Daxohol

Colour Me Vague

I will say...that I need to go to bed right. now.

I won't say...the rest.

Hope you had a good weekend...I know I did!

Free Jugs!

There is a new night club opening up in my city.  It claims it wants to cater to a "mature and upscale" crowd by having a 23+ preference (I'd like to see how they plan to enforce that in this city) and by having a dress code (why must every bar in this town try this joke of a policy!  It NEVER WORKS HERE!). 

My biggest laugh when reading the full page advertisment in our local free culture rag is that they plan on having a draw for a free b@@b job.  That's right.  A free b@@b job.  Classy huh?  I mean, when I get gussied up to go out dancing, the best thing you could do for me upon arriving at your club is offer me a chance to get the bigger sweater puppies I obviously lack.

Now...I wonder if they've thought of randomly giving out p*nis pumps? You know, just shoving them into the hands of random guys.  I mean, doesn't every man want a bigger unit, just like every woman want's bigger yabbos? 

It's obvious that female clientele in bars is highly sought after because that is what sells beer.  But trying to lure women into your "mature" club by offering them surgeries to alter their bodies to cater to a "juvenile" attitude toward beauty is not only counter productive to your club's target image "upscale and mature", but it's, for lack of a better word, "oafish".  The sad part?  They will clean up...women will be lining up around the block and men will too.  This is hackneyed contest nothing new.   I suppose that from the standpoint of someone that can spell C-A-T and write in cursive, the equasions just don't add up right.  It's a bar. It's beer.  It's not rocket science.

Move Over Lady Marmalade!

Okay, okay.  I’m extremely late.  Blow me.

So to start things off, I’d just like to say that Aunite Bernie, Unckie Science Bear, Unckie Spiderman and Auntie Kitten went to Cuba.  That’s right, went to Cuba within hours of Hurricane Wilma.  I thought to myself, well, they are either floating in the hot tub with Umbrella Cocktails, or they are floating in a rubber raft using the umbrellas from their cocktails as fishing spears.  I called over to Auntie Bernie and Unckie Science Bear’s house and left a message for one of their offspring to call me and let me know they were not eating toe nails for lunch and bailing out their raft with their matching hats.  As it turns out, they are indeed enjoying themselves at the resort, and it will probably stop raining in a couple days, just in time for them to leave. MUAAAHAHAHAHA! That’s what you get for leaving me behind. I SAID I FOLD NICELY AND I MEANT IT!

In other news, I went out for cheapo appetizers and drinks with my friend…hmmm what should I call you…JC Less Pennies (she is a bargain finding QUEEN!), along with her sister and her sister’s friend (I won’t come up with names for them yet…yet).  Anyway, as it turns out, the cheapo appetizer deal is part of the Singles night they have at this pub/restaurant.  You could actually hear the vultures screeching around us.  No one bothered us though. I suppose the super sparkle power of our rings managed to keep them from swooping down and tearing our ears off with inane babbling about how important they are at their jobs and that they know a guy in the band.

I had bacon wrapped scallops.  It was made known at the table that those who eat scallops are scallopy.   Just call me Lady Scallopollotta!  Voulez vous mangez avec garlic bread ce cois!  J'ecrire le francais avec formidable sucko!

They came in a dish that had 6 small grooves that were meant to house small yummy things.  Like a stuffed mushroom, or a scallop.  I didn’t say escargot because escargot is not yummy.  Last I checked, you don’t eat your friends.  Hang on.  Let me rephrase that for some of you. *ahem* You do not ingest your friends.  Snails are my friends.  Therefore, eating them is against my morals.  I digress severely.  As I was about to eat the very last one of my bacon wrapped cheese smothered scallops I sank my fork into the crispy bacon.  As I lifted my fork in full expectation to insert the last delicious cookie of the sea into my gullet, I notice something.  The crispy bacon and melted cheese formed a round shape.  A hollow round shape.  The bacon and cheese castle that was to contain the treasured scallop was empty! No scallop!  Me, being tricked by bacon and cheese.  Only me.

Other highlights included having sympathy for the gay waiter in a hetero bar on singles night and JC Less Pennies insisting I re-evaluate the Smirnoff girl.  This involved me casually taking my glasses out of my purse and pretending to read something (which oddly enough was my receipt for a Red Cross donation) and non-challantly checking her out.  As it turns out, I was blinded by rage from my missing scallop and mistaken the Smirnoff girl as being one of the best looking people in the pub.  Aside from our table.  But our table didn’t count, because we were the table of wives and mommies everyone avoided.  Thank goodness for small mercies.

Back

Sorry for my disappearance.  I'm back though, with SO SO much to post...will update tonight my dearies.

Happy Trails!

I wake up this morning and head to the washroom.  My cat, bless his furry heart, left me some artwork! 

Like most cats, Muggsy is a little jumpy.  His skeletal and muscular systems hit the ceiling, leaving his fur behind if we blink too loudly. 

Once in a while, this out-of-fur experience happens while he is using the litter box.  Only, while his skeletal and muscular system are in the air, somehow, his shit manages to run away with his fur.  Except, the shit doesn't actually stay with the fur for long. It bails and hits the ground just in time for his paw to make use of it.  The result is a kitty finger painting. 

Now, it's too early in the morning to appreciate the Burnt Sienna and Deep Earth tones in his work.  Well, to be honest, I'm not really a fan of the Log Streaking Technique used in kitty art.  Especially when my eyes are barely open.

Unckie Ash is very good at interpreting art.  He has come up with some very interesting theories based on our two Salvador Dali prints we have in our living room.  He also is the proud new victim of a kitten.  Perhaps someday soon, he will have some of his very own kitty art to analyze.

Just Sayin'

Edited to fix my spelling on Bill O'Reilly's name. Cause, you know, my credibility could be affected.

I'm gonna get all gushy here for a sec. Crystal from over at A Peek Into My Insanity.  I'm gonna kiss her ass a bit before I get into my post.  I just love her rants.  I always find them to be informative, plus she peppers them with her sharp wit that makes me giggle without fail.  Yay for my southern belle! SMOOCH!

Anyway one of her posts inspired me.  I rarely dip into the american politics here.  For the most part, there are millions upon millions of other blogs out there that cover it but I think I'll allow myself to indulge a bit here. On pure principle that I can.

In recent years there is a very dangerous national trait that has been developing and fine-tuning itself over the course of the Bush Administration.The reprocussions for questioning right wing goals and opinions has driven the citizens to the point were they are opting not to voice their opinions. Anyone who slightly disagrees is met with viciousness and intolerance. 

Now, I'm not saying all republicans are like that, but there the number is growing and dangerously getting close to out-numbering the rational ones.  If there can be a joke cracked about the existance of a rational republican, that's probably a hint.

Disagreement with right wing values and opinions has led to jobs and relationships being lost (no punintended) left, right and center.  Just for pointing out obvious flaws in logic!  I watched Bill O'Reilly on Daily Show last night and was BLOWN AWAY. I know Bill O'Reilly is an extreme example, but that is my point.  There are SO MANY MORE people that are just like him!  People making decisions that effect everyone!

It fascinates me how some people can be pointing the finger at extremist groups and preaching about protecting freedom when they in fact are practicing and carrying out actions/policies that are meant to suffocate and silence people. 

If you ask me (no one did but I'm telling you anyway), the US is headed toward a very dark place. Changing the Constitution to limit rights and keep a tight reign based on one religion? Hello! Hello! HELLO! *waving arms frantically*

It is no longer going to be a "free" country if large percentages of the population are going to be living under laws that oppress thinking, speaking, and living.   I'm gonna get all Disney here and wish upon a star that the Bush administration would snap out of it and concentrate on "liberating" it's own people.

With Much Gagginess

Yes, I haven’t been posting enough.  But you see, I am working on some things which are getting some extra attention while I get them on their feet.

Allow me to gush about the boy for a second or eighty.  He is now officially a year and a half.  At this time, I am having SO MUCH FUN.  I’m not joking, I’m not being sarcastic.  He is really just a total blast to be around.  Now, I will also have you know that he is breaking a rule and testing a boundary immediately following every fun minute we have.  So it is as equally challenging maddening as it is rewarding.  It all comes out in the wash.  You know, the laundry that is piling up.

His talking is coming along so fast that it is really making my head spin.  He has surprised me every day since he was born, but now it’s like my head nearly falls off and my heart explodes.  Okay I’m really still trying to figure out it’s different from every other day he has surprised me.  It’s funny how I can still be surprised day in and day out.  It’s not like there is a man with a blown paper bag who jumps out from behind a door and pops the bag in my face everyday.  After the second time of that happening I wouldn’t be surprised anymore, I’d just flip him off or punch him in the face (I’d never punch my little guy in the face and I only flip him off when he’s not looking).  He’s been saying words for a long time. Yet, it’s not quite because Dax is doing something different all the time either.  Unlike the like the bag man.  He is doing all kinds of other things other than talking that are, funny, exciting and annoying.  Oh wait.  He’s my son and I love him SO MUCH IT HURTS!  Right.  Shya.  Duh.

In other news, I’ve been shopping for girl stuff for my sister and my best friend’s baby girls.  This is great for quieting that little voice that pesters me as I walk past cute little baby girl stuff.  You know the voice.  The voice of unreason.  The voice of preposterousness. The voice of doom.

I also have a suggestion for a cheap, low effort Halloween costume for babies.  Farzzle.  It’s perfect! A t-shirt and a diaper and BLAM, baby is a babbling baby from a show baby just might get a kick out of.  Creativity at its finest folks.  You heard it from me.

The House of The Cha-Cha-Cha

There is a house in Ontario
They call The Cha-Cha-Cha
And it's been the ruin of many a mom
And God I know I'm one

My mother, tried to tell me
She knew my reasoning
I gave the boy a dancing bear
Down in Ontario

Now the only thing a mother needs
Is a suitcase and trunk
To get the hell away from all the racket
So she won’t lose her mind

------ organ solo ------

Oh fathers tell your wives 
Not to do what I have done
Spend a dollar, on a dancing bear
At a garage sale

Well, I got one foot on that dancing bear
The other foot on the cat
I'm goin' completely insane
In The House of The Cha-Cha-Cha

Well, there is a house in Ontario
They call The Cha-Cha-Cha
And it's been the ruin of many a mom
And God I know I'm one

Take This Job and Fudge It

Today a 10,000 pound weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I don't write much about my job here.  Lord knows how so very badly I want to.  Anyway, though my job is gratifying, it is very challenging. 

I thought I knew what multi-tasking was.  I have since come to learn that there is a difference between multi-tasking, and being stuck knee deep in snow during an avalanche.  With no cute St. Bernard to come and lick your face and bring you a shot of whisky.  I just reach for my own whiskey.

For the last few weeks I had come to the conclusion that I was definitley not going to get my contract renewed.  I also was dealing with feelings of failure and inadequacy as I want to be good at my job, but I wasn't.  I had my 6 month review today and as it turns out, I do most of my job well, however, there is lots of room for improvement on how I handle the avalanche.  I agree, however, I think with my work style, there is really only so far I can go before it becomes a problem.  At any rate, there will be some new staff along with a new program in the new year which will make my life easier, but more complicated at the same time.  I am excited about these changes, and very afraid at the same time.  The catch is, I've been given a deadline to show improvement in my weaknesses.  I should point out that this was by no means a threat, just a timeline for myself and my boss to come to the same conclusion and save time and money.  I don't feel hurt.  If anything I feel relieved and rejuvenated.  I plan to bust some ass, and lick my glitches, but if I do my best and I can't, I have learned one thing.  Avalanches suck, and I prefer whiskey.

Another meeting with the Fool of The Round Table tonight proved to be constructive and amusing.  Yup, constructive.  Out of our amusement last week, an idea for a show came up and we thought "hey, we gotta do this!"  Now, I'll be honest here and say, we've said that lots in the past and only a few things have ever actually made it to the stage/screen.  Not because we are lazy, but because we are funny.  However, this time, Evil Unca C took that ball and ran feverishly with it.  He had concocted a tagline and character drafts.  The plan?  A contest: "Make With The Funny".  Our deadline Oct. 26th.  Evil Unca C is a professional writer (Yes, I said professional writer! Shut up or I'll hug you) and I am so amazed that he is taking this on.  So, right now, I just want to say Thank You Evil Unca C.  I really, really, REALLY NEED to hug you.

Miigwech

I think a little follow up post might be of some interest after my previous Thanksgiving post.  This is a topic that is very near to my soul, and I would love to share some of that with you.

Crystal from over at A Peek Into My Insanity asked about the Canadian Thanksgiving and it’s meaning.  The history of Thanksgiving is pretty splotchy.  Through the 1600’s Samuel de Champlain and the settlers that accompanied him established an “Order of Good Cheer”. Yes, that’s right, a “party committee” of sorts.  See, we come by it honestly!  Anyway, this group hosted many celebrations honoring their many blessings and the harvest, shared food with the Natives (and I’m sure they shared a little fire-water too).  Over the years, generations celebrated the harvest and reflected on life with a Thanksgiving feast.  Canada had no appointed date for Thanksgiving until 1957. 

So, that’s our Thanksgiving in a nutshell.

So why am I so bitter with all this “good cheer”?  The nostalgic frosty image of “pilgrims” sharing a feast with the a few “savages” that goes with Thanksgiving doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy.  It makes me want to whip out my tomahawk and hit something with it.  I give thanks for my life and for my family, however, I don’t think about how nice the settlers were for sharing some grub with the injuns.

My good friend Ash was inspired by my previous post to write.  Last night he and I talked in depth about why he felt the way he did, and I was happy to share why it’s not so easy to “just get over it”.  I put it in this way: try telling the Jewish to “get over” the holocaust.  Not gonna happen.

A separate point he made was that hundreds of years ago atrocities were committed, but it didn’t happen to anyone alive.  I gently reminded him that it hasn’t stopped.  Oka only happened a little over a decade ago.  That effected me directly.  I came home to my parents packing suitcases because the government issued a warning that all off reserve status Indians were to “relocate” to their reserve of origin or, the closest one to them.  My dad was making arrangements to join the blockade.  As a second example, my grandfather and his brothers and sisters were punished in horrific ways for speaking Ojibwae in residential school.   The last residential school shut down in the 80’s. 1980’s.  Sure, smallpox blankets aren’t being thrown around anymore, but it’s kind of hard to ignore having a culture and language literally beaten out of generations upon generations.  It’s even harder to ignore the consequences.  The legacy of consequences that have plagued generations and unfortunately, future generations to come.  Alcoholism, cycles of continued abuse and poverty.  At least for me it’s hard to ignore. 

It hasn’t stopped. Not yet. 

I don’t blame all the white people.  I don’t think the suffering of the Native people of North America is someway worse than any other suffering of any other group of people in the world.  For me, Thanksgiving is a time to remember what my ancestors went through, what I went through, and to pray that my son won’t have to go through more.  Not that I need a special day to do that, it’s just for me, a fitting day to make a special spiritual note of it. 

Further topics in our conversation explored how there is extreme points of view from both sides regarding the status of native people and were they should be or what they should be doing within the country.  It is so complex and full of pros and cons to all possible solutions.  Which is why progress is slow and sometimes painful. 

Here is an interesting article on residential school compensation.  Compensation?! Sheeya. Right. 
http://www.firstperspective.ca/ottawa_watch.html

My father intensely studied the Ojibwae language for over 10 years.  He is now a licenced teacher of the language.  He can also write in Cree Sylabics.  Does he have a job reteaching the language? No.  Why? Funding.  Will funding from the federal government be provided to give him a job re-teaching the language?  Maybe someday.  If that question cannot be answered with an instant yes, then consider compensation as hiring those people who worked hard to relearn the culture and language and give them jobs so they can pass it on. 

Compensation. Puh-lease.  But hey, at least someone isn't letting it all get swept under the rug.

Myself?  I studied Ojibwae for four years and know enough to have a small conversation.  Our family will do our best to pass along the culture to my son.

I had turkey dinner last night and my husband made a delicious turkey soup tonight. EEEYUMMAY!