Ok. That's it! I can't take it anymore.

I fear my sense of humour is lost forever. I think I dropped it (or it was sucked out of me) somewhere between child number four and the euthanasia of Pippin the bunny which left me deeply disturbed. (The death, not the birth. Although that was difficult as well. But it was six and a half years ago...)

Argh! What has happened to me?

I've gone from care-free-fun-to-be-around to all-work-no-play-makes-Kim-just-a-plain-fucking-drag.

From 2 Corona-and-Shanghai-noodle-cool to sensible-shoes-and-so-damn-busy-I-missed-my Parent-Teacher-Interviews. (No, you don't understand... I didn't even realize that Parent Teacher Interviews were being held last week - in my defense a LOT of paper comes into this house. I can't be expected me to read every single one.)

I never saw it coming. One day I woke up and *poof* - I was officially no fun anymore.

Why can't I have 80's rocker chick hair and a Dirty Sanchez black spaghetti strap tank top that screams you-wish-you-could-be-friends-with-me!  Instead I wear a houndstooth swing coat and listen to CBC's The Current. Today I actually listened to seven songs on a Barbershop CD that a friend gave me to 'check out'. 

Who have I become?

And how am I interesting?

Every couple of days I open the blog, position myself at my computer to write - and VOW I will not write one more post that is heavy or boring or about personal growth.

And there I sit - tick tick ticking at the keyboard. I insert my name and password. And I log out forty-five seconds later.

I got nuthin'.

Not that I've ever been Madeline Kahn or Erma Bombeck - but the least I could do is write a few cheesy morsels of nothing too heavy for you to peruse with a coffee after you put the kids to bed. And when I try it comes out as drivel.

I've fear I've become stable.

Predictable.

And my confirmation lies in my current drink of choice - no it's not a Cosmopolitan - I couldn't possibly hope to be as cool as Carrie on SATC - Sadly, I'm more like Miranda... NO! Not Miranda. Why can't I be Samantha?

So here I sit, sipping Tranquil herbal tea after dinner - fully absorbing the severity of my self-analysis.

What the hell is going on here and who stole my chi-chi??!

Why can't I be 'that cool broad'? (www.thatcoolbroad.com

I'd love to blog almost daily with brilliant little blends observation and humour... I'd love to write something a little controversial, something that stings a little. Something that is compelling. Interesting. Something Jann-Arden witty and clever.  

Instead - (lucky you) - I sit at the keyboard at 9:52pm after yet another day of everyday busy-ness (and business) and think...

I still got nuthin'.

Penny and I spend a lot of time together. We travel together, attend meetings, photoshoots, have coffee. She's the photographer for Real Woman on the Run Magazine and fills a role within the team I can't function without.

I've known Penny for over three years now. As our friendship has grown, our conversations have deepened. We've gotten to know the quirks of each other's personalities. Penny has no expectations of me. It's not work to spend time with her. We have what I would consider to be an easy friendship.

When we travel on the highway, it's usually for a photoshoot, so we spend the better part of the day together. The agenda always looks the same. Meet at nine, travel until ten thirty. Interview. Photoshoot. Lunch. Shopping. All with good conversation.

We've talked 'girl' talk about everything. Raising kids and issues at school, our childhoods, our mistakes. Bowel movements and regularity. The way we feel about our bodies. Our skin. Our teeth. Our breasts. Old boyfriends and big mistakes. Movies. Books. Music. Sex.

On one trip to the city, Penny mentioned The List. I'd never heard of The List before.

Apparently everybody has a list. The List is - in a fantasy world, a list of people (generally famous) who, given the opportunity, you'd like to hook up with. To get to know - you know, in a *wink-wink* sort of way. Who you wouldn't kick out of bed for eating crackers. We've had plenty of laughs over that. We've even had a hearty discussion after dinner one night... Jenna (In Jenna's defense she mostly listened, however weeks later, confessed to me she'd found someone to be on her list), Leah, Darlene and Penny and I - who's on your list? Ew, no way, not him! Or Oh yes! Definitely him.

Sure, it's petty. Childish. Brainless. But fun, nonetheless.

Who's on your list? 

Don't feel bad about it. I know who's on my husband's list and he doesn't even know about The List. Shania Twain, Ashley Judd, Dianne Keaton, Eva Mendes... no wait, Eva Mendes is so lovely, she is on my list. (just kidding, Mother...)

So who's on my list?  Joaquin Pheonix. Robert Downey Jr. Leland Chapman. (from Dog the Bounty Hunter Hmmm. Who else? Ralph Fiennes. Mike Rowe from Discovery Channel's Dirty Jobs. Adam Sandler. Harvey Keitel. (Google search The Piano).

Aaaahh. Dermot Mulroney.

Ooohhh. Mark Ruffalo.

See why it's fun?

It's fun because when I say a name, you immediately make a face and either agree with a sigh or make a face and are repulsed. Ew! What are ya? Sick?

Like I did when Darlene suggested Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Good thing we're all different.

Who's on your list?