Wednesday, 29 April 2009

One of those days wherein I need coffee in order to get my coffee

I was attempting to pour my morning coffee today. All was going well at first, I had a clean cup, fresh cream... But I take sugar in my coffee. I *have* sugar, sitting right there by the coffee pot, but do you know what I added to my coffee instead?


Yes, salsa. Because salsa looks ever so much like sugar. Tastes like it too.

Sometimes you get the coffee, sometimes the coffee gets you.

Monday, 27 April 2009

Those who can't do... Hire

I've been looking for a job, as you may well know. Usually I apply for jobs and hope "I hope they think I'm good enough to work for them!". Well, today I was on the other end. I can across a job ad, and it was as innocuous as the rest of them. Until you got to the last sentence:

"Please send 2 copies of your resume to doesn'tknowhowtohitprinttwice {@} job {dot} com"

Ok. I've obviously already "outgrown" your company, as I passed E-mail Attachments 101 years ago.



Print again. Or hey, fill in the 'copies' field of your 'print' menu with the number of copies you want printed! Seeeeee? I haz skillz u nede. I cud b ur cumpiny prezidint.

I didn't apply to that job. I have to have standards, even while unemployed.

Sunday, 26 April 2009

I wonder if he'll poop rainbows and butterflies

I can't get Finn to stop eating the crayons. Today he had a blue one with breakfast, and a white one for a snack before lunch. (The white one made him look like he had rabies.)

Then we went outside and he ate a caterpillar. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a poisonous one, so at worst he's up a bit of protein.

I feed this kid real food, I promise. I just can't get him to stop eating the non-food stuff between meals.


Further fun with keyword analysis

Part of my little blog reader tracking dealio is that it tells me the search keywords people have used that led them to my blog. Here's today's most interesting:

"getting ur testicals sucked" [sic]

How did ^^^THIS^^^ lead to my blog? Because honestly, between you, me, and my husband, that is probably the LAST thing that would lead you to me in any way. Not unless you are looking for a "good luck with that, honey" and a pat on the back.

I'm confounded as to why that sentence would lead you to my blog instead of one of the eight hundred million baZILLION sites out there that would... ummm... cater... to your interest. *Ahem* But person, if you are here, I don't judge. Well that's not true, but I don't judge you and your sexual proclivities. I DO judge your moronic and childish grammar and sentence structure. Maybe the reason you are stuck at home on a Saturday night reading mommy-blogs for kicks is because you have seemingly not mastered the most basic rules of the English Language. Furthermore, I would like to point out how lazy this sentence makes you seem. Do you understand that when us women (or men, again no judging) see that you use these fainéant contractions and indolent grammar... Well, it makes us REALLY NOT WANT TO "suck ur testicals". Honestly now, if you are lazy there, we can only postulate that you will be lazy in bed, and if I am going to be doing all the work anyway, honey - I am going to be doing it alone. Ok? Ok.

Lastly: T-E-S-T-I-C-L-E-S. Just because that was bugging me.

Get a girlfriend. And a good pharmacist. Get the pharmacist first. Best of luck!

Saturday, 25 April 2009

Note to my cat:


I know they wiggle and flicker and taunt you, but if you attempt to bat at the flames you will end up with singed paw fur. Yes, even on your other paw too.

I will not take you to the vet, there is no cure for stupid.


She Who Feeds You

Friday, 24 April 2009

Kids say the most condescending things

Finn and I were out for a walk today in our neighbourhood when a mini van slowly rolled to a stop beside us. It was the mother of one of their friends.

"Do you know what your daughters have been telling me?" she asked.

"Uh oh." I said.

She laughed. Apparently when the girls play with her daughter, they tell her to go put a dress on "to be an old-fashioned mommy". My girls are ALWAYS in dresses, but I just chalked it up to them being girly-girls. Their friend is quite the tomboy and apparently her asking her mom for a dress rendered said mother completely speechless.

But wait, that's not even the best part.

My daughters, little snobs that they are, gave this poor woman QUITE the stern talking-to for using disposable diapers. How common. They informed her that cloth diapers - like the kind THEIR brother wears - are the only way to diaper your baby if you want to be an old-fashioned mother.

Where do they get this crap? Old-fashioned? Do they see me as a 50's housewife? Do they aspire to be 50's housewives?

They're so young, and so snobby. We'll be having a chat when they get home.

Newsflash ladies: You were BOTH diapered with disposable diapers. Indeed.

¿Me puede ayudar, Mr. Fireman guy? ¿Por Favor?

I had to have the fire inspector come in to my house today. Remember a few posts ago when I lit some candles and set off my smoke alarms? Well I couldn't get one of them to turn off, so I disconnected (it was hardwired in) it. Then it kept yelling at me, so I took out the battery backup. Then, somehow, miraculously, it KEPT beeping to remind me to put it's brain back in and re-attach it.

I tried to do it, I really did. I put the battery back in, and it immediately started screaming that it had a low battery. Jerk. So I gave it a fresh battery. Once that was in, it wouldn't stop telling me that it was detecting high levels of CO. Fail. I took it out to the middle of the yard. Still detecting high levels of CO. Either I'm seriously screwed, or it is malfunctioning. I took the battery back out (to get the damn thing to SHUT UP) and went and read the little manual.

I put the battery back in and held down the 'reset' button.

NOW the stupid irritating piece of shit machinery is yelling at me in Spanish.

No hablo español.

Estoy triste. :(

Not only do I not know how to kill it, but I can't even understand what it's saying anymore.

You know what's cool? Google. There are sites that will "listen" via microphone to what "you" (or your smoke detector) are saying and translate it.

Apparently I am detecting high levels of CO.


Battery comes back out, and Señior Smoke-Detector gets buried in blankets in the linen closet. Eventually the beeping dies a slow and apparently painful death, and all is finally quiet.

Except that, do you know that disconnecting your smoke alarms is illegal?
Further, do you know that if they are hardwired to your house, there's a chance they are hardwired to the fire department dispatch too?


"Ding Dong!" Doorbell!

He was very nice. I told him the evil little white disk was ALLLLLL his, and the bathroom was down the hall if he wanted to drown the demonic thing, because no. me. gusta. I don't know what he did. No entiendo. There is ONE button on that thing, and I'd already pushed it about a bazillion times. Apparently I wasn't doing it right. He made it stop beeping. He made it realize there was no CO accumulating to deadly levels on the ceiling of the second floor with all the windows open. He made it hablas el inglés.

Then he put it back in it's little mounting dealie, and the dastardly, hateful, idiotic, imbecilic, insensate, meaningless, mindless, moronic, obtuse, senseless, stolid, stupefied, trivial, unintelligent, unthinking, witless THING had the audacity to thank him.

It THANKED HIM. In English. It's lucky I can't reach it or I would have ripped it out of the ceiling.

A peaceful and CO-less existence once again reigns at The Mommy's household. No thanks to IT.

¿Donde esta el tequila?

Thursday, 23 April 2009


My back is KILLING me. Ever since I had Finnigan and his BIG FAT BOWLING BALL HEAD, my back is royally screwed up.

Right now it hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. It hurts to lay down. I am currently pretzelfied into some kind of combination Downward Dog/fetal position. Anything to take the pressure off.

I need a chiropractor. Or my husband. He knows how to fix it.


Oops, but LOL

Today was another day in a string of beautiful weather. I got home from dropping the kids of at school, put the baby down for his nap, and started in on putting laundry out on the line. The stupid (I say that lovingly, but honestly) cat decided he wanted outdoor time, and was wrapping himself around my ankles yowling his little head off. So, I hooked him up to his lead in the middle of the yard with some food and water and a shaded bed, and let him go to it. When I was done putting the laundry out, he was still happily pouncing on bugs and chewing up the grass, so I figured I'd leave him to enjoy the sunshine while I went about other chores. I kept checking on him, and he was having a grand old time. I finally sat down about a half hour later, and all of a sudden I hear "MEOW! MEEOOWW! MEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!"

I figured he'd scared himself with his own shadow or wrapped his leash around the pole or something.


He'd discovered our famous Canadian Five-minute rainstorms! HAHAHAHAHA!!!

He did NOT appreciate getting wet. The sun was shining the whole time, too. Poor little thing.

He's been skulking around inside and glaring at the windows and doors since then.

Why he couldn't figure out how to go into his little kitty condo to get out of the rain is just further proof that he's as brainless as I keep telling you. It was about two steps from where he was flattening himself out and trying to hide under a blade of grass.

(For what it's worth, those 5 minute rains are FANTASTIC for the line-dried clothes, it makes them so soft!)

Tuesday, 21 April 2009


By the way, next time I am pregnant, I'm having professional photos taken throughout. I've had three kids and have like one pic of me with a baby in my belly, and it's taken head-on while I'm wearing a coat so you can't even tell. Next time I'm doing a profile weekly. Daily maybe. With a big spread each month. The whole family is going to be in the pics, so honey please start weed-whacking your chest now.


But I don't WANNA!

I was cruisin' the want ads today, looking for a job that I'd be interested in applying for. I found one, so I went to call up my resume to send in.



I don't wanna do up the whole thing over again! I can't find it anywhere, not in the program I wrote it in, not in any of my document histories, NADA. It's gone.

Put on the coffee, it's gonna be a long night.

I suppose it's a silver lining that my job history is brief and recent...

Monday, 20 April 2009

Well, the smoke detectors work

And they do not like candles.

And they talk!

Good to know.

Sunday, 19 April 2009

Mr. Weston? Alanis called, wants to put you in her song

The 'President's Choice' brand is inundating my television with ads for their products. The one I just saw was for a pitcher designed to eliminate the plastic litter going into our oceans (such was the premise of the commercial, anyway). The pitcher was made of plastic.

And isn't it ironic? Dontcha think? A little toooo ironic...

Galen Weston, sir, with all due respect - things like this make you look like an ass.

Saturday, 18 April 2009

"Mmmmmmmm" is a complete sentence

And in the morning, I'm makin' WAFFLES!

Because today I got this majorly awesome and totally retro waffle maker from a nice stranger on Freecycle. :)

So, who's coming for breakfast?

Do it because it pisses people off

Your word of the day is: Niggardly


reluctant to give or spend; stingy; miserly.
meanly or ungenerously small or scanty: a niggardly tip to a waiter.

in the manner of a niggard (an excessively parsimonious, miserly, or stingy person).

Origin: 1520–30; "NIGGARD" + "-LY"

Related forms:
nig⋅gard⋅li⋅ness, noun
Synonyms:1. penurious, miserly, mean, tight, avaricious, mercenary, illiberal, close. 2. poor.
Antonyms:1. generous.

But it sounds like the word "Nigger", so even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the racial slur, people hear -er instead of -ar and make asinine assumptions about the word's etymology. Then you can point and laugh.

When I'm bored I read dictionaries online. Be cool like me.

Thursday, 16 April 2009

The post wherein Finn gets photobombed

What is Photobombing, you ask? It's where you are trying to take a picture of your ridiculously cute toddler, and some jerk ruins it simply by being in the background.


See? I'm trying to look at the most handsome little boy on the planet, and all. I. can focus on. is that lady's asscrack!

Sigh. Time to flex my cropping skills...

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Random photo-taking

I got squeegeed

I've heard before about these so-called "Squeegee Kids", kids who lurk at the sides of roads at intersections, wait until you get stuck at a red and then give your windshield a once-over with a squeegee like the one at the gas station (undoubtedly stolen from same) in the hopes of guilting you into ponying up a couple bucks. For a service you never asked for. I'd never seen one in real life though.

Until today.

Today I got squeegeed. Well not *me*, but my windshield. The squeegee-er had dredlocks and cord bracelets, and was wearing one of those weird pullovers that looks like a poncho and a doormat had a bastard baby with arms. I thought it was a boy, but then she spoke. I guess it was the layer of grime that gave the illusion of a 5 o'clock shadow.

They don't even ask, or signal, or give you time to protest, they just leap out in front of your car and start CLEANING it! Except... My windshield was cleaner before she assaulted my car. Which made me feel a little irritated. I didn't ask her to do it, or look at her even, or give her any kind of sign I required her services. So she squeegee's me with dirty water and then stands there looking to see if I'm digging in my purse? Am I supposed to be paying for the distraction of staring at the little red light in the sky?

I did not feel bad at all about not having any cash whatsoever on my person. Or Car-son. Unless she works for petrified french fries or the fuzzy little mints from the bottom of my purse, she's SOL. Meh, I'm not losing any sleep.

How much do squeegee kids really expect to make, though? A big ol' jug of windshield wash is like $2.00, and you get about 100 uses, right? So, if my car can wash my windshield for about two pennies and the push of a button, what's the cost of a wash with questionable water and no labour (on my behalf)? One penny? Less than that? I don't really like fractions. The way I figure, I had to push my little button and have my car wash a now-dirty windshield that had been perfectly FINE before she stepped in. That cost me two cents, PLUS the one cent for her to do it. I WANT MY THREE CENTS BACK! Squeegee weirdos should be paying US for their services!

Maybe they are the evil hench-people of the Big Winshield Wash Company, sent forth to bully us all into using more and more and MORE washer fluid all the time! Tsk, tsk. That stuff kills cats, you know.

Hear that Squeegie Girl? Every time you squeegie someone, God kills a kitten. Shame on you. Get a real job.

Next time I'm gonna run the red and make you into a road pancake. Then your similarly dirty and dreadlocked buddy over than can use HIS squeegee to clean you off the asphalt.





Tuesday, 14 April 2009

Springtime, and all that goes with it

It is springtime at The Mommy's house. This means a few things.

  1. Clothes go out on the line! Because who doesn't love a crunchy towel when they get out of the shower? But for the 40cents it will save us on the power bill, they can all get over it. That, or learn to drip dry.
  2. Allergies. Namely, mine. I don't recall having allergies for the first 24 or so years of my life, aside from the standard pet-hair-up-your-nose type. However, since moving to this side of the country, I am apparently now allergic to EVERYTHING. My eyes are dry, my skin is dry, even my nails are all dried out. I'm itchy and sneezy and leaking from every orifice on my head... I have a killer sore throat from all the mucous, and I can feel how swollen one ear canal is. In short, I am miserable. The kids are unaffected. Of course.
  3. Baby Fever. Yes, I said it. I have the baby fever. Babies are everywhere, and I want one too! Finn is getting so big, he's learning more and more words and we're talking about potty training... I want another baby! I love being pregnant, I love newborns, I love baby things. *sniff* Hurry home, husband, Finn wants to be a big brother!

(Actually, I'm not sure that the "Finn wants" argument is the way to go, here. He's currently taking all my clean underwear out of the laundry bin and putting them over his head and down around his neck like a necklace. I really don't know what to think about that.)

Oh, and Finn learned how to say "Ray" for Rachel, and can't say any word for Lily. You can guess how well that went over. Feelings were hurt, babies were shunned. You know what though? I think I'm going to put Lily in baseball. Because when she whipped that toy car at Rachel, her aim was dead on, and she managed to leave a welt from clear across the room.

Thursday, 9 April 2009

TV teaches gud inglish

Finn is playing Wheel of Fortune. It's actually really funny!

Finn: "A"

I'm not really sure what he's spelling, but he seems to think the audience is clapping for him and that's good enough.

Oh goodie, Finn's at *that* age

Things I have pulled out of my VCR this week:
  1. DVD's
  2. The VCR remote
  3. Sippy cup lid
  4. Toast
  5. Cat treats
  6. More DVD's
  7. His hat
  8. Crayon
  9. Oven mitt
  10. Plant info marker
  11. Chapstick
  12. Plate
  13. DVD's
  14. Sock
  15. Phone bill
  16. Toy train
  17. Board book
  18. DVD's
  19. Box of Nerds
  20. Rick Rack
  21. Sponge
  22. Cookie
  23. Fruit snacks wrapper
  24. DVD's
  25. Picture frame
  26. My phone
  27. Brooch
  28. His hand, which had gotten stuck
  29. A taco shell
  30. Sigh... DVD's

I think that's it for now. However, I am missing my checkbook...

(And yes, the VCR still works fine. Amazing.)

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

Finn Says

Finn has learned how to say "I love you" and "Thank you". It's so freaking cute I could just die. The kid kills me.

Because you all know how much I like Daffodils

You know all those "Quilt Drives" where they ask everyone in the community to do up a 6"x6" square, and then they assemble all the squares into a quilt to be auctioned off for whatever reason? Well, this is my contribution. (Don't laugh, this is the first one I've ever attempted.)

Yes, it's supposed to be a daffodil.

Wednesday, 1 April 2009

Homemade Bread: Round 1

Bread: 1, The Mommy: 0

Stupid white bread, stupid refined sugar, STUPID HARD CANADIAN FLOUR.


Tomorrow, I'm getting me some raw sugar and some baker's flour, and we're gonna try this shit again.