Monday, July 30, 2007
Making Friends
Sabrina and Brandon make many friends at camp, especially those interested in boating and tubing, etc. Brandon's friend, Michael, is a social butterfly, everyone knew him. His sister, Sarah, has a misshaped jaw, like a V, and her teeth hung out which caused her to drool, constantly. They are moving to Kamloops so it is doubtful we will see them again.
Brandon got a much needed haircut.
Brandon got a much needed haircut.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Going, going, GONE
The last things to bring to the lake, then we're outta here. Gone fishing....ATVing....boating.....tanning....two weeks.
Latest garden pictures...I'm sure will drastically change by the time we get back.
Latest garden pictures...I'm sure will drastically change by the time we get back.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Noise "update"
The City By-Law officer finally got back to me this afternoon.
I explained the whole situation, the new deck eye soar, the constant complaints, the speeding in the street, tree cutting, everything, and I did it in my best Romanian chicken-shit accent they spew.
By-Law lady knew exactly where I was coming from.
Conclusion: I'll update the file and won't pursue any action unless I hear from other complaints from neighbours. Which will be none, because we get along swell with everyone here.
So I think I'll go outside now, it's hot, hot, hot....and the pool needs more cleaning. Maybe we will go for a LATE NIGHT swim...tee-hee
I explained the whole situation, the new deck eye soar, the constant complaints, the speeding in the street, tree cutting, everything, and I did it in my best Romanian chicken-shit accent they spew.
By-Law lady knew exactly where I was coming from.
Conclusion: I'll update the file and won't pursue any action unless I hear from other complaints from neighbours. Which will be none, because we get along swell with everyone here.
So I think I'll go outside now, it's hot, hot, hot....and the pool needs more cleaning. Maybe we will go for a LATE NIGHT swim...tee-hee
Noise Concerns ya-da-ya-da
Received a very official looking letter from the City of Surrey, Legal Services Department today.
The letter has an attached page stating the specific by-law:
Appears nutcase squishy-faced Romanian fucktard has done it again, except WE ALL KNOW she's talking about her frickin' enjoyment of sitting on her "illegal deck" to vainly gloat over her garden, a deck by the way, which was added on without City engineer approvals. It's not my fault they built it near my swimming pool.
I'll keep you posted, now that by-law officers will be contacting me, I'll be pointing out a few things myself, especially the tree branch cutting, and the all night watering.
Dear Sir/Madam:
The City has received concerns that noise from pool pump emanating from the Property is creating a disturbance in the neighbourhood.
more crap, more crap about By-Law numbers, etc.
The letter has an attached page stating the specific by-law:
No person shall make or cause, or permit to be made or caused, any noise in or on a public or private place which disturbs or tends to disturb the quiet, peace, rest, enjoyment, comfort, or convenience of any person or persons in the neighbourhood or vicinity.
Appears nutcase squishy-faced Romanian fucktard has done it again, except WE ALL KNOW she's talking about her frickin' enjoyment of sitting on her "illegal deck" to vainly gloat over her garden, a deck by the way, which was added on without City engineer approvals. It's not my fault they built it near my swimming pool.
I'll keep you posted, now that by-law officers will be contacting me, I'll be pointing out a few things myself, especially the tree branch cutting, and the all night watering.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Camp Shots
Sabrina and her glow in the dark jewellry
Went to Wal-Mart and I bought some plants, on sale. Except hubby said I wouldn't be able to plant them into the hard, cement of a ground we camp on. I bought a bunch of 'fake' plastic plants instead, which turned out quite nice.
The Kidlens.
Mt. Baker, on the way to the lake.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
I'm Gonna' Kill Him....so there!
Hubby is a clean freak. He washes the Hummer every day...even in the winter. He washes the driveway, the curb, the crow cream off the basketball hoop. He won't take a crap without filling the toilet bowl full of paper first, thus preventing poop spatter up the rim.
He takes his shoes off at the door, he immediately showers after work, he trims his nose hair and performs eyeball exercises before bed, he's what most people would call "a flaming faggot". But he's not, no really, he's not. He's just a frickin' clean freak. I've come this close to going to jail over it, I swear, I'm gonna' kill him and his unscented farts.
Here's proof. I've discovered a new weirdness trait this weekend, one that pushes the limit of cleanliness beyond my patience and tolerance and where in the hell can I buy a gun. I swear.
We purchased a second garbage bin for the new trailer. One didn't seem to fit all the crap and muck under the kitchen sink, so we bought another bin for the toilet room. You know, because of the teenaged girls and their constant periods and hubby with his constant nasal congestion.
So hubby passes me the bin, "can you dump this out now", which he wants me to take to a huge garbage dumpster near our camp site. Again! I'm thinking, what can possibly fill up a toilet wastebasket so quickly. Hubby opens the lid and proudly displays a huge mound of toilet paper. Look what we've saved.
Huh? Saved what.
Aren't you putting your toilet paper in the bin?
What toilet paper? I nervously twitch with an already formation of an answer.
Hubby: I don't want you to put toilet paper down the toilet, look how much we have saved the pump, we won't clog the pipes, as he displays an apparent pissed stained array of toilet tissue clumps in our newly purchased bin.
But we buy the expensive stuff that disolves quickly.
Oh, for fuck's sake! Eewwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Not that's just fucking weirdtardness.....
What do you do with the shit ones? I smirkly joke.
YOU SHIT IN THE TOILET???!!! You're suppose to go to the public ones!!! Hey, kids, where do you shit?!! as he runs to the pipe thingy out back, the shitter thing that drains down to some mysterious holding tank, far, far to the underworld.
Oh, no fucking way!
And then I realize why the toilet always seems to stink that special stink, that son of a bitch...making me do the arm pit test and the breath test....I'm gonna' kill him, I swear, I'm gonna' kill him.
He takes his shoes off at the door, he immediately showers after work, he trims his nose hair and performs eyeball exercises before bed, he's what most people would call "a flaming faggot". But he's not, no really, he's not. He's just a frickin' clean freak. I've come this close to going to jail over it, I swear, I'm gonna' kill him and his unscented farts.
Here's proof. I've discovered a new weirdness trait this weekend, one that pushes the limit of cleanliness beyond my patience and tolerance and where in the hell can I buy a gun. I swear.
We purchased a second garbage bin for the new trailer. One didn't seem to fit all the crap and muck under the kitchen sink, so we bought another bin for the toilet room. You know, because of the teenaged girls and their constant periods and hubby with his constant nasal congestion.
So hubby passes me the bin, "can you dump this out now", which he wants me to take to a huge garbage dumpster near our camp site. Again! I'm thinking, what can possibly fill up a toilet wastebasket so quickly. Hubby opens the lid and proudly displays a huge mound of toilet paper. Look what we've saved.
Huh? Saved what.
Aren't you putting your toilet paper in the bin?
What toilet paper? I nervously twitch with an already formation of an answer.
Hubby: I don't want you to put toilet paper down the toilet, look how much we have saved the pump, we won't clog the pipes, as he displays an apparent pissed stained array of toilet tissue clumps in our newly purchased bin.
But we buy the expensive stuff that disolves quickly.
Oh, for fuck's sake! Eewwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Not that's just fucking weirdtardness.....
What do you do with the shit ones? I smirkly joke.
YOU SHIT IN THE TOILET???!!! You're suppose to go to the public ones!!! Hey, kids, where do you shit?!! as he runs to the pipe thingy out back, the shitter thing that drains down to some mysterious holding tank, far, far to the underworld.
Oh, no fucking way!
And then I realize why the toilet always seems to stink that special stink, that son of a bitch...making me do the arm pit test and the breath test....I'm gonna' kill him, I swear, I'm gonna' kill him.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Find Nutcase's House and BOMB IT !
I've got 2,020,000 hits. Ya, me.
Son has only 259,000.
Daughter has 91,300.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Nutcase and the Swimming Pool Pump
Just like clockwork. Every summer we have to go through the same bullshit with nutcase, fucking dweeb of a communist neighbour. I hate her face when she talks. I just want to rip it off her and stuff it in her blow hole. At least that would stop me from hearing her equally annoying voice.
Last night she spied hubby cleaning the pool. Not the simple vacuum job, but the wheelbarrel one that gets full of pine needles and branches and crud, which has now fermented into a slimey pea soup. This meant he had to walk in front of her house towards the creek to dump the stuff.
Cue nutcase. "I don't like your pump. Turn it off at night, or I get Julian to build a box cover, or I get legal".
"Not right now, I'm busy", hubby blurts, trying to avoid eye contact. Eye contact means at least a 5 minute conversation of 'yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, fuck you'.
"You say for four years you build a box, you not have one. It is noisy for me". Here is a short video (cam shot) of the SOUND of the pump, there is a noticeable HUMMM, but just barely.
*snicker, snicker* my body shivers in a sort of mellow chi as a recollect the heat of last night's slumber. But what squishy faced Romanian doesn't understand is that it costs a fortune to maintain the pool with all the chemicals and water treatments it needs to keep it clean.
Right now hubby is trimming, then he'll cut the grass. He's allowing the shock treatment to flush the green crud to the bottom of the pool to enable him to vacuum it away without clogging pipes, etc. The pump needs to circulate the water, it needs to be filtered constantly.
It's July 5th and the pool should have been cleaned up in May. But it has rained here in Vancouver every fucking weekend, or we've gone camping. We turned on the pump about a week ago for pete's sake, and she's right there in hubby's face, dictating.
We've mastered the "we're ignoring you" dance, after eight years we've come to know nutcase freakshow and all her little nuances, gestures and spy tactics. This year we plan to keep the pool pumping 24 FUCKING 7, straight through to Labour Day. Huh!
So let's guess, what has retard planned up her sleeve. Well, for one, I know she enlists the help of squishy faced Romanian daughter's boyfriend. Look what they did when we were camping on the long weekend, as was our buddy Norm across the street.
The City of Surrey has a fabulous "tree protection" law, and holy-moly, are they gonna get it. You just don't go cutting down huge tree branches off of park land. No, not ever, ever....and they did it so sneaky, like communists, grease balls they are. They cut off eight huge branches, now the tree looks bald. We could never see the trunk.
If I ever, ever, ever, catch faggotty Ann-Andrew on my property attempting to turn my pump off, it'll be the last time. Oh, the nickname, by the way, is because apparently nutcase fucktard's daughters (20 and 21) are christian v-i-r-g-i-n-s, good girls she brags and postures, they're beautiful, they go universityyyyy. Okay, you know what, commie, it's "they go TO university" okay, and quit telling me to "fuck on you"....it's "FUCK OFF". Okay, refuck.
So now I enjoy myself by telling faggotty Andrew to get laid, which probably pisses him off immensely, since he can't really defend himself by saying he get's laid all the time, right. So he just has to saunter off down nutcase's driveway, death rays shooting out of his eyes towards my huge grin and the flipped bird.
I hate 20 year boys who think they are men and know everything about everything. He tries to get into fist fight with hubby, except hubby can't participate, not that he'd LOVE to kick virgin ass, it's that he can't show up to work with black eyes, or scratches, or any signs of struggle. We have about $100,000 worth of toys. Faggotty-Andrew has nothing to lose.
We finished the yard work, watered all the hanging baskets and the lawn looks great. Our watering days are Wednesday and Saturday, but fucktard waters her grass nearly every day. I think I'll call the city, again, and get the By-law officers after them. Hmmm, what else can I do to make their miserable lives more memorable of me and my revenge.
Hey, I know, let the kidlens ride their ATV's in the street, get really close to her precious p-r-o-p-e-r-t-y, then yell out, "how'd ya sleep last night"?
Last night she spied hubby cleaning the pool. Not the simple vacuum job, but the wheelbarrel one that gets full of pine needles and branches and crud, which has now fermented into a slimey pea soup. This meant he had to walk in front of her house towards the creek to dump the stuff.
Cue nutcase. "I don't like your pump. Turn it off at night, or I get Julian to build a box cover, or I get legal".
"Not right now, I'm busy", hubby blurts, trying to avoid eye contact. Eye contact means at least a 5 minute conversation of 'yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, fuck you'.
"You say for four years you build a box, you not have one. It is noisy for me". Here is a short video (cam shot) of the SOUND of the pump, there is a noticeable HUMMM, but just barely.
*snicker, snicker* my body shivers in a sort of mellow chi as a recollect the heat of last night's slumber. But what squishy faced Romanian doesn't understand is that it costs a fortune to maintain the pool with all the chemicals and water treatments it needs to keep it clean.
Right now hubby is trimming, then he'll cut the grass. He's allowing the shock treatment to flush the green crud to the bottom of the pool to enable him to vacuum it away without clogging pipes, etc. The pump needs to circulate the water, it needs to be filtered constantly.
It's July 5th and the pool should have been cleaned up in May. But it has rained here in Vancouver every fucking weekend, or we've gone camping. We turned on the pump about a week ago for pete's sake, and she's right there in hubby's face, dictating.
We've mastered the "we're ignoring you" dance, after eight years we've come to know nutcase freakshow and all her little nuances, gestures and spy tactics. This year we plan to keep the pool pumping 24 FUCKING 7, straight through to Labour Day. Huh!
So let's guess, what has retard planned up her sleeve. Well, for one, I know she enlists the help of squishy faced Romanian daughter's boyfriend. Look what they did when we were camping on the long weekend, as was our buddy Norm across the street.
The City of Surrey has a fabulous "tree protection" law, and holy-moly, are they gonna get it. You just don't go cutting down huge tree branches off of park land. No, not ever, ever....and they did it so sneaky, like communists, grease balls they are. They cut off eight huge branches, now the tree looks bald. We could never see the trunk.
If I ever, ever, ever, catch faggotty Ann-Andrew on my property attempting to turn my pump off, it'll be the last time. Oh, the nickname, by the way, is because apparently nutcase fucktard's daughters (20 and 21) are christian v-i-r-g-i-n-s, good girls she brags and postures, they're beautiful, they go universityyyyy. Okay, you know what, commie, it's "they go TO university" okay, and quit telling me to "fuck on you"....it's "FUCK OFF". Okay, refuck.
So now I enjoy myself by telling faggotty Andrew to get laid, which probably pisses him off immensely, since he can't really defend himself by saying he get's laid all the time, right. So he just has to saunter off down nutcase's driveway, death rays shooting out of his eyes towards my huge grin and the flipped bird.
I hate 20 year boys who think they are men and know everything about everything. He tries to get into fist fight with hubby, except hubby can't participate, not that he'd LOVE to kick virgin ass, it's that he can't show up to work with black eyes, or scratches, or any signs of struggle. We have about $100,000 worth of toys. Faggotty-Andrew has nothing to lose.
We finished the yard work, watered all the hanging baskets and the lawn looks great. Our watering days are Wednesday and Saturday, but fucktard waters her grass nearly every day. I think I'll call the city, again, and get the By-law officers after them. Hmmm, what else can I do to make their miserable lives more memorable of me and my revenge.
Hey, I know, let the kidlens ride their ATV's in the street, get really close to her precious p-r-o-p-e-r-t-y, then yell out, "how'd ya sleep last night"?
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Pure BLIT
Is it just me or has my computing power just become that of a Commodore 64 since joining up on this "Thursday Thirteen" blog thing. What pisses me off is that the listed blogs I've viewed on this site have each other's blog linked to each other, how cute, and it's suppose to be about getting to know each other, from around the world.
Except I didn't get one of those cute BOX things, the HTML code, providing input of usernames and URLs, you know, other interested people who took the time to list "13" things, the topic this week 13 interesting posts you've read, which most of the participants choose to ignore by posting 13 jpegs or 13 famous quotes copied off Google.
Oh, well, you 13 Jesus freaks can just keep talking about flower fluff and glory days, okay, while the rest of us enjoy blogging with a cool wind up our crotch and a grasp on reality's dick. Quit basting the rest of us bloggers by way of gimmicks like this. If you want to promote your religious beliefs, then go door to door, like the Jehovah Witnesses and get your lazy asses off the computer chair and leave us alone.
Am I becoming cynical of Blogger? Have I blurked enough to be pissed off. After all the languages I have to skip and jump over, click click click click, the dirty filth, the boring, the cutesy-wutsey crap, baking, one time only blogs, pictures of feet in woolen socks, cheesy adverts and make money while you blog gimmicks, and "tag, you're it" stuffers, lists of boring, insignificant drivel, I think I've had my fair share of blit.
There, I coined it ...."blit", blogger shit.
There are so many fantastic works of literary genius out there, as I try to convey these words to others, wake up, wake up! look who we have, here and now, telling us about them, read my blog links and you'll be entertained for hours. These people should be famous.
There's several reasons, I figure, why I am not an acceptable candidate for Thursday Thirteen:
1 through 10:
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
fuck (6x) hell (4x) kill (3x) knife (2x) crap (1x)
11. I'm a bitch.
12. I link to more interesting blog sites than theirs.
13. It's in my genes.
Except I didn't get one of those cute BOX things, the HTML code, providing input of usernames and URLs, you know, other interested people who took the time to list "13" things, the topic this week 13 interesting posts you've read, which most of the participants choose to ignore by posting 13 jpegs or 13 famous quotes copied off Google.
Oh, well, you 13 Jesus freaks can just keep talking about flower fluff and glory days, okay, while the rest of us enjoy blogging with a cool wind up our crotch and a grasp on reality's dick. Quit basting the rest of us bloggers by way of gimmicks like this. If you want to promote your religious beliefs, then go door to door, like the Jehovah Witnesses and get your lazy asses off the computer chair and leave us alone.
Am I becoming cynical of Blogger? Have I blurked enough to be pissed off. After all the languages I have to skip and jump over, click click click click, the dirty filth, the boring, the cutesy-wutsey crap, baking, one time only blogs, pictures of feet in woolen socks, cheesy adverts and make money while you blog gimmicks, and "tag, you're it" stuffers, lists of boring, insignificant drivel, I think I've had my fair share of blit.
There, I coined it ...."blit", blogger shit.
There are so many fantastic works of literary genius out there, as I try to convey these words to others, wake up, wake up! look who we have, here and now, telling us about them, read my blog links and you'll be entertained for hours. These people should be famous.
There's several reasons, I figure, why I am not an acceptable candidate for Thursday Thirteen:
1 through 10:
Mingle2 - Free Online Dating
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
fuck (6x) hell (4x) kill (3x) knife (2x) crap (1x)
11. I'm a bitch.
12. I link to more interesting blog sites than theirs.
13. It's in my genes.
Your Score: Prometheus
0% Extroversion, 66% Intuition, 27% Emotiveness, 42% Perceptiveness
You are most like Prometheus, and you probably knew that before you even took this test. You probably aren't deliberately altruistic, but you still tend to do things that benefit everyone, even at great expense to your health and personal relationships. You aren't ruled by your emotions, but you still have a strong sense of justice. You make good descisions, but they can sometimes backfire (and this isn't due to a flaw in your reasoning, but due to faulty premises instead).
You are very reasonable, you understand systems, you can quickly pinpoint flaws and you know how to correct them. You pride understanding and knowledge above everything else, and your greatest fear is to appear to be incompetent. You tend to be contemptuous of authority, but you don't accept leadership roles yourself until everyone else has demonstrated their own incompetence.
You've built a very specific skill set. You know exactly where your strengths and weaknesses are, and you pride yourself on this kind of self-knowledge. You distrust tradition, which you see as arbitrary, and you rely instead on your own judgements. You also pride yourself on your pragmatism. You're also a very private person.
Most of all, people think you're arrogant, but screw them! They're the ones who benefit from your ideas and discoveries, and if they took the time to understand why it is that you say and think the things you do, they'd realize that you only appear arrogant because you are exactingly precise when it comes to your area of specification, and most of all because, when you don't know something, you don't have an opinion about it (unlike most of the loudmouths that you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis).
Relationships are your kryptonite. It isn't that you don't want them -- in fact, you would very much like a very close relationship with someone who understands you. They're just the one thing in the world that you're naturally bad at.
Famous people like you: Niels Bohr, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Werner Heisenberg, Issac Newton, John Maynard Keynes, Erwin Schrodinger
Stay Clear of: Apollo, Icarus, Hermes, Aphrodite
Seek out: Atlas, The Oracle, Daedalus
| Link: The Greek Mythology Personality Test written by Aleph_Nine on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
 |
Thirteen witty and and beautiful Posts I've enjoyed lately: 1. http://1hplovecraft.blogspot.com/2007/06/girl-in-chickenwire-cage_18.html 2. http://isitmikeormichael.blogsome.com/2007/06/17/battle-of-the-bowels/ 3. http://sulynzan.blogspot.com/2007/07/pain.html 4. http://handwriting.feedbucket.com/start.php 5. http://365-days-of-art-in-2007.blogspot.com/2007/07/happy-july-4th.html 6. http://artmakers.blogspot.com/2007/04/julian-beever-sidewalk-art.html 7. http://longlonglongride.blogspot.com/2007/04/two-thousand-six-hundred-and-four.html 8. http://longlonglongride.blogspot.com/2007/05/underdog.html 9. http://limitedcleverness.blogspot.com/2007_06_01_archive.html 10. http://aheartbreakingwork.blogspot.com/2007/05/wendell-pinset.html 11. http://aheartbreakingwork.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-am-scenario_01.html 12. http://colleen-allen-101.blogspot.com/2006/02/back-to-higher-grounds.html 13. http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/2007/06/as-promised-most-disgusting-entry-ever.html Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Young Dogs and Old Jokes
An 86 year old man walked into a crowded waiting room and approached the desk..the receptionist asked, "Yes sir, what are you seeing doctor for today?"
There's something wrong with my dick", he replied.
The receptionist became irritated and said, "You shouldn't come into a crowded waiting room and say things like that."
Why not? You asked me what was wrong and I told you," he said.
The Receptionist replied, "Now you've caused some embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear or something and discussed the problem further with the doctor in private."
The man replied, "you shouldn't ask people questions in a room full of strangers if the answers could embarrass anyone. The man walked out, waited several minutes and then re-entered.
The Receptionist smiled smugly and asked, "yes??"
There's something wrong with my ear", he stated.
The Receptionist nodded approvingly and smiled, knowing he had taken her advice. "And what is wrong with your ear sir??"
I can't piss out of it," he replied.
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