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.

It's Haawwwt!

Yah man. It literally went from cold and miserable to hot, humid and yucky overnight. This is Southern Ontario spring, the climate doesn't know exactly what's what. It just jerks around like a driver learning on stick until the gear catches and all of a sudden it feels like summer.

Last night I stayed cool by cleaning the fridge. Oh yah, it was lovely. I could've taken every condiment and leftover tupperware out, deshelved the thing and crawled inside. Mr. Stinky would've come home to melting crap all over the counters and me safely tucked into the big white box shivering with contentment.

It's not the heat the bothers me as much as the humidity. When it's hot you can turn on the fan and "feel" cooler. With the extra moisture in the air, nothing short of an air conditioning unit relieves the discomfort. Lucky for us, we don't have one of those fandangled things. Instead we have the convenience of cold showers. Two days ago I had the tap turned to... 9:30-ish? Last night I was soaking in lovely 2:00 temperature. Then I stepped out of the shower, towelled myself off and started to sweat again. It's kind of nonsensical how everything occurs out of order.

The house was much cooler downstairs so that's where I mainly spent the evening. When it came time for bed we decided to head down memory lane and blow up the air mattress in the basement... that's where we slept all of last summer when it was crazy hot and gross. I don't really know how we managed to make it through those months but somehow we did. We stayed in the basement or went to the malls and supermarkets to suck in the cool air. That's what losers with no a/c do... walk up and down the freezer section until closing time.

I'm happy to announce that tonight will be the last night Mr. Stinky and I are forced to share sleeping arrangements with the furnace, freezer and several other appliances. Tomorrow, we get our own brand spankin' new a/c unit to chill the house back down to acceptable levels. This will result in general contentment in our little love nest and a sizeable bill every month to pay for this contentment. So let's all join in a circle and sing that little ditty that you can't get out of your head once it's jangling around in there.

Hands in my pocket, hands in my pocket, hands in ma pocket!

But at least I won't be so hot that I sweat right through my pocket and soak your hand too!

Beauty Is the Grunt

Today is garbage and yard waste day in my neighbourhood and as I am usually ready to go before Mr. Stinky I went out to drag the stuff down to the curb. No problems with the garbage, I can carry full bags on heels. More difficulties with the yard waste bag. You know, they really should put handles on those biodegradable paper bags. Yard stuff is heavy and being smooth and slippery with no discernible grippy parts, I had problems lifting and holding.

I called Mr. Stinky over to help but by the time he got close I had managed to heft the bag off the ground and carry it to the curb. As he watched, I placed the bag down and random guy from down the street drove by. To flatter me, Mr. Stinky told me that I had just been checked out but we both knew the truth: random guy was totally impressed that the chick in the skirt was dragging heavy waste material to the end of the driveway for pickup while Mr. Stinky stood and watched. He was probably trying to figure out how to get that arrangement to work at his house in the coming weeks.

Update, Please?

I haven't been inspired to write lately. I feel like I should to prove I'm not getting lackadaisical about my updates... actually, I am. Nothing's happening in my life that makes me want to type and backspace (mostly the latter), spell check and post. I feel guilty about it and believe me, I've started many a post only to delete them because the only thing that pisses me off more than not writing is writing something not worth reading. Call it integrity guilt... I wouldn't subject you to reading something that starts and ends nowhere, with a bunch of used toilet paper sandwiched in the middle.

So here it is, to assuage my shame I'm telling you I got nothing just so I've got something. I'm publishing words that explain nil and essentially is a waste of everyone's time. The only thing worth mentioning is that I'm starting to PMS again... the inner bitch is quickly bubbling up from the depths and sending everyday bitch to the hyperbaric chambers with the bends for the next little while. What was that about now? No idea. Just don't cross my path for the next 2 weeks.

Apparently that means I'm halfway decent for 2 weeks out of the month. Who doesn't like batting .500? Awesome stat in baseball, not so good as a hockey goalie. Tomato, tomahto. Whatev.

Go Ottawa!

Really Growing Up

I went to a wedding yesterday, it was for a childhood friend I've known forever. We were never close and we don't keep in touch since I left the church but we were from a group that were of the same age and grew up together every weekend that we saw each other. It was a lovely ceremony, there were lots of people there and lots of love in the bride and groom's eyes. I like going to weddings, I like seeing us all grow up and start our own lives.

Since leaving my childhood church I've lost contact with a lot of good friends. Sometimes I miss them, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I miss all the fun we had and other times I think about how much of an outcast I was with the parents because I was different. Memories are like a kaleidoscope, different pieces come up everytime you think back. It's a wonder how much can be forgotten, remembered and forgotten again until the next time the tube spins and the pieces fall together again.

One person I saw yesterday brought up a whole slew of memories. He's 2 years older than me, a real Casanova back in the day. We'll call him Jack. Growing up during the teenaged years was all about having fun and flirting. I didn't usually take all that seriously because I knew it wasn't real, nobody falls in love at the age of 14. Even so, the bantering between friends is fun enough, and this way nobody gets jealous coz we're all doing it. Jack was a ladies' man, he looved flirting and hooking up with girls and having girlfriends and giving the "do me" eyes and making girls want him. He thought he was God's gift to the female race and could have anyone he wanted. He used to tell me quite often that if I was just a year older....

I was always like, whatever. I liked him but I didn't like like him.

So when we made eye contact yesterday after 5 (?) years, we smiled at each other and said hi. Well, actually, I smiled and he gave me the Jack-patented "do me" eyes. It didn't faze me, in fact I actually felt sad for him. There I was with Mr. Stinky by my side and there he was sitting all alone. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being single, he just looked... alone. We tried to strike up a conversation but it wasn't the same as when we were kids. There was no connection and it quickly ended, but not before I asked how he was doing and he said something like, "Oh, I'm hanging in there..."

What does that mean? Is he in trouble? Is it the "line" now? Am I horrible to not inquire further? Whatever the case, we left not long after that and by then I suppose he had meandered somewhere else to catch up with others. It doesn't matter, all I know is that when I think of Jack from now on I'll have imprinted in my mind the memory of him sitting by himself and trying too hard to impress. Still.

Two Field Goals and a Touchdown

As per Don Cherry's comment last night. What a game between Ottawa and Buffalo, 13 goals! I love watching exciting games like that. It's like, what's going to happen next? Who's going to score next? How many more pucks can they possibly put in the net??? I couldn't believe the action that happened within the last 5 minutes of the game; edge of the seat stuff, man.

Having said that, I'm all for cheering for Buffalo and am totally psyched about this series. I think it'll be super fun to watch and they might even take it to 7. I'm even hoping they win the Stanley Cup. If not the (stupid) Leafs, then I'd settle for distance association... and they have a nice arena. I even like the angry buffalo with steaming nostrils and glowing eyes they got in there. And the fans area great too, they don't seem to be of the corporate schmoozing kind that don't care for the game. I like that.

P.S. I love Don Cherry, I don't care what anyone says. He may not always be right but he's always honest. And funny. And cool. And full of stories. And entertaining. So there.

Night Songs

Early this morning I was stirred out of my sleep by a strange sound from outside. It's been warm lately, so the window was opened for some fresh, cool air while we sleep. At first I thought it was a bunch of birds screeching away but looking at the clock, I thought "2:45am? They'd be sleeping right now." As I laid there listening, the sounds became more distinct. Mr. Stinky woke up too and we realized the sounds were made by a pack of local coyotes howling and yipping.

It was really beautiful to hear, wildlife in the City (almost) although from time to time we do see deer around too. Coyotes seem to be a little more elusive to our area.

The sounds came to an abrupt stop and I was thinking they had either caught a neighbourhood cat or were on the hunt for one. Do coyotes sing to begin a hunt or to celebrate a successful one? Either way, I was imagining them running through the bush by themselves and within the pack or gorging in a bloody feast.

A few minutes passed and they started up again. For a second time, we awoke to listen to the "Ooouuu..." and "Yip-yip-yip-yip!"s before they faded away into the darkness again. It was so cool.

Stalker

Saw my old stalker today. We made eye contact, I permitted a quick smile and scurried along. The woman freaks me out, I don't know what department she works for, just that she's in my building. I don't know how it started or ended but I'm glad she's out of my life and I only have to see her once in awhile.

I visit the washroom every morning after I come in to work. She was always in there. At first she just stared at me when I was at the sinks washing my hands. Then it progressed to "Hi" and then small talk. I didn't mind at first, what's a couple of pleasantries now and then?

It started to get freaky when she began cutting me off before I got to the door to leave and insist on a conversation. Soon she was bombarding me with questions about my private life, my family, clothes and such. Discomfort usually turns on my aloofness and I'd have to politely give some non-answers while purposely making my way to the door.

I endured, I'm not easily scared away so I stuck it out even though there were daily horror stories to share with friends and co-workers. What finally made me throw the towel in, change washrooms and hide everytime she saw me from thereafter was that fateful morning she sent chills up my spine...

So she was there as always, when I entered and did my thing. I noticed when I came out to wash my hands she was just leaning against the counter on the other side of the washroom watching me. O..K... We have wall to wall mirrors so I kept my eye on her while she had hers on me. She stared. And stared. Finally things got vocal:

"Nice pants."

"Thanks."

"You got them at Jacob."

"...Yes..."

"They were on sale for $34.99 and you have another pair just like it in brown."

YOWZA! "....Uh........huh...nnn....."

That's when I broke all laws of physics and got the hell out of there without using the door.

She tried to track me down a few times after that episode but I made a point of ignoring her, staring past her if we met in public and turning away if I saw her trying to talk to me. There was no mercy, I had to do it cold turkey. She got the point after awhile and left me alone. I do wonder sometimes if she ever found a new victim and what became of him or her. If you ever see her, turn around and walk away. Fast. She is about 4'10" and looks like this. Just imagine the hair and glasses rims black. You could recognize her from a block away.

How to Make the Stinky Girl Simper

"Two ten-ride tickets to Union Station please."

"Two?"

"Yes."

*tap tap tap.. tap... several quick glances up from the buttons*

"Are you a student?"

"Me? No................. but thaank youu...."

*smile*

*simper like a lunatic*

Easy peasy.

Moron

Yesterday I was on the RT going to Scarborough to meet up with Mr. Stinky after work. Between Midland and Scarborough Town Centre, someone had flipped up sections of sod to make some kind of message and I wanted to see it. Approaching the spot I could make out "YES". There was another letter in front of it and I waited eagerly to see what it was. Then I saw it, it was an "E".

What the hell? What does E YES mean? Is that a gang name? Is that some kind of gang message? What a stupid name. That's like, meaningless. E YES... I don't get it......... oh... wait........ *siiiiiigggghhh*

Moral of the story? You don't have to be blonde to be a blonde.

0bl!t3r8!ng 0bsc3n!ty*

I often wonder when people are angry or frustrated and they write it down on their websites, why they use symbols and stars to swear. The reader knows of their intentions, the author has made clear what his/her intentions are, it's not like I can be confused when I read "@sshole".

So why the deliberate change? Are they scared of being caught swearing? Is it the childhood guilt of being told that it's a bad thing that they can't quite wash away? Is it the safe way to express anger and still retain a good image? I don't get it. Like I said, it's not hard to decipher "sh!t or f*ck so whether or not you replace the vowels with meaningless symbols you're still cursing. Right?

I have no problems with swearing. It's an easy way to express myself without having to be intelligent. As long as I'm not doing it around kids I don't see why an occasional cuss is wrong. Bad words to me, are for emphasis. I'm not the kind of person who peppers every sentence with fucks, shits and goddamns.

So if you're going to swear, go all the way. None of this halfway cowardly shit. Don't be a pussy, if you want to say fuck then you have the right to do so. If you can't bring yourself to do it then you should just stay away from these bad words completely. Try darn or shucks or my goodness.

I Spy With My Little Eye...

Sharp. Pointy. Painful to watch.

No, not your audition for Canadian Idol. I'm talkin' about women in high heels and stilettos.

Heels give height, they are sexy and eye-catching. They add to the mystique of the feminine form while filling men with dirty and sweaty fantasies. Stilettos are ultra-femme sexy with an edge: "I can balance on 3 inch points and I've got long, shapely, smokin' legs. Don't mess with me, I can circumcise you with my physics-defying toes." If Xena were around today she'd be busting chops with her leather bustier and skirt and knee high stilettos while seducing the handsome hero; she'd totally be every guy's wet dream. Xena: Sexy Warrior Princess. She'll kick ass and get some too.. Hoooahh!

It's very bad form when I check out a heel-wearing chica and she doesn't flow. Wearing high heels is a skill, balancing on an itty bitty piece of plastic is no easy feat. Not only must you master balance, you must also acquire coordination and walking skills. Pivoting on a dime? No problem. I cringe when I see wobbly ankles, wobbly like they might just snap off at any moment. Precariously perched (alliteration time!), these women look like newborn foals who don't know how to work their legs or 7 year olds trying on mommy's shoes for the first time. Ladies, it's not sexy when you can't walk properly. I don't see femme fatale when I watch you walk like that, I see inverted bobble heads.

You need to practice how to walk in heels at home, away from the critical public eye. If you can't achieve nirvana in heeldom, don't wear them. Try something a little shorter, it'll be more stable. Too many women out there are ankle biters, too many limping around pathetically and the cardinal taboo: bandaids.

EEeeoouuuuww! I don't want to see those! First of all, if you've got on bandaids your shoes don't fit properly. Second, maybe you should be wearing something else while your blisters and scabs heal over. Bandaids don't scream sex, more like pain and pus-y, gaping wound. Sick. You can't hide them either, you might as well have on neon Scooby Doo bandaids on. It's all the same, people. will. notice. And don't think that they can be counted as accessories either. Unless you're a rapper...

Embrace your womanhood, express yourselves and love what you were given. That also means your feet, ankles, legs, hips and back. Your feet are the foundation on which you stand, screw with them and you'll be sorry.

Splish Splash

Let's beat this very dead horse until it turns into a mushy puddle of V8. Why, in this day and age are you still not washing your hands after using the toilet? You think nobody notices, but I'm very astute. I see dry sinks, I notice how little time passes between the flush and your exit from the washroom and I can hear how long the water is turned on and the lack of noise from the soap pump. I've also got spies working with me, we're a tight network and we keep a running list of candidates for grossness. Male or female, you will be seen so beware.

Pumping the soap but not rubbing is not proper hand washing, you're just washing a glob of goo off your palm. It doesn't matter how many times you pump, if you don't rub it doesn't work. I'm not oblivious to your pretensions of soap pumping either while we're standing next to each other and you've got the water on. I may not be watching you but my peripheral vision still works and since I don't hear the pump being used.... And while we're at it, if you're going through all the motions why don't you just do it?!? Lastly, turning on the taps and flicking your hand through the water once or twice doesn't do anything other than moistening your hands.

So maybe you think a simple rinse is enough. Fine. Just do it at home where you can recycle your own germs but in a very public place where the washroom is frequently used, even if you don't pee on your hands there are germs everywhere. Think about the door handle to go into the washroom, the stall door and lock. You have to touch everything twice, once before and once after. You have to touch the taps twice as well. Now think of the daily traffic....

I'm OCD enough as it is already what with the constant hand-washing, paper towel to open washroom doors, holding my breath and running away when people sneeze or cough, econo-sized jug of hand sanitizer with pump action on my desk and another purse sized sanitizer bottle at the ready. I can't even shake someone's hand or use another computer terminal without heading immediately to the nearest sink to wash my hands afterwards. I don't need your help to make me a total hypochondriac, thank you very much. I can do that all on my own.

And for God's sakes, I really don't want to see you come out of your stall (especially after a poopy or during those special 5-7 days of the month), walk out to the sinks and start picking your teeth or fixing your lipstick or rubbing your eyes or anything to do with your orifices. That's just sick.

Mmnnnhhh...

It's dark outside again when I wake up . It's so haaarrdd...














I like doing this much better when it's dark out..

Even Ikea Gives Me Screws

On Saturday we picked up the new island we had wanted since the house was purchased. It took over a year before we even had the means to make this big purchase and now it's just become a part of our overall debt.

It came in a few pieces: countertop, cabinets, bar top and supports. We were delighted that it was finally coming home with us, not too thrilled when we lego-ed it together and found that none of the pieces "fit". Oh sure, we could push them up against each other but the pieces didn't quite line up, weren't flush or level and the worksmanship was lousy at best. Several things were cracked or had obviously been put through some trauma... luckily they were to be hidden so you could argue that it didn't matter that they were damaged. But really, I'm paying with both my kidneys here. I should be expecting nothing but perfection.

What was really frustrating was that we didn't get any screws with our island. We were told "everything" was there but I guess screws aren't part of "everything". Since we're not carpenters or cabinet makers, how besides eyeballing and guessing, would we know exactly what to use to put this thing together? You want to make sure the pieces are secure but you don't want screws coming up out of the countertop either. Luckily we could refer to our existing counter and make some good guesses. We only had to visit Home Depot twice and it took all of Sunday, with a lot of tense, breath-stopping moments but it finally got done. Mr. Stinky even had enough confidence to rectify the crooked drawers and cabinet door the so-called professionals had so badly installed. If you opened the middle drawer it would actually catch the top drawer and pull that out too. Without using a level, you could clearly see how slanted it was.

Anyway, aside from the stress and frustration we managed quite well and here are the results. We promptly ran out and bought some bar chairs with Mr. Stinky being the eager shopper for once, and had a celebratory dinner on our new island. Come over to check it out, just don't put full body weight on it, the bar top is only held up with brackets. But still. It's sweet.

Williams-Sonoma

I'm grumpy, I'm achy and I'm PMSing. I also gave in to my cravings and bought a jar of peach salsa from Williams Sonoma. I paid more than what a reasonably priced jar of pureed fruit should cost but hey, it's from a posh store and it's friggin' yummy. It's best straight from the jar too.. with a spoon, knife, whatever.

In high school my cravings were pickles, but the sweet kind. When I yearned for that sweet yet tangy crunch of preserved cucumbers we all knew what would soon be happening. I suppose my tastes are more refined and sophisticated now if I'm craving fancy schmancy peach salsa but I sure hope it doesn't become the comfort food. I don't think I could afford a steady craving of this stuff.

Randomosity

I've been at SAP training these past few days and I hate it so I haven't been able to update. Instead here's a few here and there thoughts.

> SAP is one mother-effin' stupid creation, and why it's so popular is incomprehensible. SAP lovers are morons... although once I'm proficient at it I'm sure I'll be just another SAP moron.

> It's pronounced "EN-ti-ty", not "EN-i-ty", you're driving me bananas!

> No food or drinks in the lab? For a day-long grazer, that's just torture! I bought a can of almonds and periodically went out in the hallway to eat them. Like a loser.

> Watching the guy play with his English Sheepdog made me smile. The dog was one big hairy, dirty, bouncing ball of happiness.

> You looked so snappy in your expensive, black suit... until I looked down and saw your brown belt and shoes.

> St. Lawrence Market looks so friggin' dirt, but the inside stuff is cool to look at and eat. And Future Bakery makes good butter tarts. Mmm...

> I'm moving faster in the mornings now. It doesn't take 20 minutes to get out of bed, get dressed and go downstairs anymore. Not since the sun started getting up earlier too.

> There aren't too many smiles downtown, the world is too serious. The only happy faces I see are on the dogs going out for their walks.

> Overheard that every job from which you've ever been fired was due to the boss not liking your rejecting his sexual advances. I'm thinking: a) you're not that hot (at all) and b) every job? Maybe your story needs a little tweaking coz I'm really not buying it...

> Spring is coming! The geese and ducks are pairing off. The mallards are back!

> It's almost sandal season, which means pedicure season, which I really need coz my feet are starting to look like lethal weapons... but not in the Kung-Fu: The Legend Continues kind of way.

> Saw Britney on the cover of a magazine and felt sorry for her. I've never been a fan, but damn... she's really let herself go. We need a side-by-side.
Now I don't mean she's let herself go in terms of pregnancy weight but she's just looking so white trash now. Her boobs are all hanging out but not in a sexy way, her belly's everywhere and seriously, greasy ponytail on top of her head, lighting a fresh one with tacky cut-offs? Sighh.. who will ever look at her like the sexy little pop tart she used to be?

> I need to remember the deep and important things I think about during the day so that they make it onto my random thoughts list instead of Britney Spears.

Happy Bunny Fun

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Up Yours!

This is super cool. When I win the lottery I might do this, but not before I steal a bunch of stationery. And my 21 inch LCD monitor. And my very comfy chair with the crotch stain on it, coz whoever had it before me clearly had a coffee accident all over his/her lap. And the behemoth colour laser printer my former manager ordered so that I could put it on my desk even though it would have completely crushed it due to it being about the size of a Mini Cooper. And some toner cartridges, lots of those.

Mutiny at the Cafe

P.S. If my manager is reading this, I'm just joking. I wouldn't do that.

P.P.S. If my manager isn't reading this, paperclip party at my mansion!!

Nuggets of Wisdom

As I am not the driver in the household, I see lots of things. I love ogling and rubbernecking but it's completely OK because I'm not slowing down and impeding traffic. I am the official accident-as-it-just-happened reporter and can tell Mr. Stinky what's going on without him having to take his eyes off the road for too long. The best perches, however, happen to be on streetcars and buses. From the high vantage point you can look down on all the drivers around you in privacy as most of them don't bother to look up into public transit vehicles.

While on the road I look at licence plates a lot, banners on stores advertising the latest sales, the feature movie in the minivan up ahead, roadkill, whatever and people. Oooh... I love watching people in other cars. So much goes on, I can give them my full attention!

One thing I notice is that when we are in our cars we feel protected. I don't mean because of the cages of steel around us, but we treat the inside of our cars as our homes, our private sanctuaries. We are surround by glass but somehow it doesn't always compute, it's like the door closes and "Shields up!" I have seen sooo many people picking their noses it can't just be a coincidence. Today it was a guy scraping about with his thumb, it must've been a stubborn cling-on that he needed the extra thumb power. But oh, think of the nostril! It must be hard on your nose to jam something so big up there and have it wiggling around.

There was this one time I was sitting in the streetcar, idly watching the guy in the car next to me while we were all sitting at a red light. I noticed he was a well-dressed man, suit and tie, well groomed and dignified looking. Then he reached up and stuck his finger in one nostril. Hmm... After he swished around for a bit the finger popped out and went in his mouth. Gaaaeehh!!! I think I might have banged on my window in disgust, I don't know why... maybe if he looked over I would've made a face and tried to shame him. Eating boogers?? What are you, 6?

People, we need to remember that glass is see-through! Pick your nose at home or in the washroom. Heck, duck into a corner and use a chisel if you need. Just make sure no one's around, coz sure we all do it but I don't want to see you pull anything out! And use a kleenex for Pete's sake, don't do the "pick and flick" coz you can't aim those little buggers and you don't want to be embarassed later when someone sees that hairy snot hanging on your shirt or on the professionally printed and bound reports you worked on all by yourself!

Go home, pour that glass of wine, put your feet up and give your nasal passages the time and care it deserves... away from the window. After you've cleaned house, take a deep breath and enjoy. Then toss out the boogy rag and wash your hands.

State Says...

I've been following the ongoing issue of abortion rights in the United States lately and I am disheartened. It seems there are some who oppose the law that resulted in the internationally known case of Roe vs. Wade (1973). This law states that the choice to have an abortion belongs solely to the woman, it is her constitutional right to exercise. Now it seems South Dakota has declared abortions illegal, in effect overturning the previous law, and no exceptions will be made unless the mother's life, not health is in danger. Beware, other states will follow.

Children born of rape and incest will be raised into adulthood because that is their right. They and those around them will also know how they were conceived and they will carry the stigma of being outcasts in the society. Women must now carry and give birth to these children sown by hate. The purists have spoken: you are no longer in control and life choices will be made for you by the state.

I am a pro-choice woman. I don't believe that some politician sitting in the senate knows or cares about what is best for me. I don't believe in this nanny society where we are increasingly relying on an oligarchy to protect and impose their will on us. If I have to wear a helmut while rollerblading, will they decide next that we should wear it while walking across the street or down the stairs? If I am in my childbearing years will they tell me when and where I will have a baby?

Pro-choice does not mean pro-abortion. I personally don't think it's a solution for unwanted pregnancy but it's good to know that ultimately the choice lies with me. If you're going to "do it", then you better know the risks and responsibilities involved. If a woman has sex without protection and uses abortion as her contraceptive, I might want to slap her for being so selfish and stupid but it's within her rights. If a woman who uses protection but carries some kind of genetic condition which would impair quality of life for her child, gets pregnant anyway and decides to abort it's a logical choice, it's also her choice. If a woman is the victim of rape and becomes pregnant because of it, I'd completely understand her decision to abort. Some stranger sitting on the Hill has no business interfering with my life or my decisions. My body, my choice.

When do we stop making decisions? When do we hand over our lives to the group with the loudest voices and the biggest signs so that we don't have to think anymore? If you were to live your life as the Pro-Life extremists dictate, you'd be wearing a seatbelt but not a condom. Does that make sense to you?

Canine Dreams

In once upon a time land I could afford all the stuff I fancied, like a house in the boons with a ton of acreage and all the dogs I've ever wanted. I love large and giant breeds, and would love having a doggy ranch with monsters running around. My preferred breeds are from the Mastiff group. These are solidly built dogs with heavy bones, pendant ears, short and well-muscled necks and a short muzzle. They are also magnificent droolers, not a quality many people like but I suppose if I'm out in the country I could use them to water my fields.

My favourite, Dogue de Bordeaux:
Look at the wrinkles! Look at the chest! What a beefy boy, huh? And so red. I love this dog.

At a close second is the Great Dane (like Marmaduke):
I used to work at a shelter where an elderly dane resided. He loved to be with people and was super affectionate. I've been crushed numerous times between 'Andy' and the wall because that was how he cuddled. Sometimes he'd step on your foot and not realize it even though tears are streaming down your face, he just wanted to be touching you. He was a gentle giant who would sit on your lap if he could figure out how to make himself fit.

I'm also big fans of the Irish Wolfhound, Bullmastif, Great Pyrenees, Olde English Sheepdog and English Bulldog:

Heee... look at the tongue! That pillow is going to be soaked!

Sigh... so many breeds... the Wolfhound and the Sheepdog aren't from the same group as the rest. Do you remember the Mr. Muggs readers in elementary school? Eeeee!!

We wouldn't be able to afford all these dogs if we weren't filthy, stinkin' rich because large and giant breeds tend to have health problems due to their sheer size and weight. They don't live as long as smaller dogs either so they're definitely not animals that come by cheap.

If I win the lottery and you come visit my palatial digs in the countryside I hope you're not scared of large dogs, or dogs for that matter. I might just sit on my porch to watch you figure out how to get from the car to the inside of my house without being swarmed and licked... just for hell of it. ;0)

And drool. Can't forget the drool.

My Best Friend

There are few people in life you fall in love with and never want to let go, not many you would die for or give anything to see them happy. You create relationships that endure so that at the end of time when you look back and see how much you've gone through together you're so happy you want to go back and do it all over again. I'm not at the end of my time yet (knock knock) but I'm pretty confident that I can say all this when I do get there. Among the few there is one I want to share with you, my best friend: Emma.

We met in grade 5 for Play Day. We were in different classes but put in the same group for that day of fun. Our group leader wore his pants baggy so that his boxers showed, he was ahead of his time. We found it hilarious having never seen a boy's underwear before and stood together pointing and laughing at him. This was back in the day when everyone at school knew each other. He might've been older and cooler but we were also friends and he would occasionally come over and talk to me during recess when our paths met. He let us laugh at him but after awhile he had to separate us because we got too distracting but everytime he turned his back Emma and I would run back to each other and resume the laughter.

We went through high school and university (sort of) together. We hung out all day at school and when we got home the phone would ring and the conversation would continue. We were inseparable, physically and in thought. The whole thing about finishing each other's sentences and such was totally us. Girls hated us and guys loved us. The girls hated us coz we were tomboys and thus hung out and related to guys with ease. We were two of the boys and for this we were reviled but also feared, those chicas knew we could kick their asses any day of the week if they wanted a fight. The boys loved us coz we could go out and play ball with them, we didn't prance or squeal like you see those girly girls doing. We didn't like girly girls; it was us against them.

We're not huggers but we're as close as two people could be. Nothing and nobody ever got between us, although I don't even know if they tried. I'm more confrontational and blunt, she's more diplomatic and giving but she's also tough. I've seen her weather some trying times with grace and strength. I've watched as she juggled multiple flaming torches with poisonous barbs sticking out of them and surrounded by killer bees without missing a beat or complaining about the load on her shoulders. Emma is fierce.

Even thought we're both older now with our own busy lives she is still my best friend. We don't see or talk to each other as much anymore but I know that she's only as far away as my phone. I enjoy hearing about what she's up to and what she's doing next. There have been relationships, good and bad times in each of our lives and we've always been there for each other. I plan on calling her my best friend for the rest of my life... that's why they're called "best friends", right? I plan on us being there for each other, seeing each other's children, complaining about wrinkles and growing old together. She already knows all this and hasn't said anything to the contrary so I suppose that's what will be.

To Emma, you are the bitch. Here's to you, babes.

Couch Potato Kitty

Something we've discovered lately is that Iggy likes watching television. Certain programs will catch his eye, especially ones with animals and he'll sit on the floor right in front of the TV mesmerized. It's not a passing fancy either, he'll have his butt planted and just watch. We'll be watching him and it's really amusing to see him follow the action on the set coz you can see his little head moving along with the picture.

Today I was watching a bit of Top Dogs, and they had the frisbee competitions where the owner and the dog dances, and tricks are performed with the frisbee. Iggy sat and watched, occasionally getting so excited he'd squirt up closer to the TV and then carefully paw the dog or frisbee behind the glass. It was a total Simpsons moment when Homer yells "Get that cat out of the way!"

What a cute little devil.

Starbuckers Inc.

Yesterday I had a course to attend for work and was early so I hung out in a nearby food court reading the newspaper and killing time. About 100 feet from me was a Starbucks. At first I paid this American caffeine establishment no heed, but after awhile I found myself being interrupted every few seconds by the coffee-making employees. Oh wait, as they are also a pretentious establishment I should use the correct term: barristas.

So there was this extra peppy lid guy or drink caller-outer standing there. His job was to wipe the bottoms, lid the cup or whatever and then announce very loudly the drink that was just made: "I HAVE A VENTI HALF MOCHA CHOCA NON-FAT NON-DAIRY EXTRA WHIP RANDOM ADJECTIVES IN A FRILLY CUP REA-DEE!" On a side note, God forbid you use regular english when you order and say something like "large". You obviously understand what I'm asking for so why are you being an ass when you look down your pierced little nose, get all Italian on me and say "VEN-ti" like you're a teacher talking down to a kid?

Watching him yell out the very splashy and complicated names of the drinks while the customers were standing right in front of him reminded me of a scene in Half Baked when Scarface was at work and the cashier boomed into the mic what the customer had just ordered.

"You son-of-a-bitch, I'm right behind you. Turn around and ask me for a heifer with cheese, yo. Why you got to make me feel inferior because I'm on the grill, B? Damn!"

Seriously, nobody outside the world of Starbucks cares what the guy just ordered. Why's you gotta make it such a big deal, yo? And while I'm at it, why's your people gotta stop every once in awhile and dance a jig or howl at the moon? You're making coffee, yo, not big deals on The Wall with other big suits. If putting liquids in a cup successfully is such an achievement, do I wanna buy from you? Seriously, B.

I wonder if you go to special Starbucks school to learn how to act like a Starbucks employee. I bet they weed out the applicants to get only the best of the best, and then they churn out model employees like frothy somethingmachinnos who are now Starbucks hip, Starbucks cool and Starbucks savvy. The pseudos of society if you will. Maybe their motto is "Not quite there, but crazy styled hair". There must be manuals and such you must follow. I bet they make you snort lines of fine Columbian grind to stay chipper all the live long day too. Their CEO must be Ned Flanders and every once in awhile they go get re-Neducated! Duuude, I just figured out their whole cultish empire!

I really should shut my yap, I know of someone who works at a Starbucks and last I saw her she was pretty cool. But that was also before she was actually recruited into one of these gourmet coffee shoppes.

I wonder if there are bible verses under the rims of the cups too, yo.

Sunday Bliss

For those of you who think I'm too negative, here's one for you.

Yesterday we woke up and lolled around in bed talking and relaxing. Then we got up and went out for brunch. Stuffed ourselves silly and did a little shopping at Home Depot and Staples for house improvement stuff.

Came home and slept. Mmmmm.... We snuggled on my childhood bed and napped the entire afternoon. Iggy nestled in between our legs when he wasn't trying to nuzzle mommy and release stinky-love butt pheromones all over the room. The sun was bright and the bed was warm.

What could be a better lazy Sunday than that? Eating, sleeping and occasionally swatting the cat away from your face? Bliss.

How 'Bout No?

So you're in a situation and ask for my opinion, I give it to you. You think about it for 2.1 seconds and keep on whining about how "stuck" you are.

Don't bother me, I don't want to hear it.

A friend of mine, we'll call X was asked by a friend for a favour, it was a yes or no kind of question. Granted there are always variables that need to be considered, but it was also one of those "If you want to, say yes. If you don't want to, say no." Simple, right?

For me, yes. It's something I don't even need to think about if I don't want to do it. For X, no. X thinks anytime you say no you're being rude so therefore X must say yes even though it's not the answer X wants to give but how can X be rude and say no when it's a friend asking for a favour, even though they're not close but have known each other for a long time, and how can anyone be so rude as to say no to their friends and not fulfill the favour and besides, there are some sort of family ties, and said friend is a really nice person and makes some good ravioli and what are we talking about here???

You see how I could have so little patience for something as trivial and melodramatic as this.

Please understand that the word "no" itself is not a bad word. It's neither rude, disrespectful nor mean. There are two answers in this world, "yes" and "no", and it is totally OK to use either one of them provided you have a valid reason. All X has to do is say "Thank you for asking but I have to turn it down because: (I don't have the time/I'm not the right person for the job/of conflicting schedules/etc.)." There's no need to spin to make your answer sound better, no need to go nuts overthinking something because you're afraid to tell the truth. There are other people in this world from whom to ask a favour, y'know.

You don't need to agree with me or take my advice but let's not go in circles discussing the topic to death. When I've heard your situation 4 or 5 times already and it looks like we're rounding the corner into the 6th lap, you need to let it go. I've said my piece and at this point you're just looking for pity and pissing me off and I don't want either. Please learn to say no, it won't hurt. I promise.

Bloat

"But I have days when I feel great and then I have days when my ass won't fit in my jeans and I won't leave the house." -Kate Beckinsale

I'm having a fat and ugly day. I put on a pair of pants this morning and not only did I have to do the big suck-it-in thing (like I used to watch my mom do... !!!), when I finally forced the zipper and buttons closed I had a perma wedgie... front and back.

I remember when I was younger and finding it amusing that women had to decompress their midriffs, suffocate their internal organs and lose the ability to breathe just to put on a pair of pants. I guess it's being a slave to fashion that we want to fit into nice looking clothes. I also remember thinking to myself, "I'll never do that when I grow up. I'll stay trim and make sure I can zip up easily." I guess gravity and age are teaching me a few life lessons about the ever-changing body I had hoped I wouldn't need to learn.

I'm learning that vanity has a life-force all its own and it barely fits into a woman's ego. There will always be someone much more attractive, smarter, confident, with longer legs, bigger boobs, smaller waist, tighter butt, more curves, less curves and beauty queen-like qualities when compared to you. There will always be people you stand next to that make you feel like pigeon poo from yesterday's feast of cockroaches and grubs. I understand now why we try and jam our jiggles into pants that don't quite fit anymore, style our hair all pretty and slap on the spackle like nobody's business to smooth the wrinkles and look air-brushed beautiful. We want to feel attractive and turn heads and maybe even lusted after. Maybe if we think hard enough, we can convince ourselves and the world that we're as hot as *her*. As superficial as it is, who doesn't walk out the door without first a quick glance in the mirror?

Needless to say I had to change. I didn't think I could suffer through a whole day of squatting, stretching and wriggling around while yanking out the fabric melded into my crotch feeling like I was wearing something from the Jr. Miss store. It didn't make me feel better that I fit the second pair of pants, more like defeated. Being a smaller person you may think I'm crazy to even think this, but hey, sometimes I feel fat, ugly and unwanted too.

Queen of the Blah

I got S.A.D. I feel like Eeyore on a good day. Don't know what it is? I'll stick the link at the bottom so I won't have to explain.

Feel so blah. And tired. And blah.

I like winter, I like the cold and snow, the ice and the cutting winds that make you curse profusely in your head coz if you open your mouth to say them your teeth might freeze and fall off. It's the BRRRR of winter that makes me appreciate the SSSSS of summer, and vice versa. I like the differences in our seasons; I couldn't live in the tropics where it's hot and hotter than hell. Sooner or later I'd hate being hot and sticky all the time. There's a reason the summer is off-season in the Caribbeans.

This winter's been pretty sucky though... It's not cold, it's not warm it's muddling somewhere in between. It rains when it should snow, my garden's budding in the middle of winter and it just sucks. If I wanted to live in Vancouver I would have moved there!! What the hell.

I don't know what exactly it is. I'm just not feeling the love this season. All I want to do is hibernate in bed until I feel it's time to get up... just wanna shut down and block out the world. I feel bored a lot but there's no motivation to do anything. I have to admit I'm a lazy person but now I'm so lazy I feel like a puddle... a thick, syrupy, oozy, non-moving, non-breathing puddle.

Blah.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seasonal_affective_disorder

Public Announcement for Oral Sanity

Halitosis. Embarassing, unpleasant, fact of life.

Nobody has perfect breath, especially after an orgasm-worthy meal for the tastebuds filled with garlic, curry, chives, onion, etc. Most notibly, we've got cigarette breath, coffee breath, barf breath, morning breath and ass breath (which doesn't smell like anything in particular, just toxic); it's a whole rainbow variety of smells out there. That's why the market for chewing gum, tasty toothpastes, minty candies and mouthwash is so huge.

But really, if you notice consistently that when you're having a conversation or in a meeting with others and pick up on the following behaviours, there is a screaming loud message being broadcasted to you subtly. Nobody wants to embarass you. Really. Take notice.

> People trying desperately to smell their armpits, sleeves or collars
> People doing a lot of "mm-hmm"ing behind hands or papers conspicuously covering the whole lower half of their faces
> People who seem to exhale a whole lot more than they inhale
> People who, when they respond, sound like they are choking (we're trying not to breathe in)
> Large buffer zones at the conference table between you and everyone else
> Everyone offering you a mint, stick of gum, face shield, etc.
> Heads cocked at weird angles, but never facing you
> People who step backwards while they talk until you've backed them up literally, against a wall

If you discover that regular oral hygiene isn't working for you, go see your doctor or dentist. It could be a medical thing. It could be a diet thing. It could be that we need to install a filter at your lips so I get Brita fresh air instead of sewer breath when we talk. And please, above all else, I can hear you from 5 feet away. Let's not be able to soulfully gaze into each others' eyes while your breath tickles my ears, vapourizes my nose hairs and dissolves my trachea.

If I offer you a mint, take it. I'll do the same if you were me and I was you.