One high speed car chase does not a vigilante make. It takes at least two.

Once, years and years ago, my son Declan and I were dropping off a bunch of things for donation at our local Goodwill. It was a Sunday, so they were closed, and so as per usual, we left our things with the other donations piled close to the entrance. We unloaded the car, hopped back in and left, hanging a left out of the parking lot which lead us to drive past the Goodwill once again.

As we were driving by, I saw that a nicely kept, newer minivan was parked in the space we just left and that a woman and her son were going through the boxes and bags that Declan and I had just unloaded. I swung into the parking lot across the street and watched for a few moments, because I could not believe what I was seeing. I could feel my blood pressure rising, watching this woman load the items that Declan and I had JUST DONATED to charity into her newer-than-mine vehicle. I decided that I had to try to confront her.

Now, realize that this was before everyone and their grandma had a cell phone, smartphone, digital camera, dash cam, YouTube, etc. We had brickish, heavy, blocky cell phones that only stored a few numbers and dialed and received calls – no pictures, no texting, no internet, no 24/7 connectivity with the rest of the world. So, thusly disconnected from our friends and family, off we drove back into the Goodwill parking lot, and rolled right up on her. She knew she was busted. She knew that she was stealing, that she was doing the wrong thing and that I was ANGRY.

She took off. I took off after her. I got her license plate, but I still followed her to just shy of the airport (from Scarborough, for any of you familiar with the area). For those not familiar – that is fuck far. And she was scared, driving erratically and I was single-mindedly in pursuit. What was I going to do if I actually got her? No flipping idea – I was just do infuriated that she would take her kid and STEAL from the GOODWILL, items that MY KID and I just DONATED. You know, TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE.

So, while we’re flying along the 401, I can see her son WALKING around inside her almost brand-new minivan (needs to steal from charity?), playing with a toy that I KNOW that my son just gave away “so another kid who doesn’t have any toys can maybe play with it, Mummy.”

And then, I just stopped. I took the next exit and headed home. Explaining to my child why we would continue to do the right thing, and why when we see someone doing the wrong thing, causing harm, that we cannot sit quietly by and pretend not to see it. That we must act, because it is the right thing to do. Now, I did also explain that typically high-speed highway chases are rarely the exactly right thing to do either, but that because we had her license plate and vehicle information that we could let the store know and they could decide what action, if any, to take. In the meantime, since it’s highly unlikely that someone drove 45 minutes or longer to hit up that exact CLOSED Goodwill, I cost her a ton of gas and time that day (I was driving a little economy car, so it cost me far, far less than it did her ;))

I never much thought about what I now call the ‘Reverse Donation’ before that day, but ever since that day, I have been hyper-pissed off whenever I see someone looting the donation drop offs. I don’t usually have a camera or other means of recording it, but this past weekend, I did have a camera with me, so I did capture what appears to be yet another mother-son team in a minivan doing the Reverse Donation with a Twist – treating it more like an exchange program than a straight up DONATION program.

Stealing sucks. Stealing sucks even worse when you involved your kids. Don’t suck.

If the sun hadn't been directly in my eyes and making it impossible for me to know if I was actually getting the pictures that I was trying to get, I would have had about ten times this number of pictures. Mr. KB told me later that Ms. Reverse Donation with a Twist was waving at me for a bit, but I didn't see that. I wish I had a picture of it though!

If the sun hadn’t been shining directly in my eyes and making it impossible for me to know if I was actually getting the pictures that I was trying to get, I would have had about ten times this number of pictures. Mr. KB told me later that Ms. Reverse Donation with a Twist was waving at me for a bit, but I didn’t see that. I wish I had a picture of it though!

 

My Monday challenge for the week

As I admitted recently, I failed at Lent. I took this failure very personally, because, well, it was my failure and I hate it when I let myself or others down. But then a very nice reader reminded me that it doesn’t have to be ‘all or nothing’ and that I could try again without waiting until next year. She also let me know that maybe I don’t have to give something up for Lent, maybe I could DO something instead. I like that idea a lot. Mostly because I’m terrible at giving stuff up (yes, I’m looking at you, chocolate temptress), but also because I can easily identify about a million things that I need to change about myself, habits or my behaviour.

And that leads me here. To my Monday challenge for this week. Weekly challenges may work better for me, since seven days is far less daunting than forty days right off the bat. This week I will be unplugging my internet connection everyday day at 5:30 and will not turn it back on until 7:00 a.m. the following day. If it works out well, and helps me use my evening hours better, I may extend it later, change the hours or even skip days (but I’m getting way ahead of myself here, because I’m breaking out in a sweat just thinking of not being able to look up anything after 5:30 p.m. for the next seven days).  This technology/electronics blackout will include my iPad, laptop and phone (kiddo, if you’re reading this and you need me after 5:30, call the house, I’ll call you back if I’m not home!)

What I’m hoping that this will accomplish is to help give me back the time I used to have to pursue other interests, like reading (alone and with the kidlets), crocheting, photography, journal writing (with a pen and paper!), music (listening and playing), planning and organizing my house and home, etc. I also want to learn new things, like how to sew and re-finish furniture and lay tile properly. I have a list of things that I want to repurpose, refurbish and redo and I never seem to have (make?) time to do them.

So, now that I’ve committed this challenge to (virtual) paper, I refuse to bungle it up and have to confess yet ANOTHER failure. I’m going for the win here people.

And, since it is St. Patrick’s Day, I’m counting on having the luck ‘o the Irish with me today and for the rest of the week while I detox off 24/7 connectivity and re-enter the land of peace.And now, I’m off to try to bake something ‘green’ for my leprechaun minions 🙂

A little reminder never hurt any of us!  Happy St. Paddy's day, ya'll!

A little reminder never hurt any of us! Happy St. Paddy’s day, ya’ll!

Well, that was harsh

Family Day 2014

*phone ringing*

Me: Hello?
Caller: Hello, can I speak with argh-bragh-urgh? *heavy accent and slurring*
Me: ah, may I ask who’s calling?
Caller: underwear
Me: pardon? I’m sorry, I think we’re okay. Would you please take us off your call list?
Caller: SHUT UP! *click*

And that was it. It was as over as quickly as it began. Our time together was fleeting, confusing and memorable, much like my first crush on a boy. Same old story, he was the kid who licked the fence post and got his tongue frozen there, inspiring disgust and delight in my five-year-old heart, one winter afternoon at daycare. The crush was fleeting, I don’t really remember his name (Adam, maybe?) but I remember thinking that he must be daring, brave and stupid all at the same time. I remember thinking how he must have done it wrong to have such a tear-filled, snot-flowing ending. This was my last thought right before I stuck my bottom lip to the same pole and my high-pitched wailing sent the daycare workers running for more hot water to free yet another dummy from the metal fence post, a fence that was likely designed to keep kids in, not render them mute.

Turns out, there is no good way to lick a metal anything in the dead of a Canadian winter.

Mercy me.

20140218-224620.jpg

I fear for the future if this is where Google is leading people

Logical sequencing, sensible leaps in reasoning, educated guessing.  Many of us do these things on a daily basis.  Some of us (um, not me?) take twisty, wonky roads to reach the most logical (to ourselves) conclusions, and sometimes, conclusions just do not gel well with the available premises (or premiss’).  And for me, today, this all started with a Google search that threw shit sideways and rocked my faith in our collective ability to have a future as a people.

Let’s say, for example, I had been listening to my three youngest sons berate, argue, bicker and brawl for the last hour, and in desperation (and my valiant attempt to not toss them all out into the snow to ‘cool off’), I fired up my laptop, opened up Google and typed ” why do brothers” and before I could finish my thought and type “fight,” Google very helpfully (and terrifyingly) filled in the blanks:

 Exhibit 1:

I'm sorry, come again?  How did we get from why do brothers fight to brothers falling in love with their sisters?!?  What PLANET am I living on?

I’m sorry, come again? How did we get from “why do brothers fight” to brothers falling in love with their sisters?!? What PLANET am I living on?  Honestly, people! What the hell are ya’ll doing out there?

 

Exhibit 2:

How can she slap what?  And wadda mean, how can mirrors be real?  And honestly, just stop eating so much.  Finally, what the hell would you want to stop singing?  Sing it, sister!  Sing it loud and sing it proud!  You don't need Google to tame your voice!  (Sorry all you other subway riders)

How can she slap what? And wadda mean, how can mirrors be real? And truly? Just stop eating so much, even a fatty like me knows that. And finally, why the hell would you want to stop singing? Sing it, sister! Sing it loud and sing it proud! Get your Susan Boyle on and give it! You don’t need Google to tame your voice! (Sorry all you other subway riders)

Exhibit 3:

Your life sucks because your hair turned grey while you were sitting around watching the salt melt the ice.  Your pee smells because, well, just YUCK.

Your life sucks because your hair turned grey while you were sitting around watching salt melt the ice. Your pee smells because, well, just YUCK.  Buy some flowers, an air freshener, a frickin’ Scentsy dohicky that everyone and their mother has now. Get a man, a woman, a dog, a paper route, a hobby, Anything!  YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS.

And that, dear people, is why I fear for the future of civilized humanity.  Go home Google, you’re drunk.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go try to sing my weight away, I think there is something to that idea.  When it pans out, watch for my infomercial, coming soon to a television near you (Insert the ‘These claims are not endorsed by the FDA disclaimer’ here).  I bet that I can get Sally Struthers to host it, she’s having a slow year.  What a score that would be.  Anyhoo, off to sing now using Ms. M’s new Hello Kitty (!!) Karaoke machine.  It is too awesome.  First, it’s Hello Kitty, second, it’s pink, third, it plays music, fourth, it has a microphone and fifth, a camera pops out of her head and puts YOUR image on the television screen.  It’s American Idol in my freakin’ living room yo! Thank you, Santa!  Um, I mean, Ms. M. says thank you, Santa.

Okay so Rob Ford smokes crack. Have YOU ever been drunk enough to hit the pipe?

Now, I’m no saint.  Hell, I’m barely teetering on the right side of moral most of the time.  But there are a few ‘biggies’ that I just won’t do, never have, never would, no matter how shitfaced blotto I was.

Never a truer word uttered.

Never a truer word uttered.

1. Cheat – I can’t believe that anyone still does this.  Aside from the immorality of it, the broken trust, broken hearts and shattered families that cheating creates, just think of all of the nasty virus’ and bacterial infections and warts and shit that will be living on or in you.  If you want to be with someone else, leave your current partner/spouse/fwb and move on to the next one (only after extensive medical testing.  Because, well, ewwww).  If, after being, probed, swabbed, poked, and scraped, your intended still wants to get it on, you may have found a keeper.  But still, ewwww.

2. Murder somebody – There are days when I think that I could do this but at the end of the day, I just want everyone to BE NICE and GET ALONG.  I definitely do not want to hear Kumbaya or anything, but wouldn’t be  a pleasant change if people would stop being assholes to one another.  If even for only a day?

3. Hit a crack pipe, snort, shoot up or inject any narcotics.  This one is pretty self-explanatory, but in case it’s not clear, dope’s for dopes, hugs not drugs, crack is whack, you don’t need drugs to do incredibly stupid things (if that’s your thing) and aside from all of the narcissistic reasons to avoid drugs, from a financial point of view it’s a terrible investment.

4.  Wear white jeans – I cannot even count the number of shits that I do not give whether it is before or after Labour Day.

5. Drive under the influence of anything.  I won’t even drive if I’m riding a sugar high.  I watched the YouTube videos, have seen enough mug shots on TMZ to know that no matter what, one way or another, you’re gonna get busted.  And, well, I have my fans to think of.

But, I may be in the minority.  Clearly Toronto Mayor Rob Ford believes that being in a “drunken stupor” excuses his crack usage.  Um, it’s doesn’t.  Straight from the horses’ (ass) mouth: “Yes, I have smoked crack cocaine,” Ford told reporters Tuesday outside his office. “There have been times when I’ve been in a drunken stupor. That’s why I want to see the tape. I want everyone in the city to see this tape. I don’t even recall there being a tape or video. I want to see the state that I was in.”  Calling it “crack cocaine” does not make it better than smoking “crack.”  A rose by any other name and all that, Mayor McCrackhead.

If it is released, I may watch the video of him smoking crack, just out of morbid curiosity, like I watch Hoarders or Intervention, but I promise you this: when his sex tape hits the market, I will NOT watch it.  Even my curiosity is not that morbid.  Vivid Video, get your cheque-signing hand ready, because if you thought the Kim K tape made bank, I’ll bet that you ain’t seen nothing until you see how this dude rolls (or this dude’s rolls?). *gag*

I have no sympathy to offer Rob Ford or his brother, but anyone who has an insufferable, selfish, ignorant, racist, drunken crackhead for a dad, like his kids appear to have, my full sympathy.  His wife and the majority of voters of Toronto chose him and could choose to quit him, his kids and the rest of us got stuck with him.

 

 

Can I claim to be frugal while fat or am I a frugal fraud?

Strange things occupy my mind.  I’m the first to admit that it’s a bit of a rat’s nest in there, but this is a new one, even for me.  You see, I buzz around the house cleaning up, cooking and baking from scratch, pouring over the sale flyers, making my shopping list, matching up my coupons, in short, trying to get all of our financial ducks in a row.  I agonize over the smallest purchases and save like a demented miser with tunnel vision for things like Christmas and the kids extra curricular activities.

We’re a one-income family and we all enjoy the freedom and benefits my being home full-time affords our family.  Even just my availability to tend to the needs of our kids, Mr. K.B., our home and our lives, in general, without reserve is a wonderful thing.  But it does mean that we need to budget our money.  We have enough, we live well and our needs are met, but I like to think that we live smart as well.  We do not have flat screen televisions, HDTV, DVR’s, matching stackable laundry machines or new cars.  We do have the toys that we deemed important, like my beloved iPad or the Blackberry Playbooks that everyone else in the house enjoy.  We are not bereft of luxuries and entertainment.  Mr. K.B. works hard everyday while I maximize our budget by shopping the sales, building and maintaining a grocery stockpile and making solid use of the public library system and hand-me-downs.  We do this in order to have the family life that we set out to have.

But then this is where things get weird for me.  Because I’m fat.  Not super-fat, not cut-an-opening-in-the-wall-and-use-a-crane-thingy-to-pry-me-out-of-the-house fat, not lost-a-fork-in-a-stomach-roll-for-three-months fat, not even hasn’t-seen-her-toes-in-recent-memory fat, but definitely on the wrong size of pleasingly plump*, an honest twenty pounds proud of voluptuous*, and a good century beyond tiny.

For the first time in my life, I have back cleavage (not a fan, I wanted bigger boobs on my chest, not my back thankyouverymuch), and for not the first time, my thighs rub when I walk (and please don’t ask about running, because clearly, I just don’t).  But even knowing these things, I have been pleased with myself because I have not spent any serious money on new clothes to accommodate my ever-increasing girth, a cheap pair of yoga (*snort*!) pants here, a tenty long-sleeve shirt there, but no full-on retail damage.  My reasoning for not spending money on clothes has not been low self-esteem issues, or lack of funds, or feelings of being unworthy of clothes that fit comfortably.  Oh no, I have not spent money because i remind myself that: 1) I have a closet (plus) full of nice clothes and 2) I won’t be this fat for much longer (*double snort!*).

But my whole deal is about being frugal, right?  I mean, aside from the whole being surprisingly and disarmingly witty and amusing thing, I am actually frugal, right?  I have a COUPON ORGANIZER for fuck’s sakes! (Hee hee, funny aside, spell check wanted to change that to “muckrakes”  I should have let it, I’d sound all Scooby Doo’ish then).  Or maybe, as I am beginning to wonder, it is possible that I am not a pure bred frugalite as I’ve let myself believe.  Is frugality merely about saving our loonies and nickels, (since we don’t actually have pennies anymore, I’m switching it up there.  Oh and thanks for being an asshole and robbing us of our pennies, Federal Government, I’m a HUGE fan of that move.  Not.) or is it also and more importantly about conserving all resources, including money?  Like, um, well, food.  Does being overweight (a really nice way of saying FAT) make me a frugal fraud?

The answer to that is simple, my friends, yes, simple.  The solution is also simple, but makes me sad, so I’m not going into solution-mode right now.  The answer, at least the answer to me, is YES.  Being overweight does make me a frugal fraud.  I have no known medical reason for my fatness.  I have no reasonable excuse for my heft.  I have no shame in owning my fluff. And to be frank (because I get so tired of being me sometimes) being fat does not faze me nearly as much as discovering that I am a frugal failure.  This whole frugality fail really frosts my cookies and makes me fairly irritable.  It’s messing with how I see myself and who I believe myself to be.  And I really wish the thought had never occurred to me, but it did, so now I must choose a direction to take.

What am I going to do about it?  I don’t KNOW yet!  I just said that I’m not going into solution-mode right now because that would make me sad as fuck and I am trying to AVOID sad and totally EMBRACE happy.  And while frugality is a totally happy thing for me, chocolate happy trumps frugal happy.  Every. Single. Time.

So, my fraud and deception will continue.  My half-assed efforts at frugality will persist, at least for the time being anyway.  And now, would someone pass me a frickin’ Snickers bar already?

offer-moral-support-encouragement-ecard-someecards

*In fairness, I feel compelled to add, that my definitions are my own and that my beloved husband does NOT agree with this classification of my size.  To his credit and to my delight, he loves me the best at exactly the size I currently am and this holds true at any point in time.  Skinny, thick, fat, fatter, fattest – for him, all of my sizes are created equal, which, while I struggle to understand how that can possibly be, I most definitely believe and appreciate that it is true.

Now, would someone please bring me a shot of Reese peanut butter cups, a pint of salt and vinegar chips and a Snickers bar chaser?  Pretty pleeeease?

I am almost never in the right place at the right time to capture this kind of stupidity but this time, I was.

Me: “Oh my GOD!  Did you see that?!?”
Mr. K.B. (driving) “No!  What?”
Me: “That sign back there said something about $99 sluts.”
Mr. K.B. “What? Where?” (craning his neck to look back over his shoulder while continuing to drive
Me: “That sign right back there.  And I don’t have a camera.  Shit.  Oh, wait!  I have my phone.  Oh wait, it’s probably dead” (rummaging in the abyss I call a purse).  “Ah! Found it.  And it’s still got a tiny bit of battery life left!”
Mr. K.B. “Do you want me to turn around?”
Me: “No, it’s okay.  If it’s meant to be, it will still be there when we head back and if my phone still has any battery life left, we’ll stop then.” (See, I’m not a total selfish juvenile, I can be reasonable too).

An hour or so later.

Me: “There it is!  Stop the car!  Pull over, fast!”

Mr. K.B. does and he opens his window so I can take a picture leaning over him.  (Proof positive that he loves me 🙂 ) I then hop out of the car and race around to the other side of the unfortunate sign.  I have to get a shot of both sides.  Or it’s meaningless. Or I may die.  It’s that important.  Or it is not.  I can’t remember anymore.  But I did get both pictures.  And I felt giddy because I’m never prepared to immortalize adolescent stupidity.  Mr. K.B. may have said something about me being crazy, but he was smiling at the time, and not signing commitment papers, so I let the comment slide (well, that, and I don’t actually think that he’s wrong about the status of my sanity or lack thereof most of the time).

I usually have to read FAIL blogs to see this kind of thing (guilty pleasure, I admit it).  But not this time.  Just this once, I was in the right place, at the right time and my phone had a single iota of battery power left.  Just enough to get me these two shots. We were meant to be together.  Praise Jesus.

The first side, taken from the car

The first side, taken from the car.   Get your dentures and free sluts, if they also sold bait then it would be truly be one-stop shopping!

The other side.  I'm probably going straight to Hell along with the hooligans who changed the sign to begin with.  But I'm okay with that, I knew I was going to end up there for one thing or another.

The other side. I’m probably going straight to Hell along with the hooligans who changed the sign to begin with. But I’m okay with that, I knew I was going to end up there for one thing or another.

P.S.  My spell check is a prude.  Or has had a very sheltered existence up until now.  I typed “sluts” (quite properly, I assure you) and spell check decided that I must have meant either: slots, shots, slums, slugs, slits, or slats.  On second reading, some of those are almost worse that sluts.  Maybe I’m the sheltered one and my spell check is a pig,  Yeah, it’s probably that.  Never mind.

 

If I could have but two things today, they would be

1) To have a local paper that employs someone to review copy before it goes to print:

Advocatefail

 

and;

2) I would like to have stores at least try to fool me into thinking that I am getting a deal when I shop with them:

Marksfail

What would be your two things today?

P.S.  If you’ have not ‘Liked’ The Keswick Blog on Facebook or ‘Followed’ along on Twitter or checked out The Keswick Blog on Pinterest, then you’re missing out on micro-blogging that happens when time or circumstances do not allow for a full-blown blog entry 🙂  Come on over and share the insanity!
P.P.S.  So now The Keswick Blog is on Instagram , find thekeswickblog there to see some random things that do not make it to Facebook, Twitter or the blog – Too. Many. Sites. Where will it end?  *thud*

OMG. I think that Vince Vaughn has bewitched Will Ferrell and hijacked his life

I’m not a big Twitter user.  I do not have the attention span or time to dedicate to religiously tweeting my every thought (you’re welcome).  I do throw one out there occasionally, sometimes it just seems like a better way to express my thought in the moment than a whole blog post or Facebook update.  And I do not really follow very many people on Twitter either.  But I do follow a few and Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughan just happen to be two of the people who I follow on the site (Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess) and Elizabeth Jayne Liu (Flourish in Progress) are two others – they are writers, bloggers, wives (not to each other) and mothers and they are THE BEST.  Love them. But I digress).

Look at the cold, cutting glare in those eyes.   And then look at the blank, trusting innocent ignorance in Will's eyes.   My God.  It's like taking advantage of a two-year-old.

Look at the cold, cutting glare in those eyes. And then look at the blank, trusting innocent ignorance in Will’s eyes.
My God. It’s like taking advantage of a two-year-old.

I followed Will Ferrell because, well, being Will Ferrell, he comes out with some witty tidbits at make even this cranky woman smile ( his tweet to the effect of resisting the urge to roundhouse Justin Bieber in his midget head won me over, I must admit), and I followed Vince Vaughn because I somehow happened to be online the night he joined Twitter and Will tweeted a shout out suggesting people follow Vince too, since he was new to Twittertown.  Why not?  I thought to myself.  I like his movies and maybe he’ll make me laugh sometimes too. So I did.  This was less than a month ago, I think?  Anyway, they each tweeted sporadically and independently for the first while.  And then it happened.  I’ll let the pictures do the talking now. (For non-Twitter users – the newest tweets appear that the top of the screen, the ones below it were tweeted first/earlier, so read each picture from the bottom up to have them in the correct chronological order).

Typical Will Ferrell Tweets - circa April 14 2013

Typical Will Ferrell Tweets – circa April 14 2013

Typical pre-capture funny-type tweets from Will Ferrell. Circa April 20, 2013

Pre-capture funny-type tweets from Will Ferrell. Circa April 20, 2013

And then the takeover. Zombie tweets of Will Ferrell under Vince's voodoo spell.  Circa April 22, 2013

And then the takeover. Zombie tweets of Will Ferrell under Vince’s voodoo spell. Circa April 22, 2013

More tweeting from suspected zombie leader Vince and his loyal follower, Will.  Circa April 22, 2013

More tweeting from suspected zombie leader Vince and his loyal follower, Will. Circa April 22, 2013

Inspirational zombie tweets.  Free Will Now! Circa April 22, 2013

Inspirational zombie tweets. Free Will Now, dammit! Circa April 22, 2013

Declarations of love between captor and captured. Circa April 22, 2013

Declarations of love between captor and captured. Circa April 22, 2013.  Classic Stockholm syndrome (to be honest, I always kind of thought that Will was kind of syndromie, I just never imagined this would be the syndrome)

Worrying that we're 'on to him' Vince directs Will to toss out a few token "independent"  tweets but quickly reels him back in line.  Free Will! Circa April 22, 2013

Worrying that we’re ‘on to him’ Vince directs Will to toss out a few token “independent” tweets but quickly yanks him back into line. Free Will!  This man was not playing will a full enchilada to begin with, his therapy bills after this will be GINORMOUS! Circa April 22, 2013

Now firmly under his control, Will accepts that he cannot change his fate as zombie tweeter under Vince's spell.  Will!  Wake Up! Circa April 23, 2013

Now firmly under his control, Will accepts that he cannot change his fate as zombie tweeter under Vince’s spell. Will! Wake Up! Circa April 23, 2013

Cruel to pretend zombies can dream big dreams and get ahead.  You're a cruel, cruel leader, Mr. Vauaghn

Encouraging his zombie to dream big. You’re a cruel, cruel leader, Mr. Vauaghn

And now Will is not a good enough Twitter slave?  He must improve.  Oh, the humanity! Free Will(y)! Circa April 23, 2013

And now Will is not a good enough Twitter slave? He must make improvements. Oh, the humanity! Free Will(y)! Circa April 23, 2013.

I just know that this is not the end of the story. Once the heavy hitters get a hold of this, the story is going to EXPLODE and they (the “real” investigators will blow the roof right off of Mr. Vaughn’s demented, evil plan to take over the world, one adolescent boy at a time, using one of their idols as bait. (TMZ, are you listening?!?)  If a tired, frazzled, fat (but fabulous) housewife in Keswick can spot you so quickly, do you really think others are not already plotting to dethrone you?  Oh, I am fairly certain they are. (I would, but I have far too many children to tend to and WAY too much laundry and vomit to clean up on a daily basis.  Oh, and my minivan needs servicing, so that puts me out of the running to lead the charge.  When your life is as glamorous as mine, rarely is there time for mundane human-race-saving feats) Make no mistake about it.  We’re on to you sir, oh yes, yes we are.

 

To be continued…

Miscellaneous musings of a mildly insane chick in the ‘wick

It’s Miscellaneous musings Tuesday! I’m lying. I just totally made that up. There are a couple of things that I have thought about or noticed lately that either make me laugh, cry or prepare for the end of the world because the human race is too damned stupid to figure out how to fix the mess they’ve made.

First, SPELLING does matter and relying on spell check is severely limiting your marketability and desirability. For example: You don’t loose weight. You lose it (or, if you are me, you GAIN it, but I digress). If you drive your car like an asshole, then your car needs to be impounded and you need to LOSE your licence (or at the very least your pretentious, overpriced smart phone  that makes you think that you look successful while you flap your LOOSE lips spewing forth regurgitated thoughts that you read online and think are clever.  Newsflash: using your speaker phone function while HOLDING YOUR PHONE is not operating your phone HANDS FREE, fuckstick).

Wow – that last bit rant came flying out of left field.  Go figure, someone is a little bit tightly wound today, perhaps?

Second, and even more importantly, now that Winter may or may not be over, and Spring may or may not be here, I noticed something this morning, while walking two of my boys to school.  Other than the birds singing (kind of, I think they are also fed up and confused by the weather) and squirrels dodging pick up trucks while they race half way across the road, only to stop, look all around and either continue on their way or double back, causing endless swerving, swearing and squashing, something appeared to be different.  Something that was not here yesterday and is here today.  It is not sunshine because there is none.  It is not warmer temperatures because it is cold and miserable.  It is not snow because then I would shoot myself, not write a blog post. No, what was new just really may be the beginning of the end.  People worry about zombies, people LOVE to prepare and worry about zombie invasions. But zombies would be obvious and big and there is no way you could be walking along, la-ti-da, and then suddenly realize that you were, in fact, surrounded by zombies, now could you?  No, in the words of my eight-year-old “that couldn’t be real” (said with great disdain and authority).  So what other-being take-over would be subtle and have a good chance of catching most of us unawares?  I found out this morning.

Worms.

worms everywhere

Hundreds of worms.  All over the roads and driveways, posing as tiny little sticks and debris, camouflaging themselves with dirt and gravel, but there was no hiding.  They were everywhere.  Walking through a worm minefield is as ridiculous looking as it sounds.  But those bitches are tiny and they have absolutely no resistance.  One light step and there are smushed worms everywhere, including on the sole of your most favorite walking-the-kids-to-school-looking-like-the-grim-reaper-and-not-caring- even-a-bit boots.

I know that it is wrong to wish harm to any living thing, but I really need the plague of worms to be gone before I have to leave the house again.
covertworm

I would wrestle a rabid goat to get to my kids.  I would walk across razor blades (brand new, sharp ones, ya’ll) to rescue them from danger.  I would go without food forever if it meant that they could eat. I would donate all of my organs, eyes, blood, bone marrow, whatever I had to make them healthy and whole if they were sick. But, I’ll be honestly honest with you now.  I am really not sure that I can deal with crossing that sea of living-dead worms again.

worm3

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