The The Impotence Of Proofreading

I sent it to my staff and told them I never want to hear about errors in emails again.  And to Bushlette.  And to my mother.  And to my anal retentive English teacher.


A Brain-Blush

Attention Readers!!

I don’t think I ever want to get married!


I might be able to attribute this decision to “daddy issues”, but I think I will end up as one of those women who, at age 48(24 years from now), has been with the same man for 8 to 12 years, but won’t ever get married. I’ll call him my “partner” because after being in an 8 to 12 year relationship, “boyfriend” will sound too juvenile. Because I will refer to him this way, people will think I’m a lesbian, which he and I will always take in good humor as we spend our nights drinking dry wine from the east of Bolivia and staring sideways at abstract paintings.

I will wear long flowy skirts with delicately embellished flips flops that I will acquire on my vacation to a quaint, untouched Caribbean island. My scarves won’t match my outfits, and I will learn how to sew. As of now, I can’t knit, but I will try to learn in my spare time (when I’m 48). I will knit hideous scarves and sweaters for my family and closest friends. As ugly as they will be, these tokens of love will be appreciated because of how much they love me. I will have no idea that my knitting is horrendous…but those are the kinds of friends and family members I will be lucky enough to have.

Hummus will be one of my closest allies! I will eat a modest diet of completely healthy foods that are good for me but taste like cardboard…not because I should, but because I’ll like them! Okay…maybe I won’t like all of them, but most of them! I will like most of them!

I look forward to adding to this list! These thoughts were recently extracted from the tiny part of me that generates the most ridiculous, and most honest ideas that make my brain blush.

What makes your brain blush? 😉


One (slightly used) Uterus For Sale

For a woman who has never actually got down to figuring out whether her own uterus works… this was pretty hilarious!

Get Write Down To It

I’m going to turn 39 years old this month and it dawned on me that I haven’t used my uterus for anything in the last EIGHT years.  That’s a long time to haul around an extraneous internal organ, don’t you think?  It wouldn’t be a big deal if my uterus was one of those organs that keeps to itself and doesn’t cause any trouble, like my spleen. But once a month my uterus forces me to take to the couch – where I spend hours miserably clutching an electric heating pad, popping Advil like M&Ms, and biting the heads off of innocent passersby.

Why should I have to go through the pain and hassle of having a uterus that I’m never going to use again?  I knew when I gave birth to my son back in 2004 that my uterus would never again be used as a baby hotel –…

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The Plantar Wart

There are old school dermatologists that see duct tape as the answer to everything.  The lady who has cared for me is one of them.  I have gone to her for years and duct tape with acid was her prescription.

A bit like an annoying ex boyfriend who decides to stalk you, the Plantar Wart is something I’ve battled for some years.  On my big toe no less.  It makes high heals feel higher (and sting) and makes pedicures embarrassing.  It makes working out very painful (never thought of it before but I can blame it for a few pounds of fat well!) and it makes sand difficult to walk on (the grains dig in and get stuck).  After four years of duct tape my doctor finally said she’d use a laser.  And she must have forgotten because the next time I saw her she was back to duct tape.

Getting a hint that something could be done instantly about this pain in the toe I switched gears and called a new clinic.  They had a new dermatologist, 3 months in town, come on down and try us out.  And so, sod it all, I did.

Walking into the office I met someone a bit like me.  Young, tall, smart, sharp-witted, and spanish speaking.  Like me but slimmer and more pretty.  She introduced herself by her first name (Oh my goodness, gotta love progress) and sat me down.  She took one look and said come back in a week and we’ll freeze this thing off.

Back flips inside!  I was starting to see this thing like herpes or something – constantly unpleasant and unkillable.  Thanking God for the good sense to seek a second opinion, if somewhat delayed, I got into my car and went home.

Then the day came.  Excited I was.  Until I sat and signed the waiver.  An acknowledgement that this could be painful.  “You have been advised and you understand that you will feel some pain, and in some cases severe pain…”  Eh?!!  Calling in the nurse I asked her is there any anaesthetic?  Looking both ways she said in heavy Scottish brogue, “To be honest no, luv.  It’s a mite nippy.  I’ve had cryotherrapy beforre, don’t get me wrrong it warks.  But therre is a bite.”

Ahhhh boy.  Asking the doctor now I’m like “Doctor Rebeka, is this going to be painful?”  Her answer… “it will feel like a cigarette burn.  But don’t worry – we do this to cheeldren.”

Rasta!  When that torch turned on my foot I near came off the bed.  It was like a bikini wax without the soothing cream and baby powder.   On my big toe.  Taking a few layers of skin off… with a torch.   Knotting knuckles together I squeezed by eyes shut, my lips shut, my thighs shut and my innards shut as the torch came back again.  Six repeats of a cigarette burn!

Hobbling home with a bandage around my foot I was a wee bit in shock.  And treatment calls for a repeat in three weeks – God help us!

It had better work.

Walking Naked

Isn’t it amazing how two animals of the same breed and from the same parents can be so different?

Take Lola.  She LOVES to be naked.  Julius sees it as a violation of all things macho and canine – the core values he stands (and pees) for.  Yesterday they were trimmed low low low (to the noyaz as a Caymanian would say).  Ready for the Summer heat and to combat the insect infestation that comes with rainy season.

Take this morning’s walk…

Lola is all smiles and ready to go show off her haircut…


Lola prances along like it’s a catwalk… “See mama?  See how the haircut makes me look like I’m smiling?  Isn’t that funny?  Cuz dog’s don’t smile right?”

She dances and pounces, chases other dogs and pulls to the end of her leash.  “Mama try this angle!  What about this one?!  Aren’t I just too cute?!” (Julius – ” Expeditionist Brat”)

But not so my mortified Julius.   He is determined to turn his back to me until I give in and take him inside to hide his shame.  I’m lucky I got a shot of his face!

Don’t you love me? Why do you do this to me?

But turning your back has other disadvantages… and leaves nothing to the imagination.

Please don’t tell him! He’ll never speak to me again!

Illiterate love poem

Bahahahahahaha!!!! I LOVE THIS! I’m sure everyone who reads this knows someone that it sounds like. Think of them and say awwww…

Playing with words is fun

I loves the way you looks at me
Like you totally in love
And how you know my mind works
And what I be thinking of
I loves the way you take my hand
And lead me to your room
Like you be sweeping me off my feet
With a big ass swiffer broom
I loves the way you be so coy
Like you be suprized
That my final destination
Is right between yo thys
And how I make you wish you dint
Have all them other guys
But most of all I loves the way
When we done, and dinner’s near
You tell me you making grub fo me
And you first bring me a beer.

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Busy Season

I’ve been quiet on the Singlestream for a few weeks well.  I’m not dead, and not any less committed to clogging my followers’ inboxes with my stuff.  It’s just Busy Season.

As this blog stretches past the first year and hopefully into many more you will be able to set your calendar by my silence or my dependence on uplifting or nonsensical music videos.  But today I woke up to rainfall outside my window and a little more personal head-space for reflection on the things going on around me – on Busy Season itself:

  1. People are hilarious.  Or maybe it’s just MY people.  But when they are busy they don’t waste energy on hiding their quirks.  And so they pick their noses at their desks without realizing it and don’t butter up the things that slip out of their mouths.  Like “NO.  I don’t have time to scratch my ass… (pause) I mean…(gulp) I’m sorry boss… (terrified smile) I mean, can this wait?”
  2. Busy season is rudely interrupted by rainy season.  You know the April Showers, May Rains and June Floods?  That stuff perfectly describes my workload.  I’d like to have a talk with the Creator right about now.  Can we re-write this script please?  Can you send the rain in about July, when it’s really hot and we really need it?  Because I can’t afford time in traffic when I’ve got 390 renewal contracts to spit out.
  3. Blue tooth ROCKS!  Cops can’t tell when I’m on a conference call until I pull out a pen at 50 miles per hour to take a “quick note” of something I’m gonna have to remember for later.
  4. FACT: It is NOT a good idea to redecorate the house in Busy Season.  What the hell was I thinking?!
  5. Busy Season can make you realize your true feelings.  Either you hate or love your job.  I’m one of the lucky ones – even when I have 28 hours of work to do and everything is due in 24, I know that this “Day from hell” is from a far more acceptable hell than the best day on the job I used to do before.
  6. Water is important.  And so is fibre.  Something often forgotten in Busy Season.  Nuff said.
  7. Busy Season is not something you are ever prepared for.  Every time you spend the months before preparing for the volume, something BIG breaks.  Like the phone system.  Or the printer in the middle of a big contract run.
  8. There are certain things you need to do in the morning to make sure that your co-workers don’t grow to hate you.  Like brushing your teeth.  Or putting on deodorant.  They are not too busy to notice THAT stuff.  Brushing your hair is advisable but not strictly necessary.  These things are best managed with the use of a checklist.  This list should go somewhere where you are sure not to miss it.  Like on the coffee pot.  Bringing backup supplies like deodorant, mirror and toothpaste to work can also help in the inevitable case that you will forget.
  9. An important (but not strictly necessary) thing to remember is that other people have feelings and not just job functions that your job, in turn, depends on.  If you choose to forget or simply do not have the time “to scratch your ass”, please put an appointment in your calendar for the day following the end of busy season to buy cupcakes or donuts for the whole office and sign “I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch” cards for each member of your team.  Please be sure to not go through this apology campaign until AFTER Busy Season is over.  You simply cannot spend the time on it.
  10. Alcohol makes you cranky.  Or should I say MORE cranky.  If, of course, that is possible.  More importantly, it makes you slow.  You being slow, in turn, makes everyone else cranky.  And might drive them to drink.  And then they will come into work cranky and slow.  You see how you are responsible for this?  Therefore, avoid alcohol until after Busy Season.

This post is dedicated to my team.  The deodorant is now in my top drawer, I have put a family-size bottle of Metamucil in the kitchen, and to my PA Mel, please take the petty cash and buy the cards in advance.  Cupcakes July 2.  Mel, please put that as an appointment in my calendar so I don’t forget!

Road Rage Gone Funny

Every time I pass the spot I think of it.

Back to back traffic coming out of South Sound Road on to the East-West Arterial.  There was this MASSIVE Hummer driving behind me.  He was so close I couldn’t see anything but the grill through my back glass with a hint of my red brake lights reflecting off the chrome.  I drove up and he came right up with his grill, smelling my lil Audi’s backside once again.  I rolled down the window and gesticulated – Bobo ease off!  I could barely make out from outside my window a white middle-aged man sat quite comfortably in his own rolling island.  On the damn phone.  So he missed the point.  Moved up a few more feet, gap opened, and Mr. Hum V was slam right up against my rear-end once again.  Right before I got to the corner I pulled off the road in a temper and rolled down the window.

He couldn’t escape me.  He wasn’t going anywhere soon.  And he was on the phone.  But he rolled down the window.

Burnin up with Caymanian rage I bawled out “Bobo you cyaa get so close in sum’n so big!”

And steeped out just as unconcerned in Caymanian nonchalance he drawled out in a deep old Cayman accent “Wha haapp’n you friight’n awah?”

I couldn’t help it.  I cracked right up.  And as the gap opened up again he gestured to me to come in front of him again.