No, no ... you don't understand. My husband does not use profanity like I do. He's a good Irish Catholic Newfie boy. He says "shit" now and then ... but fuck? Nuh-uh. I did the bi-weekly grocery shopping last night on my way home from work. I friggen detest the grocery store like the plague, but it has to be done - and apparently I have to do it. Hubs had agreed to take the girls to their school's Spring Fling. Aw ... pity, I was going to miss all the fun! (Suddenly spending two hours of my time and most of my pay cheque in the grocery store didn't seem quite so bad.) Anyhoo ... when I got home, they were back and I noticed immediately that something was wrong with my husband. You need to know something about this man ... he has two moods: His usual patient, work-a-day self ... and horny. That's pretty much it. I have enough moods for all of us, so it really works quite well. But last night, he was pissed. Like, really pissed. I asked him seve...
I just realized I did not actually write a post for my Mom. I am a seriously bad daughter. I mean, I brought her some pretty posies and lovely cards and such ... and I fed her (which I do most days anyway, so not really that special) but I didn't give her the gift of my heart on paper. (In my defense, I was terribly busy scanning old pics into my FB account in a futile attempt to make me feel good about myself ... EPIC FAIL) Bad daughter! Thank you to Fabuleslie over at Give Me Paws for the post she wrote about her mother. It made me cry. Then, it kicked me in my ass, 'cause I realized I had printed a bunch of drivel that came from sappy email forwards and neglected the single most influential person in my life. Bad daughter! So, in typical form - I give you my Mom: CC ... a day late and a dollar short. Thank you, Mom ... for always knowing just what would make 'it' better... whatever 'it' was (Oh - she told me yesterday that I once flipped arse over...
Okay ... so I've caught the quiz bug from Xtreme . Here's the deal, I have painstakingly typed out lyrics from some of my music repatoire. Whoever can figure out the song/artist/group ... whatevs ... wins! What do you win, you may ask?? My respect and admiration for being so damned kool and having a varied and vast music appreciation. (My money is on Eyvi, since her musical taste is fairly similar to mine ... but Spot seems to live inside my head sometimes ... so not so sure ... PS - speaking of ghost stories... is it terribly scary in there, Spot???) Here goes: 1) Throwing out the blame when you know it ain't my fault Messing with my brain when you want to see me fall 2) I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail ... I got me a car, it seats about 20 so hurry up and bring your juke box money 3) I've got a freaky old lady, name o'Cocaine Katie who emroiders all my jeans 4) So you run and you run to catch up with the sun, b...
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