I’m F@cking Offended That You’re Offended

The offspring of Generation X; the "Spoiled, Offended Generation".

The offspring of Generation X; the “Spoiled, Offended Generation”.

This had to be said by someone at some point, and Lady Leisure seems to be good at offending others, so here it is. I’m laying it all out for you.

I’m annoyed with people who are offended by humor. I’m fed up with individuals who cover their child’s ears when someone innocently lets a swear slip. To put it bluntly, I’m sick of society’s shit; and here’s why:

Our generation (Generation X) was the first one not to get physically abused by our teachers in school. We had it good. We rode our bikes without helmets and played in our yards and neighborhoods without fear. As girls, we played games like kick the can and hopscotch, wrote in our diaries, started babysitter clubs, and gossiped until the cows came home. When we got a bit older, we experimented with alcohol in our parents’ basements and read magazine articles about sex. When we didn’t hand in our homework, we effectively received a big fat “zero” on the assignment. If we didn’t study for an exam or pay attention in class, our grades reflected that behaviour. And you know what? We learned from our mistakes and tried harder next time. We realized these tough lessons in grade school so we could be functioning members of society as we grew into adulthood.

Although bullying has sadly always been around, not one of us was “offended” by the fair and just repercussions of our actions, and life was kosher. The world was a better place before social media, internet networking/marketing, and technology ruled the world.

So here we are approximately 15-20 years later, and life is EASY for most of the offspring of Generation X (too easy, if you ask me). We became adults and somehow forgot what it was like to be a kid growing up in the 80’s and 90’s and how fun and discipline played equal roles in our childrearing. We owe the discipline we received from all the adults in our lives for our current successes. But, we no longer understand balance. Some of us will let our children do anything they want, including the allowance to disrespect authority, because we feel our parents were too hard on us. Others will not allow our children to do or try anything, for fear of them getting hurt, offended, or WORSE.

I am not yet a parent and I will not tell you how to raise your child. What I will do, is give my opinion on what will stop the current generation from being referred to in the future as the “spoiled, offended generation”. Give your kids a break and start acting like a parent. Discipline them when they portray unacceptable behaviour. Let them watch a movie with crude language and nudity under your supervision.  Take away their tablet and kick them outside for fresh air and a bike ride. In true Lady Leisure form, teach them how to tell a mean “Knock Knock “ joke and how to display wit with ease. Don’t try to be there to catch them BEFORE they fall; just ensure you’re present to dust them off AFTER and say, “Great try, let’s continue practicing/studying/working hard to make next time even better.”

10 Rules For Not Appearing Like a Complete D!ck

The "dead fish" handshake is out.

The “dead fish” handshake is out.

I sit here impatiently waiting for another deadbeat not to show up for his interview. By now, 25 minutes have passed since the time set (in stone) for our face-to-face meeting, and even though the little jerk has my phone number, I have yet to receive a call saying, “I’m lost”, “I got another job”, “Go f*ck yourself”, or otherwise.

I have to be honest, one time when it was still legal to talk on your cell phone while driving, I was 10 minutes late for an interview. In my defence, I had to work another job that day which happened to be 2 hours away from the meeting point, and I called the interview organizer 30 minutes in advance to notify her of my impending tardiness. I got the job.

Here are 10 Written and Unwritten (until now) Rules For Not Appearing Like a Complete Dick to a potential employer:

1.) Shower & Groom Yourself
– Self-explanatory; I don’t want to smell your odours.

2.) Show Up On Time & Prepared
– Have a phone number or email address handy to contact me if something happens.
– Prepare some excuses ahead of time too. (See “My Dog Ate My Homework and Other Excuses”)

3.) Look Me In the Eye and Shake My Hand Like You Mean It
– I may be a woman, but I don’t appreciate the dead fish/wet noodle.
– You’re here proving to me that you can lift 50lbs on site and that I can trust you, not that you’re sensitive to my fragility.

4.) Don’t Be a Dumb Ass (Socially)
– Tell me your skills, relevant experience, and why you’re a good fit for our company.
– Don’t talk my ear off about your dog, wife, and how I remind you of someone you once knew.

5.) Don’t Be a Dumb Ass (Intellectually)
– You are an adult. Act like an adult.
– Show me you are capable of solving your own problems.

6.) Answer My Questions Like a Champ
– Be forthcoming and complete with your answers.
– “YEAH” is a song by Joe Nichols, and although it’s a good one, it’s not doing you any favours.

7.) Ask me Questions
– This will make you seem smart and will prevent unpleasant surprises once you start work.

8.) Don’t Ask For More Than What You’re Worth to Us
– The economy is slow which means the employer has the upper hand. We are searching for unskilled labourers to get shit done. I refuse to pay you $30 an hour because you’re an EMT; this is irrelevant to our line of business.
– I have a mother-f’ing degree and I get paid an administrative assistant hourly rate.
– And I’m sleeping with the boss.

9.) Thank Me For My Time
– I took the time to review your resume, call you and give you the opportunity to sell yourself to our company – give me some props here.

10.) Don’t Waste my Time
– If you’re not interested, tell me right away.
– I’m not your date and I won’t get offended that you don’t want to see me anymore, so don’t evade my calls for shit sake!

Show up for your first day of work and keep showing up. It’s long hours and hard work, but your pay cheque is going to reflect this apparent hell.

Now, get out there and make Lady Leisure proud!

My Kids Don’t Live Here – Part 2

Who can we thank for this?

Who can we thank for this?

When I first spotted the black spray paint on the unwanted sign in our neighbourhood, I momentarily felt sorry for the passive aggressive individuals who thought it necessary to spend their hard earned money on a sign that would only be doomed from the start. All I can say is we didn’t do it, but as mentioned in My Kids Don’t Live Here I believe this vandalism to be well-targeted. The criminal could have had more of an imagination although, a happy face is sort of rad. I say “person” because I believe this to be not the work of an angry youth, but the result of an adult pushed too far by the actions of others and the booze in their veins.

This leaves me wondering, “What are the next steps?”

The reaction of the sign owners was to turn the entire wooden structure around so that the happy face is smiling in the other direction – but this only showcases the artwork to more of the neighborhood.

The perpetrator(s) will only escalate and soon the signs will be beyond recognition or repair. The only logical solution will be to take down the signs that should never have been posted in the first place.

Perhaps a more appropriate (and less blinding) Alberta Transportation regulated sign will take their place.

Caution: Children Playing.”

It has a nice and less demanding ring, don’t you think?

Impulse Buys; Not DUI’s

Garage Sales: Trade your shit for cash.

Garage Sales: Trade your shit for cash.

Garage sale season is upon us and if this were the past couple of seasons, I would be PUMPED! Now the wedding is over and my house is full of absolute crap. It’s borderline hoarder crap, most of which I would be embarrassed to donate to the less fortunate. I want to turn it into a pot of gold just as much as the next guy, but you know what? That’s just not feasible.

If you’re wondering how many people actually sell their shit and make loads of moola, I estimate the rate to be approximately  +/- 0 out of 10. If you’re counting the hours of labour dedicated to pricing, cleaning, and counting, you’re looking at a net loss. Even if you recruit the neighbors’ kids to man the garage while you tan on the deck, you’re still out the cost of ice cream. And now you have to somehow attach a horn to a horse’s head because they were clever enough to know Unicorns do not exist, but were still convinced that Uni-horses thrive in our arid climate.

What I’m saying is: don’t waste your time unless you’re desperate. If you hear the voice of desperation knocking at your door, here’s how to exchange your crap for enough small coins to roll around in them. But everyone knows coins SOMEHOW have feces all over them, so please don’t forget your Purel.

1) Toss everything into the “sell” pile. People will buy ANYTHING if it is priced under $1.

2) Don’t bother with price tags. Let the customers believe they drive a hard bargain and out of guilt they will pay more for another item.

3) To draw more people to your sale, note “antique” or “rustic” items in your advertisement. You’re probably old enough that college text book is considered antique anyway.

4) Sell items as a “lot”. Pair up desirable items with less desirable ones and price the box based on the desirable item. Yes, you’re giving stuff away, but now it can junk up someone else’s house.

5) Serve booze – but only enough for impulse buys, not DUIs. The good news is you won’t be driving so you can drink as much as you desire.

The most important thing to remember is not to bet your first born’s college fund on the possibility that you’re actually going to have a successful sale.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a yard sale to prepare for because our garage smells like garbage and has a wasp infestation in the attic.

All Decked Out

My pretty new deck. (Now I don't have to get Jack to boost me into the house by my butt).

My pretty new deck. (Now I don’t have to get Jack to boost me into the house by my butt).

It took a week, a flat of beer, multiple trips to the hardware store, and a couple of bro-mance phone calls to my brother, but Jack has built us a new deck BY HIMSELF. I’m not sure if he can say it was completely a solo mission because I did fetch beer, cheese, pepperoni sticks, and sandwiches for my husband while he worked in the hot sun for hours on end. Being Lady Leisure, I often offered words of encouragement like, “what’s taking you so long?” and “that doesn’t look right”. I also candidly photographed his progress to share with all of you.

I made sure I took pictures of all the f-ups and Macguivers because this is just what I do.

Perhaps out of pity or in a drunken stupor my brother (who should be on the show “Brojects”) gave his official seal of approval on the deck. But there is a possibility that Jack did a good job and he should be upgraded to “Jack of ALL Trades”. Of course, I’m not ready for that.

It was around this point where he realized he couldn't rip 1" off a board, so he took to re-spacing ALL the boards.

It was around this point where Jack realized he couldn’t rip 1″ off a board, so he took to re-spacing ALL the boards.

Building a deck

Safety First! After much deliberation on whether the railing should be an innie or an outie, Jack finally decided on the latter.

Measure once, cut 3 times. Jack is cursing his decision to do an outside railing.

Measure once, cut 3 times. Jack is cursing his decision to do an outside railing.

alien arm

Lady Leisure “helping” by entertaining herself while her husband builds the deck alone.

Lady Leisure likes to point out imperfections

Lady Leisure likes to point out imperfections

Still not spaced evenly.

Still not spaced evenly.

The burnt spot on the lawn from when Jack used a frayed extension cord for his tools.

The burnt spot on the lawn from when Jack used a frayed extension cord for his tools and it caught on fire.

My Kids Don’t Live Here

Someone in our neighborhood pulled a “Claire” (Modern Family reference) and posted large and in charge signs about our choice of driving speed. Here they are:

Give Our Kids a Brake

Give ME a brake.

Yes it is. And I cannot possibly go any more slowly.

Yes it is. And I cannot possibly go any more slowly.

My kids do not live here. I do not have kids. But if I did, I would sure as SHIT- make sure they knew if they EVER played in traffic I would gently slap their hand and take away their iPad.

“No more cyber baking for YOU, missy!”

My God, what have we done with our world and its inhabitants?

If my child were too young to comprehend that the road is a dangerous place, I would put it on an adorable backpack leash and let it get really excited about its bogus freedom. Everyone wins in this situation.

But now, we have these neighbors who MUST let their babies crawl or tweens bike ride on the road by themselves, where there is TRAFFIC! This is the only explanation.

I picture driving up to the offensive signs in my POS Malibu, opening the door and knocking them over. I wouldn’t even do it at night (like they did when they posted them). I want people to witness my outrage.

Just to clarify, the signs are not targeted at me. I drive the speed limit because I was born a goody two shoes, but Jack has been known to charge through the neighborhood at 5AM like a maniac on the odd occasion. Jack was born a shit disturber. However, if your kids are roaming around at that hour, something is deeply wrong.

After the weekend, there is a noticeable bright orange dot of spray paint on one of the signs. By the looks of it, some kid was trying to be a shit disturber (like Jack) and chickened out. If you’re going to vandalize property in this neighborhood, at least finish the job. Don’t be afraid to write something witty either; just get in there and graffiti.

My kids don’t exist, but if they did, they wouldn’t be quitters.

Country-Style Photos in Edmonton

Jack is a major fan of the great outdoors and loves to hunt; he would watch Wild TV every day if he could. When we tied the knot over Easter Weekend, it was practically winter out there still so we needed to find an indoor space for family photos. I approached the team at Cabelas who gave us the ULTIMATE outdoors-men photography experience.  If you’re looking for a venue for wedding photos, make sure to give Cabela’s a call. They have a beautiful fireplace and mantel upon entry and taxidermy throughout the store. The helpful staff were excellent at helping organize prior to the day, redirecting customer traffic during our session, and they gave us fudge to take back to our reception! Brock, one of our Groomsmen, ate an entire box to himself, so I’m sure his new-found belly can vouch for the quality of fudge Cabela’s makes in store.

Here are a couple of photos taken by 5 O’Clock Photography at Cabela’s North Edmonton:

Cabela's North Edmonton Fireplace Mantel

Cabela’s North Edmonton Fireplace Mantel

Cabela's North Edmonton Taxidermy - the hunter in his element.

Cabela’s North Edmonton Taxidermy -That elk is my new buddy!

What the Hell Are You Doing?

Keep your gum out of my face.

KEEP your gum out of my face. Seriously.

“What the hell are you doing?” A phrase I desperately want to utter whenever someone is chewing loudly just to spite me (I’m sure).

On the drive to the Cancun airport after our deadly honeymoon, a man was chewing his gum so provocatively I felt like he was sharing the whole inappropriate experience with me. And he wasn’t even European.

You know what I mean though, right? It is less offensive (or surprising) when an Italian man wears a banana hammock to the beach than if some redneck American struts his stuff in the same attire; although . . .Jack is half Italian and I do not fancy this type of behaviour coming from him.

This type of banana hammock is acceptable.

Acceptable.

redneck speedo

NO.

It’s a matter of cultural norms and if a European man (not a Brit because they are sickeningly polite) were to thoroughly enjoy his gum by smacking his lips – I would be like:

“Okay, this guy’s got an excuse. This is socially acceptable where he’s from.”

But if a Norte Americano sits behind me in a Mexican van and pulls that shit, I’m going to fantasize screaming my lungs out at him because he’s a rude mother-you-know-what and no, I do not appreciate him “gleeking” on the back of my seat – even though only a “little” got in my hair.

Jack chews nicotine gum and he says it makes his throat tickle. He coughs, and coughs, and then makes a sucking/smacking noise with his lips, and finally ends the abuse to my ears and test to my patience with another forceful cough for good measure. If this only happened once or twice in our lifetime it wouldn’t be worth mentioning, but I spend an ungodly amount of time with my husband. So don’t be surprised if over the next few months you hear I have been confined to either a white padded room or a steel cage; witnessed continuously shouting:

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

T-Shirt Time!

Sad reference, I know.

Here’s the deal: I want more followers. I NEED more followers. I crave them. In the least weird way possible.That’s where you, “LAUGHERS”, come in handy. Here’s what would be rad for you to do:

1) Head on over to the Lady Leisure Laughs Facebook Page and if you haven’t already done so, “LIKE” that shit.

2) Now, comment on the “T-Shirt Time Contest” post and tell me which Official Lady Leisure Laughs t-shirt design is your favorite.

3) Lastly, kindly “SHARE” the contest post on your personal Facebook page so all your friends can see how generous and hilarious I am.

Once you have done all of these things, you are entered into the Contest for a BRAND NEW Puppy! And by puppy, I mean the Official Lady Leisure Laughs t-shirt of your choosing. It’s just as cuddly and it doesn’t have accidents on your carpet.

Gentlemen . . . I haven’t forgotten about all TWO of you. I will manly-up the shirt design for you if you win.

Now go ahead and enter the draw – you deserve it!

WIN ME - Customized T-shirt with your name on the back!

WIN ME – Customized T-shirt with your name on the back! One of the designs available. 

Back of t-shirt with last name.

Back of t-shirt with last name.

The Dog Ate My Homework (and other excuses)

Working for a road construction company has its benefits. Winters are magnificently slow and we have the pleasure of crossing paths with some interesting characters throughout the busy season. Sometimes these guys get past our loose screening procedures and they end up gracing us with their presence for a few weeks or months. Others are odd enough upon initial consultation that red flags are raised, torn up, and burnt to the ground.

We had a bright gem who worked with us for a few months last season. Not only did he call in sick every other day, but the days he decided to show up, he was chronically late. This gentleman listened to Eminem on his iPod while wielding a flag paddle, trying to direct traffic. When approached by his Supervision about the danger of not being able to hear his surroundings, he explained why it was kosher for him to continue his antics.

“I know Eminem’s daughter.”

Supervisor: “How do you know her?”

“I met her once and we keep in contact. Actually, we dated for a while.”

Supervisor: “I don’t believe you.”

“Well we did, and I met her Dad.”

Supervisor: “That definitely didn’t happen.”

No. Kidding.

Since we do not perform pre-employment drug and alcohol testing, this is one of the things we screen for during the interview. We are not allowed to directly ask someone if they have an addiction, but we can casually mention pre-access testing as a job requirement . . . and wait for a positive or negative reaction. One cool cat said he could pass a “piss test”, but last time he almost failed.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, people were doing drugs in my building and I went outside to have a smoke. I was close to it so I almost failed the test for coke.”

“Hmm.”

“I have never even seen coke before.”

Bull. Shit.

There is no such thing as ALMOST failing a drug test. Sometimes preliminary testing has to be sent away to a lab because results were “inconclusive” for a number of reasons. But when it comes down to the results the worker receives, it’s pass or fail. You either did drugs or you didn’t. You didn’t just walk by someone “smoking coke” and now you’re unsure of your ability to piss clean. Something’s not adding up for me here.

This guy is probably sitting at home wondering why he hasn’t been offered a high paying executive position somewhere. His next excuse will be he “lost his licence because someone hit his truck out of nowhere.” He was “completely sober and parked safely in a parking lot.”

Maybe the dog ate his homework too?

YOU sir, are not a good candidate for this position.

YOU sir, are not a good candidate for this position.