Ah 1975.

I wasn't quite 15, but still on the hunt for a part-time summer job.

Even though I had pitifully few skills, my quest didn't last long.

Because a friend of mine told me the Railway was looking for hostesses to work on a vintage locomotive for their new tour. They needed a couple of girls to greet passengers and serve food on the two-hour excursion running twice every Sunday from May to September.

Hey! We were girls! We could greet people! We could serve food!

Yes, the requirements for the job were demanding. Still, surprisingly we were both hired.

Groovy!

Yes, I said "Groovy". It was the 70's after all...


Before the first trip, we decided to make our own uniforms. We searched high and low, finally finding the proper grey pinstripe fabric collecting dust at the back of an ancient store in, of course, the worst part of town.

We sewed flattering overalls with flared legs, bought matching red and white shirts, red bandanas and received official railway caps from the company to finish off our look.

And in true 70's fashion style, we also added lenticular eye buttons to the hips. A tad bit naughty I fear, as we swaggered up and down the aisles, "winking" at the customers as we passed.

For years I worked on The Prairie Dog Central, a steam powered train from 1882. I became a master of the "weave"; the gait you must perfect to counter-sway to the movement of the train, lest you spill your sweet treats all over some unsuspecting tourist.

My favorite memory was the day of the Great Train Robbery.

The passengers didn't know what was planned.

And *I* wasn't informed on everything that was going on either, unfortunately...

During the ride out to the countryside, a group of horsemen burst through the trees, galloping alongside the train, fake guns a-blazing. The locomotive came to a halt as the passengers wondered what the heck was going on. Soon the Engineer and Fireman got out with their hands up in surrender as the robbers seized their bags of booty.

But before they departed, one cowboy grabbed me from the coach, swept me up onto the back of his horse and sped off back into the bush while I held on for dear life.

Shocked at the surprising turn of events, I watched from the gang's hiding spot as the train left without me. Then we bolted off for the end of the line, the thick woods providing cover.

And were waiting to greet old Number 3 when it finally came chugging up.

The looks on the faces of those kids was priceless when they saw me safe and sound, laughing with my "captors"!

I'll bet there aren't many people who can say they were kidnapped by Train Robbers...

even though my daughter may think that yes, I AM that old.

It was NINEteen seventy-five, honey.

Not Eighteen-seventy-five.

When I was young, like many girls my age, I wanted to be a veterinarian.

We went through that stage of adoring kittens and puppies, so what better job was there than to be surrounded by them all the time? Soon my friends decided teachers or stewardesses would be more exciting careers.

But not me.

I was serious. I stayed focused and even had undergone specialized training that ensured I would be a Great Vet.

For you see, I had read the ENTIRE series of books "All Creatures Great and Small" by James Herriot.

So there!

Undeterred that I didn't actually OWN any pets except for a few tropical fish and a small mouse, named appropriately, "Tiny", I was positive I wanted to dedicate my life's calling to the care and healing of animals.

As I grew up, surprisingly that dream stayed with me, even until after I graduated high school when I found out a new Veterinary Assistant's course was starting up in our city. Joy! I wouldn't have to travel to the next province to train! It was surely meant to be.

I placed my name on the two year wait list and took an evening course in chemistry just to make sure I met all the prerequisites.

And when the time finally came for me to be accepted into the program...

I was already taking Business Administration at the local college.

Dammit.

I wonder what would have happened if I had chosen that path?

Would I have become a Great Vet like James?

Would I have saved the lives of countless animals?

Would I have learned the proper technique to give medicine to my own cat without wasting half of it dribbling down my hand?




I had unwittingly acheived my life's dream. Just think of all those animal's lives I have saved by NOT becoming a Great Vet.

Summer sucks.

It sucks because I am in withdrawal...

I have the shakes. Anxiety. Beads of sweat collect on my brow when I realise my ever-diminishing stash will be completely used up way too soon.

Rationing isn't an option.

Neither is going cold turkey.

I have to find another source.

Somewhere.

Another pusher to fill my dependency.

My need for the White Powder.

At work they know my addiction... the White Powder I can't do without each and every day.

And they feed it.

Because I am the only one around who still uses REAL sugar in their coffee.


All the other staff use Splenda or Sugar Twin. But not me. That crap makes me nauseous. I need the real thing.

So whenever there are leftovers from rounds or meetings, the extra cups, coffee, creamers and stir sticks go to the Staff Room for everyone to share.

Except the White Powder.

It lands on my desk without me even asking....all for ME. And me alone. I hoard it in my desk drawer and dip into it whenever I need a fix.

But dammit... during July and August, rounds are cancelled. Meetings are rare.

And my stockpile dwindles to nothing. Frantically I search in vain for just a few more packs.

Oh no.... *sob*.

Don't panic, Maureen.

Remember, you have a reserve at home you can bring into work to tide you over till September.

I hope.

...it will be too soon.

This happens every time an artist descends on the city for a concert.

In an obvious effort to promote sales, all the radio plays is ONE and only ONE of the featured act's songs over and over.

And &*%^#! over again.

I was ecstatic Kid Rock was finally here last week. Not because I am a fan and eagerly awaiting the show.

Oh no.

It's because I never, ever, ever want to hear "All Summer Long" for as long as I live.

Ever again.

I am positive listening to it once per hour for the last bloody two months will do me just fine. It is now permanently etched on my brain.

Criminy.

A lot of Big Name Acts*(BNAs for short) have come / are coming through the city in 2008:

Kid Rock
Akon
Tom Jones
Iron Maiden
Boston
Kanye West
Rush
Foo Fighters
Avril Lavigne
John Mellencamp
Tom Petty
Def Leppard
Billy Idol
Motley Crue
Oasis
Simple Plan
Elton John
Kelly Clarkson
Reba McEntire
Sheryl Crow
Neil Diamond
Celine Dion
Lenny Kravitz

And you can be sure that each time there will be massive overplaying of the BNA's latest hit until I am sick to death of said BNA.

Well, perhaps with the exception of Elton John.

These musicians have a plethora of music to offer; some with decades of compositions to choose from. But instead of delving into those resources, we are forcefed BNA's newest single on their new CD ad nauseum.

Until the next BNA is on its way. Then we go through the same torture once more.

Marketing at it's finest. Make listeners so disgusted that they can't wait until the BNA is well out of town.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go turn off the radio and put my iPod on shuffle.

...a cat who thinks she can fly.

Or climb walls.

I was awoken at an ungodly hour (Gad. 5 am on a vacation day is simply criminal) by our Ragdoll cat meowing.

Now I don't know if it's characteristic of the breed or just ours, but she is usually nearly mute. Her "meow" is the rarest of sounds, and when she DOES get vocal, she sounds like she has a muffler installed.

It's a nice change from the other two felines' caterwauling.

So it was startling to hear her bellow whilst perched on the end of our waterbed frame.

Staring straight UP.

At something crawling across the ceiling.

Waggling her rear back and forth, she prepared to pounce.

And then...

...she jumped.

Straight at the wall.

Whack!

And as she failed to find purchase on anything but a bare surface, she descended quickly, her claws producing that grating nails-on-a-chalkboard sound nearly the entire journey downward. Until it was brought to an abrupt end with a loud THUMP!

From my vantage point, I couldn't see if she landed on her feet, or if she was simply a heap on the floor. So instead of continuing my fit of laughter, I thought I'd better check on her. She had left the room and was fine except, I'm sure, for a slightly bruised dignity.

I went back to bed and was just drifting off to sleep when I spotted something.

Lowering itself on a thin thread from the ceiling.

Right. Over. My. Head.

Acccccck! A spider!

SuperCat! Where the hell are you when I need you?

Gad I am a cheap date.

Hey, I said "cheap DATE" not "cheapSKATE"!!!

Since I was dining solo tonight, I treated myself to some Japanese takeout before leaving the mall. Chicken Teriyaki with veges and fried rice... mmmmm. Enough food for two meals set me back a measly $ 5.69.

Okay. Maybe I possess an itty-bitty smidgen of cheapskatedness...

Domo Arigato!

As my pleasant but admittedly English-challenged server was wrapping it up for me, she stopped.

I had thought perhaps the order was wrong...

... but no, it was tossed, sizzled and steamed right in front of my hungry eyes, so I KNEW they got it correct.

My stomach growled as I wondered how much longer I would have to stand there.

She opened up the box again, gave me a big smile and plopped in a free springroll.

"You Have Happy Day!" she beamed and handed me the bag.

And so I did.

Man. I can be swayed for mere pennies.

Or whatever the hell a springroll goes for nowadays, apparently.

Dammit.

I was tagged "challenged" by Jeff at View From The Cloud who was, in turn cajoled by Brent at The Ominous Comma to:

"Write a funny post that includes an actual and helpful technical blogging tip or educational material helpful to new bloggers."

Crap. Er, I mean, I was honored to be one of a chosen five to participate.

Now I have to admit, I didn't start out as a humour blogger. In fact, I was simply attempting to accurately portray my life in an online journal. It just turned out that people laughed at me. A lot. So to save face and just a tiny speck of my dignity, I tell people I meant to be funny all along.

And they believed me.

So, here you go. The Official*:

Handy Dandy Tool Tips For, But Not Limited To, Future Humour Bloggers™
*Official in my mind only

1) Shell out $ 50 for a digital recorder that:

- You will never truely figure out how to use
- You will forget to bring along with you anywhere
- You will in fact, therefore only use once

2) Buy a small journal to write ideas down in that:

- You will forget somewhere
- You will therefore buy each time you are at the stationery store
- You will repeat numerous times until you have one in every frickin' room in your home AND one or more for your car


3) Use your digital camera to take a bajillion photos for a single blog post. Proceed to:

- Go crazy trying to choose just one
- Spend days photoshopping it until it is perfect
- Forget what the damn post was about in the first place
- Resign to placing photo in your draft posts folder under a totally inane and non-descriptive title like "Images"


4) Make sure that whenever inspiration hits at work, to write it down on Post-It Notes©. Then:

- Stick Post-Its into your Palm Pilot© (What? Isn't that the way to keep data in a Palm©?)
- Totally embarass yourself at the next staff meeting when all your little notes about co-workers' idiosyncrasies spill out onto the conference table for everyone to read.


5) Your BEST ideas will invariably pop into your head just as you are drifting off to sleep. Therefore:

- Write them down in one of the many journals you have recently relocated.
- Pray to the Gods that you'll be able to decipher those chicken scratches you thought were absolutely hilarious the night before.



Hopefully these Handy Dandy Tool Tips For, But Not Limited To, Future Humour Bloggers™ will ensure that in no time people will be laughing at you, too.

Whether you want them to or not.



And to save myself future hate mail and/or death threats, I'll just leave this open for any humour blogger to participate in if they are insane enough wish to.

January 1, 1975:

Today I made a new Year's Resolution that I would be a faithful fan of Elton John's. I start my scrapbook today.

Ah, yes. My first full-blown obsession at the ripe old age of 14.... I was crazy for Elton John ever since I heard "Tiny Dancer". Perhaps this is why I have never again made a New Years Resolution.... gaahhhh.

January 2, 1975:

Am finding it hard to collect things for my scrapbook right now. But I'm listening to "Greatest Hits".

Geez. I had given it one whole day to "collect things" for my scrapbook. Bravo, Maureen. Patience was obviously NOT my virtue.

January 21, 1975:

Today I got "Caribou". It's fantastic! Listened to it all night. #2 Elton.

And my parents were upstairs thanking the Gods that my bedroom was in the basement.

January 29, 1975:

Today I got "Empty Sky" #3 Elton.

Hmmm.... Eight days later and yet another record purchased. Albums must have been cheap back then. And I don't recall a music store so close to home that I could run to it every friggin' day.

February 3, 1975:

Got "Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only The Piano Player". #4 Elton.

What the hell? Did I get a load of cash for Christmas that year or something???

February 4, 1975:

Listened to more of Don't Shoot Me.

Oh good. Play the poor things till they were scraped smooth. This is why I recall taping a penny or two to the stylus so they wouldn't skip...

February 14, 1975:

Want to get "Yellow Brick Road!"

Well, of course I did! I mean, it HAD been a whole 11 days since my last Elton John purchase! What the hell was I waiting for???

February 22, 1975:

Painted first portrait of Elton. Turned out good, if I do say so myself!

Oh, gad. Modesty was obviously not a trait of my 14 year old self.

March 12, 1975:

Second portrait of Elton completed. I hung it up right away with the other one over my bed.

Okay, give me a break. I was a naive teen girl and this was before he "came out of the closet"... ahem... But I DO still have that one with the yellow background. I think I painted over the others.

March 25, 1975:

Today I celebrated Elton's birthday. Hope you had a happy one!

OMG. I can't believe I wrote that. Did I REALLY think HE would even care that some geeky teen in Canada wished him a Happy Birthday? Criminy. Maybe I thought I could send him good vibes via telepathy. And yeah, I shan't have worried. With his millions, drugs and alcohol, I am POSITIVE he had a "happy one"!

May 12, 1975:

Got Tommy! FANTASTIC!!

And I remember seeing the movie later... Um. Let's just say the music was the best part. Yikes. I would never look at baked beans the same way again.

May 19, 1975:

Got "Captain Fantastic" # 7

What? No "FANTASTIC" comment???? Oh yeah. I already said that - twice.

May 30, 1975:

100 Pages!! Finished First Scrapbook!

And that was one of the last entries I ever wrote in my diary.

I wish I still had that scrapbook. Unfortunately it's been lost with the most of my collection over the years. But I still have a photo of my Elton John shrine... and there's the infamous Scrapbook sitting in the middle of it all.


So this was my first bout of OCD, as documented in my Five Year Diary.

Man. I kept that thing squirreled away, locked and hidden for years. It's only with age that I am now brave enough to show you the most embarassing Elton John entry of them all:

March 2, 1975:




Oh. My. God.