The Boy is back in the will.

The Boy just showed up with coffee, donuts, and this...



He is officially back in the will.

Happy Mother's Day Everyone!

This is my mom, circa 1975 at one of my little brother's hockey games. We made her remove the purple hat but she still had a cow bell in her hand.

It will be interesting to see if The Boy even calls me today.

Update:

Went out to my brothers to have lunch with my mother.(lobster...mmmmm)

As of 7:26pm, no call from The Boy.

But hey, Happy Mother's Day to me! This is my new monitor.

An Acer 20" Wide-Screen, love it. Do I feel guilty that The Boy has a crappy 17" that turns green on occasion?

Not so much.

Doing my part for Mother Earth.

Since all the celebrities say I should, I have vowed not to let my carbon footprint crush the earth under its heal.

From this day forward:

I will refrain from driving a gas guzzling SUV or a Porsche or a Ferrari. Not that I actually own any of these but, the fact is, I will still refrain.

I will switch to a hydrogen powered car, even though there is nowhere within a couple hundred thousand miles that sells hydrogen or hydrogen powered cars for that matter.

Under no circumstances will I be taking my private jet on short jaunts to the Riviera. I will just have to settle for lemonade on the deck with the cats.

I will recycle absolutely everything. Even though using recycled materials creates more pollution than it would to produce the same product using the natural recourse to begin with, since there are 6 extra processes involved as well as 3 extra trucks on the road to collect all that shit.

I will not buy Beluga Caviar out of season. Since the shipping alone will punch another hole in the o-zone.

I will insist that my servants come only from this country as to offset the cost of fuel to have a coyote truck them in from Tijuana.

I will donate the extra forty seven million in my bank account to the Kenya Reforestation project. (I do what I can)

You know what? I am sick to death of celebrities telling me that I need to reduce, reuse and recycle when donating the cost of one of the upteen botox/spa treatment they enjoy to plant a tree in Kenya would offset a hundred regular-folks carbon footprints.

So, fuck off!

It appears they just make this shit up.

Stolen from Mad Tomato



How many American's know that there is no specific law that says you have to pay income tax? How many know that none of that money collected goes to any social services you may or may not enjoy?

How many American's know that the Federal Reserve is about as federal as Federal Express? Both are privately owned entities.

It's amazing what people will put up with in the name of patriotism.

Money well spent.

Apparently my home town ranked 151 out of 154 of the best places to live in Canada.

So, there are only three worse places I could live.

Thank god I pay taxes to be told I live in a crap hole. Otherwise I might never know.

R.I.P.

Albert Hofmann, the Father of LSD, Dies at 102.

Thanks for keeping me baked throughout the 80's.

FYI - Raccoons cannot fly either.

I went on a grocery run after work tonight (off at midnight) and as I am making my way up the stairs the cat motors past me at a hundred miles an hour like he always does. Only this time he gets to the top of the stairs and stops dead. Actually not just stopped dead, it looked like he hit an invisible brick wall.

He just spazzed! Holy shit!

Then I see what has flipped him out. A big fat raccoon. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Now I am standing at the bottom of the stairs, groceries in hand, pissed. Square in the center of the only escape route for the raccoon. In order for me to scare him down the stairs and off my deck I would have to go up those stairs. At which point I would be inches from where he stands.

Ok, this is when I get truly pissed. I do not need this shit. It's also when I realize I am actually voicing my displeasure, loudly. More like a little hissy fit, right there at the bottom of the stairs.

The raccoon finally takes himself away from whatever he is destroying on my deck and comes to the top of the stairs. He looks at me, we lock eyes and both see our dilemma. I can't get up the stairs, cuz I don't want to get that close to him and he can't come down for the very same reasons.

Stalemate.

Mr. Raccoon makes his move, he decides to go up on the railing. So I figure he is going to do what he has done in the past, follow the railing to the roof and go up and over to the other side of the house. I totally agree with this decision, since the alternative has me spending the night in the car with melting ice cream without so much as a spoon.

I am totally on board with the plan and start to ascend the stairs, two at a time, barking loudly. Don't laugh, what would you have done? Whistle softly and recite poetry?

Here's where it gets really interesting. (And it all happens in less than three seconds.) I am halfway up the stairs and the raccoon takes a sharp right hand turn instead of left towards the roof. He realizes his mistake too late, as turning right gives him only one unfortunate option, straight down two stories.

He hesitates but I am almost upon him, he goes over the edge. Not sure what I was thinking, cuz if he hadn't gone over the edge, the only other thing he could have done was launch himself through the air, straight at me. But I have rage on my side and all I can think is that this is the asshole who has terrorized me and trashed my step and garbage for the past month. I reach the deck as he goes over the side.

Fuck Yhea! Was it that easy? Of course not. I look over the edge and there he is, hanging from the deck on the other side of the rail, his paw protruding through the rung of the railing. I am committed now. After all, what do you do then, offer him your hand to haul him back up? Fuck no!

Only one thing to do...I stepped on his 'wittle foot'. So long sucka! THUD!

MUWHAHAHAHA!

Memory Lane

How far down that road do you really want to go?

Facebook is a wonderful thing. Reconnecting with people you haven't seen or heard from in years. Catching up with those people can bring back a flood of memories. The good and the not so good.

Recently I reconnected with one of those people who, I just found out, recently lost her mother. Which, of course, immediately made me think of my father, who died in 1989.

I was compelled to express to her that it would all eventually get better, and I believe it will.

Looking at a picture of my dad can still make me cry. It doesn't rip my heart out like it used to but it still effects me.

He's back!

So, The Boy has been home for a week. When I say home, I mean he is back in Nova Scotia, but since I am car-less, he is avoiding this place like the plague. He has been staying with his father until we get the car fixed. It's taking longer than expected since we have been having some shitty weather and the guy who is fixing the car has to work on it outside. It SNOWED last night. WTF?

I expected a huge story to go with the early return, but there wasn't one. Seems that they only intended to stay a week, just didn't feel like relaying that info to The Boy. Probably since if they had told him he would spend most of his time driving, he may have reconsidered the whole trip.

Even though he is back in town I still had the house to myself for the last two weeks. It has been wondrous, even without a car. The place is always clean and there is no one around to complain. Well, except for the cats. And The Boy finally got an interview for a job at a local fast food joint, so he could be employed soon. That will save me some money since gas went up to $1.26 a litre.

Now I am just starting to get bored. The house is clean, the dishes are done, there is nothing on tv. What to do?

I think I might take the vacuum cleaner apart...its making a funny noise.

You know you are bored when...

Man of few words.(no idea where he gets that from)

While The Boy is gone, I get sporadic emails. The trip was supposed to be from April 9th to the 25th.

I was wondering how he was going to manage being with 'the family' for that long but he was gung-ho about it.

I also worried about him driving through the states. I am sure you are all really nice people but I have CNN and I am programed to think you are all crazy psycho axe-murderers, don't blame me.

I told the boy, please when you stop for the night, just drop me a line so I know you are not chopped up and stuffed in the trunk of some car. For the most part he did and I was thankful for it.

I figured once he arrived in Florida I would not hear from him as often because, I would hope, he was having too much fun.

These are the emails I get from Florida:

April 12- I ask him if he is having fun and that I hope he is taking a lot of pictures.

yep ive been takin some pictures but dad dont got the drivers for his cam on here so ill show them to you when i get back

April 13- I tell him that Sammy misses him and that the school's automated system keeps calling to inform me that he is skipping school.

i told my teahcers you told them i was goin away
yull have to call them back and tell them to fuck off

April 14- I email him, since he is already sitting at the computer he could give me a little more info about what he is doing, I can't tell if he is having a decent time or not. Did he get my email about Sammy?

yeah i got the email about samy thats funny

went to universal today and it sucked i cant stand being around (his little brother) he getting on my nerves

I get nothing for a day, I figure he is busy having fun. Then this.

April 16-

find me a fuckin plane ticket home (with a little angry emoticon added to the end)

Now what? I email back, but get no more response. Then just about half an hour ago, I get a call.

It's The Boy, he is in Georgia.

"What do you mean, you're in Georgia?" At first I thought he fucked off hitch-hiking or some foolish thing.

"We are on our way home." Thank god he said 'we'.

"Why what happened?"

"Nothing, we are just on our way home."

"But you weren't supposed to be home for another week, something must have happened."

"Dad wanted to leave early, says traffic is bad in New York on the weekend."

Ya, right. Cut your Florida vacation by a week, to avoid weekend traffic in New York? Except wouldn't his present course put him in New York for the weekend?

I am sure in TBF's mind it makes perfect sense.

Procrastination Queen gets a visit from Aunt Flo.

I kept putting off getting my Depo shot. Which I am supposed to be getting every three months. Somehow I managed to let it drag on to five.

And what do you suppose my reward is for maintaining the monarchy? My first visit from Aunt Flo in four years, that's what!

As long as I was getting injected with Depo, Flo could not home in on my location. That obnoxious, lowlife, miscreant, shithead, skite, wretch, pig-sucking quiff. She found me.

I had to go purchase ... tampons! Do you realize what those things cost now? Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Mind you, as soon as I got my shot she was gone the next day. But I am still completely traumatized by the whole visit.

I vow never to let that happen again. Ever!

Day Three - Sans The Boy.

The Boy has arrived in Florida and is in one piece. I doubt I will hear much from him now till he heads back. I hope he is having a ball, and that he is taking pictures. (men never think of that)

While he is gone I have cleaned the house and it has remained clean. Amazing how that works. It is really easy to keep a place clean when there is no one to go behind you and mess it up.

Sammy, his cat, is driving me bat-shit. He is acting like a real baby. Nothing I do for him works. He sits and howls. I give him food/water, he wasn't hungry/thirsty. I open the door for him, he is not interested in going out. He just looks up at me and howls. There is no consoling him.

If the door to The Boy's room is closed, he howls until I open it. He has to sleep in there. Even Milo sleeps in there with him, albeit just inside the door with one eye opened, so when The Boy returns he can make a fast getaway.

I know, you're all saying 'That's fuckin' adorable!' but he is seriously stomping all over my last nerve.

Almost there.

The Boy and his father
have stopped for the night
at the Super 8 in Savannah.

UPDATE:

The Boy is in South Carolina.

So far, so good.

Day two of the road trip.

Told the boy to call me when they stopped for the night. But of course he didn't. But did get an email.

"hey mom im not dead !!:P


we jus passed new jersey and headin for philidalphia. cant get on messener but i can email
when we get to florida ill be talkin to you on msn

lova ya byeee"

And so it begins...

The Boy is on his way to Florida.

He is driving down with his father.

I will not sleep tonight.

They are cute...but they are food.

They are just food. Food that, some people believe, if left to multiply like rabbits, would wipe out other food sources. Whether that is true or not, they are just food, and of course pelts. A "significant" source of income in many remote, coastal communities.

The seal hunt is not just a sadistic slaughter its a managed annual cull. Did I mention people eat them? I don't see you having a telethon for the cod fish, Paul. Oh, that's right, they aren't cute. (Oh and he doesn't pose with the seals that are actually part of the hunt, just these cute baby ones, who haven't been hunted since 1987, he almost got arrested for being this close one.)

So Paul McCartney thinks the seals are cute. Well, so is Bambi, but you aren't trekking through the woods of Tennessee and getting between Bubba and his ten point buck. No. Cuz Bubba would pop a cap in your ass. Whereas Canadians just ask you politely to step aside.

Tragedies have marked the seal hunt this year. More than usual and I can't help but wonder if they are truly accidents.

The Sea Shepherd Society seems to be more aggressive this year compared to other years, (most likely because of Paul) going so far as attempting to water hose sealers as they are walking the ice flows. This is not some cast-a-net-and-haul-it-in operation, you have to get off the boat and walk on the ice flows. Very dangerous work.

Then the idiot captain of the Sea Shepherd, Paul Watson, makes some bone-headed comment after four sealers lose their lives when their boat capsizes.

"the deaths of four sealers is a tragedy," but added "the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of seal pups is an even greater tragedy."

"They are vicious killers who are now pleading for sympathy because some of their own died while engaged in a viciously brutal activity."

I kid you not!

Oh, but they are surprised by the reception they get when they try to dock at Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. Sailors were quick to make them aware that they were not welcome and cut their lines to set them adrift.

I know the face of the seal hunt protest is a cute little, furry, white baby seal. What they don't tell you is that baby seal hunting was banned in 1987. (BTW, the seals' white coats disappear after four weeks, while those animals killed in the hunt are eight weeks or older) People really need to get the facts before they just jump on Paul McCartney's band wagon. But I guess if they did, Paul Watson would have to get a real job.

FACT: A seal can eat 2-3 kilos of fish a day. The population is estimated at 5.5 million seal. The quota for the cull this year is (I believe) 270,000 seal. For some sealers, the seal hunt represents up to one-third of their annual income.

It is not just done, willy nilly, its called management of the fisheries, Paul, go fuck off somewhere!

Why I love working from home.

About an hour ago I realized I had my shirt on inside out.

Three seconds after that, I decided I don't care.