Tag Archives: funny

Shit I’m Thankful For: Day 1

So there’s this thing going around on Facebook.  Ok maybe not ALL of Facebook.  But its been making its way through my friends list like a nasty case of Herpes.  I’ve been fortunate enough to dodge this cold sore-covered social whore for some time, but now she’s cornered me like a fucking rat in some kind of horrible, happy cage.  Anyway I decided to blog all this emotional vomit because I’ve been meaning to start blogging again and this seems like as good a subject as any.  So thank you very fucking much, Marnie.  Now, without further ado and only mild bitching and moaning, heres the first day of Shit I’m Thankful For.


1.  Theres a poem written by some unknown asshole.  The first line says “People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.”  So thats what I’m thankful for.  Not the poem.  Or the unknown asshole.  I’m thankful for all the people that have passed through my clusterfuck of a life.  People that have passed through like a fart in the wind.  People that have lingered, like a fart in the shower.  And people that are still here.  Like a…I don’t know.  I don’t have a fart related analogy for this.  Like a fart that turns out to be a shart?  Yeah.  Thats what my friends are.  Sharts.  I’m fucking awesome at expressing emotions and shit, hey?  But I digress.  I’ve met hundreds of people in my life and I’m thankful for each one of them.  Even the ones that turned out to cause more pain and trouble than anything else. But for all the others, the people that have helped me, taught me, supported me.  I’m thankful as fuck for you guys and dolls.  For the ones that let me get mad.  The ones that let me cry.  Yeah I cry sometimes.


For the ones that let me be goofy or let me pretend to be a 65 year old Jewish woman.  I’m so incredibly thankful for every one of you.  You probably don’t know it, but at some point you’ve probably impacted my life in a big way.  Bigger than you could possibly know.  So thank you.  From the bottom of my over-worked, artery clogged heart.  I love you motherfathers.

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Posted by on July 24, 2014 in Random


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The Week in Review

So you know those weeks?  The ones where you just feel like punching someone in the face?  Yeah.  Its been that kind of week for me.  A punch-in-the-face kind of week.  Allow me to share my misery with you.

It started with Drama Queen getting roughed up at school by 2 boys in the grade above her.  2 older boys decided to enter the grade 1 area and thought it would be a good idea to hit my daughter and throw her to the ground.  Surely this assault on my sweet little angel was spotted and broken up by a teacher, right?  Fuck no.  Apparently at Julia Kiniski School they say “Fuck supervised recesses!” and let kids, including the kindergartens, just wander around wherever the fuck they want and assaulting any innocent children they want.  Had it not been for a sweet young hero in my daughters class having the poise to go get some bigger boys and pull these future residents of a federal penitentiary off of poor Drama Queen, who knows how badly she could have been hurt.  Now surely when the little Queen went into the school to inform an adult of the situation the boys were rounded up and shot in the fucking face or whatever the appropriate disciplinary measure is for assault on a sweet little girl.  Again, fuck no.  She was told if it happens again the boys will go on time out.  No effort was made to identify and single out the criminals.  No discipline at all.  Not only did the school do fuck all, but they didn’t bother to inform either my wife or I about what had happened.  Not a phone call or a letter or anything.  Apparently when your daughter is assaulted at school its not something a parent needs to know.  So we raged and stomped and went to a “meet the teacher” night ready to tear somebody a new asshole.  But apparently my daughters teacher was not the adult that was initially told about the incident and was therefore helpless.  So we decided to let it go.  After all, Drama Queen was uninjured and seemed to be unaffected emotionally as well.  Until Friday.

Friday comes around and another little cock faced thug decided he was going to play bully and grabbed my daughter from behind and squeezed her real tight.  When he had enough of that he spun her around and began kicking my daughter in the shins and left a bruise on her shin.  This time a teacher was present and saw teh whole thing.  Sweet justice was to be served!  The teacher marched over, grabbed the little gangster and…PUT HIM ON TIME OUT!  Are you fucking kidding me?!?  A goddamn time out?  He kicked my daughter and several other kids and all he gets is a mother-loving time out?  And once again, not a single word was mentioned to us and certainly not the the villain’s parents.  We had to find out from our daughter once again when she was picked up so there was no time for the Chupacabra or I to do anything about it.

When Drama Queen and the Chupacabra got home you better believe a nasty phone message was left on the school voicemail about the lack of response from the school regarding the bullying epidemic they currently have.  When this was relayed to me via text message I instantly called the school as well and unleashed a tirade of my own directed at the principal.  I was fired up like PETA at Marineland.  I was spitting venom on this message.  tearing the school and the administration to pieces, demanding they stand up and address the issue  directly with The Chupacabra and I.  And at this point I realized I don’t know my phone number so how can they possibly call me back.  And my entire fucking message fell apart.  I stuttered like teen about to see his first set of boobs an abruptly ended the message.  Hopefully they will ignore my message and call the Chupacabra on Monday.  If not the school board is getting an angry call from her.  And I do not envy the person that answers that call.

Further adding to the steaming pile that was my week, my right index and middle fingers are now almost entirely numb but for pins and needle sensations.  So thats fucking super.  I’ve already burned my finger tip twice this week at work because I can’t feel anything and made so many typos because i can’t tell if I’ve actually hit the key or not.  Also, the NHL locked out the players so there’s probably not going to be any hockey for me to watch this year.  Interesting to note, the last time there was an NHL lockout I was also residing in Edmonton.  So apparently, the lockout is my fault.  Sorry world.

But the cherry on the sundae was on Friday night.  We decided to let the kids stay up a bit past their normal bedtime because it was Friday and there was no school for Drama Queen the next day.  Big mistake.  She loses her marbles like only the Drama Queen can.  We’re talking blood curdling, bowel shaking shrieks of terror.  All because it was bedtime.  When she gets into one of these states it is nearly impossible to deal with her.  The best response is to put her in her room and let her cry it out.  So we did.  And during this “cry it out” period, she started to scream “I’m scared!  I’m scared!”  30 minutes later she was peacefully sleeping as though nothing had happened.  And then the doorbell rang.   At first I assumed it was the sister in law or the mother in law’s gay husband.  Nope.  It was Officer Caughell of the Edmonton Police Service responding to a call about a screaming child.  Thats right.  The fucking cops showed up because a concerned neighbour thought we were murdering our child.  After a few minutes of conversation she stated that she and her partner needed to set eyes on her.  So after viewing my now peaceful daughter fast asleep and inspecting our bedroom and kitchen they decided everything was in order and left us to deal with our shame.  Super end to a super week!

Now it hasn’t all been bad news this week.  NHL 13 was released.  And we got those sweet Kate Middleton topless pictures, right?  You take good, you take the bad.  You take them both and there you have the facts of life.

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Posted by on September 16, 2012 in Family Trauma


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Day 4: The Son Never Rises

5:00am.  Fat One wakes up demanding his Glow worm, creatively named “Glowie”. I assumed this was the end of my sleep but once the pudgy hellion had the irradiated worm in his doughy clutches he went back to sleep.  3 hours later i was awoken again but this time by Loud One and Little One stomping up the stairs.  I tried to go back to sleep but a bizzarre magazine sharing argument thwarted that dream.  I emerged from my doorless bedroom and hastily sucked down some tasty liquid crack to equalize myself.  There would be no elaborate group breakfast this morning.  A bowl of cheerios and a muffin would have to suffice.  Loud One gets in trouble for speaking aggressively.  Its funny to hear someone apologize angrily.

Its now 9:00am and Fat One is finally awake and sweet Jesus is he a miserable fuck!  The Sibling says Little One and Loud one were in moods when they woke up too.  Drama Queen appears to be the only one of the mongoloids that woke up happy.  Grandpa has already gone for a nap with the dog.  The mongoloids are already complaining to go outside.  Fat One hit Little One and refuses to apologize so hes enjoying a timeout now.  Finally got Fat One to apologize.  Now Little One is having a meltdown over the pants he has to wear.  Kids put the F U in fun!  Little One finally submitted and put on the Brown Pants of Despair.  All the little mongoloids went out to play.  Grandpa got the fishing gear ready so he and i could take the hoarde fishing across the bay out of the wind.  We got them all ready loaded into the boat.  Little One alone up front.  Drama Queen, me and Loud One in the middle with Fat One on my lap.  Grandpa in the back driving.  We started out ok but 5 minutes later 5 of the 6 of us were soaked to the skin while Grandpa laughed at us while he enjoyed his warm, dry shorts.  After 10 minutes of crawling across the miserable windy lake we finally made it to the safety of the sheltered bay and set anchor.  A few stress-filled minutes of worming the hooks and telling the impatient little monsters that no they cannot fish until i have wormed their hooks and we were finally ready to fish.  Grandpa and I helped everyone get their lines in.  Christ almighty it was frustrating trying to keep the rods pointed in different directions.  And there was the constant “Do I have a fish yet?”  “Is this a fish?”  “When do I get a fish?”  “All I caught is a worm.”  Loud one caught the first and second fish.  Drama Queen quickly landed 3 and even Fat One got one.  Little One didn’t get any but he got bored super quick and stopped fishing so within minutes so he could practice speaking whale.  I tried to let him real one in but his coordination wasn’t there. A few more whiny outbursts and we headed for home. Thank fuck.  Kids suck at fishing.  Quick lunch and off for naps.  Grandma and Grandpa took stupid dog for a boat ride.  Apparently she was not a fan.  And the wind was still being a bitch.

The tranquility of nap time did not last long as Loud One and Little One slept for less than an hour.  Mostly due to the baby one waking

as they were settling in.  Fucking babies.  Grandma and Grandpa still slumber, as does Fat One.  Drama Queen is now awake as well.  A little bit of playtime in the fresh air while waiting for grandma and grandpa to awaken is my sentence.  But Hark!   I have to poop.  So I tredge up to the outhouse and enjoy a leisurely poop whilst The Sibling wrangles the brood.

Delightful surprise of the day: The neighbours brought over some fried fish for letting them play with our toys.  Score!  It was delicious.  Too bad any fish we might be lucky enough to catch will be thrown back.  Grandpa is no master knifeman and neither am I.  So catch and release is the order of the day. Grandpa has gone into town for some supplies and the kids are watching a movie after wrangling them away from the water.  Lasgana for dinner tonight then Grandpa and I will attempt some evening fishing.  I have my doubts but he seems pretty set.  Also there is supposed to be a bonfire tonight.  Yeah fucking right.  At least the goddamn wind has died down.  There is a pretty epic meltdown at dinner by Little One.  His knack for finding the absolute most annoying pitch for his whining is uncanny.  After 5 or 10 minutes of him complaining about the piece of cheese he was given and than proceeding to shred it to holy fucking hell I took him away front he table for a walk.  Mostly for my own sanity but also so the others could it in peace.  After the walk he seemed to be calm enough and ate some of his dinner.

After dinner Grandpa and I give evening fishing a shot.  The lake is far more calm so I dont get splashed like I’m in the front row at Sea World.  We hit a couple of spots but all we’re landing are fucking sunfish and cunty Rock Bass.  Goddamn shitty panfish.  At least the rock bass try to fight.  We planned out a few more spots to hit up in the morning and head back to the cottage for a bonfire.  As we were heading in we could see the flicker of a fire already going.  When we got out of the boat and over to the fire pit we saw an abandoned fire and the remnants of smores.  Back in the cottage the dinner dishes were still out and Fat One and Drama Queen were just heading to bed.  We sat up for the next 2 hours or so hammering back beers and planning the next day.  Swimming and early morning fishing.  Yeah fucking right.  I’ll let you know how that turns out.

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Posted by on July 8, 2012 in Family Trauma


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Day 3: My Kids Can’t Not Fight

8:00 my fat son wakes up and immediately whines.  I bring him to my bed and he surprisingly lays down with me.  That lasted about 5 minutes.  I let him get up and go to the livingroom to see grandma and grandpa.  5 minutes later I can hear the fat bastard arguing with the drama queen.  So up I get to restore the peace and keep them separate.  So much for sleeping in.  And the shitty 30 year old spring mattress I slept on isn’t doing anything good for my stupid back.  So I’m up, I’m tired and I’m cranky.  Coffee helps take the edge off.  Sweet diuretic coffee.  French toast sticks for the kids.  There’s 1 meltdown related to seating.  Fucking kids.


Breakfast is done.  Grandpa is getting the fishing rods ready to go.  Needless to say this is a point of interest for the mongoloids and they swarm like flies to shit.  Grandpa does well to remain patient despite 8 hands grabbing at things he’s trying to prepare.  I get suckered into helping and remember that this is my least favourite part of fishing.  Fuck putting line on the goddamn reels.  This sucks dick.  Eventually all the rods and reels are assembled and ready to go.  Too bad the old slag Mother Fucking Nature has decided today she wants to show off how fucking powerful her cunty lungs are.  So out of concern for the mongoloids we’re holding off on fishing/boat rides.    Instead we take the kids outside and make them run around like retards for a bit.  The fat one, small one and loud one play on the slide for a bit.  Drama Queen gets an imaginary sliver and cries for literally 20 minutes until i’ve had enough and rip out the fake sliver.  Problem solved.  We had a rare, somewhat peaceful moment by the water until the little one started throwing rocks.  The Fat One had to join in and the loud one and Drama Queen had to up the ante with larger rocks of course.  I put a stop to that shit right quick.  We got them to eat lunch virtually incident free.  Fat One was looking tired so i told him to go to sleep.  Guess what that surprising little fuck did?  HE WENT TO FUCKING SLEEP!  Are you shitting me?  That never fucking happens!  He went to his room, climbed into bed, got under the covers and WENT.  THE FUCK.  TO SLEEP.


Nap time also took hold of the drama queen, little one, loud one, the baby, grandma and my sibling.  Grandpa and i sat on the muskoka chairs outside, had beers and pretended the wind wasnt freezing the fuck out of us.  You’d swear these fucks were roofied or something because they slept for fucking ever!  This was the first time i actually felt like i was on vacation.  Drama Queen woke first.  Then Fat One.   Grandpa went into town for beers and charcoal.  The rest woke up shortly thereafter and somehow i wound up on slide patrol lifting Fat One from the ground to the top of the slide and making sure Loud One stays off the end of the fucking slide.  Also because the goddamn wind didn’t die down until fuck O’clock i got dicked out of fishing yet again.


Getting close to dinner time now.  I’m still trying to keep the hoarde in check but they are deadset on climbing the sandy hill behind the cottages.  I climb my fat ass up there to see whats so interesting and the fucking monkeys are jumping off a rock and landing sideways on a rocky hill.  Brilliant kids.  I ask whose idea this was and not surprisingly it was Little One.  The most accident prone of the batch.  After indulging them for a few minutes i banished them back to the front of the cottages.  Arguing ensued but i quickly put Drama Queen and Little One in place.  More playing out front and slide patrol once again for me.  Grandma and Grandpa and the Sibling were in the cottage getting ready for dinner and watching the baby.  I propsed a movie to the kids.  Rejected outright.  Undeterred, I gave the 5 minute warning.  The countdown went smoothly until the 2 minute warning.  Little One was sitting on the end of the slide and Fat One decided to slide down anyway and drop kicked him to the ground.  It was funny as shit.  But being anadult i had to make sure Little One was ok.  I reprimanded Fat One and he cried.  A lot.  So i cut off the countdown and put all of the in front of the TV and made them watch a movie.  Dinner is hot dogs, chicken burgers and macaroni salad.  Classic cottage food.  After dinner its time to sort lures other odds n ends my dad bought on kijiji.  Then its likely time for bed.  The alcohol consumption is really wreaking havoc with my ability to stay up late.

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Posted by on July 7, 2012 in Family Trauma


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