BikerMomma's Blog

All Wired Up With Nowhere To Go

2008-04-23T14:58:00.004-04:00

This sucks.

I had decided that I wanted to "officially" start practicing Taekwondo as part of my new fitness regimen. I say "officially" because, to this point, I've been practicing at night with my son. Nothing strenuous. Just making sure he's hitting targets properly, going through the poomsae with him, stuff like that. But not "really" practicing the art and sport of Taekwondo.

So I went to see my family doctor, just as a precaution you understand. After all, I'm no spring chicken any more. Pushing 40 and considerably overweight (I hate to use the term "morbidly obese", because it just sounds gross), I felt it was prudent for me to make sure I won't be going into cardiac arrest during class.

It's been a while since I've seen my family doctor. So long, in fact, that I've only now realized that he has shut down his family practice in favor of a walk-in clinic. The doctor I saw this week is not the man I've been seeing for years, not the man who saved my husband's life when he was diagnosed with colon cancer, not the man who saw me through 2 pregnancies and their subsequent c-sections. No, this was some other schmoe who happened to be manning the shop that particular day. Gotta love the personal touch of a walk-in clinic.

So, I told Schmoe of my plans, and how I wanted to make sure it was OK before I signed up. I also mentioned these funny little flippy feelings in my chest that happen once in a while for a second or so. I presumed these were a direct result of my excess weight, and they'd stop once I got back into some semblance of shape, right?

The mystery doctor listens to my heart, writes a few squiggles in my file, and tells me that there's nothing to worry about (easy for HIM to say), but we're going to get me to wear this thing called a "cardiac loop recorder" for a week. This will record my heart beat for the week, and then it'll be sent out to a cardiologist for review. If I have any more of these "flippy" feeling things, I'm to press the little button on the recorder and write it down in the diary (which is actually a sheet of paper - talk about high-tech).

I'm on day two of wearing this thing, which looks a bit like an iPod, except that it's wired to my ribs and collar bone instead of my ears, and isn't nearly as entertaining. I hate the feeling of being "tethered". I hated it when I was in the hospital for my c-sections, to the point where the nurses had to remove my IV or I'd do it for them. I hate it now, but I'll put up with it because I have to if I intend to get into kick-ass shape (get it? It's a pun on the whole Taekwondo thing). It's just one more step in my wellness journey, right? At least, that's what I keep telling myself every time the stupid connector things get glued to my T-shirt. You'd think they'd at least make the stupid wires long enough to let you pull your pants down when you go to the bathroom.

I've got one week with the iPain, and then another week or so before I get the results. So I won't be joining TKD until some time in May, if at all. Not impressed, people! In the mean time, I've been googling "flippy chest feeling". Turns out they're called "palpitations" and can be caused by any number of things. My fave, though, has got to be "menopause". Because that would just figure. It would add to the whole "old and fat" theme I've got going on these days. Ugh.

Please Mind Your Ps & Qs ... OK, Maybe Just Your Ps!

2008-03-31T13:56:00.004-04:00

Alright, people, listen up.

It would appear that some Toronto FC soccer fans caused a bit of a ruckus down in Ohio over the week-end. They got very drunk and rowdy, making quite the mess of things. I would imagine that die-hard British soccer hooligans would have been proud of they way the Toronto fans handled things, actually.

My husband was there, incidentally. He witnessed some poor Columbus family with young children having beer dumped on their heads from the stands above them. He also saw a police car getting stuck in the mud, and the surrounding Toronto fans heckled and laughed and taunted the officers instead of lending them a hand. The officers eventually abandoned their squad car, so the fans posed on it for photos. There were smoke bombs and streamers galore. And, yes, there were people urinating in places that clearly did NOT house a toilet.

The drinking was expected. A bit of littering, while unpleasant, can also be expected. However, the mountains of trash, the rowdy and obnoxious behaviour, and the public urination might be taking things a little too far.

This isn't the first time that a drunken Canadian has taken the term "public toilet" a little too literally. We can all painfully remember that sad day when another drunken stupor caused a young man to pee on our National War Memorial in Ottawa.

Admittedly, the people who arrived on the busses had to contend with poor planning, to the point where most of the bus toilets were backed up by the time the drive home began. However, this does not give anyone the right to pee on public or private property.

I'm afraid that the message we're sending out is, "You can invite Canadians to your party, just don't let them get drunk, or they'll pee on anything that holds still long enough ... including your mom." Have we become a nation of hyperactive Golden Retriever puppies? I can hear the Columbus police force now, "Aw, shit, the Canadians are coming down for another soccer game. Never mind the tasers, boys, just arm yourselves with some rolled-up newspapers."

Therefore, if you ever find yourself in a situation where you're part of a drunken mob that's representing Canada at an international sporting event, here are some guidelines for you to follow that might help our beautiful nation regain some of the respect she previously enjoyed:
1. Keep your beer to yourself. This means before AND after you drink it. If it's not a toilet or a urinal, then for Pete's sake, DON'T PEE ON IT!
2. If, by some bizarre twist of Twilight Zone-esque plot writing, you find yourself in an area where there are absolutely no toilets or urinals available, then find a quiet, secluded spot, get some of your buddies to stand (or stagger) on guard so no one sees you, take one of the multitude of empty beer bottles you must have in your possession, and pee inside that. Then throw that bottle in a trash can.
3. Children, and the adults that accompany them, are off-limits. I read somewhere where one person felt that a certain level of animosity is to be expected at any sporting event. I don't agree, but whatever... my point is that you NEVER display any animosity, violent tendencies, hooliganism, etc... in front of or towards any impressionable young minds. If it's not something you would do in a school yard when you're sober, then don't do it at a sporting event where children are present.
4. Don't piss off the local law enforcement. However you feel about people in authority, the fact still remains that they have guns, and they also have the happy power to slam your ass in jail with a 300lb cell-mate named Bubba for as long as it tickles their fancy.

Remember, folks, the Vancouver Olympics aren't that far off ... and the Americans have long memories and plenty of beer of their own.

Derailed

2008-02-08T13:37:00.001-05:00

Hi there, folks. It's been a while, so I thought I'd check in.

I'm sorry to say that a rather severe cold has forced me to fall off the "fitness" bandwagon. Well, in all honesty, it wasn't so much a "fall" as it was a running leap with a flawlessly executed swan dive.

It started on Superbowl week-end, when we gathered at my sister's house to watch the spectacle that was the defeat of the undefeatable Patriots. This gathering began with a bowl of pasta with meatballs, and ended with large bowls of chips, peanuts and cashews. I figured, after being so good since November, one night of extreme over-indulgence wouldn't really hurt, would it?

By the time we finished stuffing our faces, I felt a little tickle threatening the back of my throat. Oh, I knew full well what that meant. Sure enough, Monday morning dawned, and I felt like I was breathing through a straw. So, no treadmill for me on Monday. This feeling progressed so that by Wednesday, it felt like my lungs were filled with wet cement. Oh, it was a lovely sight. Kleenex everywhere, a nose to rival Rudolf's during the deepest Christmas Eve storm, and watery eyes reduced to slits the size of a paper cut. Very attractive.

So, I've had one week of inactivity, except for the tremendous effort required to cough or sneeze ... or breathe, for that matter.

I'm feeling much better today, though I'm still coughing a little. I therefore promise to claw my way back onto the fitness bandwagon to reclaim my tenuous perch on Monday. I'm really not looking forward to finding out how much damage my little junk food binge and the following week of phlegm production have caused, but I'll just have to deal with it like a big girl ... otherwise I'll never stop being a "big girl", right?

Status Update

2008-01-16T09:00:00.000-05:00

Bonjour, Blog Fans! It's been a couple of weeks since the Holidays and all the joy and calories that they bring. Let's see how far we've come since starting this healthy journey way back on November 21, shall we?

To recap: I started out slowly - just 15 minutes on the treadmill, 5 days/week. A short time later, I bumped it up to 20 minutes/day.

I've left it at 20 minutes for now, but I've just this week started doing some strength training - crunches, rear leg lifts, modified push-ups, side push-ups to start. Again, I've started off slowly - just one set of ten reps to begin. I've been kicking around the idea of getting a home gym, but I have very limited space in my home, so I was thinking about one of the Nautilus BowFlex machines - maybe the Blaze. I like this machine because the bench folds up, so when not in use, it has a relatively small footprint. If anyone has any opinions on this (or the other folding BowFlex home gyms), I'd love to hear them.

On to the progress report: Since starting this workout routine 7 weeks ago, I have lost...
* 1" off my bust
* 1 1/2" off my ribcage
* 2" off my waist
* 2" off my tummy (I can't wait until my waist and my tummy are within a couple inches of one-another!!)
* 1" off my hips
* 1/2" off each thigh
...for a total of 6 inches overall.

Not too shabby, considering I'm not exactly taxing myself here, and my diet has remained relatively unchanged. With the exception of the 2 weeks during the Christmas/New Year Holidays, I've kept to the small (individual serving size) bags of chips, I'm taking in more water than soft drinks, and I've tried (with some small success) to include more fruit and veggies in my daily food intake.

As time goes on, I'll be adding some reps to the floor routine, and maybe eventually upping the time on the treadmill ... although I don't want to make this an all-day event, either. I gotta go to work at some point!

We enrolled my oldest (you'll know him from my earlier posts as MiniMe) in junior Taekwondo classes, and he has been having an absolute blast! So have I. I've been helping him practice his patterns and moves every night ... and I do mean EVERY night. We've been having a lot of fun with it, and even though it's only been a couple of weeks, he seems to really be enjoying it and I've noticed a difference in his attitude and self-confidence level. I know that there will come a time when he will lose interest. I'll deal with that obstacle when we get to it, which hopefully won't happen for a few years.

In the mean time, I'm going to enjoy his enthusiasm. Who knows? If the financial horizon gets a little brighter than it is right now (which is a dull shade of midnight blue at the moment), you just might be reading a post in the future about my quest for a black belt. ;)

Back To The Ol' Grind

2008-01-02T13:44:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year, folks! I hope everyone had a great holiday, filled with fun, food, family & friends.

Now that THAT's over with...

It's back to the ol' grind. Not only are we all (well, most of us) back to work, it's also time to assess the damage that the Holiday eating binge did to the relatively new fitness regime.

Surprisingly, I didn't fare as badly as I thought I would after what felt like a solid week of non-stop eating, and my trusty treadmill sitting idly by, approximately 600km away. Only a half-inch gained here and there. It could have been a lot worse.

Seriously.

Have you ever celebrated Christmas with an Italian family? We go "back home" each year for the Holidays, where my mother feels it's her maternal duty to make sure we all eat as much as (or slightly more than) is humanly possible. After all, she's not here with us for most of the year, so we must be starving, right? The fact that I could pass for Rita McNeil's stunt double has apparently escaped her notice.

If the lasagna, manicotti and canelloni aren't enough for you, you could also have some soup, meatballs, sausages and other various animal body parts that are thrown into the pot to make the sauce for the pasta. We managed to convince her for the first time this year that we absolutely DO NOT need a roast of some sort to go with our salad at the end of the meal.

But no amount of arguing could get Mom to limit herself to two cakes for the night. Cheesecake is a must, after all. It's tradition. And so is the sponge cake she makes every time we visit, insisting that it's my husband's favourite (to his immense surprise). But the one that really took the cake, so to speak, was the double-decker chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for the kids, even though the smell of chocolate makes her gag. They NEED chocolate cake, she will vehemently argue every time. Not want ... NEED. Mom refused to listen to our arguments that children do not NEED chocolate cake at 11:00 at night, which is when dinner is over, because it takes that long to eat Christmas dinner at Mom's house, after all.

So, yes, I'm quite surprised and pleased to find that I've only regained half an inch in a couple of spots over the past couple of weeks, all things considered. But, now the holidays are over, the leftovers have been dealt with, the New Year has begun, and my battle of the bulge has resumed. Hello treadmill, old friend. I've picked up a couple of Friends episodes on DVD to make our time together pass a little more quickly. Next week, we introduce my butt to the floor for some leg lifts, crunches and push-ups.

Happy New Year, back-side. I hope I'll be seeing a lot less of you from here on in. ;)

Progress Report #2

2007-12-19T11:21:00.000-05:00

Well, blog fans, it's been 2 weeks since my last progress report, so I thought I'd check in with you again.

Since I started my new "get off my behind once in a while" program back on November 21, 2007, my measurements have decreased by the following:
* Bust: 1" (hubby's not going to be too thrilled about that one)
* Rib cage: 1"
* Waist: 1 1/2"
* Tummy: 1 1/2"
* Hips: 1/2"
* Thigh: 1/2"

Not too shabby, eh? Although you'd think the hips and thighs would show a little more progress, since they're the parts that move the most (if you don't take into account all the jiggling that's going on everywhere).

I had a little scare yesterday, though. Just as I got off my ol' faithfull treadmill (you remember, the one that's been sitting in various corners of my house collecting dust for the past several years), it gave me an error message on the display. "E2" ... whatever the heck that means. Possibly, "Lady, lay off the cookies, would ya? You're killing me here!" I tried clearing the screen, I tried pulling off the little safety key - nothing happened. Fabulous. Just as I decide to get back into shape, my equipment dies and now I'll have to convince hubby that I need to spend another $1000 on a new treadmill - smack in the middle of the Christmas season.

I decided to unplug the machine, as I do every day to avoid power spikes and the like. Just like with a computer - if all else fails, reboot. I came back to it a while later, plugged it back in, and all was fine. I didn't get any ominous error messages this morning before, after or during my daily walk. Whew!!

I Is So Smart!

2007-12-14T13:44:00.001-05:00

Hooo, boy, am I in trouble!

You all remember Trouble, right? My 4-going-on-20-year-old? Well, we've finally gotten him toilet trained, after what felt like years of cajoling, bribing, threats and deal-making. As I had been explaining to everyone all along, it was completely his idea. He just decided one day that it was time to give it a try. Great news, right? I never thought I'd be pining for the Pull-Up days.

Trouble has decided that he is dead-set against wearing underwear. That's right, he goes commando on a daily basis. I don't know why. It's not like he ever had a bad experience with underwear, other than everyone asking him why he won't wear them. He has all sorts of wonderful undies - Spider Man, Bob the Builder, SpongeBob SquarePants, Diego, as well as a wide assortment of dinosaurs, trucks and wildlife. None of these characters have enticed him in the least little bit to wear undies.

Well, I thought I'd pull one over on him this morning. While getting him dressed, I slipped a pair of underwear into his pants and pulled the whole kit and kaboodle on and immediately got him involved in some activities before he could notice that something was different. Oh, I was so proud of myself! I sent a text message to hubby, who was extremely impressed. I sent an e-mail to my sister, who immediately called to congratulate me on my cleverness. Yes, I was feeling like quite the Cheshire Cat this morning.

Trouble came over a few minutes ago for a little hug. I took advantage of his proximity to check on the underwear situation - make sure things aren't bunching up on him and the like. But ... wait a second ... I don't feel any undies at all. Where the heck did they go?

"I took them off," was his quick but firm reply. "I don't want any underwear."

And here I was, labouring under the delusion all day long that I had finally outsmarted my 4-year-old. Shoulda known better!!

Progress Report

2007-12-05T08:34:00.000-05:00

Hey there, blog lovers!

Two weeks ago, I had welcomed you to the beginning of the rest of my life. True to my word, and somewhat surprisingly, I've been walking on my much-neglected treadmill every week-day since then. I started at 15 minutes per day, just to ease into things. I've since moved up to 20 minutes. I hope to be able to kick it up to 30 minutes in the New Year. Baby steps, remember?

So, after 2 weeks of walking, and eating smaller bags of chips, I have some progress to report.

I've lost 1" off of my ribcage, 1" off my waist and 1" off my tummy which, thanks to age, 2 c-sections and gravity, hangs considerably lower than my waist, so I figured I'd measure it separately.

I'm also happy to report that the smaller bags of chips that are sitting in my pantry are somewhat less vocal than the large bags I used to buy. I'm not sure why, but the little Hallowe'en sized bags don't call to me the way the Costco bags do. Maybe smaller bags have smaller voices and, because I'm a Mom, I'm quite used to ignoring the little whining voices around me. Whatever the reason, it's working, so we'll keep going with this part of the plan as well.

Well, gotta go. My treadmill is calling me...

Reason #1 To Carry A Video Camera At All Times

2007-12-04T10:22:00.000-05:00

We're in the grips of several days' worth of snow squalls in our neck of the woods (for those who don't know, squalls are really nasty, but short-lived, storms that brew up over the lakes, whip up really high winds, lay a bunch of snow down and blow it all over God's green acres, making driving a dangerous mess). We're on snow day #2 after a 3-day week-end for the kids. Can you say "cabin fever"?

Yesterday evening, the whole family ventured outdoors. Mom and Dad shovelled and snow-blowed while the kids slid down the hill on the front lawn with their body boards. They had a couple of old, battered body boards, which had been left outside and were now coated in several inches of snow and ice. We had also bought them a new pair of very slick-looking boards at Costco over the week-end, which they were using.

After finishing with the clean-up, Dad decided he wanted to play with the kids. Mini-me made it look so easy, after all. Just grab onto the handles, get a running start, launch the board onto the ground, land on it on your knees and enjoy the ride. Simple, right? So, Dad grabs one of the old, ice-and-snow-encrusted boards, waves the kids out of the way, and takes a running leap onto the hill.

Geronimo!

Did Geronimo know that ice on snow is a very effective braking system? Probably. Dad didn't.

The body board hit the snow. Dad hit the body board, apparently expecting it to go sailing down the hill. The body board had other ideas. It gripped the snow harder than Scrooge gripping his money bag. Dad went from 0 to 60 and back to 0 again in less than a quarter second. The result? Dad did the mother of all faceplants into a foot of fresh snow. From my vantage point, standing safely behind them on the front deck, I saw his head go down and his back-end come up. And that's all I saw, because I started laughing so hard that the tears almost froze my eyelids shut.

Where was my video camera? In my bedroom. Why, oh why don't I carry it with me at all times? That video could have made me a bunch of money on AFV ... or, at the very least, given Dad his 15 seconds of fame on You Tube.

Let's Try This Again, Shall We?

2007-11-21T10:09:00.000-05:00

Hello blog lovers. Welcome to the beginning of the rest of my life. I hope.

Weight management. I hate that term. It's always been a struggle for me, ever since I hit puberty some thirty years ago. Did I say "struggle"? Try "epic battle". I've never been a rail, but I have been in shape, somewhat thin, ridiculously large, and everything in between, at some point in my life.

You know how it goes. Lose a little weight, gain it back twice over. Well, do this for thirty years and you can collect some significant poundage. That's where I am right now. I'm at the largest I've ever been, which is a very scary thought, because I've been pretty big in the past.

So, why is it bothering me now? Other than the obvious "can't climb a flight of stairs without wheezing, washing dishes tires me out" reasons, that is. Well, in an attempt to become slightly more active after spending hours and hours at one computer or another in my house for a variety of reasons, I have re-enrolled in dog agility classes with Wile E. They're lots of fun ... or, at least, they were until hubby came to last class with a video camera. What a sobering sight! Especially since all of his shots were taken from the back while I was bending over to treat the dog or pick up her leash. Yowsa.

So, I've taken some initial steps towards self improvement.

Step 1: Make a montage of the agility video and post it on Facebook. A lot of these people haven't seen me since high school, so this will probably be a bit of a shock for them. It might make a few of them feel better about themselves, which is great. Glad I could help. I feel that a big part of my problem is that I've distanced myself from people. I've taken to hiding behind my computer screen, where I can be as thin as I want with very little effort. This is my first piece of self-imposed therapy to help me come out of my shell a little.

Step 2: Throw away the scale. I hate it. It hates me. When I was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old, my best friend was getting married and asked me to be a bridesmaid. I was in a "heavy" stage at that point, so I accepted reluctantly. Then she showed me the dress she had in mind and I just about threw up. I had a year to get myself into some semblance of shape so I could pour myself into this dress without turning stomachs. Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely dress. Very simple, ankle length, deep green, clean lines. Very flattering, as long as you weren't built like a killer whale, which I was. So, I joined Jazzercise, an hour long class three nights a week. What a blast that class was! I've never had so much fun working out in my life, and if there was a class nearer to me now I would join it in a heartbeat. At that time, Jazzercise was also offering their "Know More Diet" diet. Kind of like Weight Watchers, but a little more permissive. It worked wonders. I got into what I feel is the best shape of my life, I looked fantastic in the dress, everyone was happy. So, back to my point about scales. At this point, when I looked my best, felt my best, everyone thought I looked fantastic, I weighed a whopping 175lbs. You'd never know it to look at me. So, I've decided that weight in itself is very deceptive and completely useless as far as physical well-being goes. I'm going to ignore it entirely.

Step 3: Set a goal. My goal at this point is to be able to dress in regular clothing sizes. I hate having to go to the "plus size" stores or sections. I'm embarrassed. I don't try anything on, because I'm afraid to take it off the hanger. You see, the people who work at these stores know how to fold and tuck things on the hanger so that it looks somewhat normal. When you take it off the hanger and hold it up to take a better look at it, the garment then resumes it's actual proportions. I feel like I'm blocking out the sun when I unfold a pair of pants and hold them up for perusal. So, I avoid it. And I hate it. I don't want to do it anymore.

Step 4: Record my benchmark. I threw together a quick spreadsheet with columns for the date and the measurements of my various body part. I started this morning, and will continue measuring myself each week at the same time. It was a little sobering, writing all those numbers down, seeing them laid out in front of me in black and white. But, it will be good to have the numbers recorded from the beginning. That way, when someone I haven't seen in a while says, "Wow, have you lost weight?" I can either say "Yes, thank you for noticing," or "I haven't lost anything, you liar," and I know I'll have the proof to back it up.

Step 5: Get a grip. I have a pretty good idea of what works for me and what doesn't at this point. Diets don't work. We all know that. Healthy eating plans, like Weight Watchers and Know Your Diet, work to a certain extent. My biggest problem is when I fall off the wagon, I fall HARD. I know I won't stick to the program forever. I know I will fail. It's inevitable. And when I do fail, I'll gain back all the poundage and then some, and I'll wind up even bigger than I am now, which scares the bejeesus out of me. So, I'm going to try doing this without a wagon this time.

My biggest nemesis is chips. I'm terrible with chips. If there's a bag in the house, it'll call to me until I give in and devour the whole thing in one sitting. Sometimes, it even calls to me from the store. It's a good thing I don't have a car anymore and I'm too lazy to walk to the corner store, otherwise I'd give in to the seduction and buy a bag a day. The plan here is not to give up chips, because I know that'll never last. But, I will try to buy the smaller Halloween sized bags instead of the extra-large Costco sized bags. At least this will help keep my portions in check. And if I give in to the urge once in a while and demolish a bag of Doritos all by myself, at least I won't feel guilty about cheating on my diet, because I'm not on one.

Step 6: Move. Exercise is also a big part of any weight management plan. I don't get any.

Did I mention the computers in my house? There are four of them. I have a part-time day job which I work from home, and they've provided me with a computer for that purpose. I have a computer in my shop which is used for the engraving business, and it's where I check my e-mail. There's the "personal" laptop, which is the old machine I used to use for the business, but it crashed one day from data overload. So, after moving everything to the new computer in the shop, I formatted the laptop and reloaded it with the bare minimum Windows and McAffee Anitvirus. I now use that one at night when I'm just chillaxing, chatting on IM and playing in Facebook. Then there's hubby's MacBook, which is just too much fun not to play with. It's used for all our photo/video stuff.

So I need to get off my comfy leather chair once in a while and move. Easy enough, right? Wrong. I have Trouble at home with me. Going for walks with him is like watching paint dry. I can't get my heart rate up because we're moving at about 1/2 a mile an hour. I can't go out by myself before work because Hubby leaves for work at 5:00AM, and I'm just not motivated enough to go walking at 4:30, sorry. After work isn't good either, because there's the business to run, supper to make, homework, housework, and all the other lovely things that come with being a home-owning, child-rearing adult.

I have a treadmill. It's a big, guilty secret of mine, because I bought it about 6 or 7 years ago with the intention of using it daily. It's a good treadmill, too, because I knew that a cheapo WalMart version would never hold up to my significant weight pounding on it day after day. It has since sat and collected dust. It's been moved around the house, up and down the stairs, a few times, but that's about all the movement it's seen. So, this morning, I'm quite proud to say that I dusted it off, plugged it in and had a little walk. Nothing spectacular. I won't be running marathons any time soon. It was a slightly brisk walk for 15 minutes, that worked out to about 3 P!nk songs on Hubby's iPod. But, it's a start, right? It's my intention to do this every week-day before sitting down to work, slowly building up to half an hour a day.

I'm also toying with the idea of pulling out my old hand and ankle weights and doing a little weight training at night before bed. But that won't be for a little while yet. Baby steps, after all. ;)

The last step is to blog about it. We all need motivation. Everyone knows that it's easier to work out when you have a partner there to kick your butt when you're feeling sluggish. I don't have that partner, so I'll be using you. I'll be accountable to you, my dear readers, for my progress or lack thereof. I'll check back once a week and let you know how it's going. That's the plan, anyway. Now all I have to do is click on "Publish Post" to make it official. OK, here I go... I'm clicking... now... right... now... (geez, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be!)

Are You Smarter Than A Third Grader?

2007-11-14T10:24:00.000-05:00

I don't get it. When I was in the third grade, I would listen to my teacher, come home, take a few minutes to do my homework, go to school the next day. That was it. My parents did not have to sit with me for hours on end to get my homework done. They did not have to pull out a thesaurus to be able to explain what was being asked of me.

So then why, pray tell, do I feel completely inadequate when doing homework with my third grader? Why do I stare blankly at the page, wondering if maybe I should go back to school in order to tackle some of these questions? Is it normal to have to peruse the entire workbook in order to make sense of one question? Why are they using terminology at this level that I have never heard before?

And what the heck is with the paragraphs required to answer a math question? As far as I'm concerned, math should be "A + B = C". That's it. One of the problems my son tackled last night ended with several blank lines, preceded by the question "Explain how you know you're right." I beg your pardon? My son's initial reaction was, "But I don't know if I'm right." Somehow, I doubt this answer would have been sufficient for the teacher.

I think we're expecting a little too much from our kids (and parents) these days. After I've been working all day, the last thing I want to do is continue working into the night. Yet, that's exactly what we expect our kids to do, and we're forcing parents to do it as well. This can't be a good habit to develop. What's going to happen when these kids become adults? They might continue in the habit of working long hours, which will destroy families or compromize their well-being. Alternatively, they'll shut down. They'll finish school and scream, "I've had enough!" Either way, we're looking at ulcers or burn-out by the age of 25. Not a happy looking future, is it?

I'm Such A Suck!

2007-09-25T08:59:00.001-04:00

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

Trouble was supposed to start Junior Kindergarten today. He turns 4 years old in a couple of weeks. The problem is that he isn't ready for it yet. Neither am I, for that matter.

Sure, the Ontario school system would gladly take him in. He's old enough by their standards. Heaven knows he's smart enough ... as witnessed by the fact that he outsmarts me on an almost daily basis. (A little side story here ... we were driving down the street yesterday, and Hubby was musing about his stress levels, indicating that he needs to re-discover his "happy place." Trouble suggested, "How about WalMart?".)

But he's just barely toilet trained. I mean, mere weeks ago, he was still flatly refusing to accept any of the many generous bribes I was offering for a short stint on the potty. He's still having accidents from time to time, as well. And, with the understandable rules in place at school stating that they can't help him with his toileting needs, that means I would have to drive out there each time he needed a little cleaning up. Kinda hard to do, since I presently am without a vehicle.

We're also still struggling with what is turning out to be an extremely tenacious umbilical cord. It's probably a by-product of me being a stay/work-at-home Mom this time around, as opposed to with Mini-Me, who was a daycare baby. Mini-Me handled the transition to JK way better than I did. He gave me a casual wave and a "See you later, Mom", while I cried my eyes out for the rest of the day (mind you, I was 8 months pregnant at the time as well, so hormones played a big factor in that incident). Trouble isn't quite so blase about our parting. I tried to leave him at my sister's house last night while I went out to meet with a prospective client. The ensuing tantrum would have had Child Services breaking down the door, if the neighbours didn't already know the whole story.

I thought about it, though. If we were still living in Quebec, he wouldn't be attending school for another 2 years. So why is it so gosh darned important for him to go right now, just because we're 600km away?

Hubby and I discussed it and made the decision to keep him home this year, let him start Senior Kindergarten next year. That gives me - I mean him - a whole year to get used to the idea...

Crackbook

2007-07-25T09:48:00.000-04:00

(Author stands with hands clasped behind her back, shuffling her feet nervously)

"Hi, my name is Bikermomma."

(Crowd replies)

"Hi, Bikermomma!"

"It's been eighteen minutes since my last login to Facebook."

(Smattering of applause)

Hubby was recently invited to join this highly addictive on-line community. After he exchanged pleasantries with a few of my friends, I thought maybe it was time I gave it a shot.

BIG mistake.

What a fabulous way to trot out all of my old highschool insecurities! I wake up every morning and, before I even check my e-mail (because that takes waaayyy too long on my dinosaur of a laptop), I have to see what's going on with my Facebook account. Has anyone contacted me? Has anyone responded to my requests for friendship? Is anyone looking for me? Have any of my "friends" posted on my wall? Has anyone sent me a gift? A hug? A beer? Thrown sheep at me? WHY DOESN'T ANYONE LOVE ME?!?!?!

This is all my husband's fault, you know. He's the one who introduced me to Facebook (or, Crackbook, as one of my friends so appropriately nick-named it). He's the one who stays up late every night so we can search for more long-lost friends. That's OK, though. It's nice to know there's an enabler in the house if I ever wanted to - say - start smoking or take up on-line gambling. At least that's one good thing I can say about Facebook - it's free, so my children's college funds (or therapy money) won't suffer for it.

On the positive side, though, it is nice to catch up with all those old friends I haven't seen in years. So far, I've gotten in touch with old high-school buddies, a couple of long-lost cousins, the children of old neighbours I haven't seen in decades, and the guy who introduced me to my husband.

There is, of course, a dark side to all of this "re-connecting", though ... other than the addiction, I mean. It's meeting up with these "kids" whom I haven't seen in years.

"Oh, honey, look! It's Little Suzie! You remember her. She's George's daughter, they lived across the street from us in Hometown. How old was she when we first moved in? Four? Five? She was such a cute kid. Remember how she used to come over to ask if the dog could come out to play? I wonder what she's up to these days. Oh, look! She's in College now. And she has a boyfriend. Let's look at her pictures, maybe there are some pics of her dad in there..."

Bom chicka wow wow...

Suddenly, you're looking at photos of scantily clad drunken college girls in a hot tub, all flashing their various piercings at whatever lucky college guy is holding the camera.

As I try to resist the urge to burn out my retinas, I suggest to hubby that we file that one under "Too much information."

So, beware, my friends. The addiction hits hard, and it hits fast. It's damn near impossible to resist. And, when you least expect it, you'll stumble across some bit of information that you could happily have gone your whole life without knowing ... like the fact that you are getting very, very old.

Got Skunk?

2007-07-12T08:34:00.000-04:00

What a lovely way to start the day.

I was woken up at 5:00 in the blessed AM by hubby dearest swearing like a trucker. The bleeping dog had gotten sprayed by a bleeping skunk ... yet again.

This isn't a new routine for us. The bleeping dog, and her bleeping predecessor, had been sprayed by skunks before, always at ungodly hours of the morning. You see, hubby dearest works these wonderful shifts, and so, he feels he is doing the good dog-daddy thing by letting the dog out for a pee before he heads off to work. This is despite (or, perhaps, in spite of) my repeated requests to stop because - d'uh! - there are bleeping skunks in the area and, being nocturnal animals, they're all heading home for a good night's - or day's - rest at precisely that time of morning.

What I find amusing about this whole ordeal is that the inevitable comment that follows a multiple spraying like this is, "You'd think she'd learn her lesson after the first time."

Oh, yes. Of all the characters involved in this comedy, you'd think the dog would be the one to learn the lesson. As intelligent as she is ... and she is extremely intelligent ... she is, in fact, a dog. She is a highly prey-driven, chase-anything-that-moves kind of dog, to boot. Would I expect her to take a face-full of fresh eau de skunk as a lesson to stop chasing little things that run? That would be nice, but I'm not holding my breath (well, technically I am, but that's not what I mean here).

I immediately embarked on my virtual quest for skunk-spray remedies. I've come across one interesting recipe, repeatedly, which everyone swears will works like a charm. The directions involve peroxide, baking soda and liquid dish soap ... oh, yes, and a pair of thick rubber gloves. The recipe also cautions that you should keep the mixture in an open container, as enclosing it with a lid might cause it to explode.

Forgive me, but I'm a little hesitant to pour a volatile concoction, with the potential for combustion, onto my dog's head. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm funny that way.

What other options do I have? Well, it's not likely that she'll spend the rest of the season in the back yard. She's been out there for 4 hours now and has almost figured out how to open the patio door by herself. She's most definitely an indoor dog, and doesn't take kindly to being separated from her pack. The last time I went to the back door to make sure she was OK, she gave me an intense stare and then ... I swear to you ... with her nose, she pointed at the door handle. She was very clearly saying, "Look, I've had quite enough 'fresh' air now. Would you open the freakin' door already?"

I can't very well put her in the car and take her to a groomer or to the pet store to pick up some dog-safe product with which to bathe her. Aside from the fact that hubby dearest would probably divorce me for stinking up the truck that badly, I do have two young children who would have to come with me, and I think enclosing them in a car with her at the moment could be construed as child abuse.

I also can't leave her in the back yard while I go out. Not only is she a chaser, but she's a climber as well. As soon as I would walk out the front door, she would scale the measly 4 foot fence just like a cat. Now that I think of it, she must have learned that particular trick from all the cats she's chased out of our yard over the years. Gee, thanks, puss!

So, she'll have to spend the day out back, offending our neighbours, until hubby gets home from work and one of us can go shopping. In the mean time, my biggest challenge will be keeping the kids from inadvertently letting her into the house during their various daytime wanderings. That task should prove a bit of a challenge - kind of like trying to build a dam out of a pair of pantyhose.

BACK IT UP!!!

2007-06-15T10:37:00.000-04:00

This is a quick entry to remind everyone of a very important lesson I learned the hard way last night.

For the love of all that is holy, BACK UP YOUR HARD DRIVES!!!

I had a spectacular crash last night. Every digital picture I've ever taken or been sent through e-mail, every piece of clipart I've collected over the years, every client project file, every project template I've downloaded, the drivers for my new laser engraver ... all gone in the blink of an eye.

And all this happened when I had two projects that absolutely needed to be done last night and a very large one waiting in the wings that needs to be started this week-end and which will take a week and a half of full-power, 12-hour days to complete.

Luckily, hubby has a computer that we were able to install the laser's drivers on, so we were up and running and had the "must do" jobs completed by 2:00AM.

But I'm still mourning the loss of all of my photos, clipart and data, as witnessed by the box of Timbits I killed today.

So, please, learn from my mistakes. Back-up your hard drives weekly, if not daily. Your stomach (and the lack of ulcers therin) will thank you for it.

The World's Sexiest Song

2007-05-28T16:52:00.000-04:00

I've found it. The world's sexiest song. I know some people are going to disagree, and that's fine. But, even if you think this isn't THE world's sexiest song, you surely have to agree that it's up there in the top 10.

It's Come Back To Bed by John Mayer. Yup, four simple words that, when crooned in that raspy, just-woke-up-and-noticed-you-were-gone voice of his, are enough to cause most warm-blooded women from all four corners of the globe to emphatically reply, "OK! You betcha!"

I can only imagine what it's like to attend a live concert of his. Maintenance crews must use legions of mops to clean up afterwards, what with all the women melting into puddles all around the stage.

Yessiree. John Mayer, with his husky bedroom voice, gives a whole new meaning to the term "oral sex".

An Inane Observation...

2007-05-17T08:59:00.000-04:00

Generally speaking, I envy birds. I love to watch them as they swoop and soar, dodge and dive. Watching them in flight can uplift your spirits. Their command of the skies is truly awe-inspiring. Their grace and beauty, poetic.

Except for ducks.

Hubby and I were driving to my sister's house the other day when a mallard flew by overhead. We watched it flap frantically until it disappeared over a stand of trees.

Ducks really look like they're not having a good time up there. If I could hazard a guess as to what's going through a duck's mind as it flies along, judging by it's body language, I would say it was something akin to, "oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit."

Next time you see a duck flying by, pay closer attention to it. Tell me that it doesn't look like it's in a bit of a panic. Kind of reminds me of the poor, harassed parent who straps on skis for the first time in their life because the 10-year-old apple of their eye thinks it would be a fun thing to do together. The look on that parent's face as they careen down the hillside is very reminiscent of the look on a duck's face as it takes flight.

Then, of course, there are the landings. Geese don't land particularly well, either, but they're still cool about it. They'll come in on a body of water somewhere, ski in on those gigantic flippers of theirs, settle in and look around with their beaks in the air, as if to say, "Dude, I totally meant to do that."

Ducks will aim for the water and flap desperately in an attempt to avoid a face-plant. Once they've safely established themselves on top of the water, they will continue to paddle around in the same way that a person might pace nervously after narrowly avoiding a near-fatal accident.

"Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit."

Clearly, they're not enjoying the experience. It's almost as if they were wishing that God would have made them penguins instead. Or, if you prefer, that evolution went horribly wrong. "We have to use these flappy things on the sides of our bodies to do what?! Are you out of your mind? Whose brilliant idea was that?! I'll bet it was someone on your side of the family."

Blog Revival

2007-05-08T12:15:00.000-04:00

Hey blog fans! How've you all been? Yeah, I know. It's been a while since I last posted. Sorry. We've had to deal with Christmas, tax time, some sort of Norwalk virus taking the household down and a major computer crash. But we're back up and running, and I hope that means I'll have a little more time to blog.

Let's see ... what's been going on since November ...

Well, Trouble is now 3 1/2 years old and still refuses to potty train. Can you say "stubborn"? I'm not too concerned. Mini-me was the same way. He just woke up one morning and said, "I'm done, Mom. Take these things off me now." Never looked back. Trouble will be the same way, I'm sure. I just hope it happens some time before his 16th birthday.

It gets a little frustrating, though. I mean, I know he's smart enough.

Maybe that's the problem ... maybe he's too smart (Yeah, sure, Mom. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.).

He is very intelligent, though. How many 3 1/2 year olds do you know who not only know how to play GameCube and PlayStation, but also know how to change the games whenever they want, and can even plug the thing into the front of the TV if need be? Granted, the little wires and plug thingys are colour coded, but still...

Speaking of plug thingys, how thrilled am I that they've come out with Canada's Worst Handyman 2?! Oh, man, this batch is almost as good as the last bunch. Some are better, actually. My fave is the woman from out West who thinks she's a better handyperson than her contractor husband because she watches a lot of home improvement TV shows. So, if I start watching America's Next Top Model religiously, does that mean I'll shed 150lobs and grow 5 or 6 inches? Cool!

Then there's the poor fella who has to put up with his ornery mother-in-law. At first, I thought she was just ticked off at him because she thinks he isn't good enough for her daughter. But then she went to "help" one of the other nominees whose partner had to leave because of a back injury. Turns out that, no, she's just a biatch.

Ah, well, guess I'd better get back to work now. 'Till next time (which hopefully won't be another 6 months from now), keep the rubber side down. ;)

Happy New Year!

2006-11-22T09:04:00.000-05:00

Just kidding. It's not the New Year ... yet. Christmas sure is creeping up on us quick, though, don't you think? It's - what? - 4 1/2 weeks away. A little over a month. Have we started to panic yet?

**Shameless plug** Stop panicking. Get over to my website and buy a personalized Christmas ornament. You'll be able to cross someone off your list and you'll be helping a worthy cause (more info on my website). **End of Shameless Plug**

For some masochistic reason, though, I was thinking about my New Year's resolution this morning. Since Christmas isn't stressful enough, I thought I'd torture myself with premeditated failure. What am I going to resolve to do? Will I actually stay with it past January 2nd? Not very likely, if I stick with the same old, same old.

So, I thought I'd try to actually plan my New Year's resolution this year. That way, when someone asks what my resolution is, I won't be scrambling to think something up on the spot and then blurt out "Ummm... Lose weight!" Pfffft! Like that's worked for me for the past fifteen years.

This year, I'd like to aim low. Something that won't take a whole bunch of effort and, if I fail, won't endanger my health. Something along the lines of "watch the Ellen Degeneres show more often". Why not? After all, Ellen makes me laugh, and we all need more laughter in our lives, right? At least, if I'm not obsessing over the old "losing weight" thing, maybe it'll actually happen on its own. OK, I don't really believe that either, but a girl can dream, can't she?

What's your resolution going to be this year? Do you make resolutions each year? If not, why not? We'd all love to hear your thoughts on the subject. :D

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

2006-11-17T09:06:00.000-05:00

We've made it past Hallowe'en. Our neighbours south of the border are preparing for Thansgiving. It's Grey Cup week-end (Go, Als!). That can only mean one thing.

It's time to start Christmas shopping.

Now, before you start hyperventillating, listen carefully to these two magical words: Craft Show.

If you're a guy, then you have to pay special attention here. Craft shows are a great place to pick up a gift for the lady in your life. Honetly. Everything they sell at these shows is hand-made. This means that you're going to be able to give her a grown-up gift that she'll actually like (no, they don't usually sell singing fish at these shows), and you'll get the same "Awwww" factor as the kids do when they make a macaroni portrait at school.

Here's a show that you absolutely can't miss. Why? Because I'm going to be there, trying to raise some money for the local hospital. Come to Barrie, Ontario on Saturday, November 18th between the hours of 10:00AM and 2:00PM. Find St. Joan of Arc High School at 460 Mapleton Ave. Look for the table with either the screaming three-year-old or the two happiest women in the room - we'll be alternating between the two throughout the day, I'm sure. I'll be watching for you!

On a side note, what the heck is going on with Regis & Kelly this morning? Is that Clay Aiken sitting in Regis's chair? What did he do to his hair?! Seriously, someone get a pair of shears. He looks like a young Martin Short - not exactly a good look when you're going for the teen idol thing!

A Sign of the Times

2006-11-12T21:51:00.000-05:00

Here's a conversation I just had with my 3-year-old:

Mommy - "What do we use to smell with?"

Trouble - "Hmmm... My nose!" (Yes, he actually says "Hmmm..." before answering any questions)

Mommy - "What do we use to see with?"

Trouble - "Hmmm... My eyes!"

Mommy - "What do we use to listen with?"

Trouble - "Hmmm... Headphones!"

Um - yeah.

Royal Victoria Hospital Fundraiser

2006-11-06T09:18:00.000-05:00

Contact Information:
Vicky Orsini
P.O. Box 7090, Stn. Main
Innisfil ON L9S 1A8
info@anderiengraving.com
www.anderiengraving.com

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: (October 30, 2006)

“A Personalized Thank You to RVH”

INNISFIL, ONTARIO – After her husband was diagnosed with colon cancer, Vicky, owner of Anderi Engraving, and her family learned how talented, caring and compassionate the staff at Barrie’s Royal Victoria Hospital truly are. “We owe them his life,” explains Vicky. “We felt the need to do something to show our appreciation.”

To that end, Anderi Engraving (a small business offering engraving services and personalized gifts) has launched a fundraising campaign to benefit the Royal Victoria Hospital in Barrie, Ontario. Just in time for the holidays, two different personalized items are being sold, with the proceeds going to the hospital’s foundation.

With the sale of every personalized holiday ornament, Anderi Engraving will donate fifty cents to the RVH Foundation. They are also offering ribbon-shaped awareness tags for two dollars each. The full profit from the sale of these tags will go directly to the RVH Foundation. “The tags and ornaments are engravable,” says Vicky, “making them the perfect gift and a great way to honour a friend or loved one whose life has been touched by the wonderful people at the Royal Victoria Hospital.”

This on-going campaign is available through Anderi Engraving’s website at www.anderiengraving.com.

My Television Debut

2006-11-02T09:19:00.000-05:00

Oh, God. Those who know me, know that I have a serious aversion to cameras. I mean a serious aversion. It's one of the reasons I love photography so much - it allows me to hide behind the camera and, thereby, avoid being in front of it.

I'm starting up a fundraising effort for our local hospital. They're building a new regional cancer care centre, and they need some public money to help fund it. After my husband's recent cancer diagnosis and subsequent surgery, we felt the need to give something back as a way of saying "Thanks" to the doctors and staff who took such excellent care of him - of all of us, really.

Here's the problem. A fundraiser needs - well - funds. In order to get funds, you need exposure, publicity. So, I wrote up a press release, sent it out to all of the local papers and (silly me) the local news team.

I don't know what I was expecting. I guess I hoped they'd just have the anchors talk about it a little, post a couple of pictures of the items I'm offering, and maybe put a link to my website on their website.

No such luck. Turns out my worst nightmare came true yesterday. They sent out a cameraman, complete with massive camera, spotlight and little clip-on mic. They had us set up a display of our products, and then proceeded to chat with us about how this all came about, what we're offering, how & where to get it, etc... They took some lovely footage of my husband telling his story, of me talking about why we've started the fundraiser, and then of us looking at our products with our two children (I guess that was the heartstring moment).

I hate it. I had no idea I was slouching that much. You'd think someone would have mentioned it. I guess, when I'm nervous, I subconsciously try to curl up in a fetal position. Not a good look for someone my size. It conjures up images of a manatee. I had one leg curled up underneath me, which made it look like I had one massive stump instead of two large appendages. My close up revealed what I refer to as Nazi bangs (you know, the ones that go straight across your forehead with no compromise) and a bullfrog throat that actually inflated as I spoke.

So, this morning I want to curl up underneath my covers and not come out until I lose about a hundred pounds. But that doesn't fit in well with the whole "run a business, raise a couple of kids and try to raise money for the hospital" plan. I guess I'll just have to deal with the monumental embarrassment and keep on truckin'.

Let's at least make my traumatic experience worthwhile, ok? Please go to my website and contribute to this very worthy cause. If you're local, you can come out to Joan of Arc High School in Barrie, Ontario on November 18th. The Holy Spirit Parish is having their Christmas Glitter Bazaar, and I'll be there, ready and waiting to engrave an ornament or awareness tag for you.

Technorati Tags: Fundraiser ; RVH ; Barrie ; Cancer Care Centre ; Christmas ; Holiday ; Ornament ; Cancer ; Awareness ; Tag ; Key Cahin ; Zipper Pull

WAHM Bloggers QOTW

2006-10-06T10:55:00.000-04:00

It's time again for a question of the week from my friends at WAHM Bloggers: How are you getting ready for the busy holiday season?

This is going to be a very special holiday season for me. For us, actually.

You may recall, back in May, my husband was diagnosed with colon cancer. It was a very trying time for us. We were very lucky in that the doctors found it early and were able to remove the entire tumour (along with half of his colon, but he barely even misses it). We were even luckier that there was no trace of infection in any lymph nodes and so there was no need for chemo or radiation therapy. And we were (are) also very lucky to live where we do, so that he was treated at what is quite possibly the best hospital in Canada.

The Royal Victoria Hospital in Barrie has the most amazing staff you could ever hope to meet. Not only are they extremely talented, they are also caring and compassionate beyond belief. Everyone, from the surgeons to the nurses to the girl who delivered breakfast every day, was nothing but pleasant and patient and understanding.

It is for all of these reasons that we decided to sign up with RVH as a registered fundraiser to help raise funds for the new Simcoe-Muskoka Regional Cancer Centre.

This is going to be a year-round campaign, beginning just in time for this year's Holiday season, with two different options for contribution:

Holiday Ornaments: We are donating $0.50 from the sale of each Holiday ornament directly to the RVH Foundation.
Awareness Tags: No ribbons or stickers here - we will soon be offering anodized aluminium ribbon-shaped awareness tags in a variety of colours. These tags are fully engravable with a name or date to honour a friend or family member directly, or with a slogan to show your support of a worthy cause. They are great for zipper pulls, key chains, scrapbook embellishments, etc... The tags will sell for $2.00 each, with all proceeds going to the RVH Foundation.

Our website will be updated with all of the information as soon as I receive the graphics and whatnot from the RVH Foundation. So check back soon and often for your chance to contribute to this very worthy cause!

Technorati Tags: WAHM ; QOTW ; Cancer ; Fundraising ; Royal Victoria Hospital ; SMRCC ; Holiday ; Christmas ; Ornaments ; Awareness ; Tags ; Aluminium ; Anodized ; Key Chain ; Zipper Pull ; Scrapbooking ; Personalized ; Engravable

Hallowon't

2006-10-05T11:17:00.000-04:00

I have a love/hate relationship with the month of October.

I start the month off really excited because my youngest son (you remember Trouble?) celebrates his birthday early in the month. What fun! Shopping for presents, baking, planning a party, preparing the house for the out-of-town guests we're expecting...it's just a general party atmosphere for the first couple of weeks.

Then it all goes downhill.

I've never been a fan of horror flicks. Hate 'em with a passion, actually. They scare the bejeezus outta me. I remember being forced to watch them when I was a teenager - you know, everyone else was watching them and I didn't want to appear the 'wuss'. Unfortunately, those instances of fake bravado cost me several years' worth of lost sleep. Oh, it's not the blood and gore that get to me. No, what really turns my hair white is when dead people don't stay dead. I can handle any bad guy, as long as he gets it in the end. It's the ones who refuse to die (or were never 'alive' in the first place) that give me the willies. And then the geniuses behind these cinematic masterpieces go ahead and add some text to the end of the credits that says, "This film was based on real-life events." Well, that's it. I toss in the towel. No point in even trying to sleep for the next twenty years or so.

So why don't I just avoid these movies if I hate them so much? Good question! I do. Or, at least, I try to. The problem lies in the advertising. Even the commercials are too creepy to behold. Who the heck rates these things, anyway? I mean, if I don't want to see the movie, what makes you think I want to have it sneak up on me while I'm watching Everybody Loves Raymond right before going to bed? Have these people never heard of advertising for their target market? Why aren't they running their commercials on the Space channel, or during episodes of Missing? Do they really think that everyone who has opted to watch re-runs of Friends will want to see their blood-curdling, nightmare-inducing waste of celluloid?

And there you have it. My scary little secret. I'm a complete 'fraidy cat, and will probably spend the rest of the month cowering beneath my covers. Someone wake me in November. That's when all the Christmas cartoons start airing on TV - that's a little more my speed.

Technorati Tags: October ; Halloween ; Hallowe'en ; Horror ; Movies ; Trailers ; Commercials ; Terror ; Scary