File it under H, for Hilarity

I have been in the process of creating a little nook of crafting in our spare bedroom. I have set up my old vintage kitchen table as a desk of sorts, and hauled in a filing cabinet that I scored at a garage sale one Saturday on a lunch break from school. It is green. Not a light unobtrusive green, but rather a bright, technically speaking Kelly Green. I love it. Have peek:

Awesome, n’est-ce pas? Anyhow, I decided I could use this filing cabinet extraordinaire to house not only work/school type things, but also knitting patterns, magazine articles etc. I began to organize my business and discovered that the cabinet’s previous owner left all the labels on the files! What I found was nothing short of the best part of my day.

I think I’ll use that one for knitting patterns that I cannot conquer (an alternate label might read, Patterns for DM’s Mom).

Sexual issues equals workshop. That’s math that I can wrap my head around. You can see schizophrenia trying to squeeze in a little camera time in the background.

What did the cabinet’s previous owner store in this one? Maybe little articles on monkeys flying out of butts, Bigfoot and Nessie falling in love, and sending more troops to Iraq?

Anyone who has lived with an English major knows this is an improper usage of an ellipsis. Or is it…

What about Singles Sumo? Or Twosome Tai Kwan Do? Where will I store THOSE files?

My only complaint is that the rest of the tabs aren’t as hilarious as these selections.

The Sticks

I went to university in Ottawa. Ottawa, our nation’s capital, is also very cold in the winter. Maybe not cold, if you live in The Pas, but it is quite cold and after Christmas, when you have spent all your OSAP on gin, one begins to look for a new hobby. I, along with Katie and Robyn, began to teach myself how to knit. How hard could it be? Sure, it took a little while to get the tension right (” My stitches are so tight they’re squeaking…”), but soon enough we were whipping up scarves. And maybe some scarves. And some scarves. I think there was one foray into lap looming a quilt for a boy, but pretty much we were on the straight and narrow of the knitting world. Until now…

It is now nearly 8 years, since that first day I picked up the sticks. Lately, I have grown tired of knitting and purling exclusively, end to end, back and forth, to produce a flat scarf. Yesterday, I picked up a pattern. It is a pattern that I have been looking at for a long time, wondering if I could handle the rigours of knitting and purling on the. SAME. Row. I know. Please sit down, it’s disorienting. But I am here to tell you, that I shall ne’er turn back. Witness, two repetitions of a pattern that I found on Knitty. Stand and be in awe, not at how as proven by both my duvet and scarf colour choice, that everything in my life is purple or blue, but rather how the yarn squiggles and wiggles. You just wait until it’s a full length beast. Now I’ve a plan for knitting projects that should take me into my sixties.

On the Digestion of an Italian Buffet

L: “Oh boy. Guys, I think I am going to have to far… wait, nope, it got reabsorbed.”

K: “Just wait, it will come through your body as a burp.”

S: “That is so untrue.”

L: “Oh yeah?” (belches)

Reading (and thinking about food)

On the drugs in chocolate:

“Yes, there is a tiny amount of phenylethylamine in chocolate. But a salami sandwich has more, and I know of nobody besides me who reports feelings of love after eating a salami sandwich.”

On ramping up a barbecue to a temperature of 850 degrees F:

“I also learned that when you ST-8 non-contact thermometer tells you that the barbecue grill has reached 900 degrees Farenheit, the electrical cord of the rotisserie motor you left attached to its bracket will melt like a milk-chocolate bar in your jeans pocket or, more aptly, like the huge plastic all-weather barbecue cover you just as slothfully left draped over the shelf below the grill.”

From It Must Have Been Something I Ate: The Return of the Man Who Ate Everything by Jeffrey Steingarten

An Open Letter to the Students of Brock University Who Take the Bus Up Glenridge Avenue

Dear Student,

I know it’s cold. I know that YOU KNOW it is cold. I see you stand there shivering, ill-dressed for the weather. I see that desperate look in your eye. The bus cannot be far off. You can sense the bus is coming. You’re craving some bus. You NEED the bus.

I’m here today to tell you that, in the time you spend standing in the cold, freezing your rocks off, you could already be at the top of Glenridge, at the top of the escarpment. On Campus. At the Tim Horton’s. Long before the laminated bus pass was invented, you had two feet and a heart beat. Move your little legs and haul ass up the hill. I bet you’d be a lot warmer.

I understand that maybe kitten heels don’t work so well in an uphill motion. And maybe you don’t want to get salt stains on your brand new pink Uggs. But if you want to continue wearing skirts that could more accurately be described as belts, you might want to get a little exercise in there. Walk up that hill four times a week and you could save money on 1. a bus pass, 2. a gym membership, and 3. the cute little work out outfits I know you own.

Did you know that the Niagara Escarpment is a World Biosphere Reserve? Did you know that when you hike it up Glenridge Avenue, you’re hiking it right up the centre of a fairly brilliant piece of land, right in the heart of the city? And when you do it in the winter you get a chance to see the forest at it’s naked best. Stripped of leaves, and underbrush, you get a sense of how great this mountain (not the Rockies, Ali, I know) really is. Driving cars and putting unnnecessary pressure on public transportation systems contributes to the degradation of our environment, including the Escarpment.

Do you really want to sit on a crowded bus? Do really want to stand in the cold? Do you really need to wear kitten heels? I don’t think so. So do yourself, and the Escarpment, a favour and try the walk. I double dog-dare you.

**Editor’s Note: I was informed that Brock students don’t pay for bus passes directly. I apologize to all you Brock students who don’t think saving money on a gym membership and workout clothing is enough motiviation to WALK.**

Sorry Mr. Gibson. You didn’t make the cut.

This cookie did NOT accompany me to the market.

Blast from the Past

Today I cleaned out and organized my email inbox. Every now and then I’d click open an old email and crack right up. The emails from my Ladies are of a particularly funny variety. Taken out of context, they’re even better. Observe:

I have no men in my life, yet so many men in my life I’m beginning to think “don’t hate the player, hate the game ” were actually the words of a very wise woman. The real trick is to WIN the game… men are really not that smart after all, it takes very little effort.

I wanna know, what’s it like to have a sugar mama? I think if I had my wish, I’d have a genie in a bottle…but only if he sang songs and cracked jokes like in Aladdin. However, if I was to BE a sugar mama, I think I’d also prefer to make it to a young lady rather than man, and preferably one who lightened my day with a love of children’s books… rather then a lazy ass sonofabitch boy who really needs to get a job. Granted, I’d also require sex…so if this woman tries to touch you…don’t be suprised.

Become a slave to fashion and you’ll get screwed in the Making Memories Department.

Okay, I’m off to try and find a chemist.

I loved her even before she accidentally touched my boob and got really embarrassed about it!

Nonetheless, how do you actually tell someone you’re NOT gay?

I am slightly concerned that if you guys get murdered in your sleep, no one will notice because you live in the middle of nowhere. You haven’t been murdered in your sleep, have you?

Picture a house full of strangers, all dressed in various “death-like” costumes, girls with what appeared to be waterbuffalo headgear with fake blood dripping down their faces, chugging draft beer from plastic cups then butting each other in the head and beginning to wrestle on the floor to the joy of the men watching. Surreal? Very.

WEIRD Music

I was out delivering some cupcakes this weekend, and I had with me a burnt CD which my stepfather handed to me that last time I was at the Parental Unit Dwelling. It was labelled “WEIRD Music”. Not sure what it was about that label that made him think it was mine (the man listens to Rammstein, for chrissakes), but I took it nonetheless. So when I found myself with an hour plus drive ahead of me, I threw it in. Hilarity ensued. I can now say that the CD did not ever belong to me, and I am fairly certain that the label is in my brother-in-law’s handwriting. This, of course, does not mean the CD was his Frankenstein’s monster either, but I’d rather point the finger at him than take responsibility for the contents of said musical creation. Wihtout further adieu, I give you the contents of WEIRD Music:

At Last – Etta James
Okay so, nothing weird here. At this point, I’d be perfectly fine in admitting ownership.

Fly Me to the Moon – Frank Sinatra
Again, Frank and Etta together isn’t such a strtech. Not one of my favourite tunes from Ol’ Blue Eyes, but at this point, WEIRD Music still could have been mine.

Take a Chance on Me – ABBA
Alright, now THAT’S weird. Let’s jump into another musical genre, and away we go! This is where I get suspicious. I have better taste than to burn these two types of music together on the same disc. Please note: I’d still do it, but on two separate compilations.

Can’t Get Enough of Your Love – Barry White
What the heck? We’re consistent with the disco-ish genre, but come ON! I don’t think I’d even download this, unless it was some kind of a joke. Yet, I found myself rocking out and knowing at least 2/3 of the words… shudder.

Crazy in Love – Beyonce featuring Jay-Z (or vice versa, does it REALLY matter?)
Beyonce and I are tight. As tight as a white girl from Thorold can be with a hot entertainer with platinum hits. I’m sure that, even in my life, this song has it’s place (Hull, anyone?). At any rate, this song is waaaaay out of place. And one might think it couldn’t get weirder. Oh ho, read on, my friend.

Is This Love – Bob Marley
Hmmm. That sound you hear is me doing a double take, followed by a very audible “Huh?” Again, nothing wrong with the song, but what is it doing in the context of this other music? At this point in the drive I start to really get into it, and I’m imagining who on EARTH made this CD.

Kiss – Prince
Rock on! While I really dig this song, and was happy to have it on my little car ride, how did Prince and his New Power Generation get on with Bob Marley and his Wailers? Maybe Prince and Bob were as tight as Beyonce and I?

Build Me Up Buttercup – The Foundations
The only thing more bizarre would have been the Clay Aitken version…

Last Dance – Donna Summer
I’m a tapper. That’s right, as in tap dancing. When I was a younger version of myself I took some tap dancing exams. I remember to achieve a particular level, I had to perform a dance that had both slow and fast tapping. Enter the instrumental version of this song. The hilariousness of slooooowly tapping to a lyric-less Donna Summer tune is still with me , and I think of that exam everytime I hear this song. This does not however, mean the CD is mine. Favourite line: Be my Mister Right, ooooh, my appetite.

Celebration – Kool and the Gang
Obviously, this one is going out to Janet, who in university had the room next to the bathroom. This also meant she had the pleasure of hearing me belt out this tune too many times to count while showering. Why I had a compulsion to sing Kool and the Gang while sudsing up is beyond me, but it made Janet laugh (if Janet was a less nice person, she would probably admit it made her want to off herself with a blunt object).

Stuck in the Middle (with You) – Steeler’s Wheel
Do the parentheses exist in the title of this song? I haven’t a clue, and I refuse to check. I always find the song title extension in parenthese to be very funny. What’s with the brackets? Either make a title or don’t. Don’t have some words hanging on the edge of title-dom.

Jack and Diane – John Cougar Mellencamp
Is it still couth to refer to him by his three orignal names? When the first beats of this song came out of my car stereo, I wondered if we were about to enter the uber weird by having that Jessica Simpson song with the same riff in it. How would we explain that one?

Rock Your Body – Justin Timberlake
Long before he was bringing sexy back, he was rocking bodies. This dates the CD compilation at about 2002. I don’t think I had a burner at this point…

Ascension (Don’t Ever Wonder) – Maxwell
Who?? At this point, the finger is pointing to my little sister, as she went through a serious R&B stage. Maxwell reeks of the kind of tune she was listening to at this point. I’d also like to point out that I had to Google some lyrics in order to put a name and title on this song.

It’s Not Unusual – Tom Jones
Okay, I like Tom Jones. Probably more than is natural for a person my age. My mom and I saw him at the Casino in April 2006. It was a riot. He’s dirty. But hilarious. At this point, the songs on this CD become unexplainable, but with four songs to go, it does get even weirder. Really.

Isn’t She Lovely? – Stevie Wonder
More strange than the choice of songs on this disc, is that fact that I seem to know every word to this particular song. How? Alien abduction seems the only reasonable response.

Don’t Walk Away Eileen – Sam Roberts
This dates our mystery CD at 2003. Sam Roberts, a great Canadian band that I have heard very little of these days. They were in Byron Bay, Australia, at the same time I was. But what are they doing on a CD after Mr. Wonder?

White Trash Wedding – Dixie Chicks
This song has me fingering my sister-in-law as the culpit. She loves the country and western. But I’m not sure how she feels about Maxwell…

Just a Gigolo – David Lee Roth
Sigh. Might as well jump, eh David? If he’s a Gigolo is he really sad and lonely? I’d think that maybe David Lee Roth and his incredibly flexible legs would enjoy, hell, THRIVE even, in the life of a gigolo. Apparently not. Another dancing moment: This is a wildly popular tune in the competition circuit when you’re looking for a song for a ten year old male. Bizarre? Definitely.

Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel – Tavares
We round out the collection with a song that had a comeback based solely on the Charlie’s Angels movie. I’m totally shaking my head.

And that, my friends, is what I rocked out to for an hour, at least. I suppose this is an open letter to the Creator of This Disc. I have your CD and you can get in touch with me when you’re ready to admit you make the craziest compilation discs ever. Shervin? Lindsey? Nikki? It’s time to ‘fess up.

Shiver Me Timbers No More

I’m not a pirate. But I sure do love these awesome pirate mittens that DM’s mom knit me for Christmas. If you looked up Knitting Guru in the dictionary she’d definitely be in there. I saw her sneeze out a hat with a ring of Cookie Monster images on it. And not one single f-bomb…

If you want to make your own pirate mittens, you can find the pattern at Hello Yarn.

Trees plus Sugar equals Not Even Close

I like the green, I like the trees. The fact that my current selected theme has nothing to do with vehicles or brown sugar is of very little consequence to you, my non-reader.

We’re into double digits of January and while I have held off making official resolutions, I’ve been making the Keep It in My Head variety. I don’t even want to talk about resolutions because it just seems like setting myself up for failure of many proportions. I’m sure I can work up enough cringe-worthy moments without trying to predict them ahead of time. I don’t even want to resolve to be happy with the here and now, because that’s a resolution too. Damn you resolutions, and your sneaky, sneaky ways!

I give unto you, my List of Resolutions, If I Was Going to Make a List of Resolutions.
(Many of you non-readers are feeling a little confused. “Kimmer”, you’re saying, “if you make a list, no matter what you’ve gone done and called it, it’s STILL a list”. Well, unto you I say, it’s my blog, I’ll do what I want. Sweet, sweet denial…)

1. Be more crafty and finish the projects I start. Give them away.

2. Find a real-live teaching job. Come on, let me have at it!

3. Hold it together. Financially, spiritually, physically, mentally… just let it work.

Alright, so that’s three. That last one is a bit heavy, but we’ll manage. DM has a copy of Desiderata posted on our bulletin board, just above the computer. Whenever I look at it the line that slaughters me humble is this: And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. I think primarily, I need to resolve to trust in that single line.