Peep...

Yeah, that's right.

I'm a peep.

Click THIS and peep me!

Do it.

Seriously.

It's the Holiday Season.

They're About This Big...

Date: Thursday, December 21, 2006.

Time: 8:00 pm.

Place: Lingerie Store

Those Present: The Boob Lady, Drunk Pervert, Video Surveillance on wall.

Description of What Went Down:

I'm counting my till, preparing for the evening close.

In walks in Rico Suave.

Rico reeks. Smells like a distillery.

Strutting to the counter, Rico smirks at me.

I ask him if there's anything I can help him find to which he replies: "I need a matching bra and panty set."

I oblige in the beginning of the hunt.

Rico follows me around like a lost puppy while I show him some popular selections.

Rico decides that he's found the perfect gift.

I ask what size he's looking for.

He looks lovingly at my chest.

I suppress a gag.

He notices me looking oddly at him.

He then asks me to put a few different sizes of bras on the counter.

I oblige.

Once the bras are placed on the counter, Rico proceeds to stare each bra down and then slowly his hands creep up towards the counter ledge.

I wonder why he's acting so peculiar, other than the fact that he's clearly shitfaced.

Turns out that Rico simply wanted to cup all the bras in size sequence to see approximately what boob size he was looking to purchase the bra for.

I raise an eyebrow. (I'm good at that)

Rico decides on the 36 B.

I anticipate seeing this bra return to my store on the 27th of December when the mall re-opens.

**Open letter to drunk pervs**

Dear Drunk Perv,

Don't come in my store drunk and cup my bras after staring at my chest and deeming my hooters too big.

You're gross.

Sincerely,

The Boob Lady

Best. Video. Ever...

The following is NSFW. (Not safe for work) I'm sure most of you normal people are all on "Vacation" now.

Enjoy it.

Once I'm done taking over the retail world, there will ONLY be vacation for us retail lackeys.

Not you fancy pants nine to fivers.

This video is simply amazing.

Seriously.

This might be the best thing I've seen all year.

It is my present to you.

Happy Holidays!

Crazy Cat Lady...

Okay, so, I totally stole this from Megan at By & By because it's me.

Or at least it will be.

Call me a thief, call me a liar, but don't EVER call me the Crazy Cat Lady.

At least not yet.

Okay, now.

My Holiday Sweater...

Here is something special just for Vikki. I'm not sure that she even reads this, but if she does, she'll get the joke.

If not, enjoy my Christmas sweater.

Marathon...

I can't friggin' wait.

T minus 3 days until the 24 best hours of the season.

In case you were wondering, yes, the answer is yes.

I will be sitting on the floor, drinking wine alone, in my underpants and watching this movie.

Over and over.

And over.

Best scene?

Anything starring Scut Farkus.

Tag, Tag, Bo, Bag...

I got meself tagged again, this time by Dirty.

Enjoy...

A-Available or single?

B-Best Friend? Mema.

C-Cake or pie? Cake. Always Cake. Unless it's lemon meringue.

D-Drink of choice? Pepsi.

E-Essential item I use every day... Blistex.

F-Favorite color? Black.

G-Gummy Bears or Gummy worms? Gummy Worms. Sour ones.

H-Hometown? Labrador.

I-Indulgence...Lobster.

J-January or February? February.

K-Kids and names... Nada. Two cats, that counts.

L-Life is incomplete without? Pepsi, candles and drunken sex. Or sex period. (I'll steal most of Dirty's answer)

M-Marriage date...Whenever I am cryogenically UNfrozen.

N-Number of siblings...1 younger brother.

O-Oranges or apples? Oranges. Unless I have Mema's Apple Crisp.

P-Phobias or fears? Car Accidents or being the crazy cat lady spinster.

Q-Favorite quote? "Balls!"

R-Reasons to smile...Christmas is almost over!

S-Season? Fall.

T-Tag 3 or 4 people...Jonah, Frank, and Amy.

U-Unknown fact about me... I don't like to sit on my couch. I very rarely sit on furniture, always on the floor.

V-Vegetable you don't like...Peas. Never have. Never will.

W-Worst habit...Swearing like a sailor.

Y-Your favorite food? Mema's Seafood Lasagna.

Z-Zodiac? Leo.

Debate...

I honestly debated with myself for quite some time this evening.

You see, if you've read any of my comments, you'll notice that there are a few there that are requesting some "discreet" pictures of my ta-tas to judge whether or not they're really as big as people seem to say they are. (To my face, in my store...)

In the end, common sense won, and for now, you will have to settle for this lovely picture. A chaste woman in a turtleneck.

Sadly, it's not even really of me. Although, my PhotoShop skills are truly a sight to behold. (It's late, fuck off...)

Soon Jonah, Soon...

An Open Letter To Christmas...

First, let me start off by saying, I know it's baby Jesus' birthday, and I mean no offense to Christmas.

Dear Christmas,

Please be over soon.

Seriously, I am so over you.

I am currently prepared to cancel Christmas altogether.

I have been working for a little over a week now, with 4 days to go.

This is sheer lunacy.

Mean customers, creepy mall lurkers, old ladies in stirrups and Christmas sweaters, hooligans, and screaming babies.

Make. It. Stop.

Pretty please?

I can't handle much more of this.

I am tired, cranky, and completely unable to sleep properly.

I am beginning to develop a tic.

I've consumed entirely way too much Pepsi.

I may have also eaten my fair share of chocolates and cookies already.

I mean, come on, is it even right?

The answer is no.

Christmas is a time for sharing, for being with your family, for enjoying eachothers' company.

Not for buying exorbitant amounts of presents and pushing people around with empty shopping carts.

In closing, I would like to apologize again to Christmas. Please don't be mad at me. I really do love you, I just wish you would go away.

Sincerely,

The Boob Lady

The Flippin' Celebutard Thing...

http://www.myheritage.com

This one's for you Chris... Although, my look-a-likes are a smidge hotter than your Capriati. That one will go down as a classic.

Oh, and never you mind about the whole "angry" looking thing I've got goin' on. Don't ask. I'm being sassy.

Ella...

I came across this Ella Fitzgerald song a while back and then while reading the Mitch Albom book "For One More Day", the lyrics to the song are in there too.

They struck a chord in me somewhere, just thought I'd share...

"You're walking along the street, or you're at a party,

Or else you're alone and then you suddenly dig,

You're lookin' in someone's eyes, you suddenly realize

That this could be the start of something big."

Who knows what path we're all on, where we're supposed to be, what we should be doing with our lives?

When is it time to step back, look at your place in line, wonder what it is you're doing?

Will you know?

Jack In A Box...

Celebrity Look-A-Likes...

This thing is a piece of shit.

Pure, unadulterated turd.

Seriously.

My results will be postponed until tomorrow when this stinkin' site can process my "collage" without an error.

Chris, I know you'll take special enjoyment out of this, solely based on the fact that I made fun of you for looking like Jennifer Capriati.

Seriously...

Another old bag told me my tits were huge at the store yesterday.

There was a witness to this travesty.

I almost couldn't believe that it happened again, literally, for the third day in a row.

K (My Assistant) just kind of stood there agape.

After aforementioned old bag said this, I smacked my fist in my palm and said: "Third day in a row... wow."

That was it, nothing more.

The old bag apologized.

Yeah, they're big. So?

Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific...

A seemingly uneventful evening this past Monday quickly took a turn for the worst when I was preparing my close.

A gentleman came in and started rooting through my lovely clean panty table.

I should tell you that my panty table looks impeccable. Always.

Until men come in at quarter to nine and mess it up.

This literally sends creepy crawlies down my back. I hate it.

So, he's rooting, digging, using his claws to trample the poor table and when I ask if he needs help, he says he's fine.

I'm patiently waiting while he's got his panties in one hand and begins to look through the sleepwear.

He comes to the counter and lays his goods down.

It's at this point that I realize he's drunk.

Totally inebriated.

As I'm ringing in his purchases, I notice that he's leaning a little bit closer to me, inch by inch.

I'm still being polite, telling him his total, taking his money, slowly leaning back.

He's still coming.

I notice that his eyes seem to be closing a little, he's sniffing.

He's SMELLING me!!!

Seriously.

I am almost sitting on the opposite counter since he's practically straddling my counter and

smelling away.

I smile, pass him his change and wish him a nice evening and a Happy Holiday.

He turns to leave and just as he's about to exit the premises, he turns to me and tells me how nice I smell.

With that, he's gone.

Out the door.

Like an apparition.

A drunk apparition who likes to smell attractive sales people with nice boobs.

Tag Bitches...

Holy Crap. I got tagged again.

This time, by Frank. I am to tell you childhood crushes. I'll spill, but it won't be pretty.

The first hardcore crush I can remember without straining my brain far back into my repressed childhood (I'm kidding...) is a boy I'll call J. We'd been in school together for as long as I can remember and were pretty inseperable. We'd sit together in music class, lingeringly touch hands under the desk, make googly eyes at eachother. I actually went to school with J up until high school graduation. We always stayed close, but never quite made the transition to boyfriend/girlfriend.

My next crush who I'll call JK was when I was in the 6th Grade. He was in 7th. I think that says it all. He was my first kiss. In a field, just outside his house. It was glorious. I still remember feeling like my lips were going to explode while I ran home. They were buzzing. Ah, the first kiss.

The next crush I go for here was a boy, B, that drove the ice cream cart in my neighbourhood. I flirted with my eyes while laying on a blanket on my front lawn every summer afternoon. He became my "boyfriend" not long after that but it didn't last. I think for me it was the thrill of the chase.

Another, was a guy that I went to high school with. I was in Grade 10, He was in 12th. We'll call him JP. (Turns out I had a thing for J's...) We lived pretty close to eachother (He was about 6 houses away) and walked to and from school or rode the bus together. Somehow, one day, (I'm sorry if you're reading this mom...) we ended up making out in a little cubby hole by the bathrooms. We'd do that literally every day. We'd never call eachother boyfriend or girlfriend, but just enjoyed hanging out.. Or making out. Whatever. (Again, mom, I am sorry)

I had a crush on a younger french guy in University for a while. He was hot. I was the older woman in that scenario... I think he enjoyed that. I know I did.

That's it. Or at least all I can tell you about. Any more and I'd have to get rid of you.

I now tag Dirty and Jonah.

Dammit!!!

I forgot to tag again. I'm new to this whole "tag" thing, so here you go, again...

The five tag-ees for the "5 Songs to describe how I'm feeling right now" are: (in no particular order)

Marni, Chris, Jonah, Frank, and Hootch. Song away folks!!

PS: Last time I don't tag properly, I promise.

PPS: I still can't fucking comment. I even cleared my cache.

If You Need To Do Laundry...

Do yourself a favor... Check this out. I can't even wait.

I would also like to wash my panties on Gerard Butler's abs.

Seriously.

Holy Tag Batman...

I've been tagged again. This time, by dirty.

She would like me to tell you the 5 songs that describe how I'm feeling right now.

So, without further ado, here they are.

1. Clap Hands - Beck (I love this song, I dance around the store when it comes on... Not a feeling per se, but still, I enjoy it..)

2. 12:59 Lullaby - Bedouin Soundclash (This song reminds me that I'm up until all hours of the night due to my insomnia because, although my body is exhasted, my mind is always running.)

3. Sweet Ones - Sarah Slean (Just like it)

4. Welcome to the Jungle - G 'n' R (Let's face it, I work in retail...)

5. Enjoy the Silence - Depeche Mode (Mostly cause I'd like to...)

That's it, nothing fancy.

I've got a great rack though, so I can get away with it.

Baby Got Tagged! (Tag-ees)

When I got tagged, since it was my first, I wasn't sure of the protocol.

I would like to tag the following people for the whole "5 things you don't know about me"...

Dirty, Hootch, Jonah, (Even though I know he won't do it) Grant, (Although I don't know if he's done it or not) and Jen.

Hooray.

Comments...

Hey kids,

I want to apologize to you all.

I can't comment back to you.

I can't comment on my own friggin' blog.

Blogger Beta can suck my left nut.

Or boob.

Since I don't have nuts.

Thanks for reading!

Jenn

Thanksgiving...

I know that Thanksgiving is over.

For you American's, it's still fresh.

For us Canadians, it's been over for almost two months.

I would just like to say a quick thank you and then I shall resume my normal posting...
---------------

Thank you.

Thank you Britney.

Thank you for not showing me your vajayjay this weekend.

Thank you for keeping your pooter in your pants.

Your vajayjay ain't pretty.

In one picture (yes, sadly I looked... You did too, don't deny it) your vaj looks a little green.

I suppose mine would look green if it came anywhere near K-Fed's 007 too, but still.

We didn't need to see it.

Three times.

Skanks again Britney, my weekend was lovely, and my eyes have finally stopped bleeding.

The Chitlens...

Todd, entering state "Pure Bliss" while Jack appearingly nuzzles into his man boobs.

Todd licking Jack while in a headlock as Jack nuzzles aforementioned man boobs.

Todd looking like he feels dirty and whore-ish while Jack preens his back hair.

Even though it's blurry, had to put this one in there to show Todd in heaven while the kids canoodle.

Yeah, that's right, I clicked while he was licking his manhood. I'd be pissed if you took a picture of me licking myself too.

Todd, looking demure and dapper. (And a little wonky)

What appears to be his ass on his front is really only his misshapen body. I don't know how this happened. Cross breeding with an elusive assback cat?

Todd is looking either really stupid, or gloriously smart. He's part of Mensa. Just sayin'.

--------------------------------

Thought I'd share some lovely new snaps of the babies.

I know, they're too cute.

You can barely handle it.

This is for you Mema and Dirty.

**Viewer's Note: In the 6th picture down, don't be fooled, that's not a llama. It's Todd. The kitten. Turns out he's got a fucked up body when photographed.**

Cookies!!!

Yeah, I made cookies...

The most glorious, amazing cookies that I've possibly ever made.

I made shortbread from scratch.

Is it wrong that I made the icing first?

I didn't think so.

Take a look at the masterpiece.

Yes, what you're thinking is right.

There are a few missing from the plate.

I may have consumed one.

Or five.

They're good. Sue me.

**Reader Note: They really are cookies. Not deviled eggs... My apologies.**

*Update: I ate 3 more*

Baby Got Tagged!

I've never been tagged before so this is quite an honour. I've been tagged by Chris and am to tell you five things about myself that you don't know about me.

That should be pretty easy since you poor people haven't been coming here all that long.

That being said, here are my "Fancy Five"...

1. I have to talk to my mother every day. Seriously. If I don't, I feel very odd, like I'm missing a piece of me. I call her multiple times a day and she does the same when she can. She has a 1-800 (NOT 1-900 or 1-866 you perverts) at work, so I can call her for free.

2. I know all the words to Baby Got Back and sing it any chance I get. I like to kick it old school. True story: I called my mom one night (if you've read number one, you know this happens a lot) since I was alone in the apartment. When she picked up the phone, instead of saying "Hey Mema!" like I always do, I started to spit my rhymes. When I was done, I said I love you and goodnight. That was it. I could hear her laughing as I was going, but since we didn't talk afterwards, I can only assume that she peed a little and couldn't talk to me anymore that night.

3. I will NEVER be able to break my ankles. I've sprained them so many times that doctors have told me that it's virtually impossible that I'll break either one. **I often roll an ankle while standing completely still. It's like a party trick. People love me.

4. I want to be a pastry chef. I've always wanted to be a pastry chef. Who knew that I'd be selling bras, panties, and pyjamas and not living my dream at all. I will do it. Bank on it. You'll all be eating sweets and shit at my shop. Be there or be square fuckers.

5. I'm fluently bilingual in French. It's something that I love having. I was enrolled in french immersion starting very early, took it up until high school graduation and for the 2 years that I went to University. I use the term "went" to University very loosely.

So there you have it kids, a fancy five things you didn't know about me. I'm not very exciting, have no stories of debauchery, drunken stripping, or fun things of the like.

Sorry.

I've got a great rack though.

Jalopy Jalopy...

I have a jalopy.

The beast shut down on me at the grocery store tonight.

Carl had been cranky for most of the evening, but after the past couple of days, I thought that nothing worse could happen.

I was oh so wrong.

It got me to the store. It barely got me home.

Were it not for the kindness of a stranger who saw a pissed off me in the front seat angry-dialing her mommy for bitching purposes...

Well, let's just say if he hadn't given me a boost, I'd still be wallowing in the parking lot. Probably chain smoking and crying alternately.

She's Not As Big As You...And Yes, They're Mine...

After my hellish evening last night, I thought today at work would be a cake walk.

Boy, was I wrong.

I get to work and after the raucous evening with Carl, (my car) I think that all is well in the lock world.

Notsomuch.

I get out of the car, lock the door, and shut it.

It bounces off the hinges. It doesn't close, in other words.

After about 10 minutes of hip shakin', door bumpin' fun, I get the damn thing closed.

I go about my morning business in the store, trudging through leftover boxes from the night before, markdowns, phone calls, the usual shit.

About midday, a lovely 197 year old lady comes in the store.

She's hard of hearing, partially blind, and completely lacking in the tact gene.

After asking me for an "oversized shirt", (Which loosely translates to nightgown) I show her EVERY single thing in the store to no avail.

I ask her what size the girl is. (Standard question when senile old bags are looking for clothing for other people)

She turns to me and says:

"Well, she's not as big as you..."

I'm thinking; "Okay lady, back the fuck up before you say something you regret... I can kick that walker out from under you faster than you can say Depends."

She continues with: "I don't mean you, I mean your boobs, they're huge..."

My eyes widen for a fraction of a second before settling to their original width and I smile politely and say maybe she'd like to go to Wal-Mart. They're sure to have what she's looking for.

Cue melancholy music.

My boobs are huge. Yeah, so?

I'll take numb hands for $1000 Alex...

Holy &%$@.

Seriously. Yesterday was the day from Hell.

Hell frozen over.

Seriously. We got our first snowfall of the year yesterday and it was bad. It was cold, windy, slushy, slippery, shitty snow. The kind you'd rather be sitting in your warm house NOT watching.

Instead, I drove to work in it.

I parked my tin can in the mall parking lot at around 11:30 am.

I didn't get back out to my car until 9:10 pm.

At this point, my car looked like it had been snowed on for approximately 10 hours. Go figure.

I skate out to my car and lo and behold, I'm parked in the only fucking puddle in the entire lot.

My shoe had a hole in the sole.

Again, go figure.

I am not wearing gloves since I think that the entering the car and warming it up portion of the evening is going to go off without a hitch.

Wouldn't you know it? I'm wrong.

It's -139287124978 degrees outside, I'm not wearing mittens and son of a bitch, my key won't turn in the lock.

I thought I might be able to warm up the car before I started chipping away at it. Not so much.

I go to the trunk to retrieve my scraper. I leave it open in case I have to crawl through it later.

*&^$!!

I scrape for a few and re-attempt to enter the vehicle.

MY. KEY. WILL. NOT. TURN. IN. THE. LOCK...

I'm growing more numb every second, swearing loudly while people leaving work click their fancy pants automatic lock buttons, auto-starts, and open their doors with relative ease.

I suck.

So does the tuna can I call a car.

At about 9:30, some other girls come out of the mall, seemingly stifling laughter at the sight of the poor latch-key kid with the hole in her shoe scraping a frozen slab of tin.

They offer to drive me home (God love them) and then to bring me back to work in the morning.

I politely refuse (near tears) since I don't want to risk someone stealing (yeah right) my car over night. (please??)

I throw myself half in the trunk and heat up my key heroin-style with a lighter. ( I heard that's how people cook it...)

I run to the door, slip the key in, try to turn it. (It budged, I swear)

Nothing.

I scurry back to the trunk (slide is more like it, I think I threw my back out in a near slip and fall accident) and re-light my key.

After repeated failed attempts, I finally manage to unlock the passenger side door.

That's right, I entered the shitmobile via the passenger side. Don't laugh. You'd do it too.

I lean over, start the fucking thing and since it's warmer outside than in, I hover outside the car, scraping the rest of Mother Nature's Ass© off my car.

After a few minutes, I get in the passenger side again.

I hop the bucket seats, slam my ass/tailbone on the gear shift (ow) and start the fucking car.

I get home (just barely, since I can't steer with icicle hands) and think; "Hmm, maybe I'll try to unlock my door".

Guess what?

The fucker opens.

I exit the vehicle, squoosh up the stairs, shimmy out of my pants, peel off my socks, go to the bathroom, shut the door, sit on the edge of the tub, turn the hairdryer on full blasted heat, thaw out my toes and fingers and finally collapse on the couch.

*UPDATE*
My fingers regained their full range of motion and color this morning at approximately 9:00 am.

As I prepare for Monday...

I am considering this fine gentleman's take on life. I really wonder if it's wrong to tell the majority of your customers that they suck ass..


Is it really wrong???

I thought so, but still...

Sometimes, it would be so cathartic to say this to every douchebag that crosses the threshhold.

Holy...

SHIT! Christmas in T minus 21 days.

"Are you there God? It's me, Giraffe..."

So I've developed a new addiction.

No, it's not porn.

That's not a new addiction.

It's youtube.

Seriously. Have you checked it out? I could seriously watch it for a living. You can find anything there.

Please partake in this glorious clip, courtesy of Robot Chicken. One of the best shows ever made.

Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGvw6WpHSF4

Who knew?/Wow!

Who Knew? http://ebaumsworld.com/2006/11/trained-bees.html

Wow! http://www.ebaumsworld.com/2005/12/2legdog.html

Thank You Maine...

The following is a photograhic dramatization of my evening. I must say, it was quite enjoyable.

First: Second:

Third:

Fourth:

And Finally:

**All identifying names and places have been changed to protect all individuals involved in this glorious, glorious evening. **

An Open Letter to All Christmas Shoppers...

The season is upon us, dear readers...

That's right, Christmas shopping season is in full swing.

They're coming out of the woodwork now. They're animals. Get in the way, and you're hamburger. Old ladies pushing empty carts will check you out of the way without lifting a cane.

This is an open letter to all of you lovely people out there who make working retail such a joy. Don't get me wrong, I looooove my job, but seriously, come on, would it really hurt that bad if you smiled?
-------------------------------
Dear Christmas Shopper,

Please don't hurt me. What did I ever do to you? (Besides provide extraordinary customer service, that is.)

First, the thank you's.

Thank you for shopping at my store.

Thank you for spending lots of money at my store for your wife, girlfriend, mother, and/or sister, whatever.

Thank you for being in the store all day, this makes my day go fast, which in turn, means I'm that much closer to leaving.

That's it. I'm wiped.

Second.

Fuck you.

Fuck you for not even AKNOWLEDGING my presence. When I say: "Hello, how are you doing today?" and you respond with: "I'm just looking..." and then you turn away from me? Not cool. I didn't ask if you needed help, I asked you how you were. Be nice.

I swear, sometimes, I think I'm the Assistant Manager's invisible friend and only she can see me.

Fuck you for only coming in to my store when I'm on a ladder (With proper supervision of course...) and there're racks and pyjamas all over the place.

How bout you come in when it's nice and clean. And quiet. It gives me something to do.

Fuck you for shopping at my store with your piss poor, woe is me attitude. What happened to "Holiday Spirit"? What about common decency towards man? Did your mother raise you that badly?

I don't care that you lost your list, or that the "other" store is cheaper.

Go there.

It'll fall apart.

A week after Christmas.

Tops.

Don't come running back to me.

Fuck you for getting mad at me when I can't break a hundred dollar bill. Sorry Daddy Warbucks, but Little Orphan Annie's cash register is not stacked. (Unlike herself...)

Fuck you for getting mad at me because I ran out of boxes. You think you're out shopping early? Not a chance.

I've got 110 year old ladies that were done in October.

Of 2005.

For this year.

Fuck you for asking me to show you something that you've been searching for, showing you a dozen of said item, and then complain that it's not "Exactly what you were looking for" and leave without buying something.

Fuck you for getting mad at me because the debit machine is down. It's not my fault. I just work there. I don't run the banks.

Next time, bring cash just in case.

Most of all, Fuck you for being rotten first thing in the morning before I've had my caffeine and sugar dosage. This has to happen before I plant the fake smile on my face for the rest of the day.

That is all.

Merry Chrismukkahwanzaa to all.

A Walk Down Memory Lane...

I thought I'd share with everyone a lovely moment from my childhood.

I came across this gem last weekend while I was visiting with my out of town grandmother while I was on a hiatus from a work conference.

Fuck, I was hot. (not that I'm still not, but you get the idea...)

Seriously, check out the sweet threads I'm sporting.

I mean, really.

Who could have known that Ghostbusters sweats were to 1985 what Juicy Couture is to the 2000's...

I know, you're jealous.

It even looks like I'm hovering.

Don't ask. I wouldn't tell my secret, even if I knew how I did it.

It takes great pains to be so cool. Trust me, I know. I've been working for over 20 years to get it back.

I could write a book, or a screenplay: "How Slimer Got Jenn Her Groove Back".

It's catchy, I like it.

Try and bite your tongues though. The mushroom/bowl cut combo is a lot to take in at once.

Don't hate.

**Sidenote: The adorable fat kid who looks like he's taking a dump at the end of the couch is my brother. God love him.

Boo Monday...

Oops..

This may or may not be the reason I got an extra special patdown at the airport last week.

I'm not sayin' see...

Umm...

I'll let this one speak for itself. Don't worry, I got you ALL one for Christmas!! Hooray!!

**Please note the honky on the left with the rat tail and the lazy eye. And is he missing a finger? Is he sporting a nubbin? Or is he simply hiding the "golden nugget" he dug out of his nose three seconds to this photo being taken?**

***Please also note the three young male models are holding hands***

****Also note the young man in the middle doing the patented "Look how hot I am, biting my lower lip" bit.****

You knew I wouldn't be able to let this photo speak for itself.

Holy Snow Balls..

Mi madre, mi perro, y un "shitload" de la nieve...

Taken today, this photograph depicts what it's like to walk outside.

In November.

With lots of snow.

And a happy Black Labrador.

And a possibly not so happy Mema.

Sir Links A Lot

I was going through and re-reading all the blogs that I frequent this evening, even though I've read them all to their fullest extent. While reading them, I thought, why not share the joys that I experience each day with others. Sharing does mean caring you know. That being said, they're all on the right. I'll add some more soon, I'm tired though, and getting cranky, and we don't want that. Well, you don't anyway...

Let Us Pray...

Come one, come all.

My Babies!!

Just thought I'd share some photos of my children. They are too cute not to share. I swear, sometimes it's like I done birthed 'em mahself!!


Here they are IN the laundry basket. Together. On my clean clothes. Fuckers. :)

Here's Todd, the kitten, sitting IN a basket ON the microwave. Kooky!

They're too cute aren't they? The have to be together all the time. This picture was taken as I sat at the computer. They had to be nearby.

These two crazy cats love sleeping in my Roots bag together. They're nuts. I love it.

Oh MiPod!

I have re-fallen in love with my iPod.

Technically I never fell out of love with Randy, but I did neglect him for a while. We're back together.

I've never been happier.

Right now, I'm listening to a lot of Wintersleep. This is a band from out in these parts, and they're excellent. I very much enjoy them.

I'm also bopping to some Nas, The Stills, The Rogers Sisters, (Who I've recently been introduced to and very much enjoy), Sufjan, as usual, and I threw in a little bit more to keep me on my toes.

My most played songs this weekend are probably:

Chicago- Sufjan Stevens
Hands Open- Snow Patrol
Hip Hop is Dead- Nas
Avalanche- Wintersleep
Danse Macabre- Wintersleep
A Good Man is Hard to Find- Sufjan Stevens

That's my two cents for today!

If

if i called you, would you answer?

if i moved you, would you tell me?

if i needed you, would you hold me?

if i touched you, would you kiss me?

if i told you, would you believe me?

if i asked you, would you come?

Home!

I am finally here! Just as I suspected, there is a SHITLOAD of snow, and the temperature is well below zero.

When I left my home yesterday, it had been close to 15 degrees above zero. (Celcius for all your Fahrenheit folks) It was glorious.

I wore flip flops all the way to the hotel in Montreal last night.

I knew, however, that my mother would murder me if I got off the airplane without wearing shoes, so I sucked it up, put on socks and shoes, and suffered through it.

Let it be known that I DO NOT wear shoes. Or socks for that matter. I loathe them.

I put on my sandals in February and wear them until approximately the middle of November, sometimes December if I am lucky. Not so much this year.

There are snow drifts.

There are skidoos out.

There are people wearing *gasp* winter coats, hats, and mittens. And don't forget the shoes. Dammit, I think I saw boots too.

I will wear socks and shoes until I leave, just so that my mother continues to feed and love me.

Once I get back to Montreal however, the shoes are off. The toes come back out.

I will supply some photographs tomorrow. Maybe I'll send some squalls and blizzards your way.

Finally!

A small, albeit well-deserved vacation starts tomorrow.

I am going to visit my parents in Northern Canada.

I will be away until Thursday of next week, but have no fear loyal readers.

I shall update with tales of snow and frolicking. Anyone need some snowballs?

***I should also mention, that this is literally the "highway" (and I use the term highway very, very loosely) where I am from. I shit you not.

Day Off?

The dictionary describes a day off in the following two ways:

Day Off:
A day away from work, school, or a similar obligation; a free day.

Day Off:
n : a day when you are not required to work; "Thursday is his day off"

Bullshit.

This is a farce. The dictionary is full of bold faced lies.

On my day off, I did the following:

Made bed
Did dishes
Swept floors
Vacuumed carpets
Put away dishes
Paid Bills
Cleaned up after messy cats
Dusted
Prepared ingredients for supper
Went to store to buy treats for said messy cats
Typed Blog
Surfed net for about 10 minutes
Cleaned up after messy cats
Checked email
Sent email
Checked other blogs
Listened to iPod while doing all of the above
Talked to Mother, Brother, and Friend
Cleaned up after messy cats

Day off? I did more work today then I do AT work. And it's not even half over yet.
I've yet to shower, or read. I need to read to relax.

I'm off to read before getting in the shower so that I can read again after I'm clean.

**UPDATE**
I am now clean.