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  • The Great Martini Debacle of 2024
    Losing My Mind | Nonsense

    The Great Martini Debacle of 2024

    Byheathertheblogger June 2, 2024June 3, 2026

    …a dirty-martini-scented oil slick.

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  • Could be worse, could be mosquitoes
    Animal Antics | Losing My Mind | Nonsense

    Could be worse, could be mosquitoes

    Byheathertheblogger April 30, 2024June 3, 2026

    “Can I crawl home from here?”

    Read More Could be worse, could be mosquitoesContinue

  • …a… five six seven eight!!
    Body Image Blinders | Nonsense

    …a… five six seven eight!!

    Byheathertheblogger April 22, 2024April 22, 2024

    “Whatcha doing tomorrow night?” I text Rissa. “Do you feel like having a sleepover?” “Yes! Definitely,” she responds. “Only thing on my schedule is a dance class at 8:00 pm.” “I could ride up on the subway with you and then wait while you do the class,” I suggest. “Sure that works!” “Okey dokey. What’s…

    Read More …a… five six seven eight!!Continue

  • From 0 to RAGE in .5 seconds
    Losing My Mind | Menopause | Nonsense

    From 0 to RAGE in .5 seconds

    Byheathertheblogger March 10, 2024March 10, 2024

    It’s not just road rage. Although following a driver who doesn’t know how to merge, signal or meet the speed limit will most definitely set me off. “What the FUCK are you DOING?!? There is a whole lane for you to MERGE INTO!!! You don’t have to SLOW down to 10 kph you brainless WASTE…

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  • Not THAT C Word
    Nonsense

    Not THAT C Word

    Byheathertheblogger November 12, 2023March 11, 2024

    WARNING: Inferred VERY ADULT Content “Ugh! Ma! Can you please NOT?!?” says Rissa. “What? You have to be able to talk about these things!” I respond. “It’s the absolute WORST word to come out of your mouth! I HATE it!” She shudders. “Oh my God, Rissa, it’s just cunnili—” Rissa fake retches while simultaneously screaming….

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  • French Toast Insanity
    Best Spouse Ever | H is for Hypochondria | Losing My Mind

    French Toast Insanity

    Byheathertheblogger September 4, 2023March 14, 2025

    Labour Day morning. Contentedly lying in bed. I look over and see David reading. He smiles. I yawn, asking him what time it is. He glances over at the clock. “It’s… seven… fifty…. nope. It’s Eight o’clock.” “Boo Yeah!” I’ve managed to sleep in. We just got back from a trip overseas and have been…

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  • The best-laid plans…
    Best Spouse Ever | Dirty old woman

    The best-laid plans…

    Byheathertheblogger June 15, 2023July 10, 2023

    “All right. Are we doing this?” I ask, hopping up from my yoga mat. “Now?” replies David, looking up from his laptop. He’s in the midst of programming a new script app. “Now,” I say, cracking my knuckles. “Now, it is.” He shoots me a broad grin.  I race him up the stairs. My clothes…

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  • And that’s what you get from 41 years of sticking fingers in your eyes
    Body Image Blinders | Nonsense

    And that’s what you get from 41 years of sticking fingers in your eyes

    Byheathertheblogger May 8, 2023July 10, 2023

    In 1981, while conjugating the verb être in French class – my vision blurred. I blinked… blinked again. I then stuck the tips of my middle fingers into my eyes, discovering an abundance of eye guck loitering beneath my eye balls.   rheum noun ˈrüm  : a watery discharge from the mucous membranes especially of the eyes or nose…

    Read More And that’s what you get from 41 years of sticking fingers in your eyesContinue

  • The Cursed Roof
    Losing My Mind | Nonsense

    The Cursed Roof

    Byheathertheblogger April 29, 2023July 10, 2023

    Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Fuck. Nope. No, I am not going to look. I don’t need to look, because that problem has been solved. The leaky roof above of our kitchen ceiling has been fixed.  IT.  HAS.  BEEN.  FIXED. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. Driiiiiiiiip. For the love of… I square my shoulders and stand up. I walk over…

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  • Irregular Heather
    H is for Hypochondria | Losing My Mind | Menopause

    Irregular Heather

    Byheathertheblogger February 1, 2023July 10, 2023

    WARNING: Colourful language in this post. Fact: My internal thermostat is fucked. I’ve dealt with hot flashes since the age of 36. But the night sweats? The truly disgusting, sleep-annihilating, life-altering, make-you-feel-like-you-have-malaria…  Wait.  Maybe it’s not night sweats. Maybe it’s malaria. It’s January. In Canada. There are no mosquitos. Maybe it’s COVID… again.  Cue rapid…

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