Harmzie's Hierarchy of Needs

Air -- Homeostasis -- Coffee -- Water -- Food -- Shelter -- Emotional Well-Being HooHa -- Some other crap that I probably need, but you know, requires effort...

We had another thunderstorm this morning. It has gotten to the point that people don't even complain about the weather any more. And we're Canadian. It's an obligation in our Constitution (except for Quebec, they don't have to complain about the weather because they haven't adopted the constitution because the meaning got lost in translation and they thought it meant that they had to give *control* of the weather over to the Belgians and they traditionally hate the Belgians, so there was some trust issues and we had a rally and stormed Montreal with a giant Canadian flag and I'm not sure how the Belgians factored in, except that they make good waffles, but I've heard Quebeckers hate waffles, so maybe THAT was the problem)

So we had another thunderstorm this morning, and as I was in the shower, the lights flickered and I thought "crap, I haven't made coffee yet". If the power goes off, I can't make it. AT ALL. I comforted myself with the fact that I could get coffee at work. Crappy coffee, but beggars can't be choosers. Unless the power is out everywhere. Well, what about Tim Horton's? IF THE POWER'S OUT EVERYWHERE I CAN'T GET COFFEE ANYWHERE!!! Mofo. I'm hyperventilating in the shower (good for the breathing channels, not so good for the BRAIN)

And then I wished I had put the kettle on (we make one cup at a time, with boiled water from the kettle) *before* getting in to the shower, but I have an irrational fear of house fires, and I can't purposely turn on an appliance that could burst into flames and then get into the shower where I can't hear or smell anything and ignore it for 45 10 minutes. Then I thought that I should have anyway, since the two kids who sleep upstairs were at grandma & grandpa's house for the night, Max had gone to the gym early, and I could easily grab the third kid whose is on the main floor and get out in time. Since I *could* save my kid, I *should* have taken the risk that I would have to run outside naked to make my coffee, I thought. Especially since there's a robe in here. Continue hyperventilating.

So then I started thinking about how they made coffee in the OLDEN DAYS. But then realized that the microwave needed power too... KIDDING! I know that they didn't have microwaves in the olden days. They would have had to have rubbed two cows together. Not having two cows, I started grasping at ideas. Something. Anything. A pot [check]. And a fire. Fire. Candle? Lighter? That would take a long time. So then I figured I could use the propane torch from the garage and boil a pot of water. Having thusly saved the morning (should the power have failed), I was able to calmly complete my shower with a normal rate of breathing, get out and - very quickly - turn on the kettle. I even stopped long enough to put the robe on. [You're welcome, neighbours]

In mostly unrelated news, when I got to work I discovered that everyone was in a panic because there was no coffee. The operation of the entire department was halted as all resources were directed at rectifying the situation. KIDDING AGAIN! Everyone was fine. They just did their work really, really lethargically until the caffeine epi-pens were brought in.

Except me, who had already had my coffee. Swish.

[note to self (and Max if you catch this): We're out of cream. Do not want to repeat tomorrow]

I'm Totally (Not) Going to Blogher!!!

I started a comment on The Bloggess's post today about Blogher that got too long. So rather than eat up miles of her comment area* and totally piss everyone off**, I though I'd just parlay that here and piss you off because you already love me. It's about Blogher and how she's going and hanging out in the bathroom. Go read it. I'll wait...[the part where she says "If you’re not going to Blogher then just skip this post" just ignore that. I know we're not supposed to ignore what The Bloggess says, but indulge me] ...................

-----------------------
Totally jealous. But if I were to go, I'd probably be not be in the bathroom, because that seems to be where all the real bloggers are (or "bloghers"? See? I don't even know the difference).

But it would never get to that point, because if I even brought it up, Max would be all "what? why? you're not even a real blogger" and I'd be all "I'm as real a blogger as you are a squash player"*** and he'd be like "no way" and I'd be all "way", and he'd be all "you mean that thing you do that wastes time when you should be giving me hummers?" and I'd be all "dude, you *never* got hummers before I started my blog [not even before we were married -- or rather, early in our marriage, mom -- so there was no fraud there, in case you were wondering], but if that's what you want to blame it on *now*, then yes" and he'd say "It's not even real!" But I'd ask, "If I 'fake' my entire life, and am 'real' on my blog, which is actually real? And would I be 'real' in a room full of strangers, or would they be strangers or would I be the strange one, or just the drunk on the table trying to drown her public anxiety?" and he'd answer "well, we don't have enough air-miles for you to go anywhere. Plus you don't have a passport."

We often have 'real' (not the opposite of 'fake', but rather In Real Life) whole conversations where one of us will have the discussion with the other right in front of them without the other actually speaking. This "conversation" is usually summarized by "see? I don't even need you to have a conversation. I know exactly what you're going to say."

[crying in my lonely fake-blog beer. At least the beer is real. Except that it's a glass of wine. Or sometimes Gin + OJ + 7UP, which I still haven't named]

So, to summarize: what is the name of my Gin + OJ + 7UP drink? I'm taking suggestions. Remember, a Gin + OJ + 7UP + GRENADINE is a Singapore Sling. While delicious, that's just too many ingredients to keep on hand for the summer.

Yes, I have two, if not three posts to write to summarize last week. And three filthy kids to bathe. And a shit-hole home to tidy up. Yes, I'm stalling.

--------------------
*[like I used to do to Nenette and is a large part of the reason I started my own, because she said "GETTHEHELLOFFMYBLOGALREADY!" although she said it nice]

**[I'm too small to piss off The Bloggess, although if I did, everyone would be wondering "hey, who pissed off The Bloggess so bad?" and come here and find out and be all "Really? hmph"]

***[I would TOTALLY never say THAT in real life, because he's worked WAY harder and WAY longer on squash than I have on any of this. He's got like 175 squash followers. Maybe more. But they don't count them like that because they're all "we're way too fucking cool to bother with something as bourgeois as 'counting followers'" But if I were to spring the word "bourgeois" on them, they'd be all "I totally loved the 2003. It had a delightfully peppery after-taste"]