Thursday, September 30, 2010

My spell check needs an Ativan

I was recently informed that the word Scrambly doesn’t really exist.

pshaw I saw... that’s poppycock,

or balderdash maybe.

Well to be honest, I will mention that I hadn’t actually typed the word “scrambly” I had typed “scramby”.

The non-existence of that word I will agree with.

But scrambly on the other hand makes perfect sense.

It my not be included in Wikipedia.

Or in the vocabulary of most Jr. High English teachers, but I must say, it exists in my world.

For the record, it is an adjective, used to describe your computer when it decides to go all crazy and make things scrambled and jumbled up.

It can also be used to describe satellite T.V. when the weather is bad.

I’m not by any means trying to defend myself, or my abuse of the English language.

I simply thought it was a word that I had made up while typing my panic induced call for help the other day.

Then I found it used in a something I wrote back in 2007.

That made me realize something... those of you who have been reading my e-mails all along, may have actually spent the past 5 or 6 years not having a clue what I was talking about.

So to help you all out, and to clear up any confusion with any new readers, I’ve decided to do a small glossary on some common but debatably non-existent terms that I tend to use frequently.

I digress

This one actually exists, although I’m quite certain I don’t always use it in the proper way. It’s one of my favorite sayings.

I read it in BSC book once, and have used it as often as possible since that fateful day back in 1995.

Sometimes I go off topic just for the chance to use it.


As in weird and crazy.... to use it in a sentence....

“My hair feels all wonky today.”

or “I tried to call you but the phone went all wonky”

(as I type I realize the term is actually not just “wonky” but “all wonky”)

Going all wonky is usually something that happens just before your technology gets scrambly.


I’m fairly certain I not only spell this word wrong, but I also pronounce it wrong.

I can’t take credit for this one, it is actually C.S.Island slang. It means the sound of a gunshot.

The first time I heard a friend use this word I didn’t laugh.

I actually just sat there in silence, as did the rest of the audience, all of us unsure what the bejeezus kestahvup actually meant.

Once it was explained to me, I laughed.

And I still laugh about it. It makes absolutely no sense to me what so ever.

And so I continue to use that phrase as description for any type of loud bang or crash, because the sheer non-sense of the word makes me smile.

~I should mention that I have been told it’s not actually “UP” it ends in something else..... I don’t remember what, because frankly I don’t care... it makes no sense no matter if it ends in “up” or “ach” or “et” is still sounds absolutely NOTHING like a gunshot.~

Just thought I should clarify that part in case you ever feel like using that word while with-in the Barrington town limits. You may use it to sound cool in front of new friends, but they’ll probably call you on it.

They may not talk like the rest of the English speaking world, but dammit they believe they are grammatically correct anyway.

I shouldn’t have to define the word bejeezus I’m sure I didn’t make that one up. But in the spirit of trying to keep my writing somewhat PG, I tend to sub in words that sound funny for words of a less acceptable nature.

I’m also a big fan of talking about Sam and Debbie. I don’t know either of these people, but they get a lot of mentions.

Debbie, as in “FU Debbie!”. I actually have nothing against any Debbie in the the world. This is a phrase I said for years and had no idea why. Finally a friend informed me I was just a victim of MTV corruption. Thank you Eminem)

And Sam as in” That’s a grande plan Sam”

I’m sure most people want to correct my spelling there, as I often tend to stick “e” on the end of words where it doesn’t belong.

I blame the French immersion education.

Actually Mr. Healy blamed French immersion for that, as he noticed most students did it.

He let us get away with it, because he thought it was hard enough to go to school in one language, let alone in two. So he never corrected us, and never deducted marks for that particular spelling error.

So since grade eight I’ve been sticking “e”s on the ends of words that don’t belong, like a cat sticks his sharpened claws in a canary cage.

And I haven’t felt bad about it since.

In fact sometimes I juste put E’s on the endes of wordes because I thinke I’me privilagede toe doe ite.

But I digress.

This grand-with-an-e thing is not a case of a French learning superiority complex.

It is simply that I think the plan is in fact grand enough to deserve a little something extra added to it... the “je ne sais quoi” of spelling.... GRANDE.

Another common theme with my writing is the fact that sometimes I go on for pages with seemingly no point at all.

Or worse, it starts out like a have a point, and seems like I’m getting to a point, and then it never appears.

This is one such time folks. Thank you for tuning in, and blowing the last ten minutes of your time.

Perhaps I’ve enlighten you. Or at least amused you. Or perhaps I’ve just confused you.

I believe I’m a bit confused myself..... (actually I’m confuddled, but I’m trying not to use words that debatably don’t exist.)

Thursday, September 23, 2010

My Karma ran over my Dogma

"I don't believe in superstitions, it's bad luck"

I was not going to post today, As I am technically on vacation.

But seeing as it is 8 am and I'm awake anyway, I've already taken the dog for a walk, no one else is up, and my only other thing to do on my list this morning is sort through some workers comp government craziness, I guess I will post.

It's kind of becoming a mid-week routine anyway.

I felt a little empty not posting last night.

Like missing Sunday morning bacon and eggs... it just felt like I was screwing my week up.

I know not everyone believe in routines and rituals. I explained one of my weirder ones to a friend once.

When I use a public bathroom, I always unlock the stall door before I flush.

It's a simple precaution I take, just to avert disaster in a public place.

My reasoning is... I'm always a little bit afraid that the toilet may overflow, and at the same time, the stall door lock gets stuck.

My friend (who I must mention is extremely co-ordonated and not really given to belief in rituals to please a higher power) told me it would have to be a big coincidence that two terrible things happen in the same stall, on the same day, to the same person.

My belief (and I must mention that I'm generally banging into walls for no reason, and grew up Catholic with the belief that when something bad happens you must have deserved God's vengeful wrath...) is that life does that type of thing to me just for sh#ts and giggles.

---- I must add, as a side note, as soon as I typed this last sentence my computer froze for ten minutes, again, that's what I get for that little sarcastic poke at the almighty.

It's now 8:45 and I've spent 10 minutes typing and 35 minutes trying not to throw my computer on the cement floor and step on it-----

My belief that life can hand out more than one bad occurrence at a time was magnified this vacation.

Not by the fact that we chose to tent during a hurricane, that's just plain odd luck.

Not by the fact that I came to hike through the Highlands and the only thing that didn't get packed was my sneakers. I'll blame that one on poor communication.

But yesterday I somehow managed to slip on the cliff rocks (even with my brand new perfectly treaded sneakers I had just bought).

I slipped down a small crevice of rocks and dirt and water and general garbage.

Cut my hands on some glass, left behind by scuzzy party-litterers.

I let go of the dog-leash in all of the general klutzy confusion, and when I stood up to get him back,I managed to get my hair tangled in a tree.

I was wet, hurt, dirty, dog-less, and hanging from the side of cliff by six inches of curls and a pine cone.

It is slim chance moments like that in my life that re-affirm my belief that I should always unlock the stall door, before flushing a toilet in a public bathroom.

It's not always easy trying to get ahead in this universe, and I am going to take all the precautions I can think of.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Where's my newspaper??

When life hands you lemons.... make some Lemon-aide.

Just be careful not to spill the sugary goodness all over you pant-leg and then stand on a fire ant hill or something.

There is a Garfield cartoon out there in the world, that has a photo of the beloved grumbly cat with a rolled up newspaper saying "If today were a spider, I'd knock it into next week"

Amen, you furry lasagna lover, Amen.

Today's events actually began last night, as I was heading to bed, and I realized it was time to change the alarm clock.

We'd been getting up too late, and frankly I'd been cutting it way to close in the morning. So I took the time and the trouble to change the stupid thing.

I hate doing it, the buttons only work half the time, so you end up standing there for ten minutes until you fingers go numb and you start to daze off and forget what you're doing.

Suddenly you realize you've gone past the time you wanted in the first place so you have to hold it down for the next 50 numbers to count by ( which you would think would only take 50 seconds, but is more like three minutes.)

Chinese water torture has nothing on changing the alarm clock.

But I did change it, because I was planning ahead, and being proactive and trying to improve my life and crap.

That's how bad days usually start for me, by trying to improve it. If I would just give up and say, "Today i hope to be as crappy and unsuccessful as yesterday", I would probably achieve my goal.

But when I say, "Hey... here's a little something that might make my day run a little smoother" The world stands up and takes notice, and sticks it's foot out into the aisle just to trip me up and remind me that it was here first, it owes me nothing.

None the less, I keep trying.

So I changed the time on the alarm to a 7:30 am, instead of 8:00.

This morning as I felt the dog paw at me, i looked at the clock to figure out what ungawdly hour he was deciding he needed to go pee, and saw that it was in fact 8:05

No didn't sleep through my alarm... you can't sleep through an alarm you didn't actually set it to go off in the first place.

World : 1

Elizabeth : 0

I truck off to work. Slightly late, with not quite everything I needed done, but oh well, that's what tomorrow is for right?

I arrive at work to see my first client has canceled. I actually have nothing to do for two hours.

World : 2

Elizabeth : 0

I haul out my computer to start doing some book work, and promptly realize I can only do half of it, as I left the other half at home in my rush to get to work on time.

World.. you get no points for that. I'm pretty sure that's a hit below the belt.

So I decide to clean up a little... I scrub my wax pot clean, put in a new can of wax.

Spill the new wax on the clean pot.

Pick it up to clean it again and drizzle it all over the floor.

Just wait.... that's not the worst of it yet.

I throw the brand new can of wax in the garbage out of frustration, and scrub things clean again.

( In case you're keeping track, I've made no money yet today, as I've had no clients, and I've just thrown out $10 worth of wax, and used $5 worth of orange clean to clean up...not exactly a productive day business-wise.)

I then try to scrape the spilled wax off the floor with a popsicle stick, and get a SPLINTER!!!


Aren't they supposed to be child proof or something??

( Don't even get me started on child proof stuff.. I know it's a marketing scam that Tylenol puts a "Child Proof" cap on their pills... I get a headache just thinking about opening them.)

Finally my first client arrives. She is new, usually a good sign, as it means I'm still doing something right somewhere, to be bringing new people through my door.

She explains her mother-in-law loves me and bought her a gift certificate!

Word of mouth advertising is the best you can have.... that's great! My day is starting to improve.

World : 17

Elizabeth :1

At least it's not a shut out day.

As I go to complete the book work for the gift certificate, I realize it has never been entered in the first place, which means I have no money for that service allotted anywhere. Technically I did that service for free...

World.... screw you I'm not playing any more.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

What's it worth to you?

Believe you can and you're halfway there.
Theodore Roosevelt

Today while complaining about fruit flies, a friend told me his theory of why there is a "fruit fly season", something to do with the weather turning colder and the warm air inside....

Don't worry, this entry is not about fruit flies... I am far to riled up about them to make a short yet slightly witty entry about them...

But he did remind me of what I was doing this time two years ago, as the weather started to change and the inside become much cosier than the wild out-of-doors.

That wild started coming in to enjoy our more temperate climate.

They were not welcome.

These uninvited guests I'm talking about are most popularly known as Mickey and Minnie.

As someone who has grown up in the country, I am more likely to call them plain old rodents.

The first sign of them came unexpectedly, as I thought I saw one out of the corner of my eye... not wanting to be a wimp in in front my my then-new boyfriend I quickly convinced myself it was a trick of the light and I was over reacting.

The second sign of them could not be ignored... I saw it full tilt run from behind the dryer and under our washer.

There was no more "not wanting to be a wimp".

I had a full on little girl freak-out jumping up and down running up the stairs and pretty much screaming indecipherable things.

My cool girl cover was blown

(Who the f cares!!! We were living with a mouse!)

And you know what they say, when you see one, there are usually ten more that you don't see.

People who say that probably have not got mice in their houses. If they did they would realize that not only is that little quip not comforting, it's down right insomnia inducing.

So after I calmed down and starting speaking English again (as opposed to "ohhhmyyygawdit'saMOUSEisawitISAWITFORREALIT'STHERE!!!!!!) My shell shocked new boyfriend went about the manly task of setting traps.

And every day he also did the manly thing of checking the traps, and I did the girlie part of stuffing every nook and cranny I could find with steel wool.

This was a system of gender separation I was quite comfortable.

The 50's didn't have it all wrong you know. There are plenty of times I would much rather be in charge of having a cocktail at the ready when he walks through the door after a long day of doing things that I just feel I shouldn't have to do. ( i.e. take out the garbage, mow with a push mower, remove spiders, open jars, etc.)

And then came his annual conference. Which meant he was to be gone for three days.

Which also meant if something was caught in a trap I would have to take care of it, or live with a dead decomposing carcass for three days.

The adult, mature, rational, option is to "take care of it", the little squirmy girlie girl option isn't so obvious.

He checked the traps that morning before he left- all clear. He kissed me good bye and said he though maybe we had caught them all anyway.

5:45 am I heard his truck drive out of the driveway.

5:47 am I heard the undeniable snap of a trap going off in the basement.

The smart thing to do would have been to call him and make him come back. Two years later that is exactly what I would do. Fresh-relationship-girl decided she would tough it out on her own.

All I had to do was go down, remover the offending vermin, reset the trap and life would be fine.

I got up my nerve and put on my best brave face and went into the basement.....I could do this.... "I think i can, I think I can, I am the jedi master of oohhhhhhhh gawdammit there it is!!!!! eeeeeewwwwwwwwww I am NOT TOUCHING THAT!!"

Plan B... i found a broom.... with the broom I successfully managed to push the stupid thing around for about ten minutes....

Now not only did I have to deal with the deceased before breakfast, but at this rate I was going to be unbelievably late for work.

Plan C... I found my emergency snow shovel from the car, and swept the mouse and trap onto it.

Now what the hell do I do?? Why are all of may plans only one sentence long!!!???

I maneuvered the expired rodent, still attached to it's device of demise upstairs, through the kitchen and out the door, like a cocktail waitress from a five star resort, holding a nuclear bomb.

(I should mention that by this point I had considered calling my father about three times, but didn't, since he lived a half hour away, and I also considered calling Eric since he lived closer, but knew I would never live down the shame of it.)

I brought it to the edge of the yard and realized I now had to actually get the thing OUT of the trap in order to dispose of it.

I was starting to wish I had gloves. Actually i was starting to wish I had never decided to be a "big girl" and take care of it myself in the first place.

But I knew it had to be taken care of, and that I had to save the trap and remove the mouse.

As I inspected it closer, trying to find the easiest was to pry it open I caught a glimpse of something orange.

Home Hardware.


And my only thought was "screw this"

With that I took the shovel and hurled it as far as I could into the woods... cheap damn trap and all.

The moral of this story?

"No matter how far you've gone on the wrong road, turn back"

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

L.O.C. (Letter of Complaint)

Dear MADD (Mothers Aligned with Dental Destruction)

You are making me FAT (Feel A little Toothachey). Your little jar of jujubes sit there on my counter every day.. and stare at me... asking me to please just put a dollar in and then I can have some gummy goodness.

I don't even like Jujubes!!

That's the worst part... it used to peppermint patties...and I don't like those either, but at least after I ate one I would remember that I didn't like them.

The peppermint sticks to you for so long that it would only be one every few weeks... maybe around PMS time (Peppermint Munching Syndrome).

But now you Mothers have changed your minds, and believe that GCG (Gummy Candy Goodness) is the best way to avert the DUMB (Driving Under Many Beers) accidents.

I'm not even going to try to imagine how this money actually helps drunk drivers... never have I been at the pizza place a 3 am and seen a MADD sponsored vehicle pull up and offer me a ride home.

Nor do they hand out MADD sponsored taxi vouchers at the bar.

All I can see that comes with this maddening effect of fundraising is that every few weeks you come along and fill the JuJube jar back up again.

(which I can't really complain about, since near the bottom of the jar it is only the baggies left with lots of green or black candies in them...IDEA colours... as in I Don't Eat Any of those colours. )

The only other effect that MADD seems to have on my life is that they are leaving my cash drawer to be a little SOL (Short On Loonies).

Kayla does not seem to be as effected by their LURE (Loathsome Urge Regarding Eating) as I am... she claims she eats them too, but I think she just says that to make me feel better.

As well, I have never seen a client fall victim to the jujube either. Not once have I seen anyone else ever put money in that jar, or eat any of the CINDYs (Calorie Infused Nutrient Devoid Yummies).

The solution to this problem, is not a WIMP (Willpower Increasing Management Program) but something as simple as a new fund-raising system altogether.

I'll call it MEWAC (Monetary Exchange Without Any Consequences). I'm simply asking that MADD removes the UT ( Unavoidable Temptation) from our counter top, and instead simply shows up every third week, takes a twenty from my cash drawer and walks out.

I see no reason why we can't come to this arrangement WI-FI (Without Involving Furthur Incidents) but should there be any problems I will be more than happy to involve the DEA (Diet Enforcment Agency).

Thank You,
(Your Overly Loyal Patron)