Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Stink Stank Stunk!

Poor poor Jenny.

I don't know if I told you guys this. We have a skunk. No not as a pet, but as a very unwelcome and unwanted bastard who lives under our porch.

In case you haven't guessed by now, Jenny got sprayed. In the face. Let me say that again for you. In. The. Face.

Right before bed. Someone went outside for one last smoke before bed and took the dogs out. Big Mistake.

She was foaming at the mouth and not happy at all about it. Thankfully it never got Ceasar. But still. We had to give her a bath outside with the hose and tomato soup. which does work by the way.

And unfortunately today the whole house stunk like rancid. So I spent most of the day outside because of course it didnt still stink outside. Man that little bastard Pepe LaPew is going down.

We bought traps and are going to catch him. And kill him. Shut up. I don't want to hear it from anyone. Unless you have been through all this before you have no idea how horrible it is.

Monday, September 25, 2006


Poor poor Jenny.

I don't know if I told you guys this yet. We have a skunk. No, not as a pet. This little bastard lives under our deck. Unwanted, and very unwelcome.

If you haven't figured it out by now, Jenny got sprayed by our little Pepe La Pew.

In her face. It's 10:30 at night. We were planning on going to bed just now, but Someone needed to have another smoke before bed. He took the dogs out with him. Big Mistake.

Seriously, she's foaming from the mouth. Sprayed. In the face.

The smell is unbearable. All the doors and windows in the house were closed and the smell is still so unbeleivable that I want to vomit. It burns my eyes, and brings up the gag reflex.

Poor hubby is giving her a bath outside. He stinks too from touching her. We will most likely have to throw out his clothes. OF COURSE he's wearing good newer unripped jeans. Because of course he couldn't have been wearing old clothes. That would be too easy. Simple even.

Pepe is so going down. I want him shot. Does anybody have the number of Elmer Fudd? Normally I would've been against the shooting of a "harmless" animal but this little bastard has ruined enough evenings and early mornings with his stench. I no longer care wether he lives or dies. I would prefer he dies at this point. And I don't want to hear from anyone "how can you kill such a harmless peaceful creature?" or "There are many easier nonlethal ways to get rid of a pest. Try them" Unless you have ever had to deal with this, shut up. I can be as liberal, hippy and tree hugging as the next person, but I have had it. Seriously, I will shoot the little fucker myself.

Okay I need to go into my bedroom now, the only room in the house where you can't smell the unbeleivable stench of rancid.

Friday, September 22, 2006


So I just got off the phone with my mom, and something just makes sense now.

I was REALLY pissed off about the Grey's Anatomy premiere. I was thinking to myself that they had REALLY lost their mojo for season three, and what a crappy way to leave us hanging for what the hell happened to Izzie hours after Denny died?

I was VERY upset that my favourite show had dropped the ball.

Apparently CTV aired the second episode. Now it all makes sense. But now I have to wait until next thursday to see the episode that I had waited all summer to see. VERY disappointed.

If I had known that CTV aired the wrong episode I would've watched it on ABC later on. Nobody had better tell me what really happened on the premiere or I will be really mad.

Are your parents home?

One of my neighbors stopped by last night to inform me what was going on between her and one of the other neighbors. This guy is trying to take away everyones irrigation rights if they have a well. Fun.

But anyway, she started off on the wrong foot by when I answered the door asking "Are your parents home?"

"Uummm, actually this is my house."

"Oh, you look too young."

I guess I can't get too upset because I use that line whenever telemarketers call or salespeople stop by the house. It just annoys me when people assume things like that.

Maybe I should be grateful that when I get older people will still think I'm younger than I am.

Heehee, she must've thought I was a pregnant teen. Or I guess just a fat one.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Tic Tac's Doctors Appointment*

So I had my second doctors appointment on tuesday.

It went......ok I guess.

I had my internal exam. That was uncomfortable. Or I guess the word is embarassing. Especially since this was the first time I had met this woman.

She is a very good Doctor. And well she should be, since Beer Town has the highest rate of births per capita in Canada. Due to the polygamist group nearby.

I got to hear the heartbeat. 160bpm, which is supposed to be exactly what it should be. I was so excited to hear it, although disappointed to not get an ultrasound. Which I don't get until around the 20th week. Hubby was really disappointed to have to be at work, so he couldn't hear it too. Oh well.

But what really disappointing me was to learn that I had gained three pounds since my previous appointment. Which yeah, I know, I'm supposed to be gaining weight. But the chart she had up in her office said that average/optimal weight gain in first trimester is 1-2 lbs. I know, it's not that much, but it is still above what the chart says I should. Then when I asked the nurse if that was normal she shrugged and said I don't know. What kinda support is that? Then she said in a condescending tone "Well you'd better get used to it. There's more of that to come." Yes. Thank you. I know, but do I really look like I want to hear that right now? I was already self conscious about my weight to begin with. Now, I know I have to gain weight for the baby, but seriously, do I have to be happy about it? I think not. And you can't make me.

* Tic Tac is our pet nickname for the baby. It came about one day shortly after I found out I was pregnant. I said to Hubby that he had to go into town to get me a blizzard from DQ because the baby wanted it. He looked at me and said "The baby is the size of a tic tac, he doesn't crave anything." From then on, we have called her Tic Tac.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Two steps forward, 6 steps back

Or why I hate my house.

So last week I think I forgot I had a blog. OR maybe I was just busy doing this: That's right folks, we got rid of that old stinky stained and burned carpet. We put in laminate. We compromised on the color, I wanted maple, he wanted an oak color so we got a birch. So in other words neither of us got what we wanted.

It was an interesting learning experience. Once we got the hang of it though, it was a breeze. And I only had the urge for the first twenty minutes to throw a hammer at his head. He kept yelling at me for doing things wrong when they weren't my fault. I'm not saying it was his fault (yes I am) but it sure as hell wasn't mine. This took us two whole nights because we are lazy asses.

Friday night we were sitting on our couch, congratulating each other on a job well done, when he turns to me and says "Are you doing laundry?" Normally, I would think he was being an asshole when saying that; insinuating that I should be doing laundry, unfortunately I could hear water running too. "No, I'm not" then in unison from the two of us "FUCK" as we run towards the sound of the water.

A pipe burst in between the floors. Water was gushing everyewhere into our laundry closet. Hectic things happened, the water got shut off, and pressure drained until finally we had the problem under control. When we relaxed (ha) enough we realized that water was leaking through the ceiling drywall seams into the dining room (MY TABLE!!!) all over the floor. So we cleaned it up. As best we could considering the ceiling was still leaking.

Oh by the way, notice the walls in the dining room? That was weekend project 06. There is your picture. Finally. Don't notice that the trim isn't done, because eventually we are getting better trim. So I felt there was no point in staining that stuff.

I was going to post a picture of the living room finished, but blogger decided that I am not allowed to. So take it up with him. (you just know blogger is a man because he is a tempramental bitch)

Also last wednesday I went to the dentist (thank you very much, asshole) they did a cleaning and the bastard made my gums bleed everywhere. But at least I didn't pass out.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

The Fire/ Moonyass Incident

Okay, so I gather that everone is getting bored with my stories from Saskatchewan. So this will be my last. Cause these are really the only two that are SUPER funny. I have put them together because they happened on the same night to the same person. And of course that person is my husband.

So again, they had been drinking for like three days straight, all day. We are all just sitting around the fire talking about how cool our $400 dollars worth of fireworks were.

Next thing I know, he starts swaying on his feet and kinda nosedives into Zak's crotchal area, Zak pushes him away and he goes falling backwards into the fire.

And kinda just lays there. Looking around. He has the look on his face of a little kid who has fallen and doesn't know how to react wether to cry or to get up and run away continuing to play.

Anyway, he starts like yelling, "Get me out, get me out!" Zak decides to try and pull him out but looks like he is about to fall in after him. So my mom runs to the rescue and safely pulls him out.

All he got was a slight burn on the side of his hand. Of course he can't feel it because he's so drunk. Which I guess is a good thing.

So shortly after this I decide I've had enough "excitement" and head to bed so I can get a good night's sleep, before he comes into the trailer and ruins my sleep. Unfortunately he decides he should sleep too, so comes in about five minutes after me.

Which I guess was fine, he passed out rather quickly.

Problems started a couple hours later when he woke up, and I could tell he had to pee.

I could tell because he pulled his pants down, but then passed out again with his butt (bare) up in the air. Being the good wife that I am, I try to pull his pants up, hoping he will just sleep through the night.

No such luck. He starts thrashing around again, and kicks my pillow off the bed. So, I sit up and move out of his way. He lumbers off the bed and starts trying to undo his shorts again. So I start repeating his name gradually louder and louder each time, to no avail. I was really worried about getting his attention because he was aimed at my clothes.

So I hit his arm and screamed "ASS!"

"What ta fuck do youuuuu want?" He yells back

"what are you doing?"

"I haff ta pee." And continues with his pants.

"well, maybe you should go to the BATHROOM then." He storms outside. And I think pees on the keg. He starts screaming for the dogs, because he thinks they are outside. I'm worried that he's gonna wake everyone up, so I tell him to shut the fuck up, the dogs are already in the camper.

He doesn't believe me and continues to yell for the dogs. So Jenny decides to get up and see what his problem is. She trots out of the camper (past him) and he sees her standing over by the fire pit.

"Come on Jemy, lees go ta bed. I told you see wasss ouside"

I shake my head, and lead them back to bed. I spent a really uncomfortable night squished between him, Jenny and the wall.

It was really fun telling him what he did that night. And he wouldn't have believed me except my mom heard him outside yelling for the dogs, so I had collaboration.

I am in Haaaaaate!

So today I received a phone call today from the hospital.

(oh my god! Somethings wrong with my blood tests. What's wrong with me? What could be wrong? Am I going to miscarry? What will I tell hubby? He'll be so upset. I think I'm gonna cry. Or scream. Gaaaaaa!) (I also thought this all in the two seconds that the phone had it's first ring, before I picked it up.)


Hi! Is this Cynthia?


Hi! This is bitchface from the lab at the hospital. There is a problem with your blood for the tests. We need you to come in again.

Okay(stay calm). What is the problem?

Oh, well, um, on the way to being tested in Vancouver, some of your vials broke, so we need more of your blood.

OH. Okay, I'll be in as soon as I can then. (hangs up the phone and takes a big calming breath)

Why the fuck is it that they always screw up taking blood from the person who is soooo not okay with giving blood? Why does this have to be my luck? Why me?