I guess it has turned into a bit of a vacation, but I love blogging I don’t think I will ever stop for good to be honest. I can’t wait till there are Granny bloggers.

I’m still reading blogs I’m just reading them off of Twitter links or through Facebook, I have not been able to face my iGoogle page because I will have to deal with my feed. It is too overwhelming for me. I think I will have Adam sign in and mark everything as READ and start over. That is what I normally do when it becomes overwhelming but I do it myself, this is the most backed up I’ve ever let it get.

You know what totally sucks about not signing into your feed though? I have no idea what is going on. Twitter although fast, does not contain very many of the people that I talk to on a regular basis in real life and Facebook which does hold a lot of people I talk to on a very regular basis is set up in such a way that if you don’t sign in at the exact right moment you don’t find out till the 23^rd that a RAD ASS girlfriend had her baby on the 21^st. Ok, so the baby was a wee bit early but had I have been signed into my iGoogle page I’d have known, damn skippy, right when she popped.

I find that I’m constantly sending friendly HEY HOW IS IT GOING? emails to people only to go to their blogs AFTER and find out everything sucks. Great friend Corinna, seriously.

I added a nifty little ‘Books Read in 2008′ thingy to my sidebar. I like it; it encourages me to make my minimum reading quota for the year which I am three behind on at present.

I took my blog roll down, NOTHING PERSONAL!!! You are all still on my feed and then some [just because you weren’t linked doesn’t mean you aren’t on my feed] and I promise I will catch up on it. I meant it when I said I was taking it back old school, I have not once checked my stats the couple times I have posted, not even once, I have not been on Technorati even once and don’t plan to head back, I’m finding I don’t miss checking either. It was a compulsive urge I had to make a conscious effort to stop doing.

My allergies are so bad this year that they are keeping me even more in doors than they normally do re: we golf, but we have no money this year anyway so the allergies are coming in handy for truthful excuses as to why I can’t be places. But really I know I’ve had a headache since 1994 I can DEAL, sometimes I just don’t want to.

DEAR ALLERGY MEDICATION SPRAY MAKERS: if you are going to charge me forty + dollars for a bottle that hardly lasts a month can you maybe make it with a sprayer thing that works and doesn’t clog ALL THE TIME and refuse to pick up the last four sprays that’d be awesome I would really appreciate my moneys worth in nose bleeds please and thank you.

While indoors if I’m not reading I am spending a lot of time listening to Bobby Darin, I AM A FULL ON BOBBY DARIN ADDICT now to the point I can even tell the difference between him and Frank Sinatra. At this EXACT moment, Country House, Blur is playing though. That Bobby Darin song If a Man Answers makes me dance a jig that has me busting out the mashed pa-ta-to and everything in between.

I am starting to feel a lot better about my body, I’m eating more, have more energy, feel some motivation to get out and I have been! And I’ve been spoiling myself I got my hair cut and my eyelashes tinted. I used to get them tinted in high school and in my super early twenties but yet never got them tinted when we got married, who knows.

Dear PH,

Today is the five year anniversary of your death. They say that sometimes it helps to write the dead a letter to aid in the healing but I never did that and the time has flown and I never really wanted to let you go never really wanted to forget anything. Sucks I have such a bad memory but I’ve done everything possible to hang onto as many memories of our times together and my memories of you as I can.

I recently found the bag that your mother made you filled with lavender that you gave me for my dresser, I thought I had lost it, it was in a place I never look, I thought it was gone forever I thought I had looked for it everywhere.

I like to believe that if you hadn’t have taken your own life that everything would have been easier. I’d like to think that if your death wasn’t one of the only ones I’ve had to deal with in thirty years of life that it wouldn’t have taken me until last year to finally remove your email address and to have finally taken your phone number out of my cell phone.

But the fact remains, that in so many ways you keep me here and I need those memories. The really tough ones that peek through the cloud of shock that I was buried under and the sweet and tender ones that I love to tell and people who love me tolerate hearing over and over and over and over and over again.

When I want to give up for good, when I honestly believe I am capable of inflicting this never ending pain on everyone you flood me. An image too real of the car, the hose, the tape, the bottle, the pills the receipt the lone book and you dead. B coming up to my place at 8:15pm after N had left with M to be told separate and change us all forever.

The letter your family sent us was so nice and touching and I read it from time to time but one from you would have been nice. I like to think I’d leave one. I left a rather short one in grade 11 but it was a note none the less. I guess this is where the anger and the whys come in. The “YOU KNEW I SUFFERED FROM DEPRESSION YOU ASSHOLE”, the “YOU KNEW IF ANYONE YOU COULD HAVE TALKED TO ME”. Depression can be such a selfish disorder.

I didn’t and don’t really spend much time angry at you. I understand man. But that has never made it any easier.

When I get to see you again I won’t start with with why I’ll start by poking you in the belly because I wanna see you smile and laugh and I want it in slow motion. Like a slide show I want to show you, I want you to have a birds eye view of how much our times together meant to me. It would start with cheese. The night you showed up at my apartment door with nothing but a tray of your favourite cheeses. No bread, no wine, just cheese and you and your stories of how every time you would house-sit for M & B that you would break something and how funny it was but really it wasn’t funny and our friendship started right there. The New Years we spent just the two of us, all the books and Caramel Macchiatos you’d bring me just because you were thinking of me, the endless hours of trying to teach me ‘real’ French that wasn’t dirty. Remember the time my I/T band blew out deep in Stanley Park and I had to sit on your handle bars for at least five maybe more kilometers of what was supposed to be a run. My ass hurt and you couldn’t see you weren’t wearing a helmet it wasn’t safe and I couldn’t stop laughing. HA remember when YOU wanted to go see Crossroads, I still have that ticket stub. I wonder what you’d think of Britney now. And Lance won not four Tour de France titles but seven and thanks to you being a FRENCH MAN who loved that arrogant but kick ass bastard I love him and I try to LIVESTRONG.

As fate would have it, the last time I ever got to spend time with you one on one you had just gotten back from your bike trip, you made it through Tijanua, Mexico and you came back in love. I left work early that day, and if I had not left the building with various different exits the exact way I did I would have missed you heading down the stairs towards me and I didn’t know until you told me that you were coming just to see me. I was heading towards my work provided councilor, on yet another hunt to find help with my depression. We got caught up on everything and who knew that would be our last meeting. I did see you again in group settings but ended up on a date with a guy I already knew was an asshole on your Birthday when you were again watching M & B’s place and came up to visit me and thank me for the card I had left by the door, you weren’t home from wherever you were yet when I left. You died just over a month later and I don’t regret much in life but I will never forgive myself for going out that night what I wouldn’t give to have had that time with you.

The legs of some cyclists, their helmets used to have me convinced you weren’t really gone and it was all some sick joke. I miss so much about you but I think I miss your acceptance most, the size of your heart, the sound of your laugh, the way you looked in a toque. I just want one more day.

Dear Ellen,

RE: Little Snow

You would be hard pressed to find an episode of your show that I have not seen. Not only are you my favorite comedian, I admire you and your accomplishments greatly. I think you are one fantastic lady.

However, that is not why I am sending this email.

Last Christmas when Justin Timberlake came out of Big Gin I was so excited and so blown away that I may have even let out a little bit of pee. And then when you two danced together, it made it one of my favorite moments EVER.
All season I have wondered: What will Ellen do at Christmas? Who will Ellen have as ‘Big Gin’?
When I first saw Little Snow I announced to anyone and everyone who would listen that, there was simply no way in hell that Little Snow was not Snoop Dog.
Little Snow was tall he had bling.
Some jerks were like DUDE, it is Usher and I was like DUDE, Usher is not tall enough to be Little Snow, Snoop Dog is tall, AND he always has his bling. [not that Usher doesn�t always have his bling on too]
Ellen, until the finale of your ‘12 days of giveaways’ I have never been disappointed with anything about your show. EVER.
However, when the head of Sean Hayes came out of Little Snow, I felt almost betrayed. Whether I like Sean Hayes or not is simply irrelevant but I cannot keep this disappointment and sadness to myself, I need to express to you how disappointed I am that it was not Snoop Dog. All signs pointed to Snoop Dog.

BIG GIN = JusTIN TIMberlake
LITTLE SNOW = SNOop Dog = LIL Bow Wow�s Uncle

This will not stop me from watching your show and dancing with you everyday from my living room in [HUGE SHOUT OUT] VANCOUVER, CANADA but I really thought you should know how I feel.

Your Most Loyal Fan,
Corinna Liscumb

**for some stupid reason this email will not go through on the site, so i have had to mail it to her the old fashioned way**

666 Devil Street
Hollywood, Crap Ville
California

Dearest Tom,

Please do not misinterpret this letter; I hate you, this is not a fan letter. Yes, Tom you are right I have nothing better to do than bash celebrities, get over it or don�t read my letter.

I used to tolerate you cause my sweet Mother thinks you are the shit. She even has one of your movies; I may have even bought it for her. Not because I love you though, because I love my Mother.

I didn�t see your stupid appearance on Oprah, I don�t like her either and the previews of you making an ass of yourself were enough for me. I almost barfed just watching the commercials of you jumping up and down on her gay, �what ever color leather� couch that is. I could smell your shit stench through the TV and changed the channel. But there you were again on some other stupid show, I could barely see you cause Katie was in the shot too with her wart face, the warts YOU gave her. Man I hope you didn�t do that to her snapper too. Poor girl. You know Tom I never really liked Katie either and now I am torn between offering her my love and support to get the fuck away from you or weather I should hate her more for falling under your 4�11 spell.

I am not even going to get into your religious beliefs because you are so uneducated you would have no idea what I was even talking about. I will just say this Tommy boy, you should be thankful that I am on medication or I may have to add to the hits out on your life. Oh but wait you don�t even think things like depression exist do you? Go figure you don�t believe in post partum depression either, what with your kids being adopted and all. I hope Brooke Shields kills you.

Exhibit A

Also, please note Exhibit A: does it look like Katie likes you in this photo? It looks to me like she is trying to run away and fast. How much are you paying her? Is it equal to her Dawson�s Creek salary? Tom, you aren�t going to make her career you are going to break it. Your movies are crap. Her movies are only good when she shows her tits. And even then I was bored. I was also totally excited about Batman but now I am totally freaked out cause I don�t want to even have to think about you and her together in any way shape or form.

Remember that movie you were in? The one with Jack Nicholson, the one where he yells: YOU CAN�T HANDLE THE TRUTH�..Well Tom I think he was right.

Retire, don�t do movies anymore, die or something, no one likes you, everyone hates you why don�t you just go out to your garden and eat worms?