Monday, August 29, 2011

The Professor and Mary-Anne

If I were stuck on a desert island with one person I would definitely want that one person to have multiple personalities. Let’s move on...

The Not Wave

There is nothing quite as humbling as waving to someone and having them not wave back.

I spot my prey, my hand goes up, I wave, and no reciprocal wave, I hate the not wave.

My hand is left precariously and numb in the air

There is nothing that can shatter the ego quicker or make me feel more foolish than waving and getting the not wave in return.

A step up from this is doing the wave and getting the nod in return.

Don’t nod at me. Give me a wave, make the effort!!!

That’s enough for a Monday I think!!!

The End

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Jesus I Brought a Vegetable Tray


I think a lot about Jesus. I think most people can agree that at a minimum Jesus was a pretty good guy, healing the sick, raising the dead, telling everybody to be a little nicer to the neighbors.

Sure he might have creeped people out at dinner parties, “Take… drink… this is my blood.” But I think most people can agree old JC was a pretty alright guy. Let’s move on….

Why Didn’t Someone Tell Me This Was the Last Supper!

I get invited out a lot. Usually I’ll stop at the local grocery store and pick up a veggie tray. I don’t think that would be appropriate had I been invited to the last supper.

If I were Jesus and someone showed up at my last supper with a veggie tray I think I would be outraged.

Jesus: “I’m going to die for your sins and you show up with veggies and dip!”

Robb: “Sorry Jesus I didn’t think.”

Jesus: “Look at Judas sulking in the corner. At least he brought a bean casserole.”

Robb: “Sorry Jesus I was in a rush. So You Think You Can Dance Canada was on last night. I’ll go grab a bunt cake or something.”

Jesus: “Seven bean casserole Judas brought!!!”

Yes, in my mind Jesus is a big fan of bean casserole.

The End

Saturday, August 27, 2011

I’ll Talk to Your Grandmother

That’s right, dear readers, I’ll talk to Nana for you. Let’s move on...

Robblogger Founds the International Institute for Preventing Geriatric Loneliness

Let’s be honest... we all have an aged relative we should talk to more often, but we don’t. I’m not judging. I’m here to provide a service.

I’ll talk to your lonely relative or incredibly dull grandparent. I have lots of time on my hands and I enjoy talking to old people.

Regardless of how mind bogglingly dull your relative is, I’ll provide telephone companionship. I really do have that much time on my hands!

I can call your loved one posing as Skip Skipperson young reporter eager for the scoop on Nana’s giant ball of tin foil or god awful mincemeat pie recipe.

I can talk for hours about the tapeworm your beloved family pet has or I can sympathize with your old coot of a relative about how the government is trying to control their thoughts through an increase of television shows featuring tap dance.

I can even do accents, badly and poorly, but accents.

How much would you pay a stranger to talk to your neglected relations? $19.99? $9.99? $142.73? Nope it’s $9.99 for 20 minutes a week.

That’s cheaper than taking them out to dinner in a very public place and hoping they don’t embarrass you.

Act now!

The End

P.S. I’m actually pretty serious about this one.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Robb’s Triumphant Return!!!

That’s right, dear readers, I’m back!!! And I’m going to take this blog a lot more seriously. Let’s move on....

Big Changes in Robbworld

Somehow I lost touch with a few things:  what made me great, shameless asskissery, midget references, and a drive to make a million dollars.

Soooo there’s going to be some big changes here in Robbworld and they are:

1) I will answer your comments, so go ahead, and comment

2) I’m going guerilla warfare on other blogs hijacking their comment section

3) I’m taking on advertisers... maybe...

4) I’m available as a super star guest blogger

5) I’m going to wear pants while I blog... this is a personal choice but somehow I believe wearing pants while blogging will lend an air of professionalism that I believe has heretofore been absent from this blog.

Okay so those are the big changes...

While I’ve been on hiatus I’ve learned something important about myself.

I hope hiatus means what I think it means and doesn’t mean I need a doctor to check out a sensitive orifice while wearing a rubber glove.

Anyway, while I’ve been on vacation I’ve learned that I like two year olds, and I like nudity, and I even like stones, but I don’t think I like naked two year olds throwing them at me.

My friend has a two year old that he has somehow trained to lob heavy projectiles.

And it seems I am the preferred target in these stonings.

And... and... even more disturbing these attacks seem to take place while my friend’s child is running naked in the yard.

I’m not sure I enjoy this.

The End

P.S. I didn’t mention the Princess in this inaugural post and I’m sure she won’t care for that.

P.P.S. Well I did mention the Princess but only in the P.S. and I’m definitely sure she won’t care for that.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

I'm Back!

I figured I better throw a Princess Saturday post together before a certain humourless dog lady delivers a large box of Midol to my door. I do hope she comes through on the ice cream, though... FYI - my fav is rocky road.

I was using my strike as an excuse for my absence, when the truth is that I have gone back to work.

The More Things Change The More They Stay The Same

(That there second title was for Rob. You're welcome, Muffin!)

I was born to be a mother, that's all I've ever truly wanted since I was little, but leaving Little Man to go back to work wasn't as horrible as I thought it'd be. I've always been a lemonade out of lemons kind of girl, and although I would love nothing more than to finger paint with pudding all day, I have a mortgage to pay.

Babies are hard work, yo! I have new-found respect for single parents, stay at home parents, and daycare providers, alike. It truly takes special people to do what they do....if they do their jobs well.

(We were lucky to find a lady who took my son in and truly loves him as her own. That, along with his mad independence, made the transition really easy.)

Soooo, I am welcoming the break. I am sure the novelty will wear off in a short while, but for now I am just excited to be able to sit down for longer than 2 minutes, and to go to the bathroom without distractions. And to wear real clothes. The standard mom uniform of yoga pants and tees may be comfortable but do little for the self-esteem.

I miss him like mad, though......and the first week I struggled with the fact that my son suddenly had a life that was his own, one that was separate from us.

I am going to be a mess when has he acquires more and more independence. My husband jokes that when he gets married, I'LL be walking HIM down the aisle.

It's going to take a strong girl to be my daughter-in-law.

I had a couple reservations. One being that, it wasn't just about looking the part of a grown-up, I had to talk like one. I had to talk to adults about adult stuff, and hopefully sound smart while doing so. I could recite the the opening songs to Dinosaur Train, and Super Why!, but I wasn't sure I knew what a profit margin was, anymore.

The second was the people I was coming back to. I don't know how the hiring manager thought I was a good fit for the department I'm in. There was speculation that I got recruited solely on the fact that my name ended in 'A'. There was 10 women in the group and we all had names ending in 'a'....well, except for one whose name is also that of a popular doll. But she's a story for another day.

I have always referred to them as the fashionistas. Because that's what they are all about. The highlight of the week is when one of them gets their US Weekly in the mail. They all stand around the photocopier discussing who wore it best.

Today, the excitement was over one of them wearing their hair in curls. Things like that just take one comment from one of the louder Fashionistas and the rest of the flock swoops in to take a look.

I refuse to give any of them the satisfaction. I think that's always taken them aback. Whenever there is a new hire, it is expected that they beg for acceptance, and I never did.

While I was off, they hired a man. (A man!) There is nothing even remotely metrosexual about him. He is just a plain old average Joe man. But I heard him comment on the state of someone's manicure yesterday. That is the power of the Fashionistas. They can get to ANYBODY.

They usually don't bother me, but being away for a year set me back a bit. They are those lucky bitches that come in showing off their newborns wearing their skinny jeans....and I, well, 11 months in, am not. And I don't know if I mentioned this before, but these are also the same women that offered "but you just got in such good shape" instead of "congratulations" upon hearing about my pregnancy.

Yeah....


Robb’s Note: When I heard the story there was a bit of a rant about a woman with the curious name, Gang Bang Martha, I guess she didn’t make the cut.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Let Them Eat Cake!

Well, dear readers, I was hoping that my post covering the Leader’s debate would prompt a phone call from one or all of the contenders for Minister Prime of Canada.

It didn’t happen.

I mean sure, Elizabeth May, leader of the Green Party has been crashing on my couch, but I’m not hitching my wagon to that horse!

And, and, and, I neglected the Princess a bit… I’m told. Let’s move on…
Princess-O-Pia?

The Princess and I exchange messages most every day, and often talk on the phone, and I am always startled when she begins to curse. Usually curse words are reserved for Friday.

I’m not a puritan, but I am firmly convinced the Princess channels a black stereotype from the mid to late nineties when she decides to drop a “fuckaaaaaar”.

And that’s fine too, but it takes her so long to curse that while she is in mid-expletive I have visions of her practicing the naughty words in front of a mirror, perhaps with an afro pick stuck in her hair, it’s kinda like this, “Muthaaaaaaa Fuckaaaaaaaaa” and always a bit startling.

And, and, and, the Princess uses the words, “and, and, and” to allow her to catch a quick breath, organize her thoughts, but to retain the floor, not allow me a chance to participate in the conversation at that point.

“And, and, and,” gets used a lot!

So here are the messages we exchanged yesterday.

Princess: “I so badly want to comment on your post with a big ol':

'Robb, shut your pie-hole.'

I really hate when you bitch!


This whole week seems to be full of Fridays....

Robb: “You slay me! What do you think of an after work quickie phone call?”

Princess: “Fo Sho, mutha fucka!

I am really sorry about that....

Yes, call me! I am usually out of the parking floors by 4:13...”

Robb: “You totally kill me! I'm dying laughing here!”

Princess: “Yeah, there's just no words......I can't be held accountable for anything I say today!”

     Robb:  “Soooooo.... exactly like any other day?!?”

Princess: “Exactly! But I think I may have contracted Tourrettes today...”

Robb: “Sooooo... exactly like any other day but instead of, “and, and, and,” it is the word "fuckaaaa"?  I think I can deal! I remember the Princess Show live, complete with flailing of arms like a cute, demented, possibly crack or speed addicted Muppet.

The finale to that show was always a little disappointing, you throwing yourself down on the couch, or floor, or against the sink, exhausted after you had tired yourself out!

Princess: “Only to be violated by you! ;)

My phone isn't ringing!”

Yes, patient, patient readers, it had somehow become 4:14 and I hadn’t called the Princess. So I picked up the phone and gave her a call, and was immediately attacked!

Princess: “What is with the anti-Princess post today? Not a single mention of me! Unless I missed something, I usually just scroll down to see if there is any mention of me. Today? NOTHING! Not even in the P.S. You usually stuff me in the P.S. or the P.P.S.. What the hell is wrong with you!?!”

Robb: “You know last night was the Canadian Leader’s Debate right? You know it could be viewed as one of the most historical events of our time right? Not likely, but it could happen.”

Princess: “There is nobody I can see running the country better than me. It could be a throwback to the monarchy. Can you make it so someone can’t comment? Shelly wishes me dead from a self inflicted tampon injury. And I used to love Shelly and Sir-Poops-A-Lot.”

Robb: “So your first act as ruler of Canada is to suspend freedom of the press?”

Princess: “Shelley wants me dead! I don’t like that! That’s treason! And death by tampon!?!”

Robb: “You better come up with something good to appease the masses after taking away the free press. Maybe give every citizen of Princess-O-Pia a case of beer?”

Princess: “Beer is not to my taste. I’d prefer to classy it up a bit.”

Robb: “Like let them eat cake?”

The conversation rapidly devolved from there with the logistics of distributing beer to the populace of Princess-O-Pia, and the Princess stating emphatically that she disliked those bathrobes women bought their husbands with the letters, “D.H.” stitched on them.

There will be none of those in Princess-O-Pia, and the reason?

“Dear Husband? D.H.? Dear Husband? Fuck off!!!! He’s an asshole like everybody else! I like to make up my own acronym like Dumbass Husband or DoucheBag Husband”

The End

P.S. If you vote only once in a Canadian election this year, vote for the Princess!



Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Smile America We Canadians Are Fucked Too!!!

Well, dear readers, I’ve pretty much got my in box empty, time to fill it up again!

I really shouldn’t watch T.V. I’m no good at the passive double think truly enjoying vision tele requires.

And I seem to be completely lacking the sophistication required to enjoy a celebrity I had almost forgot existed, who was in a sitcom I kinda enjoyed, a decade ago, who lost weight, then gained weight, then lost weight, then gained weight, then was recruited in the twilight of their questionable career to dance the “Macarena” with other celebrities who I care less about than my next door neighbor’s cat.

So yeah, I shouldn’t watch V to the T.

Last night, I definitely shouldn’t have watched the Canadian leadership debate, not a great idea, and for all you Canadians who missed it, I’ll sum up for you, and for you, my former American countrymen, if you thought your country was screwed, get ready to feel a whole lot better about yourself! Let’s move on…

Show Me The Money!

A little background info is necessary methinks. The current Canadian Government has been up to a whole lot of no good it seems.

A report of some sort was leaked, and it seems the party in power was giving wheelbarrows full of cash to their friends, and to big business, hockey stick manufacturers and maple syrup conglomerates I believe, and big tax breaks to the powerful Canadian Beaver Trapper Lobby.

Sure, corruption is expected from American politicians, but in Canada I guess this sort of behavior is frowned upon. We’re supposed to be “nice”.

I used the word “methinks” to classy up this little post, and to cover for the fact that, as usual, I am doing absolutely no research.

Another interesting fact is the government in power wants to spend 20 billion, or 30 billion, or 800 million gajillion jillion mabillion dollars on fighter planes.

Canada shares a few pretty big lakes with the U.S. of A. We call these lakes great!

Well sharing these great lakes with the Yanks has been a little like sharing the bed with a greedy fat man. The second we’re not looking the fat guy steals all the covers.

So the Americans are pumping dry the great lakes. I guess we’re alright with that. In return I thought we had agreed that the US’ers would “have our back”.

I thought we Canucks were involved in a Godfather like relationship with America. Sure you bend us over and do us not so gently sometimes, but my understanding was that in return no one else got to bend us over and have unlubricated fun with us.

I thought that was the deal!?!

Why are we buying fighter jets?

That, however, is not the point.

The point, I think, is someone left some confidential papers in an overdue library book when they returned it, and it turns out Canadian politicians are just as guilty as Americans at bribery, kick backs, and behavior their mothers would undoubtedly frown upon.

This has entirely failed to shock, surprise, or cause any kind of outrage in Canada. We all kinda just shrugged our shoulders and went, “Yeah that’s about right.”

Well everyone except the opposition to the current Government.

The opposition has kinda said, “We can do bribery, kick backs, and behavior Mom wouldn’t like now? Okay we’ve got to have an election! I want a chance at this slop bucket now too!”

And that catches you, dear readers, up to where we were before the debate, and now to introduce our cast of characters.

The Prime Minister- Steven Harper, although I might have got his first name wrong. It might be spelled Stephen or Stefan, doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he has fled the country with several hefty garbage bags full of cash and had changed his name to Cash McMoneyBags.

I want to like Harper. What a great name. Sounds a little like Oprah.  Like would John the Violin player rip you off? Would Oprah? Of course not! Harper is a kind and gentle kinda name.

And Harper appointed a couple Senators who were facing fraud charges.

This offends me!

Not that they could be, might be, criminals, but nothing has been proven, they’ve only been charged with naughty behavior, these possibly convict Senators, I actually approve of that.

What offends me is I know politicians are likely putting too much of my butter on their bread, but they should be better at it. They’ve been charged with fraud, I want them to be sneakier about it.

The Guy Who Should Be Running the Country but Never Will Be- Jack Layton is the man! Layton looks like a charismatic and irresistible Lex Luther and he has a hot Asian wife who I believe didn’t come through the mail.

Unlike most politicians I believe his head spends little time up his ass, and if it does that’s fine too, he’s bald which makes, I am sure, for easy insertation and removal of cranium from anus.

Canada would be a paradise if Layton were in charge, probably not, doesn’t matter anyway, should never happen. There are only eighteen voters left in Canada I believe, and they are all over the age of seventy, and Jack Layton represents a party most voters think are communists.

And in the unlikely event Layton was ever given the rotary phone of power it would be disastrous for the country. The members of his cabinet would have to be chosen from members of Parliament who spend most of their time celebrating voters 80th Birthday parties. Decades of attending “Come and Go Teas” are not going to prepare anyone for a position as Minister of Defense.

Some French Guy- Some French Guy who I’m not even going to attempt a spelling of his name. And that doesn’t matter either, there is no chance he will ever see this post, it’s not in French, and since I am from Ontario even if he did see this post he would not acknowledge it’s existence, it would be seen as an attack against his culture, the great empire of Quebec.

I’m glad they included Pepe Le Pew in the debate. When it was his turn to talk it gave me a chance to go for a smoke.

At one point he almost demanded that Quebec be allowed to be in charge of immigration to Quebec and pointed out that Quebec was a country.

 I think that’s what he was babbling about anyway it’s hard to tell I’m laboring under the assumption that “Dis” meant “This” and “Dat” meant “That” so I might have lost something in the translation.

I do, however, have a newsflash for you all in Quebec.

Mostly we don’t like you. You gave us poutine, and you gave us Mitsou, but you’re really starting to get on our nerves.

 You’re like a homosexual brother who is trying too hard to be gay. Take off the assless chaps, quit blaring the village people, come to the dinner table in something other than an evening gown, and we’d like you a whole lot better.

You want to speak French! We get it, go ahead. Now this great boat of ours called Canada is sinking and we need you to stop talking about your distinctive culture, grab a bucket, and start helping us bail.

The Next President of Canada- Ignatiff. I can’t remember his first name, and I’m sure I spelled his last name wrong too, and fortunately neither of his names matter too much in ten years, maybe five, I bet no one remembers who he is.

Ignatiff creeps me out more than a little. The man looks a lot like every actor who has ever played the President of the United States of America in every bad movie ever made.

That’s not entirely an accurate description, he looks like a cross between a B-movie star and something that was created in the basement laboratory of a mad scientist in Washington, like a political Doctor Frankenstein stole the body parts of great bureaucrats of the past and cobbled together a flesh golem and sent it to Canada to rule our country.

And Mr Ignatiff no one is going to vote for you I fear, because no one can really pronounce your name. Why not try a good old fashioned easy to pronouncify Canadian name like Gretzky!

But Mr. Ingatiwhatever is probably most tuned in to the needs and wants of the Canadian public he did spend like a decade teaching Americans how to play Euchre at Harvard.

So there’s our choices my back bacon eating friends, and the debate went something like this, actually pretty much exactly like this.

Harper: “I don’t know why we’re having an election no one wants an election.”

Not Harper: “We’re having an election because you’re a dyslexic Robin Hood stealing from everyone and giving to the rich.”

Harper: “Really don’t know why we’re having an election everything is fine”

Not Harper: “You’re pure evil! You’re a bandit!”

Harper: “Nope. No one wants an election. Why am I even here?”

The End

P.S. Didn’t Kirstie Alley look great on Dancing With the Stars?