But I WANT a Golden Ticket!

Two posts in one day! Holy shit! I'm lucky if I can churn out 2 posts in a month!

I have spent the past few days in and around Regina, catching up with the whole fam-damily and my good friend Jenn. (Should she happen to be reading this, Russ gets the thumbs up - he's pretty darn funny. Maybe not as funny as his mom... but close.) Anyhoo... the few days that I had off were pretty low key - golfing with the grandparents, 2 ball games, the requisite paddle-boat with my aunt, damn the man conversations with my other aunt, drinking with my little bro.... and getting THE ITCH. (No, this is not crabs. You pervs.) I'm not sure if THE ITCH is something that Albertans know about or not, maybe it's called something else like the elusive bunnyhug/kangaroo. Southern Saskatchewan gets a lot of Canada Geese in the summer. And they shit. A lot. And when they shit, copious amounts of algae are created, so when you swim in the water and it's hot and not very windy and there aren't a lot of boats out... well you end up swimming in a literal shit load of algae. And then if you don't rinse or dry off right away once you're out of the water - you develop THE ITCH. Normally THE ITCH just looks like mosquito bites - clusters of them. But this year they look more like hives. I never get the itch and I managed to acquire it this week - I think it may have something to do with the fact that the shower water you use to rinse off the algae is actually lake water - filtered only by the shower head. Anyway... I don't actually feel itchy, I just have the spots - everyone else at home was scratching like a bunch of damn monkeys. And pouring vinegar on themselves. (Which was amusing, but highly uneffective.) I have one spot right inside my belly button - that one makes me laugh every time I see it. One summer when I was a kid, THE ITCH was really bad and everyone had spots but for some reason my brother was in horrible shape. We couldn't figure out why. A week later my remaining 2 siblings, myself, and one cousin all had the chicken pox. Bastard.

Wow. That was sort of lame to go into that much detail over THE ITCH. I'm a winner.

On my flight back from Regina yesterday I forgot to ask to be seated at the back of the plane and I ended up sitting behind a young mother, her toddler son, and her infant daughter. The was the longest flight I've ever been on in my life! I was sitting directly behind the toddler who was playing that neurotic game that toddlers play where they repeatedly bonk the back of their head on the back of the seat. I felt like my knee was slowly driving my thighbone into the back of my hip. If my knee was my head, I would now be concussed. And THEN... from take off through to landing, the baby cried and screamed nonstop. I'm no parent, and I know nothing about kids - but damn it, I know enough that when a baby is crying on an airplane it's usually because it's ears are popping and it hurts them. So instead of shrugging and looking helplessly at the grouchy travellers around you and saying "I just don't know why she's being like this!", give the child her soother or bottle so she can swallow a few times and unpop her ears! God! SOME PEOPLE'S KIDS!!! I swear!

In any event, while I was trying to distract myself from Hammerhead and Lungs sitting in front of me, I compiled a short list of things to write about in my blog. Unfortunately for you readers out there it's a fairly negative list. Reason being, when I think to myself that I hate something (ie: "Damn, I hate screaming babies.") that thought is generally followed with more things that I hate. So this list of things to write about is actually a list of things I hate. But don't worry, it's not very long.

Things Autumn Hates

(a list)

- Crocs: What does that say about our generation when the shoe of choice is a godforsaken GARDENING CLOG?!?!

- Hippies. Goddamn hippies. Especially folk festival type hippies, or the ones who hang around the Roasterie. The smell of dirt and patchouli is not pleasant. White boys with dreadlocks who haul around drums in Navajo blankets look ridiculous. Even more ridiculous are the baby boomer hippies - especially the old crones who don't shave their armpits and spend their time at outdoor festivals twirling around. Gross.

- Skinny jeans. I saw a kid the other day wearing black skin-tight jeans - with a giant freaking cast on his leg. Seeing as it's simply got to be impossible to remove those babies while his cast is on, I am led to believe that this wanker is going to wear the same skinny black jeans for at least the next month. Which is gross. "Hipsters" are retarded. There is nothing even remotely attractive about wearing tapered, skinny pants of any kind.

- My sister's boyfriend. He's a tosser. He manipulates her using the whole sensitivity thing - he actually cries when they fight. And he's a mama's boy. Literally. His parent's keep him on such a short leash that I was concerned that Alex may sucked into some sort of fundamentalist Christian group by them. The little weiner actually made the fatal mistake of trying to talk about books with me - leading off the conversation with "James Patterson is my favorite author, have you read (insert crap title here)? I like that he writes such short chapters."

Too easy. (Picture Autumn, the hungry Fox - sly grin, teeth gleaming, smacking her lips. Straight outta the cartoons.)

Apparently I'm the intimidating family member?!

- My potty mouth. It's weird, I get home from work and I swear like a sailor. (The sailors in Pirates of the Caribbean don't swear. So maybe it's actually the hoity-toity sailors on the H.M.S. Hottentot or whatever that swear. I don't know why it is important for me to note this in my blog, but I suppose I am curious as to which sailors the expression is referring to.) Anyhoo... I suppose the bad language just gets pent up inside of me (sort of like these pointless blog tirades) and as soon as my feet hit the pavement I'm homefree to swear to my little heart's content?

Ok. So that's really all I could think of that I hate. I could think of many more if I tried, but I won't over do it. Besides, I have good things ahead. I got my Who tickets for October 5th, and lo and behold, the Rolling Stones are heading to Regina-fucking-Saskatchewan ("A" for effort on curbing the swearing there). The hot tickets are $300 - they're called the "Golden Tickets" and man, I am practically chewing off my own tongue at the thought of getting a hold of one of those. The Who on the 5th and the Stones on the 8th? I could die. After all that I could literally just die. It would be AUTUMN'S ULTIMATE WEEK OF ROCK!!! I'm even thinking of getting t-shirts made. I think I'll call it the "I CAN GO AHEAD AND DIE NOW TOUR - 2006".

Seriously. So let's all pray that I get my hands on the golden ticket... now who wants a chocolate bar?!