Why do dogs wag their tails no matter how many times you kick them?

The Boy got himself a job. He thought he would save up for something he really wants, an iPod Touch. Problem is, he told his father.

Since he has started this job, his father has given him nothing. It's not like he gave him much before that besides room and board, but now, nothing.

The point of getting a job as a teenager is so they can earn 'extra' money. Well, The Boy has no extra money. He had to purchase his own school clothes this year so anything that was saved went to that. He works at Wendy's. He might bring home $150 a week if he is lucky. You take your girlfriend out to a movie and pay for gas, that is pretty much gone. Add to that the fact that you are driving your father's big-ass gas-guzzler truck, you can forget about that second candy bar.

Honestly, I don't understand why he is still living there. I can't see what the draw is. He still needs to borrow my car if he wants to go anywhere besides to and from work. (mainly because he can't afford the gas in his fathers truck) I am still giving him money for school supplies and lunch.

It wouldn't be so bad, if he didn't have to constantly see his father throwing money at his 'other' son. That son goes to hockey school while mine has to buy his own stick and borrow a helmet.

And every time he does it, The Boy looks like a dog that has been kicked.

Awesome!

I got my first email comment on the column in Mr Barters, and it was a complaint.

When (lets call her) Madam Publisher called I think she was a little worried that I would be upset. Are you kidding me? I think its awesome. Someone actually took the time to email in a 'To whom it may concern'. I was stoked!

The reader wanted MP (and me I guess) to know how completely offended she was by the term 'like a fat kid on cake'. I kid you not. All I could think of was that if that offended her, she must have to shut down every sensory orifice she has in order to function in the 21st century. Forget TV and radio, she would have to cease to communicate in any meaningful way with anyone outside her small circle. You know, the people who are aware that 'fat kid' sends her off the deep end. If she only knew how much I 'clean it up' for print.

However, I applaud her right to say so, and welcome all comments good or bad. She went on to say that she was disappointed in my spelling and grammar skills and called the whole thing inane.

inane - silly and pointless

Sounds about right, it is an 'opinion' piece after all. I never pretended to be a Rhodes scholar but I guess I will have to add a disclaimer.

After reading it a second time (actually while framing it) I come to the realization that she most likely meant to say 'asinine'.

No worries, I get those mixed up too.

How the tree-huggers are ruining it for the rest of us.

Tree-hugger is a general term I use for any politically correct, save the planet, yuppy/hippy types.. People who were middle of the road and after 4 out of 5 dentists agreed, they swung to the extreme right or left. There is no happy medium with them, they have no temperature control and they are basically Lemmings. I blame Oprah.

For instance:
- bullying in school - now there is a no tolerance policy, meaning your child can't even look at another sideways and he is expelled (meanwhile the bully still beats him up on the way home, bullies keep a low profile around the authorities)

- someone saw a hole in the ozone (It was not I) - now we have to recycle everything which has no impact really on the environment when you consider the extra plants they built to manufacture made-from-recycled goods and the extra 4 trucks they have on the road now to haul that shit around.

- some kid got sick and spread it to some other kid - parents started taking their kids to the doctor for any sniffle, loaded them up with antibiotics at every turn. Now kids immune systems can't handle being next to a peanut butter sandwich. Think about it, twenty years ago kids were not dying from looking at a peanut.

- a child was beaten to death by his parents - Now you can't even yell at them when they run into the street, lest you scar them for life. End result? Twelve year old murderers. No real consequence for bad behavior.

I know the points are simplistic, but every bad thing that has happened in the past 20 years can be traced back to the tree-huggers and their leader, Oprah.

That is not how I roll.

This post at 'list of the day' got me thinking about what I would refuse to eat.

Bare in mind, I am a fat chick so the list is short. I can't say I agree with everything on Cary's will-not-eat list because unlike him I really don't over think food. Mostly because if it tastes really good, I would be extremely distressed to learn it was actually horse shit or bug barf.

I would still eat it...but I would be distressed.

However illogical that last statement makes this list. Here it is.

1. Milk. Ok, I don't actually never drink milk. However, I do it sparingly and I can count on one hand the number of times (besides cream in my coffee) that I have had milk (straight) in the past 10 years.

"Oh, milk is good for you." Who exactly decided this? You squeeze it out of the tits of cows, tits that are dangerously close to the part the shit comes out of. It's cow juice. If animal juice is so good for you, why not milk the cat? Cuz it's gross, that's why. Even though cats are way cleaner than cows. They only chose cows for the shear volume. There is no money in milking cats...the overhead would kill ya.

2. Head cheese. Dude, my father ate this stuff all the time. You don't have to taste it to know it is disgusting. I went with name recognition. I recognize that head cheese sounds gross. I refuse to go there.

3. Sushi - its raw fish. I shouldn't have to explain.

4. Oysters or mussels. Oysters I have never tried. I agree with Cary, they look like loogies. Mussels I have tried until I realized they look like vaginae, it's not how I roll. They were not tasty enough to cancel out the gross factor.

5. Tofu - I don't get it. I ain't eatin' it.

6. If I can recognize the location on the animal from which the meat has come from I will not eat it. Feet, ears, tails, tongue. YUCK!

7. Calamari - you can call it any fancy name you want, I ain't eating nothing with suckers. Scratch that, I am not eating anything that could potentially attack and eat or kill me.

8. If some rich person calls it a delicacy, forget it....not going there. Rich people are bored and most are idiots when it comes to culture. Show them a urinal nailed to a gallery wall and they will ooo and awe about the symbolism. (Dude, the symbolism is that the artist had to take a leak) But hey, if you can make money on the leftover shit that you can't sell to reasonable people (guts and eyeballs) then more power to ya, brother.

Weird or disgusting stuff I have eaten. (most when I was pregnant)
- peanut butter sandwiches dipped in chocolate pudding. (actually that was pretty good)
- peanut butter sandwiches with apple slices and/or bbq potato chips.
- pickled herring. It sounds weird, but it is really tasty. (Yes, I know its raw fish, I told you, there is no logic.)

What does your list look like?

Woman's work?

This is the 21st century, what does that even mean anymore?

My sister is a welder, who is now a welding inspector. She went to school, she took the exams, she worked hard, got dirty and now she is an inspector. Before she learned to weld, she had been a hairdresser.

I remember when she was thinking about trade school, she wanted to go into carpentry because my father was a carpenter. This was way back in the day, women just weren't carpenters. She didn't really fight for the right because, well, my father so much as told her that even he wouldn't hire her. So she entered the cosmetology training. Hairdressing, after all , was 'woman's work'.

She was ahead of her time, I suppose, but I always secretly wished that she had just gone for it anyway. Stereotypes be damned! Even though she did do the hairdressing gig as a nine to five, she was still very handy with a saw and hammer. Over the years she did carpentry for herself and even built a house or two in her day. She wasn't your typical housewife, and did pretty much every 'man's job' around the house. She even drove a Harley. When the mill decided to hire women, it wasn't a surprise that she signed up to be a welder.

It has been over 10 years since she was been a hairdresser. So why do people still ask her to cut their hair? Not that she couldn't do it, but I wouldn't ask my Doctor to sling me a burger even though I know he did that in high school. I know why I do, cuz I am cheap. I really couldn't imagine why anyone besides her cheap siblings would even ask for a hair cut.

She has been working in New Brunswick recently and while she was home this last time, a guy she works with messaged me and asked if I would remind her to take her 'hair cutting stuff' (as he put it) back up with her. I don't know why, but this offended me. Scratch that...I do know why.

I told him, "Dude, if your interested in my sister, I wouldn't ask her to cut your hair. She is a welding inspector, not a hair dresser."

His response? "Right now, she's a welding inspector." Emphasis on 'now'.

OH NO HE DIDN'T!

I asked him what he did before the pipeline and of course he replied that he was always on the pipeline. However, I am sure that if after 10 years someone asked him to do some grunt-laborer work like fetch the boss a sandwich, he would be totally put out. So why does he have no problem asking the 'little lady' for a trim.

Who raises these people? How long before all these cave men die out and how do we stop them from perpetuating their neanderthal, knuckle scraping ways on their impressionable offspring?

We used to tell The Boy that his father was once a hairdresser until my sister taught him how to weld. The Boy never batted an eyelash, even though it was the other way around. It would never even occur to him that a woman couldn't do any job a man could.

That is the man I raised and that, my friend, is real woman's work.

Missing the shopping gene.

My sister gave me a substantial amount of money to get myself something for my birthday.

Cool, I though. It wasn't long before I realized how much I suck at it.

I didn't know what I really wanted for my birthday so I thought I would make a list.

When I showed it to Bunnie, she snickered.



She didn't say that I suck, but I knew she was thinking it.

As far as birthday wish lists go, I realize it is pretty pathetic. What is more pathetic? I came home 4 hours later with only a stew pot and ink. I am clearly out of control.

So, who's it gonna be?

Some may say McCain shot himself in the foot with Palin as a running mate, but does anyone even mention who Obama's running mate is?

Could you pick him out of a crowd?

I guess if Obama wins, everyone will have to play catch-up on that front.

The Birthday went well.

My friend came over with cake...



... and presents...



... and dinner.



Then over to the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ to meet Bunnie for her break, and pick up this.



Jammies and what I think is a mouse. She spent top dollar trying to get it out of a vending machine.(I would have paid to watch that.)

And my sister, never to be outdone even when she couldn't be here. Deposited a ridiculous amount of money into my bank account. Honestly? I would have rather had her here instead.

I miss her.

Great minds...

Happy Birthday, Rosanne Barr.

... and me.

And so it begins.

The first snow of the season.




Followed by a bit of hail.

Did I miss something?

Yesterday was Halloween, wasn't it?

I did not see a single costume on an actual person, not even a kid.

All day long.