Usage of the word vintage to describe a purchase of used clothing is irritating me to no end. People - you have bought used clothing and calling it vintage does not make you trendy or hip or in or organic*. It makes you annoy the fuck out of people like me. If you buy anything that the shop called vintage it means that this came from the back of someone's closet and the cleaner put a christly amount of effort into getting the funk out of the armpit and/or crotchal regions. That was some mean feat because polyester and nylon trap a shitload of stink. That so-called vintage purchase of yours means that you paid too much and that makes you stupid. I own clothing that's older than jesus and it's not vintage - it's just fucking old.

*Organic. Here's another one. Usage of the word organic is making me want to jump out of a second story window and land on a spiked wrought iron fence like Cecilia Lisbon. If you purchase anything that's described as being organic it means that you paid too much and that makes you stupid. If you describe yourself or anything else as organic you probably purchase vintage clothing. If you just paid six dollars a pound for organic tomatoes because they're healthier you should realize that you're still going to die.

I think we're done here.

People who hang up mid third ring after I've stubbed my toe to get to a phone need to die in a fire.

Also. Brian Ferry put out a ton of dead sexy music.

Also also. Barbara is 50.

Rufus has recently taken to bring to my attention, the fact that he has right now, at this very moment in his possession - a toy. His acquisition of a toy is huge news. At first, I thought this rather amusing and also a little bit stunning because he has never been a crier. He doesn't even give off the death yowl when you step on his tail. He's just like, 'Please to step off the tail now.'

He likes to alert me at 2:00 AM that YOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW !!!! I HAVE AN INCREDIBLE TOY THAT YOU MUST COME SEE IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE THIS IS JUST SO UNBELIEVABLE AND I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO MISS THIS ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY TO SEE THIS MOST EXCELLENT TOY THAT I HAVE !!!

I try to round up his PHENOMALLY STUPENDOUS AND MIRACULOUSLY BESTEST TOY EVAR THAT I MUST SEE AT 2:00 AM OR ELSE I MAY NEVER GET THE CHANGE AGAIN ! before I go to bed but when you are Rufus, and you own such an UNFATHOMABLY PRECIOUS AND PRICELESS ITEM - you have the best hiding place in the world for it.

I want his head on a plate when he does this to me in the middle of that dream I have where Olivier Martinez wants me badly and I wear a size six and I'm a full C cup and I have a bowl of candy, but when he did it just now in broad daylight and he's all YOWW OW OW OW OW OW OW and it sounds all hiccupy because he's bouncing down the stairs with it in his mouth to find me, I just look at him feeling Awwwwwwwwwwww ! How adorable is that ? Very adorable ! That's how adorable ! and I go, 'Who's the good kitty who's showing me the best toy ever ???'

And Rufus goes, 'THAT WOULD BE ME ! I'M THE GOOD KITTY ! AND I KNOW RIGHT ? ISN'T THIS THE FREAKING MOST AWESOME TOY IN THE WORLD THAT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN ? I WILL NOW CARRY IT IN MY MOUTH OVER HERE AND CARRY IT IN MY MOUTH OVER THERE WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY ALERTING ONE AND ALL THAT I HAVE IN MY POSSESSION THIS MOST ASTONISHING TOY !

My sister is running away to Ottawa and leaving me here to rot because her husband has been offered a job there that is just way too good for him to turn down. He's retro fitting tanks for the United States Army - Go War ! She is so out of here and I'm intensely bummed about that.

Anyway, she put up her house for sale about two weeks ago and it sold a few days ago but my father just called me all excited because

'Hey Linda ? Kathy's house is on the net ! Did you see it ? They put her house on the net ! I saw it - you should see it ! It's on the net !'

He's excited. Could you tell he's excited ? He's excited because Kathy's house is super famous now that it's on the net.

He calls it 'the net' - it's never the internet or anything other than 'the net'. He'll say, 'I can buy books right off the net !' or 'I do my banking on the net !' or 'My friend sent me some photos over the net.' Anyway, he says,

'Yeah, so her agent put her house up on the net and there are pictures and everything of Kathy's house on the net now ! You should go see the pictures !'

'Dad, I've been in Kathy's house. A lot. I know what it looks like.' I tell him.

'Yeah but you never saw it on the net !' he says.

'It's the same only smaller Dad.' I say. 'Anyway, they sold it so it'll be taken down soon but there's a video of Justin on youtube so you'll still know someone who has something on the net.'

I wonder what he'd think if he knew I wrote about him pretty often on the net.

'Hey Larry ? Did you know my daughter writes things about me on the net ?!?!?!?!'

'I met your daughter, you should be afraid.'

Yeah. It would probably go like that.

A few months ago, the boy asked me if I'd like to go with him to hear our city's orchestra play a benefit concert and I said, 'Yah I want da cheezy poof' and he said he'd get the tickets and I didn't think much about it after that.

So a few weeks ago, he says to me he says, 'Did you know that the orchestra has their own website ?' and he was on his laptop at the kitchen table and I was making dinner, kind of absorbed in what I was doing and I just sort of went 'Uh huh, that's nice. It'll be easy to find out where they're playing now.' and he says, 'Huh. They even list the names of all the musicians.' and I'm like, 'Uh huh, that's good.' and he says, 'Hey, come see this.' So I walk over there and I'm looking at a list of these musicians, and I say, 'Uh huh. That there is a list of musicians all right' and he says, 'Huh. Check out the name of guy who's playing third trumpet.' and I look and

It was him.

I stood there blinking, not believing my eyes but I read it and reread it and thought, 'Ok, yeah, that's him because nobody else in Canada has that name. I checked.' It's got Z's and W's in it and nobody can pronounce it unless they're Polish.

'Oh my god !'I said, 'When did you join the orchestra ? How did you join the orchestra ? When were you planning to tell me ?'

He's got this shyish looking smile on his face and he says, 'I auditioned in the summer, and they offered me third trumpet, so I've been practicing with them every Monday. I don't actually have an English class that starts at five and finishes at seven on Monday evenings.'

I feel like I'm floating on the ceiling and I say, 'I just can not for the life of me believe this! How did you manage to keep this to yourself all this time ? When were you going to tell me ?' and he says,

'I planned to tell you when we met up and you took your seat at the benefit concert we have tickets for. I was just going to sort of stand there and casually say that I had to go play. You know, with the orchestra.'

I am just generally tripping out all over the place and hugging the crap out of him and saying all sorts of things you'd expect a mother to say when she just found out what I just found out, and I'm one of those over the top people when I get excited and I'm pretty sure he must have thought I needed to calm the hell down and stop cutting off the circulation to his limbs but dude ! I'm seriously ! Holy shit !

'Anyway' he says, 'Now that we have to drive down there together, I just couldn't find a good excuse to tell you why I needed to bring a trumpet and why I needed to be at the Salle at three o'clock in the afternoon.'

'This is also why' he says, 'I asked you in December where I could possibly buy a bow tie because I couldn't find one.'

'And all this time I thought you were being over the top flamboyant with your intense desire for a bow tie !' I say.

'I don't need no bow tie to be over the top flamboyant' he say.

He's right.

Anyway !

The boy played his trumpet in the city orchestra last night. And they stuck his name, all the W's and Z's and everything - on the programme.

And his mother totally cried.

My son is normal after all - he's asking me to order him a copy of Music Composition For Dummies.

I am totally warning you rpeate.

I was dragged against my will to a very traditional Québecois cabane à sucre this morning and there were people there, specifically, Robert's coworkers. They drank beer with breakfast which is understandable because Boston beat the Canadiens last night. They looked like the kind of guys that didn't need an excuse.

There was a huge table of Haitians next to us who'd obviously never taken part in this smorsgabord of Frenchness because they poured maple syrup over everything on their plates, even the fat that's deep fried in fat which is also known as oreilles du Chrisse, otherwise known as Christ's ears. Yes, we have stupid names for deep fried fat. Actually, it's pretty stupid that we even have deep fried fat.

Erica ate stuff that vegetarians eat and I sat beside her and said, 'Hey, could you pass me the bacon please ?' then I'd ask her to pass me the ham and then I'd say, 'Mmmmm those sausages look great. Lay some on me Erica.' and then I touched her hand with deep fried fat that I didn't intend to eat and pretended it was an accident.

We spent quite a bit of time outside which was a huge relief because sunglasses prevent people from looking into my eyes which are portals to my cold black soul. It also gave me an excuse to wander off and have a look at a few animals they keep in a barn to give the kids something to do other than watch their parents drink beer.

They had two huge pigs in there and I told Erica they were slated to become tomorrow's buffet.

So I was doing that thing where you switch out your winter coats and boots for light summer jackets and shoes and your eleven thirteen dark coloured handbags for the pretty summery ones and I came across this trashed out small bag thing that's not a briefcase but you use it to carry around files and stuff but not big enough for a laptop type deal that I don't know what you call exactly. This belongs to Robert and I bought him a new one to replace this piece of shit but guys don't throw stuff away because you never know when something a bum wouldn't even touch might come in handy again I guess, so I was all ready to trash it but then I saw that he had a few papers in there - things he didn't transfer to his new thing so I figured I should see if there was anything worth keeping at all because it wouldn't surprise me if there was a winning lottery ticket in there for a million dollars and all this time I could have been buying name brand paper towels.

I'm going through business cards that I'm deciding to toss and I see post it notes with stuff like 'Jacques - formation général - paie aussi ?' and 'Pick up shirts' and a list of phone numbers of every hockey rink within a fifty mile radius of this city, and then it hit me that I am that woman who looks through her man's pockets every night after he falls asleep and I had this little stomach clench and thought - what if I found some note from a chick that said, "You're an amazing fuck baby" with a phone number - cause that could totally happen you know - nobody is immune from that shit - don't kid yourself. I ended up finding a couple of 'You're an amazing fuck baby' notes all right but I had written them and he had kept them. Awww right ?

I find a sealed envelope that says, 'Personal - addressee only' and it looks an awful lot like a cheque so I wasn't far off from thinking we could be richer than we were fifteen minutes ago and I could have been buying brand name toilet paper all this time.

I get to the end of this pile of stuff and I unfold these longish looking papers and fuck man ! He was totally hiding shit from me ! ! Four hundred and eighty dollars worth of speeding tickets ! God damn it !

WHY DOES HE KEEP GETTING CAUGHT ?

I could have been buying brand name consummé with that kind of dough.

I totally love the internet and each and every helpful geek out there. Really - I do.

I was given an iPod a few months ago (Lurve !) and it looked like it was dead today so I plugged it in to charge and after much futzing around - those Microsoft people who live in my computer told me it was corrupted and I was all 'Oh noes !' and then the Mac people who moved into my computer to support my iPod were all, 'Hey ! Why don't you download a new version of iTunes ? I bet that's going to fix your problem !' and I was all, 'Ya think ?' so I started doing that and MUCH MORE FUTZING ENSUED and then I couldn't get the iPod to shut off and it was totally effed up and then I was REALLY like 'Oh noes !'

So I emailed the man and I was like 'Oh total hell baby ! I'm going to have to get my damn NEW iPod fixed cause it's all dead and everything !' and I hit send and then I sat here saying to myself : 'Self - He's going to tell you to google "Help ! My iPod done died !!" and someone out there will tell me how to fix it all by my own self.

So. I google 'Halp ! My frikin iPod is busted !'

And someone out there told me how to fix it by my own self !!! Totally !

This nice techie guy goes, 'Man that is SO easy to fix ! Just hold down the centre and menu buttons at the same time - it's not corrupt, it's just locked up. It's a Mac thing.' I'm like, Get the fuck out of here ! Nothing is EVER that simple !' Only it WAS that simple.

I am awesome at holding down centre and menu buttons at the same time ! Feel my button holding down awesomeness !

Thank you nice techie guy on that there Halp ! My friking iPod is busted ! website. I'm sending you total good vibes today ! I bet you find fifty bucks in that coat you haven't worn since last April. Or some other good stuff like that.

Has anyone else noticed ( this ? )

I am going to tear my hair out. Every last strand. I will never have another bad hair day for as long as I live.

I have often wondered why in the movies, if they want to illustrate how completely unhinged a character has become, they always shoot a scene of her in front of a mirror, dead eyed and hacking away at her waist length locks with the largest mother effing scissors you've ever seen. Oftentimes - they are rusty.

I don't have to wonder why anymore, I've finally figured it out. They're drawing on personal experience - they have had recent dealings with my family.

Stanley Kamel, who plays Adrian Monk's psychiatrist died of a heart attack today - he was only 65. I was so shocked to find out about this and I'm pretty embarrassed to say that my first thought was that the show is just not going to be the same without him.

How wretched am I ?

Kate: Laughing hard.
Tom: ( Pretends it's funny. )

I like getting email from my Dad, especially the stuff that's been around the old people's block. It always has subject lines like FW:Fw:FW:FW:Fw:PLEASE READ !!!!!! THIS WAS ON THE NEWS !!!!! and is typed up in purple 24 point font. I'll open it and it's stuff like, 'Environment Canada has issued a warning that it will rain small primates the morning of Wednesday, April 9, 2007. The public is advised to remain calm and keep ripe bananas and duct tape on hand.'

He'll follow that up with a call and say, 'Hey Linda ? It's Dad. Did you get that email I sent you ? The one about the monkeys ? Falling out of the sky ? I have an umbrella for you here. I'm coming over to bring it to you.'

A few months ago, he was convinced that Canada Post was going to start keeping track of all the email you sent and then charge you the cost of a postage stamp for each one. I got a FW:FW:Fw: THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS !!! email that day and then he called me in a huff and said he was 'going to get rid of the internet' and muttererd something or other about the government being goddamned greedy sons of bitches.

This worries me so much because it makes me wonder what kind of FW:Fw:Fw:FW:THIS IS TRUE !!!DON'T DELETE!!!! email I'm going to be sending my kid in forty or so years.

Is it just me, or is there anyone else out there who flops on the couch with a box of Junior Mints and a bowl of popcorn, slaps in a DVD and sits back to enjoy a night of nothing but Cockbuster offerings and then realize that even though you've selected 'English' in the setup and the movie is definitely playing in English, that you have no clue what people are saying in English ?

There's always a lot of 'What did he say ?' going on around here and I've replayed incomprehensible dialogue over and over again and Robert will say, 'I think he said "Bring home a movie - something old." and I'll say, "It sounded to me like "Bring home a monkey - with a cold."'

I really resent having to play English movies with English subtitles. I end up finding out that we were both wrong and he actually said, "Bring home my money - and a ho."

What the hell ?

It is raining snow, and snowing hail.

Who ordered this shit ?

I saw this photo today on a blog I read and I was wishing I lived near this kid because I would have everyone I know leave a Hot Wheel on his doorstep.

What the hell is happening to me ?