Bambi, yodeling pickles and jail. Another average day.

....helloo?

Are you there, Internet? It's me, Moi.
I'm back! 
Everyone rejoice and sing.

It's a yodeling pickle.
It is what it is
No funny caption needed.

Normal- uh, run of the mill- um, just regular things have been happening since we last chatted. 
.

Moi-*grumble grumble* me belly is rumbling, offspring let's get some lunch
Offspring- Okay, but only if you stop talking like Fat Bastard.

Moi- But it makes me feel skinnier because people laugh, its when they narrow their eyes at me and nod that I'll stop.

OS- Where do you want to eat?

Moi- Swendy's sounds good. (See how I did that, little writers trick so no one knows what fast food joint I'm talking about. Impressive I know.)

OS- Mom, the cashier is waving you over.

Devils  Minion- Dear, what can I get you? Dear..?

OS- Mom, she's talking to you. What are you looking for back there?

Moi- Bambi

OS- What the hel-

DM- Sweetheart, what would you like?

Moi- *muttering to OS* She just called me a bitch.

OS- She called you 'sweetheart.'

Moi- You know how some people will call a giant 'Tiny' or a sumo wrestler ' Slim' or a bald man ' Goldilocks'? Well, I think everyone knows the opposite of  'sweetheart' is ' bitch'.

OS-She doesn't know you well enough to realize that yet. Oh, and about that I don't think Dad likes being called Goldilocks.

What man wouldn't want to be named after me?
I like bears, eating numerous bowls of food and naps.

Moi- HE LOVES THAT! I know 'cause every time I call him that in front of his friends he sucks in his lips  to hold back a smile and clenches his hand into a fist to keep from caressing my cheek.

OS- Yeah, you're not reading that body language right at all but just go order because you're holding up the line.

DM- Honey, you ready to order now? 

Moi- Holyshi-here, OS, hold my earrings 'cause she is asking for-

OS- -YES, we would like two hamburgers plain with bacon.

DM- What else would you like, Darlin'?

Moi- Did my ex husband send you?

DM- Excuse me?

OS- That's everything, thanks. Mom, just go try and find us an empty table.

Moi-*Jeez, they are all dirty, what kind of people work-*

Angel of Swendys- Here, let me clean off this table for you.

Moi- Why thank you. I really need to sit down and relax.

Devil in Disguise- No problem, honey bunch.

...

....

Moi-This place is awesome for lunch. We have to come back on Wednesdays 'cause I heard that's when they have fried chicken.

OS- Yeah, who knew that jail was the place to do lunch.

Aaayup...Canadian speak for being chalk full of emotion.

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Maybe I'd look good in stripes...and be known as Jingleheimerschmidts ex.

*ring.. ring*
♪Doobeydoobey doo♪
*ring.. ring*
♪Doobeydoo-
'Provincialcourthouse!'
Oh, hi! How are you?
'Yeah, can I help you?'
'Oh, sorry,  I was calling about getting a copy of my divorce decree as I'm getting re-married in two weeks.'
'Yeah, name?'(#1)
'Moi.'
'His name?'(#1)
'John' (It's not but it helps my story.)

'Yeah, and you're sure you are divorced?'
'I'm guessing my ex's current wife hopes so...Bwahahaha*snort*..'
.
....(tumbleweeds a blowing)

'Um, anyways, yes I'm sure as I had a copy of it before.'
'Yeah, well then why do you need another copy of it?'
Moi's inner voice- 'I'm papering my dungeon with it so 'he' will have a reminder to look at for the next 40 years.'
Moi's boring outer voice-' I lost it while moving.'

'Your name and spelling?' (#2)
'M - O- I.'
'His name and spelling?' (#2)
Moi's inner voice-'Arsehole Vonprobablyaherpescarrier.'
Moi's outer voice-  'John'

*Tapitytapitytapity*

Yeah, you sure you got married here?
Moi's IV- I think it will be my third wedding before I'm too drunk to remember the location.
Moi's OV- (Hush, IV)Yes.

 *Tapitytapitytapity*

'Yeah, you're sure it's John?'(#3)
Moi's IV- 'I'm sure because there was already another Arsehole Vonprobablyherpescarrier in town, so to avoid confusion we went with John.'
Moi's OV-'I'm sure because there was already another Ars-(stop Moi, take a breath and cool down.), yep I'm sure it's John.'

*Tapitytapitytapity*

'Yeah, what year were you divorced?'
'You know I'm unsure but I think it was either 96 or 97.'

*tapity*

'Nope, it's not 96.'
'Okaaay....?'
'So I can't find anything.'

One minute pause as I recite all the reasons why I can't go to jail for hurting this person.
1. I heard they use cheap toilitries in the 'big house', and I cant go without my leave in conditioner.
2. Doubt if they serve weight watchers meals in there.
3. SCAREY BITCHES BE ALL UP IN MY BIZNESS
4. I don't like the idea of not being able to have complete control over the remote control.

'Could you try 97?'

*Tapi-*

'What's his name again?'(#4)
'....John.'
'And your is..?'(#3)
(Jazusmarynjoseph!)
'Moi, M..O..I.'

*Tap*


'Yeah, I still can't find it on the computer, (knock knock) oh, hold just a second.'

Yeeeessss?
Are you busy? There is someone here to see you.
Nooo, I'm not doing anything
MOTHERFUCK-?
Helloooo, how are you? Have a seat I'll be with you in one second.

'Yeah, anyways I can't find anything on the computer'.
'What's the name again?'(#5)

'M....O....I.'

'And what's his name again, John was it?What's his last name again?'(# that IV takes over)
Moi's IV- 'Jingleheimerschmidt, middle name Jacob. The m in Schmidt is silent.'
Moi's OV- 'Jingleheimerschmidt, middle name Jacob. The m in Schmidt is silent.'
(We've merged in mutual hate.)

'Yeah, is 'heimerschmidt' all together or hyphenated?'

(Rethinking the spray in conditioner, would be able to make do with 2in1 shampoo/conditioner if I had to.)

'Yeah, I can't find anything here so I'll have to call you back, Toi.'
'Goodbye.'

NONO, MY NAME ISN'T-click- Toi....AAARGHHH!

Men's junk, Great Dane's giving birth and Rocky...new names for Ben & Jerry's? Or just my mind.

Ok
I've been away.
(Moving to the other side of the bed doesn't count as 'away', Moi)
Okay then, I've been busy.
(Watching a Great Dane give birth on line doesn't count either. (um..ewww by the way,)
*Cough, cough* I 'm just getting over a bad..
(Don't even try it, if everyone had a sample of your blood you'd probably cure the common cold.)

Anyhoo, I'm back and being a hermit hasn't stopped me from getting into stupid situations and then handling them so they turn into ever stupider situations.
You are all welcome for making you seem brilliant in comparison.
My bill will arrive in the mail in 3-10 days.


10:59 AM
Moi- Holy crow,  the snow! I have to clear out this driveway.  Geez, all the neighbours have their snow blowers out.
Pshaaw! Lazy arses.
I'm going to get rid of this pesky snow using a shovel and some good old fashioned sweat. (Obnoxious ten seconds of standing on top of snowdrift with hand on hip and waving shovel majestically in the air then reenacting Rocky top of the stairs dance.)

11:01 AM
Goddamnfreakin'whiteshit! Does it ever end? My feet are numb, is that a sign of a stroke or digerydoo disease?
NONONO,get away you stupid snow plow! If you freaking fill in the end of my driveway again, I'll...
GODDAMNIT, A POX ON YOUR FIRST BORN ASSHOLE!
(Why the third born you ask, because I'm the third born and we all know how freaking adorable I am.)

77 yr old neighbour comes over with his snow blower just after the wind retraces a shovelful of snow back onto my face.

NB - Snow, eh Moi?

Moi's inner voice- Nope, just a bad coke habit.

Moi's outer voice- MWAHAHAHAHAHAH, YEAH! (Yeah, both voices are scary in their own way.)

NB-I can come over after finishing this neighbour's driveway and blow you out if you like.

Moi's inner voice-Heheh, he said he wants to blow me...no Moi, don't start.

Moi's outer voice- WOW, THAT WOULD BE AWESOME! (Snow blower is loud plus I have 3 hats on so I'm feeling all shouty.) NICE SNOW BLOWER YOU GOT THERE.

NB- Nah, it's just a piece of junk. Us men seem to have a lot of junk, ready for anything.

Moi's inner voice- I love men's junk!  *snort*. Imagine if I said...

Moi' outer voice- I LOVE MEN'S JUNK, HAHAH...(oh,noooononononooo.) I MEANT I LOVE YOUR JUNK..(worseworseworse). NOTJUSTYOURJUNKALLMENSJUNK...( my god,someonestopmepleassse)

I'm not quite sure what happened after that, either I blacked out or I just ran into the house laughing maniacally. All I know is that I have one more neighbour in the 'pretending not to recognise me' category and my driveway has been blown. 

(Have decreed that the driveway will now be named  'Chuck' just so I can have  conversations like this with The Fiance.)

TF- What ya doin'? 

Moi- Nothing much, just watching Chuck get blown in the front yard.

TF- Sorry?

Moi-No, he doesn't look sorry. Both him and the neighbour 'Carl' look quite content.

TF- No, I meant...wait, what's going on in the front yard?

Moi- Chucks getting blown by Carl.

TF- WTF!! Moi, if you're just messing with me again...

Moi- Oops! Got to go. Carl is done with Chuck now, so have to go thank him as it takes a lot of pressure off of me. Toodles!

TF- Mooiii - click-



On the normal side of things, I'm having a couple of short stories being publishedpublishedpublishedPUBLISHED(Odd, my computer keeps wanting to repeat that word.) in an anthology titled PEI Writes Anthology 2013.

You can pick one up for 4 milllioooooon dollars (I have no idea where),  for like $10 for the book (to be given to I don't know who) and the rest as a plea for me to never write again.
If $3,999,990 isn't in my account I will take that as a sign that I am to keep writing.

Chat soon
(But there is another Great Dane due soo..)

Don't look at me, I'm not the dad. I never met that bitch, I mean I meet a lot of bitches but bitches are like... bitches, ya know.
(Besides man, she is like huge!)

 Hush...uh, chat soon.

A broken boob , Corey Hart and planning a wedding. Back to bed, say I.

 I'm a 40 yrs old teeney bopper.
Aaaand I'm getting married...again.

Yaaaay..oh, wait are you one of those religions who don't own a mirror?
'Cause lady, you is old.

As we all know, a wedding is all about who looks the best and who gives the best gifts.
Just like a marriage is all about who out lasts the other and gets the other's stuff.
(I started putting little red stickers on his stuff the minute I said 'what eva'" when he proposed.)

Unh unh unh...don't give me any of that romance and love crap.
If I want romance I'll get it where any normal girl does.
In the Fire Swamp amongst the Rodents of Unusual Size.
11 1/2 points for the person who doesn't know what movie that is from.

The frenchmen and I have been together for 16 years and raised two kids.
Romance for us is a day when I get his name straight or remember his birthday.
(You would think I would remember his birthday then wouldn't you?  Now myself, I have a birthday week and hell hath no fury if the world doesn't correspond with that.)
I'm sorry what were we talking about?
Oh, yes getting married.

Since a lot of the people who were at my first wedding will be at my second naturally they will be comparing how I looked then compared to no-..

"No, no Moi, they'll just be filled with love and well wishes and won't even noti-"
"Excuse me?"
"Really, most people go to weddings and they'd be hard pressed to tell you any details about what the bride even wor-"
" 7 "
"Sorry?"
"7 missing crystals on the left side of the dress and two minute spots of red clay on the right side of her 9 1/2 foot train. Plus she must have had extra deodorant on because some transferred to her dads tux when he walked her down the isle"
"Oh"
"By the way, is that part of the design of your shirt that you have two spots of deodorant on it and a missing button or should I not be pointing that out?
"...never mind Moi, go back to your story."
"Thank you"

ANYHOO...

Since the whole wedding day revolves around me and how I look I decided that certain lady parts needed to be spruced up a bit.

Just reread that last sentence and realized I sounded like I might be wearing a crotchless wedding dress...which we all know is reserved for the fourth wedding.
Hey, wedding dress wow factors get harder to achieve the more we wear them so a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

I decided to go to a personal trainer for just one day a week.
Being the competitive person I am I lied about how fit I am.
He used a lot of odd terms that I didn't understand like isotonic, fartlek training (*giggle* sorry!) and over training.
I being the brilliant person that I tell you all I am, just nodded along and did what ever he said.
He started telling me about a chest exercise involving lifting barbells when his phone rang.

"Go ahead Moi, start those chest exercises. I'll be done of this call in a minute."
"Alrighty then"
I stared at the barbell, then stared at my chest, shrugged and got to work.
" Yeah, dude, I totally powered out 25 reps of 275...JAZUSHCHRIST! IGOTTAGOMAN!
WHATTHEHELLAREYOUDOING?
"What? You said it was an exercise for my chest so I just assumed..."
"How did you even get them to fold over like th- you know what, I don't really want to know?"

Needless to say I broke my boob.
Trainer boy tried to use fancy terms like pulled tendons, ligaments and mindless moron but to put it simply I broke my boob for a wedding dress.
It sounds kind of odd when I say it so with me being an 80's girl maybe I should put it into song.

See, I was born in the 70's but aside from wishing I was a boy for a year so I could ride Black Beauty('cause I'm guessing I thought the wee willy wanker had special powers for steering back then) I don't remember much about that decade.
The 80's though is burned into my memory.
Every breath I took went into squealing Stings name when he sang that famous song.

Young self -Mom, isn't that song romantic?
Mother to self- I think we will have to go over the whole psycho /stalker scenario again.
Self- Okay, but first I promised that man in the black van that I'd help him find his lost puppy.

When Morton Harkett from Aha, was trying to beat his way out of that cartoon stanza, my heart was in my throat aka my vajayjay, like the rest of you girls with our wind defying bangs.

What are you doing up there?
Just watching some videos, mom!
You're been looking at them for four hours now.
Mmmhmm...yup, you betcha yaaaa..ooooh yaaa.
(Coincidentally I started smoking at the same time)

And I got many a bruised forehead from wearing my sunglasses at night, ♪so I can, so I caaaan ♪, look as cool as Mr. Corey Hart.

"Beside that fact that I Corey, am awesomely cool for wearing my sunglasses at night, my willy wonka is this big!"

I tried to think what 80's iconic song would best fit my painful chesticle saga.
Of course Mr. Hart with his lovely pout (which I take as him saying 'Aww, poor Moi's chesticles")
was the winner. I may have changed a word or two but the tune is the same.

♪ I broke my boob last night, so I can, so I caaan, fit into a wedding dress I don't really want.
Iiiit's deceiving me.
Got my fat rolls tucked inside my v-ooops,
Iiiit's deceiving me.
I turn tothe mirror and saaaay♪

♪I can't masquerade as a bridal maid, oh-no
I'm forty yrs old
And my cherry hasn't been saved, oh- no
I don't remember
But it's been a while since I got laid, oh-no.♪

Okay, okay I am going to have to stop here as I'm supposed to be writing a short story for an anthology my writing group is doing.
Some other writers are doing poems or short stories, while as usual I'm asking the gaggle of writers if 'crotchless' is spelled properly.
I'm starting to think maybe something is wrong with the frenchmen for wanting to marry me.

♪ I just wrote this, you think I'm craaaazy, but don't call my number 'cause I'm way too laaazy'♪

It's Fall now which means my writing group is starting up again. We take the summer off because surfing the net/Facebook/ not watching  cat videos and writing for 7 minutes a day is  damn exhausting. 
So no more fooling around, getting butt in gear here on the 'Gentle Island'.


Blog interruption 

Can I just say that is the lamest slogan for a vacation spot ever.

 Let's go on vacation!

Wife- Where do you want to go?

Husband- How about Vegas, Sin City!

W-Or New Orleans, The Big Easy!

H-California, Surf City, USA sounds like fun too.

W- Wait, I got the perfect place.

H- Where?!

W- PEI, the Gentle Island.

H- AWESOME! A gentle vacation! Let's go, oh did you pack my hand cream and my fancy loofah, honey? (said no husband ever)

Honey, these loofahs are great!
What's that?...you're not supposed to use them for ...but it really feels good on my... you use it where?
Ok, yeah you're going to have to buy a new one then.

Back to irregularly scheduled blog.  

The writer's group meets once a month at the Queen St. Commons. (We also have the Queen St. Fancy but we aren't... you know. )

There was just four of us today but they are an amazing foursome.

The Writer/ The Actor/ The Businesswoman - as in she pays her mortgage with her earnings kind of writer. As in you could stick a memory stick in her ear while she sleeps and probably have about three different series started. (along with a little wax, hello!)

"Hey Moi(Mistress of Immodesty), let's get together to talk global warming and it's effect on goats."

"Okilydokily! What's a good day for you? I'm free..."

"Ummm, the rest of 2012 is pretty filled up for me. I have 4 books coming out, two screenplays, in a music video about goats and  teaching a writing course at a school along with a couple of seminars on self publishing and world domination, so how's about mid spring 2013?"

"...anyda...or next spring should be fine too. Let me just check my calender and get back to you."

The Publisher/ The Animal Whisperer/The Candy Sushi maker - the girl who decides that she likes a book and it should be published. Then why doesn't she just become a publisher, set up a company and do that? Oh, okay she did just that.
(Note: I like toast and peanut butter but the PB is on the top shelf and I'd have to stretch to get it so   ..meh. Since toast isn't the same without PB I'll just get back in bed and complain for an hour about how hungry I am....yeah, The Publisher and I are like two peas in a pod aren't we. Makin' an effort! Gettin' 'er done!)

"Hey Moi!"

"Wuuuuz up?"

"Did you get that short story done for the writer's group anthology?"

"Hell no! Haven't even come up with an idea yet? You?"

"Noooo, same boat you're in. It's hard ya know...."

"I know, isn't ...."

"...when you have to complete two other short stories already started, beta read a bunch of other authors books plus have a book launch to organize for my award winning author AND  make candy sushi. On the plus side I taught the injured parrot some geometry and the one legged snake is now kicking butt on the pogo stick."

"...it, yeeeaahhhhh....sigh."


The Lawyer/Writer/Magic Pony - from the little bit I understand she resolves crises, comes up with amazingly original book ideas  all while floating around as a magic pony. Okay, one of those seems odd. 
Fact checking commences...Bing! Finished.
Turns out she does resolve crises in a lawyer way. Check!
Her book sounds amazeballs, (which means awesome, mom) Check!
AND she is a Magic Pony except she doesn't float, silly me, she FLY'S is all. At least according to her roller derby teammates who help her fly around the rink at craziness speeds.

"Hey Moi!"

"Hey Toi!" (One third of foreign language dictionary is now been used up)

"That was an interesting book launch the other ni...hold on, looks like a crises going on over there. Back in one second."

"No problemo. I can entertain myself. Dooobedooo  ♪I never met you, and this is craaazy, Matt Bomer ,here's my number, don't care if you're gay. It's hard to look right, aaaat you baaaby, but here's my numb...♪" (I have to come up with a second verse to that before I send it to Matt. I haven't noticed any official looking mail arriving yet, so I'll just keep sending him those lette...)

Moi, can I have your address so I can send you a letter back?
WHAT? YESYESYES...!!!!
HEREHERE, TAKEIT!!
Thank you...Sargeant, you can now mail that restraining letter.
Craaap.

"I'm back, sorry that took so long but..."

"You were only gone for 3 minutes.."

"...I had to set up a crises intervention back at the office, plus finish a conference call, send my book to my editor and do a video as Magic Pony for junior high girls to keep them focused on  their inner  strength. So what did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh, geez, where to start? First I...oh, phone's buzzing. Never stops, got to go chat soon.

I'm looking around the table at them all as they busily type up their book, screenplay,sushi recipe, crises management skills and am amazed that I'm at the same table as them.
I wonder what they think when they look at me?



"Wish she would stop staring at us."
"I thought we were supposed to have the door locked with the lights off when she came a knocking?"
"I wonder if we can add our names to Matt Bomer's restraining order?"

Freddy Mercury, sneezing pandas and men in slingshots. It's a good month!

Most people when asked what their favourite time of year is would normally reply Christmas time or summertime or Hammer time...

Hey, it's a legitimate TIME. 
Anyone who agrees with me, kisskiss I love you and you look skinny. Have you lost weight?
The rest of you please focus on the picture below for 30 seconds without looking away.

That was your punishment, you are now going to have dreams about him for the next week. 

Anyhoo like I was saying, I try to avoid answering that question  because it just leads to more questions and phrases like 'power of attorney' and 'but doors that lock on the outside are a good thing, Mel '  suddenly start getting thrown around.
So I decided today to just get it out in the open once and for all.
                         
It is time for the best time of the year to begin.

               I am Queen of All and All I Sayeth is the Trutheth month.

Freddy Mercury says - You goeth girl! Being a Queen rocks!!
Actually he would probably just be muttering 'brainzzz,brainzzz' cause he's dead and would only speak as he tries to munch on your head all zombie like.

So 'I am Queen of All' month has been kept in the downlow for a while now.
This too is an actual time you naysayers.
No no no no, don't bother looking it up because it is only in the ' we are too cute and funny to have to make sense '  calender. Not the old ' I have wrinkles from boring old working and worrying about paying bills, not from laughing too much at baby panda's sneezing videos instead of looking for a job'  people calenders. 

                                       Hahahahhaha...*sniff* too cute! Sorry, there pops another cutie patootie wrinkle.

My fiance , the Frenchmen, says I should be putting 'decade' instead of 'month' but he is a member of the old wrinklyworrier group so he doesn't know any better.
You'll just have to take my word on it.
(It's okay, Frenchie I'll still hang out with you though.)

                                

I would tell you more about it right now but it is officially Nacho with a sprinkling of blue cheese (from being too old, not from being actual blue cheese) day and I have to be at the actual ribbon cutting ceremony. 
By ribbon I mean nacho bag and by cutting I mean ripping open with my teeth.
It's very stressful keeping all these ceremonies straight but since I'm the 'Queen' I have to suck it up and push ahead.
Will keep you updated on the following 34-93 days (see being the Queen I also get to decide how long a month is now. Sweet, right?) about various activities and events going on.
Just a sample of upcoming fun might include
How many days can I be in the same clothes 24/7 without anyone commenting week?
and 
The old blind fold smelling contest of 'Which one is the actual dog?' For some reason this one usually follows the previous.  
Go figure!
We usually end the month with my version of the Hunger Games but in my version you put two reality stars in a room and ...well, you'll see.
Let the Month begin and may the odds be...well, odd.