24 March, 2009


i think i am over the whole facebook thing. is it just me or has it suddenly reached a whole new level of boring?

people can start emailing me again, like in the good old days, and i can save up the creativity i waste on status updates* for my blog. 

*dude, i know you are waiting for friday. everybody on the goddamn planet is waiting for friday. we don't need to hear about it. ever.

hasn't showered in daaaaaays

last week i decided i love my husband soooo much that i'd start to shower every day. even though i didn't have to go to work. or leave the house in any way, shape or form. now that's love. 

i think he noticed, too. his nose hasn't been wrinkling up quite so much when he kisses me at the door. 

it's not that i grossed him out (a lot) but that he was worried about my mental health. i think.

another exciting episode of pillow talk

mr. monkey, gleefully surfing for freeware for our macbook, scrolling through pages and pages and pages of drafting programs.

moi: is that fun for you?
mr.m: it is VERY fun for me. thank you.

then he helped me google the difference between eels and lampreys, because otherwise i wouldn't be able to sleep.

23 March, 2009

thoughtful thoughts i've been thinking about things

i'm reading a blog by a woman who moved from brooklyn to new jersey and has just now moved back. she writes how owning a house and yard is highly overrated and that spending weekends going to the museum or park beats weeding and oh boy oh boy do i ever get that. while i am happy (nah! thrilled!) to be leaving this filthy leper colony of toothless drunk-driving ijits of sub average intelligence and looks to match, i can't wait for two things.

one, i can't wait to have mr. monkey join me and two, i can't wait for us to sell this goddamn house already and move into a self-sustaining unit in a high rise somewhere, preferably one with a view of the water, close to public transport, in a better climate, and wait! we already have one of those! currently rented out to a lovely gay couple who refuse to answer my emails, goddamn them to hell (where they are already going, natch, on account of being evil baby jesus killing sodomites* and all). so yeah - they get to live there, commit various mortal sins, ignore my emails while i chip ice day in, day out. or drink myself into a stupor.

but yeah, i want to live in the city (fuck, any city will do...except maybe winnipeg...or detroit...or pittsburgh...or saskatoon), i want to not drive quite so much because it makes me REALLY angry. i mean it! you may think you have heard me swearing, but if you haven't sat inside my brain while i am driving, you ain't heard nothing. there's motherfuckers piling up on top of syphilitic cocksuckers and caseous cunts and all sorts of linguistic mayhem. i'm telling you, it gets ugly. uglier than girls' night out, because instead of joyful, happy fucks, i'm all about the anger and the violence. so yeah, put me on the bus and watch me smile. 

give me a place that has no lawn to mow; no sidewalk to chip ice off day in, day out until my arms hang limply at my sides, my hands swollen to thrice their normal size, the reverberations of the ice pick still...reverberating in my head; no ceiling threatening to cave in - has that paint peel bit gotten bigger? has it? how about now? you have no idea but that is the first place i check when i walk into the house - the peeling paint on the living room ceiling. and oh, yes, we do plan to fix it, but not until we put the house on the market so if the fix-it starts to peel it will be some other idiot's problem.

so if i ever say to you, hey, i'm thinking of buying a house, i want you to smack me a few times. you then have my permission to call me a brain dead moron or a hollow-headed turd. you can even shake me violently. and then ask me if i remember the peeling ceiling paint. or the ice. just mention the goddamn ice. if that doesn't work, nothing will.

*you do know i'm kidding, right? i love gay people. love them. one of my life's ambitions is to have gay friends because they seem like so much lispy campy fun - hundreds of sitcoms couldn't possibly be wrong, no? plus it would piss off my dad. but the ones i do know, refuse to answer my emails. grrrr. thwarted at every step!

edit. note: i've gone and changed the spelling of pittsburgh 3 times! if there ever was a city that did not deserve this much of my attention...ok, i have nothing per se against pittsburgh (or pitsburg, or pittsburg) other than it just sounds like it would suck. if i have any readers from there, i heartily apologize, unless of course you also think it sucks. flashdance was ok, though.

worried...a bit

  1. men parting their hair down the middle - why does anyone do that anymore? why? it looks stupid. hasn't anyone told you that? they should have. because it does. look stupid. look around! nobody does that! except the stupid looking people. 
  2. tarantulas in bunches of bananas...it doesn't keep me up at night or anything, but on days i'm feeling just too damn calm, i do tend to bring this one out. 
  3. mr. monkey still sometimes tucking in his t-shirt. see 1.
  4. dying without ever once experiencing having abs.
  5. dying from a lethal dose of clumsiness and stupidity which would be a bummer because if i'm gonna die (eternal optimism, huh?) i want to do it right. a flaming helicopter would be cool, except i want to die old and who's gonna take a crotchety old bitch on a helicopter ride?
  6. am i too much like herb tarlek? i used to worry i was. now i think i'm mellowing into a johnny fever. give it to me straight, doctor, i can take iiiiiiit!
  7. vitamins! are we getting enough vitamins?!
  8. cancer
  9. people golfing...why do they do that?
  10. we have a plastic ziploc baggie full of rubber bands, and we're not even crotchety yet
  11. the ceiling in the living room leaking
  12. the end of the world coming too damn soon for my liking

22 March, 2009

cocks and stuff

"i need french fries. it's a medical condition," quoth i to the beautiful earl's waitress last night. i wasn't kidding either.

what i want to know, though, is how is it that i am routinely the only one at a table full of women able to finish her meal? is it that i am the only one honest enough to not play that "oh, i am such a dainty creature that i couldn't possibly force another morsel into this delicate mouth of mine" game? or do most women really look at that relatively average amount of food on their plate and shudder delicately? and remember, these are women who every single time end up talking about cocks. or worse! this ain't no church sewing circle! 

sigh...for a lot of years spending time around the university polish club made me feel like a hormonally challenged gorilla with an alcohol problem, what with the hour long nursing of a single fucking margarita that most of these polish chicks engaged in (for no other reason than to drive me out of my goddamn mind, as i hoovered the appetizer, the main course and a bottle of wine. at. the. same. time.) again - was this all about the mythical daintiness factor?

i am now offering a resounding "fuck it" to all the dainty girls out there. i will eat. i will drink. and then we'll all talk about cocks. we're dainty that way.

dental drunks

last night was the second time i went out with the girls to earl's in as many nights. it was also the last time i shall ever do so. you could tell these girls' nights out were getting a tad frequent when over the course of the night various waitresses came up to me and said things like "so, are you on a limited alcohol consumption tonight?" or "you're here AGAIN?" or when i said to one "we were here last time and very drunkenly told you you were beautiful" she beamed back and said, "yeah, i knew i recognized you!"  so here is a great big shout out to kelsey, christine and tiffany for putting up with a table of obnoxious drunken assorted dental professionals with potty mouth and a sick sense of humour on multiple occasions. your patient, polite and friendly service offset the overpriced menu items and for one (or two) nights every couple weeks made me forget i was living in a gigantic malodorous greasy dump.

goodbye gigantic malodorous greasy dump. may you shrink like a well medicated hemorrhoid and let nature return to normal. wind power, people! wind power is where it's at!

20 March, 2009

number ten! number ten! first time into the double digits in months!

  • did i ever tell you that as a child we never had any "fun" cereal at our house? ever? i think cornflakes were as crazy as my parents got, what with my dad's passionate love affair with bran. when i went to a friend's house who routinely had lucky charms, i went nuts. cereal that was sweet! with neon colours! and sweetness! and marshmallows! and lots and lots of sugar! now that i am an adult type person i never buy anything other than bran. go figure.
  • i never had a barbie (i must have told you this before, since i think it explains so very many of my emotional problems)
  • what is it with north america and the dual juice thing? why is it always apple or orange? you know, north america, there are other fruit around. and yes, i realise that you have reluctantly opened up your arms and welcomed the exotic grapefruit and cranberry into your fold, but hey! what about black currant juice? it fucking ROCKS with jack daniels and for me, that's reason enough why it should start appearing on grocery shelves everywhere, and not just at trader joe's.
  • and speaking of which, isn't it time trader joe's moved up into canada? i for one could use the 1.99$ wine and frozen vegetarian tamales. did i mention the 1.99$ wine? even if it turned out to be 3.99CAD it would still be worth it. please? you'd take vancouver by storm and we'd have one more reason to get our asses in gear and move there already.
  • this is the first recession that i have been actively aware of and i don't like it. feel free to stop anytime, ok? it's not like i am starving or poor or anything but i have fear issues when it comes to money and i can totally see us doing the grapes of wrath thing and i have no intention of living out of a vehicle or breast feeding a dying hobo! ok? (read the damn book if you don't know what i'm talking about)

someone get me a triple cheese and mushroom veggie burger and fries, stat!

being unemployed and stuck at home is making me eat. i have been eating and eating and eating, and then i take a snack break, after which i resume what i was doing before - snack breaks make me hungry.

just yesterday i pulled a classic and, following a bout of exercise, i popped into the mac's and bought a bag of cheetos. i looked at that bag and a bag of doritos but the doritos had 10 more calories per pack, and shit! i can't take that! gotta make the responsible choices, me!

and just so you know, the number of times in the last decade that i have purchased junk food intended specifically for me will equal roughly twice per annum. i do not do junk food. 

tonight i am going out with one group of girls from work for dinner and drinks. tomorrow i will repeat the procedure with another group. i think i will attempt a repeat performance of "one half litre of wine, no more, so help me god" so that i can take off my own pants when i come back home. keep your fingies crossed. 

also, i think i will have one of each and every item on earl's menu. and then ask for some bread on the side.  and dessert. and fries. and does that come with cheezies?

18 March, 2009

get free stuff for staying alive!!!

we have a lot of stuff, and while i mainly blame the fact that for the last 5 years or so we have lived in double households (something that is about to come to an end in roughly 9 days! woohoo!) i also blame mr. monkey's work. 

every month or so he comes home with Free Stuff.  for the most part, the Free Stuff consists of duffel bags and thermoses. for the most part, the Free Stuff commemorates time passed without injury or death. which is kind of cool, but also a little bit scary: talk about excessive positive reinforcement for ideas that should, really, be rather obvious - go to work. survive. come home. repeat. i mean if you need a duffel bag to actually encourage you...

so, hey! here's a lovely day trip sized duffel bag for A Whole Year With No Dismemberment. enjoy. next month is 17 Consecutive Weeks Without Loss Of Digits duffel. then, just to change things up a bit, here comes the Whole Quarter With Minimal Blood Loss thermos. a nice thermos, too. then we're back to a 6 Months Fatality Free duffel bag. this one is silver. then to really make a dramatic point, here comes the 2 Years Of No Evisceration soft shell. and then, once more for good measure, Many Days Without Head Trauma duffel bag. this one is blue.

and what i say is enough already. 

anyone want a duffel bag?

(or a gorgeous chocolate wood round table that seats 6 comfortably? i might have been a trifle hormonally unbalanced when i bought it, b/c it is a wee bit big and we will never be big house people. really. i mean it. ask me about the table. it is both affordable and bee-oo-tee-full!)

11 March, 2009

10 years, 9 days of monkey love

(some of) the things i love about mister monkey:

1. crazy conversations (see previous post)

2. how he will go out of his way to shame the truculent cashier by being extra sunny and asking in a very warm caring voice how her day is going (i'd just have paid and muttered "bitch" under my breath as i grabbed my bag and walked away).

3. loving me on those days when i don't shower. or brush my teeth. or comb my hair. or get dressed...somewhat frequently as of late, what with the lack of the motivating presence of a job.

4. our private language, which i won't divulge. 

5. that time he watched me try to smash up a faulty phone on a carpeted floor and then gently directed me to the concrete portion of the basement, saying it would work better. and it did. it did.

6. his sense of humour, the only thing that would make marriage to little miss grumpypants here possible.

7. he doesn't own a comb

8. his tiredness is directly proportional to the height of his hair.

9. he has never and will never do something as crass and unimaginative as sending flowers to my place of employment just so that others can see how much he loves me. and he totally gets why i find this repugnant.

10. his funny looking square toes and his adamant  insistence that that is precisely the way toes should look

11. spooning

12. he will share that last bite of something he knows i love, although i must shamefacedly admit that i won't always...often...ever do the same

13. our secret knowledge of the deep abiding equality of our marriage which leaves him unruffled by my occasional (frequent?) displays of public bossiness

14. the fact that after 10 years (and 9 days) of being together i find him more interesting than all of my boyfriends after the third date put together.

15. he can take damn good photos and knows that the subject does not have to be in the exact centre of the picture come hell or high water (or the disturbing vastness of the ground beneath their feet, castle turrets in the background be damned) 

16. he will not allow me to carry big loads of groceries or luggage, but thinks nothing of sending me outside to mix 10 bags of concrete or pull 10" rusted nails from various planks

17. his eyes are green

18. his absolute and total tone-deafness

19. his love of dogs

there's plenty more where that came from but i don't want to put you off your dinner.
happy birthday mister monkey!

last night in bed


moi: sorry! did i hurt you?

mr.m: oh yeah. you herded me.

moi: wha?

mr.m: i used to be a roaming sort of creature and you herded me. put me in your herd.

moi(turning around): what sort of roaming creature did you used to be?

mr.m: a sloth.

moi: well, then you didn't roam very far.

mr.m: that's my style...

10 March, 2009

the dish, the dish, the dish is fish!

so i guess the thing with fish, is to get someone else to cook them. then they taste all yummy and shit. 

just got back from a seafood restaurant where i hoovered various sea creatures smothered in some kind of yellow sauce and washed them down with a fine glass of piat d'or. exactly the kind of wine you want to be drinking when your nose is too stuffed up to recognize good wine. 

that one here, she talks a lot

time for point form! yay!

1. do not tell me to calm down. that will have the opposite of its intended effect, i guarantee it. so please, if you want us all to make it out of here alive, do not tell me to calm down.

2. do not tell me how a situation i have just lived through should be a lesson to me. i am not in grade 3. i am a woman coming dangerously close to the end of her fourth decade, and i do not need to learn that "this is how people are." i know how people are. i am not stupid. in fact i may just be one of the most intelligent people* you are likely to meet. i just choose to tailor my self to my natural inclinations, and not to "how people are." screw people. 

3. i am moving to australia...ok, maybe not. but a girl can dream.

4. mister monkey is unable to understand my insomnia. he had a bad night last night and i told him, "see? this is how it is for me every night!" " yes," he tells me, "but it's because i think!" like i lie awake at night every bloody night with my mind a tabula rasa, unconcerned at all with global climate change, the recession, man's inhumanity to man, the loss of irreplaceable genetic material what with the alarming homogeneity of our seed stocks, etc, etc. oh, ok, honey. you think. must be tough being a man. 

5. i sound cranky. i am not cranky at all...for a change.

6. hi! still here? 

7. i seem to be losing my taste for fish. what'd you think about THAT?

*shocking underachiever. ask my mom: she'll gladly tell you all the things i could have been had i applied my considerable intellect to something other than hours and hours of tetris. she sure can go on about that!

09 March, 2009

muzak for the rave generation

i've just discovered that itunes has a radio feature. now before you go pointing and laughing at the dumb one, let me remind you that until recently i had my itunes on a wheezing old pc that routinely shut down whenever i tried anything as onerous as importing a cd. i don't think it could have handled the radio. and now, now it can. and i have discovered one of those ambient chill stations that caters to the nerve-wracked, shaky, twitchy spazzes like moi. i am now listening to some cool tunes, chillaxin' yo, and thinking about how this is my generation's barry manilow and then belatedly realising that i actually liked copacabana, so what does that say about it all? and who really cares?

08 March, 2009

everything you wanted to know about my bodily fluids and were afraid to ask

i don't think i've eaten in days. the upside of being sick is the complete lack of hunger. i seem to be happy subsisting on vast quantities of tea (the fluids being necessary for the further generation of the equally vast - or vaster- quantities of nasal phlegm). everywhere i go i am surrounded by piles of wadded up tissues filled to the brim (do tissues have a brim?) with my DNA soup.

i was sick so often as a kid, i am a professional at this. i know exactly which stage the disease is entering now. i will make solemn pronouncements to mr.m about how "the phlegm is now moving downward, into the lungs, i will start coughing tomorrow" and inform him of the best way to sleep whilst unable to breathe. thing is, he refuses to take my professional advice when he's sick. just wants to do it his way, damn cowboy. he can't even blow his nose properly! with him it's all sound and fury, trumpets blowing, and the end result is a crumpled up, slightly damp tissue. amateurs!

i had to drag my broken carcass to the store yesterday, because i had used up 3 boxes of tissues and needed to replenish our stocks. i will buy the cheapest recycled toilet paper, none of that 16-ply, cottony-pillow, angel-lint stuff for my ass. i want to KNOW i've wiped. i want to show my ass who's boss. but when it comes to tissues, bring on the lotion-infused, baby's armpit certified, knitted of moonbeams and magic spiderwebs, because mommy's nose is a fragile thing. especially now.

06 March, 2009

to be filed under: one day i'll laugh about it, you might as well laugh about it now

a week that began beautifully has ended on a splat. i might be crying now but i figured this would be good for a laugh, so here goes:

a broken wineglass, purple feet, purple spotted floor, pink fridge, plugged up sink, stuffed up nose, no job*, and going on my holidays without mister monkey.

woke up sicker than a dog yesterday, but hey, i can deal. mr.m came home in a funk and informed me that because of scheduling changes at work, he will not be able to go to arizona with me as planned. being the very epitome of emotional stability i proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom where i cried for a good long while. then i cried on the couch. and then in bed. i'm all about consistent behaviour.

this morning i woke up feeling even worse. could barely breathe and my body felt like it had been the training ground for the chinese army. perfect time for lounging on the couch or bed, reading a book, snoozing, you say? yeah. that would have been nice. instead, i embarked on an adventure known as "the breaking of fast," normally a harmless task, but today the gods figured that a massive head cold and a broken heart were not enough. i should have known fate had something nasty in store for me when i shattered a wineglass all over a dishwasher full of dishes. let the games begin!

now i think it would be an exaggeration to say that i will never eat blueberries again, but it would be entirely reasonable to say that i will curse their little black souls as i do so for a good long while.

after dumping some frozen berries in the blender i zipped the bag and placed them in the freezer. where they promptly exploded all over. as i tried to gather them up (slippery fuckers, and cold!) they tumbled out again. after a third attempt i may have been a wee bit rougher than necessary replacing the bag in the freezer, but it hardly warranted the blueberry explosion that followed. they went everywhere. in the laundry room, under the appliances (where they will continue to languish - i have my principles), in the entryway, in the dining room. and then they started to melt.

as i removed items from the freezer in order to clean it up, a bag of organic cereal burst in the sink and promptly plugged it up. this is the part where i moved from swearing to weeping. over the sink filled with grey sludge and several jauntily bobbing berries. it didn't seem to work.

surrounded by melting blueberries, i first took up a broom, then, finding it utterly useless, i moved on to the vacuum, which was only marginally less useless. then onto my knees with a cloth. then again.  crying all along, cause at this point i felt broken by the weight of the world.

i must now go downstairs and ask the powers that be to send me a sink unplugging dude, and then i shall languish some more, waiting for mr. m to come home and announce he was fired. cause that would be the icing on my birthday cake, don't you think?

*my one ray of sunshine in an otherwise blue blue day