What the hell was that?

So I'm sitting around the kitchen table listening to the hum of the beehive.  It's pretty rare that there is any silence in this house and when the occasion arises, somebody is up to no good.  Gramps is leaning in trying to hear what the fuss is all about. Usually there are about 4 women yapping about random things.  But this time, it's quiet.  Granny went to the store to buy some buns, gramps is trying to figure out why his key doesn't fit in the lock anymore and Mavs has taken a little time out to be with The Suit, who has just arrived with dinner.  As I am caught up in a little daydream about Gronk, I hear the craziest noise from the spare room.  It's a cross between chains rattling in a closet, scratches across the floor and a hiss.  Well, I have no idea what the fuck is going on but I know it's not good.  In walks granny with her bag of buns and I sit dead panned watching this furball blurry creature freaking out, attached to what seems to be a metal cage.  Almost. It's daisy. And she has got her collar snagged onto the most ornate food bowl ever.  She spins it around and shit goes flying everywhere.  Water, kibble, metal, fur.  Water kibble metal and fur.  There is goes again! I've never seen anything quite like it.  At this point I am laughing my fool head off and up from the desolate basement comes Mavs. She's been a witness to this before and has told me about it.  I had no idea the catastrophic and hilarity of it all.  We both are in a fit of hysterics.  Frankly, it's really not that funny.  But I can't stop snickering about it.  It's just one of those things that you just have to bear witness to. It's like when somebody trips and stumbles.  It's really not that funny but it makes you laugh. Granny just mumbled, "sonofabitch dog, he stupid! Gettahellara!"

Antics and Drama

First and foremost, Happy American Thanksgiving and Black Friday! Hope everyone survived the madness and saved some money on all the things you "need". 

Black Friday is a new concept for Canada and everyone kept asking me if it really is crazy and whether or not the deals are really that great. Honestly, YES it's a madhouse of crazy orangatangs fighting over the last Myley Cyrus cd and big screen tv that they already have because " it's such a good deal "!! NEWSFLASH your spending money on something you already have or don't need which means ITS NOT A GOOD DEAL!!!! Rant over.

So yesterday was a calmer day at the beehive. Lita stopped by to rescue ranger me from the PIT OF DOOM aka the basement suite The Suit and I live in. We stopped by the bookstore and brainlessly shifted through pages of books that caught our eyes, stocked up on some espresso holiday drink treats and made our way back to the hive. Upon walking in it I was sure the young babe, who I babysit daily, would have been awake from her nap. To my surprise I did not see her and no sooner did I ask if she had awoken from her slumber, that I heard that shrill of a scream indicating the answer. You see apparently while I was away with Lita, Gramps had gotten curious about where the baby was. One thing I've caught on to about gramps... Something gets in his mind it doesn't go away. He's stubborn like that. Gramma told us he went looking for the baby 3 TIMES in the basement but "could no find". "She no there" he says with a little shake of the head determined, I suppose, that perhaps babies just disappear when they sleep. I tried to convince him she most certainly was but what do I know? "AGGHH" he shrugged it off with a phlem filled sound and it no longer mattered.

On to the next drama, the Polish Newspaper. Gramps loves reading the polish paper and always renews his subscription to stay up on the times of course. "I NEVER GET PAPER HERE!" Gramps yells. (Everyone yells esp around gramps. Never wears his hearing aid. It's "no good") Gramma yells something back in Polish that sounds something like  "Alemhashib thinkasher!!! You need to write them and tell them you no receive your son-of-a-gun paper!!!!" (Everything is a son-of-a-gun something around here) $136 a year for a paper not received... We need to follow up with this by snail mail for sure. "Give them a call it would be much faster" I said, going unheard. Guess I didn't tell loud enough.

All in all it was a good day! Yummy cabbage soup enjoyed around the table that has heard so many secrets, fights, laughs, and stories.... Stay tuned!

Did you flush that?

So remember when I mentioned the toilet? Well, I feel that since we're talking about body functions and all, we might as well share the toilet story.  See, my grandparents had this god awful commode.  You couldn't put a piece of tissue paper into it without plugging it up so bad, that you prayed to the poop gods that the water wouldn't overflow onto the teeny rug.  What it was doing there and why somebody put a rug near a toilet is beyond me. But I'm thinking,  it was to catch the overflow which occurred on a regular basis.  Every time anyone knew came over to the house, somebody would scream, don't take a deuce.  Pretty embarrassing if you ask me.  So one day, after trying to dislodge whatever had plugged it up this time, my grandmother says, " that's it, we're buying a new crapper!" So off Nancy and Porno Bob go, to the neighbourhood hardware store.  To check out the latest in toilets.  Top of the line, no way.  we're pretty frugal around here, just a basic ceramic bowl with a handle that doesn't break off or loosen.  In arrives the new toilet, off comes the old one.  Off comes the old one...off comes the old one??? Apparently it was easier said than done.  Well, this thing had been on its base for the last 20 years, glued, stewed and pooed.  Somebody bring in another tool!  I'm afraid that's not possible, The Cough has stolen them all and we're committed to prying it off with a hammer and screwdriver.  Finally after hours of wiggling and loosening and prying, the thing comes off.  But you wouldn't believe what treats were in store as it pulled lose.  Gramma's lacy face clothes and an assortment of tea towels were all jammed up in it.  Seems to me that gramps figured it was a much cleaner way of doing his business. And the first thing I think of as they appear..."holy hell...when was the last time I washed my face! 

Did you die?

So I'm accustomed to walking face first into all kinds of smells. Granny's homemade cinnamon buns, noodles boiling the shit out of themselves on the stove, garlic, lots and lots of garlic. The smell of dishrag, yes it has a smell, I know, I got a good whiff of it when I did the mounds of dishes that The Bickersons left behind while indulging on granny's lovely tomato bisque.   It smells something like dead shoe.  Yeah that would sum it up. I threw it out when no one was looking.  Asked for another one.  And proceeded to wash every cup in the cupboard.  See, Mavs and I play this game with each other.  Who can have a cup of coffee in the filthiest mug and not need a flu shot.  Its just about the rinse and stick.  Stick it to anything basically. Your shirt, your hand, whatever surface that doesn't have a crumb on it. Yesterday Mavs was looking for a teabag, i suggested not reaching for the ones in the box. Whats in the box you ask? well, just a nice dose of squirty bum tea.  Grampa likes to take laxatives and this is by far the least evasive way to indulge. I'm just be thankful that they have a new toilet.  That's a whole other story!

 I have to say something before I continue.  I love my family to pieces, we're a weird wacky bunch of nuts.  Mavs and I are just making light out of a whole crazy situation and frankly nobody would believe us when we tell you our stories.  I wouldn't believe them either if I hadn't lived within its walls for almost half a decade. This is our story...

Back to the smells.  So after I wash all the dishes in the house I venture down the stairs where Mavs is sitting on the edge of the couch listening to The Suit banter about goals and visions and deadlines.  And all I can think about is...Did you fart? Seriously dude, did you just die a little bit inside? What is that smell? I grab one of their enormous cushions on the couch and start flapping it in the air like some crazy pelican.  See The Suit has the best laugh in the world, when he laughs you can't help but give in and start laughing yourself.  He thinks farts are the funniest thing in the world.  And realistically, I don't know what this guy has eaten today but his ass won't quit.  One leg goes up, an asscheek and kapow...there goes off another round of ass bullets. Mavs just looks at me and shakes her head.  "He's all mine, I found his insoles from his work boots earlier in the bathroom sink." If he's not standing on the stink, he's sitting on the stink.

Daily Struggles

Hey there, I'm Mavs. At least, for this blog anyway. I'm an adventurer and wanderer of sorts. I happen to also be quite the observer but never a judge. And without fail my life is constantly a story, sometimes tragedy, sometimes action, sometimes drama, but mostly a comedy. (I'd like to think I have inherited this from my Grammy).

I am not Canadian, I am American... Texan to be more exact though that was not by choice. And before you jump to conclusions and draw up every stereotype there is.... NO I don't ride horses everywhere I go and carry a gun and say words such as "Y'all, Bless Your Little Beatin' Heart, or Wait One Cotton Pickin' Minute.." I'm just a girl that can't stay in one scene too long without getting bored and always on the search for new fun friendships and a good laugh. This is my story..

So, 3 months ago I was excited to be getting married, in Vegas, to my best friend, The Suit. Little did I know this step in my life would be a giant leap where I would not only  move to a different country but gain an entire family of insanity that I have grown to love and appreciate. Don't get me wrong my family is insane as well in fact I'm willing to bet most families are, but this new family I was learning was on a-whole-nother level!...

My husband, The Suit, is quite the guy. He loves taking me to the mall and by now I'm quite sure we have created our own small rut in the road that takes us from our lovely basement suit to West Ed Mall. Where the hustle and bustle of people, especially around this time of year, is never lacking. Yesterday as Lita will mention The Suit was smelling up the place with unpleasant odor from the rear region. And it didn't stop there my friends. As we pulled into our make shift parking spot in the icy,snow winter horrorland of a lot of the mall our car had been turned into a fart box with limited air supply. "I HAVE TO GET OUT! I CAN'T BREATHE!" I thought as I threw open the car door and gasped for clean crisp air as if I had been choking on fart steam and close to suffocation. The struggle was real. I'm not sure what he ate but HOLY SMOKES.
Anyway as I'm walking around the car finally gaining back my sanity my shoes I can tell are not good with ice and snow. I feel my feet shaking as I try to keep balance which I fail and bust my ass or side ass really and in turn get ice and slush all over me. Daily Struggles.
The Suit helps me up thankfully and doesn't laugh (surprised me a little bit because its always funny when someone falls down) and even dusts me off. "Maybe" I thought, "its his way of apologizing for that agonizing ride..."
The Mall was packed as it should be with rhinos and elephants stampeding for sales and looking for the next way to spend their dollar .. eerrr excuse me I mean Loonie. We spent a couple hours milling about dodging the crazies of the mall, keeping my cool in the bookstore as The Suit does what The Suit does and visiting our pets in the pet store. All the while, the farts and stink continue to get worse.....
As I'm talking to The Suit as we are walking toward our exit I notice he is not paying much attention.. this is nothing new as he always has thoughts and plans cranking away.. but he was gaining speed in his step and I had to ask what was up. "I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM IMMEDIATELY BEFORE I POOP MY PANTS." Oooookaayyyy... and we were off bee lining it to the bathroom to ensure there would be no poopy pants.
As he comes out, there is an aura around him like he's in a much better place which instantly puts me in a better mood thinking and hoping that the farts have now ceased, at least for the evening, and I can enjoy the car ride home but I was wrong.....
We get back to the car, without any calamities, and hop inside with red noses and frozen appendages. (It was -23545 or something close to that I believe in Celsius...) I see The Suit adjusting in his seat as we start our trek home which only means one thing.. A FART.  - You see The Suit has this theory that if he lifts up his ass it helps the fart flow........ I'll keep my thoughts on this theory to myself. - The smell hits us instantly and my eyes water and my throat closes up and all I could think of was any and every escape route. "AGHHH" I yelled "WHAT DIED INSIDE OF YOU AND NOW IS TRYING TO MAKE AN ESCAPE?!?!?"   The Suit replies with a simple, "It's bad baby, its real bad." As if I had been unaware. He continues "It's like a combustion of carbs inside of me" - oh the amazing things you learn from google search -  "You guys get it so good. I get it first hand at least your getting second hand whiffs" ..What is his cigarette smoking? .. "I basically have to smell my own poop"   " WELL ITS BETTER THAN HAVING TO SMELL SOMEONE ELSES POOP WHICH IS WHAT I'M HAVING TO ENDURE!" I replied between quick breaths. The fart box was back and I was sure to die.  Daily Struggles.
Sleep finally came and I woke up the next morning to The Suit having washed the dishes, again I thought "This must be his apology" And all was good in the world again... for now.

Picker needs a pill

Hi, my name is Lita and I am 46 years old. Some people say that i don't act my age.  I'm always flying by the seat of my pants.  Jumping from one place to another, speaking my mind and all covered in paint at the same time. Not the paint you slap on your walls, I just have to be clear about that.  We will get to that kind of paint, I am sure at another time. I pack up my crutches and bounce on one foot to my car. It's the same thing that I have been doing for about a month. Broken foot.  Tripped over a curb while I was working, twisted the bugger up and snap! Now I hobble around, getting an earful from Gronk every time I put any weight on it.  He loves me, so I'll listen to him this once.

Back to the car.  So I'm on my way and my Bluetooth picks up an unknown caller.  Could be a number of people calling so luckily for them I pick up.  It's Picker, she wants to know what I'm doing.   I tell her I'm on the road to gramma's house.  All of a sudden she wants me to pick her up...then the story changes, she wants me to pick her up, drive her to the drugstore, on one foot, bounce to the pharmascist, get some Tylenol, pay for it with my own money, bring it to her and then proceed to watch her eat about a dozen.  Just to take the edge off.  Sorry, I say.  "Can't do that!" "What is wrong with you!" she says.  I reply, "I'm not interested in feeding your addiction anymore, I don't want to enable you." It goes quiet for a second..." So when are you picking me up?" Picker says.  "Not going to grammas anymore, sorry". She hangs up. As I pull into the driveway and lock up the vehicle, my jacket snags on the spring that gramps has made to make sure the gate shuts.  It practically rips off my ear. We gotta fix that, I think to myself.  Manoeuvre around the patio steps and yet once again, the door.  Another spring loaded contraption just waiting for my pants. Is this some kind of bear trap? I barely make it in unscathed and almost fall into a bucket that is right in front of the door.  "What the fuck is in that!!!