And now for something completely different. A FEATURE.

You'll be surprised to hear that I am related to some excellent people. Fine people like myself. People who turn the weird things I say on facebook into songs. Well one person who does that, anyhow. My dear, talented cousin, Buzz. For the record, he doesn't turn every weird/dumb thing I say on facebook into a song, that would take infinity years and be pretty weird- Just two things: "Being Gross" & "Don't Scribble on my Blog". I really think this comment-song writing could be a formula for total internet success. I hope he gets rich. He deserves it, he's good people.

History Lesson:

Here is my cousin, Buzz and I as infants (as arranged by Uncle Bob who is my Dad's brother). This is my most favourite childhood snapshot of all time, obviously. That is me on the left. I'm pretty sure I've posted this here before, but since this is an entry featuring Buzz, I thought I'd better include it.

Besides: hilarious.

Back on Facebook, Buzz told me that reading my blog is like talking to me, but with less of him in it. Then he threatened to scribble on my blog (!) with a giant crayon, no less. Unbelievable. In fairness, I had taken a thread he'd started about getting a new job and accidentally twisted it into being about my blog. But really, I just wanted to emphasize that the words blog and job almost rhyme; not promote myself. I generally just happily assume that most of my relatives and their facebook friends don't want to know what happens here.

(blah blah blah... congrats on the job from other facebookers)

And he came up with this like, immediately:

Great, eh?

"Being Gross" however, is my personal favourite out of his songs about weird facebook comments from relatives. These songs, by the way, he wrote and recorded in under 10 minutes each. I can't exactly remember the entire conversation leading up to this song being written, but rest assured it was probably pretty dumb. I take no credit for the songs, by the way. Buzz is a geen-lius: tell him to start a youtube channel.

Anyhow, here it is. I hope it doesn't all wreck because of stupid blogger video uploader, which is shite. I didn't ask him if I could put it on the yootoob, so it had better work...

Being Gross:

Thanks, Buzz, for letting me post about this! I hope it becomes a regular occurrence. I also hope this plug satisfies your need to vandalize my web page with crayons.

End.

PS.. don't forget to read this other blog from today.

Don't you challenge ME about cinnamon buns.

Oh. So you don't believe I'm making cinnamon buns right now, eh Steffaneveryone Facebook? Eh? You don't believe me? Hmm? Do you? No. You don't. Oh facebook, you are a fool because I AM. I'm making them. Well I've started. I have an hour and a half to kill until the dough is ready so.... here I am proving it on the internet instead of cleaning the bookshelf.

Normally, I might have crapped out and turned my bread dough into a regular loaf of bread, but since my ladylike integrity has been put to the test, well now I have to follow through. It's my great gran's recipe/word of mouth-ipe, save for the convenience of the bread machine to do all the thinking. The REST is her way. After the dough is done, I mean. But the dough is her recipe too, you guys, it just happens to be bread-machineable. Hurray Great Grandma Sammy! You forward thinker. In case you missed, or are incapable of scrolling down 4 or 5 blogs, this is her:

"I'm making cinnamon buns, fools"

So HA! Lookie: The dough is on it's way:

Yep. This adventure has started. I'm all the way in now. I've even shown you my Grandmother & my lard. *oh my*!

But alas, I've done all I can do for now. Cinnamon buns involve quite a lot of waiting. Photographic Update coming in 1 hour 45 mins.

In the mean time, here is a story: Once when I was about 9, I tried to put together a mostly decomposed cow skeleton with my cousin, Billy. The idea being that if we rearranged it and made it look like an alien, we could convince a scientist to give us quite a substantial amount of money to study it. It was like a Looong snake-cow alien. We wished that the OTHER dead cow would have decomposed faster so that we could have used its bones, too. Killjoy. It would have been almost fool proof.

Oh what a fool that scientist would be! But he wouldn't discover his grave error until we were long gone in our ferraris. BwahahahahAAAA!! No scientists came along to the pasture, though. Opportunity-MISSED.

Here we are on our way to Disneyland. We look distracted because we were busy thinking of ways to extort the owners of this mini merry go round. Notice my intimidating outlaw neck bandana and Billy practicing his Mr Burns-hand. Brains & Brawn. PS.. somehow, my hair magically turned a natural shade of platinum blonde between then and now... *cough*


Stay tuned...
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Later that day.....PART 2Tada! So the dough finished up its magic- time to take it out and try to remember how to make cinnamon buns.

Here's a tip: don't leave your dough alone for even a SECOND. You know, you turn around once and BAM. It has a sexy slave. Hassle.

So I set aside the princess and rolled out the dough, added all the secret ingredients and rolled it up, like so:

Patting it out. Sorry dough. Funtime is over.



Cutting it into 12 even parts is where my math skills really come in handy. Thanks, Mr Shoultz.... for FAILING me so that I have complete meltdowns every time I think about scary, scary numbers. *bitter glare*


arrange arrange arrange

Now I have to wait for it to rise for like 45 min. This is why I don't make them often. It's an all day kind of commitment.

More to come. Let us have a spot of tea while we wait, shall we, internet?

So, Miss Honytrinkle, I DO hope you brought those scumptious home made pickles to the tea party! And you, Mr Furthermore? Are you going to play us a tea-time tune on your harpsichord? What a lark! Have you finished taking inventory of your rare sweater collection, Mrs Beenile? Any luck with those ideas you were pitching, Mr Himmler?.... Oh I KNOW, he can be so bossy. Yeah, I totally saw those pants *snicker*. Does he think he looks emo or something with that moustache?? WHAT? Oh Himmler... Oh NO HE DIN'T!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 3- They're done! Yay!


They have risen. Hallelujah.


All done.


Flip 'em over and they are sticky, freaking awesomeness- because I ALWAYS double the sticky stuff and never ever put in raisins. Any other way is a total waste of time.


So THERE, Internet. Now I can have a shower. Yay!

OOOoooOOH!
I'm a leetle Teapot
Short und Shtout!
Das ist Mein Handle
Das ist Mein Shpout
Ven I get all shteamed up
He-ah me SHOUT:
ZE VERY FIRST ESSENTIAL FOR SUCCESS IS A PERPETUALLY CONSTANT UND REGULAH EMPLOYMENT OF VIOLENCE!!!
Toot toot!
*moustache waggle*

I know. Hell.

Sumo brother on the set of Titanic, bullets, pictures of barely legal cats, that sort of thing.

My favourite snapshot of my oldest brother from when he was a temp for Kate Winslet.

-I've been painting pictures of shoes. Nothing worthy to be seen as of yet. Or maybe ever.
-My tattoo feels like the world's largest mosquito bite. It will never stop being itchy. I must will it to be scratched. Or buy gold bold itching powder. Probably I won't do that.
-I cheese grated my thumbnail half off in my attempt to make perfect lasagne today. It wasn't supposed to be part of it. MmMmm bloody cheese...
-I am kind of blue lately. Not like Avatar, because then I'd be depressed. Just meh.

-I like it when I'm eating my McDonalds salad in the parking lot while waiting for my kids to get out of school and I slop salad dressing down the front of myself, only to discover that it all landed on the seat belt. SCORE! It's the little things, people.
-OoH also lookie! 100 subscribers! (Until one of you unsubscribe because this entry S U C K S.) Don't punish me, internet.
-Its my birthday in less than a month. Gross.

Don't unsubscribe! Here are some more erratic photos:Smarties the harlot kitty lookin' for a man-cat. Lookin' good, Smarties. Flaunt it while you got it. Because you're getting spayed. Buuuurn.

Funniest movie ever.

Some tapes in a junk store that I went into on the weekend. Every single one sucked.

The lasagna that I made for dinner tonight.

My older sister and I. About 1980.

Me on my tricycle with E.T. Rockin' the red pants. 1983/84ish

I tried random stranger chat. I think I failed. I guess I'll have to keep talking to real people who I actually know. *sigh* They always know when I'm lying about how I have my own bee-shooting gun. (It shoots bees at people. Especially bad guys.)

Stay out of this tiny, concrete, hundred year old culvert/drainage pipe, Everyone.

My brain is a dried up little craisin. Not even zombies would want it in their cinnamon buns.

Alright, Nerdsquad. It's 12:33 am and I have been pretty much transferring files (long overdue) from my old crapattack, dell, missing-the-letter-k laptop to my glorious, new-ish (November=new, right? it totes does. That's right I said totes because I am delirious) macbook FOREVER. If you're on my twitter or FB, you've been skipping over my complain-y updates for hours. and. hours.

I've found that the most effective way to avoid the bajillion glitches in my dell is to use bluetooth to move files. OMG slow. So here is some rambly crap for you to read and enjoy while I watch the progress bar until I am hypnotized and strangle something inanimate. Like that cat over there.

1. Teenagers speak aloud to each other in text. IN TEXT. They SAY "smiley face" and they SAY, "Awww Frowny". Just when I thought emo pants were the most obnoxious things ever, this surfaces. The fact that I say, "Oh Em Gee" occasionally, weighs very lightly on this, though Geeks. For rlz. I stole it from another adult who happens to be totally awesome. Totes. This is what is happening to our youth. We're pretty much screwed when we get really old, eh?

2. The farmer in my Dell

The farmer in my Dell

High Ho Ontario

The farmer in my Dell has been sucking the life out of me all day and I need to step away, but if I do, I might never take the files off of it and I hate the people at the Net Nanny place because they make my life that much more difficult and they lie to me and say it will be easy to format the computer so that it is safe for a pre teen to use it without accidentally exposing his eyes to the unsavory internets- but it's not easy at allllllll, it's a pain in the arse and I need to sleeeeeeeeeep but I'm stupid and promised I'd do thiiiiIIIIiiiiiissssssssss killlll meeeeeeeeee.... (but don't really kill me, internet weirdos, spare me because look how dedicated to stuff I am. You don't find that every day.)

3. So on my old computer were all the old lame-o youtube vidlogs I used to do. That was a stroll down memory lane/back into cabin fever. Wild. Maybe I'll post a montage of them set to some peppy and then very sad early 90s pop music. Maybe I won't.

4. Maybe instead I'll have an oreo straw. I thought plain old oreos and beer were glorious but now you can drink your beer THROUGH an oreo. A straw made of oreos for beer. Think about that awesomeness. I mean really sit down and think about it.

5. I have to stop. This blog is whacktarded.

6. I wish I was at the waterslides right this second.

LaserTiger. That's a cool title for this post.

I finally won a damned coffee at Tim Hortons. Now I don't even want it. I DON'T EVEN WANT IT, READER. The winning cup is now sitting on my microwave collecting change and screws, just like the Tim Horton's whore it is. (Tim WHOREtons. Hahahaha. Clever me.) And guess what? In one week, the cup has collected enough change to buy several coffees. And guess what else? I'm going to buy a frosty with that money because I have a sore throat. TAKE. THAT. Plus I have never had a frosty, I don't think... in fact I'm not sure where to buy one or what it is, exactly. But I'm going to find out what it is and get it because it sounds pretty soothing. Whatever it is, rum will be good in it. I'm getting pretty excited about it.

In other news, The Kids in the Hall are getting back together to do a series for the CBC. Oh-Em-Gee. I nearly peed myself when I heard this (But not quite). I already have every episode of kids in the hall taped on vhs somewhere in my basement in a box. I syphoned it off a good friend waaaay back in high school. All I know is that it's now in some precious translucent fluorescent green cases next to my taped copy of Space Balls and I no longer own a VCR... hm... Remember when we used to tape stuff and keep it? I had alllllll kinds of awesome taped shows. I bagged the crap out of my mom's VCR. Once, when I lived on my own and I was poor, I would have a friend of mine tape whatever he was watching on TV and give me the tapes the following day. It was like having time retarded cable. I just reused and reused the same three tapes for about a year. *high five*

Those were the days. Now I have digital cable on demand. *high five*

So my kid found an old mixed cassette tape in the bottom of a drawer once and asked me what it was. I was shocked. I told him it was a tape and he screwed up his face.

Kid: THIS is tape?? How do you open it? What do you tape with it? It's not even sticky.
Me: You're grounded. *high five*

How are angsty teenagers supposed to express themselves without complicated themed mixed tapes made up of different arrangements of the same 6 albums they own/scavanged from their siblings for their bffs? I think the death of the mixed tape is solely responsible for the advent of the emo kid. Too much access to crappy internet music. You KNOW I'm right. When I was a teenager, I had no choice but to include some of my Mom's records into my mixed tapes. Y'know, just for filler. A little Jimmy Swaggart built character, anyway. Clearly. Is not crappy. IS NOT. It's not the same! *lalalalala*

Off to see a man about a frosty.

My most hilarious baby photo.

I'm the one in the red pajamas.

Uncle Bob was told to watch the children verrrry carefully while mother went to the grocery store.

This was just prior to my Uncle Bob separating me from my siamese cousin, Buzzy.

The first step in the baby anger management program is the hug.

Uncle Bob put the babies' heads in close proximity to scramble their thoughts and stop them from reading his mind....

Learning to tango is a lifelong commitment which must be cultivated in early childhood.



I could go on all day.

Stroll down memory lane.

Hee!  So, here is a random photo from my files, Nerdsquad!  Let me tell you about this.  This right here is a drawing that my sweetie pants, Neilykins, drew for me while we was courtin'.  He was impressing me.  Totally worked, too.  It's a coke monkey!  Oh muh Gawrsh! I still swoon. *swoon*  Look at his little bamboo straw and dilated pupil..  Isn't he so clever?