What's worse than being a crack addict?

Being a Twihard. I started reading the books over last Christmas break, and finished by February. Just before the hype of the Breaking Dawn movie start, which I'm pretty happy about since the surprise of Bella getting pregnant wasn't ruined. If you knew just how addicted I am, you would know this is a huge to me.

I'm neither Team Edward or Team Jacob, though I mock my daughter by by telling her I'm Team Charlie. I'd totally do him. And Edward. And Jacob. And Emmet. And Jasper. And Carslile. But I love the love story. I love Twilight in sappy ways that I don't need to get into. I can't help it. I went to Bella's Bridal Shower a week before Breaking Dawn came out where we were served cupcakes, got our picture taken on the red carpet with a radio host, watched the Breaking Dawn trailer, the entire Twilight movie, and where I won this ...

In it was a Breaking Dawn t-shirt that fits my ankle, a Breaking Dawn poster, cards, mints, etc. I cheered for myself when they drew my name, my daughter sunk in her seat and put her hood on.

We watched Breaking Dawn opening night, which I naturally loved. It completed the love story ... er never mind, that's sap again. I just loved it. The following night I curled up on the couch and read Twilight beginning to end, watched the movie AGAIN, and watched New Moon the following morning when I woke up. AND .... I since discovered Midnight Sun on Stephanie Meyers website and can't flipping wait until she's done. There. My dirty little secret. And pretty much all I've been up to recently.

Well that, and raising a teenage daughter. Feel sorry for me. Really. As my daughter has graduated from each stage in her life, I though, whew, that was hard. And it was. It's always been hard. Being a parent isn't easy. But since she's turned 14, this parenting thing has gone beyond what I ever imagined. And she's not even as bad as some little bastards out there. But she's wearing me down. I am tired. All these years, I was absolutely one of the parents who thought who thought their kids wouldn't be "one of those kids" (you KNOW you've all thought it), but she is. They always are. She was suspended on the fourth day of grade 9 for going back to school after lunch HIGH. Little fucker. I didn't even know what made me more mad ... That she got high, or that she was stupid enough to go back to school like that. Immediately following, came the lectures, the grounding, the subtle jabs about being stupid. And for awhile, I thought maybe she wouldn't do it anymore. But when I recently found these in her closest ... 

            

I wasn't surprised. My kid's a fucking pothead. I guess it's better than being a drunk or knocked up ... But I know better. She's 14 ... there's more than enough time for that. Did I mention I am tired?  

But someones been looking after me ... A week after winning the Breaking Dawn bag, I won front row tickets to a hockey game ... this was our view ....

Me & T-Bone ... not me and the pothead. And two weeks after that, I won this ....

WHOOP. My liver hasn't been exercised since July when I got the hemorrhoids, I'll need some practice. Probably should lose some weight too. And find something for my teenager to do while I'm gone so I don't have to worry about where she's smoking her pot.

Disneyland

I have so much in this blog that I'd love to share with everyone. Then there's stuff I probably should have used a little more discretion. Too late. I still want to write it because I'm entitled to, but I guess a bit of privacy on an open blog isn't possible. I'm going to keep it closed to those not invited for now, but it kinda sucks. I have Disneyland stuff now that I want to share, but only the 12 invited people will read it. I guess writing for you 12 and myself is good enough. For now.

I took my daughter to Disneyland recently. What it means for me to be able to go to Disneyland, or on any other trip for that matter, is probably a little different than the average person. I grew up a poor girl in the hood. When I was a pregnant teenager, I never thought I'd be able to do stuff like this. Actually, as a pregnant teenager, I didn't have a damn clue what I had just gotten myself into. I still assumed that I was going to marry rich. Or some bullshit. It wasn't until I had a few years of hard parenting experiences behind me that I abandoned all hope that anything would ever be OK. Thankfully, I rock and was eventually doing OK. And able to  take my kid to Disneyland. Not once, but twice.

Our trip started September 8 at 10am when our car arrived to take us to the airport. A long black sedan, not a taxi. Silly Sally encouraged me to price it out and sure enough, it cost less than a cab would have been. So we arrived at the airport in style. Sydnerella was nervous, so nervous that she puked before boarding the plane. I was almost beside her puking because the plane we were getting on wasn't much bigger than a 4 person cessna. We had to walk down on the tarmac to board, which I've never done before, and it had propellers. I was terrified that a little man would be jumping up and pulling on them to get them going. I swear to god I thought that's how propellers worked. Actually, I don't really know if that's NOT how they work because I was strapped in taking migraine strength Advil and getting my earplanes in place to prevent my eardrums from bursting. Oh, and just a warning to you, never ever EVER bite in to a liqui-gel Advil to get it into your system faster without water. Ever! Fucking gross. I think at the moment I discovered that, I would have rathered feel the pain of steak knives driving into my ears which is what normally happens when I fly. Fucking hell.

So we arrived at 5pm, Los Angelas rush hour, and spent the rest of the evening doing whatever we wanted. Cheesecake Factory for dinner, a quick walk down Anaheim Plaza, a dip in the pool and hot tub (the ONLY time we hit the pool, which if you remember from a previous blog, did not make me too happy having to switch hotels because of the damn pool ....), then a stroll through Downtown Disney, which was my most memorable part of our trip. 

We were really there! The excitement kicked in as soon as we walked passed Disneyland and California Adventure and we couldn't wait to get to sleep so we could wake up and go to DISNEYLAND.

For the hour it took us to get ready the next morning, I broke out in a song and dance performance of "I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it" randomly and even though Sydnerella was looking at my like I was high, I could see that she was just as excited, and probably even wanted to start dancing with me. After hitting up the IHOP patio at the East entrance, we spent the next 3 days at the Disney parks. A lot of which was spent standing in line for rides and dodging strollers. Seriously, if your kids are in strollers, they wont even remember Disneyland and you're just hindering your own experience. Just sayin. Dawdling around the park was great for Sydneralla at times though because she gets motion sickness. A new discovery for me. And being the rotten parent that I can tend to be, it didn't dawn on me to get her some Gravol until 7pm on the last night we were at the parks when I was standing in line to go on the Tower of Terror and Sydnerella was sitting outside waiting for me. I felt so bad that I hadn't thought of the Gravol that I left the line and told her we'd take it easy. We had both went on the Tower of Terror the day before anyway, and she loved it. See ... that's my Goofy

Also, I had been on a few rides without her because even though the roller coasters don't make her sick, she just doesn't like them. Except Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ... She loved that too. Hmm ... maybe her motion sickness just increased when we were doing something that she simply didn't want to ... Like Space Mountain. Space Mountain is so damn awesome I wanted to ride it over and over and over, but refused because of  the 50 minute line ups. That, and Sydnerella's selective motion sickness. I wore a nice low cut tank top on that ride and was placed at the front. When I got off the ride, the first thing I noticed was the picture of me with my hair blowing in the wind, the biggest damn smile on my seriously unphotogenic face, and my boobs up under my chin with barely my nipples covered. Good thing Sydnerella wasn't with me to see that, she would have been mortified. Our trip was a lot of work. There's was no down time, no relaxing, and even after a good nights sleep each day, when my feet hit the cold floor in the hotel, they were still burning. My shins, heels, and ankles are still in shock after what I did to them. Thank god the weather was decent. I am a pale faced Canadian, I can't handle the heat. It hit 36 (96F) one day for a few hours, but for the most part, it was 28-32 during the day (82-89F), and down to 18-24 at night (64-75F). Except the morning we went on the Grizzly River Run. It had just rained, was about 20 degrees, overcast, and a little bit windy. And of course, we didn't get wet the whoooolllle way down ride, but hit the geyser at the very end. We were soaked. People looked at us with pity knowing full well what happened as we walked 15 minutes back to our hotel to change. The Grizzly River Run was an awesome ride though, probably my favorite, but I wasn't going to be made a fool again ...

Yes, that's a rain poncho. And yes, Sydnerella thought I was a total dork. But a dry dork. Of course we didn't hit the geyser all 3 times we went on after I put the rain poncho on, so she was also dry. Without the poncho. Great ride.

Another great ride was Soarin Over California. Great and evil at the same time as Sydnerella and I were both a little green after that one, and that officially put her out of commission for anymore crazy rides that day. And after a bit of some normal 14 year old crabbiness because she was hungry and "just wanted a nap", I poured a Monster energy drink down her throat. $4.75 was a great bargain for her almost instant jolt of energy that lasted the rest of the day. Our favorites were the Jungle Cruise, Indiana Jones, Peter Pan, Storybook Land at night when all the ducks are sleeping beside all the little villages because it looked hilarious, and of course, Splash Mountain. We went on that ride at least 6 times, maybe 8. Just before the park closes and the line up for Splash Mountain has disappeared, they let you ride repeatedly, without getting out of the log. By far, Sydnerella's favorite part of Disneyland.

That's my awesome kid in the sunglasses hoping to get wet, and me in the very back, without my poncho.

Sydnerella's least favorite part (besides the strollers and the lack of random places to around the park to nap) was the fact that we went a week too early. Little did I know when I booked back in April, that the Halloween celebrations started the week after we went. And the Haunted Mansion would be transformed to entirely Jack Skellington and the Nightmare Before Christmas.

To date, Sydnerella's favorite thing in the world. She's a Jack freak. She was shocked, sad, bummed, and begged to stay an extra week. But when we walked passed this ....

she quit complaining about Jack. She knows I'm Pirates-crazed, knows that I pretty much just booked the trip to ride that damn rideonly to find out a week before we went that it would be closed. So we both shared some sadness over this, then moved on. We were in freaking Disneyland. And we had a freaking blast.

California Adventure

Toon Town (this is the tank that almost showed the twins to everyone at Space Mountain)

Hey Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine, you ... Never mind

Sully ... Monsters Inc ride kicked ass

96F temps and a long line-up for this pic. Sydnerella was miserable ... Great cover though 

DAMAGE CONTROL

Silly Sally just called me in sheer terror and panic, apologizing like crazy, begging me not to be mad, she did something so bad she was scared to tell me. Finally, she calmed down enough to ask me if it was possible to delete a blog. In particular, one of MY blog posts. Or, my whole blog actually. Why the fuck would I want to delete my blog? Because someone might have caught wind of it who I didn't want to? Well ... who cares, so I swear a lot. So I talk about my sex life. Uh ... talk dirty stuff worse than even my regular sex life .... Stuff that I'd really hope people wouldn't continue reading if they weren't comfortable reading it. And if they did and were offended or judgmental, too bad. Unless it's my dad!

So if you're wondering why I'm making you jump through so many hoops to read my blog that I don't even write in much anymore, it's because my sister, Silly Sally sent our dad the link to my blog by mistake. Or maybe it wasn't really by mistake. Maybe it's because she thinks I'm his favorite and she found a way to fix that. Anyhow, I'm pretty sure I've done enough damage control that he'll never get in to read what a skank his daughter can be, but just in case, this is my last plea ... Dad, if you managed to find your way into my blog, I'm telling you, it's in your best interest if you just close the blog and pretend it doesn't exist. Seriously.

To that end, if I ever get back into this blogging that I was so happy to start two years ago, I'll clean it up. A little. Fuck and shit and all those other fun four-letter words wont be included in my little clean up. So more like a de-whoring. Maybe. We'll see.

I'm going to Disneyland

In less than 48 hours, Sydnerella & I will be on our way to Disneyland. Despite the fact that she managed to get herself suspended on the 4th day of grade 9, I am taking her to Disneyland. I don't know how many people would actually cancel a trip to Disneyland over their kids being bastards, but I booked the damn trip in April and we both really deserve this after the harsh year we just endured so I didn't cancel. Bad?! Oh well, I'm going to Disneyland, and I am FREAKING EXCITED!!

Well, excited, and mad. Leave it to me to find something that pisses me off at the Happiest Place on Earth before we even get there. But I swear to jeezus christ I am justifiably pissed off this time. April, I discovered that the pool in the hotel I booked would be under renos, so I spent a full hour on the phone with Expedia to change hotels. Whatever. Then ... THEN I discovered last week that the Pirates of the Caribbean ride will be closed for renos. Sydnerella and I are Pirates of the Caribbean fans. Huge Pirates fans. After Pirates 3, we were bummed to find out that it would be 3 years until Pirates 4 came out. Then we were even more disappointed when it finally did come out and sucked! I wear Pirates t-shirts and when I went to Sturgis in 2007, I made sure I got to make out with the biker dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. When we were in Disneyland in 2006, Pirates was also closed for renos, but that was at the beginning of my crush on Pirates so I didn't know what I was missing. Seriously. What. The. Fuck. I literally wouldn't have even booked to go this weekend if I had this information in April. I'm pulling my kid of school for 5 days after a suspension during the first month of school for this trip. A trip that will be 99% fantastic and fabulous and magical. But not 100% now. Boo. And speaking of Boooo ... The Haunted Mansion will also be closed to prepare for Halloween time in Disneyland. In early September? Whatever! I probably can't handle haunted houses anyway judging by the way I ran screaming like a pansy in front of a bunch of laughing kids when a scarecrow jumped out at me when I walked up to a haunted house years ago, then refused to even go in. AND California Screamin, the big goddam roller coaster in California Adventure will be closed for renos as well. I am disappointed to say the least. But we're going, and regardless of missing out on what I'm sure would be my favorite ride, I really am FREAKING EXCITED. We have 3 full days to spend in the parks and about 12 hours combined to check out Downtown Disney and Anaheim Garden Walk. And of course, IHOP. Smack dab in the middle of our hotel and the gates to Disneyland. We don't have IHOP where I live, so this a big fucking deal!



Bitches and assholes!

Going to Disneyland. Going to Disneyland. Going to Disneyland. Going to Disneyland. Going to Disneyland.

how you can become a gourmet chef too

The other day, my friend sent me this pic ...

Of course, it would look better if the damn this would rotate for me, I don't have time to try again. I called her a rock star when she told me she made those cakes. She replied back "LOL". She has 3 times more kids than I do and a full time job, and still manages to keep active and stay sane without the help of alcohol or narcotics. She is far more superior than me in this area, I am a domestic retard. You saw what my poor kid ate the other night as her special end of summer meal! And for any of you that read my blog, you've probably seen other pics of cakes and cookies that I've screwed up so bad I wonder why my kid hasn't applied for emancipation.

Well .... let me show you what I did last night. Made us a gourmet meal that turned out fantastic. Beef tortellini with a rose sauce, asparagus, and garlic parmesan cheese toast. GOURMET. Look at this plate of yumminess ...

I am a rock star.

Thank you Olivieri. From my belly and the bottom of my heart.

Breathing a sigh of relief ... School started today

On my first day of grade 9, I wore a pair of black (knock-off because we were poor folk) doc marten boots, tall green socks, and a black long sleeved dress. Today is Sydnerella's first day of grade 9. She's wearing a pair of black Doc Marten boots, striped tall socks, a black skirt, and a band t-shirt. Cannibal Corpse? The only differences between us on this day in both our lives are a few inches (in height and bust - to her benefit, not mine), black eye-liner, and eye-brow threading.

Today couldn't have come sooner. Not that I want my baby to continue to age at these speeds, but having a 14 year old daughter unsupervised while I worked all summer was the cause of many near panic attacks, lost sleep, sneaking out of the office early to get home, getting to work late because I had to stay up late to listen for the doors opening, and just a general feeling of uneasiness. Not that I don't trust my own kid, but I kinda don't. A little bit, but not entirely. It's not just her, it's all of them. The agendas of  kids that age are on a totally different page than ours ... hell, in a whole other book!

Today, right now, I am at ease.

The weekend before school starts is always a busy one. For nine years now, they've pretty much been the same. We do our last minute clothes and supplies shopping, grocery shopping for breakfasts, recess snacks, and lunches, house cleaning for a fresh start, tons of laundry, one last mother-daughter outing, a good dinner the night before school starts, and quite a bit of fighting. This year was no different. Actually, it was a little different. Ok, completely different. I took Thursday and Friday off work, so we did her shopping Thursday. No fights. I haven't been grocery shopping, I did get some laundry done ...

We did make it out of town on Saturday - lunch in Banff - and that's really about it. No fights. No hair cut. And dinner was nothing special. Literally ....

In my defense, Sydnerella chose this and I gave her the option of any restaurant she wanted. I swear it. And I was cravin' Asian, so this was my dinner ....

And it turned out pretty good for $6.99 at Safeway.

So Sydnerella has one more year in junior high and I can't say I wont be on edge until end of June. Praying that just because she dresses like I did, she wont get into the same shit that I did. Praying HARD that my little Athiest doesn't turn my hair white.

New Kids on the Block, let's rock

 

1:30am, last Friday night. Saturday morning? I was, as always, on the couch fighting with my eyes to stay open because New Kids on the Block were on ET and I wanted to see them. NKOTBSB actually since they've teamed up with the Backstreet Boys, who ever they are. First thing I noticed was Jordan Knight is still a major babe. I was part of the New Kids mania that started back in 1988, and will consider myself a fan for the rest of my life. During a commercial of ET, I had to run up to my room and dig through my closet to make sure I still had this ...

Phew. What is it? A near 100 page scrapbook put together by yours truly between 1989 and 1991. I actually feel a little guilty going through it, I think I spent more effort on this than I did my daughters baby book. But I guess at the young age of 11, there's not much else to occupy your time. Here's a peak ...

I have over 30 posters ripped out of Tiger Beat, Teen Beat, Bop, and the Big Bopper that I had plastered all over the walls in my bedroom. I had every last pic of all the same magazines neatly cut out and taped to loose leaf. Stories, diary entries, newspaper articles, bios and even a hand-drawn picture of Jordan Knight I included in a project I did for French class ..... Uncanny.

And I still have these in the same wooden jewelry box I've had since I was a little girl

I was 9 or 10 years old when I discovered NKOTB with my then-bff, J. We lost touch over the years, which broke my heart when my daughter was born. We reconnected half-assed a few times, then tried with a more honest attempt when our friend passed away last year. Both her, and New Kids on the Block are a huge part of my childhood memories. One of my favorites was trying to convince everyone in my class that I was related to Danny.

New Kids on the Block, let's rock, it's Christmas time, we gonna celebrate it with a rhyme. Danny D are you ready? Ready as I'll ever be steady. You know Joey Joe is ready, Jordan and John, yeah come on, we got a Funky Funky Christmas going on .....

I swear on my cats life, I just typed that from memory, stopping to dance a little. Sad?

My interest for the New Kids started waning when Donnie Wahlberg was arrested. I literally, literally cried when I read this in the paper. Then, I did what any rational 11 year old would do after hearing their soon to be husband started a fire in a hotel, I scratched his face out of the clipping and added it to one the last pages of my scrap book. 

Fast forward almost 20 years, and New Kids on the Block were making a come back. I took Sydnerella to an NKOTB concert where Lady Ga Ga and Natasha Beddingfield opened for them. The arena would have been like shooting fish in a barrel for any late-20's to mid-30's man looking for a wife. A wife with baggage I suppose. Every woman in that age group in the city was at that concert, and all of them brought their kids. The men stayed far away from that concert, so no new baby-daddy for Sydnerella. Not that I was looking, I was there to introduce my daughter to little bit of my past. And I was so happy that the NKOTB t-shirt that I got for my 11th birthday still fit .....

my grass is greener

The grass is always greener on the other side?

I spent the weekend at a cabin on a lake with T-Bone and three couples. Silly Sally and her probably soon to be fiance, my bff and her husband, another close friend and her husband. Both husbands who will not allow their wives, MY FRIENDS since before they were their wives, spend weekends away with me alone. Why? Because Single Stacy makes them uncomfortable. Because Single Stacy can coerce their wives into three-ways and orgies and all sorts of lying and cheating. Even though ... even though one of the couples has 4 affairs under their belts between the two of them, NONE if which I arranged, took part in, condoned, encouraged, or anything of the sort. Ahem. The Couples Retreat was arranged after a casual comment that we should have a girls night at this cabin that was quickly shot down by the two married women, while the two single women secretly prayed that we'd be going solo. No such luck. Good thing I like the two husbands, my probably soon to be brother in law, and T-Bone. So the four of us ditched all the children we have between us, loaded our vehicles with Albertan beer because BC charges PST, and drove out to a cabin that sits a block from a lake and has baby deer living under the wrap around deck. Ahhh summer. There was some obvious differences between the marrieds and the singles, but all put together in one house for 60 hours, the eight of us had a fantastic, sunburned, exhausting, well fed weekend. And I walked away secretly wishing that I was one of the marrieds, at the same time though, grateful I'm not. {Side note, I already refrained from inviting the spouse from one friend because his anti-Stacy bullshit was taken too far awhile back and he's on my shit list ... the rest of them should beware!} If any of you are reading this, you know I'm joking. If you're not reading this, then I'm totally not. Ha. I'm really not out to build an army of single people for me to hang with just because I don't have a husband. I've made shitty decisions that have landed me in shitty relationships that have led me to bouts of singledom. What-the-fuck-ever. Yes, being single has its advantages (1. This is MY remote, bitch. 2. Make your own damn sandwich. And 3. I technically can date/kiss/boink whoever I want), but it has its disadvantages too, and one of them is not being trusted by your married friends spouses. And because I don't have a husband or a full time boyfriend, but I do have a lawn full of goddam weeds, I was swindled by a door to door sales person into allowing them to spray weed killer on my lawn in exchange for $200. So yes, in more ways than one, my grass is pretty fucking green. But I pay for it. Out of my own damn pocket. 

 Bambi #1 and Bambi #2

Son of a bitch, where's the aloe?

What the Stampede taught me this year

My body is failing me. I've been watching it grow and shrivel and sag and do all sorts of weird shit since I turned 30. I'm wearing padded bras, sometimes when I sleep because I so desperately want to keep the twins away from my gut. I have a mass of spider veins on my calf and apply thick layers of cream to my heels. I choose full booty panties over thongs. I'm growing a second chin. I think I even mentioned on accident awhile back that I found nipple hair. And on Wednesday, I went Stampeding, and my body reached a new low. Stampeding is what party animals do during the 2nd week of July here in Calgary ... or what is called Cowtown this week. The rodeo and the chuck wagons and the carnies and the entertainment come to town. And everyone takes their stetsons, cowboy boots, and plaid shirts out of storage. Corporate offices not only allow, but encourage western wear for the week. The party and  the drinking begins. Married men and women put their wedding rings in the little pocket in their wranglers and they go stampeding. CEO's, VP's and everyone beneath them come to work hungover, maybe even still drunk. Sometimes even sleep (or fuck) in their office if a party was close enough and they can't find a cab. Anything goes during Stampede week. For kids and people with no sense of drunken adventure, the Stampede is about rides and cotton candy. But since turning 18, it's been a shit show. A fun, rowdy, crazy, shit show. Like most, over the years, I've slowed down. When I once was able to go hard for at least half the party, I've just been reduced to one day. And even this one almost killed me. Or did something funky my ass at least. What!? Wednesday, I started drinking at noon with about 200 others from my company, and about 10,000 others around the city. It was late compared to some years when we'd start drinking at some pancake breakfast in a beer tent by the office. It was my company Stampede party and I was in a Go Big or Go Home situation. After a few hours at that party, I joined Silly Sally, some friends, and random co-workers to a rocking outdoor concert. It was a frigging blast. John Fogerty is fantastic, his voice hasn't aged at all. Unlike my hands. We drank, danced, smoked, sang, drank, smoked, drank, then hopped onto school bus shuttles to an after party, where, yes, we drank some more. Nobody we were with puked, fell down, got beat up, took a random dude home, or got lost, so it was a good time. No .... it was a great time. Even though I was on the couch the following 24 hours it was a fun. fun. fun. hammered. hammered. hammered. However .... After 14 years of Stampeding like a grown up, I learned a pretty important lesson and am suffering miserably. Drinking for 12 hours straight can, and in my case did, lead to a case of hemorrhoids. Literally, my second attempt at Stampeding just ended with me standing in the drug store with a drunk dude buying munchies and slutty looking thing buying condoms. Then there was me, hunched over the isle at the back, trying to decide between Preparation H and Anusol.

Happy July-Long ....

The short version of everything since last checking in .... Including pictures because I'm seriously short on stories and words. Last week Sydnerella turned 14. She finished grade eight, soccer ended (miserably after starting undefeated), and I wrote my final exam. Sydneralla was mistaken for a 21 year old on her birthday, so I'm sure I have a few more grey hairs, some of them nipple, I was given an inhaler because I can't breath very well all the time, I tried to quit smoking but decided after 24 hours that wasn't going to work for me. My stomach continues to grow because I am a potato chip and french vanilla coffee cream addict, and I continue to see T-Bone once every two weeks for lazy sex, a movie, and take out food. I really don't care what's going on with us right now because my head is still in a weird place and because he bought me this for my birthday .... 

As little as I care about brands and accessories, I sure do love Coach bags. And I love LOVE this purse.

I've mowed my lawn twice since I took this pic .... The first mow-job took 45 minutes and I almost passed out. It was literally a jungle and I don't think I even have grass in the back anymore, it's think weed type grass. Whatever.

Sydnerella asked what she could do around the house for extra money. I was due for my cleaners to come in anyway, so I gave her a list longer than anything I've ever done myself, and she did at all. Then told me it wasn't so bad and I should just clean the house myself. I told her to zip the lip, get to work, and handed over $40 when she was done.

A bird shit on my living room window.

After spending $915 to get my drivers license and my registration renewed since January 1, I got fucking pulled over 2 weeks ago. I was going 13kms over the speed limit, seriously bullshit. That's like 6mph for you American folk, serious waste of $115 and a demerit.

I sent a Happy Fathers Day text to Aunt Crazy's Uncle Bubba and got this reply: "Thanks. Send naked pics". So I sent this ...

He said he sure hopes that's my arm or else I have a hairy ass. He's a 36 hour drive away and refuses to fly, so I guess he'll never know.

I was out having a smoke before my exam last Thursday, when I saw this ....

This being an elderly east Indian woman sleeping on the vent in my building lobby with both shoes off, holding one leg up behind her back. I have no fucking idea.

And finally, last Friday was Canada Day. Every Canada Day for the last 5 years have been spent at the horse races. A combination of great friends, sunshine, beer gardens, and losing a ton of money because I only bet on the horses whose names I like. I had all intentions of taking a few blackberry pics to do up a good blog of the weekend, but this is all I ended up with. I'm a brunette if you're wondering.