Growing up is hard to do!

I remember when I was a girl and I would buy a wallet with the allowance money I had saved, or mum and dad would take me shopping and I would beg to have a purse. I would take the wallet home and fill out that dorky card that comes with it with my name and address, and keep all the fake paper cards that said CREDIT CARD on them in the slots. Dreaming of the day when I would have cards to fill those glorious slots.

Air Miles, Mastercard, Visa, BankCard, Driver’s License, Shoppers Optimum, Doctor’s Card, Dentist’s Card, Nail Tech’s card, Sears, Blockbuster, Esso, Blue Cross. . . . It’s gotten to the point where I turn down savings offers at tills because I don’t have room for the cards!

Do you remember when being grown up seemed like the best plan in the world? You were gonna have your own place, get that dog you were begging for, stay up all night and order pizza when you felt like it! The fridge would have all your favourite goodies and you would read all your books in the bathtub, soggy pages be damned!!

But there were a few things they forgot to tell you about being a grown up. Oh yes, my little friends, there is always a down side and you must never forget the small print. Here are some things I bet we all figured out the hard way. . . .

1. If you don’t take the garbage out, no one else will.
2. If you don’t vaccuum, no one else will.
3. When your dog gets worms, there is no one but you to bleach the entire house and take her to the vet.
4. That funky smell from your kitchen is a potato forgotten in the drawer under the oven. They will rot, it will take months, but they will rot.
5. If you don’t change the furnace filter, no one else will.
6. If you don’t mow the lawn, no one else will.
7. You can’t stay up all night eating bon bons and watching bad tv unless you want to be fat and out of a job.
8. A steady diet of your favourite foods will also make you fat.
9. If you don’t buy milk, no one else will.
10. Friends from high school may lose touch with you, you can forget to go to the dentist for 5 years, you can put of your yearly physical for ages, but Visa will always find you.
11. When the drain is plugged, you either have to buy Drano or take it apart and clean it out (EW! – I shed like a long haired dog – it was awful) but if you don’t do it, that’s right! No one else will.
12. Scary sounds in the middle of the night must be investigated by you if you want to sleep. And sure, it usually turns out that a piece of paper is too close to the air vent, and it’s making a ruckus, but you won’t sleep until you know for sure!
13. When a light goes on on your dashboard, or your car is making funny sounds, you will be the one that has to a) figure it out and take it to the mechanic, paying for it with your first born or b)you will have to take it to the mechanic, make the sound for them [because the car will refuse to be broken then] they will figure it out and you will be paying for it with your first born.
14. Dog pees, throws up, eats shoes, eats tub of margarine . . . it doesn’t really matter. It’s all you!
15. You will start to care about things like taxes, elections, politics, oil prices, hard winters, dry summers, frozen pipes, retirement plans, interest rates, mortgage rates, market values, leaky basements and crime in your city. They are all boring and no fun. It doesn’t matter. You still have to care.

They always say youth is wasted on the young [who are ‘they’ and how do ‘they’ know so much!]. Youth isn’t wasted on the young. If someone made you 10 again tomorrow and took your memory away, you wouldn’t do it any differently. You couldn’t. You would still be dreaming of filling your wallet with cards and vowing that when you grew up, there was gonna be pizza every night. You wouldn’t be thinking, “Thank God I don’t have to pay Income Tax! Visa kiss my A$$!’ You’d be saying to yourself, “Mum and Dad totally don’t understand me! When I grow up, I’m gonna ride my bike anywhere I want. I’m gonna be the only boss of me. And there will always be Double Stuffed Oreos in the house and if don’t want to eat veggies, I won’t!”

And really, would you want it any other way?

Blocked!

So I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to blog about for the last couple of days and I can’t find anything that I genuinely want to rant about. Have I finally run out of things to say? Impossible! Or is it just that I suffer from the biggest plague on my generation, apathy? My other problem is the political incorrectness of alot of my opinions. Now, normally, I would not shy away from these things and blog about them anyway but I’m becoming increasingly aware that I am insanely hard to please and easily irritated, and if I keep blogging about what pisses me off I will eventually ostracize everyone I know. My lifestyle is already dangerously similar to that of a hermit crab, I’ve no need to help it along!

Blog Dog: A Post by Portia

Seeing as my mother, Mummy Margarita sees fit to put my dirty laundry up on the web (mmmmmmm dirty landry) I thought it was high time I had a post of my own to tell you how things really are around here.

You see what I’m lying on in this picture? This is Mummy’s bed. Look how comfy! How cozy! She has six pillows and a heated blanket! Do I get a queen size bed like this? NO! I’m forced to share with her, getting only a small corner of the bed, unless I take my sleeping elsewhere. In which case I either have to sleep on the couch (yes, sad but true!) or sometimes even the hard floor (although the hardwood does get warmed up by the sun and sometimes you can find a nice hot spot and zone out for hours).

Mummy treats herself once a week to McDonald’s but am I allowed to order anything? NO! I have to wait for the bag to be emptied when Rocky and I get to share the fries that fell out of their carton. Imagine, sharing with the Sock! Oh, the humiliation.

And while I’m on the subject of food, it’s kibble for breakfast, kibble for dinner, kibble for a treat. Do I ever get a nice T-Bone steak? Okay, once at my grandparents house I got a bone, but I had to eat it outside. Grandma said I was fine out there as it was 20 degrees and sunny, but let me tell you! Eating outside is for savages!

Mummy drinks coffee every morning. I only get water. And sure, she cleans the water bowl every day to make sure it’s fresh but nothing tastes as good as a beverage that isn’t yours. Which is why I drink exclusively from Rocky’s bowl. I don’t even care when Mummy puts ice cubes in my bowl for a treat. It’s the Sock’s bowl or BUST!

She makes me pose for ridiculous pictures which she then takes and does something called ‘scrapbooking.’ I had to pretend to read a magazine once and then she thought it would be funny if I looked like I was drinking Starbucks coffee. But I’ll let you in on the dirty little secret! The cup was empty! I only got to lick the milk bubbles.

And once I got a hold of some yummy smelling yarn and I got in trouble! I mean, it was lying around on the counter, not doing anything. How was I to know she was making a blanket with it?

And the time I ate the remote, well I was only trying to turn the tv on. They leave it off when they go out. What’s a dog to do to pass the time?

She tells everyone stories about me. Embellishing them to make her sound like the hero. I was feeling under the weather a couple of times, and she took me to the vet. Big deal. If I could drive a car, I woulda taken myself! She says she cleans up after me, but really, it’s the other way around. She leaves things lying on the counter all the time and it’s my job to jump up and get it. To show her how messy she is. I will then rip it to pieces to teach her a lesson. You can’t just leave your stuff out!

I mean, I guess she’s okay. Sometimes she buys me special bones. And with her long nails, no one gives a back scratch like her. Or sometimes I will stand next to her, because I am feeling lonely, and she will pat my head and tell me I’m a good dog, scratching that one place behind my ears that I can’t reach.

But if she puts another sweater on me, I’m outta here!

Where have all the good bands gone?

As I listen to the radio these days, I’m forced to ask, where have all the good bands gone? Who is the next U2? I don’t like the Rolling Stones but I can appreciate that they have stood the test of time and have legions upon legions of fans. Let’s face it, Keith Richards prolly made a deal with the devil for them to keep on going. How else do you explain the fact that he is still alive?

But I digress. The radio these days are full of catchy pop tunes and bands churn out a couple of good hits but none of them really have any staying power. I thought Matchbox 20 was gonna be the next U2 but then Rob Thomas went solo (although, Mr. Thomas if you’re reading this, you are a STAR!! Love your record).

But what’s with all the thirtysomething bands singing teenage looser songs? Sum 41, Blink 182, Simple Plan. . . There is only so long you can go on bee-atching about how mum and dad don’t understand you and school sucks before your fans will realize that you are 35, making millions off them and didn’t actually have an angst filled adolescence. But they prance around in front of the mike in their short pants and whine that no one understands them. Short pants, by the way are how you tell guys who are stuck in the teens vs guys who finally grew up. Men wear shorts, boys pretending to be grown up are wearing capris. I know that boys don’t call them capris, they call them board shorts (I think – I’m kinda out of the teen loop) but I’m sorry, honey, they are capris. If I would wear them with a pair of strappy sandles and a cute purse, it means they are capris.

I have some good bands I listen to, but I don’t know if any of them have the staying power I’m looking for. If you want to make a long term committment to a band these days, your choices are pretty slim. If you ask me, Green Day has the best chance. Dookie was a smash hit and after some good follow ups, they released American Idiot which I think has the most staying power. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guys of Green Day, but they are not U2. They are a poor man’s U2. A substitute for a U2-less generation.

So who do I listen to despite the fact that they don’t have legions of followers? Well, I’m a big My Chemical Romance fan right now, I like James Blunt (but he’s not rocking enough to be a rock band), I love Rob Thomas, I like Garbage (despite the fact that they have been in a popularity decline as of late). I miss Econoline Crush in their Sparkle and Shine days – Trevor Hurst where have you gone! Sob. And we’ll have to wait for the next Maroon 5 album to see what the verdict is. I like my Michael Buble and The Killers, but once again, we have to wait a couple years to see what’s gonna happen with them. And I miss my early 90’s Depeche Mode. Sniff.

Maybe I’m too outta touch with the music world. For all I know, there are millions of people out there ready to rip my throat out because I just trashed Blink-182. And don’t even get me started on Coldplay. Yes they are good, but they aren’t as good as everyone is telling you they are. Now they are just overexposed.

So I’ll keep trolling iTunes for the next band to keep me going.

For Sale: Mint condition Uterus! Never been used!

So I was on Heidi’s blog today (Completely Barking Mad,) and she had a link to another blog called Nine Pound Dictator. Sounded like a good title, and I’m a sucker for a good title so I decided to check it out. I only made it to the post titled Mommies Rule before I had to stop.

What’s that sound you ask? Well, that’s me having an aneurysm. In the article, she says that people look at her differently now that she’s a mother. It’s the respect, she claims. Respect for her, and her respect for life. She also claims that women are nicer to her when they find out she’s a mother, she’s no longer the Competition, apparently.

You know what? You know what!!?? (the Double ‘You know what?’ from me is a sign that you have just unleased Evil Margarita. She doesn’t get to come out and play very often, generally because I’m left to apologize for whatever she does while she’s out, but I’m letting her out this time because she has a point)

(continuation of Evil Margarita’s tirade . . . ) Just because I haven’t pushed a nine pound human being out of my uterus does not mean that my life is a total waste of time. I’m tired of being constantly informed by the media and anyone else who has a baby that I just don’t understand the meaning of life. You know what? I don’t understand the meaning of life, but I doubt that having a baby will make everything crystal clear for me. Some of us aren’t wired that way. Some of us don’t have a burning desire to procreate. And just because you have procreated, you do not instantly deserve my undying respect.

Don’t get me wrong, I think motherhood is a great thing, and if you choose to be a mom and that makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. My sister is a great mum to two beautiful boys and she works hard to be a good mum to them. It’s a hard job. The pay is lousy, the hours worse, and nine times out of ten, you have to be the bad guy.

But for those women out there that have a baby and then instantly start propogating the urban legend that the rest of us childless freaks are missing out really irritates me. I actually had to give myself a cooling off period before I could even write this blog. I know alot of women who don’t have kids. Some don’t want kids, some just haven’t had them yet, some aren’t in a position to have them, but none of them feel like they are missing the boat on life because they don’t have mini-me’s running around.

What about the woman who can’t ever have kids? Is she less deserving of my respect because she is incapable of having children? What about the women who choose definitively not to have kids? Should I disrespect them for their heinous choice? Or what about the women who knowingly have unsafe sex with no regard for the consequences and get unexpectedly pregnant? This is instantly deserving of respect? I think not.

I tell you what I do respect. I respect people who make the right choices for themselves. I respect anyone who chooses to live their life in the manner which suits them. I respect people who live their lives every day making a conscious effort to be good people. They pay their taxes, they are nice to the coffee barista, they are kind to their friends and they love their family. Some of them have kids, some of them don’t. If they have kids, they are working hard to make those kids good people too. That is worthy of respect. However, you can have a child and be raising him or her to be a royal pain in the a$$ to the entire world. Chances are, you’re a pain in the a$$ too. And you don’t get my respect for that. You get my ire.

I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade. I’m just tired of getting my child free parade washed out. Live your life, I’ll live mine. Neither one of us has to like the other’s, but don’t tell me that you are instantly a better person because you procreated. Or that I can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be a mum. I don’t have to know. It’s not your job in life to show me the way.

Evil Margarita has left the building.

Movie You Should Rent Right Now!!

I am always amazed at some of the great movies out there that no one seems to rent/know about. I have yet to figure out the hollywood machine, what makes some movies hits even if they suck, while other movies don’t even make waves, but they are really good! I guess it has to do with the marketing and who the mucky-mucks are buddy buddy with. So, in an attempt to turn the tides, here is the first installment in an on-going feature: “Movie You Should Rent Right Now!”

Equilibrium (2002) – starring Christian Bale, Taye Diggs, Emily Watson

I have Heidi to thank for this one, she mentioned it to me one day and I had never heard of it, so I went out and rented it and then I went out and bought it. Equilibrium is about a future where emotions are outlawed. Anything that may cause human emotion is contraband: art, literature, music. Christian Bale plays John Preston, a cleric, whose job it is to track down emotional offenders and contraband and dispose of them/it. The entire society takes daily doses of Prozium (hmmm, I wonder what that’s supposed to stand in for. . . ) to keep their emotions in check. This is the price that society decided to pay to rid themselves of war, crime, etc. When Preston’s partner turns out to be an offender, and he terminates him, it starts Preston on a journey toward finding out whether the price society is paying is worth it. Great action scenes, great dialogue, and great twists in the plot to keep it going. If you like your sci-fi with a bit of brains, this one is for you! Plus Sean Bean is in the opening section of the film and I am such a Sean Bean fan!! Why is he not in more blockbusters!!

I’ll try to bring ya more good movies!!

Chuckle Worthy moments . . .

So here are a few of the things that made me chuckle this week:

Thursday morning I burnt my neck with the curling iron, dropped it two minutes later and biffed myself in the face with it while trying to catch it, giving myself a really cute fat lip. I then tripped on my way out of the bathroom. But then on the way to work, a busload of highschool guys gave me the thumbs up and waved madly at me. So I must be hot stuff after all . . . . at least I hope they were in high school. Did ya notice that the older you get the harder it is to tell the junior highs from the high schools?

My nephew had to have a minor medical procedure done and proclaimed that the laughing gas smelled like his brother’s feet. Two days later and I’m still laughing out loud at this.

I was trolling knitting pattern sites and somebody has gone to all the trouble (psychotic trouble no less) to make a fuschia representation of the female reproductive system. No joke. Check it out.

So I was sick on Wednesday and stayed home and I committed the ultimate mortal sin. I watched Maury Povich. It’s been 5 years since the last time I saw Maury and nothing has changed. Freakishly loud and rude people are arguing on his show about whether or not some lame-a$$ punk with no prospects is the father of some baby. The women always proclaim they are 1000% sure he’s the daddy (who’s your daddy?) despite the fact that they were, ahem, friendly with several gentlemen around the time in question. And then this guy proclaimed he couldn’t be the dad because he had GREEN eyes and the baby had BROWN eyes.

Okay. It’s time to go back to Biology 10/20 and pay attention this time. Better yet, let’s go back to ‘Health’ class (aka Sex ed – which was covered in religion class at my Catholic Junior high. HA!) and review a few concepts.

But it still couldn’t beat the episode I saw with Donna 5 years ago when some young punk declared he was “One hundred and fiddy percent sure he wannunt the faddah of dat baby!” and then he told his sobbing ex to get his name outta her ‘mouf’ (I kid you not! He yelled “Get my name outta your MOUF.”) Maury, Maury, Maury. Stay at home, raise the kids and leave the newscasting to Connie. At least I can take her partially seriously.

Okay I can’t take her seriously either, but there has got to be someone else we can find to fill this time slot!

My whole life, I’ve been pretty good at anything I’ve tried. I’m smart, a quick study and able to pull of pretty much most of the stuff I’ve done by the seat of my pants. Case in point, Engineering class on circuits. I sucked at that class, it was at 8 in the morning and I nearly fell asleep almost every day. I studied here and there, did my assignments, got by and woke up two hours before the final, crammed and passed. Exhibit B: Physics 269 – optics. I was so lost I didn’t even know what the class was really about. I got a tutor, learned how to derive my own formulas and got my C-minus (required to take the next level).

I can count pretty quickly the times I’ve absolutely bombed something (PMAT 451 the first time around – Got an F. Take two I got a C, but by PMAT 453 I pulled off an A minus). I came thisclose to bombing PMAT 491 but since the rest of the class was sitting at an D average, the prof said whatever we got on the final would be our final grade. Despite the fact that he put two concepts we had never taken in class on the test, I got a B (it was an open book test and I was able to teach myself out of the textbook and get the gist of it).

But all this leaves me with a paralyzing fear of failure. I don’t mean to come off as a jerk saying that I’m good at stuff, what I’m saying is, I’ve always been able to pull it out of the fire (as my mum says). Consequently, I absolutely fear failure. I don’t know what to do with it. A by-product of this is that, now that I’m older, I rarely try new things. Knowing that the coin I’ve been tossing has been pretty consistent in coming up heads, I’m sure that there are a number of Tails with my name on it. I’m a math major, for crying out loud. I know the stats.

So what’s a type A squirrelly girl to do? I’m trying to embrace the failure. In baby steps. So I have been working on my issues s-l-o-w-l-y. I’ve purchased a new pattern for knitting, and while you’re thinking this does not exactly sound like bungee jumping, for me, it’s been a learning process. I’ve started and pulled it apart 10 times now. It’s been VERY FRUSTRATING! Knitting is supposed to be relaxing but right now I can feel my blood pressure skyrocket as soon as I pick up the needles. My head bent over, my shoulders hunched, I’ve GOT TO KEEP TRYING! No matter how many times I fail. It’s getting better. I may not even have to rip out the stitches this time. We’ll see. But the urge to toss it aside and declare it MORONIC is overwhelming!

So, it may not seem like much to you, but to me, this is the first lesson in Failure 101: How to fail and move on. We’ll see if I can get back on the Roller-blades this summer. I haven’t fallen yet, so I know that there is a massive wipe out with my name on it. There’s got to be, I’m a total klutz.

I wasn’t always like this. As a kid I used to ride my bike super fast and then hard brake on gravel. I would ride it all over the place with my friends and never gave a thought to getting hurt, but two massive wipe outs has me fearful of gravel ever since. I have some lovely scars on my knees that are still purple to prove it, and they are over 20 yrs old now.

So I guess I have to try and find the girl that used to jump down 6 stairs at a time, despite being told it was dangerous. And if I fall, I’m just gonna have to get back up.