Realm of the Bean Counter

“I got laid last night!”

2011-04-24T14:09:00.000-05:00

I said to Killer as I got in her car to go to derby practice. She responded with, “Right on!” and then we high-fived each other.

I met this man a couple of weeks ago and we hit it off almost immediately. We have both come from somewhat recent break ups of long term relationships and found ourselves wanting to spend a lot of time with each other. I think you all know where I am going with this… to our favourite topic, sex!

So what is sex like after having sex with the same person for years? It is different. Not bad, but actually quite good, but really more noticeably, different. You really do get used to knowing what the other person likes and that they know what you like, but it’s even more than that. It’s the queues you receive from the other person that let you know what stage they are at while on the way to achieving a climax. Also, everyone has different techniques when it comes to sex, so when someone uses a new technique on you, your brain goes, “Hey! What’s that?” “That’s different...” “Do I like this?”, “Yes, I think I like this…” And all this talk in your head can be a little distracting and takes away from the task at hand. Not only that, if you are not expecting it, the other person’s orgasm can throw you off and I do mean that literally. And hey, I am really sorry about that.

What else can I tell you about this man, aside from all of the intimate details you have just heard? Well, as you may have noticed, everyone on here pretty much gets an alias name and I don’t really have one for him yet, but I am pretty sure he is going to need one as he is now providing me with a good deal of subject matter for this blog. As a matter of a fact, I had this blog mostly written, but didn’t get a chance to finish and I already have the next blog in production in my head. Looks like my readers may hear from me a little more often.

So what happens when you meet someone new and you start spending time with them? Well you hit certain points where you need to tell them about certain things. A couple of dates in, he says to me, “What do you think of tattoos?” I say, “They’re alright.” He says, “I have one I have to get covered up.” I started laughing and said, “Don’t you think the question should have been, ‘What do you think of tattoos with my ex-wife’s name in them?” A day or two goes by before he actually shows me the tattoo and I am surprised at how small her name actually is; I was expecting a much larger tattoo. After all, I figure if some man is going to get my name tattooed on his body, it going to very large and it is going to span from hip to hip on his lower stomach. That way, if some other chick ends up down there, she is going to know I was there first and laid claim to that territory.

And what else do you get to tell the other person about when you start seeing them? Well, your blog for one and I am sure that there are not many people out there who have experienced this same dilemma. I thought given the nature of this blog, who I write about, and that I have no intention in deleting old posts that I should get this bit of information about me out in the open. I told him about the blog a few days ago and sent him the link. So far he seems ok with it, but I suppose time will tell.

I should also mention that my plans were not to have a boyfriend for a very long time as I am enjoying my single life immensely, but I do find that this man has managed to cement himself pretty firmly in a very short period of time. He treats me like gold and says the most wonderful things to me and more importantly he is not afraid to tell me what he is feeling. As one who has a tendency to tell all, that is kind of important to me. I do have to admit that I have been kind of guarded on my end, but that hasn’t seemed to lessen his resolve. Also, he also doesn’t seem to be put off by my online flirtations and proclamations of love to my numerous imaginary suitors on facebook either. He seems finds my sense of humour funny and I can’t tell you how great it is when someone actually gets me.

Speaking of cementing himself in there, the other night after he went home I noticed that he left his hockey jersey behind. I sent him a text message which said that I was going to let him come back and that he didn’t need to leave his belongings behind. He responded that he left the jersey on purpose so that I could smell him while I slept. I responded with, “Hey! My underwear is missing!” This guy is good; leaves his scent behind so that I cannot possibly forget about him. And for someone that is trying to deny that they could want another person in their life, I find his tactics seem to be working.

There may be some of you that are not my facebook friends that do not know that I injured my ankle 4 weeks ago and am looking at another 4 weeks of trying to this sprained ankle healed so I can skate again. I have been going to derby practice and watching every week in the hopes that when I can skate I will somehow be able to get caught up in my training. At this point I am pretty sure that I will not be ready in time to benchmark with the others and become a full member of the derby league. I cannot tell you how disappointing this is to me.

Ok, I am only allowed to feel sorry for myself for one paragraph and then I need to move on to the fun stuff. This Saturday the league is having a roller derby bout at the Convention Centre and you are all invited to come. Check out the link in the sidebar to Ticketmaster and get your derby tickets now! Please make sure you come and say hi to me. I will be scorekeeping down on the track and will be around after the bout is over to mingle with everybody.

My last blog prompted a comment asking me to detail how “be nice” hit home for me and how others might achieve it as well. We all know that we should try and be better people and that being nice or kind to others is part of that. And we all know that in certain circumstances “being nice” can be extremely difficult to achieve. I can fully admit there were many times where I have been downright nasty to the Barbarian as we made through to the finalization of the separation agreement. I may even one day admit to you some of the things I have done, but for now we will leave that be.

I felt and still feel that he walked away with way more than he deserved and he put me into a situation where I had no choice but to agree to his terms in order for me to walk away. When Mr. Hamilton sent me the words “be nice”, those words just jumped off the screen at me and hit me full force. I was being eaten up by my feelings and I was losing sleep. And for what? There was nothing for me to gain by not being nice. So in the end, you may think that my decision to be nice is because I felt I should be kind to other people, but in reality, my being nice in this situation was merely a form of selfishness on my part to make my own life better and the good feelings and resulting altruism are just a side effect. I do believe I have just had another revelation.

Tom Wilson Smells Like Cookies

2011-02-16T00:11:00.000-06:00

Have you ever seen the movie Michael with John Travolta? Remember the scene where all of the women seem hypnotized by the angel Michael as they follow him onto the dance floor of that little bar and Andie McDowell’s character remarks that he smells like cookies? That, my friends, is Tom Wilson.

I had been quite excited about Tom Wilson coming to Winnipeg for a LeE HARVeY OsMOND show and somehow managed to get myself involved in promoting it. I am not quite sure how everything happened, but all of the pieces fell magically into place when it came to everything surrounding that night. I arrived at the theatre early to make sure that I could speak to the promoters and square up with the tickets I had sold. Almost immediately, I was introduced to Tom who hugged and kissed me and thanked me for helping out. I was instantly awestruck by this man’s charisma and could not believe how wonderful the evening was starting out.

Chris Carmichael, a local musician, opened the show. If you have not seen Chris perform, I recommend that you go and see him as soon as you can. He is an extremely talented performer and I will be keeping track of where he is playing, so I can make my way out to see him again.

By the time Tom arrived on stage, I was jittery with excitement. Tom was joined by his long-time friend, Ray Farrugia, who is an absolutely phenomenal drummer. The two of them blew the crowd away with their ability to fill the room with the most amazing sound and provided us with a live show that you do not get to experience very often. I was completely taken away by performance, so much so, that when Tom invited everyone up on stage and I couldn’t get anyone to go with me, I went up by myself and danced with the other women on the stage. We were all dancing on the side of the stage when Tom looked over and said, “Why are you girls all dancing over there in a line? Get over here.” I am not sure what overtook me (cookies), but I went and I was the only one. I danced in the center of the stage for Tom while he played to me. I was really nervous and could feel that my legs were shaky, but I was thrilled to be up there. I would never have done something like this in my twenties, but here I am in my forties with more bravery than I have ever known before.

After the show, at different points in the evening, I had a few pictures taken with Tom. I noticed in those photos I have the hugest smile on my face that I don’t have in the photos with other people. I am smiling, but not like I am when I am near Tom. This man has a presence about him that is hard to explain (cookies), but all I can say is that I wanted to remain near him. I was also lucky enough to spend a good deal of time talking to him at a party after the show. We spoke of many different things, so many, in fact that I cannot remember all of our conversation. I do recall that we spoke about him becoming a Grandfather soon, something he is very excited for, and about my son getting married this summer. I found Tom very easy to talk to and it is likely that I rambled, but he seemed interested in what I was saying and questioned me further on things. We also discussed our break ups, and our work. Besides performing he also does voiceovers for commercials and as he was telling me this, he leaned in and repeated one of them directly into my ear. That was first time in my life I wet myself over a Quarter Pounder. Tom definitely has the sexiest voice I have ever heard.

I was sad that such a glorious night had to end and can only hope that I have the opportunity to speak with him again. I cannot wait until he comes back to Winnipeg or who knows, maybe I will plan a road trip to see him perform sometime before then. After all, I did tell him I was going to quit my job and follow him.

And speaking of things that had to end, my friend Mr. Hamilton has chosen not to talk to me anymore. I am not quite sure what happened exactly, but I asked a question about him being diabetic and he changed the subject. I pressed the topic a little further and he walked away from our chat and would not talk to me anymore. I emailed him to explain my curiosity as diabetes runs on both sides of my family and I am at risk myself. I received no response. It was a week later before he spoke to me again and he was still not over it. At one point he made a remark that I didn’t appreciate and I said he should apologize; that I did not deserve what he was dishing out. He came back with “What?” “Dishing out?” which I didn’t respond to right away as I was doing something else. A few minutes after that, I received, “No answer?” “Fine, I will decide for you” and he was gone. He deleted me from Skype and blocked me from facebook. I did send him a text message asking why he blocked me and why was he so mad. I also invited him back to start over and I have received no response. I am really baffled as to what exactly happened, but him being so far away and not knowing for sure what goes on in his day to day life, it really could be anything.

I do want to thank him though for helping me to let go of the negativity surrounding my break up. One day, last December, when we were chatting, I mentioned that I had to go drop something off for the Barbarian. Two words appeared on the screen, “be nice”. I am not sure what happened at that moment, but I came to the realization that the bad feelings I had toward the Barbarian were eating me up and if I didn’t let go of it, I would never be free. I have taken “be nice” a little further and am trying to be nice in all areas of my life. Not that I was mean to people before, but there is always room to be a little nicer.

Killer and I continue with our derby escapades, both on and off the track. We are getting much better at practice, we are still doing the podcast segment, and we recently did a photo shoot in our derby gear. Well actually the pictures were a little sexier than what I normally wear for derby, but it was just a fun little photo shoot. Also, this Saturday is a roller derby bout at the Convention Centre and Killer and I will be working there. See the link in the side bar for tickets. Killer will be a ref penalty tracker in center ring and I will be at the merchandise table at the end of the night. Come on out and catch some derby, you won’t regret it!

Please feel free to email me with any topics you may have. I am sure you miss me talking about sex and should be able to come up with a topic for me to discuss. Even though I am not getting any, doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk about it. You can also look me up on facebook, either my Bean Counter profile or my real one or both. Until next time my friends…

Internet Meetings

2011-01-30T00:25:00.002-06:00

Internet meetings is a subject I have wanted to talk about for some time, many of you may not know that was how I met the Barbarian. I had joined a dating site and met a few men prior to the Barbarian and those meetings did not go well. I recall the first man I met seemed like a pretty decent guy online, but meeting him in person was a different story. I found that he was not honest about his appearance; his profile picture was quite old and he was quite a bit heavier than I had expected, but what was much worse was he was not afraid to blurt out whatever racist remark popped into his head. Oh really, I did not realize the best place to buy a TV is the pawn shop because all the Indians take their new TVs in after they run out of money for booze.

After that meeting I emailed my online dating mentor, the first man to ever message me. We found that we had a good rapport, but we were at different stages in our life, he being pre-children and me being post. I told him of my experience that night and he told me not to waste my time on online chat but to arrange a meeting right away. This advice proved to be very helpful as I was able to quickly get rid of unsuitable prospects. Like for example, the guy I met for a drink, who after finding out I was an accountant, proceeded to tell me about the tax loopholes he had figured out. Most of the conversation I sat way back in my chair to avoid being splattered by the food he was shovelling into his mouth while talking, until he complained about the existence of welfare and how people collecting it also work on the side. It was at this juncture that I leaned in to get my point across and said, “We need welfare to take care of the have-nots in our society and there will always be people who take advantage of every system we have in place, whether it be a social safety net such as welfare or our government’s tax system.” Unfortunately, my point was lost on him as he was too stupid to realize what I was saying and simply nodded in agreement.

I wasn’t too many bad meetings in, before I started talking to the Barbarian online or I likely would have given up on the Internet. I recall that it did take awhile for the Barbarian and me to line up our schedules to meet, but we did have a very good meeting that ended with us necking in the lobby of the lounge we met at. 2 days later I hopped on a plane to England and was gone for 3 weeks. Our relationship started as soon as I came back.

Why after years did I finally decide to write about Internet meetings? It is because today is 7 seven years since I met the Barbarian at that little lounge. I am not sure at what point today I noticed the date, but it has caused me to reflect a little on his leaving. Not that I am feeling bitter toward him, but he really did do me a favour in leaving. Our relationship had reached a point where it was untenable and detrimental to both our well-beings. Given that I was completely in shock at his abrupt departure, I found that my recovery was fairly quick. It was not that I did not love this man as I know this man was the one I loved the most, but perhaps because I am an optimist. I believe that everything happens for a reason and that life must have other things to offer me. Over the last 6 months or so, I have found that I am truly a happy human being. My life is very full with friends and all kinds of fun things to partake in.

I do miss the company of a man and I really do miss sex, but I know that will all happen in good time. I also believe that me missing a man in my life has been alleviated by my online friend, Mr. Hamilton, the man that I was telling you about in the last blog. I know the subject of my last blog was about my sex chat cherry being popped, but that kind of chat is a small portion of the things we talk about. We generally talk about whatever is going on or has happened in our lives and we talk about the day to day stuff. There has been a couple of times where he has talked me off a ledge (figuratively), once when I realized the full magnitude of waking up in an empty house Christmas morning and a lesser, but no less serious problem, of it being New Year’s Eve and the dress I just bought for the evening still had the security tag attached to it and the store was closed. The prospect of not having the planned outfit to wear New Year’s Eve is enough to toss the most stable woman over the edge.

Over the holidays, my chat has sat open all day and we have talked at various points throughout the day in between doing things around the house. Other times we have chatted until it is just too late to stay up any longer. He often sends me music from the local scene in his city, which I really appreciate as I have not heard any of it before. Yes, I probably did neglect to mention in the previous blog that Mr. Hamilton lives in another city.

Our Internet meeting was really quite a fluke. I was on facebook one day and he popped up in my suggest friends, but the profile picture was a professional headshot of some rocker. I thought to myself that is not someone’s real profile picture and it wasn’t. It was one of many amazing pictures this man has shot. After roaming through his profile looking at photographs that completely blew me away, I was compelled to message him and tell him so. That was the beginning of our online relationship and I do say relationship, because I do have an emotional attachment to this man. We have had a couple of misunderstandings during chat as it is very difficult to get things across in the way you mean them. Sometimes things that are joking are taken more seriously and walking away from the computer unexpectedly leaves the person on the other end wondering what the hell is happening, especially if the subject matter is not of the banalities of life. When these misunderstandings happen, I really do worry that our friendship is in jeopardy, even though I am sure Mr. Hamilton would say I am overreacting. I likely am, but that is just me.

Last week, I did have the opportunity to meet Mr. Hamilton in person as work happened to send me to a city near him. I am also sure he was wondering why I was insisting on meeting him. I guess it was part of the old stuff where I had met people online and they were nothing like what I had expected in person. Even though I had spoken to this man online for hours at a time and for weeks on end, and even twice on the phone, I was still unsure he would be what I thought he was. I am very happy to say, he was everything I had expected and more, the only disappointment is that this man lives so far away from me (and that we didn’t have sex). I can, of course visit if we so desire another meeting (and to have crazy hot sex, that is what I am talking about).

Mr. Hamilton does continue to press me to send a picture of my pie, which I refuse to do. I have however, sent him a shot of my breast on New Year’s Eve. Something about the year ending, my life being different and other unexplainable things compelled me to do this. I don’t think I will be so compelled to send a pie picture as I don’t think they are as pretty as breasts and no one likes to have bad pictures of their self even if they are unidentifiable in them.

Another thing I have discovered about myself is that this personality, Bean Counter, has fought it way out of my regular persona and that I am apt to say whatever I happen to be thinking and most of that is sexual in nature. I am less concerned about keeping this blog at a distance from myself and am not really caring who reads it. So, feel free to share it with people and even approach me about it. I am interested in knowing who my readers are and getting some feedback. So please email me with questions or topics you would like my opinion on. And some of you on my email list will notice I am emailing you again about new blog posts. I had some issues with the old email address being uncooperative, so I have a new email, it is realmofthebeancounter@gmail.com or just click “Email me” in the sidebar.

Killer and I are now in training for rollerderby and we have had one practice so far. It is very tough and I hurt for 2 days after. There is another practice tomorrow and I am really sick with a cold so I am a little apprehensive about how badly I will do. Killer and I are also doing a weekly segment on our roller derby practices for the Return to Sender podcast. Please see the link to the podcast in the sidebar. Very funny podcast, you should be a subscriber if you are not already.

Killer and I are also going to the LeE HARVeY OsMOND show featuring Tom Wilson at the Park Theatre on February 10^th . I am hoping you can all come out. Please come and see me there if you do, I am always happy to see my readers. You can contact me for tickets or go to the link in the sidebar to buy them online. I did a drop for this show on the podcast as well and told everyone to come and talk to us at the show. I also threw in how hot we are. Killer says if that doesn’t get us laid, she doesn’t know what will.

My sex chat cherry has been popped.

2010-12-17T19:23:00.000-06:00

Mr. Hamilton, whom I have messaged and chatted with for the last week or two, popped up a chat window late Saturday night. He had been at his local watering hole and the evening’s libations seemed to have a different effect on our usual conversation; the topic soon changed to one of a sexual nature. I know you are all thinking that I normally chat about sex all of the time, but it is simply not so. I have never chatted nor have been chatted to in a sexual manner.

In no time at all, Mr. Hamilton was explaining to me in great detail, exactly what he was picturing doing to me. And I like any self-respecting virgin, said nothing, but had these thoughts running through my head, “What is happening to me? What are these things I am feeling?” And much like the first time I had my real cherry popped, there was no orgasm, but confusion, wet pants, wonderment, and the thought that I would like to try this again and perhaps be better at it.

Mr. Hamilton, ever the gentleman, realized I had become very quiet and asked if I was ok. I said that I was and then thanked him for the experience and for the new images now filed in my spank bank. I also told him that I would blog about this and would he be ok with that? He said he would, but asked if I used real names. I replied that I didn’t and he seemed disappointed. I asked him why he might want his real name used and he replied that maybe he could become rich by sex chatting women. I told him he was similar to my ex in that they both think there are untold riches in the internet porn business.

A later conversation with Mr. Hamilton turned up a request for a picture of my pie, which I declined. I told him that I only share my pie in person. He told me that it would be ok, because there would be no faces in the picture, just pie. I said I didn’t want to be part of a collection. He then asked “How many is a collection?” “More than one” I replied. This conversation of pie collections had me thinking over the last few days, if you have a collection of pictures of pie and there are no faces, can you remember which pie is which? If not, do you label said pictures of pie? If so, than is there any point to excluding faces? And of course, all of this reminded me of an offensive joke, which I have always found extremely funny. Why do women have faces? So you know which cunt is yours.

On another note, Killer and I have decided that the lack of a sex life is causing us to widen our scope of what we find sexually attractive. The other night, Killer and I were talking about Bob, a mutual acquaintance of ours, and how we thought it might be interesting to get to know him a little better. We then laughed because it was not more than two weeks ago we had a similar discussion and neither one of us was sexually attracted to Bob. Last week it was, “Well Bob is ok, but I am not really interested in him, blah, blah, this flaw, that flaw, blah, blah.” This week, “Hmmm, you know that Bob guy ain’t bad.” “Yeah, I think he is kind of fun to be around.” I then pointed out that no one has called dibs and since I was only interested in sex, she could date him after I was done with him. Killer was disgusted with the thought and said she didn’t want my sloppy seconds. I told her I would wash him off for her first, but this was still of no consolation to her. The next day, I told her I had a pretty good dream about Bob the night before, so she may want to cross him off her list anyway.

I now fear what will be acceptable to me in two weeks time.

Here I am, half cut, on a Friday night before 7 pm

2010-12-10T19:42:00.001-06:00

and I decide it is a good time to blog. I did take a moment to think that maybe drinking and blogging is not a good idea; that perhaps I may say the wrong thing, but really what am I going to say that might be inappropriate? After everything I have written in this blog? Likely, I cannot say something inappropriate that I have not already told you. If anything, you will have to suffer through spelling mistakes and poor grammar, as I am not really caring about those things at the moment. Hopefully Word will take care of some of the glaring mistakes, the rest, oh well.

I had to leave work early today because the alarm tech was coming back again. I am still having problem with the motion detector sending out false alarms. This is the same tech I told of in an earlier blog that told me all about himself in the final 5 minutes before his departure. Since that time he was back once more and was very normal. I was his last appointment of the evening and he didn’t finish until 9. That evening I was tempted to ask him if he wanted a drink, but thought better of it. This time was different. This time I knew I had to call for service again and this time I asked for him specifically. I also tried to get the last appointment of the day. You all, right now, can see my ulterior motives, but I asked in a way that the girl booking the appointment may not have. I asked specifically for him saying that he was here a few times before for the same problem and perhaps they should send him again since he knows what has been done so far. Then I said I need the last appointment of the day since I really shouldn’t be leaving work early. Anyway, I got a 3:30 appointment for today, Friday.

Mr. Alarm arrives and gets to work replacing the motion detector again, but with a higher end model. He mentions that somehow the girls booked him for 2 appointments at my place by accident. At this point I am thinking that perhaps I was not so subtle when booking the appointment. He then says “Oh well, their mistake, I get to go home after this”. I say, “So this is your last job of the day, do you want a drink?” I was only being polite since I was about to make myself a second one. I would really love to tell you that the seduction of the alarm tech went according to plan, but it didn’t. He turned down the drink because he said his Uncle was busted for impaired last week and didn’t want to take any chances.

I did make myself a drink and we continued to chat while he replaced the detector. After when he sat down to write up the service call, he did mention the drink again. How he would like to, but he has the company vehicle and is wearing the company clothes. You would not believe how difficult it was for me not to say something about taking off the company clothes, but I managed to refrain from it. It ended up that Mr. Alarm wrote up a service invoice with no charge on it again (at least I can say I managed to get that) and went on his way. I suppose it was for the best anyway, since it seems lately that I have been plotting seduction scenes in my head with many different men I encounter in situations.

I dare say that some of my male friends are no longer safe from these plots. I am hoping that my common sense will prevail and I will not put myself in any situations that will become unmanageable later on. I fear that my intentions are not in any way honourable.

Hold the phone! Killer just called and apparently her plans for the evening have changed and she wants me to get dressed up and come out, so that is what I am going to do. I hope for all of our sakes I have an interesting story to tell you about tonight. I think I better eat supper at some point.

Trying to impress a woman? Don’t send her pictures of your dick!

2010-11-11T22:41:00.000-06:00

When I told my friend Killer what I was going to blog about next, she exclaimed, “Who sent you pictures of their junk!!!” I said no one did, but I need to talk about it because apparently Brett Favre thought it was the thing to do to get Jen Sterger’s attention. Details are at this link, even the supposed pictures in question. http://deadspin.com/5658206/brett-favres-cellphone-seduction-of-jenn-sterger

Look guys, I don’t care if you have the body of Adonis, us girls do not want pictures of your dick. I know you are very proud of it, but it really is not very pretty to look at. Don’t get me wrong, I love nothing better than wood so hard you could swing off of, but having that show up on my phone or in my email when I am not expecting it, is like getting slapped in the face (no, not with a dick). Besides, what the hell is a girl going to do with a picture? Masturbate? Highly unlikely, I know I don’t function that way. A single image doesn’t do it for me as I have porn reels that play in my spank bank. Interesting though, now that I think about it, this topic is not something my girlfriends and I talk about, but I am sure others wouldn’t mind hearing if looking at single image is part of your repertoire or if all of us women run a scenario or watch porn. You girls please post your proclivities under an anonymous comment at the end of the blog.

Anyway, I suppose if you are going to take pictures of your dick, you really should hire a professional to do it. Here is my recommendation http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/f3a2605847/craigslist-penis-photographer-featuring-bob-odenkirk-from-fod-team By the way, I love Bob Odenkirk. He is a genius.

Another “don’t” when it comes to getting a girl interested in you is not to be cheap. If you ask a girl out, you pay. If she offers to pay for her portion, don’t let her. This is something I actually do when I am asked out. Some of you may think this is not fair; that it is a test and that I shouldn’t be doing it. I disagree, I don’t like cheap men. And if you turn the tables on me, if I am interested in a man and I ask him out, I expect to be footing the bill. If I want a second date, there is no way I am going to let him pay. Have I paid? You better believe it and then some. I have a tendency of giving myself away when I am pursuing a man and this includes all of my money. Have I been taken advantage of? I most certainly have. This reminds of the time I bought my new boyfriend tires for his car. They weren’t expensive tires and he needed them and had no money to buy them. He didn’t ask for them I just went out and bought them and dropped them at his door. His landlady gave me heck and said I shouldn’t be doing that. I said to her, “I have spent more money on worse men.” I meant every word.

Interesting thing happened last week. I was driving in the car with Killer when she mentioned she had to stop and pick up tampons. I said, “Hey! You’re early.” Some months ago, it would be that I would get mine and then warn her she was going to get hers. This would help her to pay attention to her mood as she found her tolerance for annoyances decreased coming up to her time. “When did you start?” “Yesterday.” “SO DID I!!!!” We rejoiced!!! Our periods have sync’d up!!! We had heard that if two women spend a lot of time together that your periods will sync and now we know this to be true. This is so wonderful; now neither one of us has to panic when we forget to bring a tampon as the other one should be carrying. We can be bitchy at the same time and neither one will get hurt feelings as we know why the other is a bitch. Not that either one of us really get in a mood, we are both pretty happy people. Ok, so now that you know I got my period last week, in about 2 and half weeks send me an email to remind me that it is coming. I hate when that damn thing surprises me, but I am still not inclined to actually mark it on a calendar somewhere.

Before I go I want to tell you about the alarm tech that came to my house to check the motion sensor because my dog keeps setting it off. Turns out I have a high end sensor but if the dog insists on tossing her toys in the air while I am not at home the motion detector will go off. While the tech is at my house, he has to program the area code prefix onto the phone number in the alarm pad in anticipation of when this will be mandatory for dialling. He was there for over an hour as I had a bad account number programmed in and something wasn’t working right. While he is writing up the bill he says he will only charge me for a half an hour and it will be on my next alarm bill after Christmas and he hands me the bill. At this point, our conversation has covered pretty banal topics, other alarms with similar problems, my dogs, etc. In the five minutes preceding this man’s departure from my house, I find out he is divorced, has 3 children, a boy who is 11, and 2 girls who are 13 and 16. I also find out that he is 40, lives with his Uncle, will be buying a house soon, that him and his girlfriend split up 4 months earlier, and that she still texts him all the time even though he tells her he needs his space. Also, he woke up the day before with 2 spiders on his pillow and a spider bite on his leg. It was pretty funny. He seemed to be interested in me and was also very nervous. I think maybe he was trying to start a more personal conversation, but every time he said something, he had to say something else to justify what he just told me. I think the spiders at the end of our conversation were to try and bail his self out of the hole he dug himself into.

One more thing, about my blog, it is not that you cannot even mention it to me when you see me. If the two of us are having a conversation, feel free to bring it up; just don’t do it in front of other people. I wouldn’t want to have to try and explain my blog to someone who does not know about it and is someone that I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with. Try to start out maybe by saying that you enjoy reading my blog (this always gets my interest) or ask when I will post another one. Please don’t start the discussion with “Have you slept this your ex recently?” or “Do you really shave everyday?” or “Did you really dream you had a dick?” It is not that I would not answer these questions, but one likes to feel comfortable in conversation and these intros are no way to start one.

The reason I bring this up is, I recently had an old friend come in from Alberta, who I hadn’t seen in some twenty or so years, but whom I might add was the sweetest 17 year old around (thanks for those memories). We sat and talked for quite awhile before I asked if he has been reading my blog as I had suspected and he said he had but thought that he wasn’t supposed to even mention it to me. Not so, I do enjoy getting feedback especially if you are giving me praise. Who doesn’t like to have their ego stroked?

That is it for this week, please leave comments, email me using the link in the side bar, or look me up on facebook and send me a message.

I am standing at the edge looking into an abyss of celibacy and I don’t like it one bit.

2010-10-24T23:47:00.001-05:00

I have not had sex for several weeks since swearing off the ex. I will continue to say weeks as I will not go back and actually count when then last time I had sex was. I am afraid that if I count, as time goes on, several weeks will turn into several months. Really, I know people can go for long periods of time without having sex, but I don’t think I can do it. Right now, it hasn’t been that long and I am already sizing up men on the street and wondering about their potential as a sex partner. I am not even talking about the really hot ones; you know the ones we look at no matter how into a relationship we are, but pretty much every regular Joe on the street. Age is less of a factor now as well, along with baldness, and a beer gut. At this point, I can pretty much find some redeeming qualities in any man I see.

Now I have quite a dilemma here, I have no interest in getting involved with someone, but wouldn’t mind a romp at least once a week. One-nighters aren’t much of a solution as it is difficult to get the satisfaction you are looking for without acting like a traffic cop. Not my style. I prefer getting to know someone over a couple of sessions and figuring out what clicks for the two of you. Not just what I want or what he wants but some kind of combination that drives the desire of both.

So what now? If I have sex with someone who is interested in a relationship with me, there is a good chance that they will demand more of me than I am willing to give and they will end up getting hurt. I suppose there is also the chance that I could fall for them as well (more frightening), but somehow I cannot see it ending well as the whole rebound thing is generally a bad idea. And really, at this juncture, I am not interested in seeing any one man. In fact, I would like to date many men and see no one exclusively. I am not talking about hopping on every guy I see, but I sure wouldn’t mind some flirtations with those possibilities existing.

A while back, I had a discussion with a friend of mine about booty calls. She sent a text message out to guy at 2 a.m. after a night out with the girls. The text message was something like “Hey are you still up?” and the response was, Yes just watching TV.” At that point, a girl knows “Boom. I am in. I am getting laid tonight.” A man who gets the same text response from a woman has no guarantee of sex (unless they are texting me, of course). She may simply be responding because she really is awake and watching TV and thinks it is a good time for a conversation before going to sleep.

We also covered in our discussion that when you make a booty call it often doesn’t turn out to be the sex you had in mind but something of a lesser nature, where later, you are lying there thinking, “Wow, I could have saved myself a lot of time, if I had went home and masturbated”. You don’t think of this pre-booty call, because you have the porn sex reel playing in your head and don’t realize this guy may have already been asleep and just happened to hear his phone going off. Most often, a man will not turn down sex when the opportunity presents itself, no matter how tired he is. So instead of porn sex, you get sleepy, lazy sex, and end up unsatisfied, driving home with soggy underwear and smelling like Paris in the summer.

I had a comment on the last post that asked why their ex now goes on trips with the new person when in the 20 years they were married they would not go anywhere with them. I think that when we begin a new relationship we are willing to go much further to satisfy the wants of the new love than we are willing to once we have been in a relationship for a good deal of time. It is sad, but true. Chances are, after a period of time he may stop going on trips with her or if he continues, it may be that he realizes that travelling is fun. I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with you, but more to do with a stage in his life. I never used to like yoghurt, but now I do.

In the last couple of weeks, I have found that I am getting myself into trouble with text messages. People do not get my sense of humour and think that I am mad at them. They end up feeling bad and apologizing and then I feel bad for making them feel bad and then have to explain that I don’t normally send angry texts. I have decided that from now on, I am putting LOL at the end of every message I send, no matter what it is about. That way I should be safe. I am interested to see how it goes.

Recently, I have gained a few more new readers, so I would like to go over the rules of the blog again. The first rule of Realm of the Bean Counter is you do not talk about Realm of the Bean Counter. No, I am kidding, that is Fight Club. The first rule of Realm of the Bean Counter actually is, you do not talk about details of the blogs to me in person. I have had this happen and it catches me off guard and I generally get embarrassed due of the intimacy of the details. That, coupled with fact that I cannot always remember exactly what I wrote. The other issue is that I may be with people that have no idea that I write this blog and there may be a reason for it, like they are my child, my sister, they work with me, etc. These are generally people that would not be comfortable knowing these things about me (I always wonder how Madonna explains that Sex book to her kids). This brings me to my second rule; please do not associate this blog to my real identity in any way. When posting to this blog or the Bean Counter facebook page, please do not mention my real name.

Now that I have told you that, please feel free to discuss whatever you want with me regarding my blogs via comments at the end of this blog (which can be anonymous), posts on the Bean Counter facebook wall http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?id=579916416 , facebook messages, or privately through email beancounter@mts.net . I enjoy hearing from my readers. Remember, the more love I get from you, the more love I return.

Everyone Has Sex with Their Ex’s sung to the tune of “All My Ex’s Live in Texas”

2010-10-12T00:28:00.001-05:00

I have gotten quite a response to my last blog where I admitted that I was still sleeping with my ex after he moved out on me. I have had comments posted, email, instant and facebook messages, phone calls, and face to face conversations about my blog. Every one of those people was affected in some way from having slept with an ex or finding out their new love had slept with their ex while they were seeing them.

I had a comment posted where the reader poses a question that asks after ending a relationship why are willing to have sex with that person again? If we still have feelings, why don’t we fix what is broken? Why do we take the chance when one person may pin false hopes on reconciliation? This reader then goes on to admit to having sex with their ex while they were both in new relationships and then wonders if it is harder to end the physical part of the marriage then it is to actually move out. I know this reader personally and know that the marriage she speaks of was a very long one and they have children together. Although she was the one to leave, she still has some difficult days, even though a considerable amount of time has elapsed from the actual separation.

I received another email from an old friend who assured me that my life with the Barbarian would end soon and mentioned that it is the familiarity that keeps us tied to that other person. I also know that this person was hurt when they found out their new love was still sleeping with their ex. Another friend I spoke to said I have to quit, because, “believe me, I know, it doesn’t help” and it is true, it doesn’t. There really hasn’t been any times where I felt after, that it was the right thing to do. So, why do it? For me, it was a glimpse into the good stuff, where all of the other garbage falls away and things are back to how they used to be. Maybe I like living in a little pretend land.

I did get one message remarking on my throwing my personal life up on the internet and I responded with, “Well, I am an open book.” and then laughed as I remembered that my blog is posted under an alter ego. But really, most, if not all of you know who I am. I am not really sure why I share the personal details of my life with you on the internet, but maybe it is because if you have a serious conversation with me, I am just as likely to tell you all of the same things.

Just to let you all know that I did get a wake up call right after my last blog. I sent the Barbarian a text to find out where he was on getting the separation agreement to the lawyer and got a response telling me he would be out of town for the next 2 weeks. “Where are you going?” I asked, thinking to myself, did I miss him telling me about this in a conversation? “Europe. I am boarding in Montreal right now gotta go.” WHAT THE FUCK? EUROPE! I certainly didn’t miss a conversation about Europe! Who the fuck neglects to mention they are going to Europe for two weeks? Someone who doesn’t think about you, that’s who!

So anyway, after the initial hurt, and text retaliation telling him what I thought and giving him a deadline to get his stuff out of my garage, I decided this is it. It is now time to get this nonsense out of my life and concentrate on my new boyfriend, Corb Lund (please see link in side bar). He’s a pretty good boyfriend, cute, has a career, but really doesn’t call much. Kind of reminds me of Randy Travis. I gave him all my love and devotion and he never called either. Oh well.

I do not believe I will be ready to date any time soon, but I will accept resumes for future consideration when there may be an opening. Send me your stats and a recent photo and my HR (Hobosexual Rejection) Department will screen applications. What is a hobosexual, you say? It is the opposite of a metrosexual; one who cares little for their appearance. Not that I want a metrosexual, but I do want someone with good grooming habits and if you go back to my blog from February of 2007, “Go hairless or go home, you will know what I am getting at.

Also, my new boyfriend must tolerate being blogged about, because we all know, relationship fodder makes great blog material. And lastly, functioning alcoholics are welcome as I apparently attract them. I told my friend the other day that I am like the alcoholic whisperer. She said, “Do you get them to go to AA?” I said, “No way.”

To be an alcoholic whisperer, you must understand that nothing you say will ever get them to quit. If they are going to quit, they will do it of their own accord and if you cannot live with the drinking, then leave. I am not saying stay in a bad relationship, but if you have a happy functioning drunk, leave them be.

Here are some simple rules to handling your alcoholic:

Do make sure you communicate through clear body language and eye contact.

Own the space in which he lives and he will respect your asserted authority.

Give him rules, boundaries, and limitations as well as love.

Remember anytime you give affection, you reinforce the behaviour preceding it.

Give as much love as your heart can handle and then some! But please give it at the right time.

All of the above is to be recited with a Spanish accent. Thank you Cesar! I couldn’t have developed these techniques without you!

I want to give a shout out to my friend Miss O, who has added my link to her blog page. Her name really isn’t Miss O, but I like the whole eroticism of the Story of O and she does call her blog O’s Opinions. You can get to her blog from the link in the side bar.

Well nice chatting with you all again. Please leave comments, email, or facebook me and let me know what you are thinking. Is there something you want to ask? Is there a topic I should cover? Let me know. Your response to my blog is incentive for me to write, so talk to me!

When I said I wanted more closet space, this isn’t what I had in mind.

2010-10-03T23:55:00.002-05:00

That is what I said to my friend just over 3 months ago. I was halfway through a bottle of vodka, when she showed up to console me on the day the Barbarian left. One Saturday, after he came home from work, he told me he was leaving and that he had already leased a new place. I was stunned. I never saw it coming. Sure, things had been shitty for months, but I still didn’t expect him to leave, especially without even discussing it first.

The last 3 months have been strange indeed. About a week after the Barbarian left, he sent me a text saying that he had to see me. He came over, and of course, we ended up in the sack, because you know, that was the best part of our relationship and perhaps the only part that didn’t need fixing. Since he left, he has taken me out for wings and has asked to come and cook me dinner, but most of the time we end up in bed. Some of my friends are not happy that I am doing this, but it is easing me away from him. I know there will be no reconciliation as we have some very core differences in parenting.

About 2 months before he left, his children moved in with us full time. They were half time before this. With half time I could handle (somewhat) the fact that they did not pick up after themselves. The Barbarian had a father who bailed on him and now believes that it is his sworn duty to protect his children from everything, including the drudgery of housework. After all, they are only children (11 and 15). The problem with this theory was that he didn’t pick up after them either. I got tired of the mess and my complaining, so I retreated to my office. There was always work to immerse myself in, whether it be tax returns or my courses. This worked (sort of) until they moved in full time and then there were no breaks and no chance to try and tidy up while they were at their mother’s. More importantly, there was no time for the Barbarian and myself to be alone. This is when I began to complain about the mess and became very bitchy. Then the Barbarian would do the same, but about my dogs and the dog hair, which I have to admit is hard to stay on top of.

It comes down to this; we cannot all live together under the same roof and I am not now interested in dating someone I have lived with for 6 years, nor will I wait the 10 years it will take for my dogs to die and for his kids to move out. The relationship is done. The Barbarian does not see things this way; he would like the dating to continue.

There is a painting project he is supposed to finish. One side of my house is painted brown, while the other 3 sides remain yellow. He didn’t like the yellow and wanted it brown, so he began painting it quite some time ago and didn’t finish. I like the yellow and since he moved out, he promised to paint the brown side back to yellow. Last week, I asked him when he would do it and he still had no firm answer for me, even after I waited all summer. I asked him if I need to hire somebody to do it and he said, “NO”. I told him I still do not have the new mortgage and even though I think I can afford to live in the house, something could happen and I may have to sell. Since I can’t paint the brown side in the middle of the winter, I could stand to lose a chunk of money on the sale because of it. He said he was hoping to drag it out until spring, so he can keep hanging around. Oh brother! I will tell you, I have not been very successful at getting him to move his stuff out of the garage either. He mentioned that he would like to rent one side of the garage over the winter and I said I didn’t think it was a good idea. He said, “Why not?” I said, “There will come a time when we will need to move on.” He said, “I’m not moving on, are you?” And again for the umpteenth time, I said, “You left me!” His reasoning has me baffled.

Anyway, I have already found a new boyfriend, but he doesn’t know it yet. His name is Corb Lund and he is a country singer from Alberta. The good thing about this new boyfriend is that he looks kind of like the old boyfriend, which means I can try pass off pictures of the old boyfriend as the new boyfriend. I will start doing this as soon as peoples’ memory of what the Barbarian looks like fades. Please see the sidebar for the link to new boyfriend's website.

Well now that I have gotten my turmoil out of the way, we can go back to having fun on my blog. Guess what? I will have more time for you now! I have finished all of my schooling and will receive my CGA designation and Honours Bachelor of Commerce degree at the end of this month. Unfortunately, this good news for me is coupled with bad news for some of you. I will no longer be able to prepare taxes anymore. Unless, I go into public practice, take extra courses, buy insurance, and find another tax accountant to be my mentor, I cannot prepare income tax. Since all of these requirements come at a greater expense than I can generate in income from a side job, I have to quit. I sure am going to miss some people.

Ok, Uncle Ronnie is almost finished recording his second CD. I will keep you posted as to when the CD release party is. Also, a couple of posties, who are friends of mine, have a wonderfully explicit and vulgar podcast that you should listen to. It is called Return to Sender and the link is in the sidebar.

If you have any questions, comments, or topics you would like me to speak to, post a comment or look me up on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=579916416&notes_tab=app_2347471856#!/profile.php?id=579916416&v=wall

Until next time….

Hello 311, I have a problem....

2009-03-21T21:35:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week, I was at the local city run fitness centre for my weekly attempt at exercise. I go once a week between 8:30 and 10:00, because I drop one of the kids off at soccer practice in the same building.

This week I am at the gym and notice that we have a lady working at the front desk instead of the brooding young man that normally is there. At 9:30, I notice that the music they pipe into the gym is turned off. Then at 9:40, when I am on one of the machines at the back of the gym, the lights start flashing on and off. From where I was I could see the lady at the desk come from behind the wall where I am assume the lights are and she then puts on her jacket. I look around and notice that there is just myself and two guys in the weight area working out. All of us continue our workouts. I know I have to be out by 10pm and I always am.

At 9:45, the lights at the back of the gym go out. So there I am on the recumbent bike wondering, "What the hell?". Yes, I know what you are thinking, "Yeah, recumbent bike, really tough workout!". I say, "Yeah, well, shut up! It took me a long time to finally get back to the gym and I already did the elliptical and stair machine." The recumbent bike is my wind down at the end of the night. I really want to try the weight machines, but I don't know how to use them and I don't want to look like a dork. I also don't want to ask one of the guys working out, because it might interfere in their workout and I don't want them to think I am some old broad hitting on them. Yes, most of the guys there are in their 20's.

Anyway, I am pedaling in the dark and really have no choice but to stop and go home. I change my shoes and leave. Stupid desk lady makes some inane comment about what a long day she has had and I do not reply as I am leaving. I am out in my car when I see her lock the gym and drive away. It is 9:49 pm.

I am ticked right off! I cannot believe that she would actually turn out the lights when people are in the gym. What stupid thing to do! What if I tripped and was injured while trying to leave, the city would have been liable. And then to leave 10 minutes before the gym is supposed to close. I am she sure gets paid until at least 10. Unbelievable! That is it! The city is gonna hear from me!

I am at work when I finally remember to call 311 and complain. I begin to wonder if I will be on hold for a long time; I haven't really heard positive things about the wait times for our wonderful new 311 service. So, I dial 9 to get an outside line and then dial 311. I get silence and then "invalid number" on the phone display. Well, I guess 311 doesn't work from our switchboard. Then I get this devious idea that I should just dial 311. I look up the extension and it is one of our IS guys. Perfect! Somebody not too high up on the food chain that can be my latest victim.

I dial 311 and get voicemail, even better! I leave this message, "Yeah, I just got my property tax assessment notice and it is way too high! I need to talk to somebody about this right away!" and hang up. Then I go out of my office and tell my peeps about what I just did and encourage them to call 311 with their city-related problem. One gal calls and leaves a message about getting her culvert unblocked, because the ditch is full. Someone else calls and asks what the library hours are, twice! And actually leaves her home phone number, which is even funnier than her making the call. Somebody else called asking for information on community policing. I go down the hall and tell a couple more people. One of them calls and this time he answers, she asks if he has the number to the pound and he says, "What is going on with everyone?" She laughs and hangs up. I tell her to IM someone who sits beside him and tell us when he leaves. So the second he leaves his desk we get an IM that he is gone. So, then the next person leaves a message, "Yes, this is Mrs. Spence from Larkin Cove. There is a stray shopping cart on my street..." at this point she cracks up and has to hang up the phone.

A little later, we all receive an email from the IS guy we have been torturing.

Subject: Did you know...
That my voicemail goes to my email and tells me what extension a message came from. Copies of your voicemail messages have been forwarded to the HR department for disciplinary action. And even if I didn’t have evidence, I work in the IS department and we are pretty good at faking evidence.
PS – Nice joke.

I reply

Are you going to do something about my property taxes or not?

My latest plan is to continue the calls but from phones that are not tied to people, such as the reception area, the staff room, different meeting rooms, and oh yes of course, I plan to go to the HR Supervisor's office and ask if I can use her phone for a second.....

Study Avoidance Technique #2

2009-02-25T23:49:00.006-06:00

Write a blog. Study avoidance technique #1 was to go look at my Facebook profile and yes, you are right, that is part of the reason why I haven’t written to you. I spend a fair amount on the computer, all day at work, at home studying for my CGA, and most of my computer recreation time has been devoted to Facebook instead of writing to all you nice peoples.

Today after a meeting, I was in the “K” having a drink with a couple of my colleagues, one of which is an avid blog reader of mine; “avid” meaning she is able to handle the tenuous schedule of reading one blog per year. She has berated me and even called me a “wanton blog neglecter” and I had still not been spurred into action. Today before I left the bar I promised I would go home and write a blog.

The only problem is that I haven’t really picked a topic. I have had a few topics kicking around that I had considered writing about and may have even broached the subject in a couple of previous blogs, so maybe I will weave a couple in here.

Never mind! Hold the phone! You probably didn’t realize it but I have been gone for about two hours. I was writing this blog and then realized I hadn’t entered the CJOB contest for tickets to the Leonard Cohen concert in April. Today when I entered the contest, it gave me a Ticketmaster password. I thought, “Hey! Wait a sec! The pre-sale doesn’t start until Friday.” Not about to take any chances I went to Ticketmaster. Sure enough, I found a fan pre-sale for tickets and entered my password. It didn’t work. Then it clicked. Fan pre-sale! The Leonard Cohen Files! (Look at the right side bar, the link is there) I went there and found the fan pre-sale password and am now the proud owner of 2 Leonard Cohen floor seat concert tickets! Normally I don’t do the floor thing any more cause I am no longer willing to deal with the pushing and the sweaty bodies if I can get level 1 tickets that have an excellent sight line. I was going to say that I am getting to old and won’t deal with it at all, but I would be a liar, because that is exactly what I did when I went to the Ace Frehley and Paul Williams concerts. I think I might be safe on the floor for this one as I imagine Leonard has an older fan base, being 74 years old himself.

Another excellent thing that happened today was at the meeting I attended. It was decided that I could book the comedian Glen Foster for our convention in May. I am so darn excited! I just emailed Glen to finalize everything. I sure hope he still has us down for that date. For those of you who are not sure who Glen Foster is, he is also known as “That Canadian Guy” and you can watch one of his videos at this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UyoaEgEPLYE I also added his website to the side bar as well.

What a good day it was today, because not only did those last two good things happen, but I also received a bra in the mail from Korea that I purchased off of eBay. I have discovered that I can buy bras off of the Internet for under 20.00 including shipping. This is a great discovery for me as I can only buy my size at specialty bra stores where I pay about 100.00 per bra. Bras are not the only thing I have purchased off the net. I have purchased the usual, books, cds, dvds,etc., but I have also purchased bowling balls, an engraved lighter, and a pocket amp for an electric guitar. I love to shop on the Internet, I love the unusual, and I love a deal!

Okay, back to topics for blogs. I thought we might discuss how to make homemade pornographic videos. The barbarian thinks this would be a good way for us to generate some much needed extra income for our household. Apparently, my side job of doing income tax returns and his fence and deck building isn’t cutting it. He would like to create a website on which, of course, he would be the star. Since I am not too keen on the idea, he thinks if I wear on of those feather masks it would be okay because no one would recognize me. Guess what? I am still not sold, even with this wonderful idea. I really don’t have much else to add since that is as far as the money making scheme has gotten. The barbarian did, however, drag the digital camera into our bedroom a few weeks ago and asked me to take the hand strap off because it “was getting in the way of his artistic creativity”. I took the strap off for him and proceeded to further interfere with his artistic creativity by laughing non-stop at his attempts at videography. Well, it is all fun and games until the camera gets dropped on your head. Artistic creativity or not, there is a reason why they put hand straps on those damn things.

One last item, February 26th is Do Over Day. Check it out! http://www.dooverday.ca/ .

What??!! I can’t hear you!

2008-03-30T23:20:00.001-05:00

That was me for 2 days after I went and saw Ace Frehley play at the Garrick Theatre. My cousin, my son, and I went to see Ace a couple of Wednesdays ago and it was so stupidly loud, you would not believe it. We had a blast, we were right up front, against the stage, and my cousin and I were even lucky enough to touch the great Ace Frehley’s leg.

It was a few songs in when I noticed that things didn’t sound quite right, but I just figured, I wasn’t hearing things as well. I was getting too much off of one area of the stage and wasn’t getting the full effect of the mix. Ace was talking in between songs and I could not make out a word he was saying. My cousin tried to tell me something during the show and I could not make out a word she was saying either. When the music stopped, I realized that my hearing was blown. Everyone’s voice, including my own, sounded like it was electronically distorted. I have this voice distorter I bought for Halloween one year and now everything sounded like the alien voice setting. And I wasn’t the only one! The Garrick was full of us 40 and 50-something Kiss fans all looking at each other going, “Man, my hearing is shot!”, even my kid’s ears were buggered. The difference was though, my 25-year-old son got his hearing back the next morning, while my cousin and I did not.

On the way home from the concert, we shouted and joked about our hearing, but I can tell you, I was worried then. What was happening was different from any live show I had been at. This wasn’t the regular ocean sound or white noise I am used to hearing after a concert, but really screwed up stuff. I really got scared when I got home and thought I would watch some TV before I went to sleep. I kept turning the TV up until the volume was at 65 and I realized I could not make out any of the words the people were saying, it was just noise.

The next morning my hearing was still buggered, so I took the morning off to get more sleep and hoping maybe I would be normal again. No such luck. The alien voice thing went away the morning after, but voices were muffled and sounded like they were coming through a tunnel. People would talk, but I couldn’t make out the words unless they were talking directly at me. That was bad enough, but I will tell you, it wasn’t the worst part. I had often imagined that losing your hearing was the sound being turned down. It isn’t. Losing your hearing is you can’t hear the good stuff, like people’s voices, but all of the shitty sounds get turned up.

My floor creaks when I walk on it and it was so loud after I lost my hearing. I discovered my stairs creaked as well, never in 3 years have I ever heard them. Every time I bit into food a very long ping would sound through my head. Crumpling a paper dinner napkin was unbelievably loud. For 2 days I prayed to the good lord to give me my hearing back, while I surfed the Internet for answers. I think Catholics used to pray for answers, but this Catholic owns a computer and hasn’t been to church in some time. I did find out that I was experiencing a temporary threshold shift that can last from 16-48 hours and when your hearing comes back it may not equal what you had prior to the shift. My hearing took nearly the 48 hours to return to normal. By the way, my cousin who is the same age as I, had the same experience I did, but with tinnitus thrown in for good measure.

My appointment with the audiologist was one week after the concert. I found out that I have lost some mid-range hearing in my right ear. I told the barbarian that is exactly the range is voice is in, so I may not hear things he says to me. I am not sure if he believes me, but I am going to use this excuse where needed. I go back to the audiologist this week for my custom made musician’s ear plugs, which I will be wearing to every live show from now on.

No, my hearing loss is not entirely Ace Frehley’s fault, but from every live show I’ve been to and probably more from my car stereo than anything else. I do thank Ace for being stupidly loud and bringing a monster PA into that tiny room. The nerve in my ear was traumatized so badly and I had the hell scared right out of me. I have seen the error of ways and will now protect my hearing. I had faced the prospect of being 42 and never being able to attend a live show again and this made me very sad. Even though I spend my life immersed in numbers, I love the art of music and love even more the live performance. Please everyone look after your hearing before it is too late. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Update! Uncle Ronnie’s third single; Molly went to #1 (for real this time, see earlier blog for details) on NCI FM. He is also supposed to be doing a show at Gaffers in Lockport, sometime in April, but I don’t have the details as of yet.

The barbarian has won the legal battle that has dragged on for almost 2 years, but the win is somewhat soured by a lawyer bill totaling 67,000. Yes, that is correct. You did hear me right, 67,000! He will be going after the petitioner for costs, but the court may not award what the barbarian deserves, as the petitioner has a modest income. I say, “Too bad!” She wanted to go to trial on the day the judge ruled. She apparently had money to pay for a trial. She recently told the barbarian, she was going to get a new judge, cause this one shouldn’t even be a judge. She just doesn’t seem to get that it is over.

Till we meet again……

Bless me blogger, for I have sinned

2007-08-12T23:57:00.001-05:00

Bless me blogger, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession.

So sorry, my loyal readers, that is if you are still there and still reading. There have been a couple of things that have kept me away. First I had to study for an exam and then, of course, there was the small business income tax deadline, and finally the real reason why I haven’t spoken to you is that blasted Facebook.

I wasn’t particularly interested, but a friend of mine convinced me to join and now I can’t stay away from the darn thing. I, Bean Counter have a profile and my Clark Kent identity has one too and we aren’t even friends. We can’t be friends because my children are on Facebook as well, and I do not want them to find this blog. If they read the things I wrote, it would be like finding dirty pictures of their Mother. Sometimes, even I get a little uncomfortable if one of my readers sees me in person and brings up one of my blogs. What they mention is usually harmless enough, but you wouldn’t believe how my brain scrambles trying to remember what the hell I wrote and trying to steel myself for what might be mentioned. Also, when I am writing my blogs, there is a bunch of stuff I think of, that is a little to risqué to write and I don’t write, but I am still not sure if I did write it. Did you get that?

Like I mentioned when I started this blog, I wanted to keep it a family show. I thought I would discuss wasp bites, funny stories of my Dad punching the milkman, and such, but somehow it ended up like some intimate diary for all of my thoughts and some thoughts are more graphic then others.

I am not sure what to discuss today, as I am a little rusty at this and hadn’t really thought of a subject. I have a few topics we could talk about, like how I met the barbarian, or the cosmetic surgery I had (no, not a boob job), the cosmetic surgery I am thinking of getting (no, not a breast reduction), or whether you should allow someone to videotape you having sex.

You will have to leave a comment or email me with your vote, OR give me something else for a subject and I will research your topic and write about it.

One thing I did recently have to look up was a “donkey punch”. This Facebook deal has applications called Naughty Gifts and Very Naughty Gifts. You can send naughty gifts to your friends. There were definitely a few things I had never heard of like “donkey punch”, so I had to look it up. A donkey punch is given when you are having anal sex with someone and you are the giver and not the receiver. While you are doing it you punch the receiver in the back of the head and it is suppose to cause their sphincter muscles to contract, thereby giving you a thrill. I found a few different explanations of this on the Internet, along with a clip of a comedian discussing it on some talk show and a doctor warning of the dangers of such a maneuver. He emphasized that the sphincter muscles may not contract and you could end up killing your partner with a blow to the head. Try explaining that one to the cops.

Another good one I saw on Naughty Gifts was an “angry pirate”. That is where you come in someone’s eye and then you kick them in the shin. And how about these, have you heard of them? Tea bagging, dutch oven, jelly doughnut, tripod, or fruit basket. I am not sure what the last two are, so if you know, please tell me. I have some guesses, but I am not positive.

Anyway, I will give you a little update. Uncle Ronnie’s second single, Bar Stool, made it to number 3 on the National Aboriginal Top 30. Thanks to anyone who called NCI Radio with a request. My house is still a disaster since my cleaning lady left. I wish she would come back. Cleaning Lady!!! If you are reading this, please come back!!!! We need you!!! By the way, I never looked into the ghost flames for the magnum.

If you want to look me, or Clark Kent up on Facebook, feel free, but remember, we don’t know each other.

Later.

OK, everybody I need your help.

2007-05-01T21:22:00.001-05:00

First I have to tell you the story of what happened. Last Tuesday, my cousin sent me a text message and this is exactly what it said, “Uncke ronnie N C I. #1 1. Bar stool?” Well, couldn’t believe it, my Uncle Ronnie made it to number one on NCI Radio. I was so excited I took my phone around work and showed people. They read the text and said how great it was that Uncle Ronnie made it to number one.

I was at my Mom’s later and told her. She was excited too. Later, I am driving home from her house, listening to NCI 105.5, waiting for Uncle Ronnie’s song to come on. The announcer says, “Here is our number one song this week.” And some joker comes on and starts singing. Wait one darn minute! What is going on?!! And then it strikes me. Uncle Ronnie isn’t number one, he is number eleven! That crazy cousin of mine put a space between the ones when she was texting me. I call her up and when she answers, I say “You suck at texting!” She starts laughing and asks me why. I tell her what has happened and she laughs some more. I thank her for making me look like a fool at work and somehow she finds it even funnier.

The next day, I check my phone messages and there is one from my Mom from the night before (I must not have heard the phone ring). Anyway, the message is her telling me how she called Uncle Ronnie and told him he is number one on NCI and that he says thanks for letting him know. Oh brother! This whole situation is getting worse by the minute. I call my Mom to tell her I was mistaken and she is not at home. I call my cousin again and when she answers, I say, “You suck at texting!” and proceed to tell her how my Mother phoned Uncle Ronnie and told him he was number one. She finds this extremely funny. I do not. I say to her, “Do you have any idea how many phone calls I have to make to NCI to get him to number one!!??”

So that’s my story and this is why I need everyone's help. I need all of you to phone NCI Radio at (204) 772-8255 and request Bar Stool by Ron Loutit several times a day for the next few weeks.

Guess what folks? I finally broke down and bought a new car. I know those of you who seen my old car are thinking, “About bloody time!”. My old car was a rusted 91 Oldsmobile 88 with 370,000 km on it. If I had under a half a tank of gas in it, I couldn’t drive on a cloverleaf, cause it would stall. I am guessing all the gas went to one side of the tank and the fuel pump couldn’t suck it out. The other peculiar thing it did was if I went around a corner really fast, the transmission would drop into neutral for a few seconds. I think the car only liked to drive straight ahead. She is being donated to a high school power mech program. Just like me. When I go, I want to donate my body to science. We will discuss this some other time. On to my new car.

My new car is soooo sweet. It is a 2006 Dodge Magnum SXT, 3.5L. Here is a picture I took of it today.

Ain’t she a beauty?

Now for other stuff.

Dear Cleaning Lady, I miss you terribly. I hope you are enjoying your new job. My house is a mess. I really hope you are enjoying your new job. P.S. Tell Rick I need Willy Autostripe’s number again. I really think I need ghost flames for the Magnum.

Bye for now.

Last night, I dreamt I had a dick

2007-04-01T14:03:00.001-05:00

Last night, I dreamt I had a dick. Not like in the usual sense a woman gets to have a dick, but one of my very own. Now ladies, what would be the first thing you would do with your new dick? Personally, I would think you would want to find out how the thing works and ejaculate. And of course, your first orgasm would not be going out and scoring with some chick. The first orgasm you are going to have is from masturbation.

Well, I tried it and it is not as easy as it looks. I couldn’t get the hang of any kind of rhythm and I kept thinking, “This bites, I wish I had my old parts back”. Mind you, I seldom seem to reach the big O, even with my regular parts during erotic dreams. Anyway, the dream was very short and I never did experience an orgasm with my new dick.

Sigmund Freud seemed to think that females wished they had a penis instead of a vagina and coined the term, “penis envy”. Actually, Freud’s theory is a little more complicated than that, but his term evolved to the general population thinking it meant that women wished they had a penis. I never had penis envy and could never understand how guys can get around day-to-day without getting all that junk caught on stuff. I can’t tell you how many times I walked past a door and got my purse strap hung up on it. I honestly don’t know how they do it. I like the fact that all of my parts are neatly tucked away. A benefit to that is, women can get turned on in public places without some hard-on sticking out and proclaiming to the world.

A male friend of mine once told me that if he had a vagina, he would be sticking everything he could find into it. I told him if he had one all of the time he wouldn’t. Women just aren’t wired the same as men and there are too many things to do in this life, without trying to figure out what fits in your vagina. Besides, any woman knows that anything of a reasonable size can get in there and things of an unreasonable size can get out, like a baby’s head. I have to say that one time though, I did see this video clip of a bald guy with the top of his head inside of a woman. I am still not sure if that was real or not, but all I can say is, it looked pretty unbelievable.

On to other things, a couple of blogs ago we discussed shaving. The other day, the barbarian tells me how this guy he works with, recently told him that he wasn’t going to shave his ass anymore. The barbarian says this guy is in his twenties and told him he has always shaved his entire body, the same as all of his peers do. Anyway, the reason that this guy is going to stop shaving his ass is that one of his friends had an ingrown hair that wrapped around his tail bone and he had to get it surgically removed. I can’t tell you if this is true, but I do know that my cousin, a bikini line shaver, had a similar experience. She noticed a lump very close to her girl bits, so she went to see the doctor. The doctor not wanting to take any chances excised the lump. My cousin said the doctor had to keep cutting deeper and deeper to get the entire lump. After the tests results came back, she was told it was an ingrown hair. So, this my friends, is the dark side of shaving your pubes. I am telling you of this risk, so that you cannot sue me for talking you into shaving your genitals and you getting a surgically excisable ingrown hair.

Does anyone want to see Kermit the Frog in a different light? I saw a video of him performing the song “Hurt”. It is pretty bent and Jim Henson has to be rolling over in his grave. Check out YouTube.com http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLQRv0RjBBM and make sure the kiddies are not around. If the link doesn’t work search “Sad Kermit Hurt” or send me an email and I will send you the link. Sesame Street will never be the same.

I am not sure what has happened to my blog. A faithful reader and personal friend said my blog was like “Sex In The City”. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. It was supposed to be just me prattling on about everyday life and it has turned into something else. I don’t know that my blogs will always have a sexual theme; we will just have to see where they go from here.

Another item of note, I would like to congratulate the new Granny in BC! I hear you are enjoying the new baby.

This is all I have for today. I will talk to you soon.

Barbarianisms

2007-03-12T01:12:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, the barbarian said something so disgustingly funny that I have to laugh every time I think of it.

I was having coffee and reading the Saturday morning paper. This thing has become ritualistic to me. I make coffee and then get into my zone, reading the entire paper and then doing the crossword puzzle. The barbarian was up early, because he had some house to build and was getting ready to leave. He walks over to my chair and starts bugging me about giving him a “little somethin’ somethin’” before he goes. I tell him, forget it, my mind is not even there. He then tells me, “Okay, but just wait until later and you are gonna look like that.” And he points to a picture in the paper. I am telling you I nearly choked on my coffee! I have been laughing ever since. Here is the picture.

Earlier today, I was talking to him about my Mom and how she went to a social a couple of weeks ago, danced all night and her leg did not bother her the next day, like it has over the last few years. I mentioned how it must be hard on my Mom because she can’t dance like she used to, seeing how she was a jigging champ and all. (A little fact I like to throw in there every now and then.) The barbarian then says to me, “ I will be telling my kids that one day. How I was like the jigging champ of sex and how now all of the Viagra in the world can’t help me.” Then he proceeded to tell me how he told the guys at work that sex is like food to him. When he was young he used to eat lots of bad food, now he eats less, but only eats good food. Some women might be insulted to be likened to dinner, but I am just glad he is happy.

He can say some pretty nice things in an offhanded way. Awhile back, I told him a joke I heard years ago.

Why is marriage like 7-11?

Not much variety, but open 24 hours.

He said, “Come on Baby, 7-11 has lots of good stuff.”

Recently, he seen Chris Rock’s DVD, Never Scared and keeps doing lines from it. He will often be heard singing, “Smack her with your dick, smack her with your dick.” and asking me if I am going to buy any clear heels.

If you have not seen this DVD, you should watch it. It is way too funny.

Anyway, I will be off now. If anyone has any suggestions for topics, just leave a comment or drop me a line.

Go hairless or go home.

2007-02-11T23:15:00.001-06:00

I run a pube-free house. My cleaning lady never has to worry about removing those annoying hairs from the bathroom. Life hasn’t always been this way and I know this goes for more than just myself.

Anybody remember seeing any porn from the seventies? Big, hairy bushes everywhere. Now, 30 years later, you can’t find a hair in a porno with a magnifying glass. Unless, of course, you happen to catch that Ben Dover porno with the chick with the hairy legs, armpits, belly, back. Some people like that sort of thing. I say “Ick”.

It was a few years ago when I decided this was it, I am taking it all off. I had tried it a couple of times in the eighties, but the itchy grow back time sucked. Besides, it was a weird thing to do back then. I only knew a couple of girls that tried shaving it all off, and a man shaving his package was unheard of. I would even say that he would be ridiculed and shunned.

Even now, in this acceptable day and age, men still do not feel comfortable in certain situations with a shaved sac, like the weekly hockey game with other 30 and 40-somethings. Usually, I would relate this as something that someone I know has experienced, but I was told that I am not allowed to blog about him, because too many people know who we are. This coming from someone who thinks we can make a fortune making internet porn. Apparently, people don’t find out who you are, when you make porn; just ask those two Winnipeg sheriffs.

Okay, now that we have talked about how we got from the bushy 70’s to the bald 00's, let’s talk about the advantages:

No pubes. Not any. None lurking around the toilet seat, none stuck on the side of the tub, and none floating around your bathroom floor. None.

Sex. No hair where it is not suppose to be (your mouth). Now, how many people just grossed out on that line alone? Some people may have grossed out on the hair part and others may have grossed out on how the hair ends up in your mouth. Either way, it shouldn’t be there. And you, the person disgusted by oral sex, try getting your partner to shave their bits. Once you go hairless, you’ll never go back.

Looks. The hairy look is out. Get used to it. Go watch some porn or hit the showers at the gym. Don’t be an old fogy, the kids are all doin’ it.

Now the disadvantages:

Maintenance. Keeping hair free takes some work.

That’s it. No other disadvantages, unless you play hockey.

There are many methods to achieving the look, shaving, waxing, or depilatory creams. Depilatories smell, can be irritating, and rarely remove all of the hair. You could end up looking like one of those Mexican hairless dogs, with just a few whiskers here and there. Waxing is painful and not something one does to one’s self. You really should go to a professional to get this done.

Shaving is something you have to do regularly, and most any idiot can operate a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. When you first start, it is going to take you some time to figure out how to maneuver those sharp edges around the most delicate of parts, but believe me, you will have this mastered in no time at all. Also, in the beginning you will get razor bumps and you may be irritated from shaving. My advice is to shave often and your skin will get used to it. When you shave everyday, it will become part of your routine and you will not notice that it takes any extra time. There will be no more razor bumps or irritation and best of all, there will be no hair. Shaving cream is very important. Do go out and get the cheap stuff, go and buy Aveeno Positively Smooth Shave Gel.

Alright, there is the blog on going hairless. Now for some housekeeping.

I apologize for being remiss and not blogging. I had really good intentions and meant to blog often, but I have found that blogging for someone like me does not involve a few short lines. The barbarian says that I am wordy, and I say, “Yes, you are right, I am verbose.” My blogs usually take an hour or more, so there is no sitting down and knocking out a couple of lines.

One thing I have discovered about not posting often, is that more people are reading my blog than I think. Every now and then, one of you finds a reason to email me and I appreciate it. When I first started blogging, I thought I was writing to thin air.

Anyway, a lot have my writing has gone into creating affidavits and much of my time has gone into researching family law. I not only can give you tax advice, but tell you about support laws in Canada. You would be amazed to find out what some people are able to get away with. All I can say is if you want to make any kind of a case, the devil is in the details. Document everything. Research everything. Get a damn good lawyer. And all of this costs money, big money, but if there is no cooperation from the other side, it is your only choice. I am hoping the end is coming soon and I will have free time to blog every one of my many opinions.

Again, I welcome all ideas for blogs. Just send me a line.

2006-12-06T22:08:00.000-06:00

I had banana cream pie for supper on my 41^st birthday. The barbarian was renovating a doctor’s office, had to work evenings while the office was closed and couldn't have supper with me. I couldn’t make up my mind what to have, so I thought what the heck, it’s my birthday, I’m 41, I should eat banana cream pie. So, I ate half a banana cream pie.

The truth is I feel worse about my 41^st birthday then I did about my 40^th. The 40^th is a big one, so you ponder it for months before it arrives and you are fully prepared. People make a big deal about 40, so you feel like you have accomplished something.

Then the next thing you know, you wake up and you are 41. Now you are OVER 40. I am OVER 40! Why do I still feel like I am 28? I really don’t feel any different then 28, except I have more money and education. Is that what I really wanted, more money and education? Sure the money is nice and the education was fun at first but after six years, education sucks the big one.

I wrote the final exam last night and I am pretty sure it is a do over. Failing exams are expensive, but I am so unmotivated that I don’t even care. How do I get myself to care? Do I take time off from school to get motivated again? Or will I enjoy it so much that I won’t want to go back? That is what I am afraid of, so I guess I will keep picking away at this thing course by course. I am 2 exams away from finishing the CGA portion, and in March I begin my commerce degree. 41 and still going to school… YUCK!

On my way home from writing last night, I phoned my eldest twenty-something kid and told him go back to school now! Do it now before you get kids and responsibilities and have to work and go to school at the same time. Enjoy yourself in your 40s. If you want to take a course, take oil painting or some other serene, non-exam, type endeavour. He agreed that it was a good idea, but had no idea what he would take, because he has no idea what kind of career he wants to have. Now as I recall, I was as directionless in my twenties, so the boy is doomed to follow in my tracks.

Sorry, if I am not very humourous today, but I am over 40. I know what would cheer me up! A good barbarian story.

Just after Halloween, I was in Zellers and they were selling off the candy for a dollar a bag. Bags of candy with Tootsie Rolls in them! Tootsie Rolls are a favourite of the barbarian, so I figure, why not buy a few bags? This is the same reasoning that has me eating banana cream pies for supper.

Anyway, I bring the candy home, much to the barbarian’s excitement. I put the Zellers bag of candy in my bedroom closet on the floor. Every night the barbarian drags out the bag of candy, eats a bunch of it in bed, and then puts the bag back.

In the same closet, is a blanket where my little dog, Finnegan, sometimes sleeps. I say sometimes because he sleeps in the other closet and on the bed as well.

One night, after the barbarian has eaten enough Tootsie Rolls, he falls asleep. I am up watching TV in bed, slowly turning up the sound because the barbarian begins to snore louder and louder. All of a sudden, I hear a little crinkle from the bag in the closet and the barbarian jolts out a dead sleep and says, ”The candy!” I laughed so hard. He is snoring to wake the dead, the TV is blaring, and this little crinkle has him bolt upright in bed worrying about his precious candy.

Well, that’s it for today. Please send your comments or suggestions for any topic you wish me to write on. I have a couple I have been thinking about, Internet dating or going hairless. Any votes?

2006-11-15T22:44:00.000-06:00

I am taking the first step by admitting my addiction.

Ron Loutit recently released a great CD called Mine To Discover and I have been listening to it everyday for the last 2 weeks. I sometimes listen to it 5 or 6 times a day.

I know you might think I am biased because he is my Uncle, but this CD is really good and you should give it a listen. Right now the title track is #4 on NCI radio.

If you have RealPlayer you can go to the Real Guide area and search for “Ron Loutit” and listen to samples of his songs. If you don’t have RealPlayer than download it for Pete’s sake! You can get the free download from RealPlayer.com. It is way better than Windows Media Player.

If you can’t do either of these things, then you can drive to my house and I will lend you the CD, but only overnight, and then you have to bring it back cause and need to listen to it, and then go buy your own copy. Second thought, I think it would be better if you came over and listened to it with me, so I can listen to it again and then you can go and buy your own copy. Or better yet, go buy your own copy, bring it over here, so I can listen to it. Wait! Before you come over with the CD, don’t forget to stop at the vendor and pick up some beer. Get whatever brand you like, but make sure you bring over enough for everyone.

If you want to visit Ron Loutit’s website there is a link on the sidebar, just click and it will take you there.

In other news, I spoke to my friend, the one who ran away to join a cattle farm. She was telling me that a coyote or similar predator ate the face off of one of her little goats when his head was stuck in the fence. When she went to the goat, it was still alive and looked at her, but could not make a noise cause the entire bottom of it’s face was gone. She was alone and had to call the neighbour to shoot the poor thing. How awful. I couldn’t even imagine having to deal with something like that. She also told me that they have egg-laying hens and she hand washes 300 eggs a day before they sell them. I said, “Isn’t there some kinda machine for that?” and she told me the affordable ones only wash off the big pieces of dirt, but don’t do anything with the stains, so she scrubs them off. So I was thinking, maybe one of my blog readers might have a suggestion on how to get stains off of eggs. Keeping in mind that we are talking about eggs, I was thinking I had to rule out the automatic dishwasher because of the heat. Then I was thinking, I wonder if you can hard-boil an egg in the dishwasher? I am going to pop one in the dishwasher tomorrow and see what happens. I’ll keep you posted as to the results, but let me know if you have any other ideas. My friend is developing carpal tunnel as we speak.

One more thing, the barbarian cut a hole in the bathroom ceiling to move the broken and ill-placed fan originally in place. So, needless to say, I am living with plaster splatters and tomorrow plaster dust. I love the end result, but I am not crazy about the process. The next house I buy is going to be new and when it needs to be renovated I will simply move away.

One last thing.

God bless you, Reverend Harry Lehotsky. We will miss your good work and good words. Go in peace to your maker, you have served him well.

Happy Pap Test Day!

2006-10-24T22:49:00.001-05:00

Happy Pap Test Day!

October 25^th is pap test day in Manitoba and October 23 – 27 pap test week. So run down to your local gynaecologist and tell them to get their speculum out of the refrigerator, cause you are here to jump up on that table, get those heels in the stirrups and open wide.

I’m sure most females have had interesting experiences on the examining table, so I’ll share a couple of mine and I want you to send in yours. Unless, of course you don’t have a vagina, in which case, you are more than welcome to share your prostate exam experiences.

One time, while in the stirrups, I notice a can of French Formula hair spray sitting on the prep table. I ask the doctor what it was for and he turns red and tells me he uses it to set the pap smear on the slide. He explains that it is cheaper than the stuff the pharmaceutical company sells and it does the same job. I told my sister this story and she said she would have told him, “If I see a curling iron I’m outta here!”

Another time when I went for an exam, my doctor had another doctor at his office with him who was here from another country. This doctor was required to work along side a Canadian doctor for a period of time before he would be allowed to go into practice in Canada. So, would I mind if the other doctor performed the exam as well? Tell me, what do you say to such a request? I said, “Okay.” and proceeded to get two of everything. Yes, two. Two check your eyes, ears, throat, two check your reflexes, two check your breathing, two breast exams, two internal exams checking each ovary and down the center, and two pap tests, each complete with it’s own speculum and swab.

As far as I am concerned, I am no longer obligated to give blood. I had two pap tests in one exam and I have done my duty for the Canadian health care system.

If you remember awhile back I mentioned that I had my exam booked for the end of this month, or at least I think I mentioned it. Anyway, I had to move my appointment because that day being my supervisor’s last day and my first day in my new position, Supervisor of Accounting! I am very happy about this promotion and have reached the goal salary I had set for myself 5 years ago. Just wanted to share that piece of good news with all of you.

Sorry for taking so long to blog, life just gets in the way of some of my headier pursuits. Hope to see you sooner than later.

2006-09-24T23:48:00.000-05:00

My Dad got into a fight with the milkman once. I had told the barbarian this story and he thought it was pretty funny, so I got my Dad to tell it to him. This story is the barbarian’s favourite story of my Dad.

This is how my Dad told it.

One day in the winter, I came into the house for lunch. I was snow plowing with my front-end loader and had left it in the driveway. While I was eating lunch, the milkman came and dropped off the milk. Before he drove away, I heard the chains on my tractor rattling. I thought he was out there maybe checking out the chains on the tires. When I went back out after lunch, I noticed my logging chain was missing off the back. I use this chain all the time to pull cars out of the ditch (remember, what I told you about real ditches a few blogs ago?). I figure maybe the milkman needed to borrow it and would bring it back the next day.

The next day comes and the milkman shows up to deliver the milk. I say to him, “Did you bring my chain back?” and he says to me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never seen any chain.” and then he left. And you know what? He didn’t come back and any deliver any milk to the house for the next three days. Then I knew for sure he was guilty, so I went to the store over on the corner of Donald Road and the highway to wait for him. That store isn’t there anymore; it’s been gone for years. So I am standing in the store waiting for him. He comes in with milk that he is delivering to the store and I say to him, “Where’s my chain?” He doesn’t say anything; he just keeps walking back and forth to his truck delivering the milk. The next time he comes in, I step in front of him and just stand there. He slowly puts down the milk he is carrying and stands back up. Then he gives me two quick shots, but I don’t move, they just bounce right off my face. I draw my arm back like this to punch him (he demonstrates his move) and I put my elbow back through the plate glass door, smashing it. Then I hit the guy and knock him across the store. All of my friends, who were watching, jump on me and the fight was over.

After the story, I said, “Did you get your chain back?” Dad said “Nope, I never seen it again.”

Here’s a picture of my Dad with his brand new 1961 Plymouth Fury. This was taken a few years before the milkman incident.

This car is still in my Dad’s possession. I would love to one day restore it. It has some really cool features as listed below by another owner of one such car:

A 318 jet-propelled my 1961 Plymouth Fury 2-door hardtop coupe. What a car that was, with all of the Chrysler "innovations" of the 1950's in one car:

A clear plastic rectangular steering wheel, with reflective glitter sprinkled inside.

A dash-mount rear view mirror.

A tower-back front seat.

A pushbutton Torqueflite automatic transmission, with no "park"setting. (If the emergency brake failed, the car would roll. There was a park-lock on the 1961 Belvedere, but not on the Fury.)

A rear window that extended so far into the roofline that rear seat passengers got sunburned.

A torsion bar front suspension, for incredible cornering.

A unique rolling-drum speedometer which created a progressive redline in 5-mile per hour increments.

An emergency brake which applied a tourniquet-like clamp to the driveshaft, instead of engaging the rear brakes.

If Dennis Weaver had been driving a '61 Fury with a 318, he would have left that big rig two states behind.

http://www.geocities.com/motorcity/5961/Picture.htm

Check out this guy’s car and I will talk to you later.

Beancounter

2006-09-17T19:46:00.000-05:00

A funny thing happened on the way to my uterus….

The G spot orgasm. How do you get one? There many internet websites that can tell you step by step how to achieve one and they also explain what one is. You might want to check out http://www.master-your-g-spot.com/ or http://www.gspotcenter.com/. The last sells very interesting items like The Rock Chick. The Rock Chick is a strange shaped vibrator. It reminds of something but I can’t think of what. Mind you, I experience some odd feelings whenever I see a stapler.

I looked at these sites a week ago, so I had to check out my history pages to find the addresses again. What I found really funny was other sites in my history pages like http://www.streetblowjobs.com/ and http://www.suckmebitch.com/. They are interesting websites someone else in my house is visiting. And if you think The Rock Chick is neat looking, go to http://www.fleshlight.com/. You ladies will be rummaging through your man’s toolbox looking for one. Now you know why he gets so excited when the power goes out.

Anyway, back to the G spot orgasm. Not every woman who has one makes a big puddle. Lots of females ejaculate without a gush. The gspotcenter website does explain how to make yourself ejaculate if you want to see what it is all about. Is the G spot orgasm the be all and end all of orgasms? I guess it depends on whom you talk to. Some women experience them and know for sure because they are gushers. It is the non-gushing types who wonder what the heck the fuss is all about.

Orgasms range from “Was that an orgasm? Did I just have an orgasm?” to the earth-shattering explosion of sensations that leave you in a sobbing ball of bewilderment. If you have been a sobbing ball and have not wet the bed, then you are perhaps a non-gusher or just have really damn good regular orgasms.

The key to successful orgasms is to know your body. This is where aging is finally your friend. Along with those fine lines and stray chin hairs, you really get to know yourself. And if you get to know your lover, you can be the Queen of Orgasm City. It is absolute bliss when you know your man is about to pop and you can tell yourself “It’s do or die” and BOOM! You become Queen. Nothing worse than lying awake looking at the ceiling, listening to contented snoring. You kick him and tell him to shut up so you can sleep, but you know it ain’t the snoring that is pissing you off. Not that I don’t agree with a punch in the back or a well-placed elbow in bed. Let’s face it; he gets away with way too much anyway and probably did something to deserve it.

That’s it. There is the column on G spot orgasms that you have requested. Now that I have gotten this subject out of the way, I can concentrate on my next blog. Maybe we can discuss chocolate and the best brownie recipe ever. This way we can cover what you do in the absence of orgasms or what is also known as “That asshole doesn’t deserve me.”

Bye for now.

2006-08-31T22:06:00.000-05:00

F the Loan Sharks!

A strange thing happened recently. To give you a little update, the loan sharks sent an appraiser over last Friday. That was reason we were doing the reno. Anyway, when I was at work last Friday and the barabarian was showing the appraiser around the homestead, a gal at work comes to my desk and gives me the card for her mortgage broker. She overheard me blathering on about loan sharks. I thank her and tell her, that’s ok, that we are almost finalized with the loan sharks. She says “Don’t sign anything until you have talk to these people. We dealt with Wells Fargo and it was no good. These people really helped us out.” I say ok and take the card thinking I am not gonna call.

Monday rolls around and the blonde shark calls to ask if the appraiser came. We talk about a couple of things and I ask where she thinks the mortgage rate will end up. She says “I think around 9”. I say “What! I am at 7 something now. Why would I refinance at 2 points more? I am able to make my payments. Money is just a little tight, that’s all. There is no way I will refinance at 9.” She says that she will have to check with head office on it and call me back. I then ask her about the mortgage penalty, which I had mentioned the week before. “Are you guys going to charge me a penalty when I am refinancing with you?” She still had no answer on this either and said she would let me know.

Tuesday morning I phone the Anderson Financial Team, the broker on the card, and talk to Karen Beckingham. She gets all the dirt on me and asks for permission to check my credit rating. She phones me back after lunch and tells me that she has good news. She can get me a mortgage with a traditional lender (bank) for 5.5% financing. I say, "How can that be possibl? Two banks have already turned us down". She says she can get me a 35 year amortization and that is why. She tells me to bring a couple of things down, pay stub, letter from employer, and line of credit agreement.

Wednesday morning, blonde shark calls and wants to make arrangements for me to come in on Thursday after work to sign papers. I ask about interest rate and penalty. She says she still does not have an answer but she will have all of the info on Thursday when I come in. I say why am I going to come all the way there to not sign papers if the rate is too high. She says she will have it fixed up but cannot tell me until she has final approval. I say fine. She says see you Thursday.

Wednesday lunchtime, I drive my stuff to Anderson and drop it off. Karen phones later on and tells me the lender has agreed and she will hear from CMHC tomorrow morning whether they accepted the value she submitted on my house. I say I can’t believe it. She says everything is good and can I come on Thursday after work to sign papers? I say "Sign what?" cause I don’t want to jeopardize the loan shark deal until I know for sure. Karen says that I will be signing the mortgage commitment that guarantees that the lender will be giving me the mortgage. I say ok.

Thursday lunchtime, Karen phones, CMHC has accepted the value and all I have to do is come and sign and the mortgage is mine. Still in disbelief, I drive down after work and sign everything. I now have a new mortgage on my home, 35-year amortization, 5-year term, 5.49%. I am still amazed, but I am looking at the papers and it is a done deal.

F the loan sharks! Get a broker! Don’t renew without one. She even said they always can get a better rate then if you walk into the bank yourself. I can’t believe what she did in two days. Wow!

Anyway, I promised pics of the reno that nearly drove the barbarian and I to splitsville. I am happy to report things are on the mend. When the neighbour was by to see, we mentioned that we still have to do the basement and the neighbour said we should do it now that we were on a roll. I said to the neighbour, “No, we have to start liking each other again before we can do the basement.” We may start the basement soon.

The barbarian built this feature wall. One side has openings that go right through and the other has bookcases in the alternating spaces. I love this wall and the colour.

Earlier I had asked for suggestions on blogs and I got one. G spot orgasms. I really have to think about that one. I am not sure what direction my blog will go in if I start doing subjects like that. I am running a clean show here. How do I discuss this? Do I talk about G spot orgasms delving into a personal level or do I throw out some clinical information session? In my blog I like to discuss what is going on in my life and maybe poke some fun at myself and others. How do you do that with a G spot orgasm? A funny thing happened on the way to my uterus….

I have to make sure I know what I am talking about so, I think I may have to take one for the team and thoroughly investigate the G spot orgasm before I report back.

2006-08-15T23:54:00.000-05:00

I am an accountant not a drywall technician.

The renovations are going as they usually go and divorce is imminent. I know, I know, we are not married, but we are have reached the point where “breakup” simply is not a suitable term for the disentanglement of feelings, lives, and property and assets that would have to occur. The barbarian (who in my last blog I was calling “the old man”) and I spent all day yesterday sanding.

I call him a barbarian, because he does not have finesse in the things he does. He relies on force to get things done and that is why he says he can’t play cards. In sports, if you are losing, you just try harder, use more force, and physically overcome your opponent. This is not a good approach in a card game.

Anyway, the barbarian and I spent yesterday sanding. I complained bitterly all day about having to do this awful chore, and you can only complain for so long about how boring sanding is, before you become bored of complaining about being bored. So, I would take a break from sanding and do other stuff, so I could have something else to complain about.

Scraping drywall mud off of the floor
“Why didn’t you put anything down before you started plastering?” “It sure would have saved a lot of time, now we will have to spend hours trying to get this stuff off of the floor.” “You know, the big blobs aren’t so bad to scrape off, but the ones you stepped in and tracked all over are impossible.” “Oh my God, this is going to take forever.”

Back to sanding
“This is so boring.” “How do people do this for a living?” “It is so dusty.” “I am so glad I am an accountant.” “Check the stuff I did and make sure I did it right.” You’ll have to do the stuff at the top, I can’t reach.” “How do I do this part?” “How do I do by the light switch?” “You’ll have to do in the corners, I don’t know how.” “This is so boring.”

Vacuuming drywall dust
“Why did they put such a short cord on this shop-vac?” “How come we do not have one decent extension cord?” “I think there is a longer hose from the other vacuum, I’ll use that to make up for the short cord” “This thing is giving me shocks.” “Ow!” “Ow, damn it!” “Do you get shocks from this thing?” “Ow, #*#**##!” (throw vacuum on floor) “That’s it! I’ve had it!”

Back to sanding
Refer to paragraph before last

Back to scraping
Refer to scraping paragraph

Back to vacuuming
“Ow!” “Ow, damn it!” “Ow, #*#**##!” (throw vacuum on floor) (pick up vacuum) “Ow, #*#**#%#@**#*#*%$$^##***@*#!!!!!”(throw vacuum on floor) (pick up vacuum) “#!*@ #$*%%#***@* *#@!*#*$ *#*#**$!!*!***#*!*@#*!*#*!!!!!” (throw vacuum on floor for final time)

After 8 hours of this, the barbarian blows. “Just leave it alone and I will do that too!” “You have done nothing all day, but complain!” “(Other stuff I tuned out)” “(More stuff I tuned out)”

“Yeah, well you were right, you are not rude. You ARE an asshole!” and I leave. I come back, pick up the vacuum and “Ow, #*#**##!” (throw vacuum on floor) (pick up vacuum) “Ow, #*#**#%#@**#*#*%$$^##***@*#!!!!!”(throw vacuum on floor) (pick up vacuum) “#!*@ #$*%%#***@* *#@!*#*$ *#*#**$!!*!***#*!*@#*!*#*!!!!!”

That night I go to sleep around eleven and the barbarian is watching tv with the kids. I wake up a four am to squeak, squeak, squeak. I go to the living room/front entrance/dining room/hall (open concept) and there he is rolling paint on the ceiling and the roller is squeaking. I tell him that no one can ever call him lazy.

Today, the barbarian and I look at the “open concept” and decide it needs more drywall mud especially the feature wall which has staggered openings right through and alternating book cubbies on one side (I will post a pic after it is painted). The barbarian tries to put more mud on, but those small areas are too much for him and his big knife. He gets frustrated and says that it will have to do. I say, “Let me try.” He hands over the knife, because he really no longer cares. I take the knife, praying that this is my hidden undiscovered gift. I picture myself being an absolute artist with a knife and drywall mud. I gingerly put the mud on the wall and begin to sculpt. This way with the knife, clean the mud off the knife, that way with the knife, clean the mud off, this way with the knife, pick up more mud, that way with the knife, clean the mud off, this way, clean, that way, pick up, this way, that way, clean, this way, THERE! It looks worse. I give the knife and mud back. He begins again. His looks worse too. I begin to gently try to discourage him from going on. You see, I have already decided to call Michele, my painting cousin, who said I could use her name, so I could set her apart from the other cousin in an earlier blog.

He finally gives up and leaves to go work on a basement reno he’s got. Michele comes over and we only have one six-inch knife to work with; cause the barbarian took the others to the job. Michele wanted a smaller one and I say how big? She says she doesn’t know and that her husband tells her what size the knives are. I suggest that maybe she now thinks that one inch is this big holding up my finger and thumb to about a centimeter apart. She gets it and we have a laugh. Michele displays the artistry I only dreamt of earlier in the day. She leaves strict instructions that it is not to be touched and that she will be back. I thank the Good Lord for Michele and the fact that the barbarian has to go to work.

The barbarian comes home today and tells me that he now knows how I feel when we are working on stuff together on the computer (my forte). He said that I drove him nuts yesterday and that we should not work together. He said that he’ll do his thing, he'll leave, I do my thing, etc. This is crazy enough to work.

By the way, I hadn’t seen Michele in months until this week and she looks fabulous. She has lost weight and is now my inspiration to shed those extra pounds that I have gained since the barbarian and I have moved in together. The barbarian is a culinary genius and his food is extremely difficult to resist along with the rest of him. I tell him that I know he loves me but he has to stop feeding me. By the way, he made this really great pizza last night.

2006-08-11T22:19:00.000-05:00

Loan sharks serve a purpose and people such as myself are damn glad they are around. About a year and half ago I bought my house with the assistance of loan sharks.

I decided to look into buying a house as my grandmother’s old house was falling down around me and it was not mine to invest money in it. Besides the new man, who is now the old man, has perimeteritis.

Perimeteritis is an affliction suffered by many residents of Winnipeg. They will drive from Transcona to Charleswood, but 15 minutes outside the city is too far. I think it’s the ditches that scare ‘em. They don’t have those things in the city. Now, I know you are going to say, “Charleswood and Norwood have some streets with ditches!” Those are not ditches. Anything you can jump over or drive your car through are not real ditches. Mind you, I was in car once where we drove in the ditch and right back out again. I was in grade 9, me and my friend were in Bob’s 70 something Nova and we were behind my friend’s Dad who was driving a school bus. Bob slid off the road (it was winter) and we went in the ditch. Bob tromped on the gas and we drove right back onto the road. Later, my friend’s Dad was laughing and telling her about the crazy driver behind him who went in the ditch and right out again. She did not say a word; she would have been grounded for a month.

Anyway, back to the loan sharks. I decided it was time to buy a house and was on the internet (surprise, surprise) looking at MLS listing and mortgage rates and the like when I visited some kind of mortgage approval site. I filled out an app and got a call from a mortgage broker the next day. Gave Jane Barrow from Invis all the dope on me and my finances and she gave me a number to work with. A couple of months went by and then the stars lined up and my house showed itself to me on my birthday. I made an offer and gave Jane a call. Jane went to work to find someone who would look kindly on me and my incredibly high credit card debt. Scotiabank said forget it, so Jane went to Wells Fargo Financial, from here on known to me as the loan sharks. And when I say loan sharks I say it with gratitude. The loan sharks said, “OK, we will give you the money to buy your house. We will charge you 2 points more than the bank and you don’t need an down payment”. “Oh yeah, by the way, people who don’t put any money down, have to pay a premium to be insured by CMHC (that's the banks guarantee that they will get their money). Since we don’t deal with CMHC, we insure ourselves, so that will be an extra 4,000 please.” I said, “Yeah sure, just give me 30 years to pay.” I made my offer on the 5^th of December and took possession on the 17^th. How is that for service?

Here we are the summer of 2006, and me and the old man are suffering some financial difficulty. He went into business for himself and there are some fluctuations in the work that has come in. Mostly, it is the ridiculous amount of money he has to pay the ex every month. I am not talking child support, I am talking alimony which I thought had gone out with bellbottoms. That is as far as I will go with that, as that whole thing is in court and I could write a year of blogs on it.

So, back to my story, the old man strolls into the bank a few weeks ago to move his pension money from the old job to a nice mutual fund. The bank greets him warmly, brings him in to an office and then they go to work one him. “You have a house?!!?!” “Good, good” “Where do you live?” “How much is your mortgage?” “Do you know how much you house is worth now?” “You should move your mortgage here and we will give you more money, since your house has so much equity.” “Hey, well your at it, you should move all of your other investments here.” “Bring your woman, we can solve all of her problems too.” All the while, he is surrounded by women wearing bikinis. Three are fanning him, one is offering him a drink from a half a pineapple with an umbrella sticking out of it, and another women is rubbing his shoulders. This is the point where the old man steps into my blog and says, “Tell them I’m not wearing a shirt.”

He runs home and tells me, “What a wonderful place the Royal Bank is!” “You have an appointment to see them tomorrow” “Bring the mortgage with you.”

I go to the bank the next day and I am surrounded by seven robust young men wearing nothing but smiles (it’s my blog, they can be naked). I start pulling out my mortgage and then all of my credit card bills. By the time I reach the end the young men are gone and a couple of fat old guys are saying “Don’t you have any other income?” I am then told to email the mortgage lady some more information. I did, and I have never heard from her again.

So, the old man calls his sister, who happens to be head of the credit union’s loan department. We take all of our stuff to her and she takes copies of everything. The old man calls her a couple of days later and she says she is working on some scenarios and will call us back when she has something. We never heard from her again.

I’m only kidding, but she did tell us we need a co-signer or forget it. I can see the for sale sign in front of the house. I see us moving into the potato house in St.Andrews (one of my Father’s projects with no plumbing). I say, “What a minute, Honey! Maybe the loan sharks will help us!”

I call the loan sharks and make an appointment. That day, I meet my own personal shark. She is a twenty-threeish blonde with a big rack. She takes all of the info from me and says, "Okay, we can help you. When can I send an appraiser over?” I can’t believe it! She even tried to give me 5,000 today, but head office said no.

I have no idea what this is gonna cost me for an interest rate and what administration fees they will ding me with for renewing early, but I hear they have 40 year amortizations, so I am sure I can afford the payment.

Well, now the old man and I have to work like mad on the main floor that has been partially renovated for the last year before the appraiser calls on us.

That’s my blog for today. Hope it was okay. I am sorry for going on holidays and not updating my blog. Thank you all for reading; I really appreciate the complaints when I neglect to write. Yes, more than one complaint. Yes, I have more than one reader, which I think is great. Feel free to pass my blog on to your friends or enemies depending how bad the blogs are.

If you have any pressing issues that you would like me to give my opinion on, let me know. You leave a comment or email me at beancounter@mts.net.

2006-07-25T17:28:00.000-05:00

I am 40 and going back on the pill.

This is the blog my male readers (who am I kidding, I think I have one reader) may not want to bother with unless the are looking for some insight into the female psyche.

I was on the pill for 20 years until I met my man, who happens to be vasectomized. Eureka! I can free myself of the pill and all of the awful things that have haunted me about taking the pill. I would be free of the potentially threatening, dreaded leg clot. I realize now that I do not personally know of any pill-taking leg clot victims, nor have I heard of any friend-of-a-friend leg clot victims. So, knowing that I am over 35 and can save my own life, I throw away my pills and live the life of a free and happy woman.

It took only a few months of my new free and happy life, before my cycles changed. While I was taking the pill, for the last few years, my period started to disappear. Before I went off of the pill, my period came once every two months and lasted a little over 24 hours. I asked the doctor about it and he said it was normal for long time pill-takers. Apparently the lining does not build up as thick. Now, my periods are back with a vengence. 5 days dragging into 7, sometimes going away for a day and jumping back out, going "HA HA! You thought I was gone. Now I will destroy your new underwear!" and showing up whenever it took the notion. I never know when I am going to get my period.

BUT! That is not the worst of it! I don't know when it is coming, but my boyfriend does. Last Friday morning he asks me if I know that I am going to get my period and I say no. Later on that afternoon, the darn thing shows up! I march directly to the phone to call my doctor to make an appointment to go on the pill. This is the last straw! I'll be damned if some man is going to tell me when I am going to get my period.

My whole adult life, I have been even-steven in the emotions department. I never fluctuated along with the ebb and flow of my body. Sure, I am a sap who can cry with the best of them, but now my period is coming on and I get upset by things that don't normally bother me. I have heard of this PMS thing, but never experienced it. My friend, who left to be a cattle farmer in the wilds of the interlake, used to describe her pre-period emotions as "I am holding a rifle and sitting in the clock tower". I am not at the clock tower level, but more of a BB gun and sitting on the front porch kind of thing.

Since going off of the pill, I read this article in Reader's Digest about how great the pill is. It's users have a 50-percent reduction in ovarian cancer, a 40-percent reduction in endometrial cancer, a reduction in benign breast disease, ovarian cysts, anemia, osteoporosis, and now it can lower the risk of colon cancer and pelvic inflammatory disease. And get this! It can reduce or eliminate perimenopausal symptoms. You can stay on the pill until you are 55 and skip the ugly transistion into menopause. These are the horror stories that haunt me. The hot flashes, the sleeplessness, and night sweats are the things I fear now. That, and not being able to read fine print. Damn! Maybe the pill can fix that too!

Anyway, I am going back on the pill. I am going to shed the shackles of my evil natural hormones and eat the synthetic joy of Progesterone and Estrogen. I will be a free and happy woman.

2006-07-20T18:04:00.004-05:00

The day I met Paul Williams is a day I will not soon forget.

Like many of us 40 and uppers from Winnipeg and surrounding areas, we discovered Paul Williams when the movie Phantom of the Paradise rolled into town. I was in grade five, in a community north of the city, when I heard kids in my class talking about the movie. This kid, Randy, originally from the city bragged how he seen the movie 7 times. I had barely been to the theatre, let alone seeing one movie 7 times!

Anyway, my big break came when my older sister and a multitude of cousins made plans for us to take the Beaver bus to the city and go see the movie. That movie was the most amazing thing that I had seen in my 11 years of life. The music, Phoenix's unbelievable coolness, the powerful and evil Swan, and Winslow's mask falling off in the end as he crawled along the stage. I remember the movie being over and stumbling through the blackness of the theatre to one of the side exit doors, out into the bright afternoon sun, holding my stomach, feeling woozy from the sight of Winslow's record-pressed face.

I loved Phantom of the Paradise and could not get enough of Paul Williams (insert short joke here). I Bought his albums, searched magazines for him, and diligently scanned the TV guide for anywhere he might appear. I seen him on the Muppets and Hawaii 5-0, believe it or not.

Fast forward to April 29, 2006. Me, my son who is 23, and one of my cousins who loved Paul Williams as much as I did in the seventies, arrive at the old Garrick Theatre. Phantompalooza is being held at the very theatre where I watched the movie almost 30 years before. Wow! I get to watch the movie being screened again on the big screen. It was amazing! People were clapping when each star appeared on the screen for the first time. They yelled "Don't do it!" when Swan stuck the Phantom's finger with the pen and his blood dripped on the contract he was about to sign. If you were there, you know what I am talking about. It was an experience.

And as if the movie wasn't enough, we moved to the room next door to see Paul Williams in concert. I was against the foot of the stage, almost dead centre. Paul Williams came out and I was first surprised at how old he looked (he is now 65). He began to sing and damn if I didn't know the words to nearly every song. Songs I hadn't listened to in over 25 years. He came over to me at one point and he grabbed both of my hands. I cried. We all cried. Jessica Harper (Phoenix) came on and sang Old Souls. We all cried some more and the concert ended.

It does not end here. We went back to the theatre and stood in the autograph line. We met William Finley and Jessica Harper and got their autographs. Then..... There he was! Paul Williams! He autographed my Phantom of the Paradise CD and my cousin's newly purchased Death Records T-shirt. Then my cousin says to Paul Williams. "Now, I want you to sigh my butt." He says "What?" She says "I want you to sign my butt." and pulls the back of her jeans down. Men carrying a big boom mike and large camera come running over to film Paul signing my cousin's ass. Paul signs his name, turns to me and says "I just want to keep writing." I smile and say "Maybe, you could write a song." My son snaps a picture of my cousin, Paul Williams, and myself and then I find myself stumbling along that same aisle years later, with the same feeling of disbelief to what I had just experienced.

I still cannot believe I met Paul Williams.

2006-07-18T09:27:00.000-05:00

Hello,

I have come to fill you in on the ongoing saga of a wasp stinging my foot. I had tried all kinds of things before I phoned Health Links at 10 pm last night. Ice, antihistamines, tylenol, aspirin, hydrogen peroxide (this was painful and left a purple mark on my foot). I told the Health Links nurse all of that, except for the peroxide part, because peroxide is the new devil amongst the health care profession. They say it damages your skin and causes scarring. Even the tattoo places say to stay away from the stuff, unless you are doing scarification to modify your body (this is for the few that need to have the edge over the regular folk who are now getting tattoos and piercing other places, besides their ears).

Anyway, the nurse tells me that it has been over 24 hours and I should not still be feeling severe pain. She checks her resources and says all of the walk-in clinics are closed and I should go to emergency to see a doctor. She also mentions that she spoke earlier to a man whose wife had been waiting for 5 hours at the very hospital I would be going. I think "Nuts to that!" and thank the nurse and hang up. I had phoned my Mother earlier for home remedies, cause those Metis from Lockport got cures for everything. She told me I should go see a doctor.

I pressed her for more information and she finally gave it up. She said that one time when she was young she was stung by a hornet and how it hurt for so long and how she never forget it. One of her aunties made a poultice and taped it on. Once it was dry, it pulled the stinger and she was better. She also said to moisten an aspirin and tape it on the sting and it will suck out the poison. I tried the aspirin one and I lost the aspirin out of the bandaid at some point, so I can't tell you if it works or not.

After talking to the nurse, I go back to the internet to see if I can find any other solutions that don't look too stupid or dangerous. I find vinegar as a cure. I try putting a vinegar washcloth on my foot for a half an hour. No change and now I want potato chips.

That did it! I am going with the aunty. I heat up a hunk of bread with milk and bandaid the thing to my foot and go to bed. I sleep all night. sigh. Today, my foot is still a little sore, but not like before and it even feels a little itchy. Itchy is good, means it's healing, I think.

I just received a reply to my email telling people about this blog. This the reply:

Hi Esther!

What is this "blog" you speak of? I have heard of it but don't know how it works. Sorry to hear about your foot. Try putting cold steel on it like a knife. No...not through your foot, just on the sore spot. If that doesn't work, throw the knife away and start drinking. Have a great holiday!

I love the the advice! I agree! Win or lose, hit the booze.

Here is my reply to the question:

A web log or "blog" is when people post an ongoing journal on the internet. People use them to express their opinions, to chronicle events, or to keep relatives informed who are living afar (much like that Christmas letter from your relative that is photocopied and sent to everyone).

One woman had a diary of how her husband contracted an infection, was sent to hospital and nearly died. Of how they had to make the quick decision to amputate his leg to save his life and how they are coping with the loss of the leg and how their life has changed.

Another woman was fired from her job, because she talked about her co-workers on her blog.

My blog is for me to ramble about wasp bites and to offer my opinion on whatever I take a notion to and hopefully in a humourous manner.

If anyone wants to comment, please click on the comment button at the end of this blog. If anyone has any suggestions for topics, please email the to beancounter@mts.net or click on Email in my user profile. I welcome all comments and suggestions. Also, if you would like this blog to be sent to you via email whenever I post, send my your address. This will save checking my blog for new posts.

If you post any lousy comments, I will call my Mother and she will put the hoodoo on you. Don't mess with the aunties.

2006-07-17T15:32:00.000-05:00

Hello all,

Here it is Monday, the beginning of my week of vacation and my foot is killing me. You see, last night I stepped on wasp. Geez Louise! I remember getting stung often when I was a kid and it didn't really hurt, just the initial sting and then it is done. Today, I am in A-GON-Y. Apparently, stings are more painful when you are an adult and worse if you haven't been stung in a long time. Well, I am two for two and would like to disconnect my foot and throw it away. You know when you get a piece of glass in your foot and how it feels when you step down on it? Well, that's how my foot feels when it is NOT hurting. What is really dumb is the bottom of my foot looks perfectly normal. I expect when I look at it, it should be a large gaping wound with fire ants running around the inside.
This makes me wonder how does someone who has cancer, manage? I know you get morphine to ease the pain, but there is a limit to how much you can have, less you overdose yourself. Maybe if you are terminal, you should have that option. Why suffer through the pain, when you can float home on a morphine cloud? The destination is the same, why does the journey have to be difficult.
Anyway, I'll talk at ya, later.