Stop looking at my Tortilla.

Are you Ready? Because Dum dada DUUUuuuUUm......

Tada.

The most unflattering photo of all time has been taken of me, thanks to Neil's photography skills and trained artist eye! Thanks Neil. Thanks.

So I went to a zombie themed dinner soiree dressed as a zombie-bitten surgical nurse, so what? Who doesn't do that sometimes? What do you think I do in my spare time? Huh? Scrapbook? Not likely. Not that I don't think your scrapbooks are really well glued or anything. It's just not my thing.

So anyway, there was some magical pink hummus there and I'll just let you know that it tasted pretty awesome, as you can see from this photo that Neil snapped of me enjoying it. I am working pretty hard here to get the entire tortilla shoved into my face without worrying too terribly much about my dignity. Surgical Zombie nurses don't have any dignity.... Don't want to miss any of it, there, Self. Good Job. (Thanks. ) (You're welcome)

Anyhow, since this is easily one of my most unflattering shots, including my post-partum Shuswap beach photo set of 2003, I slapped that baby up on facebook for everyone to admire. Since then, I've been going back to it and saying to myself, "Self," I say, "How much worse could this even be?" How much better? Time for some photosciencesorcery!" So I went to work, finding out some answers and here are my results:

How would I look if I was Kelly Clarkson in this photo of me with a brain-hummus tortilla chip hanging out of my face? Like a rockstar, pretty much. Nice corset, Self. Thanks, it's not really mine. Oh? Yeah, it's Kelly Clarkson's. Well it's pretty slimming. That's because it's a corset.. it has fake whale bones in it. Uh huh..uhuh....I see.... That's a tiny jacket, huh? *awkward silence* Yeah, Self. It's the style.

This photo almost exactly depicts the mood of the evening, if it had been a business stock-photo shoot, which is wasn't- so stop asking so many questions. Just back off, I'm trying to do something here.

Kewpie dolls are basically the cutest things you can get. Their webbed groins obviously don't even ruin their cuteness, because who's even looking, right? Not me....but this photo of my face even ruins Kewpie. Amazing, eh?

Totally even ruins a Jolie-Pitt baby. Unbelievable.

I think it kind of suits the Sarah Palin one. Spewing pink hummus/getting North Korea & South Korea confused. Whatevski. Oh hey- Sarah Palin/PARASAILIN' Get it? You just kind of mix up the letters there and you get "parasailin" from.... uh.. nevermind..

Can it even ruin Princess Leia's metal bikini? Hello. Yes it can. But who's looking at my tortilla anymore? Me. That's who. Gross. Stop it. Stop, I'm not even listening to you. *lalalalaaa*

This one actually isn't photoshopped. That's just me on my hope-mobile, wheelin' through a playground is all.

Kittens are cute, right? WRONG.




Well that was pretty fun. Try not to all fall in love with me at once. Take turns. Pace yourselves. Stay hydrated and all that.

It's Movember, Baby.

I learned about Movember today when Neil informed me that he will be growing a Magical, Seussical, Discobilly Rock'stache on his face this month. Not just a wee moustache, but the kind of moustache that will lash out and slap knaves and french kiss damsels for minutes at a time in a frenzy of manliness as they pass him on the street. A MANSTACHE, you guys. It's okay, though.. I know it's not HIM kissing the damsels: it's that impetuous, masculine moustache. The moustache that is even now, forming under his skin; a frail, fetal moustache; for today he had to shave off all his facial hair in preparation of the human landscaping that is to take over and reform his entire visage.

What will happen???

A moustache is a strong statement, and much like a hat, I do believe that wearing it changes the personality of its proprietor. Tweaks it. De-muttonchop a muttonchopped Scot and you will have a sad, wilted man. Strip a man of his handle-barred coif and prepare to duel. That's how men are. Protective of their moustaches. They manicure them like bonzai trees, with tiny scissors and a keen eye for rounding out their glorious lip-pelts. Neil will be a busy bee this month, alright.

Will it emerge from his pregnant follicles and be the kind of moustache that he can pet and name, like a friendly little squirrel, wintering on his face? The kind that grows great, long icicles on cold winter mornings, that dangle from his tendrils of moustache and hang dangerously over the children? Will it command the attention of even the most reluctant of media hounds? Will it sweep along the behind him, creating a zephyr of mystery everywhere he goes? Will it be able to bench press 300? Something in the air has shifted. I feel like things are about to change, you guys.

Oh please, Oh please be like this one!

We are even now, scouring name books and wondering what kind of moustache it will be when it matures into a ripe, vessel of manlyman hair. With proper guidance, Neil's moustache will become the Chief of all the moustaches, commanding reverence and homage from the frail and huddled moustaches of the world- It will inspire and conquer humanity and possibly be so manly that all prostate cancer in the world will simply shrink away in shame... for that is the purpose of the Movember Moustache- to raise money and wage facial hair war on prostate cancer.

Moustache-a-licious

Will there be mutton chops to accompany his Scottish heritage? Will we need to seek out and purchase moustache wax? Do they even make that stuff?? The journey has begun to unravel... I will keep you updated.

And hey! I blogged! Yay me! This is just the kind of thing I need to end my blogblock. :D

PS... To donate to Neil's Movember Moustache War on Prostate Cancer, go here: http://ca.movember.com/mospace/988998/

Oysters, Cat Rumspringa, Pee. Three important topics in one blog.

1. I ate a raw oyster. I was peer pressured. I thought it would be the devil, like cooked oysters are, cooked oysters are the tiny little taste-like-sweat devil... but I sucked it up. Get it? Sucked. It. Up. Like you do with oysters. Not funny? Okay.

I treated it like a little oystery jello birthday shot (which was kindly). Anyhow, turns out that I like slimy, saucy, little grey globs of flesh. The point is that once again I have to take back all the libelous slander I've expressed about oysters the same way I had to backtrack on sushi being yucky... which it isn't... if you don't order it in Northern Alberta at a place called, "Prairie Sushi". What is happening to me? I'm mutating or something. I'm all wild and adventurous.

2. My cat, Smarties, is back from her rumspringa. Her coming of age event where she snuck out and left for two days of sinning. The little ho. Thank the two year old for mangling the screen door so she could get away from the house. Anyhow, she was missing, during which time I knew that if she came home, she'd be pregnant; because she's in heat every 8 seconds. See how that works? So now I've been eyeballing her accusingly every time I walk past her.

"NAPPING, SMARTIES??? ARE YOU?? HMM???? TIRED FROM BEING A TOTAL PREGNANT WHORE?? Huh?? I see you came slithering back home. Make some poor choices did you? If you're pregnant, expect no help from me. You made your bed, cat. Do you even know who the father is??? Probably not, right? What's your next move? Cat welfare?? (Wait... do they have that? Because $$$).... OR maybe you want to go to the doctor and y'know... take care of this....? You could still get your life together, smarties. What about community college?? Was it the feral cats at Parliament, Smarties? Huh party girl? Couldn't resist, eh? Whore."

No really, is there such thing as cat abortions? Probably for a million dollars. Also, then I'd live in eternal guilt for forcing that solution upon my cat. Every time she looked at me in the future, I'd have to avert my eyes and bite my fist. Living forever with her leaving cat-pro-life pamphlets on my nightstand.... writing "KITTEN MURDERER" on my mirror in red lipstick, little cat picketers all around my house forever..... watching her try to herd around and mother the kids' stupid, horribly annoying zhu zhu electric hamster pets...... Waiiiiiit..... this could work.....

Oh fine. I'm going to hell for talking about cat abortions. I get it. Stop glaring at me through your fancy cd roms. She might not actually even be pregnant. Maybe she really listened to the talk I gave her about the facts of life. Maybe I'll just make her wear a scarlet letter.



3. Don't you think it would make more sense if the old fairy tale was, "The Princess and the Pee"? Because a pea? PEA? No... but if you pee in my bed, I'm going to get really princessy and cranky with you.

Me: OH EM GEE. Did I just feel something wet?
Bed: Yah. I'm peed. Everyone is waiting to see how you react
Me: WHAT? Everyone who?
Bed: The prince.... well Neil. He won't marry you if you're not grossed out.
Me: What?
Bed: Yeah. But you passed. You win.
Me: Do I? Do I really win?
Bed: Yep. There is only one loser here and it's me.
Me: Ha. Jokes on you, bed. I'm going to go sleep in the guest room
Bed: Yeah... Guest bed is a little starved for attention... you might not like what you find there. It took it to the next level so to speak... to see if you're a Queen and stuff. Think "princess and the corn".....
Me: Ooooh... nooooo... Oh man, Bed, you've always got my back. Can I get you anything?
Bed: Yah. A towel and some purell.
Me: Sooooo sleeeepy......glaughhhhhh
Bed: Yeah but could you... just...
Me: Crashing in 3.....2..........1
Bed: Hey... pssst.... wakey wakey.....about that towel?.... Hey! *shake shake*
Me: *snore*
Bed: please?

That's what I was thinking about as Barney the dinosaur sang to kids about the importance of getting married as soon as possible on tv... or something (Ha. tell that to SMARTIES *zing*). I wasn't paying that much attention, as I was imagining what I would do if someone peed in my bed to find out if I was a princess or not- rather than just ask.

Well aren't you going to ask? If you don't ask, I'm just going to go ahead and sleep on the couch.

Morning cuteness: is it really real- or what?

The following simulation is something that I like to call, "If Neil had cameras installed inside of his eyeballs/Angel of the Morning."

Psst... Neeeeeillly...

HooOoooOooNeyyyyyyy...


Psssst *tap tap*


Oh Neeeeily...



Wakey wakeeeeey....

Psssst, Honey! It's Moooooorniiiiing!



Good morning, Darling, did you sleep well?


Oh, you didn't? What racket? I slept like a new baby lamb.


Nope, didn't hear a thing. Nope, nothing at all. Totally dead to the world. See? My pillow is saturated in drool even! YAAAAWN... Such a sound sleep I had...


Who me? No I don't talk in my sleep.. perhaps I snore a titch...


I said what in my sleep?


OMG, I should write that crazy s%$# down.
Why yes, I am of partial British Ancestry. Yes, and French... You knew that about me already... Did you have a bad dream or something?


Why do you ask? Voulez vous desire la cafe or something? A spot of tea whatwhat? Is that why you're asking, Neil? Is it?


HmmMMMM? Is it?


Ehhh? You want some delicious tea, do you? Or some coffee?


Just a sec... Could you just.. just scratch that itchy spot..... I'll scratch yours.. Yeah, my arms are still numb from laying on them. Nope, I have totally useless arms just now. That's great. Just great.


Thanks hon. What's that? no I can't sleep in make up.


Yeah, it clogs your pores... TERRIBLE idea, unfortunately.


You what? You got me something? You are too good to me, Neily.


Vitamins, huh? Oh you got me some... "Morning... Glory...Ladee's beauty vitamins.... You think I need these...... no? Okay, *phew*."


Are they holistic, Darling? I bet they're just as helpful as punch.


So what have you got planned today, my dear?


Oh, you're in a hurry to get to work, eh? That's a pity. Give us a kiss then... Oh that big of a hurry huh? A big meeting, have you, Sweetest?


Well then, I'm off to have a coffee & a little splash of makeup. Yes, I promise to take the vitamins... Off you go!


Let me just...*if I can just swing these sleepy old legs around...* go have a look at the damage first...

NOW look what Neil has done- has he gone too far??

***He's sharpied 'Enno', the baby's precious Raggedy Anne. Enno was already getting pretty worn for wear, but really- give her a break, she's 25 years old. She has now been customized with stitches for a mouth, a large, black spiral around her heart and some age lines. Way to go, Neil. Eleanore's precious Enno now looks like something that Tim Burton would make at craft time. The sad fact is that we have to bring this doll everywhere we go if we value our lives. She is a vital component to our peace of mind and quiet-in-the-car-itude.

Is it creepier to photograph her in a sink full of water? I don't know... Enno isn't very modest these days. I worry. I think she's on the drugs. She hardly ever even wears clothes and now with these body modifications and tattoos, I wonder if she hung around the sock zombies for a little too long. I had to put her in the sink to try and sober her up. Get a hold of yourself, Enno!!

Honestly, just look at those empty, junky eyes. THIS is what William S. Burroughs was talking about you guys. This is what naked lunch means.

All I know is that I jeeee-ust can't wait to take my child out with this naked, Crystal-Methity-Anne doll gripped tightly in her pink little fingers. Thanks alot, NEIL.

***disclaimer- Neil might not actually be responsible for this. He claims he was on his way home from work when it happened- and Eleanore did have a permanent marker line that went from her eyebrow to her upper lip when she came around the corner with Enno... but who's to say that Neil didn't sneak home and sharpie the baby, too? Nobody is actually claiming responsibility here.

The time Yoda was heaping mountains of mental battery upon me in Chapters.

So today at Chapters, I was sort of minding my own business, perusing the advanced literary genius books when I heard some audible warbling... Someone was reading out loud. Fine. Someone must have just been reading an interesting passage to their shopping partner, right? WRONG. SO WRONG. This grown person was reading a magazine OUT LOUD in the store; all by them self. Just sitting there on the leather ottoman reading away an article in a magazine for the world to hear without even flinching. WELL. This is unacceptable behavior. Completely unacceptable.

So I got a little closer to have a listen, perhaps this person had found some kind of important article about the world's impending doom that must be given attention. Nope. It was an article about 'TWILIGHT' *shudder*. EwWWwwwwww. I was overcome with self righteousness and had to stare at her back from my little nest of books in the genius section. I stared DAGGERS at her. DAGGERS, you guys.

The imaginary conversation I had with her is as follows and is hence forth to be acted out by lego men in the medium of photographic storyboarding. She being Lego Yoda (in her ugly orange sweater) and me, The Lego Princess Leia (in her limited vestments). Here is how it all happened in my sophisticated mental faculties:

YODA: ...blah blah... release for NEW MoOn will be less than a MONTH away... *more muttering about Rob Pattinson* something something, collector's edition...

ME AS LEGO PRINCESS LEIA: HEY YOU! You are supposed to twitter with your Macintosh Apple Iphone, Jackass! *snicker snicker* Not OUT LOUD to strangers. And guess what? There appears to be nothing wrong with you apart from the fact that you're reading People magazine OUT LOUD to nobody. *snicker* So what's up with you, FOUR EYES? Get it? It's funny because you have glasses. Well you would if it was the real you acting this out and not Lego Yoda, who does not wear glasses, nor can I make any as I am out of pipe cleaners AND twist ties. *cough*

YODA: Huh? I can't afford an apple iphone.

ME AS BEAUTIFUL, SLIM LEIA: "Waaah... I don't have an apple IPHONE"... OH kvetch kvetch kvetch. That just makes you inferior and laughable (however somewhat lovable). Don't you even watch the apple advertisements? We "Mac" geniuses are cool and all down to earth and calm and helpful about every single thing on earth and wear practical, yet stylish blue sweaters all the time and you "non apple supporting people" are frantic, out-of-touch-with-couture twits. Hello?? Are you listening to me? It's even been recorded by the media? Besides, if you look at what I'm possibly going to be purchasing, you'll be embarrassed at yourself to see that it's an interesting glance at the common misuses of English grammar *chuckle*. Hilarious stuff. And you? Cultureless CELEBRITY RAG? Your so simple. Must be nice.

STUPID LEGO YODA: HA HA HA. You just said, "your", instead of, "you're" which was completely grammatically inappropriate.... And you fancy yourself a Grammar Stickler...*chortle*

LEIA THE TANTALIZING: What? No.... I didn't. I couldn't have.

YODA THE YODELING YAKHERDER: Yes you did.

LEIA THE SMART AND BRAVE: What are you even talking about, outloud-reader-to-nobody person? Your not making cent's.

YODA THE HUGE BULLY: You're doing it again. Your grammar is atrocious.

LEIA (the melancholy): STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

CHAPTERS FLOOR MANAGER: AW hell. YOU AGAIN?! I'm going to have to ask you to leave again, MICHELLE. Hand over the Starbucks cups.

LEIA: Um, I think you're confused. My name is Lego Princess Leia.

Floor Manager: Look, Freak- we've already contacted the police. I don't know how you slipped past security, anyway. Must be the clever disguise.

The REAL Princess Leia: You won't get away with this. You're wrong. You're ALL WRONG!!! YOU'LL SEE!!! AHAahahHHAhahahahahHHHAA!!

Then I swing away into the city on the spideywebs which I can shoot out of my wrists, pursuing the trail of Yoda (the lone outloud reader), who has slipped away unnoticed, of course.

Until next time, Lego Yoda... Until next time...