Category Archives: Humour

MailBoxes

For a part-time job I collate and deliver flyers in the rural route around my house. The compensation is actually much higher than most would assume and the entire cheque goes into my retirement savings plan. Pretty smart eh?

As we all can appreciate, each new opportunity we embark on comes with both, good and bad, challenges. Since I operate approximately 250 mailboxes weekly I feel I am a good judge of character for what’s good and bad about the mailboxes and their owners.

So with that said, let’s talk about mailboxes and their owners. You’re going to be amazed at the variety readily available for any delivery person in a rural route.

Creative.
Some people are creative. I have a snoopy mail box on my route, a Great Dane canine shaped mail box equipped with even a tail and big ears, one that has ‘HI’ in pink lettering, a mailbox with Jesus on the cross, one with hearts all over it and of course business related mailboxes that carry their company name and/or logo. These mailboxes are my favourite. They are clean and I feel safe opening and closing them as they are all in wonderful working order.

No. Not Creative.
There is one mailbox that has corn stalks. A messy dirty dried bunch of dead cobweb infested corn stalks, tied to the mailbox with some weird faceless pumpkin dudes tied to the stalks. This isn’t fall themed coloured corn stalks, this is stale, brown crusty corn stalks from your local farmers field.  This is not creative by my standards, this is just creepy and annoying. I have to fight with the leaves to open the door and I drop the F bomb at least once during the stalk box visit. It’s dead corn stalks for crying out loud. Tie them to your front door and leave the mailbox out of it. I will tell you what your husband, neighbours and friends are afraid to tell you!! NO ONE is impressed with your dead dirty corn stalks. Just let us do our job without having to tackle the jungle to do it. While you’re at it, do us all a favour and give the dead stalks back to the farmer whose field you stole them from. We all know you walked across the road and cut yourself a few stalks. Stalker.

Now that the creators are out of the way, we have the majority to talk about. Mailboxes are gross. They almost always have spiders, cobwebs, earwigs and duck tape, are falling apart in one way or another, missing pieces and man, I just don’t understand people. You know what I have? I have a friggin mailbox! No duct tape holding it together, no threats inside written on paper, no missing door, it’s not bent and wobbly. It’s a mailbox with a fully operational door.

Rust Buckets.
I don’t want to have to go to the emergency room and get a tetanus shot when I cut my hand again trying to reach in your rotting, falling apart rusty mailbox, that also has its door hanging off by one sliver of a rusty hinge. CHANGE IT! If you ask me real nice I’ll drive it over and you can call the city and say someone knocked your mailbox over. Lucky for you, they’ll send someone out to repair it. But once they see your rust bucket, they’ll spend the money you aren’t and get a real one. Geesh! Why is it so hard?

Arachnophobia.
If your mailbox has spider webs, spiders , earwigs or any bug on it when I arrive, I can guarantee you without a doubt, I will bet my house and children, that I used YOUR flyer to beat and kill the pests and swiped all the webs away before I put your flyer set inside your box. It’s not dirt smears on your flyers, it’s your friendly neighbourhood spider. If it’s sticky, it’s just the webs. If you have a mailbox and see the flyer in your driveway and wonder why. Check your mailbox. It could of been so gross that I wasn’t willing to battle the arachnid farm living in and on your mailbox. Fix it or next week you’ll get the flyer in your driveway again.
Side note: House #4935, the next time I open your mailbox and hundreds of earwigs fall out I’m burning it down. To the ground.

Duct Tape.
I do not want to battle duct tape. I checked my contract with work and not anywhere does it say I will need to battle hanging sticky bunches of duct tape while trying to get the flyers in the mailbox. If your mailbox needs duct tape, I’m going to go out on a limb here, but it just might need replacing.

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Terrorist Proof.
For those of you that think it’s hilarious to weld and make your own two thousand pound mailbox I’m not laughing. First. Rule 101. Mailbox doors open down not up. So it’s bad enough you feel the need to build a missile and terrorist proof mailbox, but to have a door that weighs a hundred pounds open the wrong way is not cooperating with flyer delivery physics. Because of your terrorist proof mailbox, I felt the need to accept your challenge and started lifting weights. Carry on neurotic.

Trickster.
There is a mailbox, rusty, bent and clearly in need of retirement on my route, like so many. This one I’m not so sure I need permission to drive it over. It just might accidentally happen one fine day. The door is not hinged on, like you would assume. I open the door and let it go thinking it’s hanging on by hinges. You know, like it should be. It falls off. I constantly forget because it goes against mailbox door policy. Hinges! I have to pull forward and get out, get the door and put it back on. Eventually I got fed up and just threw the door in the mailbox. The door remained inside the mailbox for over a month. Recently the door was back on. I said to myself “Oh good, someone fixed it”. I pulled it down letting the door go again and what does it do? Falls into the tall grass surrounding the mailbox AGAIN! I’ve had enough. So you understand trickster, I drove over your door, reversed and drove over it again, forward shift. One more time driving over it for good measure. I have your door in my car. You will never see it again. I hope your mail gets snowed on!

A Barn.
Is this massive structure really necessary for some envelops and a few pieces of paper? What exactly are you expecting to get delivered? Mail order a new car recently? Seriously, knock it down a size, you look pretty silly. You know what women say about guys who drive trucks with stupidly large tires. Well your friendly neighbourhood group of fine ladies would like to know if your mailbox is compensating for anything.

Let’s talk about some of the people now.

Love letters. Some people are just bat shit crazy. Obviously this poor guy is at his wits end and left a love letter for his federally criminal thieves. Why would you take someone else’s flyers? Oh right, cause you’re bat shit crazy that’s why. Leave his flyers alone.

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I have a few regulars who wait or come flying out of the house when they see the delivery lady. Interesting for sure. One gentleman is a bit much. I’ve actually informed the office that they may have to intervene if he can’t get his wackiness under control. Fortunately they know who I’m talking about from previous experience. Everything with this guy is a conspiracy. Oh wait, this is the best. He says one of the local grocery chains in the next town over is prejudice because they won’t put Merry Christmas on their flyers so he won’t shop there. Of course he told me this in July. Makes total sense; When you’re a nut job. He also wants to know why they aren’t saying God bless in schools anymore. But wait, this is what he actually says “Fuck. I want to fucking know, like fuck, why they aren’t fucking you know, saying God fucking bless in schools any fucking more? Fuck.” This is a 50+ year old man who clearly role models ZZTop. After ten to fifteen minutes weekly, of listening to his rants for 4 months, I finally told him I was an atheist and a spy so I had better get back to work before my boss, a bigger spy kicked my ass. I haven’t seen him since. Magical.

One elderly lady every week tells me she doesn’t want the flyer anymore, opens it and says oh yes this one I do, it’s the other one you deliver I don’t want. After several attempts to explain, I only deliver one set week after week, I now respond with “yes ma’am, you have a wonderful day” and I carry on.

Ok, these type of people make me want to get out of my car and kick them right in the. Shins. Yes shins. They look at me as I approach their mailbox like I’m committing a criminal act or like the act of delivering to their mailbox is some foreign action that they can’t seem to comprehend exactly what is happening right before their very eyes. Listen. Let’s cut through the red tape. You have a mailbox for a reason. You open your mailbox and collect papers and envelops. I know you collect from the mailbox, because it’s empty. Surely you must understand that by having a mailbox this means It will likely get used. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I’M A CRIMINAL. It’s going IN your mailbox, not OUT of your house.

To wrap up the variety show, let’s talk about our local serial killer. There is a house hidden way back in the trees. The only reason I know there is a house in there, is because of the mailbox and driveway. If there was a universal sign for ‘A Serial Killer Lives Here’ this would definitely be it. Yup. Here we have it. A stuffed large dog tied to a tree with a real dog leash. No seriously. Look at the picture. This is the real thing. Once in a while I guess the wind knocks the dog over and the next week it will be propped back up.

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I’m just waiting for the day the forensics team shows up and a graveyard is uncovered. I’ll be there with my hand on my hip saying what took ya so long?

I throw a flyer bag in their driveway while driving because I don’t want to stop for their
mailbox. A lot can happen in 60 seconds. What I do know for certain is if these guys were my neighbours you’d see a ‘for sale sign’ the exact same day this dog went on the front lawn. Four months later, still no forensic team. Go figure.

I must say I do have a little bit more empathy readily available for Canada Post workers. A little bit. For the most part I laugh most of it off but I can see how some of it could easily get on your nerves if it was five days a week for twenty-five years. When I get to telling my stories to family and friends we get a good chuckle from it. But what if one day I stop laughing at it all. Will I go flyer postal?

Next time you go to your mailbox, ask yourself if it’s a user friendly mailbox. If it has duct tape holding it together, or parts missing, know that all us delivery folks are talking about YOU being crazy and cheap!

Now I’ll leave y’all to debate if mailboxes should be one word or two.

Hot For Your Tamales!!

Oh sometimes Einstein cracks me up. His sense of humour is challenging on the best of days, but sometimes he can make me giggle a little bit.

His humour is off the wall. Like I seriously think something is wrong with him most days. Too many glue sniffing challenges as a teenager? Too many wooden spoons to the head by his mother as a child? What makes someone so out there with humour that it actually has the ability to annoy me. That’s the absolute furthest from funny you can get.  That’s my Einstein.

He’ll say something to Flyp and it literally stops me in my tracks because it’s so out there, I’ll try to process it and search far and wide for a tinge of funny in it, yet both Flyp and Einstein are falling over laughing. It’s just not funny. No. But to them it’s hilarious and they’re hysterical with laughter and zing-backs to keep it a long lived joke going and going.  This happens daily with these two. I’m pretty sure they are the only two who can relate and be amused at this style of humour.

This might be over sharing but here goes anyways. Einstein and I have been together for approx. 18 years.  i can honestly say it has never been about how he makes me laugh or how we lay around and laugh at the same movies or tv shows.  We are complete opposites in that department.  His sense humour has never been on the ‘pros’ side of the chart for me.  Einstein does get bonus points for keeping the teenager laughing though.  I know I couldn’t keep the humour flowing because that is way too complex for me … Or so I’ve been told. 😳

Last night we were laying in bed watching Nurse Jackie. (Haven’t seen it? Get on it!) Einstein was rubbing my hips (oh the pain) but then it was my turn to rub his legs; They always bug him. So off the wall I said “its a good thing I still lust for you” as I put more lavender on his legs.

He responds with a cheeky ‘oh Ya? Why’s that?”

So then I went into all the reasons why he’s a pain in my ass and frustrates me daily and his family drives me around the bend, all told with my sarcastic but exaggerated factual tone etc,. He just nods. He knows the truth is in there. Then he flips me over and says ‘well it’s a good thing I’m still hot for your tamales.’

Well I just busted a gut. That just cracked me right up!! A laugh I definitely needed and a rare gift from his humour that’s for sure.

Bam!! Gift #2!!

Today we were talking about some grading that needs to get done here at home – as we are under water from this rainfall today. To boot, the worst of it is yet to hit the ground. Anyways. We have a lot of mosquitos. I mean a lot. Insane amount. There are so many you can become some crazed freak when they zip around your ears and buzz loudly like they are the size of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. We are 23 acres here with approx. 20-21 acres of it being all trees and bush. The acreage is a registered marshland and can I just tell you what that means for mosquitos?! It’s a 5 star rated resort for the biting pests, that’s what it is.

So Einstein said he needs to put in weeping tile and get it all drained to the ditch at the end. He follows that with “I’ll need to put on my snowmobile suit to deal with the mis-cots” (what he calls mosquitos). Again, the visual had me giggling because there are some things a grown man with a bit of a belly shouldn’t wear and that is a one peace snow suit. Never. Ever. And to wear it in the heat of the summer in defence from our crazy mosquito population is just too much of a visual without letting out a laugh.

Well done Einstein. Two laughs in 24 hours from your whacked out humour. It’s more than the total in 2014!!

Shakin’ Tail Feathers, Queen & A Few Names

Ok, so I finally actually KNOW what it means to shake your tail feathers, visually. Growing up I heard that expression much more often than today, but I never really saw a tail feather in action before.

My older girls (9 week olds) give a good booty shake and it cracks me up. It really is shaking their tail feathers! So now that I’m 45 I can say ahhh I get it!!

Sometimes I’m a bit slow, even stalled to ‘get it’ on certain things. I was in my mid 30’s when my teenage daughter pointed out the relationship between the group ‘Queens’ name and ‘Freddy Mercury’. What an Ahhhh HA! Moment that was. LOL! I can’t believe I’m admitting that in writing.

So, I’ve got a few names going on in the flock. I know I know, don’t name your children if you plan to roast them for dinner. I can’t help it, some have these personalities that demand a label.

As you know we have The Fonze, Fonzie my little rooster dude.
Miss Molly is a Plymouth Rock and she has been diagnosed by the flock doctor (me) with ADD with a tinge of extra ADD. She is the smallest of the Plymouth Rocks (older ladies) and is surprisingly the bossiest to the younger gang.

We have the mother hen of the plymouth rocks – she is clearly the ruler of the group. I call her Laverne. Her side kick is called Shirley.

Then we have the smallest of the younger group and I call her Chicken Little. She looks like a ragged mess all the time. Feathers everywhere, often on her own and left out and just a typical runt.

The latest name acquired by the flock, is Dash, inspired by the movie The Incredibles. This girl is from the younger group also, and she literally runs all day. Most of them walk here and there and some times may run, but this one…she dashes everywhere and I can honestly say I haven’t seen her walk yet.

Summary: I have 6 chickens named. 11 unnamed.

Tuesday the day old ducklings arrive. Ten of them!! Excuse me while I do a few twists and giddy laughs and jumps for hooray!! I can’t wait for these little ones to get here. Longest weekend ever ahead of me. I will have 10 more flock members to find names for. September I also have 5 Plymouth Rock pullets (females) arriving and 1 Plymouth Rock cockerel (rooster) arriving and they will be 6 weeks old in September.

Reminds me of a tv show I used to watch. Full House.

WTF Websters!

Personally, I’ve never looked at Websters the same, ever since ‘Bootylicious’ became a part of our official language. I figured with the addition of Bootylicious, well, I hoped someone had an off day and that word added would be the worst of it. Boy! Was I clearly wrong. It has only gotten worse over the years.

Webster, so graciously, has announced their new word additions for the dictionary in 2015. When I think of words ‘officially’ added to our English dictionary, aka a reference for the snobbish English language along with clarification for its use and a definition of its meanings, I don’t expect to find WTF in there. Seriously, I really don’t. Hmmm, I’m feeling a bit sarcastic today.

Just a few of the words added this year are:

Jeggings – lets just visualize jeans and leggings had a baby. Pants that fit like leggings and look like jeans. Clearly not everyone is meant to wear jeggings….I’m on that banned list so I can say that without everyone signing up a petition to have my blog removed. Pfffft. Get over it!

WTF – what the fuck. Anyone not know that?

NSFW – not safe for work (new to me) (I’m debating on a door sign for my office)

Photobomb – a joke or prank in the frame of a photograph – photographer unaware.

Twerk – sexually suggestive dancing such as excessive hip thrusts, shaking of butt all while in a squat position. The reason why foam fingers/hands should no longer be for sale.

My mini rant.
Really Websters? That’s the best you have for 2015?? Shameful. People say N*gga all the time Webster, I double dare you!! Screw the weak like Twerk and WTF, be bold, add N*gga. If you’re going to make a blooming mess of the language, go all balls out I say!!  Apparently you have removed boundaries from the English language because you aren’t exercising any!!

So. This all translates to me, that when my son, a high school student, hands in his english paper or any written paper it can say WTF, Twerk and hopefully before he graduates he can even add N*gga!.

Of course his mother will back him with all the sarcastic justification I can drum up, because after all, it is in the all mighty(less) dictionary. I’ll be sure to advise him of his rights and all ensure he uses the Merriam Webster Dictionary as his reference source.

So, in an attempt to clean up the words being added to our official english language, I’ve chosen a few words that I may or may not use a lot. (You’ll understand when you see #3!)

1. Fantabulous – a combination of fabulous and fantastic. It’s just soooo good not one of those words is enough, we need both! Therefore we have fantabulous!

2. Defecanism – one word to describe a defective mechanism. This one’s compliments of Flyp.

And my personal favourite ….
3. Gunt – A cross between the words “gut” and “cunt”. Meant to describe the mass of flesh that hangs down over a females crotch area and upper thighs. Thank you urban dictionary for that definition (that I had to clean it up for everyone’s reading pleasure).

And my not so clean addition – I have an acronym I’d like added for the people who piss me and you off..

FU – also know as Fuck You. It’s always better received when followed by exclamation marks. The more the better.

Sometimes I like to personalize that acronym and it becomes FUA ‘fuck you asshole’, or FUM, ‘fuck you moron’ and as you can imagine the list goes on. If I’m real angry it can become FUMF. You’ll figure it out.

At this point in the game, I’m convinced someone is sitting in an overly large glass office, looking out from their sky scraper office laughing their ass off while they add all this BS (oh look at that Websters…another acronym) to our English language and how we just sit there and say oh ok, thanks for that new ones Websters.

What’s next? Really. Who knows. It’s anyone guess, much like it has been since Bootylicious became an official word. However, the day they decide to add ‘MILF’ as an appropriate acronym to the english language, will be the same day they see feminists redefine the dictionary!

Holy Sh*t, It Smells Like Sh*t

On a warm spring day, instinctively we like to open the windows and let the fresh air rinse out our homes from the long cold winter. The birds are chirping, amphibians are croaking, nature fills our homes with the beautiful sounds of spring, along with the lovely scent of SHIT!!! That’s right; Shit is everywhere!! Ahhh the joys of living in the country.

For the city or suburban folk, spring represents fresh air, open windows with curtains fluffing in the warm breeze, daffodils and tulips in bloom and the walking/biking paths free of snow banks and ice, a friendly wave to a neighbour you haven’t seen since the first frost last fall and the needle on the thermometer is up in the double digits. Rain is a welcomed precipitation as it is nourishment for our blooms and blossoms to be and we know spring is a time when babies of most species are born. Spring always feels bright, warm and bountiful after a long deep freeze in our Canadian winters. Everyone seems to be energized by the warmer temperatures after their deepened winter sleep with much anticipation for the summer ahead, at least until the unbearable humidity and the heat slaps us around by mid July until early September.

It seems like spring is upon us for only one day and suddenrly the streets are full of people out getting exercise, older folks enjoying a tea on their front porch, children riding bikes and homeowners raking up the rest of last falls leaf deposits from their freshly greening perfect weed free square lawns. Let the competition begin. (Who has the greener lawn).

For us country folk, it’s a season of shit, pesticides and herbicides, road kill, tractors causing slow downs on thorough roads and lots of babies being born everywhere. We live in the country, fairly remote actually, and we are surrounded by farm fields everywhere. Spring is a time when farmers flip the dirt in their fields with monster computerized machines preparing the soil for the upcoming planting season, usually just a few days away. The terrible part of this field preparation is the shit spraying. Literally spraying. Stinky gut gagging shit is spewing out of a machine in every direction all over the fields.

The odour is heavy and thick and some days you are willing to testify under oath that you are actually tasting it and not just smelling it. The worst experience to date for me was being stuck behind a shit spreader on one of our main roads with no passing ability. It was so bad, I started gagging and had to pull over to throw up. Obviously that pile of shit had been fermenting in a shit pit (literally a shit pit is what is used on farms) all winter into the perfect recipe to be spread on the fields. In order to stop the contents from my stomach from leaving all over the side of the road, I had to turn around and go a different way.

I often ask friends once I hit the city if I smell like cow or chicken shit. How can I not? I envision shit fibres weaving into my clothing fibres and I become paranoid and think everyone is checking the bottom of their shoes to see who stepped in crap.  Don’t be alarmed folks it’s just me, passing the shit fields on my way to civilization. Seriously, it’s so thick in my sinuses it’s amazing to me that no one else can smell my neighbourhood off of me! I’d love to hang some laundry outside, like our bed sheets, to dry, but it would be like snuggling up to a cows asshole. No thank you!!

All around our home, I’m fortunate to watch our hibernators wake from their long winter sleep and I get to watch many different species of babies grow up. I feel like I know all the birds, deer, horses, cows, goats, alpacas and llamas as I’ve watch them grow up over the seasons. I am very fortunate to experience all of this and if it means I have to smell shit for a few weeks of each spring to enjoy all of natures wealth, then I can suck it up again, for another season.

Spring is definitely here and holy shit, it smells like shit!!!

How To Kidnap My Children

Dear Kidnapper,

As you now know both my kids talk a LOT.  You will likely return them at any moment due to their inability to know when to stop talking.  Let me take this moment to thank you for feeding them dinner.  I’ve probably been a little bit stressed due to their sudden disappearance and haven’t had time to make dinner yet, being preoccupied with the police and all, so you picking up the slack has taken a big load off.

If there is any left over pizza….oh never mind.  It’s probably cold by now.

Cheers,

Their Mom

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A Bakers Dozen Of Reasons Why Dogs Are Better Than Humans

1. They never tell all your secrets to anyone, not even a fur-sibling.

2. They never complain when they eat the same thing for a decade.

3. They are ALWAYS happy to see you. 2 minutes or 2 weeks, the party for your return is always the best day of their life!

4. They know how to be there for you … Silently at your side.

5. They always forgive. Always.

6. You don’t have to pay to send them to college/university and you don’t have to worry about them getting hooked on crack while at college.

7. They don’t keep a messy room like the human teenagers.

8. They keep you company while you’re sick, sad, angry or annoyed with the world. (which is often all at once for me)

9. They are always willing to finish your dinner for you when you can’t.

10. They don’t want all their friends to sleep over every weekend.

11. They will always stand up for you, even if you don’t want/need them too.

12. Who needs a door bell when you have a built in dog.

13. And the best reason of all…. TRUE Unconditional love like no other!!!

Rocking The Cool Boat

Saturday I was busy racking up bonus points to win mother of the year award. (I usually operate in the negative but this brought me closer to a positive point system)

Auto Show. Fifteen year old son. Need I say more?

Once I got over the fear of a horrible germ death when this elderly man was hacking up a storm sitting ACROSS from my on the Go Train, telling myself repetitively I can double up on oregano when I get home to kill all the germs I was forced to inhaled, I was able to relax and settle in for a long day.

I went with absolutely no time agenda. We could of stayed until they shut the lights off and it would of been fine with me. We did a complete round then a second round to revisit the favourites. It’s a huge facility and more people than I’d like to come into contact with in my lifetime. But Saturday wasn’t about me. It was about my little man being in his element and knowing more about Cummings Diesel engines then some of the young sales reps; it was about him showing me shocks and engine sizes and towing capacity. I love it.

He didn’t work that day (he’s a work-a-holic in the making) with his Dad (we have our own small construction company) and he typically works every weekend and after school. I talk to him, often, about being his age and doing age appropriate things. He prefers to always work, works his energy off (ADHD) and keeps him on the straight and narrow. He’s a busy young man. A very disciplined 15 year old who is appreciated and respected on job sites. I do worry that when he is 30 he’s going to wonder where his youth went. I’m glad we went together. I got to see him be 15. Best part of my day? All of it. Even if I had to be hacked all over by the General public.

Weird he takes his mom to this stuff? Nope. Not at all. This mom rocks the cool boat!

Dear Alcan

Dear Alcan

I am, without a doubt, your biggest disgruntled fed up consumer of your Aluminum Foil Wrap product.

I’m sure I speak for the Nation when I request:

STOP GLUING THE SHIT OUT OF THE BEGINNING OF EVERY F’ING ALUMINUM FOIL ROLL!!!

How is this even necessary? The box in which the foil roll is contained is SEALED for crying out loud. The days of it rolling across a grocery stores’ floor is long gone.  History.  Move on. Why is any glue usage inside a sealed box necessary.  Fire, axe, trash that person who has deem these glue gobs essential for all aluminum foil rolls.  Dismiss the glue application dude before I take that dense hard paper roll inside the foil and beat the gluer all the way to the unemployment line.

We are all sorry for rolling your precious foil down grocery isles and pretending they are our magical silvery carpets as children.  We get it.  Put the glue gun away.

In case you are wondering, you’re too heavy on the application of glue for the end of the tin foil roll.  For the sake of tolerance I will allow the gluing of the roll at the end of usage, just lighten up.  Maybe 1 gob instead of 20..  Although there is a lot of foil wasted on that end also, if I do say so myself.

I’m sure you will agree that my request is an appropriate compensation for all my pain and suffering for decades.  Decades of fighting with glue gobs. I would appreciate at least one dozen, 250′ replacement rolls of UNGLUED aluminum foil to help recover the loss of the tin foil that has crumbled, got torn, ripped and knifed while trying to get unstuck from the glue all these years.  You know, the glue you insist on applying to a sealed product. I would also appreciate a Cruise to Alaska, easily paid for by the funds saved from the cease of glue applications, so I can gather my marbles that have been lost over the years all while dealing with your beginning glue gobs.  I need glue gob free sleep Alcan.

Please send all replacement rolls and trip itinery in priority mail next business day.

Thank you Alcan.

Sincerely

Anti-Glue Warrior

V-Day or D-Day. The Choice Should Be Yours.

I must admit that it is very liberating to be free from the Valentine’s Day pressures. As I converse with friends, both male and female, I realize how different of a conversation each has. Women are looking forward to it, excited, full of expectations and anticipation, hoping for some jewelry, flowers or other prized possessions. Bragging rights February15th is prime time. The feed back I’ve gotten is men resent the day (at least the ones willing to admit it) but feel it’s a guarantee for some body slapping later.

We have a construction company and I can tell you 100% of the men hate Valentine’s Day and wish it never existed. You want to hear some foul language and f bombs? Walk on a construction site and ask their opinions of Valentine’s Day. They only thing they’ll brag about is the sex perk that is a given apparently. One of our trade workers said ‘the message that is given to my wife if I don’t want to go guns a blazin on Valentine’s is I don’t love her.’ He said ‘how did this get so out of control?’ I wonder if men could come out and voice their opinion, consequence free, how many would be honest and say they don’t like or do like Valentine’s Day? Would be very enlightening I’m sure. I wonder how many women would be willing to drop v-day if their partner wanted too. I wonder how many other women have a perspective like mine?

I asked myself a long time ago if I would ever want someone to show me love because of a date on a calendar. I decided I didn’t want my love to be a burden or an expectation to perform, ever. Oh don’t give me that crap of if he loves you he won’t mind for one day bla bla bla. It’s far harder to live with me day to day AND love me each of those days, then to buy me roses and dinner on one day/night.

I am happy to say in this home we are free of all manipulation and commercialization leading up to, day of, and passing of Valentine’s Day. I have also released Einstein from the manipulation. I can not imagine being male and having to deal with Valentine’s Day. Typically the pressure is for men .. In my opinion. Hopefully Flyp feels the freedom to do what he wants to do, if anything, on Valentine’s Day in his future.

I just don’t buy into the whole Valentine’s Day pressure and commercialization crap. There isn’t one gift that can ‘prove’ to me that you love and respect me on this one day of the year. It’s not about me, it’s about us. 365 days a year. I don’t and won’t accept that pressure and would never expect anyone to have to deal with it either, for me.

When Einstein and I first staring dating many moons ago, it was engrained in him to over achieve one day a year. Valentine’s. Really, Valentine’s is weaved into our brain from pre-kindergarten onwards. Remember those stupid little cards? That’s the start to the conditioning. I was pressured into it so my kids wouldn’t be left out at school. The bullshit never ends. I won’t even get started on that rant. Thank me later.

Anyways, I caved into Einstein’s request with his expectations of how Valentine’s should be spent and we went for dinner at The Keg and a movie. Horrible horrible mistake. Keep in mind I’m an introvert and don’t like public gatherings. The worst dinning experience ever. Traumatizing. People everywhere. Service sucked. Despite the reservations Einstein made, we waited a very, very long time for our table, with a million other people. It then took a further hour for appetizers to even hit our table. Ugh, gives me a headache just thinking about it. Don’t get me wrong, super sweet that he went out of his way, had a thought process to make reservations on time, bought me a dozen red roses, an extravagant diamond bracelet (that I never wear – they don’t match my sweat pants) and he even thought to pick up the movie tickets earlier that day. It’s a chaotic disappointing experience. I asked him the next day if he had a good time. Of course he lied and said yes.

Approaching the next Valentine’s I told him I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t interested in it and didn’t want anything to do with Valentine’s Day. He hung on every word as I presented my case. Service sucks. Too many people. It’s an industry manipulation. Pressure. Big expense. I explained I’d rather get random flowers here and there. Random. Just because. Not because a date is set on a calendar and is commercialized that you must prove your love with gifts etc. He hurdled the fence and jumped on board. I’m sure if you ask Einstein he will tell you I’m the absolute best about that kind of stuff.

Ever since, we live pressure free on Valentine’s. I don’t ignore Valentine’s entirely. I’m not a total Scrooge. I will make a homemade chocolate cake in the shape of a heart, their favourite dinner (organic chicken Parmesan) and pick up an action movie. I say ‘their’ because we have Flyp and I love him too.

The best feeling is when I send Einstein and Flyp to get milk and a few grocery items and they come home with a small bouquet of flowers. They even go to Canadian Tire for guy stuff and come home with a movie for $6.99 that they think I’ll like. Make no mistake, that is real love wrapped up pretty in freedom of expression.

Show the love 24/7/365! Don’t make V-Day your D-Day.