Magic Mushrooms

Hey!
Pssssst ... yeah you.
Cm'here!

I got some good stuff.
Organic.
Home grown.
In my backyard.



I'm not sure how this happened,
but TH and I have a serious Grow-Op
happening in our backyard.




Last year it was clover.
A lot of it.
We still have some, but it's much better this year.

Maybe Mother Nature is trying to tell us something.
Perhaps we were supposed dry out the clover.
That does explain all the baggies in the kitchen.

If you need to kick back
and chill,
I can hook you up.

100th Birthday!

I'm back now from Sudbury,
celebrating mine and Memère's birthday.
Although we had a big party for Memère in May
a few of us gathered for lunch on June 23 for the actual day.

There were balloons





We opened cards



And, of course, there was cake.
Not just any cake, mind you.
A special birthday cake.
For Memère AND me.

At least Mom and Cecile were kind enough to not put my age!






Memère was her usual fiesty self,
joking with everyone
and kicking our asses in cards.
We played Pass The Ace.
Memère didn't win, but she didn't lose either.
I was the first one to lose and was 'on the bus' very early.
Memère had a good laugh at that.

I hope I'm just like her when I grow up.

Bonne Fête, Memère. Je vous aimes beaucoup!

Outta Here!

As you may know,
our fair city is hosting the G20 Summit.
World leaders,
media
and protesters
(not necessarily in that order)
will converge on our turf.

A three-metre fence has been erected,
enclosing an area of the downtown core
that includes, among other things,
the Convention Centre,
the Royal York Hotel and
my office building.

Security will be tight.
Rumour has it that there will be
one or two doors to enter the secured zone,
forcing thousands of commuters
to funnel into a narrow confined area.

Everyone in my office has been issued
two security passes,
which are to be used in conjunction with
our regular security pass.

Stores in the underground are expected to be closed.
Announcements are made daily on the GO Train,
advising us that there may be delays next week
and we should bring food and water just in case.

Our office will have a toll-free number
for employees to call for information
regarding the status of security.
We have been warned of a
potential lock-down of our building,
should protesting become a security issue.

Erring on the side of caution,
our office will be closed on Friday.

Me?
I'm getting the hell outta Dodge!
I'm off next week.
Heading up to Sudbury for Birthday Week.

Cousin Alex's birthday is the 20th.
Memère’s birthday is the 23rd
(though we already celebrated it).
And mine is the 24th.

It's a busy month.
I'm guessing that the men in my family
get a little randy in the Fall,
hence the Summer Baby Boom.

So I probably won't be posting next week.
Then again,
maybe my brother will let me use his laptop while I'm there.
If not, I'll see ya'll when I'm back on the 28th.

Wolves and Sheep

I got an email today from a Wolf.
Not in the literal sense, of course.
He was, after all, wearing sheep's clothing.

It was a message at my tiny business.
It's a wee little thing...nothing, really.
But it keeps me occupied,
keeps me out of trouble (most of the time),
and allows me to participate in craft shows a few times a year.

And it's mine.

So, back to my story ...
I get a message today,
completely unsolicited,
from a name I do not recognize.

The message reads:

Good day,
as promised,
Jonathan.

The Subject line was Changelog 07.06.2010
from Jonathan Eddy.
His email address, allegedly, is sentryhu1@renson.com.

Attached to the Wolf's email is a zip file.
Of course, I didn't open it.
Do you think I'm stupid?

I just wanted to let Jonathan The Wolf
know that I'm on to him.
Your little game didn't work.

And I've reported your ass.
Stupidhead.

Neighbour By Proxy

We have *ahem* neighbours.
Note that I didn't add an adjective.

I can't honestly say they're wonderful,
because, who is, really?
They're not horrible, either.
I want to say they're nice,
but I hesitate.

They haven't really done anything wrong,
so it's very unfair of me to say that.
And TH will probably lecture me on this.

But they didn't really bother me much,
until he pointed out something.
(So it's TH's fault, really.)

TH began to notice that the neighbours
are always there.
ALWAYS.
When we leave the house,
when we come home,
when we walk Puppy,
when we're gardening.

They're always there.
It's like that scene from What About Bob
Whip the door open:
He's always there!

When the girls were over for Spa Day,
I pointed this out to BJ.
We left Cousin Alex at home
(she was in the middle of an intense game of Wii)
and we went out to return a video,
and pick up pizza.

As we left the house,
Neighbour Guy was getting into his car and also leaving.
I waved.
Big smile.
"Hellllooooo!"

Total Game Face.

But BJ knows me very well.
We get in the car.
"What the hell was that all about?!"
I laugh, and fill her in on
TH's stalking theory.
She doesn't believe me.

Until we return to the house.
And Neighbour Guy is also getting home.

"Oh. My. God." says BJ, "TH is right!"

And sure enough,
when we took Puppy for a walk,
Neighbour Guy and Neighbour Son
were out raking the lawn.

BJ gives me a knowing smile,
which Alex doesn't miss,
and she asks what's up.
We fill her in.

So now we're all on Neighbour Alert.

Last night, TH picks me up from the GO Train.
It's after 10 o'clock.
It's dark.
As we pull into the driveway,
we notice there's a teenager
sitting on his bike,
in the middle of the sidewalk,
in front of the Neighbour's house.

"Who's that?" I ask.

TH replies:
"That's the Stand-In.
They couldn't be here when we got home,
but they wanted to be sure someone was there for us."

You know,
he might be right.

Things that make you go Hmmm

I am having the most gawd-awful day.

I slept at the Sleep Clinic last night.
Wait.
Let me rephrase that ...
I was awake most of the night at the Sleep Clinic.

The computer is not co-operating today.
Outlook is possessed.
I have cursed Bill Gates to the Nether Regions.

And I barely got to drink my coffee this morning before it got cold.
There's nothing worse than cold coffee.
Except, perhaps, warm beer.

But Courtini was able to make me laugh today.
God bless you, Courtini!


* * *


If you yelled for eight years, seven months and six days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.

Hardly seems worth it.


If you farted consistently for six years and nine months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.

Now that's more like it!


The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out the body to squirt blood thirty feet.

This could be a new Olympic event.


A pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes.

In my next life, I want to be a pig.


A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death.

Creepy.



And I'm still not over the pig.



Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.

If this were really true, I'd be much thinner.



The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off.

Honey, I'm home. What the...?



The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field.

Thirty minutes. Lucky pig! Can you imagine?



The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.

What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?!



Some lions mate over 50 times a day.

I still want to be a pig in my next life. Quality over quantity.



Butterflies taste with their feet.

Does that mean they don't have smelly feet?



The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.

Hmmmmmm......



Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.

If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?



Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.

Okay, so that would be a good thing.



A cat's urine glows under a black light.

I wonder who was paid to figure that out.



An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.

I know some people like that.



Starfish have no brains.

I know some people like that too.



Polar bears are left-handed.

If they switch, they'll live a lot longer.



Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.

What about that pig??!

The Good Ol' Days

Thanks to Bobbi-Jo, who sent me this.

Yeah, I know someone named Bobbi-Jo.
And she's not the President of her 4H club,
even though her name implies it.
She may own a pair of overalls, though.
I'm not sure.

Bobbi-Jo is not to be confused with
my other friend, BJ,
who is the Bingo Junkie.

I don't know if Bobbi-Jo goes to bingo,
but if she does, she'd fit right in
cuz the girl can swear like a Teamster!

Anyhooooo ...


When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning ... uphill ... barefoot ... BOTH ways?

yadda, yadda, yadda

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on my kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it.

But now that I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy. I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia!

And I hate to say it, but you kids today, you don't know how good you've got it.

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have the Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue.

There was no email. We had to actually write somebody a letter–with a pen! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox, and it would take like a week to get there. Stamps were 10 cents.

Child Protective Services didn't care if our parents beat us. As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick our ass. Nowhere was safe!

There were no MP3's or Napsters or iTunes. If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the record store and shoplift it yourself. Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio, and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and screw it all up! There were no CD players. We had tape decks in our car. We'd play our favourite tape and "eject" it when finished, and then the tape would come undone rendering it useless.

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting. If you were on the phone and somebody else called, they got a busy signal. That's it.

There weren't any freakin' cell phones either. If you left the house, you just didn't make a damn call or receive one. You actually had to be out of touch with your "friends". Imagine the horror of not being in touch with someone 24/7! And then there's TEXTING. Yeah, right. Please! You kids have no idea how annoying you are.

We didn't have fancy Caller ID. When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was. It could be your school, your parents, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, the collection agent...you just didn't know. You had to pick it up and take your chances.

We didn't have any fancy PlayStation or Xbox video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics. We had the Atari 2600 with games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your screen guy was nothing more than a little square. You actually had to use your imagination. And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen...forever. And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died. Just like life.

You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on. You were screwed when it came to channel surfing. You had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel. No remotes.

There was no Cartoon Network either. You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. We had to wait all week for cartoons.

We didn't have microwaves. If we wanted to heat something up, we had to use the stove.

Our parents told us to stay outside and play–all day long. And if you came back inside, you were doing chores!

And car seats–oh, please! Mom threw you in the back seat and you hung on. If you were lucky, you got the "safety arm" across the chest at the last moment if she had to stop suddenly. And if your head hit the dashboard … well that was your fault for calling "shot gun" in the first place!


The last one made me snort my Ice Cap Mocha out my nose!

Jeff Vadar

BJ's husband Twittered that they went to see Eddie Izzard the other night.
Sadly, he didn't do the Jeff Vadar routine.

Of course, after reading the Tweet,
I had to go to You Tube and watch the skit again.
It makes me laugh every time.

You're Mr. Stevens!

So, for your amusement,
cuz everyone should have a laugh,
I give you ...