Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Name's Star. Rock Star...Take 2

For those of you who are keeping track...

I have written 10 ... now 11...posts this month.


This one goes to 11.

I am a Rock Star.

That is all.


I am super excited to announce a brand spankin' new feature of this here blog...

If you've been following my oh-so-very clever "Musings" for any length of time, you're probably well aware that I have recently developed a deep fondness and appreciation of Country Music.

It's awesome.

And I want to share its awesomeness with you, my Beloved Readers.

I know I've shared a bunch of its awesomeness in previous posts but I want to make it all fancy and official-like.

Since the vast majority of you would never, of your own volition, stop and listen to a country song even if your very life (and, quite probably, the lives of your children) depended on it, I've decided that I would do you all a very big favour and implement a new super duper bonus regular feature to my blog called:

"squirrel_e_girl's Country Tune of the Week"

Tah Dah!!!

Exciting, right??!!

And what's even more me that a most unlikely Country Music Convert (CMC)  is going to be my Key Collaborator and will help me choose my weekly picks.

And that Key Collaborator IS....

The Girl.

Tah Dah!!!

Yep. My 15 year old daughter is going to be helping me out.


A few weeks ago, she and I were driving somewhere and she was, oddly enough, once again allowing me to listen to the country station and, oddly enough, I actually caught her singing along!!

To a country song!!!???


I asked her if she was feeling ok and if maybe we should head to Emerg because she, obviously, must be suffering some sort of neurological schism and we should probably have her checked out but she said...

"I kinda really like country music."


Love it!!

So, I asked her if she wanted to help with this silly/AWESOME new blog thing and she agreed and we spent a good long time snuggled in my comfy chair watching country videos and comparing favourites and we decided on our very first offering...

She'd add her thoughts, too, except that she's away for the weekend with The Boy and their Dad...the Erstwhile Husband... and his unGirlfriend at an electronic music festival called The Electric Forest <---she usually likes that kinda music, which makes her new-found penchant for country all the more excellent ...I do hope they go easy on the ecstacy ...

 Just jokes. :D

I trust their Dad to keep them safe.
... and sunscreened.
...and well-rested.
...and to make sure they brush their teeth. out of four ain't bad.

He'll keep em safe :)

Let's get back to the matter at hand!!!

Here is...

"squirrel_e_girl & The Girl's Country Tune of the Week"(I changed the title ...part of The Girl's contract)

****Luke Bryan's "I Don't Want This Night to End"****


 ... I love love LOVE this song. It's very sexy and pretty hot but in a wonderfully subtle country song kinda way.

I'm going to post 2 videos...the first one is just the music and lyrics and then the second one will be the actual real's like a little movie with breaks in the music that I thought might be distracting to someone who's never heard the song before and I don't want to detract from your enjoyment the first time you hear it. So, if you listen to it and love it...let me rephrase that... So, when you listen to it and love it, you can watch the second video and witness the little love drama as it unfolds...OR... you could just skip ahead and watch the actual real video...It's way hotter than just a bunch of blue letters.

So here's the first music n' lyrics video:
(an aside- Do you know how difficult it is to find a song lyric video thingy where apostrophes are used properly??)

And now, to enhance your listening/viewing's the Song Story video:


...there's actually a sequel song/video that I'll post another time...don't want to overdo a good thing ;)

And so ends our first installment of "squirrel_e_girl & The Girl's Country Tune of the Week"

Make sure to tune in next week.

Same Bat Time.

Same Bat Channel.

New Bat Song.

The Name's Star. Rock Star.

For those of you who are keeping track...

I have written 8 ... now 9...posts this month.


I am a Rock Star.

That is all.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

But You Can Call Me Stewie...

Disclaimer: This isn't a real's more of a long-winded Mama Bear Rant in defence of her cub...consider yourself warned...

A couple of weeks ago, I made a quick reference to the fact that I was less than thrilled about an ‘incident’ that took place during The Boy’s 4 day long Grade 8 camping trip.

I'm not really into airing my ‘dirty laundry’ in public, because a)that's not the way I roll and 2) doing so spews bad energy out into the Universe...and that's not cool...


I am a stew-er.

I stew.

A lot.

The squirrels are having a Hey Day with this one.

I'm still pretty riled up about the whole mess and I feel a crazy strong need to vent my frustration and what's the use in having my own blog if I can't use it to work through my ‘shit’? It's cheaper than therapy (and/or several cases of Rockstar[+Vodka]s) and isn't that what blogs are for??

Workin’ shit out, right???

Yeah, I thought so, too.

So, now that we’re all on the same page, I'll give you a ‘brief’ (har har) rundown of events:

For years and years, the grade 8 kids at our school have wrapped up their time in elementary school with a 4 day adventure at a camp where they do tons of cool stuff and sleep in cabins with their friends and have an all around kickass time.

The day The Boy was due home from this awesome excursion, I received a text from him that started with this sentence:

“If you get a call from the school, don't believe a word they say”

...which was probably the best opening line of anything I've ever heard....or ever will hear...ever.


After I finished laughing, I read the rest of his text that outlined the situation...boys knocked on the girls' washroom window...girls ratted out boys...boys threatened with suspension...???!!!!...boys missed out on all the cool stuff on the last day.

I thought to myself....”Well, Self....boys will be boys and boys do silly things and I guess the teachers need to reprimand these silly boys somehow, someway, or else, if word gets out, the girls’ parents might get a bit cranky...suspension seems a wee bit drastic for something as silly as this but I'll ask that it be kept off The Boy’s academic record and so he gets a couple of days off big's all good” ....I speak to myself in long run-on grammatically incorrect sentences...kinda like how I write my blog.

So, with that settled in my brain and with “pick-up time” drawing near, I got myself all fancied up in preparation for being hauled into the Principal's office to defend my son’s honour. One must look presentable for these sorts of things. I'm pretty sure waltzing in dressed in muddy clothes all covered in paw prints and dog slobber wouldn't show me in a very flattering ...or imposing ....light and I wanted to look all serious and imposing so that they’d go easy on my delinquent kid.

Turns out that all my snazzin’ up was for naught because when I got to the school, I was not, as expected, apprehended by some grim-faced authority figure and escorted to The Office. No one even so much as glanced in my general actually seemed like they were avoiding eye-contact.


How peculiar.


I was quite alarmed by the sight of my son. He was sad and pale and small as he hurried across the parking lot.

I put my arm around him and gave him a squeeze and said, “Well, that kinda sucked, huh? Wanna go to Dairy Queen?” <--- see how I parent by ice cream??? All the best of us do :)

And he said...

“no...I just want to go home.”

What the....??

Since when does anyone I've given birth to turn down a trip to Dairy Queen???

....uh oh....

That's when I realized that I was dealing with something pretty serious.

I asked him if he was ok and he said he couldn't eat anything because his stomach had been all tied up in knots and crampy because he was so “stressed out”.


He actually used the phrase “stressed out”.

 A 13 year old boy shouldn't have to use the phrase “stressed out”.

MY 13 year old boy shouldn't have to use the phrase “stressed out”.

He said he just wanted to go home and go to bed because he was super tired since he hadn't been able to sleep the night before.

He wasn’t very talkative....which worried me even more...but I finally managed to coax the story out of him....

Basically, a bunch of 13 year old boys and a couple of 13 year old girls were goofing around having a water fight outside behind the girls’ bathroom...because that's what 13 year old children do. The girls took off into the bathroom and the boys knocked a bunch of times on a window (that was 7ft up off the ground ....and The Boy wants me to add that it was tinted and all the girls were in their bathing suits)and yelled at the girls to come back out. Some other girls who were in there opened the window and yelled at the boys to bugger off...and so they did. These girls went back to their cabin and told some other girls and they all decided that they had been harassed and marched en masse to the teachers to tell on the boys...because that's what 13 year old children do.

The teachers, in turn, rounded up the young dudes and proceeded to yell at them and berate them and threaten them with suspension and in the end, the boys were confined to their cabin for the rest to the trip, thereby missing out on all the best stuff that was left for the last night/day.

All because they knocked on the window of a girls’ bathroom.

I guess the part that the teachers took issue with is that the girls insisted that the boys were using a stick to try to pry open the window (that was 7ft up off the ground) and the boys maintained that there was no stick involved, they just were knocking with their hands.

The teachers told the boys (repeatedly...and with their big man outdoor voices) that the girls were far more trustworthy than they were, so, obviously, the boys were lying.

The boys were confined to their cabin for the next 18 hours and threatened with suspension if they didn't admit that there was indeed a stick involved. (Apparently, The Boy was the (alleged) Stick Wielder.)

No room for discussion.

End of story.

I asked The Boy if there had been a stick involved ...

And, he said no.

And, I believed him.

The Boy can be silly...and goofy...and annoying...and a complete pain in the ass.

The Boy is not a liar.

I was having a very difficult time wrapping my head around the fact that these kids had been yelled at and threatened and called liars and segregated and forced to miss out on the bulk of the trip's activities .....because they knocked on the window of the girls’ bathroom.

The punishment didn't really fit the crime.

So, wanting to hear the other side of this sordid tale, I called the school to speak with The Boy’s teacher....who had gone home. Then I tried the Principal....who was in a meeting. I'd have to wait till Monday.

Over the course of the weekend, The Boy was quiet and withdrawn and ate very little...all very out of character for him.

Sunday evening, I received calls from two of the other miscreants’ mums and it turned out that I was not the only one who was a bit baffled by how the situation had been handled. (Four of the original seven “guilty” boys had, one by one, been let out of the cabin and allowed to rejoin the activities...leaving the three “most” guilty boys there for the duration.) These two mums had decided to keep their kids home from school until everything had been sorted out.

I felt that was a good plan and let The Boy know that he didn't have to go to school the next day...that news inspired his first smile since he returned from camp. I could feel the relief as it radiated from the centre of his very being...and I'm not even being all that overly dramatic...well...not much anyway :)

Monday morning, I called the Principal again and left a message informing her that The Boy was feeling too anxious to go to school and that I needed to speak with her. She called me back and listened to my concerns and was very understanding and agreed that the teachers had been out of line with their behaviour.

I asked if  it would be possible for the boys to receive some sort of apology for having to endure such harsh reprimands and, most of all, for missing out on all the good stuff and she could I bring The Boy into school so, the whole class could get a pep talk and be encouraged to put the past in the past and to enjoy the rest of their school year?

I said, “ummmmmmm....well....not today. How ’bout tomorrow?”

Apparently, I was too easily assuaged because one of the other mums had an actual in-person meeting with the Principal AND one of the teachers and that teacher refused to cough up an apology, so the mum said to her son, “Ok, ‘B’, let’s go home.” and proceeded to take her kid home, where, she informed them, he would stay until such time that he received a public apology from the teacher.

Later that afternoon, this mum got a phone call from the teacher explaining that upon further investigation, the girls re-examined their story and, it turned out that ‘B’ was NOT involved and he would receive an apology in class.


Sounded kinda fishy to me, but I decided to let it go and carry on with our lives, confident in the knowledge that The Boy was telling the truth and that he knows we love him and trust him and support him...even if his teachers are mean ol’ yell-y, girl-favouring jerks.

And, because I am so very skilled and accomplished at letting things go and carrying on...

I wrote a letter...

...’cause it's what I do :)

Dear Mr. Yell-y and  Mr. Yell-y-er,

Two weeks ago, I dropped a young boy off in front of ------- Public School. A young boy who had spent all weekend gathering up and organizing his gear in preparation for his grade 8 camping trip. A young boy who was beside himself with excitement, since this was a trip he had been looking forward to for literally as long as he could remember. A young boy who, for weeks, had been going on and on ...and on...and only this particular young boy can... about how he couldn't wait for the Inuit blanket toss that his older sister had told him all about....he was sure it was going to be the best part of the whole entire trip and he was especially excited about seeing his friend, “L”, have his turn because they'd really be able to bounce him high because “he's so little and would probably get some pretty huge air“.

I left that excited young boy amongst his classmates and their duffle bags, sleeping bags and vibrating anticipation and I went off to work with a huge smile on my face not only because I knew he was going to have an incredible time but because as I turned to leave, he waved and shouted "Love you, Mum!" front of all his friends...which was really quite something.

 4 days later, I arrived back at -------- Public School extremely excited to see that excited young boy with his big smiley face and listen to all the intricately detailed stories he would no doubt have to share about all the awesome experiences he had during his time at Kandalore.

That's not what I saw.

Instead, I saw a pale dejected sad little boy hurrying across the parking lot dragging all his stuff behind him.

There was no big smiley face.

There were tears.

There were sobs.

There were intricately detailed stories...but not recounting all the fun he had had.

These stories relayed details of playing with friends and knocking on a window. These stories told of being accused of things that didn't happen and of not being listened to and of being yelled at and of not being listened to and being yelled at and not being believed and of being threatened with suspension and of being yelled at and of not being able to sleep because of being so upset and of not being able to eat because he had such bad cramps because he was so upset and of not leaving the cabin to go to the bathroom for fear of getting yelled at even more and of being confined to his cabin while almost everyone else got to play manhunt and take pictures and do the Inuit Blanket Toss.

These were not the stories I wanted to hear. These are not the stories any parent wants to hear.

I was not there, so I do not know, nor will I ever know, exactly what happened during the time my son spent at Camp Kandalore, in your care.

But I do know this. The young boy I picked up on that Friday afternoon was not the same boy I dropped off 4 days prior.

I do know that young boy was quiet and withdrawn and tired and scarcely ate for the days immediately following his time spent at Camp Kandalore, in your care.

I do know that while you may find the word of some students who you've known for 9 months to be more honest and trustworthy than others, I have known “J” for 13 years and not once ... NOT ONCE...has he given me cause to not trust his word.

 I DO know, probably more than anyone, that “J” can sometimes be too silly and beyond goofy and can push things too far and he can be a complete and utter jackass.

But the one thing that “J” is NOT ... is a liar.

To be labelled one by two men he respected has hurt him deeply.

To be yelled at and threatened and bullied by two men he respected has hurt him deeply.

To be subjected to what amounts to a public shaming by two men he respected has hurt him deeply.

I am horribly disappointed and more than a little bit disturbed by the way you both chose to handle/mishandle this situation. Your methods were heavy handed and completely inappropriate.

He is a young boy who knocked on a window... with a hand or with a stick, doesn't really matter .... and you treated him like a criminal. What should've been the pinnacle of his elementary school career is now a black mark that will never be erased.

My children have attended -------- since 2001 and I, myself, am a -------- graduate. I have volunteered countless hours when my children were in the primary/junior grades and their father has bbq'd every spring and coached hundreds of -------- students in wrestling over the past several years - both boys and their "inherently more trustworthy female counterparts". We are a family who has contributed to the school that we held very dear. I am just so sad that it is on this note that we wrap up our years at this school.

A disappointed parent.
A disillusioned young boy.

Hugs n’ Kisses,
(I didn't really)

p.s. How is it that the same honest and trustworthy students, whose 'word' served as a catalyst for this whole unfortunate incident, upon further investigation concluded that one of the 3 culprits actually wasn't really a culprit after all?? And that boy has since been exonerated. Does that mean that their original story that implicated all 3 boys wasn't actually entirely true?? Doesn't sound very honest or trustworthy ... or me.

So, I hand delivered 2 copies of the for each of the teachers involved... to the Principal and waited to see what would happen...

That same day, when I picked The Boy up from school, I was giddy with anticipation.

“So....did Mr. Meanie and/or Mr. Meanier take you aside and fall down on their knees and beg you for your forgiveness and tell you that your mother writes one hell of a letter?”



Not really what I had been going for but I am a patient woman (??!!!) so I sat back and waited.

...and waited.
...and waited.
...and stewed.
...and waited.
...and stewed.

And then FIVE long days later...!!!???...I got a phone call from a very nervous, very young sounding, Mr. Yell-y Meanie Man, who is The Boy’s classroom teacher. He gave me a wonderfully heartfelt apology and actually thanked me for writing that letter...No thanks necessary, young man. Remember?? It's what I do :)

He's a pretty young dude and has really just started his teaching career and he's a brand new dad and he sounded so genuinely sad and sorry that I quickly kicked into “mummy mode” with him and started to feel all protective of him and his feelings.

I'm a sucker for repentance.

In the end,  I couldn't have scripted a better was that great and I was completely satisfied and grateful for his words and he said that he would apologize to The Boy...and he did.

I feel a bit better about everything...kinda....but what still gets me the most is that these young guys missed out on such an incredible experience at camp and they won't get another chance to create those particular memories.


Even more importantly... and even more the loss of innocence. The Boy, who is a gentle kind and generous soul, now has a pretty significant shadow cast on his limited (and beautifully charmed) existence.

There’s cynicism now where there was trust and respect...and that’s sad.

He's bounced back and will, of course, create many many MANY more wonderful experiences and memories...which is beautiful. But that first taste of bitterness has been had and I'm really angry at those men for serving it up with such casual disregard.


End of Rant.

P.S. Now, I've yet to hear anything from Mr. Yell-y-er Meanier Man....and since tonight is The Boy’s Grad...!!!!.... I doubt I will...which is too bad. I don't like not liking people but I'm having a hard time mustering up any nicey niceys about this guy. It doesn't help matters any that I was chatting with The Boy’s best friend’s mum and her story was even worse...apparently The Boy had held back a bit in his recounting of events because this pal had told his mum that the teacher who hasn't apologized was the nastiest and had The Boy backed into a corner and was leaning over him yelling at him calling him a liar .... Not a great visual for me....I feel another letter coming on...

It's what I do.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

I'm Innocent!! I Swear!! I Am NOT a Plague Riser!!!

Ok...something crazy just happened and I feel an overwhelmingly desperate need to offer up an explanation in order to clear my good name...

To set the stage:
Remember a few weeks ago I let everybody know that my wonderfully awesome friend sent me a personalized autographed copy of “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir)” by: Jenny Lawson... and how excited I was because Jenny Lawson is one of my most favourite bloggers in the whole Universe and I've even referred to her in a couple of posts. today, I'm spending the day hanging out with The Girl at The Royal Victoria Hospital. Right now, we're in the aptly named “Gowned Waiting Room”...yep...You heard right...the "Gowned Waiting Room". Needless to say, it's pretty surreal to be surrounded by a dozen or so people wearing nothing but hospital gowns...eek

To explain:
The Girl, at 15 1/2 years old, is a retired Canadian Gold/Gold/Silver Medal winning wrestler who has competed in Mexico at the Pan Am Wrestling Championships and has toured Eastern Europe with her wrestling club. As a wrestler, she has had her nose broken several times and those breaks have resulted in a rather significant deviation of her septum AND a big ol’ bump on the bridge of her schnozzola. This rather significant deviation of her septum has caused some rather significant breathing issues which, in turn, have caused some pretty annoying health issues. And the big ol’ bump on the bridge of her schnoz has caused some rather significant teenage girl vanity we’re here at the hospital in the “Gowned Waiting Room” waiting for her to undergo a “Septorhinoplasty”(aka “Nose Job”). I'm hanging out with a bunch of semi-clad people (FYI-The Girl is the youngest Gowned Person by a good 45-50 years...yikes) and I'm passing the time ...and keeping my eyes averted...reading Jenny Lawson’s hilarious book. I was reading merrily along and I got to the part where she explains that her poor pug “died valiantly of a wasp bite/snakebite/shark attack” .... And I thought “WHOAH!!! In my 3rd last blog post I wished my cat grievous injury by way of shark attack ....Jenny and I are like supremely talented literary twins”. And The Girl and I had a little chuckle about that.


A page or two later she refers to her cats as ASSHOLES!!!!????


She says ”......Or because these cats are assholes. I'm leaning toward the latter, because these same cats just murdered Hailey’s pet frogs today. It was a goddamn massacre.”

While The Begowned Girl is further impressed that my hilariousness is on par with that of The Bloggess, I am horrified that people might think that I'm ripping Jenny Lawson off....YIKES!!!!


I thought all that shark attack/asshole cat stuff up all on my very own.

My cat IS a total asshole!!!

And he kills stuff!!!

And I kinda wished he'd lose a limb in an unfortunate shark attack.

I didn't need Jenny Lawson as inspiration...the flurry of goldfinch feathers and the death squeals of the chippy are inspiration enough for me.

Please don't take this as evidence that I am a plague riser <---BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ....apparently, I spelled ‘plagiarist’ incorrectly and that's what autocorrect gave me...’plague riser’...Yep.

Works for me. :)

YAY!!!! I'm cheered up already.


Plague riser.

Hee Hee Hee

Anyhow... Please don't take this similarity in writing style as evidence that I am one who plagiarizes because I lack the ability to be original.

Instead, please take this as further evidence that cats are assholes. 

Yet another reason why I hate my cat.


 p.s. The Girl pulled through A-OK...bleeding and bruised but she is one tough cookie and is a sweet and appreciative patient :) Love you, Baby!!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Birds Are Assholes.

"Why I Hate Birds"
by: squirrel_e_girl

I hate birds because birds are assholes.

You wanna know why birds are assholes??

They’re assholes because they are birds.

And birds wake up super early.

4:37 a.m. to be exact.


And birds make way too much noise with all their happy birdie singing and chirping.

At 4:37 a.m.

And they make all that cheery ruckus right outside my bedroom windows and they are so f&@king loud that they drown out both my white noise machine AND a ceiling fan on high.

And they wake me up.

At 4:37.


That is why I hate birds.


p.s. Yes, I have a machine that makes white noise. I have sleep issues so get off my back (this gadget also makes heartbeat noise and thunderstorm noise and running stream noise and ocean wave noise and a bunch of other noises, including songbird noise...???...If I wanted stupid songbird noise I'd turn the stupid machine off and listen to the choir of assholes that hang out outside my window.)

p.p.s. I spend from 4:37am-7:00 am with a pillow over my head in an effort to get back to sleep. This effort meets with slight to moderate success.

FYI-Feather pillows are far more effective at blocking out stupid bird singing noises than either foam pillows or buckwheat pillows. I find that kinda funny.

p.p.p.s. I'm thinking I may have to put my bird feeders back up again and let Rowdy take care of my bird problem which, in turn, may just distract him from killing chipmunks. Voila!! Problem Solved!! One could say that i was killing two birds with one stone....muah ha ha!!

p.p.p.p.s. Just jokin'.

p.p.p.p.p.s. Or am I??


Speaking of assholes...

Sunday, June 10, 2012

To Speedo or Not To Speedo, That is the Question.

Over the years, I've had a bit of an on again/off again... primarily off again ...relationship with Fred Rogers... You may know him from a little community cable show called "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood".

Growing up, I lived in the country so, automatically, I was a reluctant member of the "Kids Without Cable Club". Kinda like the "Mickey Mouse Club" but different...we didn't have a catchy theme song and we certainly didn't have any funky hats. If you weren't  a member, you didn't miss much. It was a crap club.

As a preschooler, the only fellas I had to help wile away my post-breakfast/pre-lunch hours were The Friendly Giant  and Mr. Dress Up. Mr. Rogers hadn't made it up into my neck of the woods. I'm not even sure when I first met Fred, he kind of just weaseled his way into my collective consciousness. Maybe I caught an occasional glimpse of him when I was visiting my cousin who lived in Streetsville and had waaaaaayyy more channels than I did. She had at least 8, maybe even 9. I'm not sure if she actually had cable or just lived further south than me and therefore was closer to the States so her rabbit ears could pick up some American signals...dunno... but I clearly remember meeting Captain Kangaroo and Commander Tom at her house...

waaaaiiiiit a minute...

Why were all the children's show hosts creepy middle-aged dudes??

That's creepy.

Speaking of creepy,  I'll get back to the actual subject of this post, Mr. Rogers...

Actually, here's a quick aside...

~A Quick Aside/Stream of Consciousness Tangent- Remember Eddie Murphy's sketch on Saturday Night Live called Mr Robinson's Neighborhood?? Awesome.~

Ok...back to creepy.

I began to spend a bit more time with Fred after my daughter was born. She kinda liked him, so every now and then we'd watch. I don't know why but that show always made me a little uncomfortable and never more so than when he did an episode that followed him as he went through his daily ritual of going to the pool in order to swim some lengths.

It was perhaps the weirdest 10 minutes of television I'd ever seen.

The camera actually followed him into the change room where he slipped into his Speedo, which was weird enough in and of itself, but THEN there was an underwater shot of him swimming above the camera in his SPEEDO...

Mr. Rogers in a SPEEDO.

Swimming above the camera.

That image was burned indelibly into my brain and has stuck with me through thick and thin for over 14 years (which is slightly longer than my dumb Erstwhile Husband did...BAM!). I think it  might've robbed me of several years of my life...and I think it also explains one or two of my current mental health issues.

The thing is, no one else had ever witnessed it and everyone would look at me kinda strange-like whenever I'd bring it up. So, eventually, I just buried it deep down inside my squirrelly little brain and tried, in vain, to forget all about it.

Until last week...

I saw a video on Facebook (which I'll get to later) that brought it and all its beSpeedo'd splendour back up to the forefront of my mind. I needed to prove to myself that this episode actually existed and wasn't something I had made up in my state of early motherhood sleep deprivation.

So, being the Internet Genius that I am, I did some Internet Investigation and did, in fact, find a video of  Mr. Rogers swimming ...but he was wearing plain ol swimming trunks NOT a Speedo ...damn...AND he was swimming with a boy.


Isn't that one of the creepiest things you have EVER seen. And what's with the music??

As bizarre as that clip is, I wasn't convinced that I was looney enough to have morphed plain ol' swim trunks into a yucky Speedo, so I dug a little deeper and came up with.....

THIS!!!!  <----- for full impact of THIS!!! please click on that link. Thank you.

Check out the screenshots about mid-way through the page. There is a pic of him swimming and those are definitely NOT plain ol' swim trunks.


I'll actually copy and paste an excerpt from a book some lady wrote about Mr. Rogers and refers specifically to a Speedo.

HA!! I'm NOT a looney.

See for yourself:

  • As for the footage of Mister Rogers' swim, I think Amy Hollingsworth touches on this perfectly in her bookThe Simple Faith of Mister Rogers:
    Even when he showed us something he was good at -- his diaily discipline of swimming -- he demonstrated another side of his vulnerability. He wanted to show his television neighbor where he swam each day, so a camera followed him to the locker room and shot him as he took off his suit and bow tie (we saw him from the shoulders up, but we still knew he was disrobing). He donned a real swimming suit, not the long bathing trunks used for leisurely swims. He slid off the rim of the pool, and the underwater camera showed his pale body swimming to and fro, muscles lilting. He was all alone in the water: no cardigan, no blue sneakers -- just Mister Rogers in a Speedo. The images were underlaid with dulcet music and were almost lyrical to watch, but equally difficult. You almost felt like you should look away, he was so vulnerably exposed; but that was Fred, laying bare his best gift, his honest self.


I actually think that SHE is the one who is a bit looney.

What she sees as vulnerable and honest I saw as creepy and super crazy disturbing.

Chacun son gout, I guess.

Now that I've established that I am totally and completely normal ...har proving that Fred Rogers did some f&*king creepy stuff...

 ... I will go on to explain how I've forgiven Fred for scarring me for life and actually admit that I've developed a sort of begrudging fondness of and appreciation for the man.

A couple of weeks ago, I was spending far too much time looking a cool stuff on Pinterest and I happened upon this picture:

I LOVED THIS!! And it kinda began to melt the icy grossed-outtedness I had felt towards good old Fred for over a decade.

So, last week, when I watched the video I mentioned earlier in the post, my anti-Mr Rogers resolve had already begun to weaken.

Here is that video:

Isn't that a weird auto-tuned creepy kinda way??

Fred Rogers, you are A-OK in my book.

You were a good man who did good (and creepy) things.

Well Done.


Saturday, June 9, 2012

The Name's Genius. Internet Genius.

I just uploaded a video to YouTube for the very first time in my whole entire life.

Oh yeah.

*Please see previous post for proof of my astounding internet savvy...not to mention my kickass videography. BAM.

My Cat is an Asshole.

WARNING: This post contains scenes of violence and profane language that may offend some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

“Why I Hate My Cat” 
by: squirrel_e_girl

I hate my cat because he is an asshole.

You wanna know why he's an asshole??

He's an asshole because he is a cat.

And cats kill things.


He is an asshole who sucks little bits of joy out of my life so I guess that makes him a sort of vampire cat ....who is also an asshole.

He is a VAC (vampire asshole cat).

This spring, my asshole cat (whom I used to affectionately refer to as Rowdy) developed a particular fondness for wee Goldfinches. He would fling himself up into the air and snatch the poor unsuspecting finchies as they made their merry birdie way to my bird feeder to enjoy a tasty snack. It was quite a sight to behold and I beheld it only twice before my feelings of guilt got the better of me.

The aerial carnage was too much for me.

I couldn't live with the fact that my bird feeders were supplying my murderous ninja asshole cat a near constant supply of feathery fare. It was like shooting fish in a barrel...only it was more like slaughtering finches at a bird feeder.

Those of you who have been with me for awhile are well aware of how much I love(d) watching birds eat. It was with a heavy heart that I took my bird feeders down and retired them to a shelf in the garage...where they will stay until stupid Asshole Cat croaks or loses a leg in an unfortunate shark attack either of which would render him incapable of murdering birds.

And ever since I cut-off his supply of poultry, Asshole Cat has lowered his sights and now focuses his murderous ways on the  ground.

You know who lives on the ground??


You know what I love even more than watching birds eat??



Last week, I had the horrible misfortune of having to listen helplessly as Asshole Cat killed a chipmunk he had expertly trapped under our deck .... Chipmunks do not go down quietly. Poor thing. :(

And this morning, whilst watering my flowers, I caught a small flurry of activity out of the corner of my eye. That small flurry of activity just happened to be Asshole Cat in the process of murdering yet another chipmunk.


Hoping to distract him from his nefarious task, I ran towards him, screaming like a one of those guys in Braveheart. He didn't even flinch so I pitched the water from my watering jug at him and he dropped the chippy but was lightning fast and snatched it right back up again.

Undaunted, I then hurled the actual watering jug itself at him. Unfortunately, it is a flimsy plastic Ikea product and, as such, not a very effective projectile. Also, as mentioned in a previous post, I am somewhat lacking in any sort of throwing skills so that lack of skill, coupled with the Swedes' lack of foresight when designing hefty watering jugs/chipmunk murder deterrents, made for a rather dismal show of preventative aggression.


Luckily, I must've confused him with my jaw-droppingly awesome throw because he slackened his chomp on his adorable prey and it quickly slipped out from between his sharp pointy cat teeth and scampered, at an astonishingly high rate of speed, up the nearest tree to safety. Mind you, I did have to wrestle his would-be murderer to the ground as he shot up the tree after it.

The whole incident left me very unhappy.

And that is why I hate my cat.


For now...

I'll most likely forgive him soon and not hate him because he really is one of the coolest sweetest kitties I've ever met...he just also happens to kill goldfinches and chipmunks.


Here is video evidence of his assholery:

Thursday, June 7, 2012



My blog now has a brand new official theme song!!!

 ...not that it ever had an original official theme song, but still.

And it's all thanks to some Jay character (I have absolutely no idea who he is) who was referenced by another person who commented on a picture a Friend Friend tagged me in.(I've no idea who she is either...the picture commenter, not my Friend Friend...I know who she is...and she's f$&king kickass).

Thank You, Jay. Whoever you are!!

And thanks, too, to my Friend Friend's Friend for referring to Jay!!

And, thanks, thrice, to my kickass Friend Friend!!

I may...or more probably, may not since I am able to upload the picture that has caused such a commotion. If I AM able to then it'll go right here:


But, as excellent as that picture is, it's not what I'm here to talk about.

Are you ready, kids??

Aye Aye, Captain!!


My Blog’s Brand New Official Theme Song is.....

"I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry....only it’s not for the first reason that probably immediately popped into your sweet pervy little minds...

So, what word rhymes with “Girl”???

BINGO!!!'s not Bingo ....obvs.


"SQUIRREL" rhymes with “Girl”!!!

That's right.

Awesome. I know.

So, now whenever you hear that familiar refrain: “I kissed a girl and I liked it!!” you must substitute “SQUIRREL” for “girl”.


“I kissed a SQUIRREL and I liked it!!!”


p.s Now for something completely different:(it's amazing just how many covers of "I Kissed a Squirrel" there are out there. Who knew??)

That one is by an Israeli dude named Ivri Lider ...although he may not be Israeli, it just says that this song was popular on Israeli radio so I'm drawing my own conclusions.

That one is by who the hell knows because I can't find it anymore...perhaps it says on the actual video?? It's pretty great regardless of who these fellers are.

p.p.s. I wrote this post in record time so I apologize if it's not as polished and refined as my 'work' usually is ;)

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Schnauzers and Cat Barf and Bears. Oh My?

Alternately Titled: "I Am Nothing...If Not Random."

This is not a real post, just a few random thoughts and things that I feel like sharing today.

Some ”musings”, if you will.

From the squirrel cage.

That said, here’s...

"A Comprehensive List of Random 'Musings'(if you will) That I Feel Like Sharing Today"
by: squirrel_e_girl

  • iContinue to feed my iTunes habit with the addition of a kickass blast from my past that goes by the name “The Hurting” by Tears for Fears ....oh f#%king yeah...AND... “The Style Council: Greatest Hits” by (you guessed it) The Style Council...I probably should've been more selective in my selection since apparently, I really only find 74.62% (approx.) of their greatest hits to be all that great and the others I don't particularly care for. Damn...AND... 6 songs off of “The Very Best of Grateful Dead” by (yep) Grateful see how I've learned to pick and choose and saved myself $8 worth of “DOH! I don't particularly care for this song. Wish I hadn't bought it”...AND... in keeping with my Dead-ish mood... a live version of “Bouncing Around the Room” by Phish...very fun and.... bouncy.  
  • I highly recommend that everyone rush over to their friendly neighbourhood  iTunes account this very instant and download “Barton Hollow” by The Civil Wars ....the ENTIRE album, NOT just a couple of songs. It is SPECTACULAR really truly is. Really Really. Here is but a tiny taste of what your ears will be treated to: Barton Hollow
  • Take it from me, a Black Bear runs really super crazy fast. 
  • I am horribly disappointed...HORRIBLY DISAPPOINTED!!! the way The Boy and some of his friends were treated by their teachers while away at their much-anticipated Grade 8  camping trip (and, subsequently, by the way the situation was handled by the Principal when they returned). A small insignificant incident was blown way way WAY out of proportion and to say that this incident was handled inappropriately (as ‘admitted’ by said Principal) would be putting mildly. I'm struggling with how to put the injustice of the whole situation behind me but I will and I just needed to vent a little bit. I now will reassume my usual clever, witty and devil may care manner :) 
  • We are going to a wedding dance tonight and I guess I was feeling a bit  masochistic, so  I tried on the sundress that I wore to a wedding 5 years ago...and, by some Universe-mandated miracle, it still fits. WAHOOoooOOOoOO!! I’m not going to wear it ’cause it's chilly as a bastard today, but fits :) 
  • Watching an 80lb Giant Schnauzer forcibly 'hug' and then hump the bejeezus out of my wee little 20lb Wheaten/Mini Schnauzer mix is as amusing as it is annoying ....Sorry, Willow. I always do drag her off as soon as I finish my quick giggle. 
  • I feel I must add “Grooming my dogs with clippers” to my "A Comprehensive List of Stuff That I Am Really REALLY Crap At and Will Never Be Good At...EVER" ...I suck so so so bad at it that it's pretty hilarious and is why I will go back to paying a professional groomer to cut my dogs' hair. Also, while I'm at it, I am crap at unloading a full clean dishwasher. And, who’s kidding who...when I said I was crap at transferring clean folded clothes from laundry basket to my closet, I should've said I am crap at transferring my clothes from the dryer to anywhere. Even getting my clothes from the washing machine to the dryer can be a struggle. Even getting my clothes into the washing machine...even getting my clothes into my dirty laundry hamper...damn. I am crap at all things “Laundry”. Period. Laundry. Dishes. Dogs. 
  • My Guy awoke this morning to find that one of our cats had barfed on top of his laptop....super gross, I know, but at least it was closed at the time of the upchuck.This afternoon, I tried to start it up (in order to write a real blog post with pictures of ducks and turkeys and everything).... to no avail which is super frustrating especially since it is his computer from work and on Monday, he'll have to go to his IT department and explain that a cat regurgitated on their computer . It is interesting to note, however, that the computer in question is a ToughBook. For those of you who do not want to take the extra step of clicking on that link, ToughBook is described by Wikipedia as “a trademarked brand name owned by Panasonic Corporation and refers to its line of rugged computers. The Toughbook is designed to withstand vibration, drops, spills, extreme temperature, and other rough handling.[1]” and  “Toughbooks” have also inadvertently served as bulletproof vests.[6]”. I am extraordinarily tickled by the fact that this tank of a laptop was brought to its bulletproof knees by a 6 lb stripey kitty cat. Awesome. My Guy fails to see the awesomeness in this situation. Yet. 
  • Whereas, My Guy awoke to find his ToughBook decorated with a pile of cat vomit, I awoke to a pretty flowery bubblewrap envelope containing one of the most thoughtful and most excellent gifts I have ever received!!! A wonderfully AWESOME friend/Kindred Spirit sent me a personalized autographed copy of “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir)” by Jenny Lawson aka The Bloggess ... one of my most favourite bloggers in the entire Universe. I am a lucky lucky LUCKY girl!!!

That is all.

p.s. I am worried about my brain...only after a dozen and a half or so read-throughs of my published post did I notice that I had used the wrong "Principal" ... I had originally used "Principle". May not seem like a big deal to you but I was mortified...and greatly relieved to have caught my error.

And "Loser" by Beck is a masterpiece.

That is all.


For Now.