Typical. Just days before renewing my driver's licence, I get into a smash-up.

There I was minding my own business, leisurely motoring home from work ... Tra La, La, La, La. Turning the curve on our tres icy road, I realized only too late a collision was imminent. Slamming on the brakes proved futile; all I could do was hang on for dear life as my trusty Caravan slid out of control on the hockey rink we call a street.


Crap! Crap! Crap!

Twisted metal and plastic flew. I just sat dumbfounded and began to shake.

Ackkk! I got out and surveyed the scene, prying out pieces wedged underneath my front end. Luckily, upon inspection my van didn't incur any damage.

But I sure as heck demolished the black late model that happened to be sitting in the middle of the street:

Scene of the accidentWho the hell puts a STEREO in the middle of the frickin' street????

Oh yeah. My idiot neighbors. Three days after garbage day. I was so pissed that I threw what was left of it up on the sidewalk.

The Ex-StereoGood thing I don't have to place an accident report. I can just imagine the conversation:

"Okay ma'am, what was the make and model of the one you hit?" The officer would ask.

"Ummm. A black Sony. Don't know the year, but it must have been an older make as it still had a tape deck."

"Did you say SONY?"

"Uh huh. Large model, a quad with quite the sound system, at least in its day."

"Uh ma'am, I don't believe Sony makes vehicles."

"Oh I know that. I hit a home stereo. In the middle of our street. Smashed it to bits too. It is now an Ex-Stereo."

Yeah. So that's when the breathalyzer would have been pulled out...

All hubby could say when I regaled him with my incident was "Sony eh? Maybe the speakers were still good!"

Not any more hon.

Not any more.


It's been nearly a month since I was on vacation yet I continue to struggle with one of Life's Most Challenging Questions each morning:

"What's today???"

Over the holidays it didn't matter if it was Saturday or Wednesday... they were all un-working days, so who gave a crap which exact day it was? It was a blissful two weeks. * Sigh *

But here it is, nearing the end of January, and I still lay in bed wondering... is it Thursday? No, Wednesday! Ummmm... it doesn't feel like Friday....

And I think I know why.

I blame it on TV. Yep. It HAS to be because my regular shows have yet to return to Prime Time.

Tres sad but tres true.

I used to know it was Thursday when the previous night we dumbed down to America's Next Top Model. Mondays I would be mentally smacking those idiots who made the wrong choices on The Amazing Race Sunday night. But now? Nothing. Nada. You'd think Friday would be easy to figure out; but without rehashing the latest Survivor episode in my head, I am lost.

But not "Lost"-lost... I never did start to watch that show when it first aired, and then it was too late; I was out of the loop. I guess I'll have to invest in the DVDs now. Errrr... but I digress....

Lately the only day I am absetively posolutely certain of is Tuesday. That's because my favorite show, "The Big Bang Theory", is back with new episodes on Monday nights. Bazinga!

Big Bang TheoryBut until the rest of our regularly-scheduled mind numbing, time sucking programs return, it looks like I'll need to locate a bedroom clock that displays the day of the week now too.

Because I'll be REALLY pissed if I accidentally get up at 5:30 am on a Sunday.

Set The Wayback Machine to 1975 Sherman

Wayback to 1975This past weekend daughter and I patroned a local antique store, typically located in the basement of an old musty building downtown. Whilst there I spotted something I simply had to have... an Eaton's Christmas catalog from 1975. I know. I'm weird. I bought a 35 year old catalog.

Now for my non-Canuck friends I'll explain. Eaton's was one of only two major department stores that existed when I was young. This was eons, erm, some time before the creation of the beast known as "The Mall"; everyone shopped at Eaton's and The Bay back then. And the Eaton's Christmas catalogue was a prized possession once it landed with a heavy thud on your doorstep each Fall. My siblings and I used to fight over scour that thick tome for hours, carefully researching our Wish List in preparation for the momentous visit to Santa.... on the eighth floor of Eaton's Department Store, natch.

So many memories came flooding back as I flipped through the cracked yellowing pages. So be forewarned, there will definitely be more posts to come inspired by what I've found inside.

One of the first things that struck me while perusing the book was the popularity of "Paisley" at the time. You know, that twisted teardrop pattern that was so prevalent in the Sixties and Seventies. Yes, it's still around today, but nowhere near the popularity it had back then.

Paisley dressIn nearly every section of the catalog there is something sporting the psychedelic Paisley design.

Now I must admit Paisley gives me the willies. I always had a sneaking suspicion it originated from some artsy-fartsy scientist after discovering them scurrying about on a microscope slide. Yeah, I know that it's really a very old pattern; but that doesn't stop me believing that they are simply creepy-crawly.

I mean, lookit!

It's like they were swimming all over women's dresses, flagella whipping about in every direction!

Paisley robe

Multiplying paramecium-like on men's dressing gowns!

Paisley tie

Utilizing their exterior cilia, they even crawled onto previously-deadly-dull striped ties!

Amazingly, household appliances didn't escape the invasion of the little buggars either...

Paisley vacuumAhhhhh! Paisley was epidemic! * Shiver *

Holy crap. I just remembered I even had a teacher in 1975 who was infected:

Mr PaisleyGak! Is that Paisley on his TIE too???

No wonder I did so bad at Dreaded Math. I couldn't concentrate with all those squiggly protozoans Freaking.Me.Out.

Mystery solved. Thank you, Eaton's catalog.

The One Thing

I shoulda known better.

A few days back I foolishly purchased a slightly different dry dog food. Same make, same kibble, except it was the "Homestyle" type. (Better known as the "fakey-organicy-you'll-be-a-better-dog-owner-if-you-pay-us-ahelluvalot-more-for-this-crap-because-we-put-photos-of-vegetables-on-the-bag" style.)

What's the problem with that? Well, it seems my dog has an aversion to any- and every- thing that isn't her usual food. Oh she gobbled it down as normal, inhaled so fast I highly doubt she even tasted it... but I paid dearly for my bad decision later by her incessant whining alerting me to a Imminent Irritable GI System Emergency.

Of course it was in the wee hours of the morning. On a weekday.

So as I stood at the garage door half-comatose, (resplendent in PJs, Micky Mouse slippers and hooded winter jacket bytheway) awaiting her return from the backyard doggy lavatory, my mind began to wander at how terrible it would be to eat the exact same thing, day-in and day-out.

And then I remembered I once knew a fellow who used to eat an identical lunch every day. A ham and cheese sandwich.

Ham SandwichMonday: Ham and cheese sandwich.

Tuesday: Ham and cheese sandwich.

Wednesday: Ham and cheese sandwich.

Thursday: Ham and cheese sandwich.

Friday: PB and J.... just kidding! Ham and cheese sandwich. Natch.

* Gak *

And then I spent what little was left of the night tossing and turning, unable to get back to sleep. Try as I might, I couldn't come up with the One Thing I could limit my diet to. No matter how tasty, I doubt I could choke down the same food day after day after day...

Note to self: Chuck the Homestyle kibble. Buy the old crap.

Unless I want to start every weekday at 4:37 am.

Perfectly Imperfect

Before the rest of the family awoke early Saturday morning, I thought it would be a good time to put the finishing touches on my previous post. So I turned on the TV for some background noise, plopped myself down on a comfy chair and powered up my trusty laptop.

I soon came to a point in the story that I needed to research; because in my head I could distinctly hear the Perfect Quote: "Hurrah and ..."

Aw crap. I couldn't remember the rest, but I knew I had heard it somewhere before. And that it would indeed be the Perfect Quote! Perfect I say!

Then I realized the Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show was showing on Teletoon Retro at that very moment.

Yes! That's it! It was a line from a Bugs Bunny cartoon! (Well, duh... I wasn't surprised; I grew up on that show and constantly recite from it.)

Genie and BugsSo I Googled, found out it was Jim Backus, aka Thurston Howell III from Gilligans Island * uncredited as Smokey the Genie in the 1948 toon "A-Lad-In His Lamp" who uttered the line I desperately needed for the Perfect Quote.

I searched some more, but I couldn't find the Perfect Quote on IMDb.

Then I finally found the video online and after a few bouts of swearing technical issues, eventually got it to run. When it came to the part I needed, I was poised to record the Perfect Quote for my post:

"Three cheers and a tiger for me!"

Aw, dammit! After half an hour of searching, it wasn't what I was looking for after all.

But then just minutes later, what Bugs Bunny episode comes on the TV right in front of me?


"A-Lad-In His Lamp".

Holy crap! Coincidence? I think not. The Universe just has a sick sense of humour and enjoys

So it wasn't the Perfect Quote. But the timing was still darn funny. And a titch creepy.

* (Oh Gad, I can't believe I admitted knowing that G.I. reference)


Whatever smartass proclaimed that the highest amount of caloric over indulgence occurs during the Holiday Season was wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

It's the eating AFTER the Holidays that is the hazard.

Or Post Holiday Eating Disorder (PHED) as I have decided to call it. I can since I could be the only one afflicted. Then again, I highly doubt it. But I'll wager you never had a name for it before.

Well now you do.

You're welcome.

How did I make this monumental discovery? Well you see, blithely believing and simultaneously fearing the dreaded Holiday Overindulgence, I carefully controlled my portions at the many Christmas and New Year's dining experiences I attended.

I also limited the amount of scrumptious cookies and other festive baking I inhaled sampled.

I watched that I didn't get too Egg Noggy at brunchtimes.

I kept my plate from spilling over the edges on the 25th; dessert and all.

I didn't even finish my delicious meal at the local restaurant hubby and I patroned at the end of December.

Nope. That wasn't a problem at all. I survived the Holiday Season uscathed and un-heavier. Hurrah and Hallelujah!

The problem is NOW.

Now I have all these delectable gifts to devour. Oh don't get me wrong. I LOVE chocolate and sweets. Love them dearly and love getting them as gifts.

It's just that for some reason, I am NOT doing a good job at resisting temptation anymore. I am battled out.

Candy Candy CandyHow is it that I can avoid piling my plate at Christmas dinner, but I can't ignore a small piece of dark chocolate sweetly calling my name?

I'll just have a FEW chocolate covered cranberries....

Ooooh. English Allsorts. Yummy.

See's Famous Old Time Candies from California??? Awesome! Don't mind if I do!

After Eights? Okee dokee, even though it's only four pm.

Well, perhaps just two Brandy Beans. Nom. Nom.

I am seriously PHED Up. I need help. Take it away! No, don't take it! Hide it! Help me eat it!

Anything to keep me from violently waling on my poor defenseless bathroom scale.

How To Waste A Lunchhour

In Five Easy Steps

A few weeks back I discovered a wonderful new (well, new to ME that is) art tool called Copic Sketch Markers. Made in Japan for the past 25 years or so, these refillable alcohol-based pens are incredible to shade with, come in over 300 colours and have dual tips, which is why they're the choice of anime artists the world over. Not that I do a lot of anime, but I have already used them to draw with and in my stamping / cardmaking hobby.

Because of this, of course they are freakishly expensive. Amazingly I have been uncharacteristically prudent and have allowed myself to acquire only a few at a time.

Okay, almost half.

So far.

But when I started purchasing them, I soon realized I needed a proper unit to store them horizontally at my desk to enable me to read the colour names / numbers whilst sitting down. And I didn't want to shell out hundreds of dollars for Copic's large acrylic shelves... not when I could use that same amount to buy.... more markers! Doh!

So being the cheap OCD geek that I am, I thought I would make one. I mean, how hard could it be to make a small black desktop shelving unit? It only took one lunch hour to design what I thought would suffice:

Step 1: Research.

I Googled "Copic marker storage" for ideas on what others were using. I printed off this one but since I couldn't buy it here in Canada, I made notes on its dimensions as mine had to be deep enough so the pens wouldn't fall out, with compartments to separate them by colour group.

(Go ahead. Laugh. I know you want to...)

Step 2: Initial schematics.

I drew what I wanted to create, so I could calculate (Gak! Dreaded Math!) the dimensions of all the parts.

It took a few tries, but I finally figured out what I needed (proving once again that Dreaded Math was not my strong subject in school... I was too busy doodling at the back of class).

Step 3: Create a working model.

Using graph paper, I measured and cut out all the pieces I would need, making score lines for shelves and their supports.

Now that the Dreaded Math was over, it was fun to begin creating. (It also ensured I hadn't screwed up the Dreaded Math after all).

Step 4: Assemble working model.

For the full 3D effect, I taped my creation together.

Coolness! It worked! I must admit I was proud. And quite surprised too.

All I needed now was to shop for the materials; some thin balsa wood, a bit of black paint, glue, a few nails and I could start organizing my pens in no time.

Which is half the fun.

Alright, it is 99.5% of the fun for us OCD types.

Step 5: Shop for supplies.

After work, I stopped off at Michael's for the materials that would transform my design into reality.

So I went over to the balsa wood section.

Only to find

for FIVE measly dollars

premade wooden shelves that worked PERFECTLY to hold my new markers.

Gad. All that Dreaded Math for nothing.

Marathon (Wo)Man

Ah two week vacations at Christmas time... the perfect plan. One I have been ingeniously implementing for years now. Because I refuse to admit I procrastinate, I desperately require that first week off work to do final preparations for the Biggest Day of the Year.

Therefore, it's not surprising that the second week is vitally necessary to collapse relax from said Biggest Day of the Year.

I must not be the only one; because television programmers seem to have adjusted their schedules to match this phenomenon. The week before Christmas is filled with holiday specials and every seasonal movie ever made.

And the week after Christmas is jam-packed with "marathons". They just know we are stuffed with turkey, chocolate and champagne and thus can barely summon the energy to heave ourselves off the couch for days. Talk about a captive audience.

Sometime on New Year's Eve I got hooked on the Comedy Network's Corner Gas "Merry-thon". They aired all 107 episodes in the series, which took nearly three days. Makes me thank the Gods I didn't purchase those Corner Gas DVDs for hubby's Christmas gift after all.

I love Corner Gas. Not just because it's Canadian. Or because it's hilarious. Or because it frequently mentions Winnipeg. No, I just love the characters and the writing.

What I DON'T love is the other Marathon running at the same time. The Marathon of Exactly.The.Same.Stupid.Commercials at every frickin' break.

I mean for the first hour or two that Burger King Bourbon Whopper looks kinda appetizing.

But by hour 20, I was getting nauseous at the thought of a burger with a sweet sauce, onion rings, cheese and bacon on it.

By hour 40, I vowed as God is my witness, I would never step into a Burger King again.

Every few minutes I was watching the idenitcal run of repeating ads from cough and mucous medicines (Gak!) to dandruff and acne cures, with of course, Burger King thrown in for good measure.

It got so bad, I nearly turned it off! But instead I grabbed the laptop and got a few things done whilst rooted in my comfy chair.

  • I answered emails.
  • I napped.
  • I surfed.
  • I napped.
  • I snacked.
  • I napped.
  • I even wrote a blog post!
So it wasn't a complete waste of time.

But I just about died when it was over and hubby asked me to pop by Burger King to get him that stupid Whopper.

BK Bourbon Whopper

NOT An Old Fogie

Firstly: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope 2010 holds many great things for us all.Happy New Year!Secondly: As a new year begins, one cannot help but ponder the passage of time on a personal level. Yes, I realize I am getting... gak!... "Older". But at least I'm not like hubby who is getting "Old Fogier". I see it happening before my eyes. The guy who once rocked out to Zeppelin is the same one who recently, upon waking to the clock radio on the morning of his 51st birthday, uttered the following Old Fogie Standard: "Geez, they'll make a song about ANYTHING nowadays."

I couldn't resist (like any good wife should) pointing out his Old Fogie-ness yet again. "Um, honey, you DO know that Carly Rae Jepsen's 'Bucket Song' is sampling a very old song, don't you?"

He didn't answer... probably feigning selective deafness once more; another O.F. trait. Especially for married male O.Fs.

I refuse to become an O.F. However, at times I have a sneaking suspicion my age may be creeping up. A titch. It irritates me to no end when I find myself having a "Senior Moment". Like yesterday whilst in the shower. (Ha! Got you interested NOW, don't I?)

I mean, how hard can it be to keep only two things straight? I have my shampoo and I have my liquid body soap. Extremely familiar items I have used correctly thousands of times before.

Until yesterday when I squeezed out a whopping blob of liquid body soap into my hand and absent-mindedly slapped it up on my scalp.
"Oh, that's not too bad," you are thinking (I know you are; don't deny it).

Well perhaps it wouldn't have been problematic if the liquid soap wasn't jam packed with a kajillion itsy-bitsy skin-exfoliating pumice granules.

Ever try to get a kajillion itsy-bitsy skin-exfoliating pumice granules out of your hair? It's not easy.

Or fun for that matter.

I doubt scalp-exfoliation will ever catch on. At least for non-baldy-type people.

* Sigh. *

I'm just thankful I was in the shower....

... and even more thankful that hubby didn't witness my Senior Moment.

Yes, mine are called Senior Moments.... because I am NOT an Old Fogie.

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Yeah, I should be doing laundry, yardwork, cleaning the house or planning meals. But frankly, I'D RATHER BE BLOGGING... about things like this.

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