Wordfuse (Fatigue Edition)

Yenning for some. Because we all wake up feeling like these some days.

Things one should never outgrow:

whatever these things are.

I call them sprongies. I had forgotten about these spring-loaded toys until I discovered this Halloween-inspired example at the local Subway. Instant reminders of my childhood, whose day wouldn't be made instantly better by a sprongy or two?

Hmm. I think my inner child might be a dimwit.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

companies that attempt to connect with disenfranchised youth by glorifying dysfunction and greed and essentially exploit them.

Wordfuse (Feline Edition)

Need this? Source

I'm a cat fan. Always was. I grew up with cats: Tig, Mouse & Bigfoot. Even Satan. I get it. Grumpy cat is really quite ingenious. And I appreciate a cute internet cat pic meme. I do. But cat throw pillows? Especially for a mere $71.95? I'm sorry folks but I've reached my catpactity. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Ever have a day like this?

days like this.

Things one should never outgrow:

big toys.

#johndeere

Things one should never outgrow:

little toys.

#johndeere

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

dryer turds.

What was this before it went through the washer and the dryer?

#hmm
#thissortofthinghappenswheniwashclothes

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

this is what a teen girl's bedroom looks like.

#theuglytruth
#frick
#allthatsmissingiscrimescenetape

Some People

What for?

I tend to avoid people who gloat. Braggarts exhaust me. My immediate compulsion is to disappear. It's yet another circumstance where I would love a magic remote control so I could press the pause option and interrupt all that showboating thus allowing me to, uh, pull an (e)scapegloat.

What do people have to gloat about anyway? It's just not Canadian boring.

I only recall one sustained gloat-fest encounter from which I couldn't escape. Many years ago we invited some new neighbours over, a couple we thought we might have a lot in common with but had never socialized with before. After dinner we were talking about something, the women in one room, the men in another (as usual, sadly) when suddenly the gloater randomly asked me if I wanted to see his American Express gold card.

I laughed in his face.

This was followed by an short awkward pause during which I searched his eyes for some punch line and then with my questioning eyes I remember whispering "seriously?" Oddly, he was not at all phased by my reaction. So what's a guy to do when confronted with some weird-ass dominance hierarchy scenario in his very own living room? Being poor and completely disinterested in this sort of posturing and clearly happy to be the beta male in this situation, I shrugged my shoulders and nodded as he opened his wallet. I recall chuckling somewhat still wondering if he was just messing with me. But nope. He was indeed serious, obviously blinded by some sort of clinical case of "gloatitis," because after the exalted card was held up like the Lion King he then provided, verbally, an itemized list of purchases, the insane cost of his wife's engagement ring, blah, blah, blah....

Yup. That was the first time I met Donald Trump. *wink* I realize now he may have pissed on one of my trees before he left my yard that night. Anyway, we didn't invite them over again after that. My wife and I don't enjoy gloat-cheese.

Here's an idea: instead of a gloat button, why not a whoop-whoop button? There's nothing wrong with celebrating one's accomplishments but as the saying goes, "flattery is all right as long as you don't inhale."

Touchstones

Some of my touchstones.

There are so many things we touch everyday with hardly a thought. A butter knife. A pen. A keyboard. Doorknobs. The phone. The steering wheel.

Yet sometimes touch lingers on particular things, special things. And there’s a story attached to every piece, isn’t there? Which of your objects tell stories?

These objects are touchstones.

Small inexpensive objects I collected during most of my travels would be examples. Subtle yet powerful, they transport me when I need to disappear for a moment to a street in Paris, or an old army post in Halifax, or a cemetery along the South Saskatchewan River. Likewise, I linger when I touch the covers of favourite books. Others keep these objects too: a friend tells me she keeps a letter I wrote to her many, many years ago. And I notice how some people touch their guitars.

Better yet are the ones who represent people, like the duct-tape wallet my son made for me. I almost always have it with me. It keeps us linked. In my real wallet there’s a message inside one of the pockets especially for me. I take it out every once in a while and read it. It helps.

And then there are the objects I don’t have. When my father died, I really wanted his wallet. I guess it was because I knew he touched it everyday. I didn’t say anything to my Mom though. So instead I seriously considered stealing his badger bristle shaving cream brush. I remember standing in his bathroom contemplating my thievery. At the time, I wondered why I was acting so ridiculous. I get it now though. It’s a touchstone. Some things over time are such a daily part of our lives or our growing years that their permanence seems genuine and true and somehow grounding. They link us to the past. They steady and soothe us. During my entire youth, my father’s shaving brush sat beside the bathroom sink. And I guess it remained there for years even after I moved away because it was still there after he died. I wish I had taken it.

Some wouldn’t even glance at these items but to me they are more valuable than so many expensive things I could be given or buy. And they remind me how little I need in the way of objects. In fact, it’s not about the objects at all.

We need memories folks. Make memories. Keep them close and touch them often.

Things one should never outgrow:

My tractor made of one bolt and some nuts.

I think it's cool.

(I could be wrong.)

kitschy crap.

Isn't this the whole point of Pinterest?

(I kinda think it's only a matter of time until a miniaturized version of Angelina Jolie's right leg will be available for purchase.)

#ikindawantone
#attentionhoarders:yourstuffiscraptoo

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Soup is good. I love vegetarian food. Therefore I make veggie soup. Lots. But why do these all-vegetable bouillon cubes need to be marketed as "chicken style?"

This reminds me of vegetarian hot dogs. Or vegetarian chicken wings. Why waste your vegetarian time making vegetarian food look like non-vegetarian food? I don't get it.

#weird
#odd
#stumped
#passiveaggressivevegetarianism
#ormaybeitisanartform?

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Maybe don't google the
"with mother" feature.
Okay fine, click here.

This stuff reeks but here's a list of what it cures:

-warts? Check.
-unsettled stomach? Check.
-farts? Check.
-zits? Check.
-heartburn? Check.
-sinus infections? Check.
-can't poop? Check.
-fat bum? Check.
-baldness? Check.
-lawyers who do commercials? Check.
-Check engine light? Check.
-Ke$ha? It's worth a try.
-your sense of smell? Check.
-fertility? Check.

The Oldest Trick in the E-book

When I was a kid and busy predicting (like everyone else) that we would all have super-cool flying cars in the 21^st century, I did not fathom we would have electronic books instead.

I now plug in my bedtime reading. And it’s sort of weird.

Books are a big deal to me. I've had serious relationships with some books. (Stop judging me okay?) That’s why I’m thinking that my new e-reader might be more like an awkward Junior High crush than a long-term relationship.

At first I was infatuated. She’s this tiny beauty and she’s easy to stare at for hours. In my opinion that pretty much summarizes Junior High. But then I started to worry. It’s so effortless to download new books. Let’s just say there sure are a lot of books in the virtual sea if you know what I mean. E-books may be cheaper but when the bookstore is at my fingertips, it’s alarmingly easy to impulse-buy. Cha-ching. Maybe I need to take things more slowly? Because this relationship is costing me a lot of my allowance.

She’s a bit temperamental too. I was reading a particularly absorbing scene about some musicians hiding from the Nazis in a Jazz Club during World War 2 when suddenly my e-reader had some sort of meltdown and she insisted I go recharge. That definitely killed the moment. Like any junior high relationship, emotional upheaval can strike at any time.

She also has a tendency to go on and on. Like any guy, I want to read short books. I’m not saying I don’t read long books. I do. But when I buy a new book I have to check three things: the cover, the first line, and (almost a deal-breaker) the number of pages. I prefer my books to have no more than 300 pages, max. Long books are just too much of a commitment and they’re rarely worth all the extra pages. But with my e-reader, I have no idea how many pages there are. Instead, when I press the bookmark, the e-reader indicates the percentage of the book I've read. What does 28% actually mean? 28% of how many pages?! How long is this going to go on? Again, like a Junior High relationship, I sometimes feel a little trapped and confused.

Despite these bumps in the e-road, I am still crushing on my e-reader. Why? Even though this relationship may go nowhere, I can still pull the oldest trick in the e-book:

1.      Find a comfortable spot to sit.

2.      Fake-yawn.

3.      Stretch my arm around her.

4.      Cuddle up with my e-book.

5.      And get lost in the movie she makes up inside my head. 

It's the (annoying) Little Things (with bacteria).

Wondering what this is? Or retching?

It's not what you think. This is what you're looking at and after it was stuck to the carpet and the chairs and the walls and probably someone's forehead and wherever else the kid flung it in an attempt to collect every single germ in the place, its final resting place is now stuck to the ceiling in my dentist's office today.







#theresastorybehindthis
#andbystoryimeanamomentwheneveryoneinthewaitingroomlookedaway
#awkward
#notoneofmykidsforonce
#ihadtolaughthough

Wordfuse (Elf edition)

In and of its elf, the following "Elf on the Shelf" inspired You Tube video is not that creepy. Actually it is kinda creepy. I kept expecting the Grudge girl to come contortionist-ing around the corner. *shivers*

Considering my kids are teens now, I am definitely out of the loop regarding the Santa's Elf on the Shelf mythologization. But all I can say about that is this: once they're teens, Santa's naughty and nice list works about as well as remembering to use "I" statements during heated discussions. *sigh*

#madelfskills?
#chuckywouldkickhisass
#chuckystillscaresme

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

the spring catalogue? In November?

#calmthehelldownsears
#ijustrealizedimadvertisingforthem
#foiledagain

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

This is the still life on my bedside table? This?! 

Nothing says romance like a tooth grinding dental appliance.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

How long has THAT been there?!
Sheesh. It's just another sign that I should
quit with the pathetic attempts at DIY.

getting screwed by your own shoes.