The nose knows (or Karma is a crazy bitch!)

Now I know that I was going on and on yesterday about how I luv pink, can’t get enough of it, fave colour etc etc. But there is one thing I don’t want to turn pink!

Portia’s nose!!

Yes, in a weird twise of events, Portia’s nose has been changing from black to pink (although you can’t really tell in the photo. She didn’t want to pose. Maybe she is sensitive about it??). At first I didn’t give it much thought, but then Jenge said, ‘I wonder why it does that?’

Well, heck! Now I’m wondering why it does that. So I went to the one place I go whenever I have a burning question that must be answered immediately!!
Google!
Turns out other people have had this problem as well. It could be a number of things:
1. Ceramic or plastic food bowls will sometimes cause this. Portia has stainless steel (nothing but the best for my baby!)
2. Lack of sunlight during winter can cause loss of pigmentation – It has been rather cloudy for Calgary.
3. An Auto-immune system disorder. (SOB!!)

So, of course, I am fixated on cause number 3. Portia is no stranger to being sick. When she was rescued by Arf she had the Parvo! Then once we had her, we found out she had worms, and then a parasite, and then. . . . wait for it. . . . puppy herpes (now there’s puppy herpes and human herpes and NEVER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET!! – My first question to my vet after ‘Is she going to be okay?’ was ‘whoa, can I get it?’ to which she emphatically responded NO). And she’s had several eye infections and some bladder trouble too. My vet says it’s part and parcel when you rescue a puppy, they’re prolly going to be sick for the first couple of years. And since she had the parvo, she has a weaker immune system than other dogs her age.

But we passed the two year mark (much like premie babies, the two year mark is very important for a puppy’s immune system) and I thought we were in the clear!!

But then, her nose turned pink! And Jenge noticed one of her teeth was bleeding. My baby!!
So we’re off to the vet in T-minus 1.5 hrs. Portia luuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvvvvs the vet. And why wouldn’t she, we’re there often enough and they always tell you that you are a good dog, and then they feed you cookies. I however, generally get chewed out for something (You’re not strict enough, she’s too fat etc etc). Although I have to say, when the vet said that Portia was too fat (so fat that even her tail was fat) and that I had to put her on a diet, I was like, ‘Doc, don’t you think that’s a little kettle-ish of me?’ To which the vet gave me a blank look. I added, ‘You know, pot, kettle. . . ‘ and then I pointed to my slightly chumby belly. The vet kept staring at me blankly and then said, ‘Cuppa kibble in the morning, cuppa kibble at night. Two or three treats. THAT’S IT!!’

I asked Jengie once if she would put me on the Portia diet (Portia lost 12lbs!!) but Jenge said it wouldn’t work because I know how to open the fridge. Go figure.

But I digress!! I will keep you updated on my Portiacakes!!

Pink-a-holic

Amazingly enough, nothing too kooky happened to me today to blog about. And then I started to panic! Blogger’s Block! But I’m still a newbie! How can I have blogger’s block?

So then I just decided to yammer on about some stuff. And if you know me, you know if there is one thing I can do VERY WELL, it’s yammer on.

So, what’s it like in Margaritaville? Well, it’s pink. Very pink. In fact, pink is my favourite colour. People roll their eyes at me (yes, Donna, I’m talking about you!!) but I don’t care. I like pink. I look good in pink. Pink makes me happy.

I even went so far as only packing pink tops when I went on vacation last year and it was great!!
I have pink keds (which I had to buy in size 9 and a half since they didn’t have the ten, but they stretched out), a pink watch, pink purses, pink shirts, pink eyeshadow, pink lipstick, pink underwear, I woulda bought my cell phone in pink if those communists had let me! (See previous post). Of course, I don’t wear all this pink at once. That would be obscene! I sparingly pepper my day with pink.

Donna is what I call a pink-a-phobe. She fears the power of pink! ‘It’s so girly!’ She says. Well, this just in, I’m a girly girl. You know, alot of women fear pink. I think they think it makes them seem frivolous and silly, not as tough-as-nails as they want to appear. But I know who I am and what I can do so I have no fear of the pink. I EMBRACE THE PINK! I don’t care if when you see me in pink you (falsely) assume I don’t have two brain cells to rub together. I know I could kick your ass at mensa mind games! I don’t care if you think I’m a prissy valley girl, I know that I could rip a strip off you a mile wide and you wouldn’t even know some of the words I used.

So, don’t fear the pink. Embrace the pink. It’s okay. You’ll do fine.

I got this thingy in the mail from my cell phone provider saying I could upgrade my phone. Now, I hardly use my cell phone, so upgrading it is not something I really think about. But since my cell phone is over 6 years old, I decided to treat myself to something shiny and new. Something that I could actually download a ringtone to.

So I hauled myself to the mall yesterday, but their computers were down and they couldn’t help me. I graciously accepted this and agreed to come back the next day. So I went there today and a nice young woman helped me. Now I know it’s prolly silly, but whenever men help me, I feel like they are implying that the technology is over my head. I get very squirrelly about going in when I see it’s all men. They talk in this really low, slow voice with a sympathetic head tilt. I don’t know alot about cell phone technology but I do have a mathematics degree and a computer programming degree, so I’m pretty sure I can keep up. But I digress. . . So I choose the phone I want and since I’ll be signing a three year term agreement it’s FREE! Or so they tell me. But then she (the nice young sales woman) asks if I want the warranty. My ‘suspicious’ vibe always goes off here. Must be too many years shopping at Future shop. I politely decline, because we all buy these warrenties but then when something actually goes wrong, the warranty has either a) run out or b) doesn’t cover the problem. But then she tells me that I really do need it, in fact, 67% of cell phones fail in their first year! And two thoughts go through my head:

The Best Show on TV You’re Not Watching!

So I just finished my fave Saturday night activity – Battlestar Galactica!! (BSG)And if you’re not watching this show, you are missing out!! Now I know what you are saying to the computer screen right now. You’re saying, ‘Squirrelly Girly, I am NOT A Sci Fi geek!! I don’ t watch shows about robots and space ships!!’ But I am telling you, this show is not about robots and space ships! This show is about people! Robots and space ships optional!

Honestly, the writing and storylines are SO GOOD you could take out the Cylons (the Bad Guys for you non-BSG watchers) and sub in any other bad guys. You like Nazis? You could sub them in. You like secret government Malvolios? Sub ’em in! You could take out the space ships and just sub in any old army stuff (although you would lose TONS of cool Viper Fight scenes!!)

Plus, it’s got Edward James Olmos as Cmdr Adama! C’mon!! You gotta love Edward James Olmos!!

Normally, I can’t reccomend any shows I watch on space to other people because there is too much jargon, or spacey things going on, (flashback to Wednesday night when I had Donna over to watch Stargate SG-1 because her cousin had a part and she didn’t even know what a cloaking device was!! Can you believe it!!) but this show is chock full of political intrigue! Complex human relationships!! Moral dilemmas!

If you are not lucky enough to have the SCI-FI channel, you can catch BSG Saturday nights at 6pm (MST) and then again at Midnight. We’re behind the US airings, but if you simply can’t wait you can read the episode synopsis at scifi (link above). Even Jenge sat down at watched it! And I can’t even get her past the opening sequense of SG-1.

Bellyachers and Bee-atchers!!

So my office is being slightly renovated right now and let me tell you! The bellyaching coming from these constructions workers is UNBELIEVABLE!!

There was bellyaching for 40 minutes about the fact that the alarm guy put the wire into the little gap between the old wall and the new wall. So what? You still have to apply the same amount of plaster no matter what is stuck in there. Why do you care? It’s not your wall. You won’t have to worry if we ever need to get it out. You don’t work here. In fact you are not currently trying to do your job with people you don’t know talking to one another and bringing in ladders and playing bad music on their radio!!

I totally think if anyone should be bee-ataching it’s me!!

OMG and then his friend called him on the phone and he bee-atched to him! And then another guy came in and the story started all over from the beginning. The entire time he was taping and plastering the wall it was long-pronounced-drawnout-woe-is-me sigh after sigh.

Everyone but me seemed to think that they were working pretty fast, but I disagreed wholeheartedly. I don’t think it should take an entire two days to put up a wall 7 ft wide and then put on one coat of plaster. My dad drywalled and plastered a bigger area in my basement in one day! By himself!! And he’s 65!! And if you’ve seen him work, you know he shuffles! And he’s got the shakes! (And before you call the Senior Police on me, I DID NOT make him work the whole day, ask my mother, it’s impossible to stop that man.)

I can’t believe this garbage! You shoulda heard it. And then it was time for a coffee break, and then it was lunch, and they just come in and out of the office without even looking at me. They have yet to introduce themselves. Rude!

And I had a headache (which is unusual for me, quite frankly. I’m very lucky, I only get headaches due to neck muscle tension). But they were nailing into concrete! Ever tried to work while that’s going on??

And the wall was supposed to go up past the ceiling for security purposes. Well! You shoulda heard the bellyaching about that. Mr. ‘I can’t believe this wire is in the wall’ was going on and on about how hard it was for his buddy to put that wall there.

Excuse me, is this your job or not?? And if it is your job, shut it. Because my job right now is to get another 100 files into the database and then try to write my very first report about it. And then the contractors stood in the hallway and had a half hour conversation about how they didn’t feel like working anymore because it was Friday.

It was 2:30pm! And I did feel like working, in fact, that was my whole purpose when I got up this morning, got dressed and came to W-O-R-K. Crazy me! But you know, I’m squirrelly like that!

Memory troubles

I’ve got a weird memory. And if you look at the stuff I remember vs. the stuff I forget it’s a crazy combo. Some things, it’s pretty easy to guess why I remember what I don’t vs. what I don’t. Exhibit A – I will ALWAYS remember exactly how much I paid Mastercard and in my head I’ve got my balance all figured out. Then WHAM!! The bill arrives and all the s*&% I’ve charged up? Completely outta my head. I’m like, WHAT??!! Why are you not at ZERO yet? You fascist bastards! This is total BS. I say FRAUD. I didn’t go to Jack Astor’s! Oh wait, was that when Donna came back from Montreal? Okay, I’ll give you that one. What the hell is this? Virus Subscription?? Oh, right. McAffee emailed me that I was auto renewed. Bull and Finch? Wait, wait I’m having a nacho flash back. But where the hell was on on March 3rd that I used my credit card? Hang on. . . . MALL I was at the mall buying gifs.

Okay, so you’re not fascist bastarts. This time. Ooooooooooohhhhhhhh but just you wait Mastercard, just you wait, one of these months you’re going to zero out, bad boy!!

So, weird memory combo – The database I’m working on at work has 522 entries in it right now. If you quizzed me right now, I could prolly list off almost 400 of them (freaky no?). Another database at work has over 7000 entries in it and if you tell me the details of a document you want to find, I will tell you the number range it’s in. I can also name all the employees of several government departments from the 1880’s onward till about 1920.

Now quick, what did I wear to work today? ummmmmmmmm, I’d have to check the floor of my bedroom.

I’m AWESOME at Name that Tune. Just ask Donna. Name a movie star I will tell you the movies they have been in. Read a good book lately? If I’ve read it, I can sum it up for you in two minutes or less. If I watch a tv show, I can give you a detailed synopsis complete with dialogue snippets and wardrobe commentary two weeks from the air date.

Quick question – where are my keys?? huh, coulda sworn I left them on the counter. . . .

Not only do I double book myself because my memory fails me, I’ve actually triple booked myself before. Had no clue!! Jengie actually told me that I had already made other plans. Twice!

But if you want to know the complete mathematical proof for proving that if a series has a limit, then that limit is unique, I’m your gal!!

I don’t have a daytimer, I kept forgetting it at home. So I keep all my appointments in my head, or written down on cards in my wallet. At work, I am queen of the post-it note. I write down obscure notes and stick it on my monitor. I generally have about 7 of them up there at a time, ranging from ‘Sit up!’ (posture reminder) to ‘Ctrl+pageUp’ (to flip between tabs in Excel) to ‘Thurday is Plant Day!’ (to water plants).

But I can remember that the current play count for ‘The Ghost of You’ on my iPod is 91. And I know my airmiles number and my bank card number. Plus I can recite nearly the entire coffee manual from Starbucks (Verona is 20% Italian Roast for added sweetness, Kenya is a medium bodied fruity coffee, and Ethiopia Sidamo has a crisp, lemony finish).

Bizarre!

And another thing!!
While I’m on the subject of that damn Pussycat doll song, let me just state emphatically that I do give a hoot if you’re staring at my beep! I give a big, fat, ugly, hissyfit worthy hoot!! And if you’re playing with your beep while you’re staring ay my beep AND you’re in a public place, I’m pretty sure the Calgary police give a big hoot too! You can explain it all in the paddy wagon on your way to central booking!

I’m Tired!

So I have a long commute in the mornings and since I haven’t yet bought the adapter thingy that will allow me to listen to my ipod on the way to work, I forced to flip through radio station after radio station trying to find something decent to listen to on my commute. And frankly, I’m royally pissed off! I get so irrationally angry while trying to find something I can listen to and not be annoyed at! I don’t want to hear ‘funny’ phone calls to people who are just waking up out of bed (I know funny, I am funny and frankly, you are NOT!) I don’t want to hear little kids reciting questionable lyrics to songs so that the unwashed masses can take a stab at it. I don’t want to hear people call in and offer their inane opinions. I have my own inane opinions quite honestly and if you’re one of the people who don’t have any opinions of their own and have to borrow some from other people, you don’t deserve to open your mouth to speak.

I don’t want to hear surveys, contests, questionaires.

What do I want to hear?

Traffic report and music. THAT’S IT!!

And while I’m on the topic of music, this brings me to another peeve I have right now. I’m so sick and tired of hearing songs that I can’t even listen to without getting infuriated at the lyrics. How is it that you can’t show someone’s ass on TV, but you can play a radio song that refers to me and all my other fellow women as b*%ches and H#’s and other unsavoury things? Kanye ain’t saying I’m a Golddigger but I’m trying to pass off someone else’s kid as his and soaking him for everything he’s worth!! And Eminem (who normally I don’t have a problem with, most of his stuff has got a good beat and you can dance to it) is telling me to Shake my A$$ and other stuff I can’t even write here because the blogger police will flag it and shut me down! It used to be I only had to worry about being objectified by men but now I have to worry about being objectified by women too. The Pussycat dolls are saying that they don’t give a hoot if you’re looking at my beep, I’m gonna do my thing while you’re playing with your beep (and yes, the song really does beep. In fact it’s called Beep). And Fergie is telling everyone about her lovely lady humps and lumps (that sounds sooooooooooo unattractive!! What are we? Hunchbacks with a nasty skin lesion disease??EW!!)

I just want something you can cruise along to as I drive my 45min+ commute. I just want to ease into my morning without feeling my heart start to pound against my chest with rage. Honestly, I’m gonna have an aneurysm. I’ll prolly get so upset one of these days that I’ll accidentally crash my car because I was blinded by RAGE!! I’ll go non compos mentis (check your latin dictionary) and have a FREAK OUT and start screaming and yelling at not-so-innocent passer byers!!

Can I count on y’all to be on my jury?? I figure I have a pretty good stab at a ‘Not Guilty by reason of insanity’ plea if people who’ve read my blog are on the jury.

The Sock

While I love my Portia-cakes, I feel remiss in not putting a post about Rocky, aka ‘The Sock.’ Rocky belongs to Jengie, and Jengie being who she is HAD TO HAVE a pure bread Blue Merle Shetland Sheepdog, just like our dearly beloved Brandi (may she rest in peace with much kibble). Rocky is the anti-thesis of Jengie. She is laid back, he is high strung. She is pretty casual, he must have things just so. Every morning (at least every morning I wake up with the dogs) Rocky and I have our special little ritual. I think it bonds us and brings us closer. Let me share this special time with you. . .

After being barked awake by Portia I stumble across the hallway and open Jengie’s door to let the Sock out. He races by me without so much as a ‘by your leave.’ Then we go downstairs, me being careful not to trip over 8 paws on my way. I generally have to go to the bathroom but my mum always told me a good cowboy (cowgirl, I guess) looks after the animals first! So I put Portia out to pee. Rocky will not go out before he eats. He just won’t so he stares at me as I fill up the water jug and go to put a centimeter of water in his bowl (he likes his kibble watered down a little) and then fill up his bowl. I let Portia back in, Rocky barks at me. Then I scoop kibble into the bowls. Rocky barks at me. Now Portia will eat Rocky’s food if he’s not protected, so I plunk my tired but down on a chair right in front of him and ‘guard’ him. Portia wolfs her food down in 2 minutes flat and then starts trolling for lost kibble. At this point, Rocky will start to growl as he eats (slurp slurp crunch Arghhhhhhh arghhhhh, slurp crunch arghhhhhh). I tell him it’s okay, I’ve got your six, slurp crunch arghhhhhh. Then I put Portia out again. At this time, it’s now safe to leave Rocky so I can go to the bathroom (they will both bark at me and thump against the door if I try to go before this). By the time I come out of the bathroom, Portia is ready to come back inside, Rocky is barking at me. I open the door, she comes in. Rocky barks at me. I say, ‘Go potty!’ He barks at me. I stamp my foot and point outside, ‘Potty!’ He growls at me and barks a few more times. ‘Go Potty!’ I yell this time. At this point I’m pretty sure the entire neighborhood is now ready to go. He goes outside a few steps, turns around and barks at me. ‘Go!’ The finger point is more pronounced this time. It is then, finally that he lets out a huff of indignation and trots down the steps. When he comes back inside, Portia is drinking out of his bowl and he barks at me. Then Jenge comes down the stairs and sits on them. Rocky bounds over to her and sits two steps above her and nuzzles her ear, sniffs her hair and makes squeaky ‘Mummy! You’re here!!’ sounds. Jenge says ‘What’s all the barking about?’ (Like this doesn’t happen 5 days outta 7). Then he jumps off the stairs, looks at me and huffs.

And there you have it! Our special time together. Just the Sock and me!

One of the GREATEST movie moments we’ve never seen!!

So, as the title of my blog states, I’m squirrelly. Translation – alot of kooky thoughts bouncing around in there. Several people have told me they would like to spend a day in my head, but as Jack Nicholson said in ‘As Good As It Gets’: Go sell crazy somewhere else, we’re all stocked up here!!

So, what exactly does go on inside my noodle on a daily basis? Well, here’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about. Ever wonder what the characters who aren’t the main characters are thinking when something BIG happens in a movie?? Their reactions could potentially be the best part of the movie. I have a particular scene in mind. . . .

Luke Skywalker has just surrendered himself over to Imperial troops on the planet of Endor. They escort him to Lord Vader and turn him over. To the avid Star Wars fan, you know what happens next, Luke and Vadar start to chit chat, you know, your typical father-son reunion, Hi I’m the evil Sith Lord who does the Emperor’s bidding and your my young rebellious son trying to overthrow the Empire, yadda yadda. But imagine you’re the stormtrooper trailing along behind them. You’ve just brought Vader the ulitimate prisoner!! The elusive Skywalker! And you didn’t even have to muck up your nifty stormtrooper pants to do it. So, you’re walking behind them all proud of yourself and then you hear Luke say it:

And Darth Vader CONFIRMS IT!!

Your mouth drops! Of course no one can tell because you’re in that dorky stormtrooper hood. Dumbfounded, you watch as they two of them saunter off, continuing their little father-son chat. You hustle your plastic covered a$$ to the coffee break room and bust in yelling, ‘Oh My GAWD!!’ All the other storm troopers look up (with their blank expressionless helmets – honestly, they need bibs it’s such a mess to drink a mocha through the air slots). You can hardly speak, ‘I just heard Luke Sywalker call Lord Vader DAD!! And Lord Vader AGREED!’
No WAY – they protest, a rumbling rush of gossips starts to spread.
TRUE STORY!! You proclaim. ‘Can you freaking believe it??!!’ They are all looking at you, looking at each other, the coffee break room is stunned! Even the stormtrooper in the little green Starbucks apron has put down his milk steaming pitcher, slave Ewoks are still pushing minature brooms to clean up the coffee room, because as we all know, Ewoks don’t speak English.
‘Who’s the mother?’ someone asks
‘Does Darth Vader have a girlfriend?’ says the guy in the corner.
Stormrtrooper to the right says, ‘How on earth . . I mean, it must have been before the whole evil black suit and cape thing!’
‘Darth Vader didn’t always wear the suit?’
‘Oh yeah, back in the heyday, when I was just a clone trooper, he just wore tights.’
Sage old stormtrooper in the back adds on, ‘I remember that now! He was a good looking chap too, you know, before the whole lava pit thing.’
A short silence falls over the crowd as they process this news. ‘Holy Death Star,’ someone finally says softly. ‘Darth Vader is someones dad! Kinda makes me wish I hadn’t given my old man such a hard time.’

A second silence falls over the crowd as they mull this over and then grudgingly agree. Life is pretty good as long as Darth Vader is not your dad.

Of course, the gossip wouldn’t have long to spread before the Endor shield station gets blown up and then the entire Death Star gets vapourized, but STILL!! What a conversation to overhear!!

So there you have it. One of the greatest movie scenes we’ve never seen.