Monday, July 28, 2008

You're Grounded!

Nephew #2 was telling us that his friend was grounded because he hadn't called home to tell them where he was. At the risk of sounding like my mother, kids these days are getting away with murder. So I was interested in knowing what constituted 'grounding' nowadays.

Me: "So what does grounding mean now?"
N#2: "Well ... he can't talk on the phone, he can't go out with his friends and he can't ... "

At this point, my ADD kicks in and I'm distracted. Oh look, shiny!

What I hear is:

N#2: "Well ... he can't talk on the phone, he can't go out with his friends and he can't do his weed."

Again, I channel my mother. What in the world has gotten into kids these days?? And what about the parents?! What kind of punishment is that ... He can't smoke his weed. Jeez!!

But I decide to go my usual sarcastic route.

"I see. Well ... that doesn't seem fair. Cuz when I was a kid, my parents let me smoke my weed when I was grounded."
I make a WTF face and hand gesture.

Nephew #2 clarifies, having to raise his voice above everyone's laughter.

"NO! He can't play his Wii!!"

Hmmm ... I'm not only beautiful, but it appears I'm also a little deaf.

To make matters worse, now when his mother grounds him, my nephew asks if he's still allowed to smoke his weed.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

What's in a name?

Once in a while you come across someone who has an odd name and say to yourself (or out loud!) "What the hell were his/her parents thinking??!" All the while, trying not to laugh in their face.

Then I came across this article. Apparently some people are getting quite creative when naming their offspring. Or perhaps not. Maybe that old joke about the Indian Chief in charge of naming the children in the tribe has more truth to it than we think.

I think I'll name my kid Ima Accident.

What are you naming yours?

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Out of the mouths of babes

We have taken the kids camping the first week of August every summer for the past 15 years. This year, The Husband and I decided we're getting too old for this.

It's a lot of work to set up camp, cook for a bunch of hungry teenagers, entertain them, de-camp. Not to mention pre- and post-camp organizing and clean-up.

So we're going to do something different this year. Don't know what quite yet, but ya'll will be the first to know.

Despite the fact that I'm looking forward to letting someone else wait on me, I'm going to miss camping. We tell great stories around the campfire, play games, eat like pigs and come home appreciating a hot shower and soft bed.

My fondest memory is when The Girl was only a wee thing. She wasn't quite comfortable with me yet and preferred to go to the washroom with Daddy. We all trucked to the washrooms for bedtime detail. The wall dividing boys from girls didn't go all the way to the ceiling, so you could hear everything next door.

The Husband apologized to a man who was also in the washroom, as The Girl was being quite animated pontificating on various aspects of the meaning of life from the perspective of a four year old. The man laughed and said he had boys of his own.

Which prompts The Girl to suddenly remember a tidbit of information she recently learned and pipes up:

"Daddy ... it's not a tail, it's a penis!"

Friday, July 18, 2008

Pssst ... wanna buy some cookies??

In local news:

Girl Scout Camp Marijuana Farm Busted
(read article here)

This is genius! Get us high so we have the munchies and are compelled to buy the cookies.

Does this make the girls Pushers? Or merely Mules??

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Look Mom! No parachute!!

When we first got Kitty, she was a mischievous little bugger; digging in plants and knocking things over.

So when The Husband called me at work one day and, without preamble, said "Now before I tell you this, everything is OK" my immediate thought was that Kitty had knocked over my prized ceramic bust of David that I had worked on for weeks.

Later, I would realize that I clearly have to set my worry standards MUCH higher!

It seems that Kitty had followed The Husband onto the balcony of our apartment. Once she got out there, she panicked. She ran back and forth a couple of times then finally sailed right through the bars … all four legs stretched out like a hang glider.

Our fourth-floor apartment was above the main entrance to the building, over which was a concrete awning.

PING! She hit the awning and bounced off. THUNK! She hit the grass.

The Husband raced downstairs and found her cowering in the bushes. He brought her back upstairs where she immediately ran under the bed. Then he called me.

I called the vet, who assured me that cats can easily survive a six-floor drop and as long as she's eating and there's no blood in her poop, she's ok. I expected her to be cowering under the bed when I get home. But instead, she told me all about her exciting day, babbling on for quite some time.

The psychological trauma, however, is a completely different issue.

For weeks afterwards, The Husband would taunt Kitty by chanting MEEEEE-OWWWWW!

It was about four years before she would even jump up on the wing chair near the window to gaze out over her domain.

And even up to the day we moved out, whenever we opened the balcony door, she'd bolt out of the room and hide under the bed.

Kitty's therapist says she's making progress, though.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Lord of the Rings

My Danish friend recently called me. "I got a new ring. It's a Georg Jensen. Check it out online".

So I went to the Georg Jensen site. She got the Fusion ring:

Just beautiful! The girl has taste!!

I really like this one myself:

Then I started perusing the site. I think Georg needs to seek counselling ...

I'm guessing Georg is an ass man.

This one is a little too Big Brother for me. The diamonds are really miniature cameras.

It looks as though there's a ball that moves around inside. I'd totally be waving my arm to see if the ball falls out!!

This is my favourite. A re-creation of a cleverly disguised ice pick originally created by Q for James Bond. You know ... for those emergency Martini moments. I've already placed my order!

This would be the Red-Neck version, sans diamonds. Fer them there fancy shmancy parties where ya need ter pick yer teeth after eatin' up them possums!

Monday, July 7, 2008

Fried Green Sharks

Channel surfing the other night. The Husband has control of the remote.


Everybody Loves Raymond. Pause a minute.


Rosanne. Pause a minute.


Infommercial. Quickly change!


Big shark attacking a boat. Stop!

"I'm guessing this is Steel Magnolias" I say.

"No, it's Fried Green Tomatoes."

"Fried Green Tomatoes??"

He points at the TV at a close up of the shark.

"See, it's Kathy Bates!"

Friday, July 4, 2008

Not Smarter than a Four-Year-Old

The Husband came as a package deal: two kids and an ex-wife. It may sound bad, but in fact, we're all one big happy family. The kids are like Stepford Children and are about as perfect as any kids can be. And if that's not weird enough, The Ex and I are friends.

The kids are practically grown up now. The Girl just graduated from High School and The Boy just graduated from University.

They also have a little brother. The Little Guy is quite entertaining.

It became obvious very early that the Little Guy was fascinated by animals. He never played with cars, never played with action figures, but he constantly played with his Fischer Price Farm House. When he was about four years old, someone gave him a children's encyclopaedia of animals.

The Husband and I were entertaining the Little Guy one day, flipping through the book. He was pointing at various animals, telling me where they came from, clarifying if they were mammals. He was telling me things that I had no clue about. And he was four!

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him, thinking he'd say veterinarian.

Without hesitation, he said "I want to be a scientist." (Geez, I just wanted to be a teacher when I was four!)

"What kind of scientist?", thinking Rocket Scientist or something equally fantastic.

"I want to save the animals in the Rain Forest." What four-year-old thinks of this stuff??

But knowing that every kid has a back up plan, and knowing that his daddy is a fireman, I figured I'd ask what Plan B was.

"What do you want to be if you don't become a scientist?"

"I want to join the WWF." Ah … now this I know! Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Rowdy Roddy Piper.

"So, what kind of wrestler do you want to be?"

The Little Guy sighs heavily, rolls his eyes and in a very exasperated voice says:

"I want to join the World Wildlife Federation."

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Red Neck Puppet Show

There is a window above our kitchen sink that looks out onto the fence that separates us from the neighbours (fences make great neighbours, donchya think?).

It's not much of a view.

So The Husband decides to hang a flower basket on the fence so we have something pretty to look at while we get dishpan hands.

The Husband pops his head up above the window sill.

TH: "There's a dead squirrel here."

Me: "EW!"

TH: "Wanna see it?"

Me: "NO!"

TH: "Are you sure??"

Me: "Yes!!"

TH: [shrugs]

I resume washing the dishes.

Next thing I know, there's a squirrel bouncing across the window ledge, a-la-puppet-theatre style.

Suddenly a high-pitched squeaky voice says:

"How ya doin? I'm Sammy the Dead Squirrel. What's your name?"


Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Who let the dog out? Who? Who??

Kitty is quite vocal in the morning. I haven't quite figured out what she's going on about, but she makes it sound important.

This morning, as always, I gathered her bowls together so I could take them downstairs to the kitchen to clean and refill them. All the while, she's nattering on about God knows what.

As I came down the stairs, I said to The Husband "There's no way I could ever forget to feed Kitty. She's meowing like crazy up there."

The Husband freezes. "Oh shit!" And he races for the sliding doors. There's Puppy, looking VERY displeased, on the other side of the glass.

"How long has he been out there?"

"I don't know … 20 minutes? I forgot about him!"


Puppy walks in the door, brushing right past The Husband. He turns around and gives The Husband a dirty look, snorts, then walks over to me for a hug. I croon all over Puppy while he glares at The Husband. The Husband comes over to try and pet him, but Puppy walks away with his nose in the air.

Oh snap! Who's in the doghouse now?!