Tuesday, October 29, 2013

I once knew a girl from Nantuket.....

And now she does this shit.....

Yeah that's right bitches, by hand, made by hand...thru tears, of joy, I think.

I used to make million dollar trades happen, boys cry, women shake, people friend me out of fear, and now I make these.....

Awww look I made it a brother so it won't be lonely.

I used to go to clubs all night long, out til 4am, the only outside I saw was to have a cigarette or make out with a stranger in a dark alley, and now I make these......

Then a sister. 
I used to make money, and now....I make these.....

And then I had to drink this.....because I made stuffed fucking snowmen dolls.

The snowmen made me drink it.

And now I am having a peri menopausal hot flash brought on by the 4% alcohol in that.   I need a valium, cause now I make these......

Cute little fucker tho, isn't he?

There's a chicken pot pie in the oven I made from scratch.  It's a good thing the oven's too hot for my head. 
I'm not sure I will get over this, this Martha Stewart itch.
These new meds make me happy.  But it ends if I find myself making homemade bread.
I once was a bitch.  Now she's almost all but gone.
I see her once in awhile. She was there once from morning til dawn.
These little yellow pills (that's the valium) will hold me together. Cause the seam of these pants aren't made of sturdy leather. 
That was the old me, the new me is flannel.............

Fuck me.

That's as poetic as I get.   *tears*

Fuck me.   *face in hands*

Monday, October 28, 2013

If you cannot keep your dogs safe, don't have dogs. WHAT DO I DO HERE? Advice accepted, if it isn't stupid.

And the same can be said of the title of this post when it comes to children!  If you cannot keep them safe, as a priority in life, don't have them.  No one's perfect but this is your duty as a child owner, I mean pet owner.  Or parent.  Parents, not owners.  Silly moi.

Don't have a pet if they aren't going to be cared for like family.

The County Road that my property runs adjacent to is all, all of it, 60 km/hr.  Most country roads are 80 km/hr.  I would have to bet that less than half of that road actually has homes on it.  But they all complained years ago and got 60 km/hr.  As I said to our mayor one day I needed to share some "stupid human" things with him, "it's not my job to protect their animals and children, it's theirs".  And that's true.  The road was always 80 km/hr when these complainers bought their homes and cottages.  So why the reduction?  As per the mayor, they complained one too many times.  He did what they wanted.

And yes, the mayor and I are homeys.  But that's another long story involving a drowning, an OPP awards dinner and our mayor who could not forget me.  Shocking I know!  I am surprised to find people remember me.  Apparently I really don't shut the hell up.

This past week I headed into town to pick up my dog.  I had dropped him off promptly at 9am to get a bath and groom.  He gets himself all worked up about it so I like to ensure he's in and out of there fast.  He's ten years old.  I don't like to stress him out. He's a very big hairy dog and it's a big job to groom him, bathe him, and groom him again.  I have always used a professional for the job.  When they called at noon I was so pleased to hear he was actually done, dry and everything.

This is not easy to brush, wash, then brush again.  It's like a Yorkie in "Honey I Blew up the Dog".  Master Riley.

Imagine my surprise when not 4 city blocks from my road I see three huge white dogs in the middle of the 60 km/hr (mostly driven at 80 by resentful asshats like myself) county road.  When I say middle, I mean MIDDLE.  Three, 100 pounds each, of Great Pyrenees.  There was a man to my left raking leaves so I pulled over onto the right shoulder and called across the road, "are these your dogs, do you know the owners?"  He said he didn't but that they'd come by way of the farm on my side.  I U-turned my car around to his side, pointing now back towards my house and yelled out "Meadow, Forrest".  Two of the dogs stopped, turned, and stepped towards us.  Then man said, "well apparently they know you".  DAMN IT! *insert feelings of responsibility here*

That's not just fur, that would be ALL dog.  And that's a lot of dog.  A lot of shedding, dirty, smelly, fur.

These damn dogs are FOREVER getting out. 

I didn't even know they had three of them.  South of the lake on my road is a Mennonite family. When they got the first dog, it was forever outside of their property, but remained near their house.  I walk my dog that way, thankfully theirs is submissive even off leash and mine does okay if free too.  Many a time I have found myself leading Meadow, their first of three, back to their house.  One year on a sheer iced driveway on which both Riley and I fell.  He hurting his shoulder, me my back.  I wasn't rude, but I certainly wasn't pleasant that day when I informed them their dog was on the road.

Then months later Riley went nuts in the house at 6am for NO REASON. Before I could reach his doggy door he'd run headlong into it.  Turns out, Meadow was out again, this time all the way to our property.  Riley chased her to the edge of our property then waited for me (thank god) to lead their dog home.

This past winter on one of our walks I got to meet Forrest, Meadow's son.  (Stupid names, I think the 3rds named Tree).  I only got his name because he was in the gully and when I approached him saying "stay" he cowered and waited for me.  I read his tag.  He was frightened of me and Riley.  Thankfully my dog isn't sadistic and really just herded Forrest home.  And again, "your dog was on the road, in the gully, had he jumped out in front of a car going down that hill.....I don't want to think about it".  Again, I kept my temper in check.  My nails were cutting into my palm.  Fact: that f-in hurts.

These people are not bad people.  They have 5 or 6 kids. They seem to love them something fierce.  Every morning they all walk down to the school bus and each give a Mom and Dad kiss before they go.  The kids are always assisting each other and when they come down to the lake for a swim it's the same.  I know them well enough because Meadow is forever jumping in the lake then coming up onto our property to greet Riley.  It's all good. They don't do too badly but each time, I am forced to return her to where she belongs, and now he, their other dog.

It was this past winter I was bombing along that road, probably doing over 80 but not by much, it was snowing.  My back was killing me and I had to pee.  When both are activated it's painful.  All those areas attached, the nerves aligned, and I was in agony.  Just as I was about to turn onto my own road, through the snow I saw something move and I realized it was these two white dogs.  I slammed on the brakes and righted myself.  Luckily I didn't spin out.  I rolled down my window, called their names, and managed to get them to follow my car home to their house.  I let them in their main gate and instead of falling on their icy driveway I turned and left.  I was pissed (and holding the same in)and I knew I would be rude.  And I was quite fearful in a fit of rage I would wet my pants.  Nothing ruins the impact of a good rage like urine running down your leg.  "You mutha f.....oh no....".

Now back to this week.  I have found out they now have 3 dogs that like to escape.  Mine is waiting at the groomers to come home.  I have no cell in my car, I forgot it, so I can't even call the family.  I got their number one day at the lake saying "might as well give me your number as it seems to always be me".  The guy raking his lawn said "they've all got collars on (chokes of course...grrrr), do you want a long rope to lead them back?".  Well I figured why the hell not try.  By this point there were a good 6 cars slowing and trying to pass these stupid dogs in the middle of the road.  Thank god I had treats in the car as that got them off the road and a little less skittish of me.  They were filthy, they stank, they were covered in mud, and one of them was all covered in burs and some scabs.  I was so glad Riley wasn't with me to catch anything from them.  I did NOT like a pretty big cut on the nose of one.  If you were to rap a dog with a ruler, that would be the spot, much like the back of a kids hand would be. 

Now remember, my dog is waiting.  I have no phone.  I have my car, purse in car, and I have one of the worlds worst backs which is raging right now because I am over due for a nerve blocker shot.  And what was on my feet you ask?  What amazingly good for me shoes did I have on?  UGGs.  The world's worst orthopedic back supportive shoe ever. Warm and cozy to walk around your property on, sure.  Good to walk 3, over 100 pound dogs in, not so much.  I have a horseshoe up my ass I do, it's just backwards and stuck somewhere wrong therefore giving me nothing but a pain in the ass and no good luck!

I looped up all three dogs through their chokes with the rope and made it much like reigns.  Them on one end, side by side, me at the other holding two ends of rope.  I walked them to the car, got in, held them out the window.  I put the 4 way blinkers on and started off along the shoulder so the dogs were only on my side of the road, in my lane.  With some very stupid sounding calls and noises I was able to get them about halfway home before the eldest walked in front of my car and stopped dead. She wasn't moving.  At this point I was annoyed with the noise coming out of my mouth anyways.  *chirp* *haaaay* *whoot whoot* *chirp* *whistle*...you get the heavily annoying picture.

I was forced to either let them go or walk them home.  Which do you think this bleeding heart chose?  I flagged down a car and asked them to drive to the home to see if the owners would come and started walking my three Littlest Ponies.

This family have a huge piece of property so halfway up the hill on the way, (thank god), I was able to go into one of their side gates and take all the dogs off the rope and let them go free.  They were pulling, JUST A TAD.  The flagged down car had come and gone already, told me the family wasn't home.  I walked the dogs through the woods to the house and enclosures.   All of their animals live outside.  They had told me once they chose this dog as the breeder told them they like being outside.  I guess they missed the, "wander off, like to explore", part.  I don't approve of always outdoor dogs, never have.  It gets too cold, you know it, I know it. It gets too hot.  Same thing. 

Once on their property I was furious.  My back was screaming.  I was worried about my dog and my car now left at the side of the road, blinkers on, purse briskly hidden as I couldn't manage to reign three dogs and carry a purse.  I am not THAT good.

I went up to the house and knocked and knocked.  The one dog, the one really dirty and with the cut, jumped up onto a table with cat food bowls and devoured all of it.  He seemed really really hungry????  That mad me even more mad.  I went to the side door of the house, where the dogs lead me, and opened it.  I stepped into the unlocked house and into their mudroom.  I tried to call all the dogs in there, figured I could lock them in but one wouldn't cross the threshold.  Obviously one of them knew the house was off limits.  I couldn't drag her, she was the skittish one.  

For a second I contemplated opening the mudroom door to the house and letting the dogs have at it.  The ONLY thing that stopped me was knowing from the window that there was food in bins on the floor, in bowls on the tables and counters.  I knew if I did that, the one dog would eat everything and in all likelihood, die.  Onions for example, not a dogs friend but a dog will eat it if hungry and there they were on the floor in a bag.  DAMN IT!

I lead the dogs away and back towards their pen to put them in there. Thankfully there were three dog houses and a lot of room in the pen but gaps everywhere in the fencing.  At one point while directing me there the dog with the sore on his nose tried climbing through a broken barn window pane, in a door.  The only reason he didn't choke was my pulling/lifting him out.  When they all took off towards the woods at that point I had enough.  I needed to get MY dog.  I now needed to throw my mud covered, dog foot printed UGGs away, and I sorely needed a hot bath and a fucking valium or 12. 

Outside of the property I managed to hitch a ride with the farmer across the way who lamented on about these "damn dogs", "scaring the cattle", "my ranch owner will shoot one some day, its bound to happen".  I just wanted to be home.  Not only to get this entire ordeal behind me but the truck I hitched a ride in had a passenger floor covered in take out food boxes, a dirty shovel propped up behind the pick up's seats and a whack of rope and wires in the flatbed.  I was sure this was going to end with my tied up in a barn.  He was a serial killer for SURE!  Hey, FYI Dexter season ender, blah.

Thankfully, I made it home. I haven't seen the white dogs again.  I pretty much round up a lost dog a month up here in god's country and manage to get them home same day.  This bunch, they've got me stumped.

That may be true but my patience is being wasted.

My question is this, what to do now?

a) Go visit them again in person and explain it, and TRY to keep my cool.
b) Write them a "not again" letter.
c) Write them a "I'm gonna call the OSPCA" letter.
d) Forget it and move on.

What would you do?  Remember, Anger Management on TV doesn't begin to cover my issues.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Why so F*cking (should always be capital "F"...shame on you if you don't!) surprised????

Maybe historically I have been a bitch of a hard ass.  I was going to correct that to "bit" of a hard ass, but let's be real, it's more honest the way it was mistakenly written in the first place.  When, back in the day, I was an asshole (4 swear words, 3 sentences...that has got to be a record, has to be!) my idea of doing something nice was not killing someone.  I gave money back then.  If you called me or came to my home.  I gave you a headache worthy rant.  If you hit me up at the office.  I was generous.  In fact, it was well known that if you hit me up for a donation, I would do so then take that commitment sheet around the money making sections of our company to help the fundraiser.  It was not uncommon to hear me yell, "get off your fucking wallet you cheapskate, you make 5 times what I do, that means donate 5 times what I did you prick.  No cheque book here, look what I have, a requisition for your brokerage account, sign here!".  I often found myself randomly collecting money for fundraising people.  Gee, wonder why.  I've seen people hide.  Grown men hiding. 
I can see a homeless person without a jacket and come home and my husband will look at me coat less and cold and just say "gave the shirt off your back again?" *head down* "Maybe". *teeth chatters*
I am generous.  You know how most people can't compliment themselves often.? Like looking in the mirror and saying Stuart Smalley like, "I love myself".  I know I would find myself making faces before that shit comes out of my mouth.  I tried it once.  What I can say, and always will say,  I am generous.  I love making people happy.  I will waste time, money, energy and part of my soul to give.  I just happen to be that type.
In the past couple of years I have been really hurt because of this personality trait.  I gave, a lot.  I got nothing in return.  Okay, that happens.  If you give to get, it's not generous.  But not only did I get nothing in return I got hurt.  I got demeaned.  I got my feelings hurt.  I thought long and hard about never giving again when I found myself constantly saying, "but I did this.....and that....and what about this time, or that....and that first born (that kid was cute)...".  It was then I thought I should just stop giving if I am following it with expectations. 
Many of you know I suffer from Bi Polar II Disorder (look it up, I am tired of it).  This means sometimes I can be really down in the dumps, like dumpster diving, bear in the landfill dumps.  It's during these times I can sometimes find myself doing the ever so common, "whoa is me..." plea.  It was also recently when it was really quite bad that I started doing generous things again. 

Tim Horton's cookie day, I bought $10 cookies for the ten people behind me in the drive thru line.  I know $10 is a lot of money to anyone and I am not rich.  But let's be real, $10 is a latte at Starbucks if you say anything other than "big latte".  Any other flavour, half this, half that, splash of this or that, flavour shot....it's $10 and realistically stupid.  Don't have it one day and give that money away, to anyone who might need it.  Besides you look like a fucking ass ordering that coffee.  It's coffee, drink it as such, order coffee.  You think those poor folks picking the bean want you to do anything other than shove it up your.....oooops off track here.
Doing things, doing nice things, makes you feel good.  I don't know why chemically, but it does and it's fact.  One day I walked into the grocery store and the old gals were at the front for the food bank.  I never have cash, like ever, when I do it's for a reason, to give to someone.  That day was no different and I had nothing.  So I said, "can't I buy some things?".  One year they had No Name pasta boxes for $5 bucks.  $1 for the food, $4 to the food bank.  Figured I could do the same.  I was only there for 3 items for myself.  The old girls looked at me, grubbies on, tattooed wrist, ear, then the wedding rings....they were debating my honesty before my eyes and I was okay with it.  Why do you think I tattooed the wrist with the rings.  They can't help but see them and think the worst then look at my rings (admittedly lovely) and then say, "Hey Zeus, she's done something right".  They handed me a card that had a list of the items they needed.  Non perishable garbage in most cases.  And as much as I would like to say I went and bought it all organic or fresh, you cannot.  They need stuff that does not perish fast, that may not need cooking or proper storage.  What I did do was find myself pulling up to a cashier with a cart I could barely move anymore.  My three items were in the child seat with my purse and the cart was overflowing with pretty much 6 of everything on the list, different flavours or brands, anything on sale.  It came to only $140.  I know, some people may think that's a lot, and I don't disagree.  What I agreed in my head was to cancel one cleaning lady appointment and do it myself with my hubby as we blare music and sing out loud and dance as we pass in the hallway.  We usually end up in the sack without cleaning, but whatever, still more fun than not don't you think?  That saves us right there.  Not only in the bank but hello, us married kids need spontaneous nookie too!  Okay, back to the cashier, whom I did not sleep with, she was floored by my generosity and laughed when to bag it all, it took two carts!  One of the stocking clerks took the first cart the gals at the food bank station, I pushed the last.  They grabbed me for hugs and kisses.  Tears were shed in happiness and I skipped all the way to my car.  I lied.  I don't skip.  But I smiled all the way there. 
So there it is.  I like to do good things.  And sometimes, I get down more than most, and doing things helps.  Also, I refuse NOT to do things because of being hurt or because my illness can limit what I can and can't do.  I just DO. I DO IT.  Just do it.  I do that.  (Can I be sued for that trademark line being used here?  Good thing I don't get paid to write).
That's all the lead in for the rest of this post. 
I was at the same grocery store Monday.  I am on new medication and I feel horrible.  Mentally, never better.  Physically the side effects are sucking a bit.  It is, what it is, while it is, until it isn't.  I don't get that statement either, I just like how it sounds.  Rolls right off the tongue and makes you sound all Buddha like. 

As I was walking out of the grocery store, with my cart full for the week, I got really dizzy.  I stopped walking, held onto the cart and wondered why I was driving my car let alone grocery shopping.  Just as I was thinking to myself, do I fall and call out "I've fallen and I don't want to get up", or call the hubby to tow me and my car back home?  (He can do that!  And he would do that.  He had the tools, monster truck and trailer.  I wish I drank booze.  Would be so fun to be picked up at a bar and have him drive my truck into the trailer!).  Off track again.  My bad.

As I stood and tried to right myself I noticed all the fall mums on the customer service counter.  All but two of them, just about to wilt.  With a good window and water they'd be great.  And because of that, I thought I bet I could get them for less than $9.99.  And there's 20 of them so that's.....I didn't get to the math I was too dizzy and someone got concerned.  I heard, "are you okay" behind the stars in my eyes.  I asked if they would sell me all the mums I had been staring at for too long at half the price.  If I would take them all off their hands I wanted a deal.  The girl couldn't make that call, she called her boss. Her boss came over and looked at me odd (you'll see a pattern emerging here) because I looked like hell now.  Cold sweats from the dizziness added to the aforementioned early morning appearance.  Least I had on my City of Kawartha Lakes vest, they thought maybe I work for the city and I was just sick, or dying, either or.  All of this stuff they think appears in bubbles over people's heads in my world, not yours? 

The manager tells me she had planned on throwing all the left over mums away.  I said I would like them all for the seniors center in town, that the little old birds I adore so much love to play with pretty flowers, plucky the dead leaves, watering and watching them grow in their windows if they are so lucky to have them.  My Nana loved her flowers.  The manager said she would have loved to do that herself but didn't have the staff to leave the store.  I said I would be happy to if she just got someone to help me load the car.  I figured I should ask for a little help before falling down.  And off I went.
Now please keep in mind that I am a wee....wait, I need to explain something here.  I am about to use a non politically correct word here.  I know it.  My grandmother was a Principal at a school for the mentally special/gifted/challenged and I loved them all.  I loved her, the school and I never would have called them this but it is what I am.  I can be, retarded *wince*. Go back in time when they couldn't explain what was wrong with someone so they used that word and it applies to me sometimes.  It does!  I really am.  When it comes to some things, like doing things in a manner that won't hurt me, or using common sense, I am.  Imagine making sticky toffee then using a very sharp knife to cut it in the pan TOWARDS YOU!  Pointing the knife directly from the pan aimed right at your heart!  Stuff like that, I am not smart about.  In fact, I always fail.  That day, with the toffee, I ended up in the hospital with a knife stuck almost right through my hand.  If you don't think they thought the R word, you'd be wrong.  In fact the very next day to all of this mum bartering, I fell off a ladder. I fell off a 3 stepper ladder, 3 fucking steps.  How?  Because it was too high and scared me.  Standing on a chair scares me so why not a ladder right?  With my back injury and dizzy spells why wouldn't I climb a ladder while lifting about 50 pounds of assorted metal shelves in my hands over my head.  Good decision.  Not so much.  R word, yep!
I arrived at the seniors center, and tried to enter.  I love random rhymes.  I couldn't make the door work. There was a man in a walker chair at the door who after a bit thought be so pathetic he actually tried to get up to help me.  I was trapped between the front door and the door to the center.  Like an apartment building.  I was in there for...well, too long.  There it is, a phone.  Dumb ass.  I called and said "flower delivery".  What the hell else could I say?  When I went in I said that I needed a cart, a dolly, and that I had like 20 fall mums for the center.  The young gal got me the cart and I said, "these are from over at ValuMart, they are free to the center, please make sure they are distributed around to those who would like them".  She looked perplexed and said she needed to get her boss.  Well of course, it's free shit, call management. 

Back at my car I loaded up the cart.  All the while bracing my body against my car as another dizzy spell hit from the cold to hot ratio inside and outside.  And then again, got myself stuck in the entrance.  By the time I got into the building for the second time there stood a lovely lady, a little older than me, very pretty, all done up to the nines..."uh oh, management's here", I thought.  She said to me, "What's is this all about?"  I told her I had planned on buying all the flowers (*waves hand like a Price Is Right Model across the flowers*) for the center but ValuMart gave them to me if I could deliver them.  So here I am, delivering.  And the convo went as follows:
Suit:   Do you work for them, ValuMart I mean?
Me:    Nope, retired.  Worked on Bay Street for 22 years.  Tired.
Suit:   Do you work for the City of Kawartha?
Me:    Nope, just retired up here, love it.
Suit:   Do you have family or friends residing with us?
Me:    Nope.
Suit:   So you did this, why?
Me:    Because I thought it would be nice for the little old birds who love flowers to have flowers.
Suit:   That's amazing.
Me:    Not really.  I asked, I did, I am here.
Suit:   There aren't many people like you anymore. 
Me:    There are.  They are either overworked so they don't do this, or they don't realize how satisfying THIS is to do.
Suit:   Can I have your name?
Me:    Nope, you can thank the manager, the wife of the management team, at ValuMart.
Suit:   Well you take care.
Me:    You too. I hope the flowers make people happier today.
Suit:   I know they will.  I can't thank you enough.
Me:    No thanks necessary.

Get out there humans.  Do something nice.  Especially if you feel like an asshole. Perhaps you aren't an asshole you just feel like one.  If doing something nice doesn't change that.....well I guess you're just an .......

Monday, October 14, 2013

I AM SO A GIRLY GIRL....I swear, I am!

I am pretty sure if I pee sitting down, get the occasional mani/pedi, and have boobs then it's a done deal, I am a girl.  Well that and the fact I have an irrational range of emotions = girl.  Don't make me show you ma' boobies!  I've done it before, I will do it again.  Mind you I was just trying to hail a cab.  Nailed it.  Not only did I get the first cab, he threw someone out of it to pick me up!  Probably should have been a little concerned about that but whatev’s had places to be.

 I am aware that the above could be a description of a gay man but “lesbehonest” (shout out to Fat Amy) they normally don’t have boobies, those boys are usually in great shape gurl!

Because I curse a lot and USED TO BE a real hard ass people think I don’t do girly.   I was a hard ass, I had bigger balls than most men.  But I had them removed when I retired from the “man’s world”, all girl now. So, I am here to say, once and for all, I eat chocolate and potato chips once a month all day long like all the rest of you girls.  Okay?!  And if you ask me about that, the chocolate, on the day I am eating the chocolate, I will cry about eating chocolate.  Because girls cry one day a month about the potential for there to be no more chocolate in the world and that’s both sad, and scary.  And I am a girl. 

Maybe I don’t get up and put makeup on every day, I am retired, I don’t have to!  My husband is a realist, he only cares if I have clothes on or off not makeup on or off, and I know this.  I know he could care less.  Now don’t get me wrong, I doll up on occasion and he likes it.  We all know it doesn’t take much more than breathing to get into a man’s pants so normally I do au natural on the face.
A friend once said, “track pants are not a real clothing group”.  I beg to differ.  If they weren’t, then why were they ever created?  If they were inside only pants then wouldn’t they be pajamas?  Victoria Secret may have made a few bucks off bras but the Pink line of track pants is where their money continues to be made.  I am aware, yes, they are made for teenagers.  STOP JUDGING ME! I love me some big baggy boyfriend tracks, I do. 

Another friend once commented “girl, get a real bra” when I lamented on about getting out of the shower still damp, and having the sports bra become a rolled up tube of immovability.  Picture a spandex tensor bandage wrapped around and around your chest then roll it up until its one tube cutting off your circulation.  That is pretty much what happens when a girl with some junk in her chest of drawers (like junk in her trunk but higher up), tries to pull a sports bra on over her head with wet skin.

 I tried to find a picture to post here about this issue, there are none and mine turned out so horrific I had to cry for a bit versus post, well, anything.  I did cry on my keyboard, so that's my posting.  My tears.

I am casual, a lot.  Today, black capri 100 year cotton old tights, hi low ¾ sleeved cotton army green tunic with a cute twisty key hold back, black cotton thong undies and for fun, a camouflage green cotton sports bra that’s so old it should probably be burned but looks cute peeking out of the neck of the top.  It’s old, it’s comfy and I love it all.  Throw on a cute jacket, wrappy like infinity scarf, sparkly shoes and makeup, I could do a dinner up here, maybe not downtown Toronto even though I would.

I am posting today to straighten that all out and to give you some insight into this girly girl.  My top five girly go to things.

1)      HAIR. 

My hair is probably one of my greatest assets.  I brag about it a lot cause it is stupidly awesome.  It grows so fast I can have short hair, above the ears and 12 months later it can be shoulder length, at least.  It can easily be blow dried straight, doesn’t take much to get it there and conversely, if I want it with beach waves, I just let it dry on its own.  I can pile it all up on my head with one good solid elastic, when I let it down the beach waves with be amazing.  Yeah you read all that right, be jealous, it is okay, you should be, really, it’s good hair.  But I do have a secret if you bear with me a little longer.  I remember once getting up in the am, showering, and letting it dry ever so slightly then piling it up on my head.  The rest of the day it remained there.  When it was time to go out that night I pulled out the elastic and let it all drop.  After having it up all day tightly in an elastic had flattened the top a little at the hairline so I threw on a fedora and the waves were down my back and my American sister who basically had just finished a half hour of prep work and smelled like a can of hairspray told me to go basically jump off a short pier.   I didn't smoke one cigarette near her all night.  I feared she'd combust.
This is dropped out of the elastic after a day hair.  BOOOYAH!

And blow dried out.  A five minute blow dry no less! 

So, if all else fails on a bad day, do something great or fun with your hair.  If I am feeling a little down I will throw good tunes in the car, roll down the windows, let my hair down and go for a windy drive.  I know it sounds silly but it works, I love how it feels.  Let your hair down once in a while ladies, it feels great. 

On the subject, if you can afford WEN by Chaz Dean, get it.  You’ve seen the shopping channel ads with Alyssa Milano and she’s not lying.  It’s a cleansing conditioner, not shampoo.  No soap.  And it’s amazing.  I already had good hair, add in the use of this stuff, just wow.  I used high end shampoo and conditioner this past week and my hair went limp, lifeless, dry and dare I say it….like everyone else’s.  It was awful.  If you can skip the cost of a meal out a month, order it.  I swear by it!

2)      SHOES.

I have a bad back, always have.  And I am a chunky monkey.  Therefore I, Nicolle Weir, more often than not, more often than I would like to admit, (oh it’s hard to say this out loud after years of heels) wear comfortable shoes. *gasp*.  I try to make them snazzy comfortable shoes but they are comfortable none the less.  I was the queen of mean in a sexy pair of heels in my days in the “man’s world”.  I still have some, and I won’t lie, invested in a few more pairs over the years, but flats are this girls “go to” shoes.  But I refuse to be a slave to the bad shoe.  I have at least, at a minimum, 40 pairs of flat shoes before we even get into plain old flip flops or sneakers.  Then there’s 20 pairs of heels of varying heights and heel width.  And 20 pairs of boots, high low anything goes (holla thigh highs).  I have a shoe to match any outfit, to draw the eye from the hair to the foot and away from the ba-hind.  Yup, that’s right bitches, have good shoes.  They don’t have to be pricey, just pretty.  Think Winners for designer, Target for designer low lines.  A great pair of shoes can complete or compliment any outfit and give you that little boost.  We all need a feel good day, let shoes help you walk around in it!

4 day course in Toronto.  A girl needs choices.

Looking down and seeing these on my feet actually make me do a little dance.  I love these.

Not only does this, if done in the form of Yoga, make you feel good, and strong, it makes you limber.  A limber wife makes for a happy what now?  That’s right ladies.  Nothing sexier to a hubby than a woman who can grab her own ankles.  Back injury or not, I stay limber for ma’ man!   Wanna feel sexy, have sex.  That’s sexy.

 See how much joy it can bring you!

Get it now?

4)      MAKEUP.

I’ve already said, I don’t wear it often.  I’ve already said, I am 43.  What I haven’t said is that I used to smoke.  It was only for 30 or so years.  I like the sun.  Things age.  Those things, include my face.  On a bad day I love nothing more than pulling out my magic in a box.  It’s called Melina corrector cream by Boxx Cosmetics.  My friend created this makeup line and Melina IS magic.  It brightens the face, it lightens dark spots and circles under the eyes.  It makes wrinkles, less apparent and I f*cking love this sh*t.  Gosh darn, there’s that trucker mouth again.  Here goes, I am very fond of this pallet.  Putting this on your face makes you feel younger.  Add a tiny bit of powder, shimmery blush, and just touch a mascara wand to the end of your upper lash and in 3 minutes you have a new face.  I have done this for a run to the store or a casual night out and I swear I drop years off my face.   When I wake up and need a pick me up.  If we have company and coffee is more important than time “dolling up”, Melina is a minimum must.   www.boxxcosmetics.com

5)       Mani/Pedis

If you want to feel special, to feel pretty, when all else is failing in your warped girly mind, go have a pretty colour painted on your toes.  Have your nails done if you can.  If you have no nails, try some gels to see if you can grow your own.  Once they grow get them coated in gel to keep them strong and paint them regularly.  It’s not expensive.  A nice nail, short or long, painted or just polished, looks pretty.  Makes your hands look younger.  Makes you feel good.  Sends a little couriered message to your brain that you care about you, even when you think you don’t.  And pretty toes, well in my mind, it’s a must.  Feet are nasty.  They make me mental so if they are ugly on top of being, well feet, that’s wrong.  And I will tell you it’s wrong.  I have to, it is my job.  Paint ‘em or wear socks, the ONLY two choices in life. 

 You can't NOT smile at these toes and trust me, I don't smile at toes.  But these.....they make me happy.

Freakin' ombre spotted nails.  SO FUN.  (yeah yeah, the rocks are nice too look at too!)

Of course there’s a million other things to do for ourselves or do to keep our minds occupied, our hands busy, our lives happier.  Bake, buy yourself flowers, decorate something, create something (I mean crafts not children), write, read, music, exercise, sleep, water, good food, healthy food, healthy good food, good healthy food….I like food. 


There's nothing better than the smell of baking, tunes blaring, dancing while you stir!
$20 at Loblaws.  Bought by me, for me, cause I love me.  Be Stuart Smalley, tell yourself you love yourself and you are special.  Then tape it and send it to me because I find that silly shit hysterical.
No, I'd be laughing with you....
And if all else fails and you still aren’t happy….make then eat crème brulee because the world is a very special place when crème brulee is in reach.

It's not as hard as you think to make.  Loaded with protein.  (May contain higher than normal traces of fat and sugar.  See a doctor before consuming more than one in a sitting).
All I am trying to say is for god sakes, once and for all, I am a girl and this is my proof.  I do girl shit.







Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Can't we all just get along...maybe we could save lives if we did.

If there weren't stupid people in the world the smart ones, me for example, would all be so much happier.  And yes, I have that on a shirt that I frequently adorn to let the public know my thoughts on the matter.

All over the news right now is the case of a mob of dudes on motorcycles, beating the living shit out of some dude in a Range Rover.  Why you ask?  Because he literally hit one, and drove over another.  Seems legit right?  Sure sounds to me like this Range Rover driver deserved something dontcha think?


For every single story in life, there are always two sides.  You can't argue with yourself unless you are schizophrenic.  Then yes, you may find yourself arguing with, well, yourself.  Otherwise, there needs to be two parties to an argument.   If not, refer to my earlier cray cray comment.  I hear the accommodations are okay if you want a short stay/vacation.  Go ahead, argue with yourself on a street corner.

There is something called the Aikido Exercises. It is the various examples of a fight. It's used in meditation to study "participation", active or otherwise in, everyday life.  I believe I am pretty accurate in my memory of this exercise.  1) An aggressor and a passive.  Example; abuser and an abused.  2) An aggressor with a reactive aggressor.  Example; an abuser and someone who reacts to the abuse but still is dominated.  3) An aggressor with an active aggressor.  Example; a full on fight.  And finally, 4) an aggressor and a non reactive passive non combatant.  Example: on person wanting a fight and someone else strong enough to say, I will not take part, I understand your position and I chose to walk away.

By all accounts this whole situation seems to have gone through all the exercises.  From the videos I've attached in the links below you can argue sixty different ways this could have played itself out.

The "in favour" of the motorcyclists video, shows the Range Rover being surrounded by them as they all "share the road".  One rider appears to be saying something to the driver of the Range Rover then gets directly in front of him, directly in the path of the Range Rover.  The Range Rover is seen to be slowing down then "tapping" the bike.  Tapping being the bumping of the bikes rear tire from behind by another vehicle.  This is extremely extremely dangerous.  It is very easy to knock someone off a bike and quickly throw them under your vehicle by doing this.  Once the tap occurs, the reaction of the other riders is quick.  They surround the vehicle and are obviously upset.  The vehicle then speeds up and drives away, and OVER quite a few bikes.  The expensive, private property, of other people.  What the Range Rover also drives over and is hard to see on the video, is a human being!

The riders then take chase.  And what's already a bad situation gets worse. 

I want it very clear, I am not siding with any one person here.  But I think in this day and age we need to be addressing "active participation" like this. 

Example; Justin Bieber is actively participating in the demise of his own character by acting like, a douche bag.  If you don't behave like a douche bag likely you won't be assigned the moniker.

The Range Rover driver has his wife and 2 year old daughter in his truck.  He is minding his own business driving down a highway.  Suddenly he is surrounded by motorcycles.  And I don't mean your stereotypical bikers.  I mean a ton of different types of road bikes, some with passengers even.  Very little noticeable biker gear, insignias, even "hogs" as they call them.  The typical motorcycle of choice for "bikers", a "hog".  The term "biker" puts an image of Sons of Anarchy in our minds.  It's a stereotype and is immediately assumed to be frightening.  Which of course is ridiculous and a stereotype that more often than not, is not appropriate. 

Example; my early childhood was spent with a Hells Angel named Billy.  He lived on my quiet  residential street.  He was from a normal family and he was lovely and even babysat me. As far as I know Billy didn't sell drugs, women, or gun run.  He just had a long beard I like to pull on and he loved loved loved his Nicky! (that's sweet little ol' me).  Basically he was the Duck Dynasty member of Rivercourt Blvd.

Back to the story.  This driver, the Range Rover, finds himself surrounded by what could be perceived, as I said in the beginning, as a mob of people.  It is very clear one of the riders has said something to the driver of the Range Rover.  What?  We may never know.  You do hear some honking I believe, so maybe the rider was saying "dude, ease up, it's ride day".  He could have also said "nice truck, get off our road or else".  That same rider then, with what appears to be full intention, pulls in front of the Range Rover.  He slows right down basically stopping traffic and that's when the Range Rover taps him from behind. The Range Rover doesn't appear to speed up and tap him, even drive at the speed limit and tap him.  He tapped him when the rider slowed down immediately in front of him.  And, as they say in the movies......"ACTION".

Once the tap occurs everyone stops around the Range Rover.  He then removes himself from the scene by driving over the bikes, and sadly, a human being.  And the chase through New York begins.  In the end the riders catch the Range Rover in traffic, surround him, pull him from his vehicle and kick the crap out of him.  He is already out of the hospital, apparently they didn't hurt him too badly.  The rider he drove over?  Likely will never walk again and is in critical condition in hospital.  Charged?  The original biker who said something to the Range Rover, then pulled in front of him and stopped him, which ended with him being tapped.  This rider has been charged with reckless driving for this action.

This makes me think of peaceful protests (used by anarchists to break to the law) followed by police force (and claims of brutality).  Can you see the link?  It all starts out good and fine and then rolls out of control.  It's what happens when large groups of people gather in a time when people do not seem to want to be responsible for their actions and reactions.

This type of mod riding is apparently common place now.  They go out in numbers to interfere with traffic, to "take back" the roads from cars, to perform stunts.  All of us have heard the bikers insistence that cars and trucks must learn to co-exist with motorcycles better.  And I agree.  As long as they are allowed and licensed to be on the road, we must share that road equally and drive safely in accordance with the types of vehicles on the roads.  We need to use our mirrors and check our blind spots because there is no competition between a one ton truck and a motorcycle of a few hundred pounds and a driver with no metal between him and the metal of your vehicle. 


What I don't approve of is any mob like behaviour that endangers anyone, including those that make up the mob itself.  These riders surrounding a vehicle.  Not bikers, not members of a gang but a group of people is called what?  A group, a gathering, a gang, a mob.  It all depends on the actions of the group.  If I were walking on the street and was surrounded intentionally by a group of people my automatic reaction would be fear, then immediately I would progress to fight or flight.  But I remain responsible for all of it.  My feelings, my reactions, my actions.  I probably would have done exactly what this Range Rover did. Drive fast, away, away from perceived danger.  Was it right that he drove over this rider, and other people's property?  Absolutely not.  Should he be charged?  Don't know the law.  Pretty sure he will be sued to hell and back for hurting the one rider who will never walk again and rightly so.  Should the rider that stopped in front of the car be sued for that as well?  Hell yes! 

That rider, the one who stopped was an aggressor.  He started this whole thing in motion that ended with someone in the hospital fighting for his life and I hope this can be seen clearly.  He actively participated in an action that lead to the harm of another, and another.  He began this chain reaction of activity.  Could he have predicted it?  No.  Doesn't make it go away though.  Did the Range Rover mean to drive over another human on that day?  No, likely not.  He had a wife and a child in the car.  Would you want your child to be scared?  Would you want your child to see another human being hurt?  The driver of the Range Rover was surrounded by, what can only be referred to as a mob of people.  What would you have done?

I can say this.  If you were to surround my truck then force me to stop, I would be scared.  What do I do when I get scared?  I defend myself.  How would I do that?  Drive straight through whatever I needed to drive through to get out of a situation I was scared of.  Would I mean to hurt anyone?  No.  Would I regret it if I did?  Yes, I would. 

We need to learn to play nice.  We need to learn to share the road yes. 

If I were with 25 other cars doing stunts on a highway, stopping other vehicles and the flow of traffic, I would be aware this could be deemed illegal and I was risking my life and that of the general public around me in the name of fun and that, seems pretty stupid to me.  It seems risky.  It seems like an action that could snowball into other actions each worse than the last

Stupid should cost a person.  I wish it didn't sometimes cost lives.  That's just so terribly sad.

Make good choices people.