Fergie, Dog Poop, World Going To Hell

Yes, seemingly obscure title, but these things are all somewhat related. 

First off, as much as I want all new blog visitors to read my naked threesome invite experience in the post below, I can't sleep and decided I should make another post since I can't do much else if I want BF to stay sleeping.

Second - For those not in the know, we have a great dane. A great dane is big. A great dane eats a lot and, consequently, poops an awful lot.

For some reason, my brain has automatically, without fail, associated picking up dog poop in the yard with Fergie's smash hit* "Glamorous". I will be out in the back yard (probably in pajama pants, braless, and in an ill-fitting-but-hopefully-clean sleep shirt). Go ahead and hate. I know you'z jealous.

I just saw the music video now, and I realize I wouldn't even be cool enough to attend the "pre-glamorous" kegger.

I will consistently forget to wear a headband or hat to keep my damn, unwanted bangs off my forehead, further challenging me to locate said dane poop while not brushing my hair aside accidentally fouling my hair or face.

After the first scoop or two, Fergie's damn song floods my mind. At first I would chuckle at the irony/juxtaposition of it all, now I just hate my own brain. Thanks Fergie, thanks a pile.

Now, in addition to this, not only do I get slightly pissy because my life is not, in fact, at all glamorous and I am not living the fast life. Much to my chagrin, I will never be up in tha club, sippin' that bub with Lady Gaga any time soon. So I think (in my petty jealous fashion) about how previously meth-addicted Fergie got to be so rich, famous and (unfortunately) influential on today's youth.

I know I am getting old(er) and cranky(ier) when I start thinking about texting language, the lack of sentence structure and grammar, the general decline of today's youth to spell real words, and the mass dependence on spell-check.

Mind you, I capitalize where I shouldn't, I will put a comma damn near ANYWHERE (I love those little spermy bad boys) and I don't claim to be any higher writing authority.

But peeps - the world is going to hell. Between lol-speak on lol cats (love the pictures, feel like a tool trying to talk that way... maybe I will get the hang of it, even though I don't really want to) and texting, 

Like - I M gettin soooo mad @ kidz who r nvr usin proper sntnces. Fergie is not helping me here, furthering this trend and making English teachers everywhere cringe.

Fergie:

Case #1: Song - "Fergalicious" - quote : 

"It's so tasty, tasty, It'll make you crazy. T, to the A, to the S-T-E-Y, girl you tasty.

World is going to hell: Those astute readers out there will note THERE IS NO E IN TASTY!

Case #2: Song - "My Humps" - quote: 

"I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps (Check it out)

World is going to hell: Dammit all to hell... "I'ma"? Seriously? Really? Seriously?

"My hump, my hump my hump my hump" should only ever be spewed out of the mouth of a camel. A talking camel. And even then only twice! Not by my then-7-year-old niece (to my horror).

Case #3: Song - "London Bridge" - quote:

How come every time you come around my London London Bridge wanna go down like 

London London London, wanna go down...

World is going to hell: Read all potential definitions here, if you dare. But let's just say, none of it is fit for an adolescent.

*I don't think that was a smash hit, I was just being sarcastic (shocking, I know).

And no, I am pretty sure that my curse-filled blog that I spell check every time before publishing has no negative impact on anyone, anywhere. And no, I don't have some of these songs on my MP3 playlist. And no, of course I would ever want Fergie's six pack from one of those earlier Black Eyed Peas video. DUH.

Photo credit

Who you callin' a jealous beyotch? 

Whatever, I have to go clean up the yard....

p.s. Sorry this post is in multiple fonts, I can't figure out how to change it in Blogger, drop down menus be-damned.

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I'm Scared of Spas - Part 2 (Naked threesome invite)

So, this experience happened many months ago, before my most recent traumatizing spa visit.

There was this "Spa Week" promotion that included a national-branded chain (reputable, right?) that was offering this treatment where they use a roller with some type of electrical pulse or something, to help massage your dimply ass fat and help "tighten" the bottom area.

I figured, "What the hell! Why not! It's a $140 treatment for $50, and I will get a leg massage and maybe roll out a dimple or two! Fuck yeah!".

Then I noticed they had the UV tooth lightening on promo for $99, and while I felt guilty for spending money on stuff like that, I was feeling exceptionally low because of my health issues and decided I was worth it. Even if it meant less rice cakes for me that week!! (I know, I know - the sacrifices I make....)

Reminds me of those old wooden trains we played with as kids... but with electricity and shit.

So off I went to the spa, feeling guilty (like I do when I spend money on something like this) but sort of pumped that I would come out of there 30 lbs. lighter with a nice, tight ass. As opposed to this:

Note the lack of "bottom firmness"....

I enter the spa. I might have been late. Who keeps track of these things? Anyway, had to pee, used the washroom, no hand towels. Had to wipe wet hands on front of pants; had no time to seek out hand towels. This is where I think I may have given my aesthetician the wrong idea.


Spa Girl: "Hello, I'm Anna, welcome to _____ Spa, I'll take you to the change room so you can prepare for your treatment"

Me: "HI! Nice to meet you!" (me smiling nervously with wet region of pants near crotch.... ruh roh)

So I change. After being informed that indeed, I should remove everything, put on a robe and those little disposable flip flops.

I get into the room and Anna explains the butt/cellulite treatment will be first. I get nekkid after she leaves me for a minute and crawl under the blanket, contemplating why, on earth, I believed that a $50 treatment with metal rollers and some bullshit electrical pulse will actually do anything to my ass. I am not one of those gullible folks who thinks this will work.... AM I?!?

Was it just me subliminally wanting someone to touch my bum?!? Dear GAWD! I am a pervert, what's wrong with me, I should go, I should leave, what if she thinks I am a perv or something, I should... *knock, knock*

Anna: "All set in there?"

Me *gulping*: Uh... yeah...


The treatment starts, with a rough-ass scratchy brush to remove all your dead leg and butt skin. HOT!
Then there was some massaging with lotions. Then the ol' tool gets busted out. (The cellulite roller I mean!)

To be honest, I remember little on the specifics of the treatment, once Anna started her speech that made me want to hide.

Anna told me that she loved my hair and that she thought it was pretty. I said, aw, thanks. (I had actually styled it that day because I was getting government photo ID taken).

Then she said she really liked the shirt I was wearing when I came in. (Old Navy, elastic bottom, excellent for covering up muffin top).

And no, this is not me.

See, so I am sure that employees of this spa are told to get clients to feel at ease, relax... she seemed to be laying it on thick. This was a spa, not a bar.

Do they encourage employees to ask clients to agree to a threesome? Er... wait.

So, yes, then Anna started talking about how I have SUCH a great body, and that I wouldn't even NEED this treatment, but if I wanted best results, 6-8 would be required. (Spa training in effect). Okay, so maybe I was overreacting to her compliments.

Then, out of the blue, she told me about how every client she sees who has had her boobs done always asks her to feel them, or at the very least, to massage them.

How does one respond to that?

Better yet - how would you expect me to respond to that when Anna is running her hands up and down my ass (dangerously close to the crack)? But kids, it gets better, and even more uncomfortable.

Anna then says that her boyfriend doesn't care much for strip clubs or anything, but that she is always up for going once she's been drinking. That she'd even go with his friends if he'd let her. That she thinks a woman's body is beautiful.

Me: *GULP* (Still naked, still scared)

She says that she really wants another woman to join her and her boyfriend and almost called an escort service once. She asked me what I thought. I mumbled some shit about being adventurous.. just hoping, HOPING it would be over soon.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO? She kept asking me leading questions, testing the waters, and I just kept laughing uncomfortably and talking about my own BF so she'd STOPPPPPP!

Normally, if upright, not naked and in just about any other situation, I'd have checked her out, taken her up on the offer (no, just kidding), been able to laugh it off/decline any invitations and walk away. But I was naked, prone, and had electricity near my ass.

It wasn't over though. I still had the damn tooth whitening (which, by the way, was a total waste of money and I don't recommend it unless you have urine-yellow coloured teeth).

You sit like this:

On an adjustable spa table that converts to a dental-like chair.

You aren't supposed to move, and you have these ridiculous UV glasses on, in a dimly lit room, while a woman who wants to do non-spa things to your body is lurking around somewhere in the dark.


I was terrified that leg clamps were going to be affixed and this story would have ended differently.

I know, I know, molestation is not a laughing matter, but I was scared people... SCARED!

I got the hell out of there as soon as I could. She walked me back to the change room. I feared she would offer to get me dressed. There was arm touching. And a strong urging for me to come back, have a facial, hey, spray tanning is on sale (don't you have to be naked for that, too)???

I want my mommy....



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Things That Piss Me Off

Okay, well there are lots of things. Maybe this should be titled "only a very few things that piss me off in order to fit in a sort of short post"....

I thought I would type some shizz now and perhaps elaborate more later. I wanted to take pictures of 1 and 2 but just didn't, because I am lazy.

By obstructing the view and making it unsafe to turn right, you, too will be convinced to vote for Smedley!

1. Political signs on people's front lawns, especially when the signs start to get larger and larger when their neighbour has one from a different political party
2. Obscenely oversized political signs on random city corners. Is the corner going to vote? And for all candidates?
3. Mother-effing yeast infections
4. Naturopaths who tell you to shove either a) raw garlic b) chamomile tea bags c) grapefruit seed extract d) plain yogurt with probiotics w/no sugar up your hoo-ha to stop said infection in #3 (PEOPLE, I know you are smart if you are reading my blog *har har* but don't EVARRR do ANY of those things)
5. Sugar. I love it, but it causes me.. uh... problems.... therefore it pisses me off.
6. People who put bagged dog poo in my empty recycling bin (located beside my garbage bin) before I have a chance to bring it in. Seriously??... Reeeally?..... Seriously? You think that is helpful?
7. People who force me to litter by violently throwing bagged dog poo down the road in a fit of rage after realizing recycling bin #1 punctured not visible bagged poo in recycling bin #2 (from list item #6).
8. Vets that lie and don't provide estimates and overcharge and play on your emotions (no, not Dr. Harkness at West Brant Animal Hospital... they are freakin' awesome and a breath of fresh air).
9. People who have call waiting but NEVER answer it. Why the hell do you have it then? WHY?!?
10. Doctors who don't give a crap about their patients. I understand you are busy, I understand our health care system is overwhelmed.... but, unfortunately, my quality of life matters to me, dammit.
11. Dietitians or nutritionists who whip out Canada's food guide when they have a gluten-free, soy-free vegan sitting in front of them, desperate for nutrition and intolerant of all the damn things on the food guide.

Not vegan friendly. At all. Ever.

OH! And BLOATING!

 That is all.

p.s. My vote is always for Mayor West

And I don't own any of these photos....
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