Strangers in the Night...

Bonjour,
I'm evidently not the most dedicated blogger as it's been yonkers since I've posted my last blog. To let you know what I've been up to:
I played at the World Cup
Slept with Jon Gosslin (again)
Threw some poop in American Apparel at the G20 and snorted some volcanic ash. Anyhoo, I'm back and I've got a boeuf. Yup a bouef. Dexter is now 3 months and is cute as anything, really becoming a little hilarious baby. Of course, like any hilarious little babies, he has not- so-hilarious, meltdowns. The other day I was in Shoppers Drug Mart and one such meltdown occured. I knew why, it was time for him to eat but I was forcing him to stay out because I had shit to do. Anyhow, he's SCREAMING like I was poking him with a hot iron rod (which is how I got pregnant in the first place. HII OHHHHH) and of course everyone is staring and giving me those "oh poor you looks" when to be honest, I don't really care if he's screaming. I mean, he's a baby and it happens and there's no need for sympathy or empathy or apathy or anything ending in thy. Needless to say, a woman in front of me turns to me and says , "Oh dear, I really think he's hungry." REALLY? You don't fucking say. Thanks for that profound parenting tip stranger with dry genitals (she was buying Vagisil, for real). So I race out of the Shoppers because I'm afraid my inner thoughts might become outer soon and I don't need another public confrontation with a stranger again(please refer to my real life story about a swearing match I had with an Angela Lansbury look-a-like at Compuserve, posted on Facebook).
I get home and take him to the Breast-aurant and all is good.
The next day I go to Sobey's (because my life is about baby and chores at the moment) and this super weird cashier, who I try to avoid when I need to by groceries, starts cooing and talking to Dex. To give you an idea of how weird Toula is (that's her name) she sort of looks like a cross between an old Angelica Houston and a bearded dragon, in other words, very amphibious. On top of that, she has possibly the worst bangs I've ever seen. I wouldn't be so mean about her looks if she wasn't such a douche baguette. I've seen her get annoyed with bag boys, she got pissed at another cashier for borrowing her pen and she even told me to hurry up when I was packing my groceries. So there's Angelica Lizard talking to my baby. She asks me what his name is, I tell her "Dexter". "Oh" she replies, "my friend has a dog named Dexter. That's a dogs name." "Right, I guess so", I respond........."Toula". Like what the eff kind of a name is Toula anyhow but that's besides the point. Am I wrong to think it's rude for a stranger to tell you that your child has a dogs name? I know there's lots of animals with dogs names like Max, or Bailey or Mr.BoJangles but it's just not polite to tell a stranger that their baby has a dogs name. Maybe that stupid dog has a baby's name, has she ever thought of that? Anyhow, my bouef is with strangers who mess with you and your baby. Either tell me how cute he is or eff off. So that's my bouef for the moment. Other than that, things are good. I love summer and Mat leave. Stay tuned for more amazing blog posts brought to you my an amazing woman.

Flashdance

I have a mini-hangover. I probably shouldn't, since I"m breastfeeding but I honestly didn't think a pint and a half was going to get me drunk! I mean, I have french-canadian heritage and it's not like I'm morman, I've been drinking for a while. Anyhow, I've let my people down because I managed to get partially wasted last night at a patio, on a pint and a half. I met Will after work with the baby and we brought him to his first patio. Not Will....the baby, I can't figure out if that's totally irresponsible and white trash or avant-guarde and European. I don't really care, Momma just needed to get her drink on.
Needless to say, I'm up at the anus of dawn (that comes before the crack) to parent Dexter and my head is banging. Welcome back old friend hangover. It's been a long time buddy.
So anyhow, I've left Dexter in the capable hands of the cats, so who says drinking and parenting don't mix?

It's actually amazing how the minute you have a kid, something that wouldn't have really phased you that much prior to parenthood, now really gets under your skin. Let me tell you a story.
Last week I went to Tim Hortons at Main and Danforth (at 9am), here in the beautiful burrow of East York, Toronto. Now our neighborhood isn't the complete ghetto, but there are some real dirtbags circling around: like a bunch of seaguls over roadkill. Normally I take no notice of said dirtbags but something compelled me to glance to my left, as I pushed the buggy out of Tim Horton's and down the road. What did I see? One of East York's finest, taking a pee, in a planter put there by the city to house beautiful flower arrangements. Ok, if I saw this particular rastifarian at 2am peeing in the planter, I probably wouldn't have thought much of it, but it was 9am and I had to look at his GIANT clanger while he relieved himself. Gross. It just seemed even worse because I was pushing a baby. Well my immediate reaction was to just yell at him. I spat out, "Awww, you're disgusting!" I probably shouldn't have done that because then he flashed me a toothless grin and started to shake it at me! As if. I immediately decided that I was not going to raise my beautiful baby around such grossness and went home and went on MLS to look for a different house. I called WIll and told him we were moving. He laughed and told me to calm down. The funny thing is, this is the second time in about 14 months that a man has shown me his schlonger. A guy came out of the alleyway behind the subway station last year and had his dink out of his pants and shook it at me. Honestly, I never got so much dick in my life until I moved to East York. Needless to say I've since calmed down and decided not to move but if I see one more penis (that I haven't paid to see) we're outta here.

I have to go and eat bacon now and drink diet coke. It's the only cure.