Failing Awesome Today, Thanks For Asking

When does shit get better?  Sometimes I really wonder if it ever does, or if maybe my expectations are just too high.  (My expectations are not too high.)

I am sad.  And pissed off.   I know, I know, I know that there are people who would trade with me in a heartbeat and it isn’t that I want to trade, I  just want to know how people get their shit together.  I know that too.  They choose to get their shit together and keep it that way.

I want to be somebody else today.  Some other sweeter-calmer-better mother/wife/friend-prettier-happier-more organized Fifi. 

I am stuck with me as much as you are, I guess.  Image

Oh, I forgot.  I want to be skinnier too.

 

Hellooo?? Anybody There??

Happy New Year!

It feels like I haven’t been in here in forever (since September to be exact), and I am trying to decide if I should continue this, or find a different outlet for my overflowing creativity. 

Yeah, right. 

Open to suggestions friends.  Tell me how you really feel. 

Does anyone even come here anymore? 

Image

A little sexy for you. You know, to keep you coming back.

 

Come On Now! How Could You Be Me and Want To Be Someone Else?

Today’s title is courtesy of Mr. Kanye West. And todayI feel a bit like Kanye West.  Well, the way he should feel when he lets loose some outburst on Twitter or whatever site he unloads his crazy on. On Friday I unloaded the crazy.

Friday’s post was a bad post.  Friday was a bad day.  Well, a bad morning.  It got better.  Mind you, not one thing went according to my plans this weekend.  I got over it. 

The weekend was full of good shiz.  Like:

Happy first anniversary K-Ginger and Husband.  Many more with joy.

Happy 45th anniversary Mama and Papa Fifi.  I am proud to come from an unbroken home.  Keep up the good work.

And Happy Birthday Older Frere.  Thank you for being an awesome big brother.  Even if you’re not really big.

Elder XY starts college tomorrow.  Wow.

AND I learned how to put music on the iPod shuffle I bought two years ago.  Like within the last hour.  That is friggin awesome. 

Customer Service – What Fresh Hell Is This?

It is September first.  I was last here July 30th.  It isn’t that I don’t want to post, but that I don’t want to seem like a whiner.  I have lots of great things in my life. I’m healthy.  I have great kids.  I have wonderful friends.  I hate my job.  Yup.  That is how I feel today.  It is my first weekend off since July 1st, and I don’t want to go back.  I actually had my first migraine in over twenty years last week.  And to that I say fuck this shit.  I certainly don’t plan on quitting anytime soon. 

Oh wait – just got a call on my first weekend off in over a month and have to go in. That quitting idea?  Sounds sweeter all the time. 

If you’re off, I hope you’re enjoying.

Misusing My Imagination

Whenever I am tired, or stressed, or for whatever reason feel like my life is out of control, I worry.  I wish worrying was an Olympic competition, because I would take every medal for Canada.

These days I am tired.  A bit stressed, and certainly feel like life is out of my control.  Used to be a time that I spread that worry over each of my kids equally, but since Little XY is the only kid at home, he now bears the brunt of all the carnage that my imagination can create.  And my imaginaton is formidable.

He is going to a place called Sharon Creek tomorrow with his good friend.  His friend’s mum is driving them.  There is a rope swing that you swing into the water on.  Sounds like freakin’ awesome fun for a 15 year old boy, doesn’t it?  It sounds like certain death to my imagination.

What the hell is wrong with me?  What kind of mean mother wants to think up an excuse so that her kid can’t go have fun?  It’s not like he can’t swim – I mean he doesn’t have a bronze cross or anything, but he loves the water.

Thomas A. Edison said, “As a cure for worrying, work is better than whiskey.”

Thank goodness I will be working the next 10 days in a row.  Who has time to worry?

 

 

Tuesday Night AWESOME!

I was feeling bummed out.  I have had a long day, and last night was a long night.  I needed a pick-me-up.  Back in the day, on Radio Western (the university station) they used to have Rainbow Tuesday nights – for the gay and straight but not narrow.  This was one of the songs that used to brighten long nights.  Whaddaya know – it still does.  Enjoy.

PS – This version is a bit more PG – you’re welcome.

I Just Don’t Like Some Things

Trying on clothes before I buy them?  I don’t do it.  Use public toilets?  Only if I’m desperate.  Listen to Feist?  When hell freezes over.

I have been contemplating a things Fifi doesn’t like post for a while, and I am not sure if I should continue.  I can get carried away with things like this – and I think that much negativity is bad for a person.  It makes your boobs shrink.

Besides, I really don’t dislike trying on clothes, I’m just lazy.  And that is why my closet has a ton of stuff that I never wear – I bought things that I discovered later looked terrible on me.  For instance I always fall for shirts with puffy sleeves. In the immortal words of Nancy Kerrigan – why?  I am a fairly small person, but I have really wide shoulders – I end up looking ridiculous.  And I never take the clothes back, I just let them sit in my closet until I do a closet purge.  But once I went shopping in the U.S. and told myself I couldn’t buy anything unless I tried it on.  So I tried on EVERYTHING that I liked and ended up buying so much more than usual that I had to pay duty when I crossed back to Canada.

And public toilets.  After having been to Paris, I know now that the typical Canadian public toilet is a miracle of cleanliness and comfort.  But I still don’t like using them.  Especially the ones in the mall where I work – they have the motion detector flushers, and the motion detecting taps and motion detector air hand dryers.  The motion detectors on the toilets are a bit too sensitive, so you always get a little free bidet action (whew – that’s cold), and the taps aren’t sensitive enough.  You have to shake your hands around the motion detector quite aggressively until you get water.  Water that is always cold.  So is the air dryer.  But I will reiterate, that place is clean.  

Something from my childhood that I hated?  Chickens.  Filthy, nasty cannibals.  Don’t believe me?  When I was eleven we moved to a farm.  I envisioned myself as Laura Ingalls, and I embraced country living like a true pioneer girl – until I had to look after chickens.  They pecked each other all the time – unless I was in the coop, and then they pecked me.  Then one time I dropped an egg – you would have sworn they had won the chicken lottery.  They all fought to eat their unborn young and I learned that for the price of one egg I could fill the feed and water thingy-doos in peace.  Until one day there was only one egg.  I held it high in the air, unsure of how to proceed -should I waste the only egg I collected? – and then the biggest asshole chicken in the coop jumped at my upraised hand and the delicious offspring it held.  The terrifying former dinosaur missed and pecked my chin.  I screamed, and in my terror I squeezed the egg.  It broke, and those vile things went nuts on my right arm.  The experience was so terrifying that I have blocked the rest of it out.  It is probably too late for therapy.  I get my revenge now by eating a lot of chicken.  And eggs.  The chickens were right about one thing – their unborn young are delicious.

I could go on and on and on, but I  just bought a bunch of new bras.  Therefore I will only reiterate one thing.   Listening to Feist.  Like I said – when hell freezes over.

Don’t be shy, friends – tell me what you don’t like.  Unless it is me.  Keep that to yourself.

 

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