An Assignment!

Alrighty everyone - here we go! Your mission (should you choose to accept it) is to write something that explains this -



The longer you look at this picture, weirder it gets. Exactly what kind of vehicle is that on the hill? Milk truck? UPS? The prisoners bus from the Fugitive?

If you want to write about what you think created this particular scenario on your own blog, send me the link and I'll link you up here, or you can give me your version of events through comments or via email - FoN_eh@yahoo.ca and I'll post the stories over the next few days. Get creative!!

All stories will be posted (or linked) and open to bloggers and non-bloggers alike (Rickie, you know you want to). I hope you will all play along or I'm going to feel like the fat kid in gym class who no one wants on their team. No pressure 'tho. Just my self-esteem and will to live on the line here.

I'll post my own version tomorrow. I'm thinking about throwing in some zombies to mess with Keely.

The first story is in! Check it out at Keely's place over at the un-mom

Random Tuesdays 'cause it's Tuesday

All I wanted to do this weekend is see some of the movies nominated for Oscars. I haven’t seen Milk, Revolutionary Road, Slumdog Millionaire….even the long Brad Pitt old guy/baby movie looks cool. Instead I saw ‘Madagascar 2’. It was stupid. Although, the ‘dying hole’ bit was pretty funny (you see, when the animals get sick they need to pick out a ‘dying hole’ to dig and then just lay there to die. All you see are these heads sticking out and everyone pretty much ignores them, but then the main giraffe decides to become a doctor, and…...oh never mind).

I want to go dancing this weekend. I don’t really do that anymore (unless I’m dragged there by my bar-fly friend), but lately I’ve been getting the urge to get down with my bad self. There is a band called Absofunkinlutely playing at the one bar I will agree to go to, and they’re described as an R&B/funk/disco band which is right up my alley. Hopefully I can get a little posse together and have a girl’s night out.

I called my little girl a drama queen this weekend. She is one, trust me. She thought it was a compliment of the highest order - one step up from princess, after all. This morning she was still talking about it (but she’s only three so she couldn’t really remember exactly what it was I was calling her), and when we arrived at daycare she proudly announced to her group that she is a ‘drag queen’. I love it.

I should really give blood. I work directly across the street from the Red Cross (oops, Canadian Blood Services) and I haven’t ever donated. We can’t call it the Red Cross anymore because they infected a lot of people with Hep C and HIV in the 90’s. They felt the best way to deal with that little whoops is to change their name, and then turn around and blame the ‘old’ Red Cross. This province does that a lot.

For example, the last conservative government we had in power (in the 80’s) ended with most of the elected officials going to prison for stealing tax payer money. They were called the Conservative Party, but after they all had to go to jail the few of them left standing decided it might be a good idea to change their name. They are now called the ‘Saskatchewan Party’ and actually WON the last election.

People around here really aren’t that bright.

Except me. I really should be running things.

Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 7

I’m still having a hard time this week staying on the straight and narrow post vacation. I worked out four times, and it was hit and miss with the food. The weekend is still a bit of a problem for me.

Also, I’ve been struggling a little bit with the role of the blog. It certainly helps me – no question about it, but what is the message I’m communicating here? Someone very close to me said something about my blog the other day that was so off the mark I found it quite offensive. He said, “Yeah, the blog. I’ve read it. It’s just a way to slam skinny people in a light hearted way”

Huh? That is not at all the point. Not even remotely close or even almost resembling the point. At all. Um, dude? This blog is about ME. Interesting that the people closest to me who should be my rock of support don’t get it. Strangers from other countries? You all seem to get it just fine.

I’m not just ‘slamming’ skinny people here, in fact I think I make fun of myself more than anyone else anyway. I throw some jokes in here and there because it’s my writing style and I’m hoping you will take my wife, pleeease. Ba da dom.

I do not have some bone to pick with skinny people – everyone I know is skinny. Seriously – 100% of all of my friends are thin people. The biggest problem any of them have is trying to lose the last five or ten pounds of hanging around baby weight. I’d be pretty lonely if I had some grudge against skinny people. I’ve had the same friends for twenty years and body shape is not a qualifier. They don’t give a shit that I’m fat. I need them, they get me. Besides, there are plenty of other reasons to make fun of them and I do, frequently. Hey, it's just all part of my charm!

This is actually fairly important to me, what I’m doing here. It’s my own on-line journal and I keep myself honest all week with thoughts of having to update the world on Monday. While it may look stupid, this is my way of trying to accomplish something that has been pretty hard for me for a lot of years. I put it out there like this to get the support I need. And, it’s working. While I have some good weeks and some bad weeks, it’s working. Casey, the head Nagger-in-Chief over at Hasay was kind enough to ask me to guest post this week's Hasay update located here. Go check it out! I’m very flattered she asked me because it means that someone somewhere is reading this and doesn’t think I’m just a bittered old fat girl who is a stupid joke. I’m a snarky, overly sarcastic fat girl who writes her own stupid jokes. There is a difference people!

Usually when someone I love really disappoints me I eat crap. I hereby vow not to fall into that again. This week will be a better week! I’m going to try a few new things – new exercises, new foods, some new drugs and possibly an eating disorder. Ha! See? I kid.

(Disclaimer - that joke was not directed at any skinny people. I love you in all your lu-lu lemon glory)

I just weighed myself and I’ve lost 3.5 pounds this week. Really?? Wow - this has got to be some kind of miracle. I'm going to double check my bowl of cornflakes now because the face of Jesus must be floating in there.

This means I lost the 2.5 pounds I gained last week, plus another pound on top of that! Do you know what this means?? I'm officially over the first landmark, the FIRST TEN POUNDS! Yay me!! I'm mentally jumping up and down high-fiving myself right now.

So far I have lost 10.5 pounds. I have 49.5 to go.

The Things I'll do for Fish

I am home for a rest after spending a mostly relaxing weekend in British Columbia, the land where everyone refers to their items by brand name, not description. As in, “The airline lost my Peg Perego” (an infant car seat) or “I just love walking in my Saucony’s” (shoes). I spent a lot of time nodding and smiling as to not appear to be the prairie hick luddite who owns a playpen, not a ‘Baby Bjorn’. I’m tired. Not only for the mental exhaustion that comes with trying to pretend I have any clue what people are talking, but also because I’m still recovering from the trip to the Vancouver Aquarium with two three year-old girls and a four month old baby in the middle of a Saturday.

Armed with a Primo Viaggio (stroller), the girls, snacks to satisfy every anticipated whim of a toddler, a baby, and at least two cell phones in case we needed to call for back-up, off we went to see the whales, dolphins, various kinds of fish and maybe an otter or two.

After we arrived and had to circle the parking lot for 15 minutes before finding a spot, a slow, dawning realization came to my friend and I that this might be challenging. We kept quiet though, out of respect for the other who may have decided to comfortably embrace the warm bosom of delusion.

It appeared there were quite a few people that picked the same day to take in the aquarium. Undeterred, we set about the process of un-buckling the girls, getting the baby settled in his stroller, and hauling out the bags, toys, snacks, tequila and valium before we forged ahead into the great unknown.

We arrived at the doors to the aquarium, steeled our nerve and prepared for battle. At some point during the walk from the parking lot the girls had managed to apply war paint which went perfectly with the low hum of jungle drums that were suddenly playing in my head. I even heard a monkey squawk. Wait a minute…aren’t we at an aquarium? There were people EVERYWHERE.

We were to meet two friends and their children at the entrance (safety in numbers), but alas, only one made it. We were only an hour into our voyage when traffic took out our first solider. We bought a stuffed beluga at the gift shop and sent it to her family with notes of kind regard.

The girls were not at all shaken by news of our first casualty or the masses of resistance forces that were stationed at every corner. In fact, along with the war paint the kids had managed to organize an impressive zone-defence that would have made any NFL coach proud. After yelling a squeaky ‘BREAK!’ they each took off in opposite directions with their little heads bobbing between a sea of random legs.

Man, those kids are fast. It also didn’t help that they are also super short because it was as equally hard to see them when they are standing right beside you as it is when they are bolting towards the nearest display of sea horses.

There was some pretty cool stuff to see at the aquarium, but we only got to see it when the girls took a break from plotting our demise.


"Dude, what are you doing just standing there? It's totally your turn to take off running in the opposite direction."

Cute though, right? The cute is all part of their plan, you see. Just when you’re all ‘awwwe’ they hit you with a tantrum or an owie or a sharp and pointy toy upside the head.

But, all that stuff is okay because the way they go about it is somehow charming in its own right. One flash of that mischievous grin and even though I know I’ll pay for it with some kind of natural disaster caused by the cyclone that is the collective 60 pounds of these children, I let it happen anyway because whatever the fallout, it’s probably going to be worth it.

Although it has taken me a few days to recover and I’m not sure we won the battle, the weekend was a blast. I wish I could freeze those girls in time and visit them at this age whenever I want because right now they are about perfect. I washed off the war paint though.



p.s. If you're wondering why my kid is practically bald, read this.

p.p.s. - I should also point out that only the bald kid is mine. The other one belongs to my friend who graciously gave me permission to exploit her daughter on the internet.

Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 6

Hello all! I know its Tuesday and I really should be all random, but I didn’t post fat chick yesterday and I need to catch up. I don’t have very many self-imposed blog rules, but posting weekly on the fat-stats is one of them. Actually, it’s the only one.

It was a mixed week; I worked out Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I think Wednesday should count as two days of exercise because it was the most excruciating 45 mins of my life. Some callous individual created this merciless exercise class called “Xtreme Kettlebell Workout”. I’m not sure what happened to the first ‘e’ that should be out front of ‘xtreme’, but I’m guessing it’s in the bathroom vomiting because that’s where I almost ended up three quarters of the way into that class. It was unpleasant.

On Friday I took off to BC for the weekend to visit some friends. I had planned to maintain a strong resolve and adhere to my strict caloric intake during the entire weekend. Uh huh. I didn’t even get out of the Regina airport before that plan was abandoned. Our flight was delayed by two hours and I decided to celebrate with a cheeseburger. I had to contend with a cranky toddler for two hours in the worlds lamest airport – food was my only weapon! Huh? What’s that? Yes, I needed to eat it too. Shut up.

The rest of the weekend was a complete blow out. Don’t get me wrong, most meals I ate were healthy enough, but when you eat your weight in them I don’t think it counts anymore. I also cheated. A lot. Full disclosure perfect strangers – please feel free to judge and berate me:

- I drank beer. Lots of it. At least six and probably more like eight bottles.
- I drank wine. Lots of it. At least four and probably more like six glasses.
- Two bowls of ice cream
- Half a brownie, but it was a HUGE brownie, so half was really more like one full brownie.
- Cinnamon scones. They were yummy, especially after I slathered butter all over them.
- Vending machine food at the airport. Enough said.

I’m pretty sure there were more indiscretions, but those are the highlights. Consequently, I weighed in this morning and I’m up 2.5 lbs.

But, I’m going to use this as a personal test for me. In the past, right around the beginning of the second month I fall off the wagon due to something – a holiday, crappy life circumstance, boredom, whatever, and then I stay off. For about a year. All of my progress is wiped away and then some. I am not going to do that this time – I have been eating very well today and I’m going to the gym after work even though I don’t at all feel like it. What I really want to do is go home and see the other two kids who did not have the benefit of a weekend trip. My boy told me today that he missed me. Just like that – I was getting ready for work and he popped his head in the bathroom and said, “I missed you mom” and then took off like a bat out of hell because he (correctly) predicted the hugging and kissing that was about to be bestowed upon him. My boy is a fellow of few words, and when he does have words they’re usually aggressive and/or smart-assy. That kid must have missed me BAD to spit that out.

But, as I was saying I am not going home to my son who missed me, I’m going to the gym. I have to. I can’t give in to the reasons I can’t go, even if those reasons are good ones. It’s too slippery a slope, and if I indulge my desire to be elsewhere on a day that is scheduled to exercise it usually marks the beginning of the end. I’m going to the fucking gym. BLAH.

Head West! and drink some good wine when you get there

Alright everyone – I’m off to the land of tofu, February flowers and delusions of grandeur. I’ve made the decision not to take my laptop, so you won’t hear from me until Tuesday or so. Going cold turkey from this thing is going to be pretty hard, and I might have to visit the methadone clinic on Hastings St. if the cold sweats and shaking gets too out of hand. It’s a good thing Vancouver is laden with addicts and nutters. Maybe it is my kind of town after all….

Facebook exists to remind you that you suck

I was on facebook chat last night with a woman I went to high school with, but who I haven’t actually seen since high school. She moved to BC (and yes, she does indeed suffer from the BC Effect as evidenced by her conviction of how I should move there), found herself a husband and settled down and had some kids. Prior to that she did a LOT. We’ve had a few conversations since the advent of ol’ facebook but the first one was the most memorable. It went like this:

HS Friend: So what have you been up to since high school?

Me: Umm, well… I stayed in town and had a baby pretty much right out of high school, married my high school sweetheart, got a job, bought a house a few blocks from where we grew up and then had a couple of more kids. That is pretty much it. You?

HS Friend: That sounds great!! (BC Effect kicking in, because she sounded like she actually meant that) Well, after high school I completed my social work degree, and then went overseas to work in London while I completed my Masters degree. I did quite a bit of volunteer work with orphans in third-world countries before I published my first book. Then I was invited twice to speak in front of the United Nations - once with the first book, then again with the second. Shortly after that I moved to BC, met the man of my dreams, had two wonderful children and now I am a professor at the University.

Me: Oh. That’s nice. You'll need to excuse me for a moment while I beat myself in the head with our yearbook.

Are you kidding me with that? I had to fight the urge to tell her that I invented post-its.

It actually hadn’t occurred to me to be dissatisfied with my life until I talked to her, and then all of a sudden I am a huge loser with no soul. Starving orphans are not exactly top of mind, unless of course I’m watching Entertainment Tonight and Brangelina is transporting their tribe somewhere exotic, and then I’m really only looking at his ass anyway (and let’s be honest, Angelina’s ass too). I didn't get a masters degree either. I got myself a completely useless certificate like a normal person.

I have never taught anyone anything except for the time my little cousin needed help learning how to sneak into the bar underage. I sure as hell haven’t been published, unless you count this blog that currently holds a grand readership of twelve. As for appearing before the UN? I’m pretty sure the leaders of the world aren’t that interested in hearing my fart jokes.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like this woman and I am happy she has managed to accomplish so much in these last seventeen years, but....wow. The least she could have done was get fat.