Hi all, you may have noticed that my dearest darling husband took it upon himself to redesign my blog and I think it looks great (I can say that cause even though it’s my blog it’s not my design so I’m not being conceited).

My hair also has a new look…blond highlights. I also think they look good and that’s also ok cause even though it’s my hair I didn’t do the highlights - I just paid $100 for them which I think is a lot but, not having much experience in such matters, I may be wrong. Anyway the woman who did my highlights is, I believe, evil. The results look great but oh the pain!

You have to understand, when Daniel was two-ish he used to hang from my hair. He’d grab a good clump and pull himself up and it didn’t hurt a bit - it was actually a bit of a party trick.

The hairdresser must have seen us perform this trick in the past or something because she seemed to take it as a personal challenge to inflict extreme pain on my unwarry scalp.

She started with a way agressive hair brushing which ended with her tossing the comb on the floor in a huff (or dropping it by accident, who can really tell).

Then she yanked and yanked at my hair befor slathering it with suprisingly pleasant smelling colorant.

Then she mashed the little foil baggies of dye coloured hair into my scalp with some strange kneading smashing motion.

Then she gave up and sent me to the hair washer who gently removed the foil, carefully washed my hair, gingerly massaged conditoner from the roots to the tips and delicately patted my hair dry.

My super-strudy-somewhat-invincible scalp and I returned to the chair where it all began only to fall into the most painful hair trap ever.

Ripping a comb through my hair didn’t work, yanking on my delicate folicles didn’t work, mashing my poor old scalp didn’t work…but the hair dryer…mother of all things painful and blistery this thing was like a blow torch.

I tried to put on a brave face and I seemed to be doing pretty well until I noticed that while my reflection was smiling back at me my hands were deformed into some scary ass claw contraptions. It really wasn’t very attractive nor, for even a moment, did I pull one over on masocistic hairdresser.

Anyway I didn’t say anything - don’t ask me why. I didn’t even give her a overly small tip - don’t ask me why. In fact I told her I’d come back next month for a cut - and I’m just about stubborn enough to do it.

The blog looks good though.

Dear all spam makers, senders and readers…

I loath you.

You have no morals, you have no style, you are meerly bumbling children wandering through the china shop that is my blog. You break but you don’t buy, you comment but you don’t read, you assume that I am as lazy as you and that I will not notice your attempts at destruction.

But I do.

You do not care that my blog is not well-read, nor that the people who do read it do not need your online poker, supersized man parts or random medications. To you I am a http://www, not a real live person with an inbox full of your crap.

Did I mention that I loath you.

You are making middle men rich, middle men who care even less about me than you do. You seek to hijack my site for your own profits because you are too puny, too socially inept, too unimaginative to do it on your own. You think you are clever, you think you have found the true pyramid scheme, you think the world is your oyster. But I say, ‘No oyster for you’.

I am not a whore for you to do and then ditch. I am not a stoned freak who thinks your random strings of words make sense. I am not a certain president of the free world who thinks that your ends justify your means just because you’re here to make money and I’m not.

You will make no money here.

So begone vile spammers, take your pimple-faced programmers with exceptional hand and wrist strength and find another raison d’etre. You are not welcome here, you are not a triumphant knight battling armies of anti-spam warriors. You are a plague, dependent on the vermin of this world. You ride on the back of rats but beware, the Pied Piper is in town.

Enjoy the music.

Ok I don’t have much time to blog today but I did see the funniest thing on my way to work this morning.

I was walking down the street when all of a sudden this three year old kid up ahead fell backwards into a bush.

She was unhurt so it’s ok that I found it funny but I mean seriously…she was just standing there, unmoving, doing nothing and then ‘flop’ all of a sudden she was lying in the bush.

Did I mention that it was raining?

Tee hee.

Bert and I went to Ottawa on Saturday to watch the hockey game. We stayed overnight…here are a few of the highlights.

1. We arrive at the hotel and Bert locks the keys in the car. Our car has those idiot proof keys - the ones where you actually have to press the button on the key when you are outside the car with all of the doors closed in order for the doors to lock. We were both standing outside the car. The doors and windows were all closed. The lock button was pressed…inside the car. Basically the keys got stuck in the car door and, when the door closed, the pressure from the closing door pressed the lock button. The roadside assistance guy swears he’s never seen anything like it.

2. Ottawa lost the hockey game. They lost during the first overtime much to the dismay of the entire crowd including the two very drunk frat boys sitting in front of us. Actaully we had standing seats (ie. no seats) and by the start of the third period one of the frat boys decided he was going to stand with us so he could make friends with Bert. Bert suffered through the whole having to talk to strangers thing quite well…I was ignored.

3. We ate grocery store muffins and yogurt for breakfast. We were going to go to a sit down breakfast place but the lines were way too long with all the people and their Mom’s. Even the line-up for the Tim Hortons drive-thru extended out of the parking lot so we ended up in some random, under-construction grocery store full of old men trudging up and down the aisles with empty carts.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the elk and the lamest mall ever.

I have been volunteered to make a presentation at a school on my work topic. Now to most people this would sound like a fun way to spend a work day but…I’m terrified. I’m going to spend an hour with 50 grade 4 students and I have no idea how I’m going to keep them from:

throwing stuff at me

throwing stuff at each other

falling asleep during my presentation

running around like crazy umpa lumpa’s

calling me nasty names and making me cry (on the inside people…never show weakness or you’re lost)

being as bored by my job as I am (at least today)

turning into hypoglycemic little monsters who tear me to shreds in a wild effort to satiate their insane frustration at being stuck in a classroom when the world is ripe with berries, dirt, tire swngs and slip’n’slides

Does anyone have any advice on how I can keep these kids entertained?