Valentines Day. Why I love/hate it

Valentines Day is just around the corner. Ugh.  Every single woman gets her red satin heart patterned panties in a bunch over this day every year.   They all say its stupid and who needs it!!!  And then secretly weep while they consume an entire heart shaped box of chocolates.  Okay not EVERY woman...but quite a few.
I love that for one day a year, we are required to proclaim our love for our partners.  Only one day.

No more, no less.
Sad.

As if the concept of this day isn't weird enough, the fact that we are soooooo damn busy in our world today, we can't even call it valentines day. Now it's more often than not, referred to as V Day.  Am I the only one that finds this disturbing and perhaps somewhat vulgar?  Maybe because it sounds to close to VD.  Which for everyone over the age of 20 is what STDs were called a million years ago.   Even if it doesn't bring to mind mental images of oozing sores on someone's junk, it also sounds like an abbreviated way to say Vagina Day.  I'm going avoid the obvious connection to valentines day and connect it to another type of v day. 

 Pap day.  

Either way, not very romantic.  Even if my ob/gyn shows up with flowers and chocolate will that day ever be worth celebrating.  
At any rate, I say celebrate love every day. Especially when your partner least expects it!  Don't become a Hallmark zombie and show up once a year with a card and over priced roses!   It means more when it isn't prompted by endless TV commercials.

That being said, if my husband doesn't produce something with a serious carat weight, I will be seriously upset. 

My Wedding Vows aka "No Yardwork"

Whenever a female friend of mine complains about having to do any type of yard work, be it mowing grass, planting, pulling weeds or shoveling snow, I invite them to have a quick peek at my world.  My usually response is,

"I don't do yard work.  If it happens outside; it's not my problem.  I had it put in my wedding vows."

Now obviously I didn't LITERALLY do this, although seeing the expression on the eighty year old priest that married us would have been a tiny little hoot! 

And before you get your undies in a knot, it has nothing to do with sexual sterotypes.  I just do not enjoy the outside stuff.  Let's face it, that's where the bugs are.

You see where I'm going with this.  I have never mowed a lawn in my life.  I grew up with an older brother and was therefore never required to attempt this chore.  Luckily we also had a gas run John Deere monstrosity of a mower that weighed a thousand pounds, so the likelihood of me being able to actually maneuver it was slim.  Call me spoiled if you wish, I do not care!  I'm also one of the few people on the planet who can not stand the smell of freshly cut grass.  To be perfectly honest, I would rather smell a skunk.  I'm serious!  So unless the grass has started to grow inside the house, it is none of my concern.  And frankly, if it IS growing in the house, and it's bugging you that much, feel free to fix the problem.  The same rules apply to snow.  While I have had some experience shovelling, I feel this task is best left to those more experience and trained for such tasks.  Like my teenage son for example.  Once in a blue moon, if it isn't too cold out, I will attempt to help out with the snow removal.  But in all honesty, my heart isn't in it.  What can I do?  I have given the job to my husband (who in turn has dragged a grumpy teenager into it) and if I change the rules now it would cause chaos in an otherwise fairly calm household.

 Who am I to rock the boat?  Stir the pot?  Make waves?

So this has been the rule in our house for the better part of 20 years.  I handle the insides, he handles the outsides. 

 Oh, unless the fridge needs to be cleaned out.  No way in hell I'm doing that!

New Email/Password Drama

OMG!!  I just spent the last half hour trying to log into my blog account.  I had to change my email address this past year thanks to some jackhole from Poland hacking into my account and sending spam to everyone in my contact list.  That was seriously awesome!  grrrrr
Now I am trying to change everything and Google won't let me.  Says my new address is already linked to something, blah, blah, blah.  I have changed passwords and crap so many times I have no idea what I'm doing.  I can't use my new address because Google, in its infinite wisdom, says that it is already in use...

YAH!!!  BY ME YOU MORON!!! 

I have now taught my laptop several new variations of well known curse words (as well as a few I've created on my own) and will have to try and sort this crap out.  Internet security is a great thing, provided it doesn't keep you out of your own accounts.  Personally, I think Google has a stick up its butt because most of my stuff is Yahoo related.  After this last problem, I think my loyalty to Yahoo has increased.  Although, it was a Yahoo account that was hacked and started this whole mess... but anyway, I digress...

So this guy from Poland, (I'm assuming its a dude, because lets face it; it was a douche thing to do and sounds like something a guy would do) ;o) manages to hack my account and I can't even log in to get my flippin' blog account up and running.  Feeling somewhat tech challenged?  Why yes I am thank you very much!
So I can hopefully keep this account because if I have to start from scratch I will be seriously pissed off... and to the peckerhead who caused all this grief...

Wal się!!!

Boneless Chicken Wings? I think not...

   All of a sudden there are various ads for restaurants advertising their

                      NEW Boneless Chicken Wings. 

Wings are one of my absolute favourite foods of all times, so I asked myself, how on earth do they get the little bones out those suckers???  Long story short, my husband ordered them recently (basically because he doesn't understand my love for wings and will not even try to eat something that takes that much time to consume.  Like most men, he's a stick a fork in it and eat... no muss, no fuss)  Anyway... he orders these "wings" and what he receives makes me laugh at first, then become angry.  Basically, they took chicken breasts (yuck) cut them into wing size strips and then cooked them in the wing sauce.  Seriously?  This somehow makes them wings?  So If I put the sacred wing sauce on my left foot it becomes a "wing"???  Calling it a wing doesn't make it true.  And if a person is too lazy to eat an actual wing, I say big deal!  My husband doesn't eat them and has managed to lead a fairly full life.  More wings for me!  Putting wing sauce on other pieces of meat no more makes them wings as putting baby powder on my ass makes me a baby.  Quit messing with the wings people!!

Another example of this sort of thinking is the ever popular, ice cream cake.  Just because something is "cake-shaped" it does not magically become a cake. 

    THERE IS NO CAKE IN AN ICE CREAM CAKE!!!! 

I want to make a meatloaf in a cake pan and market it as "Meat Cake".  Mmmm... that gets the taste buds rockin'!   So you serve this psuedo cake thing at a birthday... what do you put on it?  A real cake would have ice cream put on it, so you see where this is going...
Why must we slice and serve ice cream? 

          A scoop not good enough for you princess?!? 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the creation itself (I used to decorate the things way back in the day) but please don't call it a cake.  The shape of the food does not dictate what it becomes.  Call it what it is. 
So hey there Mr. Ice Cream Cake... get over yourself!  You're just a pile of frickin ice cream!

It's just a name you say?  It's false advertising and I for one will be it's victim no longer! 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and put some make-up on and become a Cover-Girl.

What Annoys Me on FB (Today anyways)

Many things annoy me on FB (shocking, coming from me I know).  But his latest trend is just too stupid not to mock.
It's not enough that teenage girls are just plain insane, but now they have FB to advertise the extent of their stupidity to the world.  I keep seeing girls quoting love lyrics from songs.  Not to their boyfriends or random guys they like, but to their friends...GIRL friends.
I doubt they get these tiny odes from anywhere else since the art of actually reading poetry is long since dead.  As if these heart felt declarations aren't enough, they also have to post eight thousand pictures of themselves kissing each other on the cheek...usually in a bathroom. 
(And don't even get me started on the whole "duck face" issue because I will get violent.  Girls, you just look plain idiotic) 
My question is, why the need to announce to the world that you "love this girl with all your heart and couldn't live with out her"?!?!  I know it isn't politically correct to say something is "gay" but...

That's gay.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against homosexuals and do not want to debate this issue.  I have several family and friends that fall in to this category and I think debating it is like discussing the colour of their hair.  Doesn't matter.

Anyway, why the need for this declaration of love?  Do they even get what love is?  Because without exception the same girl who would cease to exist without her so-called soul mate will eventually have an online scrap with this girl.  This is very easy to identify as well.  It usually starts with a cryptic message about how two faced people can be, followed by having at least 50 comments attached to it. 
I'm all for loving your friends.  I do...I just don't feel the need to proclaim it to the world by quoting Katy Perry or Justin Beiber.
 
When did this become normal?  (cuz it's not)
Why don't boys do it?  (cuz, holy crap that would be funny!)

Alas, the poor youth of today!  They think they have invented teen angst!  How could we possibly understand their torment?!?!

Oh wait, I know how...
I grew up in the 80's. 
They need to listen to Wham!, Culture Club and Metallica while wearing neon EVERYTHING and trying to choke down a NEW Coke! 
Now THAT my friends, is angst!
So quit getting smoochy with your friends, it's just plain weird and you are going to look and feel soooo stupid in a couple of years when some of these girls "come out" and expect you to feel the same.
In short, just grow the hell up please.

Useless Trivia

I will be the first to admit that when it comes to useless trivia, my brain is chock full! 

Do I know my bank account numbers? No
Do I know my social insurance number?  No
Do I know my work address?  No

In my defense, I do however, know that the little divot between your nose and upper lip is called a philtrum.
The dot over the letter "i" is called a tittle.
Charlie Chaplin once won third prize in a Charlie Chaplin Chaplin look alike contest.
Bats always turn left when exiting a cave.
The first thing to have a bar code was Wrigley's Gum.

And so on...

I believe that I am unable to remember that I put a load of laundry in the washing machine, or where my keys are is because my brain can only hold so much information.  Therefore, in the part of my brain where these things should be stored, I instead know that there are more chickens in the world than people. 
Granted, perhaps knowing the location of my keys is somewhat more important, I still cannot replace the knowledge about the chickens. 

So if we go out anywhere together, please don't ask me to remember where we parked...because I am already busy remembering that the electric chair was invented by a dentist.

The Fine Art of Sarcasm

Ahhh, sarcasm... how I love thee...

The problem with sarcasm, especially in today's modern world, is that some people are born without the ability to comprehend or produce it.  The key to effective sarcasm is in the inflection.  I will give you an example.

Daughter: I don't like this, can I have something else for supper?
Me: Of course!  I love cooking so much, that I will gladly start all over again just for you!

Reading this, I sound like a wonderful caring mother... but when you add the inflection to it I come off completely different...

Daughter: I don't like this, can I have something else for supper?
Me: Of course! I love cooking so much, that I will gladly start all over again just for you!

See the difference?  Although sometimes inflection is not needed and the sarcasm is simply inferred by the language that is used.  Here is an example of a very common conversation in my house.


Me: I would like you to clean your room and sort your laundry.
Daughter:  Now?
Me: No...you may do it whenever it pleases Your Royal Highness.

Now, to those challenged in the sarcastic arts will think, "gee, how nice she lets her daughter do things on her own terms".  (Or more likely, "holy crap that kid is one spoiled little %^*@!")

Another challenge is trying to get my message across via email or text.  The general rule of thumb is if you've received it from me, it's dripping with sarcasm.  It's my job, it's what I do.  Some people knit, some people do volunteer work.  Me?  I mock.

A sad moment for me was realizing my daughter was totally oblivious to sarcasm.  We would say something to her and she would think we were serious when we answered her "where is the milk" type question with, "under the sink in the bathroom".  After several months of careful coaching and giving obvious examples of the art form she slowly began to catch on. 
We now think she may have caught on a little too well.  Maybe it's just the teen years at work, but the girl is now a sarcasm machine.

Daughter: The gym is noisy
Phys Ed Teacher: Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Daughter: Your welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm

Although highly inappropriate, and somewhat disrespectful...

   

  I have never been prouder.