Why We Have “Police Line Do Not Cross” Tape Strung Across Our Bathroom Doorway

So Roscoe and I have a gigantic apartment that we pay an absurdly low amount for every month. We have two bedrooms, an office, a sizable living room and dining room, a kitchen, and two bathrooms, one of which is so large that we could host dance parties in it. That is if we could use it. Admittedly there isn’t Police tape across the doorway, but there might as well be.

Currently the upstairs and the larger of the two bathrooms is occupied by an uninvited tenant. I don’t begrudge the missing space, mostly because we have so many other rooms at our disposal. Our uninvited tenant’s name is Merle. He is an enormous centipede, who likes to play impromptu games of hide and seek and hang out in the drain of the bathroom sink. Mind you Merle’s not a very good sport because invariably you are always “It” even if you’ve found him a dozen times before. So you’ll head upstairs to use the bathroom, possibly because Roscoe is shaving, go to innocently wash your hands, turn on the tap, at which point Merle will go shooting out of the drain at top speed all but bellowing “You found me!”

Or sometimes he’ll do an impression of a four year old hiding and have only half his body concealed in the drain, lazily enjoying both the dry porcelain and the wet pipes. Regardless of his position, after a couple of these interactions I decided to relinquish the upstairs bathroom to Merle entirely. Now some people might accuse me of cowardice but even our brave friend, who spends her free time crouching in the woods at night with bears, is terrified of him.

One night, after explaining the bathroom situation to her, she offered to use the upstairs washroom while I used the downstairs. However after seeing Merle in his lazy, half hiding position she ran downstairs. It was at this point that my husband made one of the many attempts to kill Merle. Golf club in hand, he dashed upstairs. The hot water ran until the steam drifted downstairs through the bizarrely placed grate in the upstairs bathroom floor which leads into our dining room. One of the many perks of having an old house. I also enjoy the sounds of my guests relieving themselves during dinner parties this way.

But the next week Merle returned, clearly a member of the Centipedeus chuck norricus species. I’m beginning to feel like our efforts to get rid of him are amusing him. It has been suggested that Merle is actually Merla and is raising a family up there, and that the drain is a getaway locale for tired centipedes. I’m choosing instead to view him as our house mascot, or possibly our bouncer to whom we can send unwelcome visitors. In any case I don’t foresee him leaving any time soon.

The Make Up Saga Continues

As per Granddad’s request, I have been wearing more makeup. However it should be noted Granddad only asked that I wear makeup, not that I do so successfully. Thus I may have spent the past couple days wandering about looking like my face has been painted by a four year old who was drunk on sugar.

I decided to make up for my previous lack of makeup by using darker colours than normal. Generally I strive for a “Natural Look”. This past week I went for a “Co-ed Awakens in a Dumpster Look”, which is all fine and dandy until you rub your eyes. Or specifically you rub one eye and leave the other as is. Which led to the following conversation.

Roscoe arrives home after working an eleven hour day. He is very tired and is unlikely to notice subtleties like the fact that the OVERWHELMINGLY GIGANTIC Christmas tree is missing and that his petit wife was the only one home all day to remove it. But he’s an ottoman, this kind of thing happens occasionally, if I had sewed a new, shiny button on the couch it would have been a completely different story- “Why didn’t I get a shiny button?”

Anyways back to the conversation. Roscoe and I are sitting on the couch.  An unusual place for an ottoman, but ours is a unique marriage so there you go. I digress.

Roscoe- “Wait are you wearing eyeshadow on only one eye?”

Me- “No. “ I hold up my hand where all of the colour came off in a streak onto my thumb “I had eyeshadow on both eyes but now I have eyeshadow on one eye and a hand.”

I feel Granddad would be very proud of me. Or baffled. One or the other. At any rate, I’m making an effort.

Roscoe thinks this whole makeup thing is very funny and called me as he was heading home from work yesterday. Yes ottomans can use cell phones, Lamps can’t though, lamps don’t often come with drawers or pockets so they’re constantly leaving their phones everywhere, kind of like my sister with her purse.

Anyways so Roscoe phoned me to say he was coming home and that since it was date night I better have makeup on. I told him that I already put some on and he demanded I stand at the kitchen window and that if he couldn’t see it when he drove up, that I should apply more. Then he said I should give up on the makeup concept all together and just start colouring on my face with my Crayola 3D markers.



NEWSFLASH ! The Great Unwashed is No Longer About Weird, Funny Incidents But About Talking Smack About Diana

I’ve been writing for almost a decade now, and it’s only been through much encouragement from various family and friends that I was finally able to leap that last hurdle and start a blog online. As opposed to starting a blog offline, which is normally called a journal. Anyway, so last night I telephoned my sister to tell her that I had started a blog, was immensely excited and that I was releasing it to our friends and family in four days. To which she replied “That’s great! Although I’m going to have to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to read it. I’m with Granddad, your writing is a little too weird for me.”

Thus I have an announcement to make, this was going to be a blog about my daily life and anything funny I could come up with but seeing as Diana has told me that she isn’t going to read it, I’m going to change the focus to “A blog that talks smack about Diana”.

So here we go. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m new at this smack talking thing.

Diana has a lot of brown hair, much like the brown bears that live in B.C. She also sleeps a lot, kind of like a hibernating bear. And she says that she never knows what’s going on much like hibernating bears  who are terrible at replying to invitations or emails in the winter. She also hates chicken and enjoys eating fish, but doesn’t know how to cook it just like brown bears, who just eat fish raw from streams.

Or possibly, this blog will just be about random things, because when push comes to shove, I’m really not very good at the whole “smack talking” thing, in fact the above paragraph makes very little sense. But I’m pretty sure that Diana will read my blog now just to make sure I don’t compare her to woodland creatures.

The Issue of My Husband

So it was brought to my attention last night by Roscoe that I although I have been writing about him for eons, this was the first time he was referenced in a public place. Given his chosen profession, this could potentially create a problem. Which is completely understandable- people get very touchy about how John A. MacDonald is portrayed in Victor/Victoria style drag shows.

For all of you reading who don’t know Roscoe, that’s a joke. However talking about him or his job is a problem. So I’ve decided to deal with it in the most unorthodox manner possible. Henceforth, online I shall be divorced from my husband and intermittently marry and divorce random objects of my choosing in his place.

Problem solved.

This week I’ve chosen to be married to Roscoe an overstuffed puce ottoman. So whenever I describe my adventures or reference my husband you can picture me, cuddling up to a purplish coloured ottoman whispering sweet nothings in it’s ear like “High thread count, velour coverings, mahogany legs”.

I really feel this is an amazing solution.

And because of the reference to puce I think Granddad ought to like it too.

I Wish I Was Holly Madison and That Roscoe was a Really Old Man

So I was at home for three days because I needed to have the snow tires put on my truck and I was also taking my elderly grandmother to the ballet. Because I don’t drive ever, this precipitated a need for me to stay at my parents’ house for an extended period of time because I tend to spontaneously combust after driving for more than two hours in a day.

Even though Roscoe is well aware of the spontaneously combusting issue and thus is in full support of me staying with my parents, part of me still wished that he would say to me on one of my phone calls home “You’re going to surprise me by turning up for dinner aren’t you?” A la Hugh Hefner with Holly Madison when they were still together.

And then I realized that I was wishing that my husband was more like a wealthy octogenarian with multiple girlfriends. Which led to the other realization that not only did I want to be one of the many girlfriends of a wealthy octogenarian but I also wanted to be in a relationship that no longer existed. So not only was I setting feminists like Nelly McCloud back generations but I also apparently wanted to be in a doomed relationship.

So I stopped wishing that and instead just called Roscoe and told him I was going to take my Dad’s bookcase to PT’s (The second hand book dealer in the city that we take our books to in exchange for store credit.) And that my Dad may not have given me permission to do this and that he may not be happy about this.

P.S.  I was just told the famous suffragette’s name was actually Nellie McClung. Perhaps if she had taken my Granddad’s advice and worn some lipstick I would have remembered her name in the first place.