The Wonders of Olive Oil

Me doing a hot oil treatment... just kidding. It's the girl from The Rite

     I didn't go out to see the French people on Friday night. I also couldn't find that Jura Scotch in Picton or Belleville. I don't know why I bother to make plans. But, all was not lost. I didn't have to work at all on Friday and I was going to make the most of it if it killed me.
     First of all I had to do something with my hair. It has been a frizzed out mess ever since I tried to bleach it last summer. OMG what a disaster. I've tried all the expensive shampoos with the hydrating, deep shine, dry damage repair, 15-minute miracle bullshit. I've tried not washing my hair every day to try to get some natural oils to build up again, but that just makes me feel dirty. And, not in a good way. I have heard of putting olive oil in hair (like a hot oil treatment), but I hadn't tried it. Friday was a perfect day to do just that. So, I put about a 1/4 of a cup of EVOO into a little glass and put in the microwave for 20 seconds. This could be dangerous. You don't want to be one of those idiots who goes into the emergency room with third degree grease burns because you poured a quarter cup of oil onto your head after leaving it in the nuker for over a minute or something.
     I poured the lukewarm oil over my hair while bent over the bathtub (there were dirty dishes in my sink) and I rubbed it all in, paying close attention to the tips where I am the frizziest. Then, I pulled all the hair to the top of my head and tied it with an old elastic. I figured if this worked on my hair, it might help my poor dried out face, too. So I grabbed a little more EVOO and rubbed it into my face. It feels heavenly! If you don't like to smell like Italian dipping sauce, you could scent your oil with some rose water or orange blossom water (which is edible and is available in most specialty food stores - particularly Asian or Indian). I spent about 10 minutes just massaging my face, it felt so good. If you need a little exfoliating, add some regular old table sugar, but don't scrub too hard. Microdermabrasion can be too much of a good thing if you're not careful. Since it felt so good on my face, I put a little bit on my dry, cracked feet. Poor little tootsies are always neglected, so I spent some time getting them all lubed up. Sugar is definitely a good idea to use with the oil on your feet cos it will slough off all that yucky, dead skin around your heels and big toe. Blech! Sweeten those babies up. By the time I was finished, I felt like a roast chicken that has sat on the counter overnight - slimy and a little congealed. It washed off just fine in the shower. I swear, whatever they are putting in our shampoo these days, it has super anti-grease, anti-bacteria, anti-odour, scrubbing bubbles. With all that excess oil on me, it should have taken at least a double wash, but I was lathered up like a best-in-show poodle at Westminster with just a dime-sized amount.
     The hair wasn't perfect, but it was better than I've seen it in a long time and I think it will improve with continued use of the olive oil. My face, however, felt so good I continued touching it throughout the day. I felt good and I was craving sushi, so I took my son over to Aji Sai. The sushi is good there, and it's all you can eat. That's very important if you have a 16-year-old teenage boy cos it costs more to feed one than to put one through college. He devoured four california rolls and two red dragon rolls within 15 minutes, so we didn't have to stay long. Aji Sai has good sushi (I like the butter fish sashimi), but the staff is nasty. They don't give a shit what you order, they bring you whatever pops up at the serving window. They don't ever smile and you have to order everything at once because they ignore any requests for more food (even though it's all-you-can-eat). We use to go there once a week and there was a nice server there who referred to Austin as "Four California Roll", although it sounded more like "Fo' Carifonia Row" when she said it. I'm not trying to be disrespectful to her or her English skills. We had no problems communicating, even though I still don't know the proper way to pronounce "edamame".
     I'm getting better with Spanish, too. I remember I took a dish of Paella out to a friend's house shortly after he lost his dad. I expained that I brought a "Pay-ella" that I made from a recipe in a magazine. Without saying a word, his sister politely thanked me for the "Pie-Ay-A" as I was walking ot the door. I remember thinking that was so classy. She didn't call me a stupid hick or laugh at my pronunciation. She just found a polite way to provide me with some basic Spanish phonetics.
     Anyway, Austin's Aji Sai name reminds me of how Dancing with Wolves got his name. lol. And, speaking of wolves, the sales clerks at Chapters are a little overzealous, aren't they? I took Austin home, brought Alex back to Belleville for work and decided to waste a couple of hours looking for more reading material before I headed to the movie theater to see The Rite. It didn't matter what section I was in, I had four different people ask me if I was looking for anything in particular and if they could help me find something. "NO!" I'm not looking for anything in particular and if I wanted to find something, I would use those handy computers set up on every corner of the store to look something up! So, please, leave me the alone!
     Sometimes, on a Friday night when I'm really bored, I make shit up just so I can give them something to do. I asked the one guy about this book I had heard about with vampires in it. I explained it wasn't Twilight, but I had read that one and I really liked it ;) I said I thought it had witches in it, too, and the authors name started with an "H"... or maybe a "T", I couldn't remember. We spent about 15 minutes searching for an imaginary book and I told him thanks for trying. I can't begin to tell you how many books are written about vampires these days. Hahaha!
     While I was browsing, I found a quote in one of those miniature books they keep near the cash registers that said, "If a bear shits in the woods, should I have a cocktail." For some reason, I found this unbelievably hilarious and I literally laughed out loud. lol.
     After that, I went to the theatre to see The Rite with Anthony Hopkins. I had to wait in a lineup at the theater doors, but it was not like their regular lineup protocol. We had to wait for the theaters to be cleaned after the 8 pm shows, so there were people waiting for three different movies in this one line. The blond girl with space googs and a snotty nose beside the line would politely tell everyone who approached her to go to the back of the line, but didn't explain that she would call the theater number when it was ready. So, when Theater 3 was ready, she said, "Three is open now." Only the people at the front of the line, could hear what she said, so I followed the few people ahead of me as they headed into The Dilemma (right behind Theater 4 where I was going), only to have to go to the back of the line. Meanwhile, the lineup was in front of Theater 1, which was already open. But, people attending The Mechanic thought that they had to wait. I spread the word about what was going on and soon I was almost at the front. The blond asshat wiped her nose on her sleeve and tossed her head, adamant that she had already told people that Theater 1 was open.
     The rest of the time I was waiting, I couldn't take my eyes off this bearded fellow next to me in line. His curly, straggly growth reminded me of my pubic hair on a 70's bush kind of week. Except it was reddish, and just a little longer... and greasier. I made a mental note to make sure I bought razors next time I was at Pharma Plus.
     The Rite was not particularly creepy, but I did close my eyes during the opening credits when the guy is embalming and stuffing a dead body. The pregnant, possessed, teenaged, Italian girl was very creepy and did a good job of being possessed. I jumped at least five times and, one of those times, I actually yelled out, "Holy shit!" Hopkins was good as the priest, but was less convincing as a demon. His attempts at the eerie blank stare were more funny than spooky.

Go buy a granadilla from Sobeys and see if you don't puke just peeling it.

     No jokes. This has been the shittiest week of 2011. It can ONLY get better from this point on.
     As you know, I bought that Pandigital Novel from Future Shop last Friday for about $265. When I got it home, I decided I couldn't afford such a ridiculous amount of money for an eReader, so I planned to take it back Saturday. My Friday night off was a fail. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go because, like everyone else in the food service industry in January, I am broke. I'm beyond broke. I'm at my credit limit, which is worse than broke (obvsly).
     Saturday was also a broke day, so I probably stayed home wallowing in self-pity. Therefore, I did not return my purchase to Future Shop (who are big time crooks, btw, and I will explain that later). Saturday night, there was a snow storm in the Prince Edward County area. I was out driving my son's friends home in zero visibility. I was just on my way home from Demorestville when I got a call to say my daughter had smashed up her car on the 401. She did not call me. Her friend called me to let me know. I proceeded to drive from Picton to Belleville to try to retrieve my uninjured daughter from the elements. Sunday had a forecast of -30 Celsius without the windchill.
     Unfortunately for me, she managed to get the car out of the ditch and onto the highway heading east on the 401 to the Skyway Bridge at Highway 49. I was on Highway 62 heading to the 401 via the Bay Bridge. In other words, I would have to backtrack into Picton to go northeast and meet up with her, or continue northwest and hope to catch up to her. I chose to speed through the blinding snow at 1 a.m. in hopes of catching up with her. Bottom line, I never caught up with her. But, she did make it home safe and sound... about 10 minutes ahead of me. It took me an hour and a half to do the round trip.

SIDE NOTE: This was in no way any fault of hers and she should take no responsibility for this unfortunate series of events.

     Sunday night was even worse, but I won't go into details. It was all about a veggie burger and whether or not one should have mustard n it because some Starbucks employees believe there is dairy in mustard. Also, whether it should come from Burger King or Harvey's. My vote is for Harvey's - with mustard and hot peppers and anything else they can find to put on the sonofabitching thing! Something Harvey's might want to try on a veggie burger is a granadilla. Have you seen one of these things!? Look>>

     As one blogger described it, "Tentacle skin on the inside with larvae-like seeds that you eat". Strangely enough, it tastes really good and I think it's related to passionfruit.

     Back to my shitty life. So, on Monday, I wake up at some ungodly hour (like 8 a.m.) to my son incessantly repeating, "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom." He missed the bus and needed a ride to school. I got up, pulled on some pants (but not a bra), and got in the car with my hair pasted to my head in some spots and frizzed out in the back. I attempted to drive by peering through the puffy, stinging slits in my face that should be my eyes. I couldn't even reply in full sentences. When I got to the highschool, I passed the exit for the circular drive and pulled into what I thought was the entrance. However, it was not the entrance. It was the walkway in the middle of the highschool lawn disguised as the circular drive entrance! Sneaky bastard. Austin tried to alert me to my error by incessantly repeating, "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom." But, by the time I realized what I'd done, I really just didn't give a flying fuck. I parked in front of the double doors, just in front of a car that had been ahead of me prior to my shortcut. I got out to kick some snow buildup around my tires and then drove to Timmy's for some seriously needed caffeine.

     Janet and I drove to Belleville an hour later to pick up stuff from the Bulk Barn. I wanted to get the ruddy red cocoa to make red velvet cupcakes according to Anna Olson's recipe in the Bulk Barn flier this week. Haven't done that yet. We also stopped at Future Shop to take back my Pandigital Novel, which (to their credit) they accepted without any questions. It was 3 days later that Janet purchased the same Pandigital Novel at Costco for $140, including the carrying case. Future Shop sold me the Novel for $199, then charged $15 for the carrying case and another $39.99 for a warranty plan that I "needed". So far, the Pandigital Novel that Janet purchased in my stead has been a supreme Pandigital Pain-in-the-Twat. As of midnight on Wednesday, it wasn't downloading books from Kobo. It either scrolls too fast or not at all. The troubleshooting part of the user guide does not exist. And, Adobe's error messages are not grammatically correct. At least it has a very sexy picture of a cowboy on the front now as a result of a Harlequin Romance found in the library of the device.

     And, speaking of grammatical errors.

     Everything has been going alright with the new owners at the Island Family Restaurant where I work. "George" is at least amicable if not entirely friendly. However, in a blindsiding turn of events, he decided yesterday that we need to bring cash floats to work to make our own change AND we have to write out our own bills by hand rather than use the existing computer system.

     This might be okay in January when things are slow. But, by the first long weekend in May, when I don't have time to wipe the dripping sweat from my eyebrows as I run yet another tray full of chicken fingers and beer to a table full of 17 tourists and their 15 undisciplined, grubby little brats (who I repeatedly trip over because they refuse to sit in their goddamn seats while they play Tap Tap on their mommy's iPod!)... Writing out my bills in triplicate is NOT going to be fun at all. You may have to read that run-on sentence a few times before it makes sense. lol.

     In a panic, I decided to check the Job Bank and Kijiji for possible job opportunities. The only thing I could find was an ad for a seafood restaurant that I am hoping to try one day (when I get a job). I thought it was a sign. Unfortunately, they posted in the ad that e-mail applications would not be "excepted". It should be "accepted" - as in "received willingly; not "excepted" - as in "left out". By this definition, e-mailed applications would not be left out or omitted. Does this mean I should apply via e-mail? No. The person who posted the ad could have had a blond moment, which occasionally happens to me, as well.  I've bean noun to right the wrong word ever once in a while. (j/k) I just can't help but think the head of human resources (lol) for this eatery is some asshat who can't even fill out a government form and doesn't know how to count up to make change. Sometimes, I get offended by idiocy. It's a character flaw, I know. It's also really bad for my karma, which I have GOT to get back on track.

     Tomorrow, I'm going to get drunk on a $60 bottle of Jura Superstition single-malt scotch and bitch about my life to some French people. "Ca me fait chier, salope! Je m'en fou! C'est des conneries! Nique ta mere!" They're all good ones. You should Google them. :)

Good Day Sunshine!



Me in my tannng goggles

      I am in a lot of pain as a write this. That's because my brain is smaller than my courage today. I think it may have something to do with all that extra Vitamin D!
     My daughter invited me to meet her in Belleville this afternoon for some fake tanning. Now, this is not my first time in the tanning booth. I used to go to the stand-ups at Added Touch in Picton about 4 years ago. I remember the first time I went in for about 7 minutes. I was sooo hot, I had no protective glasses and I couldn't hear any music above the sound of the sun machine. I just kept my eyes closed tight and held my boobs up with my hands so I wouldn't get the big half moon shaped tan on my upper belly. I kept myself occupied by counting to 420 and seeing how close I could come to the timer. I didn't use any fancy bronzer or tan enhancer and I got a pretty good tan after my fifth visit. I was at least not as pasty as I am naturally. However, I do feel that my first time in that sweltering heat gave me the shits for some reason.
     Luckily, the tanning beds at Palm Beach Mega Tan did not have the same affect today. I am not the biggest fan of indoor tanning, but if you are looking for something interesting to do in the dark days of February, you could definitely try it out. Cost me $6.40 today for 3 - five minute sessions plus a pair of protective goggles. That's defs in my budget.
     All you need to do is fill out this little bullshit form. It's similar to a quiz you might fill out in the Cosmopolitan, except you're adding up your points to see how burn-resistant you are instead of how likely your relationship is going to fail or whether you are more lesbian than heterosexual. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in a comfy leather couch waiting for my turn to burn. The receptionist called my name when a room came free and told me which room number to go into. I had to take my boots off outside the room. Then, I went in, locked the door, got undressed, lathered myself with some suntan lotion.... oh wait. I forgot to tell you about that part.
     You will never believe it. I was there and I still don't believe it. When we were signing up for our session, Alexis took some time picking out the bronzing lotion. She eventually went with the less expensive one, which I thought was silly because she wanted the more expensive one. What's a couple of bucks for some suntan lotion, right? The receptionist swiped her Mastercard and mumbled that it would be 66 something-something. WTF!? $66 for some Coppertone? I coughed. Actually, I pertnear choked. Alex explained, "That's why I didn't get the more expensive one. I can't afford $88 for a few extra bronzers. But, I don't want to look like leather." The receptionist also defended the price. She said it was Swedish and it was essential to get the most out of the tanning experience.
     I personally don't give a fuck if it was from Krypton. I'll take my damn chances with some extra virgin olive oil. However, I did slather it on me before hopping into my big, glass bed. I paid particular attention to my nipples - they only see ultraviolet light when I go skinny dipping in Cressy once every July and I don't want to damage the poor girls. That would put a damper on my sex life fore sure.
     I pushed my green "GO" button and pulled the coffin-like lid down while trying to balance my little eye goggles and keep my ass from folding underneath me. Ass-folding causes more of those half moon tan lines that I don't want. I was comfortable - not too hot because the high speed fan at my feet. And, I got to listen to Janet Jackson. "All my girls at the party. Look at that body. Shakin' that thing like you never did see. Got a nice package alright. Guess I'm gonna have to ride it tonight." That's a filthy little song, Miss Jackson!
     I was finished before I knew it. Put my stuff on and walked out. I felt a little heady and energetic. I don't know if it was the Vitamin D or the heat or what. But, I ended up walking over to Future Shop and picking out a Pandigital Novel; an Android powered eReader similar to the iPad for only $199... plus $15 cover and $40 warranty. I left with $265 more to owe on my credit card and I don't know how it happened. Alexis raced across the parking lot to stop me (I had texted her to say I was buying something cool, but she was still getting her bronze on). Apparently, I have a sunlight deficiency that keeps me sane. A little bit of unnatural light makes me crazy.
     I nearly puked on the way home. Buyer's remorse, I guess. I didn't even open the box when I got home and I expect I will return the toy tomorrow :(
     To counteract my excess sun and heat, I decided to go tobogganning with Amanda and her family. It was great. She bought a couple of blow up, rubber snow tubes and they run like snot! Plus, they are super comfy. We made quite a slippery slope and broke all the records of our last excursion. In fact, Amanda and Donna went so far on the Krazy Karpet, they came close to sliding over the edge of the hill into the drink. Amanda's 3-year-old was hilarious. She was a champ at holding on to the sled no matter what happened, but her favourite thing was to roll down the hill like a puffy, red tumbleweed.
     I got a little crazy again and decided to try going down the hill standing up on my shitty, little snowboard. I thought I was doing a hell of a stroke of business for the first five or six feet. Then, I pulled up on the string too hard and BLAMMO! Fell back on my left wrist and my left hip. I went down a couple of more times, but I knew I was going to feel the pain later. Sure enough, here I sit after watching Wall Street (which was confusing and boring, btw) writhing in pain from my wrist to my shoulder with a tender toosh and a bruised knee (?). I would describe myself as "bwave", just like Amanda's 3-year-old felt as she gripped the handles on the snow tube and spun out of control down the hill. But, I just feel "ouchy".

These are the days of my lives

     So, it's been a pretty crazy week here. Lots of drama, lots of bad news and lots of wtf moments.
     It all started Monday. I was hungover Sunday, but Monday was business as usual and all the staff at my restaurant were meeting our new boss. As I was getting dressed in my skinny jeans and my zippered hoodie (no sense trying to make a good first impression; he would know the truth sooner or later), I started to get really nervous. I have no idea why. I just have a really bad feeling about this change. I have worked for Mike and Francine on and off for the last 20 years... This new guy is from Peterborough and he owns a Chinese food restaurant there. How are things going to change and will it be for the better? It's just so... unsettling.
     My nervous energy explains why I felt the need to make some nasty jokes before the meeting started. Poor Laura mentioned that she had been on her knees all morning (cleaning in the kitchen) and I pointed out that I'm sure it wasn't the first time she had spent some time on her knees. It wasn't my fault, though! She left that door open and I just walked right through. Anyway, it took the edge off 'cos everyone was feeling a little... unsettled.
     My first impression of "George" was that he was an attractive and short Asian man. Probably younger than me. He introduced himself as Zhen Yu, but said we could just call him George. This doesn't make sense to me - if my name was Sherla and I moved to China, I would hope people would still call me Sherla (although a catchy Chinese nickname would be cool, too). If your name is Zhen Yu, I should call you Zhen Yu. I find it a bit disrepectful to anglicize (is that even a word?) someone's name and I don't care for that "melting pot" bullshit.
     So, we all get quieted down and Zhen Yu introduces himself. Then, there is complete silence.    ---    It's that uncomfortable silence where we are all waiting for him to say something else and maybe he is waiting for us to say something, but nobody is saying anything. Eventually, he asks us if we have any questions.       --- None of us have any questions. More uncomfortable silence.   ---     Francine, bless her heart, starts to speak for Zhen Yu by telling us that everything is staying status quo for now and that everyone will keep the same hours and follow the same rules as before. All the while, Zhen Yu nods his head frequently in affirmation. Then, complete silence.   ---     So, I say, "Do you want us to do introductions?" to which he replies, "What for?"
     My second impression of Zhen Yu is that he speaks very little English and could use some help in the social niceties department. This is not intended as a criticism. I, myself, am a social nitwit with small talk skills appropriate to a four-year-old and the tact of someone raised by wolves. With as much humility as I could muster, I replied, "Weeeeellllll, that way, you will know our names."
     I started the introductions, but somewhere along the way (after the third or fourth person), everyone just kind of started mumbling to each other and you couldn't hear what anyone was saying, nor did it appear that Zhen Yu really gave a shit. In his defence, intros were probably a bad idea since there was no way he was going to remember us all. However, at least it gave everyone a voice and they all started asking some questions, to which he responded to the best of his ability.
     The big news is, we might be switching from Greek foods to Chinese foods after the summer is over.  
     This is potentially good news because Chinese food is very popular among the bourgeois majority in Prince Edward County. It means we could see an intitial boost in sales (which means boost in tips) in the fall when everyone is looking for something new to try. All I've got to do is keep my job and not make an asshole of myself for the next 8 months. Wish me luck.
     Tuesday was a bad day for several reasons. First, I was bored because I had 3 days off in a row and nothing in my bank account. I had $350 in automatically debited bills coming out and only $250 in my savings account. That sucks. Plus, my co-workers and I decided it would be a good time to fight for an extra $1.35 on our hourly wages as a result of going from liquor servers to servers without a liquor license. This was seen as mutiny by our previous boss and, in her defence, it did seem a bit like a coup d'etat with all five of us screaming for our inalienable right to more cash. It didn't end well and, in typical highschool fashion, it turned into a texting nightmare of "he said, she said". Soon enough, we all thought the other one was mad at each other and we were no longer friends. This would be the "wtf" moment.
     With everything harshing my mellow, I decided to go see a movie with Big Rod. I wanted to see The Green Hornet in 3D, but he wanted The King's Speech. Colin Firth had received a Golden Globe for it, so I thought it would be ok. As we backed out of the driveway, SMASH! Rod ran right into the front of my daughter's Cavalier and pushed it back at least a foot. She's never home anymore, so having her car in the driveway is rare and he didn't even think to look behind him when he put it in reverse. Car was fine. Not even a dent.
     Got to the movies half an hour early which is perfect because Tuesday night is cheap night and it is always busy. We got my usual seats in the F row on the right aisle (so I can go pee halfway through without disturbing anyone). Unfortunately, the popcorn smelled a bit like booty sweat in my opinion and Rod said it tasted a bit like drain cleaner. Plus, they didn't give me my Superbowl pin with the combo. Not that I care much about the Superbowl or a dumb pin to commemorate it.
     As we sat there watching the pre-show, it became abundantly clear that we were in the wrong demographic for this movie. Being in the aisle seat, we noticed a lot of white-haired seniors with canes and oxygen tanks piling in. About once every five minutes, and only that long because they walk incredibly slow, they would trip up the stairs right beside us. This put Rod into uncontrollable fits of laughter - not the first couple of times because it started out being sad - but after the fifth time it started getting beyond hilarious. We were giggling like teenagers with sudden urges to yell BINGO! and watch everyone's head turn in disgust.
     Bitch behind me got her revenge though. Nasty old cunny kept kicking the back of my seat with her damn cane throughout the movie. Just when I would start to relax from the last jolt, she'd give me another good knock. At one point I turned around and looked her square in the face to say, "Are you KIDDING me?" But, she obviously didn't have her hearing aid turned up 'cos she just kept on watching King George stammer through yet another painful dialogue. The movie was very heartwarming and well-performed. I even laughed pretty hard a couple of times, especially when he used the word "willy". lol. I am soooooo 12-years-old mentally.

     I left just before the credits rolled because, otherwise, I would have had ample time to cuss out the hag with the pushy walking-stick. Her and I might have come to blows. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know it's a bad idea to bring a bag of popcorn to a cane fight.

Me and Tairn playing Just Dance for Wii

Snowstorms: a good excuse to get liquored and play Wii

It's going to be hard to top January 15, even if I spend the next 350 days of 2011 trying very hard.
     First of all, it snowed so hard during the day, there were times when I couldn't see across the street. I love snow. I worked lunch at the Waring House and served one table of four. Then, I went to work at the Island for 5 p.m. It had been so dead all day, Kimmy had only made 81 cents in tips in three hours. It was going to be an uneventful dinner, so we took a coffee break.
     Fred told me about his experience with gun registration. He had ordered a shot gun and went to Belleville to pay for it, but was told he couldn't leave with it. Turns out, he had changed his address with the gun registry people in December, but they hadn't completed the paperwork. After talking to the "fucking chief fucker" (Fred's own words, lol), he found out he was allowed to buy a gun (because he was registered), but he couldn't take it out of the store until the government decided they had time to do their job and change his address.

     "That would be like me going to Metro to buy all my groceries, paying for them and then being told that I couldn't leave with them until the County approved my purchases," I said with indignation.

     Without missing a beat, Rusty replied, "Well, there'd be one helluva fucking food fight 'cos if I ain't gettin' it, ain't nobody gonna have it."
     I am going to miss Rusty. He is one of the cooks at the Island and he is hilarious. Today is his last day :( The last day to hear him singing "Ruby, she's got one booby" or "You can ring my bell" in the kitchen. The last day to hear him say, "Your which is itchy?" or "Holy snappin' assholes!" The last time I will hear him call a customer "the syphlicated remains of a Chinese mudfucker" when I bring back a plate of potatoes that aren't cooked to their precise specifications.
     Rusty's favourite movie is The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. There is a line in the movie where Priscilla tells an old woman, a "walrus-looking fucker" (as he tells it), "Why don't you just light your tampon, and blow your box apart? Because it's the only bang you're ever gonna get, sweetheart!" I've checked out some other quotes from the movie on imdb.com and it sounds like a treat. I might have to rent it this afternoon while I recover from my hangover. That part's coming.

     A few tables came in over the next 3 hours, but we closed up early and I went home to prepare for some good, old-fashioned tobogganning with Kimmy and Amanda. I got my winter boots, my balaklava, my Hot Paws and my cozy clothes. I also managed to find a pair of bright red snow pants that I could pull on, but I couldn't button up. I'm down to 185 pounds, but it's a long road to fashionable outerwear just yet.
     Mary Street parking lot in Picton overlooks Delhi Park. It used to be the town dump as I recall. Now, it's the best motherfucking toboggan hill between here and the Experimental Farm in Ottawa. It's usually glazed with ice from all the use it gets after a snowstorm. Last night, however, it was all fresh powder. Amanda brought two Krazy Karpets and I had a cheap snow board. We were set.
     My first run, I sat on the snowboard and that worked out pretty well. I swore the whole way down until I swallowed so much powder I choked on my own profanity. I had convinced Amanda that going down face first on the Krazy Karpet was a bad idea, but it turns out that was probably the way to go. Kimmy could make it almost all the way to the creek using her super snowplow boobs technique. Amanda was too light to go the distance, so I got on the back of her Karpet with my legs wrapped around her. That was great for me 'cos she took all the snow in the face. I tried to return the favour and go down in front the next time, but I leaned back too far so she still ended up eating powder. I, however, still looked like I had a snowball for a head. "I thought I was taking it all," I said. "I seemed to be choking alot." Amanda pointed out that this was a very pornographic comment.

     A fun time was had by all. We went for hot chocolate and Earl Grey tea at Timmy's, so the whole night cost me about $2.50, which is good considering the shitty tips I made. We are going back again tonight, but I have to pick up one of those blow up tire toboggans at Canadian Tire first.
     My next stop was Belleville to hang out with Dannle and Tairn and play Wii games, surf Plenty of Fish and drink copious amounts of liquor. I picked up a Staff Pick from the LCBO the other day called Sa' Solin Ripasso Valpolicella, so I grabbed that, some clean underwear, my laptop and a camera and headed out on the icy roads.
     When I got there, Dannle was drinking something out of a super-sized cup with a penis-shaped straw. Tairn was video chatting, looking like a million bucks from the waist up. From the waist down, she was in white, flannel pjs and the back of her hair was a rat's nest.
     First things first.... you've GOT to get yourself a profile on Plenty of Fish. I don't have one (although I'm one of a handful of married people who doesn't. tsk tsk), but at least I have friends that do. That shit is hilarious. I can see more porn in one night surfing dating websites than in 15 years of watching late night french tv stations. Again, this is free entertainment. So far, I spent some spare change at Timmy's and enough money for gas to get me to Belleville.
     Next, get yourself a Wii with all the Just Dance games you can afford. Obviously, a little pricey, but not if you rent them. I had a Wii, but I never had anyone come over to play it with me and that's just not as much fun. When you drink a bottle of Italian red wine and start rockin' out to Michael Jackson The Experience with a couple of friends who don't know the difference between potatoes and prostitutes, you've got the best winter evening, late night and early morning you can handle. We got to bed at 4:30 a.m. I'm waaaaaaaay hungover right now, so I hope you appreciate my dedication to this blog. LMAO.

I say I want a resolution, but you know... meh

     I usually celebrate my New Year back in October and November when everything in nature is starting to die. For me, that's a reminder to make penance for all the wrongs I've done in the last year and make plans for all the good I'm hoping to do in the one ahead. However, it's hard not to get caught up in all the resolution hype and I, inevitably, have to make a plan of my own.
     This year, my resolutions have just kind of started of their own volition. That's the kind I predict (and hope) will have staying power. It all started with Dr. Oz. I saw he was promoting an 11-week plan to Move It and Lose It, which is precisely what I need to do. I like Dr. Oz. Sometimes I think he's a liiiiiittle bit overzealous and he uses the kind of scare tactics made popular with anti-semites prior to World War II. "Tune in next week when we will reveal the secret ingredient in applesauce that will make all the hair fall out of your scrotum... and give you brain cancer!" At least he gets the word out.
     Anyway, I took two minutes to fill out the online application and waited for the good doctor to call me in the morning. Well, he took a couple of days to get back to me. When I logged in, I spent about two hours figuring out how to log all of my food. Turns out, none of the food I eat was on the list because I usually eat food that I make, not food that comes in a package. So, I have to "create" my meals on a separate page using the individual ingredients and then "save" them to a different page before I can "log" them on a third page. What a pain in the twat. The plan is, if you spend all your time logging your meals into the website, you have no time to eat and, therefore, you lose weight.
     I figured there must be some special exercises to do according to the Dr.'s advice. If there is, I have yet to find it. Basically, the program assumes I exercise lightly 5 times a week and lead a fairly sedentary lifestyle because that's what I told them in the application. That means, I can have about 1900 calories per day. If I run a marathon or walk a mile or spend 4 hours dancing my fool head off at the bar on a Friday night, it doesn't matter. There does not appear to be any way to log my extra exercises :( That's not fair. And, it gives me no incentive to use this damn Body By Jake Tower 2000 contraption that we attached to the bedroom door last week. The laws of physics cannot explain to me how a 10 pound box of elastic bands allows me to work out with up to 200 pounds of resistance weight. I guess that's my excuse for not trying it out yet.
     The good news is, I just decided I would keep track of the calories in my foods so that I only eat about 1900 calories every day and things are going good. I'm losing a little bit. And, I am discovering alot about my eating habits. I've always known that I eat to reward myself and I can't be satisfied unless I either overstuff myself or make the meal into a cultural/festive experience. If neither of those things happen, I will eat everything in the cupboards that hasn't been touched by that damn capybara just to make up for the disappointment.
     I also didn't realize how much I eat just because "it's time" to eat. Even if I'm not really hungry. And, if someone comes over after I've eaten and says, "Wanna go have dinner at (enter restaurant name here)?" I will go and have more lunch or dinner, even though I am clearly full. Then, in the evenings - look out! My mind seems to think that I'll be going on a six month fast when bedtime comes around and I suddenly NEED to eat a chocolate cake. Not a piece of chocolate cake - a whole chocolate brownie cake. With icing. And, preferably a very rich, truffle layer. Sprinkles would be nice, too.
     The size of my meals are ridiculous as a general rule. If you look at the recommended serving size for pasta, it's 2/3 of a cup (which is a whopping 310 calories, btw!). But, if I have a plate of spaghetti at the restaurant where I work, there are easily 4 cups of noodles on the plate. Not to mention the cup of melted cheese, the olive oil in the sauce and the shredded parmesan cheese we pile on top.
     So, the plan is: count calories, cut back portion sizes and exercise regularly with Bob from The Biggest Loser.
     Also, I've decided I need to keep my house clean. I have a laissez-faire attitude towards housekeeping that involves doing the dishes when I am out of pots, sweeping when stuff starts sticking to my feet and washing windows when I can't see through them. The only thing I like to do is laundry. I don't fold or put away, though. Just wash and dry and sort into piles.

     Now, I am making a list of things I need to do every day and things I need to do once a week, just like Martha Stewart suggests. I had some success with this "10-step" type program through http://www.flylady.org/ a few years back. But, I fell off the wagon about 30 days in. This week, I've tidied, swept and mopped my entranceway, my bathroom and my bedroom. I even vacuumed my heating vents as per Martha's advice. I hit a bit of a roadblock today in my bedroom because I had to wash my sheets and pillowcases. I don't have any nice pillowcases other than the ones in the wash. So, you know what I did? I put t-shirts on them. That's right. T-shirts. One of my pillows is wearing Atticus and the other is decked out in American Eagle. I bring new meaning to the word Redneck, pretty sure.
     Resolution #3 is not a happy story. It's a carpe diem resolution, the same credo I always subscribe to, but with more... conviction. I was reading the Toronto Star the other day and discovered one of my favourite Canadian authors, and all-around nice guy, died of lung cancer last January. He's one of my Facebook friends and I had no idea he was even ill (which proves that Facebook is NOT always the best way to keep in touch with your loved ones, no matter how much I argue the contrary). I always wanted to go see him play in his band and I wanted to invite him to stop in for a meal (my treat) sometime when he was in the County on a fishing trip, but I never did. Now he's gone and I never met him face-to-face.
     There have been a couple of times, more than I'd like to even admit, when I've been at a funeral for someone and discovered through a eulogy what a great and interesting person they had been in life. The secret parts of people that they keep for themselves, that they don't show you unless you take the time to really find out who they are, are always the best parts. Forrest Gump said "Life is like a box of chocolates", but I like to think individual people are like boxes of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get, it's true. And, if you try a little bit of all of them, you are bound to find one that's really yummy and goes well with one of your own - like chocolate and peanut butter. lol.
     There are others who are nothing but shitty orange creams and cheap peanuts. Resolution #4 is to tell all those bastards to stay away from me.

I Always Fell Like Somebody's Watching Me

     So, I’m laying in my bed tonight, reading one of my books; probably my book of spells and curses. Suddenly, I hear the crunch of snow outside my window like footsteps on the wooden deck. At first, I thought it was my imagination. That’s always your first thought, right? It can’t be footsteps outside my window because it’s -10 Celsius and it’s midnight on a Wednesday. <Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch> My second thought: it was a loud battle scene from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World coming from my daughter’s room across the hall. The crunching continued, back and forth in front of the window. My bed is 5 inches directly beneath this window and blocked from view by just a throw blanket from Ikea. Finally, I determined it must be the cat trying to catch a large rodent of some description.

     That was when I started to panic. Not only would my cat not be caught dead (!) chasing vermin in sub-zero weather, but cats are not heavy enough to make that kind of noise while pacing back and forth on my deck. WTF!!

     I jumped out of bed, trying to avoid being seen in the shadow of my makeshift curtain as I ran out to the living room. I tried to peer through the curtains of the patio doors, but it was pitch black out and Rodney still had the television on. I couldn’t see anything and I sure as hell didn’t want someone to have a clear shot of me through the glass. At this point, I envisioned a crazy, masked man with a shot gun hoping to pick us off one by one as we dared to peer through a window at his mangled face.

     I searched for a flashlight to no avail, but I grabbed a hammer and went to the front door. That’s when I saw headlights reflecting off the back of my car in the driveway. Now, I’m completely freaked because there is no way cats are driving cars around the neighbourhood looking for prey under the windows of unsuspecting homeowners. This is literally my thought process during the ordeal. My heart was pounding loud in my ears and I was losing the feeling in my legs.

     With a sudden burst of courage brought on by indignation (How dare these disfigured creeps target MY home!), I opened up the door to confront the prowlers. If they were in the car by this time, they would have clearly seen me leaning out of the storm door with my hair piled on top of my head and no bra on, holding a hammer. Sure enough, after about 10 seconds, the car begins to back out of the driveway and pull onto the road heading in to town.

     ???!!!

     I tried to catch a glimpse of the license plate, but it was covered with dirty snow. It was too dark to tell the colour of the car for sure. If I could have found my damn shoes, I would have chased after it. Instead, I went back inside to plot my next move. I knocked on the bathroom door. My son was in there trying to straighten his hair for school in the morning. Then, I went to tell my daughter and her boyfriend, who (as I mentioned) were watching Scott Pilgrim. My son thought I was cuckoo, but I took my hammer and a flashlight and went outside to inspect the evidence.

     There were footprints in the snow in front of my house. It would appear that the peeper travelled up to the front door, continued around to the side of the house and licked the glass of the patio doors (or at least got very close), paced in front of my bedroom window and my son’s bedroom window, then went all the way to the backyard to peer into my daughter’s room and the bathroom. I woke up Rodney, who was asleep on the couch and asked him if he had been walking around the house during the day for any reason. He just stared blankly ahead for a second, then closed his eyes and said he didn’t know where he was now and he certainly couldn’t remember where he had been earlier.

     I decided I should call the cops if for no other reason than to have the information on file in case someone else was found murdered in their sleep tomorrow. They took all my information and within 10 minutes, I had the Ontario Provincial Police at my door. The cop was the biggest man I’d ever seen! He had to bend down just to come into my front room (my house is very suited to hobbits). However, prior to his arrival, my daughter informed me that the prowler was probably one of her friends, who had texted while she was watching the movie. The “friend” had texted that she was in the area and was planning on “kicking down the door” for a visit. So, after telling the officer my original story, I had to add that we may have already solved the mystery; I was just waiting for confirmation. My daughter was on the phone with the “friend”, confirming the details of the frosty foibles while I stood seething with Constable Too Tall.

     I was so mad. I was burning with embarrassment and anger. Meanwhile, the “friend” is telling my daughter that she hopes I’m not upset and my daughter is coddling her with assurances that this is no big deal.

     What kind of dimwitted asshat walks around someone’s house looking in people’s windows at midnight on a Wednesday?! (My friend, Mike, reproves me - "Don't they know stalking is reserved for Sundays?) Seriously?! Makes me think of that time a few years back when I was walking with an accomplice after the bar closed and decided to throw chunks of ice at the second floor window of one of her ex-boyfriends. We were cold and drunk (with seriously poor baseball skills) and managed to hit almost every other window of the apartment complex other than the one we were aiming at. We should do that again sometime...

...And Christmas continues

     For someone who hates Christmas as much as I do, I have really been dragging it out this year. Yesterday, I drove to Pickering with my mom to visit my nephew, Joe, and see his new house. The roads in Prince Edward County were ridiculous! It had snowed all night long and there were still whiteout conditions on County Road One. Big Rod was all freaked out that we were traveling, but my mom says, "Don't worry, Rodney. We will drive very slowly."
     I could hear the tension over the car's Bluetooth connection. I expected to hear, "I don't give a shit if you're stopped! You shouldn't be out on the f$#king roads today!" But, he held it in and we continued to drive.. very slowly.
     There were about 6 inches of snow on County Road One that had not been plowed. I heard the plows driving by my house all night long, so I know they were out. I guess they must have been keeping the drive-thru at Tim Horton's clean. By the time we got to Consecon, it was clear. Trenton was already starting to melt. We stopped to rendez-vous with my sister before getting on the 401.
     On the way, Mom and I discussed "Vaguary" - the Facebook event in which women are going to stop shaving their vaginas this month to raise awareness for ovarian and cervical cancers. It's also intended to be payback for "Movember" - in which men stopped shaving their moustaches to raise awareness for protstate cancer. I'm not sure Vaguary is going to take off with as much fervour as Movember. I just can't see myself getting a team of "vag hags" together for fundraising. More horrifying is the prospect of getting together with these women to have bearded clam contests (in which we decide who's pubic hair is longest and who's looks more like Osama Bin Laden) before publicly shaving it all off again.
     Now that my mother was up-to-date with the latest landscaping techniques, it was no time before we arrived in Pickering. Joe lives in a lovely neighbourhood just north of the 401. I was very jealous. Within 5 minutes of the Liverpool Road exit, I saw 5 restaurants I wanted to try. Plus, his new house has a big backyard (for city standards), a covered deck, a basement apartment and a private deck on the second floor. Congrats to Joe and Claire... you've made me green with envy.
     They also have two dogs. Dewey has grown alot since I last saw him. He's a Puggle (Pug/Beagle cross), which means he looks like a brown Bulldog. Patrick, on the other hand, is a Beagle (I think) with some kind of brain tumor or other neurological disorder. Imagine giving a dog a 6-pack of beer then tying one of his front teeth to his left front paw - that would be poor Patrick. He gets so excited to have company...
    
Hold on a sec. I am distracted today by a mouse in my cupboard. The goddamn thing is scratching and chewing so loudly, it is freaking me out. It can't be a little mouse. I'm sure it's the size of a capybara. I have pulled out all of my frigging pots and pans, I've kicked the walls and I just got out the vacuum to suck up the huge mouse turds. It's driving me frickin' cuckoo! Very soon, I am going to go get the sledge hammer and plow through the back of the cupboard just so I can grab the big bastard by the tail and throw him out in the snow. My goddamn cat (who I love dearly) is passed out on the back of the couch. URGH!

     Aaaaaanyway, Patrick gets so excited to have company, he runs towards you like a toddler on a sailboat in rough water. He tries to jump up on you, loses control of his legs and falls flat on his face. It's both heartbreaking and hilarious at the same time.
     We left the dogs to go to lunch at Mandarin Buffet, but they are closed between 3 and 5, so we had to kill some time. Joe and I were starving, so we grabbed shawarma at Pita Delights on Kingston Road. It may be that I haven't had good Lebanese food for a long time, but that falafel was the best I've ever had! Apparently, they make them fresh - not from a mix. And, they had some crazy, green hot sauce on there, too. We spoke with Imad, the owner. He told me his name in Arabic means "the pillars or columns that hold up really big buildings". I said his father must have wanted him to be the strong one in his family and he gave me a cute little wink and nod. He also said if I can promise him that all 4200 people in Picton will come and buy a shawarma every day, he will open a shop here. So I am going to start a petition.

     Joe and I wanted to check out the Bismillah Halal Meat Market, but we never did go in. My mother, my sister and my brother-in-law are not fans of Indian meats. That will have to be a blog for another day. I don't like Pickering Town Centre. It doesn't have an Old Navy, so I couldn't use all my Christmas gift cards. It does have a PJ's Pet Store where you can buy a domestic cat for $199.99! Holy shit! 200 bucks for a cat!? People in Prince Edward County will pay YOU to take kittens off their hands -unless they're using them for Muskie bait. They're certainly no good for killing mice in your cupboards ;)
     They also had mutts for sale for $1200 and up. That's right. Mutts. If it isn't purebread, it's a mutt. Doesn't matter what kind of fancy name is attached to it. It's still a mixed breed and, therefore, it's a mutt. I love mutts and I would love to own one. But, I am NOT paying that kind of money for something that doesn't come with a long pedigree and a tattoo by Kat Von D.
     Mandarin Buffet is alright. I like all the selection, but I always leave feeling like I just ate a ton of Elmer's Glue and peach jam. The best things I tried were the baked salmon (even though it had a shit ton of teriyaki sauce on it) and the rice pudding. Mom likes the warm, lemon-scented cloth they give you at the end of the meal.

The Breakfast Club

     Here is what I learned from my book club meeting this morning: Chances are good that I will kill myself if my book ever gets published.

     How depressing is that? There's even a psychological term based on the statistics. They call it the Sylvia Plath effect, in which creative writers are more susceptible to mental illness. I'm not really shocked by this information, in spite of the Wikipedia catalogue of authors who committed suicide. All the writers I know are a little... quirky. Well, mental illness be damned - I like blogging.
     It was The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath that the girls and I happened to be discussing this morning at the Picton Harbour Inn (they have a really tasty breakfast and good coffee; try the Eggs Benny). My personal opinion of the book was that it was too simple. I get that it was written from the perspective of a young woman with very little life experience, but I like a story that makes sense to me. First off: How did they find her in time when she took a bottle of pills and buried herself alive in her basement? Secondly, why did she start hemorrhaging after losing her virginity and why did she send the cherry-popper a bill for her hospital stay afterward? My friend, Sheri, agreed with me on both these points I believe.

     Sheri is probably the most practical of all of my high school friends. She's a nurse with endless knowledge about how society operates. If you want to know how to buy a house, get a passport, apply for college, plan a wedding or host a dinner party for 14 or more people - you would ask Sheri. She's also a very nurturing mother. Not one of those mothers with a "sink or swim" attitude, who lets her children learn the hard way. She's there at every step of their development, attending school board meetings, meeting all the teachers and reading all the correspondence no matter how mundane.
     She's also a bleached-blonde bombshell with grey eyes and skills that would put Dyson's Root Cyclone technology to shame.
     Regarding The Bell Jar, I guess I missed the point of Plath's plight. What I was supposed to feel was "Esther's dawning awareness of the limited female roles available to her and her increasing sense of isolation and paranoia." (1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die... oh, the irony)
     In the 50s and 60s, I guess a woman could only hope to get a job as a secretary or a house wife. I don't know. I wasn't there and I don't watch Mad Men. I know that in Prince Edward County, women either work in nursing homes or look after other people's kids. Either way, it involves wiping shit from someone else's ass and I am not interested. We still have the same three stereotypes as they did 50 years ago: good girl, slut and bitch. I wonder which one describes me best ;)
     That brings me to my friend, Christine. That's a horrible segue to be introduced with. lol. She's definitely all three though and I'm sure she takes pride in all of those roles (as she should). Christine brings some semblance of order to our book club meetings. If it weren't for her, we would just talk about our kids and our jobs (or even worse: our glory days) and never get to the task at hand. All I could think about when she was asking us our opinion of the books was how much I love her hair, the interesting little bauble on her necklace and how I'd like to lay my head on her big boobs.
     Christine and I grew up in the same family, although we aren't blood related. So, The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls was very poignant for both of us. While Walls' 2005 memoir brings dysfunctional families to a whole new level, almost everyone who reads it will be able to recognize their own brand of crazy in some of her characters. For example, Christine learned to sink or swim in a pond in Yerexville the same way Jeanette Walls learned to swim in a hotel pool. And, my dad let me and my brother go deep in the woods with a hatchet and a box of matches to fend for ourselves during camping trips (best times of my life, btw). But, after I read the book, I didn't even want to keep it in my house. For me, the injustice of it all was too much. The old man pimped out his own daughter, for chrissakes. And, all he has to say is, "I knew you could handle yourself." Nuh uh. Fuck Rex Walls and his pipe dreams. It's the same reason I didn't like The Lovely Bones. No redemption. No Revenge. I need closure.
     I like the books my friend, Becky, suggests for me. Becky's my alter-alter ego (after Angelina Jolie), with her acoustic guitar, her tousled dark hair and her smiling Irish eyes. Becky is the girl in all the old Celtic ballads. She's like Ke$ha on Clonazepam. Anyway, she told me to read Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson and it is one of my favourite books.
     Our next dilemma is what book to read. We want something a little lighter and fluffier, although we are currently leaning toward Room by Emma Donaghue and The Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda. Please leave any suggestions in the comment box below or on my Facebook page.