Paranormal Schmaranormal

After realizing I hadn't been to see a movie in a while - which was mostly due to the crappy movies out in the last few months - I decided after viewing the line-up of new movies to see Paranormal Activity 3.... by myself.

Okay that's cool, it was the day after opening night so the theatre packed. I wasn't exactly alone, but I was with a bunch of people who thought it was funny to try and scare the whole theatre. It was pretty funny. I sat next to a group of young guys who kept asking each other "Did you fart?" Seriously?? And the guy on my right side was an older gentleman who kept maniacally laughing at the wrong parts... weird.

But at least I wasn't alone.

The third installment of the Paranormal Activity movies added more humour than their last ones, humour that not only scared you but made you feel stupid for screaming.

Expecting it to be as scary as #1 and #2, none of us realized it was going to be much more horrifying, resulting in a screaming crowd. (I proudly never screamed). Now what's more scary than anything they added before? I wondered that too but they did things to terrify that I never would have imagined. As well as adding a very happy-go-lucky-but-super-freaky kid. Children are so creepy.

Upon arriving home I thought I was quite alright, until I headed upstairs in the dark and imagined myself bumping face-first into the chest of an invisible demon... Okay not so good now.

This one might take a while to get over but it was definitely worth seeing.

The Importance of a Plan

Over the last couple of days I've been obsessively scouring information about "Bug-Out Bags" and 72 hour survival kits. When it comes to the end of the world, I'm realistic. It's going to happen. Or at least a detrimental earthquake that puts life on hold for a few days. What would you do if such an event occurred? Aside from the pants-wetting and boot-shaking, you would find yourself unprepared, with nothing to eat, your water possibly unsafe to drink and as looters run rampant you would discover yourself unprotected and a victim to the new world laws.

The best way in these probable events is to be prepared. The main things you need to think of, are: food and water, shelter and sleeping, clothes, tools, first aid, hygiene, money and security and last of all, protection.

While pre-made and custom kits can be found online, DIY lists can also be found in order for you assemble your own Bug-Out Bag.

With this, I suggest including laminated copies of directions to a "safehouse" or meet-up for you and your family, as well as plans in case of different apocalyptic events.

The other matter which has been pressing upon me is the fact that in the event of an emergency, your conscience will have to take a backseat. Or be left behind. People are known to do scrupulous things in a state of panic or without the law holding their hands. Therefore it's best to realize that people should be avoided and while you might want to help everyone, they could be playing possum to take advantage of your better nature.

If you feel that you can live with the possibility of having to leave people behind, hurt others to protect yourself and live in seclusion then you may be prepared for world-ending events!

Hellhound

Every person has a story. What people don't unda'stan is every car has a story too. Just so happen my story tangle with a car's story.
When my pa first bought the car - our first as a family - I was four. The day he brung home tha car he says it look like an ebony body builder on wheels. I don't know what tha mean then, but I know now and it sure make ma frown like the devil.
I was in a stage, thinkin objects was real. I thought that car was a hellhound from one o' my ma's scary bible stories. When I tol' pa he thought this was a hoot. We's call it Hellhound from then on. And it was. Tha thing could roar louda than a lion with a thistle in it's paw. I'd be playin with my chawk in the carway and pa come home, that car near gobble me up into its dark maw. It like a growlin beast at my back.
Pa said don't wurra, tha car never take a bite a me, I'm spoilt he say. Back then he coulda been right.
Weren't till lata I get unscared and start to see it for wha it was.
Tha ol' car hold our family togetha.
When ma used to walk home in the pourin' rain from the fac'try, she catch such a cold. Now pa can pick her up. Sometimes they even catch a milkshake togetha first.
On Fridays when I had no schoo next morn - oh Lord how I hated schoo then - we'd pile inta the Hellhound and go to the drive-in show. I'd squeeze between ma and pa on the shiny leatha bench seat. Sometimes I'd fall right asleep, and I'd always have the besta dreams. I'd dream I'm king of the hellhounds and we'd ride through the city, snatchin' up crim'nals.
As I grew, times they gota hard. People, they ain't lookin'to pay people they ain't have to. My pa got laid off, then my ma too; lot a people did. Soon we move to a small apar'ment. My mum want my pa to sell Hellhound, but he don't. He can't I guess. Tha the only thing linkin' him to what we had.
Afta I see mum start coughin' more. She always cough, but this sure is new and it's not just her. We learn her years at the fac'try make her sick, others too. Even Hellhound can't take her way from tha. My pa gets mad and then bitter like ma's rhubarbed pie. But one night he just knows. He tell me to get Hellhound runnin'. I'm neva allow to drive Hellhound, not yet. I want to feel excited but I don't. Pa, he cradles ma carefully and sits her in the middle a Hellhound, between us. Then tells me to drive. Tha car drives smootha than it ever did, like it was scared a bouncin' ma. It don't even jump for'ard goin' inta third like it likes to. We go to ma's favourite spot, lookin' over our city. Tha city ain't always nice to us, but ma sure love it. It's then I know what goin' happen. Her breathin' slows, like she goin' sleep real quiet. And then as she lean on my pa, she don't wake. We cry silent as if not to stir her.
Growin' up was hard then, for me and pa. Mum sure made it easy but we did our best. I decide to keep on with school, till I got accepted at university. It hurts to leave pa but the day before I go, pa hand me Hellhound's keys. Says it needs more good memories.
Drivin' away, pa looks smaller, just a wisp in that smoky mirra. I try my best; I work hard in school but make friends and memories too.
When I come home, I think I did good. Thinkin' pa be proud, I drive Hellhound home more nervous then I ought to be. In that small apartment, dustier than ma would ever let it, I find him in bed.
My strong pa is justa sick ol' man. I spend my days with him, but still couldn't figure out how he get so old, so soon.
One day he ask me to park Hellhound unda'neath his winda. So I shine it up real good and park it below. I pick up my poor pa and place him in the creaky rocka where it can see it. I prop open the winda so he can get a good view and feel the air on his face, like he drivin'. He can't sit there long, but I know it long enough. Next day he spend it in bed, but he smilin' just a bit.
Tha night, I know. Don't know how, I just do. I take that man in my arms, so small I wurra I crush him. His heart beats like a buttafly against my arms. I sit him gentle like on that cracked leather seat in the middle and get behind the wheel. He leans on my shoulda, sittin' where my ma sat them years ago. It makes my eyes burn thinkin' bout it. We drive slow and Hellhound with it's ol' shocks and worn brakes carries him like a newborn babe. It sure seem to know where to go, up to ma's favourite spot. Tha city below twinklin' like stars stuck on the earth. I wonda how them people below don't know what's going on. Why don't they know what's happenin' to us three: me, pa and Hellhound. It's quiet and I think he gone but he squeeze my hand with his frail one. With one last effort he pat ol' Hellhound on her dusty dash like she a retired huntin' dog. Pa, he curl up 'gainst me and his breathin' goes quiet. Then it's just me and Hellhound.

Ode to a Cheffrey

Upon a recent foray into the neighbouring country, what was meant to be yet another life-changing adventure and possibly a week’s worth of stories, turned into a song of sorrow for my poor friend. During a valiant rescue mission to save a friend from the local “po po”, my good friend broke his foot and then (idiotically) walked on it for two days before being able to attend a hospital. Although I admit I hope they put a hot pink cast on, I just know he’d rock it to spite me.

Since his job requires him to be on his feet, it’s come to the conclusion that he might have to take a break in order to recover. This is not only a financial conundrum but my friend happens to lead an energetic and active lifestyle – while somehow being the most laid back person I know.
While working a 12 hour nightshift, I found I couldn’t get it off my mind, worrying about what he was going to do. So I compiled a list of possibilities:
- Join an interpretative-crutch dance group
- Paint waterfront scenery canvases
- Become a crippled buskar and put on entertaining sock puppet shows (crippled buskars make the best money)
- Begin writing a cooking course to teach, for future use
- Join World of Warcraft (oh wait…), or better yet, Dungeons and Dragons
- Hang out at the playground, just to rile up the local parents
- Consider writing a memoir – well maybe write it, instead of consider it
- Sketch caricatures for cash
- Sell the over abundance of “stuff” you have falling out the doors and windows of your apartment
- Become a sex-line operator… or a suicide operator but seriously which one would be more fun
- Gain lots of weight and become morbidly obese – it is considered a disability and you could have your own nurse!
- Win the lottery and get chauffeured around like Driving Miss Daisy
- Teach 4-H, you have enough experience
- Have more Arts and Crafts days with me!
I can’t wait for the day that my friend can look back and laugh, but knowing him that’ll probably be tomorrow. Not being able to imagine what it’s like, I figure I’ll just watch my step, leave my friends to the po po’s and try to cheer up my busted buddy.

How to NOT Sell a Horse

I have a bit of an addiction -aside from sorbet ice cream- and that's watching horse sale videos. To be able to watch dozens of horse videos, one after the other when in the past you had to send away for one and only if you were a 'serious buyer'. If technology has done one thing, it's fuel the horse lovers obsession and enabled us more outlets to watch and learn.

While some videos make us envious and wish we had room for "just one more!" other videos leave us shaking our heads and wondering why someone would take the time to make a video if that was the end product.

Maybe that's a bit harsh but it's like those raggedy, thread-bare sweatpants that you love to wear around the house. You may love them, but you don't admit to owning them, let alone put them on the world wide web.

Here are a few if my latest horse sale video pet peeves:


Wearing shorts in a riding clip - Umm no. This is one of those "sweatpant" examples. You may love to ride in shorts, but never admit to it, let alone use it in your sale vid. No only is it unsafe, it's unprofessional. It says to your potential buyers "This is a backyard pony that I trained myself wearing shorts the entire time. We also wear camoflauge during duck hunting season."

Wearing flip flops/running shoes/barefeet or even better Crocs - Although this is a great way to show how well your horse moves off your leg, this is like wearing a hollowed watermelon as a helmet. My horse is very good about staying out of my space, but I couldn't blame her if she stepped on me while wearing flipflops. That would be her way of telling me I'm an idiot and I'd have to thank her for it. In a training video, it says I couldn't care less about this video so I didnt take the time to put proper shoes on.



Standing on your horse's back - This occurs mostly in horse pictures, not videos. I realize it's supposed to be impressive but my camera takes less than 5 seconds to take a photo. You may be trying to tell me that your horse is bombproof but all that I'm getting from that picture is you were able to stand on your horse 5 seconds before he blew up and threw you off. Congrats though, maybe you should take up bronc riding.




Not grooming the horse first - Really?? Should I even explain this? Let's start at the beginning : you take the time to charge your camera, you make sure it's a sunny day, you get your friend to help you take the video, you sit down and upload it to your computer, you even put some pretty music to your horse flouncing around the ring... and you didn't take the time to get the mud off him? I love ads that say " This is a stunning, fancy red roan" It is? Looks mud-coloured to me. Maybe if I turn my head to the side.... Nope, still brown.

Riding said horse in draw reins and/or other training implements - Your horse may go beautifully in draw reins... but how am I to know that everything won't fall apart the second they're taken off? Doing a sale video with them on says to the buyer "These are a crutch, I don't know how to ride without them and neither does the horse". Another example is "greenbroke 2yr old, easy to train and practically finished." then the poor 2yr old is shown riding in an 8inch shank bit with rockgrinder spurs... in those videos I feel the damage is done and although you could 'undo' it, it's painful to think that the horse would be so much further ahead if it had never been 'trained' that way.

Lunging a weanling or yearling around and around and around - Ouch, ouch, ouch. Jeez, that's great they lunge... but they could have learned that when their knees were properly closed. People forget there are lots of other ways to teach foals the basics without making their growing legs suffer. Not only that but when you see a foal in a sale video, you know it's a foal. You're not expecting to see a video of it winning Congress for HUS. All that is necessary is a vid that shows its movement, it's conformation, the foal interacting with people and maybe some clips of the dam. The best way to do most of that is to get the mare moving and have the foal follow, preferably in a larger field and not a 7 minute clip.

Palestra-Tan-Servizio Lavanderia

THEY'RE BACK and this season looks like it'll take the cake over all others and what's better than guidos and guidettes showing the way they roll? Throwing them in a country that won't understand the way they roll. Hairdryers are blowing up and the girls are straightening their hair in the kitchen which makes me wonder: what will Pauly do without his blow out??

After just one episode, The Sitch is already breaking his rules and stirring the pot and surprise surprise Deena has decided that now Ronnie's single, she's not interested and would rather have Pauly... which she does in the most disgusting face-sucking way.



So now what do we have to look forward to? At least one trip to the exotic Italian cop shop, a few sparring matches and probably one knock-out, three-way kissing (Blech!) and a season full of random pick-ups. Of course, let us all pray that the inevitable doesn't occur and hopefully Sammy and Ronnie can avoid smushing.

This season's tag line will still be G-T-L but with the Italian twist of Gelato-Tiramisu-Linguine. Maybe bad-ass Jenny will gain back some of her tough-girl body on the GTL.

911 Animal Complaints

Scenario 1: You see four adorable and cuddly raccoon babes handing out in a tree, apparently motherless. You think - they can't get down and you believe a police-run rescue mission is in order. You call 911 because supposedly this a bloody emergency. Me, the dispatcher, can tell you how this goes:

Me: Which service, police, fire, ambulance?

You: Police

Me: What's your emergency?

You: There are four raccoon babies stuck in a tree.

Me: Okay so you want an officer to shoot them down?

You: NO! I want an officer to rescue them.

Me: Okay well if an officer goes, they're going to be shot out of the tree. Trust me though, they'll make it down.

You: Umm never mind... *click*

Scenario 2: You're bit once by the neighbour's frothing mutt Miss Tickles. You freak out, imagining horrendous scenes from Cujo, even though you're safe and sound in your home. You call 911. If I answer, this is how it's going to go:

Me: Which service, police, fire, ambulance?

You: Police.

Me: What's your emergency?

You: My neighbour's dog bit me 10 minutes ago.

Me: Did you bite it back? No? Well the police aren't paid enough to come bite a dog and teach it a lesson for your wussy ass. Have a nice day.

Scenario 3: This is a regular one, and keep in mind I have to take notes when I answer a call. It goes like this:

Me: Which service, police, fire, ambulance?

You: Police.

Me: What's your emergency?

You: There's a coyote walking down the road.

Me: And it's just walking.

You: Yeah.

Me: Is it getting into garbage, or acting aggressive?

You: No.

Me: So it's just walking down the road?

You: Yes.

Me: Okay I'll send an officer out right away.

You: Thank you! *hangs up*

Officer: What was that about?

Me: Nothing, just more paper to shred.

The Power of No

No.

No, no, no...

I don't normally believe I have 'pet peeves', or at least I do, I just hate calling them pet peeves. Unfortunately people who can't say no are one of them.

Want to go to a Celine Dion concert? No. Hell no.

Can you clean up that random pile of cat barf? Blech, no.

Will you be my Dungeons and Dragons partner? Sure! I mean umm no...

It's really not that hard. Unfortunately for some, it seems to be. I realize that I have a hard time saying no when it comes to work, probably because I envision my paycheck shrinking and the stuff I want to buy going away with it. Guilt has a lot to do with it; it weighs on you forcing a yes out of your mouth. Guilt plays a large role in a lot of our lives: feeling guilty if you don't do what people want, feeling like we're not good enough, feeling like we're failures. I believe in embracing our faults and feeling good about them. I'm self-absorbed. Therefore I don't mind saying no to attending Celine Dion just because you like it. Why not feel proud that you're a failure, or feel good about rebelling against what people want. While you're at it, say no.

Flaws

It's weird to think that someone will find flaws in you and dislike them when you've grown attached to them, happily or not.
For me, it's easy to look at someone and see their flaws. But then I wonder whether I could accept them.
Physical flaws can become familiar and endearing unless they go as far as to turn you off.
Can you grow to love and react to someone with flaws?
What about personality flaws? These I find harder to endure although they are less obvious: egotism, insecurity, vanity, apathy are more difficult to love than a snaggle tooth.
At what point do flaws control our opinion of someone?
Is that what everyone strives for, to be balanced and not over-flawed? Is that bland - we strive to be bland human beings?
Maybe a person's good traits overpower the flaws but we need both to see the difference.

Ugly People Making Out: The Car Crash of PDA

Okay let's set the scene, because I know you've been there:

You're at a bar, you know, that one that has a scene for your younger bro but has a broad enough demographic to make your older friends feel comfortable. You're out on the dance floor and it looks like a European orgy, people are grinding with the wall from lack of space. You can't even get your hand up to fist pump let alone moonwalk. You're either pressed up against a cute stranger and pretending it's an accident or you've just pinched some girl's butt and now trying to escape to make it look like you didn't just pinch her butt. Let's say in your desperate flight you get stuck in the crowd. You're far from the exit and everyone's holding their ground. You try to make the best of. You begin to dance again. Everyone's bumping into the next, but the one on your left is persistent. Peeling your cheek off the big guy on your right, you check out what you think is Asshole Numero Uno on your left - only to find yourself in a three way makeout session with two fuglies.

Yeah, that's a dilemma. Where do you puke right?

But that's not the real problem. Okay, they're practically humping your leg from lack of room, but now you have to try to ignore them. So you go back to busting a move, but the half-shaved Sasquatch and the snaggle-toothed wonder keeping pulling your focus. Let's lay down the truth, you openly slack-jaw stare at them.

It's okay, I know you're not a freak, you're not turned on by it or anything (right?). This is how it is, have you ever seen two armadillos doing the nasty? Probably not, unless you're an armadillo breeder, in which case you're ruining my point.

Imagine it. It's not anatomically possible. It goes against nature. Unfortunately, that is what ugly people making out becomes. Impossible but it defies the impossible. And it's happening on your leg.

Now I've seen numerous fugly face-sucking sessions. Why they save them for the bar and yours truly's lap? Probably because their the spawn of Satan. With my expertise, I've devised some tactics to avoid ogling them like a bad homemade porn.

1) Fist pump - This is my best tactic. Everyone knows you have to look at your fist to make sure you're doing it right and if you're looking at your fist, voila, you can't see them. Now if you're not cool enough to fist pump, resort to my other methods.

2) Look at your shoes - Of course if you have no style and your shoes are ugly, you might as well stare at the car wreck beside you.

3) Shut your eyes - This is a last resort and for the love of life, don't open them, even if you think they're gone. Say you can't hear the sounds of god-awful suction noises. Don't fall for it. It's a trick. The second you open your eyes, they'll be off your leg and pressed up to your belly button. I hope you can smell your way to the bathrooms and have a buddy with good aim to toss a beer to your open hand.

Now I don't include these options because this is what I'd do, but most people wouldn't. Depending on what I ate that day, or what's in my throat, I can pick either/or.

1) Release the worst SBD fart you can muster. You know that one you were saving for a friend's pillow? Use it. This is a life or death situation. You're friends potential pink eye can wait.

I prefer my second method, because I'm pretty good at it and I'm possessive of my SBD's.

2)Cough.

I mean hoark it. They're not going to leave unless phlegm hits their faces. Make it sound like a degenerative disease that they could possibly catch. Pretend you can't help coughing, or you run the risk of getting hairy-knuckled, white trash style. When I'm feeling creative, I keep a bar olive in my pocket. Then I'll fake a sloppy sneeze and slap the olive at their faces. Of course, I am a lady, so I apologize profusely for kersnotting.

While I'm dishing out some well-advised knowledge, I'll give you the cold, hard facts and how to prepare.

Be alert.

These events don't just happen at the bar. These people don't have what we call polite discretion. They'll make out anywhere.

You'll go to take a bite of your smoked salmon bagel, and they'll be there.

Oh, you're just picking out a library book? They're there.

Burying your great grandmother? Yeah, they're there too.

Don't drop your guard and carry a mirror (perfect for looking around corners).

These are the facts of life people.

Drivers That Follow Too Close

Yeah I get it, city driving is tough. I realize it's considered polite for everyone to squeeze together in an intersection so that no one's hanging out. That does not account for every other time my poor truck's bumper is ridden like a carousel horse by a bigger truck with a driver trying to compensate. I cannot stand it when I'm blatantly going over the speed limit and some jack with a brick loafer thinks I'm Grandma Geezer going for a jaunt in the countryside. That same jack also seems to think my bumper is a button that reads "push to go faster".

Many people like to hit the brake to tell them off but I've concluded that such behaviour only lowers you to so-and-so's level. Basically you've caught the hot potato and now you're the asshole.I prefer to practice a similar course of action, while being the "better person".

I drive an uber cool standard truck (just don't ask what kind or year because my 'uber cool' comment will quickly lose value). You need a standard to perform my tactic. It goes like this: Jackola is riding your bum-per. You assess the best moment- being the moment when he's about to hit your go faster button. Now you act. Downshift. Hard.

This way, he'll see your tail flying towards him, without the pre-warning of brake lights. Oh, there's a chance he'll smash into you. Don't do this with children in either vehicle. Serves him right.

As I like to say; tail-riding decapitates babies. That should be a bumper sticker.

Zomb-a-lom-bies

Zombies

Inevitable

Not the most descriptive adjective for them but it’s the one that holds the most truth. You might not think this is where the fate of humankind will lead but I can prove it’s already begun.Maybe you’ll recognize my description as someone you know.

My sister and I used to attend an Anglican church. For me it wasn’t about religion, it was just a place to hang out with my best friend. We had a minister, who was a great guy - comical and easy going. Then like a switch, his sermons became monotone and dull, compared to their usual entertaining cadence. The true tell-tale sign of zombie-ism was the obese flies crawling on his face and hands, line-dancing across his brow. A zombie in God’s house, attempting to preach his words may seem ironic but like a shark they are not evil or malicious. It is just in their nature.

It’s not wide-spread. Yet. The signs are present and they will become persistent in daily life. The zombies will come and with the speed of locomotive gaining ground, they will cover our world.