I have 2 sons... Grown now. Matthew and Jeff... Matthew  is the one I will be discussing here... then he will come and kill me. He is zeekafire on LV... FYI  

When Matt was about.. oh ,maybe 5.. (he had  beautiful blond  hair and was something of a " devil")   I noticed alot of blond hair in the bathroom sink... it looked like it had been hacked off...( it wasnt  mine as I hadnt turned "naturally" blond yet) We lived in a huge old house.. and  the doors still had those old key locks on them.Matt's door was locked but I could hear him in there.... It was sometime before I found the key,  but when I entered the room I encountered a sight I will NEVER forget! EVER!! Matt had taken his "shorn locks"  and taped them, with scotch tape, under his arms and above his penis... he was starting on his moustache, when I came in.

"Matt "I said... (trying NOT to piss myself laughing) "What are you doing"?
 "Oh " he answered calmly.."I just wanted to see what it would be like to have 
 PUBLIC hair" 

 I am dead meat NOW! :) typos stay!

The Social Plan


I know a very tiresome Man
Who keeps on saying, "Social Plan." 
At every Dinner, every Talk 
Where Men foregather, eat or walk, 
No matter where, -- this Awful Man 
Brings on his goddam Social Plan.


The Fall in Wheat, the Rise in Bread,
The social Breakers dead ahead, 
The Economic Paradox
That drives the Nation on the rocks,
The Wheels that false Abundance clogs --
And frightens us from raising Hogs, -- 
This dreary field, the Gloomy Man  Surveys and hiccoughs, Social Plan.


Till simpler Men begin to find
His croaking aggravates their mind, 
And makes them anxious to avoid 
All mention of the Unemployed,
And leads them even to abhor
The People called Deserving Poor. 
For me, my sympathies now pass
To the poor Plutocratic Class. 
The Crowd that now appeals to me 
Is what he calls the Bourgeoisie.


So I have got a Social Plan
To take him by the Neck,
And lock him in a Luggage van
And tie on it a check, 
Marked MOSCOW VIA TURKESTAN,
Now, how's that for a Social Plan?

Question... What would you do if you found out your spouse/partner had been having an affair?..... after you smashed a bottle on his/ her head, that is...

Sorry about the spacing.. cant seem to fix it

Once again featuring my best childhood friend, Pamela.. now in jail.

In the early sixties there was a version of, I guess what you would call today, air mile points or credit card bonuses. They were called at that time, IGA green stamps. The IGA being a large local food chain in Canada.The idea was for every dollar you spent you recieved 10 green
stamps and with the stamps came a small booklet, in which to stick them. When the book was full you turned it into the store for a credit, or a gift of your choosing. It took AGES to fill that book. My mother spent, at that time, about 20 dollars a week on groceries, so she would
receive about 200 green stamps. They came in sheets of ten. Sometimes she would ask me to lick the stamps and put them in her book.

WELL!! Bad idea, mother. For it occured to me and Pamela one day, probably at the EXACT same moment, (for we shared a brain) that if you took some of those sheets back to the store you would get a refund .One tiny problem, you needed an item to return that matched the amount of the stamps. How COULD we get around this little
technicality? I couldn't take any of our own groceries back. My mother had the eyes of an eagle. She would miss a nickle out of her wallet. ( or so we heard.:)

It didn't take us too long to hatch the perfect plan. Take a sheet or two from the stamps every now and then,so as not to alert the "media". Bring them to the store with a item worth ,say 2 dollars,which we would expertly STEAL from said store. We found roasts or
chickens were the easiest and the price was right. We would the put our "haul" in an IGA bag we had taken with us. We would bring the bag to the checkout with the exact amount in green stamps. Once there, we would state "We are returning this roast for my mother, it was not to her liking". Proof of purchase being the green stamps!!! This worked like
a charm about three times. Spaced, ofcourse, so as not to arouse the suspicion of my mother OR the store!..

One day as we were approaching the front door of the IGA stamps in pocket, bag in jacket, a young man stopped us at the store entrance." Returning a roast for your mom"?He said. 

"Yes' we answered. To which he relplied."Where is the roast? I dont see it".

What COULD we DO? We were caught red handed, with NO meat! His next words were "Girls I dont think you should come back here again. Deal"?

"Deal" we said.



typos remain! :)

I wasn't allowed to "date" technically ,until I was 16. But because there was a Catholic University where I lived.. I WAS allowed to attend the dances there..escorted by 'suitable' young men.. in other words..DORKS. I was only in grade 8 ,but was going to these dances with the 'older' boys, grade11, boys. Wow ,was I hot or what... Probably "or what" is my guess.. The dances were ok mainly because  it got me out of the house and away from the unhappiness that was offtimes all to common there.

One weekend I asked my parents if I could ask Billy Walton over ,while I babysat He was SO hot. Tall ,blond wavy hair,wild , AND 18!!!...He did NOT attend the university.. I dont think he even WENT to school very much at all ,thus making him all the MORE hot and  cool.His  brother dated the daughter of my parent's best friends,so I thought I might just pull it off. Plus my parents were unaware of his "reputation" (he was known to have a condom in his wallet.. we did'nt know what that was, but we knew it made him  "special")!  I could not believe my ears when they said "Yes, he seems like a nice young man" ( I told them he was 16... I was 14) The  big night came and I was beside myself with excitement and I must say ,some apprehension..as I had never been alone with a boy before,well NOT an 18 year old one...a REAL one!

He was very polite and wished my parents a good evening, adding "I wont stay late, dont worry" My mother said.. "Ten o'clock at the latest" He agreed. 

The TV was in my parents bedroom ,as the living room was being painted. We went in and turned the tv on and sat upright  at the head of the bed. Soon he had his arm around me.. This is nice, I thought. Then he got closer and tried to kiss me... but he was rough and there was  something in his eyes I didnt like. He persisted, and I said "NO, stop!'" He did'nt and pushed me down on the bed... I yelled "Get off !!Get off!! He persisted and I yelled REALLY loud.. I think it scared him because he stopped, got up, walked to the bedroom door, and looked at me with utter contempt. He said " GOD"!!! "You're nothing but a liitle baby, I should have known.. Just a stupid kid"  I  was incensed!! "No, I'm not "I yelled ,"I'm fourteen"!!!  He smirked.  As he was walking down the hall to the door, he turned around and said in this condescending tone.."I bet you're even a VIRGIN too"!!!..Well, that did it.... " NO, I AM NOT!!!" I YELLED And don't EVER say that AGAIN"!!!
 
The next day at school I was telling  my friends what happened when I noticed the look of horror on one of their faces.
And a couple started killing themselves laughing" WHAT"? I said... one of them said.. "Do you know WHAT a virgin is?" I replied "NO, but it doesnt sound  too good to ME" When she told me  what it meant, I thought I might actually die right there on the spot. NO such luck.. I had to walk past Billy Walton and his friends every day after school for weeks... Till he was arrested for stealing a car!

 I didnt date for quite some time after this... oddly though, I had alot of offers! :)

Typos stay! ...

If you have been reading my blogs you will know my childhood best friend, Pamela.. The one in prison now.
It was a hot boring day in August and we were looking for "neat" stuff to do. As our parents were out,we ransacked the house looking for whatever contraband we could find' Hopefully, "smokes". No luck there. But we did find a bunch of balloons ,no doubt put away for the next bithday party. "Know what we could do?" Pamela said ,or maybe it was me. 

"Let's get the hose and fill these with water and put a bunch them on the lawn like beachballs !!!" Sounded better than barbie dolls to ME. We proceeded to fill 6 or 7 to the point of bursting. They were pretty big, maybe 12-14 inches in diameter, maybe a bit bigger. We then placed them at various points on the front lawn and watched them bop around in the breeze for a bit, while deciding whether or not throw them at Pam's brother, Larry. We hated Larry. 

As we were pondering this deep dilemna, my parent's car pulled in the driveway. Both of them jumped out of the car and BOLTED to the doorstep where we sat... innocent as lambs. 
My mother looked ill, and I knew my father was going to yell. 

"CHRIST"!!! ( he called me that alot) "Where did you get those THINGS? " ARE THEY YOURS"??
"No" I said. "We got them in your dresser drawer.. there were tons of them there. They are just stupid balloons."
"JUST STUPID BALOONS"??? he yelled."I could go to jail for this, you know. These happen to be special,
secret, navy weather balloons.. MOVE THEM NOW"!!!! 
My mother was still green. 

We didnt realize until MUCH later , when we overheard them laughing about it, that they WERE indeed Navy, and "special" too.

Navy issue condoms were in short supply that year, I guess...

One must know my sister Anne to appreciate this story..( refer to previous blog)

 In grade 1,at age 5,Anne was given a pair of cobalt blue shoes by some neighbour, who obviously knew Anne, but NOT my mother. The shoes would have thrilled any 5 yr old.. they were hideous!  Everyday before school "the battle of the blue shoes" would begin. My mother never wavered. She never raised her voice either...she had a 'tone'.
Anne put the shoes ON... mom took them off... Anne put them on... mom etc. Anne would leave for school and in ten minutes be back  at the door stating " I want my blue shoes" !... This went on for weeks and weeks.
 Then one morning,Anne got up to find her blue shoes were nowhere to be found. She was hysterical. "WHERE ARE MY BLUE SHOES' ?  She screamed. " I WANT MY BLUE SHOES NOW" !
 My mother calmly explained the fairies had taken them because they were SO pretty... for some odd reason Anne bought this,and away she went. 
I, however, was very annoyed at my parents for this obvious deceit and planned revenge.. I was 7.
 
My father was in the navy and had many wonderful uniforms in his closet. One day before he got home from work, I took a pair of scizzors and cut all along the crease of his summer uniform pants.. the cuts were about one half inch deep and about two inches apart.. so that they were fan-like if you pulled them apart.My revenge  was complete. I was beyond myself with joy.
For the next few days I waited for the fallout... It wasnt long in coming.
" JESUS CHRIST" !!! " he yelled. "Who the hell cut my G.D. pants? Nancy get the hell in here NOW"!! "It wasnt ME'! I said. " It must have been those fairies who took Annes blue shoes"!!!... :) My mother who was now beside us said calmly ,with her "tone" and her "look" focused  directly at my father. "Yes ,I guess it must have been."



ps...not fixing ANY typos! :)

My parents were afraid of my sister , Anne. She tended toward hysteria and would offtimes throw tantrums at the drop of a hat.So sometimes they would ask ME to "deal with her". As I was SO mature!!..

This is one of those times .

 I  began my menstrual cycle at a very young age(10) (as my mother had before me.) She had prepared me 'somewhat" for this momentous occassion. The rest I learned "on the streets"

My sister was approaching "that age", and my mother and father were loathe to discuss this with her for fear she would go "insane". One sunday just before church they pulled me aside and said "If we give you a dollar and that "sex book", would you tell your sister? We just cant do it"

A dollar!!! (God ,that would get me more smokes)!! "Yes"! I exclaimed, not realizing my folly... I SHOULD have. For I too, had been the target of my sisters wrath on many occassions.

I took her to the backyard ,after church ,and began in the best way any 12 yr. old could, to explain the COMPLETE facts of life...as I knew them.  I had the basics down fairly well :) When  finished she began screaming and yelling , kicking her feet in the air and pulling grass out of the lawn,  flinging it at me. She wailed and cried. "You 're LYING!!! I know you are!! "YOU LIAR. I HATE YOU."

I yelled back.. No ,it's ALL true.. ALL OF IT "!!!

"NO"! She cried.. "I know you are lying. I can prove it"

"Prove it" I said. "See if you can"

Her eyes lit up as she said the words we will, neither one of us, ever forget...

" I KNOW it's a lie,  because the Queen would NEVER do that!!!!


I got my dollar.. and she got to keep her innocence for a bit longer!!!

My best friends name was Pamela. I say WAS because I think she is in prison now. That's the last I heard , anyway.She was blond , beautiful and damaged. I adored her.She was kicked out of highschool for sleeping with, well, everybody.But she was my best friend and I loved her with a passion. As is common amoung 12 yr olds.. 

Because we were bored we decided to join the Girl Guides. We both looked good in blue. We attended a few meetings, just enough to get the uniforms and sell some cookies. Then inspiration hit! Our first plan was to eat the cookies ouselves, and say we lost the money. But we did'nt LIKE the cookies so we decided "Hey, we could actually SELL the cookies and SPEND the money". Now THAT was a plan! We took our 8 dollar haul ( which ,in the 60's, was a huge bundle) and bought many packs of 'smokes" and a ton  of potato chips. A tasty combination, particularly since neither of us had ever smoked.

The next week at Guides, when we were to turn in the money, we announced "Oh we lost it. Maybe Pam's brother Larry took it" (He was known to do such things) We were immediately asked to leave the meeting and to turn our uniforms in the next day. Hah! WE didnt care ,we thought it was boring anyway.

Our dilemna was what to tell our parents. My mother went INSANE! Not because we lied ,slole, smoked 8 million cigarettes, and barfed all along our street.. Noooo... but because Girl Guides was in the PROTESTANT church hall , and we were CATHOLIC.. "Holy Mother of God", she wailed. "How will this look to the neighbours"? How could you do this to me"?


How indeed? :)

My parents insisted that I attend  a very posh, private Catholic school.. so that I would "turn out ." 

In grade 9 ,at age 13 ,I fell madly in love with tv's Dr Kildare, Richard Chamberlain. I was hellbent on marrying him.
I decided that in order to attract his attention, on a bus, lets say, or in the park.. I needed to do something to make myself standout. 

I took my allowance and bought a box of platinum blond hair dye.. for who could resist that? It took hours to do ,and was very messy.. it was also, NOT platinum blond, as the box had promised, but a bright neon orange...I cried for hours, and refused to leave the house. My mother 
took pity on me and purchased a dark brown dye.which worked nicely.. at first..

As the days went on and I washed my hair.. I soon came to see that it was NOT dark brown.. but a deep forest green. Each time I washed it it became a shade lighter, so it was ,after about  a week,a leaf green colour ..maybe even peridot!..there seemed no way out...I was wrong

A few days later my algebra teacher, Sister Mary Hughes,pulled me by the scruff of the neck infront of the class and said," Ms....... Until your hair has returned to its normal mousy brown colour, you may NOT attend MY class with ANY shade of green hair!!! Please report to Mother Superior and she will find work for you in the kitchen. STAY OUT OF MY CLASS !!!! Don't worry, Ms....... your absence can do nothing but IMPROVE your D MINUS grade."

As I cleared out my desk... the only saving grace, I had at that moment, was the face of the beautiful Dr Kildare, staring back at me from the underside of my desk top, where he had been safely taped for months....

There's always a rainbow after a storm :)