Wednesday, April 15, 2009

You Are the Champions, My Friends

I'm a day late, (Ugh! To pick the winners, people. Totally. NOT. Pregnant.) which for me means that I'm actually early. I do have an excuse, though. No, not an excuse. The very word 'excuse' sounds feeble! I have a valid reason as to why I'm a day late, and not because I procrastinate more than Hamlet and that is my true nature.

I've been sick. Really, really sick. The second stomach flu in 6 weeks went through our house like a whirlwind. Just as I thought we were really getting over it and that my washing machine might finally forgive me for riding her hard and putting her away wet, the oldest child started puking again last night. Gah! I seriously can't get a break.

On the bright side, I lost six pounds with the first flu and three with this last one, so we'll see how that evens out in the future. I know I'd joked on my Facebook status and said that I was one stomach flu away from my goal weight, but I didn't really mean that I wanted to contract it again two weeks later. Seriously, be careful what you wish for. That'll teach me.

*I promise that none of the items the winners will be receiving have come into contact with any puke though most everything else in this house has, including the dog's head.*

So what I did was just to assign all of y'all a number based on which number your comment was, minus the ones from me. Then I went to this website which spits out random numbers for you within the range you select. It doesn't just do numbers, either. Check it out! I'm pretty sure that this website could be the key to world peace and no divorce! Or something like that. List randomiser!!!! Squeee!

So you all are anxious to know who the winners are, right?

Have I kept you waiting long enough?

Wait for it.

Patience, dammit!

Alright. The winners are:

Rick! One of my favourite guys* and kind of a like an "Uncle Rick" to me and most everyone who knows him. And his girlfriend has the coolest name ever.

Lou! His name is not Lou, but let's just call him that for now because I wish it was. Also one of my favourite guys who is kind of like an older cousin that you never really got to spend much time with because whenever you went to visit him he would be up in his bedroom rocking out to heavy metal with his rad rooster-mullet. He was the one who introduced me to Guitar Hero, so obviously I owe this man a lot.

Tracy! My favourite Scrabble partner! My days are empty when there is no Scrabble/Scrabulous involved. Especially when we try to out-perv each other in the words we make. Who cares about points! We want to see if we can get words like "poon" and "meatus" to actually post, and if not we try to suggest them to the administration. Too much information?

Since these people are also on my Facebook list I will contact them over there so that no one has to post their email addresses in public. I get enough mail from "Big, Beautiful Singles" and those kings in Nigeria who need me, and only me, to distribute their millions. How would I ever find the time to help them all? There is only so much of me to go around.

Winners (not to imply that the others are losers), if you see this before I get to you, message me and tell me which prize you would like. We'll also work out the details at that time.

There you have it. Go forth and blogify**!

*You know how most of you are my favourite guys, right? I just don't get the chance to tell you often enough.

**Soccer Milf also would like you to know that even though she normally detests puns, she is nerdy enough to appreciate ones she makes herself, and only those.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Karma Yoga

Hello, all! I recently won a "Pay it Forward" prize from Whistling Up The Road. Totally weird, because I never win! I was so unbelievably excited to have been chosen, but mostly because I was really looking forward to passing this great idea on.

This is how it works: You comment on this blog. If you aren't signed up for Blogger you can post as "anonymous", just write your name at the bottom so that I know it's you. One week from today, or some day thereafter that I get around to it, I will draw names and pick three winners.

The winners will then choose a prize from the list below, but then there is a catch. A catch!!! The winner must then post this same 'contest' in their blog, and choose three winners there. That way the spirit of giving will continue three-fold. Don't let Haley Joel Osmet die for naught!!! Kevin Spacey would not be pleased.

And! If you don't pay it forward, it means you're a jerk and no one wants to be friends with a jerk, quite frankly.

I suppose that if you didn't have a blog and you didn't want to be a jerk, you could always post this in your notes on Facebook or whatever other social networking sites you use. Do they have blogs on eHarmony or Plenty of Fish? Heh heh. Twitter? Myspace? I know you've all got something, so you get my drift.

So, since I don't work, I'm not giving anything away that's flashy. No bling. Most will be handmade items, or something that's more heartfelt than say, a pair of Louboutins. (Because let's face it, I'd be keeping those bitches to myself). Here we are:

--A dishcloth, handmade by me, in my "Om" pattern. Made of natural, unbleached cotton, I use them to do the dishes or mop up kid-spills, really anyplace that you could potentially use a Sham-wow. I don't have one available right now, so while knitting it I will be thinking about the winner and knitting my lurv into it as well. As opposed to how I knit these normally, which is while cursing and screaming about effing it up. "Om" is complicated!

--Two plain dishcloths!!! One is teal, one is white, and that's just because I made a bunch of them at Christmas time and have two left over which are tied in lavender ribbon.

--Artwork, made by my children, and mailed to a child or an elderly person of your choice.

--A monetary donation made by me to a charity of your choice. Please try to make sure they take Paypal, because it's much easier for me.

--A few of my favourite recipes, handwritten onto fancy cards and mailed to wherever it is you'd like me to mail them to. They'll be a surprise as to which ones I'll send.

--A mixed cd, bootlegged and burned by me, sent to you. I will put songs on it that I think embody your spirit even if I don't know you.

--A Nike Compression Fit tank, size L but it's very, very small. I bought it about five years ago and I think it still has tags on it but I'm not sure. I haven't worn it and it just sits there mocking me, willing me to wear it but it makes me feel... compressed. I know that's the point, but I don't like feeling compressed. Oh, and it's a nice royal blue colour and has a white swoosh on the front.

--I will buy you a mystery item on Etsy and have it shipped to your home.

That's it. As they say up here in Hicksville, "Have at 'er". Or even worse, "Giv'er".

But I wouldn't say anything like that. Nope. Not me. I would say something more like, "Go forth and multiply, bitches". That's more like me. So go forth and multiply, bitches.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

A Slight Blow Job

I went away last weekend for overnight. This was my first time ever being away from the children. Ever. The oldest one is almost eight. I would never have gone except that we were going to go to Toronto for a few nights during March Break before I realised that it was going to be Fashion Week and that we would have been better off to avoid the city entirely with the children. Instead we went to Quebec, and oh the glorious gays we saw will have to be saved for another time.

So The Dilf suggested that I go on my own so that I would be able to do some shopping and actually be able to try things on without the kids hiding in the clothes racks or trying to molest the mannequins. To have a break and be able to spend some time with my sister on my own. There may also have been some mention of going wild on Sephora. *cough*

Oh, I had big plans. I was going to drive to Toronto and my sister and I were going to shop like mad, maybe call up Di and see if she wanted to go for a drink... perhaps go to a gay bar in full drag-queen make-up. You know, the usual.

On Friday morning I did all the usual mom and wife stuff, chores and lunch making and whatever. I drove the oldest two kids to school and was getting kind of misty-eyed when they just bolted from the car like they usually do. I needed lovin's!!! Some acknowledgement that their world was not going to be the same without me there! Then I drove south to the barbershop in Belleville with the baby, met up with Dilf who was getting a haircut and handed the baby off to him, trying not to cry and thereby upset the child. The people at the stop lights must have thought that Dilf and I were quite a spectacle, with me clinging to him and Harry like it was the last time I was going to see them.

So I get on the expressway, and I'm right on schedule. The traffic was slow, and I was settling in for the rest of my 2 hour drive, blasting some music, singing as if I were on American Idol (ahem, the early episodes of the season...) when all of a sudden my car starts jerking and shaking and it's all I can do to keep the damned thing on the road.

I had just passed an off-ramp but when I looked, there were two hitchhikers standing just past it. One had a mullet and one was dressed like a thug, so I thought that of course they're either murderers or giant losers and there was no way I was getting out of the car anywhere near them! Then I couldn't pull over because there were two bridges in a row and it wasn't wide enough... so I finally get over to the side, shaken and stirred and completely freaking out. Locked all the doors immediately and hoped that the hitchhikers weren't coming over to my car to slaughter me or worse. Worse!

When I calmed down a little, I climbed over onto the passenger side and got out. My freaking back tire on that side was in shreds. Not just any kind of ordinary blown tire, it was in pieces. Panic! I rushed back into the car and locked the doors against the murderer/hitchhikers, and called my daddy. Why did I call my daddy in such a moment? Most people would call their mommy I suppose, if they were about to fall off the edge of reason, but I don't have that option and my daddy would be six million times better at calming me down than my mother would have been. But my dad was at my mother's house!!! After 8 years of divorce, she finally moved out of the house we grew up in and he was helping her move to a city that is far, far away.

So then I called Dilfy, which I felt bad about because poor baby Harry would have been in the car for hours if they were to come get me. Vibrating with panic, I called him and he said he's come get me. Sweet relief! Apparently he keeps a full sized tire in my trunk and not some dinky spare for just such an occasion! Then he called back and said, "Where are you right now?".

I said, "In the car".

"You need to get out and walk to the nearest exit just in case someone smashes into your car". Arghhh!!!

Why do people bungee jump and go skydiving? All they have to do is take a walk on the freeway. Seriously! The terror! The unholy terror! As if it wasn't bad enough, I had to cross two high bridges over water, which have virtually no shoulder, then I had to walk past the murderous hitchhikers!!! So I get out of the car. Remember that I can't lock it because my dad used my car the weekend previous and LOST my KEYS. I left the passenger side door open but locked the others, hoping that the murderous hitchhikers would not change my tire then hotwire my car.

A thought struck me as I was preparing to leave the vehicle. I started putting on my coat and things started looking up.

*Damn, girl, this is a great trench! At least you look fabulous, walking down the highway like this. It would have looked better with the shoes you'd meant to bring, though. Those Betsey booties. Wait, be thankful that you forgot your hot shoes and left to go to the city in you Uggs by accident!*

I fucking nearly flew down the highway to get to the exit, but then when I spotted the murderers I forced myself to slow my pace so that I could have that short burst of stamina left over for when I had to elude them when they came after me. Except that they didn't. They just said, "Hello" and I said it back. They seemed to sense that hot young females don't like to spark up conversations on the freeway. Then I picked up my speed again, stopping only to pick up a two dollar coin that I found half-submerged in the dirt on the shoulder. Lucky!

I ended up making it to the Harvey's, which was a hell of a lot longer to walk to than it looked like when I was driving. I was shaking so much that I'm sure the people in there must have thought that I had delirium tremens or some shiz. I didn't know what to do, so I thought I'd better eat something. I ordered up an Angus burger, onion rings and Pepsi, and sat down to eat it. Part way through, I realised that it was 11 am. I'm not used to that junk even on a good day, at a better time. I was making myself sick, but I kept stuffing it down. Emotionally eating. Immediately I felt the urge to throw it all up. When I became aware of this feeling, it was not so hard just to stop and say, "Watch it girl, you don't want to go down that road again." I threw the stuff out, reminding myself that the starving children in the world would not have had a chance to finish that particular meal anyway. Made mental note to donate some money to to make up for the waste.

*What to do now? Still shaking. Walk. You need to walk. Just keep walking. Walk until he gets here. Do some walking meditation. "I can't do walking meditation in a parking lot. I'll look like an idiot. I won't be able to concentrate." You will. You can. Do it.*

So I did. I had trouble concentrating, but it was easier to calm myself down and just brrrreeeaaathhhhe. After about half an hour of this, while keeping an eye on a policeman that was keeping an eye on me, and I'm sure it was not just because I'm *rojo caliente*, but because I looked like some sort of shady character, (though not as shady as a murderous hitchhiker), Dilf finally arrived.

I have never felt so thankful in all my life. Salvation! *Is this what people feel like when they find Jesus?* I took the baby into Harvey's and fed him a hot dog while Dilf went to check out my car. Amazingly, the food didn't have the same effect on me as it did before. I just felt guilt for having to feed the baby undesirable parts from unknown animals, surrounded by bread that has less nutritional value than sawdust. But that's just me.

When Dilf came back, he drove me to my car and then we both proceeded to the next exit and pumped up my tires at a gas station. Apparently they were all pathetically low. Apparently everyone has low tires in the spring and people are always popping tires at that time because no one knows that they need to pump them up. (So pump those bitches up, people.)

He then sent me on my way to Toronto again, but not before a wonderful conversation.

I said, "I was thinking the entire time about what this was teaching me, and I realised that..."

"That you have the best man in the world?"

"Yes! Because who else would drive for an hour and a half to change their woman's tire?!! Who else would encourage me to continue on? And that..."

"That you need to learn how to do these things for yourself?"

"Yes! Because I also felt really ashamed that I didn't know, and that I had to rely on a man to fix my problem. And that..."

"That you're lucky that so many people care about you?" (My Dad and sister were phoning to check on me) "And that if a flat tire is your only problem..."

"Then I have a lot to be thankful for."

"Yes, we do".

"And I found a twonie on the road!"

"Well now, that's lucky".

And I am.

*Disclaimer: Of course, I know that all hitchhikers and/or mulleted and/or thuggish looking people are not murderers, but you try getting a neurotic person in that kind of a state and then present them with a mullet-thug. You'll see what happens!*