Canada's Wonderland ain't for wusses...

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE in this post.

As I checked my email Sunday morning, this note, in Rissa's handwriting, was to the left of the keyboard:

AWESOME LEVIATHAN FACTS!
306 feet high, 80 degree drop, 
148 km/h, 32 passengers p/car

That was the first time on Sunday that I thought I might woof my cookies. The second was when I ended up in the First Aid building at Wonderland, but more on that later.

We'd decided that our first coaster of the day would be the Leviathan.  Get it out of the way, I thought.  Be a brave girl, I thought.  I also thought I might actually DIE as the Leviathan climbed its first hill.

80 degree drop from 306 feet.  10 degrees more and it would be STRAIGHT DOWN!   

I've made a mistake!  I shouldn't be here!  Please, please, please - let my death be quick!  Don't let me be the gal who voids her bowels and has white foam around her mouth. Let me look good when they discover I'm dead.

I had my eyes closed the entire time, I didn't want to see anything. We kept going up and up and up...  How much further up is there, if you're not in a plane?!?  My hands in a death grip on the lap handles. I would not look, you couldn't make me!  I felt the near free-fall, went round the crazy-ass curves and smaller hills - eyes completely shut.  And at the end, I was still alive!  Legs very woobly, but I was alive as we made our way to The Bat and then to The Fly.

The Fly is freaking awesome!  I love The Fly.  I scream every time it takes a sharp turn, because it looks like you're going to fly straight off the tracks.  I know that I'm not going to fly straight off the tracks - they must test for cars leaving their tracks before letting the public on these things - but it doesn't stop me from screaming every time it happens.  Screaming and laughing.  The Fly is equivalent to watching Jurassic Park for me.  You scream, then you laugh, because it's so ridiculous you were screaming.  The Fly is like having primal scream/primal laugh therapy - always enjoyable.  Which is why I was surprised when, at the end of the ride, I was in pain.

My armpit suddenly felt like it had been stabbed.  I was confused, because although sometimes I do pin things into an outfit (you know, those cotton armpit guards to protect a nice dress or fancy jacket from sweat stains), I was wearing a t-shirt and a hoodie and had no recollection of having a razor-sharp, stabby thing in my clothing.  Another sharp stab.  And then two more, now down my arm.  These were different from my usual angina symptoms.  I'm groping at my side, trying to find the pin.  Where was it?  David and Rissa looking at me like I was crazy.

"Mummy, we're in public!" Rissa says, as I'm reaching inside my hoodie exposing most of my bra and a fair amount of breast.

"There's a pin!  There's got to be a pin!"

I wrestle off my jacket.  I'm acting like a crazy-woman.  "Something is there!"  I'm flapping the jacket now... "SOMETHING. IS. IN. THERE!"  David and Rissa watch as a black bug flies out.  Not a bee, not a yellow jacket - a hornet.  Somewhere during the ride, I'd picked up a passenger.  When trapped in the hoodie, it got pissed.  I'd been stung.  Multiple times.  And that shit hurts.

"Holy mother of... Yellow rat bas... Rissa, close your ears!

SHIT PISS FUCK MOTHERFUCKER!!"

Only me.  It could only happen to me.  And because David worries that any minor medical deviation for me will lead to a heart attack, we trundle off to the First Aid building where I am given Benadryl and anti-sting wipes, my vitals are monitored over a 10 minute period and I'm questioned.

"Do you have any medical conditions?"  he asks.

"How long do you have?" I respond.

The paramedic looked a bit confused when he found out that I suffered from angina.  I'm sure in his head he was thinking "And you are at an amusement park with thrill rides because why?"

"Are you nauseated?"

"Yes, but that's probably just my hypo-glycemia."

There were a couple of minutes there when I thought he was going to have an ambulance physically remove me from the property.  But eventually, I was allowed to dance off on my merry way...  Now stoned, because WOW...  Who knew that Benadryl was so freaking potent?   I was cozy and sleepy and spent the next hour with my head resting against David's lap as we sat waiting for me to come down.

The only other injuries that day for me happened when I rode Flight Deck - used to be Top Gun - your head gets rattled around in between the headrests and you wind up with cauliflower ear and your stud earrings embedded in your skull.

But really?  Only two injuries after having ridden over a dozen rides?  For me, this was a good day.


P.S. 

Later in the day, I rode the Leviathan two more times.  Eyes wide open as we took that first 80 degree drop. And you know something?  When you're looking down that 80 degreen incline?  It looks like you are going straight down.  And it's AWESOME!!  Arms in the air for the rest of the ride, except where I thought I might whack them on a support beam.  Between rides 2 and 3 I actually ran with Rissa and her friends to line up again.  The ride was that much fun.  It turned me back into a 12 year old girl.  It is my new favourite thing.  I will travel through the world extolling its virtues.  I am a Leviathan convert. 

I've won over $5,500,000!!

On 100,000 Pyramid.  On Facebook.  Because I'm such a geek.  And what's stupid?  I get anxious when I play.  I start freaking out... when I can't think of the word.   My angina kicks in a bit.  I give myself angina playing a game on Facebook.  I am a ginormous dufus.

It's understandable though.  On account of the fact that there's so much at stake.  You know... all that virtual money. The angina gets worse when I can't think of one of the answers I have to acknowledge that my dementia's already setting in.  Simple words defy me.  My palms start to sweat a bit.  I have trouble swallowing.

What is the thing that they shoot into in basketball?  Starts with an 'n.'  What is it?  What IS it??  The clock is running out!  I'm not going to get my pefect score bonus.  WHAT IS THE WORD?!?  NET!  NET!  I mistype it, I'm spelling so fast.  Nearly sobbing as I type it again, this time correctly.  PERFECT SCORE BONUS!!  I'M GOING TO THE BONUS ROUND!!!

I need to find another way to get cheap thrills. Maybe it's time to read more erotica.

Our family needs a personal assistant

Because why?  Because every now and again when I go to clear the answering machine of messages - I discover things.  Things that should have been written down kind of things.  When we get to around 8 saved messages, I try to clean them out.  Yesterday I discovered that, unbeknownst to me, my friend Lisa had called.  Might have been sometime in the last week.  Did I know about it?  No.

So I asked at the breakfast table this morning. "Did Lisa happen to call in the last little while?"

David and Rissa made thinking faces for a moment before they both said, "Nope.  Don't think so.  I didn't take a message from Lisa."  Then they went back to enjoying their breakfast.

"So there wasn't say, a message on the answering machine from Lisa maybe?"

Immediately, David reconfirmed.  "Nope.  No messages."

"No messages.  From Lisa.  On the answering machine?"

David's eyes rolled into his head, trying to access his internal CPU.  His shoulders hunched a tiny bit.

"Ummmm...  Which Lisa?"

He was playing it that way.  "The Lisa, who was the Matron of Honour at our wedding, Lisa..."

He winced.  "That Lisa.  Yes, there might have been a message from that Lisa."

"So when you said that Lisa didn't call..."

"I wasn't lying..."

"You weren't?"

"No," he said emphatically.  "I wasn't.  I just couldn't recall the existence of such a message."

Note to self: check the phone messages daily.

I love sleep so much I want to marry it.

I need to wax poetic for a moment.

Sleep, oh thou elixir of life, how your enveloping embrace maketh me to want to give you sexual favours. 

Calcium Channel blockers, oh thou relaxer of blood vessels (even the small ones), how your pervasive travel through my system maketh me want to praise your merits in song to the heavens! 

"I love my drugs!  I love my drugs!  I L-O-O-O-OVE MY DRUUUUUUUUUUUGS!!!"

My angina drugs are working again!  I woke today after a good 8 hours sleep.  Halle-freaking-lujah!!

Sleep just makes EVERYTHING better.  (Especially when you haven't been sleeping through the night for more than a couple of weeks.)  Look family!  It's your wife/mother - she's smiling and it's morning!

I'm not saying that you should just leap onto the Calcium Channel blocker train for your night sweats, but for me, when the angina meds finally kicked in, my night sweats became manageable, and my secret boyfriend, SLEEP, came back to me.  Anecdotal evidence at best, but it works for me!  I am human once more.

Ladies and Gentlemen - I give you the well-rested Heather!

No still means NO

Rehtaeh Parsons case: RCMP worried posters supporting 4 boys could incite vigilantism

 

ALL KINDS OF WRONG: CNN Pays Touching Tribute To The Rapists Who Attacked A 16-Year-Old Girl

 

Michigan High School Chooses To Protect Star Basketball Player Instead Of His Rape Victims

So I guess this is the beginning of the end.  This is when civilization collapses around us.  Our society, has lost its collective mind.  Apparently, we now throw our support behind those who violate, assault and rape girls.   And then we justify our support because it was alleged that the girl was drunk, dressed a certain way, or 'asking for it.'

When did it become acceptable to sexually assault a girl?  When did it become acceptable to watch a girl get sexually assaulted and then Instagram and Tweet it?  When did it become acceptable to call a girl a slut and make her life a living hell after the pics and tweets went public?

Oh wait!  I remember, IT DIDN'T.

IT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.  

How about the next time a young woman is at a party, the people around her PROTECT her?  How about we treat her with the same care we would show towards our sisters... daughters... nieces... cousins and granddaughters?   How about we stand UP, not stand BY?   Even if the people doing the violating are on the football team or basketball team or 'popular.' Even if it means that by standing up you might not be popular afterwards.  How about we lay blame where it belongs: at the feet of the perpetrators - all of them - those hands-on and the ones who give them tacit permission, by doing nothing to stop them.

'Cause if this is the way the world is going?  If my daughter isn't safe with her peers?  I will quit civilization, start a commune in the middle of nowhere and surround myself with people who will respect and protect one another.

Sneezy Pee...

I should have done WAY more Kegels while pregnant.  Firming up that pelvic floor should have been a priority.  Sure I did them, but I don't think I did enough of them.  Kegels are a bit weird...  I don't know, kind of... squidgy...  Concentrating on those muscles for too long - it made me feel like I was trying to turn myself inside out.

Of course if I had taken the Kegels seriously, perhaps I wouldn't now have to stop walking when I sneeze... or cough.  If I feel a sneeze (or cough) coming on while I'm walking, I have to stop in mid-stride so that I can do a quick, standing leg-cross to ensure that I don't wet my pants.   My friends and I used to laugh at those commercials for the adult diapers - I especially remember the one with an attractive 50-something gal laughing while trying on clothes and she gets this look and you know that she's just peed her pants. 

Now, when I have to pee - I really have to pee.  There is no 'holding it.'  If I even think about it too much, that might set me off.  I try tightening those pelvic floor muscles, but if I'm not close to a bathroom?  Game over.  And God!  If you happen to cough or sneeze as you're getting ready to sit on the toilet?  You might as well disrobe and head straight to the shower - it'll be easier than trying to dry yourself up with wadded toilet paper.

And that's when I figured out I was deformed...

These little piggies need to go to a podiatrist...

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you... HAMMER TOE GIRL!!!  Or possibly MALLET TOE GIRL! or CLAW TOE GIRL!  44 years old and I just realized that I have mutant feet.  I thought I was dealing with some minor foot pain, brought on by corns.   Turns out I'm actually a GEN-U-INE mutant!  My feet have mutated!  And it's all brought on by wearing bad shoes - the fashionable yet tight, the beautiful yet pointy, the drop-dead-gorgeous yet heely - kinds.  My feet have been fucked over by beautiful shoes.

David is threatening to have me committed if I spend any more time fixating on my toes or looking at any pictures of weird-ass toes online.  In comparison to Google search images, mine really aren't that bad.  It's just the two next to my baby toe - on both feet.  They've always been a little bit 'piggy' in my opinion.  But seeing as I'd been brought up playing the "This Little Piggy" game - my toes totally seemed to make sense.  But then, in researching corns, I looked up hammer toes and found out there was a whole tool-oriented labelling system for weird-ass toes - and then I realized, "Wait a second - those sort of look like MY weird-ass toes!"

I knew that my feet had spread after having kids.  I knew that.  They are definitely wider.  I had to purchase a whole 1/2 size larger after having Rissa.  I replaced ALL my shoes because they weren't wide enough.  But my feet never hurt until recently.  OH GOD!  It was March Break!  I wore a pair of wedge-heeled boots and we walked so much - I had to purchase an emergency pair of converse just so that I wouldn't die from the pain.  That was the beginning of the end.

I don't want to have to wear Birkenstocks all the time!  I get that they're comfy - I get that they feel good - I even owned a knock-off pair myself, when I was in university.  But here's the thing: you start off thinking that you'll just wear them in the summer, but then you end up wearing them with socks in the fall, then winter and soon, you've morphed into a modern-day hippie and once that happens, you might as well start that commune, wear a poncho and grow pot to sell to glaucoma patients.  I'm totally going to end up in the BIG HOUSE because of my mutant feet.