Thursday, 31 January 2013

Is That a Fish in your Pocket, or are you Just Happy to See me?

Andrew, while preparing our fish & chips supper: How many fish dicks do you want?
Woah, that's a lot of fish dicks!
No thank you, Andrew.

Sunday, 27 January 2013

This is Me Trying to Finish any of my Blog Posts.

They're just not happening.
I'm gonna go eat a tub of dairy-free chocolate ice cream now.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

8 Things You Will Deal With While Working at a Summer Camp

Let me just start by saying that I love kids. My totally unattainable goal is for Andrew and I to become become Brangelina 2.0 and adopt/give birth to a bazillion kids and have a rainbow of adorable kids. That would be the total bombizzle (word, homie). Not only would I love them and teach them to be awesome, but I would also use them as free labour on my future hobby farm (chickens, goats and horses included).
Sidenote: Unfortunately, Andrew is against a full van of children. He thinks two kids is perfect, because he grew up with one brother and his childhood was awesome (i.e., one hit the other in the head with a golf club; they were clearly the best of friends).
Me, at 16, woking hard at summer camp.
But other people's kids can sometimes bring out a different reaction out of me...

Camp Counselors, or anyone else that has to deal with someone else's kid for more than 6 hours, should be given a raise. Cause kids are nasty. After some of the events I went through during my summers running camps, it's a complete miracle that I haven't sterelized myself.

So here are some of my experiences/lessons from the 6 years that I worked with kids. If you have also worked with kids for any length of time, you totally know what I'm talking about.
  • You will quickly learn that kids under the age of 10 do not understand sarcasm. At all. While in the craft room, a child once asked me if I had a bowl. I naturally replied "Of course I do! I always carry one in my back pocket in case of an emergency!" She stood there expectantly, waiting for me to pull out a giant mixing bowl out of my Mary Poppins jean pocket. Sarcasm was never again used on a child.
  • And it's not just the kids: you will inevitably have that one mom that brings her kid in with an entire lunchbox of over-the-counter and prescription medication. This kid takes so many drugs in a day that they put your local stoner to shame.
    • Some of you are probably like "Hey, aren't you kinda being a humongous hypocrite, you crazy hypochondriac?!", so I should point out that I don't usually take any medication like some hypochondriacs, I just constantly worry that I have some osbcure and uncurable disease. I'm a hypochondriac au naturel.
  • No matter how much flat ginger ale and quiet relaxing time you give them, the chances are, you will eventually get a kid that throws up. And chances are also that it will be a projectile vomit. All over the other kids' shoes and backpacks.
  • You will get a child called Jessica who demands to be called Madison Butterfly Butterfly.
  • "Oh God, it's like a crime scene in there!"
  • You will have to wipe blood off of random surfaces, because kids either: a) panic when they get hurt and run around, dripping the stuff everywhere, b) don't notice that their arm/leg/nose is gushing blood, or c) they don't give a damn.
    • As bad as cleaning off blood makes you feel, having to climb up a dark tube slide to clean it is 1000 times worse.
  • You will have to chase down a misbehaving child in a bouncy structure. No matter your size, wit and strength, they will make you look like a drunk panda.
  • When the kids get picked up, you'll be talking to an older father in a business suit and realize he's giving you elevator eyes and hitting on you right in front of his kids.   
  • And finally, I hope this will never happen to you, ever. But maybe, just maybe, if you have any of my luck, you'll be feeding the kids their lunch when a little boy will walk up to you and whisper in your ear "I think someone pooped in the sink." And no matter how hard you pray that this kid is just an extremely creative liar, lo and behold, there is actual shit in the sink.
    • Sidenote: Interviewing each and every child to ask them if they're the one who "left something in the bathroom that you shouldn't have put there" will not yeild results.
      • Second Sidenote: You can use your charm and pleading to convince another staff member to clean up the crap. You will owe them big time. Big time.
Now please give me your own horrible/gross experiences working with kids that will make me feel better about mine.

Saturday, 19 January 2013

This is Why We Don't Own Nice Things

After paying more than $2 on a gift bag for my niece's present, I took a picture of it to show it off to my mother. It wasn't until after I sent it that I noticed a little gnawing going on.
Nice, Tika. Real nice.

Thank God kids care more about what's inside the bag than the actual bag itself.

Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Our Wars III: Revenge of the Hick

See what I did there? I'M SO CLEVER!

You know that time I accidentally shot Andrew in the face with an elastic? Well, I don't have to feel guilty about it anymore.
Sidenote: Yeah, I never actually felt guilty. It was hilarious.
We were at the gas station. Andrew was pumping Knuckle's (my car) gas, I was inside paying and Lucy was sitting in the car, freaking out because Andrew was outside of the car and "Oh my God what if he NEVER COMES BACK AND I'LL BE LEFT WITH MAMA AND DAD WILL NEVER COME BACK DAD,DON'TLEAVEMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Sidenote: Lucy's neuroticism clearly comes from my side of the family. Also, yes, we take Lucy everywhere with us either because Andrew can't bear to be without her or he thinks she'll be lonely at home alone. In the case of the latter, we could just fix it if we bought another puppy, Andrew!
By the time I was done paying, Andrew was already back in the car and ready to go. So I walked up to the passenger side, started to open the door, and got sprayed in the face with windsheild wiper fluid.

Sprayed in the fucking face.

With fucking windshield wiper fluid.

It's like time slowed down as I stood there in complete shock: the wiper blades going back and forth, my face and coat getting drenched, the look on Andrew's face as an unending stream of "I'msorry!I'msorry!I'msorry" poured out of his mouth.

After wiping off most of the washer fluid, I got in the car, where Andrew excused his behaviour by explaining that he "thought you were already in the car!"

You can be assured that that excuse didn't fly.

We rode home in silence; Andrew knew better than to try to play country music on the radio in a time like this.

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Where do you Bring a Hick for his Birthday?

There's an excellent punchline to that question, I just know it...
The actual answer is Montana's Cookhouse.
For all you non-Canadians (aka, 90% of you readers), Montana's is a mountain lodge-themed restaurant. Half of the menu is solely dedicated to red meat, and the "mascots" are a taxidermied moose and deer. They also serve "man mugs", which hold three cans' worth of beer in them.
You get to have a dead animal stare at you while you eat. In Andrew's words,
"it's just awesome/"
Yeah, you can see why he asked to celebrate there.
We began the night wearing paper antlers (the hick version of paper crowns). However, as soon as Andrew saw me wearing a full rack of antlers, he ripped it off my head in disgust, shouted " a doe doesn't have antlers!" and tore off the top of my antlers. He then gingerly placed the modified hick-crown back on my head and continued on as if nothing happened.

Apparently this is a deer mating ritual.... I'm flattered, I guess?
After eating a main course primaily composed of animal parts (which cost more than my appetizer, main course and dessert combined), the staff sang him a song, gave him a complimentary dessert and placed this on his head.

Behold, Andrew the Steak Sauce Stealer, the cheapest Viking in the land!
However, once he found out that there was another headgear option that better suited his fashion sense, he had his helmet replaced by this one:

Yes, because when being asked to pose while sporting a moose rack, it is
best to look pensive. A+ for that rationale, Andrew.
He spent the rest of the night proudly sporting the ginormous moose rack, whilst I attempted to finish my dessert without getting knocked unconscious every time he swiveled his head.

I actually had to duck under to be anywhere near him.
Happy Birthday Andrew!
 I'm sorry I didn't let you attempt to steal the moose rack helmet. (I'm not genuinely sorry. That was a stupid idea. How the hell would you have pulled it off?)

Thursday, 3 January 2013

First Post of 2013: Cameras, Spiders and Bathroom Singing


Hopefully you all enjoyed your holidays, unless you're Jehovah Witnesses; you guys don't get to celebrate. Sorry about that, JWs.

My vacation was fairly tame; I was sick, so spent most of it on the couch, begging Andrew to make me Lipton Noodle Soup (that magical shit beats the crap out of a cold), opening Christmas gifts with the strength and energy of a stoned lizard. and attempting (and continuously failing) to go watch Les Misérables in theaters.

The good news is, I got ridiculously jealous of Andrew's stepmother's new camera, so I went and bought my own. Yay for non-fuzzy photos!

I apologize in advance for the probable increase in pet photos. Feel free to skip them and mutter "Fuck Christine, stop with the pet shots." Feel even more free to comment "OMG YOUR PETS ARE SO CUTE AND AMAZING!"
Here are a few things that happened during the break:
  • Last week, something funny happened in my dreams and I distinctly remember thinking "Man, I'm gonna have to blog about this". While still dreaming.
    • I think of you guys in my sleep. You're always with me, you stalkers.
  • Best event of Christmas Day: When Andrew danced what he believed to be a scottish jig on extra large bubble wrap as I played the trumpet (more commonly known as blowing my nose).
    Really though, what the hell does she mean?!
  • When I took Andrew out on a date to our local Boston Pizza, I went to the bathroom to blow my nose (since my nose sounds like a trumpet; please refer to previous bulletpoint.) As I was about to return to our date, Adele's Set Fire to the Rain came on the bathroom radio. A minute later, a waitress walked in on me singing my heart out in front of the mirror. Unfortunately, there was no way to cover it up.
  • One night, I got woken up by Andrew squirming and cringing in his sleep. After asking him what as wrong, he replied "Ugh, that's just so gross". "What's gross?" He pointed at numerous spots on the ceiling "All those fucking spiders."

How was your holidays (and for Jehovah Witnesses, how was your non-eventful end of the month?)

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