Piniatas! Loot bags! Board games! Clowns! Jason's Krystal! Santy Claus! Happy Meals for all! What could be better? Hmmm? Nothing, that's what. Suckas are missing out.

Party Poopers

Three cheers for people who will be sadly missed--hip hip hurrah!

Some people might say (not me, but some people) that in moving to stinky Victoria said somebodies will be losing out on all the fun here in the Hammer/Dundas. I mean, seriously... Who moves to Victoria? I'm pretty sure only old people and people who like to take "strolls" in "gardens" and people that look like THIS GUY move to Victoria.

I mean, you might as well move to Manitoba. And for those who know me, that's not saying much, let me tell ya. The pariah of the prairies. The make-shift province. The awkward guy at the party. Manitoba. Even the name is icky... Manitoba... The provincial equivalent of brown.

p.s. And don't think I've forgotten about your Judas-ing, Free Samples... Betraying me on New Years... Punk!

Name Change

Attention everyone! Attention! I'd like to make an announcement!

*Clears throat*

Poomobile's name has officially been changed. To Pimpmobile.




That's it. Okay, back to your regularly scheduled lurking.

Bizarro Christmas

Don't get me wrong, it was a great Christmas. But it was different, no doubts 'bout that. Something I'm going to have to get used to. But old habits are hard to break, and certain traditions held strong. I hope she knows I'm happy in my pink and green plaid pajamas--all starchy and crunchy and new smelling, straight from the box onto me. They'll keep me warm here in my strange bed. Nevertheless, I'm missing both of my peanuts tonight.

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

I know I've always told you that 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' is my favorite Chirstmas movie. But it's really all a sham. I'm a liar. I'm a Christmas movie phoney.

My true favorite is no classic, and it's certianly not a box-office ringer. No fancy animation or clamation. No Yukon Cornelius'. No Rusty, or Clark, or Audrey. No Whoville or Frosty. And I guarantee none of you blog lurkers will have seen it.

Basically, my gramma bought Amy and I this old cartoon VHS tape when we were small, and we still have it. It became this huge tradition to watch it when we went to her place on boxing day. In and amongst the cheesy Humpty Dumpty and Mickey sketches, lay gold, Jerry. Gold. It's called 'Christmas Comes But Once A Year.' And I've found it on YouTube.

I'm so happy, I'm peeing my pants. My favorite part might be the vacuum cleaner pony. Or the umbrella tree. I'm just not sure. So, I hope you like it (*scuffs toe*). If you ever want to see it on the original VHS, I'm your girl.

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

Rather than sending out a mass email that none of you will read, I'm using my little soap box here to pose the inevitable question:

What is everyone up to for New Years?

And no, I'm not that irritating girl who always has to have an awesome plan, who expects New Years to be this awesome deal full of awesome parties and awesome exploits. I know it's not awesome. And I know it usually sucks. But I'd like it to suck with my friends this year. So... If you're interested in doing something with me, or if you have ideas about what to do, please email me, or post them here for all to see.

So that means you: Fingers, Free Samples, Poomobile, Big Guy, Lady G, Manrissa, and all those anonymous' out there (no insult to you Sleeves, Hurr_ah, Ash, Violette, or Pants--I just know you'll all be miles and miles away from little wee me, and that some of us can't be in Cuba...)

So, yea... That's it.

Everyday people who wear Santa hats who aren't, in fact, Santa.

For example:

Are you for or against? Discuss.

HINT: I am against. So please, if you're for, keep it to yourself.

The Final Battle

It was vicious. It was personal. A complete physical and emotional usurping. The very essence of good versus evil brought into question, if you will. It was...

...Library Lady vs. The iPod.

But don't worry. Much like the Oilers, I came out on top. There are now 220 songs on three different playlists for me to beebop along to... You know (*scuffs toe*)... Just in case you were all worried, or somthin'.

Come to think of it, this was just like that time I battled that thing in the mine shaft. Do you remember that Cindie? Man that was tough. I think I have that on tape somewhere... Oh yea, here IT is.

Hmm? Don't 'cha think? The similarities are uncanny. I'm glad I shaved that beard off, though. And Cindie you were wise to get out of that "Medieval" phase. I'm glad you're no longer working that cape thing. Although I like your hair curly.

Soundtrack to my Life

I'm not the only person who has one. Fingers has one. But her's is mainly man-made noises: beeps and doodles and hums and whistles and whatnot. Elo had one. But hers was a voice over that described what she was doing at all times of the day: Elo is walking from 18th Century History in Togo Salmon to the Mills Library bookdrop... Elo is buying a coffee from the Bread Bin...

Mine's basically a Top 40 soundtrack, however embarrassing that may or may not be. The songs that run through my head over the course of a day, and the songs that I pump in the car, when no one's with me. And don't think I'm not belting along. Oh yea. That's me out there in the car, shaking my tail feather... Brushing my shoulder off. For the record: I have no shame.

These 9 will most like be to no one's taste. I'm not forcing you to listen to them. So don't give me poop about it, capeesh? I can't help it. This is my soundtrack, people... Did Tony Danza pick his theme song? I don't think so. He wasn't the boss on that one.

So (*ahem*) without further do... The Soundtrack to my Life (videos attached):

Jump, Madonna
Irreplaceable,Beyonce
Breathe, Telepopmusik
Money Maker, Ludacris
Gyasi Went Home, Bedouin
Santeria, Sublime
I Don't Need a Man, PCD
Gunnin', Hedley
I Don't Feel Like Dancing, Scissor Sisters

Part Deux

I've given you the list of things I'm smitten with. Now it's time for the things that, to date, drive me crazy with RAGE. Well, that's a bit much. Hows abouts the things I just don't like right now:

1) Rachel Ray. She bugs me for many reasons:
(i) She tucks in her shirts. Like, all of them. Her t-shirts. Her long sleeve t's. Her sweaters. All of them. I'm pretty sure that went out with overalls.
(ii) If I followed her '30 minute' meal plans, I'd be humongous. Like, Shamu huge. That's not cool, man. How in good faith can you put together a meal for your family when beer and 4-cheese fondue, with a side of pigs 'n blankets is on the menu?
(iii) Thanks for the tips, "Rach", but I'm pretty sure any idiot can eat-out while traveling on $40 A DAY! For reals? I'm pretty sure there was a time in Sarajevo where Heather and I ate pizza, 3 scoops of ice cream a piece, four beer, and a couple a hits on the ole 'shisha for like $4. Now that's a deal. And if you can do it in Sarajevo, you can sure as hell do it in Onkatonkwa, Wisconsin.

2) Canadian Tire. The entire franchise. I've never had good service there. And the one in Dundas is full of useless twats. I once had the same key cut six times there by three different sales staff over a one week period. None of them worked. How does that happen? Today, my Grandmother was looking for a wet/dry dustbuster to give my cousin as a Hanukkah gift (such a Gramma gift), and the saleswoman not only ignored Helen Ruth and her cane, but went so far as to give the exasperated, "Uh, hold on a minute" while she finished stocking her shelves of rat poison, or whatever. We went to Walmart.

3) The shrimp that comes on the side of your virgin caesar at Red Lobster. Can you think of another drink that comes with a piece of meat hanging off the side? Can you? Hmm? Beer and a burger? Spritzer and a Strip loin? Vodka/Cran and a Wiener schnitzel? I think not. Sick. I love shrimp but I defs don't love a shrimp shirt on my drink.

p.s. I do love, however, that the "R" in the "Fortinos" sign (my local grocery store) has burnt out. So now I sound all ghetto when I say I'm making a milk run... To Fo'tinos... Say it with me... Fo'tinos... Oh yea...

I'm smitten as a kitten with several things:

1) The new show on TBS, "My Boys." Too funny.
b) Crispy Minis, "cheese" flavour.
2) Pug dogs. I want one.
F) My new shampoo that smells of pina colada (which, by the by, is Spanish for 'squeezed pinapple').



p.s. It's ME in the picture, and I'm NOT wearing my pajamas... I'm wearing a ver ver fashionable sweater... (*cough*)... But good one, Lady G. Good one. I'll get you, my pretty... Oh yea...

Switch 'Em Up

I'm switching up the Freebie Five. As much as I heart Clinton, let's be honest: it's never going to happen for us. I'm not his type (and although it's never been publicly declared, I don't believe I'm the right sex either). So I'm substituting in someone who really should have been on my original list, because I loves both him, and his rockin' band:

Jay Malinowski from Bedouin Soundclash.

I mean really... Don't you agree?

First stop: Connect Four.
Next stop: Total world domination.


It's only a matter of time, people.

Do you love it, or do you love it?

For my Pants: A Peter Griffin Christmas


(Oh who am I kiding? It's for me, too. It might just be my favorite 'Family Guy' clip of all time... Well... Almost... There's really too many to choose...)

Also, a special treat for the first one to name the movie attached to this quote (and Hurr-ah, you're out of this competition... Too easy for you...) Ready?

"Clark, Audrey can't feel her legs."

Mmm boy...

I mean seriously. It's pictures like these that remind me of why... Um... Uh... Oh, hee hee... Um just a sec... Um (*drool*) Oops, sorry 'bout that... Oh jeez... This is so embarrassing... Eee... It was just, you know... I was so TRANSFIXED BY HIS GORGEOSITY that I forgot what I was saying. You know... (*scuffs toe*)


Dear Lord, Joaquin.

God bless Lainey.

Snaps for PP

God bless Parker Posey. I was reminded of that Pepsi commercial she did with Jimmy what's his name, and I suddenly realized: after a year of seeing that thing, it's still piss-your-pants funny.

While we're at it, hurrah for THIS commercial, and THIS commercial, and THIS commercial, too. They're all piss-your-pants funny.

Sing it with me: "A moo moo moo mooooooo..."

(*ahem*) For the record, the definition of BANDIT is:

ban·dit /ˈbændɪt–noun, plural ban·dits or (Rare) ban·dit·ti /bænˈdɪti/
1. a person who takes unfair advantage of others, as a merchant who overcharges; swindler; cheat.

A bandit I am not. Given freely, it was. Now, a pirate... Well that's something completely different. Because a pirate is always looking for the booty.

p.s. Keep it clean, people, keep it clean. Family atmosphere.

As requested...

My computer is going all wonky-doodles on me, so posting has been slow. Mucho apologies to those lurking and waiting for party scandal, etc.

So, Saturday was a good time. A ver ver good time. There was a party. There was a cheese ball, handmade by Suzanne (uber good work on your ball, Suzanne). There was music, and dancing, and a tipsy Free Samples. There were boys, and flirting, and a dance competition for which a trophy was one. There were 24-hour hamburgers and more poutine than you can shake a stick at. There were inflatable mattresses, and I think there was someone sleeping in the closet. Alas, there was no room at the inn for me on the bed.

A little red faced in the morning and a wee hungover. There's a wee something else that I'll keep to myself, because Lord knows, what happens at Cindie's, stays at Cindie's. Right?

I'm slacking! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't give up on me. Not much new to report, so maybe I'll share some things I'm happy about?

1. Today is the first day of December and thus the first day for Advent Calendars. Hurrah.
2. Speaking of Hurrah, her birthday present, once lost, has now been found.
3. Tomorrow I'm going to a party.
4. I'm wearing my camo pants.
5. I'm also wearing 'Tuesday' underpants.
6. You can buy the entire DVD series of 'Sex and the City' in one boxed set.
7. A coupon for 'Michaels' came in the mail today. I'm thinking of buying something crafty.
8. I've decided to ask for photography lessons for Christmas.
9. I'm going to Heather's tonight.
10. Heather will soon live closer to me.
11. I have a hard boiled egg for lunch.
12. I woke up smiling this morning.
13. I only work until 12:30 today.

That's it. More to come after the party tomorrow night. Stay tuned.

How old is "too old"?

Ho hum pigs bum. I bought a pair of camouflage pants tonight. They look like this:
And now they's gots me thinking. Prior to this purchase, I was involved in a very deep discussion (not really, it was actually pretty shallow) with a good friend (let's call her C. Hietanen. No, that's too obvious. What about Cindie H?) I was worried that I might be too old for such novelties. We decided that the decision to buy or not to buy the camo pant really rested on the size of the print, the wash, and the cut... Bah. In the end, I think I went with the very pant we decided I was too old to have.

I've since realized I've been having that feeling a lot lately--too old to be taking CDs like 'Now 20' out of the library (for the record, I checked it out myself, and snuck it into my bag before anyone would see me.) Too old to be browsing the bar scene (Cougar pounce!) Too old to be choosing the 'Elle Girl' instead of the 'Maclean's' in the doctor's office waiting room...

So here's my question, dear Reader. How old is too old to be sporting the camo pant? At what point is it deemed unacceptable for me to be reading up on Misha Barton's make-up regime? And is it okay that I still enjoy Shakira?

Sometimes I find it hard to believe I'm 27 (*she writes as she reaches for the remote to her Nintendo prepared to play yet another hour of Super Mario*)