Get social on social media

Friday, April 28, 2017

Monkey Business- Watch them. They steal!

I love cruises. It’s such an easy way to travel and relax. Your every whim is
catered to from delicious meals to tropical drinks and 24 hour a day fun. You can’t have a bad time on a cruise unless you’re just a miserable person who finds fault with everything. In that case, you should just stay home and stay away from me.

It’s so exciting to stop in different countries and spend the day experiencing their culture and doing excursions to see what life is really like for the locals. Or just lay on a beach, drink bear and make fun of people who wear thongs. We took a seven-day cruise to the Western Caribbean and one of the countries we stopped in was Mahogany Bay, Honduras.

We took the opportunity to tour this beautiful Island and visit a monkey sanctuary. We were told in this sanctuary you don’t have to stand outside a fence and look at the monkeys like in a zoo, you could go inside this huge cage where monkeys roamed free and interact with them.

Well, who wouldn’t want to interact with monkeys? Right?

What they don’t tell you in the brochure is these monkeys are trained jewel thieves and members of a notorious gang. I was traveling with hubby and our two teenaged kids at the time. My son decided to stay outside the cage because basically it was dirty and smelled like these animals couldn’t use a toilet properly. So much for animals who have a thumb like us. Monkeys go when mother nature calls and sometimes that’s when they are in a tree above your head. It’s not like a bird dropping either. It’s more like some perverted old man giving you a golden shower without your consent.

Myself, hubby and our daughter along with other tourists went inside the cage. We were surprised and delighted to see that the monkeys immediately started interacting with us by jumping on our shoulders, putting their arms around our necks or jumping into our arms for what we thought was a cuddle.

Now the first thing you need to know about monkeys is they have no acceptable social boundaries. The first thing you need to know about me is I don’t like being groped because I will punch you in the face if you grab my breast. Their leathery, hairy human like hands were all over me and it felt like I was at happy hour on George Street. These monkeys are seriously going down your top and in your pockets at the same time.

It became too overwhelming for my daughter and hubby so they got out of the cage and went for a walk around the sanctuary while I stayed in the cage determined to get a selfie these furry primates. I am willing to suffer for my art… or a great selfie.

It was as if the monkeys knew my family was out of site. Suddenly, they began to pounce! Then I realized what they were doing was robbing me! I was wearing a backpack and one monkey climbed on top of it. Another tourist told me the monkey was unzipping the backpack. Then we all realized they were stealing things from the pockets and purses of everyone in the cage. He was joined by a second monkey and they were putting their hands in the backpack taking things like my sunglasses and lip balm then scooting to the top of the cage and hiding the items in the trees. While I was trying to get these monkeys off my back another one was hanging on to my belt and putting his hands in the front pocket of my shorts. The pockets were empty but I got the feeling that this little Trump supporting monkey wasn’t looking for coins. He was getting his kicks.

Other tourists clued in and realized we weren’t visiting monkeys as much as we were being mugged by monkeys! Our tour guides were no where to be seen, on purpose I would imagine. We were all laughing in the confusion of the moment until it hit me that if they took my passport or wallet I would have to explain to authorities that I had become the victim of a Honduras monkey gang and would end up in some immigrant jail cell while the head monkey used my MasterCard to buy bananas and Michael Jackson paraphernalia on eBay.

A nice fellow tourist was able to scare the monkeys of my backpack but the little Trump monkey was holding on to my belt for dear life and determined to get to know me better. I decided then and there that I was not going die in a caged being raped to death by monkeys. I did lean off and punch this monkey in the face.
It was like the whole tour group decided at once to leave the cage and we all ran towards to door. Keep in mind that there were children of all ages, seniors as well as able bodied people. Now I know, that a group should only move as fast as the slowest person but I was wearing shorts and this greasy monkey was grinning his big yellow teeth at me while acting like an animal. I ran like a little bitch through the group. There was a local guarding the door to the cage and helped pull Trump off me. He says, “You’ve met Frisky.” To which I responded, “Yes we’re quite intimate now.”

Outside we assessed the damage. Several people had lost sunglasses, one guy lost his house keys, lots of change had been stolen from pockets and my innocence was gone.

The whole experience hasn’t changed my mind about taking cruises. I have done several since then. Except now I don’t get into a fight cage with monkeys. If you do happen to take a cruise in the Western Caribbean and land in Honduras. I do recommend the monkey sanctuary but bring some mace. Oh, and tell Trump I said hello.  


Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Misguided Messages

I really do have a medical condition that causes memory loss. I can’t blame it all on menopause. This condition creates daily hurdles for me to jump over so I came up with a few coping strategies to help me remember things. One of those strategies is to email myself.  This is normally done on the fly using the mic on my iPhone. For example, when I am getting out of the shower and remember I need to pick up milk or when I am just about to start a yoga class and remember I need to sew the hole in the fork of my yoga pants. I’ll just send myself a quick email using the phone’s mic so when I look at my phone later I will remember to buy milk and wear underwear to yoga.

The problem with this strategy is I don’t always take the time to make sure I have selected MY email address or that autocorrect understands my Newfoundland accent.  

A few days ago, I received an email from a friend who had typed, “Stay strong. I am surprised, but I’ll support you no matter what you decide.” I was confused at first. Then I scrolled down through her message and discovered the email I thought I sent to myself earlier that day had been sent to her by mistake. The email I sent to me was “To do today: Clean out hubby and my closet. Bag and bring to goodwill.” The email SHE received said “Today told hubby I am out of the closet. Sad to tell him I am Bill.”

Well, as you can imagine I had to make a quick phone call and go into damage control mode before word got around. I thanked her for the support but assured her  the occasional facial hair was from menopause not hormones. We had a good laugh and I made a mental note to read emails before I sent them.

Of course, I forgot that note five minutes after I hung up the phone.

A good friend of mine is a Priest. Last year I accidentally sent him an email that said, “Why do I sweat more under my boobs that my armpits?” I had met with my doctor a month before about controlling some annoying menopause symptoms. She had put me on a new drug but told me to keep track of the symptoms and any questions I had for my next appointment. That morning the annoying symptom was boob sweat. My Priest friend emailed me back with, “I don’t know but I’ll pray for you.” Can you just picture this poor man on his knees hold Rosary beads chanting “Please Lord Jesus give us world peace, stop the suffering of little children and cure Helen’s boob sweat.”

This morning was the worst. I can no longer leave my house. I have also banned myself from email. I woke up to an email from my former boss who is a high-ranking officer in the RCMP.” All the email said was “???? Did you mean to send this to me?” I jumped out of bed and scrolled down through the message. Last night, before I fell a sleep I sent myself an email that said, “How do you cure vaginal dryness?”

Oh, sweet hearted, jumping in the garden Jesus!!! I can’t believe I did that!!!
I had to send him back an email that said, “Sorry. That was meant for me only. (P.S. was asking for a friend).”


Moral of the story is; if you ever get an email from me that seems a little weird or embarrassing. Please delete it and don’t answer it. Or, if someone tells you I am a lesbian with boob sweat and a dry vagina please tell them you have it from a good source that rumour is not true.  

Monday, April 10, 2017

Exploring abandon places: Naval and Air Station Argentia, NL

Footprints to the daycare & school. How many American children grew up here?
Footprints to the daycare & school.
How many American children
grew up here?
Years ago, when I was a member of the OZFM/ NTV media, we had a soft ball team. We were often invited to the Naval Base in Argentia to play the American team. It was always a great weekend. They welcomed us like celebrities and we loved going to visit. Naval and Air Station Argentia is a former base of the United States Navy, it operated from 1941-1994 and was established in the community of Argentia, NL about an hour drive from St. John’s.

Peeking through the school gymnasium door.
After an afternoon game of soft-ball we would dine like Royalty at the main building. The Americans sure did know how to feed people well. Then we would go to the ten-pin bowling alley for a game and few drinks. It was always a grand time. At one point, approximately 12,000 American military personnel were stationed at the Argentia base. We made some great friends and I often wondered what happened to them after they left.

The eerie school hallway is quite now.
The base closed in 1994. There is rumoured to be an active submarine base still there. Today, the base has been taken over as an industrial site. Many of the original buildings are still standing but abandoned. Most of the housing and the main hall have been demolished. You can drive or walk around the base and look through the windows and imagine its former glory. There is also a walking trail that takes you through the wooded area around the base.

Can you see the ghost on the wall?
According to Wikipedia, on August 7, 1941 the heavy cruiser USS Augusta
carrying U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt arrived in the anchorage at Little Placentia Bay off the base. Roosevelt inspected the base construction progress and did some fishing from Augusta over the next two days. Augusta was joined by the British warship HMS Prince of Wales carrying British Prime Minister Winston Churchill on August 9, 1941. While in the Argentia anchorage from August 9–12, the chiefs of staff of Britain and the U.S. met to discuss war strategies and logistics once the U.S. joined in the war. The two leaders and their aides also negotiated the wording of a press release that they called a "joint statement". That press release was issued on August 14, 1941 in Washington, D.C. and was issued simultaneously in London, England. Several days later the Daily Herald would characterize the public statement as being the Atlantic Charter. However, there never was a signed, legal
document called the "Atlantic Charter". Neither Roosevelt nor Churchill signed it. The conference concluded the evening of August 12, 1941 with the British and American warships and their escorts passing in review before departing the area for their home ports. The joint declaration was publicly announced on August 14, presumably after Prince of Wales had returned to UK waters.

February, 1942 saw the Argentia base at the centre of one of the worst disasters in the US Navy's history when USS Pollux and USS Truxtun were wrecked 75 mi (121 km) southwest of the base. Over 100 victims were buried in Argentia's military cemetery.

were stored at the Argentia Base in the 1960s according to a CBC story. http://www.cbc.ca/news/world/ex-marine-claims-nuclear-weapons-stored-at-nfld-base-1.519885

See the full story here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naval_Station_Argentiahttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naval_Station_Argentia

History on the area can be found here: 
http://www.heritage.nf.ca/articles/politics/argentia-base.phphttp://www.heritage.nf.ca/articles/politics/argentia-base.php


If you like exploring and military history, you must visit Navel and Air Base Argentia. 

Thursday, February 2, 2017

I am Funny Like That - The best selling book is available locally and on line!

I AM FUNNY LIKE THAT
Featured on Amazon’s Best Sellers list

Helen C. Escott's hysterical blog "I am Funny Like That" has come to life in this witty book!

If you have thrown your back out taking off Spanx, planned your husband's murder in your head or screamed through a Brazilian, this book is for you.

You'll laugh out loud for days after reading it. 126,000 blog readers can't be wrong!

Join in the laughter. Pick up "I am Funny Like That" locally at:
Spirit of Newfoundland, 6 Cathedral Street
Online at:
Amazon.ca
Barnesandnoble.com
Bookbaby.com

Let's be friends. Find me at:
Instagram - helencescott
Facebook - helen.c.escott
Twitter.com - hescott

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Stop being so Goddamn miserable!

When I wake up in the morning I always believe that something wonderful is
Hubby & I being crazy happy just enjoying life
going to happen to me during the day.

It’s in my nature to smile at everyone and generally be a positive person. 

Irritating, I know.

I also know not everyone is like that. I don’t understand people who get up in the morning and start their day by thinking of everything they hate about their lives.

You are alive Goddamn it! Stop being so miserable!

I just got off the phone with a friend who told me she spent the entire morning being angry at her husband. He didn’t clean the snow off her car before leaving for work. Think about that… her husband was at work and didn’t even know he did something wrong. So, she phoned him and told him off. Like he doesn’t have enough things going on at his office to piss him off. Now his wife is chastising him like a child. Their sex life must be awesome!

My response was “Maybe he was running late. Clean the show off your own car. Your arms aren’t broke!” I just really couldn’t understand. Why was it his job to clean off her car? Why is she letting it ruin her day? Why did she feel the need to call him at work and ruin his day over something so lame?

Is it because misery loves company? She was miserable so she felt the need to make him miserable.

That’s a morning she will never get back. That’s a husband who will never forget how small she made him feel.

I texted my husband “I am not wearing any underwear…… because you didn’t do the goddamn laundry!”

If you’re going to bitch at least make it hot.

He texted back, “Some arse on ya though.”

I think that’s called “Sexting.”

I used to love social media. I enjoyed going to Facebook in the morning to see what my friends and family where up to, look at baby or vacation pictures, find new recipes.  Basically, finding out what is going on in their lives. 

Lately, I find I am staying away from social media because apparently, most people on my friend list have been up all night with diarrhea, are obsessed with Donald Trump, are constantly sharing every crazy story they see without doing any research to find out if it is real, or just want to complain about everything in their lives!  I had no idea what complaining, homophobic, bigots they are.

Social media is becoming hateful media.

I unfriended one person who constantly posted updates on her medical condition. One day it was “In so much pain today. People don’t appreciate how hard it is for me to get out of bed.” Then an hour later she posted a picture of herself driving a snowmobile.

The only reason someone posts something like that is for pity.

There’s nothing I hate more than someone constantly looking for pity. I have a friend who is paralyzed from the neck down, in a wheel chair, and needs a caregiver just to get dressed. He posted this to his Facebook page today, “Life is good. I love the way the sun is shining on the snow.”

Seriously? You have diarrhea and you felt the need to tell everyone? Why?

What’s worse is the people who encourage it by liking it or posting things like “Get well soon”, “Thinking about you".

Thinking about you? Ok. So, she is on the toilet with her pants around her ankles shitting a blue streak and you’re thinking about her doing that.

Not me. I am unfriending her. She just ruined my breakfast. I hope her diarrhea lasts for a week.

Share all you want but keep your diarrhea to yourself.

Then it’s the never-ending Trump sharing! It’s so important to keep up on politics in today’s world but keep it real people! Enough of the comb-over jokes, the memes of his wife giving him the evil eye, the bullying of his 10 year old son, the “If you don’t agree with me you’re a stupid Trump-loving idiot!” Or “Ashley Judd and some other actress from the 80’s who couldn’t get media attention if she robbed a bank but is now all over the internet says you MUST hate him or you’re not a real woman!”

My entire feed was filled with pictures of Donald Trump, and of course the one friend with diarrhea.

I can’t take it anymore. I need pictures of dogs being cute, videos of screaming goats and evil cats. I miss the old Facebook.

I have lots of things I can bitch about. I save that up for when hubby comes come from work. I don’t feel the need to share with anyone else.

I choose to find good things about my day. I am grateful for the blessings in my life.

I know something wonderful has already happened to me today. My kids told me they loved me before they left for school. My dog is curled up by my feet. My tea is hot. After two kids and 23 years my husband still texts me “Some arse on ya though.”

How could my day get any better?


Well at least I am not sitting on the toilet shitting a blue streak reading about Trump’s media coverage!

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Thinking outside the age box

Hubby and I on board the Carnival Splendor
After taking a recent cruise, the company emailed an on-line survey and asked me to rate my experience. I was very happy with the cruise and didn’t mind taking the survey to let them know. It started with the typical “How would you rate the entertainment, waiters, greeters etc. and I was more that happy to give them all a 10 out of 10.

It progressed to the personal questions: “Are you male or female?’ I know I am female so I am ok with them knowing that too.

Then the age question comes up.
Are you:
   25-35
   35- 45
   45-55
   55-65
   65-75
   75-85

I spent a career in marketing so I understand why companies need to know the age of the person answering a survey. It’s because we want different things as we age. For example; if you tick the 25-35-year box you will probably be interested in the night club and drink packages more so than someone who ticks the 75-85-year-old box.

The problem is the lines around the boxes have blurred. Not every 75-year-old is old! Not ever 25-year-old can drink all night.

I admit ticking a box is much more convenient than having to scroll down through a list to find your birth year. That always leaves me with carpel tunnel syndrome afterwards.

The age box peaked my interest this time because I realized hubby and I now live in separate boxes! That’s right, after 22 years of marriage we have separated… and it wasn’t our choice.

You see, I am in the 25-35-year-old box and hubby is in the 55-65-year-old box. 

Oh, you caught that did you? It was worth a try.

Alright, I am in the 45-55-year-old box and hubby really is in the 55-65-year-old box. Our boxes are next to each other but we have been corralled like a herd of cows into separate fields. Mine is in the greener fields of “still want a drink package and prefer old time Rock-n-Roll type night clubs” and hubby has been put out to pasture in the “Doesn’t really use the drink package anymore and want to be in bed by 10 PM.”

I wont even be in his box for another two years! By that time, he will be midway to changing boxes again.

Then you know what happens when you leave that 75-85-year-old box? You get a big wooden box with your name on it!

It’s not very nice to put someone in a box. 

Boxes keep you in and they don’t tell the truth. If this cruise company really wanted to know how to serve their guests better they should think outside the box by using the following instead age groups:
   Drink package and Hip Hop dance music
   Drink package and Rock-n-Roll
   Drink package, Hip Hop and party all night
   Drink package, Rock-n-Roll and party all night
   Small drink package, Rock-n-Roll and bed at 10 PM
   Small drink package and bed by 9 PM
   No drink package, puréed food and bed by 8 PM

You would get a much more accurate marketing analysis of who is on the cruise ship using this.

Growing old together is the greatest honour there is. Over the past 22 years we have ticked everyone of those boxes together. We have lived through “Drink package and Hip Hop music” to “Lets just stay home and watch a movie.”

What I am saying is; companies should not assume that they can put people in a box and close the lid because they are aging. 

For the record, the cruise company did not make any money on our drink package. Also, Hubby and I danced every night in the Hip Hop club while 20 year olds watched us!

Hubby and I will always be in that “Drink package, Rock-n-Roll, go to bed when I get there, stay home and watch a movie because I am so glad our plans got cancelled” box.


Now analyze that!