I have a home!!

A real, live home! With a living room! And a bathtub! And a Kitchen!!

It's on the sixth floor of a real apartment building, with a real security door, and a real foyer, and a real laundry room!

Fare thee well, old life of lugging my dirty underwear through the streets of this icy cold city!

Fare thee well, getting cheap haircuts because the water in Hell has dyed my hair a new color!

Fare thee well, house that causes my cat to starve herself and yowl all day and night!

YIIIIIPPPEEEEEEEE!

Copernicus is going to be moving home to the ranch for the next month to prepare for the move. It seems that she is actually very unhappy in Hell. So much so that she has started neglecting to eat and sitting around looking dejected. And let me tell you, there is nothing more pathetic than a dejected kitty. She stayed with my mom for three days two weeks ago, and in that time she became shiny, vibrant, and chubby the way a kitten should be. Less than a week after she returned to Hell, she is looking faded, dull, and skinny again. So, clearly this living arrangement is not best for my kitty.

Hooray! Moving day is May first, and I expect ALL of my readers to show up and help me move stuff. It's walking distance, and exercise is good for the heart! (And it will make us feel less guilty about the quantity of beer and pizza we consume after the moving is done)

Toonses

I support our troops....

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I don't want to get all political on my blog. I try to avoid the controversial topics for a variety of reasons; namely, I want my blog to be entertaining.

I don't know if I support the war in Iraq or the war that was in Afghanistan. I simply don't know. I've been reading up on it, studying it, trying to figure things out for myself... and I can't.

My Brother has served in Afghanistan as a Canadian peacekeeper twice now. I am phenomenally proud of my him.

The first time he was there, I was starting college. Everyone in my class was getting to know each other and I was just mentioning that he was in Afghanistan. And one girl actually said to me "Oh, wow, your brother kills people for a living. You must be soooo proud". Quite honestly, that bitch is lucky she still has teeth in her head. I don't even know her name. Just that some bitch in my college class was really that ignorant.

People have said other things in my presence about the military, about the wars, about Canada's presence in Afghanistan. Do we belong there?

How the hell would I know?

What most people don't know is the truth. We aren't sending our boys over there to kill people and destroy lives and homes. The Canadian army is not a fighting army; we simply do not have the equipment or the man power to fight a war.

Canada's job is rebuilding. Canada's job is providing security. Canada's job is to create a strong military force to dissuade extremists from harming more innocent civilians.

For those of you who think that Canadian forces' sole job is to "blow shit up", or that we are sending our troops over to kill innocent children, you really need to gain some perspective.

My brother's friends and camerades were at one point sending letters home asking their wives, family, and friends to send over used baby clothing, toys, and furniture so that they could start a drop off centre for children.

One of the most asked for things by Canadian soldiers is Bic Pens. Why? Because the children of Afghanistan have never had contact with a Bic Pen and a piece of paper. And our soldiers, the ones our nation is so incredibly misled, ignorant, or both about, are providing those children with Bic Pens and papers.

The numbers my brother said he saw lining up to recieve their Bic Pens was heartwrenching. It was heartwrenching because the number of children who are that desperate to get their hands on a pen was so large. It is the year 2006: the age of the computer, the car that tells youif it is about to his something, the age of the internet and information. And there are millions of children out there lining up to get their hands on a Bic Pen. Our soldiers are handing them out.

My brother was on the very first mission to Afghanistan. When he first arrived, very few women or young girls were seen in the streets without being accompanied by a male, or without having their entire head and face covered. By the time he went on his second mission a year later, he was seeing girls walking arm in arm in the streets, laughing, talking. Being young girls.

I'm a young girl. I'm free. I love walking in the streets, arm in arm with my friends, laughing, talking.

If being able to walk free in the streets is a bad thing for Afghani women, then take our troops out of Afghanistan.

If having drop off centres that are furnished and available to the children of a nation that has been war torn for over twenty years, then take our troops out of Afghanistan.

If handing out writing tools to small children is a bad thing, then take our troops out of Afghanistan.

I don't know that much about this big world that I live in. But I know that I believe in my heart of all hearts that our troops in Afghanistan is a good thing. We can say that we belong to a nation that believes in peace, believes in rebuilding, believes in women's rights and childrens' safety.

I believe that Canada as a nation has some issues. There's plenty I find wrong with this country, don't get me wrong. But if giving peace a chance to happen, if giving women the right to be free, if making children safe and happy are bad things, then take me out of this world.

I believe in our troops, I believe in this country.

Please stop bashing Canadians in Afghanistan.

Sincerely,

Toonses

Kraft Dinner

I live on Kraft Dinner. I love it. Kraft Dinner and I have a special relationship. Mostly because I can't afford to eat anything else.

Lately, I've been partial to Easy Mac. I love it. I can't get enough. I've consumed enough carbs worth of Easy Mac in the last two years to make a small foreign nation obese. The only reason I'm not obese from having consumed so many packages of Easy Mac is that my body is so starved for actual nutrients that it is making use of every possible food item I ingest.

Tonight is was Wednesday night, and I was home at the ranch returning my mother's vehicle to her possession. She was trying to hold me hostage last week through not returning me to my beloved hole in Hell, so I simply stole her car and made off with it.

Wednesday nights at the ranch have special meaning to the younger members of my sanity-lacking family. (By that I mean that on Wednesday nights my nephew and I get treated with out favorite dinner: One made by Kraft, if you get my drift).

My father is the master of making Kraft Dinner. THE MASTER. He makes it with his own brand of tender loving care and gets it so creamy and right. People from all walks of life rave about my father's ability to make Kraft Dinner. (And his ability to walk into Manitoba Maples in the middle of a forty acre field and impale himself on its branches. But that's another entry.)

Tonight, for some reason unbeknownst to myself and the Kraft Dinner Gods, I decided to give my father a break and prepare the feast myself. I started out by putting two pots of water on to boil. One for the Kraft Dinner, one for the weiners. I decided to use hot water to make the KD water boil faster, and cold so that the wieners wouldn't be done too soon.

My father, bless his soul, only cursed quietly under his breath.

I was stirring away happily wondering why the weiner water hadn't boiled yet.

Then, I decided to actually turn on the wiener water. (Okay now, say weiner water ten times fast. Really, it's a stress reliever).

By this time, the KD water was happily boiling away. So I proceeded to dump the entire contents of the KD boxes into the boiling water. Along with the packets of cheese sauce.

I was then treated to plucking the cheese packets out of the boiling water with my hands.

I was concerned at this point that the weiner water still wasn't boiling. SO I decided to carry the pot of very-very-very hot water to the sink, with one hand, while continuously stirring the KD noodles to prevent them from boiling over.

And I tripped over my left foot and dumped the very-very-very hot water on my right foot.

At this point my father, who is THE MASTER of making Kraft Dinner, peered around the closed kitchen door and gave me a glare that only THE MASTER of Kraft Dinner could muster.

It was at this point that the noodles became overcooked and too mushy.I drained them and they turned into a mashed conglomoration of noodles in the bottom of the wrong strainer. Yes, I used the wrong strainer to strain the noodles.

The weiners had STILL NOT BOILED at this time and my blood pressure was rising. My father dared once more to peer around the closed door. At this point, his face turned red and that little vein in his forehead stuck out a little further. (That would be the vein beside the scar from when he impaled himself on the Manitoba Maple. The one that was in the middle of a forty acre field).

I started stirring the cheese powder (which had turned chunky and into a radioactive-looking color of orange) into the mash-y noodles.

And declared supper to be ready. (Although I admit I never declared it fit for human consumption).

My family sat down to a dinner of undercooked wieners and overcooked Kraft Dinner that was a radioactive shade of orange that had been strained in the wrong strainer and had entire packets of cheese powder dumped into them prematurely.

And Dammit, they liked it.

Toonses

It's almost spring, and there's a cat in my backpack...

Not that the two have anything to do with each other. The cat has been spending time in my backpack whevever I leave it hopen since she came into my life last October. But I don't think I've ever written about a cat in my backpack on my blog before.

Why the Hell isn't she in the bazillion dollar house that Cute Boy and I spent THREE HOURS building?

I love thee, little kitty. I love thee.

Toonses

It's almost spring, and there's a cat in my backpack...

Not that the two have anything to do with each other. The cat has been spending time in my backpack whevever I leave it hopen since she came into my life last October. But I don't think I've ever written about a cat in my backpack on my blog before.

Why the Hell isn't she in the bazillion dollar house that Cute Boy and I spent THREE HOURS building?

I love thee, little kitty. I love thee.

Toonses

Hurrah!

Today I got my Hunter Safety course. I can now apply for a small game license, a migratory bird license, and tags for hunting big game. I can own and operate firearms!

My first goal as a hunter is to target practice, obviously. Then, when I'm a sharpshooter just like Big Brother or Big Man I can start shooting small game during season!

So?

Clearly Copernicus needs a coonskin bed and a rabbit hide carpet in her house.

Bring on ducks season! Bring on deer season! I don't have to starve next winter!

The actual truth is that I don't really want to kill anything. I would love to spend time getting to know animals, nature, tracking techniques, figuring out how to use a compass. I can't imagine myself getting that close to a deer and pulling a trigger..... perhaps I'm just not cut out to be a hunter?

Either way, I plan on shooting to my heart's content at clay pidgeons in the back yard until I can know the socks off My Boys

Happy Hunting!

Toonses

HEY! Look!!

I made words into links! I did it!!

I had to try posting the entry below this one ELEVEN times!

But, as part of my March 2nd resolution, I persevered and LOOK!!

LINKS!!!

Clickable ones!!

Life is worth living!

Toonses

Here we go.....

So, my dear friend BigMan was kind enough to find me a picture of a Jersey cow looking out from a backgorund of hte engineering buildings at my school. How cool is that! But now, I have to figure out how to get that pic into the header of my blog.

Troubling times ahead, I'm sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jummy says she can help me out with this by putting the pic up on some webspace or something. I dunno, it sounds complicated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a part of the good Lutheran girl that I am, I am celabrating Lent .

This Lent I have decided to give up milk and meat.

My parents, the dairy farmers, think this is ridiculous.

Today, I ordered lunch in a restaurant that had no meat and no milk as ingredients. It came wiht a giant chicken breast perched on top of it. I politely sent it back, my mother's eyes just a-rollin' the whole while.

However, she soon got over her shock and pointed out that it would have been much funnier had I let out a blood-curling scream and yelled "There's a DEAD CHICKEN in my lunch!"

I, too, think that would have been hilarious.

Toonses

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Living without the actual internet is tricky. For example, I have all the perks of going online whenever I want, wherever I want from my trusty laptop. (THANKS MOMMY AND DADDY DEAREST!!) It lets me go on the internet: I'm not sure why, because I've never signed up for the internet, nor do I pay a bill for it.

It's like magic.

Unfortunately, because I'm not sure who else is on 'my' internet, I'm scared to do my online banking in case others find my cookies.

So, I came home to the ranch tonight and took a deep breath and headed to the computer, which has a secure internet connection.

And the Banking Gods have made it possible for me to live for another month. I can eat and have a place to live for thirty more days.

*Deep Breath*

You can all now sleep soundly at night knowing that Copernicus and I will not starve. Hurrah!

Toonses

I need a break.....

I need a break from reading blogs. I was going to post a rant about how I'm sick of being labeled whatever it is us Conservative Christian girls have been labeled lately.....

But instead I'll tell you a nice story.

Cute Boy came over last night.

And he continues to give male members of our species a good name.

Remember the time I blogged (On one of my past blogs) about how he actually called when he said he would call? And how (Except for that day at the coffee shop which I will never forgive him for) he was always on time? Remember how I blogged that calling without being told to, strictly with the purpose of saying nothing really says "I was just thinking of you and wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and that you're important enough for me to bother picking up the phone" ?

Well, last night Cute Boy came over.

But first, I'll tell you that I've recently developed a love affair with M & his trusty brother M's. Especially the peanut ones. That's right. I am having a love affair with peanut M & M's.

So last night Cute Boy came over and he was bearing a gift of M & M's.

The Peanut ones.

Which clearly states, without the need for words "You are important enough for me to bother stopping on my windy way down the icy streets of this Hellish place in which we live. You are important enough for me to dig around in lint and outdated bus transfers and amongst a jumble of keys for me to find spare change. You are important enough for me to bother waiting in a lineup of grumpy people who also want to get home as fast as possible, AND you are important enough for me to deal with that grumpy dude behind the counter at the corner store. Because I want to see you smile when I toss a bag of Peanut M & M's beside you when I get in."

It was undoubtedly the most delicious bag of Peanut M & M's I've ever eaten. EVER.

So for that, my hunny, I offer this one-time-only forgiveness for standing me up all by myself in the coffee shop, where my cup got leaky and leaked frozen hot chocolate all over my books and I was molested by the hands of a thousand strangers because it was rainy and everyone was cramming to get in out of the rain. (I had to walk there in the rain, too, all by myself, only to get stood up. Sigh). But because you're wonderful and you do things like bring me Peanut M & M's simply because you thought it was a good idea (Which it was) I forgive you.

I will not, however, forgive you for the three pounds I'm likely to gain as a result of having consumed those Peanut M & M's. *Grin*

Toonses

The House that Love built.....

So, I went to Wal-Mart on Saturday.

I love Wal-Mart. Wally World and I have a special relationship. I'm broke and I need to buy cheap shit. Wally's rich and can provide me with that cheap shit.

So I go there.

Cute Boy and I went. We had to take a city bus.

We are all losers on the bus. Now quit laughing at me and send me money to insure my car, dammit.

We decided against getting a cart at Wally's. We didn't want to look like one of those people. You know: the ones who live in suburbia in a house that looks exactly the same as the next person's house with a foreign car and five hundred tricycles in the drive way.

Because I am not, nor will I ever be, one of those people.

Any time in the next seven years.

Sadly, Wally World does not have salesladies. So I was not able to regale any salesladies with the tale of Cute Boy losing his button in the toilet. *Sigh*.

We wandered around with all the happy suburbanites and their screaming, booger-infested, dirty finger-nailed, wailing children buying such materials as children's finger paints, socks, a cheap towel, some dowling and packing tape, and of course, four cans of AAFCO (whatever the Hell that means) certified cat food.

Then it was time to go home and build a house out of shit luck and Love. Coperni-kitty Love.

The Dowling was to act as Columns for Copernicus's front porch. That's right. My cat has a better front porch than I do. Now quit laughing and send me money to buy a decent house, dammit.

The Packing tape was to act as the glue that holds a house of love together. More specifically it acts as the tape that holds the house of love together, but I'm being poetic in my blogging here.

The children's finger paint was to act as the paint. We got children's finger paint because the other cheapest paint I could find was for rust. And it has some chemical that I can't pronounce, and it says if you ingest it you have to call 911. And I've heard that 911 gets irritated when you call about a cat who may have licked some chemical-infested paint off of its house of love.

The cheap towel was to act as carpeting. I coulnd't afford tiny tiles. If you'd quit laughing at me and send me some money, my cat wouldn't have to reside in a house with lowly carpeting and could have tiles. You know what you should do.

The socks are because I can't go into a store that sells white sport socks without coming out with new sport socks. These ones are special though. They have reinforces toes and heels. Also, there is a little pink seam on the toe that is just oh-so-cute, and on the bottoms, below the reinforced toe, it says "Hanes" in little pink letters. Too much fun.

Anyhow, Cute Boy and I got home and proceeded to spend three hours building a house for a cat out of love. And the above mentioned forty dollars worth of crap. I can't afford to buy myself food and the rent is late, but dammit! My cat will have a palace!

In the interest of blogging brevity?

Coperni-kitty loves her house! She plays in it, sleeps in it, climbs on it, and has even managed to knock it over at one point!!

Hurrah!!

I'm so proud.

Toonses

Weekend To Do List

Yes. I really do feel the need to share with the world what I am planning on doing with my weekend. That's how important it is.

This weekend I will:

1) Shop with Cute Boy to get him some new jeans. It seems that the button off his favorite jeans went flying off of his pants and *ker-plunk* landed in the toilet last night. And then he had to walk home from my house holding his pants on because he had no button. (Yes, out of fifty words, only ten of them had to do with what I'm actually doing. I just think it's funny that he managed to lose a button in the toilet, so I decided to share it with you).

2) Buy small thingies of paint in vibrant primary colors, and paintbrushes.

3)Saturday, after the pant shopping (And I think that if any salesladies ask, I'll tell them the toilet story too. Just because things landing in toilets makes for good conversation starting material. Maybe I'll make a new friend!) I am going to build and design a playhouse for Copernicus. The experts say that she needs something tall to sit on, and something so she can pretend to be stalking prey, as though she was still living in the amazon. So to simulate the amazon (Or whatever the Hell a cat's natural environment is) I'm gong to construct a play thingy out of cardboard, stick it together with packing tape, paint it in vibrant primary colors, and have it live in my appartment. That'll do it for sure.

4) Contemplate buying Copernicus something live to play with. Like a guinea pig or a lizard. I could put it on the play construction that resembles the amazon and the lizard would feel right at home, living in the amazon and being stalked by a tiger. Only in smaller proportions.

5) Watch at least one good movie. (Note, I said GOOD. Preferably in the genre of horror, and preferably beside Cute Boy. Because if he's sittin gacross the room he has no one to protect him when the scary parts come on.)

I think that's it. Oh, wait!

6) Learn how to make words into links so that I can write Jummy's name and have it as a clickable link. Because that's what all the cool bloggers do.

Phew.

I'll update if I actually get any of it done.

Toonses

I'm not... something.....

Today I realized something. I'd realy like to have a supercool looking website complete with pictures and links and all kinds of neat stuff.

I do have an msn group, now neatly featured in the links section. To get it up and running, I asked BigMan to be my manager. He put up all the pics and did everything that required me to do more than 'click here'.

I had to fuss with the links section on this blog for about three weeks. Now I've learned that putting a link on a blog is a pretty simple thing to do. The last time I got so frustrated with it that I gave up. Then I contemplated calling BigMan and giving him my password to have him put the links up.

But he has a life and much better things to do than put links on my blog.

I realized that I let everything computer related defeat me. I get up to the smallest simplest wall there is, and poof, I'm done.

NO MORE. From now on, computers WILL NOT defeat me! They simply won't! I WILL NOT call up random people in my phone book and ask them to search something on Google for me. I WILL NOT cry the next time I can't C & P something from one document to another.

It's my March 2nd Resolution, dammit! From now on, I WILL make my own computer stuff happen. I will figure out how to put a background on this blog! I will figure out where to find a picture of a Jersey cow looking up at a skyscraper to stick into my blog! I will not rely on BigMan to hack into my virtual campus account because I can't figure out how to copy and paste!

I'm inspired! Hear ye!

I will not be the person who drives a team of geese hitched to a toboggan when I have a perfectly good Cavalier at my disposal!!

And now, onward to blogging domination!

Or, at the very least, to a box of Kraft Dinner and Survivor....

Toonses

What do you think?

I gave my blog a makeover, after some inspiration from my dearest Jummy.

We now have a Blogroll, Links, and a pretty new look.

Now, if any of my trusty readers have any suggestions or any codes that are easy to apply and that you think will help give my blog some sort of added something, please feel free to share!

Toonses

Jummy, I love you!!

My nephew and I have a tradition. I say "I love you". And he says "I love you too!" And I say: "How much?" And then, he squeals "THIIIIIIIIIIS much!" as his precious five year old little arms wrap around me with such pressure that I fear my ovaries will be rendered useless and I'll lose control of my bladder.

That's how strong this kid is.

Anyhow, on to the point... Jummy, if you were here right now I'd be sqeezing you so hard that bodily fluids would be spewing from every orifice.

Why?

Jumy helped me figure out links! And I know, it's not that special, but ask anyone: I am THE most computer illiterate person IN THE WORLD and I managed to make my blog have links on it.

You are the wind beneath my blogging wings, dearest!!

Toonses