Right now all I really want to do is hate on the day I've had, but since it involved my work situation, I'm going to have to go ahead and not share any of that with you.
What I can say though, is that over the last 2 days I have ingested more fried food than a person should, really. While it was incredibly delicious, I am now paying for it.
Oh man, I'm so totally PMSsing right now, ya'll.
Poor Kirk.
Last weekend was Kirk's 31st birthday. We had both managed to get Friday off. That meant 2 whole days up north! Excellent. The usual 2-hour drive that we had planned meant we'd be at the cottage in time for a swim and a margarita. With Melissa and Melissa coming up on Saturday, it promised to be a fabulous weekend.
All was going according to The Plan From Which No One Must Deviate. Except for the whole part where 20 minutes en route and the sky opened up and pooped on the entire Greater Toronto Area.
Thankfully I had decided that the drive home rush (which starts at 3 pm on Friday afternoons) was too much of a pain in the ass to stay on the Don Valley Parkway. I figured we'd just snake our way north and east, so we got off at Don Mills.
Almost as soon as I was relieved that we were way better off than those chumps on the DVP, I was driving blind. All I could see through the rain were the flashing hazard lights of other vehicles, which were the only things keeping me from veering off the road.
Lightning. Thunder. Oscar on the floor of Betty, our Volvo 240 DL station wagon.
I gunned the engine through a river of water for about 3km (which is mostly uphill). It came up to the top of the tires, forming a wake behind the car that splashed into the front windows. They were open so that the whole car wouldn't fog up and we'd really be fucked. Because of some lame-ass power outage, most of the lights at intersections were not operational, meaning they had to be treated like a 4-way stop.
(A major rule of the road, which many TOTAL ASSHOLES, more eager to get home than to care about the other people on the road, didn't bother to observe.) This took half an hour.
We pull over at a safe spot for a few minutes after about 45 minutes of the most intense driving I've done in ages. Some church parking lot. I needed to stop. I had to relax for a few minutes so I didn't kill us all by totally freaking out.
We turn on AM 640 and listen to the updates. Tornado and funnel cloud reports in the east end. Massive flooding in the north and centre of the city. OK then. After about 5 minutes, we realize that the parking lot has only one exit and the water at the foot of the driveway is rising, with the sewers incapable of holding the deluge. I wait for a gap in traffic and slam my foot on the gas and gave'er.
We made it through, but not unscathed. By the time we were far enough north to be out of the major weather pattern, an hour later, we were stuck in the drive home rush hour in suburban industrial wasteland. Anyone who has spent ANY time behind a vehicle in the GTA knows that traffic here is astronomically FUCKED UP. I had to ride the clutch the whole way, 'cause every time I stopped the car (and Toronto rush hour traffic means lots and lots of stopping), she would stall.
Once we got past the suburbs and made it to the country, it was smooth sailing. Five hours after we left home, we made it.
As soon as we dragged our provisions down to the cabin, Kirk and I slammed back a shot of Cuervo Gold and declared the Birthday Weekend ON! It was too cold out for margaritas so we settled for the Tequila.
Anyway, here are some photos that I took over the weekend.
This is Kirk. He turned 31 on August 21, 2005. He was such a good little cowboy, he got 2 r/c toys this year!
This is the birthday card Kirk received from The Melissas.
oscar a.k.a. senior puppypants a.k.a monkey boy a.k.a. swimming machine
Here is Oscar hanging out in the infamous outhouse a.k.a. die auspumpenhutte. This is where he hides during thunderstorms, far off gun shots and fireworks.
This is me in my favourite Black Death Malt Liquor t-shirt.
Anyway. we didn't get any pictures of the storm because well, we weren't really thinking of it at the time, and the camera was packed in the trunk. meh. The rest of the weekend was exactly what we needed. relaxing. And now we're back to the same old grind. Working, sleeping, eating, cleaning and wedding planning. Yes, we're still getting married in October. More about that some other time. Maybe.
Here is a movie that I most definitely need to find a way to see
Most informative and well-written Sunshine Girl bio EVAR.
Bruce Campbell seems like a huge lovable prick. How can you NOT love him???
Dear dude on my street with his right hand up his bum,
Don't do it......don't smell your.........gaaaaaaaahahhhhh...he fucking did it.
I just found my copy of The Big Book of Bodily Functions. I highly recommend it.
Some new favourite expressions:
yen-shee baby
mexican lipstick
a cunt and a clap
full as a seaside shithouse on Boxing Day
to have a mouth like a nun's minge
Old standards:
turd-cutter
fudge baby
queef
dick splash
shit a brick
cock cheese
pork sword
bearded taco
Kind of weirded out by and don't really understand :
shake hands with the baby
smell the badger's touch-hole
Until I get photographic evidence of our outhouse's size to appease the Squid, here's a picture I took last weekend. 
See the rest here.
The pictures on the right show what I managed to accomplish this weekend within the first 10 minutes of being awake on Saturday morning. I had stayed in bed as long as possible and was therefore forced to RUN like the wind to get to the outhouse. Which is uphill from the cabin (everything is uphill from the cabin).
After the third step up the hill, I tripped and smashed my right shin into the next step up, then fell over onto the same step on my right side. My very poorly thought out plan was thwarted by my stupid fucking sports sandals. The toe caught one of the steps which is made of two 2 by 6's holding back a crapload of dirt. The step I hit was also made up of a couple 2 by 6's which was left dented. My shin was also stayed dented for about a half hour. I didn't get any photographic evidence of either dent due to the SEARING pain that was shooting up my leg as well as needing whatever focus I had left so as not to lost total bladder control. But you can see the steps in the 3rd photo there. Fucking stairs.
Anyway, I made it to the outhouse and spent an enjoyable weekend of swimming, eating, drinking and reading. Today it feels like someone tried to break my legs. The right shin is still a bit swollen and still hasn't bruised yet. I may have to go see a doctor. Fucking outhouses.
Here's what Kirk managed to accomplish on the sleeping cabin up from the main one. He go the windows at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. He's definitely a keeper.
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