funny story

When somebody you love does something truly disgusting.

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“The face you make when you’re trying to act like it didn’t happen.”

Last week my niece called me at work in the middle of the afternoon. My heart skipped a bit and my mind automatically went into overdrive: Something terrible must have happened. Did something terrible happened? OMG! Something terrible did happen….(Yeah as you can see I have issues…🙄😂).

Me: “Are you all right?”

Niece: “Yes, of course!”

Me: “Then why are you calling me in the middle of the day at work?”

She never calls me mid-day weekdays. She either calls me early morning while walking her dog Yuki or late at night. Never in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.”

Niece:” Don’t worry, nobody died! But guess what?”

Me: “What? Spit it out!”

Niece: “Yuki just ate a dead rat.”

Me: “Ewww! Yuki is badass! I am both disgusted and impressed.”

It’s like learning somebody you took for granted cheated. You’re both disgusted and secretly impressed.

Niece: “Don’t say that! I am horrified and traumatized. I’ll never look at her the same ever again”.

(Soft dramatic music playing…😂😌)

Me: “I understand. It’s like overhearing your preteen talk about sex. Something is lost that can never be recovered.”

Niece: “OMG! That’s exactly how I feel!”

Me: ” But where would she find a dead rat though?”

Niece: “We were walking on the beach when we saw the dead rat. Before I knew it she lunges forward, grabs it and run. I tried to stop her but she ran away from me. Can you believe it? The little rascal ran away from me!”

Me: “Makes sense….maybe she didn’t want to share.”

Niece: “Don’t joke with that! I am worried!”

Me: “Sorry. Did you call the vet?”

Niece:” Yeah, she said it’ll pass through her poop or vomit. Plus she has a checkup coming up soon so we’ll see…”

She sounded so disappointed at this point and I am trying hard not to laugh.

Niece: “Can’t believe she did that, I am truly horrified!”

Me: “Very disappointing. After all the money you spent teaching her to be human.”

Niece: “I know…..Well I got to go to work now. Talk to you later?”

Me: “Sure! Let me know how it goes and don’t worry, she’ll be fine!”

Apparently Yuki just got her first taste of crime. Just like most people she did not personally commit the crime, she simply benefited from it 😋. I’ll admit Yuki’s not the only one. After learning she was gonna be all right, I immediately hurried to ask for a pic of the rascal for my next blog🤫🙄.

The thing is we all have felt the same in some way when somebody we love and thought we knew displays an offending behavior revealing a side of themselves we either didn’t know existed or refuse to acknowledge. And in that moment we think we’ll never forgive and forget but we do. Love takes over. Not all the time but sometimes it does.

What about you dear reader? When was the last time somebody you love and trust did something truly disgusting. And it doesn’t have to be a pet! Let me know in the comments and Gros bisoux!

Accept the damn compliments and keep it moving!

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“I am one of those people who can’t just accept a compliment and move on. I need to be creative by burying the other person under a pile of outrageous attributes that even a loving grandmother would have troubling believing”…

Yours truly, resident cheerleader of the year

Do you struggle to accept compliments? There could be several reasons. Maybe you have difficulties believing nice things about yourself? Maybe you have resident cheerleader syndrome, meaning you believe your job is to empower people with you of course being the enlightened one?

Here is an excerpt of a typical conversation between me and a female acquaintance:

Scenario 1:

A female colleague is wearing a nice skirt and I, resident cheerleader of the year rush in to sing her praise. As a true Libra I am proud to say we’ve raised cheerleading to an art form. Of course some less enlightened souls would call it relentless ass kissing (namely dear husband who firmly believes one should tell people the truth even if it means social suicide).

Me: “Oh my God! You look absolutely stunning in that skirt”.

Colleague:  “You think so?”

Me: “Yes!”

Coll.: “Not so sure…”

Me: “Of course! I mean look at you!”

Coll.: “Oh, I don’t know. It’s such an old thing…”

Me: “Listen, you look good okay?” I said realizing this could probably last the whole day and I still needed to earn a living. At this point my desire to wrap things up is really strong so I discreetly start looking for the nearest exit. But just then, she turns the whole thing upside down and gives ME a compliment.

Colleague: “Well, what about you, Missy?”

Me: “Yes, what about me?”

Coll.: “Well look at you, you’d look good in that skirt, unlike me!”

Me: “Ooooooh!!! You think so?”

Coll.: “Absolutely! With your perfect butt and all!”

Me: “Oh stop! I’d much prefer to have nice curvy hips like yours?”

Coll.: “Oh no! Why? Trust me you don’t need that in your life.”

Me: “Well, let me tell you when I gain weight I feel like my butt could serve as my personal calling card.”

Coll.: “Oh no! you have the perfect butt!”

Me: “Stop! You’re the prize, not me!”

Coll.: “Noooooo, you are the real deal!”

Me: “Nooooooo! You missy are the business!”

………..

 Well, in case you’re wondering we did manage to get some work done that day…

There’s also Scenario 2 where some people just gobble down the compliment like it’s part of your job description🙄.

All this aside, a lot of us do that. Why do we do that, though? We can’t just accept a compliment and move on. Sometimes you stop to give someone a quick compliment and end up spending the rest of the day trying to convince them you’re not crazy or blind.

What to say then? You could say: “Thank you, you’re so kind!” or “Thank you for noticing!”.

Notice how I am always trying to add something else after the “thank you”🤦🙋. I am afraid it’s time to put this on my list of things to get therapy for……

What about you dear readers? Do you or someone you know do that as well? I want to hear about it!

Gros bisoux and talk soon!

We all have that one item of clothing

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Winter is firmly here. It’s been getting so cold so fast here in Montreal I’ve officially abandoned all dignity and desire to look human in the quest for warmth. I now will wear anything provided it’ll keep me warm, I don’t care if I look like a pregnant mouse. Which brings me to that very potent truth: We all have that one piece of clothing which makes us look like crap that we just can’t seem to be able to get rid of. Mine is a green coat. It is so padded, it could serve as an anti-nuclear shelter.

“When I wear that coat in wintertime it’s not unusual for people to offer me their seats in the subway probably thinking of me as a pregnant lady in great need of a seat.”

Every year, at the end of every Winter I swear I am going to donate it to charity. Yet every year, at the beginning of every Winter I gently pull it out of the back of the closet covered in shame and embarrassment. It has now become an inside joke between me and dear husband.

Dear husband: “I see the mattress is back…”

Me: ” Well, it’s just for today….it’s so cold so soon…besides the name has changed.”

Dear husband: “Really?”

Me: “Yeah, really….this entire look is now called the expensive dumpling look.”

Dear husband: “Wait! I have a better name for it!”

He’s so excited to come up with a fun name he doesn’t notice that if looks could kill, he’d be lying on the floor swimming in his own blood already…

Dear husband: “Wait for it: The walking mattress!”

Only the thought of going back to a dating site with the extra weight I’ve gained in the past two years kept me from murdering him…I remained silent for a good while hoping he’ll noticed he’s not exactly winning points here even if I was the one who started the name calling. Finally some sense seemed to have got into him.

Me: ” C’mon don’t be mad! You’re the one who started this??!!!”

Me: “Just because I started it doesn’t mean you have to finish it (Insert overly emotional person on their period emoji here, I’ll wait). Besides, as I told you countless times, this should serve as a signal for you to start showering me with compliments! “

Dear husband: “!!????” Clear signs of system failure showing on his face…

The poor man can’t win, I know. One thing though, there are three people I would not want to meet while wearing this very special piece of clothing: My ex, my ex’s girlfriend and my worst enemy. Why? Because I believe in winning, God damn it! Which is why I usually keep the hood down when I wear it to prevent face recognition.

Lately I’ve been pushed into a more sporty chic vibe in an effort to steer clear of the dumpling look and migrate more towards the healthy spring roll look. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don’t. When my hormones are properly fed I somehow manage to look like a healthy veggie spring roll. But when it’s that time of the month and my hormones are raging I definitely look like a dumpling. I must admit I was never one to sacrifice comfort for pretty. Although my husband would swear the contrary.

What about you dear readers? What is that one item of clothing you hate but somehow keep wearing? Please do share!

Ensuring your happiness: Asking for what you want

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”…If there was ever an Oscar for insisting on telling me what I absolutely don’t want to hear, I believe my family members would win it.’‘

I believe in establishing protocols for recurring activities, especially when other people are involved and by other people I specifically mean family members.

Why? Well, because this group of people tend to be high risk meaning they have the tendency of telling the thruth combined with a very low tolerance for bullshit. If there was ever an Oscar for insisting on telling me what I absolutely don’t want to hear, I believe my family members would win it. This can be grating long term, especially in days when I really need to be happy. Which can explain why I usually go to great pain to establish some kind of protocol when dealing with the special people in my life.

Situation no 1:

When Me and hubby are watching TV.

Context: So we are watching some random TV show and a super hot chick shows up in a random scene. My jealousy gets the best of me and I start bashing her (I know I should take the high road but I just can’t seem to, so I am allowing myself to wallow in despicable behaviours).

Me: ”Oh my God she is way too skinny….”

The hypocrisy! Considering I just can’t seem to lose these last pesky 10 5 pounds and the said woman is pretty perfect.

Husband: ”Complete silence”

Me: ”She’s too muscular….”. Did you hear what I just said?

Hubby: ”I did! What do you want me to say?”

Me: ”Well, let’s see…you could start by saying that she is way too skinny and that I am hotter than she’ll ever be.”

Hubby: ”You’re kidding, right?”

Me: ”Okay, new protocol alert: When a super hot girl shows up on the screen and I bash her, you have to reassure me and bash her in equal measure…if not more.”

Hubby: ”Are you serious!!!?? You’re impossible!”

Me ”But you love me, don’t you?”

Hubby: ”Yes, honey, you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet and I do love you”.

Me: ”I am touched! Thank you honey, I love you too ”.

Situation no 2

I am out shopping with my beloved ”foot-in-mouth husband”.

Context: The sun is shining and I am feeling lucky. I am at one of my favourite stores and I am grabbing stuff for the changing room. Of course, I only pick medium sizes (I used to be a size small but lately being human just won’t let me go back to that size…Of course, if you ask my husband, he won’t stick to that story).

By now I am heading to the changing room and start trying stuff on. Dear husband, ever the good Samaritan, comes running all helpful and hands me some sizes.

Hubby: ”Here honey!”

Me: ”But these are all large sizes…”

Hubby: ”Yes, I know, just in case….”

Me: ”Oh you mean just in case I forgot I was fat?

As you can see the poor man can’t win here.

Hubby: No, no, it is just that sometimes a larger size may look better!

Of course, like most people whose sole desire is to do good, he is forced to explain himself as if doing good demanded an explanation of some sort. But we all know in the real world, doing good comes with heavy consequences....

Me: :Well, I am not here to look better, I am here to feel better…”

Hubby: ”What? But?”

Me: ”Quick memo: when I am in the changing room, you are only to bring me sizes ranging from small to medium and nothing else.”

His eyes ran quickly up and down the dress I was trying. And yes, I was spilling out of it.

I stared at him for a long, long time and took a very deep breath.

Me: ”And yes, I don’t care if I look like an overstuffed sausage.”

The man seemed lost and I don’t blame him. But sometimes feeling better is more important than looking better. Don’t you agree?

So like I was saying if you want to be happy, you have to ask for it, you have to let them know how you like it. Nobody can read your mind and even if somebody could, they wouldn’t because people are naturally self-centered.

What about you, dear readers? Please tell me I am not the only who does that or I’ll feel like a self-centered little person.

Thank you for passing by and Bisoux.

Hairdresser from hell made me look like a baby dinosaur

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I remember it like it was yesterday when I call to book that hair appointment. I had been thinking about a drastic haircut for a while now. This time I had told myself I wanted to look completely different. A real departure from my usual self. I wanted to feel elevated and posh (Insert pink champagne emoji here). It just happened I used to pass by a certain hair salon all the time on my way to work. To be truthful it looked a bit posh with people coming out of there looking like retired models. I guess I was hoping some of that chic vibe would rub on me. Go figure…

“I could already see myself walking out of there finally looking like my higher self: long, lean, with hair that could double up as a parachute if needs be (I never seem to have enough volume)……..”

 When I called to make the appointment, the clerk made it a point to let me know that the person who does my type of hair is part owner of the salon and does mostly photo shoots and big projects with the likes of artists and such. In other words, I should feel grateful he even accepted to touch my mere mortal head (at this point I am feeling rather emotional and grateful). Fast forward a few days later and I am sitting at the salon waiting for the haircut of my life. First of all, the assistant who shampooed my hair acted like my scalp was made of broken  glass. Although I like a bit of a scrub, I refrained from mentioning it for fear of sounding like I usually get my hair washed by Shrek. After the shampoo she announced the “coiffeur” won”t be long. After her departure, I sat there conscious my life was about to change forever, a historical moment so to speak. Well, my life was about to change all right. 

 “I came in looking like a law abiding citizen and came out looking like a baby dinosaur who just survived a hurricane”

 Finally, the headmaster deigned to gratify my mere mortal broke self of his presence. He looked rather annoyed, like a true artist who’s forced to earn a living while waiting for ‘his art’ to sustain him. I suppose I was not his type of clientele. Nevertheless, he “sucked it up” and got to work. When I tried to show him a few pics I had brought, he silenced me with with a raised eyebrow. I felt as intimidated as if I had interrupted a famous painter. When he finally finished what he probably thought was his “work of art “, he let out a big sigh.  Then and only then did I dare look in the mirror. Shocking. I no longer looked like I belonged in the human species. In fact, I looked like a baby dinosaur who just survived a hurricane.

I was so shocked I didn’t say anything for a good little while. He was beaming. I had become “his creation”. I briefly thought about crying but realized with such a haircut, I would probably look even worse (read: deranged baby dinosaur). I ran my fingers through the few strands of hair I had left and mustered enough courage to ask him how he thought I should style it. His answer: “Just let it do its thing”. My answer: “Ah, I see..”. I had expressed interest in a set of comb upon my arrival, he graciously gifted it to me. He might have realized I was this close to commit murder. Confused, I said thank you and rushed home where I spent the rest of the evening alternating between moments of staring at myself in the mirror trying to look like a cute baby dinosaur  and moments of intense cursing out loud.  

My advice: If you’re not used to the hairdresser and you’re going for a drastic cut, go progressively. This way if the first haircut doesn’t work out you can at least leave your house. Second: Ask to see their work (Obvious, right? Well, apparently not cause I didn’t do any such things…) Did I mention I was a sucker for eccentric and weird human beings? Well, now you know.  I suppose that’s what you get when you have a penchant for incompetent people masquerading as eccentric artists…

What about you lovely readers? I’ d love to hear your own experience…

Thank you very much for liking, commenting and sharing this article and gros bisoux:)