Wedding Update

Remember a little while back, I posted about Princess Anne's wedding plans? You can read about it here, if you need your memory jogged, or if you are a little late to the ball. Well, intrepid reader, hold onto your shitkickers, cuz here is the latest.

The Doughy Fiance has decided that his contribution to the wedding plans comes in the form of "Mossy Oak Camo". As in "camoflage." As in, what rednecks wear when they go into the woods to kill somethin' (which is occasionally each other). Yes, Doughboy has declared that the wedding cake must prominently feature this particular pattern. Seriously? Does camo count as a "wedding colour"?

"Congratulations, Lurleen! Have you picked out your colours yet?"

"Yeah, I really wanted 'Desert Storm', but Billy Ray insisted on 'Mossy Oak'."

Can you friggin' imagine? And she is okay with this! The very nanosecond that he even breathed such a suggestion, that would be the moment that he was excluded from any further consultations.

It gets better, though. He has also decided that the cake topper isn't going to a be a bride and groom or a pair of hearts or anything half so conventional. No, he wants a buck and a doe.

*insert eye-rollng here*

Sorry if I seem a little smug or  judgy or sneery (or all three), but seriously: a buck and a doe? Such subtlety! Will the buck be mounting the doe, or do we trust our rural neighbours and guests to grasp the subtlety of this message?

I don't know what Doughboy does for intellectual stimulation, but I strongly suspect it has to do with trucks of the monster variety, or baseball bats and mailboxes.

Now I know how the Wild Rose Party got as far as they did.

Anyway, in other news...

I was fitted for a hearing aid last Wednesday. I go to pick it up for a one-month trial on the 9th. Because my hearing is so badly damaged, I didn't get one of the high-end ones (which include Bluetooth technology, if you can believe it). Because of the tinnitus, though, the hearing aid I chose offers an option that will provide me with "Zen-like music" to distract me from the ringing in my ear. I don't know how often I'll use that particular feature, but I can certainly see how it might be helpful in certain situations.

Like, for example, the next time Teeth appears at my cubicle to complain about her piles or what a dipshit her (soon-to-be ex) husband is: I can adopt a beatific, serene smile and Zen-out. It would look like this:

When the reality is much more like this:

I'm curious to see how much difference a hearing aid will make. I'm not necessarily convinced that I'm going to want to hear everything around me any clearer. I sat next to an older man on the train this weekend who was chewing gum with his mouth open. It sounded, as it says on Facebook, like an army of vaginas marching through mud.

Nu Shooz

More tales of frustration and incredulidity from my place of employment:

Yvette is a breast cancer survivor. That doesn't keep her from smoking, but she has been at least three years without a reoccurance. Except that her docotr recently found a handful of tny masses in her lung. They are too small to biopsy, so they are monitoring the masses until June to see if they have grown.

So, you'd think that Yvette would see herself as someone with a vested interest in the health care system in this province. The subject is a perennial one: the system is constantly under attack from a lack of funding and a governement who is convinced that privatizing the system (a la the US) is the way to go.

And last night, we had a provincial election. Voting is important (I daresay, imperative) whenever one has the opportunity. It is especially so when issues as basic as education and environment and health care are being discussed in ways that could significantly impact one's services.

So imagine my shock and dismay when I said to Yvette this morning, "Did you vote last night?" and her response was, "No, I never vote. I never know what the issues are and I never know who to vote for." Then she showed me her foot. "I got new shoes, though."

New shoes. This stupid bitch's priority was not shorter waiting times, or better drug coverage or improved services: no, she wanted new shoes.

I had to leave the fucking room, or I was going to say some unpleasant things.What is the excuse for such a level of passivity??? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!

But I don't want to hear one single word out of her about how the health care system is letting her down, if and when it turns out to be cancer. Cuz then I will say it all.

I have more tales of stupidity, but I"m struggling with a chest cold, so they will hve to wait until I feel like sitting up for longer.