Rosie Tits: You are the Walrus; I am the Eggplant

Do you see this lovely nine pound baby?
Isn't it a beautiful wondrous creation?
Try strapping it to your chest and walking around with it every single minute of the day.
This baby represents the total poundage of my two breasts. My girls are not symmetrical and neither is a baby. My left one is 5.1 pounds while the other is exactly 4 pounds.
So it's sort of like carrying a child's gigantic head on one side and the rest of it on the other side.
No wonder I have horrible back problems.
I'm literally taking on water and listing to one side.
For years I've been on a quest to find out exactly how much my breasts weigh.
The Internet, that font of information, was no help at all. There are no evidence-based articles on this subject at all. It's awkward to weigh a boob, given its location, in order to get an accurate measurement.
WikiHow suggested this method. Measure water into a big bowl that is sitting on a cookie sheet, and stick your boob in it. Then see how much water is displaced. That will tell you what it weighs.
I tried this and all that happened was major flooding in my kitchen and a wet dog.
Whoever came up with his idea was no Bill Nye, the Science Guy.
At one point, I tried to coax my husband to lock the door at the vet and use the cat scale.
We chickened out, afraid that the vet might consider us kinksters.
I asked the tech at the mammo clinic, and she thought I was nuts.
So today, I asked a nice family doctor at my clinic if I could borrow the baby scale, and that's how I found out that my boobs are indeed the size of a hefty baby, a Bam Bam, if you will.
I can't believe I've been carrying around what amounts to lopsided imperfect factory-second bowling balls on my chest!
Add to that groceries, gym weights, pugs or anything else I have to carry out on an ongoing basis; it's a wonder my spine hasn't cracked in two.
Aside from being friggin' heavy, the girls are also long.
They are roughly the size of an award winning eggplant at the country fair.

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They hang down to my navel without a bra, and are the exact length of my arm to my elbow when I'm wearing support.
North Korean cruise missiles, that's what I'm thinking.
Women have to put up with this kind of freakizoidedness for years before they can get help. I've been on a waiting list for a year and a half and it will be two years by the time the doctor does the slice-and-dice on them.
Thank God it's covered by government insurance, otherwise I'd have to put up with these babies until I was incinerated at my death. I've often wondered how long it would take them too cook. An hour, maybe two? Would they make delicious gravy?
These are the things that keep me up at night.
If men had boobs like this, there would be a national enquiry on wait times. No, I take that back.
Not boobs. Balls.
What if men had to put up with balls the size of honey hams?
It certainly would disqualify them for space travel. They'd be upside down all the time.
So pardon me for whining. My back hurts, my neck is locked, and my knees are buckling.
Don't get me mad, cause I'm seriously packing.

Ashley Simpson: Don't Let Her Die in Vain

Six years ago, I was combing through my Facebook and I saw post from my cousin Julie Major. Her brother and his wife were frantically looking for their daughter Ashley who just days before had Facetimed her mom saying she was planning to return to her home in Niagara. Ashley never made it home. She was murdered in cold blood in her home in Salmon Arm then buried in a nearby field. It would be five and a half years before her body was located, and her boyfriend was charged with second degree murder. Today, Ashley's urn has a sacred spot in her parents' home, and Derek Favell is in jail awaiting trial by judge and jury. The trial is expected to go into next year sometime. This has been an agonizing journey for Ashley's friends and family. The pain has never stopped, and the wounds are broken open every time the family has to sit through a series of pre-trial proceedings. Fortunately, this ordeal will end but the pain will never wane for the people, including me, who have b...

Ashley Simpson: A Father Remembers

I have asked Ashley Simpson's family and friends to give us a glimpse into the life she lived before going missing nearly a month ago. Here is how her father John remembers his sweet girl. Ashley was a treat when she came into this world, a smashing 9lbs 8 ounces with a head full of hair and nails that needed to be clipped. She has made many friends in her journey of life and continues to make them as we speak. She has made this world a better place by her love of mankind and this place we call Earth; unfortunately this life she has lived hasn't been the best for her. She has suffered through unbearable pain and suffering through her menstrual cycles. She has cysts on her ovaries that make those 10 days a living hell. She had one of her ovaries removed when she was just 14; the other they won't take out till she is 40 or older. Years of hell for my Ashley. I so feel her pain every month but she doesn't quit, doesn't give in. That'...

What Bell isn't telling you about Fibe TV

Update: This week, we switched back to Rogers after spending far too long using Bell's crappy television service. For those with Bell, read and weep. For those considering Bell, think twice even if you hate Rogers. RS I've always been an early technology adapter. I had a Betamax. That tells you everything (if you're over 50 at least). My first computer was a "Portable". It weighed 40 pounds and I had to lug it around town on a gurney. I've been through probably 15 computers in my lifetime. Apple is the best. It's also too expensive so I have a piece of shit HP, the one I'm writing this blog on. I've had cable, internet and now Netflix. American Netflix . That's how far ahead of the curve I am. I get all the newspapers for free. How? I disabled my cookies so they can't track me when I'm on the newspaper sites. Even the New York Times hasn't cottoned on to that trick. Hahaha. That will be a fifty buck consulting fee. Bein...

Rose's Cantina

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