Friday, October 28, 2005

For Shame, for Shit

2 years after being told by a Clean Water study that gee, there's eColi in the water, and having a boil water advisory in effect for 2 YEARS, finally something is being done for the people of Kashechewan. Imagine 2 years of KNOWING your child might be drinking something that will kill them. Being helpless to prevent the scabies, the rashes from the chlorine in the water....

If this happened in say, Toronto, or Ottawa, or Montreal, it wouldn't last for 2 years. If this happened in the U.S. to a predominately black community, people worldwide would be yelling for heads to roll.

But they're Native. They're all drunks anyway, right?

It's 2005, and this is how we treat CANADIANS? Not Natives, not a minority-PEOPLE, Canadian citizens and their children. Not very far removed from smallpox riddled blankets if you ask me.

There is most likely a general election in April. So I ask, is this the kind of government you want? A group of people who do NOTHING until it becomes a national disgrace.

For shame.......I'm disgusted and appalled. I'm even more disgusted to know that there is something along the lines of 24 other communities on similar boil water advisories. I defend our tax rate to friends in the US since we are told those taxes take care of people. So Mr. Martin-USE MY MONEY AND TAKE CARE.

I'm glad I have NEVER voted liberal in my life.

For shame.

have I mentioned......

the new System of a Down KICKS ASS!

It's be a long time since I LOVED a new album that's popular...

Thursday, October 27, 2005

I'm not crazy I'm.....

Clinically depressed. Or, that's what the new therapist says. I scored 39 on the Beck depression scale. 30 and above is not good, since normal is 0-9.

She seems ok. She made some points that are true, and that never occured to me. Things not occuring to be is always weird since, well, I spend more time analyzing myself then most people.

She told me I'm lonely for home. Not for my house, but a place to consider "home". That's truer than I wanted to admit. I haven't had a home in a long time. I'm lonely for a place that even my bones recognize.

She told me I've spent my life having things happen to me, even my children. That's also true, even if I let some things happen.

I made her cry. A personal first. I'm rather impressed with myself on that one.

She told me I should get to a doctor, and get on antidepressents. You know what's scary? The suicidal thoughts are so NORMAL now that it's like reminding myself to buy bus tickets. It's become so commonplace that it's just another thought.....

Part of me always thinks that these people only want me to come back because they find me interesting. And what shrink wouldn't? A 28 year old woman presenting depressed mood and loss of interest/pleasure, who was sexually abused as a child, watched her mother fall ill with Breast Cancer, suffer a masectomy, chemo and radiation and then die when the woman was 11, her father becomes a raving alcoholic for a period of time, moves in and out of the house, meets her biological family at 18, gets married at 19, has two unplanned and unwanted kids at 25 & 27, and is now COMPLETELY fucked up, I could pay this woman's mortgage.

Sad isn't it? I even think my therapist is only listening because it benefits her. She also reminded me that I've been a "grown up" as long as I can remember. I have. And you know what? IT SUCKS BALLS.

Now I temper all this with the knowledge that yes, it could be worse, TONS worse. But it's not. And it's all relative.

And knowing it could be worse doesn't make the pain go away.

Next stop: Effexor! (or anything that will make me happy,AND cause weight loss)

Just for Karen

Bad Hair on the Bus

Man oh man the city bus is always fodder, isn't it?

The other day, I'm sitting in my usual seat, and staring down at these two younger chicks who are obviously going to work at the mall. Remember when working at the mall was cool? (Actually, in my group of friends it never was but I digress).

The one chick has this rather interesting black hair with magenta stripes. Retarded, but interesting enough.

The other one however, has a hairdo a little closer to a beaver dam in appearance.

Not only does it look unwashed, it looks like bad cheap extentions from Walmart. And it's obvious that she thinks it's the hottest thing around. It's scary, and dirty, and just icky. And I find myself transfixed in some odd way, staring at the back of her head the entire time. I wanted to get a stick and poke it, or at least tell her that the whole tussled messy look is just that, a LOOK.

Anyway....update on me.....depressed again, so off to the shrink. I'm actually kinda freaked that I might be bipolar. I'm not looking forward to spending the next ten sessions explaining my life history. I should write a short essay about my life to save everyone's just annoying.....OR, they blame parts of my life that aren't affecting anything to the point of me being suicidal and blah....I'm fairly sure it's a hormonal imbalance, but they never find anything in blood work....

And did I mention that October 11 was my first YEAR not smoking? As soon as I have money, a new tattoo for me!!!!!!

All it's done is RAIN lately....blarg.....getting lazy with the blog as I'm so damn busy...I want to post more writing, but just don't have the energy. I'm so fucking tired, even with 8 hours of sleep.....

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Friend Karen

I had this dream last night where I was on some island, and Karen sent RootBeer to save me. And what a cute doggie he is...

And Karen, you were SUPER skinny in my dream!

Thanks for sending your dream doggie to help me!

Thursday, October 20, 2005


a coworker is listening to Sonny & Cher and I club her to death like a baby seal, will they REALLY send me to jail?

WHY do people have such shite taste in music?

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Things we do to Spam

So...I had this great rant lined up since I took the bus this morning, but it can take a back seat, because I think we need to start doing something about this spam shit.

I get a spam message yesterday. I take a page from Rocker Mommy's book and email the bastard.

The spam:
Today I woke up checked a few emails, and than checked my payment status. I was shocked to find out that I had sold several $100 worth of product in one night, I realized this was the beginining to my money making businesss. With the system I have used andnow provide to you it is literally one of the best internet home business starters I have ever come across. Visit make extra money site. It pretty much covers make extra money today to learn more.

My response, after hitting "contact us" on the site, titled " Spam Sucks". (As much as I don't want to give traffic, this annoys me)
"Bugger off with it already...unless you'd like a hate blog started."

THEIR response:

"I apologize for the inconvienence, if you do not like my blog comment than please delete it."

Excuse me? Last time I checked, SPAM is not cool. Last time I checked, it doesn't generate any income, and all it does is ANNOY THE FUCK out of people. So, not only do I think we should start emailing this wanker with crap ALL THE TIME, we should start doing that to ANYONE who spams us.

The NERVE of someone to think they have a right to irritate me, or anyone else. To think that I should delete their crap, which they've used a program to dump on people, while I've taken time to sit down and write for me, and for others. Regardless, this is just like someone bothering you at home, or on the phone, then saying it's my fault for answering the door or phone.

So my friendly band of revenge seekers, what shall we do to THIS mannerless poof?

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

So sick....

I actually spent the day in bed. I actually didn't quite make it to the bathroom a few times. I felt TERRIBLE. The flu SUCKS.

But that's minimal compared to poor April.....please go visit her and tell her you love her.....I keep trying to leave a comment to that affect, but it keeps freezing my PC....


Thursday, October 13, 2005

Ungrateful fucktards.....

I had the dubious pleasure of overhearing a coworker talk about how she received all these presents for her housewarming or birthday or something, and how she hated most of them, and couldn't believe people bought these things for her.

Gee, I thought it was the thought that counted?

I was raised to appreciate a gift, regardless, to thank the giver, and if I couldn't use it, or didn't like it, to pass it along to someone who could. I was not raised to sit there, describing each item and why you hate it, and how tacky it is and blah blah blah blah...

Is it any wonder why most people just don't bother to do nice things. Must be nice to have so much that you don't bother appreciating things someone spent their hard earned money on.

All I could think was "What a gross, boring, pathetic BITCH you are...."

I didn't say it. I just sat here, rolling my eyes and silently thanking my Mother for being so annoying about that little thing called manners...

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Dear John

I have a friend named John. I have had this friend for almost 10 years I think. We began as tape traders, and slowly a friendship evolved. We've never met. He lives in New York.

I consider John a great friend. I've never met, or corresponded with someone as astute in giving topical advice without offending or otherwise hurting the other person. I've never met someone who gives so much of himself in his writing, emails, letters, prose, whatever. He is a true friend and gentleman, regardless of how much time goes by between emails. I miss sometimes our 12 page handwritten letters, but my hand sure doesn't!

John has been lurking. I love Site Meter. BUT, I have also taken FOREVER in writing poor John back on his last email, which includes a piece of writing by him that I've read but not really taken the time to "read" this is my public penance asking for his forgiveness!

AND, it's an attempt to get him to delurk! COME OUT COME OUT WHERE EVER YOU ARE!

I can't sleep.

It's almost 2am and the baby will be up in about 4 hours and I still can't sleep. I'm sitting here, mind racing, wondering why I go to work everyday, why I own a house, since all I do is stress about the house, and wonder what's left to enjoy. I've left everything behind me, so once you remove anything and everything you enjoy, what's the point really?

I can't make my head stop. I think I'm going mad...

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Never buy a house when you're hormonal.

It's raining here today. A LOT. Heavy Rainfall warning, tropical depression a lot.

We have some kind of moisture/water issue in our basement, and house in general. When we purchased it. it was assumed to me a small amount of moisture, and the inspector wasn't overly concerned, since most was concentrated around windows, something I plan on replacing anyway. Then we come to notice there is a leak with the toilet. We fix the seal, and move on, assuming the weird smell was just some deteriation due to that leak, and I figure I'll fix it later. No worries.

Segue to this summer. Our basement has less than stellar ventilation, due to it being, well, a basement. It's "finished" if you consider piss poor workmanship finished. I've known all along I'd have to gut it, and quite honestly, I'm looking forward to it. Nothing makes me happier than taking something apart to fix it, especially if crowbars are involved. Then I find icky, black mold on the exterior facing walls in the room Rosalyn is in. We move her. I dig at the drywall and the carpet. No water, no moisture. I notice that the correct insulation hasn't been used however. I figure that the mold is there due to moisture trapped in the nasty carpet, which has no where to go, since the mold is only on the exterior walls, near the floor. So, I figure, winter project. Tear down the room, rebuild-easy, take me a few weekends perhaps, and it's a good kick in the ass to the Dorf, who bitches we have no money to do this, but then spends $800 on a guitar, and 90$ on new cd's. This way he has to do it. Doesn't help that he doesn't even know how to paint-THANK YOU FIL....

I don't believe that mold is toxic-it's everywhere, you can't avoid it. BUT, I don't want it in the house any more than normal, just like I want the spiders to kill the icky bugs, but I don't want to see any of them. And I don't want a gross smelly basement. Lord knows it's bad enough from the spit up and hunks of week old banana I keep finding everywhere...

Back to the, I go to get the vacuum out of the one small area that is true "basement" floor. (The rest is raised on wood).

Water. Seeping. Thru. Concrete. NOT. GOOD.

I'm not telling the Dorf. He won't understand, and he'll freak out. Actually, I'm thinking of freaking out, since the more I look around, and dig at stuff, I begin to see subtle signs of prior water damage. How exactly an inspector, who is TRAINED to look for this stuff misses it, I don't know. (I have some suspicions about a triad of evil consisting of Realtor+Seller+Inspector anyway, but I digress).

This is an older home, likely at least 60 years. If I was to build new, I would install weeping tiles, drainage, etc, etc since we're near a stream, and we're at the bottom of a hill. But to do these things now-to dig a drainage system, grade the property, fuck me. I can't even get the Dorf to agree to spend what will be less than 300 on gutters for the front of the house, let alone what all this will cost. And we can't sell like this. He will not get it. Unless I can draw it in a comic, he won't get it.

So now I have to figure out how to do this. I know there is no cheap way, and that this is showing me it's a VERY large issue with this house. Add to this the fact that all these issues are occuring underneath our large deck, rendering that part of the exterior inaccessible, and I'm not cool. Capilliary action? HELL YEAH.

I think I'm about to become even more broke. We bought this house because I loved the look of it when I was pregnant. Yes, there is always buyers remorse, but with the Dorf not knowing how to do things around the house, and clearly being unwilling to learn unless I lead him by the nose like a puppy, and me trying to do everything else....I shouldn't have lobbied for this house. My fuck up. AND his parents are trying to convince him that a little paint and spackle will render it purty so we can make a killing and sell it so we can move back to Toronto. They've never sold a house, since they still live in the first one they what the hell do they know?

Moral: Pregnant purchases are NOT GOOD.

Now, does anyone have any suggestions? It's so WET in this city-no wonder the trees all grow moss and algae and crap...

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Life on the Bus

Whenever I ride the bus in this craptastic town, I wonder things....stuff like....

  • Why, if you will be walking towards the rear of the bus when you exit, do you walk to the FRONT door? Is it really that hard to wave your hand to open the rear exit?
  • Why, when the BLIND person with the seeing eye dog enters, does NO ONE MOVE until the driver tells you too, even when you are wacked by the person's cane? And even then, it's the old lady that moves, not the young person.
  • WHY Mr. "600ilb, makes the bus list to the side", do you insist and yapping at the driver the entire time, and then stand there talking for 5 minutes when you get off? I'd like to go home too.
  • Why do people in Neon's and Aveo's think they will win a game of chicken with the bus? WHY?!?!?
  • If I have a baby with me, or a cake in my hands, why is it necessary to SLAM on the brakes just for a bus stop? You knew it was coming, I would hope....

I love transit, I really do, but somedays.....if the people weren't so bloody stupid, it wouldn't be so bad but my god....I've seen people walk from the back of the bus to get off at the front door, and then have to barge through a group of seniors to do so. You're 25! USE THE BACK DOOR FUCKTARD!

Monday, October 03, 2005

FOOD: Love it, or leave it?

Now, those who know me are well aware that I'm what you might call a picky eater. (well, I don't consider it picky so much as selective but I digress...) If I could just be hooked up to an IV, and be fed that way, I would do it. I don't really like to eat. And what I end up eating, is NOT good for me. AT ALL.

Now, I'm getting sick of people who like weird things (like, gee, I dunno, FRUITCAKE) making fun of my eating habits. I never claimed to be normal, or like normal foods.


Olives. OMFG I hate olives more than almost anything. They smell like BODY ODOR. They taste disgusting. They look like giant boogers. Did I mention they smell like B.O.? Man, I don't know how anyone eats them really.

Tomatoes: I sat on the bus one day listening to two older folks talk in almost obscene terms about how much they loved biting into a raw tomato. I was a few shades of green after that. I used to sorta like them, but after my second pregnancy, I can barely look at them. I can deal with tomato sauces, but the juice or actual tomatoes. barf. GROSS. All those weird ass seeds and slimy gook-no thank you.

FRUITCAKE: Do I really need to explain? Just the smell...the stuff is denser than solid maple, smells weird, and I have a secret nagging thought that it's really an explosive device.

Diet Coke: Really-the trade off is sugar and taste versus tastes like ass and might cause cancer. Really, no battle. It even smells like crap, and I'm fairly confident I could use it as a chemical weapon.

Food I Like:
Mashed Potatoes & Maple Baked Beans. It sounds gross. It LOOKS even worse. It tastes like heaven on a cold day when yr really hungry. Have to use real butter and MAPLE beans however.

Normal Coke: Ah, the reason behind my large behind. Nectar O'the Gods!

And that's about it....I don't like food that much....

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Actual Conversation once you have kids.

The Dorf calls me at work.

"OMFG, you won't BELIEVE what Vivian just did."

"um, ok...."


"You know I hate this game. Fuck off and tell me. I'm busy."

"Fine. She just whipped off her pants and diaper, and started running around the house yelling "bye pants!"

"ok......amusing I guess.."

"I thought it was, hold on, Vivian-NO! Shit-have to hose her off in the tub." CLICK.

Yes, Dorf, when the child whips her pants and diaper off, is running around and then suddenly gets REALLY quiet, it's NOT a good thing.

We're still finding shit on the deck.

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