So our daughter, Chantel, is visiting us for a few weeks. That means I'm
outnumbered. They've gone all girly on me, what with the shopping, the
facials, the pedicures, and the girl talk. They said if I don't stop teasing
them they're going to tie me up, so it's not all bad. And they've both
decided that we should watch the Sublime Mysteries of the Yabba-Dabba-Doo
Sisters in the Hood. What? Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood? Yeah,
We all went on a car trip into Nanaimo today. I've been living here for
almost a year now and I finally saw my first cow. Mind you, they were quite
a ways off in the distance, so they might have just been cardboard cutouts,
but I'm being optimistic.
And I see Ladysmith has just built itself a brand new touch-less carwash.
Thank God. The last time I went to a carwash they couldn't keep their hands
off me. Sure, the shampoo was okay, but that hot wax....
Anyway, I've joined the Monkey Lint Un-challenge, Not-a-Dare. It's basically
a bunch of authors who aren't motivated enough to finish whatever project
they're working on by themselves, so they hope to shame themselves
into working by letting everyone else know what a lazy slug they are. It
started May 1, and so far I've written zero words. I figure since this
is a kind of Bizzaro Dare, that puts me in the lead. Yeah me!
Yeah, I wrote today. Big deal. The real news is that EBear got an agent,
and it was Jen Jackson to boot. Heck, she wouldn't even look at
my stuff. Conga Rats EBear.
Tonight's the night Pen and Chantel have decided we're watching the Divine
Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I'd poke my eyes out with a stick, but
then they'd probably make me listen to it. I was going to go to the gym
today but decided to save it for tomorrow instead. After tonight, I'm going
to need something macho to do to get all the girly stink off of me.
I spent Mother's Day with Pen and Chantel. All we did is shop, walk and
eat...constantly. I don't know how they do it. I'd weight three hundred
pounds in a month at that pace. And contrary to popular belief, walking
does not aid in digestion; sleeping does. You wouldn't go running just
after a big meal, would you? Well walking is just slow running. All walking
does is relieve the guilt. "Sure, I ate like a pig, but I had a nice long
Of course I didn't get any writing done today, but I did do a lot of research
late last night. What do you mean that doesn't count?
So we filled out the forms for OSAP (a gov't program to help pay the costs
of Secondary Education). We're getting Zip, zero, zilch. Apparently I make
too much money, which is really funny because after paying for Chantel's
university I don't have any left. If I made less money, they'd give me
more money, and then I'd actually have some, but they won't, so I don't--so
there. (Sounds like some kind of insane Dr. Seuss story, doesn't it.)
Pen came down with the plague, which is bad. But she got over it, which
is good. But she gave it to me, which is bad. But I called in sick and
got the day off work, which is good. Which gives me time to write today,
which is bad...no, wait a minute. Hmm, must be time for more drugs...which
It's my wedding anniversary today. We're celebrating by going out to dinner.
Pen was nice enough to let me pay. Between that, the flowers, the card,
and the family ring I bought her, it should keep me out of the doghouse
for a good while to come. Or at least get me a better class of doghouse.
P P Y A N N I V E R S A R Y P O O K I E !!!!
(Damn manly image
is really taking a shit-kicking lately.)
Chantel went home this morning. She had to be at the airport at the ungodly
hour of 6:30 in the morning. (I know it was ungodly because the airport
was full of heathens--trust me.) Now that she's gone life will return to
a semblance of normalcy. I can play the drums, walk around in the house
nude (I won't inflict you with the mental image of me playing the drums
nude--oops, too late) and use my stuff whenever I want to. Sometimes
I have to remind Pen and Chantel just who exactly is in charge here? And
then I remember--they are.
We had Divies today, short for Divisionals. For those of you not in the
know (and why would you be) Divies is Canadian Navy speak for parade. The
only thing worse than being on parade, is being an airman on a navy parade.
I mean, we all learn the same drill--I should know, I teach it--but by
the time the navy's done with it you'd never recognise it. It's more like
a bunch of kindergarten kids shuffling around. All you need now is a big
rope for everyone to hold onto to keep us in line, and the picture would
be complete. Oh, and they don't bother with words of command--they blow
whistles. Luckily there drill is so sloppy that I have time to look around
and see what everyone else is doing, and then copy them, and still not
stand out. Sheesh.
Oh, and btw--Matrix,
wicked cool; series finale of Buffy; wicked cool 2.
I woke up this morning and my shoulder was numb. I must have slept all
wrong last night. Luckily the retest is tonight. If I don't get it right
this time I'll have to take remedial sleeping. Although I have no idea
how staring up at a barnyard mobile all night with the nightlite on is
going to help.
We played paintball at work Friday, and a good time was had by all. I know
I got hit at least ten times, because that's how many welts I have. My
friend Jim and I got trapped behind a building and pulled a Butch and Sundance--you
know, charging out guns a blazing, not realising the entire Mexican Army
is out there waiting for you. I must have been hit ten times right there.
The amazing thing is when I got back to the neutral area there wasn't a
spec of paint on me. Apparently none of the paintballs had broken, which
means none of them had counted. They still stung, but they didn't count.
Oh well, at least I got to double-tap my Warrant right between the eyes.
Mental note: if I ever play paintball with Navy boys, remind them that
cover fire is more than 2 shots.
Pen's off to Los Vegas this week on an all expense paid trip to a diamond
convention for her company, which means I'm left here all alone to hold
down the fort. Well, it's not actually a fort; it's a house. And it really
doesn't take much holding down; after all it weighs a few tons at least.
It's not like this is tornado country and we live in a trailer park or
What? I'm rambling again? Never mind.
Anyway, I wrote another 550 words today, which brings my total to 5550.
Take that, Marshy!!