It has happened here and will happen to you - be warned

I knew it would happen someday, maybe not to me but to someone I knew. I felt in my soul that what I believed in wasn't just craziness created by crazies in New Mexico, small bit of Newfoundland or Steven Spielberg but in fact was a reality and that they were living among us.

And I met one.

An Alien.

You might scoff and say, get that woman out of that house she is going off the deep end but believe me I know when I have gone off the deep end because I have spent most of my life there and this is not deep end material.

This is how it went -

I was sanding on the hardwood floors upstairs, covered from head to toe in dust, have glasses and a dust mask on, so it is pretty obvious I have been sanding, when the door bell rings. I run downstairs cause any chance to talk to someone is a thrill for me and who was there but the mailman delivering a package.

He looks at me smiles and says "you've been sanding I see"

Clever observation by him I thought

I said why yes I have, then I lifted up my dust mask so he could understand me and said again, yes I have.

He held a package to me for my signature and then sniffed me, not in the way of a dog sniffing another dog because that is so not right but just a short sniff and said. "Aw I can tell by the smell of dust on your breath that you have been sanding hemlock, you can't even get that wood anymore, it's worth it's weight in gold.

I said and my blood and sweat too.

Then I realized, this was no postman. No this was an Alien Terminte taking the form of a postman to get information on us human life forms, because no human would sniff a woman and know exactly what type of wood they were sanding. Oh you might think, how scary could termites be when it comes to taking over the world. I have 3 words for you mister know it all - soft wood industry.

If Aliens are really Termites posing as postmen and have invaded Regina, well all I can say is good luck world because it is Regina today, but it will be New York or even Saskatoon tomorrow.

What really happened between Dilana and Magni

This is Dilana with a friend before she became a star on SuperNova, notice the piercing attached to her lower lip.

























This is Magni the sweet Icelandic singer who doesn't flounce around in icelandic sweaters before the tragic accident that happened last week.

The World Did Not Come to an End

It has been postponed due to technical difficulties, so all my cult followers please come out of your caves and go back to work, so I can continue to receive the monthly checks that allow me to communicate with the Gods. Without this money I am unable to get a clear line to the Gods, sort of like having to use dial up when I could be using DSL.

This is the last week of working on the house. Last week I had a nervous breakdown and was unable to continue working like Debbie Fucking Travis on crystal meth. It was a combination of realizing that no it is absolutely impossible to work 3 weeks straight without your body breaking down and darn it I got stung.

I think the straw that broke the camel's back as they say in middle eastern countries (I always try to keep this blog political) was the attack of a certain angry flying creature. Here in Canada they call them wasps, where I am from we call them yellow jackets. In the States we consider a Wasp to be either one of the these buggers pictured below. They both have yellow markings a very small waist and a violent attitude except that the one with wings is believed to be smarter and to have a better singing voice. What these two also have in common is when you hear one sing, or one stings the end result is usually the same - tears of agony.

Back to my story, I was working diligently in the back yard pulling up weeds and getting ready for a load to the dump (the only time I get out and socialize lately) when while pulling up thistles I felt this intense pain the pain that made me want to go running to my mommy, yeah that kind of bad pain. I look down thinking that I have a thistle in tennis shoes and since I'm not wearing socks I'm thinking it got stuck there and what do I find but a yellow jack - wasp - sonofabitch inside the tongue of my shoe stinging away. I screamed and knocked him out and then went hopping into the house cursing silently to myself. Why to myself you ask? See what you all don't get is they are called Yellow JACKETS, which means if they are all are wearing the same colour and have the same coat, hello get my drift - as in the Hell's Angels yeah see where I am going with this, these fuckers belong not only to a gang but to a species and if you call one of them out, then you better run mighty fast cause they will be calling their brothers out and you will be puffed up like a puffer fish out of water.

I did as I lay on the couch with a bag of peas on my ankle make some pretty rude remarks about how small his little fucking stinger must be if it took him that many times stinging me for him to get my attention. I mean I am talking small here people.

So this time of year one thing you can be sure of the yellow jackets, wasps are running out of their food they normally consume so they will be fighting for our food. This along with Paris Hilton being played on the radio, makes it not safe to leave the house for any reason at all and if you do have to leave your house, run, get into your car, lock your doors and listen to CBC or NPR (National Public Radio) for only then do you have a chance of not be tortured by the sounds of the other wasp.

5 days until the world comes to an end

Things aren't moving along as planned, but then what would be the excitement if they did move smoothly. I was expecting to get the upstairs room finished but, with the temperature hitting 34 yesterday and most likely 10 degrees hotter upstairs I said to hell with it I shall hand sand stairs with my bloody fingers. But as you can see I did put the first coat on, though it is hard with this picture to see the droplets of blood and sweat mixed in with a sand colored paint.




The learning curve in a project like this is very fast or painful whichever you desire. I have learned that when you sand stairs with an 80 grit sand paper and leave it that way. The chances that you will get fir slivers in your bare feet is well over 99%. These are things that Debbie wouldn't tell you but I am because I really do care. As you can see by the picture Debbie believes in using drop cloths for almost everything, the little hussy.





Finally I packed up one of our computers and moved the other one so it looks more officeish (in layman's language less cluttered) Everything about selling a house is to make it lived in but you don't want anyone to actually think you live there) At 9pm last night, tired, sweaty and having eaten two, count them two ice cream bars I discovered that computers have more cords and if you put the little pieces of shit together they would be longer then your small intestine. This is just a wild guess on my part but for anyone who has had to move a computer I am sure you agree that by the end of the job you would like to rip out some one's small intestine, starting with Bill Gates.

So today I finish the upstairs, sand the stairs so I spend more time working and less time pulling little bits of wood out of my feet and hopefully finish painting the bathroom.

Have I mentioned lately how much I detest painting, sanding and home remodeling?

6 work day until house is up for sale

I writing you from the combat zone also known as my house. I am sitting in the office, the only room that hasn't been soiled by the likes of paint or stains. Think of it as the room the UN is occupying and has cease fire somewhat happening in it. Sure there is the occasional mudding happening on the ceiling but other then that it is free of clarity and full of clutter.

Today I will be painting that bastard room upstairs, I ran out of primer and paint and tape so as they say in the business I was SOL. My goal today with my bloody fingers is to prime and paint this room where satan must dwell - I ask that you not look too closely to the sanding job - with blood spewing from what is left of my fingers my desire to make a smooth and silky surface went out the window.

You know it is never a bad day when you can put a picture of Monty Python in your blog.

So today my goal is to prime, paint, tape and sand. These are the areas that I am focusing on. The upstairs satan bedroom.

And why the hell not, I shall get down on my hands and knees and sand these bastard stairs that probably wouldn't have needed so much sanding if I had put plastic down on the stairs as was suggested by Barb. When she said this to my I wondered if killing was on her mind, because to put plastic on a steep staircase would seem to me to be creating a new ride called slip and slide to your death. I can almost picture the carnies working the ride.

I will most certainly have to put Sara the Canadian lab outside because everytime I swear or scream out in rage she comes running to me in a codependent manner which makes me feel bad and takes away from my ability to work at my full rage filled capacity.

To have this house ready for selling by Monday the following things have to be accomplished:

• Master bedroom finished patching
• Prime Master Bedroom
• Paint Master Bedroom
• Stain staircase
• 2nd coat on bathroom
• paint ceiling in office
• put up crown molding in dining room
• put in base board all over the frigging house
• do touch the fuck up work
• clean like a motherfucker
• clean the backyard
• take two loads of important crap to the dump
• clean carpet
• Oh don't worry there is something else I am sure I forgot

Remodeling a house

HGTV - all the shows on this channel are lies. If you watch this channel and are sitting drinking a nice cup of tea watching Debbie Travis do miracles on some house in Toronto - it's always in Toronto or Montreal, never ever do you see her drive her little truck through the Prairies. I am sure she has done homes in Vancouver but I bet that she has had that little truck of her transported on her private jet, so as not to have to travel through the prairies. Now if you are delusional enough to actually believe that you can do some of the things she does in the time period she does for the show and want to start a project, believe me in real life there is no way to cut and edit out the bad things and let me tell you there are many bad things that happen when you are fixing up a house yourself to sell, things that Debbie or Holmes on Holmes (whose Carharts are never dirty) will never share with you, but I will because I am in the middle of this living hell.

Sure you might have a hard time believing me because I did stick metal in my mouth when it was 20 below. But there are certain things I would never lie to you about and these words I shall speak to you are the truth.

Let's start with the type of house you are living in. I am living in a wartime house. Lovely hardwood floors underneath some orange carpet, that is covering some really ugly fake brown brick looking linoleum that is covered by wait, is that more white ugly linoleum, why it is, no wonder the doors don't close. After about a week of scrapping and crying and you really begin to relate to the Cinderella Story, this could be due to the fumes you have been huffing from the stuff that that is supposed to be environmentally friendly for a couple of weeks that you use to scrap the most likely asbestos invested motherfucking ugly linoleum off the floor. Listen pot is environmentally friendly too, but I don't see that shit legal, except for the Netherlands and we all know that without drugs how would you convince people to continue to walk around in wooden clogs eh?

So you find the hardwood floors and it doesn't fill you with as much joy as you expected, this could be because you aren't huffing that shit anymore and most of your brain cells are gone, which is perfect for the next project you are about to embark on: Drywalling.

In the states we call it sheet rock, but that is because we have rocks to climb in Washington and they don't have any here so they call it drywalling.

First you have to rip out all the old drywall which isn't hard since they guys who put it up were so fucked up on the glue they were sniffing from putting the wood down that they missed half the time with the nails. This job isn't bad, because you might be a bit pissed off and this helps get the anger out, tearing out walls. Suggestion that you wear heavy shoes, because nails go through tennis shoes. Which makes you even more angry and then you have run out of walls to rip out or solvent to sniff.

When putting up new dry wall, always measure twice and cut once. You do it the other way around and well, you are fucked. It is important not to put on the mud too heavy. Cause the more mud you put on, the more you have to sand it bloody shit off. Things to remember about sanding.

Those masks you wear to keep the dust out of your lungs - you have to replace then at least once per room, or they become dust collectors and become tools to keep a steady supply of dust traveling into your lungs.

This might be a no brainer to some, but remember I have been doing a lot of stripping of floors - putting your contacts in and then sanding right underneath the area to be sanded, isn't probably the best idea. See sand underneath contact lenses, cuts, and cuts and cuts. Which you don't notice since you have been sanding for oh let's say about 5 days now with sand paper. When you fold sandpaper you have a rough surface against your finger pads as you are pressing down to sand the dry mud. After 5 days of this process you realize - fuck the FBI cause now they can't get you, cause you FUCKING DON'T HAVE ANY PRINTS LEFT ON YOUR FINGERS. All you have are cracked bloody stubs.

Next you have the real estate agent come to the house. And she says an amount that you want to scoff and laugh and scream at her at, because based on the amount of pain and suffering X number of brain cells destroyed you think the amount should be closer to a billion fucking dollars - US dollars by the way. You will be saddened to find that your time and hours put into the house are not worth as much as you envisioned.

After a fruitless search for more stripping compound you hear the words that send your soul into a very dark place that is full of screaming and retching.

In one weeks time the house is going up for sale and it is my responsibility to keep the house totally clean all the time forever.

I thought sanding one room forever would be my idea of hell, but no this is it. This means, dusting - fuck, washing and putting the dishes away every day. Vacuuming every day. Double fuck on that one and here is the freakiest one of them all - making the bed.

If you can get through this entire experience and still believe in a God then I say right the fuck on. Hey Terrorists - bring it on, if you think you can do anything that fucks with me more then is I would like you to try.

Excuse me while I try and take my contacts out of my bloody eyeballs with my bloody stubs of fingers.

Canadian Idol

The remarks I make in this following post, will get me stoned for being a heretic and a witch more so then being a lesbian. So let me begin with a disclaimer and a confession. I have been watching Canadian Idol from the beginning. I can't help myself. They start the show off with such bad singing that it hooks you in, in the same way that seeing a tragedy unfold like a Hurricane or Tornado or a Pamela Anderson Marriage. You get hooked and can't help yourself. Then when you get down to the final 10 after wading through the contestants singing 2 minute bits of their favourite songs, you have now hours and hours of time invested, so like picking a scab you stay with it until it is complete.

For those of you who aren't from Canada or don't watch Canadian Idol (cause you are so hooked into America's got talent) This guy above is from Saskatchewan. He was born in Moose Jaw, raised in Rockglen and was working at the Smitty's on North Albert Street. I went there for breakfast on my birthday, I know I rock. The food sucked but it is now one of the places to visit and to touch the menu that Tyler might have touched. So don't any of you be saying that I haven't done my bit to get to know the real Tyler, cause I haven't done anything to research him. I mean do you really think I can Divine something about this kid from his DNA on a menu for Gods sake? That is just crazy talking shit.

So I have been watching the show and we all know the shows of this kind have one HUGE flaw in their voting system. The only people who text message are teenage girls and gay boys. Otherwise for us older people it is hard enough to get our club like fingers to push buttons to make a phone call, much less text message to tell our friends to meet us at the mall at 3pm.

These young girls and gay boys have fallen hard for this strapping young man and texting their fingers bloody putting in his number. (This is where I get stoned) The guy doesn't deserve it. Sure he is cute and all, and he really likes that straight hair thing they have done for him, cause it is totally hip and the girls like it and chances are he also the only straight looking guy left on the show. So to keep the ratings up, the strange people they call judges - I have not a clue what their background is and I really think Sas needs to 1) think really hard about a woman in her 40's who is blond going for dreadlocks and 2) if the dreadlocks are because she is so fucked up which she certainly sounds like it 99% of the time then maybe she should go to treatment. These judges continue to say Tyler just rocks the house. The poor boy doesn't have a half bad voice, but compared to the Eva and even Stephie D, he has the personality of a tall farmer boy just in from the Canola fields. It would help if they would only film him from the waist up cause unfortunately the only dance step this young man knows is the stomping of the foot dance. I think his dancing would get better if he got down and dirty with some sexy got the funk on black chick from south central LA, now she could show the boy how to move those hips a bit more. But other then that, come on.

Canada already has Tori Spelling living here, do you really think that Canada deserves the to have Tyler as the next American Idol?

Immigration to Canada

I'm having a hell of a time writing this morning. Haven't written since my birthday when I turned 47. Something about odd number ending years stresses me out. I am sure it is some phobia that I don't know about. Or it could be that 47 sounds a lot closer to 50 then 46. 46 sounded kinda of young but 47, that sounds like I really should have my shit together and be asking my daughter when she is going to have a grand child and stuff. This part won't happen since I don't have any children that I know of. The 80's was really hard on me. I think anyone who survived the 80's would want to say they too blacked out during that decade, cause it wasn't pretty. Green house effects started showing up in the 80's due to the amount of hair spray being consumed by the women in New Jersey.

So I am supposed to be grown up. Know what I want to do with my life and have a job. Well fuck off, cause I don't. First of all I have to start the immigration process to stay up here. You would think it would be easier since I am now married and all. Nope it is in no way easier. It is a marathon information, plus a 550.00 filing fee just to get the process started. With the marriage they ask personal questions, like did you go on a honeymoon, they want pictures of the wedding and my partner has to commit to taking care of me financially for 7 years I think. Plus I have to get a physical and a chest x-ray, so I can prove that I am up to par with the standards of health in this country. How healthy can a group of people be that are constantly eating perogies with sour cream and cabbage rolls?

So now as I sit here I ponder, do I really want to move up here? Oh it isn't the paper work or money that is bothering me so much. What I am upset about is do I really want to move to a country that has welcomed Tori Spelling into their fold with open arms?

Not that I am comparing myself to her, that would be foolish. How could I even compete against someone like her. Our differences are so vast that it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I mean look at the differences:

1. My boobs real
2. My nose real
3. My lips non injected
4. My fat - all mine
5. I have job skills (don't you even pretend to think that she can act)

So there you have it. Don't come whining to me when you have a Tori Spelling movie of the week on CTV. Hell there has been one already. That is just the beginning. The only blessing we have living in Regina is the chances of her coming to visit are pretty low.

So I have to get back to my immigration paper work. Hey Tori good luck on that chest x-ray thing.

Phonesh Interruptis

I like to throw in my knowledge of Latin occasionally, makes me sound really smart and really how often at a cocktail party does a person get to talk Latin to another person? Sure you might be talking to someone who you think is speaking Latin, but those people are usually either drunk off their asses or speaking in tongues, and in the big scheme of things, what is the difference? Ya can't understand them and you need an interpreter to explain to you what the other person is blabbering on about. When I was a born again Christian for the 2nd time (first one didn't take) I spoke in tongues, wasn't hard to do since I was used to talking while being drunk off my ass.

Back to phones and phone calls in general. I have parents and for those of you who also have parents you might understand this conversation and how the phone system was trying to do an invention of sorts between my mother and I.

My mother and I have a good relationship. The older we have gotten the more we appreciate each other. This doesn't stop us from getting into arguments that are incredibly stupid. As is this one.

My mother calls to tell me she is sending off my birthday present and it will be late. She calls around 8am in the morning. She always says, Claudia this is your mother Betty. You would think that after 47 years I would know her voice and also know that she is my mother and that her name is Betty. Maybe she is doing this for her own benefit but I only have one mother so I am pretty sure I have her voice down. This does not go the other way around I am afraid. When I call her I too always announce who I am, because she had 4 of us kids and even though one is a boy, I don't want her to get confused and think she is talking to one of her other daughters and if I don't say this is Claudia she will talk for awhile and then go, oh it you Claudia, which is irritating.

So she calls to tell me stuff that she had already told me the day before, this is not saying my mother is losing it she isn't cause if she is so am I. I do the same thing to her. I have reached the age where I have a collection of stories that are funny and I will tell them to people and then tell them again because they are just so damn funny and then try and tell them again until I am told I have already shared this story one too many times. So having my mother call me and repeat things isn't so bad since I do the same thing to her.

So she calls, and as she does the big hairy cat Mr "P" walks by with a piece of shit on his butt. I know he has this on his ass before I see it because he had sat on my newspaper and left a creative shit print on the front of the paper. It would have been so damn funny if Stephen Harper - or Steve as George W, likes to call him had been on the front cover but he wasn't so it was gross.

I tell my mother this bit of information and she goes into this long ass conversations about how well you know from working for a veterinarian Claudia that cats are very clean animals and if the cat has crap hanging from his butt he is sick.

I said - mother, the hair on his ass is too long and it gets stuck, hairy ass have shit stuck problems

She said, no there is something definitely wrong with the cat and you need to get it to the doctor.

I said why because it has shit sticking to it?

She said something about not caring for the cat.

I said I do care for the cat

She said you are in a bad mood aren't you

I said well when you call me up telling me about the cat's ass yes I get in a bad mood.

This is all going on as the cat is walking around with shit hanging from his ass. Stressing me out because I really want to clean it off of him.

She said you just got married you should be in a good mood.

I said I am

then the phone went dead. I immediately called back because of course I wanted to continue proving that I was not a bad cat owner and she should quit being a mother. Couldn't get through. As I look back on this I should realize that the phone system or the CIA and FBI are listening in and really don't want us to continue this conversation because it is grossing them out and has nothing with me being a terrorist.

Ah I finally get through to mother

Mother I said I just pulled the crap from the cat (sounding like a Dr. Seuss story now) and there was grass in it, not that I looked too closely but I could see grass ok?

Mother goes Oh, there is something definitely wrong because if animals are eating grass that means they aren't feeling well and are trying to get rid of whatever is wrong.

Ok mother the two dogs and the other cat all eat grass, so now you are telling me that they are all sick? Cats and Dogs are omnivores, they eat grass because of vitamins, not because they are fucking bulimics and need to puke up shit all over the house.

Oh Claudia I can see that you are depressed.

The phone goes dead again. At this point I should take a deep breath, let it go and get on with my day. But I can't and neither can she

So she calls back and I say, yes I am a bit depressed, trying to deal with fixing up this house, running out of money and trying to become a landed immigrant is stressing me out, plus I have a shit dragging cat walking around the house.

Claudia you are almost 47 isn't it time you get over this depression

this is from an 82 year old who still goes through depression.

I said nope never to old to be depressed.

We finally agreed that we had to start the conversation over so we did. Asked how each other were and then said we loved each other and hung up.

Sometimes I picture being raised by badgers and how that wouldn't be such a bad thing, cause badgers don't call. But then I realize I would be living in a cave with a really weird looking face and very few friends, so come to the conclusion that my family is like much cooler then badgers.

Things about Regina that I find interesting

Having lived here for a year, I feel I now have enough information and experience to share my vision of Regina, a vision that is far reaching and will most likely impact you deeply.

The SSS (Saskatchewan Schizophrenics Services) has a chapter located in Regina. Regina is also where all the baby Mounties come to train. So at any given moment anywhere in the city is an unmarked white car trying unsuccessfully to parallel park or make a quick U turn as you pass them by. I not being a landed immigrant and having license plates that aren't legal often get that rush of adrenaline when I see a Mountie failing a parking. Now if my level of paranoia is raised and I am somewhat normal, what do you think it does to the poor schizophrenic who is minding his and all his friends own business, just a walking down the street and car after car is a white unmarked Mountie car drives by making sudden U turns and speeding by you? I would say if there are that many white unmarked cop cars in Regina then they are no longer unmarked cause every white car in Regina is most likely a cop car. So change the colours, mix it up a bit if you wouldn't mind and maybe go to Moose Jaw occasionally and stress out those people.

The Leader Post - the daily newspaper of Regina. A paper whose obituary section is thicker then the front page section. I enjoy reading the paper. But don't you find it a bit fucked up that they have this
on the front page of their paper counting down the days to the Rolling Stones Concert?

Not that this isn't an exciting event, it is truly something that will go down in history. And who will be attending? Rolling Stones fans and those people who want to stare and Keith Richards and say wow, the Movie Night of the Living Dead is not fiction but really a documentary.

I like the fact that the Leader Post in their announcements would let their customers know about the Marijuana Party's upcoming potluck dinner benefit (get there early is all I can say!)

Or my favourite is the big argument going on about installing more traffic cameras so the police can ticket the people who run red lights. You would think what is the big argument, makes sense, bust those bastards who run the lights. Except that Canadians don't want to be filmed getting in trouble and are very concerned about their image, so they aren't running the lights at those two intersections therefore the percentage people being rear-ended at those intersections has gone up 80%.

And above all remember - Catherdal Area - hip cool and without a doubt the place to be seen.

Barb and Claudia's Wedding

Here is a slideshow of our Wedding and expect endless more pictures plus the wedding video. This is better then the people who come to dinner and then show you a three hour slide show of their trip to North Dakota

Getting Married

Haven't been around for awhile. Well I've been around, but I've been busy with this getting married thing. In the states other then that damn liberal state of Massachusetts, us people who are of the same sex can't get married. But here I am in this one country on the North American Continent that believes in equal rights and hockey and I am getting married. Like tomorrow. I'm getting married. There are things we had to think of before we got married that straight people don't have to think about much. The big one is:

Who to invite. Sure your friends and family. But you really want to make sure that anyone you invite will blow bubbles not throw stones. To clarify when I talk about blowing bubbles what I mean is, those little blowing bubble things that you give people to blow when you walk down the aisle aftewards. Not the God your guests so drunk before the wedding and look at them, sitting in a stuper with those gross little spittle bubbles coming out of their half parted lips.

Plus bubbles are better then throwing rice cause that isn't cool anymore cause the birds eat it and blow up in mid air that can really screw the dinner afterwards. Sure I could dodge a few small stones no problem but I sure as hell wouldn't invite some 8 foot giant homophobe who can toss a boulder or two our way.

But how do you know if the people you invite are going to freak on ya? I was pretty upfront. I said, hey we are getting married, wondering if you would like to come and by the way are you going to freak if you see two women kiss? Cause I found out you have to kiss to like seal the deal, sort of like Tupperware but without the burp.

Also finding a minister that will do it is totally necessary. Clue for anyone who is getting married - the United Churches are the hip and cool churches to use. We found a Pastor named Kim, so we call her Pastor Kim, or Kim or her HipHop nickname is KP that's how hip she is. This is also her first same sex wedding so she said that the other Pastor she works with will be so jealous.

Once you get the pastor, then you have to go through marriage counseling which isn't harsh but they ask all sorts of personal questions about sex and do you love each other and do you both just love the Canadian show http://www.cornergas.com/, cause I guess if you don't just love it they won't marry you. Interestingly enough I found out the only family member you can marry in Saskatchewan is your cousin, much like most of the Southern United States. So if you are gay and marrying your gay cousin, this is the place to do it. They also have no restriction against farm animals that I know of, at least they never mentioned that you can't marry them when we went to get our marriage license. Again like most of the Southern United States, unless they are gay farm animals, then that is totally disgusting and against the law.

So you are saying to yourself, got the pastor, found non stone throwing people to attend where do you have it?

At Kim and Tom's place. It is very beautiful and Tom just built a new fence that has 98 pre-drilled, countersunk screws in every eight foot section (this information was provided to me through an unnamed source within the Tom and Kim household). So it can with stand any drive by stone throwing homophobe giants.

Ya got the pastor, the people and the place, how about food and wedding wings (I meant rings but it sounds funny eh - wedding wings)?

Go to a' la Carte owned by Beth Traynor 525-0501. She rocks her place is in the Cathedral area which is the only hip area in Regina and she put up with us because we kept finding non stone throwing friends who wanted to attend. And you know that her food is good and you can trust that no one will be spitting in the food before it is served.

Finally you want rings, by now you are realizing that weddings aren't cheap but you have to have rings that are cool. Well you go to http://www.mysteria.ca/. Marlo who is one of the owners is absolutely one of the most rocking people around and we found cool rings that are silver and classy with a little diamond in it, not like some rings that have more diamonds in them then a poor African country can produce in a year. Oh yeah and Mysteria is also in the Cathedral area so as you can tell the Catherdral area is the place to be seen - that is why I shop at the Catherdal Safeway.

Some of you might ask, why go through the hassle of doing this? Isn't living together as common law enough, why do you have to be so out there and political and stuff. Well other then the obvious reason is that we love each other and want to be together the rest of our lives. It is because of:

the gifts
and the party with friends and family that you love.

In some respects straight and gay people aren't too different.

A Public Service Announcement About Ticks

Ticks are red with little with lots of legs. They do not get big until they have sucked up what remaining blood is left by the bastard mosquitoes of the Northern plains.
If you have big hair it is suggested you wear a hat and not a beehive bouffant into the fields and grassy areas of the prairies.
If you come home and are sitting watching TV and one drops from your hair to your arm after coming back from an outing in the above mentioned landscape what you do is:
Grab it by your fingers and ask your partner or friend what a tick looks like. Once told, you scream and go, oh fuck, oh shit this is so fucking gross and you run outside and throw it cause you don't want to pinch it between your nails, because then you will have tick juice and that is even worse.
Then you stomp back inside and ask, why didn't you tell me there are fucking ticks here? Why am I the last to know?

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.