Oh, To Be A Baby Once More

5:25 pm

The baby years were some the best years in my life. It was like a circus in hyperspace. Seriously though. You could poop, and it was cute. You could puke, it was o.k., as long as you didn't puke in anyone's mouth (sorry dad!) Drooling was a ball. It was the best feeling to be able to notice that there's saliva coming out of my mouth, that's not spit, and saying "this is awesome!" Or more like "Goob doob gaga awesome!" 

Another great aspect was the soap eating.

Yep. I consumed soap, like I mean chunks out of bars, not liquid soap. As my mother would wash me as a baby in the tub, every time she would turn away...CHOMP. Even when she put it out of reach, I still got it. The best was when I consumed an entire bar. This was of course over a course of two baths. As my mom left me unattended for a couple of seconds. I know you all are thinking," leaving a baby alone in a tub? Holy shitballs!" But it was o.k. I had a bottle of medication and a plugged in radio to keep me company. And by the time she got back, I had eaten the rest of the half eaten soap.... which I preceded to vomit soon after. Which I then ate. Kidding. Maybe. Yeah.

Also, I have been told that I was very happy when I stepped on a broke my brothers acoustic guitar. Yep.  As he laid on the ground just playing stuff I stood above him on a couch, with evil plots in my mind. After a long strum of the D minor cord, an almost evil chord, sensing what was about to occur. I launched my self like a slippery turkey in an old woman's hands down toward the guitar. My 10 hairs flew in the wind as I smiled with a devilish touch. My brother's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and  and made contact, breaking the top, and safely landing in the open topped guitar. I smiled at my brother, unaware of what had occurred. It was then that he threw me across the room, which is why I have a dent in my head to this very day. Kidding. Maybe. Ok that one was definitely a lie.

Easter Shmmeaster

9:46 pm

Today is Sunday, which means my Easter weekend is finé (Yep, that's an E with the doodly doo thing on it) And I have accomplished much. Heading to Toronto ( I live in Canada) I went to see the band Foo Fighters. They were AWESOME. 3 hour show, and then in the middle Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee (people from Rush) appeared and played YYZ with the band. It was tasty. Other then that, we shopped, which was full of many Short jokes on my friend, because she hates that I, am taller then her. The insults consisted of:

- Man its windy, is it windy that low to the ground too?

- (trying on a green sweater) You know with all that green and the red hair people will think your a leprechaun.

- (After threatening to kick me) Are you sure you can reach me up here, hey! I didn't know Ugs came in Munchkin!

- You look like the really short lady from the Incredibles.

- Need helping getting out of the car, its a pretty big fall for you.

- Where's the rest of you?

- (At a restaurant) Yes, and a booster seat for her.

All in all, it was good. I even made friends with he guy beside at the concert who was already 3 beers in. Eventually he got all sulky because he was cut off, but it was still a good concert. However, the stench of concert Mary Jane was hard to handle. There was more pot there then the Iron Maiden concert I was at last week. The best part is I always looked good beside the short chick.

Shovel Here, Shovel There

3:47 pm

My street appears to be cursed for random people. After the Cat Lady, there is also "Shovel Man". This man lives near me, and always shovels the exact same spot of property. Not weird at all, right? The weird thing is he shovels this spot whether there is snow in that area or not. Of course, I don't want to ask about this, or it could stir up some crap that I dont want to deal with. So as I walk out of my house once again one day, which where he was shovelin away on his lawn. He must have caught my eyes because he turned to me and said "You know I hate goddamn shovelin" I was caught off guard, but yet he kept talking. "The reason I'm out here is 'cuz I HATE my mother in law". Now, this man must be about 60-65 and he has a mother in law laying in some bed in a back room yellin' "You Asshole, go out and shovel!" He continued: "So I go out and shovel, come back in, make her tea, put a sleeping pill in it, and she passes out for a bit while I watch porn" Is anyone thinking this dude and the mother in law are screwed in the head. He drugs his mother and then watches naked girls (or what I think is naked girls) Im just afraid hes not thinking of his mother in law during. That is all. My street is fucked up. Done.

The Saga Of The Crazy Cat Lady

It seems like a normal day, sun shining, birds...gone from the cold. Nothing can go wrong, and then here comes this white haired (what I call a long haired bowl cut) with a cat slung across her shoulder like one of those ammo belts people carry on their chests. It was very weird. However, this was a while ago, and weird things have been happening ever since. Anyway, onto the saga.

It first began on recycling day, and it was about 9am. Me, being environmentally friendly had put my recycling bin out the previous night. As I opened the door to go to class, there she stood, well not stood as much slowly and strangely dragging my recycling bin up onto my property, still with the cat attached to her shoulder. When I asked her just what in gods name she was doing, she simply replied "Ain't no good no how to be leavin' these on the sidewalk. You should bring them in as soon as POSSIBLE" I emphasise possible because she had. Kind of weird to emphasise this word, but whatev.

The next time I saw her was in summer when I strolled out of my homestead once again. I met her, weeding my garden, which is strange because its very small, and the weeds are covered by this one big plant that is called whoreallycares. This time, she didn't seem to notice me, and proceeded to weed the garden in silence, except for a few mumbles and grumbles about the garden. Lets review. Old lady, not her garden, comes to other persons house, weeds, complains about weeds. There are not enough words in the dictionary.


Next on the agenda. Door cocking. Yes indeed. After one of my long classes, I was a little exhausted and burnt out. I pulled in the car, and stumbled to the house. There she stood in front of my door, pulling off the cocking. For those of you who don't know what cocking is, its the plastic stuff around other stuff to keep the heat in and keep stuff together. Once her task had been completed, she stumbled off with the cat in silence. I was never sure what she did with it. I don't think I want to know.


Finally, sorry if I'm boring you. I was driving home one night as she was walking down the street. On the other street some young kids spent their time snickering at her. She turned toward them, and proceeded to laugh as well. Then, as she walked away, she turned toward my car and told me, word for for word. "Those boys think I have a skunk on my shoulder. Oh hoo hoo a skunk. To be honest *she leaned in close* I'm not really a skunk kinda person! After this she laughed, and walked down the street.


I see her from time to time these days. Also, every recycling day she puts our boxes up near our house. She spends her time walking up and down the street with the cat on her shoulder. I have a sneaky suspicion that its sown to her body. I hope she never dies, because then I would have to go to her funeral, which would just be cats. All cats.


Until next time, the saga continues. Long haired bowl cut and all.