If anyone has seen my car.......

How old does one need to be to lose ones mind?  I am in serious need of a real holiday - the kind that comes with room service and a massage.  The kind where once on the airplane, you are lifted off to another world where even the Stewardess's are kinder and gentler and the food tastes better (Ok, that might be pushing it but you get my drift).

I have not been on holiday since April 2009 when Kris and I took that fantastical South American Cruise.  My brain is mush and I can feel leaking out of my ear and  running down the left side of my neck into my collar. 

We are heading into the home stretch of an RRSP season where stupidity rules the roost.  If I am asked one more time - When is the deadline and what is the limit this year (this is by staff), I will push someone under the nearest bus.

 I am forgetful of late.  I am short on good temper.  I am cranky.  I am tired.  Did I mention forgetful?

Back to my original question.  If anyone knows where I left my car, I will be grateful.  I have a feeling I drove to the grocery store last evening and then walked home.  If this is the case, this is goona cost me big time.  It is $6.00 an hour to park.  You get the 1st hour free if you shop but after that they kill you.

As for cranky, this morning I wanted to bite through the arm of a small child on the bus.  At the second stop after I got on, three classes of grade schoolers got on for a ride downtown.  One sat next to me and kept climbing over me in his effort to beat his friend at pulling the bell for his stop.  His teacher kept trying to slap his arm down and tell him to sit still but he ignored her and in her effort to "assist" me, she slapped me in the face.  Always a pleasant way to start the day.  I normally quite like kids.  I have changed my opinion.

Since I have obviously lost my mind, I have removed myself from all dating websites until the end of RSP season.  I am afraid I snapped on Saturday when some young kid wanted to be the one who "could show me the moon and stars".  Turns out this past weekend was a full moon so the looney's were out in full force.  They must be re-running The Graduate or the Summer of 42 a lot lately.  Why does every 20 something think that every 40 something wants to be a teacher to a stupid kid who has the attention span of gnat?  I think I blame Demi Moore.  Ever since she married that kid, it has been tough for the rest of us.  However, it seems my child thinks it would be cool to have a new Daddy who is younger than she is.  I find this oddly disturbing.

I will get some new pics taken this weekend with my new "do" and start fresh.  Maybe the new hair will stop some of these kids from pestering me.  I have been told this should do wonders for my ego.  It actually does nothing of the kind.  It just kinda grosses me out. Maybe if I drank........

I will keep you posted next week after my new profile is up and running.  My sister-in-law suggested I put up someone else's picture and lie about myself and then only when I have one on the hook tell them the truth.  I might actually run two ads - one with my picture and the truth and one with a picture of someone else and full of lies and see what happens.  That could actually be a pretty fun experiment.  Anyone want to volunteer their picture?

I will let you know what happens.

Stay tuned

I must have been sleeping

I got old while I slept.  This was pointed out to me recently by a group of younger work associates.  I made some comment about some music I had heard where the english language had been altered.  Apparently, the word "with" is much too difficult to say so the new word is "wich".   As in "I want to get wich you."  I thought the song was about the girl making the fella a sandwich.  I found the exact sentance reads "Alls I kin say to ya, is I wan git wich you"

I have misunderstood lyrics in the past but it seems that I am actually hearing the words correctly but the singers are now too lazy to say the word properly.  This also goes for the "S" sound.  It seems it is easier to make is sound like the softer "SH".

I no longer think I need my meds adjusted as I am pretty sure my hearing is not affected - its just my age. 

While the news goes on about making sure our children get enough excersize so they don't get fat and lazy, no one is doing anything about this new epedemic - kids so lazy, they cannot be bothered to say a whole word - or say it properly.  Brother has become Bro - Hello is Yo - Want is Wan - Out is Ow.  I head even Dude has become Du.  And in cases of extreme disbelief, it becomes Duuuuuu.  So, in the rush rush world of our youth where even speaking properly takes too much time, Imagine the following sentence being heard and having to pick up an english to english transalation dictionary to figure out what it means:  "Sos, I linked up wich my bro and I tagged "Yo, Du, ya wan hit the shtreets ta check ow tha new place on Robson?"  I think you get the gist.

On to another topic, walking down Granville street this past week I saw some interesting sights.  For instance the man, obviously in a great hurry, hurrying down the street while shaving.  The man had guts - he was using a razor blade NOT an electric razor.  One false step, one curb not seen and an ambulance would have to be called.   Then there was the woman with the tambourines.  She danced as she walked.  These people put a smile on my face.  Then there was the woman I wanted to push under a bus.  The stupid broad was throwing handfuls of bird seed and bread crumbs out by the pound on the sidewalk beside the train station thereby attracting what seemed like thousands of sqawking, flapping, flying rats that are also known as pigeons.   Does she not know that some people might actually have very real phobias against flapping, flying rats and that some people could not actually get near the train station to go home thereby taking the bus and having to sit next to a nose picker?  Some people might get cranky because of this.

For those of you wondering how my first visit to a gay bar went - you will have to keep wondering.  The friend who was to take me got sick so we will have to make it another time.  This might be a good thing as I have a feeling I am going to need to go shopping for new clothes first.  I want to make sure I fit in.

I will keep you posted.

More positive and uplifting

So it seems my daughter likes my blog postings but thinks they might be a tad depressing.  She wants me to write more uplifting articles. 

So my darling, this one is for you.  It is enought to make an old lady proud and put a smile on a nannagramma's lips.  However, children of said old lady might be a tad uncomfortable.

I recieved a message from a delightful man (barely) last week.  He thinks I am beautiful with a wonderful smile and gorgeous eyes.  During our many email exchanges, he has discovered not only am I all those other things but I am smart, funny and articulate with a great 'sense of self''. 

I will describe this man as not only incredibly intelligent (see above for confirmation) but funny, sweet and OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! talk about gorgeous!  He is like dessert on a stick.  Like that extra piece of cheesecake that you discover contains no calories at all.

He is 31 years old.  But I don't care.  He lives in Arizona.  I don't care.  I have an Aunt who is currently in Palm Springs - just a short hop away.  This fella is so yummy, I think I will have to ask her to pop on over a State and check him out.  If he checks out for her, and she doesn't keep him for herself, I will ask her to shove him in the trunk of her car and head for the border.

I have a feeling my child will not be quite so happy when my "uplifting" story ends with me introducing her to her new daddy - who is a year younger than she is.   On the upside, he will most likely outlive me which will alliviate her from having to care for me in my old age.  The issue of inheritance will also be moot.  Chances are really good that I will have to spend everything I have on upkeep to try to keep up with a  hubby almost 20 years younger.  This will be the start of annual facelifts, tummy tucks, butt lifts and the like.  I guess I will even have to address that pesky COOPERS DROOP.  Wonder how much that costs.

I also wonder how I will be as someones 'Mrs. Robinson'.  I am not really comfortable in the teaching position.  I tend to just want to get the job done and not waste time explaining things.  I have a feeling I might get bored - after a year or two.  I imagine that once we stop talking about how gorgeous he is and how wonderful I am, we might not have a whole lot left to discuss.

So, how is that for uplifiting?  He has been a boost to a sagging ego during a week when I have been contacted by 1)  a man who finally conceeded that he and his wife are more like roommates and therefore its ok for him to have a girlfriend and 2)  a pervert who just wants an 'intimate encounter' with a gorgeous blonde and 3)  an idiot - no more need be said.

A friend of mine is taking me out to a gay bar on Saturday night - first time ever.  She says we can dance and have fun without having to worry about being annoyed.  I have no idea what one wears to a gay bar but I have a feeling that no matter what I chose, they will be better dressed than me.  Oh well, I am looking forward to it and will of course, keep you updated on my experience.

Stay tuned

I am Traumatized

I got a haircut yesterday.  A deep and disturbing haircut.  I am now traumatized. 

Those of you who knew me in my childhood will have fond memories of the many pixi and bowl cuts that my Mother was fond of giving me.  By virtue of her having a couple of brothers who were hair stylists, the talent to cut her own children's hair was inherent.  Until  I reached the age of about 10 or so, this was common practise in our kitchen at least once every couple of months.  I would like to say I remember those days with fondness.  I would LIKE to say that but I cannot. 

You should know, my Mother was not the only one to inflict traumatization upon my young head.  I was either 10 or 11 when I was taken to my Uncle's hair salon for a new cut.  I told him very clearly " I want to look like a girl."  He promised me that when he was done, I would look like a pretty little girl.  At the end of the cut, he spun me around in the chair and told me how pretty I was.  (You should know, I had no other cousins who were girls at this point so his point of reference might be called into question).  I was happy.  Then in happened.  His first client in after my cut took a look at me and said " Oh D (name protected), is this your nephew?"  It cost him an ice cream cone and a toy to shut me up.  However, you may notice, neither really worked as 40 years later I am still traumatized.

I told you the above in order to set in context the understand that I hold dear with respect to my hair.  Back to yesterday's haircut.  I might actually have to take some blame here.  I might have been a little wishy washy without giving clear direction when I said "I need some shape, with a trim.  You can take an inch or so off at the back as I still need to be able to put it in a ponytail."  After a night to sleep on it, I understand that this could have been taken as "please cut it all off so that I may relive my childhood pixi cuts."

People were kind today.  They either said nothing at all or a I got a polite smile coupled with "you look cute - and besides, its only hair.  It will grow back."

I am going to start keeping a bottle of booze in my bottom desk drawer with a bendy straw for sipping. 

On the upside, I feel that now with this haircut coupled with my newly discovered mustache - many of my dating issues will be moot.   Since I will conceivably be confused for a male, chances are pretty good I will be off the market for a while - at least until this grows out.

As soon as I get out hair-therapy, I will catch you up on things