Excuse The Mess, But We Live Here

Today, my kitchen ceiling is yellow. Last week, it wasn’t. Thankfully, it’s only in one spot – just around the lights. The rest of it is white, like any regular kitchen ceiling usually is.

chopzach

What happened, and how did it get this way? Well, simply put, crazy stuff happens around this house. In this particular instance, someone was doing something a little abnormal using curry powder, a few cleaning supplies, some water in a big pot, and a pretty large pumpkin, all of which – combined together rambunctiously – resulted in a giant splash, yellow liquid flying WAY up in the air, hitting the overhead drywall, and turning the ceiling this “tea-stained/smoker’s teeth” kind of colour. It’s still that way now despite furious attempts by the offending individual to rub it off with a washcloth while yelling, “This stuff actually DOES stain.” No shit.

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The Difference Between Art Students And Science Students

As my daughter begins yet another year of university, we find ourselves once again having the same conversation at the dinner table. It’s just loud enough to be more than a regular discussion. See, this can be a very sensitive subject, and it always comes down to who is better – read: smarter – art students or science students?

The Difference Between Art Students And Science Students | TheFurFiles

Yes, we are a family divided. Three of us are more on the “art” side – theatre/dance/fine art; then we have one “business” person, and finally, the good doctor.

For the purposes of this post, I will lump the “business” person and the doctor into one “show me the numbers or the scientific evidence” group. They are more alike than they are different, and definitely more different than the rest of us.

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Happy Endings Are Bullsh*t

Note: before reading this, please know that I’m not a complete cynic like my Aunt Judy. She thinks that everyone everywhere – doctors, politicians, musicians, bums on the street, you name it – are all out to get her. Except cats. She loves them…to an even more fanatical extreme than I do. She has nine. You get the picture. 

Happy Endings Are Bullsh*t | Human 2.0 Blog

Yes, she thinks that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, REALLY soon, hopefully (she adds, like it won’t be long) NOT before she dies. Now aside from the fact that I put cats on a high, pretty much god-like pedestal too, that’s not me. I mean, I’m not her. I just want to make that clear. I’m a positive person for the most part, unless your idol is Kim Kardashian; then I think you’re an idiot. 

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The Difference Between Dogs And Cats

First let me say that I love animals – ALL animals big and small. I have a not-so-secret desire to live on a hobby farm with goats, dogs, horses, pigs, etc. Just ask my husband. He’s heard my pleas. Problem is, he wants just the opposite – to live in a penthouse apartment, no responsibilities, no fucking mess (as he puts it).

The Difference Between Dogs And Cats | TheFurFiles

So like most married couples, we compromise. We live in a regular house, in a regular neighbourhood, and we have cats – the least demanding and cleanest of all “you can at least engage with me, and I’m not a farm animal” pet. That doesn’t stop a girl from dreaming, planning, and plotting though.

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RECIPE FOR SUCCESS: Just Keep Going

Success. It’s something we talk about a lot at our house. What does it mean, and how does one achieve it? In my opinion, it’s about being able to do what you love, and do it independently, so you don’t have to mooch off other people in order to support yourself. From experience – and from watching others – I’d say, finding it is a matter of setting a goal and sticking to the plan. Of course, having a natural talent for something, taking advice, and reflecting on your actions as you go along helps tremendously.

RECIPE FOR SUCCESS: Just Keep Going | TheFurFiles

This topic reminds me of what happened with my daughter a few weeks ago. She was sitting in the backyard working on stuff – music mostly because that’s what she does in her spare time – when she heard a noise that sounded like a cat getting crushed. Like the good “I would do anything to save a furry creature” daughter that she is, she jumped up without a care for the computer on her lap or the external hard drive that was attached to it, and she went to see what was wrong. The good news: nothing bad had happened to the cats. Whew – my biggest concern. The noise? Well, it must’ve been our neighbour – he’s kind of weird, and he does drugs. Enough said. The bad news: my daughter’s hard drive came crashing to the ground in the process, after which, it just wouldn’t work anymore.

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Loving Animals More Than Humans

This blog post was inspired by Sarah Silverman’s comedy special We Are Miracles in which she says – amidst a bunch of other awesome, off-the-wall things – something about the fact that if Africa were a land full of stray labradoodles, our desire to care for and/or help its inhabitants would be way higher.

Loving Animals More Than Humans | TheFurFiles

And she’s probably right. Weird-looking, curly haired dogs, big fluffy, pushed-in-face cats, iguanas, gerbils (though this one, I just don’t understand) – we love our pets, often more than we love humans, it seems. My aunt tells me this in every email she sends – people suck/animals are so much better.

Her “I’ve been burned one too many times” bias aside, I believe there are lots of people who feel this way. The question is why? Why would we care about animals more than we care about our own species? Is it because we see animals as helpless creatures, driven to build a life in a contaminated world of chaos, concrete, and poison? I know that’s being overly-dramatic, but it’s the truth. The poor raccoons have nowhere to go, and then we get pissed off when they set up camp in our attics. Is it because we think humans should just know better, and that if we suffer, it’s our own damn fault? Well, we should, and it is.

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What To Do When Your House Is Semi-Haunted

My daughter thinks that our house is haunted – for real. My husband and my two sons think she’s delusional. I think that weird stuff DOES go on around here sometimes. I’m hoping there are logical reasons to explain it all. I don’t deal well with the scary supernatural, or with guys coming after me in my sleep who have knives for fingers.
What To Do When Your House Is Semi-Haunted

Let me explain to you what’s been happening, and you can decide for yourself. Am I living in the Amityville Horror house, or do my daughter and I just have REALLY active imaginations?

As I’ve mentioned in earlier blog posts, my stove seems to have a mind of it’s own. It appears that it can turn itself on. It’s happened on numerous occasions. Either that, or I’ve turned it on myself without even realizing it. This may or may not be related, but I also forget where I’m going when I’m in my car sometimes. That’s weird thing number one.

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You Learn Something New Every Day

No matter how smart you are, there is always something new to learn. Sometimes, it’s something trivial – like snails have teeth (I didn’t know that until today) – and sometimes, it’s something that could save your life, or simply keep you from eating something really gross.

You Learn Something New Everyday | TheFurFiles

Take my oldest son’s BFF, he knows a LOT of facts about a LOT of crazy things. For instance, he knows why beer makes a person fat – like the biochemical details, not just that it does. He knows that rats multiply so quickly that within eighteen months, two rats can turn into over a million furry little buggers. He also knows (for a fact) that Superman would kick the crap out of Batman should the two of them ever meet and decide to fight. I think every young adult male has a theory (or twenty) like this.

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How To Stay Calm When Everyone Around You Is Flipping Out

I’ve always thought of myself as the mellow one in the family. I’ve never, in a fit of anger, broken up pieces of wood in the basement with my bare hands, and I only backed into my grandfather’s car once when I was seventeen-years-old. I chalk that one up to being young and impetuous. Occasionally, I yell, but I consider that more like “talking loud”, and I only do it because most people around here don’t listen to a word I say.

In my opinion, every family needs a floater – a person who is flexible and who can stay fairly stable (mentally) with the ebbs and flows of life.

How To Stay Calm When Everyone Around You Is Flipping Out | TheFurFiles

Yes, in my situation, that person is me. My husband’s job is one of very high stress. He works long hours, and what he does calls for a great amount of responsibility. It’s been that way for twenty-five years. Don’t ask him to deal with young adult angst. When he gets home, he literally melts into the chair in the living room, his computer on his lap, a stack of papers by his side. His brain goes into “cruise” mode, his eyes close, and his head bobs back and forth from time to time.

I’m the one who has to be ready – sort of like a firefighter, I always say. Things are usually calm, and I can watch “House Hunters” and take my cats for walks on their leashes – fun and (what my husband calls) leisurely and almost counterproductive stuff like that – but every once in a while, the shit hits the fan, and I need to spring into action, like when somebody forgets their dance shoes and it’s minutes before the show, or worse, when someone rips their pants in front of the whole cafeteria, or worse worse, when someone gets cheated on by their girlfriend, or worse worse worse, when somebody crashes the car, or gets really drunk, or fails a major test, etc. etc.

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Judge Not Lest Ye Also Be Judgethed (Or Something Like That)

It happens from time to time – I think to myself, “What is wrong with that person? Why did they do such and such?” It happened to me just the other day, in fact.

My husband and I were at the bank – paying some bills and getting some money because $60 seems to burn through our wallets faster than if our pants were actually on fire. As we went in, we walked past a man standing outside. He looked like he’d seen better days. He had a bottle of something in his hand that he was drinking. It could have been Pepsi in a bag, but from the particular way he tipped it up to take a swig, I didn’t think so. His clothes were rough, his face was scruffy, and he was wearing an extra-large backpack. It was pretty obvious, the guy had either just returned from a a very long trip and he was celebrating outside of Scotiabank, or he was living on the streets. Yeah, probably the latter.

Judge Not Lest Ye Also Be Judgethed (Or Something Like That) | TheFurFiles

As we entered the bank, the man followed us. Pausing for a moment, he looked at my husband – who was already busy dealing with the machine – and then he looked at me. I gave him the stare – the “don’t fuck with us” stare. I learned that from my psychopath book. You have to be confident, no matter what. Walk confident, stand confident, give off a confident air. You can’t be oblivious, or look scared. You’ll end up a victim.

And either my stare worked, or the man thought better of what he was about to do, or both, and he turned around and walked back outside. Now, he could’ve been just trying to get warm, but that’s not the impression I got. He kind of had that wild look in his eyes. It was the look of desperation and too much alcohol.

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