupperware cupboard for fear that they would have an avalanche of ugly plastic lids scattering across the floor. Where did the lids and/or bowls go too? Most likely they took off with the one sock you could never match and now live in Peru or Brazil or Newfoundland.

So I go to this party ready to burp away and I find that, they have dispensed with burping and are now new age. Well to say I was disappointed was an understatement. But to be bummed at a Tupperware Party is like being happy at a funeral. It isn't acceptable. So I listened to Aspen our very cool Tupperware Hostess Person and she shared with us something that proves to me that Tupperware is now designed and run by Ex-Hippies.

They have this boxes right with little air hole things that you can open and shut OK? And you put your fruits and vegetables in these containers depending on if they are deep breathers, mild breathers or don't breath at all (this made me very sad because that meant you were putting a poor apple or something into a box, shutting it - without burping it and the poor sucker would just suffocate). Yeah swear to God this is true. On the side of these plastic boxes in print (but not french I'm afraid) they will tell you which fruits or vegetables are what type of breathers. Yeah, I know I got excited too when I heard this, cause well I always thought I heard shit breathing in my fridge, but I said to myself, fuck that, that is just another frigging flashback and I will ignore it, I refused to believe that I had some pervert reading porn in my fridge.

See what I mean about needing to get out more.

Then I realized after Aspen told us about these breathing fruits and Veggies boxes (which I ordered cause Melinda got some humongous bowl that could feel a Mennayemminite family for weeks as a gift if we spent money). Oh yeah and Melinda is very cool, she knows how to throw a good party.

But, I was thinking see, back a couple of decades ago I took some drugs that made me think that my face was melting or the couch was trying to swallow me or that the peanut butter and jam sandwich that took me 3 hours to eat was really peanut butter and red corpusals. But during this time there were a few experiences where when looking at an apple or banana I carried on some pretty deep conversations with them. So of course they had to be breathing right? To be talking right? Which takes me back to Tupperware is run by Ex-Hippies, cause if fruits and veggies and breath, then Tupperware is making a fortune off of some massive flashbacks from chicks and dudes who were doing window pane acid in the 70's and 80's.

In conclusion, I signed up to host a Tupperware Party.

Hey I got 10 bucks off my order.

Of breathable fruit and veggie containers.

Oops must go, door bell rang, must be the Jehovah Witnesses here to convert me.

Are ya Ripe for the Picking or will ya be Left Behind?

For those of you who follow my blog you know I am a bit of a religious scholar. I was raised a Unitarian, became a Mormon at age 18 for two reasons, it was the only religion my parent really, really hated and the Mormons promise that if you are totally good and get married in the temple and where the special underwear that when you die you are given your own planet be a God over. There is no other religion that gives you those kind of perks. After joining softball I started drinking and smoking pot so that didn't quite fit in with the whole not drinking or drugging Mormon thing. Looking back I would have to say that softball is a the gateway sport to drinking and drugs. From there it was Born again Christian - Following the Native American way of life and ending up Born again Christian cause I just didn't get it right the first time I suppose. I found in the second time around in the Born again that they got me to speak in tongues. Not saying I don't believe that people can do that because I am sure that they can. I did find that I could also speak in tongues after drinking a bottle of tequila.

With this overview of my past religious training you all can see that I am as qualified as Pat Robertson or George Bush to say that I know what God wants for us. Now back to the subject of this post. The Being Left Behind series of books if you don't already know it are a series of book about what will happen when God decides to take all the God Fearing people home. I like to think of this as God Hoovering up his people into the sky, dumping out the humongous vacuum bag and dumping these people in heaven, along with several billion God Fearing Dust Puppies and Bunnies. Those of us who are left behind are just fucked for a couple of reasons.

1. We will be left with all the politicians
2. And all the CEO's of Oil and Gas companies

My greater fear when all this godly vacuuming happens is that I will be on a plane with a pilot who is a vacummee and then the plane goes down and I die. So I am thinking that before I board any plane I want to know if the pilot has a drug problem, cheats on his wife or something else that would leave him behind so I that feel safe in traveling. This goes with anyone in public transportation, I think it is our right to know if they have a potential of being sucked up and leaving us to be hurt or injured due to their suckability factor.

Which leads me to the real reason why I am posting today. In revelations there are several things are supposed to happen before the end of the world. 4 horseman riding around waving stuff and yelling at people (sounds like the RCMP to me) prime ministers that look somewhat like bobble-head dolls (this has come to pass I am sorry to say) and of course you have to study revelations very closely to find this passage but it is there if you look. It says

And there will come a day at the end of the days of this the end of this world at the end of time, somewhere around mid morning when thy will go to the Safeway on 13th Street in Regina and find the lowly vegetable merchants will speakth to the customer and say we have no zucchini for thee, we are short on zucchini. There are NO ZUCCHINI.

Frightening isn't it? Unheard of you say? I couldn't agree more, when in one's life has there ever been a shortage of zucchini? Never I say. Why do you think Adam and Eve left Eden? It was because they started 3 or 4 zucchini plants and they over took the garden to the point that all Adam and Eve had to eat was zucchini casserole, zucchini bread or fried, baked or sauteed zucchini. Those two went screaming out of Eden to get away from that vegetable. In today's world it is not unheard of to open your door and find a box of those bastard zucchini on your doorstep because some poor sod had two plants instead of one. Some say that is where the idea of Invasion of the Body Snatchers came from how quickly those bastard plants can grow.

So to go into the Safeway on 13th Street and be told that they ARE SHORT ON ZUCCHINI, let me know that time is short and that I should be prepared to get involved in the real estate market and stay off of all planes. For all of you who read this, I know you ain't going anywhere so get ready cause the signs of the end of the world or global warming whichever are a happening, so stock up on your zucchini if you can find any and if one day you are walking around and people are just being sucked up into the sky, remember you heard it here first.

It started with the lack of zucchini on the Safeway on 13th Street.

Birthday Parties with TWO YEAR OLDS

Being a non producing member of our society, as in not being a breeder I had forgotten the joy of being around 5 two year olds at my friends birthday party. The frollicking of the children as they play and scream and run about the room is something to behold. For me it was like being at a crack house with midgets high on meth.

This is not to say that I dislike children, as W.C. Fields said when asked "How do you like Children" he responded "They are very good with mustard". I am of not that extreme. I love children. I love seeing how they grow up and experience things for the first time. Usually I like to do this from a distance. Maybe it is because I come from an age where children were supposed to be seen and not heard. This was an easier time for mute children then those of us who could talk and scream, so to see so many children running and playing and eating can be a bit overwhelming for a non breeder such as myself. My father had techniques that he used on unruley children that today I find to be out dated and if caught would find me surrounded by many angry parents.

Beyond all that I had the most lovely time, until I found out that my friend whose birthday I was at was born in 1978. It was at that point that I informed her that if I had been a slut in high school I could be her mother.

It is hell being 46 but having the maturity level of 17.

Taking Up Running

Since Regina is flat and well Regina is flat, I have chosen to take up running as a sport. It isn't exactly a sport as much as way get exercise and to socialize. Though I haven't gotten into the socialization process much because that involves carrying on a conversation and I would rather the air that I use be used to enter my body not talk about my life. This the Running Room would say is not running right. You are supposed to be able to talk while running. So every once and a while I will spew out a hello at someone coming towards me. This scares most people since with head phones on I must be screaming it them. Those walkers really aren't as sturdy as you would think. I have been responsible for a couple of roll overs because of my running.

I began running in March. We started out with a group of about 20 or so, but in March the wolves are hungry and foolishly some of these women were wearing this outfit:

They were slower then the rest of us, some were limping because of sore muscles and what can I say, when we got back from our first run, the numbers had dwindled. The Running Room has since learned that wearing moose outfits is a bad for groups of new runners. But on the upside it does make you want to stay in the front of the pack.

I have also learned that running in a thunder storm is bad business. Coming from the Northwest I realize this, don't stand under trees on top of the only hill in 10 miles. Don't wear aluminum hats of any kind and there is no way to dodge hail. I know these things.

So why is it that while running in a thunder storm the softball teams were out there playing softball with aluminium bats?

One other thing, why can't they make shorts that don't constantly have a desire and need to creep up my thighs, which makes me look like I am wearing some foolish diaper thing. Trying to pull them down is exhausting and dangerous because running while having your hand between your legs is not some thing an amateur should ever do.

This Saturday is my first 5k run. If you by chance see someone running, screaming out an occasional HELLO and wearing what looks like diapers, that would be me.

Suggested Name Change to the Traffic Department

We have all driven over them some times in our lives. Those obnoxious bumps in the road that aren't pedestrians or slow moving skunks, no what I am talking about are those raised curved asphalt things in the road that are created to make us slow down. We find them in neighborhood where their are children, though why you need to slow down for children I will never know, those buggers are fast. They should have them where their are old people because old people aren't fast and you need to slow down for old people not fast little people. Do not try and dispute this logic because it makes sense. It is like asking George Hamilton to be a spokesman for Sun Screen. It is illogical the man is petrified, that is not a sun tan, it is a severe case of petrification. He looks exactly like a mummy but with a nice cigar and smoking jacket.


No George Hamilton has nothing really to do with this article but I find it strange that the world hasn't come to grips that we have mummies walking the world and are doing nothing about it. Screw worrying about Border Patrols. My friends the enemy is walking among us and yet we do nothing!

Today the subject is speed bumps. Why am I so up in arms about them today? No good reason other then I was driving though a neighbourhood of University Park and they have several of them, but do you know what they call them up here in Canada? SPEED HUMPS. Call me weird (but not to my face) but speed humps? when you put those two words together all I can think of is a new slang name for really bad sex.


"So Dorothy how was your date last night? "

"Oh it started out lovely and ended up on a horrible note."

"Oh no what happened?"

"Well George and I were getting frisky and all and well one thing led to another and we ended up in bed and then..."

"Oh no don't say it."

"But I must. I clicked my heels of my ruby red slippers three times and boom it was over."

Horrified. "Do you mean?"

"Yes I do, It was one of those damnable SPEED HUMPS."

"Oh Dorothy I am so sorry."

Sobbing, "yes it was quite horrid I have to say."

As you can see the name that the Canadian Transportation Department is using currently will make them the butt of everyone's jokes and as everyone knows that is not nice to do. Unless you are doing it in a blog, then it is so ok.

What I am suggesting to you the transportation department, change those signs to say speed bumps or face the consequences.

To Scream Like a Girl

There is nothing more humiliating then screaming like a girl, unless you are guy who screams like a girl and then I guess that would be a bit worse.

This morning I was calling Barb and leaving a message, I walked into the backroom and stepped on something that squirmed and was kind of fluttery and fuzzy. I screamed several times into the phone which Barb will now probably save.

I looked down and it was a ginormous bumble bee. It was on it's back. So I turned it over. Then I wondered why would I do that? It is like setting someone loose and then shooting them in the back. It made me feel dirty and evil so I walked away.

Then Barb called and I explained the situation and said I am going to send it a cat to kill it. She said I can't do that the cat will be stung. I thought better me then a cat. So from a distance I
I watched the fuzzy bugger and it kept following the sunlight, like it was sun bathing.

I decided that I couldn't have a fuzzy winged thing with a stinger sunning himself back room all day so I gently picked it up and threw him out in the back patio where the dogs are thinking, they can handle this.

Fucker landed on his back again. I had no choice but to go out and right him. I come back a few minutes later, I look out side and the bastard is sunny himself again where I will be coming in and out. The dogs were giving him no mind. So I did what was the only humane thing I could do at that point.

I went out with a newspaper and nudged him ever so gently. The bastard gathered up steam and huge buzzing noise (that is where the word Bee comes from the buzzing) the fat fuzzy bastard took off aiming for my head.

Unfortunately I screamed again.

He missed my head and slowly headed for the sun.

I am sure I will find him somewhere in my house again, when I least expect it.

I wonder also why I am suddenly writing as if I am English. I must have some English born talking disease.

How do you deal with Depression?

You would think to start out with that I would be doing all my depression related posts in the middle of a howling snow storm in the dead of winter, that is when most people usually in the old days would just leave their sod hut on the prairies and walk out into a white out never to be seen again until spring time. Dial up connections will do that to you trust me.

But I have been suffering from a bit of depression of late. Well that is a lie because a bit of depression most likely looks like oh damn I don't think I will do my nails today. That's a bit of depression. Then there is the depression that sometimes hits me like an Ashlee Simpson song. Yep it is that bad, scary bad. When I get a depressed I write lists that start out with.

• Get out of bed
• No I mean it get the fuck out of bed
• Ok sleep for another hour and then you must get out of bed or you will wet the bed then you will have to change the sheets
• Screw it I will pretend I have a water bed that has sprung a leak.

As you can see this is not something that can be fixed by singing songs from the Sound of Music or by clogging. Nope this is serious stuff.

So let us say I do get out of bed. Then there is the TV. I believe anyone who is depressed should stay AWAY FROM DR. FUCKING PHIL, talk about a baldheaded bastard who forces his poor wife to listen to his dribble every single frigging day and then at the end of the show he drags her off as if she is in a mild coma of some kind.

As you can see I am learning to stay away from sitting there watching TV. Yesterday was a bad day for food, because generally if something is bothering me and the world is weighing heavy on my shoulder I try to be very buddist and try and become like a locust, I swarm into the kitchen making mumbling sounds and I circle the kitchen once before I open of the fridge and eat anything that involves fat or carbs. Some times that means I eat crackers with cheese, or cheese with potato chips or, just cheese, or just potato chips or crackers and if there is anything with sugar about that is refined into a cookie or candy I will consume that. My eating will stop as soon I can feel the last bit sitting at the top of my throat ready to come out.

Then I sit and wish that I understood the concept of bulimia better. I mean I get that you eat like a locust and the throw up. Makes sense to me, but since I have an issue with procrastination, by the time I get around the puking part, it is totally too late.

It is unfortunate that in my life I have been unable to use the same techniques that have worked for millions in losing weight.

• I don't puke so that's out, well unless I eat scallops and then all bets are off
• I tried to take speed to lose weight and all I did was eat faster
• I tried that no carb diet but after sitting down and eating a side of beef, I don't care what they say the weight just didn't fall off of me
• I avoid mirrors like a vampire so I don't have that issue of looking in the mirror and seeing a fat person, usually what I see is a blur as I run by them screaming.

So why am I now going through this at this time of my life?

Because I live in a frigging small city in the middle of the frigging prairies and though nice it is hard to make friends here and I don't have a college education and I'm not Canadian and I have big hair.

I am hoping my next post will show you pictures of Jill McAllister's new hairdo from Global news because you tell me -

• Is she really the reincarnation of Medusa?
• Or does her hair stylist have a drinking problem plus really hate her and gave her a perm that would scare women from Kentucky*.

*This is in no way a derogatory remark about women in general from Kentucky. In fact I actually know one woman from Kentucky and not only does she not have big hair, but she is in fact smart, funny and knows where Canada is, not like a lot of people from the states.

Loving the family from a distance

As a disclaimer let me say that I do love my family very much. Without them, I wouldn't be who I am and there are several therapists in my past who wouldn't have new cars because of me. So I would first like to thank my parents for the gifts of humour and talent they gave me and also for helping keep the American economy going.

Most of my family lives in Seattle. I do have a brother who also lives in Canada but for us siblings it seems important to keep a minimum of at least 200 miles distance between each other so that we all get along. Doing holidays is of course difficult, that involves moving quickly from room to room so as not to have more then two siblings in the same room at any given time because a combination of 3 siblings in a room creates the same kind of dangerous chemical reaction as what happened at Chernobyl and 3 mile Island.

I have found in my time here on the prairies an equation that I call the dysfunctional family love equation which is - if you multiply the number of miles I am away from my family times (1750 miles) how much I love my family (10) then you will see I love my family 17500 times more then if I lived in their home (10) or if I lived in the same city about 15 miles from them (150). So you see from this mathematical equation, by moving to Canada, to the prairies, to Regina, I have actually improved my relations with my family, have created enough distance between my sibilings so as not to cause a mass murder and therefore have all around done a great service for my family and myself and my country.

But I do call them because they are elderly and I miss them. The equation I discussed above can also be used for missing them. Replace "love" for "missing" and you see that by being out here I miss them a lot.

I am not sure where the post is going. Last time I talked to my parents I found out that a rogue coyote had chased my sister from the cabin she lives on in my parents property to the house. This would seem disturbing to any normal person and I certainly don't want my sister attacked or hurt by coyotes or vultures or any other animal. But I do find a certain ironic humour in this coyote story when I think back on how my one sister tried to break into my other sister's bedroom with a fork and stab her. Please be aware that if I bring this story up, everyone will deny and call me a liar. I might be a liar, for all I know it was a spoon. But there was a situation that did involve a kitchen untensil and my two sisters chasing each other. As we all know in most stories there is some truth and some story telling to make it more entertaining. With our family there is rarely a need to make things up, because most people can't believe our true stories anyway.

Back to the talking to my mother. She said that one of the wild life biologists who was setting traps on their property dated me in high school. I informed her that I never went on a date with anyone in high school, unless you count the guy who wanted to steal my parents car to go joy riding and that wasn't a date because no one goes joy riding in a volkswagon bus and I didn't go out with him. So she said OK the guy you dated when you were a mormon. Wrong again mother, I didn't date any mormons either, when I was one for that year, before I found softball and drinking. I said my no one ever leaves that area do they? (Seattle) She said it is a beautiful area and no smart person would leave, i.e. me.

This is where that equation discussed above changes. Distance (A) x love (B) - guilt and rage (C) changes the whole equation. Let us look at it again shall we?

(1750 miles x 10 love) - 1,000,000 guilt and rage = -982500

Which puts me in a deficit concerning my family, plus you add phone charges and wow, I am going to have to move to siberia to get this puppy back to a positive number.

So you all can see that my advice is to anyone who has a family like mine is, distance does make the heart grow fonder and thank god for the bonus airmiles I get at Safeway cause I think I am going to need them.

Hey Safeway on 13th Fix the Frigging Door

I am at that age where if I look ahead I see most people in walkers and if I look behind me the other half are in strollers. That is one reason I like Regina, I feel young. Hell when I run I am passing people right and left, mostly in walkers and yes I do most of my running circling the senior citizen centers but, you have to stay positive and get your exercise. And it is because the median age of a Reginonian is 95 that I write this letter of protest to the Safeway on 13th Avenue. If you have been following my blog you are aware that we have had other issues with this rogue store, like having parking border guard checking to see that if you park in their parking lot you shop in their parking lot. Amazing enough through the use of angry "How are we Doing? comment cards from irate individuals - OK it was one person Tracy the Butcher of 13th street as we fondly think of her who wrote like a gazillion of them using false names like Racy and Tacy and Traci with an "i". So scared the main office in Calgary they sent the poor guy packing to the oil fields of Fort McMurry where he was never heard from again.

So you can see this store has problems. The latest one that cropped up was when I went shopping on Saturday. I have had a rough time of it. I got in a traffic jam when 4 people ended up at a 4 way stop at the same time. Canadians are so polite no one would go first, they just kept waving their hands and shooing forward the other person, the other person would wave no, no you go first really, be my guest. After a couple of minutes of this I waved them all off with my gun and drove to the store.

I am not the most graceful person in the world and I hate to have it advertised, like I don't wear shirts that say, warning klutz. But I do occasionally do uncoordinated things. On Saturday I walk up to the automatic door at Safeway and BAM I find out it is not automatic because it doesn't move, oh well it did move by the forward thrust of my body and my nose against the glass, but by no means was it automatic. Then I proceed to push and with some force because you see there is an inner door due to the cold weather up here, which causes a vacuum seal so you push and push and then the vacuum seal breaks and then I almost fall through the other side. After this it hard to gather ones wits about oneself to continue on with ones shopping.

Now a note on the door could have been helpful saying it was broken and you had to push. It was a nice day the could have propped it open. Did they? No and what was the result? There is nothing funny about a pile of elderly people walkers strewn everywhere in front of the door, feebly pounding on the glass begging to get in. What was even more difficult was to climb over them to get out with my groceries.

So Safefuckingway, shape up and get that damn door fixed or I will send the butcher of 13th street to visit you.

Regina Social Scene

I have been here since September of last year and trying to work hard at breaking into the social structure of the Regina community. You may say, we are a friendly people and would help anyone stuck in the snow or if they had fallen through the ice and I would agree. But there is a big difference between saving someones life and being invited to dinner and I have finally discovered the secret of Regina. They best way for me to explain it is to use the diagram of a human cell. As you can see each cell has it's own nucleus which we will call your family and close circle of friends Around it other stuff that would make this too complicated so let us just say the lysosome would be your work, the ER is the shopping malls you go too, the golgi is your neighborhood, the squiggly black lines are either bugs or conflicts you are having and the lining around it is the Regina Ring road. See how simple this is?

Now in Regina everyone has their own cell they live in. Not a terrorist cell because that is different and involves bombs and guns and bad attitudes. No I am talking about the normal Reginain. They work hard at creating these cells and feel very comfortable in them. They are usually in a relationship of some kind and it is very nice and very few conflicts or squiggly lines. You following me? Now this is where it gets a bit more complicated. If you get divorced or break up with your partner, someone has to leave that cell and find their own new cell to hang in. You can take your job, your malls and your ring road (unless you move to Saskatoon then you can't) and create a new life. But as soon as you leave your cell you are now considered a free floating cell and you could be considered a danger to the other cells and not accepted. Some cells might consider you cancerous and that you would cause damage to their cells causing more squiggly lines (this would be bad, because that means you would cause strife in their cell or you don't bath and have bugs following you is just not good in any situation).

Sometimes cells merge mostly through marriage. This isn't a bad thing unless you had a bad break up with someone who knows someone from another cell and then you can expect years of squiggly lines to be in your life, unless that person falls through the ice and no one saves them. Now the dangers of cell merges is that you might introduce a friend to another friend thinking that you all can be friends. But then they become best friends and your cell is excluded and you are just sitting there stewing in your cell while their cells are going out partying. Personally I would say fuck their cells.

If you are from the United States and try to push your way into a cell, it just doesn't work. They might invite you over once or twice but will most likely count their silver after you leave and they wonder to themselves how can you be so stupid to have voted in George W. Bush twice. They never believe that you didn't vote for that lunatic.

In conclusion cell life can be great fun unless you of course have the squiggly line issue. It is always important to take good care of your cell and for God sakes if you are going to be foolish enough to sleep around, don't do it in your cell or else you will end up having to move to Weyburn or Moose Jaw.

Canadians and their Shopping Carts

And up here, Canadians are very nice but they don't trust you for shit when it comes to their shopping carts. So they have this stupid ass contraption where you shove a quarter in the handle push it in with this key thing and it is released from it's chain gang existence locked together with all those other poor carts. I refuse to put the quarter in for one good reason.

I still have a hard time figuring out how to do it, so I look like I have the shakes or am amazingly uncoordinated and I refuse to do that sober.

So I get a basket to buy a few things

I manage to get 33 items in the basket accidentally the bananas and eggs are at the bottom and I forget one fucking item all the way across the store in the veggie department. By this time it weighs so much I am dragging it through the store looking like I am the hunch back of Notre Dame, (to let you know I tried kicking it once or twice but there was the egg/banana issue and it hurt my toes when I kicked it) or the Elephant Man and I am looking around hoping there might be a Sherpa just back from Everest for hire.

No such luck

So I pull a muscle in my arm, but fuck if I looked stupid trying to put that fucking quarter in that stupid fucking slot in the grocery cart.

What I should do is get a bunch of quarters and go out there at night and release the carts so they can roam free and run into cars in the parking lots and stuff.

How not to catch a cat

Cats wonderful, I love cats, I won't go to places that serve cat on their menu but at the same time I find cats thing about catch me, catch me I bet you can't catch me is a stupid game and one that I don't play well and if I win the cat will lose.
Saturday I accidentally let the cat out. Sushi hasn't been able to go outside since bitch dog Stella came north to live.

After spending the day with Barb's parents while she was doing her engineering presentation (inlaws are wonderful but ya have to be "on" all the time) I was finally saying goodbye to them, Shithead Sushi flew out the door. I chased she ran. I stopped and Barb's dad scared her out from underneath the car coming right towards me, she ran to the right so I swung around and took a very forceful lunge forgetting that there was a huge tree right behind me. I slammed into the tree and fell on my back. I got up not swearing because her parents are BAPTISTS and say heck not hell (and there is nothing wrong with Baptists or anyone else who is connected with a church in anyway, you just don't swear around Baptists or your partners parents) while Fuckhead Sushi runs towards the back of the house, where my bitch dog from the south is at, Sushi jumps up on the fence bordering our house and the renters house. Stella is so excited that I am running towards the backyard she doesn't notice piece of pussy shit Sushi standing on top of the fence. On the other side of the fence is the renters that have two big "cats are not our friends" dogs and fortunately for me they weren't there. So I go in their backyard where there is evil fuck for brains Sushi sitting there waiting for me. There were so many bones in the back yard I thought I had walked into the remains of either a mass murderer or a big old Orc party. I picked her up gently with my good arm and didn't kill her and didn't even say heck.

Also is it too much to ask that if the cat is going to go outside in her pen that we built her where she eats a bunch of grass, that she stays out there to do her bulimic thing instead of coming inside and finding the rug that I just washed and puking on that? Am I asking too much here?

The Running of the Lemmings

The big thaw has happened. The birds are arriving by the dozens, skittering to a landing on a still partially frozen lake. The jack rabbits hopefully have started to turn brown or they are sitting ducks for predators like coyotes, foxes and fast moving sports cars. Regina will be having the annual running of the lemmings in the next couple of weeks which to people from Regina is the true beginning of Spring to the old timers. This custom began back in the 1800's when cabbage rolls were just nuggets and bunny hugging was still legal in the cold northern outposts of Saskatchewan. Saskatchewan has always been known for it's yearly migration of lemmings from the south to the north where they feed and have their offspring. Come fall they are all fattened up and hardly for their long track back to Phoenix Arizona where they stay in air conditioned trailers with gravel lawns. But come spring the whole city is comes alive with the excitement and the rush of the running of the lemmings.

You first see them come through town in ones or twos, the evening news makes it the lead story of the night. Lordy, lordy the lemmings have landed. Well the thrill that rushes through your body when you hear those words is like rolling up the rim of a Tim Horton's cup and finding that you won a car or a free cup of coffee, it is that kind of rush. From the first sighting on the town kicks into high gear. People pull out their Lemming outfits from last year. The police are put on extra patrol but have to driver very slowly so as not to run down the lemmings and of course they shut off Victoria Street for the running. It is different then the running of the bulls in Spain in that 1) lemmings have no horns and 2) you don't have to be macho to run with the lemmings you just need to watch where you place your feet so it is takes more grace then this:


These are mostly mean who feel that by dressing in red that it attracts the bulls to them and makes the running more exciting and they look more macho. Big clue for these guys, if you are running on a narrow street with bulls behind you the chances is that they are just trying to get the hell out of there instead of going after you specifically you big old macho guy you wearing that sexy red sash.

When it comes to the Running of the Lemmings, they block of the street of course because who wants to clean up the corpses of hundreds of lemmings that have become bits of furry carpet because of the cars. No we block it off to pedestrians only and only for one day. The day starts with a pancake and cabbage roll breakfast put on by the mayor. Then we take to the streets about 9am after the lemmings have woken up and are on the move, here is a picture of the last Running of the Lemmings:


As you can see by this picture that the it truly is a spectacle that no one should miss if they come to Regina in the Spring time.

My need to leave now for a fitting of my lemming outfit for this will be my first one and I want to look very lemmingish.

Next blog will be about what a springtime thaw looks like if you procrastinated when it came to cleaning up dog dropping from the backyard.

Until then Happy Spring!

It's Been So Long I Apologize

I know reading this blog brings a smile to you face and for most gives you a reason to get up in the morning so for those how haven't gotten up and gone to work because I haven't written in this blog all I can say is - that is really a pitiful excuse, it really is.

So I finally have faced some of the provinces red tape and boy am I so excited by it. I feel just like home except I'm not and they can deport me and being an alien isn't like a Steven Spielberg movie I can tell you that much. No glowing fingers, no funny voices, no trying to communicate with a customs agent from a big space craft with a bunch of pretty lights and organ music, it is none of that. What it is, is a total irritating piss me off pain in the ass. But then I guess that is their job, so damn it give them a raise or even better retire them so I can talk to some one who doesn't speak in a monotone voice droning on about rules and regulations.

So I am supposed to register my car, my tabs on car from Washington are expired at the end of March (please this is not a post about me and my procrastination issues) so I figured no problem. I would do them online and bingo get them sent to my parents house in the states and then beg my sister who doesn't talk to me to mail them to me. Easy enough. Then I find out I can't because I have have an emissions test to find out if my car is polluting the environment. It is a Toyota 4-runner of course it is polluting the environment. What car doesn't.

So I go on the Saskatchewan Licensing website call them up (they are totally nice and real people) and find out that I am supposed to turn over my license and plates within 90 days. Ok now I am not only an alien but I am illegal. But no problem go in, don't have to take a drivers test (really cool) and it is much cheaper then registering my car in the States. All I have to do is get my car checked out by customs and get a form

CUSTOMS - do I need to say more. So I get on the phone with someone who really doesn't want to be there or anywhere. One snowflake short of a blizzard if you know what I mean. I say I have a work visa for 6 months. He says not good enough I need one for one year. So what do I do I ask? You are illegal. I said but I have a work visa. He says get a letter from the company you are working for that says you have employment for one year. I go ok, so until I get that I can't get license, plates and am illegal. He grunts out yes.

I of course didn't tell him who I was or where I lived.

Problem is, I haven't gotten a job yet with this place I have been volunteering for 5 months. So I have to get job, get a letter then register my car. Until then I am illegal and stressed out.

So just thought I would share that with you.

More Canadian Etiquette and Survival

There are things Canadians will tell you and things you just need to learn on your own. I don't know if it is because Canadians are too polite to tell you or just their quirky sense of humour. First of all if you decide to wash your car follow these steps

1. Wash it before you see pieces of it fall off from rust.
2. Don't wash it if it is -20 Celsius
3. If you are stupid enough to do that really make sure when you go through the dryer part of the car wash you use up the entire allotted time
4. If you have done number two and not adequately done number 3 you will find out the "clear coat protection" they have offered is not wax, but a sheet of ice from which you have become entombed because you were stupid enough to do number 2 and now can't open your door without using tremendous physical force slamming your body against the inside of the door.
5. It also helps to check to see if you accidentally pushed the lock mechanism cause you have a really crappy head cold and took way too much Day Quil Cold Medicine.

Other car etiquette to be aware of; During the winter snow and ice or slush freeze up behind your tires to create huge lump of slush shit that you need to kick off because sometimes it infringes on you being able to turn your tires and that is bad. Because then you might be mistaken for an elderly driver from Moose Jaw and that is so not cool. This formation looks like this:

These snow turds as I like to call them need to be kicked off. But it totally rude and I mean totally rude to kick these things off at other people driveways, places of businesses or in the street in front of where they live.

Why you ask, it's only a combination of H20, mud, salt, oil, grease and maybe the odd pedestrian that you didn't see.

Because for some reason Canadians think you kicking your snow turds off on their property the same way as if you went to their house and didn't flush their toilet after using it.

The same way as if you didn't take your shoes off when you enter their home (everyone takes their shoes off, even the movers who bring furniture) they usually are missing a toe or two but it is rude to call them stubby.

The same way as if you let your 5 dogs use their front yard as a bathroom and not clean up after it.

Therefore if you come upon a situation where your car accidentally has left a snow turd behind, it is important to keep a box of these in your car at all times, so that you can pick them up and place them in the appropriate trash recycling bin or something like that.

Stay tuned for more breaking news on Canadian Etiquette as it happens

Using Aspartame causes your brain cells to die

Frighting information to hear. I just found this out the other night while I was being tortured by my in shape Pilate, core strengthening, smiling, evil instructor. She told me that I should cut out diet drinks because I would lose weight and because the crap was killing off my brain cells.

I knew it.

If I knew now what I knew then I wouldn't have given up the drinking, smoking of cigarettes and pot, acid, estasty, vicodin, speed, crank, cocaine, did I mention drinking? Oh yeah and mescaline, hash, drinking, falling down drinking, passing out drunk drinking.

Cause obviously none of that crap was killing all the brain cells it was that evil, satanic NutraSweet that was doing in my poor brain.

Nope it wasn't the bourbon that was offing my brain cells like crazy

It was the fucking diet coke.

The Neighbourhood Boys

Lucky us have learned a new game. It really is a fun game and I am sure all of you have played it once or twice in your life. It is called.

Running up to someones doorbell, ringing it and then running away.

So of course you go to the doorbell and no one is there.

Pretty funny stuff. I of course looked down thinking maybe it was one of those Jackrabbits trying to get money for Easter Seals or something.

So shut the door and get back to the important stuff - American Idol.

Thump, thump, thump, ding dong
Dogs go absolutely apeshit barking and running back and forth to the door.

Nope no kids, no jackrabbit, not even a lemming

I peek through the shade and there across the street are two street urchins hopping up and down like they have found a pot of gold. They stare at the house, I stare back through the the blinds.

They look both ways and it isn't like they even have anything to hide behind, they come charging towards the door for the third time like Custer's Last Stand.

I am waiting.

I have the door unlocked.

They come running up the steps, onto the porch and just as they are about to ring the door bell

I open up the door and scream BOOOO!!!!

As loud as I can.

And they run, oh do they run.

And I am left to watch the last 1/2 hour of American Idol in peace.

I would like you to meet my Butcher

Regina is full of interesting people and places. So far I have shown you where rabbits tread and where I get my hair cut. I have taken you up north where the women shinny in the winter, as compared to strippers who shimmy all year round.

So now I think it is time for you to meet my butcher. Well, she isn't exactly my very own butcher. Now that sounds pretty possessive like I am from the United States, or something. Which I am, but I am really trying to change, really. Tracy is her name and cutting and chopping is her game. Somewhat like my hair stylist, but she uses a cleaver instead of scissors. Which is not to say that Tara chops at my hair, or that I find hair in meat I buy from Tracy, just saying that they both have a "T" in their name and that I know them and that is saying a lot that I know two people. To be truthful, I know more then two people. So when someone says my name on the street I don't scream quite as often and cry out "I'm one of the nice people from the US". That is embarrassing, since I am finding out that to scream or cry out in Regina is frowned upon unless it is during a curling game and you have a broom and you are "hurrying hard". If you have been watching the curling competition during the Olympics you would know what I am talking about. Though, when the Finnish yell "hurry hard" it doesn't sound anything like the team from Newfoundland when they yell it out. Sounds more like "hoppuilla kovasydäminen!"

Back to the neighborhood butcher, Tracy. Funny, in the northwest when we say neighborhood butcher we usually mean a serial killer. Funny huh? OK, not funny ha ha, more like funny weird, or funny if you are sick in the head funny. But Tracy is truly a cool person. Do you know what her favorite band is? Yes. Not yes, I know what it is, though I do know who it is, it is "YES" and for those of you who are young and shouldn't be reading this blog anyway they are a band from the 80's. Now it is important to know who her favorite band is and to never say anything bad about this band otherwise they have "special cuts" of meat wink, wink, nudge, nudge, if you know what I mean. You know meat that neighs if it were alive kind of meat.

So Tracy's family owns the Butcher Boys Meat Shop and it is in the Cathedral Area of Regina, which is the very hip place where people like Kim (I won't say her last name to protect her innocence), who is my friend, lives. Well, she is really Barb's friend more then mine, but I am pretending she is my friend even though she runs a lot when it is really cold out and is cute and thin. I have decided she can still be my friend. Yep, I know, I am a pretty cool person.

So, but here is the heads up. Tracy is at war with Safeway across the street. Not like she is going to bomb the meat department or anything like that, but here is the gossip. See, her place is right across the street and sometimes people, now this might freak you out, will actually park in the Safeway parking lot - and get this - walk across the street and buy meat from her shop. I know, crazy, huh? So Safeway knows this and this is where it gets really gross. They have a guy standing outside all day and watching the parking lot to see that only Safeway shoppers use it. Now since he is Canadian, he doesn't do anything about it, but everyone can see him and his beady eyes looking perturbed at them. Pretty nasty stuff eh?

He looks just like this except he is wearing a toque and his lips are a bit redder.

So Tracy knows this and is writing to Safeway using those "How Are We Doing" customer satisfaction cards to let them know just what she thinks of their "enforcer".

I will keep you up to date as this all plays out, but man if I were you I would stay the hell away from that Safeway parking lot on 13th Avenue if I were you, cause it could be a nasty war of comment cards.