mr. monkeybottoms' wild ride of wacky funtime reading

 i'm a  poop face!
 
lololol

oh no i'm coming down the stairs!

Leeeeeeroyyyyyyy Jennnnnkinsssss!

www.youtube.com/watch

P.S. Yes, the shameful truth comes out...I don't know how to embed. I do what it says...but it no worky. I suck.

P.P.S. Yay! ms_scarletibis showed me the way. I really do suck cause it was both easy and obvious. Wheee!


 

 
Ok, so my cell phone is mostly broken.  Out of the blue, yesterday, a piece falls out of the top and suddenly the buttons on the left side won't work. Then the front screen won't work. Today, both front AND inside screens don't work. Wtf Motorola? Wtf? It's like 2 years old. Stupid piece of crap.

No problem, I say to myself. I've ordered a new phone and used up all those old Fido dollars. Cool. I'll just go and pull out one of my old cell phones from my drawers and use it for the week until new, cool phone arrives. No problem. 

Things found in my drawers:

-tons of old restaurant receipts from when Kevin was self-employed last year. Forgot to give them to him when we filed taxes. BLERG.
-love letters from my Mom's married lover, given to me by her ex-boyfriend (not the married lover) when she passed away last year. Ew.
-the stuffed banana lovebytez made me. Awwwww! *heart*
-old Neil Diamond concert ticket YES!
-old Beach Boys concert ticket NO! Worst. Concert. Ever.
-cardboard 3-D glasses from 'Spy Kids 3' Yes, really. Also, why?
-a Canada Savings Bond for $100 for B2. Oh yeah....I should give that to her
-pearls from my pearl necklace that I wore on my wedding day that is broken thanks to B1 and B2. Jerks!
-4 different chargers for old cell phones
-funny picture of Kyle and old girlfriend wearing matching 'Roots' sweatshirts at a party. HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAAAH!!!
-Canadian Tire money totaling a cool $0.20
-one Swiffer duster sans duster
-D1's grade 4 report card. (she graduated last year)
-a jumbo pack of sewing needles
-small bottle of spirt gum for applying fake mustaches
-a bag of dog biscuits
-a bag of jelly beans. Oooh, score. Nomnomnom
-a bag of door stops. What the hell?
-the pinking shears I was looking for yesterday
-a box of really cute Xmas cards (I don't send them, I just get them because they are pretty. I always *act* like I am going to send them, for SURE, THIS time...but I don't)
-more Canadian Tire money, to the mind-boggling amount of $0.10
-the warranty to my brand-new ShamWow! I haven't used it yet but I bet I'll say wow.


Guess what I didn't find in my drawers? A CELL PHONE. I doubt that I have ever thrown one away, and yet they are not there. I have 4 old chargers, but no old cell.  DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!

Ok, maybe not you. But....YOU for sure!

Edited to add: And now there is no sound. There is power, cause the number screen lights up. But no display and no sound. So it is officially done. Why God, why?????? Stupid stupid phone. I curse you! I curse you like the Gypsy woman in those scary trailers for the movie where she has to go to hell! You go to hell too, phone! You go to hell and you die!

I guess I should stop procrastinating and go jog. BLERG!

Edited to add again: Went jogging. Pants fell down. BLERG!

IF THERE'S ONE THING I HATE IT'S...oh wait, my caps lock was on.

If there's one thing I hate it's the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, old gross men find me both attractive and apparently eager to be hit on by old gross themselves. 

Now, before I go on I have to put a disclaimer:

When I say old gross men I am obviously not talking about my husband. Ok Kevin? Happy now? Geeze, you put one Twitter update about being a magnet for old fat men and all your friends jump all over that. Thanks, friends. Thanks for mutton.

Anyways, I don't know what it is but it is starting to bug me. Take, for instance, the guy that comes into the bank where I work. He comes in quite often, and he always follows the same pattern: arrives an hour early for his appointment, asks me if we have any decaf, I say no but offer to make him a pot just for him (hoping he will say no, like any other rational person) he says yes, drinks 2 cups, then asks me to take him to the washroom.

And this is where it...whoa whoa whoa! The Princess Bride is on! Oooh, that Cary Elwes is mighty fine in that movie. As you wish, eh? Heheheheheh.

Ok ok, so where was I? 

And this is where it always gets icky. Obviously, being a bank, we don't have a public washroom. So I have to take him way into the back of our huge bank, past the huge locked door that reaches all the way to the ceiling, past the cublicles, past the lunchroom, down the hall, past the book vault and down the other hall to our washrooms. 

As we walk he always says the same thing, "My wife gets mad at me for talking to the girls here. Heheheheh. You're pretty. Hehehehe. Your hair is pretty. Hehehehe."

This makes my skin crawl, and I am hard to creep out. Honestly, I am.  It's just that he makes me do it every time he comes, twice a night and he's very very icky with his missing teeth, pot belly, balding head and creepy chuckle. Apparently he also has terrible gas because in his appointments with the manager he always lets 'er rip and stinks up the room. NICE. 

Sometimes his wife comes too. When she does she tells him not to be ridiculous when he asks for decaf. The last time they came I made a point of gauging her expression when we returned from the ritualistic bathroom trip and she WAS mad! Yikes. She's always nice to me at least.

There was a 6 week run where he came in every Thursday. Lucky me. HOW FLATTERING. Thank you Jesus!

Then one morning I was stopped at a red light and checking the status of my hair. I happened to glance over to the right to the man in the car next to me. He grinned and blew me a kiss. The guy looked exactly like Rene Angelil. You know, Celine Dion's husband? 


YEAH. GREAT.

Seriously, if I wasn't 100% positive that were would be no reason in hell that Rene would be in Winnipeg I would have sworn it was him. But, more importantly, WTF? Why God, why?

Oh, and then to top off my run of lame I had this loser guy say to me, as we chatted while he was at the bank, "Candies huh? Candies are so full of sugar. People like you and me need to stay away from them." And then he proceeded to motion towards his midsection. Really, buddy? Really? You just don't say that to a girl, jackass. I've been working out again, so there! And my body is a work in progress, ok?! Geeze!


...I'm kinda dizzy right now from scrubbing my shower with bleach cleaner.

Oh, we bought 30 Rock season 1 and 2 and we've all been watching it. Apparently I am Liz Lemon. And 'Lanie' from Seinfeld.  I'm okay with that.

 
After work I went to the Superstore and did some grocery shopping. I always have good intentions of hurrying, going in and out, all business and no pleasure but it inevitably spirals into me strolling down the makeup isles and the appliance isles and the gardening sections and suddenly my no-nonsense shop has turned into me being there for over an hour. 

While I was lollygagging around the yogurt I noticed that I could hear strange noises drifting in and out over the music and the general crowd shopping sounds. Strange, scary noises. Strange, unclear and dangerous shouting noises. Now, being the clever, levelheaded person that I am, I immediately knew what it was.

Zombies.

Ok, so maybe it turned out not to be zombies after all. Maybe it turned out to be the stupid fit people doing their stupid step class in the gym that is in the upper level of the Superstore. And maybe it actually took me some time to figure out where the muffled shouting and stomping noises were coming from. Maybe I had to wander through the meat isle over to the bakery before I figured it out. 

Wait...I lost my train of thought.

Anyways, it's good to know that I am always prepared. For...stuff.

Can someone please link me to a download for season 5 eps 1 and 2 of Lost? I would be forever grateful and send you naked pictures...maybe of me, maybe of someone else, maybe your Mom. Maybe I'll send the pictures I took of you when I was peeking through your windows that time. Who knows what kinds of nakedness you will get. Who knows...

Thanks, suckers!!

 
Here's a list of upcoming entries...that will be...coming...up. Soon.  Yay! 

1. B1 collapses after her ski trip and we take her to the ER. Shenanigans abound! SPOILER ALERT: B1 survives and becomes first woman President.

2. My new job. SPOILER ALERT: It rules and I become first woman President.

3. mr. monkeybottoms gets two ''celebrities' confused. Hilarity ensues. SPOILER ALERT: My dog becomes first woman President. Also likes to dig holes in backyard.

4.  F YOU MICHAEL MOORE. SPOILER ALERT: I become first woman President and pass bill to ban douchebaggery in all forms, especially 'film maker' Michael Moore 's crapfest 'Sicko' . Also: Michael Moore is a douchebag.

5. Movies I've seen that you should see. Because I say so. SPOILER ALERT: I am elected first woman President and invent Big Mac that makes you lose weight and also tones tummy. World rejoices.

STAY TUNED for these exciting updates, suckers!

 

I think I have spoken often and at great length about my love for Jeff Goldblum, Christopher Walken and Willem Dafoe . They are numbers 1, 2 and 3 on The List. If you missed any of my posts about them, here's a quick recap:
( Read on, suckers! Read on! )

A few months ago I decided I'd had enough. I made an executive decision. I bought myself a new computer. Not just any computer, but a laptop. And not just any laptop, a MacBook. Yay! 

Only wait. One of the things I was really looking forward to doing with my new computer was vidding. I've had two vids mapped out in my head for years now and yesterday I was struck with a new vid idea so brilliant it made my head spin with the brilliance of the brilliant idea. And then the vid idea sparkled in the sun like a million sparkly things. I call it 'Vidlight'

YAY. What are you waiting for, you say. Come on monkeybottoms. Show us this so-called 'brilliant' video if you're so smart. FINE. I WILL.

Only I can't. All my editing programs are for PCs. OMGWTF. Whyyyyyy? Why didn't I think of that when I ran all willy-nilly to the nearest store, grabbed the nearest hot salesman and shouted in his face, "I NEED A MACBOOK RIGHT NOW OR I WILL DIE FOR REALZ!" Why didn't I remember that I didn't have Photoshop for a Mac or Premiere for a Mac? I mean sure, having the built in webcam is awesome for my online sex shows (hahah, kidding. Or am I?) but it isn't good for the one thing I was really looking forward to doing with it. The world needs yet another BTVS video in it and I need to give it one. 

So: suggestions. I needs 'em. What do you Macbook peeples use? Final Cut is sooo expensive. What else is good? 

Also: All helpful replies will receive naked pictures of ME. NAKED. In picture form. For real! I swear! Suckers!

I went to go visit my Grandpa at the nursing home on Sunday. The staff was just getting him up and were washing and dressing him so I wandered over to the 'library' section to find something to read while I waited. The library is just a lot of books shoved into a couple of long shelves that no one can reach because it is too high up. I had to stand on my actual tippy toes to reach the book I wanted and by that I mean I went on pointe like a ballerina. And no, in my years of ballet and jazz I never went on pointe so it was not a pleasant experience. 

What caught my eye that I put myself through such turmoil to reach it?  

There is nothing better than starting your day with a big-ass piece of white cake for breakfast. Mmmm! Cake! Cake with icing that doesn't have a lick of dairy in it...that sounds nutritious! So I already suck as far as healthy eating goes. Yay me!

Here's a few fun facts!

( Read more... )

In other news, this is how I spend most of my free time: dlisted.com/node/29141
OMG!

There was an election? Wow, I had no idea. I mean...I didn't hear anything about it on TV or the papers or magazines or the radio or Joe the plumber. And I definitely haven't hear a PEEP about it on my flist.

Who's this Obama guy?


And all this time I though Sarah Palin was a new SNL character. 

Hey suckers! I have had one heck of a busy, crazy whirlwind ride of a year.  I keep meaning to post but then more crazy whirlwind things happen and I get all busy and stuff. It sucks cause then I'm doing stuff and not updating and then I think "hey I should update" and then I fall asleep cause I'm exhausted. But I will try to do a quick catch-up:

So, a while ago I was having a craving for something yummy. I was in Shopper's Drug Mart picking up a few things and I saw these:

I bet you are all thinking, "I wonder what mr. monkeybottoms did for Halloween this year. I know it was months ago but dammit, I just can't stop wondering!" Well wonder no more, friends!

I was told that we could dress up at my new bookstore job, which made me kinda excited. Cool! I could walk around in something besides the stupid black vests they make us wear. Trust me, no one looks good in those things. So I thought and thought about what I could be for Halloween. I thought and thought again. Then I thought some more. Then I had a drink of milk because milk is yummy and nutritious. Then I thought about it again.

Okay, all of that is a lie, I really didn't think about it all that much. Oh, but I did drink the milk. I love milk.

Oooh boy, was I ever excited about my costume on Halloween morning! I got all ready and drove to work, giggling the whole way. When I walked in most everyone didn't know who I was, which amused me to no end. My costume was really funny! Kyle's girlfriend Rachel squealed and laughed her ass off when she saw me, which was a good sign.

( Read more... )

When I was 13 I got a Vikings jersey for Xmas from my Mom's long-time then-boyfriend Neil. Neil was a great guy who was fun and thoughtful and caring and I adored this jersey.

Unfortunately my Mom broke up with Neil so it was not to be, but I remembered him fondly. For years I would tell Kevin about the awesome Vikings jersey I'd gotten for Xmas and how I wore it all the time and how I loved it and how great my Vikings jersey was.

Recently, while looking through some old pictures I came across a photo from the very Xmas I got the Vikings jersey. "Kev! Look! Here I am in my Vikings jersey!" I said happily, holding it up.



KEVIN: That's not a Vikings jersey. That's a Chargers jersey.
ME: What?! But...
KEVIN: Remember Kyle's favorite team? The Vikings? How his jersey is purple and not blue? And the logo is a Viking?
ME: Um...
KEVIN: They don't have lightening bolts on their jerseys. How could you not know that?  Why would you think that was a Vikings jersey?
ME: Because! It was all...Thor...throwing down lightening bolts from Mount Olympus and...stuff...
KEVIN: *ignores the Mount Olympus error* I can't believe that all this time you've been telling me about your Vikings jersey and it's a Chargers jersey.


Suffice it to say that everytime we all watch the Vikings on Kyle's new big-ass flat screen LCD or HD or whatever it's called TV I turn to him and say, "Hey, did I ever tell you about my Vikings jersey?" And then he just makes a face.

The best reaction to this picture was from my little brother who wrote: "Why did you get the bad-ass Vikings jersey? Meanwhile im dressed up as a SAILOR! Y - M - C - A ! Where the heck do you get a sailor suit anyways? Steal it from a movie set?"

Hahaha! Also, be advised that the year was 1983 and everyone had stupid giant glasses like that. In fact, my next pair after those were even bigger. Sweet.
 

Hey, you know how sometimes stuff says stuff on the labels of stuff but you don't really think that's what it means and then it turns out it totally meant what it said on the label? I'm not talking about how those potato chips say they may cause 'anal leakage' and then you totally turn into some kind of crap factory. Anyone can make that mistake once. Not me though.

I mean something more along the lines of the big, beautiful chicken I bought from The Superstore today. Now, on one hand I love The Superstore because it is a one-stop shopping destination with great prices and beautiful produce. Seriously, that produce just begs for me to fondle it. Who can refuse a little apple fondling? Not this cat. BUT, on the other hand, The Superstore makes you bag your own groceries and then they insult you even more by making you pay for the bags too. Of course you can always bring your own bags from home and recycle and keep the Earth green and eat granola and drop acid and hugs trees but what do I look like, some sort of hippie? I don't think so. Mostly I'm just forgetful. I have a lot of Superstore plastic bags in my kitchen drawer.

Oh...right, back to the chicken. I was shopping with Nanny and we were perusing the meat department (hehehehe. That sounds pervy) when I got all excited about the big, beautiful roasting chickens they had for only $8. "Hey Nanny! Check this out!" I called to her and held up the package. "This chicken has the feet on still! How cute!" It was cute, oddly enough. Well, it was to me anyways. Funny, adorable little naked chicken feet. I looked at the label that proclaimed, "chicken with head and feet". I looked, saw the feet, saw the neck, thought nothing more on the subject. We're having chicken soup tonight! Yay! I like soup!

That night I started the soup. The girls were all in the living room, which has a good view to the kitchen. Thinking myself clever and witty, I held up the chicken by the feet. "Hey girls! Check this out! The chicken still has it's little feet on!" I cried, waving the bird about slightly. They all looked and made adorable little 'ew' faces.

"Mom! It's dripping on the floor!" D1 pointed out. I looked down to see it was indeed doing just that so I chucked it into the sink for its rinse before it went into the stew pot. And that's when I saw it.

Now, I'd just like to point out that most things do not bother me about food or carcasses. Skin? Yummy. Fat? Mmmm. Bone? Good for gnawing. I can cut up a chicken or carve a turkey no problem. Kevin can't even eat a chicken thigh because of the bone. I have to carve the chicken and hide the bones before he comes into the room or he will be ill. His whole family is the same way, the weirdos. But me? It's all good. Until...

I looked into the sink. I mean, really looked. "OH MY GOD! IT'S STILL GOT IT'S HEAD ATTACHED!!!!!" I screamed.

The girls all shrieked. "What??"

"THE HEAD! THE HEAD! OMG IT STILL HAS A HEAD! IT'S STILL ON!!"

All four girls (B1 and B2's best friend M was over, as she always is. She's pretty much my 4th daughter) ran into the kitchen to see, which made me panic even more. A few months ago B1 and the best friend M decided to go all vegematarian and it was the most confusing time of my life. Puberty? Pregnancy? Math Exams? Nothing compared to trying to get those two 13 year olds to eat SOMETHING, ANYTHING with protein. And now they were mere steps away from seeing a dead chicken laying in my sink, looking at me with it's accusing cold, blue eyes. I saw another go at the vegetarian thing looming on the horizon.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T LOOK!" They all ignored me and clamored close. "DON'T LOOK! DON'T LOOK!!" I thrust my hand towards the sink, sort of like I was covering the chicken's line of sight. Like that would somehow help.

The room filled with screams of, "OMG! OMG!" as they peered in the sink at the limp little chicken. "It's head! OMG! It had eyes!" Lots of giggling and screeching. And so forth. I'd like to say I wasn't screaming too, but....yeah. It was all just so exciting!

"What? Why? Why would they sell the chicken like that?" D1 asked as they all scurried back to the safety of the living room.

"Well...the label said 'with head and feet'. But..." I couldn't keep a straight face. "I didn't think they meant it! I saw the feet and I saw neck...I just thought they meant...lots of neck. Not...you know. HEAD. WITH EYES! EYES LOOKING AT ME!"

This started a bunch of screaming and laughing and so forth. My own eyes slid back to the sink where the pair of blank and yet strangely sinister eyes gazed back at me. Well! I'd had enough of these shenanigans. "Okay! I've had enough of this!" I announced, once again grabbing the chicken by it's little feet and plopping it soundly on my cutting board. "I'm chopping it's little head off."

More squeals and shouts. I ignored it and cleaver-ed away. One stroke and bye-bye birdie. I also took off the feet, for good measure.  I wanted to add them to my chicken stock pot as I've heard they are full of flavor but god forbid if Kevin found out. He'd never eat the soup if I did. The girls all chimed in that they couldn't either if the feet were in it. It's not like they'd STAY in there, it would only be for the stock.

Wusses.

Okay okay, I'll post, I'll post! :-)

Well, fall is once again here which brings the monkeybottoms' family into another cycle of fruit flies. Ah, what a magical time of year this is! How I love it! Those teeny tiny wings, the little beady eyes, the smell of KONK, the not being able to get rid of the little bastards. It's all so wondrous.

We've been fighting the losing battle for a bit now thanks to a lovely bunch of bananas. That's the thanks I get for trying to force some potassium into the girls, I suppose. Thanks for being a good mother, monkeybottoms! Thanks for NOTHING. I swear to god, these fruit flies are going to be the end of me. Kevin is, of course, grimly carrying on with the struggle by being all anal and demanding that there is never a hint of garbage in the can at night and telling us to rinse our dishes and all sorts of crazy stuff. Then he sprays the KONK. I super hate that smell now. Errrgh.

Of course we go to sleep and get up in the morning and go to work and when I get back I discover that one of the twins has left a half-eaten bowl of Cheerios on the kitchen table and the fruit flies are having a jamboree in it. Seriously, a milky bowl of Cheerios is like a friggin fruit fly fertility clinic. Sometimes I forget something too, like the orange sucker from Halloween. I was entertaining myself by letting the dogs lick it on and off throughout the evening while I read my latest book. Whoops! Then I blame it on the girls. Hehehehe.

Hey, remember when I said I hated the smell of KONK? Guess what? I found something that smells worse, like SKUNK. Or, even worse than that, skunk that was sprayed right in your dog's FACE. Yes, poor little Blue got sprayed right in front of our steps. The bratty skunk was looking for garbage. I TOLD Kevin that our dogs didn't eat the neighbour's garbage yesterday but no, he blamed them and cleaned it up. Haha! Chump!

Poor little Blue though. She was so sad. Her little eyes were red and she ended up throwing up twice. Buddy got some on him too, but not nearly as bad. I Googled for a recipe and Kevin and I ran to Shopper's Drug Mart for peroxide, baking soda and dish soap. Kevin insisted on apologizing to EVERY PERSON IN THE STORE for the way we smelled. Thanks Kev. Please, bring more attention to us. But I guess I liked it better than having them all talk about how much we reeked and what a bunch of freakazoids we were and god, why don't they take a BATH?

Blue was so sad she just crawled right into the tub when I told her to, and then she just stood there while I rubbed the mixture into her fur. I wiped her eyes with water a lot and she really seemed to like it. They felt hot, and so did her mouth. But she wasn't teary and they weren't really red anymore, so that was a good sign. Then for good measure she got a dump of tomato juice. I don't think it did much. The other stuff helped. Buddy got the same treatment but he wasn't nearly as passive. He has these long, delicate little deer-legs and he finds the bath tub a slippery place. He fell down once and I felt so bad for him! Klutz. The bathroom was a total disaster area, especially after Buddy panicked, jumped out of the tub and shook, spraying peroxide-baking soda-soap mixture everywhere, making a towel fall into the bucket of peroxide mixture, making me lunge for it and at the same time making me drop the shower hose, making water spray EVERYWHERE, making me scream for Kevin and in general, making the night suck just that much more. It also made me get a nice bumpy peroxide rash on my leg for a while, but it's gone now. Hey, why is my skin all white there? Hmm.

My entire house smells horrid. We have bowls of coffee grounds everywhere, and some of vinegar too. I keep spraying Oust air cleaner but it's no match. The dogs smell much better but not 100%. It is way past my bedtime.

BUT: On the plus side I think the smell killed all the fruit flies.

So many questions and no answers to be found. I know this is a beauty pagent from the 80's. I know the woman's name is Stacy Hedger. But what I really want to know is: WHY?

Ok...I guess that I only have one question, not many.