I was in the bathroom bathing my son and the phone rang. I reached over to see who it was on the call display, but I missed it.

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So, I chose not to answer. I hate not knowing who is calling ahead of time, I like to screen my calls.

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I try not to feel like an idiot when I say:

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"Uh, I think someone called me from this number".

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A man's voice answers back in a very thick accent, appologized for dialing the wrong number. He excuses himself again for misdialing, and just as I'm hanging up after saying goodbye, I hear the stranger on the other line say "Bye Michelle".

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It takes me a minute or so to go "HUH?" but I don't dare call back and see how the creepy man with the accent knows my name.

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Parlez vous Francais?

We all make fun of the French. It's natural, easy and just plain fun. Most of the time they deserve it, they're fucking french. BUT, today I am gonna stick up for my frenchie. Our bank had some sort of a fraud problem with one of the vendors that he had used his debit card at. Because of that, they decided to inconvenience hundreds of cardholders by disconnecting their card and not telling anyone.

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Sure, it's real fun to find out your card is not working when you're about to pay for the meal you've just eaten, isn't it? Makes you feel like a first class jerk. Well, that's what happened to JP today. He calls me, panicked "the card's not working, the card's not working." I told him there's nothing wrong with our account, and that it's the bank that screwed up and I'd be calling them.
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Apparantly having a joint account with my husband, and being a loyal customer does not entitle me to find out what is wrong with my OWN account. They gave me the third degree, and suggested that he call them.

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So he did. We were at the mall -shoe shopping for me, oh my god did I ever get some cute shoes- when we decided to call. His cell wasn't free yet, so we used the phonebooth. Immediatly they treated him poorly. First, they interogated about why he'd need to use the phone booth if he's got a cellphone (none of your business, asshole) and then started asking him about the different times our cheques come out of our account. Because I do the banking, he had no idea and kept asking me the answer. When he answered them, they'd tell him that his answer has been disqualified since he required help. What, are we on some freaking game show?? Is he not allowed to use his life line? WTF??

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He was so frustrated that he ended up having a lot of difficulty with his english. For those of you who speak another language, you know that feeling stressed or frustrated, will have a direct affect of how eloquently you are able to speak your second language. This lady had no mercy. She kept firing off questions and statements at him left, right and center.

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He had to hang up and re-compose himself. Later he called back (after I'd written all our transaction details out for him) and she acted like it never happened. He managed to struggle through the battlefield that was their customer service, and, finally, 10 hours after his card was disconnected by them, they reset it for him. No one appologized, or even apreciated that this was an honest man trying to get control over his own debit card.

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Once we got home he came up with a brilliant idea: " I should've asked for her to serve me in french". (by law in Canada, we have the right to ask to be serviced in both of our official languages, although nobody ever exercises that right except for in Quebec...the only french province)

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I'd love for him to call back and do that...just to hear her squirm.

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Bitch.

Facebook - Friend or Foe?

Lately I've received so many requests to be joining facebook, that they're coming out of my ying-yang.

That proves two things of course: that I am cool, and gosh darn it, people like me! AND I have to figure out where my ying-yang is.

To me, blogging is precious and extremely personal. Way more intimate because technically it's strangers that read my blog. Part of the reason I continue blogging is because I feel safe doing so.

Facebook, to me, is different. It's everyone you know and their dog. Why the hell would I open myself up to that kind of censorship? And, the thing that baits most people into facebook (it seems) is the hope of reconnecting with your long lost kindergarten friends. Apparantly you can find your second grade teacher on facebook if you really try.

My point is wouldn't I already be in contact with these people if they meant oh, so much to me to begin with?

I just don't get it.

It feels like I'm the only one boycotting this 'movement'. Enlighten me.

Not your regular commute....

It's a bit shaky, because it's done via my cell phone, as I was driving home. But I've never seen an entire building engulfed in flames before, let alone this big of one. It took forever to get home tonight, thank goodness that the building was under construction so there were no occupants in it.

Alive and Kicking

It's nice to be missed. If you're one of the people who wrote/emailed/left comments regarding my whereabouts...know that you've added a new guilt to my daily life, which eventually paid off, because here I am posting again.

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Things that happened here since last post:

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I bought a brand new 2008 metallic blue Yaris.

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My ex husband found out he has a 7 month old baby girl with his ex girlfriend.

My girlfriend had a baby and is putting him up for adoption because he has Down Syndrome. (major source of stress in our relationship as I think it's a big mistake)

My son's teacher is going out with my ex husband. (this, I found out at parent teacher interview, when my ex put on A LOT of cologne beforehand, and then 'in passing' mentioned a few dates with "Miss. X")

My son's autism therapist needs to be replaced, and I have to figure out a nice way to fire her.

I got my very own (almost) corner office at my job.

I'm going to go sit in my new car now, and enjoy being it's first owner.

Open letter to all the teenage punks out there.

(not all teenagers, just the punk ones)

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Always we hear the cry of the teenager "what can we do?" "where can we go?" The answer is go home. Hang the storm windows, paint the woodwork. Rake the leaves, mow the lawn, shovel the walk, wash the car, learn to cook, scrub some floors. Repair the sink, build a boat, get a job. Help your minister, priest or rabbi, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army. Visit the sick, assist the poor, study your lessons, and then when you are through - and not too tired - read a book.

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Your parents do not owe you entertainment. Your city does not owe you recreational facilities. The world does not owe you a living. You owe the world something. You owe it your time, energy and your talents so that no one will be at war or in poverty or sick or lonely again. In plain simple words "grow up!" Quit being a crybaby. Get out of your dreamworld and develop a backbone not a wishbone and start acting like an adult.

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You're supposed to be mature enough to accept some of the responsibility your parents have carried for years. They have nursed, protected, helped, appealed, begged, excused, tolerated, and denied themselves needed comforts so that you could have every benefit. This they have done gladly, for you are their dearest treasure. But now, you have no right to expect them to bow to your every whim and fancy just because a selfish ego - instead of common sense dominates your personality, thinking and requests. For Pete's sake, grow up and go home!

My "best before" date must have expired...

It's been busy at casa de Mermaid since we've returned on sunday.

I fell coming out of the shower and aquired a new big blue bruise on my ankle & sprained my elbow. On a separate occasion, I got a pretty nasty kink in my neck, and now I can't turn my head to the left to shouldercheck. I am on my second round of antibiotics to treat a stubborn throat infection, and still taking pills for shrinking that yucky cyst. Then this morning I got a planter's wart removed from my left foot, which left me hobbling on my right foot only.

Bring on back to school~ I'm ready

** It's really not as bad as it sounds, and I'm actually slightly amused at just how broken I am ... LOL**