Feet are ugly - well my feet are. I seem to have inherited all of the mismatched traits of my family: large feet, short legs, long torso, bad hair, failing eyesight, etc., but I have no idea where my boobs came from since all of the women in my family that I've met are generously endowed. I suspect mine come from a throwback gene from some Neanderthal relative. At least I don't need an under wire bra, or a bra at all for that matter. I be goin' "commando" (the feminine version).
Oh, and I've got BROAD shoulders. Now, if any women out there remembers the 80's, you probably recall that there were shoulder pads in practically EVERY blouse, shirt (yep, even t-shirts), jackets and the like. I'd look like a CFL player (that's NFL to you Americans) in full gear. Not a very attractive look. So, out the pads went. Thanks to my Nanny (grandmother) and my dad, both of whom are/were pack rats, I saved them for "something" useful. It turned out that they came in very handy a few years later when I attended a Halloween Stag & Doe party dressed up as Elvira. The pads were extremely useful in enhancing and pushing up what little cleavage I had (and, boy, did some of the women get pissed at their significant others for eyeballing me!). Heh heh.
Not that I am complaining about my body. I've grown accustomed to it (like I have a choice?), but the only thing I would have rather not inherited is the "European Toe". Girls don't necessarily look at their feet in a fashion sense until they need to buy nice shoes. It was about the time that I actually had to wear a dress that I needed not only the dress, but the shoes to go with it. A stubborn tomboy was I.
Having settled on a dress, we went for shoes. Since I expected to wear these shoes not more than once, maybe twice, a year, I opted to try the "open toe" style with a moderate heel. When I looked down at my feet, my toes all painfully squished together, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "Holy shit! What's wrong with my toes??", or something to that effect. My mom explained that, because of our European heritage, it was known to be a "European Toe".
The toe right next to my big toe (on both feet) was longer than any of the three that were visible, looking like the appendage I wasn't supposed to be born with. Jeez, thanks mom.
Hmmmm...I don't really recall if I've ever made such a "creative" statement in my blog as yet. But there is hope.
Nonamedufus at nonamedufus (yeah I know, kinda redundant) gave me this award. I know he lies, but I do congratulate him on his award as he is truly creative in both senses of the word - that and, dozo me, forgot to congratulate him earlier. And, once again, thank you dufus, I bow in reverence to thee.
I don't mind (yet) getting awards, but I'm running out of people to tag or re-gift. Ack! Keep in mind people, I'm still a rookie here! And I follow some of my followers' follow lists who have been so followed and rewarded by dufus. Yep, I totally confused myself with that last statement, but then I am so easily confused.
As with many of these awards, they come with rules or obligations which are:
- thank the person who gave you the award
- copy the logo and place it on your blog
- link to the person who nominated you
- tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself and at least one outrageous truth, or vice-versa
- nominate seven "creative" writers
- post links to the blogs you nominate
- leave a comment on each blog letting them know they've won the award
To tell the truth, or to lie like a rug:
I once handcuffed myself with a dog choke chain (with my hands behind my back) and my grandfather had to come over and rescue me.
I haven't been to a hairdresser in over 7 years.
I miss Canadian winters.
I got caught riding a moped without a licence - three times - and was hauled down to the cop shop every time.
I can play the piano.
I am an alien.
I'm 5'7" tall.
Gee, lying was was easier than I thought. Heh heh.
Now the hard part, again:
"BonyMike" at Too Many Mornings because he complained somewhere that he doesn't get enough 'bling', and because he's a very creative bullshit artist and is otherwise extremely talented.
Ziva at Ziva's Inferno - well, just because I can - and I'm starting to believe she is an evil penguin. Seriously, she's quite talented and funny.
Baino at Baino's Banter, who I've just recently discovered. She's an Aussie with strange words like "fuckwit", among others that I don't understand yet, and she's creative in many ways.
Janna at Jannaverse - a woman of very few words but speaks volumes.
VE at VE's Fantastical Universe who I also think is very "creative" in both aspects of the word, and he's good for some shits and giggles. A total nutbar - but in a good way ;-)
And, finally, Jepeto, another blogger I also just recently discovered, is a guest blogger at We Work For Cheese who has done the very first(?) Morse code post ever, and is quite funny. His name, albeit spelled differently than "Geppetto", had no influence whatsoever on his nomination (I'm really gettin' good at this lying stuff, eh? ;-). But kudos to him for keeping up a now obsolete form of long-distance communication. Really, what happens if all the computers and cell phones suddenly crash?? Any bookkeepers out there that remember the manual form of the one-write system?? Oy.
After a long day of not-so-successful angling, boisterous laughs flourish around a campfire in Algonquin Park, the fire starting to cast ominous shadows upon the pitched tents, the men are sharing their best fishing stories on this long weekend known as "The May 2-4 weekend": the first long weekend that breaks up the boredom of long and cold winters and is known to Canucks as the party-hearty weekend . This particular Monday is May 24th and is unique for it actually falls on Queen Victoria's birthday this year. Just another reason to party-heartier and bring that extra "2-4".
Not everyone is fishing, though. Some are at home making coleslaw, macaroni and potato salads, arranging the condiments and stacking the buns for the evening's fare in preparation of the requisite backyard barbeque. Others endured the long-weekend traffic, travelling north (or south) to 'open the cottage' and are vacuuming up the hibernating houseflies before they reanimate. A few will wrap up the day by tossing a line into the nearby lake or river.
But knowing each other too well, none of the men sitting around the campfire are easily taken in by the others' tales of the "one that got away" since the fish are always increasing in size with each telling: the two pound perch has gained a few pounds and the four pound pickerel is now the size of a sturgeon. By the end of the evening, one of the members of the group will be nicknamed "Ishmael".
This past Monday we received our April-May electricity bill. It was $807.24 (BSD or USD - the currency trades at par here), which equates to about $1,500.00 Canadian. The fuel charge part of this bill (which includes the additional surcharge referred to in the earlier post), was more than half of the total billing.
$807.24?? Granted, the charges were estimated, but definitely not based on the history of our consumption. The estimated reading date was May 11. We received the bill on May 17.
My mother was totally irate. Like the dutiful daughter I am, I go and read the meter. This being 6 days later, it showed a reading that was about 1000 kilowatt hours less than the estimated one. Now, to figure out what the overcharge would be, one would need a math genius, a supercomputer and an algorithm even Einstein probably couldn't decipher. Nah, I'm just to lazy to do the math, but the bills are insanely structured.
Moms went even further and called a reporter at the local newspaper, The Freeport News who was very interested in our story. She listened to our concerns and complaints. After collecting copy of the bill and photos of the meter a short article appeared in Wednesday's paper. It wasn't the headliner, but it did appear on the front page.
Upon complaining to the power company, it admitted it did not estimate the bill based on our usage history and adjusted the bill to reflect the reading of May 17. The new total: $359.24.
I wasn't going to participate this week as I had nothing prepared, but someone hopped in this morning, bringing back a fond memory.
A few years ago our pool would get green from lack of maintenance - okay, MY lack of maintenance - and frogs would come by and breed, leaving their clutches of eggs floating around in the pool. Soon thereafter, the eggs developed into tadpoles and since I didn't have the heart to shock the pool and kill them, I scooped up as many as I could and deposited them into an aquarium, complete with gravel, a water filter and food.
They soon matured into these tiny little frogs that were no bigger than a pinkie finger's nail and would hug the sides of the aquarium for days. When they were large enough they eventually escaped, making me chase the little buggers all over the house. Upon recapture, the froglets were liberated to our garden.
These rescues went on for a couple of years, but I had since learned to cover the aquarium with a screen.
Once again, breeding season has arrived and every night we are inundated with the very loud and obnoxious croaks of their mating rituals. Oy.
This morning, while having my coffee, I hear this moist thud on the floor not four feet away. At first I thought a small bird had smucked itself into the door and fell inside. A closer inspection of the thud revealed it to be a large frog. Once again, I had to chase the larger little bugger around the house, this time to save it from becoming the latest "toy" for one of our dogs, who was also not four feet away from it's arrival. This particular dog doesn't play with the usual dog toys, oh no! Instead, she chases lizards and cats and plays with coconuts, brooms, watering cans and pretty much anything else that may be within reach. I once tried to get her to fetch a tennis ball. She ran away from it.
I let the frog go in the garden and I thought to myself, "I wonder if it was one of those I had saved and came back to thank me". Probably not, but I would like to think so.
“The Sunshine Award is awarded to bloggers whose positivity and creativity inspire others in the blogging world.”
Me? L'il ol' me?? I'd hardly think so, but just the same, Ziva at Ziva's Inferno gave me this award. What she said of me: "...(00dozo) who I haven’t been reading very long at all, but who actually believes me when I say evil penguins could eat her pavement". So, basically, she gave it to me out of pity AND thinks I'm delusional. I'm so verklempt! (I'd put in linky-tingums here to the post(s) containing the penguin bits, but my bloggy skills are in need of much honing.)
Now, the Rules that accompany this Award are:
Post the award on your blog. This took some doing, but I finally got it up there.
Pass the award on to twelve bloggers. I barely know 5 bloggers that well, but 12??? I'll fudge it.
Link to the nominees in your post. I'm pretty good at that, I think.
Let the other bloggers know they’ve received this award by commenting on their blog. Piece of cake. (Tried to get me with the kids, dirty diapers and fish, eh Ziva? I'm not that delusional.)
Link to the person you received this award from. Done.
Now the hard part: The Nominees. I'd like to say in advance, SORRY! (I am sooo Canadian), but I'm going to have to give this award to some of those persons named in Ziva's post merely because I really don't know that many bloggers yet and, if I get this out quick enough, they can combine their obligations in one swell foop. So, here it goes:
1. To Frank Lee MeiDere because he: won't give a damn; probably doesn't like me very much (he posts things that I have to look-up); makes me laugh and inspires me to write better, and I think he's a "bright and shiny" person (okay, "dark and twisty" - happy, Frank?).
2. To BonyMike (a.k.a MikeWJ) because he, too, inspires me to be a better writer, can be exceptionally long winded, just cracks me up most of the time, and because he likes the nickname I gave him ;-).
3. To nonamedufus for welcoming me to Blogger in my very first post, and because he recently returned with his funny bone (with its marrow) intact. Stay well, dufus!
The aforementioned three were, in no preferential order, the first bloggers to leave comments on my site and the first to follow me. I bow in reverence to thee.
Alright, enough of the gushy talk ... on with it. Again, in no preferential order:
4. To Nicky and CheesyMike for being funny, witty and very cheesy in so many ways, and because they couldn't include MORE people for the award when it was recently given to them. So, here's your chance, guys. And also because Mike doesn't mind the nickname I gave him.
5. To Ziva, of course, because she is a very good and clever writer, not to mention evil and twisted in her own charming way, and will probably want to assassinate me for re-gifting her.
6. To Jingle, as an apology for snarking at her in one of my comments (Jingle: I'm sure you are as nice and as forgiving as you appear to be, so I do believe you deserve this Award), and because I suffer from Canadian guilt.
7 through 12: CatLadyLarew, Willow, Leeuna, Everyday Goddess, "Reffie", and Knucklehead!, all of whose sites I very much enjoy reading because they're witty, very well written, serious, hilarious and/or just nutty and who I will be visiting more often once my new laptop reach (my present one is suffering from virtual Alzheimer's and is ready to blow a chip).
So, there you have it. Have a (whatever it is you're having) Day.
I've read in several blogs and comments where some people are reluctant to tell their friends, family and co-workers, etc. about their blog for various reasons. I would have to agree with some of those reasons. Having an online journal imparts writers the freedom to say whatever they want and, in some cases, gives them the anonymity they wish to enjoy should they ever malign write about their friends, family, etc.
But unlike some relatives, my mom enjoys reading my blog. She also reads many of the others that I follow and thinks one person is "totally nuts" - but in a good way. I even have her proofread some of my stuff for errors (usually grammatical) or for some other constructive criticism.
Sorry about your luck mom, you won't be proofreading this one.
My mother's "Momisms" include, but are not limited to, the comments, words, expressions, questions, mixed metaphors, etc. that escape her lips from time to time. And since I'm in a sharing mood:
We were having some problems with our Internet provider and their e-mail services wherein we were not able to send or receive. The IP tech said they would look into it and gave us an alternate DNS Server number that would circumvent the issue in the meantime. I was experiencing the same problem just recently and was cursing aloud that I couldn't even get connected to the net. She said, "Try using that other DNA number". There are times I wish we didn't share the same DNA: this was one of those times.
I don't know if it's her age or the fact she has too much shit in her ears, but she's going deaf. I, on the other hand, can hear a Palmetto bug fart in the next room. Occasionally I make stir-fry for dinner with either rice or Thai noodles, so I opted for the noodles the other night. She complemented me on the dinner, for which I thanked her, but I pointed out, "I think I overcooked the Thai noodles", to which she responded, "There are pine needles in this??".
The thermometer incident (no, it's not what you may think): I finally went out and bought a digital thermometer. Whoever invented those mercury-type ones should have one stuck in his eye. "Yeah, I'll bet you can read it NOW, asshole". At any rate, I mentioned that I had bought a DIGITAL thermometer that day. She asked, "What does it read out?". WTF?? I had no idea what she was asking. I thought about it for a few seconds and I was still confused. Did she mean the temperature, the digits, the language, does it speak to you? The only response I had was, "Um...Chinese?", or something to that effect. Granted, she has been living here for about 15 years so I could blame it on a Bahamianism, but I don't know - I'm still scratching my head at that one.
I would be remiss if I didn't share one of my own flubs: We were talking about broccoli one night and the fact that she doesn't like how the florets 'feel' in certain dishes. I like broccoli and try to prepare dishes that would be to her liking, so she mentioned that there was a soup recipe that I might try sometime. I asked if it was a cold soup like "gestapo": what I meant was "gazpacho". Apparently it IS in the DNA.
Going back to my opening paragraph, my mom, evidently, did not read those posts and comments about 'sharing' their blogs with relatives and the like: She e-mailed a link to to my blog to (OMG!) my uncle, and a couple of other people. In the reference line of the e-mail she wrote, " RE: (myrealname's)BLO".
Today is Theme Thursday and this week I thought I would throw my hat into the ring.
I couldn't find a ring, so I used the bougainvillea in our backyard instead. Deceptively pretty thing, isn't it? Don't be fooled as these suckers have long, nasty thorns. They will bite.
And those are my sunglasses, magically attaching to my "eyeballs" when the need arises.
Not too far away from our house, there is a little grocery store that has become very handy to me since I'm always finding that we're out of an ingredient necessary for the dinner I've already started to prepare. So, off to the store I go.
Recently, I had to take this trip twice in as many days. The first time was uneventful. But on the second trip I noticed this:
Now, potholes aren't generally inexplicable in and of themselves, but this one was particularly interesting because: (a) while they are usually found on those parts of the road most frequented by cars (and lying in wait for the next unobservant driver who will land a tyre - or two - straight into its gaping maw), this one is smack-dab in the middle of the road; (b) there is very little debris inside the hole and the piece of pavement that once covered it is nowhere to be seen. Absolutely nowhere. There it is...gone!; and, (c) it happened sometime during the night.
So, one has to wonder how this tyre biter came to be. I have no idea. But I have a few theories:
A land crab woke up from his long hibernation and suddenly popped up out of the pavement due to his urgent need to pee, and didn't notice the pavement on top of his head.
It's an obvious impractical attempt at a practical joke by a bunch of drunk and juvenile Bahamians.
Aliens came down and sucked the pavement out because they thought it looked like one half of an Oreo cookie and that it would taste good dipped in whatever it is they use for milk.
The island farted and sent the piece of pavement flying into the nearby bush.
My vote goes to the aliens.
Still, it remains a mystery.
(My Bad: Being new here, I forgot (a.k.a. should have realized) to post a link to Theme Thursday - d'oh!)
Yeah, I know it should say, "Part 2", but I'm talking about a foot, after all.
As a short follow-up to my last post, the power company made the following statements and/or assertions in the last couple of days (this is according to the local newspaper):
(Friday): After its apologizes for the inconveniences, it said the same inconveniences were "expected to continue into next week."
(Saturday): It was reported that the problems were fixed, regular service had been restored and that no one should experience any further inconveniences.
(Monday - we don't get a Sunday paper): A notice is published to advise its customers their "fuel surcharge for the month of May" would be considerably higher. WTF? Three days of questionable power supply equates to an entire month? And since it isn't burning fuel to supply power, again, WTF?
(Monday, again): It admitted that it wasn't so quite up-and-running as previously claimed, but it was going to rotate the inconveniences to randomly inconvenience those who weren't already inconvenienced.
It's now Tuesday. It was just after 7 p.m. when one of these inconveniences was bestowed upon us. This time Bionic Bob advised us in a pre-recorded message that we would be without power for about 2 to 4 hours (in other words, "until it reach").
Because of Hurricane Frances, we bought a generator - I just hope we have enough fuel on hand.
I'll try to keep this short, but I really couldn't wait to post this:
For the past few days, we've been experiencing power outages all over the island. It's been as hot as Hades here recently, unusual for May, which does nothing to alleviate the growing anger at the power company.
At the onset of this dilemma, we, like many others, called the customer service department (ad nauseum) to ascertain when power would be restored. They first started out with some cock-'n-bull story about, "dumping loads". No shit! (and pun definitely intended). Eventually, they got 'Bionic Betty' (my term for those automated answering systems) to spew out some pre-recorded excuse for the lack of service:
"Please accept our apologies but we are experiencing some technical and mechanical difficulties at this time. We are working on restoring the power to your area as quickly as possible. The Grand Bahama Power Company wishes to thank you for conserving power."
"...conserving power." Really?? Like we have a choice?!?!?
So, yesterday they had two articles in our one and only local newspaper (The Freeport News) about the power situation. One of the articles quotes the Chief of the power company remarking, among other things, this gem:
"We apologize for any inconvenience that this is causing our customers. We are trying to spread out the inconvenience as much as possible."
Simply, it's a Bahamian expression that is used to describe the timely manner in which a person (or thing) is to arrive at a particular destination.
Customer: "When you be gittin' here to fix da baker?" Repairman: "When I reach."
Bahamasair Passenger: "What time is da next flight to Nassau?" Bahamasair Ticket Agent: "When da plane comes back from Nassau." Passenger: "When dat be??" Agent: "When it reach."
There are various Bahamian words and expressions used to describe things, actions, feelings, people, etc., not to mention those that would describe the reliability and punctuality of Bahamasair (which will remain unmentioned here).
Some of them are:
"vex" - to become angry or cause anger: "You vex me."
"tingum" or "ting" - thing: "Bring me dat tingum over der."
"nex'" or "next" - other, another: "Dis damn tingum not workin'. Bring me de nex' one."
"vimon" and "vimen" - the singular and plural forms, respectively, for woman: "Damn vimon, she done burn dem fish."
"ho" - what some people (usually vimen) disrespectfully say just before they abruptly put you on hold:
Caller: "Can I please speak to..." From the other end of the phone: "Ho."
"Potcake" - a term used to describe the overcooked or burnt rice stuck to the bottom of the pot that was fed to the dog, now includes the description of the mixed breed of dog that has become indigenous to the islands.
"teet" - teeth, sometimes 'tit', but not to be confused with:
"suk teet" - refers to the latter definition above - no explanation necessary.
"dis", "dat", "dem" , "de" and "der" - also self-explanatory
And so on.
One of the words that had me scratching my head for some time, is "killamadik". It's the Bahamian name for a common night bird that inhabits the islands and, if you're are unlucky enough, it will decide to nest just outside your bedroom window and sing. Very loudly. All night long.
"Killamadik" is also a term used by Bahamian men to describe the effect the bird's song has on their ...um... 'dangling participles' when they want to ...um... well, you know. (Yet another shameless use of that euphemism - sorry, but it fit). I asked around and no one here could give the proper name of the bird but I eventually found it. Since I couldn't find an audio clip for this post (and I'm not overly adept at all this Internet/posting/formatting shit), you can follow this link which has the bird's song: Killamadik.
There is one thing that I cannot tolerate: the way some people pronounce word, "conch". Now, I realize that two pronunciations are given in the dictionary (God only knows where the second one came from), but 'konk' andnot'konch', is more acceptable, especially to conch vendors here who, should you use the latter, will probably snicker and overcharge you for your purchase of the gastropods.
So, there you go: a brief and (hopefully) informative lesson of Bahamianese. Until I reach again, you be learned.
Post posting edit: "suk teet" also means, to 'suck your teeth' in response to an insult or other derogatory remark, something like "tsk".
Have you ever had one of those days when you are totally spent, mentally and/or physically, and look forward to just relaxing for the evening by reading a book, watching t.v., or some other distraction that allows you to dispense with the day's trials and tribulations?
Yes, I think we've all had them, and it seems that it's becoming more mainstream where one isn't experiencing one of those days.
Waiter: "Anything to drink ma'am?" Me: "Yes, abottleof your finest merlot please."
Of course, I won't be driving. Or walking very well, for that matter.
For me, the distraction is television. And a glass, or five, of merlot.
Soon, it's after 9 p.m. You are relaxing for the day, watching t.v. and finally winding down and looking forward to a mind-numbing sleep when, suddenly - BAM! - your television barks at you:
"IT'S 10 O'CLOCK - TIME FOR YOUR LOCAL NEWS.
- ARSON SUSPECTED AT A NIGHTCLUB THAT KILLS FOUR
- MURDER AND MAYHEM IN SOUTH BEACH
- BODY PARTS FOUND AT A NEARBY ALLIGATOR SANCTUARY
- RECENT STUDIES SAY MORE SUICIDES ARE BEING BLAMED ON ANTI-DEPRESSANTS"
So much for that pre-slumber zen moment.
In my opinion, I could argue that the increase of suicides is caused merely by the introductions to the late local news, never mind that some stories just suck from you all hope and reason to continue living. I think the FDA should impose a pre-broadcast warning that the upcoming intro "may cause some people to kill themselves", or, at the very least, experience a coronary event.
Because of our location, the only local news we get is from Miami and the competition for viewership is probably so cutthroat that they need the extremely loud and obnoxious introductions so that they can be heard over the din of murder, mayhem and the gnashing of alligator teeth that may be concurrently happening in the immediate vicinity.
In Canada or Britain (and probably in other parts of the world), the news is introduced calmly, collectively and in a manner that doesn't make you feel like a startled cat or having been zapped by defibrillator, or worse, a startled cat zapped by a defibrillator.
I doubt the U.S. networks will be modifying their news formats anytime soon. For now, I'll just have to remember to change the channel before 10 p.m. rolls around. My nerves just can't take it anymore.