“My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun,” ~Sir Mix-a-Lot Oh I’ve got buns. A whole bag of them, to be exact. The large assortment of ciabatta, bagel, kaiser and dinner rolls that was only $2.75 at Walmart … Continue reading
I didn’t want to get out of the bathtub. It’s so peaceful there, but I had to eventually – only to write a blog post before bed…
…about bathtubs. Well, more like their surroundings. When you listen to music, do you make up an elaborate story or some kind of sequence that would match a movie score? I do – depending on my mood and what music is playing.
I also like to find pictures within objects. In the summer I could see the face of a fawn in my fence while I lounged on the deck chair by the pool.
In my bathtub there are other animals and creatures to keep me company. Within the tiles I’ve spotted an angry grizzly bear head, tiny sloth face, a piranha-like fish mid-air ready to strike on its prey and Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy. Oh, and for a brief moment there was also a raptor head but that’s since evaded me and I can’t see it anymore. At first I wasn’t sure if the bear was more like a tiger but now I’m sure it’s a grizzly.
I always face the same way when I’m in the tub, but maybe next time I’ll try the other way to see what new hidden objects I can find.
Pictorial perspective also equals pictorial distraction. Thinking about something odd or random also leaves your mind sort of free to think of everything and nothing, but in a completely peaceful way.
Ah, the regift. What reminded me was shopping at Winner’s today. I picked up a kinda cool looking zombie (MH knockoff) that was on clearance but the package was opened (albeit carefully). I turned it over and there was still a piece of Christmas wrapping paper on the back!
Sister in-laws regift. Pretty sure it was something someone at her office had given her (maybe the boss?) and she was having none of it so decided to pawn it off to me. A wooden birdhouse outdoor decor thing (that I chucked) and a tin of Werther’s Originals (which I eventually consumed). OR maybe she was getting me back for the very first gift I ever gave her – after knowing her for about a week, mind you: a what I thought was delicious selection of chocolate covered chips from a fancy chocolate store in Mapleview Mall. At least I put some thought into it and thought it was unique.
Oh! Remember those black and white photographic prints Ikea used to sell in the 80s? We got one of those from her too once she decided to move out of town. And that was around Christmas too now that I think of it! We chucked that too, thanks anyway. Update: I finally found one similar that someone was trying to sell on a FB group:
I like recycling, upcycling and donating stuff, but ask someone if they want something first before you try to pass it off as something you carefully selected and decided to call a gift.
Huh, I was actually wondering about this just this morning. When I was about nine I made up a pen name for myself. I drew people with huge heads and tiny bodies and signed them all as “Margaret Moondown”. Okaaaayyy.
I also made up a really short tune on my aunt’s organ but everyone found it annoying. It could have been a great back beat to something. I didn’t have a pen name for my music writing career though.
If I needed to use one now it would be a pretty plain one, but I can’t tell you what it would be. You’d have to read an article by me (well, secret me), except you wouldn’t know that I was the one who wrote it. But sometimes that’s the whole point.
Nicknames are different. In our family there’s: Boobs, Ms. Lou, Ms. Muffin & Tits McGee.
Check out what Freelancewriting.com has to say about the issue! Pen names, not nicknames…
As an (occasional) advocate for IBS sufferers, I think people/companies should rethink their bathroom policies.
It’s funny when a store says to you “We don’t have a bathroom” when you ask to use it because your 3yr old has to go and you know for a fact that they do because you’ve used it before.
I wasn’t in the mood for a debate. I could have asked, “Does the store not allow its employees to go pee either if there’s no bathroom?” Where do you go when you have to go – to the store next door? Maybe Starbucks? The gas station down the street?”
BUT if that’s their policy, whatever. Sure, my wee one could have gone at Children’s Place like the rest of us because they understand things happen. They understand shopping with kids. That reminds me, Future Shop seems to understand all of its customers too, which “has a bathroom”, where Grace left a hammer.
I guess stores that cater to people who wear Bluenotes (ahem) think their customers can hold their bladders longer ….
Going back to IBS issues, what do we need to do in order to break through that iron curtain of a we-pretend-we-don’t-have-a-bathroom-because-it’s-policy thing? A special bracelet? A pass card? A doctor’s note?
When I was driving home from Homesense today, I saw a lady walking down the sidewalk who’d stopped and trailed down to a part where the weeds and wildflowers were. She started pulling off tufts of fluffy seeds from what I’ll assume was a milkweed and was tossing them into the air.
Was it an urge she had or is she an errant human pollinator?
I had an epiphany at the dentist.
Soph was playing while waiting for her appointment (which resulted in the finding of her 2nd cavity in a row. Hmm.) and I was thumbing through gossip mags. My realization came from People magazine – the issue that had all the Oscars coverage.
Boobs’ sister has a double. Named Johnny Weir. They look scarily alike but she’s in no way as talented, well made up or fashionable as he is.
Here’s a picture of Johnny Weir:
Actually the more I look at the picture of Johnny that reminds me of Stinkhole (the sister) I also realize they both look like Peewee Herman.
Once again though, both Peewee and Johnny wear makeup and are more well-groomed.
Oh, I forgot. You’re probably wondering what she looks like right? Here:
Ok, so I modified the picture a bit but I’m sure you get the idea.
I’m not sure whether to laugh or feel really bad.
Last night my daughter lost a baby tooth. Every time she’d bite her food it would hurt. Oh, and the adult tooth was growing right behind it and it was probably telling the baby tooth to get the fuck out of the way.
Every night after we put Soph to bed she always finds an excuse to come back downstairs. One time it was to bring my slippers that I’d forgotten in her room, another night it was for some random toy that she tried to smuggle her iPod in to bring back to bed, another time it was to get a drink of water even though the bathroom is right next to hers and there’s a cup right in there.
Last night she came down with a mouthful of blood and said she pulled her tooth. Oh! OK. I gave her something to wipe up with and off to bed she went. I semi-consciously told myself the Tooth Fairy better visit before I went to bed.
This morning she showed me the Toonie from the Tooth Fairy. I didn’t end up doing my TF job and I know for a fact that Boobs didn’t do it.
So, it’s one of those times that I’m glad she doesn’t tidy her room much and there’s often loose change on her dresser.
Poor thing. Maybe I’ll confess one day.
Boobs is gainfully employed again! Frankly I’ll be glad to get him out of the house. He’s disturbed my whole routine. Obliterated my me time. Fecked up the daily Feng Shui.
The cats and I want our schedule back!
If you read the cartoon in this post, I’ll second what Mr. Sasquatch says, but more like: “If you hire my husband, I won’t eat your face off.”