Dear 2009,

Don't let the door hit you on the way out.  Good freaking riddance.

Let's tally up exactly what you gave me.

1. 10 mind-numbing months of unemployment.

Yeah, yeah, I did some part time work here and there, but let's face it.  I was an unemployed bum.  However, in my defense, it wasn't for lack of trying to be employed.  I've got peeps who can vouch for me on that one.

2. A new allergy.  To sunlight.  Yeah.

Insert vampire joke here.

3. Two solid weeks of eyelid twitches.

Seriously, universe?  SERIOUSLY?!  WTF.  The only thing to which I can possibly liken how annoying this was is having a toothless squirrel sit on your shoulder and gum your ear constantly for two weeks straight.  It doesn't hurt, but it's annoying as hell and makes you look like an even bigger weirdo than you already are.

4. The return of horrible menstrual cramps after I got The Husband neutered and ditched the birth control.

Every month I try to sell my uterus on eBay.  Turns out nobody else wants it either.

5. A bunch of stupid friend stuff.

Not going into specifics, but 2009 has been a sucky year of friends doing stupid things, friends dying, friends moving away, friends being disappointing, and some friends just plain not being friends anymore.

6. A greater likelihood of developing diabetes.

Until 2009 my Mom was in the clear.  Not any more.  I'm totally next.

7. Cirrhosis of the liver.

Okay, maybe not.  But I'm pretty sure that the trip The Husband and I took to Vegas in March alone was enough to make my liver want to put on a crash helmet.  Seriously, though - they give the stuff away.  For free.  And frankly, with the amount of money I made in Vegas (net), it's like the entire city of Las Vegas was paying me to get drunk.  THAT was a good job while it lasted.

Yeah, I'm actually that pale in real life.

See no. 2 re: sunlight allergy.

8. A hopeless addiction to Farmville.

What a stupid, stupid game.  But I'll be damned if I don't want more goats.

Me and my cats.

9. A bruise that literally took two months to go away.

Thank you, Gogol Bordello.  Kindly never play a venue with theatre seating again.  (Thigh + Armrest = Ouch)

10. You know what?

I was going to make it an even 10.  But you're not worth it, 2009.  Not worth it at all.  Get the hell out of here and never come back.

Regards,

Robynn

p.s. Oh hi, 2010.

I Am Horrible. And I Suck.

Hey again,

I know I said I'd try to get back to posting a little more regularly, but sometimes life and the things that go along with it (like a husband, a job, and friends) get in the way.  Holiday season schmoliday season.  Some Christmas in the near future I'm taking a "me" day and carting myself off to Paris or something.  Somewhere where I don't know anybody, have nobody to shop for, and can fill myself up on as much wine and cheese as humanly possible and socially acceptable.  France seems like a logical destination.  Heck, I could probably get away with not shaving my legs either.

Anyhow, back to the point.  Again, sorry it's been so bloody long.  And again, a recap.

• Working again... - yay.
• ...possibly NOT temporarily... - double yay.
• ...but I won't know until sometime next week, maybe later - boo.
• It was Christmas... - yay.
• ...but I didn't get to spend it with my family... - boo.
• ...but I will be seeing them next week - double yay.
• ...and I did get to spend it with some awesome friends - also double yay.
• I made an awesome casserole... - yay.*
• ...that gave me heartburn... - boo
• ...and also took forever to get through... - boo/yay depending
• ...but was so delicious I had to eat the whole thing... meh.

That's about it, kids.  One of these days my promise to write more often won't be full of horse puckey.

On that note, good night and happy new year!

Love,

Robynn

*For those of you who follow the link to the casserole recipe, I've made some crucial changes.  Message me if you want 'em.

I Am Horrible.

Sorry, readers (all three of you.)  I've been trying to wrap my head around being a working stiff again, so consequently the blog has fallen by the wayside temporarily.  However, once I get used to the whole idea again I'll be back in full force!  But in the meantime, I am a horrible, horrible fairy blogmother.

Anyhow, things of note from the past week:

• Working again... - yay!
• ...possibly only temporarily - boo.
• Bought some bloody incredible tea... - yay!
• ...for my husband for Christmas - boo.
• Bought some new jeans... - yay!
• ...that are exactly the same as my old ones - meh.
• I finally got my mouse to work... - double yay!
• ...after an entire day of trying to figure out Japanese and wanting to smack myself in the face with a shovel - boo.

Now you're caught up.  Back in a bit, kids.

Love,

Robynn

Almost Famous....

So I just discovered a website thanks to Jenny at The Bloggess.  Essentially it's like really complicated Photoshop, but for complete and total morons.  (This is not to say that Jenny is a moron.  Jenny is actually quite clever.)  It's not to say that I'm a moron either - I'm just incredibly lazy about doing stuff in Photoshop.  Anyhow,  Photofunia is one of the greatest websites I've come across in a while.  Check it:

See?  I've apparently been immortalized in a back alley in some unknown locale by a person I've never met.

Here I am being impermanently immortalized by some little schoolgirl.  Thanks, schoolgirl!

I'm huge in Japan.

Or Taiwan.

Or Korea.

Or wherever the heck this is.

I'm so damned huge they built a whole freaking gallery devoted to me.

This is what my portrait will look like if when I'm on currency.

But the currency will probably come sometime after my first ad campaign...

... and my brief stint as the face of Armani Mania...

... and my many television appearances.  So what if they're the same appearance on many televisions!  Still counts as many.

Here I am gracing the walls of another gallery.

And finally, there will be numerous tomes written about my beauty and humanitarian exploits when cats finally take over the world and can read.
Or at least can flip pages and look at pictures.

Moral of the Story:

Photofunia + too much time on my hands = THIS.

Dear ANYBODY who can read Japanese,

Here’s the deal – I got a new mouse (Apple Mighty Mouse that I’m trying to force to work on a PC), but for one of its features (360 degree scrolling) to work I need to install a driver.  The only driver available is from Japan, and all their entire website is in Japanese.  There’s a key for a 30 day trial, but I don’t know where the heck to input it.  Also, it totally works amazingly well, so I’d like to just buy the full bloody product but I can’t figure out how.

And the trouble with all this is that whenever I’m using the mouse I get pop ups that I assume are telling me I need to install the validation key.  I thought I did, but I guess I’m mistaken.  I get them every 30 seconds or so, so it’s really annoying.  They look like this:

Any idea?  When I click on the button, it takes me to a webpage that looks like this:

The EH5TQ-CFPTY-FZTPN-V6VRN-T6TZN-VNTPN-U6SPN part I assume is the validation key.  I don’t know where to put it.  When I click on the driver icon, these are the options I get:

The first (top) option takes me to my mouse properties screen that I can get to via control panel.  The second option gives me this:

The third gives me this:

And the fourth gives me a help screen index which, unfortunately, is also all in Japanese except for the letters F.A.Q.  Motherfaqers.

I figured out via Google’s webpage translator that the screen that gave me the (assumed) validation key also has a link to order the product.  Below is what happens when I click it.  I have no idea what the difference is between the ¥819 and the ¥947 buttons are.

Assuming that more expensive is better, I clicked the bottom one.  Here’s what I got:

And I have no idea what to do with any of it…

Love,

Robynn

An Obsessive-Compulsive Christmas Party Tally

DISCLAIMER:  The statements below do not reflect the opinion of others present at husband's Christmas party.  They also don't mean that I had no fun at all at said party.  The food was excellent, the venue was beautiful, the band is always really fun, and the staff was wonderful and attentive.  Well, except that one guy.  Anyhow, as parties go, it was a good one.  Below is more the fault of me being socially awkward.  And the funny thing is, I'm not particularly socially awkward.  But throw me into a room where everyone only talks about work that I know very little about and most have trophy wives that are either at the Peg Bundy end of the spectrum or the Jacquelyn Kennedy-Onassis one (nowhere in between), and, well....

I like to count things.

Minutes spent applying cosmetics:

15

Minutes spent otherwise getting ready:

40 (not bad, if you ask me.)

Minutes spent in hotel lobby looking like lost sheep because we couldn't remember which room the party was in and husband wouldn't ask anybody:

3.5

Awkward conversations with people I've never met and/or only see once a year that made me wish I'd feigned a migraine or appendicitis:

5

Times husband remembered to introduce me to anybody:

0

People from husband's workplace that I enjoy talking to:

5

People from husband's workplace that I enjoy talking to who actually showed up at party:

4

Alcoholic beverages (caesars) consumed:

10

Alcoholic beverages (caesars) consumed that were "allegedly" doubles from above total:

4

Minutes spent wondering if there was actually any alcohol in the bottles they were mixing drinks with or if it was all a watering-down ruse to save the company tons of cash on the open bar*:

57

More plausible number of alcoholic beverages (caesars) actually consumed:

3

Amount of tomato-clam cocktail consumed:

approx. 4 gallons

Amount of Tabasco® sauce consumed:

approx.1 gallon

Amount of Worcestershire sauce consumed:

Who knows.  I can't pronounce it, so don't care.

Meatballs consumed:
1

Meatballs that were actually meat:
0

Meatballs that were actually falafel:
1 (but delicious)

Minutes spent wishing I was way more intoxicated, otherwise having more fun, or far more inclined to take an avid interest in everybody "talking shop" around me:

335

Minutes spent in washroom texting more interesting people, tweeting, or just plain enjoying the notion of sitting down somewhere quiet (with a cupholder**):

29

Items stolen from washroom:

2  (But both were hotel lotions and just sitting there on the counter.  I'm pretty sure you're supposed to take them.)

Minutes spent lurking in foyer waiting for staff members to disappear so I could clandestinely steal a cute pinecone out of a floral arrangement:

18

Number of cute pinecones successfully stolen:

0

Number of times I made an arse of myself:

a shockingly low 1***

Notes:

* Verdict: no booze included in booze.  Came home shockingly sober.

** Handy cupholder in restroom.

*** During heartfelt speech about former staff member who tragically bit it earlier in the year, my cellphone starts ringing.  The Exorcist theme.  On a positive note, I had recently changed my cellphone ringer from Chopin's Funeral March, which would have been a horrible combination of both more and less appropriate simultaneously.

Dear bag of frozen peas,

I hate you.

What the hell did I ever do to you?  First you knock my newly-filled ice cube tray over making me unpleasantly damp, then once I've done everything all over again you decide to fall on my foot.

Jerk.

Regards,

Robynn

p.s. Sorry for being a deadbeat blog mom again.  I'll make up for it with posts on the weekend about the BC cellphone + driving = disaster ban and how I'm sure I'll somehow manage to make an ass of or injure myself (or others) at Heath's Christmas party tomorrow night.

For now, here's one of my favorite videos.  David Lynch on the iPhone.  Love it.

Dear Cat Lovers,

Okay, okay, so this makes for an atypical blog post, but what the heck.  It needs to be done. 'Tis the season and all...

Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association desperately needs your help.  They are in dire financial straits and are suddenly faced with a very real likelihood of having to close their doors permanently.  I will be making a personal donation to  them, and I post this in order to encourage any and all animal lovers to do the same.  No matter how big or small, your donation WILL make a difference and will be very much appreciated.

This wonderful group of people is responsible for doing all the work that the SPCA doesn't.  They trap feral animals, provide spaying and neutering where necessary, take in dumped and abandoned kittens, bottle feed the kittens who need it, and provide wonderful foster homes for all the animals they take in until they can find permanent loving homes of their own.  They do all of this on very scant donations - much, much less than what the SPCA receives.  These are real people who really care.  They are a no-kill, non-profit, registered charity, and they need you!

I know several people who have adopted their cats through VOKRA, and can attest to the awesome work they do.  If it weren't for VOKRA, I wouldn't have my fuzzy niece and nephew pictured below.  If I didn't have my fuzzy niece and nephew I'd be a much, much angrier person and would probably steal a school bus full of field-trip first-graders and take them to see The Exorcist instead of to Science World, then give them each a double shot of espresso and a pair of scissors and set them free in Holt Renfrew to run amok.  So I guess if you won't think of the kitties you should THINK OF THE CHILDREN!  (And if you're like me and can't be bothered to think of the children, think of the haute couture that's going to end up with espresso stains and scissor-holes all over it.)

Donate here.

Kitties need Christmas love too.

"No beers without pettings," says fridge cat.

Mochi

"What are you talking about?  I *totally* fit in this box!"

Manju

"Well, now that you've taken my box away I

have nothing to do but wait for you to donate.

Do it now.  Surly Cat commands you."

Please, people.  This terrific group could really use a hand.  Anything you can spare will be put to excellent use.  Thanks!

Love,

Robynn

Dear Santa,

Here are some things I'd like for Christmas.

Handbag - Lux De Ville - $70 USD

Boots - Bordello / Pleaser USA - $75.00 USD (approx.)

Scarf - Alexander McQueen - $260.00 USD

1974 Plymouth Roadrunner - Vintage Autohaus & Imports - $24,900.00 USD

This House - $16,500,000.00

Love,

Robynn

ps. I know the house is a little much, but I just threw it in because it makes the $260.00 scarf seem a little less ridiculous.  Plus, it's got a stable, so it'll come in handy when I have to buy ponies for the universe.  Which, evidently, is what I'm going to have to do because I've tried everything else to get a job.

Dear anybody who has ever questioned why the doll from the Island of Misfit Toys in the 1964 Rudolph TV special is a misfit because she seems like there's nothing wrong with her,

Here's your solution.

She's a redhead.

Nobody likes a redhead.

Love,

Robynn

Note to Self 2

Dear self,

After the numerous jobs that you have been seemingly unceremoniously rejected for, I have decided that you need to do the following:

1. Lie about your age.  For some reason most of the finance/payroll/administrative positions that are available are targeted towards "older women".  From now on, your name is Margaret and you're 47.

2. Dumb yourself down.  Most interviewers don't seem to understand words with more than three syllables.  Plus, you can do a lot of things.  Cut that amount in half at least.  You don't want to give them an inferiority complex or make them feel like you're out to get their job.  You and I can keep the fact that we're smarter than 90% 95% 97.8% of the world's population our little secret.

3. Create a fake resume.  You'll need one of these when you inevitably go to apply at McDonald's since you don't have any food service experience.  Make up a fast food company from Alberta that sadly went under during the whole Mad Cow Disease fiasco or something.  If you make it sound like the Mad Cow Disease tragically killed every one of your coworkers on your day off, they probably won't hassle you for references.

4. Get off the computer and go make dinner.  You're a housewife.  That's your job now.

I hope this helps in your job search.

Love,

Robynn

p.s. Seriously consider number 3.  You could go to Hamburger University.  Who wouldn't want to do that?

Dear Inner Dialogue,

I realize that the past several months of my unemployment has probably made you feel like you were totally off the hook since me sitting on the couch or at the computer has allowed you to have free rein to do as you wish.  Hell, for all I know you've decided to take your Grand Tour and didn't even have the consideration to leave me a bloody note.  I shouldn't be surprised as you were truly never that well-behaved to begin with.  Regardless, get your ass home NOW.  I need you.

As I was getting on the bus today after work* (see footnote**) I really could have used your assistance.  When the late-40-something lady with an uber-huge (probably non-fat, half-caff, and otherwise high-maintenance) Starbucks in one hand, an iPhone in the other, and a face that looked like...

Σ Barbara Mandrell + (Botox + Healthy Cocaine Problem)²

                                 Vicodin

... shoved me out of the way to get on first saying "sorry" in an unspecified direction somewhere over her shoulder, I probably should have left my reply to "no problem," instead of backing it up (loudly) with "age before beauty."

This is why I need you back.

Love,

Robynn

p.s. On your way back, go through Germany and bring me back some Obatzda, would you?

p.p.s.  Sorry for the equation, but I've been doing math all day and you know how overstimulated I can get.

R

Hooray for Footnotes!!!

*Yeah, yeah, I know I've been going off about unemployment, but it's not a real job unless you have to show up there for at least eight hours a week.

**Sorry for having to explain the asterisk.  I by and large assume that people are idiots who would just think "hey, there's some kind of a star thing there, must be a typo" instead of actually knowing that it means look at the bottom of the page for further discussion.  And, actually, if you want to get really specific, the beginning of this footnote should read "sorry for having to explain the asterisks", but then I'd have to explain that in my brain "asterices" is a way better plural of asterisk.  Which I guess I kind of just did anyhow.


Okay.  I'm done.  Honest.



Now.



Really.

Dear tiny & ridiculously cute pineapple (a.k.a. Gary),

It's too bad you weren't nearly as delicious as you were cute.  In hindsight, had I known you would have been so bland, flavourless, and horribly lacking in actual edible fruitstuff volume beneath your prickly wrapper I probably would have tried to dry you out and preserve you and turn you into some kind of jaunty Carmen Miranda chapeau.  However.

The next time I'm at the supermarket (and have the precise combination of PMS and crappy day necessary to make buying produce based on its cuteness alone seem like a good idea) I think I'll grab another one of you.  He'll be named Gary v.2.0, and he most certainly will end up being a Carmen Miranda hat.

Yours,

Robynn