Man's Best Friend

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The other evening I'm on the phone doing a telephone interview for a second job. I have my best "shit wouldn't melt in my mouth" voice on and I'm being all professional and stuff.

Suddenly, something bangs on my front door, hard enough to actually rattle the door and cause me to spontaneously shit my pants. I'm sitting in the kitchen on the phone and I know for a fact that there is NO ONE at the door. I can see out the window of the door. No one is standing there.
The bang happens again. I jump, again.

And again.

At this point, the lady who I'm speaking with on the phone pauses and asks, "Is someone at your door?" The banging is loud enough that she can hear it on her end of the phone. I reply, "No, I don't think so, I can't see anyone".

Again with the bang.

She pauses again (I'm making a great impression at this point can't you tell). I ask her to hold the line for a moment and I go and open the front door. I fully expect to be attacked by a crouching lunatic ninja in a ski mask, who will bound and gag me, steal everything I hold dear (laptop) and cause me to lose any chance of getting this second job.

This is what greets me when I open the door.

My neighbour's St. Bernard, Bully.

One hundred and sixty pound Bully came looking for his evening treat. With his uber dog hearing skills, he could hear me on the phone. Apparently he does not like being ignored and had grown weary of waiting for me to realize he was on the deck. What does a dog do when he wants you to open the door? Why he starts KNOCKING ON THE DOOR WITH HIS HEAD of course.

I scolded him lovingly, threw him a piece of leftover chicken (is it any wonder he comes to "visit") he smiled, shook his head -which covered me in dog snot, and sauntered back across my lawn.

When I went back to my interview, dripping in dog snot, she asked, "Do you need to go?" I explained to her that my neighbour's dog was knocking on the door with his head, looking for his evening treat. She laughed ....hesitantly.

Poor Bully, he'll miss his evening treats if I don't get this job and have to cut off his supply.

*The pic is actually Bully - if you look closely you can see his brother laying behind him. Pic was taken last summer.

Gotta Minute

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Monday Minute

I'm playing along with Ian's Monday Minute today. If you want to come drink the kool aid too just hop over to Ian's place and link up

1 - What drugs have you done in your life?

Weed, hash, and that stuff that makes you think it's a brilliant idea to hitchike in your nightie with your white, deaf cat....the name escapes me. No long term affects from any of it though.

2 - A/S/L?

I'm 29. WHAT? Ok dammit 36
Sex? Not in a long time. They say use it or lose it so every morning I wake up I check to make sure "it" is still there.
East coast of Canada

3 - Do you pick your nose?

Only when I'm doing drugs.

4 - What's your favorite childhood cartoon

The Smurfs! I so wanted to be slutty smurf. Everybody has to have a dream right?

5 - List the URL, of what you believe to be the best blog post you've ever done

In this one I talk about a birthday celebration, there might be drinking from a shoe inolved.

Don't You Dare Speak To Me With Tone

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The tone of your voice can say more to a person than any words convey. Expecially when the person you're speaking to with TONE in your voice gave birth to you OR had really bad sex with you for ten years. There's also very little in the world that sets me off quicker than someone speaking to me "with tone" when I'm being polite and courteous.

Let me set the backdrop for you.

Monty is working with his grandmother on Saturdays and any day through the week when there is no school. Last night he informed me that he will be working today and needs to be at his father's house at 7:00am to travel to work with his grandmother. This invloves me getting up at 5:00am to be ready to leave the house at 6:30. I don't mind that part. This puts me at work shortly after 7:00am....where I am required to sit and wait for the fucking building to open. Still I can deal with this.

What I can't fucking deal with, is getting lip and TONE when I try to find out what time your ass needs to be picked up after work, Monty. What I can't deal with is dipshit, monkey ball sucking, asshat Ex giving me TONE because I dared to bother him on his cellphone to find out when son might be ready for pickup this evening. You know what monkeyball sucking EX -  I never wanted him working at this place to begin don't you fucking dare give me attitude when I try to find out when he needs to be picked up. Don't you dare imply with the tone of your exasperated voice that I'm in some way stupid to be even asking you this question.

I'm sorry if I'm not all up on the policies and procedures of a fucking fish processing plant. Don't even bother saying "it varies" like that's the fucking obvious answer. It varies? He's a fucking 18 year old kid working in a processing plant...what the fuck do you mean it varies?

Well guess what fucktard? Dual Mom varies too.  Dual Mom is going to tell you to fly the fuck off a short pier with your attitude, she's going to designate you fucking chaffeur for the evening, then she's going to talk about herself in the third person and share your ass fuckedness with the world.

FUCK! I hate stupid people. What the hell was I thinking when I married that man?

Another thing -- people that spit on the sidewalk. Dude walking in front of me today at lunch let out a big gobbing spit which I then promptly stepped in. That's beyond disgusting. I'm sure his wife is proud. What the fuck? First off why do you even NEED to spit? Second, if you NEED to spit that badly, spit in your fucking hand dude because I'm pretty sure you're about to get my 4 inch, spit covered heel up your arse.

$15 to send a one page document ExpressPost. $15. Hey Canada Post - would you like a couple of eyeballs to go with that fucking arm and leg?

There! I feel much better now. Bring on the weekend.

The One Where I Humiliate The Offspring

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So the fruit of my loins turns 18 today.

To commemorate the event I sent the local radio station an email this morning:

Hi guys!

Wondering if you could do me a favor? My son turns EIGHTEEN today (freaks me right out). Can you wish a happy 18th to xxxx? And even though he's 18 he's not allowed to do WHATEVER he wants!!!!

Also, rather than announcing this during the regular birthday there anyway you could announce it around 7:15. That's when we're in the car listening to you guys...who rock by the way. I don't want much, do I?
So what did they do? They read the entire fucking email outloud on air all the while laughing hilariously. Meanwhile, Monty is in the car beside me staring daggers at me and threatening to push me out the door of the moving car. Guess he doesn't like the attention...what's with that?
So then radio guy emails me back later this morning -
Hey DM,

We had it ... hope he heard it and has a great day and LISTENS to mom!!!!

Being that I can't leave well enough alone I emailed BACK:

Oh he heard it - he almost shoved me out of the moving car when he heard it! Listen - if I can't make my kid's life hell - what's the point?

Thanks guys! Appreciate it..

Then I got this:

Glad we could help out in humiliating your offspring! You're such a good mom.

I love those guys. Almost as much a I love the sprog. Ok, I love the sprog just a wee bit more. It makes me sad, happy,anxious, proud, OLD that he's now officially an "adult".

Happy Birthday B Boy!

Do You Trim Your Hedge?

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After Haley was born, I worked in the office at a trade school. I was the only female in the building (staff and students included) for many years. Is it any wonder I am the way I am? You have to develop one tough skin and a seriously sick sense of humour when working around a bunch of tradesmen.

I shudder at how naive I was. One morning as I was pouring coffee in the staff room, I turned to the group of instructors and asked, "Hey guys, does anyone have a hedge trimmer I could borrow for the weekend? I really have to trim that huge bush......"
That's as far as I got before the room completely erupted in peels of laughter and I was forced to try and remove my goddamn foot from my mouth. Given the chance, I was going to add  "bush in front of my house". I wasn't given the chance. There were no chances for further conversation. The peels of laughter followed me all the way back to my office. For the next week, the guys would come into my office and make chainsaw noises, laugh hilariously and leave.

Little did they know I'm a brazilian girl. Ahhh I miss my guys sometimes, they were the most loveable bunch of asses ever.

Truth in Advertising

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Commercials for feminine hygiene products. Is there any bigger farce in advertising?

Take for instance the commercial for tampons that has the woman twirling on the beach in a beautiful, flowing white gown. Her gorgeous blonde hair spins out around her as she twirls with an angelic smile on her face. She's happy, serene and shit wouldn't melt in her mouth. The commercial has us imagining her heading home for a candlelit bath when she's done frolicking on the beach. Then she'll give her hubby a blow job because having a period is THAT much fun.

Are you fucking serious?

How often do you twirl on a goddamn beach in a white dress while suffering from cramps that make you want to pull your uterus out of your body without the aide of anesthetic?

The one where the group of girls is out dancing and they're having a blast out on the dance floor. They have the discreet little tampon tucked into the pocket of their perfect size four jeans. Meanwhile there's a group of handsome young men standing around giving each of them they eye.

Oh yeah, that's what I want to do when I'm

And reusable menstrual pads? Just shoot me now. Apparenlty they are much more environmentally friendly. I'm sorry, I'll plant a fucking forest of trees with my bare hands using my teeth as a shovel before I'm washing bloody rags.

Ugly doesn't sell. Where's the commercial with a woman chewing midol like skittles while her head spins on her shoulders and vomit flies from her mouth? All the while she's drinking wine straight from the bottle with a straw, screaming at her kids and threatening her husband with castration? Yeah that shit doesn't sell tampons. It's too real. It would make for one hell of an entertaining commercial. I'd watch it.

It pisses me off that advertising companies try and glamorize something that is just nasty. Let's admit it, there is not one damn redeeming thing about THAT time of the month. Except of course if you happen to be in a shitty relationship and that time of the month is used as an excuse to not have sex. What? I'm just saying I've heard some women do that. It's not my fault the ex-husband didn't seem to know that there were only 30 days in a month.

PS. Apparently I'm not as fucking brilliant as I think I am. There IS indeed a "real" commercial put out by Kotex (thanks Mimi). I have one tv station people so I always miss out on the good commercials.  Hey Kotex, I still think you should make a commercial with a skittles chewing, wine chugging, pmsing mamma!!!

I Think I Have Narcissistic Tendencies

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J at Boobies and Babies gave me this:

And holy hair monkey balls I'm going to follow the rules, which include telling you 10 honest things about myself.

I am the QUEEN of parallel parking. And I love showing off this skill. I never ever denied being a fucking spaz people.

I like living by myself. Though I have a boyfriend, I would never "live" with him or any other man for that matter. At 36 I have discovered that I don't like comprimising, I don't like cleaning up after people that have not come out of my vagina and I'm pretty fucking inflexible when it comes to "my" space.

I think we should bring the corset and hoop skirts back. I want to wear a big ass dress with one of those hoopy crinoline things underneath it. I want to do my hair in curls and pile it all on top of my head and powder my face so that it's white and carry a fan. Seriously. 

I'm a huge fan of the brazilian bikini wax.

If you asked me to list 5 things about my physical self that I like, I couldn't do it.  Can you?

I love foreign accents. English, dutch, irish, doesn't matter. I can't even think about an accent paired with a man in uniform, or a really good suit. Let's not go there.

I work three day weeks from the end of June until the 1st of September. Don't be jealous. I'm seriously considering getting a second job which will pretty much put the fucks to this practice and make me want to hang myself.

I may have said the word "pussy" during Happy Hour Friday (yes happy hour gets capital letters) night, in front of the VP and a Director. It was one of those moments - I got the p-u-s out, and when the entire table stopped talking and turned to look at me I realized what I was about to say. Goddamn that brain/mouth filter that doesn't work.

I've never texted. Ever.

Bed sheets that have been hung out on the clothesline to dry make me happy.

Scribe at Scribing Life  a fellow Canadian eh gave me the sunshine award (which for some reason won't insert into this post). What's even better than the award is the kind words she had to say:

Dual Mom at We're at Dad's That Week: I'm not a mommy blogger by any stretch of the imagination, but after I was introduced to her through Bacon is My Lover (another brilliant blog, by the way), I was a fan. She's more than a mommy blogger and I'm not apt to call her that. She's more than a mom. She's more than a blogger. She's a self-described heartless bitch and I love it (and her blog).

I'm more people! Dammit bow before my greatness. Or as Jimmy said to me earlier, "Nothing says obey me like a head on a stick". To which I responded, "Or a public flogging." What? Talk of corporal punishment is good fun!

Okay, enough narcissism for one day! Feel free to make fun of me in the comments.

This One's For You Kid

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I had no sweet clue there are people in the world who don't know what an oil tank is.

It makes sense. There are people in the world who have never shovelled snow nor had their their nasal passages freeze together due to a -30 windchill. Do you know what a windchill is?

So Lisa left this comment on my last post:

OK, In Texas, hot water comes from the faucet. If it runs out..wait a while and the hot water heater heats it back up? Oil? You have to boil oil to have a bath? What is this? Medieval times? And what is this about you blood letting to fix the problem? What kind of voodoo do you doo doo where you live? :)

I laughed till I cried and I can't figure out if she's serious or not.

Then Surferwife asked me what an oil tank was, and if it was like a hot water heater. *head desk* It's a damn good thing you're cute MoMo Sake otherwise I'd have to bitchslap ya.

I present to you - the O.I.L. T.A.N.K

Those of us who have actual winters, fill these puppies up with oil and the oil runs our furnace. The furnace heats our homes and keeps our vajajays from freezing shut.

It's big right? They usually hold about 800 litres of oil. Someone do the gallon conversion for me? There, now you know what an oil tank is. Let's not talk about the COST of filling one of these darlings. Yes, I watch the price of oil rise and fall with baited breath. Please don't tell me you have no idea what oil is trading for on the world market. Just don't.

As for "bleeding the line". No, it's not some sort of satanic ritual involving the sacrifice of one of my children, though that might not be a bad idea. When you're a dumbass like me and forget to fill the contraption above with oil it sucks air...literally and stops running. So you have to "bleed" the air out of the oil line. It involves a wrench and a tube and a pop bottle to catch the oil. It's highly technical and shit.

Onto other matters. My darling daughter is having a sleep over this evening (no school tomorrow). She and her little friend are supposed to be working on a heritage project that is due early next week. The project is the red thing on the floor. Along with the fucking chaos that is my living room kitbags that were thrown hell west and crooked when we got home. A corner of a blanket which was thrown on the floor. My laptop balancing precariously on the coffee table. Wait....who the fuck balanced my laptop precariously on the coffee table?
What's that, you don't see two 11 year old girls working on the project? Of course not. They needed a "break" after working on the project for an ENTIRE five minutes and have gone down to the shore to collect beach glass. No, beach glass is not required for their project.

I'm Such a Stupid Ass Sometimes

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Do you ever wonder somedays how you manage to get dressed in the morning without assistance?

Do you ever do something so monumentally stupid or absent minded that it makes you wonder if someone slipped some type of drug in your morning coffee?

Yeah, me too.

So yesterday I vented about the broken xbox, which sucks hairy monkey balls. Keep in mind I work at a College. So I sat at work yesterday, fretting about the fact that I may have to actually entertain and interact with my children because of the broken xbox when it dawned on me....I work at a College. Three doors down from my office is an ENTIRE fucking class of Electronics students. Not only is their an entire class of students, there are two instructors who have a combined 40 years of experience fixing electronical shit.

Duh. Fucking duh Dual Mom.

So I'm heading on down there soon to bat my eyelashes to see if I can get one of them to fix the box.


Okay, second monumental stupid moment from yesterday...

I was standing at the counter washing mushrooms last night (not washing mushrooms is just skanky gross) and I realized the water wasn't really hot. Oh well, something sparkly caught my attention and I forgot about the lukewarm water. Fast forward 3 hours and I'm cleaning up the kitchen and Jimmy is screaming from the bathroom, "Goddammit there's no hot water".

Ooops. Apparently I forgot to order oil. Sorry Jimmy boy. Cold shower will not kill you.

Just FYI - if you ever happen to run out of oil - you can put diesel in your oil tank. I had no idea. I can also "bleed a line" now. Really, there's no end to my talents. Apparently remembering to check the gauge on the oil tank is not in my repetoire of skills. Oh well, no one is perfect.

Gratitude With Attitude

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Think Tank Momma

It's that time again. Time to give thanks to all people and things that have managed to piss you off. Thank the powers that be that a multitude of people/things have managed to rub me the wrong way this past week. Want to play along? Hop over to the Think Tank and link up with Zgirl (just click above).

Dear bloggers,

I don't read for one day only to wake up this morning to 107 posts in my reader. Do you people not have anything better to do? Jeesssshhh.

Hitting the "Mark All Read" Button
Bad Blogger

Dear daughter,

TTYL. Yes, I know that it means talk to you later. No need for the look of utter shock and surprise. I also know BTW means by the way, OMG - Oh my god. You see dear daughter, even though dinosaurs roamed the earth when I was a teenager and we believed the planet was flat, I'm pretty sure MY generation invented TTYL. It wasn't you and your tweeny little friends that discovered the time-saving greatness of computer acronyms.

One Kool Kat


Fuck off. Seriously fuck off. In what world is it ok for you to tell MY almost 18 year old son that if he spends any more of his money WHILE HE'S IN AT HIS MOTHER'S HOUSE you're going to take his bank card off of him? His father did not say a word about him buying a video game but you feel it's your lot in life to reprimand him for spending HIS money?

Let's break this down shall we?

Item 1 - You're his father's slut girlfriend. Period. My children have a mother, a damn good mother that is more than willing to rip your face off and shit down your throat if you don't watch your step. Back off bitch.

Item 2 - He's almot 18 years old - short of hiring hookers or buying drugs, he can do pretty much anything he wants with his money, his money that he earned at his job and you have no say in the matter.

Item 3 - Take his bank card off him? Haha be sure to tell me when that action is going down and I will bring popcorn because that is bound to be entertainment at its' finest. He's 6'2" .... you don't reach 5 feet in heels.  It would be the most entertaining game of "keep away" I've watched in a long time. Not that I would ever condone such a thing...just sayin.

So to recap - fuck off.


Dear Technology -

I now am the proud owner of 3 Ipods that no longer work and a broken Xbox 360 that gleefully flashes ERROR 73 at me. I'm really glad I spent over $300 on a piece of hardware that my children enjoyed for TWO WHOLE years. Wow, that's value for your money, isn't it?

Oh of course I can send it back to Mircrosoft (antichrist) and they'll repair it for me. Let me just pull the $150 out of my arse and then I'll go back and dig for the cost of shipping. Let's not even talk about what it's going to do to my life to have two teenage boys without a game system for six weeks.

This means all three kids will want access to the Mac - at the same time. There will be bickering, fighting, hair pulling and teeth gnashing - and the kids will be upset too. What's that you say? Yes, I have a laptop, you don't honestly think I'm going to share my laptop with my kids do you? Remember the juice debacle?

Please send drugs, for the love of all that is holy if you care about me at all send drugs.

The One Where I'm Deep and Thoughtful and Shit

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I've had an odd week.

My son is turning 18 this month and it's making me pensive? sad? feeling old? regretful?

I regret very few things in my life. One of those few things, is not realizing that 18 years can fly by as though it were months rather than years.

I also managed to fuck up my budget somehow last month and am considering setting up my own 1-900 number to make it through April.

The realization that I'll never have a "disposable" income and I'll forever have to live within a budget has got me down in the mouth. Poor me, right? Actually let's be honest here, single mom, three kids, car payment, mortgage, it's tough. There are millions worse off then me. I keep telling myself that. When I'm scraping the goddamn deodorant out of the container to get one more day out of it, it's little solace.

I sat on my mortgaged deck this evening, drinking a cheap glass of merlot....... thinking. Does it matter if the merlot is cheap? It still tastes like a wee bit of heaven. Does it matter that the damn deck is mortgaged to the hilt? I thank the powers that be that I have life insurance on it because chances are the only way it'll be paid off is when I kick the bucket. As I sat on my mortgaged deck, watching a spectacular sun set, listening to the water splash against the shore, I noticed that my crocus are coming up and my tulips are peaking their heads through. So I smiled. Spring will come regardless and the cycle will start again. I'm glad to be here, to be a part of a new cycle.

I'm thankful. I need to remember how much I have. I need to stop once in awhile and realize the "have" column is much longer than the "have not" column. The health to enjoy a glass of wine. Eyes to appreciate a sunset. Beautiful, intelligent, funny children to turn 18 who bring me more joy than words could ever express. Friends both near and far who love me. A wonderful job that I actually enjoy, that allows me to feed my kids and pay my mortgage.

If we allow it to, life will often bring us down. We'll get lost in want rather than need, lost in turbulence and chaos. It's so damn easy to lose ourselves, to lose our perspective.

So as you enjoy your Easter weekend (or just the weekend itself) take stock of your haves. Let go of the things you don't have.

So my wish for you.... peace of mind, love and beautiful sunsets.

The One Where Ian Makes Me Work

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So last night as I was sitting catching up on email I responded to a comment left by Ian from Daily Dose. He responded back, I replied back to him and before you know it we've got a string of replies a mile long. As I sat contemplating how to solve world hunger and climate change, I realized I had no ideas for today's post. I fired off an email to Ian - "Hey Ian, tell me what I should post about tomorrow". Since Ian is my beotch he replied back that he wanted to know who my top five favorite bloggers are and why.

Damn why do I open my mouth at all?

Like seriously, right at the moment I have 179 180 blogs I follow. How the fuck do I pick five of them?

So this got me to thinking about what I like about a blog, why do I read some and not others. I can hear you snoring wake the hell up. This is interesting stuff people.

I look for humour (I'm Canadian and that's how we goddamnwell spell it). I want to laugh. I look for people that have an edge to them. I'm not drawn to the straight and narrow in real life and the same applies to my blog life I guess. The edgier you are, the more I like you. I don't take myself seriously, and I never expect others to take me seriously. Except when I'm being serious, ya know?

Reading stepmom blogs is what started me blogging. I was so desperate to understand this other woman in my kids lives (the stepmom) and why she said and did the stuff that made me want to tear her fucking eyes out and eat them right in front of her. Obviously it's morphed into something else and lord only knows where the crazy train will stop.

Goddammit this isn't about me it's about you!!!

So rather than dry hump the legs of the same crazy chicks I always do that have a bazillion followers, I'm going to list 5 that I've stumbled upon recently. And you should go stumble upon them too, because they like being stumbled upon. Tell them I sent you, because then they'll adore me and adoration helps me with my self esteem issues.

Linda at The Good The Bad The Worse

Some people can be described with one word without having to think twice. Linda is classy. She's funny, smart and so very damn classy. So henceforth Linda shall be referred to as Lady D. I aspire to be classy when I grow up. She writes tongue in cheek about her marriages. She laughs at herself and invites her readers to laugh along with her. I love Linda and I'm hoping she'll adopt me. (Terry and Kat are STROKIN the fuck out right now because Linda has already adopted them and if she adopts me too I'll be the baby of the family)

LiLu at Live It Love It.

Let's call her Epidermis. Go read her if you want to know why I've decided to call her that. I will tell you her post today was about ideas on  getting out of an upcoming stint at jury duty. Her ingenious plans include:

  • Pretending she's a contestant on American Idol and doing a rendition of Pants on The Ground from the jury box
  • Wearing her cat around her neck
  • Dressing up like the blue man

Queen at Queen of WTF

She called the sheriff a dumbfuck.

In an email.

To the sheriffs office.

Do I need to say anything more? I think not. In case I do, she hearts the word fuck almost as much as I do.

Let's call her BOS (Balls of Steel)

Sarah at I Run With Scissors

This is her coffee cup. She did this at work after someone dumped out her fresh cup of coffee and threw out her eggs she had cooked for breakfast. She's an EMT or something...I don't know. She works 24 hour shifts and refers to herself in the third person when she's tired.

Sarah gets the dubious title of SCANK and she has the tray to prove it. Go, I'm not telling you anything more, read for yourself.
Last but not least:

L at Tampons and Chocolates

Though L isn't a new blog for me, it would appear she likes to fall off the fucking face of the earth every once in awhile. Stop by and say hi to her, perhaps the pressure of a bunch of new followers will make her post more. Perhaps you'll even get emails like this from L:

I have been swamped with work, playing the role of a taxi cab driver for my kids (except I seem to be the one giving them money right before they get out of the car..WTF?), and doing my best to keep up with my wifely duties (cleaning, nagging, faking orgasms and such).

She makes me laugh. She'll make you laugh too, I promise. If you don't laugh you're obviously dead. Go visit Always With Wings and tell her I sent you (she hates pads).

Ian my man, I love you like a brother dude but this was one tough assignment.

So go - I want to see your fav five, fab five, funny five, five that make you go hmmmm. Do it or I'll sick Ian on you.

Oh yeah, one more thing....I'm pregnant.

Check your calendar.
It's April 1st. GOTCHA!!!!
You so thought I was pregnant.
That would involve having sex. I'm going now.