Overflow. Oversight?

In August 2014, we bought a new/old house.  New to us, older than our last house.
We love it.  The size, the layout, and the location.  The beautiful yard, and the abundance of birds.

But it seems we were duped by the seller somewhat, as I mentioned in my last post.  We expected to do a few upgrades, we could see what they were, and we had the budget.  However, some things were not as visible!  Which is not what the seller attested to at the sale! NO latent defects, he stated!

My neighbour filled me in on details of the people we purchased from a few months after we took posession, but we felt the full force of their sheer cuntness on the last day of November, 2014!  

After a fab day shopping and doing the family thing, we returned home, exhausted.  No sooner than she had retreated to her basement, did my daughter come running up the stairs, yelling and screaming "there's water pouring in through the fucking light fitting!"

Yes she was swearing, as was I when I saw the fucking mess.  Literally, there was water pissing in throught the light fitting in the ceiling, and it wasn't long before it was pissing in through another light fitting, all over the ceiling, down the wall, under the drywall, and under, and over the carpet.
This was first discovered at 8.45pm.  By 11pm the entire 1200 square feet of the basement was affected somehow..
After a few frantic calls, and what seemed like a decade, a clean up crew arrived at midnight.. and didn't leave until 5am!  The same crew, plus a few more were back at 8.30am!  They ripped the whole place apart, sucked up the massive puddle that was the floor, boxed up our belongings, and cleaned up as best they could.

My plumber popped by and fixed the burst pipe the next day, so we were waterless overnight.
But he put her to bed for $500, and in just under two hours.

The follow up included industrial fans a-blaring for an entire week, 24/7, and dehumidifyers sucking the water from my fish bowls, as they did their best to suck the water from my walls and floor!
Carpet was ripped up, drywall was cut out and tossed.  Belongings that were only unpacked weeks before due to our move, were packed back up and shipped out.

My childs bedroom was unusable, so she had to sleep on a lumpy sofa bed upstairs for two weeks. While she was re homed, the weight of the boxes that had been stored in her closet, caused the shelf and hanging rail to rip out of the wall and break her closet doors.
Now she is back in her room, but still surrounded by boxes, until that hiccup is fixed!

A total fucking fiasco of complete strangers in and out daily, checking this and measuring that.
Of course, we had just booked a little Christmas break a few days before shit hit and fans fanned, and we had also booked a kitchen installation, which now won't happen until February, because I don't have a place to store the cabinetry until the contractor is available!

And you know why all this happened?  This all happened because Mr Jim'll Fix It (his name really is Jim),  the incompetent fat cunt who sold us the house, couldn't be bothered to insulate the outside tap, and put a grill in the ceiling for winter shut off access.  He just couldn't spare the extra pennies (literally less than $50), and 15 minutes of his time, to make sure the house was protected from frost.
He managed his cigarette habit with ease, mind you.

What adds oomph is that while the rebuild has been going on, we have discovered that Mr Fat Incompetent Cunt had left live electrical wires hanging in the ceiling space, right near water pipes, he had exhausted a bathroom fan into a closet, he didn't cut a hole in the siding when he re did it, for the central vac to get air, and he failed to hook up the furnace to the outside.  Preferring the ceiling cavity!!

I could have paid for 20 inspectors prior to my home purchase and not a thing would have shown up.

Of course, this is the same cock that installed an electrical socket, and then put a toilet (at an noticable angle) directly in front of it, so it's totally unusable.  So none of this should surprise me really.  But what it does, is make me doubt humanity just that little bit more.  It makes me realize that you go out of your way for others, and often they will fuck you sideways in the ass, wiggle a little, and then smile about it!!

Well cunt, not this time.  Your ass fucking days are over.
Karma drives a Toyota Tacoma, watches Botched, and listens to Slayer!

I have a great insurance company, that have supplied me with fabulous contractors, and we will shortly be back to normal below grade.
 But it has been one hell of a disrupted winter, and with some -40c temperatures, a tad chilly here and there!

Karen G, Headbangerwoman Jan 9 2015

2014. Year of the Cunt.

Technically, the Case Manager at my insurance company was a cunt in 2013, because that was when she told me that my insurance would stop.  But it didn't cease until 2014, so I carried her bitch ass over.

Celtic Management were cunts from 2010-2014, so that counts.  They were consistent cunts too, which is always a plus.

There was the older lady in the grocery store, just before Christmas.  She only had a few items, compared to my cart full, so I let her go in front of me.  Unfortunately, she was a cunt.  She spent ten minutes arguing the price of a bag of chipits, followed by more time trying to explain to the exasperated checkout assistant where they were in the store.  Then she spent more time trying to get a price reduction.  She headed off to customer service to attempt to get them free after all that.
This woman was dripping in jewelry, make-up and fur!

TD Mortgages were cunts for offering me a mortgage at 3% higher than the company I eventually went with.  Also, the mortgage advisor at TD is a cunt in her own right, because she opened a file for me, and was then MIA for two months, leaving no access to my file!

Yet another one of my family almost topped the list for cunt of the year in 2014. You never really know someone, seemingly.  Oh well, you live and learn!
However this person was topped by a big fat cunt, we'll get to him!

A person that I thought was family, not just a friend, got her ass on my cunt list in August.  Narcissism and addiction caused her to blow her entire life out of proportion.  She blocked me on Facebook.  Yes, you know it's bad if Facebook blocks you!!  There has been no other contact since that.
I haven't missed her either, so it just goes to show!  Cunt.

Riteway Movers, Edmonton.  CUNTS, the lot of them.  Not only did they grossly misquote me.  They then wanted me to move a bunch of my own items, that they couldn't fit in the truck.
Then they threw the entire contents of my china cabinet into a box, without wrapping a single item!
They packed paint spray in boxes clearly marked NO SPRAY paint, which then exploded all over my freshly decorated basement, and my designer sandals from Spain.  They moved boxes which I had marked garbage, and brought them along for the ride!
They also gouged holes in the walls of the house we were selling, with furniture that they couldn't be bothered to dis-assemble, and continued that trend into my new house.  Coming to me later and telling me that "those marks were already there."

Of course you get the daily driving cunts, cunts in grocery stores, customer service cunts, and the like.  But there has ultimately got to be a winner!


CUNT (or cunts) of the year goes jointly to one Jim Klein and his wife Angela.  They sold me a house that seemingly had more holes than a tea strainer.  Holes in gas lines, flooring, siding, sinks, and did I mention the fucking hole in the water pipe that burst on 30 November, causing my entire basement to flood?  All hidden or concealed.
Of course Jimmy boy had also failed to put an access hatch, insulation, or a stop tap anywhere close to the pipe when he reno'ed, so he did us a real favour.
I have to mention the electrical outlet that he put behind a toilet cistern in the family bathroom, just because it really is a WTF moment every time I shit!

No sooner had we unpacked after our move in August, than we were packing shit up again!
If anyone who knows this cunt sees him, they should tell him to redirect his fucking mail too.
 He hasn't done that yet, and he moved out in July 2014!  What a cunt!

Headbangerwoman Jan 7 2015

Table for Ten?

So, it had been a long day, in fact a long few days.

My Husband had taken us off to Las Vegas for our Christmas gift 2014, and for the last evening he thought he would like to visit the Wolfgang Puck restaurant, at The Venetian/Palazzo.
Of course his hearing is a little off, so I get to make the call, cough and all!

I call reception and ask "Could I book a table for two at the Wolfgang Puck restaurant please?"
The answer came politely, "Which one Mrs Graham?"

Hmm, is she joshing me?  "The one by the shops," I say.  I'm presuming she knows where I mean.  She does work here after all!
"Well, there is more than one Wolfgang Puck establishment," she informs me.
"Oh, ok, I didn't realize," I answer, feeling like a tiny bit of a tit by now.

"Is it Table 10?" she requests! I pause, "No, like I said, it's a table for two!"
I can almost hear the stifled guffaw, as she tells me, "No, Table 10 is the name of the establishment."

By now, my husband is rolling around on the couch reciting Monty Python sketches, and suggesting I just wrote another one!

"...you know' I think I'll leave it for now," I say politely, as I hang up the phone, flustered and perspiring like a Grand national Filly.

Thank God for Gordon Ramsays Steak, and his Lobster Wellington!

Next time, Wolfgang. Next time!

KG Headbangerwoman Jan 7 2015

Fucking Facebook Whingers

Join a Fucking Forum, Facebook Whingers

I am hoping that this is the last time I write about this.  

Yes;  I know all about freedom of speech.  I know we are all entitled to our opinion.  I know that you sometimes feel sick.

But really?  You need to take to Facebook and repetitively reveal that you are sneezing.  You have a cold.  Your stomach hates you, or that you have a fucking paper cut?  

 In the past two years, two very good friends of mine, both of whom had Facebook accounts, died. They had cancer, and very rarely, if ever, did they whine, whinge, moan and complain about it on social media.

They knew what it meant to live.  To enjoy life.  To have fun.

 Recently I deleted a bunch of people from my Facebook friends list.  I didn't care to see how much weight they had lost.  I don't give a shit that they are supporting Kleenex single handedly, and I really don't care if you have got a fucking itchy rash on your arse crack.

 I live away from my family.  My choice.  But Facebook is my main means of keeping in touch.  If you are my friend on Facebook then I like you.  We are friends.  However, if you are constantly moaning griping and being a self effacing cunt, and it shows up on my Facebook feed you will be deleted.  

 I will call you out on it first though.  YUP. Name and shame.

 Here's why;

 I am chronically ill.  For the past three years I have been in chronic pain.  I am chronically fatigued, I have gained weight, my hair has fallen out and my skin and nails are flaky.  I can't breath and I have a lot of infections.

I have developed chronic allergic asthma and was diagnosed hypothyroid from Hashimotos, also with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Lupus.  My social life has been awful and I spend a lot of time resting and sleeping.  I take a bucket load of medications and I visit many Drs.  

However, I don't require constant attention, negative or positive from people.  Therefore I don't discuss my personal health issues on Facebook.  Neither do my friends with similar ailments and conditions.  OK, we all have an outburst now and again, but I have had one (ex) friend complain about a different ailment every day for four consecutive days.  Even though she was away on a trip with her husband, at the time.  

Another moaned relentlessly about her health, family and work.  I mean relentlessly.  Day in day out. Woe is me.  

Well I've had e fucking nough.  I'm done, I won't tolerate it any more.  The day has come.  Each time I see a whinger, and to be honest I think I've fucked most of them off, they will be deleted.  

Not unfollowed.  NOPE SIREE, just plain old deleted.  I don't need the negativity.  I try to stay positive, it makes me feel better.  

So, bear that in mind you griping pieces of shit.  I've come to the end of my rope.  

Feel better.  You pathetic twats.

KG Headbangerwoman 2014

Faking It

Do fake accents bother you?  

This was the question posed by Lochlin Cross, drive-time announcer on 100.3 The Bear yesterday, for his locker room discussion.  
As Cross and I had been discussing this back and forth on Twitter and Facebook prior to the FB posed question, in good humour I might add, because the fake Irish and Scottish accents had been driving me crazy, advertising on the radio all day.  I was mildly amused when another Bear listener posted that she liked to do a "British or Cockney accent." 

I then posted

"LMAO. 

Britain is a collection of Countries. Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and England. 

Britain as a whole has no accent. 

Cockney is a regional dialect from a part of London, specifically. 

Like Cornish, Geordie or Glaswegian. (Google them)

Each County has several dialects. A county is a region in England. There are many. 

Also, it's Paddy. Not Patty. Patty is a slab of beef on a bun. Or a bap, depending on 

your region!

Paddy is an Irish fella."

My cell phone was on the fritz and the Northern part of Northern Ireland disappeared!  But to the poster who chose to point out that Ireland (The Republic of and Northern, were in fact a seperate island than the rest of Britain and Southern Ireland is not a part of it) thanks, my Dad was from Ireland and I did well in Geography class at school...in England! 

I personally don't think that there is anything particularly offensive about my post.  OK, I laughed at the beginning, but as I already explained, I was having an amusing back and forth with the host prior. Also, I had to make it fairly simple as I'm quite sure no-one gets it unless they actually live there! 

Just how simple is up for discussion.  I'm not sure the hurlers of muck, shit and compost were quite ready for their lesson! 

However ready, poster Roxy FluffyBomb and her posse of abusive girlfriends seemed to think it was OK, to come at me.  So, now I'm an asshat and three people agree.  What the fuck is an asshat anyway? When have you ever seen a person with a hat actually on their ass?  Do you know what an actually prick you sound, when you try to insult someone with a non expletive? 
Then I'm a bitch.  On top of which, I'm a whiny crybaby.  Well I've never been called a bitch before.  Really, that is the best you can muster?  The University of Alberta must be so proud of you Jo Ziggy! By the way, less people agree that I'm a bitch. You might want to call them out on it!

Now as a person who writes as a hobby, I decided to look into the people that were hurling abuse.  You cannot imagine what I found?

A beautiful native lady, with a great talent for art, and a student (or employee) at the University of Alberta.  Someone with a fairly high degree of education!

WOW. I was taken aback.  Make your own judgements there.  I have no words.

However, I am going to say is this;  Firstly, I have never seen people, trolls or otherwise, jump on a person so quickly for merely pointing out some facts that they were unaware of.  By the way, giving them an option to correct the fact that they they can speak British or Cockney and therefore  making themselves look less like a total twat. 

Was it Forrest Gump that said "A twat is as a twat does"?  No, my bad, that was me, just now.

Secondly where is the respect people?  Just where?  Surely live debate in it's purest form is a way to learn and indeed educate those around you. If the first thing you say to someone is "You are an asshat", it bodes not well for the rest of your day, or life.

I named you in this article because you are two of the most disrespectful and ignorant people I ever had the displeasure of coming across.  There have been a few more.  
As I pointed out at the time of the discussion, my daughter is a friend of mine on Facebook.  How am I supposed to teach her respect when disrespecting dick heads like you two are on the internet being abusive to people you don't know, have never met, and would likely learn a lot from if you were to ever meet?  I'm guessing that both of you think online bullying is OK and I should give free reign to my daughter, to just randomly be abusive to people online, because they said something she didn't like, or agree with?

I'm not playing victim here.  I'm older and wiser than that.  I take the high road, while you two pathetic excuses for human beings wallow in the shit you dug up for yourselves.  I only hope that you are savvy enough, (yet I highly doubt that) to realize that your disgusting behaviour is out there for all to see and it comes back and bites you hard on the arse.
 That's a British word.  

If, like some posters to the discussion thread later on, you had pointed out that you felt I was wrong, or even arrogant, I would have probably apologized.  I'm decent like that.  

But that train has left the station and is on the return journey. 

Shut your North and South, you don't have to have a Bull and Cow about trivial shit, so stick it up your Khyber Pass!



This angry blog was written especially for my friend Rudi, who has a South African accent, but not an African accent on the whole.  He may have a touch of an Australian accent in there too!

I wrote this in a mix of a Lincolnshire accent, which is a region/County of England and has many dialects and Albertan, Canadian, EH!

KG 11 March 2014

  

Facebook, moaning fuck!

If you are indeed my friend on Facebook, I probably like you.  Or at least I used to like you.  But I like you less with every passing day.  You make me squirm, you cause me to clench my knuckles, my teeth, jesus I'm even butt clenching.  I wanted to pass the time, have a chit chat, do some small talking.  What do I get instead?  A moaning, whiny fucker.  Someone who just sneezed, had to blow their nose.  A person who requires that they report every sodding banal, inane lb. of their latest attempt at weight loss.  A person who apparently has never seen rain, wind or fucking snow before.  You are a person who is so ridiculously co-dependent on your boy/girl friend you need to post bitstrip after bitstrip about it.
Are you really such an attention whore that you must report every single snot laced second of your recent cold?  Must I really look at your carbohydrate starved, calorie controlled plate of tomatoes.  If you insist upon producing another "couples in love" picture, can you first give a thought to the people who are alone, have lost a loved one, or are just plain sick of your grinning faces.
You live for the comments that follow your latest post about your pain, suffering and inconvenienced life.
These people don't see the real you. Just a persona.
I'm here to correspond, communicate, laugh and learn. Not to carry the burden of your failed whimsicle dietry habits and failure to retain a lasting relationship with another person.
I really don't give a flying fuck about your seasonal ailment, or the fact that you have stomach pain and indigestion.
The weather changes daily, here there and everywhere and if I need to see a forecast; there's an app for that.
Please, pause before you post. You are invading my space, messing with my mood.
If you fuck with my day again I'm deleting your gripy ass.
This blog was brought to you by chronic pain and nasal congestion.

KG 2014

To those it may concern....POLLS

Premier Alison Redford is the top politician in Alberta.
It says so on her Facebook page.

Earlier today I visited that page, only to find that The Premier of Alberta is wishing well the electoral nominees to Council today, probably just to make herself look good and not because she cares a toss.

Why is it necessary though, when a comment is made by the top dog, for all manner of schmoozing, vile, brown nosing nobodies to agree with her every goddam post on there and for them to then dis and badmouth anyone who disagrees.

I didn't vote for Alison and I never will.  I don't agree with her politics, morals (or lack thereof) and constant side shifting.  BUT, I don't go onto the page of the politician I did vote for and wish them an "uninterrupted Thanksgiving" or try and smokescreen something someone else has said, by listing the daily movements of an adversary.

It's a passing comment you fucking moron.  I don't care what Danielle Smith husband is doing, it's TOTALLY irrelevant to this thread.  NO, I won't google it and nor should you.  You should stay current and reply to these posted comments in a way that enhances the conversation or offers a real opinion.
Alison Redford is the Premier of Alberta.  She makes sure you know that at every given turn.  But she is not Premier because of my vote.  She is likely there because thousands of ignorant bastards choose not to set foot out the door and put a cross in the box.  This unfortunately aids to vote in wealthy, conniving members of an old boys network, that are in it for the networking, bonuses and expense accounts.  It sees them make their own rules and break the laws of the land.  It is shameful and sickening, but really, you think it is necessary to kneel down to these arrogant bullshitters online to make yourself feel important?

Alison Redford has NEVER even been near that FB page, let alone replied to your comment.
Get a grip you prick and go back to the fucking golf club.

VOTE TODAY Alberta!

Swimming in a depleted gene pool.

WOW. I have not set foot, nor finger here in a very, very long time.  Not because there is a lack of topics for me to rant on about, but because I have not been able to concentrate sufficiently to put down my thoughts.
However, I am feeling a little better in the brain and so I shall share with you the happenings of my visit to the pool today.

Due to my illness (I have finally been diagnosed Hypothyroid from Hashimotos Thyroiditis) I have been finding it hard to concentrate. I also tollerate stupid much, much less.  So todays trip to a leisure centre packed full of ignorant and downright idiotic people turned a Sunday relax, into a sodding rant.

When I visit the swimming pool I want to try to relax, at least I want a modicum of peace and quiet.  Todays outing was far, far away from that.

Lets start this with ignorant bitches that cannot read.  It clearly states on the Female change room door that "Ladies with small male children must use the family change room."  Yup, it does, I read it evey time I go in there, which is three times a week on average.
Bitch one; If you are shouting at your child, Roger, to stop doing that because he will fall off and bang his head.  My qualified guess is your kid is male, which makes you 1: ignorant 2: stupid 3: arrogant
Also, if you need to keep repeating the name "Roger", followed by a sentence of what he should not be doing, you might need to rethink your parenting strategy, or take Roger the fuck home and let me have some peace and quiet.
I noticed a little while later, in the hot tub, that Rogers father was present.  Surely the male child would have been better served with him, in a male change room, would he not?

Also while in the hot tub, which appeared to be full of children around the age of two or three, an age where febrile convultions are rife, due to an inability by these children to control their body temperatures, it appeared that not just one parent present at the pool today couldn't fucking read..

"Children aged eight and under must be accompanied by someone fourteen and over"..   It states this right next to the hot tub.  Translated, it would appear that it says, dump your kids wherever the fuck you please and go off to do your thing.  I know this because there were at least three kids under the age of eight abandoned at the hot tub.

So from there to the steam.  Stupid hits a whole new level when you are dripping in sweat you know!  I don't care how svelte you are in your Harley Davidson bathing costume.  It sure as hell doesn't make you smart.  Really, bitch number two, you are so selfish that you are gonna bring your two year old in here and make him sit,  while he is asking to leave, just because you need a steam?  You are seriously fucked up.  This is dangerous as hell and you are 1: selfish 2: beyond stupid 3: narcissicistic
Let's stay in the steam room and address Dad with absolutely no fucking clue, who brings his six year old girl in and blurts, "OK, if you don't like it in here we can leave," while pushing her away from the door into the room.  "I wanna leave," she cries, but no.  "This is a great place to towel off," insists Dad. Adding "We need to stay for 10, 9".....as he counts down.  I'm now livid and steam makes you wet, not dry, you twat.

OK, this is bullshit.  I used to bring my small child to the pool.  If she cried, I comforted her. If she was tired, I took her home.  She was always by my side and she certainly didn't need to steam!

Nor was she allowed to run around the female change rooms like, oh hold on, another male child, age seven or so, was doing as I showered and changed after my relax.
 Mom and Grandma oblivious and having a natter, while the equally ignorant child ran riot.
As a young family we, both parents and child used the family change room.  When my well behaved, because I spoke with her and didn't screech at her, child, was older we used the female change room because, well, we were both female.

Please, ignorant bastards. Get over yourselves. If you need r n r, hire a sitter or use the on site chreche.  If you want to spend the day with your kids at the pool, do that. Focus on your children, not yourself.  You gave up that right when you got knocked up.

OK, I'm going home for a nap, to relax and eleviate my pounding head.
 Don't be here when I come back because I'm fucking pissed and I will call you out next time.

Shit show

Wow, I cannot believe how long it has been since I dropped in here. I have had a lot going on.  Not all good things, some great, some very harrowing.  But still I am managing to find the funny in some occurrences, in the long run.
I have been quite sick for the last year and throughout I have been poked and prodded by this Dr and that Quack.  It's uncomfortable and very unglamorous, but needs must.
On a recent visit to the University of Alberta Hospital I was required to have a CT scan. Preparation for this included NO food for at least 8 hours prior and then on arrival an IV was hooked up.  Great, but I appear to have 0 accessible veins.  Eventually, after being wrapped in hot towels and more slapping than a second rate porn flick, a vein was finally located half way up my arm. Hematomas are us!
Then came a half gallon of water, polluted by vile tasting dye designed to make my innards pretty for the camera.  I was already at bladder burst point at this point and being made to wait another half an hour, whilst coughing like a 40 a day old boy with Emphysema was not helping.
The scan went off no hitch, but soon after I realized why no food was on the menu and I ran to the nearest bog.  As I sat, I noticed blood all over the floor.  Jeez, I thought, someone bled out.  Then I glanced down at my left hand.  It too was blood covered.  Seems it was me.  So not only did I now have the screaming shits, I was pissing out blood all over the wash room 
Gingerly I leant forward off the loo and pressed the emergency button.  Soon after there was a knocking on the door.
The person on the other side asked me to unlock.  I did so hoping that I didn't add to the mess I had already made.  A second later three more people were in the wash room with me and the door was swinging on it's hinges.
After some frantic scuffling, my Mount St Helens spurting arm was stopped and there was me and one nurse left.  "Shall I clean up the blood now?" she asked me.  I was still sitting on the loo, stunned by anyones standards and still needing to finish my business.  ""You know, I think I'll just give you a shout when I'm done?" I semi-questioned.
Fortunately, the scan showed little more than a prior case of Pancreatitis and some Pancreatic nucleus cyst, nothing major or life threatening.  I am still undergoing tests....... but at least I survived that shit show!

Eddie Vedders boner

That is correct.
You are not reading it wrong.

(Although I was not sure whether "boner" warranted a Capital B!?)

The title is a reference to Pearl Jam's front mans knob...Erect to boot!

Recently my gorgeous daughter has made it her goal in life to collect and catalogue any photographic and video evidence of Mr Vedders appendage. So far he has had his tadger covered. My relief is not apparent in my writing, but trust me, it is there!

While I find it mildy odd that my child finds this necessary, there are worse hobbies she could be indulging in and so I choose to leave well alone.

My problem arises (Pun absolutely intended) when said stauner shows it's ugly head at the breakfast table and during AC360.

 Ipods have a lot to answer for!

Please. Keep your erection detection to yourself!