Not your typical NYE post

I want to tell you about my Christmas gifts. I got 2 things on my list and a couple of pleasant surprises. All of these were from Scott.

From my list:
That necklace I wanted with the moon phase on the day I was born. If I had opened this one first, Christmas would have been over. I absolutely love it. I'm wearing it now.

A rice cooker. The one I had before was way too big. I'd make the minimum capacity and still have enough for the rest of the week. And the kids hate leftovers. This one is a cute little Cuisinart and makes exactly 5 cups of rice at a time. Perfect.

Off list:
A DVD recorder!? This was not at all was I was expecting! I'm delighted by it. It "tapes" right onto a hard drive so it does all the things that my horrible clunky 20th century vcr couldn't. I can tape something and watch the tv, tape while watching the beginning of the same show, it'll tape while it's on or off as long as the show is on timer... Best. Gift. Ever.

Surprise!:
A knitting bag.  Scott saw me knitting crappy, ill-fitting slippers in the weeks running up to Christmas. I never even gave them to my intended victims since they were so awful. My previous knitting bag was an old purse that, frankly, suited me just fine. I'm just not good at knitting. I pick it up only once or twice a year after I've forgotten exactly how much I dislike it. I can only knit scarves and the occasional slipper since I only know 2 stitches: knit and purl. I can't increase, decrease or do anything fancy. I drop stitches and generally make an absolute mess of whatever I try. Maybe it'll give me some incentive to do better.

Hope your Christmas was as fun as mine was. See you in the new year!

kxx

Traditional Christmas

Well, a traditional British Xmas, anyway.

Before our dinner of turkey, stuffing and trimmings (including mac and cheese!?) we pulled our crackers. Kinda our version of saying grace. For those of you who aren't of the British persuasion, crackers pop when you pull them and have a dumb joke and a crappy toy inside. And we mustn't forget the paper hats. You wear them while you eat. I love this tradition.

The "jokes" (and I use this term lightly) are horrific. And the info is decidedly UK based but we don't care. One of my favourite things to do is to head over to the Scottish and Irish Store and pick up an overpriced box of crackers. So here is what was in our crackers this year. The parentheticals are mine.

***************************

Yellow paper crown

Q: When was the Automobile Association founded?

A: 1905

(Umm... Who cares?)

Who needs to eat a balanced diet?

A tightrope walker

(Ya.)

Fake plastic moustache

*****************************

Green paper crown

Q: Who was the winner of the 2002 British series of "Pop Idol"?

A: Will Young

(I knew that one!)

What do you get if you cross a shark with a snowman?

Frost bite!

(Ugh.)

tiny plastic bull

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Yellow paper crown

Q: How many children did the composer Bach have?

A: 20

(His poor wife)

What travels around the world yet stays in one corner?

A postage stamp

(I like this one)

teensy whistle

******************************

Red paper crown

Q: Who narrated Thomas the Tank Engine?

A: Ringo Starr

(I knew this one too!)

What did Dick Turpin say at the end of his ride to York?

Whoooaaa!

(We were all scratching our heads on this one. A definitely very British joke that us colonists weren't meant to get)

miniscule plastic crab

************************

Green paper crown

Q: In what year was Elizabeth the 2nd born?

A: 1926

(I guessed but was really badly off)

If you have a referee in football, a referee in rugby and a referee in boxing, what do you have in bowls?

Prunes and custard

(How many times did we have to read that question aloud until we realized that "bowls" was a sport? Needless to say we didn't get it)

A little red plastic angel thingie reading a book

*********************************

Aaaahhhh.... tradition

kxx

Happy Birthday Henry!

My baby turned 9 on Saturday and even though he's broken, he's the most awesome kid I know. And yes, I'm aware that I have 3 kids.

I think it's because he's most like me. I don't want to compliment myself in his special blog (okay maybe I do) but he's funny, dramatic, loyal, loving and has dimples. He only has to cut his eye at me in that way and I'm cracking up. I love him to distraction and think he's all that and a bag of Doritos. Nacho flavour.

So happy birthday my little lovey. Keep making people laugh and enjoy your life. You make every day brighter.

kxx

Rhyme time

I love helping the Henry with his English homework. He's really creative but because of his language delay, many times he gets it wrong. But funny wrong. For instance he came home the other day with a rhyming word test. He was sad that it had a couple of wrong answers on it that he had to correct. He had to come up with a word or phrase that rhymed with the provided word. Sounds simple enough.



The words he had to rhyme? Sting and Enormous. What did he choose? Bling and Ginormous. Poor kid didn't understand why he got them wrong. I barely understand it myself. What rhymes with enormous, anyways? You hear those words everyday especially on those "youth-oriented" channels he watches. How to explain they aren't real words? Slang words. Bleh.



I kind of think the teacher should have given him creativity points. I would hope she at least had a chuckle before she put those red x's on his paper.



I'll just keep helping him and try to stave off the illiterate word bombs exploding around us. Cover us, we're going in.



kxx

Merry Xmas!

Please enjoy this video on this most holy of holy days. As a Roman Catholic it's full of the reverence and spirituality I feel on a daily basis. Enjoy and have a fantastic, relaxing, lovely day.

kxx

Christmas card rant

Yes, I'm aware it's too late but it's my blog and I'll belate if I want too. See what I did there?

Here's the deal. I wanted to send them out I really did. But usually I think about it on the 20th of December and by then it's too late to mail. Everyone who sends me a card I really appreciate. Truly. I love getting cards from friends and neighbours. But the caveat: I only want to see your signature. Maybe a (very) short note wishing the Kayes a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. It warms my heart.

What I'm not interested in is your family letter. If you have to update me on what happened in your family every month since last Christmas, we're not good friends and I don't care. Am I being harsh? Maybe. Am I jealous that these families have cool, funky, fun lives... lives that are worth trumpeting about to virtual strangers? Kinda.

Now keeping a blog, on the other hand... yes, I'm aware that I'm trumpeting my life to virtual strangers but you have the option not to read it and I didn't spend a dime on stamps. The decision is in your hands. Besides, how do they remember everything that happened all year? Here's how mine would sound:

December: Henry had a birthday and Merry Xmas from the Kayes!
January: Umm... Happy New Year!
February: Scott and I did something for Valentines, I'm sure.
March: Errr... the kids had March break
April: Wow, what about that freak snowstorm? (There must have been one, it's Canada)
May: Elliott had a birthday
June: Audrey had a birthday
July: Whew, was it ever hot! (again, it's Canada...)
August: Scott and I had our birthdays. What fun! (I'm sure)
September: The fog is lifting! We went to Marineland. Ha!
October: Urk. More fog. Ummm. Thanksgiving was delicious?
November: Oooh! Henry broke his arm playing hockey! Yay! (yay for the fact I remembered... not because of his broken arm)
December: Henry had a birthday and Merry Xmas from the Kayes!

Wow, how pathetic was that? See? Would you be interested in getting that stupidness in your Christmas card? I thought not.

kxx

You know, wrapping paper ranks right up there with toilet paper and garbage bags

How, you may ask?

Because you pretty much buy these things just to throw them away. It makes me nuts to spend any kind of money on them. Which is why you don't want to wipe yourself at my house. Pretty scratchy. Or pick up my garbage 'cause your fingers will go through the bag when you pick it up. Yup, we're that family.

Buying something only to destroy it makes me nuts. But do you know what makes me more nuts? People who delicately pick open gifts to save the paper. Really? Um, you really don't want to save the crap paper I used. Rip away. And don't get me started about those gift bags. What a lazy cop-out.

I don't know how many times I've wrapped gifts in newspaper. The comics page is colourful and fun. And really cheap. And tear-able. I've even been known to wrap things in cloth. What is it about wrapping paper? One of my many pet peeves that make me the incredible specimen of weirdness you see before you.

No go on and leave me alone. I've still got gifts to wrap.

kxx

Funniest Xmas website EVER.

I swear I hyperventillate with laughter everytime I see it. Please, do yourself a favour and check out some of these photos.

Screw being politically correct. Merry Christmas, peeps!

kxx

http://www.sun-sentinel.com/entertainment/holiday/sfl-scaredofsanta-ugc,0,7181908.ugcphotogallery

Headphones, earphones and the 7th circle of hell

I'm a huge fan of my mp3. It's the only thing that makes a potentially panic attack inducing busride enjoyable. I also use it at work to drown out talking (and here I include myself talking) and just discovered books on tape which is really comforting, like having your mother read to you. Moving on...


What I hate are headphones, earphones and earbuds. Here's my list of beefs:


Headphones: you know the ones... they have big pads that go over your entire ear. They sound great in the house but you'd look like an überdork if you wear them on the bus.


Earphones: better but they never fit quite right on my bald, (what Scott likes to call peanut-shaped) head. No matter how tight I make them they still fit badly.


Earbuds: I hate these with a fire and passion that burns. The loathing rises like bile in my throat that bubbles and writhes with the pain of a thousand... what? Oh. Where was I?


Yes. Earbuds. These are the earphones that despite my all consuming aversion are the ones that I want to work the most. The ones came with my iPod fall out of my ears at every opportunity. When I turn my head. When I sing. When I chew gum. When the sun hits them. When I have a negative thought. You name it. The ones I bought after those came with different sized silicone ends. The small ones fit "best" but they still pop out irritatingly often.



The ones I bought lately are best. The good: They stay in my ears really well because they have these ends like earplugs that you squish then cram into your head. The bad: They're going to kill me.

I can't hear anything at all besides my music and lately my book. People talk to me and I just smile and nod politely hypnotised by the way their mouths move. Hopefully they're not asking me to wear a puffy shirt. I can't hear sirens or traffic or anyone coming up behind me. When I sing out loud I can only hear that weird tone inside my head. Which makes me sing louder. Obviously these things are a danger for the outside world, too.



They can send a rocket to the moon but they can't make a decent, cheap set of earbuds. So until they can tap the High School musical 3 soundtrack directly into my cerebral cortex, it looks like I'll be buying a set of these once a month for the rest of my life. However short that'll be. When they discover it flag me down because I won't hear you calling. I'll be the one wandering into oncoming traffic listening to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.



kxx

Daycare v. Playdates

Most of you know I used to do daycare out of my home. At first I did it all day long, then before and after school, then just after school, then I was done. Frankly I was fed up and knew I had had enough when we'd have "film festival day" (popcorn for snack and the kids plopped in front of the tv) 3 times a week.

Fast forward to this past summer. Henry has a friend named Jacob who a couple of times a week comes over after school to hang out. They are in the same class, take the bus home together and Jacob's backyard and ours touch. Very convenient. One day Jacob's mum Sarah asked me if I could please (pretty please) to watch him after school for a few hours. Really, how is that any different from the average day? How was it different? I'll tell you. She wanted to pay me. I hemmed and hawed and told her I wouldn't take it. She insisted so I took her $20.

It was weird, though. What about all the other days I took her son off her hands? I've even given him snack and even made those boys do their homework. Where was my money then? You know what they call charging for playdates? Daycare. And I'm not doing it again. Aren't I? I'd better warm up the vcr.

kxx

One of my favourite kitchen tools sucks

I say one because you all know that my very favourite kitchen tool is Terra. If you don't know who that is (where have you been?), use the search tool above (isn't Blogger cool?). Put in "Terra". There are lots of photos (those links actually work) and one of my faves is of me kissing her. Anyway, this isn't about her, it's about another one of my kitchen tools.


I have these 2 weird little knives. I have no idea when I got them. They could have been leftovers from Scott's previous live-in girlfriend Darlene's kitchen. She took everything but a couple of eggs (remind me to tell you that story) but left those 2 babies behind. They have yellow handles and are terrible for spreading anything. In fact they're pretty crappy at doing everything except cutting cheese and peeling potatoes That's it. I've bought many potato peelers and many cheese slicers but I always go back to these crappy little knives. They're old and I love them to bits. A lot like Scott.


Okay, I had to put that in. How could I let the opportunity pass? You know I don't really mean it.


kxx

Boy, you look great in those genes

I was at Costco on the weekend and the little girl behind the checkout complimented my skin. She was about 18 and was a bit pimply but very cute as only an 18 year old can be. She stared at me a bit before saying that my skin was "amazing and smooth". My usual comeback is "it's makeup", but then go on to thank the complimenter going on to say that I've been lucky because I didn't have pimples and blemishes when I was a teen. I did this as always. I know how to take a compliment.

Having nice skin is a blessing. It can make the oddest looking person look terrific. I thank my lucky stars (and my parents) every time I get noticed for it. My skin, in fact, is the thing I get complimented most on. That and the fact that I can say without hyperbole that I look about 5 years younger than my 41 years. Works for me. Yippee. As my daddy always says, "Black don't crack." For those of you unschooled in Ebonics, this is a reference to the fact that we Blacks as a people have very high melanin in our skin thus making it difficult for wrinkles to take hold. Hee.

So what is my skincare regime? Why I'll tell you. In the morning I wash it with Clean and Clear Morning Burst soap then slather it with Garnier Shine Control Moisturiser. At night I wash the makeup off with Cetaphil Oily Skin Cleanser. That's it. Sorry. Like I said, good genes.

kxx

My Christmas list

This is the list I gave to Scott. It seems reasonable, no? I don't want everything (well, I kinda do but the things I don't get I'll pick up later in the year) just a couple...

-Panini grill with interchangeable plates (countertop not stove)
-Customised moon necklace (tell them my bday)
-Nice top (sz: LARGE)
-"Clean" perfume from Holt Renfrew
-Dr. H tee: either "You are not my nemesis" or "I don't go to the gym, I'm just naturally like this" women's size XL, black, from jinx.com
-New eyeglass frames
-Picture frame for my Paris poster (this has been pending for over 4 years!)
-Flatware and mugs that match
-Rice cooker (5 cup max... the one I have is too big)
-gps for the van
-loose leaf tea from Teaopia... I'm not telling which kind. Surprise me. Keep in mind I don't like mint and let me know if there's caffeine in it (just so I don't go drinking it at bedtime)



Notice there are all normal things on this list. I've kept off my ubiquitous Smart Car, Louboutin shoes thing. What's the point? You all know what I want...



kxx

You've heard of mothers-in-law, now meet "knowledge-in-law"

Sometimes Scott really surprises me. We were watching tv one night and he recognised an actor way before I did. This is remarkable. Let me explain:

Scott doesn't often watch tv with me. And I love tv. A lot. I watch everything that comes on at least once. I often describe myself as being the lowest common denominator of the tv viewing public. Scott is far more discerning. He watches current affairs programmes, true life biographies, stories of World War 2, news, Coronation Street (!) and very rarely entertain-y stuff like The Tudors or Lost. We'll start watching something together and often he'll just wander off to the depths of his hobbyshop/office never to be heard from again until bedtime.

Once we were watching Mad Men (another one of his exceptions) and an ad came on. It was for some pain medicine and the actor was talking directly to the screen about how amazing the stuff was. Scott looked at it for a few seconds and says:

"Isn't that the guy from one of your shows?"

I look much more closely and realize that it's the actor who used to play Cass Winthrop from my old favourite soap opera Another World, a soap that was cancelled 9 years ago. Holy crap! For someone who I consider to "not watch tv", this was an incredible statement.

I call it my "knowledge-in-law theory". If one half of a spouse is rabidly interested in something, you can't help but pick up a few facts about it even if you're not the least bit interested in it. You never even know when it's happening. My knowledge-in-law theory is the reason why I can tell the difference between a Lancaster and a B-52 or a Spitfire and a Hurricane. They're circa WWII planes BTW.

The knowledge-in-law theory. Feel free to use the term. Just remember where you heard it first.

kxx

Excitement v. excrement

Is it weird that everyime I see the word "excitement" I read the word "excrement"? This unfortunate brain fart could make for some really funny stories. Like say I was a television newsreader reading the teleprompter: "Yesterday there was great excrement at Parliament Hill as Liberal leader... what's that? Oops, that is excitement... as new Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff..." See?


Unfortunately the only fascinating story and reason for this blog I could muster up was that I noticed this unfortunate fact on the bus recently when I giggled as I read the newspaper over someone's shoulder. Woo.



kxx

Xmas gift questions

1. If you don't get what you asked for do you buy it for yourself at a later date?

2. Would you exchange a gift a loved one bought you for a nicer/bigger/better version? I just read a PostSecret secret where a woman exchanged her diamond ring and her fiance didn't even notice. Would your loved one notice? Would he/she care?

3. Do you think a gift certificate is a sucky gift?


My answers:

1. Let's face it, we're all adults here. If the gift is priced within reason just not a priority then I would go ahead and buy it. For instance I have a little necklace on my list and if Scott doesn't get it for me, I'll get it myself. I don't think he'd be insulted.

2. I wouldn't exchange a gift that was bought for me. Not because of any misguided sense of loyalty to the giver but because I'm too lazy. I once bought a family sized block of cheddar cheese that I noticed was mouldy when I got home. And not in the good way. I never brought it back so I was out $8.

3. I think a gift certificate is the perfect gift. It's never the wrong size or colour.

kxx

An apology

I just wanted to apologise to those of you finding my blog for the first time and checking out all my old (and for the most part, better) posts. I have a new gadget on the bottom of my blog that tells me where my readers are from and what posts brought them here. Mostly it looks like my blogs from 2006 and '07 are the culprits.

Those are blogs that wrote up to 2 years ago over on MySpace. There are lots of links that I brought over when I moved to my new digs here at Blogger which have since died. Again, I apologise. When I moved them over I should have removed those links but my priority was to quickly get my posts off MySpace as soon as possible. I was having premonitions of impending MySpace doom which haven't really materialised. Now it just seems like work that I frankly, don't want to do.

So please accept my heartfelt apologies for the dead links. My advice is don't click on them. They don't change the funny. Also, read my newer stuff. They are virtually link free. I haven't quite learned how to work it so links open in a new window so you'll have to right click on them and find that option. Oh well. Remember when you had to get up to change the tv channel or volume? This is easy in comparison.

Thanks for your loyalty and to my new friends, thanks for reading and making me feel loved. You all rock really hard.

kxx (for those of you who missed the post ages ago explaining that signoff, it's the k for Karen and the x's are 2 kisses, one on each cheek because I'm from Quebec)

Coronation Street haiku

Recently the writing prompt for one minute writer was "haiku". The instructions were to close your eyes, turn around, open them and write a haiku about what you see. Unfortunately the first thing I saw was Coronation Street on tv. I need relocate this computer.

Longest running soap
CBC better get smart
Nine months behind sucks

Wow, that was bad.

kxx

Come on everybody! It's a bread tag party!

Ummm, yeah. Actually not so much.

It's actually a quite boring blog about the reasons behind my saving of the insidious bread tag. And here it is. I got none. So why do I save them? I don't know.

Well, that's not entirely true. I save them because my mother did. Why did she save them? I don't want to be repetitive but again... I don't know.

All I do know is that I often have hundreds maybe even thousands before I finally throw them out. I have to change containers to bigger and bigger ones until finally I realise I don't re-use them for any damn thing and finally toss them. It a bizarre compulsion. Right now I have a little bathroom cup on the counter that's rapidly filling up. If anyone can think of a use for these little plastic irritants, send me a message. Daycares don't want them, charities don't have a use for them... I need help!

kxx

My Twilight thoughts...

This movie and book are the biggest things since the last big things and I just have to give my learned opinion. I read the book in about 3 weeks. Why so long? The first half was for want of a better word, boring. All that talking and breathing in of each other's scents. UGH. In Bella's case it was his breath that smelled amazing. Huh? I'm not even going there. All that touching of clavicles, neck snorfing and arm brushing. And I get it... Edward is a hot little piece of 700 year old vampire ass. Let's move on. Does the author have to mention it everytime he shows up? Yes, I know the book is geared for pre-teen girls but it was needing something. Talk about sexually frustrating.


In the second half of the book it really got better. That's what it needed. Some action to warm up my cockles after all the cold showers I was taking. It was so good in fact that it changed my dim view of the whole novel. Now I can honestly say it was good. Did I mention I read the entire second half of the book after the baseball game (I'm not giving anything away) in one sitting? I couldn't put it down.


All in all I thought it was way too chaste. Yet really racy. How is that even possible? I think a preteen girl reading this book would 1) be really disappointed in the actual world of boys out there; and 2) want to rip the next "real" boys clothes off his smooth and chiseled (oh please, oh please) body. Audrey is 10. I thank goodness every day that she's not interested in this series. Because I wouldn't let her read them. There's too much in it that I would have to explain.


That said, I myself can't wait to read the next book and I hope to see movie before it hits video stores.

kxx

I love my cat Taz but it makes me sad

The love:

My cat is awesome. He really is the coolest thing. Taz follows us around the house and many times he follows us when we're on a walk. He's great about that. He'll follow at our heels to the bus stop and once he even got into Audrey's school. A sidebar about how cute and tiny her school is... everyone including the principal, who called me on it later, knew his name and where he belonged.

I may scold him but I secretly love when he climbs onto my newspaper or journal while I'm reading or writing. He drools when he purrs and he purrs often. And loudly.

The sad:

Everytime I scratch his ears, everytime he snuggles up with me, everytime he comes when I call, I feel sad. I think about when he won't do those things anymore. I think about his "santa paws" Xmas stocking on the mantle next to ours and that awful Christmas in the future when it'll be empty. I like to think I'm trying to prepare myself for the inevitable but I think I'm just being ghoulish. Why can't I just enjoy him while he's here? Why can't I banish these depressing thoughts? I used to roll my eyes at people who paid for cancer treatments and stuff like that for their pets. Now I understand. Totally.

See, this is what goes on in the mind of a terminally cheerful person. Dark, eh?

kxx

Moi j'aime la patinage artistique

Thought I'd hit you with some français this morning. Like it?

Remember the 6 things you didn't know about me a while back? Well I forgot to mention something. Actually this would have made it 7 and I'd have had to change the title and stuff but there you go.

Here's the thing. Back when I was little, I used to figure skate. Not for fun but competitively. You heard. The costumes, the music, the choreography, the whole nine. Of course I was only about 7 but still. I was a card carrying member of le Club De Patinage Artistique De St. Laurent.

We had to wear uniforms for lessons. White sweater, navy skort, white headband, navy blue gloves, beige tights and of course, my gorgeous, shiny, white, figure skates. We all wore gold sashes across our chests that our parents had to sew triangle shaped badges onto. The badges were to show that we completed a level. Stopping, forward and backward skating, crosscuts (front and back), figure eights, jumps and, spins, camels and jumps were all badges we could get. My sash was pretty full.

I got pretty far along in the years I was there. I made it all the way up to the badge with the skate with wings on it. That was the one for jumps. I could do a single salchow, a waltz jump and a single toe loop. Youtube them if you're not much of a skate fan. I'll wait....

Pretty impressive, eh? But that was then. When we moved from St. Laurent to St. Hubert and I started at the new club, I told my parents I hated it there and wanted to quit. My parents quickly agreed. A little too quickly, I think. I'll bet the club fees were crippling them financially and they were looking for any excuse.

I wish I had kept it up. Althought I still love to skate, I'm crap at it. As with anything you have to practice. And doing something whiningly and grudgingly twice a year while freezing off every extremity I own does not a happy figure skater make. Remember, my lessons were in a relatively warm arena. Yes, I was spoiled but darn it all, I can still do a waltz jump. After I get feeling back in my toes.

kxx

Funny story

And by funny I mean humiliating.

Way back when Elliott was about 3 I was trying to explain to him the differences between boys and girls. I told him that boys had penises and girls had vaginas. Short of showing him what I meant on myself, he just wasn't getting it. Or so I thought.

A day or two later we were shopping for sheets and towels. I told my toddler that we were going to get in line behind that nice lady over there. I manoever the stroller behind her but Elliott can reach her coat. He pulls on it and announces to her in the loudest voice I've ever heard on a child,

"DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU HAVE A VAGINA??!!!"

I calmly put down my sheet set and rolled that evil little traitor out of there. But not before I turned every possible shade of burgundy and had scarily vivid visions of abandonning him in the mall food court.

Seriously, no one mentions this stuff at the baby shower. It would have been nice to be prepared, no?

kxx

Here's something weird...

Okay, maybe not weird but it's something I do everyday that could be considered odd.

Everytime I wear my mp3 I sing along. Not in my head but out loud. When I'm alone it's loud enough for me to hear through my noise cancelling earbuds. When I'm on the bus, say, I just move my lips. But I always sing along. And when I say "alone" I mean the times when I just can't see anyone else around. Like walking in the street. I can't tell you how many times someone has come up behind me either walking fast or on a bike and I've been caterwauling away to High School Musical 3 or Dr. Horrible. Usually when I'm in a busy place and just doing the moving lips thing, I'll turn my head so most people can't see but if one or 2 see, it still won't stop me. I absolutely cannot not do this.

Please tell me I'm not alone my bizarreness.

kxx

I'm not a adult. Don't believe me? Just check out my mugs.

I got married on a cool rainy day in May, 16 years ago. Fun day but there are lots of things I regret. Like choosing May instead of August. Brrrr. Like not having an official photographer. Or dj. But mostly I wish I had a wedding registry. The gifts I got were lovely, don't get me wrong. Picture frames, facecloths, serving platters, the ever popular cash... But I didn't get (and still don't have) a set of dishes that didn't come out of a box from either Walmart or Zellers.

I'd love to have a china pattern that I chose myself. Something that I could unashamedly use for company. When Scott's mum died we got some of her china. It's pretty but I didn't choose it and it's incomplete and some pieces are chipped. And no mugs. Or teacups for that matter. I'd love it if when my friends come over for tea we could both use the same style of mug. Or even grown-uppier, teacups. Yes, I said "grown-uppier". Feel free to use it. Just mention where you heard it first.

What I have now is:

-3 dollar store mugs with snowmen on them (horrible to use in June),
-a politician ad mug,
-a Canadian tourist mug,
-1 plain mug,
-2 customised mugs from one of those kioks (from my brother),
-1 mug with horses on it,
-1 with a ladybug on it,
-a little blue polka dotted mug,
-a giant soup mug,
-a mug I won in a trivia contest with a radio dj (I crushed Rush!),
-a "World's Best Dad" mug,
-a Chicken Farmers of Canada mug,
-a mug that Audrey painted creatively.

I count 16 mismatched mugs. I don't know. I think it's time to grow up. So where does one shop for new classy mugs? And what do I do with the old ones?

kxx

Ringtone follies

So I was on the bus a couple of weeks ago and my phone rang. An ordinary occurrence on a crowded bus but it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. And I rarely get embarrassed. Why was it the case this time? Because I couldn't find my cell in the gaping black hole I call a purse and it was loudly, publicly and persistently proclaiming my love for High School Musical. It was vibrating and humiliatingly blaring "Together" from the first movie. Ugh.

I got home that night and scoured the internet for a cooler ringtone. One that shows how amazing I am. One that shows my individuality, my love of life, my youthful vigour, my flair for fun and fashion and my enjoyment of all things pop culture.

So what did I choose? What is the ringtone that embodies everything that is Karen? What sound is me?

I chose the sound of a medical tricorder from Star Trek. I know, I'm a complete and utter dork. Just don't call me between 9am and 3pm, 'kay?

kxx
PS: Live long and prosper.

Audrey? A what? A woman? Not on my watch.

What a terrifying day that was. A while ago I was doing Audrey's laundry and came across some questionable undies. Suffice it to say they looked, ummm icky. I stared at them for what seemed to be a full minute, my mind completely blank. Then it started racing. "AUDREY!", I screamed, trying (and not succeeding, I'm sure) to keep the hysteria out of my voice.

"What's this?... Sweetie?" I ask when she finally arrives. See how I tried to deflect my panicked tone by adding the term of endearment?

"What? The chocolate? Sorry mummy. I know you told me not to wipe my hands on my clothes."

It was then that I noticed the streak was not red but brown, and on the outside of her underpants. Remind me to get her to wear trousers when lounging around the house.

Anyway, the panic attack I had prompted another mother/daughter talk. We discussed what to do when her period finally comes. That she should come to me and we'd discuss the options. We talked about her being a woman when the big day happens and we'd go out for a "spa day" just us girls. We'd go out to eat and maybe even buy a piece of jewellry that she'd always keep to remind her of this very special day. That was what was going on on the outside.

This was what was going on on the inside:

"No no no NONONONONONONONONO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not my baby! Not now, not EVER! She's just a baby girl! An infant! You can't take her! NO! I will not discuss tampons v pads with a baby!! I will not explain that she can get pregnant now! I won't tell her it's a beautiful, grownup and natural event. I don't wanna!! I will to go to bed and stay there forever! Don't tempt me! I will take the day off work. To cry and cry and cry! Maybe a little bit of rocking! And some fetal crouching for variety! SO THERE!!!!!!!!!"

But I kept that rattling, railing kook at bay and spoke calmly and rationally to my soon-to-be-a-woman baby girl, just like any completely sane, competent mother would.

What's going to happen when she finally, actually gets her period? Stay tuned. Right now I've got a chocolate stain to get out.

kxx

FOOSH!

I learned something new this weekend and that's what FOOSH stands for. Fall On OutStretched Hand. Yup, after over 12 years of being a mother, I finally know about FOOSH firsthand (no pun intended). Henry broke his arm.

He did it at hockey and thankfully I wasn't there. I'd have been both useless and screamy. Maybe a little nauseous. Scott and Henry spent the best part of Saturday at the children's hospital watching Shrek. Ten hours in emergency is pretty good, actually. Say what you want about the Canadian health system but all this was free. Everything but his prescription which is half paid for by Scott's insurance.

Anyway, he's got a cast from above the elbow to his hand. He's taking it pretty well except for learning he couldn't go swimming with his class Monday. I keep asking and he keeps telling me he's fine. Now onto the practical things like peeing. Looks like he's going to have to wear track pants for a while. Yay! I can get a shopping trip over this. See? In the end, everything is about me.

kxx
PS: What did I end up writing on his cast you ask?

"Hockey Lessons: $600
Hockey Equipment: $300
A broken arm to show your friends: Priceless
Love, Mummy"

Ever wonder why this blog is called Kaye Way?

Well, as you all know I'm pretty self involved. You may not have noticed since I hide it pretty well. Anyhoo, as part of that particular character flaw, I like things around me that have my name and or initials on it. My own body included: all of my 4 tattoos have something to do with me personally.

My blog on Myspace was called Karenworld. Because it's my world and you all live in it. When I moved here to Blogger, I didn't want to bring over the name so I wracked my tiny brain trying to come up with something clever. I thought of my last name and it came to me. Remember those cheesy old jackets from the 80's? Everyone had a K-Way. Mine was red. So I thought I'd be slick, change the name around and voila! The Kaye Way was born. Please enjoy your stay. And remember to keep you hands and feet inside the vehicle.

kxx

Bus apartheid

Okay, it's not as bad as all that but I have to find a way to get these blogs read, don't I?

So yesterday on the bus I was checking out the posted ads. Riding the bus can be a humbling experience as evinced by my recent (and only ever) panic attack. Getting a seat helps as does reading the ads. It's interesting to see the adverts on the inside of the bus versus the outside where people can see them from their nice, comfy, roomy, odour free cars. See, people taking the bus aren't environmental warriors trying to save the world one carbon offset kilometre at a time or cheapies who can't afford to gas up their Hummers. Nope. Bus riders are stupid, broke, suicidal, non-English speaking, fat, pregnant people who are being abused by their spouses. Don't believe me? Check out the ads inside the bus:

Career counselling
New Canadian English/French classes
A student fee protest
Educational upgrade
Weight-loss clinic
Health care clinic
An out-of-town university
A local college
An abuse/pregnancy/teen suicide hotline

Because I was riding the bus I couldn't see my own bus' outside ads but the ads outside of others we passed today were for:

Radio stations (one even claimed something good is playing right now!)
National Arts Centre shows (they house our local symphony and any operas that happen to be kicking around)
Political messages
Fur coats (!)

This tells me that drivers (and to a lesser extent, I guess pedestrians) are smart, worldly, a little snobby and rich. Very, very, fur-wearingly, rich.

Huh. You know, being on both sides of the public transportation fence, that's pretty close to the truth. And just for the record, I'm driving to work later.

kxx

20 years with the same guy? Is that good or bad?

Just this past September Scott and I celebrated 20 years together. We got married in 1993 but we met in 1988 when I was 21 and he was 26. What's the secret to our longevity? What makes us last so long?

I dunno. Ummm... a mutual love of talk radio? Nah, I hate talk radio.

Seriously, I couldn't put my finger on it if I tried. I love the guy and he loves me and I trust that. We laugh. A lot. And I call him names. "Dork" is my particular fave. Beyond that, luck has a scary amount to do with it. It's horrifying, really.

So there you are boys and girls. The secret of one happy couple's long life together. Love, laughing and lotsa luck. Yeah, have fun re-creating that.

kxx

Six things you don't know about me

Well, here I am, flummoxed at trying to complete this task. I've been keeping a blog since 2006 and I'm a bad bad liar. If I tell a lie on here I can't keep it straight indefinitely and I get called out. The long and the short of it is I tell the truth. Which means you know all know everything about me. You can't have a conversation, however one-sided, for two years and not spill everything about yourself. But I'll try to come clean with 6 things you don't know about me:

1) I'm not the neatest person but I can't start work unless my station is completely tidy. Other people sit in my place when I'm not there and mess it up so it can take up to half an hour to get it the way I like it.

2) I physically cannot leave the house wearing jeans and a jean jacket. I own both but you'll sooner catch me wearing socks and sandals. And speaking of clothing, can I digress for a second? How does one wear a padded vest? If it's cold outside I wear a jacket. If it's not I don't. My arms get colder than my body. So what's up with the vest? Now if they invent down sleeves....

3) I like sardines right out of the can and anchovies on my pizza.

4) I have no patience for people who don't watch tv. I immediately find them unfun. Yes, that's a word. I used it so it's a word. Take that Webster.

5) I've had a breast reduction but I wish my boobs were even smaller. FF to D but I wish they were Cs.

6) My dream is to live alone. The only way to achieve that is to eliminate everyone I love. Sigh.

kxx

Skin tags? Well, this is an all new kind of nasty.

Well it looks like I've crossed over. Into the where-did-this-strand-of-hair-come-from? world of ickyness.

I found 2 skin tags on my right shoulder. They're not big (only about the size of a pinpoint) and you wouldn't see them unless I pointed them out. But I know they're there. I can feel them. My mother had tons of them all over her upper body. Hers were bigger than mine (pinhead sized) but not huge but they were all kinds of gross. Soggy, flabby, weird little blobs of skin. So is this it for me? Am I going to be the crazy old skin tag lady? At least they're not on my face like some of the ones I saw when I googled "skin tags". Brrrr.

And the home remedies are so appetising. Let's see... I can yank them off, freeze them off or tie a thread around them and suffocate them until they fall off. Sounds like three medieval ways the British government got you to pay your taxes. I'm virtually rubbing my hands together trying to choose. At least they're way too small right now to make a decision. Maybe by the time they grow there'll be some kind of Compound W type stuff I can dab on it. Please?

kxx

When she sits around the house, she site *around* the house...

I'm overweight. In fact, I'm just shy of obese. Don't believe me? Go here and punch in these numbers (height 5'3, weight 165). I'll wait....... See?


Now I know that I could stand to lose a few pounds. I'm not disputing that. But obese? Please. I wear size 10 pants. I can still shop at "normal" stores and not have to go to the plus places. Yet. But that's neither here nor there.


I heard that insurance companies may soon start to use these things to see if you qualify. Yikes!


What if they just use that chart? What if they don't hear about the triathlon you did and came in 12th place? Or the dragonboat competitions where you won 2 medals? Or that marathon you did? Or something. So unfair. And frankly, terrifying.



kxx

Sometimes I have nothing to say

Actually it's more like I have nothing to write and yes, I know you are absolutely flummoxed by that statement but it's true.

In the past I have reprinted recipes I love, used old exerpts from my 1989 diary (horror show)or just yammered on (and on) about how I have nothing to say. Excruciating.

Well, now I have a saviour. It's called "One Minute Writer". How cool is this? There's a timer on her page, she gives you a topic and you write what you can about the subject for a solid minute. I love this. What I love most is the idea that I just get to trail off mid-sentence when I'm done. Well, I probably won't do that but you get the idea. Okay maybe I will do it. You know, just once for comedic effect.

So stay tuned for a bizarrely short blog that ends either abruptly or just trails off. It should be interesting. I wonder what kind of trouble I can get up to in a mere minute?

kxx

Is this wrong?

One of the many (many) things I like about Blogger is that I can add little fun things to customise my blog. My latest add is a comment thingie at the end of each blog with the choices "funny" "interesting" and "cool". I can change those at any time, too. Suggestions? Anyway, I've been waiting a couple of days for someone to use it (it's super easy... no windows open, it just registers the tick) then got impatient and decided to just go ahead and do it myself. So as you can see, I like all the posts on the front page. They're mostly funny and interesting. I'll have to work on cool. So, was that wrong?

I also like the fact that I'm writing this blog on the 10th November at about 4:40 but I can date the blog ahead in time and it'll post without me even logging on in the morning. You may have noticed that I post at around the same time almost every morning. That's because I cheat. Hee.

And while I have your attention, I have to mention that I moved my "followers" box. I called it "My Peeps". My entourage is up to 5 right now. I put it nice and high so that when you decide to become one of My Peeps, you'll see your lovely face right near mine. Provided you have a Blogger account with a photo, that is. Magic.

So now that I'm in love with Blogger, I ask that you indulge me. If you are reading this today, please scroll to the bottom of this post and show me some love. You don't have to comment (but that's super cool too so feel free) but just tick a damn box, willya? And become a Peep (sounds like a Gladys Knight backing band) while you're at it. You know you want to.

kxx
PS: To be fair, I should mention the only thing I don't like on here. I'd love to be able to keep track of how many people check out my insane ramblings every day. For instance I just checked out Myspace and I had 20 hits today (the 10th that is) and 45in all this week. Love that. Come on, Blogger, do that one. Don't be afraid to be perfect.

Lest we forget

kxx

Mamapalooza!

How much fun did we have? The six of us got along famously. We had Indian and Chinese food, shopped, drank an awful lot and even fit in a swim. We laughed and laughed. The only thing I'm disappointed about is that we didn't get to play cards. I so wanted to play Asshole. I haven't had enough adults in the same room to play in years and years.

But that was a small fly in the ointment of fun. We had such a ball. I'll definitely set it up again next year. The number of girls was perfect (we could all sleep in the same suite) so next time I'll send out the invites and the first 6 girls that pay are in for Mamapalooza 2009.

After this year I'm sure lots of mums will be clamouring to get on the bandwagon of fun. Funwagon? Who'd have thunk passing out sitting up bolt upright on a pullout couch would have been such a charge?

kxx

Why can't I earn money doing this stuff?

So the other night I'm watching Mad Men. Awesome show and part of its charm is that they play period music (late 50's/early 60's). At one point there was a jazzy 60's version of a song playing in the background of a scene. It was different than I'd ever heard it but I still knew what it was.


"Misirlou!" I shouted to no one in particular.


Scott was perplexed. Since we rarely watch tv together, he maybe thought I was having some sort of Turret's episode.


"It's the song. It's a loungier version that I amost didn't recognise but the song is called Misirlou. Isn't that neat to know?"


Scott just grunted in reply.


Why do I have this ability to only impress myself? Why can't I have the ability to cure the common cold or discover iPod earbuds that don't tangle up in your pocket?


kxx

Just a quick one on Barack.

Nothing political, just something that's been irritating me. Barack has a black father and a white mother. Sort of the same as my kids with me as their mum and their dad who is White. We go to great pains to stress to our kids that they are neither Black nor White but "mixed". To say that they are one or the other is insulting to one parent. Of course they have Black and White backgrounds but they themselves are something else entirely, aren't they?

Yes, I'm aware that if someone has Black blood it's usually pretty obvious but minimising the other race just hurts. My kids are really fair and once when I was talking to Henry (actually, about Obama), he exclaimed holding out his arm "But I'm not Black!" as if it was a bad thing. Ouch. I tried to explain that he is both Black AND White but he didn't seem to get it.

So I know it's mostly me but if people could just remember that Barack is both races and maybe say that he has a Black background (and don't forget he's also White), that'd be great. Vent over.

kxx

Working mothers v. mothers who happen to work

Why must I try to fit my home life around work when all I want to do is fit work around my home life? "They" say it's easy out here for working mothers. I say HA!


Okay is this too much to ask for? Here's what I need in a job:


-It needs to be nearby. One bus (no transfers), under 15 minutes drive or a 30 minutes or less bike ride.

-I need to make double digits an hour. Here in Ottawa, minimum wage will be $10/hr in March. I absolutely will not work on comission only. I'd very much like to keep buying brand name cheese. I'd also like to not lose money everytime I drive or take public transit to work.

- It has to fit into my family. My children are away from the house from 9:00 to 3:00. Why oh why is it so difficult to find a job with these hours?! I need to be able to make dinner and help with homework at the end of the day. And weekends are out. I'm a mother first, dammit.

- I'm going to keep it real for you folks. Frankly, I don't want a whole lot of responsibility. I don't want to take paperwork home, stress out about meetings or activities the next day or worry about sales projections or the cash register being short $27 from the previous day. I just want to do a simple job and get home to my family while it's still light out.



I love the job I have now. I really do. It meets almost all the above criteria except the pay thing. I'm irked that someone who'll get newly hired in March with be earning almost exactly what I do and I'd've been there over 2 years. I work well with others and do my job well. It's not a hard job, but it's got lots of fiddly little steps that screw up the whole store if not excecuted perfectly. It's not to say that I don't make mistakes (and here again comes the joy of the job) it's not an everyday thing and we can usually fix it. No problem.


Only lately the job has become far more stressful. There are now quotas we have to keep up and the higher ups are on our backs for production production production. It used to be a family operation but now it's turned into a business. Maybe it's time for me to move on.


Unfortunately the only thing I'm qualified to do is daycare. Which I'm really tired of but will do again only if pushed. Also unfortunately I'm not willing to go back to school to get qualified for something else. So here lies my quandry. I basically want tons of cash for doing nothing.


Is that so effing hard to accommodate?


kxx

Wanna know what I like to listen to?

Here's something I don't really want to admit. Thank you blog gods for not blessing me with any semblance of wit today.

I was juicing up my iPod when I noticed some previously ignored numbers beside the song titles. Some had none and some had as much as 5. Neat. What's it all mean? I found out as I scrolled to the top that the numbers are how many times a specific song has been played. Bob Marley? 6. Coldplay? 2. Abba? 0. Brand New Day from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog? 76. Huh? Oh boy. My shame has come home to roost.

Seriously, it's all I play. In fact, I have it on repeat so it loops and plays over and over. In fact, between the Dr. H soundtrack and the HSM3 soundtrack (that I downloaded Friday) on a playlist I creatively call "Over and Over", I have only 27 songs I play on an mp3 that has a capacity of over 600 songs. Shameful. Wait. You know what? I'm not ashamed. I love what I love and that's that. I'm a 41 year old woman. I'm too old to waste time on shame.

So there you have it. My *ahem* pride on a plate.

kxx

DST is for the birds

The time change truly blows. It's not so much that we are moving the clocks back and forth twice a year as the fact that I have sixteen clocks in and around my house to mess with. Yes, I counted. It's not too bad in the spring when they go forward but in the fall when they go back it's a massive pain in the ass. Because all but 4 of my clocks are digital. Three of the analogue clocks are fine since they're cheapies but one is just as much a pain as the digitals since it's a grandmother thingie that chimes every half hour. You can't just mess with the hour hand since it messes up the bongs so I usually just stop the thing until the world arrives at the time it's just waiting for. That old Chinese proverb comes to mind that "even a broken clock is right twice a day".

Why are we still doing this anyway? I was under the impression that it started because of some farmers needing daylight to do their work. Last time I checked, farming methods are pretty modern so why are city dwellers and suburbanites having to mess up their lives spending time doing this stupid task? It's like the American constitution defending modern gun owners who just want to shoot the guy who cuts them off on traffic or pick off people with a semi at their dead end job when really the allowance for guns was put there so people could defend their jobs and livelihoods from bozos who would steal from them. So why are we still messing with time?

And not even the whole world does it. So why hang onto this irritating custom? I say let's follow the lead of Saskatchewan and just forget the whole thing.

kxx

Halloween Hahas

These are the kind of jokes I like. Maybe it's because they seem to be the only kind I can remember. I'm a funny person but truly and epically suck at telling jokes. These are dumb and clean. Feel free to steal them... I found them all over the internet.

Where do spooks water ski?
On Lake Erie

What kind of girl does a mummy take on a date?
Any old girl he can dig up

What was written on the hypochondriac's tombstone?
"I told you I was ill"

Why did it take the monster ten months to finish a book?
Because he wasn't very hungry

What do monsters call human beings?
Breakfast, lunch and dinner

Why didn’t the skeleton go to the party?
Because he had no body to go with

Why didn’t the skeleton cross the road?
Because he had no guts

Why did Dracula's mother give him cough medicine?
Because he was having a coffin fit

Why wasn't there any food left after the monster party?'
Cuz everyone was a goblin

Why did the vampire's lunch give him heartburn?
It was a stake sandwich

Dracula decided he need a dog, which breed did he choose?
A blood hound

What would you call the ghost of a door-to-door salesman?
A dead ringer

What do skeletons always order at a restaurant?
Spare ribs

Who was the most famous French skeleton?
Napoleon bone-apart

Who won the skeleton beauty contest?
No body

Happy Halloween!
kxx

Well, Elliott's an army cadet

We signed him up for the 2970 Royal Canadian Dragoons Army Cadet Corps last night. How strange. I'm torn between being delighted and absolutely horrified.

Delighted: He'll get a uniform, it's free, he'll learn some discipline, he'll learn respect, it's free, he'll do cool activities like orienteering, it's free, he'll meet new friends, get leadership training, it's free...

Horrified: That he'll like it, join the real army and get sent to war, that he'll like it and move to another city to pursue this as a career, that he'll really like it...

We only sent him to stave off his ever increasing ennui. It's not like we were fighting a lot and threatened to send him to boot camp until he could straighten up and fly right. He's a good kid that is, at 12, entering the "whatever" stage of his life. Ask him any question (I dare you) and you'll get any one of these mumbled answers: "I dunno", "whatever", "yup", "nope" or "I guess". Oh, and I can't forget the shrug. The famous, ubitquitous, pre-teen shoulder roll.

Well, a friend at work told me about military cadets. They have army, sea and air. The best part of it is that it's all free. Have I mentioned that? The uniforms, the training, the activities, all free. And thank God there's no obligation to join the actual army. It's only from ages 12-18 and really, it's just more of a cooler, regimented Scouts. I mean, they get snacktime for goodness sakes.

So all we want for him is to learn a little healthy respect for authority and a little leadership. He wasn't in any way on the fast track to any kind of youthful disaster but we thought we'd try it. I mean we don't lose anything if it doesn't work out. Because it's free. He got to choose which service he wanted (Scott was angling for air cadets but Elliott chose army) and hang out every Wednesday night with kids his age and older who (hopefully) will be good role models.

This'll end okay, right? All we really want is for him to turn his homework in on time. And not save things for the last minute. This'll work won't it?

kxx

Fun with Food

The rules:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at http://www.verygoodtaste.co.uk/ linking to your results.


The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison

2. Nettle tea

3. Huevos rancheros

4. Steak tartare

5. Crocodile (I'm sure alligator counts...)

6. Black pudding

7. Cheese fondue

8. Carp

9. Borscht

10. Baba ghanoush

11. Calamari

12. Pho (is it shameful that I had to look this up?)

13. PB&J sandwich

14. Aloo gobi

15. Hot dog from a street cart

16. Epoisses

17. Black truffle

18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes

19. Steamed pork buns

20. Pistachio ice cream

21. Heirloom tomatoes

22. Fresh wild berries

23. Foie gras


24. Rice and beans

25. Brawn, or head cheese (and gag!)

26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper

27. Dulce de leche

28. Oysters

29. Baklava

30. Bagna cauda

31. Wasabi peas

32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl

33. Salted lassi


34. Sauerkraut

35. Root beer float

36. Cognac with a fat cigar (weird to admit this one but I have photographic proof. I was also nursing. Don't judge me.)


37. Clotted cream tea

38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O

39. Gumbo

40. Oxtail

41. Curried goat

42. Whole insects

43. Phaal (I wish!)

44. Goat’s milk

45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more

46. Fugu

47. Chicken tikka masala

48. Eel

49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut

50. Sea urchin

51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi

53. Abalone

54. Paneer

55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal

56. Spaetzle

57. Dirty gin martini (even though I hate olives, had to try one... love them with lemons or blueberries)

58. Beer above 8% ABV

59. Poutine

60. Carob chips (yuck)

61. S’mores

62. Sweetbreads (NEVER)

63. Kaolin

64. Currywurst

65. Durian

66. Frogs’ legs

67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake (never had those but I've had Beavertails which are the same things)

68. Haggis

69. Fried plantain

70. Chitterlings, or andouillette

71. Gazpacho

72. Caviar and blini

73. Louche absinthe

74. Gjetost, or brunost

75. Roadkill (does moose count? It was hit by a car and it was really gamey)

76. Baijiu

77. Hostess Fruit Pie

78. Snail

79. Lapsang souchong

80. Bellini

81. Tom yum

82. Eggs Benedict

83. Pocky

84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant

85. Kobe beef

86. Hare

87. Goulash

88. Flowers

89. Horse

90. Criollo chocolate

91. Spam

92. Soft shell crab

93. Rose harissa

94. Catfish

95. Mole poblano

96. Bagel and lox

97. Lobster Thermidor

98. Polenta

99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee (coffee = yuck)

100. Snake



kxx

High School Musical mania

I promise not to go as nuts as I did with Dr. horrible last week. But I just have to mention that I saw High School Musical 3 twice over the weekend. Umm... on the same day.

I'm under no illusions that this movie is good. In fact, it's pretty predictable and even a little silly. But it's my favourite of the 3 movies. The music is awesome, the dancing is amazing and my cheeks are sore from smiling for 4 hours straight. I think Audrey liked it but she was just my pint sized excuse to see Zac Efron with his shirt off. Remind me to thank baby Jesus for sculpting that boy. He is fiiiiiiine.

So let me re-iterate. No Oscars, great dancing, me likee. A lot.

This child is almost too pretty to be a boy, isn't he? Hell, this lust is so wrong. Almost like falling deeply in love with a gay guy. Yikes.

kxx

Whatever would I do with a penis?

I heard there was a study done and they asked a bunch a women what the first thing they'd do with a penis. The overwhelming consensus was that they'd pee standing up. Shocking!

I thought that women would state all kinds of sex-related depravities from playing pocket pool all day to actually having sex to see what it feels like. But nope.

And frankly, peeing is where my head (pun intended) went too. Imagine the freedom. Although in the spirit of compete discloure, I already know how to lift and separate my junk to pee like a guy, I still am fascinated by their ability to just whip it out and go.

So, the long and the short of it (again, pun intended) is, I'd go for the peeing standing up option too. Lemming.

kxx

And for the weekend, more singing

Did you think I'd go a whole week without a Dr. Horrible clip? You don't know me and my mania at all. I swear, next week I'll be back to my semi-lucid self. My obsession will be back to bubbling just under the surface. Now excuse me while I watch every video I've just posted.





Here he discusses getting the words just right...



Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

kxx

My boy is magic!

Pretty cool...




You know, I just realized. If loving him is crazy, I don't want to be sane.


kxx

Look! NPH can host a morning talk show

Here he is on Regis and Kelly



I need an intervention...

kxx

My boyfriend sings at the drop of a hat

Love this interview with the cast of HIMYM. It was such a surprise to hear him break into song.

kxx (and yes, I've officially lost it)

Neil Patrick Harris week

It's my blog and I'll wig out if I want to. And I'm totally, entirely and happily obsessed with Neil Patrick Harris right now (and have been for months). I'll just sit quietly and wait for it to pass eventually but first I have to subject you all to my madness. Every day this week I'm going to post a YouTube video starring my secret gay boyfriend. Why? Because I have a blog and can post whatever the hell I want. When you get a blog, you can do the same. I spend easily an hour a day Googling Neil (I wish) and here are my faves...


This is from his tv series "How I Met Your Mother"

So this is the blog I was talking about yesterday. Hope you like it...

The other day I was looking out my window and saw my neighbour Linda walking out of her house with Nordic Walking poles. She used to go out with her arms swinging and a light jacket but now she has equipment.

Remember when walking was the cheapest thing you could do for exercise? All you needed were a couple of feet and you could get a reasonable workout. It's like what they did to muffins. Remember when muffins were healthy? Neither do I.

Now, it seems in order to get an optimal workout you have to have these poles that make you look like you're dry-land training for some weird Olympic sport. Well actually, no weirder than Olympic race walking I guess.

It's like there was some kind of meeting:

Rich Evil Executive #1: We've got to make this walking thing more lucrative for ourselves.
Rich Evil Executive #2: I know! If too many people do it they could get fit without spending any money.
REE1:(shudder) Horrible. What do you propose?
REE2: Let's do what we did to running. All you needed was a pair of running shoes. We made it so you need "Cool Max" and "Nike+" and an initial outlay of at least $200.
REE1: Good. Good. So what do people do when they walk?
REE2: They wear shoes...
REE1: That boat sailed when we sold the unsuspecting public sneakers with air in them. I'm still giggling over that one.
REE2: Heehee! Well, they swing their arms...
REE1: Ooooohhh.. I think you may have something there. Could we put something in their hands? Something that'd cost a fortune? Something they can't do without? That they'd look like fools without?
REE2: Ummm ski poles?
REE1: EUREKA!

Now people are forced to look like they're participating in a fraternity hazing ritual. And a little bit of me wants a set. Sigh.

kxx

Well, it looks like I'm finally a writer

No, I haven't gotten published yet (and never will if you guys don't call that publisher friend of yours and have her read these things) but I did something I've heard real writers do.


The other night I was tossing and turning. My mind was racing. "Don't forget to take the chicken breasts out of the freezer for dinner tomorrow", "I need to put on another load of laundry, Elliott's out of underwear", "Is the cat in the house?"... you know those kind of inanities. Then my mind turned to my neighbour. Every day she goes for walks taking off at exercise speed down the street. That day I saw her leave her house with baby blue poles for her walk. That's right. Nordic Walking poles.


As I thought about this I started formulating a blog that I thought would be funny. I actually started giggling to myself. But I knew if I waited until morning, I'd forget every bit of comedy gold I was mining. Scott was sleeping beside me and the house was pitch dark. I couldn't turn on the light and I couldn't leave the bed because I'd wake him up. So what's a writer to do?


I opened my bedside drawer, felt for a pen, scrabbled around for something to write on (that so happened to be an address book that is empty yet mysteriously always on my bedside table) and wrote some notes. In the pitch dark. Reading it this morning seeing past the bizarre handwriting and fast-and-loose word alignment I thought I had some pretty good stuff. I'll blog it tomorrow. But the point of this blog is that it looks like I'm a writer folks. This is what they, I mean WE do.


kxx

Wanna stop me in my tracks?

Tell me I'm pretty in the middle of something I'm saying. I ordinarily hate being interrupted but for this? I'll make an exception.


I was inanely chattering to Scott about the new gerbils and how they'd taken a ton of bedding overnight and moved it up the little tube to the place where they made their nest and you can't even see them anymore and...


"You're pretty," He says with a goofy look on his face.


I lost my train of thought.


See, that man knows how to keep a marriage fresh after 20 years of togetherness, doesn't he? That or he was trying to get me to just stop talking. Either way, he knows me.



kxx

How can this be?

Tell me how it's possible for someone to chop someone's head off on a Greyhound bus in front of everyone onboard and still be sane enough to stand trial?


By definition shouldn't anyone who takes a life, shows no remorse or moral centre be fucking nuts?


I'm just saying.


kxx

Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!

I love Thanksgiving! Because I do I couldn't say no to the 2 invitations I got for meals with friends and family. Usually Turkey Day invites are potlucks (the hostess never wants to get stuck cooking everything... "what up" with that? I would if I was ever allowed to cook)

Anyway, yesterday I made 4 pies (2 blueberry and 2 apple) and today I'm making 4 loaves of french bread. So you'll have to amuse yourselves with a tiny blog today. This ad made me giggle last week:

Overheard on a radio commercial:
"Thanksgiving is not a holiday. Aruba is a holiday. In Aruba they don't complain about the colour of the gravy. They just smile and ask you if you want another Mojito... you know, Thanksgiving could use a holiday in Aruba."

kxx

Things that scare me

Hey, it looks like I'm not scared of an awful lot.


-moths (but not butterflies. Go figure)
-cancer
-pedophiles
-power outages
-silence
-mascots (anybody in a stupid costume. No idea why)
-falling ('cause people will laugh. I know I do)

kxx

PS: Happy Friday! And Happy Thanksgiving to us Canadians!

Things that make me roll my eyes

-radio stations that talk too much
-panty lines
-people who go outside dressed like they're on their way to bed
-America's Got Talent (do they?)
-my talkative neighbour (she always makes me late)
-my wardrobe
-The way Americans treat Canada... sometimes as a satellite state, sometimes as a faraway foreign country. Make up your minds. All I want is How I Met Your Mother on iTunes for God's sake.
-wine
-women with washboard abs
-my ridiculous dream life. Last night I was trying to get intimate with a guy in a wheelchair so I was faking being a paraplegic. It was just like a stupid sitcom. Sigh.



kxx

Things that piss me off

-People who make plans and cancel last minute
-Political debates that pre-empt my tv shows
- Bosses that don't appreciate what their grunts do... do they not realize that their businesses would go down the tubes without us minimum wage slaves? Don't get me started...
-B.O
-Kids who disrespect their parents
-tiny bones in fish
-dry skin
-McDonalds orange drink
-being cold
-noisy toys
-the desire to eat a dozen doughnuts in one sitting
-crappy grammar (unless I'm the one crappy grammaring)
-slow internet connections
-hunger (mine. Sorry, world)
-standing up on public transit
-being broke
-people who smell like cigarette smoke
-broken convenience appliances (dishwasher/washing machine/dryer/tv/computer...)
-tv shows that are needlessly complicated with time-travelling plotlines and circular logic. They make me feel like I'm just not that smart. Yes, I'm looking at you, Lost.
-fiddly things
-flavoured lip gloss
-guilt
-traffic. Aaaargh! I'm still getting over missing my last dragonboat practice of the year because of some truck vomitting its load on the highway. I was beside myself when at the practice start time I was still in my neighbourhood.


kxx

Things that make me happy

This list also includes things that make me laugh...

-great tv commercials (see Knorr ad below)
-people falling down (yes I'm immature)
-watching someone who doesn't realize they're being watched (Hmm. Perverse too)
-one lonely shoe on the road (I like coming up with the story behind it)
-the Shopaholic books
-The Birdcage (when Agador falls down I piss myself every time. Oh, and I hate Val)
-being tickled
-Neil Patrick Harris
-my family
-Archie comics
-floods (the pants not the natural disaster)
-those door stopper thingies that are like springs with white plastic doohickeys at the end. When you toggle them they make a noise that I can't resist laughing at.
-Christian Louboutin shoes (look right... achingly beautiful)
-the smell of Vicks
-baking
-tv/computers
-the Mythbusters (mostly Adam... hubbahubba, and yes, I'm aware of how geeky that is)
-Star Trek (the Next Generation, please. Captain Picard ROCKS)
-the taste of cough medicine

kxx

Bob and Doug live in my boys' room

Okay, they're in gerbil form but there you have it. Yesterday the Kaye's headed to the pet store and bought gerbils for the boys. Bob belongs to Henry and Doug is Elliott's.

I wonder about our sanity sometimes. I have Taz, Audrey has Coco and now the boys have Bob and Doug. And Scott has dander allergies. He really needs to put his foot down. He's such a softie.
We actually only bought Bob first (Henry had him named and begged for him for over a week). We had him bought, boxed and bagged and on a whim had the cashier throw in a gerbil book so we could learn all about him. No Monkey style mistakes for me this time. It made me laugh that the book was more expensive that the gerbil but that was neither here nor there. Once we got back to the car and started to drive away I flipped through the book and saw that gerbils are social animals and should only be bought in pairs. That led to an illegal u-turn and a trip back to the store for Doug, so named to go with Bob (natch). Elliott could care less about the name, frankly. Good 'cause it makes Scott and me giggle. So Bob and Doug are happily installed in the boys' room in their new habitrail. The gerbils, not the boys.

So wish us luck in our newest animal adventure. The book says that these should last about 4 years. With our luck I'll be happy if they last until Christmas.

kxx

Finally, a good Friday!

I'm off work today and so are the kids. We may go see Igor. Or I may just stay in my jammies all day. I haven't decided.

Tomorrow I have my dragonboat banquet and Sunday I have nothing planned. I'm delighted. My manager Nicole (who I'm really warming up to and would like us to be closer friends) may come over Sunday and we'll bake pies. That's my kind of playdate.

In the meantime, let's be girls together, shall we? Tell me... what's in your purse? Go get it, dump it out and tell me. I'll go first:

*cell phone
*2 packs of gum
*iPod nano and earbuds (which don't stay in my ears... future blog rant pending)
*wallet
*charge cords (for cell and nano)
*hand lotion
*kleenex pack
*$53 dentist bill
*dental floss (remember when they gave you lollipops?)
*lip gloss
*pen
*blotting papers (for my greasy nose)
*hoodia pills in an asprin bottle
*a bunch of those courtesy/membership cards wrapped in a broccoli rubberband

All in one of those novelty zipper bags. I'm a sucker for a funky accessory.

kxx

This commercial always makes me laugh out loud

Scott and I have a thing that stems from a conversation we had years ago. We wondered what it would be like in a pitch meeting for a commercial. The agency would hork a nonsensical advertising loogie like "three frogs are on lilypads and start croaking, right? One sounds like "Bud", the other "wise", and the third...". YOU'RE FIRED!", the company boss would say (or should have said).

So when we see a crappy ad, we say "you're fired". Whenever we see a good ad or at least one that will get lots of buzz, we just look at each other and say "you're hired". This one played a lot last year and is on again. As Scott and I always say when this comes on, you're hired!

kxx

I'm not the brightest light on the Christmas tree

So it's not often I talk about politics or current events. But I have to mention this US bailout/recession thing. Of course in how it relates to me. Because everyone and everything relates to me in some way.

Thankfully we live here in Canada where our economy, while weakening, is still alright. But the nonsense going on down south has people worried. Mostly because we're so tied both economically and geographically to the states.

It's like we're siamese twins. It's utterly impossible for you to ignore your twin having sex. You can't have loud enough headphones. Your book can't be that interesting. There is no movie engrossing enough. You just can't ignore what's going on inches away from you. It's like that.

America is having problems but we're all getting fucked.

kxx

Hello? Mrs. Kaye?

I'm a sucker. Gullible. I freely admit it. When I get a telephone call or visit to my door, I can't say no. I often just give them money so I won't hurt feelings and so I'll be able to shut the door or hang up the phone. Cookies, calendars, jump-rope-a-thons, Jehovah's Witnesses... they're all fair game to me. Thank goodness I don't live in the era of encyclopedia or vacuum cleaner salesmen.

So now finally and thankfully Canada now has a National Do Not Call List. I won't get harassed and intimidated by these people ever again. Right? Well, not really. See my problem is with the list of exemptions. Because honestly, 90% of the calls that I get are from the people and organisations on this list.

Newspapers, charities, political parties and people you've done business with before. Great.

So I won't get called by the time share people or the ones that tell me I have to call a certain 1-900 number in 30 minutes to claim the trip to Cancun that I won. Those I can resist. But I'll still get the please subscribe to the now less boring Globe and Mail, Harvest House calendar send a poor kid to the circus cash grabs that I always fall for. What's the use then?

Thank goodness for call display. That service is a way better deal for me. And when they have a "Do Not Knock On The Door" list for those damned Girl Guides and lawn care "specialists", let me know.

kxx

Okay, it's done

I've finally finished transferring almost 2 years of blogs from MySpace over here to Blogger. I'm now going to post right into Blogger then copy and paste the whole blog into MySpace. I'll do this for about a week. Then I'll just post the link in the MySpace blog then that's it. I'll officially move. I really hope all my MySpace readers follow me here or even become my "followers" (I can be your charismatic leader).

On to more bloggy things...

I'm not a science-y person but This gives me goosebumps. It's the most amazing video I've seen in ages. Okay, it's no Dr. Horrible but still. Supposedly it took him 8 years to plan this. Talk about obsessed. Talk about effing nuts. There'll be a parade in France for this guy for sure. I'm amazed. It makes my mundane little life even more mundane today.

kxx

Now playing 10 in a row!

Do radio stations like that bother anyone else?

I hate when they have a huge block of songs because invariably they play something I don't know or like a lot but don't come back soon enough (or ever) to tell me what it is. Arrgh.

Some radio stations in town have some kind of digital info coming down the wire so you can press a button and the song and artist comes up. But I only have this technology in the car. You should see me risk life and limb pressing that damned info button to scroll through the station id, headlines, weather and "coming up next" song to get to the one that's playing. Again I say arrgh.

I've taken to noting the station and time then going online to the station's website to find out that way. Well, that's not a pain in the ass.

This is why I love morning radio. They should run that format all day. The djs rarely play more than 2 songs in a row and identify them both before and after. Ahhh. It's got the perfect blend of chatter and music. Not all talk and musical snippets like CBC (arrgh... why would you play a piece of a song???). Nope, I prefer light banter, jokes, pop culture nuggets, contests, trivia, news and weather broken up by a bit of identified music. Just like my life. Is that too much to ask?

kxx

Dr. Horrible 101

Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm exposing you to my obsession yet again but you have to finally give in, stop struggling and just go with the flow. It's far less painful if you just go limp.

On the weekend I spoke to my friend Kathy from London and she's finally seen some videos from the musical. She actually thought she's seen all she needed by just watching those videos. I had to school her. It was my duty. Yes, the videos on youtube are great but to get the full scope of the characters and the context of the songs, you have to watch the whole movie. Have to. So here's a primer in case you never click on the link I put in my blog every single time I talk about Dr. H. Which is easily once a week.

Full name: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

Song order (if you insist on watching all the songs on youtube... I think they're all there):

01. Horrible Theme
02. My Freeze Ray
03. Bad Horse Chorus
04. Caring Hands
05. A Man's Gotta Do
06. My Eyes
07. Bad Horse Chorus (reprise)
08. Penny's Song
09. Brand New Day (so proud of myself that I finally got the words down for this one. It's HARD)
10. So They Say
11. Everyone's A Hero
12. Slipping
13. Everything You Ever (DO NOT, for the love of God, watch this one if you ever have the intention of watching the movie. You'll be so sorry and totally wreck the "surprise" ending)
14. Horrible Credits

I think you can see the whole thing (3 parts about 15 minutes each) on youtube. But honestly to get the best quality and to show Joss some love, shell out the $4. It's so worth it.

"It's curtains for you, Dr. Horrible. Lacy, gently wafting curtains."

kxx

No time this morning

So here I am this afternoon. Hi!

I love myself. I often think how glad I am that I'm not shy anymore. Case in point:

I took the bus to work today. Not too bad in the morning but in the afternoon it's horrible. Crowded, stuffy and everyone (including the bus driver) has an attitude. Standing up yesterday someone stepped on my foot 3 times. He apologised each time but it still hurt like hell. Where the holy hell are people going at 2:30 in the blessed afternoon? And that was before the actual panic attack. My first one ever.

Anyway, on my way out the door at work, I ran into Tara who was leaving as well. She works at another store and I don't know her very well. But we really click and are a lot alike (she's been married the same number of years I've been and has 3 kids same sexes and ages as mine). On a whim I asked her where she lived and lucky for me she named a town just past mine. Naturally I asked her to drive me home.

I'm so glad I'm not shy anymore. I just realized that the worst she could say was no. And I was planning to take the bus home anyway. Hopefully avoiding the panic attack that invariably happens after 10 minutes of being daintily mashed into a stranger's armpit. But I avoided all that by asserting myself. Yup, no sucky public transit for this bold girl. And no screaming or gabbling irrationally up and down the bus aisle. Good news for everyone involved.

kxx

Spending a lot of time on Blogger

I'm up to April of this year so the big move will be soon. For those of you who missed the last blog about it, I'm in the process of copying my older (and better) blogs from myspace and pasting them over at blogger. I feel more comfortable having them over there. Especially since I don't have them on my hard drive or anything. I decided that once I'm up to the present day I'd blog in both places for a couple of weeks then permanently move over there. So don't worry, I'm not leaving the blogosphere, just moving to better digs. I will miss knowing how many people read my blogs on a daily basis but seriously that's about it. In fact, not knowing how many people check me out on a daily basis may be freeing.

Anyway, as I said above, I've been spending a lot tof time over there. I discovered a button at the top that says "next blog". Well isn't that an interesting find? I get knitting blogs, blogs by teens and blogs that aren't even in English. How neat. I end up scrolling through that one a bunch of times a day. I find it neat to see what other people may find interesting. I wonder how many people have come across my blog that way. Do they check it out a little or just surf on by? I hope they stick around. I have so many fascinating things to say. Not.

kxx