Archive for January, 2010

And don’t get me started on the fresh baked cookies she bakes but doesn’t eat.

January 29, 2010 Leave a comment
RY and I are scheduled to attend “Cliterature”, which is a poetry/arty thing in Kitchener, last Saturday. RY makes an appointment to get her hair done in the early afternoon.
In the morning, we have yoghurt with blackberries and bran buds for breakfast (yes, I’m of the age where I eat bran buds) and go to the gym. Then we do some errands and finally we get to the salon. I go to read my book while she’s primping and to get some late lunch as we likely won’t eat again that day. I ask RY if she wants me to pick something up for her too. She says no and asks me to bring her a smoothie from the juice bar.
So I do.
On the way to Kitchener, she tells me she’s hungry. I suggest I stop at Tim Horton’s for a sandwich and she agrees. Before we hit the Tim Horton’s, she spies a McDonalds and tells me to stop there, which is weird because she doesn’t normally like McDonald’s. If she splurges on a fast food hit, it’s usually BK.
We go through the drive through and she says she wants a Big Mac meal. I figure that although I’m not really hungry, I’ll grab a Big Mac because we won’t eat again today and I don’t want to be hungry at night.
As we pull away, she eats the fries, stuffing a few in my direction every other mouthful. I eat my Big Mac.
Then she takes a bite of her Big Mac and realizes she’s eating fast food and that would negate the effects of her workout this morning and what was she thinking?!
So after one bite, she gives me her Big Mac and says “I don’t want this. Eat it.”
Um… no. That would mean that she’s had a yoghurt and 6 fries all day and I’ve had the equivalent of a small heffer.
This may be why my pants don’t fit anymore.

The metric system is not working.

January 28, 2010 Leave a comment
Monday night I’m driving home from work and I get a call from RY who is at home. She is calling to find out when I’ll be home because apparently  there is a bug in the laundry room.
Normally when I see a bug, I try to see if the cats will eat it. When Riley is with me, I’ll point at the bug and go "Riley! Eat the bug!" Sadly, she doesn’t understand that I’m pointing AT something. She thinks I want her to sniff my finger. Zeke is better. When I point at a bug, he’ll look at the bug. But he won’t eat it. He’ll sniff it and give it a cautious paw and watch it disappear into the baseboards. Then he’ll watch the hole in the baseboard for 10 minutes waiting for the bug to come out again. One of his favourite things to do recently is jump in the tub and watch the drain for half an hour. I’m wondering what he saw go down there.
Anyway, RY calls to tell me there’s a bug I have to kill in the laundry room. It’s an emergency because "it’s over a metre long!"
I can’t believe she is still even in the building with a bug over a metre long. I ask, "are you sure it’s a metre?" She replies, quite agitatedly, "YES!!!! IT’S A METRE LONG!" That seems odd and somewhat scary.
"Do you know what a metre is?"
"Yes I know, come home quickly!!!!"
"Where is the bug now?"
"I’ve trapped it under the Javex bottle."
OK. The Javex bottle is maybe 30cm in diameter. I’m thinking the bug is not a metre long.
I get home and go into the basement armed with a wad of paper towel. How much do you need for a one metre bug?
I lift the Javex bottle. Underneath is a wee black bug, approximately 1 cm long.
I would have moved it outside for sanctuary but I figured it was pretty traumatized by the crazy lady yelling at it so I put it out of its misery. At least it died thinking it was one metre long. That had to be good for its little bug ego.

Why gambling is bad for you.

January 27, 2010 Leave a comment
My mother got me and RY into online poker on Facebook. It’s playing with virtual money so although I’m up to $20k, I’m not actually making any money.
Two weekends ago, RY and I decided to spend Sunday afternoon playing poker while making dinner. Dinner was to be a baked potato, steamed sweet potatoes and steak. RY also had a wine going and I was enjoying a beer.
As RY hadn’t baked a potato before and it had been a million years since I had, we asked my mother via the chat window (she was also playing poker) how long to cook it. Mom said "about an hour at 350". Remember, my mother is in dry, elevated Edmonton, while we are in moist, low Toronto. This makes a difference when you’re baking things. My mom can cook a turkey in 4 hours, RY’s mom takes 8 hours.
Also, RY wanted to try my George Foreman grill for the steaks. They were really thick steaks though (and still partially frozen) and I hadn’t cooked anything that thick on the grill yet so I wasn’t sure how that would work.
So throughout the afternoon, RY kept checking on the food and I would play her hand (we were both on our laptops on the couch, and no, we weren’t cheating – I’m virgo – you know better than that for asking) so that she wouldn’t time out and lose her seat.
This juggling of cooking and poker came to a head when RY figured the potatoes weren’t done (but for some reason, she refused to nuke them in the microwave) so she decided to cut them and fry them in our new pans that we got for xmas. And the steaks were done on the outside but not on the inside so she put them in tin foil in the oven to finish them off. This caused two things to happen simultaneously:
1. She had cut one of the steaks open so when I went to check if it was done, blood poured out onto the element, creating smoke that then set off the smoke detector. I start fanning furiously.
2. She forgot to take off this plastic thing on the handle of the new pan, which then melted to the burner in a pool of molten plastic, creating black toxic smoke.
The cats were pawing the door at this point, desperate for survival.
By the time we got it all under control, the potatoes were still not cooked and the steak was tough. The steamed sweet potatoes were delightful.
We both lost our seats at the poker game.

I offended Elvira Kurt

January 26, 2010 Leave a comment
I know I’m really behind in my blogging so I’m trying to catch up. I’ll write a blog every couple of days that I have time to catch up. Here’s one I should have written in September:
RY’s BFF had a big anniversary for her workplace, which was celebrating its 20th anniversary. For this event, she booked a conference type room for dinner and Elvira Kurt for the after dinner entertainment. For those of you who don’t know Canadian Queer commediennes, she is a Canadian Queer commedienne. She had her own show on the Comedy Network for a while.
Since we were friends with the organizer, we got to sit in the front table closest to the stage and talk to Elvira before her set. It was all going very well.
Then the unthinkable happened. About 5 minutes into her routine, my stomach decided it didn’t like the food it just ate and I had to race to the restroom. I ducked down as best as possible and ran out the door. You had to know that kind of thing is just asking for trouble.
After about 20 minutes, when my tummy settled, I came back into the conference room. I entered the back door thinking I’d just hang out in the back and if I had to leave again, I could escape without attracting any attention. That was an unfortunate miscalculation.
She saw me come in. She heckled me (which was totally expected). Unfortunately, she wouldn’t let me stand there. She made me come back up to my seat in the front. You can see where this is going. Yes, I had to leave again. But this time, I refused. I figured I’d wait until she turned her back to get a drink of water off her stool or just hold everything in. How hard could it be? Mind over body.
RY could hear my stomach gurgling and see me squirming in my seat. She kept telling me to go to the restroom. I stoutly refused to go. This continued for about 10 minutes.
Finally, I could take it no longer! I ran from the room apologizing as I went. She didn’t like my apology. RY said she was calling me rude. I heard nothing because I was sprinting.
I stayed away until RY came and rescued me from the restroom. Luckily, I had my work blackberry so I played Brick Attack until the show was over and I could return to my seat. And because I got such a reaction, no one else dared leave the room to pee so there was a large herd of people coming toward the restroom as I left it. They all were very nice and asked how I was feeling. I was feeling much better thank you very much.
And when I got back, Elvira profusely apologized for giving me such a hard time and seemed to feel quite badly about it all. I wondered where the change in attitude came from. Apparently, RY gave her some sass for heckling me when I was obviously ill. Apparently RY does a good guilt trip. She’ll make an excellent mother.
That was my brush with local celebrity. Could have been worse, I suppose. I could have vomited on her.
Categories: LGBT