Cupcakes and then some....

The other day, I decided to go to Michaels to see what this new line of Martha Stewart scrapbooking products was all about.

As soon as I walked into Michaels, I was greeted by a dazzling photo showing Martha Stewart’s mug shot. I stared at the photo wondering how much money she had spent on her pearly whites or being the creative woman she is, did she perform her own dental work with various craft tools from her own line? Maybe we will be treated to an upcoming show called “Creative Dentistry by Martha Stewart” showing us on which scrapbooking tools should be used for each procedure and the grand finale would be putting on some lovely gems that have been dipped in her brand of glitter. Oh yes, I would love to learn on how to make my teeth sparkle in various colours of glitter. Maybe I should e-mail her so she can advise me on how to get my own choppers primed and ready for Canada Day and then all I would need to do is hang a Canadian flag on one side of my mouth and I will be all set.

Then, I woke up realizing that I should move my rear end which is comfortably wearing my favourite pair of boy short undies. I strolled up and down the aisle of Martha Stewart’s products. I saw HUGE sheets of paper that would make great kitty litter box liners! My cats will be so pleased with me for providing them with such wonderful HUGE paper to be able to use their litter boxes in style. There are even party hats there that I could even put on the cats as they do their own business. I can even decorate their party hats and have logos put on it for various occasions. One would be for the litter box business which will say…”Thou shalt not disturb me as I do my business” with a few ribbons dangling on top of it.

I finally came across those huge 18” by 18” albums. WHOA! I search around to see if there were any Incredible Hulks roaming around Michaels to see if any of them could help me lift one of them up. No such luck! I was about to ask one of the Michael’s workers to see if they could arrange for a forklift to come in and lift up one of the albums so I could inspect it more thoroughly but thought better of it. I decided to risk my back to haul one up to eye level and while I was lifting one up, I dropped it and it landed on my right foot’s big toe with a huge thud. Oh, the pain made me scream out loud. I am sure that everyone in that aisle could see my tonsils vibrating. One of the helpers came rushing over and asked me if I needed assistance. I felt like telling her to get me an ambulance and rush me off to the hospital. I knew that I was totally prepared for the ER this time around since I had my favourite matching set of undies and they were brand new. Instead, I sat on the floor admiring the vision of colourful stars dancing in front of my eyes with such brilliance that it would put Martha Stewart’s glitters to shame. I managed to get up to check out the rest of the products.

What did I see sitting up there? Pretty little paper cupcakes waiting to be snapped up. I thought to myself, “Wow, Martha is sure so thoughtful to have marketed these little dainty cupcakes.” I should snap some up for various reasons. One would be to tape them under my eyeballs to catch all the tears that were rolling down my face from the pain of my throbbing big toe. Another reason would be to put my pills in each one for medication to overcome the pain from my toe. And some to tape around my neck to catch all the sweat that I had produced from picking up the album to keep my clothes dry for the rest of the trip at Michaels.

Problem is that if I had taped these dainty paper cupcakes under my eyes to catch the tears, taped them around my neck to mop up all the sweat and holding each one full of painkillers in my hands as I finished off my tour of the supplies, something else would happen to me to warrant a trip in an ambulance to be carted off to the hospital. I can imagine the paramedics trying to bring me back to life with myself being so well adorned with paper cupcakes to the point that they couldn’t do their jobs properly due to extreme laughter. I would die on route to the hospital. The ER doctors wouldn’t be able to bring me back to life due to extreme shock of how I looked. I would end up in the morgue.

They will have to call my husband to testify that my cupcake riddled body was mine. He would get there. He would not be able to confirm that it was my body since there would be no Prima flowers to be found anywhere on my body. No one would be able to confirm that it was me so I will end up in the Potter’s field for unclaimed bodies pushing up daisies from six feet under!

All this because of Martha Stewart!

Oh my GOD! I can’t let this happen.

I must somehow always wear some sort of Prima flower on me in case I ever need to be identified some day!

Friendships..my tribute to Ki, Monica and Karan

I know that I haven't blogged for awhile for very good reasons. I would prefer not to go into these reasons on a public blog.

But, during my "difficult period", I really knew who my friends really are and it really warms my heart to know that I have these great friends whom I have met via on line being connected by our mutual love of scrapbooking. Two I have already met in person and one I hope to meet in person one day.

I can truly count on each of these friends. I know that they will NEVER speak badly of me or sneak around behind my back. They are there for me no matter what. I just hope that I can be as good of a friend to them as they are to me.

This reminds me of a poem that a teacher wrote in my yearbook many years ago. He was a true mentor to me and his many words of wisdom have stuck with me all these years. He advised me to be so very careful with whom I chose to be my friends. I am so glad that I have heeded to his words of wisdom.

True friends are like diamonds,
Rich and Rare,
False friends are like autumn leaves,
Found Everywhere

Well, I consider Ki, Monica and Karan true friends and they are diamonds to me.

I know within my heart that they are 100% true friends and I am so lucky to have them in my life.

I love you my three friends.

I just hope that I can be as good to you all as you are to me.

Anyone will be so lucky to have these three wonderful ladies to call friends.

A few layouts that I like...

There are two other ladies that I go to for inspiration and they are also my mentors. Both are great scrapbookers. Their names are Ki and Karan!

The first two layouts are done by Ki. The second two layouts are done by Karan.

I consider myself extremely lucky to be very good friends with the two of them and to have such great mentors! They really have talent and are very good at what they do. And they are indeed lovely ladies to boot!

I thought you would enjoy seeing their layouts here on my blog.

My run in with fame!

On Saturday, as we were running around doing errands, I got the hubby to drive me to The Scrapping Bug since I had to pick up Scrapbook Trends that I totally love. I use that magazine a lot for inspiration. It has also gotten me out of a lot of brain freezes when it comes to doing layouts. I love going to this store since there are always so many new goodies to check out. As I was getting out of the car, the hubby advised me not to blow our entire life savings in there which is his usual parting shot. I have to admit that I have spent a fortune there but it is so worth it.

I strolled right on into this marvellous home away from home. The familiar smells of paper and embellishments wafted up my nostrils. As I was happily puttering around in there letting my eyeballs feed the information into my brain re what was new and must haves, someone appeared in front of me with Kim who is the owner and her employee Cherie. My eyes popped out and my jaw hit the ground. I thought for a minute that I would have to enlist their help to find my rolling on the ground eyeballs that popped out from shock to get them back into their eye sockets. It was VICKI BOUTIN that was standing in front of me. She is very well known in the scrapbooking circles and is an excellent scrapbooker. I also consider her my favourite famous scrapbooker mentor.

She stood there all in her glory. She looked great. Her photos don’t do her justice. I stood there frozen for a minute or two. Then, my brain cells kicked into gear that enabled me to move enough muscles to be able to shake her hand. As I was shaking her hand, I thought….I am never going to wash this hand again….then, I thought better of it. I like my hands clean. :o) As my star struck brain struggled to work properly, I started to babble with her. I hope that I was making sense to her as we talked. As we were talking, a thought ran through my head….”Oh crap, I didn’t bring my scrapbook album which I have photos or clippings of her layouts that I have lovingly put together for inspiration for her to possibly sign for me…wonder if she would sign my T-Shirt instead…..oh…I better not ask her to sign my T-Shirt or she will think I am a total weirdo….oh…are there any magazines around here that have her layouts in them so I can get her to sign them…..or…should I ask her to sign my arm and the hubby can take a photo of it and I can scrap it after….?” I did none of these things since I did not want to come across as CatsRWacko to the whole crew.

Vicki is indeed a lovely, down to earth person and very pretty to boot. I am so glad that I met her.

When, I left the store, all my composure finally left me. I staggered to where our car was parked with the hubby and kids sitting in it. My knees were weak from meeting such a legend. My eyes were glistening with joy. As I got to our car, I draped myself over the hood and then flipped myself over to stare into the sky. I clutched my coat in glee.

This is when the hubby got out of the car with extreme worry written all over his face. He said, “ Oh my GAWD, those pills aren’t working for her and she is finally having a heart attack!” He proceeded to whip out his cell phone and was about to call 911! I stopped him just in the nick of time! WHEW! Can you imagine having to explain to the paramedics if they came that I was just having the vapour attacks due to meeting Vicki Boutin? They sure wouldn’t understand and probably would haul me off to the loony bin instead!

He then asked me what the hell was going on. I told him that I had met Vicki Boutin. He even knew who she was and understood my silly display that I had put on in front of him and the kids.

When I got into the car, the hubby suggested that I do my star struck routine on the grass next time around since he wants to keep the hood of our car in good shape.

I nearly kicked him!

Above is a photo of Vicki and the magazine featuring her layout on the front of it.

Vicki Boutin, if you are reading this, it sure was lovely to meet you!

Some funny photos...

On the verge of a nervous breakdown...

I am not having a good day.

I am VERY, VERY fond of appliances that keep my home clean. Anything that will make my home spotless is worth its weight in gold with me. I worship all my appliances. Especially my washing machine and vacuum cleaner. Those two are like family members to me.

I love the way my washing machine gyrates its hips as it washes the clothes. It gyrates so well. I have been known to dance with it as it does its swivelling dance. We put the Dancing with the Stars to shame with our skilful dance routine. If I could get my washing machine and myself on that show, we would win first prize. We make an excellent pair.

But, those days may be gone. My washing machine did the death dance the other day. Its gyrating hips started to slow down to a pitiful elderly lady struggling to get about walk. Then, it suddenly died to join the Washing Machines in the Sky after giving its last gasp. I sank to my knees in despair. I wailed like a madwoman. My husband found me slumped over it with my face puffed up from howling like a banshee. With a gentle hand on my shaking shoulders, he advised me that he would call the repair man. That brightened me up a little bit, but I would have to wait for the washing machine surgeon to come for a few days. Those few days were torture. Wine bottles were consumed in an alarming fast rate since I had to dull my pain somehow. The washing machine surgeon came today and inspected my beloved friend. Announced that my beloved friend needs a new motor to get its hips swivelling again like Elvis Presley and that it was going to take some time since he has to order the parts. I nearly screamed at him. I told him that he better step on it before I became a raging alcoholic. For some reason, he understood my pain and suggested that I join up a support group for ladies that have broken washing machines. Good thing he and I have good senses of humour. What burns my wine filled ass is that my washing machine is almost brand new and the warranty expired a couple of months ago!

After he left, I decided that hauling out my vacuum cleaner would do the trick to soothe my frazzled nerves. I just needed to have something vibrating in my hands. I know I have a Scrub Buster, but it just doesn’t cut it. I needed to lug something big around and maybe dance with it. As I began to dance with my vacuum cleaner, I felt it sputter, do a slow whirring death and then it died. Oh my GOD! That almost pushed me over the edge. Is there a support group for ladies with dead vacuums? Do I have to start drinking something stronger than wine to help with the pain?

Good thing that my hubby is working from home today since he is going to take me out to get a brand new vacuum cleaner. I just got to wait for him to finish doing his job. I am hovering around him like a magpie looking for silver to snatch up. I think he is going to cut his work soon so he can get me to the stores before I am perched on his shoulder like a parrot permanently. I need a new vacuum cleaner. It will save my life to have a new machine to dance with.

I need my appliances to function in a normal manner. My right eye is starting to twitch...madness...is slowly getting me in its grip....

GI JANE!

It is a small world at times! Sometimes, it is a bit too small for my liking.

As I was coming back from taking my little girl to school, I was in my condo building’s lobby checking my mail slot to see if I had any mail worth getting excited over. While I was bent over peering into my mail box, I felt a tap on my shoulder so I looked up to see whose finger belonged to. Who did I see? A lady decked out with so much jewellery that would have sunk a battleship easily. She gave me a lovely broad smile and yelled out, “GI JANE, GI JANE, GI JANE, it is so WUNNNNNDERFULLLLLL to see you again!!!!!” My heart sank. I would have given ANYTHING, even my Prima collection to have the ground open up and swallow me. I immediately knew who she was. She is a neighbour of my mum’s. People in the lobby were now watching us to see what would now unfold and I am sure they were all curious re why she was calling me GI Jane at the top of her lungs. You see, I am hearing impaired and she tends to think that SCREAMING at me will enable me to understand her better. No matter how many times that I have told her that it is not necessary to use her foghorn type of voice to speak to me, it just is not going to be helpful.

So, with me cowering back as much as possible, she barged at me like a bull charging at a red flag with that foghorn voice blaring away “GI JANE, GI JANE, GI JANE, how are you?” And then she giggles and snorted with sheer maniacal laughter and proceeded to ask me if I was being a good girl and taking Beano on a religious basis. I am sure she was still using her foghorn voice since the super suddenly appeared to see what was going on. By now, I had about eight people in the lobby staring at us. Of course, curiosity was getting the better of them since one of them asked her why she calls me GI JANE instead of Lyn.

This is when I died. I could actually see the light to the other side appearing. But, I was not so lucky…it was the haze of sheer embarrassment that was washing all over me.

She grabbed me in a hug and told me that she simply had to tell them the story of why she calls me GI JANE! She told them the story. Before long, they were all roaring with laughter and slapping each other on their backs. Some even were leaning against the wall to support themselves since their knees were weak from laughing so hard. One of the ladies did an even better impersonation of Alice Cooper than I did since she had rivers of mascara running down her face from laughing so much.

I told Mrs. Laden Down With Bling Foghorn that I had to leave since I had some chores to run. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. She gave me a big kiss and told me that she would make sure that my mum was made aware of us running into each other when she got back into her town. I scurried off like a mouse running away from a cat.

I am sure you want to know the story. Might as well tell you the story behind all this.

A few years ago, before I had gallbladder surgery, I had severe problems with stomach gas. There were certain foods that made the situation even worse. French Onion soup was notorious for making me very windy to the point that it felt like that I had tropical winds emerging from my rear end.

My mum is what you call an “Upper Society British Class” lady and one must behave oneself around her for the most part. I had gone to visit her for a weekend on my own. She served French Onion soup as a starter for dinner which I knew was going to cause me some trouble later on. After dinner, we watched a movie together and I could feel the gas building up in my stomach rapidly. So, I knew that I better excuse myself to do something about it since I was feeling very, very bloated and uncomfortable. I thought a good spot would be to step out on the back porch that wraps around my mum’s house would do the trick. As soon as I was out there, I checked around to see if the coast was clear and no one was around, I let them rip out one after another. It felt so good and it really relieved the pressure that was in my stomach. I was hunched over the railings ripping them out. RAT A TAT TAT. BLAM BLAM BLAM. Rataaaattataaaaaaattat! Whooooa! That felt so good. Oh the relief! When I was done, I turned around to go back into the house and to my total dismay and shock, I saw my mum standing there with a phone in her hand. Her face was contorted in disbelief. She was talking to someone on the phone. Then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, beyond my control, another eardrum busting series of wind exploded out of my rear end. My mum dropped the phone. She was rooted to the spot in sheer shock. Her eyes resembled those of a deer caught in a car’s headlights. WIDE OPEN! Her jaw was resting on her chest. Then, she woke up….and said, “Lyyyyyyyndaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, get in here immediately!” I knew I was in trouble.

I got inside. My head was bowed in shame.

Turned out that the neighbours thought that someone was firing a gun off and called my mum to see if she could hear any gunshots going off since it seemed to be coming from her garden. They were going to call the police. My mum had to tell them the truth that it was me that was having severe flatulence problems that would be immediately taken care of by a doctor. The neighbours thought it was hilarious and have called me GI JANE ever since.

So, the name has stuck…and I will never be able to get rid of it.

And from the looks of it re what happened today to me in my own territory, I am sure that I am going to get stuck with it via my neighbours.

Oh boy!