Overheard

Step into my world a little bit, you might not understand it but you’ll be amused… or bemused. Perhaps both. Why not?

Stinky T: I feel like an egg.
Mr. Stinky: I feel like a …. *looks away* god!
Stinky T: ??!??......... Oh! No, I feel like having an egg.
Mr. Stinky: OK then.

Stinky T: I spent way too much this weekend (shopping).
Goose: Nice, what’d you get me?
Stinky T: Couldn’t find dignity, sorry.

Eli: What happened to your elbow? (Got a bandaid on it)
Stinky T: I skinned it.
Clueless: How’d you do that?
Eli: Things get a little rough last night?
Stinky T: Yes, Amy bit my elbow.
Amy: Ouulaalaa, I like the elbow!

Eli: A salad? That's not lunch, that's an appetizer.
Amy: Have you seen the size of my box?
T-J: Oulala!!
at the same time
Stinky T: Pfftt!! *water up nose*

Spice: Oh movies! Do you have any martial arts movies?
Stinky T: ?? No. Yo, you're totally asking me coz I'm Asian.
Spice: What? No! I'm just looking for martial arts movies!
Stinky T: Oh I know how it is, I see you looking at my skin colour.
Spice: *laughing hard* If that's the case then you can come to me for drugs.
Stinky T: Or a gun.
Spice: *incoherent and laughing*

I’m on the phone with Mr. Stinky. T-J and Shuster are having their own separate conversation. Concentrating in my corner, I don't know what they’re saying. In that moment of pause when the world comes to a hush and everyone hears exactly what you’re saying without having first gotten the context, Shuster said the following, "You can grab my balls anytime you want!”

My reaction to that made T-J cry.

Hear This

I don't need your permission.

I don't need to explain myself.

I do what I want, when I want to and however I choose.

I'm a big girl and I answer to me.

Taking offence is your problem. It's not my intent at all.

It's not you. It doesn't always have to be about you. I will tell you when it is about you. Trust me.

Nothing is wrong. I'm not mad. I'm not being exclusionary. Everything is fine.

Sometimes I just want something different.

And I don't need your permission.

Chest Melons

Yesterday on our way back from break, a woman walked past Amy and I. She was attractive, Mediterranean looking, slim and had a great figure. However what stuck out, literally, were her breasts popping out from a barely-there, cleavage exposing top. Approximately two seconds after we had passed her my big mouth needed to speak.

Stinky T: Duude! Her boobs are so fake!

Amy: Hahaha.. I know!! I was just going to say something!

Stinky T: I don't find them attractive at all, they're so obviously not real.

Far be it from me to belittle people who cosmetically enhance their bodies if it's what they really want to do, but wow, she so went to the wrong surgeon. Her boobs actually looked like two halves of a really round melon glued onto her chest. Real boobs are soft and droop a little, they're only obeying the laws of gravity, right? Girl had some rock hard, wicked highbeams going on and no cleavage happening. Fake boobs for the most part are easy to spot; if you can easily trace perfect circles around them while blindfolded, I guarantee that they are fake. So too if the space between their boobs is so cavernously gaping that instead of a slit there's just a trench. I could've yelled into her breasts and gotten some good echoes in return.

If she had done her homework and gotten a better pair she'd look disgustingly hot. In the meantime all I can think about is how badly she needs to cover those puppies up. In my humble opinion they seriously detract from the rest of her and that's such a shame.

Model Citizens

I had bought a duvet for one of the spare beds awhile ago. Recently we decided to go get a cover for it as the holidays are coming up and it might be necessary to pull out our spare linens to accommodate drunken or tired guests. So off to Linens 'n Things Mr. Stinky and I headed. By the way, I love that store. I love any store with all kinds of linens, knick knacks, housewares and gadgets... while Mr. Stinky sighs loudly and sprawls over the towels waiting for me to browse I'm totally like a fat kid in a candy store. It's pure sensory overload as I absolutely must touch and caress every single fabric in reach. Kinda like sex for the hands, but cleaner and a huge, big medley of textures to enjoy.

Once we had mutually chosen the duvet cover of choice, it wasn't difficult as we have similar tastes, off we went to complete the transaction. By the way, it's a damask striped cover in chocolate... how bloody delish is that? On our way out of the store we had to pass through one of those stupid sensor gates which sound off purely at random and either everyone freezes or nobody flickers an eyelash. It's like playing Russian Roulette, you never know when it'll be your turn to get caught with the array of sex toys the minimum waged cashier "forgot" to demagnetize or double bag when she rang up your merchandise. (Heh.. double bag...)

So Mr. Stinky led the procession out followed closely by some random lady with several hefty bags of stuff in tow and me in the rear with my new duvet cover. The alarm went off just as she passed through and before I reached it. Everyone stopped. If confetti and balloons had started to drift down from the ceiling, bathing us in a celebratory fashion you know I would've shoved the undeserving hag aside and claimed whatever millionth customer prize they had to offer. If I had to pull down a rack of oversized bath towels to smother her objecting bleets I'd do it, I'd so do it. Seeing's how nothing fun showered from above, I leaned back a smidge and pointed a very accusatory finger at her just so everyone knew that she was the klepto who obviously needed a public shaming and if the soon to arrive police needed an extra set of handcuffs with which to lash her podgy wrists together I'd totally be the one to whip out the ones from my back pocket and be hero for the day.

The poor lady looked flustered. Mr. Stinky hollered "Run!". I edged around her like she suffered from a mad case of cooties all the while casting looks of reproach and we took off snickering into the sunset. It's the little things that bring a bit of pleasure to an otherwise mundane task; who doesn't like to witness some harmless tomfoolery? Oh sure, we could've been polite, minded our own business and not test the public's sense of humour but honestly, what fun would that be?

Would That Be Brunch Or Just Nasty?

Had to come downtown for work this morning. Sighhh...

Got some liquid caffeine and deep fried sugary lovin' from Tim's for second breakfast and to keep me conscious.

Random couple buying street meat from the corner vendor. Not quite 9am.

Groooosss...

An Apple A Day...

Got a third generation iPod and I love it. Shuster and I both retreat into our sanctuaries every night on the ride home from work when the earphones are in and we engage in a duel of the leaking noises pouring forth from our ears. Well, not so much a duel as annoying the people who sit near us. I also need it to wake me up in the mornings because I don't drink coffee (bleh!) and tea only does so much to start the engines. I'm reminded of one of my professors in school who is such the coffee afficionado. He always had a coffee flavoured something in hand and I could only imagine how much gut rot he suffered. Anyway, I had a lot of lab work in this class and on occasion needed some face time with him. Very bad, as he's got horrible coffee breath. Sour. Death. Rotting insides. Putrid. Wonder if he ever noticed people retreating or turning shades of grey whenever he opened his mouth. I bet he was single too. Not just coz of his toxic emanations but he is also unfortunate looking, having scored about a -16 on my hottie meter. Sorry man, just telling the truth. Alright, back to the main topic, we've sufficiently established that I don't like coffee and my professor was (and probably still is) gross.

Sadly my iPod battery couldn't keep up with the constant use and faded so much that I had to keep it charging almost constantly just to get about an hour's worth of running time. 'Tis a sad state of affairs when I fire it up only to have it cut out unexpectedly shortly thereafter. It's also fairly hazardous to have the thing plugged in while listening at my desk and getting up to grab something. My iPod can testify that it takes some brutal beatings as somehow it violently ends up on the floor quite frequently. Once it almost fell down the stairs of the GO Train from the top level... but again I digress. I think my entire life is all about sideroads and derivations... or is it deviations? I don't suggest you follow me if you're a type A kind of person. Or normal for that matter. Might as well add sane to the list.

Mr. Stinky was thinking of getting me a new iPod for Christmas but damn those little buggers are expensive. And honestly, I like the one I have. The nice, new models in the stores just aren't the same as mine. No history nor character, all the scuffs and scratches on mine are a testament to the love we share. OK, the abuse it takes. Whatev. I don't point out your flaws... well actually I do. With glee. I'm all over the place today!

The next best thing was to replace the battery which, he did. IPod and I have fallen in love all over again. I love that now it's become portable again. I love that now I can use it for several days before it needs a recharge. I love that it's like almost new again. Apple, I think I looove youuuuuu!

Hahaha!

Found this in my inbox from a friend. Totally made my morning.

ATTENTION

ALIENS ARE COMING TO ABDUCT ALL THE GOOD LOOKING AND SEXY PEOPLE.

YOU WILL BE SAFE, I'M JUST EMAILING TO SAY GOODBYE

He never fails to make me laugh. You can see it doesn't take much to amuse me...

Hooray for Choice

Remember when I railed against that controversial law in South Dakota barring women from having abortions unless their lives were in danger? I am over the moon to hear that last night's vote in the United States overturned that imbecilic ban. See we're not all sheep, some people used their minds and decided that someone else can't tell them what to do with their bodies and unborn babes. Right or wrong, whatever the woman decides to do is her prerogative. The choice ultimately belongs to the individual carrying the fetus.

I celebrate the freedom to make our own decisions, but women of the world, we need to be responsible too. Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed. If you don't want to get knocked up, take the necessary precautions. Questions, no? Then I'll step off my soapbox now.

Deaf Ears

That's one of my special powers, tuning people out. Went to visit a friend at his desk recently just because I wanted to take a break from work for a few minutes. Who am I kidding, I wanted to take a break from looking busy or something like that. But honestly, sometimes you need to get away from desk work, living the keyboardist's life is incredibly boring at times and taking a few minutes to chat with your friends and co-workers is really the best way to keep your mind from turning into the mush often found in the bottom of diapers belonging to babies and seniors alike.

So let's give him a name... Rigley. I don't know, I'm pretty drugged up to combat the migraine of the month which, is taking friggin' long to work considering I downed it several hours ago. I'm going to start looking into intravenously medicating myself soon... if only to get these things to work faster. Like the time I went to get my wisdom teeth extracted and passed out as they were giving me the relaxant, didn't even make it to the actual anesthesia. Oh heavens, that was awesome. Anyway, that name didn't come easy and to be frank really doesn't make a connection and I'll probably forget it once I finish typing but for this post we'll use that.

I sat down and started the conversation. Funny thing happened, and I swear it wasn't premeditated but as he talked I zoned out and my nodding and "uh-huh"ing went into auto-drive...a living, breathing bobblehead if you will. Oh come on, all you married people know exactly what I'm talking about. Engaging conversation is one thing but sometimes you just need to tune out the plebeian crap. I do it all the time, and not always on purpose. It turns on and off without prejudice especially if computer stuff comes up, I'm sure there's a ton of stuff I yammer on about to Mr. Stinky's deaf ears as well. Welcome to marriage.

But Rigley's not used to it and became offended when he realized that instead of participating in the conversation I was looking out the window. I have a thing for looking outside, I like just seeing what's going on... I also don't have a window. It's pretty pathetic. He called me back to the present and asked if I had been listening to him and without thinking of his feelings I confirmed that I had, in fact tuned him out coz he was boring me. Nice? No. Suppose I could've spared his feelings and lied, maybe something was happening outside that caught my attention but I decided long ago that tact is just beating around the bush when the more effective method of getting to the point is simply spraying the bush with buckshot and waiting for the injured to stagger out and finishing it off with a good slipper beating. I think my drugs might be kicking in judging from that last sentence.

Promptly following my explanation about unconsciously tuning people out, he resumed talking and my ears failed to work once again. It could've been the mood I was in which made me less conducive to paying attention or perhaps on that day he was just crazy boring. Since I don't like taking blame for most things we'll say it was him. The conversation ended shortly after that and I drifted back to my desk. Being bored there is better than being bored with someone else coz I don't have to pretend to my computer that I'm actually interested or paying attention. Hey, did I tell you that I am the bus driver on the express route to hell?

I wrote the above last night but needed to edit today simply because medication induces in me an odd state of incoherence and regresses my English skills to a grade 8 level. And also to report that I did the exact same thing to Amy this morning when she told me she was hungry, which resulted in her shaking her fist at me and leaving. Really, where's that Mother Theresa award I so greatly deserve?

Ross The Fireman

Take that, fire!

Coming Clean

OK, I can't not blab. Keeping things under wraps for a year and a half was difficult at first but once a few lies were told it became mundane. Why is Mr. Stinky so busy all the time? Why is he leaving on entire weekend trips without you? What is he taking in school and why is it taking so long for him to finish? Why are your answers always so transparently rote and recycled?... But now that the gate has opened, ain't nothing gonna close that sucker now!

My plan was to leave you hanging for a little longer, to whisper amongst yourselves the possibilities, conspiracy theories and such. Then there would've been a day of revealing whereby I shout "Ta da!" and you all gasp in astonishment before applauding my mastery of convoluting facts, all the while feeling a little pissed off that I'm such a cunning bitch. But I have a big mouth. And I've wanted to tell everyone a long time ago except Mr. Stinky asked me not to, until the cement had set. So I resorted to tweaking details and words to tease the audience, although I did not tell a lie technically... just misled you. And boy did that work well! I freaked out a few of you guys more than a little and had to set the story straight. I am not quite the harlot your imagination got you thinking of, maybe just a little but there is no scarlet letter on my chest. (Yet. !!) However, a big congratulations to those of you who saw through the ruse and figured out the truth. Holden, I knew you were a smart cookie! I was totally waiting for your lightbulb to blink on.

Most of you know that Mr. Stinky has been in school for the past year and a half, what you don’t know is the subject he’s been studying other than what I told you under false pretenses. You see, we didn’t want to reveal anything until we felt it was time to do so and ideally, that would be about the time he finished school or found a placement. You read it here first; Mr. Stinky made the choice to become a firefighter and enrolled in school for his pre-service fire-fighter certificate. I’d like to stop for a moment and brag now. On top of a full time job, he’s pulling in a neat 4.0 GPA in his courses, sometimes sloughing through 18 hour days and entire weekends just to get his assignments done. Recently he was offered the opportunity to work in a firehall for another city within the GTA on a volunteer basis. With all the competition to become a firefighter in southern Ontario, this break provides a very good foothold towards gaining permanent employment at a hall. Taking this opening means changes and adjustments are to follow.

I couldn't be happier for Mr. Stinky as this was something he had been thinking about for quite awhile now. This also completely works for me since I don't need to remind you of my love for firefighters. It's also the refrain of this blog that as long as the Stinky girl is happy...

P.S. I'm sleeping with a firefighter!

Laundry

So you know what I think of a certain professional group, right? This is the "thing" which I had alluded to recently, was very recently exposed and now Mr. Stinky and I are working through it together, to figure out the next step. I don't know what's going to happen or where this will take us but the cat's out of the bag now and we have to deal. Secrets are meant to be kept but they never are...








I've been sleeping with a firefighter.