Thursday, December 29, 2011

How many people could give this up?

Our friend Sherilin from laughing my abs off has come up with the worst fucking resolution I've ever heard of.  I can't even believe it.  Sherilin, you CRAZY.  I'm not sure how many people out there could legitimately give this up.  Not me, that's for sure. 


a year without swearing

i've mentioned before that i have an affinity for swearing. i enjoy some strong and offensive language when it's used in the right context. it makes me laugh when other people do it, particularly when it catches me by surprise, if they're of the generally starched variety of human.

i never swore out loud until i was 20, but when i turned 20, i decided to try out anything and everything i'd ever wanted to do with no regard for the wishes of my family or church buddies. i suddenly sprouted a blatant disregard for all things proper and appropriate and it was like the flood gates of my potty mouth sprung open and the filth poured out.

it wasn't long before i realized that i had become terribly annoying and had to tone it down so that i could stand to be around myself. i learned that the colorful words should be primarily used as "passion" words rather than standard fare for chatting.

the whole reason i've even mentioned this is because i've decided to remove the potty-mouthery from my vocabulary for the year of 2012, including my finger vocabulary. i've felt the push from God to clean it up this year. i've got to be honest here - i'm not very happy about it. i like cussing. and the thought of going a whole year without it makes me feels a ridiculous sense of loss, bordering on mourning.

earlier in the day chris got ticked about something and let fly a lovely string of expletives. i felt like a dieter being teased by an inconsiderate loved one, packing brownies and potato chips into his mouth right in front of my hungry, drooling face.

i don't know how this will turn out. it may be simply a year long filth hiatus or it may become a habit that i will eventually see as an improvement to my life. in the meantime, i wish there was a patch i could wear to take the edge off. i think i'm twitching.


I'm twitching just thinking about this you nutjob!  Good luck though.  I wish you all the best with it.  And don't worry, I'll do plenty of swearing to make up for you. 

Got a resolution? For you, or for someone else?  Email us at 

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

People need goals and I'm here to provide them.

Well, the holidays are coming to an end, and we all know what follows the festive season... the New Year. 

We also know what the New Year is often associated with... new goals, new outlooks, new plans, new moods.  AKA resolutions.  And then usually regrets. 

I've never been a big New Year resoluter.  It doesn't carry much weight with me (no pun intended). First of all, I'm not entirely sure that constantly striving for "improvement" is the best approach to life; and secondly, I think goals should be spontaneous - inspired naturally, rather than based on the date on the calendar. 

That said, I do see why an official starting date works to motivate some people. 

So I've decided that this year, I am going to combine these ideas,  I'm going to resolve things, but  I'm going to get charitable with my goals.  I'm going to set some New Year's resolutions for OTHER PEOPLE to follow.  Because there's nothing wrong with ME, but some folks out there could use some real advice. 

Here is my list of resolutions.  Email your resolutions (one or many, for you or for others) to and I'll post them this week!

For my cat Tuxedo - I resolve you to stop jumping up on the counter every night after Hubby and I go to bed.  THERE'S NOTHING UP THERE FOR YOU. 

For my weird neighbours - I resolve you to stop being so weird.  Seriously.  It's weird. 

For Charlie Sheen - I resolve you to stop doing crack.

For people in the traffic circle near my house - I resolve you to learn how to properly use a traffic circle. 

For my disgusting ugly 1986 teal green carpeting - I resolve you to pull yourself up, throw yourself out, and replace yourself with lovely new hardwood.  At no cost to me. 

For Prince William and Kate Middleton - I resolve you to come back to Canada and hang out with me.  I know a great little place where we could get some delicious poutine

For Summer - I resolve you to arrive early and leave late in 2012. I know it's hard, but it's very important that you get your act together. Or I'm gonna get PISSED.

For Coca Cola company - I resolve you to DO SOME REAL CHARITY. I keep seeing that stupid polar bear commercial in which you make us all feel like shit about the poor polar bears and then you commit to provide $2 million over 5 years to help them. Only $2 effing million! Over FIVE effing years. You cheap bastards. You make so much money and you are willing to "spare" a mere $400,000 a year. GET A CLUE.

And finally, for Jimmy Fallon - I resolve you to be my boyfriend. 

YOUR TURN!  Email me your resolutions!  And check out this week's Spreadable Cheese too.  It's good.  You'll be glad you did.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Damn Tree

Lizbeth from Four Sea Stars shared this enlightening post about the downside to Christmas trees.  Damn trees.

*     *     *

This is something that started after we had our first child.  We were shamed into getting an actual Christmas tree.  Up till then we didn't need one.  I mean why would we, two working adults, put up a tree in our spare time?  Pfft.  So for the first five years of our marriage, Christmas and the holiday season came and went with nary a decoration in site.  

It was wedded bliss.

Then I got pregnant and popped out a kid in October.  

And we went through our fist Christmas with, again, nary a decoration in site.  I mean really?  The kid was less than three months old.  He wasn't going to remember anything and damn it, I was tired.  We took pictures in front of our friends tree and called it a day.  

We're good Catholics like that.  

And then everyone found out we didn't have a tree.  For an entire year we were harangued, harassed, and told by random strangers, who found out from a friend of a friend, how we had to have a Christmas tree otherwise our young child would be scarred for life.  Not that random strangers coming up and pinching him on the cheeks and telling us what to do was acceptable but whatever.  

So we bought a Christmas tree.  And every year since then we've had the tradition of: Mommy Cussing Out the Tree While Hanging Garland.  The Day After Thanksgiving.  Also known as Friday.  

Every fucking year.  

Without fail.  

I cuss out the tree.   

It got even better as the man who shall remain nameless, also known as my husband, got sick of our eight foot tree and bought a fourteen, yes fourteen, foot tree when it went on sale at Sam's Club because it was 70% off.  

"But it was 70% off," he trailed as I raised my hands in defeat and walked away.

So now we have a new and improved tradition which is called something along the lines of: Mommy Cusses Out the Tree Daddy Bought While Hanging Garland Because it Was 70% Off at Fucking Sam's Club.  The Day After Thanksgiving.  Also known as Friday.  

On an extension ladder.  

Every fucking year.     

Without fail.  

And that is our family tradition.  

*     *     *

Thanks, Lizbeth!  Any one else want to share a Christmas tradition?  Email to be a featured poster!

Monday, December 19, 2011

Christmas Traditions And Cookie Failure

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer here with this week's awesome prompt: Your Christmas Traditions! I'll get the ball rolling with a story about my utter inability to make Christmas cookies each and every year...

*      *     *

I kind of suck at baking. The only thing that I’m consistently able to produce is cobbler. I make a mean cobbler.

I tried to bake cookies with my kids last week. I really did. It’s the Holidays, after all. Otherwise they’ll end up on a therapist’s couch sobbing , “Mom never made Christmas cookies.” And I don’t need that shame-spiral right now.

First, I tried gingerbread men. I had a store-bought mix, so it should’ve been fool-proof.

Well, the gingerbread-mix people hadn’t counted on me! I made the dough. It was sticky. I thought, “This needs more flour.” So I continued adding flour till the dough was stable enough to withstand a rolling pin. I must have added a cup of extra flour.

I rolled the dough, and cut out the men. They baked up fine. I frosted them, and Preschooler assisted with adding the sprinkles. That is, she dumped an entire jar of sprinkles on one gingerbread man and announced, “I’m done!”

When the frosting set, I tasted a cookie. It tasted like shellacked cardboard.Ooops. Apparently the cure for sticky dough is to chill it for a while. Also, when making royal icing, adding an entire 2 1/2 pound bag of powdered sugar is probably overkill. WHO KNEW?

Undeterred, my next attempt was a double-chocolate chip cookie with marshmallows. When all was said and done, they spread all over the pan into a large, sticky half-burned mess. I tried to do a search for a picture of the "cookie" I created. I couldn't find any. I'M JUST THAT GOOD!

Finally, I tried a peanut butter cookie dipped in chocolate and powdered sugar. This time I remembered that my cookie-saving-grace was to replace butter with vegetable shortening, and using self-rising flour instead of all-purpose flour. For those familiar with baking, I know. Weird.

This time, I ended up with beautiful peanut butter cookies. Then I ruined them by dipping them in chocolate and powdered sugar.

I ate a couple, then gave up. The only thing I could taste was cavities. Husbanddidn’t even try them. I tossed the whole mess.

The next afternoon, after rummaging around in the kitchen, Husband asked, “Where are the cookies?”

“What cookies?” I asked. I didn’t make any cookies. I only made atrocities.

“The ones you made yesterday,” he answered.

“I tossed them. They weren’t any good.”

“I didn’t even try one!” His disappointment was palpable. Crap, there’s that shame-spiral again.

I hope Santa likes cobbler. It’s all I can offer.

Also, I hope he likes tequila - I could sure go for a margarita right about now.

*     *     *

So, what are your holiday traditions? I'm dying to know! Email to be a featured poster, or simply link up below!

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Check out Diann's Drawers

Dianna, aka GeishaGirl sent us a pic of one of her desk drawers at work.
She has challenged us to see if we can figure out what she does for a job based off the contents of the drawer.
Share your ideas in the comment section below.  Because I have no freaking clue and if you have a good guess I'm going to copy it.
I'm a copy cat.

Thanks so much for sharing Diann!

PS, what are Kimmi and Momiji dolls?


Below is a picture of one of my drawers at work.  It has a compartment in the back (top part with the envelopes) that is made to fit hanging files and file folders, but I use it for deeper storage.  As you can see, I have all the most necessary things such as pink pens, whiteboard wipes, lotion (both scented and non-scented), single-serve Aleve packets, and envelope sealer.  The deeper portion also contains the boxes for my Kimmi doll and Momiji doll that sit on my desk.

Based on this drawer . . . what do you think my job title is? 

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

What's in Marianna's Space? A Whole LOTTA Beauty Products!

Today's photos of awesome spaces come from fellow Cheesy Bloggers co-founder, Marianna Annadana.
She officially rocks my socks off.  FACT.
And although I'd like to drive all the way to her place and snoop through her stuff for real, I guess this will have to pacify me until then.....
By the way, do I need a passport to go to Canada?  Just curious.

Enjoy Marianna's pics!  PS, they were sent from her "kick ass new iPhone."


This is my makeup table!  It's repulsive and highly overstocked. I love it - Hubby made it for me. But fuck, I need to clean that bastard.

I wanted to add this pic. It's of my little black makeup bag that is full of lipsmackers from 8th grade. I'm not kidding.
No, I don't still use them. But they smell like childhood innocence.

Lip Smackers from GRADE 8 woman?  So they're like, what? 6 or 7 years old?
Hee, hee.

Thanks for sharing what's in your space!

Anyone else wanna let us snoop?  Send your pics and stories/captions to us at
You know you wanna air your dirty laundry.  Or, dirty make up table.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

What's in Sherilin's Space? CLUTTER!!

Thanks so much to SherilinR at Laughing My Abs Off for her bravery in sharing her post and photos for this week's What's In Your Space? theme.


clutter aplenty, clutter galore

sometimes, i just want to sit in a peaceful, clean house listening to nothing but the hum of the refrigerator. wouldn't that be nice? wouldn't it be awesome if the house was clean almost all the time because people simply put their stuff away when they were done w/ it? it sounds doable, right? but it's totally not here. i cannot be one of those moms who won't sit down if there are dirty dishes in the sink or cheerios on the living room floor. if that were the case, i'd be even less rested than i am now & i would be grumpier & less pleasant to live with, in spite of my clean house. from where i'm sitting, let me just take a couple pictures to show you what my kitchen/office space looks like. one moment please...

ok, here's my desk...
awful, i know, but i never have a chance to feel lonely when i'm surrounded by so many signs of creativity & life. plus, there's a polly pocket if i need a friend, beverages, a doll bed if my hand needs a nap, & q-tips in case my ears feel itchy. and i never lack for markers. markers aplenty, markers galore.

to my right, we have the school corner/kitchen table. since we haven't done structured school since may & our kitten has learned to pile things up or knock them over to get where she wants to go, it has gotten ridiculously out of control.

i can't believe i'm even putting these on here because it's shameful. and embarrassing. but it's my life & i'm a fan of realism at my own expense. i suspect i'm not the only mom who is surrounded by nastiness or clutter because she'd rather live than clean.

but behind me we have my new friend, mrs. microwave. and when she has a good idea, she lights up on the inside!

and who doesn't like to have a wide, happy face smiling at them while they wash dishes or make snacks? she doesn't say much, more of a gentle presence in the room, but she hums sometimes. and she can be a real hot head if you push her buttons.

and if i was cleaning things, i probably wouldn't have the time or inclination to make the teddy bear campfire for brooke when she's bored in the house on yet another hot, rainy day.

the teddy bear campfire is a family favorite around here. doesn't that little fire just warm your heart?

and if i expected my world to stay clean, i probably wouldn't want my desktop to look like this...

but if i made brooke clean that off, then i wouldn't get to enjoy the gnome family & their rustic cabin. i wouldn't get to sit here, always wondering if one of those raccoons in the tree house is going to fall onto my head. i wouldn't get to check that dangling yarn trap regularly to see what meaty goodness it's caught this time.

and i wouldn't get to see the cute little turtle on the ladybug rock.

or the playful raccoon babies frolicking about in their diorama.

if my life was more orderly, i might not let brooke "go on her animal side" when she's home & transform herself into a jaguar.

and i'd miss out on her happiness at being able to color her face to really get into character. i'd never be smiling at the bits of gray marker left around the edges of her nose & eyes afterwards when she washes it off that leave her looking kinda zombie-ish. it's hard to take her seriously when she's got those bits, but it makes me happy anyway.
and if i kept the living room clean on a regular basis, then i would never get the camera handed to me around the edge of the bathroom door to show me this...
brooke cleaned up the living room to make me happy & so that i could vacuum w/ the new machine & she couldn't wait for me to see it, so she took a picture & handed it to me because i was apparently taking too long. there's nowhere to hide around here.

so in conclusion, my house is messy, but i wouldn't trade the mess for the kid or cats. i love my life & my messy little house w/ all it's quirky little decorations & arrangements.

UPDATE: here's a link to someone's blog who addressed my same current cleaning situation. i think it fits w/ mine today very nicely. and by this standard, i've had a fairly successful day.

Monday, December 12, 2011

What's In YOUR Space?

This week's theme is going to rely on a LOT of reader participation.
*Please? said with begging whimper*

I have this weird...."thing" where I'm super nosy and want to know what people have.  I love driving down a street at night at catching a glimpse into someone's house.  I love looking at real estate listings to see people's belongings. Don't get me wrong, I'd never actually go through your stuff when I'm in your home.  That'd be rude. However, if everyone in the world disappeared except for me, I'd go through your things.  Guaranteed.

So this week's cheesy topic allows me to be nosy without being rude.

I'm asking you, cheesy readers and bloggers. to snap pics of a place in your home or office that other people normally don't see, but you'd be willing to share.  I'm talking desk drawers, file cabinets, bathroom cabinets, nightstands, wallets, purses, car trunks and glove compartments, refrigerator, pantry, any place..... be creative.  Everything is fair game.
Take some pics and email us at  Include any story or written description you'd like.
Let me see what's in your space.

To start us off, check out my two nightstand drawers.  Nothing too shocking to be found.  I keep the good stuff where the kids can't find it.....

Top drawer.  Books, glasses case, hidden prescription bottle, and phone charger

Bottom drawer. More books and another phone charger. Exciting stuff.

Now, how about one of my home computer desk drawers?

Tons of cords, ear buds, iPod, chap stick, post it notes, highlighters, safety pins, lone earring, Noodle and Company gift card,  random Barbie shoe and toy turtle, butterfly hair clip, movie rental store card.

Clearly I'm highly organized and efficient in home storage.

Friday, December 9, 2011

She's a crotch-touching mad scientist

Our friend Jaime has a TWO AND A HALF HOUR COMMUTE to and from school every day. That's FIVE HOURS, people. All so she can become a genius Canadian mad scientist.   Read about her typical day.  If nothing else, you'll at least feel better about your own life. 


Excuse me while my hand grazes your crotch...

but oh......... maybe you like it... ew.

gotta love Icanhascheezburger

My daily commute consists of a five hour total commute to and from school…. And not only do I not get paid for this.. I’m PAYING for this privilege. The only benefit is at least I get an unlimited bus pass and don’t have to stress about the extra cost involved with the amount of travel I do.

This is how my day typically goes. - I'm definitely going to need coffee for this shit.
Depending on the time of my class…. If it’s a late class.. I laze around in the morning.. enjoy a rerun of Charmed and a mocha.. a nice leisurely shower and then it’s off to the salt mines. If it’s the early class… I’m up at 5:20am and I end up spending pretty much my entire 2 and a half hours standing. Thankfully the commuter bus stop is right across the street from my house.

C70 – Commuter Bus … this is a little dinky bus that resembles the “short” buses that we all remember from our high school days.

img courtesy of riding the short bus
Its purpose is to trek those few lowly individuals who happen to live outside the main bus lines in the burbs. It’s basically a 15 minute total route among back roads n such to get you from your out of the way place to the main bus hub closest to you. My time spent on this bus is about 5-7 minutes. I get off at a major intersection and then hope like hell the other bus is late or my bus was a little early.. otherwise I have to wait about 15 minutes for the next bus. It’s ok though.. if this happens… I take a trip to Cobs bread and indulge in a scone.

 mmmmmmm... banana chocolate chip scone
502 - this is the main bus that gets me to the skytrain station which only goes out into the burbs a little bit.. so if you live farther out than that (like me) you have to get there by bus. This bus also comes from way out in the burbs and therefore is sometimes fucking packed by the time it gets to me… if it’s not.. it definitely will be by the time we get to the skytrain station. Which basically means unless you’re absorbed in your book/phone/whatever the fuck else.. you’ll probably get dirty looks from standing passengers because you have a seat and they don’t. And if you happen to have picked a seat on the outside edge of the two seat spots… and the person beside you needs to get out before the end stop… you’re probably going to squish the shit out of other people and have someones hand invade your personal space so you can get out of the way so dickweasle can get off the bus. The total ride can range anywhere from 30 minutes to 50 minutes depending on traffic, number of times people have to get on/off the bus and how much bitching the driver will do to get people to “move to the back of the bus” so he can squish more fucking people on. This bus only comes every 15-20 minutes or so (during peak hours) and it doesn’t seem to depend what time you catch it for it to be full of douchewads.

Skytrain – a glorious invention. It’s like a subway only in the air.

isn't it pretty?
All fine and dandy…. Except half the fucking time the escalators and whatnot aren’t working properly so if you’re an out of shape asshat like me you end up winded by the time you get to the top of the stairs. These trains come every 5-10 minutes or so and the total trip from beginning to end is about 38 minutes (my portion of the trip is about 30) Overall it’s not bad except you have the same issue as on the bus. The train is normally packed by the time you get out of the burbs and people are always giving you dirty fucking looks if you’re in a seat. To which I say,

“hey fuckstick… my trip is probably 4 times as long as yours.. I think I deserve to fucking rest… go suck a donkey dick”

Anyhow…. The train isn’t so bad…. Until a scooter/bike/wheelchair/stroller gets on… It’s not their fault and I totally don’t blame them… but it’s like the fucking train designers completely ignore the fact that these people might want to take the train. When these types of people get on they usually crowd around the doorways cuz that’s the only fucking place with any room for them on the train. If you need to get off the train… well.. you’re fucking shit out of luck… you have to hop, jump, scoootch, squeeze, push and sometimes jab your way off that fucking thing. Again with the inappropriate touching and invading of personal space.

99 – the bee line was designed as a way to get an “express” bus down through the core of Vancouver to UBC (where I go to school) … but it still stops at (I think) 12 stops on its way there. I don’t know about you but I don’t really consider that a fucking express bus. This bus trip is about 45-50 minutes and it’s on a huge double connector bus so it’s usually likely that I can get a seat.. but not always. Plus there are the inevitable line bumpers. I don’t know what it is about this particular bus… but there always seems to be fucking wanks that don’t know how to form fucking lines and end up budging in front of everyone else.
flickr has everything these days
The thing that really pisses me off is when they budge in front of me and then take the coveted (at least by me anyway) back edge seats. Why? Because this back edge seat has a bar on the left side where you can lean back into your chair and rest your feet on and have a nice casual leisurely ride to school. It’s like these people were raised in a barn… and it’s not like another bus isn’t coming in 5-10 minutes but still. It’s called a line people. We all learned it in kindergarten… forming lines when you had to get into the classroom? Remember? Well you better… cuz I swear if someone budges in front of me again I’m going to bash their head in.

Not really… but some days I really want to.

So there you have it folks. That’s my ONE way commute to school. Going home is about the same except that if I go late I’m usually caught in the rush hour home commute and end up standing the whole way (just like the early bus commute). Or if it’s really late.. the commuter bus stops running and I’m stuck walking or needing a ride.
I really don’t enjoy this commute and I have a feeling it one day might actually kill me .. if I don’t kill someone else, that is. It’s not just the commute itself, it’s the fucking PEOPLE. I swear to god…. Most of them smell… do you people not shower or brush your fucking teeth? Seriously.

no soap challenge... interesting.

Most of them are extremely rude… pushing and shoving and standing right in front of the train door entrance when there is a ton of fucking space inside the train if you just moved down a little bit. I’ve even been standing there politely waiting for people to shuffle inside the train more so that I could get on… only to have people just stand there and stare at me, not moving… not making room… and then watching me as the doors close and I’m stuck waiting for another train. There’s the prostitots, the wigger dicks, the old as sin folks who can barely walk, the crying babies, and of course… the serial killers (or at least.. guys who look like ones).

I miss my car.


Good god Jaime, what a SHIT SHOW.  Thanks for sharing?

Thursday, December 8, 2011

She's basically a fugitive

Our crazy friend Carm has apparently had a run-in with the evening news. I'm not particularly surprised. Nutbar. 


Screw you Evening News

I am a rage-a-holic when driving in traffic. With my windows rolled up of course. You won’t hear me actually telling someone off, that’s for brave people. But a rage-a-holic nonetheless.

When I saw that Cheesy Bloggers’ them this week was commuting nightmares, I felt obliged to share my random story only because it’s funny as hell NOW. Maybe not so much then. But those make the best stories, no?

Several years ago I worked in downtown Vancouver but lived about a 45 minute drive outside the city, which in traffic equates to an 18 hour commute. One way. Maybe a slight over exaggeration. Whatever. Anyways, I pretty much drove home in neutral (stick shifts in traffic are THE DEVIL) speed dialing anyone who would answer their cell phone to listen to me vent scream my bloody head off about the stupid crazy-ass mother fuckers who were on the road. I may or may not have chain smoked. But that’s irrelevant.

One day I had to leave work slightly early because my Dad was in the hospital (long-assed story I’ll dive into one day, but he’s OK!) I quickly learned that traffic was actually worse this time of day. Lucky me. Now, I am usually the person sitting in traffic cursing the douche-canoes who weave in and out, make illegal turns and generally make the commute even more difficult for everyone else on the road while mumbling to myself that I wish I had the balls to do it too…but on this day, I did.

So without giving a shit whom I pissed off, I zipped my little car onto the shoulder of a freeway on-ramp and put the petal to the metal. Some days I think I should have been a race car driver. Maybe in another life.

So that night, while lounging at home on my couch and flipping through the channels I managed to catch a news program on angry drivers in traffic. Coincidence? Apparently not.

Right there, front and center on the TV in front of me, was an air-helicopter video of MY CAR performing its douche-canoe move earlier in the day. My only thought? THANK GOD you can’t see me, or my license plate.

Not the actual video footage, just an example of how close the camera WAS to my car.

Funny, but it looked way worse on TV.


Thanks Carm.  I needed this laugh. 


Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Commuting sucks your soul.

Our adorable friend Diann (aka Geishgirl) provided this brutal/awesome commuter chronicle.  You simply must read.  This is hideous. 

You can join in too. Just email .  And make sure you go check out Diann's blog.  Totally worth the trip. 


Thanks to the theme this week over at Cheesy Bloggers, I can expound upon my daily commute. The gist of it is, I have a 4 hour commute to and from work each day. Yes, that's right, 4 hours total a day I spend commuting. Here's a breakdown:

1. I leave my house at 6:05ish AM to get down to the train station early enough to get a parking spot.

2. I park in my "hidden" parking spot and put in my contacts and make myself presentable at that ungodly hour of the morning with makeup. The parking on the street near the station went to 4 hours only a few months ago, so many people are scrambling to find parking these days. Either that or they do the park and ride and take a bus to the station. I won't even talk about where I park to anyone near the trains because I don't want to lose my spot and have to take just one more means of public transportation to get to work - you'll see how many I now have as you continue onward.

3. At 6:45am I get out of my car and wait in line (right now freezing my ever lovin' ass off) in order to get a seat on the train.

4. 7am the train leaves for its city destination (with 4 stops in between). If it works out I get to sit with my best friend and others - sometimes her husband, sometimes our train friend.

5. The train arrives around 7:48am at the station and everyone files out and up the stairs.

6. Next I go back down different stairs to the bus tunnel and wait for whatever bus happens to come by first (or our light rail train, depending on what time I get across the street and down the stairs). Meanwhile, my best friend and her husband take a shuttle to the same end destination and catch it just up the street from where I take the light rail. The reason I can't do that is because they work for a different company and they check all employee badges at the door of the shuttle. My commute would be so much better if that were it, but no this is just the second stop on the way.

7. After the bus tunnel I then get off and have to go up out of the tunnel and walk to the streetcar stop. I normally just miss the 8am streetcar and so must wait for the 8:15am one.

8. The 8:15am streetcar comes and I take that to a block and a half away from my office building. I walk there and usually get to my desk at about 8:25am.

So that's just over 2 hours ONE WAY to work each day. I honestly try not to think about it or I think I would end up killing someone. And, that is just if everything runs smoothly, which it tends to not happen somewhere in the chain of public transportation vehicles.

To get home, I hope like hell I catch the streetcar close to 4:40pm in order to get off the train by 6:40pm - and then drive to the gym (or home depending on my mood and what I remembered to bring with me that morning).

Why do I put up with this you ask? Well, apart from the fact that I must be slightly insane, I get paid the most I've ever been paid, have the best health benefits (which are much needed), have a flexible schedule and can work from home if needed, and the work environment is the most open and friendly that I've ever been in. Every office has its politics, but overall I can see myself growing within the company for quite awhile.

Does this make up for the horrendous, almost life wrenching commute I go through each week? I hope so . . . because we plan on possibly moving farther away when we buy a house (but I'm trying like mad to get my husband to reconsider that idea).

I would not wish this on my enemy, but I put myself through it each day. Luckily my boss and coworkers are understanding and know I'm going to have some crappy days because of my commute.

Teleportation cannot get here fast enough.


Wow.  True dat, darlin.  True dat. 

Sunday, December 4, 2011

"You are an IDIOT"

Hello there my cheesy friends.  You've got Marianna Annadanna here with this week's theme.

You may know that I have some occassional minor trouble commuting.  Oh, pardon me, what I meant to say is that COMMUNTING IS A FUCKING DOUCHEBAG

Also, you may know that I sometimes have slight difficulty navigating.  Sometimes.  Maybe. 

So, this week I want to hear your brutal commuting stories. Email and I'll post your travel stories! 

Because I need to know I'm not the only one getting lost in my own city.  I need to know I'm not the only one judging crazies on the bus.  I need to know I'm not the only one yelling at mall cops...


From my archives: June 4, 2010

Commuter Chronicles - Eff You, Rent-a-Cop


You may recall that I’ve recently had a wrench thrown into my regular commuting routine. The mall that I park at before taking the bus each morning is no longer (as) supportive of the ‘park and ride’ concept.

So I’ve been walking a little further in the morning (and waiting a little longer between bus pick-ups) to get a route closer to my house.  Fine.

I've still been able to ‘park and ride’ on Thursday mornings, however, because I have an early French class (and there’s more parking spots free at 7 am than at 8). It’s particularly convenient, because I have Yoga on Thursday nights – which is located in the mall. Excellent. So Thursdays still work out as they should.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, when I started my car, I was horrified at the disgusting sound coming from the engine. Shit. I ran into the house to get Hubby to drive me to the mall (which left me without the convenience of going straight to Yoga after work).

To make my mood even better, a very clever Hubby then says to me: “Oh yeah – I forgot – your car was sounding pretty bad last night.”


What the hell does that mean?

Apparently he drove it the night before, and between our driveway and our living room, he forgot to tell me that it was in pain. What a mental case.

Fine. Whatever.

So he (apologetic) drove me (pissy and pouting) to the mall and pulled up next to the bus station. I jumped down out of the truck onto the curb, only to be approached by another effing rent-a-cop in a security coat.

What the eff do these idiots want NOW?!

I tell ya – I've been quickly losing patience with this shit, and that LAND TROLL picked the wrong goddam day to mess with me.

The conversation went something like this:

Rent-a-cop: “You guys can’t stop here to get out.”
Hubby, as he’s driving away: “Well, I’m gonna!”
Me, staring at her ugly face: “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Rent-a-cop: “No, you can’t stop here!”
Me, as I’m storming off: “Yes I can!”
Rent-a-cop: “Well, I’ll just give you a ticket tomorrow!”
Me: “A ticket?! For WHAT?!”
Rent-a-cop: “For blocking traffic and causing accidents!”

[SIDEBAR: Causing accidents?! In the parking lot? Because we pull over to the side of the curb? These people are effing delusional.]

Me: “Hah! Causing accidents?! What accidents?! You are an IDIOT.”
Rent-a-cop: “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then! Have a nice day!”

I continued to glare at her until my bus came – oh, I glared her down gooood.

That was pretty much the end of it.

AND, on top of all that, I just found out that my car’s AC Compressor is going to cost $1000 to fix.

Damn it.