Check out the posts on Show Me the Funny… weekly Canadian humour!
Hey! This is your Muse talking here! What are you doing? Yeah, you; Do you SEE any other writers within a square block of here? You’re sitting there looking at friggin Facebook, and…is that a chocolate covered strawberry? And wine? I mean what the hell? That is our thing; you know when you are writing you always drink wine and have some kind of chocolate! But hey, wait a minute. You are NOT writing, but there you go, shoving that damn strawberry into your yap. Don’t give me that ‘in a minute’ crap. I know you. You’ll scroll down and see a darn… Oh man there you go, another cat video. Like you haven’t seen a bazillion cat videos. I know there is no such thing as a Bazillion. There is also no such thing as a YOU WRITING! I am not shouting. No, no I’m not. I’m…
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A little reading is a dangerous thing. My daughter reads JUST well enough to get her through the following steps:
- Open the eBay app on my phone.
- Use the search function, which is so helpfully marked with the universal symbol for ‘search’, and type in the word ‘shopkin’. For those of you not in the know, a Shopkin is a tiny plastic figurine that, when sold in their natural groupings of five, cost more than a decent bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
- Find a box of 30 blind baskets of Shopkins for sale. A blind basket is a tiny plastic shopping basket that you buy for the price of a grande caramel macchiato where you don’t know which figurines you are getting. Hence the term ‘blind’.
- Click Buy It Now
So she did.
It was $199 USD + $45 shipping.
It’s possible that I had a SMALL fit of pique when I saw that I had ‘won’ this $300 box of tiny plastic piece of crap toys. But once that initial feeling passed, I couldn’t decide if I was more proud of her ingenuity and improved reading skills, or more afraid.
I honestly and mistakenly, perhaps wildly optimistically, thought that something like the ‘buy it now’ transaction would be beyond her capabilities. How wrong I was. It could have been an expensive lesson for me. Thankfully, the seller was willing to let me out of the deal.
With no real understanding of the magnitude of what she had done, I couldn’t freak out the way I desperately wanted to so, instead, we had a long conversation about what’s okay to do on mommy’s phone and what will get a guaranteed cancellation of the next three to ten play dates, depending on the severity of the breach. I also changed the password for the phone and required that all apps with shopping go through a password, a retinal scan and three layers of Kevlar before anyone could use them. Because one expensive scare a month is more than enough.
True and truly felt.
I am trying to write a novel and it sucks.
It sucks for all the reasons I’d expected: the weeks and weeks of writer’s block, the stilted clichés that sneak out the moment you’re not vigilant enough, the grinding frustration of trying unsnarl a set of words that for whatever reason just won’t do what you want them to do. I knew about all that stuff and, on some level, was prepared for it; after all, these are all things that I’ve experienced to some degree as a semi-professional freelance writer. What I wasn’t ready for was my inability to justify writing a book. Every time I open that goddamn Word document all I feel is this rush of ugly panic, and the cloud of oh my god what am I doing why am I doing this displaces every confident thought I’ve managed to muster up.
Here’s what I’ve realized: I am afraid of…
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They would make SO much money from me! (Note? NOT moving to Taber or anywhere near Taber).
I know, I know… old news… but I wanted to keep this one for posterity to watch now and again when I feel the need to remind myself that we are in fact all in the same boat, as parents.
Ask any writer and they will answer will probably be a flat out no. Of course we would say no. We’re writers. Duh.
But even I have to admit that there are times when the story is best told by video. Not, however, by someone standing in front of the camera blathering endlessly but by actually laying out a story for the viewer to take in… You know, like writers do!
Showing, not telling, is what a writer must do and what Similac (the baby formula company) did in this video:
It’s a brilliant marketing scheme in that it is not intended to get you to buy formula, but to throw in to specific relief the issue that is pervasive in formula usage: judgment. Judgement by other parents, by health officials, judgement that is often real and sometimes just in our minds. Judgment we impose on ourselves out of a…
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Bringing back this one for the holidays!
Ho!Ho!Ho! ‘Tis the season for Christmas movies galore. If you’re going to have to sit through the movies, you might as well have some ‘mom and dad juice’ to go with them. I am not a drink expert, all imbibing evidence to the contrary, but I think I’ve seen enough Christmas movies, thanks to my ‘christmas focused’ husband, to know that drinkies make them better.
I crowdsourced a list of favourite movies on Twitter:
Miracle on 34th Street – newer one
Christmas Carol – with Alistair Sim as Scrooge version
Polar Express suggested by @JenGPhotog
Christmas Story suggested by @jacksoncreek
Grinch That Stole Christmas – with the voice of Boris Karloff in the animated version
Elf – several recommendations for this one.
Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer suggested by @a_richardson
Santa Clause is Coming to Town suggested by @a_richardson
The Santa Clause
And for my Twitter…
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I have been living in Nova Scotia for a while now and I think I am well adapted. However, there are still a couple of things that I am not used to; “Buddy” is one of them. If you are not from around here, you might wonder who Buddy is. At least I did when I first moved here.
People here use “buddy” in two different ways. The first one, the one I kind of knew about before getting here, is the equivalent of “friend”, as in “He and I are buddies”. However, I hadn’t realized you could call someone “buddy” whether or not you knew them. I come from France – a country that some might consider a little snobby – where people who don’t know each other wouldn’t dare not use “vous” [the formal form of “you”]. That’s why the first time a friendly barista gave me my coffee and said…
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Oh … Les grèves……..
Believe it or not, this is not how I dress everyday. Actually, I never dress like that and I can assure you almost nobody in France wears a béret anymore. Nor do people eat croissants every morning, or walk around in designers clothes, and shower with Chanel N°5. I know, this is very disappointing.
Some clichés about French people are true though. If you visit France for a couple weeks, chances are you will encounter a demonstration or won’t be able to take the train because people are on strike. A lot of people do have five weeks of holiday per year – but you need those day-offs to recover from all those strikes. And if you are ever in need of a lighter just ask anybody around you as one in three French people smokes. Which might explain why we tend to be grumpy.
I often refer to…
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