On Demand

At the behest of Holden, I must talk less about gardening and more about the funner stuff in life. Since hockey is done for the season I didn't think there was anything to tell you but I just heard that my boyfriend Gary Roberts has asked his team, the Florida Panthers to ship him back to Toronto. Gary baby, I know you want to be near me and I love that you're finally telling the world but I have my doubts that you'll be back playing for the Leafs. Reasons? Many: you're past your prime, you've got a high price tag, the game has changed and you didn't leave on good terms with our current GM. As much as I adore having you on our team and watching you play I just don't think the odds are in your favour. Sorry baby, that's just how the sporting/entertainment world rolls.

I also don't have any new train stories for you, although I will say that I never tuck my legs under the seat when I'm riding. The subways on the TTC take heavy, daily abuse and many a time when I sit on a seat the whole bench will creak and shift. I decided long ago that if ever I was on one of these benches and it gave out I might look ridiculous falling but I won't be screaming bloody hell from broken legs flattened by all the weight on top.

I should mention that last Saturday Mr. Stinky and I went to see Nine Inch Nails at the Molson Amphitheatre. It was great, it was loud and it was a screaming lovefest. The weather was lovely and he's an awesome performer. I used to dislike them a lot. A lot. Inversely, Mr. Stinky loves them just as much if not more. So for a long time it's been a battle when we choose what music to listen to. I thought it was just angry noise, he's screaming and yelling about death and pain and anguish and something or other that eventually gets drowned out by the deafening din. Like, shut up and pull the trigger already if you're that friggin' miserable! But somehow I was convinced to go the concert they held at the ACC in November of last year and I enjoyed it. Actually, I enjoyed it so much I was a little disappointed because we didn't have the greatest seats and couldn't see much of what was going on onstage. So when I heard they were coming again, this time to a smaller venue and thus more intimate setting, I encouraged Mr. Stinky to go. And it was great. Last Saturday was a perfect weekend, it ended with a lot of "...WHAAT??"s and the lingering stench of smoke in our clothes and hair. It totally helps that Trent Reznor is so super hot now that he's cut his hair, got some sun and buffed up those skinny arms, whatta beefcake!

Oh, and a few days ago I was in a drugstore when someone's cell phone went off. Continuously. At maximum volume. I hate it when people jack up the sound and don't answer, it's so annoying! So of course with this piercing wail from several aisles down reverberating throughout the entire store, I yelled "Answer your phone!!" The ringing went away. Then I ran over to the offending cell phone guy now talking on his phone, grabbed it and smashed it over his head repeatedly. He reached for a bottle of foaming soap and aimed for my eyes but I dodged it by throwing jars of vaseline at him and once he was down I shoved a whole bunch of suppositories up his nose and around the corner. I had vanquished my foe! The story is true only until he answered his cell, the rest is inspired by real life events that could have happened if life indeed imitated my crazy imagination.

Red Faced

In keeping with the colour theme..

*Ring... ring.... ri*

Stinky T: "Hello?"

Stern Paternal Voice: "Your apology is accepted!"

Stinky T: "...Eh?"

He sounded familiar but not really and I didn't want to give away that I had no clue who it was so on we continued...

SPV: "Your apology is accepted!"

Stinky T: "Uhhhookay..."

SPV: "Your apology is accepted!"

Stinky T: "What am I apologizing for again?"

SPV: "Forgetting your promise to call on Father's Day!"

Ah-ha! This narrows it down considerably and now I know for sure that he's also got the wrong number coz I didn't forget Father's Day this year!

Stinky T: "Well I'd apologize if you were my dad."

SPV: "Your apolo.. what?!"

Stinky T: "I said I'd apologize if you were my dad."

Flustered Paternal Voice: "Wh...who... who is this?!"

Stinky T: "I'm definitely not your daughter!"

FPV: "Isn't this 741-9600?"

Stinky T: "Yes it is."
at the same time,
Background Voice: "9660!"

FPV: "OH! 9660! I must have the wrong number!!"

Stinky T: "I'm afraid so. But Happy Father's Day anyway!"

FPV: "Uh...ah....oh I'm so sorry! You sound so much like my daughter, really, yousoundjustlikeherandIthoughtyouwereher.... but thank you. Thank you for your well wishes."

Stinky T: "No problem. Sorry I couldn't help, but have a nice night. Bye!"

FPV: "OK, bye."

Hahahaha... that was quite enjoyable. I almost got in trouble by my non-dad! I could've pulled out the "I din't doo nuthin!" card, see if that would've been accepted or if I would've been grounded....... I might try this next year for real!

Yellow Finger

That's right, my finger's all yellow. It's so yellow it looks like I'm a habitual smoker. My finger tip, my cuticle, even my fingernail. Yellow. After bragging about my green thumb I thought it only appropriate if I follow up with a yellow finger story. Well, yellow finger and thumb.

No I'm not a smoker. I haven't had one since I got so sick off one back in the day that I was heaving my colon out of my throat, hallucinating about Jesus and cold sweating my way into deep hypothermia in the middle of the summer. I might've promised Him that if He got me through that day I'll never suck on another again. Seeing as he seemed to have kept his part of the bargain, I thought I'd do the same. We never discussed what would happen if I didn't but it works out in the end because I haven't wanted another since our conversation anyway.

I sure as hell didn't pee on myself either. I was out hunting aphids. They love sucking the juice out of new growth on roses and since I've become mother hen to these plants I hover daily and go squish squish squish. Do you know that the reason they are able to mulitply so fast is due to the nasty fact that every offspring is born pregnant with the next generation all ready to to be spat out? Sick man, that's just wrong. How do we fix wrongness in this world? We crush them with our mighty hand of judgement, or in this case, fingertips of death! Does this gardening talk bore you? Probably.

On my way home today I passed a woman standing in her front yard patiently and lovingly watering her tree. On closer inspection I realized that it wasn't a tree although the size bears testament to its hardiness and vitality. It was about 5 feet tall and 4 feet wide. It was large enough to be a small tree but in reality it was just a giant weed. It's not the kind that could possibly be mistaken for a non-weed either, lady was nuturing some crazy mutant dandelion of a plant in her front yard. Dude.

Upon further reflection, it could be some sort of science experiment. "How big can I get this thing to grow before it rips my house out of its foundations and eats us all while we sleep?", "How thick can I get the stem to grow before running at the thing with my lawn mower proves ineffective?", or "I bet this thing makes a great Christmas tree come December!" Whatever the case, she's nuts to be watering that thing and I just wanted to share.

Green Thumb

My gardening journey began last year, the first year we were in the house and my first blank, brown canvas with which to work. The very first thing we planted was our globe maple. It was just a seedling taken from Mr. Stinky's parents' backyard so it wasn't any old, random tree. It survived the scorching summer and searing cold winter and this year it's become a mini globe maple. I'm very happy to report that our little sapling is on its way to tree adulthood, barring any mishaps.

In the front I put in the easy stuff as it was my first time. Impatiens, pansies, a purple coneflower which has still yet to flower... it's a perennial so maybe it needs more time and dahlias. I watered, weeded, fertilized and babied my garden until I had the best one on the street. That is, until the family down the road moved in and that woman is a fabulous gardener. Curses to her Eden of bountiful flora which makes me glow with envy and examine it closely everytime I walk by!

This year I've got in about the same but I'm also diversifying. I've got in marigolds as well, they are severely underrated for their beauty and colour. The orange just glows like little suns... just don't let me catch that bunny who damaged a bunch of them... I'll make rabbit stew outta you! I'm learning about roses too, after careful research into how to care, feed, breeds and such I decided to go to the local nursery and pick up some hybrid tea roses. I've planted 3 shrubs this spring . They are hardy, with beautiful blooms and are a good choice especially for a rose novice such as me. In the front I currently have a Las Vegas, a Lions International and in the backyard a Morden Centennial and I'm also proud to say they are all doing very well.

I've been waiting rather impatiently for them to bloom as looking at a picture of what my roses are supposed to look like just isn't the same. And now I'd like to present to you my very first blossoms:

Las Vegas













Lions International













Please ignore the imperfections on the Lions International rose (yellow).... I wasn't quite so dilligent with the aphids as I should have been and they had a feast on the bud before it bloomed. Rest assured I have since been on guarded duty squishing the critters as soon as I see them with my fingers. Aphids and rose slugs are amongst the easiest pests to kill! So if you're feeling a little down, I hope my pretty flowers help cheer you up coz I sure was happy when I ran out the front door this morning in my jammies just to see them!

Cattle Car Scuffle

Humans are very trainable, in that we're like cattle. Pull a mass transit car into view, open the door and we all line up pushing and snorting our way in and settle down for the ride to the slaughterhouse. Riders can be so uncivilized when they see a seat and want to, need to, have to sit in it. I've seen women shove kids aside, men barging their way through the crowd and people running and sitting on two seats so that their friend who wasn't aggresive enough and now is way at the back of the line can sit once he or she finally gets on. Our backpacks and briefcases have become weapons of mass displacement as we push and mold a little more space for ourselves amongst the crowd. Piss me off by shoving too hard and I'll jab the corner of my briefcase into your side.

This morning I was caught between a beast and a hard place. It occurred right inside the doors where the plexiglass barriers are located. My right shoulder was to the plexiglass and a big rhinoceros of a woman to my left decided she needed the one remaining seat to our right and I was in her way. Almost as if I didn't exist, she took a hard right before we had both cleared the barrier with the desired effect of either cutting me off or smooshing me into the plexiglass, thereby performing fusion with just the pressure from her girth. First of all, I didn't even see the seat so to be fair we weren't in any kind of race. Secondly, I don't like to be pushed around. Third, having to move my head from side to side just to fully capture her hefty body in my field of vision... I don't think she would've fit in the seat anyway. She might've been big enough for me to start satelliting around her body but being small has its advantages. I can squirt around in tight spots and move quicker than the average city bear. And I can hold my ground. So rhino lady got a nice, sharp shoulder to her abundant chin-slash-chest-slash-belly, enough to slow her momentum and for me to walk on by. Imagine my surprise when that empty seat appeared before my eyes, and imagine my smug smile when I realized that's what she was headed for and my butt now occupied it. Imagine her snorting and pawing at the ground in defeat. That's right bitch, go stand in the corner and sulk.

I'm usually gracious in giving up my seat if I see a parent with young kids, elderly citizens or someone who just looks beat and needs to rest up before continuing on their journey. I do not take to rude shovers and aggresive riders kindly. Cattle may jostle for space in the cattle car but somehow they seem more orderly than people. Irony.

Copycats

Tuned into the hockey game last night as the national anthems were being sung. I suppose now that the Oiler fans have shown their love for team, game and country by singing out loud our national anthem the Americans have to do the same and sing along to theirs? It's sad they couldn't think of their own "thing". This also applies to the lucky silver dollar they buried at centre ice... where have we seen that before?! They have to grab onto something that's already. been. done. Feh.

I noticed that their rendition didn't even come close to Edmonton's in terms of volume and passion but that's just me. Maybe it's just coz I think they're one big huge flock of sheep. Is that too harsh? Perhaps. They've also got a massive inferior superiority complex in that they always have to one-up everyone else. Oh, so you can sing? We can do it too... but better! I suppose I could overlook this instance of gross imitation as long as they don't get too excited with themselves and dub one of their cities Hockeytown or something equally mindless...

Train Flap

The situation, middle aged lady sitting against the wall facing the end of the train. Empty seat directly in front of and perpendicular to her facing the side of the train.

Her side of the story:
I was just sitting quietly and reading my newspaper when this young person without looking or warning plopped down on top of my paper. After that she didn't even turn around to apologize or acknowledge that she had disrupted me. I was a trifle annoyed because I was in the middle of a really interesting article and my concentration had been broken. Also, my paper is now crumpled which results in me having to give it several vigourous shakes to undo the creases. I continue reading the paper but because the seats and space allotted per person are so small I accidently jab her with the end of my paper several times as the train jumps and jolts.

My side of the story:
ZZZzzzzzzz... empty seat... zzzzzz... newspaper spread out all over it, maybe left there...zzz sit. Wha? Older lady makes loud noises of contempt and starts flapping the paper I had just sat on and now pulled out from underneath me in my face while continuing to snort her displeasure audibly... zzzz... Wha.... whaaat? Why's she keep flapping that thing beside my head? I oughta grab it an...zzzzzz..... Ow, hey.. why's she keep poking me now? I'm not doin' nothin'... jus' tryin' to slee... zzzzzz....... Quit it, zzzz.... Quit it, zzzzz.......

Changing Tastes

Remember when I wrote about my maturing taste buds? I think I'm just starting to realize how much they have changed and sometimes I mourn a little for not wanting to stuff my face silly like a kid anymore. When Mr. Stinky and I go grocery shopping we joke about how the conveyer belt is filled with fruits, vegetables, non-white bread and other foods that are "good for you". How boring. Our meats are all raw or flash frozen in their natural states, as breaded fish sticks and gooey chicken wings aren't even on our radar anymore. How boring indeed.

I used to beg my mom for yummy foods like chips, pop and cereal with sugar contents so high I could've really just dumped white sugar into a bowl of milk for the same effects (which by the way I used to do coz I thought milk tasted super bland and that sugar slurry at the bottom totally made the rest of my day!). She said no most of the time because "they're not good for you" but my young, undeveloped mind rebutted with the logic that 'if it wasn't good for me why do they make it taste so friggin' good'? Apparently adults don't think on the same wave lengths as kids and asides from Hallowe'en I rarely got to stuff myself full of crap. We got cookies, though... from the Dad's cookie factory. Bags and bags of it. Truckloads, actually. But they had to be oatmeal and unchewy, which when you're really craving Chips Ahoy or Oreo just doesn't cut it. These extra dry, crunchy snacks had the ability to suck the moisture out from your insides. You really can't drink enough water to keep up with those suckers and I've grown up with a healthy aversion to oatmeal cookies from that childhood trauma.

I have to appreciate my mom for looking out for me now. Now that I buy my own groceries or snacks it's so healthy it's laughable but at least I know the processed and artificial ingredients won't cause my butt to leak uncontrollably afterwards. Ingredient and nutrition labels are examined, not just the price anymore. Toaster strudels are currently on sale at my local supermarket, I was really tempted to buy some but after a moment's reflection I decided to bypass them because they are so greasy and loaded with sugar. I water my juice down to 50-50 or 60-40, I don't like candy, I don't like chocolate, I like ice cream once in awhile (not the ones with all kinds of candy chunks and such.. they look like frozen barf to me), bacon is a once a year thing when we go camping, not really a cookie and chips fan... a yummy snack to me now is fruits (!) and cheese. Ho-hum!

And yet I crave odd foods once in awhile. I've had dinners consisting solely of red wine and cheesy puffs when Mr. Stinky isn't home so sometimes I do revert to being a kid again, eating weird stuff and calling it a meal. Shout out to Wolf Blass, Yellow Label Cabernet Sauvignon. Goes with everything baby, go get some.

Germ Prejudice

I can admit that I'm halfway on the road to becoming a completely neurotic hypochondriac. I wash my hands constantly and when people cough or sneeze near me I hold my breath, fan the air in front of my face and evacuate from the germ cloud area pronto. I also always manage to spot people picking their noses or picking their teeth right before they use that same hand to open a door, hang onto the bus rails or anything I might touch and it makes me cringe.

One thing that I notice is that I generally give more leeway to some people more than others. Attractive, well-groomed and familiar people don't generate as much of a reaction from me as others who look a little sloppy, not as attractive, older and even from different races. I know, it's totally discriminatory and baseless and I don't really know why exactly there's a difference; forcefully expelling air and fluids from inside of your body contaminates the air just the same with any person. Being black, brown, yellow, purple or white doesn't make any difference in germ quality or quantity so why the difference in reactions?

Perhaps subconsciously I'm thinking that if you're not perfectly groomed your hygiene habits might be lacking and therefore you are germier? I'm not sure how the whole attractiveness factor works into this logic but it does. Good looking people gross me out less than not good looking people. And the race thing... that might be the whole Western culture that's obsessed with sterility more than anything. Not that the rest of the world isn't clean, but they tend not to be as anal about the zero germ culture and body bouquets as us.

I suppose if I'm not outwardly telling people that they're grosser than someone else nobody gets hurt, right? How would I explain anyway that ugly guy's sneeze is dirtier than hot guy's cough anyway? I might be a germist but I'll try to keep that to myself in your presence just because they might send me to the loony bin if I tell you my reasons for being a germist. Just don't project your contaminated air in my direction and we'll be good.

Contingency Plan

With the daily media revelations about these "Homegrown Terrorists", I'm planning my escape/survival route from work. It seems these idiots who in a whole other tangent, are the product of society and how we isolate certain groups but the parents being the dominant influences in a child's life shall remain blameless because they didn't know what their kids were up to and besides, these are all the conspiratory lies spun by the government to deflect focus on more real and important issues happening in the world. Oh we are the poor and downtrodden!

Anyway, from the news it seems these guys wanted to blow up some buildings in the downtown core. I'm in the downtown core. Among the selected are the CSIS building on Front Street West and the CBC building on John Street, both of which are of close proximity to where I put in my daily 8 hours. Me no likey. A lot. So I've decided that should anything happen, anything at all... if a ladybug should fart, I'm outta there! I love love love being nosy and rubbernecking, but I must wean myself of this inquisitive habit. I don't want to be like one of the victims of the Halifax Explosion who ran down to the shore to watch a loaded munitions ship burning in the channel, forgetting that the stuff inside were made to explode, burn and kill. I won't be like the poor people in the World Trade Centre towers who stayed in their offices because the buildings were supposed to be strong enough to withstand any attack. Granted, they were told to and believed that staying inside would be safer than going out, with the chaos and falling debris but that's not for me.

If something should happen downtown, even if it's not near my workplace I'm leaving. I don't want to be the sitting duck waiting to be picked off by crazy nutjobs, one cubicle at a time. I can grab my stuff in seconds and get the hell out of the area. I will assume that the city would be shut down so no mass transit... not that I'd want to get on the train anyway. I've seen Speed and enough footage of bus bombs from the Middle East to know that's not too smart so I'm going on foot. It'll take me a long time to get home but that's OK. Given the alternatives I don't think I'd mind having sore feet too much.