Say you were playing a game called Who Knows Jen Best, I bet there would be at least a few people in the room who knew more than you. I’m pretty much an open book – I don’t really care who knows what about me – and I sometimes lose track of what I’ve told to which people. So, to give you a leg up in WKJB, here’s a few things I’m pretty sure I haven’t told too many people. Sure, I’ve told all of these things to some people at some point, but here’s your chance to take notes and maybe, one day, you’ll win at knowing me best!
I don’t like candy. I could eat a steady diet of chocolate, but candy grosses me out a little. I used to like those tiny watermelon slices that were a penny each, but I’m not sure I could stomach even those now. I’m not sure what candy is made of, other than sugar in all it’s forms, high-fructose corn syrup, fake sugar, some chemicals designed to either taste or act like sugar, and mood-altering artificial flavour and colour. And you shut your dirty mouths with an argument about how chocolate is the same because I’m not listening to any of that.
I’m a proud Canadian who does not partake in winter sports. I’ve never once been skiing or snowboarding or skidooing. I haven’t ice skated since early high school. I’ve never played hockey. I don’t even like hockey. I should probably just hand over my citizenship right now, shouldn’t I. I used to like tobogganing, but haven’t done that since I was young enough to take the cold. Now my winter sports include: hot chocolate-making, warming my tootsies by the fireplace, and hibernating.
I’m not saying I don’t toot. I’m just saying I can burp much, much better.
There are some kids shows I don’t mind and some I want to punch in the face. For example, I don’t mind Backyardigans. At least the animation is half decent, the songs are catchy and original, and it’s a pretty cool concept (a group of neighbourhood friends create stories from their imaginative play). On the other hand, Waybuloo can suck it. I’m not sure why anyone would have thought kids would like this show. It’s unbelievably boring (segments dedicated to new yoga moves…this is for toddlers, people) and you can barely understand what the characters are saying.
My youngest has, in the past three hours, developed pink eye. AH and I are in disagreement as to how she got pink eye. He thinks it’s a virus that’s connected to the cold that’s been lingering for the past three weeks. I think it’s directly correlated to an incident from last night involving several un-diapered minutes, a lot of running around and squealing, and more than one hand-to-the-bum instances. Either theory makes perfect sense. No matter how it came about, it’s here now and I’m on constant goop-removal duty, with a giant bottle of anti-bacterial sanitizer and endless hand washings, until we can get to the walk-in clinic first thing tomorrow morning.
I have a physical addiction to lip balm. If my lips don’t have a layer of lubrication on them, they are instantly chapped and have been known to crack and bleed.
In the past month, I’ve eaten poutine four times. When poutine is good, it’s very, very good, and when it’s bad, it’s still pretty effing delicious.
I think that’s all for now. I’ve got stuff to do.