Category Archives: Lighter Side

Friday Funnies – ‘Cause, Why Not?

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Sometimes life gifts you with a week… month… year(?)… you just wanna forget… Feelin’ like a ha ha or two?… Me too…

2th

I’m guessing named after an outthanding dentith  – DOH!

guess who

I was feeling a little peckish when I picked this..

constipation joke

Yeah, typical reaction to my jokes too…

Earth meetcow

Me and Cow are on the same wavelength…

centaur

Seriously… think about it.

CSI case

I hope they solve this before it’s too late.

Dads selfie

I am so freaked out that they have a gumball machine in the bathroom!

dinners ready

Son will confirm… just ask.

Disability

I think it could be for my kind of mentality.

best things in life are Cree

Ha!  Yeah well, at least my mommy thinks so…

Have a great weekend… see you on the funny pages – or in the padded rooms. Either way, I promise to laugh maniacally.

RL, out!

Party Prep is Not For the Weak, And Friends Lie

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maxine tip 2Hell hath no fury like the eyes of a host expecting guests.  They see EVER-Y-THING EVER-Y-WHERE.  They flood the entire house with the damning light of the unclean.  Condemned is the rosy glow of procrastination that normally allows one to see cobwebs as merely billowing indoor clouds – just a step closer to communing with nature really.

I am acutely struck by these evil eyes mostly on an annual basis, when I host a gathering at year’s end.  I love finally being able to get together with many friends and bask in their good humor and kinship. They are wonderful, wonderful people, but they LIE.  They LIE like my (dog hair-covered) front door rug.

maxine dusting hintNormally, my day-to-day entails apologizing for the clutter and other landfill-sized mounds strewn over floors.  In reply, my friends say things like, “Oh we never have time to clean either, or who cares about a clean house, there’s so much more to life that is far more important”.  A credo I actually believe in; a credo that I know I honestly uphold – alone.

All these able members of the Liars Club have homes ready for a photo shoot in BH & G at the drop of a paper towel.   Pop in on them, regardless of the time of day or day of the week, and you’ll be invited in to have a chat and sit on pristine seats atop the shiniest floors in the universe. These are the real shining lights reflected in the sky at night.

Maxine Super Bowl tipI cringe at every realization that I could rarely, to never, reciprocate that invitation.  I am the queen of doorstep conversation.  “Hey, how’d you like to have a seat on that outside chair right there, on the outside of the house, and I’ll get us a drink for here, outside”.  I wonder if they notice?   Of course they do.  Then they go home and re-shine their floors just to spite me.

So, while the thought floats gently through my screams mind that it really could be interesting to hold a front yard party in early January Canada, I grudgingly accept that I‘d never get the grass raked in time.  Thus, I rush to appease these eyes of damnation.  I fly from one end of the house to the other with cleanser and polish to head off any possible ugh! moment for a guest.

As I work through all that anticipatory contact, I spy something odd, even for me. Wait…is that… plum pudding on the blinds??!!  But, but we didn’t have plum pudding this year.  Oh my God.  OK kids, new goal:  Clean all the dirt that guests might recognize from last year!

While we’re scrambling to meet new achievements, I picture my friends discussing their impending visit to my mess O’ horrors:

  • “Um, so, Robyn’s invitation has arrived again…. And?  Well, she is our friend so let’s try our best to enjoy this as much as possible while looking only directly into each other’s eyes”.
  •  “Well, this year I’m putting the hazmat suit on under my clothes.  There’s no way I’ll be able to smile through feeling a glob of plum pudding stuck to my thigh”.
  • “OK, let’s re-do our plan from last year to drink as much as possible to get through the mess evening and maybe even to…. forget”.
  • “Hey, maybe we can invite her out next year”.

Hey!  I’ve been invited out three times this year.  Was that…. ?  Stop it! Go test the martini potency and then get back to work!

Somehow, in the midst of these mental meanderings and the frantic efforts of Thing 1 and Thing 2 (me and child), the house started to resemble something like the original intentions of the architect.

Maxine-On-CleaningEventually we got to an understanding.  Actually, more like simple resignation – what will be, will be. Whatever else we may spy gets a quick kick under the couch.  The rest of the prep plan is fairly simple – take off the apron, smooth down the hair, quick check via socks for dog hair on the baseboards. Last, but not least, turn down the lights and light up the candles.  Nothing says, what spot on the wall? like mood lighting.

Then I will deploy the ultimate mood lightener  – martinis.  I’ll take their coats with one hand, and plop a glass in their hand in one efficient motion.  I’ll keep the pitcher handy and refill often. Non-drinkers will get over-stuffed with plenty of fresh plum pudding. Even if they do notice a spot on the wall at some point, the odds are pretty good that they won’t care.  At least not until next year’s invitation arrives.

RL

Originally Posted on January 4, 2014by

Darn It, Donald Rumsfeld, Did We Really Need This Habit?

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Today, I speak of a pet peeve no one should have begun, and especially not one begun by a politician. We’ve enough of those who under-serve as it is.

I speak now to the official 1000th time I have scratched at my eyes over the interminable use of a question to make a statement.  They are questionable efforts to sound all knowledgy and smart. Yes, I know that technically, knowledgy isn’t really a word.  Maybe I’m just demonstrating another peeve.  Who knows to whom that pet belongs?

Weasel 2 glassesSo, do I hate that people use questions to make a statement on a regular basis now?  Yes! Yes I do, and it’s all Donald Rumsfeld’s fault.  That’s right, “There are no unknowns that we know we don’t know”, former U.S. Secretary of Defense (2001-2006), Donald Rumsfeld .

It all began during the era of searching for the weapons of mass imagination in Iraq.  As head defense guy, it was in fact, his most used defense system.  He deployed it fully during statements to the public or while he was being interviewed.

‘Do I worry about weapons of mass destruction and feel concern for U.S. safety’? ‘Of course’.  ‘Do I anticipate that you’re going to ask me this question, so I answer it to get it off my back the way I want to answer it, so I can ignore it when you ask it’? Why, yes I do’.  Asked and answered, move along now. You get the picture.

It drove me nuts, and when the election was over, I thought, whew, back to regular statements, but then the unthinkable began – reporters started to mimic the annoying habit.  Then anyone who was ever interviewed about anything began to conduct their own interviews until eventually network news, Entertainment Tonight and TMZ went off the air due to obsolescence.

Okay, not really, but would you believe this trend went even further by actually being written into script dialogue for movies and TV shows?

Why? Why must this trend of fatuous intent continue? It doesn’t make one sound cool or knowing or even, stately.  It sounds like what it was meant for, a wily way to buy time before you can squirm onto a different pile of bull-peppermint patties in order to avoid truth or responsibility.  Uncool.  Avoidance.

If there is a statement to be made, please, please just make it. Straight up, straight forward, say it.  Don’t use that weasel way that makes it seem like you just know enough to anticipate what our next thought or question will be.  Arrogance.  Then to follow up that nonsense with your own next question?

Please, let me interject in your own answer to your own questions – don’t.  Let’s just leave as many weasels in the woods as possible.  Now, that’s a good habit.

RL

Anything bothering you today? I mean beside my grammar issues.

Big Troubles and a Fence

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Being bullied as a kid feels like you’re walking out into a dangerous field that’s surrounded by a big fence electrified by fear. I remember this from when I was nine years old. I’ll always remember because no one forgets their encounters with bullies, ever.

playground 1For whatever reason, in grade four I caught the eye of our school bully. His name was Shane and although we were in the same grade, he was almost a head taller than me. I suppose it’s not surprising that a bully might have sought me out; I was one of the smallest in our class. I’m sure he felt confident I was one of the weakest.

Shane would look for opportunities to push me around and because he was so much bigger than me, it didn’t take much of a push from him to knock me down. He would generally follow that up with slapping me and threatening worse after school. There weren’t many options for me after school, it was either run like hell for home, try to hide behind people as they were walking, or just take the beating while trying to fend off too much damage. Teachers weren’t much involved outside of class in those days and my parents were otherwise occupied with the drama of their own lives.

One Saturday I was heading over to a friend’s a few blocks from home. I had a temporary shortcut because a house between my street and hers had been torn down and I could cut through the now open yard. The only impediment was a fence in the back that I could climb over at the alley.

I started to walk across the yard, but suddenly a shadow caught my eye. Shane stepped out from behind some building debris that I’d just walked by. His face was sheer glee at having me cornered and alone. My mind took in the entire scenario in about eleven seconds. I knew exactly what was in store.

My heart dropped as I watched him slowly stepping toward me with the promise of pure menace. Within those eleven seconds, I figured my only options to get away were to run back by him or run for the fence. As my panic escalated with his every step, it felt like I couldn’t move my feet anyway. I knew I had reached the point of no return.

He got closer and as he raised his hand, instinct took over. I closed my eyes and I ran toward him. Hard. His head being higher than mine was providence; it turned out it was the perfect height for my hands to reach his face, which I blindly pummeled with my fists. Hard and fast.

I heard a cry. I opened my eyes and saw that Shane had stepped back from me. He was holding his nose and just staring at me. Then he took his hands down and looked at them. They were covered in blood. He couldn’t see it, but so was his face as the bleeding from his nose dripped steadily down his chin. We stared at each other equally stunned.

Then he brought his hands back up to his nose and started crying. I took this as my cue to head for the fence. At the same time I started to move, so did he, but the other way, for home I presume.

My body was unbeaten, but the adrenaline continued to stream throughout it. I didn’t bother running to the fence, but I’m pretty sure I scaled it like a parkour athlete.  I was safe and I would remain safe.  Shane never bothered to come near me again.

 I didn’t know it at the time, but that was a life changing event.  It wasn’t just that I was able to defend myself, no matter the miracle was unplanned. It was because it was the first time I was consciously aware that I did something I had no idea I could.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the last time I would encounter bullies in my life, but sometimes, when I do come up on the short end of the stick in those meetings, I remember that sweet, sweet time I kicked ass. Like a boss.

 RL

That Time Political Correctness Landed on Its Ass

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They say it’s best not to write something when you’re angry.  How about when you’re perplexed, confounded, immersed in the phrase – WTF!!??

I’ve had plenty of discussions around the idea of political correctness over the last year, in particular for how it’s been used in various topics on Aboriginal issues.  In these cases, I believe the correct usage of the P.C. definition applies.  That is, as defined as this, the result of a simple Google search:

po·lit·i·cal cor·rect·ness

  1. mad donkey 2the avoidance of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalize, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.
  2. … Or the more urban version:  when the desire to be offensive at the expense of someone in a weaker position socially, economically, or in health is taken away thereby making your own offensiveness day less easy or fun.

It’s a short diatribe, but to me it’s one loaded with worthy points to ponder, particularly for the idea of feminism, and women’s rights to complete equality with an equal dose of general respect. And please, haters of the word feminism, please stop equating it with a request to ignore simple manners and common courtesies that everyone should be employing regardless of gender.

The story that began this moment of umbrage is also short.

I had to change a password used for a national alarm security company. I had to change the password that I’ve had for eight years up to this point because it was recently declared offensive. The word(s) of offense was: fat ass.

Like many people, I grew up understanding that donkeys are asses, and that’s what we called them.  However, for the purposes of this note, I don’t think the other version helps their case either.

The reason the alarm company thought it was offensive?

“Because if a ‘woman’ had to call me to check on a possible security breach ‘she could’ take it the wrong way”.

Let that sink in.

‘Cause you know, we women are just that much more sensitive about farm animals and our personal associations with them.

Regardless of that, have we really been found such a delicate gender that we all would automatically adopt that word as a personal affront?  Especially in answer to an innocuous request for one’s password?

I spoke with three different employees at that alarm company. They were all unmoved by my thoughts. They simply reaffirmed that they must take care of their female employees and they have determined that the word ass is harmful, particularly if the word fat precedes it.  Apparently their male employees have larger ass shields and are more able to handle the ‘ass•ault’.

They insisted I change my long-held password, and so I capitulated, stomped down by the hooves of cloven sensitivity.

Or could it be that I am just unaware of my own new level of insensitivity?

RL

 High five 2P.S. I just want to send a quick high five thank you to my new followers.  I really appreciate your support, and I endeavor to meet all of you at your own sites at some point, however I admit to being a slow reader.  Please take no offense.