Friday, 30 December 2011

Awesome Day Aftermath

I am so freaking glad that the holidays are over. 
I’m glad that Christmas is over because now I can return to eating with guilt and shame as opposed to wild abandon. Guilt and shame eating at least keeps me from feeling like I’ve got lard coming out of my pores, and occasionally my normal diet allows me to poop, unlike a diet that is made up of foods that are high in fat and trigrosserides. Eating during the holidays gives me nothing but gas and constipation, even though I come by it most deliciously. I ate so much of my mother-in-law’s broccoli salad that I gave myself a wicked headache. I had to wait almost 20 minutes before I could resume stuffing my face full of mayo, raisins and sunflower seeds (with a little broccoli). It was a long 20 minutes. 

So this morning I threw out all the remaining cookies and candy and put all the naughty foods that we got as gifts up on a high shelf where only the nimblest of piggies will get them (me, with a stick).

For dinner we’re having shake and bake. I’ll mash cauliflower with Becel instead of potatoes with cream and cheese. And I’ll have a cup of tea for afters instead of an entire layer of Pot of Gold. 
I like getting back into our regularly scheduled program, as much as I enjoy the festivities and gluttony of the holidays. I thrive under routine, and as much as I lack them, I love boundaries.
I know many of you out there share my sentiments. In Canada, December 26th is known as Boxing Day. In my house it is known as “Get This Damned Tree Out Of My Living Room Day”.  Never before in Christmases past have I ever felt so strong a desire to flush Christmas away, both in terms of my digestive system and my decor 
Once there are no presents under the tree, to me, the tree serves no purpose other than to remind you that once again, you did NOT get the Easy Bake Oven. There’s a scum on the tree water that you don’t know what the hell it is. It’s a drunken whore at last call, makeup smeared, dress akimbo, and no one paying attention. Even the cat is no longer interested. 

This year we experimented with getting a scotch pine. My family always had fir or spruce trees. We never, ever had a scotch pine, so I thought I’d see what all the fuss wasn’t about. 
Well, I can tell you, never again!
The scotch pine is the ouchiest of Christmas trees. It’s long needles are as sharp as... well,  long needles. And you can’t even brush up against the thing without feeling like you’ve been swatted with a hairbrush made of hypodermics. Decorating the thing was a nightmare. I got a rash all over my arms. Even it’s sap must be nasty.

And you can’t even decorate the thing properly. You don’t hang decorations from the scotch pine, so much as you lay decorations across it’s abnormally bushy and poisonous branches. So you end up with a tree that looks you basically stood 3 feet away and threw ornaments at it, hoping they’d just stick. This is what you have to do at any rate, just to keep from having your skin shredded by it’s stupid protective porcupine body.

I really hate the scotch pine and I’m glad it’s on the curb. Alone. Naked. Comeuppance is a bitch, isn’t it, Scotchie?

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

And the winner of the 100th blog contest is...

For those of you who can't view the video, like Brian who is using his iPad because he thinks he's better than everyone else, well the winner is.... Sheri Kidd. She wins the prizes!

Saturday, 24 December 2011

My Complete Lack of Boundaries Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through her home
There wasn’t one dog
That’d leave Ellen alone

For they were all hyper
Could not hear enough
Of the big old fat geezer
Who’d bring them all stuff

Grace wanted treats
Sam wanted chews
Gracie craved meats
Sam craved nice shoes

Both claimed to Santa
They’d been good every day
Lied through their teeth
To get their own way

Sam didn’t tell Santa
Thought he’d never be clued-in
To all the furniture
And floors that he’d ruined

Gracie claimed innocence
Her beady eyes beaming
neglected to mention
her barking and screaming

So on Christmas Eve
With a snack and a twirl
And a sweet bedtime story
Of fat legless squirrels

Thus finally calmed
And tucked in each bed
Grace behind toilet
Sam in his shed.

Ellen was snoring
Brian was too

And all of a sudden
Ellen heard a to-do!

A clamour, a ruckous
This could not be good
The smashing of glass 
The cracking of wood

Ellen tore off the quilt
Brian bolted upright
Grabbed the baseball bat
Prepped for a fight
Scrambling down
Prepared for a feud
Ellen in bathrobe
Brian, of course, nude.

They ran to the living room
Only to see
A room quite destroyed
An upended tree

And up near the ceiling
The cause of the fray
Was 8 tiny mice pulling
The cat in a sleigh

Bouncing off walls
Ripping the chair
Scraping the paint
They flew through the air

When at last they alighted
On the back of the couch
Mice unhitched the sled
Out the cat slouched

Onto her blanket
Curled up in her fur
Ignored the destruction
She started to purr.
The mice all a scrambled
Their work here was done
They never thought vandalism
Could be so much fun.

So Brian and Ellen
Alone in the mess
Ellen to the broom
Brian to get dressed.

Slowly they put the
room back as it’d been
It took them 3 hours
To get that room clean

Collapsed on the sofa
They fell into a nap
But again they awoke
Because of the cat
A meowing ensued
Like they’d n’er heard before
She was panting and squatting
On the newly cleaned floor

After a minute
Of grunting and mewing
The couple could see
That her nethers were spewing
Out tiny gold eggs 
That grew once they were out
To the size of a fist
And the weight of a trout

Brian and Ellen 
Were totally freaked
But not as much as
When the cat started to speak
“Oh Mother and Father
I bring gifts of gold goods
As Christmas time thanks
For warm laps and for foods

I regret the mess 
That we had to make
T’was the only way we crew
Could get you two awake.

Invest the gold wisely
Don’t spend it on junk
Now don’t get all whiney
Don’t get in a funk.

There’s enough for a bike
For lovely Daddies
And enough for mommy to
Pop by Tiffany’s. 

That’s all I can say
No more in the offing
Just remember the dogs
Have given you nothing!”

As the kitten returned
to her slumbering snooze
Elpoo and Brian
Went straight for the booze

To plan their retirement
And to wonder at that
All of their worries
Were solved by the cat.
With a scotch and a Bailey’s
They cuddled up tight
Saying Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good night.

Friday, 23 December 2011

Foodie Friday - Merry Binge-mas

My “fat” jeans are tight.
And here is the reason
I’m eating my way
Through the holiday season.
I spent November baking
Cookies and candies
And now I’m upset
‘Cause I can’t fit my panties
Or bra, dress or leggings
They’re all burst at the seams
Due to the sugarplums
Not just in my dreams
I spill out of my clothes
As I swill out on cheeses
I blame it all on
This season of Jesus.

For wasn’t it said
In the Old Testament Tale
That to truly love God
One must eat like a whale?

So really I’m doing
My true Christian duty
By stuffing my face
And expanding my booty.
As much as I love
the sweet salty tastes
It spells a full year
Of elasticized waists
And a full month of guilt
A sad January
Of seeing myself
As fat, ugly and hairy
Is it all worth it,
To eat like a glutton?
It just gives me gas
And a bursting pants button.
I suppose it is,
or I wouldn’t persist
In gorging on sweets
On the following list:
Almonds and pralines
And a chocolate torte
Brittle of peanut
Breads ginger and short

Fudges with nuts
Fudges without
(I’m wondering why Brian
Now says that I’m “stout”)
I’ll have a hot toddy
That begs for another
With chocolates that’d make you
Forsake your own mother
Peppermint bark
Made in my home -  A
Box of the same
From Williams-Sonom - a
Chocolate haystacks
I begged from my friend Ryan
Peppermint patties
I’m hiding from Brian.
Wafers of sugar
Striped vinnetarte
Imperial Cookies
Cakes whole, and in part.

Coconut clusters 
Lemony pies
A deluded belief
That the scale tells me lies
Must not forget chips
And cheese by the block
Crackers and french bread
Tins o' Poppycock

Gran Marnier and brandy
Mulled wine and grog
Hot cocoa and Baileys
Spiced rum and egg nog
With all of this food
For the season’s duration
It’s no wonder we all
Give in to temptation
So don’t beat yourself up
If you’re a little more round
Except for damned Kathryn
Who “won’t gain a pound”.
I hope that you’ll join me
I know that you will
In feeding your sweet self
Until you feel ill.
To eat, it is human
To gorge, it’s divine
So ease up the rules
Just for Christmas time.
There’s a time for feasting
A time to toast plenty
A time for Weight Watchers
A time for Craig, Jenny
I’ll see all of you 
On January One
All of us shame faced
At the damage we’d done
To our bodies and health
O’er the holiday season
Our hearts all cry “Mutiny”
Our arteries “Treason”.
We’ll drag all our asses
To treads and to Spins
To work off all of our 
Holy Days Sins
And while we’re all sweating
And bemoaning each mile
We all can take comfort
We’ll all have a smile

For misery likes comp’ny
We’re all Pigs of a Feather
I’m happy to know
We’re all fat together.
Go ahead.
Have another cookie..