You know how everyone now collects vinyl now. It’s the hip thing to do, you damned hipsters. Well I am taking it a level further. I am going to bring back the cassette tape. Mark my words, once my collection grows and I get mint condition cassettes in their original case, I too will be as cool as the hipsters. I may even start making mixed tapes for my car. Eeeeee mixed tapes!! That’s all I want for Christmas everyone, just make me mixed tapes! 

I just got my Moist tickets for Montreal!!! Omg we jump from the cassette driven eighties to the Canadian music of the nineties! I am so nostalgic and old! Anyways, I convinced Rachelle to go with me. There weren’t exactly a line up of people that wanted to go but whatever, I am so excited!! I used to be a crazy Moist super fan in high school. I went to all their concerts, met them at least three times and CRIED the first time I met them at Edgefest! Like a starstruck little groupie in the making, I made a total arse of myself. No one cries over Canadian bands ever. Oh but I did. I used to insist on wearing my Moist t-shirt to every picture day at school and family get together to promote my cause. Like I NEEDED to be a Moist groupie and I would let everyone know. My screen name online, during the ICQ messenger days, was Moistgal which looking back was like the most non discreet dirtiest name I could have ever had. But I only had eyes for the band so I never put together, that when I grew up, it could also be my future porn name. My Aunt used to bug me about it and I would be like, it’s a band!! And besides Auntie, your screen name is Herb girl which in my books is code for drug dealer so I think we are even. 

What is with frogs? It’s like they are all part of a cult and when it rains they drink the metaphorical purple kool-aid and they congregate on the road and jump right into the way of every car. They suicide bomb themselves onto to the grill of my car and it stresses me out. It is a terrifying, swervy, stressful trip home when it rains. Hey frogs, pull yourselves together! Cut ties with your cult leader and stay in the damned grass!

I have an inkling that one of the post men in Carleton Place is a retired 70’s porn star. He had dusty blonde hair, wears short shorts and is very comfortable showing a ridiculous amount of chest hair. He also seems to know all the women in town. Like they remember him from classic smut flicks and he knows it. Whenever I see him my head is filled with terrible 70’s porn music and his strut syncs to the beat. Dear Dirk, thanks for adding a little bit of vintage porn into my day, it means a lot.

Is it just me or is every car mechanic’s waiting room decor that terrible cottage wood paneling? It’s so man decorated. There are some ancient magazines, a calendar on the wall, some beige 80’s furniture and it it so dirty. It screams “decor by the mechanic dudes,” a place where no woman has ever added accents of colour or became so bothered by the dust that they cleaned it. It’s a public man cave with no effort to add pizazz to the space or excitement. It’s perfectly decorated to be the waiting room for bad news. That noise you heard in your car? Ya, that’s going to cost you $800 and you think, wow, this room is so bleak it’s a perfect space to hate the world in. Fuck that creepy wood paneling.  

We house sat recently next to someone who we may have nicknamed the crazy lady. Her main communication was with her dog, she had a squinty eye and she was hard to get away from in a conversation. When we were staying at the house next to her, Hennie accidentally decided to yell to me across the house that “THE CRAZY LADY WAS TALKING TO THE NEIGHBOUR!” I ran over to tell him he was standing in front of an open window and that she had heard all of that. And that I hoped she didn’t kill us in our sleep. She came into a shop I work at the other day and I was like wow, in the daylight she looks like an ex-communicated pirate. And kind of sounds like one! I knew she reminded me of something. Ah well. We are no longer her neighbour and no longer have to sprint to the car when she is out on her lawn, hazaa. 

So I have lost my faith in humanity. I parked in the parking place closest to the door as I was helping my little brother move into his apartment in Ottawa. I had my Dad stand by the car with my keys for half an hour as I ran stuff into the apartment, in case someone needed the space. My Dad was getting tired, so he left. I ran one bin up to my brother’s apartment and when I came down there was a by-law officer standing with a ragged looking red head and he was writing me a ticket. He says, oh there she is. I am like oh I was just up there a few minutes! Helping my brother move in! I will move right now! And the by-law officer says to the red head that it’s up to her wether I still get ticketed. She looks at me and says, ya, this happens all the time, ticket her. I was shocked! What kind of shit head wishes a parking ticket on someone? How sad is your life when you become a parking nazi? I was so mad I couldn’t even look at her. I was seeing red, so I started walking to the car, because I thought, well if I’m getting this stupid fucking ticket then I am going to go out in a blaze of glory with a high speed mother fucking car chase. In my Toyota Yaris. I stopped at the door when he started to walk over, because he was obviously on to me. I grabbed the ticket, threw it in the car and as I shut the door said go fuck yourself, into an open window, so I hoped she got the memo. When I saw the ticket was for $60 I quickly called Ben, told her the red head in his parking lot right now was a fucking %^&$&* and that I was wondering if he could slash her tires. What a bitch. Ok, I am done. For real! I have never sworn so much in my life. 

I just took a large dog for a walk at a place we are house sitting. Well he took me for a walk. I thought I should walk fast because this big dog needs lots of exercise but instead it made him pull harder. I was flying behind him as he tore down the street, gripping the leash with full force. A car passed so I made it look like I was leisurely jogging and that my fitness level allowed this speed. I smiled and waved at the person sitting on their front porch but was terrified on the inside that I would trip, and the dog would drag my lifeless body home.

Well the Baptist Church wins the eager beaver award. We are house sitting in the church golden triangle in Almonte and after taking the dog for a walk, only the Baptist’s are getting their shit together before 9am. Good job, Jeebus is pleased. 

I don’t think I should receive the Aldo e-mails anymore. I can be having the craziest busy days ever and be running around like a mad man (most of my days) and then I see there is a 30% off sale at Aldo and my world stops and I need to check it out. Because 30% off shoes is a bid deal! I flip through them all quickly, decide that I should really try on shoes before buying them and then delete the e-mail. Sometimes I check out the purses on sale too, but I never buy anything. Aldo, the official time waster of choice. 

I was in Starbucks the other day and got stuck behind someone who’s order was a small essay. It sounded something like…double tall, half caf, skinny, triple macchiato, chippity tip, extra caramel, extra hot, shot of heroine….it just went on and on! Even the lady behind was like, what is that alien jibberish she is speaking?! I walked up and asked for my SMALL black Americano (because I don’t give into the Starbucks speak) and left, 15 minutes later then expected due to the short story of an order before me. 

I am cleaning out my closet and getting rid of stuff. I will forever be vigilant about giving away purses. Many years ago my parents asked me to collect some things we could donate to the church bazaar. And being the good samaritan I am I got a bunch of old clothes and purses together. That evening my Dad came home and said, for future, when donating purses to church bazaars or anywhere, you should try and remove all the condoms, papers and roaches first. That would be great.  

This photo is here for no reason. Enjoy. Gargantu-cat.