Or why are there so many old people who live in Regina? Having lived here a year, I certainly have noticed a huge majority of the population is older then me. Which has it's up side in that it makes me feel young and spritely. On the down side you had better have good damn eyesight when you are coming up on those cross walks because some elder citizen of Regina might jump out, well they don't exactly jump out more on the lines of they either manually push themselves very slowly out with their walker or have one of those 4 wheel drive motorized things that go anywhere, either way, you don't want to hit them. But as I swerve and dodge these mobile elders, I wonder, how in the hell do they live so long up here?
Sure the summers are fine, but most of these people don't leave in the winter and they are still here in the spring. If you look at the obituaries, living to one hundred is not out of the question.
After doing some research I have come up with the reason why so many people live so long up here.
It's because they are all waiting to get a hip replacement and the hell if they are going to leave this earth without getting one, or when they do get one, by god and by golly they are going to get their monies worth out of it.
Oh and can I tell you how tough Barb's mom is? She is thinking about having the hip replacement with only a local, she says lots of people do it up here, just get a spinal and be done with it. I asked her, do they also give you a bullet to bite on?
I swear the people are up here are tougher then nails strong like bulls. America could learn a lot from the tenacity and the strength of people who live in the northern prairies.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Same-Sex Law needs to go
It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.
Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)
Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)
What law is this that Noreen Drake speaks about in a letter to the editor of the Leader Post on September 14th, 2006? Is it that if two or more people of the same sex congregate in the same place then they must be arrested? Is this a new law that I don't know about that is legislating what goes on in our bedrooms? Because I am all for a law that says having the same old sex the same old way really, really needs to go because boredom in the bedroom is a marriage killer.
But wait as I read more I realize, it's not that Noreen want to try out that Come a Come a Chameleon Karma Sutra book she has heard so much about. No sadly she is against Same-Sex Marriage.
In her first sentence she stated
In a just society - in a democracy which is Canada - the new same-sex marriage legislation is unjust.
She goes on to say: The bottom line is that it's not fair to pass a law that affects so critical a change to the character of our society without the majority agreement of our society.
She is hoping that in the fall session Prime Minister Stevie Harper would re-table the same-sex marriage legislation.
Where to start, where to start. Now I could go on an extended rant about her bigotry towards gays and lesbians and what is so wrong about giving them the same rights as every other human being on earth has, but that has been written and spoken by better people then me.
For me if I were to compare gays and lesbians getting married vs. more and more young Canadian men and women being killed daily in Afghanistan I would have to say Noreen, that having Canada go from being a peace keeping country to being in an active war which brought down what was once the country of USSR and happened without the vote of the country would seem to be a bigger issue then people who love each other getting married, paying taxes, volunteering in the community and helping their neighbors. How committed love "affects the character" of the community is beyond me. How 100's of young people coming back from a war dead or severely injured will affect the character of the community is something that should maybe concern the population more.
Honestly Noreen, I know of three couples in Regina and 1 in Saskatoon that have been married in the past 6 months and I haven't seen a decline in the character of the community, no increase of crime or decline in civility. Oh of course there is the issue of people falling into the dumpsters out at the landfill and that is of course something I worry about and should everyone. The city hired a safety consultant to analyze why people are falling into these dumpster containers while unloading their trucks. Hell they could have hired me and payed me a whole bunch less, it's simple, combine alcohol and gravity and well people are going to be accidentally dumpster diving into the landfill containers.
Sorry off the subject. The truth is, sometimes the government makes decisions that the people aren't ready to make. Sometimes the government makes right decisions as in same-sex marriage and sometimes they make wrong decisions as in Afghanistan. Two decisions, two different governments - one creates equality, one creates death.
So Noreen which of these would you want to vote on?
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Lesbians foaming at the mouth
Lucy Lawless or as her friends and stalkers like to call her "Xena" is on TV again bringing alive the hopes of millions of lesbians and cross dressers around the world that Xena didn't die and maybe just maybe they will do a movie.
Lucy can be seen on Celebrity Duets which is on Fox TV on Thursday and Friday nights takes has been singers with has been actors and athletes forces them to sing duets together. http://www.fox.com/celebrityduets/
But Celebrity Duets is a far cry from the leather wearing, sword wielding, dark hero of our fantasies. Trust me in saying that our fantasies were damaged almost beyond repair with her being a biologist of some kind dealing with killer bats in New Orleans or human eating locusts across America and *gag* being married to some wimp with children. Seems to me they could have had her at least wear a leather coat in one of those poor quality movies to give us a hint, a prayer of what once was but looks like will never be again.
To see why the lesbian community is foaming at the mouth more then when they killed off the tennis player on the "L" Word go to the message board on Celebrity Duets and read the responses to the post that Lawless sucks. Lord did that bring the die hards out of the woodwork.
If you listen very closely when
you look at this picture you can
hear millions of lesbians chanting
Xena, Xena, Xena
Lucy though not the greatest singer there has potential, mostly because she can do no wrong has legs that go all the way up and she's Xena damn-it, why they put her with Kenny Loggins is beyond me. She will be gone soon enough if they continue to force her to sing his songs. I mean how many times can you sing Foot Loose anyway before it loses its charm and reminds you of how god awful the 80's actually were. (Correction by writer - the celebrity will be teamed up with a different singer every week. Let us all pray that they won't team her with Michael Bolton)
Where I stand on the subject is this: If they are going to put her in badly made movies about mutated killer bugs and blood sucking killer flying rodents and have her sing with aged rock stars, then why in God's name don't they just do a damn Xena movie? I say better to get chaffed wearing leather that is a bit too tight then singing 80's songs that make our skin crawl worse then the man eating killer locusts do.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Contact Lens
So I have contact lens. You would know if I was wearing contact lens because by the evening I am blinking my eyes every few minutes like a barn owl looking for mice but without that annoying twisting the head around, Exorcist thing, because that has nothing to do with wearing contacts. If anyone you know is twisting their heads completely around and blaming it on their contact lens, they are not only liars but they are possessed by the devil and you shouldn't hang with them unless you are a priest with issues with your mother. If by chance you do decide to hang with them, expect your dry cleaning bill will go through the roof because there is nothing harder to get out of a nice outfit then green pea soup puke.
(This is what happens when you sleep with your contacts in. Do not let this happen to you. The puking thing, well that is a whole other post)
I got contacts because I thought it would be easier then wearing glasses. Faulty logic is the foundation of most mistakes, fucked up and otherwise insane decisions. Examples - War in Iraq, thinking that because George W stands upright that he is human and therefore has common sense and that contact lens are comfortable alternative to glasses. Oh yeah it is much harder to put glasses on the bridge of the nose then it is to take these little bits of blue plastic stuff and then to somehow be able to touch your eyeball and have them stay in the eyeball. Yep those damn glasses are a pain in the ass.
It is also important to listen and read the instructions about the care and wearing of these evil bits of plastic. To not wash your hands before you put them against your eye can set you off for hours of glorious pain. Like who knew a bit of salt could act like a acetylene cutting torch ripping it's initials into your eyeball. Now some people would take them out immediately and clean them. No not me, I will continue to wear them until the time when I start turning my head around and around. Because to take them out is even more insane, to put two fingers against an eyeball and pull at what you think is the contact lens but really that delicate covering of your eyeball, whatever that is called and to not do it once but enough times so that your eye is bright red and tears are running down your face. That is insanity.
The other thing they don't discuss with you at the doctors office is what happens when you put them in the wrong eye. I did that the other day. Don't know how, but I did do it. Wondered why I was having problems reading and why being sober and all that I kept walking into walls. Didn't figure it out until that night after I took them out. Went to bed and dreamt that someone had dropped acid in my coffee and was on an all night acid trip. In the morning I deduced that somehow I switched the stupid bits of blue plastic.
So what have we learned today people?
Wash your hands often
don't use tabasco sauce unless you are planning on washing your hands a lot
If you are walking into walls, check that you didn't put your contacts in wrong or get your ass into treatment
If your friend's head is spinning like a children's top and she is saying disparaging remarks about your mother and puking, she is either possessed by the devil-
or a real bitchy bulimic
and in either case you might want to stay away from her.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Canadian Postal Service
Other then the wood dust sniffing termite alien posing as a postal worker, I have had no bad experiences with the postal service up here. My brother the professor who lives in Peterbrough on the other hand has made many disparaging remarks about their ability to do their job.
Today in the mail I received a letter from Houston Texas that was generated after I talked to a call service located somewhere in India. I spelled out my address several times with increasing frustration after being asked the city and province name 3 times and the spelling out the postal code slowly "S" as in Sam 4 N -4 "B" as in Boy 9. This I thought was simple, trying to have them understand the word Saskatchewan much less spell the word showed that we may think globally but are still able act incompetently.
Below is the address that I spent a good 10 minutes trying to communicate to with a woman in India. And even though totally wrong it still arrived here in a timely manner, so my hat is off to the Canadian Postal System, but to the outsourcing of services to other countries - Fuck off and also a big old fuck off to Credit Card Companies that cut off your credit when you move to another country.
Global Community My ASS
Today in the mail I received a letter from Houston Texas that was generated after I talked to a call service located somewhere in India. I spelled out my address several times with increasing frustration after being asked the city and province name 3 times and the spelling out the postal code slowly "S" as in Sam 4 N -4 "B" as in Boy 9. This I thought was simple, trying to have them understand the word Saskatchewan much less spell the word showed that we may think globally but are still able act incompetently.
Below is the address that I spent a good 10 minutes trying to communicate to with a woman in India. And even though totally wrong it still arrived here in a timely manner, so my hat is off to the Canadian Postal System, but to the outsourcing of services to other countries - Fuck off and also a big old fuck off to Credit Card Companies that cut off your credit when you move to another country.
Global Community My ASS
Meaningful Conversations
My brother Paul recently returned from a trip to Georgia. Not the Georgia of Peaches and people who still believe that George W. Bush is a good president but the Georgia that is in between Turkey and Russia.
When us regular people are asked how we spent our summer vacation we usually say, went to the beach, the cottage (that is what they say up here, they don't go to cabins they go to their cottage) or they did really fun stuff like work on their houses until their back was hunched over and their fingers were bloody stubs and tears of pain slid down their face that was streaked with wood dust and sweat. Yes it my summer reminded me of that Movie with Sally Field Places in the Heart - the poor widowed woman who had to work with her children and the black man in the cotton fields under the blazing summer sun, her fingers bloody and poked and swollen from picking cotton all day long while the blind man at the house did his caning and made dinner for those poor folk, cause they just had to get their cotton picked and to the cotton gin before anyone else so they could get that hundred dollars, they just had too. Obviously it seems that while my brother spent his time in the country
of Georgia in my mind while sanding and painting and sniffing varathane I spent my time in the depression in the state of Georgia.
So my bro the professor spent hung out with the people of Georgia doing what professors do when they are doing their thing. Which I have no clue. But they do it so good for them.
When he comes back he usually visits my parents for a week. Second day he was there I get this call from my mother. Barb hands me the phone which I cradle in my scabbed over bloody puffed up fingers and Paul is on the phone. So we talk for a few minutes, he bitching about his computer he bitching about working, then we both began complaining about the custom charges that I had to pay for my wedding gifts from my parents. There is nothing better then being able to have a sibling to bitch with.
Our bitching was interrupted by my mother in the background yelling SAY SOMETHING MEANINGFUL TO EACH OTHER! THIS IS PHONE CALL IS ON MY DIME.
Well the pressure to preform was now on us and I fear we failed miserably. We were able to say we love each other but when you have a mother circling in the background wanting their children to bond like some genetic superglue we did what we knew what to do, we bitched about the Canadian Postal System. I really have nothing against the system, other then the one guy who was really an alien who sniffed me but Paul, well he could spend hours on it.
I have no clever ending to this post, other then to say that I have nothing against the Canadian Postal System, so please continue to deliver my mail.
Thanks
When us regular people are asked how we spent our summer vacation we usually say, went to the beach, the cottage (that is what they say up here, they don't go to cabins they go to their cottage) or they did really fun stuff like work on their houses until their back was hunched over and their fingers were bloody stubs and tears of pain slid down their face that was streaked with wood dust and sweat. Yes it my summer reminded me of that Movie with Sally Field Places in the Heart - the poor widowed woman who had to work with her children and the black man in the cotton fields under the blazing summer sun, her fingers bloody and poked and swollen from picking cotton all day long while the blind man at the house did his caning and made dinner for those poor folk, cause they just had to get their cotton picked and to the cotton gin before anyone else so they could get that hundred dollars, they just had too. Obviously it seems that while my brother spent his time in the country
of Georgia in my mind while sanding and painting and sniffing varathane I spent my time in the depression in the state of Georgia.So my bro the professor spent hung out with the people of Georgia doing what professors do when they are doing their thing. Which I have no clue. But they do it so good for them.
When he comes back he usually visits my parents for a week. Second day he was there I get this call from my mother. Barb hands me the phone which I cradle in my scabbed over bloody puffed up fingers and Paul is on the phone. So we talk for a few minutes, he bitching about his computer he bitching about working, then we both began complaining about the custom charges that I had to pay for my wedding gifts from my parents. There is nothing better then being able to have a sibling to bitch with.
Our bitching was interrupted by my mother in the background yelling SAY SOMETHING MEANINGFUL TO EACH OTHER! THIS IS PHONE CALL IS ON MY DIME.
Well the pressure to preform was now on us and I fear we failed miserably. We were able to say we love each other but when you have a mother circling in the background wanting their children to bond like some genetic superglue we did what we knew what to do, we bitched about the Canadian Postal System. I really have nothing against the system, other then the one guy who was really an alien who sniffed me but Paul, well he could spend hours on it.
I have no clever ending to this post, other then to say that I have nothing against the Canadian Postal System, so please continue to deliver my mail.
Thanks
Thursday, August 31, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
What really happened between Dilana and Magni
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
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?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
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
Monday, August 21, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, August 18, 2006
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?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
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:
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:
- My boobs real
- My nose real
- My lips non injected
- My fat - all mine
- 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.
Friday, August 04, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, July 31, 2006
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.
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.
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