The Scale of 1-10...and other things LOVE has ruined.

Many things decay- Some quicker than others- fallen willows, window frames, dead hamsters in an old shoe box. The latest casually is “The Scale from One to Ten”.
Back in the day (and I can say that because I’m over 30) “The Scale from One to Ten” was a perfect system of measuring anything from pain to the hunkiness of the new guy in English class. It was easy and universally understood.
One, was the least hunky a guy could be and five meant he was average.
If new-guy-in-English-class was deemed to be a 10, it meant his sexiness was unsurpassable.
10, you understand, being the highest and last number, was therefore the ceiling of hotness.
This scale was used by boys, girls, men and women all over the world as long as I’ve been alive and maybe even since the beginning of time.

Adam: “Eve, on a scale from one to ten, how badly do you need me to bite that apple?”
Someone or something picked a tiny hole in this perfect 1-10 system. The rain has been seeping in ever since, rotting it from the inside out.

The puss has spread faster than wildfire, leaving girls everywhere to wonder if being rated a "10" by their boyfriends doesn’t still leave room for improvement.

It’s even oozed into the Percentile Chart inspiring people everywhere to exclaim that they are 110 % sure of this or that.
Who do we blame? That’s a good question.

First let’s talk about the Mother’s-Arms-Scale-of-Measurement.When we were kids our mom use to say she loved us “this much” and spread her arms out as wide as possible. It was a lot of love!- two huge arm lengths, and more importantly, it was as far as she could stretch. It was the ceiling, the unsurpassable amount of mom love! If we wanted more mom-love. ..we’d have to hit our mom in the head with an Etch-a-Sketch, bury her in the sandbox and find a mom with bigger arms. But why would we? This one loved us the most- with both arms. What happened to cause moms around town to start announcing “I love you more than my arms can reach” or “I love you this much times x infinity”. It’s just not right.

After a short period of investigation I think we can say with certainty that LOVE itself is the culprit. Love, being the greatest and most confusing of all human emotions, creates in humans a bloated sense of importance. Love, you see is the ceiling. On a scale from 1-10. Love is 10. It’s as good as it gets. But that’s not good enough for love. Love makes people want to be 200% sure of each other and taunts you into saying things like “I love you more than more”. Before you know it, your standing in triage at the hospital describing your appendicitis to a nurse as “11 out of ten”. Because it’s as painful as your lover is hot. If the nurse were to ask you “How much do you hate this pain”. You might answer “more than more!” “Are you sure you need to see a doctor?”, “Yes, a trillion percent sure! And I need it like yesterday!”

WHY DO YOU ASK?

Why do you ask?
A very important question!
"Do you want a coffee?" is different from "could I make you a coffee?" I learned this from visiting my mom, who would ask me “Do you want a coffee?” and then would ask me to make one for her too while your up. I fell for it for years- along with the excuse that she didn't want to disturb the dog sleeping nearby.
It was my own fault. I wasn't answering her question with the right question.

Always, always, always ask “why do you ask?”
This rule is especially pertinent when someone asks for details about your schedule.
Remember, knowledge is power. Never answer a devilish question like "What are you doing on Friday night?" without a clear understanding of why you are being asked.
Your chances of getting invited to a cool party are alot slimmer than your chances of being asked to babysit a chinchilla, move a freezer or drive to the airport.

I mean, when you think of it all decent civilized invitations started with "You are invited to blah blah blah at such-n-such a time". They never first insist on knowing what you may or may not being doing at said-time. Do you think the Queen of England ever roped Tony Blair into a meeting with the old "What-cha doin Tuesday?" scam?
Be extrememly suspicious of this question- especially if the time and day in question are early in the week. Nothing fun ever happened on a Monday thru Wednesday. Admitting to an open calendar on any of these days is very bad indeed. The best you can hope for is an invitation to a dance recital. Worste case, you'll be hiding a body, cheating on a urine test or serving coffee at a naked seniors centre.
If I wanted to make coffee wouldn't I go to moms?

"Why do you ask?" has a second cousin called "Why do you wonder?".
It will also work in a pinch.
If you know why they are wondering you will be able to formulate an excuse for that-thing-you-wouldn't-want-to-do-if-you-knew-about-it-straight-up.
For that excuse, might I suggest a bogus "medical proceedure"? Anyone with any cooth at all will refrain from asking you what kind, and cut you a 4-day window of avoidance incase the proceedure really does exist and you might want to describe it to them.

For my friends who are still questioning the importants of "Why do you ask?"
I have a few stories to illustrate my point;

STORY 1:

A few summers back I was talking to a guy I know. He had just finished mowing his lawn and was talking off his shirt. My eye was immediately drawn to the small white object resting in his navel. I didn’t have to be a CSI agent to know he’d of tested positive for Orville Redenbacher.
“Did you have popcorn today?” I asked.
HERE, would have been the place for him to question my question. It seemed random amongst “Your yard looks great” and “What kind of tree is that?” The heat of the day had fogged his judgement I guess.
“I had some yesterday. Why?”
His "why" came too late. His failure to question my question led him to devulge information about his belly buttons ability to harbour snack foods over a 24 period inspite of yard work and gravity.
Don't let this happen to you.

STORY #2
About 10 years ago I got a call from a guy I knew
Him: “Kathy, the reason I am calling is; I’m putting together a photo shoot for a calendar featuring girls and guitars. Each month will feature a pretty girl playing a cool guitar.
I thought about you. Do you still have that awesome 1965 Fender electric?”
It was late.
I wasn’t thinking.
Me: “Yes! I do!!”
Him: “I was wondering if I could borrow it for the shoot?”
Me: OUCH!!

(Somewhere at the bottom of a local landfill is my complimentary copy of a 1998 calendar with a picture of some chick holding my sweet vintage 1965 Fender Mustang guitar between her brand new breasts.)

Things were never the same for me and that guitar.
I sold it a couple of years later. But it was a lesson well learned.
Always ask “Why do you ask?”

SWF Seeks Summer Income

Now that the school year is winding down so are the zeros in my bank account. Granted, there was only two of them, but I will miss those little suckers!

It appears the time has come to get one of the job things you people are constantly going on about.
So, this songwriter is now excepting applications from would-be money-givers (or "employers" I think they are called.)

According to the merriam webster dictionary, a "job" is "something done for private advantage." That's not usually the way I roll, but what the heck. The kind dictionary folks even had a link to an audio pronunciation of the word for those of us who were unsure. Go on! Try it out.

http://www.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/audio.pl?job00001=job

So future employers; I have a few questions to ask before we firm up the details. First
Have YOU ever been convicted of a crime for which a pardon has not been granted?
This is important. I like to have something good to talk about at break-time- (which I assume will be many and long...yes?). This would be excellent fodder for lunch time chats and possible a song or two.
Secondly, how do you plan to make good use of my drawing, painting, rhyming skills in your company?
Also, I might mention that in my other job as a musician we are usually comp-ed with free drinks. Will this also be the case at your business?
How would you feel about me starting each morning with the phrase "I soooooo DON'T want to be here!!"
Great! I think were ready to talk cash-ola. I need it, and I need alot of it.
I may possibly need it up-front. Did I mention I do calligraphy? Perhaps you could use me in your accounts department scripting pay cheques in old-English fonts?

Anyway. Call anytime soon (while I still have phone service)
Kathy

BLOG TO SELF

Dear Future-Hot-Self,
This is Present-Day-Cold-self here. I know this crooked floored places is usually unbearably toasty, but today its cold and I think we may want to remember that. Now that the early spring has reverted back to its old "I'll get there when I get there" ways, and the furnace is off, I have one thing to say at it "brrrr".

Remember the winter? All that dry heat pouring through the afore mentioned crooked floor, flying past us as we went about our day. The way you pranced around in a tank top and shorts, windows open singing Beach boy tunes..? I could use a little of that this morning. I'm freezing. I wish I had Bill Cosby's sweaters.
Oh, and Future-Hot-Self, we could use a few more pairs of socks.I put some laundry on yesterday and have only yesterdays-socks to keep me from frost-bite.
FHS, can you recall the summer? The muggy, sticky, every-thing-smells-like-Labrador-Retriever days of summer? Sneaking out to the roof at 4:00 for a breeze? Believe it or not, I long for that right now. Last night I had to pull my bra out of my sleeve and do the two-second t-shirt switch. Now is not the time to have nipples.

Well, I gotta fly. There is a hot shower to be had and the cold agony that follows. A month from now, when the temperature of this place reaches a bizillion degrees. you'll be peeling yourself off the sheets for a cold bath. Think of me then old friend.

Anyhow, Present-Day-Frumpy-Self is sitting here in an old painting sweater and she wants to say somethings to Future-Sexy-Self (copycat!) so I'd better go.

Sincerely
PDCS.

Raising Unawareness

Will you NOT sponsor me in the Non-Event to Raise Unawareness for Nothing?

(Don't answer. That was a hypothetical question. Like; "What's with kids these days?" "What's so funny bout peace love and understanding?" and my personal favorite "How are you?")

But back to my original question; Would you please NOT sponsor me in the non-event to raise unawareness? Its a not-very-far km run, but they said I could walk...or ride my bike, or even ask someone to drive me. There is a token entrance fee and you can collect sponsors if you feel like it, or not.

The hardly-any proceeds are going towards helping people who are too aware of something to become slightly less aware. This is only the first year, but hopefully this non-cause will really lay low. Eventually unawareness of nothing might really be an average thing. That's be great.
Anyhow, if you feel like participating I'll try to remember to send you link or something. Or we could talk about it if we randomly bump into each other..
if we think of it...
or not.
I hate to bring it up, but in a way, you owe me. sort of. Last year I said I'd sponsored you in the "Dance for Acne" I don't think I gave you the 2 bucks but I bought some chocolates from your kid when the Hurray-for-Everything-Club at his school was planning a trip to "Someplace Awesome".
But no pressure really. That would defeat the purpose.
In fact,
forget I mentioned it.

You Have My Heart...

...and the last role of toilet paper.
But thanks for the warning.
It proves I raised you well.

Only a jungle animal would go into someones apartment, steal the last role of T.P and not leave reference to in small print on a south Park-esque cartoon depiction she did of her mom destroying the world with a hippy guitar powers.
See, not everyone is as thoughtful as you. Some brats would just take the T.P and run. And granted, the stores were closed by the time I got home, but that is neither here nor there. The point is- you let me know. And that makes me feel like I've done a good job raising you. So, when you and your punk-rock friends are out tagging the town or what ever it is you do, or next time you are getting a tattoo with your grocery money, you can sit back and be proud of yourself for this proud moment of "I took the toilet paper and let you know".

I love you. You are awesome. I hope you enjoy your new apartment. don't go out alone after dark and please lock the doors.
Now, is there something you'd like to tell me about my diminished towel supply?

Accidentally Amish

Amish Day
Saturday, May8th
12:04- Tree falls 2 houses down. Takes the hydro with it. I don't notice because my student and I are playing Taylor Swift songs along with a YouTube video. Deeply engrossed we are. Her Mom comes to retrieve her and has to park under a live hydro line. Thats why I make them pay cash.

To whom it may concern,
I may have been inadvertently entered in some sort of Amish for a day contest. This is obviously a mistake. Please remove my name from your list and restore the hydro on my street.

1:00pm
Cordless phones don’t work without hydro? Who knew? Luckily I have one of those old-school phones that belonged to my grandmother when she was living. I have to cancel a guitar student- due to no amp power, street closed off and a freezing cold room. Dear God, you owe me $17.00.

1:30 So bored. Thinking of calling Grama's old number.

2:00 This beer is going to go warm. I may as well drink it.

3:30 The cold reality is sinking in. I thought heat came from the basement. Someone has lied. Everything I do relies on electricity. I just text ed you to tell you that...but it won’t send. The cable is down.

3:34
I’ve called everyone I know to tell them a tree fell on my street. Oddly, they treat my great news with only mild enthusiasm. Clearly i am in this alone. Time to form an action plan.

4:00
Going to Kara's where there is electricity.

7:00
Returned to Albert Street. Situation unchanged. My neighbours seem bored. Some are irritated. My mother was wrong. Stuck up people aren’t necessarily shy.

7:04
Cant seem to except the fact that the lights don’t work. I find myself wondering if the lava lamp might also run on some extraterrestrial power. My hand moved towards the switch. Damn.

8:52 wondering what possessed me to place all decorative candle holders in seemingly hard to reach places. Its cold, its dark and now I feel extremely short.

8:54 wondering if empty liquor bottles would make good candle holders.
8:56 Place lit up like a Stevie Nicks photo shoot. Patron bottle makes especially affective candle holder.

8:57 Would rather have full bottle of Patron.


9:00pm The only thing warm around here is the inside of the fridge.

9:02 pm This is so freeeeeeaaaaaaking boring.
9:04 ...Like camping without smores, or friends.
9:05. ...Wishing you were here- (please bring s’mores and tequila ).

9:15 Finding pajamas by candlelight. I really should organize my drawers.

9:18 Putting on something that may or may not be pajamas.

9:20 Huddling under blankets on couch. I can see the lights of Louisa Street from my front window. All lit up like Choo-Choo Charlies. You hydro-having bastards. I hate you all.

9:30 I think I hear the food in my fridge going bad. Luckily I hardly go grocery shopping, so its not a very loud sound.

9:35- playing a game of Majong with last of battery power on laptop.

9:42 checking light switch- just to be goofy.

9:50 repeated saying “Heeeello Awe-mish Dog!” to Byron. Just to see his reaction. He is also not amused. Which is strange since he’s never been allowed to use any of the electric appliances anyway. Perhaps the below zero air temperature is harshing his buzz.

9:52
Taking a beer out of the fridge so it can stay cold.

10-11:00
doing less than nothing.

11:00- Blowing out candles and sleeping on couch.

May 9-
7:00 I dreamt the hydro company was working outside my window all night and that I woke up freezing cold with no hopes of a shower or a hot coffee. See, dreams really do come true.

7:30 Drinking fairly decent coffee from boiled water and hand held coffee filter. Cream curdled but delicious. I rock. I am survivo woman. Placed in the primitive environment with nothing but a comforter, a 70s phone a gas stove and a store 2 minutes away. Doing remarkable well all things considered.

8:21 am-Dear Internet, I miss you most of all.

8:49 Ashton Kutcher- If I’m being “punked” please show up soon with a Starbucks and a 10 minute hot-shower.

9:45
If it wasn’t for my wrist watch I would have no idea of the time. I would have to build a sundial- without online instructions...or call someone and ask.
Thankgod for the wrist watch. It is nearing 10:00 a.m.
The clock in the kitchen has read 12:04 (and 15 seconds) since the giant tree fell and turned albert street into a primitive culture. By now, the only thing in my fridge I can truley trust is a tall can of tuborg. Its a bit early for beer- according to my wristwatch. STILL...the clock in the kitchen does say 12:04, which is a respectable hour for a beverage. And I am bored. And the beer is in the Kitchen...where the clock says 12:04. What do you think happens next?


9:50
The neighbourhood is dividing itself in a “Lord of the Flies” fashion. Yesterday some left to go to dinner and did not appear to return. Half of those that stayed peered out the window all night and are mighty greasy and grumpy this morning. They are under the mistaken impression that being short with the hydro workers will help things along.

Dear neighbourhood people,
STEP AWAY FROM THE LARGE MAN IN THE GIANT ORANGE PANTS!! He is my only hope of having a bubble bath. If you mess this up for me there will be payback. I have pooping dogs. I’m not afraid to use them on your neatly preened yards.

If service is never restored, and a tribe leader needs to be chosen, I am voting for the nice Lady who said she lived at number 18. She was smart enough to walk to Tim Horton's. And she smiled at the hydro repairmen.
When my wrist watch battery goes, she seems like the type who could help me build that sundial (or at least tell me the closest place to find a new battery).

I have gone to the store twice. Just to remind myself what electricity sounds like. And for smokes.

Here, there is only silence.
I can hear the Tuborg fizzing in my esophagus.
A small dog licking,
a large dog dreaming.
I think we are all missing toast.

10:14 am- the street is taken off bypass. Energy rushes in. The fridge, clock, TV come to life. It seems deafening for a moment. Unexpected.
We have a pulse!!
Digital clocks flash,. 12;00. 1200 1200 1200


The Amish, marry young and have big families. I know why. In the electricity barren world, you need people to talk to. Games of candle light Pictionary, knock knock jokes, someplace to keep you milk fresh (like a cow)
The Land of no electricity, is no place for a lady and her dogs. If my Facebook was up and running Id change my status to "I'm cold and its dark. Do something!!”

I dodged the great blackout of 2003.
I was in Halifax visiting my brother. We were in a well lit tavern when the news flashed on the big screen. People walking home from work – downtown Toronto to Etobico. We thought, whoa, that sucks. And ordered another round. I have a new respect for you all.

10:20 am
I unplug my grandmothers phone from the 70’s, toss her a silent “thankyou!” and turn my chordless on. “YOU HAVE NO NEW MESSAGES”. Seriously???

I Finish my breakfast beer and turn my thought to a hot bubble bath.