The Lifespan of a Fly


Hold Your Questions Please!
September 22, 2011, 1:33 PM
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You know what bugs me? Ok, ok a lot of things bug me, but you know what really drives me batshit? Questions. Not questions like “What are you going to make for dinner?” or “Do you want to watch The Shining or Halloween?” but questions that just aren’t anyone’s damned business. For the first six years of our relationship, Mike and I dreaded going to weddings. Short of the booze and bad music, you just knew some distant family member was going to corner you and go “So, when are you two going to tie the knot?” *wink wink* and you’d have to smile and think of some lame excuse like “Oh, it’s not really a priority to us right now”, when what you’re truly thinking are things like “Get lost old bag” or “Who is this person talking to me?”

Well, it gets worse after you get married. People assume that now you’re married you’re just dying to procreate. As if you’ve really been waiting seven years until marriage, because a child out-of-wedlock is a sin…and other bullcrap.

They also assume you want lots and lots and lots of little you’s running around, screaming, eating candy and taking turns crying and pooping. Now, please don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike kids. But to be fair, I don’t like very many kids either. So this whole “kids” thing? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. It seems kind of cool. I’d like my life to have more meaning then the things we want to do, and well, to be honest, kids have cool toys.

So you answer something like, “Yeah, maybe in a few years we’ll have a baby. Just one though”. Well, that starts off this whole new thing. The family member (whose name you can’t remember and relation you’re skeptical of) starts in on the whole “Just one? Oh, wow. If it were me I would have just had oodles of little babies. I just love their little cheeks and the way they smell”.

Look, I’m thinking about it ok? I don’t really want to commit to a whole slew of kids. That’s like saying “You know, you may as well give me all the BMW’s in the lot, since I like luxury vehicles a whole bunch”. I’m ok with just the one. You know? See how it works out and stuff. Then maybe… maybe I’ll have another one.

Besides, babies are like these perfect, clean little people. They’re canvasses for parents to fill with colours and paint in little personalities. And guaranteed us adults are gonna fuck them up. So I wonder to myself, how many little people do I want to screw up? Cause I’m gonna. So if I only screw up one person, does that mean I’ve mitigated the damages?

I don’t know, this is a lot of pressure.

Is there anywhere I can rent a kid for a bit and see how I do?



Things I Miss About the 90’s
April 19, 2011, 10:01 AM
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I grew up, all the way, in the 1990’s. 1991 I was starting my first day of Grade One, and in 1999 I was entering my last year of Junior High School. More often then not, I feel bad for the kids we’ve got nowadays. Their cartoons are mostly animated with CG (“computer graphics” unless that term isn’t being used anymore and they’re just calling it “animation” now), and well, the rap is full of bitches and ho’s.

So with my 26th birthday looming only eight short weeks away, I’m sorta missing the good old days, and the good old 1990’s. Below are things I miss about the 90’s:

Fluorescent Clothing – It was cool and blinding all at once. Seriously, I had this windbreaker that looked as if it were designed by a schizophrenic with a passion for brightness. The only bonus of that was your parents didn’t make you wear those light-reflective strips when you rode your bike at night. There was no need…you are your own source of light.

Screamer is gonna kick some ass

Ghostbuster Toys from McDonald’s – Have you seen the crap they throw in Happy Meals nowadays? Let’s not fool ourselves, creativity and imagination is not exactly something we’ve instilled (on a regular basis to those good parents out there) in our children. So I’m a little shocked at the piece of crap toys that kids are (kind of) playing with. Now we got Ghostbuster shit, and da’shit it was! There was the horn thing you strapped to your handlebars, and rode around the neighbourhood at like 7 am while it screams WEE-YOOOOO WEE-YOOOOOO WEE-YOOOOO” until the day your dad “accidentally” busted it in the garage with his hammer.

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air – With shit-family shows like Full House and Family Matters on TV (by the way, didn’t Family Matters have some younger sister who all of a sudden just disappeared? hmm), The Fresh Prince was the coolest of the cool family shows (which weren’t many). Will Smith was so good at being so bad. And the rappin’ was bitchin’. Seriously though, how did Uncle Phil not suffer a massive coronary?

The Macarena – I was ten when this song came out, and may I ask everyone of you reading my nostalgic remembrances, when was the last time you did the Macarena? Do it, love it, line dance your way back to the 90’s.

Nintendo 64 – You really didn’t need any skills to play the N’64. We got Mario, Mortal Kombat and all that good shit. I always kicked my brother’s ass. Why, you may ask? Well, back in the 1990’s button-mashing was a surefire way to Sub-Zero the shit out of people.

EAT YO CANDY!

ADD – Everyone had ADD. And when I say everyone, I mean any eight-year-old boy who ran around, screaming and acting, well, like an eight-year-old boy. So pretty much everyone was on Ritalin at that time, which I gotta say, didn’t seem to have any real effect on these kids. We had three boys from Grade 2 to Grade 7 who *had* ADD. It was interesting watching them pitch their fits once or twice a year and throw desks and bite people and shit. Yeah, I miss real ADD; not this ADHD shit we’ve got now.

Fruit Snacks – My God we have a lot of fruit snacks back in the 1990’s (which, thinking back on it, probably contributed the the influx of ADD kids). Bright colours and FUN FUN FUN winked at you and if you didn’t just have Soda Licious you would DIE from snack-mortification. Which in turn was used to buy the souls of your classmates. Those kids would do anything for fruit snacks….

There’s like 1,000 things I could compare with the way we do things today, but I think that’s enough for now. The 1990’s knew how to rock it, and nerd it out all at once. Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic cause the new Super Mario Bros. for the WII is kicking my ass. Let the button mashing commence!



Of Mice and Mike
March 10, 2011, 8:16 AM
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Do you remember that kid from elementary that always happened to hurt other kids? He never meant to, all he wanted to do was play and to love them like children love the world. But he was cursed with a god-like strength he couldn’t control. All the kids were terrified of him, they’d call him a bully, even though he wasn’t.

Eating delicate food, like hamburgers was always a challenge for him. No matter how hard he tried, his brute strength would crush all the life, and toppings, out of his hamburger and it would end up a meaty, ketchupy mess running down his small hands flavoured slightly with his tears of frustration. All he wants to do is eat his hamburger!

Now imagine that little kid grew up, and I decided to marry him. In 2007, Mike ran his thumb through a table saw. Really, really gross with the pins and the bloods and the casts and stuff. Take my word for it. But during his long months of physiotherapy, he did learn one important thing about himself: his right hand control about 70lbs of gripping force.

The “Death Grip” was born that day (I picture this happening with gamma rays and ripped shorts).

Since then, the Death Grip has taken the lives of 1 plastic spoon, 1 wooden spoon, 1 measuring cup and countless ice cream cones (and I only just started keeping track this year). Any amount of delicacy is no match for Mike’s hands. They crush, they destroy, they break and all they want to do is eat a hamburger. My finger bones grind together when we hold hands, but that’s cool, I have a high pain tolerance. When he gave me massages, I wondered if he’d confused me with a lump of dough that required kneading.

Sometimes though, it’s hard not to picture that little boy with the mangled remnants of his hamburger falling in pieces all over his plate. And he cries, and cries, and cries, because all he wants is to love.

There is a bonus to this, no jar lid is a match for the Death Grip. I imagine it will also come in extremely handy during the inevitable zombie apocalypse. The Death Grip will pop their engorged, rotting heads right off their shoulders. See, there is a plan for everything.



Musings… Part 2
March 5, 2011, 11:31 AM
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So I haven’t posted for a while. Yeah, I know, sorry. I’d try to explain, but then I’d sound all pathetic and weepy, and that’s just not what you came here for. Let’s just say it’s still snowing and I am still pissed off about it.

So I’ve collected some musings for you:

Charlie Sheen – He’s my new hero. Now, I won’t condone excessive drug and alcohol intake. It makes you crazy and your skin bad. However, I do condone porn stars (especially in numbers that equal more than 1). I also further condone people threatening to “eat your hands off your arms”, cause that sounds INSANELY bad-ass and like it should be a scene in the sequel to Machete.

Machete – Now that I’ve mentioned Machete, which has what must be the greatest movie scene ever, I’d like to recognize said movie scene at this time. Anyone who repels out of a window with another person’s intestine deserves some mention here. They also deserve the Chuck Norris Medal of Bad-Assery.

Crackhead Neighbours – I have them and wonder every hour of the day how anyone can manage to bang so much. What are you doing in there? Are you building the fucking ark? Aren’t you supposed to be passed out on your couch watching the flying mongooses? Or is that opium? Anyhow, stop banging so much.

The Ginger Ale Commercial – You know which one I’m talking about, with the Ginger Farm? It’s really misleading when the beautifully tanned workers pull up the plants and it’s not mini-ginger kids. Now that’s a drink we could all appreciate.

Cannibalism – I imagine it goes like this “What do you want for dinner?” “I dunno, make whoever you want.”

On Girls Who Won’t Date Short Guys – If you ask for chocolate cake and instead you get vanilla, do you bitch about it? No cause it’s cake and it’s fucking yummy. Shut up and eat your cake.

Blood Donation – I don’t like their version of the bloodmobile… So I drew a better one.

That is Strawberry Nesquik; to ensure tasty participation



Comparing Apples and Bones
February 15, 2011, 4:31 PM
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Totally sulking

Imagine that you have two apples that are exactly identical. They’re both a rich ruby red. Both apples are shiny because they have a very fine coating of wax on them. Their juices are sweet, and tangy all at once. Yum, these apples sure are tasty.

Now, you’re four years old again, and your stupid brother (or in some unlucky cases, sister) wants one of your apples. Then you get all like “No! They’re my apples!” But your mom is not down with your yelling about apples and commands you in her Mom Voice to share the Damn Apples.

All of a sudden the apples aren’t the same anymore. Which one is the junk apple? Which is the sub-standard fruit you have give to your brother (who, of course, your mom loves more)?

My dogs do this shit every time we get them bones. At first, everyone’s excited. Rex is thrilled because he loves carrying around random household items (the Grinch, the moose, socks, pickles, dish rags). Duke has some moment of nostalgic reunion. We’re just glad that Rex’s breath just might not smell like fish. Duke’s breath always does.

So we get them completely identical bones, which they carry around triumphantly and crunch, crunch, crunch away. Until one of them makes more gooey progress than the other. All of a sudden this bone becomes the prize and each attempts to trick the other dog out of possession. All the while the other bone waits pathetically, like a broken doll.

So I did what every mother would do. I took it away and put it up really high on the bookcase. I informed them that if they cant chew the unwanted bone, then no one gets any bones.

Sometimes I love Duke’s senility. As Rex sulks and skulks around, looking for his spitty Precious, Duke just haves at her. 10 minutes later and he’s already forgotten about the bookcased bone. Rex stares with lust in his eyes at the bone no one wanted. Only because my old man dog is getting it all spitted up.

You know what? I really hate apples.



Lying to Kids
August 23, 2010, 1:27 PM
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I don’t have kids…. yet. Let’s just get that out in the open. This weekend, I told a lie to Mike’s nine-year-old cousin, “Mountain Girl”. I love this little girl. Her personality is big enough to fit in a room and my, is she ever a quick one. She has an older sister who is quickly being introduced to her teenage years, and poor little Mountain Girl, she just doesn’t understand why her sister can’t be her best friend anymore. She complained that her sister only cares about boys and that Justin Bieber thing. “All she ever does is listen to his stupid music and put pictures up on her wall”, she told me.

So I lied to her.

Wait, wait, wait. I leaned in closely and whispered in her ear: “You know, her real name is Justina Bieber. The music company told her that they didn’t need anymore girl singers, only boy singers. Justina cut off her hair and started pretending she was a boy”. Mountain Girl and I shared a conspiratorial giggle, and she was armed for the next time her sister dumped her for some weird-boy-girl-singer-thing.

Anyhow, I totally forgot about that until now. At first I felt kind of bad that I lied to a nine-year-old. So I asked a few people if they ever lie to kids for the fun of it. Dhalia told me about how she had convinced her nieces that she didn’t have a belly button and that their “real” uncle was Kenny Chesney. Jean told me that her mother and entire soccer team had convinced her that Hannibal the Cannibal was her real dad (THAT would have been sweet). And in turn, I remembered how my parents told me that they had found me orphaned in an alley in a breadbasket. And then they SHOWED me the breadbasket.

Ahhhhhh…. those were some good times. So if I learned anything it’s this: Sometimes, lying to kids can help save their feelings.

But most times, it’s just really funny.