...what is this you say? There is something called "Pinterest Fails." Must ... Google. I've had a bad day.

It must be common; I have to avoid going into major hunched covert-action mode when I dig out a used lipstick to see how it compares to the color in a different makeup line. It just makes me feel like there's a security camera beamed at me.

Good one!

Signs You Grew Up on the Border to Canada

Roomful of pretty girls. Gotta choose one. The pressure, the pressure. Then the dust clears and you realize your choice is Not. Quite. Perfect.

After a careful examination of my conscience and the photo above, in which the gift-wrap Santa, the make-your-own Citronella, and the zig-zag polka-dot thingie all make me gag, I've decided that my twee-meter is in working order.

I'm on a collision course with myself w/r/t DIY. I'm actually pretty handy - sew my own window treatments, make creditable floral arrangements, give away homemade potpourri at Christmas. etc...

Am experiencing cognitive dissonance. I sorta knew he was from ON, but did not know he was from Stratford. White picket fences / swans on the river / Edwardian elegance / Shakespeare / Bieber. Boingggggg.

My father (and uncle) were damaged, too, as children. My aunt (the youngest and relatively normal one of the bunch) is the only one still alive and she has told me stories that curl my hair (and yet I adored my grandparents). It takes a great spirit to rise above past abuse and unfairness and create a different now.…

That's the problem with power politics the world over: people start starving at the bottom of the food chain on up. It never really hits or affects those playing the games at the top.

He was large and powerful when these things happened; at the end, he was a thin old man in a hospital bed, afraid of death. Perspective. It's made me careful of other peoples' souls. And in truth I cannot deny the good things he passed down to me: a killer work ethic, creativity, intelligence, resilience. The…

Jesus hates him
That we know
'Cuz the Bible
Tells us so...

My father was abusive to animals (he called it "teasing") and also physically and verbally abusive to me. It's taken me a looooong time to work out my issues. On the plus side, the abuse left me with a lot of empathy. At least I can look back on those years dispassionately, now. But there are still haunting…

You nailed it, and I expressed it in a way I could not — thank you. It is the helplessness of what/who is being abused that gets me, every time. And animals can't speak - well, they DO, if you know how to read their body language - but they can't verbalize the terror and their eyes are so helpless and bewildered,…

I witnessed a horrific act of actual animal abuse when I was very small — I cannot write the details — and it is still very much with me, decades later. This isn't confined to animal abuse, if I see a person being abused, I get enraged.

JB, thank you indeed! Canada has always been so much a part of my life.

Bastard. Will not click on the link, because abuse videos haunt me forever. Screw the community service, whatever he did to that dog, should be done to him by someone three times his size.

Then it's "uh" and becomes a US-ism.

Eh?

Colour me apologetic.