PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
On our way through Canada this weekend we saw a lovely sign on the side of the highway. I always love these signs. I thought the Canadians were pretty clever with this PSA:
“BE ALERT AND ARRIVE ALIVE!”
It’s like its own tongue twister. Go ahead. Try to say it 5 times fast. Got ya, right?
Listen Lady, I’m pretty sure that if folks are unable to repeat this PSA, it may not be effective. Plus, you add a whole new dimension when you throw “eh” at the end of it.
Dance for your food, Bitch!
This weekend we hit up the Toronto zoo. For those of you who are curious, it is a wonderful zoo with lots of animals and is great for kids. It is however ENORMOUS and you must literally hike between most exhibits. No joke, I needed my boots, hiking pole, and a camelback for this place. I’m pretty sure the designer of this zoo is a fan of hills. Holy Crap. There were more peaks at this zoo than there are at the Miss America Pageant.
We happened upon the bear den and noticed that the keepers were about to feed the bears lunch. I was all, “cool, I wonder if they feed them slabs of meat that is still mooing”. No luck, they only get fruits and veggies. Boring. Listen Lady, you could spice it up a little. If you are going to bore us with fruits at least stick your hand through the fence with the apple.
There were two large bears in this den and the smaller of the two put on quite a show. He was so excited about eating he would literally dance in front of the keeper. Like, “OOHHH, Here. Here I am. Feed Me. Yep Me. Don’t forget about me. Oh, let me impress you with my moves. That’s hot. I’m right here. Feed Me. Please. Please.” I’m pretty sure after about 5 minutes of this the zookeepers start doing this only for shits and giggles. I think I may try this when I feed my daughter.
I think I need a bigger bag
Ah…Friday. The end of the work week and the beginning of fun. This weekend we are headed north of the border to visit Canadians. We don’t really know anyone that lives in Canada we’re just headed up there to have some poutine. Look it up my friends, it’s delicious.
In reality we are going for a baseball game and a trip to the zoo. Boston is playing the Blue Jays on Saturday and we need to inaugurate our daughter into the world of sports at a real MLB game. Plus I want dip ‘n dots. IT’S THE ICE CREAM OF THE FUTURE. THE FUTURE!
Since we were heading up to the game we decided, why not go to the zoo the next day and make it a little trip. Plus, other people should enjoy my screaming child at 3 am;just as I do. My apologies Mr. Traveler.
I’m a list type of person, so when we are going on a trip I like to write down all the things we’ll need. That way I’m sure not to forget vital things; like underwear or Chinese finger traps. This is the first time we’ve traveled avec child so its bound to be a little more hectic; I predict it will be something similar to practicing meditation while on speed. 
The list started off fairly small, but it seemed to grow exponentially; as though it were some sort of bacteria that had found a way to reproduce on its own and take over mankind by drowning it in all the crap it lugged to this earth. In five minutes I had filled and entire page with things to bring for the baby. THE ENTIRE PAGE. She barely stands 2 feet tall and she requires an entire u-haul truck for a weekend trip.
I wish it was the fact that I was bringing more than I needed to, but sadly, she’ll use EVERYTHING on that list. I think I might need a bigger bag.
At least give me spirit fingers
Yesterday, my husband and I spent time speaking with a lawyer. Relax…we are not pulling a Jon and Kate and filing for divorce through public scrutiny; though as a side note, I’m totally team Kate. We were being rational, responsible adults and drawing up our Last Will and Testament. Nothing boasts a good time like hashing out how you want to be buried and whether or not you give your loved ones permission to pull the plug.
First I’d like to discuss the name of this document; Last Will and Testament.
I think it’s a horrible title for this document. It’s been called this since the end of time, I get it, but it sucks as a name. Here’s what I imagine when I hear about someone’s Last will. Stuffy old men, decked out in suits, sitting at the end of a long table with their glasses pulled down on their noses declaring your entire life was worth a measly 5 bucks.
Why couldn’t we decide to title the document something that conjures up more pleasant images? How about we rename it to something more uplifting like “Down under dance party”. Or for the country music lover in you, “Boot scooting for eternity”. We could even go more gothic and try out “The hand of destiny”. We could pay tribute to Metallica and name it “Fade to Black”. No? Listen Lady, at least give me some freaking spirit fingers when you say it!
We laid out our plans for how we’d like to be buried and who should be granted custody of our daughter. Do you think it’s implied that whoever gets the kid also gets the cat too? We also decided that if we both keel at the same time and our daughter inherits our money then she can’t access any of it till she’s 25. My husband thinks this will teach her that she needs to get an education and learn how to work and be responsible before she cashes in on us. Tell her what she’s won Johnny!!!!
Spirit fingers!
Here it is kid…your life hasn’t already been hard enough by losing your parents, but ribbed for your pleasure we’re going to throw in the extra nugget that you have to be a responsible adult before you ever gain anything from the two of us having a dance party 6 feet under.
I think he’s delusional. Not in the whole teaching her responsibility jazz, but rather in the whole, thinking we’d have any money left over after all our debt is paid off.
Surprisingly though, the two of us are fairly in sync in how we’d like to be buried, who gets our kid, and whether or not to pull the plug. If you are interested, the answer is NO. We left the lawyers office feeling uplifted and cheery.
She fell in a what!?!
Last night my husband was catching up on the news and he started laughing. This is of course my cue to say, “what’s so funny.” He read me a snippet of the article that he was laughing at. I must warn you though, the story I’m about to tell you is about superior knowledge of the future leaders of our world.
Let’s start with the title of the article “Teenager Falls into Open Manhole While Texting”. I immediately did a double-take with my head and shouted “She fell in a what?” I didn’t believe this article. Surely there was no way that someone could just miss a gaping 2 foot hole in the ground RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR FACE.
What happened to teenagers being able to text without looking at the phone? Listen Lady, if I were your parents I wouldn’t invest a lot of money any activity where you need hand eye coordination. Clearly she won’t be attending the texting world championships anytime soon.
And just think, she gets to drive soon. Yippee