Bah Humbug!

Last Christmas, my mother was elated to have found a tree with lights embedded in the branches. Built in so to speak. All she had to do was stand it up and hang ornaments. It saved her lots of work.

The thing is still standing in the corner, with a sheet over it. Good lord mother, it's almost February. The way she nodded her head, said it would be even less work to set it up next Christmas. Just pull down the sheet, and presto, there it is, complete with built in lights, and this year, adornments.

My mother has always said she has no use for all those new gagets these days. Bah, Humbug! Now each time we visit, we've got to step around a six foot, sheet covered X-mas tree that came with a new twist.

She now owns an X-mas tree you don't have to put up anymore. What's next?

She's at it Again

My ex was always an extravagant, controlling beatch. During our seventeen year marriage, I could never do anything right. From my choice of careers to where I'd choose to park the car, nothing was ever good enough for her. I see that now. They say love is blind, which in my case was certainly true. I loved her once....a lot.

Our only daughter is getting married. Sabrina and Sheldon are planning their wedding while trying to stay within budget, and they should. It's their day. Well, Holy shit! All hell's beginning to break loose.

Her mother's been driving me bonkers. We should be buying this and that. The planned dinner could be better, at a nicer place, etcetera, etcetera. Every time my phone rings, it's something else.

It's all stuff that increases expenses. She has this fucked up idea that the father of the bride should give his daughter the best wedding money can buy. If I remember correctly, my ex didn't exactly come with a dowry. I footed most of the bill when we had our day.

Sabrina and Sheldon are planning it their way. My wish is that her mother offers suggestions only if asked, and not do what she's so good at. Taking over, except for expenses.

New Beginnings

Spring must be getting near. The days are becoming longer, and the fever is beginning. Spring fever! It's been happening for eons, usually near Valentines Day. Boy meets girl, along with the ritual of courtship behaviours.

Hearing a female aquaintance refer to one of our male aquaintances as "CUTE" perked me up to the fact spring is just around the corner. But referring to him as "CUTE"... I'm shaking my head thinking about it.

She's cute, my lady who lays by me is cute, my kids are cute, my dog, if I had one, would be cute. But my friend, or any adult male people, in my eyes, are not "CUTE". Other adjectives could be used to better describe men. For example, I am a good looking guy! That I can handle. Much better than "CUTE"

He, by the way, tells me she's absolutely incredible and beautiful. He's finally found her. A new beginning? Ahh that spring fever! Brings back memories.

The two stars of this blog entry(seen by millions, worldwide) are real people. No names have been mentioned to protect their privacy, but they'll know who they are. My fingers will be cut off for typing this story.

No Choice Now

Two weeks ago my boss and I were discussing ways of reducing costs in some of our departments. Seeing as I had accomplished said results with the office staff, he now wants me to help him in other areas. Simply put, I'm to be the efficiancy expert. Not my bag at all! Straightening out the office was all right because I thought I'd be doing my light duty tasks there... All the time.

I don't want to head out into the field to watch people work inefficiantly, and then have to suggest a smarter way to do their jobs. But, to keep on his good side, I told him I still had lots to do. I'd get at the efficiancy thing if I could get around to it.

This morning I opened an email from him. This was in the attached file.

I got exactly what I asked for. Do I have any choice but to tackle this yuckee project? I don't think so.

Hey it Happens

Our ghost trackers group is growing by leaps and bounds. After a few months of just posting on a message board, eight of us decided to get together and meet each other. As of today we're up to about thirty active members.

Appointing me as organizer was the first thing our small group did. Taking this responsibility pretty seriously, I started organizing. Working my butt off generating interest in these meetups hasn't exactly been a cake walk, but I got results. Meetup.com

Yesterday evening was meetup night. Temperatures outdoors were in the -30C range, not very pleasant. Twenty-two members were expected to attend, the largest turnout so far. We were sooo excited to meet all the new people to hear their ghost stories, and what happens....We're locked out.

We FORGOT THE FUCKING KEYS to the building.

Oh Poetry

Reading poetry is not a favorite on my list of things to do. I must be lacking in something because I usually have no appreciation of any piece of poetry presented to me. I'm not knocking it. I just don't care for it.

Once I get over my aversion to the stuff, and begin reading, I sometimes find a true poetic gem. Believe me, if I like it, so will you. My daughter Sabrina sent me this. I have no idea who the author is.

When me prayers were poorly said
Who tucked me in me widdle bed
And spanked me till me arse was red,

Me Mudder!

Who took me from me cozy cot
And put me on the ice cold pot
And made me pee when I could not,

Me Mudder!

And when the morning light would come
And in me crib me dribbled some
Who wiped me tiny widdle bum,

Me Mudder!

Who would me hair so neatly part
And hug me gently to her heart
Who sometimes squeezed me till me fart,

Me Mudder!

Who looked at me with eyebrows knit
And nearly have a king size fit
When in me Sunday pants me shit,

Me Mudder!

When at night her bed did squeak
Me raised me head to have a peak
Who yelled at me to go to sleep,

Me Fadder!

That, my friends, Made My Day!

Call a Cop

Let's go back to the subject of people passing their offensive nitrous oxide gas in public. Some of this behaviour I can find mildly humorous. It's one thing to poot a quick one and turn all red from embarrasment. But to make a public display of it and leave a stench behind that can wilt plants, is enough to make me puke.

Just yesterday I heard a chap let one rip quite loudly in the casino. It sounded disgustingly wet. He didn't care who he was near, who heard him, or who caught a whiff of him. Geez man, you need to go wipe your ass was my first thought. He sauntered along as if nothing happened. I was gagging and almost barfed.

Stuff like that is happening all over the place. At the Wallmart, on a bus, in movie theaters, in grocery stores. Most of these emissions are of the SBD type, silent but deadly. And then there are the rippers. All types are guilty. Men, women, children, young, and old. Did you ever notice some places smell like a gigantic shithouse? It's not hard to pick out the culprit who's responsible.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of getting a nose full of shit when one of these pigs passes by. It never used to be this bad. People at one time, had some sense of dignity. Like everything else, morals seem to be deteriorating just as quickly.

If urinating in public is illegal, why can't we have fart police? [And you think your job stinks]

Not a Bad Start

For three full days now I've been buried up to my waist in snow. Not that it's impossible to get around, it's just been really hard. My accident left me with an arm that doesn't function properly so I can't dig my car out of the parking lot alone. I've had to take the bus to the office to cover for some of the weekend crew who didn't make it in. They're suffering from the brown bottle flu I guess, with it being New Years and all.

I'm tired of trudging through snow drifts to catch buses that are never on time. I'm tired of using an hour to make a trip that takes fifteen minutes by car. I'm tired of having to work when I'm supposed to be off. I'm fed up with not being able to do anything else but wait for the snow plow.

I'm pissed off, and I've managed to get building maintenance pissed off at me. To hell with it being New Years weekend. Let's get those plows out on the roads, and into the parking lots so we can move our cars. They're telling me to be patient. After three days I'm quickly running out of patience...

It's now four hours since I first started typing this entry. I was interupted by a knock at my door. Seems everyone else in the apartment block had also run out of patience. We all got together and shovelled the entire parking lot by hand. What teamwork won't do!

I am just exhausted, but I feel much better now. Fuck the plows. We all helped each other escape our prisoner, the snow. Go Year 2005! You're off to a good start!