He's not religious, so he must be native

As mentioned earlier, Stompy moved out. I got the opportunity to meet the new tenants awhile back. Upstairs Lady and Upstairs Lady's Daughter, or Upstairs Girl. I'm sure I'll have nicknames for them soon enough.

From our brief conversation I determined that it would be a good fit. She claims they're not home much and Girl is old enough not to be loud as fuck. Plus we have staggered days off, so I now have the entire weekend to do laundry and they get a few days during the week. Sounds great, perfect even.

My landlord also told me that Upstairs Girl plays guitar, so I figured their tolerance for loud, obnoxious 'music' making would be high and I could play to my hearts content.

Everything was going swimmingly. Until I came home one day; Upstairs Lady was out on the porch, she peeked over the edge and said she wanted to give me forewarning. Girl has a dance recital coming up, so I might hear some thumping and what-have-you for the next two weeks while she practices.

Not too big of a deal, considering she said that the thumping would not happen any later than 9pm. Sounds great, perfect even.

So what kind of dance?

Breakdancing.

Great. Perfect.

Needless to say, 'some thumping' is the understatement of the century.

Wow - she really barricaded through that door

I found a bunch of hot dogs in my freezer the other day. As it turns out, that in and of itself is weird on so many levels. (this (*) denotes one level of weird) For one, I didn't know I had them*, and I have absolutely no idea where I got them from*. Also, they made me realize that I have hot dog buns in my freezer*, which I happened to notice* moments before finding the dogs. I'm pretty sure I got the dogs and the buns at the same time, from the same place*. And even with that, I still can't figure out where they came from*. I'm going to blame my dad on that one.

Anyway, that's not the weirdest part. The weirdest part is that I've been thinking about hot dogs a lot lately*. I've even told stories about hot dogs*. In fact, I even have more hot dog related stories in reserve that I haven't had a chance to tell*.

So, onto the first installment of Heather vs Hotdogs*.

When I was a kid, I can recall watching my mom grate cheese for dinner one night. I was young, maybe 4 years old. I was mesmerized by it - it looked like so much fun and it produced a tasty treat. I wanted to try it, I wanted to help; my mom wouldn't let me because she was afraid I'd grate myself. Understandably, I was left to observe.

Another day, who knows how long after, I was sitting in the living room watching TV. It was one of those old wooden ones with a built-in speaker and everything. One day for lunch, Granny gave me a hot dog.

A raw hot dog. I can't recall if it was intended to tide me over until she could give me something else, or if she actually gave me a raw hot dog for lunch. We all know that, texturally, raw hot dogs are gross and we also know that if anything about food is going to throw me off, it's texture.

I may or may not have been too happy about having to eat the thing. That's about the time I noticed the speaker on the TV.

It looked an awful lot like a certain kitchen appliance that I'd seen my mom use. A certain kitchen appliance that I was not allowed to use because I'd hurt myself. I looked at the speaker. I looked at my hot dog.

I started grating. I grated a good portion of hot dog into the TV before I got caught.

I don't remember what happened next. I probably got sent to my room without real lunch. I may or may not have been spanked. But I'm 100% certain Granny had a hard time keeping a straight face on that one.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.

Then I looked up "Syphilis" under Google images.... I saw things you can't unsee.

The past few days have been a roller coaster of events and emotions; I've come to the conclusion that the universe hates me and wants me to cry.

I think I wrote a post about karma, or Murphy or The Spite Gods having it out for me. Well, folks, it's happening again. Luckily, for EliseArt, I will be able to reuse pictures from the post that I'm pretty sure I already wrote. These are all true stories. (*dramatization... may not have happened).

Stompy moved out and my landlord was working on the place getting it ready for the new tenants. He called and asked me to go through the storage room and pick out anything that wasn't mine and he'd deal with it. Sounds great. I pointed out a few items, one of them being a set of crutches, and he took them away. All the while, I was eyeing the crutches, thinking "Wow, those could come in handy!".

I was reluctant to actually keep the crutches, because of karma, or Murphy, or The Spite Gods or The Universe having it out for me, so I let him put them out in the alley. Later that night, I went and had a few drinks with K, told her about the crutches and said "If I take them, isn't it just asking to get hurt?". She said no. And then I fell down.

I didn't hurt myself in an I-need-crutches-kind-of-way, but it sure answered my question. And the answer is, yes, yes it is just asking to get hurt.

The other day I was driving home and realized I needed gas, I also realized that I forgot my wallet at home. I had to stop in at work for a few minutes before heading home and chuckled to myself when I considered calling BCAA and having them bring me $10 worth of gas, just so I didn't have to go home and then go straight back out. I thought it's a bit ridiculous, but I never use BCAA so I might as well. Then I realized that my BCAA card is in the wallet I forgot at home. Dammit.

I cleaned my car the other day and it made me think that maybe my car isn't dead to me and maybe I don't need to buy a new one soon, maybe it is a good car. And then this morning I was driving to work and BAM - it sounded like my front brakes fell off and were just rolling around in the wheel well. I was pretty sure the car was going to burst into flames. I parked it and then walked the rest of the way to work.

I went about my day and I decided early on that the breakdown wasn't the end of the world, it would almost work out well. My mechanic is close to my home and my home is close to the polling station for the election. I could tow my car to the mechanic, walk to the polling station and then be home, all within a reasonable time period. It was practically perfect.

As I was getting ready to leave, I thought I'd give the mechanic a call just to let him know I was going to tow my car there. I get the voicemail, which isn't unusual, and I listen to the greeting and it says they're shutdown UNTIL MAY 23rd!

My other mechanic is in Surrey and there's no way I could be back in time to vote. Luckily, BCAA was able to fix my problem and I didn't have to have my car towed and repaired. So.... never have to use BCAA, huh? Blamo - Spite God powers initiated!

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations

Now I KNOW you're fucking with me

Amphenicols? Really? Plus a ramdon string of words... AND "I'm on to you"!?!?! Definitely fucking with me. Definitely. I have never once blogged about Amphenicols. (I suppose I just did... but still!).

Holy Crap - I'm Old!

I just realized that my birthday is right around the corner. That's right. In next few days my blog turns one year old.

Happy Birthday, Ramdon.

 

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.

Your filter is like a chain-link fence and your thoughts are ants.

I recently did something that I hadn't done in years and years. I went ice skating! It was the most exhilarating experience ever.

K stumbled upon ice skating information on the internet one day and remembered that I said I wanted to go awhile before. We normally meet up for a walk on Thursdays at 7pm and a loonie skate was happening at exactly that time, in a place that is exactly halfway between our houses. It was meant to be.

She got excited and wrote a message on my Facebook wall; another friend of ours saw this message and not-so-subtly mentioned that he would love to go too. He made a big production about it being 20 years since he skated and he was concerned about whether or not he could still do it. I was concerned too. That's pretty much exactly how I was feeling and for that very reason.

We eagerly waited for the rink to open up and then for all the crazy kids (who we knew would be better than us) to go first. Brandon was the first one of us on the ice. He shot off like a rocket: spinning and twirling and speeding away. It was K's turn next, and then mine. I was much less successful than Brandon; apparently he skated a lot more than me as a child.

I was pretty much confined to the boards within 3 feet of the opening. I was going nowhere. Fast.

The young first-aid skater girl recognized my plight immediately. "First time skating?", she asked. "No, it's just been a really long time!", I replied. She suggested I go to the skate shop and pick up a helmet "just in case". I was less than enthused to be sporting a helmet, plus that would require me to 'skate' the 3 feet back to the entrance. She recognized my plight immediately. "Or else I can bring you bars?", she suggested.

She brought me a set of bars. I have to admit I was a little worried about taking my hand off the boards long enough to reach out and grab the bars. But I didn't want to look like a giant pussy, so I tried to do it, while looking as confident as a 30 year old can after having asked for a set of kiddy-bars.

Once I got on the bars, skating was no issue. I started skating away, all fast-like and super-pro.

I was making pretty good progress. And then a small child skated out in front of me. All I could do was squeak and swerve around her. Good thing I drive, otherwise, one or more of us would have gotten hurt (probably me).

After a lap or two (or three) I was confident enough to ditch the bars and skate on my own. It was exhilarating. (And I thought it was fun with the bars...) I was skating around with my shit-eating-grin on my face, laughing and having a grand-old time.

Every 37 seconds I would almost fall and then I would laugh, which would cause me to almost fall again. I'd have to spend some time with the boards to re-group before continuing again.

Eventually, 37 seconds became one minute; and one minute became half a lap. Eventually, I became cocky and over-confident in my skating abilities. Also, I was probably high from not getting enough oxygen to my brain because I was laughing so much. This cockiness lead to my demise. I bailed. Fully. Right on my ass. Out of nowhere.

It hurt. But I managed to get back up without too much difficulty and skated to the boards where I laughed some more.

My tailbone hurt for days.

I went back the following week and didn't need the bars and didn't fall down. It was still just as exhilarating. We decided that we'd skate every Thursday and we were going to buy skates and everything.

Then I was at work one Thursday and said "HEY! Guess what I'm doing tonight!?!?". After people guessed incorrectly, I started skating around and said "Ice skating!!!". A friend looked at me and said "Aren't they closed for the season?!". I said "What season?!". Turns out, they closed the Sunday before and there was no skating that night. It was the worst Thursday ever.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.

I must have homework to do...

Here's a little glimpse into the ridiculous ramdon-ness that I call life...

Jan 30th
EliseArt sends me & Gorm an email with a picture of an ewok. (That's not all... it gets much more ramdon). She purchased a drawing tablet and the following conversation between me & Gorm ensued:

Feb 5th
Gorm: Yes, people emailing my hotmail are more privileged as I respond more than once a week normally.

Me: Well, aren't they a lucky bunch then!

Gorm: And now, so are you!

Feb 6th
Me: Woo - hooo!! I'm special, just like everyone else!

Gorm: "Which is just another way to say - nobody is" -The Incredibles

Feb 7th
Me: "D'Oh!" - The Simpsons

Feb 8th
Gorm: "Ha Ha!" -Nelson Muntz, The Simpsons

Me: "I think he's really hurt" - Milhouse Van Houten, The Simpsons

Gorm: "Why...why was I programmed to feel pain?" - Linguo, The Simpsons

Feb 9th
Me: "This hurts more than it looks" - Homer Simpson - The Simpsons

It's been going on like this ever since. We've, literally, been emailing Simpson quotes back and forth for months now. Holy fuck. And since Mar 22nd we've been on a single episode - Lisa The Vegetarian. We've dropped the quotations and stopped ending everything with "Person Who Said It, The Simpsons" so now it has taken on a structure of that of a screenplay (much like the above).

It doesn't happen everyday, but whenever I get one of these emails it's pretty much the highlight of that day for me. It makes me ridiculously happy. I love every bit of it. I love seeing what quote he uses and I love the scenes that play in my head as I relive the episode for myself and I love having to come up with my own quote.

It's so ridiculous, I just had to share. And you know how gmail starts a new conversation after 100 replies? No? Really? You don't? Well it does. And now we're on our second conversation.