Pack Rat: 1) A person who collects, saves, or hoards useless small items. 2) Lorraine

I should be in bed, but I had to write something about this.

I just spent the last four hours going through my old bedroom. Last summer I moved into my new bedroom next door which is a heck of a lot bigger and therefore a heck of a lot awesomer. (Yes, I said awesomer.) As such, there were many items in my old bedroom that didn't get transferred over, and hadn't been sorted through in years.

Some examples of things I found:

-certificate of acheivement in piano. From when I was FIVE YEARS OLD. That means it's been in there for *counting on fingers* 17 years.
-Treasure trolls. If you felt the urge to go "oh YEAH I remember those things" when reading that, it will give you an indication of how ridiculously old they are.
-The price tag from my grade 8 graduation dress. Yeah, I don't know either.
-A grade 2 illustration of different types of spiders. Apparently there is one called The Lazy Cowboy or something of that sort. I think our teacher made it up as a joke to play on us, cause really, it just sounds like an unsatisfying sexual position to me. What?
-Newsletters from ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Why...why??
-An ultrasound. Of me. Dated November 1984. In a bag with tonnes of congrats on the new baby cards. Apparently my mom is just as much of a pack rat as I am. Although I suppose those things are more sentimental. Why she kept them in my closet all these years? I have NO idea. She likes to put things in "safe spots" and then forget where they are.
-A hospital bracelet from when I was admitted for my back years ago. (I couldn't even lie down without screaming in pain). I also found in that bag with the baby cards my mom's hospital bracelet from when she had me. It was a nice "Aw, mother and daughter both save hospital bracelets" moment.

...and there are many MANY more strange things like this that I found and have no idea why I kept.

The good thing is I've been able to detach myself a lot more from things like that so I don't feel bad throwing most of them out. After all, what am I going to do with my grade 6 school year agenda? Remember how I had a spelling test on a Thursday? Oh the memories...

Happy 100 Posts To Me

It's been awhile since I've written on here my friends. My co-workers. Random people I don't know that apparently read this. Assuming anybody reads it anymore? This I do not know. I do know that I just noticed I spelled "co-workers" as "cow-workers"; not a very flattering term to my workmates. However, you wouldn't have known about this error since I already corrected it. (You went back to check didn't you...didn't you!) You see, that's the power of being the blog author. I know more about what is being written than you. I am omniscient. (Except I couldn't remember how to spell 'omniscient'. The online spell checker is omniscient in that regard). I also possess supreme editing power. Editing power that I exercise to it's fullest extent. What am I talking about you say? I'm not sure, I'm a bit out of sorts...you see, it's been a while since I've written on here.

HOWEVER.

Looking at my little summary page before I go into my blog, it tells me this blog has 99 posts. Which, if my math skills are correct - and I hope they are since I worked for so long in accounting, but I wouldn't be surprised if that's why the company is now going bankrupt - then that makes THIS my 100th post! Yaaaaay!

100 posts is really like any other post, I gotta say. Perhaps with some more wine or champagne or jello shooters, whatever you prefer. We have it all on this blog. And as much as I would love to celebrate...it's nothing REALLY momentous. What makes 100 so different from 99? I'll tell you the difference: 1. (Math skills again). However, that is THE very same difference as 99 to 98. So why not celebrate 99 as much as we celebrate 100? What is it about triple digits that deserves celebration? "I don't know Lorraine, you are the one having this whole celebration thing" you say? Ah. Well. Touche. (with the accent that I don't know how to do.)

I DID actually have a topic for this post before I noticed that it would be my hundredth post. It was a conversation that occurred today over our delicious all day breakfast at The Sunset Grill in Toronto in reference to a scene from The Simpsons movie.

Me (singing) "Spider pig, spider pig...does whatever a spider pig can...can he swing...from a vine...no he can't, he's a pig."

Laura: "From a vine?? He swings from a web! Why would he swing from a vine?!"

Me: "...I think I was thinking of Tarzan. SHUT UP I'M HUNGOVER!"

Maybe you had to be there...and if you were Laura or Vic or Sandra or Ken or myself, you would have been. But you're not. So. Too bad for you. Way to not be us. Loser.

Spider pig...spider pig...