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.
February 28, 2006
February 20, 2006
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.
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.
February 15, 2006
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.
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.
February 13, 2006
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.
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.
February 08, 2006
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
February 01, 2006
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.
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.
January 26, 2006
Dear Ladies...
Just a few suggestions when you use public washrooms:> Please don't wait until the last possible moment to go if you're feeling the urge (eg. doing the poopy dance in front of the toilet while you're undoing your pants is waiting too long). The longer you wait, the higher the chances for unpleasant and messy explosions.
> Increase your fibre intake. This way, your waste material hold its shape better.
> Aim is just as important for women as it is for men.
Thank you kindly,
Stinky T
January 25, 2006
Aloha No More?
Duuude. Did you know it's possible to be allergic to pineapple? Me neither!!
I've eaten it my whole life and I love it. Yum yum! I have to admit that all the pineapple I've ever ingested came from a can. Lately though, we've been enjoying fresh pineapple from the store and today I packed some for my lunch, about 3/4 cup (which is more than I usually eat, but it's a particularly good one, so..).
I was reading the paper as I was eating, so I didn't notice anything until almost the end when my tongue felt funny. By the time I finished, my tongue felt all raw and like it was on fire. I drank some water and went to the washroom to brush my teeth, to no avail. The whole front half of my tongue was burning up! You know when you didn't listen to mom and gulped down your atomically hot soup or hot chocolate despite her cautions for you to slow down and the telltale steam rising and then you scald your tongue badly and it hurts so much you suck on ice cubes to numb the pain? That's what it felt like in this case, times 5. I sat at my computer and worked for the rest of the afternnon with my tongue hanging out of my mouth so that the cool air might heal some of the pain. If this were the cartoons there would be little bolts of lightning zapping around while my tongue went "BZZ.. BZZZ".
My co-workers asked me if I was allergic and I didn't think so, because I've never had any kind of reaction to pineapple before and didn't display any of the other common symptoms. Shortly after, my throat started hurting. What the? She asked me if it was my throat closing up and I said I didn't think so, I could still breathe. My throat just hurt like when you have a cold. Hmm... A little after that my ears started itching... like when you have a cold. And somehow your pinky finger is never small enough so that you can fully jab it in there to scratch that itch so you contemplate using your pen or letter opener, or toothpick... Oh come on. You know you've thought of doing that before!
I joked that if I dropped right there, she'd have to tell the paramedics what happened to me. I didn't want to alarm her at the time, but my chest was also feeling a little tight. I was breathing fine so I wasn't about to panic. As long as the airway's open I won't be dialling 911.
Anaphylactic shock, anyone?
My symptoms are slowly going away now. The tongue feels like a day old burn now and my throat and ears are only mildly irritated. But I guess I won't be eating anymore fresh pineapple anytime soon, unless I want to go on another bad trip with this crazy Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde tropical fruit.
I've eaten it my whole life and I love it. Yum yum! I have to admit that all the pineapple I've ever ingested came from a can. Lately though, we've been enjoying fresh pineapple from the store and today I packed some for my lunch, about 3/4 cup (which is more than I usually eat, but it's a particularly good one, so..).
I was reading the paper as I was eating, so I didn't notice anything until almost the end when my tongue felt funny. By the time I finished, my tongue felt all raw and like it was on fire. I drank some water and went to the washroom to brush my teeth, to no avail. The whole front half of my tongue was burning up! You know when you didn't listen to mom and gulped down your atomically hot soup or hot chocolate despite her cautions for you to slow down and the telltale steam rising and then you scald your tongue badly and it hurts so much you suck on ice cubes to numb the pain? That's what it felt like in this case, times 5. I sat at my computer and worked for the rest of the afternnon with my tongue hanging out of my mouth so that the cool air might heal some of the pain. If this were the cartoons there would be little bolts of lightning zapping around while my tongue went "BZZ.. BZZZ".
My co-workers asked me if I was allergic and I didn't think so, because I've never had any kind of reaction to pineapple before and didn't display any of the other common symptoms. Shortly after, my throat started hurting. What the? She asked me if it was my throat closing up and I said I didn't think so, I could still breathe. My throat just hurt like when you have a cold. Hmm... A little after that my ears started itching... like when you have a cold. And somehow your pinky finger is never small enough so that you can fully jab it in there to scratch that itch so you contemplate using your pen or letter opener, or toothpick... Oh come on. You know you've thought of doing that before!
I joked that if I dropped right there, she'd have to tell the paramedics what happened to me. I didn't want to alarm her at the time, but my chest was also feeling a little tight. I was breathing fine so I wasn't about to panic. As long as the airway's open I won't be dialling 911.
Anaphylactic shock, anyone?
My symptoms are slowly going away now. The tongue feels like a day old burn now and my throat and ears are only mildly irritated. But I guess I won't be eating anymore fresh pineapple anytime soon, unless I want to go on another bad trip with this crazy Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde tropical fruit.
January 23, 2006
They Always Come in Threes
Within these last four months I've been to three funerals. At each and every one of them I shed enough tears to fill a Kleenex box. I don't cry because it's a "girl thing" where I can't control my emotions, nor am I upset with the reality of death. Everyone eventually passes, it's part of the cycle and in this age of medicine and technology so often do we forget this fact and bemoan the ending of a life.
We take the people in our lives for granted. We forget and lose touch but there's always the thought that tomorrow we might reach out. Pick up the phone. Send some mail. Up to their doorsteps. There's no such thing as running out of time, they'll always be there. We get older each year but we'll be around forever. There's always tomorrow...
My tears are for time, past and future. The memories we shared, the long ago forgotten ones jogged into the present as I'm paying my last respects, and the time we'll never have once we dry our eyes and the dirt is laid. I realize how little we knew of each other, how we won't have anymore time to fix that. I've heard so much about you and I wanted the time to see all of that, but we'll never see where you could have been in 5 years, you'll never see my children, I'll never have you here with me again. It really is a heartfelt, tragic loss that we ran out of time. And I don't know what's worse, having known the person for a lifetime or just a little while. In any case it hurts. For me, for you and the ones you leave behind.
Should've. Would've. Could've.
I've a few years to go before I hit 30 but I can count 9 funerals. How many Kleenex boxes have I filled? I stand in front of the casket and my mind races but I have nothing to say that mirrors the jumble of emotions inside. I stare inside and wish we could rewind time and enjoy it again. I don't know how to say goodbye properly, to let the memory of you wash away. All I can think about is what we could be doing next week if you hadn't left.
We take the people in our lives for granted. We forget and lose touch but there's always the thought that tomorrow we might reach out. Pick up the phone. Send some mail. Up to their doorsteps. There's no such thing as running out of time, they'll always be there. We get older each year but we'll be around forever. There's always tomorrow...
My tears are for time, past and future. The memories we shared, the long ago forgotten ones jogged into the present as I'm paying my last respects, and the time we'll never have once we dry our eyes and the dirt is laid. I realize how little we knew of each other, how we won't have anymore time to fix that. I've heard so much about you and I wanted the time to see all of that, but we'll never see where you could have been in 5 years, you'll never see my children, I'll never have you here with me again. It really is a heartfelt, tragic loss that we ran out of time. And I don't know what's worse, having known the person for a lifetime or just a little while. In any case it hurts. For me, for you and the ones you leave behind.
Should've. Would've. Could've.
I've a few years to go before I hit 30 but I can count 9 funerals. How many Kleenex boxes have I filled? I stand in front of the casket and my mind races but I have nothing to say that mirrors the jumble of emotions inside. I stare inside and wish we could rewind time and enjoy it again. I don't know how to say goodbye properly, to let the memory of you wash away. All I can think about is what we could be doing next week if you hadn't left.
January 14, 2006
It's All in Your Head, Dear
I hate taking sick days from work. It's boring to sit at home with nothing to do and feeling miserable. I don't want to be at work feeling ick, or sick for that matter so it's a no-win situation. Yesterday, on a Friday, I had to take a sick day because of a migraine. Today I'm dealing with some of the residual pain.
Migraine days are write-off days. Those are the days you lay in bed and wait for the day to end, here's how it all started.
I started getting migraines during my last year of university. It was horrible, they came out of nowhere and my first episode lasted on and off for roughly 2 weeks, mostly on. I didn't know what the heck was happening, just that XS acetaminophen wasn't working. My head throbbed, I was dizzy and nauseated, couldn't see clearly, nor do my readings because the words were literally floating around the pages. I had to drop out of a really interesting anatomy class because the microscope work was a crazy kaleidoscope of searing torture. I laid in my bed in the dark not sleeping, not eating, not moving. My mom went out and bought a case of those liquid meal replacements. She cracked open a can, stuck a straw in it and connected it to my mouth. Even though I had no appetite I knew I had to eat something and because it didn't require chewing (moving my head), I could handle the stuff.
I was finally granted an appointment with my doctor who prescribed some super drugs. They were just heavenly! The headaches went away, although the remnant migraine stayed. For several months afterwards my head felt really delicate, like it was made of glass. I couldn't move too fast, do anything strenuous, sit comfortably in Mr. Stinky's standard-transmission car or listen to music at a normal volume. Everything hurt my head and I felt any moment it would fall to pieces.
All that pain eventually went away and I celebrated the conquering of this head beast. Not so fast, my pretties. I was soon to be visited by the migraine fairy every month, on the first day of my period, it was a double whammy! On my doctor's orders I tried every kind of XS OTC pain relief and nothing worked. During this period we were living in a one-bedroom apartment. I barricaded myself in the bedroom during my episodes because I couldn't stand the smell of food, even if Mr. Stinky had cooked and eaten hours before I got home. My doctor finally prescribed me another kind of migraine drugs. Peace prevailed again.
Sometimes even those pills don't do the trick. When the little blue and yellows fail me, I turn to my super duper horse pills! They are just magical... of course they also leave me high as a kite and I'm not all that productive at work either but at least I'm mostly pain free. Ask my friends about it, I've fallen out of my chair at work and somehow managed to keep the bagel in my hand off the floor.
I don't get them quite as often or as regular as I used to which is a good thing because migraines are horrible to live with. I take my little bottles of magic wherever I go, I don't want to be caught without my safety nets.
Migraine days are write-off days. Those are the days you lay in bed and wait for the day to end, here's how it all started.
I started getting migraines during my last year of university. It was horrible, they came out of nowhere and my first episode lasted on and off for roughly 2 weeks, mostly on. I didn't know what the heck was happening, just that XS acetaminophen wasn't working. My head throbbed, I was dizzy and nauseated, couldn't see clearly, nor do my readings because the words were literally floating around the pages. I had to drop out of a really interesting anatomy class because the microscope work was a crazy kaleidoscope of searing torture. I laid in my bed in the dark not sleeping, not eating, not moving. My mom went out and bought a case of those liquid meal replacements. She cracked open a can, stuck a straw in it and connected it to my mouth. Even though I had no appetite I knew I had to eat something and because it didn't require chewing (moving my head), I could handle the stuff.
I was finally granted an appointment with my doctor who prescribed some super drugs. They were just heavenly! The headaches went away, although the remnant migraine stayed. For several months afterwards my head felt really delicate, like it was made of glass. I couldn't move too fast, do anything strenuous, sit comfortably in Mr. Stinky's standard-transmission car or listen to music at a normal volume. Everything hurt my head and I felt any moment it would fall to pieces.
All that pain eventually went away and I celebrated the conquering of this head beast. Not so fast, my pretties. I was soon to be visited by the migraine fairy every month, on the first day of my period, it was a double whammy! On my doctor's orders I tried every kind of XS OTC pain relief and nothing worked. During this period we were living in a one-bedroom apartment. I barricaded myself in the bedroom during my episodes because I couldn't stand the smell of food, even if Mr. Stinky had cooked and eaten hours before I got home. My doctor finally prescribed me another kind of migraine drugs. Peace prevailed again.
Sometimes even those pills don't do the trick. When the little blue and yellows fail me, I turn to my super duper horse pills! They are just magical... of course they also leave me high as a kite and I'm not all that productive at work either but at least I'm mostly pain free. Ask my friends about it, I've fallen out of my chair at work and somehow managed to keep the bagel in my hand off the floor.
I don't get them quite as often or as regular as I used to which is a good thing because migraines are horrible to live with. I take my little bottles of magic wherever I go, I don't want to be caught without my safety nets.
January 11, 2006
Wait Your Damn Turn!
A few things have happened between the last post and this one that I really wanted to write about, but there are some things that just aren't meant to go online or be made public, so that's why I haven't updated in a few days. Carrying on.
So this is my latest rant. I don't want the general reader to think I'm a miserable person because I write so many angry blogs. It's just "Today was great. Nothing really interesting happened, but I love the world." doesn't catch anyone's attention, least of all mine.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who interrupt. Yes, I'm talking to you people who won't let people finish their sentences or stories before you have to interject because you think what you're about to say is just that important. There are times when I'm having a hugely animated conversation with my friends like you wouldn't believe. We've got arms flapping around in the air for visual effect, spit flying like those ch-ch-ch sprinklers, faces red from laughing and excitement, and the most telling clue of all: words and noises coming out of our mouths. In the midst of this people will walk right up and start talking to one of us as if we had been standing there the whole time, picking our noses and waiting for life to happen.
I am just flabbergasted as to how rude people can be. What happened to saying "excuse me", "sorry to interrupt" or even just standing there waiting for the sentence to at least finish? Do you know how many times at work where I am on the phone or obviously busy with my work but someone will march on in and start talking to me or demanding assistance which, once I've heard it, really wasn't urgent at all? I have had to interrupt my calls or train of thought, I have been firm but polite in asking them to wait a minute and I have given some really terse responses. There is never any change and the next time we just hop on the same ride, doing the same routine.
I also get irritated when in the midst of a conversation someone will jump in and yell at high volumes, because I guess if you've got to interrupt you might as well make sure everyone pays full attention to you, something that really has no relevance to the original matter at hand. Say we're discussing our pets... "OH!! I HAVE A COUSIN (whom you've never met, heard of or care about) AND SHE REALLY LOVES GUESS WATCHES AND SHE'S GOT ONE THAT'S PURPLE AND THE SECOND HAND HAS A HELLO KITTY ON IT AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SECOND HAND IS? IT'S THE SKINNIEST POINTER IN THE WATCH THAT MOVES THE FASTEST AND IT'S SO CUTE BECAUSE NOOOOBODY ELSE HAS ONE LIKE IT AND I LOVE HER WATCH AND IF I EVER SEE ONE I'M GOING TO BUY IT. ISN'T THAT SO COOOL? DON'T YOU WANT A GUESS WATCH JUST LIKE HER? ISN'T SHE FUNNY? YOU GUYS COULD SOOO BE FRIENDS COZ YOU'RE BOTH THE SAME AGE"....... Maybe that's a poor example, but it's all I can think of right now. You get the picture. Stupid people I don't care about buying stupid watches with stupid Hello Kitty hands. That's why you interrupted me? That's why you had to screech through all the other voices and waste a whole minute (counted by Hello Kitty) of my life?
I don't understand why people think they, their needs or "contributions" are so important that they have to butt in front of others to become first in line. Don't people know how to wait anymore? I admit that I do it too, we all do, especially when we get excited. But the main thing is I try to keep that at a minimum. I try not to be so rude that the other person's spotlight somehow becomes mine. If someone's on the phone, it makes chronological and logical sense that I wait for them to finish the call before I walk in with my purpose for visiting. Of course there are always exceptions. If we're doing the "Weather's nice"......"Yep".... conversation and someone's house is burning please don't hesitate to run over and start yelling about the fire and that we need to call 911 and help whoever might still be inside.
So you. Yah, you know this is about you. Shut up and wait for your turn to talk. My life isn't about waiting around for you to pay attention to me. Learn some manners, be patient and stop butting in while I'm busy with something else that might actually be important.
So this is my latest rant. I don't want the general reader to think I'm a miserable person because I write so many angry blogs. It's just "Today was great. Nothing really interesting happened, but I love the world." doesn't catch anyone's attention, least of all mine.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who interrupt. Yes, I'm talking to you people who won't let people finish their sentences or stories before you have to interject because you think what you're about to say is just that important. There are times when I'm having a hugely animated conversation with my friends like you wouldn't believe. We've got arms flapping around in the air for visual effect, spit flying like those ch-ch-ch sprinklers, faces red from laughing and excitement, and the most telling clue of all: words and noises coming out of our mouths. In the midst of this people will walk right up and start talking to one of us as if we had been standing there the whole time, picking our noses and waiting for life to happen.
I am just flabbergasted as to how rude people can be. What happened to saying "excuse me", "sorry to interrupt" or even just standing there waiting for the sentence to at least finish? Do you know how many times at work where I am on the phone or obviously busy with my work but someone will march on in and start talking to me or demanding assistance which, once I've heard it, really wasn't urgent at all? I have had to interrupt my calls or train of thought, I have been firm but polite in asking them to wait a minute and I have given some really terse responses. There is never any change and the next time we just hop on the same ride, doing the same routine.
I also get irritated when in the midst of a conversation someone will jump in and yell at high volumes, because I guess if you've got to interrupt you might as well make sure everyone pays full attention to you, something that really has no relevance to the original matter at hand. Say we're discussing our pets... "OH!! I HAVE A COUSIN (whom you've never met, heard of or care about) AND SHE REALLY LOVES GUESS WATCHES AND SHE'S GOT ONE THAT'S PURPLE AND THE SECOND HAND HAS A HELLO KITTY ON IT AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT A SECOND HAND IS? IT'S THE SKINNIEST POINTER IN THE WATCH THAT MOVES THE FASTEST AND IT'S SO CUTE BECAUSE NOOOOBODY ELSE HAS ONE LIKE IT AND I LOVE HER WATCH AND IF I EVER SEE ONE I'M GOING TO BUY IT. ISN'T THAT SO COOOL? DON'T YOU WANT A GUESS WATCH JUST LIKE HER? ISN'T SHE FUNNY? YOU GUYS COULD SOOO BE FRIENDS COZ YOU'RE BOTH THE SAME AGE"....... Maybe that's a poor example, but it's all I can think of right now. You get the picture. Stupid people I don't care about buying stupid watches with stupid Hello Kitty hands. That's why you interrupted me? That's why you had to screech through all the other voices and waste a whole minute (counted by Hello Kitty) of my life?
I don't understand why people think they, their needs or "contributions" are so important that they have to butt in front of others to become first in line. Don't people know how to wait anymore? I admit that I do it too, we all do, especially when we get excited. But the main thing is I try to keep that at a minimum. I try not to be so rude that the other person's spotlight somehow becomes mine. If someone's on the phone, it makes chronological and logical sense that I wait for them to finish the call before I walk in with my purpose for visiting. Of course there are always exceptions. If we're doing the "Weather's nice"......"Yep".... conversation and someone's house is burning please don't hesitate to run over and start yelling about the fire and that we need to call 911 and help whoever might still be inside.
So you. Yah, you know this is about you. Shut up and wait for your turn to talk. My life isn't about waiting around for you to pay attention to me. Learn some manners, be patient and stop butting in while I'm busy with something else that might actually be important.
December 29, 2005
Taking It Out On Cherries
It's funny how my attitude changes throughout the month. Sometimes I'm totally cool about something but a few days later just thinking about it makes me furious. Let me explain in the comfort of my anonymity.
Let's say there's a person in my life called X who loves cherries. Obsessed with cherries. X talks about nothing but cherries, buys them all the time, stuffs face with them and afterwards, tells me about every single one. Said X will tell me in detail all the kinds of cherries out there: colour, size, sweetness, nutrition value, price per pound, crazy things they tell X to do, etc. So the point is: CHERRIES RULE.
I don't mean to pick on cherries, it was just the first thing I thought of. I had to think of something I'm not really impartial to, and I'm not a fan of cherries (except Don). But for the sake of ambiguity I'm projecting my relationship with this meaningless fruit into a metaphor for something totally unrelated.
So. Some days when the conversation is all about cherries I sit there trying to stay interested and open. It's not X's fault I'm not a fan of cherries, so if it's what X likes shouldn't I as a friend (or available ear) in return partake in the cherry talk? While X is nattering on about cherries I may actually think "maybe cherries aren't so bad, I should give cherries a chance".
A few days later I might think how horrible it is that X has such an obsession with the damn fruit. Why? Why? Why? I hate cherries, stop talking about cherries, why does it have to be cherries all the time??!? I don't care how much they cost or when they're in season. Aaagghh!! I also have these stupid conversations in my head that make me more and more angry with X even though it's all imagined. But I'm angry because I know what I'm thinking could totally be reality when it comes to X.
Then maybe I know I'll be seeing X and dreading it because of my totally unprovoked anger. There's really no logic to it, but as I am a person who doesn't believe in the "I choose not to be angry, rather I will accept." crap, (come on, if it pisses you off, it pisses you off. Let it run its course instead of repressing and pretending it doesn't bother you. Otherwise you'll brood and think about it forever and isn't that worse in the long run?) I let myself be angry.
But then maybe by the time I see X my irrational anger will have dissipated and I'll look back and think "geez (self), who pissed in your oatmeal? So X loves cherries, who cares? X is still a nice person." Such is the life of the ever changing hormone(/anger) cycle I suppose.
Let's say there's a person in my life called X who loves cherries. Obsessed with cherries. X talks about nothing but cherries, buys them all the time, stuffs face with them and afterwards, tells me about every single one. Said X will tell me in detail all the kinds of cherries out there: colour, size, sweetness, nutrition value, price per pound, crazy things they tell X to do, etc. So the point is: CHERRIES RULE.
I don't mean to pick on cherries, it was just the first thing I thought of. I had to think of something I'm not really impartial to, and I'm not a fan of cherries (except Don). But for the sake of ambiguity I'm projecting my relationship with this meaningless fruit into a metaphor for something totally unrelated.
So. Some days when the conversation is all about cherries I sit there trying to stay interested and open. It's not X's fault I'm not a fan of cherries, so if it's what X likes shouldn't I as a friend (or available ear) in return partake in the cherry talk? While X is nattering on about cherries I may actually think "maybe cherries aren't so bad, I should give cherries a chance".
A few days later I might think how horrible it is that X has such an obsession with the damn fruit. Why? Why? Why? I hate cherries, stop talking about cherries, why does it have to be cherries all the time??!? I don't care how much they cost or when they're in season. Aaagghh!! I also have these stupid conversations in my head that make me more and more angry with X even though it's all imagined. But I'm angry because I know what I'm thinking could totally be reality when it comes to X.
Then maybe I know I'll be seeing X and dreading it because of my totally unprovoked anger. There's really no logic to it, but as I am a person who doesn't believe in the "I choose not to be angry, rather I will accept." crap, (come on, if it pisses you off, it pisses you off. Let it run its course instead of repressing and pretending it doesn't bother you. Otherwise you'll brood and think about it forever and isn't that worse in the long run?) I let myself be angry.
But then maybe by the time I see X my irrational anger will have dissipated and I'll look back and think "geez (self), who pissed in your oatmeal? So X loves cherries, who cares? X is still a nice person." Such is the life of the ever changing hormone(/anger) cycle I suppose.
December 23, 2005
December 22, 2005
Do You Have a Will?
Not to be a downer for the festive season, but we're currently having ours drawn up. It recently hit home for us that a will is not something you make when you're old. Anyone can have it done at any age, but it becomes that much more important when you get married or live common-law.
The purpose of a will is to make sure all of your assets, no matter how modest or large, are given to who you want after your death. It is also to take care of your family so that in this time of loss they aren't also wondering what will happen to them afterwards. You can also designate the power of attorney to a specific person in the event that you need him/her to make a decision for you. For example, say you get in a car accident and fall into a coma, what will you do then?
If your spouse or common-law partner and the rest of your family don't get along, imagine the nightmare when they fight for your estate. If you both die in an accident, have you made provisions for your children? Who will raise them? Where will they live? They may be shuffled off to relatives you love, but may not be your preferred choice to care for your children.
In conclusion, a will is for your peace of mind. It settles any questions about who inherits what and leaves your family with a firm understanding as to their futures without you. Don't think because you're young you don't need one. We all know that shit happens and if you think you can make a will on your deathbed, you're in for a surprise. If the courts find you signed a will while not in a clear state of mind (being under the influence of drugs to ease the pain), your will can be deemed invalid and revoked.
Do your wills, boys and girls. Then rest easy and enjoy Christmas knowing that the ones you love will be taken care of.
The purpose of a will is to make sure all of your assets, no matter how modest or large, are given to who you want after your death. It is also to take care of your family so that in this time of loss they aren't also wondering what will happen to them afterwards. You can also designate the power of attorney to a specific person in the event that you need him/her to make a decision for you. For example, say you get in a car accident and fall into a coma, what will you do then?
If your spouse or common-law partner and the rest of your family don't get along, imagine the nightmare when they fight for your estate. If you both die in an accident, have you made provisions for your children? Who will raise them? Where will they live? They may be shuffled off to relatives you love, but may not be your preferred choice to care for your children.
In conclusion, a will is for your peace of mind. It settles any questions about who inherits what and leaves your family with a firm understanding as to their futures without you. Don't think because you're young you don't need one. We all know that shit happens and if you think you can make a will on your deathbed, you're in for a surprise. If the courts find you signed a will while not in a clear state of mind (being under the influence of drugs to ease the pain), your will can be deemed invalid and revoked.
Do your wills, boys and girls. Then rest easy and enjoy Christmas knowing that the ones you love will be taken care of.
December 16, 2005
The Beauty of Fur
I don't really have a stance on fur. I've seen the bloody pictures, heard the stories and watched the videos and as inhumane it can be, I'm not too preoccupied with the topic right now. I think in a world full of hardships and pain, to get worked up about every single injustice would drive me nuts.
So why are we discussing? This morning when I got on the train there was an empty seat next to a woman wearing a poofy, full length fur coat. It looked like wolf, that long white-off-white-grey kind of fur. I could be wrong as to animal, although that's not really important anymore now that it's dead. I sat down coz, whatever. It's a seat. Besides, it's not my business that she likes and can afford it.
Then I smelled it. It wasn't strong or overpowering, I can't really describe it. It somehow smelled like dead animal but not in the rotting, baking in the sun kind of odour. Maybe a little of the wet dog with the never had a bubble bath because I used to be a wild animal kind of frangrance. The smell was faint so maybe nobody else sensed it but it got me thinking, "Would I want to smell like that? Can she smell herself?"
I examined her coat when she got up to get off the train and walked behind her for awhile. The more I looked, the less attractive it seemed. As annoying as I find PETA to be most of the time, I do agree with them that wearing the skin of a dead animal is pretty disgusting. Would you want to wear the skin off of a hairy dead guy? Even if it came straight from Italy? I guess it's a status thing, like cars. But then I find those "rich people" cars laughable too, like the Mercedes-Benzs with hub caps. Zing!
So why are we discussing? This morning when I got on the train there was an empty seat next to a woman wearing a poofy, full length fur coat. It looked like wolf, that long white-off-white-grey kind of fur. I could be wrong as to animal, although that's not really important anymore now that it's dead. I sat down coz, whatever. It's a seat. Besides, it's not my business that she likes and can afford it.
Then I smelled it. It wasn't strong or overpowering, I can't really describe it. It somehow smelled like dead animal but not in the rotting, baking in the sun kind of odour. Maybe a little of the wet dog with the never had a bubble bath because I used to be a wild animal kind of frangrance. The smell was faint so maybe nobody else sensed it but it got me thinking, "Would I want to smell like that? Can she smell herself?"
I examined her coat when she got up to get off the train and walked behind her for awhile. The more I looked, the less attractive it seemed. As annoying as I find PETA to be most of the time, I do agree with them that wearing the skin of a dead animal is pretty disgusting. Would you want to wear the skin off of a hairy dead guy? Even if it came straight from Italy? I guess it's a status thing, like cars. But then I find those "rich people" cars laughable too, like the Mercedes-Benzs with hub caps. Zing!
December 15, 2005
Get Yer Fingers Outta There!
Yesterday as I was on my bus going home, a relatively attractive girl got on at one of the stops. I'd say she was in the 16-21 range, and I don't mind saying I checked her out a few times.
She sat across from me, but a few seats over so we weren't directly looking at each other. A few minutes after she sat down she took off one of her runners, propped her socked foot on her other knee and reached for it with her hand. At first I didn't pay too much attention coz she might've been readjusting her sock or something. We all do it. Then I saw that she was digging in between her toes quite vigorously. Ew! It wasn't a quick dig for a scratch or anything, she was going around her toes, between her toes and under her toes. Yuuuck... Then she repeated this digging with her other foot.
Through this entire exercise I couldn't help but stare. She didn't think anything of it, just looking out the window, not even being discrete. I don't even remember what expression I
had on my face: poker or -->
The worst part was that I could smell her feet from across the bus while she was scrubbing away. That hot, musty, thick feet smell was just wafting all around us. It was nasty and I'm just glad I wasn't feeling queasy at that moment. Perhaps I was just too focussed on her to feel anything else. Then I was thinking of how her fingers must be all stinkified and germy and maybe she'll have fish sticks and fries for dinner and it'll all get licked off along with the ketchup.....
Sometimes my imagination just goes nuts.
She sat across from me, but a few seats over so we weren't directly looking at each other. A few minutes after she sat down she took off one of her runners, propped her socked foot on her other knee and reached for it with her hand. At first I didn't pay too much attention coz she might've been readjusting her sock or something. We all do it. Then I saw that she was digging in between her toes quite vigorously. Ew! It wasn't a quick dig for a scratch or anything, she was going around her toes, between her toes and under her toes. Yuuuck... Then she repeated this digging with her other foot.
Through this entire exercise I couldn't help but stare. She didn't think anything of it, just looking out the window, not even being discrete. I don't even remember what expression I
had on my face: poker or -->The worst part was that I could smell her feet from across the bus while she was scrubbing away. That hot, musty, thick feet smell was just wafting all around us. It was nasty and I'm just glad I wasn't feeling queasy at that moment. Perhaps I was just too focussed on her to feel anything else. Then I was thinking of how her fingers must be all stinkified and germy and maybe she'll have fish sticks and fries for dinner and it'll all get licked off along with the ketchup.....
Sometimes my imagination just goes nuts.
December 14, 2005
In This Pregnancy Vein...
I'm not. I'm so very not. At all. So don't even think it.
Lately, I would say the last two months or so I've been feeling a little barfy. Mostly they've been espisodes that occur between the hours of 2pm to 6pm. On and off... I'll be OK one minute and the next I'll feel all nauseated. Then I have to put my head between my legs or turn off my monitor for a few minutes until I feel better. Little waves of nausea, but they're minor. It's never been so bad that I've had to head for the nearest washroom.
Yesterday a friend was hanging out in our office and I told him I was feeling barfy. But then I was also feeling hungry so I ate. He watched me eat (he scoooted his chair back a bit too) a tangerine and some Black Pepper Jack (mmmm......) doritos, all the while I'm feeling queasy. I am so weird. I don't know why I'm getting these little moments of sickness... and only during those few afternoon hours.
I do feel ick when people wearing strong colognes and perfumes come into our office. If it's too strong, they linger too long or I don't get out for fresh air I will get a headache, elevated heart rate, sweaty and clammy skin, nausea and my hands will shake. I even have a note from my doctor describing my chemical sensitivity to strong odours. But that's neither here nor there with my 2-6pm mystery episodes. Where's that Nancy Drew when you need her?
Lately, I would say the last two months or so I've been feeling a little barfy. Mostly they've been espisodes that occur between the hours of 2pm to 6pm. On and off... I'll be OK one minute and the next I'll feel all nauseated. Then I have to put my head between my legs or turn off my monitor for a few minutes until I feel better. Little waves of nausea, but they're minor. It's never been so bad that I've had to head for the nearest washroom.
Yesterday a friend was hanging out in our office and I told him I was feeling barfy. But then I was also feeling hungry so I ate. He watched me eat (he scoooted his chair back a bit too) a tangerine and some Black Pepper Jack (mmmm......) doritos, all the while I'm feeling queasy. I am so weird. I don't know why I'm getting these little moments of sickness... and only during those few afternoon hours.
I do feel ick when people wearing strong colognes and perfumes come into our office. If it's too strong, they linger too long or I don't get out for fresh air I will get a headache, elevated heart rate, sweaty and clammy skin, nausea and my hands will shake. I even have a note from my doctor describing my chemical sensitivity to strong odours. But that's neither here nor there with my 2-6pm mystery episodes. Where's that Nancy Drew when you need her?
December 09, 2005
I Could Be An Elephant
If you believe people at my work, I've been pregnant numerous times. Rumours were started, some by my friends, that I got knocked up and had to have a shotgun wedding. I've been married in excess of three years now. There are instances where more than 9 months have passed and the rumour persists that I'm still pregnant. Now I know the record for mammalian gestation periods belongs to the elephant at 22 months. I may have broken that record... many times over. I never show, or deliver for that matter so you would think after the first few "psych outs" people would let the issue die until I actually come out and say "I'm peppermint (courtesy: Bobby's World)."
I've had co-workers ask me questions varying in degrees of vague, "You look like you're glowing!" (which, at the time I happily agreed because I thought she was talking about my naturally radiant skin), beating around the bush, "I notice you snack a lot and make lots of bathroom trips", to downright rude. I take a sick day once in awhile when I need it. Upon my return I always get asked "Did you have morning sickness?? Are you pregnant?!?"
Not only do I find that last bit extremely rude and offputting, but it's curious that these people are more obsessed with me being pregnant than my parents... let me rephrase. My mom. Like all moms she's excited about future grandchildren and will ask me from time to time about when I'm going to start. I love teasing her, sometimes I can't stop laughing when she talks about it. Other times I feel like saying something crass like, "We're practicing like bunnies right now. We should be in tip top shape when we're ready to breed like bunnies."
There are several ladies here my age who are newly married too. I actively encourage and conspire to plant the seeds (keeee!) in everyone else's minds about certain states of spermination regarding my friends. I like to spread the fun around and hey, if we're all pregnant at the same time, how fun indeed!
A friend of mine recently purchased some books on the topic of "new mommies" for someone she knows who is actually for real pregnant. It's not even about being pregnant, it's about what to expect after delivery. I've decided to skip that whole messy 9 months and go straight to parenting and borrowed the book. I have now purposely placed it at the corner of my desk in the aim of spreading new rumours... just for kicks. Watch, it won't take long at all.
I've had co-workers ask me questions varying in degrees of vague, "You look like you're glowing!" (which, at the time I happily agreed because I thought she was talking about my naturally radiant skin), beating around the bush, "I notice you snack a lot and make lots of bathroom trips", to downright rude. I take a sick day once in awhile when I need it. Upon my return I always get asked "Did you have morning sickness?? Are you pregnant?!?"
Not only do I find that last bit extremely rude and offputting, but it's curious that these people are more obsessed with me being pregnant than my parents... let me rephrase. My mom. Like all moms she's excited about future grandchildren and will ask me from time to time about when I'm going to start. I love teasing her, sometimes I can't stop laughing when she talks about it. Other times I feel like saying something crass like, "We're practicing like bunnies right now. We should be in tip top shape when we're ready to breed like bunnies."
There are several ladies here my age who are newly married too. I actively encourage and conspire to plant the seeds (keeee!) in everyone else's minds about certain states of spermination regarding my friends. I like to spread the fun around and hey, if we're all pregnant at the same time, how fun indeed!
A friend of mine recently purchased some books on the topic of "new mommies" for someone she knows who is actually for real pregnant. It's not even about being pregnant, it's about what to expect after delivery. I've decided to skip that whole messy 9 months and go straight to parenting and borrowed the book. I have now purposely placed it at the corner of my desk in the aim of spreading new rumours... just for kicks. Watch, it won't take long at all.
December 07, 2005
So You Don't Like Christmas...
We're having a "Holiday Potluck" at work instead of what it is: a Christmas potluck. Apparently, we can't risk offending people who don't believe in Christmas. I heard a rumour that we're not even allowed to say the "C" word in front of some people. That really pisses me off because that's taking away from me. If you don't care for the Christian-based holidays that's fine, but don't make me and everyone else suffer for it.
I'm tired of this country where even thinking is taboo. I'm tired of this politically correct, politically sensitive culture we now live in where we have to pander to everyone. I am tired of this watered-down blandness we impose on ourselves just to please every last person. When did Christmas, the national anthem, individuality and religion in general become so wrong? Why can I not say or do what I want without feeling like a bad person?
I notice that while the beliefs and customs of minority groups are flourishing in Canada, European beliefs and customs (Easter, Christmas, Christianity) are being quashed. This "melting pot" thing isn't working, I never thought it was a good idea. I have no problems with a multicultural society but I don't agree that we hang onto our old lives while refusing to be "Canadians" because we love our motherlands more. What the hell are you doing here if everything back home is better? Why are you putting down my country when you live here too? You're using our welfare system, our health care system, our education system and taking jobs away from someone else who might want to be here and you're complaining?? Don't give me that shit about giving your kids a better life because if things are so good back home then your logic doesn't wash. And you really think you're doing them a favour by bad mouthing Canada, not learning our customs and languages and isolating yourselves in your own little groups?
If you live here, you should be Canadian, which doesn't mean you turn your back on your people, beliefs or identity. You need to respect our customs and beliefs just as much as you expect us to respect yours. Why should we have to be whipped into submission because you don't like something that doesn't belong to you? You may not believe in or celebrate Christmas just as I don't believe in or celebrate Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Hanukkah and any other religious/cultural event, but that's OK. It's OK to have different and separate beliefs. Making us change our holidays' names so you're not offended is just petty. If I asked you to change yours, you'd be calling me a racist, hateful, uneducated, everything-that's-wrong-with-this-world idiot before I even finish talking. Right?
If you're so adamant about not celebrating Christmas, Easter or any other of our holidays then maybe you should come into work on those days and put in your 8 hours. I notice nobody ever complains about getting paid holidays. On the flip side, I shouldn't have to pay you for taking every Friday afternoon off for religious reasons. You can worship, but not at my expense as a taxpayer. If I pay you for 8 hours' work each day you should be doing your job. If you need time off, use your vacation days.
So to the people who love and celebrate Christmas, I say Merry Christmas! Lots of Yuletide joy to you and yours. To the people who don't celebrate Christmas but don't make a fuss about it, I say Happy Holidays. Hope you enjoy some extra family time. And because I'm not politically correct, to the complainers and the whiners: A MERRY FUCK YOU!
I'm tired of this country where even thinking is taboo. I'm tired of this politically correct, politically sensitive culture we now live in where we have to pander to everyone. I am tired of this watered-down blandness we impose on ourselves just to please every last person. When did Christmas, the national anthem, individuality and religion in general become so wrong? Why can I not say or do what I want without feeling like a bad person?
I notice that while the beliefs and customs of minority groups are flourishing in Canada, European beliefs and customs (Easter, Christmas, Christianity) are being quashed. This "melting pot" thing isn't working, I never thought it was a good idea. I have no problems with a multicultural society but I don't agree that we hang onto our old lives while refusing to be "Canadians" because we love our motherlands more. What the hell are you doing here if everything back home is better? Why are you putting down my country when you live here too? You're using our welfare system, our health care system, our education system and taking jobs away from someone else who might want to be here and you're complaining?? Don't give me that shit about giving your kids a better life because if things are so good back home then your logic doesn't wash. And you really think you're doing them a favour by bad mouthing Canada, not learning our customs and languages and isolating yourselves in your own little groups?
If you live here, you should be Canadian, which doesn't mean you turn your back on your people, beliefs or identity. You need to respect our customs and beliefs just as much as you expect us to respect yours. Why should we have to be whipped into submission because you don't like something that doesn't belong to you? You may not believe in or celebrate Christmas just as I don't believe in or celebrate Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Hanukkah and any other religious/cultural event, but that's OK. It's OK to have different and separate beliefs. Making us change our holidays' names so you're not offended is just petty. If I asked you to change yours, you'd be calling me a racist, hateful, uneducated, everything-that's-wrong-with-this-world idiot before I even finish talking. Right?
If you're so adamant about not celebrating Christmas, Easter or any other of our holidays then maybe you should come into work on those days and put in your 8 hours. I notice nobody ever complains about getting paid holidays. On the flip side, I shouldn't have to pay you for taking every Friday afternoon off for religious reasons. You can worship, but not at my expense as a taxpayer. If I pay you for 8 hours' work each day you should be doing your job. If you need time off, use your vacation days.
So to the people who love and celebrate Christmas, I say Merry Christmas! Lots of Yuletide joy to you and yours. To the people who don't celebrate Christmas but don't make a fuss about it, I say Happy Holidays. Hope you enjoy some extra family time. And because I'm not politically correct, to the complainers and the whiners: A MERRY FUCK YOU!
December 04, 2005
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
We went down for a hockey game between the Pens and the Calgary Flames. We got up at 6am on yesterday (Saturday) and set off. We got our dose of Timmy's... I realized we never drink so much as when we're on a road trip when we become caffeine whores. Anyway, the drive was nice. Who knew the state of Pennsylvania was so pretty? Lots of rolling hills and valleys, very unlike the boring flatness of Southern Ontario. Nothing out of the ordinary, except across the border it's deer season so we'd occasionally see hunters in fluorescent orange suits in the woods as we're zooming by. On a side note, my grandmother told me that when you're hunting you have to bring pink toilet paper. If someone sees white flapping around (like when you're wiping after a doo doo), they could assume it's the butt of a deer and take aim. Ouch. Sage advice if you ever think of going out into the bush during hunting season.
The drive took about 6 hours, maybe less. We stopped at the outlet mall in Grove City. Much to buy, nothing that really caught our eye. I liked the one in Michigan better. We did find some roadside stores that sell fireworks and Mr. Stinky almost wet his pants. We didn't buy too too much in case we get stopped at the border, but their shit is a fraction of what you pay in Ontario. I got a brick that shoots 100 crayon-sized missiles with reports for: $2.95US!!!
Pittsburgh is a nice city. The buildings were nice. Very unique architecture... although my knowledge of architecture doesn't extend past "arcs are strong". Modern buildings, archaic buildings, buildings over roads, roads through buildings, interesting stuff.
We sat in the upper bowl of the arena directly behind home net. They were actually good seats, this way we could see the Flames on offense twice. There were also a lot of Flames fans. We wore our jerseys and didn't feel out of place, the fans were friendly enough as well. A little bit of ribbing but it was in good fun. Calgary won 3-2 and we were happy.
We thought about driving home after the game but hotels are cheap down there and Mr. Stinky was tired so we stayed down. People in the next room were loud and rowdy into the early hours of the morning. We were pissed because we had wanted to get some sleep and leave early so we probably only got about 3-4 hours of sleep. I really wanted to exact some revenge in the line of fireworks and snowballs. I was even thinking of pouring water under their door and soaking their carpet. When we got up at 5am this morning, Mr. Stinky banged on their walls a few times. Dumbasses!
Lake effect really drives the snow down when she feels like it. It had snowed 1-3 inches overnight and was still going when we left. Some spots were OK, others were not; we drove in white-out conditions. AT LEAST PEOPLE KNEW HOW TO DRIVE IN IT!!! Southern Ontario has nothing on the northeastern states. Bridges were icy and driving was hazardous at times. Mr. Stinky had to be really careful and even though I could barely keep my eyes opened, I made myself stay awake to watch out for cars, deer, edge of the road...
So we made it back OK. No snow here, but 5 times the amount of salt on the ground. We drove just under 1200 km in 2 days. Not bad. We enjoyed the trip, we'll have to think about where we want to go next time. It'll have to have fireworks, though. ;0)
The drive took about 6 hours, maybe less. We stopped at the outlet mall in Grove City. Much to buy, nothing that really caught our eye. I liked the one in Michigan better. We did find some roadside stores that sell fireworks and Mr. Stinky almost wet his pants. We didn't buy too too much in case we get stopped at the border, but their shit is a fraction of what you pay in Ontario. I got a brick that shoots 100 crayon-sized missiles with reports for: $2.95US!!!
Pittsburgh is a nice city. The buildings were nice. Very unique architecture... although my knowledge of architecture doesn't extend past "arcs are strong". Modern buildings, archaic buildings, buildings over roads, roads through buildings, interesting stuff.
We sat in the upper bowl of the arena directly behind home net. They were actually good seats, this way we could see the Flames on offense twice. There were also a lot of Flames fans. We wore our jerseys and didn't feel out of place, the fans were friendly enough as well. A little bit of ribbing but it was in good fun. Calgary won 3-2 and we were happy.
We thought about driving home after the game but hotels are cheap down there and Mr. Stinky was tired so we stayed down. People in the next room were loud and rowdy into the early hours of the morning. We were pissed because we had wanted to get some sleep and leave early so we probably only got about 3-4 hours of sleep. I really wanted to exact some revenge in the line of fireworks and snowballs. I was even thinking of pouring water under their door and soaking their carpet. When we got up at 5am this morning, Mr. Stinky banged on their walls a few times. Dumbasses!
Lake effect really drives the snow down when she feels like it. It had snowed 1-3 inches overnight and was still going when we left. Some spots were OK, others were not; we drove in white-out conditions. AT LEAST PEOPLE KNEW HOW TO DRIVE IN IT!!! Southern Ontario has nothing on the northeastern states. Bridges were icy and driving was hazardous at times. Mr. Stinky had to be really careful and even though I could barely keep my eyes opened, I made myself stay awake to watch out for cars, deer, edge of the road...
So we made it back OK. No snow here, but 5 times the amount of salt on the ground. We drove just under 1200 km in 2 days. Not bad. We enjoyed the trip, we'll have to think about where we want to go next time. It'll have to have fireworks, though. ;0)
December 01, 2005
Le Sigh...
I didn't even realize that it's my PMS time, I've been relatively OK this whole week if a little blah about the weather. Today I was feeling mopey and didn't really want to do anything. It wasn't until mid-morning that I remembered that this is my week of misery and anger, which isn't much different from next week. That's the week of misery and discomfort. Come to think of it, any day or week where I go to work is generally a time of misery. Hmm.
So I will talk and carry on a conversation but there will also be periods where I'm just quiet, staring off into space and not partaking in any activities going on around me. I'm like that. My teenage years was basically one long, self-imposed silence. I could sit all day, be aware of what was going on but not say anything. I was Silent Bob before I even knew about Silent Bob. Odd, but that was how it was. I freaked out more than a few adults from my parents' church who didn't like that I wasn't the same, white-bread, happy-go-lucky and "friends with everyone" kid like the rest of the church kids.
When I'm quiet people around me find it disturbing. I guess in a world of hustle and bustle, many don't know what is or feel comfortable with silence. It's not a thing of right and wrong, it's just a thing. And you know they're thinking "is this person mad at me?", "is this person waiting for me to say something?", "seriously, did I do something wrong??"
I know. But sometimes in the moment I just don't care enough to say or do anything to rectify the situation. I feel like a lot of the time I am the centre of attention and I have to put in the extra effort to keep the conversation going, keep the jokes running. As soon as I stop, so does the talking. After a few moments of silence the discomfort level rising around me is palpable. Then I feel bad that now everyone around me's feeling down. I totally wouldn't mind if they ignored me and kept up their own conversation. Sometimes it's nice to just listen to other voices while you think. Or zone out. Or whatever. I know I do it when a friend isn't feeling talkative (and there's really nothing wrong). If I'm feeling yappy there's no stopping me, I don't even have time to pause sometimes to let others talk. I'll look at quiet friend from time to time to keep him/her in the conversation, even if just to acknowledge that he/she is there and listening but I usually won't demand participation.
I don't know what the purpose of this blog was ...maybe I just have alphabetic diarrhea? The first three letters must be PMS.
So I will talk and carry on a conversation but there will also be periods where I'm just quiet, staring off into space and not partaking in any activities going on around me. I'm like that. My teenage years was basically one long, self-imposed silence. I could sit all day, be aware of what was going on but not say anything. I was Silent Bob before I even knew about Silent Bob. Odd, but that was how it was. I freaked out more than a few adults from my parents' church who didn't like that I wasn't the same, white-bread, happy-go-lucky and "friends with everyone" kid like the rest of the church kids.
When I'm quiet people around me find it disturbing. I guess in a world of hustle and bustle, many don't know what is or feel comfortable with silence. It's not a thing of right and wrong, it's just a thing. And you know they're thinking "is this person mad at me?", "is this person waiting for me to say something?", "seriously, did I do something wrong??"
I know. But sometimes in the moment I just don't care enough to say or do anything to rectify the situation. I feel like a lot of the time I am the centre of attention and I have to put in the extra effort to keep the conversation going, keep the jokes running. As soon as I stop, so does the talking. After a few moments of silence the discomfort level rising around me is palpable. Then I feel bad that now everyone around me's feeling down. I totally wouldn't mind if they ignored me and kept up their own conversation. Sometimes it's nice to just listen to other voices while you think. Or zone out. Or whatever. I know I do it when a friend isn't feeling talkative (and there's really nothing wrong). If I'm feeling yappy there's no stopping me, I don't even have time to pause sometimes to let others talk. I'll look at quiet friend from time to time to keep him/her in the conversation, even if just to acknowledge that he/she is there and listening but I usually won't demand participation.
I don't know what the purpose of this blog was ...maybe I just have alphabetic diarrhea? The first three letters must be PMS.
November 28, 2005
Much Ado About Poopy
Today's story comes from the washroom. There was a woman occupying one of the stalls and she went quiet as soon as I walked in. I knew what she was doing, this wasn't the first time I had encountered such activities. If I don't hear trickling, I'm fairly certain you're not peeing. I would say I was in there for about 3-4 minutes and in that span of time, said woman did nothing. Moved not a muscle, made not a squeak.Now come on, we're all grown ups. There aren't too many things you do in the loo, being absolutely still and pretending you're not there doesn't fool me into thinking you've got a shy bladder. Everyone makes regular Number Twos, you're not so special that you're the only one who has to go. Now I know making poopy noises and smells might be embarrassing and I don't suggest you loudly trumpet and say, "Did you hear that?" but when you gotta go, you gotta go. I know why you're there, I know what you're doing and I really don't care. I'm not going to run out and tell on you, "Guess what so and so's doing in there? Eeeww!" Similarly, if we both happen to finish our business and get to the sinks at the same time I won't be a jerk about it. "Woo-wee! Dinner must've been garlicky!" It's a normal life function: I make boom boom and so do you.
Hey, maybe one of these days I'll bring in a lounge chair, a really fat book and a little clock. See how long a person is willing to sit there and "pretend" she's not doing anything. Tuh!
Actually, there was this one time I was washing my hands while another, random and silent woman was hanging out in her stall. All of a sudden I heard something akin to a puppy screaming. Seriously. Puzzled, I turned off the tap and paused to listen. Turns out she couldn't hold it any longer and was in the middle of releasing some pent-up, really loud pressure. I finished up and ran out the door. Hahaha... screaming puppies...
November 17, 2005
What Do Your Babies Like to Eat?
I was just thinking about it downstairs while patiently holding out a cheesy puff for my princess Whiskey. You see, she likes them. Only Cheetos brand, there are no substitutes and I totally agree. She likes to inspect everything we eat before we eat it, and we've found that there are a few human foods that she will eat.
She doesn't really eat the cheesy puff, mostly she licks it all around.. get that furry coating of cheese. Sometimes she'll gently bite down on a corner of one, but she really just likes the best part: the taste. She also likes butter, melted butter. It is gross considering she licks herself.. everywhere but she gets first dibs on my toast while it's fresh and buttered. But then I don't think I'm all that gross when I think about dog owners getting sloppy kisses. Besides, my Whisk can do no wrong.
My first cat which now belongs to my mom and dad, Kit Kat liked yogurt and Timbits. I say liked, coz now she won't let me get close enough to her for me to try feeding her. But when I lived at home, I'd spoon-feed her my yogurt before I stirred it. Yum! When daddy came home from work with the leftover Timbits, I'd pick out an original, the only kind she liked. Then we'd sit on the kitchen floor and she'd eat the morsels as fast as I ripped them off the Timbit. If I wasn't fast enough feeding her, she'd put her paw on my hand and stick her face into the Timbit. The glutton.
Iggy... we're not sure. Since he's only 9 months old we haven't had quite too much time to really get to know him. What I can say is, he's like a dog. He'll put anything in his mouth and try it: litter, leaves, dirt, hair, etc.
We're not ready for a dog yet, but we eagerly await the stage in our lives when we feel we'll be able to raise one. In the meantime, we jet to the in-laws' to visit their "special" bull terrier Dillon (also Dodo, Ro!Ro!, and any kind of repetitive grunting). He's special in many ways, paper blowing by makes him shake with fear but throw a ball into a briar patch and he dives headfirst into it. When he's upset with you he won't look at you and will keep turning his head away to avoid eye contact. He doesn't do stairs or couches well, he prefers being lifted into place. The list goes on and on, but we should get back to the point. What does he like to eat?
As a dog, there's not much he doesn't like. OK, he doesn't like grapes a whole lot coz they're smooth and round and squirts out of his mouth when he tries to bite down. But other than that, he's game. At the top of his list: poo. Mmmm! His favourite favourite: goose poo! Walks in the park have provided him with some of his best meals. You can watch and catch him before he gets most of it, but let your guard down and he just inhales as much and as fast as he can. Being a dog, eating is a timed Olympic sport.
I know. Gross. Goose poo breath. It's a good thing he's not big on kisses. Just don't let him lick your toast.
By the way, he likes to be spoon-fed too.
She doesn't really eat the cheesy puff, mostly she licks it all around.. get that furry coating of cheese. Sometimes she'll gently bite down on a corner of one, but she really just likes the best part: the taste. She also likes butter, melted butter. It is gross considering she licks herself.. everywhere but she gets first dibs on my toast while it's fresh and buttered. But then I don't think I'm all that gross when I think about dog owners getting sloppy kisses. Besides, my Whisk can do no wrong.
My first cat which now belongs to my mom and dad, Kit Kat liked yogurt and Timbits. I say liked, coz now she won't let me get close enough to her for me to try feeding her. But when I lived at home, I'd spoon-feed her my yogurt before I stirred it. Yum! When daddy came home from work with the leftover Timbits, I'd pick out an original, the only kind she liked. Then we'd sit on the kitchen floor and she'd eat the morsels as fast as I ripped them off the Timbit. If I wasn't fast enough feeding her, she'd put her paw on my hand and stick her face into the Timbit. The glutton.
Iggy... we're not sure. Since he's only 9 months old we haven't had quite too much time to really get to know him. What I can say is, he's like a dog. He'll put anything in his mouth and try it: litter, leaves, dirt, hair, etc.
We're not ready for a dog yet, but we eagerly await the stage in our lives when we feel we'll be able to raise one. In the meantime, we jet to the in-laws' to visit their "special" bull terrier Dillon (also Dodo, Ro!Ro!, and any kind of repetitive grunting). He's special in many ways, paper blowing by makes him shake with fear but throw a ball into a briar patch and he dives headfirst into it. When he's upset with you he won't look at you and will keep turning his head away to avoid eye contact. He doesn't do stairs or couches well, he prefers being lifted into place. The list goes on and on, but we should get back to the point. What does he like to eat?
As a dog, there's not much he doesn't like. OK, he doesn't like grapes a whole lot coz they're smooth and round and squirts out of his mouth when he tries to bite down. But other than that, he's game. At the top of his list: poo. Mmmm! His favourite favourite: goose poo! Walks in the park have provided him with some of his best meals. You can watch and catch him before he gets most of it, but let your guard down and he just inhales as much and as fast as he can. Being a dog, eating is a timed Olympic sport.
I know. Gross. Goose poo breath. It's a good thing he's not big on kisses. Just don't let him lick your toast.
By the way, he likes to be spoon-fed too.
November 13, 2005
November Long Weekend
I'm going to wrap up my long weekend into one entry.
I have a minor cold, thanks to all the germy, nasty commuters and co-workers who don't cover their mouths, use kleenexes or take a sick day. I may turtle into my jacket collar and try to hide from your billions of germs misting around my head but I know that doesn't keep me safe.
I want to mention Rememberance Day. I really am grateful to all the veterans who made it safe for me to live here in Canada. I think of my grandfather who came home from the war and how lucky we were to have him in our lives. There are so many people who didn't come home to their families, to the rest of their lives. I am proud to wear the poppy over my heart as a thank you to the brave soldiers and non-combatants who sacrificed themselves for me.
Friday was the Nine Inch Nails concert. We were surrounded by goths, freaks and pot. The ACC was hotboxed and there were so many people so high they didn't stop screaming and/or dancing/head banging for the entire night. I don't know what the big deal about pot is, my friends smoke it and I've always thought it smelled like angry skunks or something equally nasty. Not my cuppa tea. We didn't have the greatest seats but it was a great concert anyway. I've never been a big Nine Inch Nails fan but I've come away from this experience with a newfound respect for Trent Reznor and his talents after seeing them live. I wikipedia-ed him and found lots of information. By the way, that's my new favourite website: Wikipedia . It's awesome, you can find absolutely everything you want on there. Did you know Trent Reznor's only 5'6"? Too short for me, sorry babes. ;0)
We also had a door-to-door guy yesterday. I answered the door and he asked if my parents were home. Yay! Hahaha... it didn't work, I didn't give him any money but at least my ego was stroked and that's important too, right?
Song I'm loving right now: Dierks Bentley's Come a Little Closer. Beautiful.
I have a minor cold, thanks to all the germy, nasty commuters and co-workers who don't cover their mouths, use kleenexes or take a sick day. I may turtle into my jacket collar and try to hide from your billions of germs misting around my head but I know that doesn't keep me safe.
I want to mention Rememberance Day. I really am grateful to all the veterans who made it safe for me to live here in Canada. I think of my grandfather who came home from the war and how lucky we were to have him in our lives. There are so many people who didn't come home to their families, to the rest of their lives. I am proud to wear the poppy over my heart as a thank you to the brave soldiers and non-combatants who sacrificed themselves for me.
Friday was the Nine Inch Nails concert. We were surrounded by goths, freaks and pot. The ACC was hotboxed and there were so many people so high they didn't stop screaming and/or dancing/head banging for the entire night. I don't know what the big deal about pot is, my friends smoke it and I've always thought it smelled like angry skunks or something equally nasty. Not my cuppa tea. We didn't have the greatest seats but it was a great concert anyway. I've never been a big Nine Inch Nails fan but I've come away from this experience with a newfound respect for Trent Reznor and his talents after seeing them live. I wikipedia-ed him and found lots of information. By the way, that's my new favourite website: Wikipedia . It's awesome, you can find absolutely everything you want on there. Did you know Trent Reznor's only 5'6"? Too short for me, sorry babes. ;0)We also had a door-to-door guy yesterday. I answered the door and he asked if my parents were home. Yay! Hahaha... it didn't work, I didn't give him any money but at least my ego was stroked and that's important too, right?
Song I'm loving right now: Dierks Bentley's Come a Little Closer. Beautiful.
November 10, 2005
First Snow!
It was cold, it was super windy, it was snowing this morning!
I had on my scarf, my mittens, my toque and I was still a little bit cold but it was OK because I've been waiting for the snow to come... or winter in general, I suppose. Don't you just love how the snow just blankets everything making a winter wonderland? The noises are gone, just a peaceful, crisp white world.
Commuting's not so fun. Actually, I notice people in the GTA don't know how to drive at all. Moisture in the air.. slam on the brakes! There's white drifting around on the ground but no accumulation.. slam on the brakes! I've been to areas out of the GTA and people drive just fine in inclement weather. I've been in Quebec in the middle of winter on a night in which we got a foot of snow in about an hour and people drove at almost regular speeds without incident. I don't like winter driving here, no good.
Snow snow snow! I can't wait to take Iggy out into the snow. We took Whiskey out in her harness and leash on a beautiful day after it had snowed all night when she was younger. I zipped her up in my jacket and off we went. She wasn't crazy about being outside but it was warm in my jacket so she was OK. Mr. Stinky had the bright idea of tossing her into the snow. She looked up at him and yowled her displeasure. Hahaha...
November 08, 2005
WAH!
I don't WAANNnnaaa....It's one of those days. I have a permanent pout on and nothing's making me feel better. See this kid? That's exactly what I'm doing right now. He's really cute by the way...
I didn't want to get up this morning. Mr. Stinky told me to wake up and I tossed and turned and flipped the duvet all over the bed whining about having to get up.
I couldn't decide what to eat for breakfast so I ate some rice crispy squares that need to be eaten but I didn't feel like. I figured I'd eat at work coz I usually have stuff there for my at-work/second breakfast and other snacks to munch on throughout the day.
Now that I'm here I don't feel like anything. Raisin bread, no. Pringles, no. Cookies, no. If you know me then you know that me and Pringles are secret lovers. I currently have 3 empties and 1 almost empty on my desk... it's like we live for each other. I don't feel like.
I'm whining to my co-worker and whining/OT/world bashing/snack buddy Nancy and she's having a Whiny Day too. I don't feel like doing my work. I'm hungry but I don't feel like eating what I've got. I'm not liking the music they're playing on the radio today. I want to stay in bed today and pout. We need Whiny Days like sick days at work. "Morning, (insert manager's name). I'm afraid I'll have to take a Whiny Day today, I just don't think I can come into work and be civilized. Hopefully I'll feel mature enough tomorrow to face the world again. See you then."
October 31, 2005
Happy Hallowe'en!
It was my very first one in our house and it was fun! We live in a very new subdivision with a lot of younger families so I was ready for the kids. We got a huge bag of candy at Sam's Club and another bag of lollipops, I wasn't going to run out.
Quite a few kids, although trick or treatin' time was only from about 6pm to 8pm. They had to go home to bed. I didn't have a single 13 year old dressed in baggy pants and shirt, holding a dirty pillow case saying "Trick or treat" in a deep, baritone voice.
We had a cool pumpkin carved by the artist Mr. Stinky. It's got a snot ramp and everything! I especially like the stitched lip detailing, very cool!
Our next door neighbours were very festive and did their house up very nicely. Loud, scary music, cobwebs, flashing pumpkins, an impaled head on a spike and a giant, furry spider sitting on his car. I heard more than a few terrified screams and crying from the younger kids passing by his house.
A couple of highlights:
>A little boy about 3 or 4 dressed as a tiger tripping all the way up the four steps to our front door getting out of breath, was so excited he was panting and yelling "Twick oh thweet! Knock KNOCK! Twick... twick oh thweet!" before I had the door opened. His dad was watching from the sidewalk and I tried not to laugh, he was so cute! (The little boy!)
>Another boy about the same age dressed as a hockey player complete with a helmut flew up the stairs in such a rush he almost did trip and fall face first onto my concrete porch. He must've pre-tanked with the sweets coz he was going a mile a minute, couldn't stand still and was off before the candy hit the bottom of his pail with me yelling after him to be careful. His mom was laughing from the sidewalk that it was a good thing he was wearing the helmut.
>A very shy little 5 year old boy who had to be nudged up to the door by daddy. He was dressed as The Cat in the Hat and was very leery of me. Dad urged him to say the magic words, but he was shy and continued looking at me with the same suspicious expression. We smiled and shrugged and I dropped some candy into his pail. He looked into his pail, then back up at me and still had that same expression on. Like, "that's it?" His dad laughed kind of embarassed, thanked me and carried him off.
>A little girl about 3 who was so cute I forgot what she was dressed up as. Her mom was watching from the sidewalk and she was so little she could barely climb the steps. I squatted down, so did she and I let her pick. Here's what she said "blelabalalebhle this ong", I offered her to pick another one and she repeated approximately the same thing. I ended up grabbing a few more things and shoving them into her baggy just coz she was so cute.
Heee. The kids are so cute! We'll do this again next year and I'll be giving you the full report again.
Quite a few kids, although trick or treatin' time was only from about 6pm to 8pm. They had to go home to bed. I didn't have a single 13 year old dressed in baggy pants and shirt, holding a dirty pillow case saying "Trick or treat" in a deep, baritone voice.
We had a cool pumpkin carved by the artist Mr. Stinky. It's got a snot ramp and everything! I especially like the stitched lip detailing, very cool!
Our next door neighbours were very festive and did their house up very nicely. Loud, scary music, cobwebs, flashing pumpkins, an impaled head on a spike and a giant, furry spider sitting on his car. I heard more than a few terrified screams and crying from the younger kids passing by his house.
A couple of highlights:
>A little boy about 3 or 4 dressed as a tiger tripping all the way up the four steps to our front door getting out of breath, was so excited he was panting and yelling "Twick oh thweet! Knock KNOCK! Twick... twick oh thweet!" before I had the door opened. His dad was watching from the sidewalk and I tried not to laugh, he was so cute! (The little boy!)
>Another boy about the same age dressed as a hockey player complete with a helmut flew up the stairs in such a rush he almost did trip and fall face first onto my concrete porch. He must've pre-tanked with the sweets coz he was going a mile a minute, couldn't stand still and was off before the candy hit the bottom of his pail with me yelling after him to be careful. His mom was laughing from the sidewalk that it was a good thing he was wearing the helmut.
>A very shy little 5 year old boy who had to be nudged up to the door by daddy. He was dressed as The Cat in the Hat and was very leery of me. Dad urged him to say the magic words, but he was shy and continued looking at me with the same suspicious expression. We smiled and shrugged and I dropped some candy into his pail. He looked into his pail, then back up at me and still had that same expression on. Like, "that's it?" His dad laughed kind of embarassed, thanked me and carried him off.
>A little girl about 3 who was so cute I forgot what she was dressed up as. Her mom was watching from the sidewalk and she was so little she could barely climb the steps. I squatted down, so did she and I let her pick. Here's what she said "blelabalalebhle this ong", I offered her to pick another one and she repeated approximately the same thing. I ended up grabbing a few more things and shoving them into her baggy just coz she was so cute.
Heee. The kids are so cute! We'll do this again next year and I'll be giving you the full report again.
October 27, 2005
How Old Am I, Bitch?!
I suppose I can break the news that we didn't win the $54 million lottery jackpot. That's not the story, although if I did I'd totally let you know how I planned on frivolously wasting my newfound wealth. ;0)
I'm the ticket buyer in the relationship. I pay $2 at the kiosk for whichever lottery I feel like playing (bigger jackpot!!) every week and never see anything back again. It's a great game! It's never a big deal; money on counter, grunt a few words and put a useless little piece of paper in my wallet. Same routine, every kiosk, every convenience store.
Yesterday Mr. Stinky decided to buy a ticket as well... increase our chances a little. Y'know, from 1 in 14 million to 2 in 14 million. Good odds. However, and I say that with great disdain, he got carded. Yes! The guy actually asked Mr. Stinky to prove that he was at least 18 years of age. Holy crap, this sucks so much! I NEVER get carded! Not for lottery tickets, not at the movies, not at the LCBO and not at The Beer Store. What the hell?!? And it's not just this instance, he gets carded buying alcohol too!
Now I know for a fact that by law, if you look under 25, if there's even a suspicion that you may be younger than you are, you must be ID-ed. It is an enormous insult to me that since I hit my early 20s I am no longer asked to prove my age.
Do I look old? Do I have a receding hairline, turkey wattle or toot around in my little scooter? Do I wear shapeless dresses that end just high enough so that you can see my nylons drooping down my calves? Surely someone might think I could be a 17 year old trying to sneak some cheap booze out into the parking lot to get drunk with my other underaged friends and end up peeing on the side of the store and being all youthfully rowdy.
I get so excited about being asked for my ID that I will actually sing to Mr. Stinky right there "I got car..deddd!" Usually my driver's licence is ready to go before I even get to the front of the line, that's how much of a loser I am. The only place I get carded is at the casino, but that's coz they got stiff rules and I'm sure going with Mr. Stinky helps a lot since apparently he looks like he could be under 18 years old.
Who doesn't want to look younger than they are? I've been moisturizing since I grew hands. Oil of Olay: twice a day. I started using it because it's what my mommy used and she smelled good. Come tell me I look 19, my fragile ego needs it. Flatter me a little, it does the complexion good.
I'm the ticket buyer in the relationship. I pay $2 at the kiosk for whichever lottery I feel like playing (bigger jackpot!!) every week and never see anything back again. It's a great game! It's never a big deal; money on counter, grunt a few words and put a useless little piece of paper in my wallet. Same routine, every kiosk, every convenience store.
Yesterday Mr. Stinky decided to buy a ticket as well... increase our chances a little. Y'know, from 1 in 14 million to 2 in 14 million. Good odds. However, and I say that with great disdain, he got carded. Yes! The guy actually asked Mr. Stinky to prove that he was at least 18 years of age. Holy crap, this sucks so much! I NEVER get carded! Not for lottery tickets, not at the movies, not at the LCBO and not at The Beer Store. What the hell?!? And it's not just this instance, he gets carded buying alcohol too!
Now I know for a fact that by law, if you look under 25, if there's even a suspicion that you may be younger than you are, you must be ID-ed. It is an enormous insult to me that since I hit my early 20s I am no longer asked to prove my age.
Do I look old? Do I have a receding hairline, turkey wattle or toot around in my little scooter? Do I wear shapeless dresses that end just high enough so that you can see my nylons drooping down my calves? Surely someone might think I could be a 17 year old trying to sneak some cheap booze out into the parking lot to get drunk with my other underaged friends and end up peeing on the side of the store and being all youthfully rowdy.
I get so excited about being asked for my ID that I will actually sing to Mr. Stinky right there "I got car..deddd!" Usually my driver's licence is ready to go before I even get to the front of the line, that's how much of a loser I am. The only place I get carded is at the casino, but that's coz they got stiff rules and I'm sure going with Mr. Stinky helps a lot since apparently he looks like he could be under 18 years old.
Who doesn't want to look younger than they are? I've been moisturizing since I grew hands. Oil of Olay: twice a day. I started using it because it's what my mommy used and she smelled good. Come tell me I look 19, my fragile ego needs it. Flatter me a little, it does the complexion good.
October 19, 2005
What Have You Forgotten?
I was washing my hands this morning and the song "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" popped into my head. I started singing it. I made it halfway through and got stuck. I realized that I had forgotten the words to this song.
How is it possible that my childhood seems so far away in the foggy past that I can't remember the words to such a simple, but universal song we've been singing since we were little? It disturbs me more than a little that this is happening not because the song has meaning to me, but what I told myself would never happen has indeed occurred: I've grown up and forgotten. I've become a boring, stale adult and I lack the imagination that used to entertain me faithfully.
I don't see things in the clouds anymore, or wonder how I can get around like the Care Bears do without falling back down to earth. It's been a long, long time since I've looked for that fallen and hollowed out log to crawl through that would take me to Fred Penner's place. I don't walk home now pacing myself so that my foot lands exactly in the middle of the sidewalk slab. My thoughts now are filled with such things like bill payments, deadlines at work, groceries, keeping the house clean, kids or no kids, mortgage and gas prices. It's disheartening that I'm feeling older than I am and I don't have space in my head to think about silly kids' stuff anymore.
We all have to grow up. I accept that, heck I spent my first 18 years or so trying to do just that. I just never thought I'd become old. I don't want to get to adulthood and forget about how to be young, a kid or think about something other than regular life. I have to go Google the words to the rest of the song now, because I still can't make the words come back. I have to rely on a machine to bring back my childhood.
How is it possible that my childhood seems so far away in the foggy past that I can't remember the words to such a simple, but universal song we've been singing since we were little? It disturbs me more than a little that this is happening not because the song has meaning to me, but what I told myself would never happen has indeed occurred: I've grown up and forgotten. I've become a boring, stale adult and I lack the imagination that used to entertain me faithfully.
I don't see things in the clouds anymore, or wonder how I can get around like the Care Bears do without falling back down to earth. It's been a long, long time since I've looked for that fallen and hollowed out log to crawl through that would take me to Fred Penner's place. I don't walk home now pacing myself so that my foot lands exactly in the middle of the sidewalk slab. My thoughts now are filled with such things like bill payments, deadlines at work, groceries, keeping the house clean, kids or no kids, mortgage and gas prices. It's disheartening that I'm feeling older than I am and I don't have space in my head to think about silly kids' stuff anymore.
We all have to grow up. I accept that, heck I spent my first 18 years or so trying to do just that. I just never thought I'd become old. I don't want to get to adulthood and forget about how to be young, a kid or think about something other than regular life. I have to go Google the words to the rest of the song now, because I still can't make the words come back. I have to rely on a machine to bring back my childhood.
October 12, 2005
Paging Dr. Dick...
My doctor is sending me to a specialist, it's nothing serious. A second opinion, really and that's about all I'm willing to share. I called to set up an appointment, this was August. I called and was told he could see me in mid-November. I got to pick the time. Gol-ly! I can see where my tax dollars are going. What if I had some nasty, bubbling growth coming out the side of my face? "We'll see you in 4 light-years then, OK dear?" Anyway, I stressed to the secretary that I had work (like everyone else) and needed a late appointment so as not to miss too much of the workday.
Last Friday was PMS week. I received a message on my answering machine. It seems that they decided to move my appointment... to 1245pm. What the fuck. Did my request about a late timeslot go right out the window? I guess when you have to book your appointment before time began, paper was invented and common sense came about details are bound to be left out. Let's see, I go to work for 3 hours, take a 1 1/2 hour ride on the Rocket going the speed of a hamster on a wheel to the specialist, wait maybe another hour for him to finish picking his toenails and playing Hangman on his deskpad, see him for about 5 minutes.. long enough for him to tell me everything's fine. Return flight to work ETA 1 1/2 hour, try to do something productive for an hour and go home. Weee! Too late to call Friday, so it had to wait until Monday. Week of constant irritations and discomfort. Get it?
So I call Monday and the chipper receptionist answers the phone. I explain my situation and she says it had to be moved because the doctor decided to close earlier due to blah blah fiddlesticks. It really didn't sound important. Already stewing from the situation and having her being so damn chipper didn't help. I asked why they booked a 4pm appointment if he wanted to go home at 330pm. Blah twee blah. I told her I needed to go to work and didn't need to be graced by his presence in the middle of the day. Oh, I just realized what I called him in the title. It's not for that... I don't have one of those. I just wanted to call him something rude and derogatory.
So finally I told her to give me another appointment because I wasn't taking the 1245. She flips some pages and cheerily tells me he's available in December. More than a little exasperated I ordered her to give me something on or around the original date in November I had booked. I wasn't going to wait another month for him to look at my nasty, bubbly-growth (I'm joking). I realize it's not her fault, I know I got a lot of irate callers when I was working for my former manager. It's frustration, if I could take it out on him instead I would. Y'know, maybe I still will... after he tells me I'm OK. Huh. What do you know, all of a sudden he can see me same day at 245pm.
I bet she bitches to him and he gives me lots of terrible news when I see him.
Last Friday was PMS week. I received a message on my answering machine. It seems that they decided to move my appointment... to 1245pm. What the fuck. Did my request about a late timeslot go right out the window? I guess when you have to book your appointment before time began, paper was invented and common sense came about details are bound to be left out. Let's see, I go to work for 3 hours, take a 1 1/2 hour ride on the Rocket going the speed of a hamster on a wheel to the specialist, wait maybe another hour for him to finish picking his toenails and playing Hangman on his deskpad, see him for about 5 minutes.. long enough for him to tell me everything's fine. Return flight to work ETA 1 1/2 hour, try to do something productive for an hour and go home. Weee! Too late to call Friday, so it had to wait until Monday. Week of constant irritations and discomfort. Get it?
So I call Monday and the chipper receptionist answers the phone. I explain my situation and she says it had to be moved because the doctor decided to close earlier due to blah blah fiddlesticks. It really didn't sound important. Already stewing from the situation and having her being so damn chipper didn't help. I asked why they booked a 4pm appointment if he wanted to go home at 330pm. Blah twee blah. I told her I needed to go to work and didn't need to be graced by his presence in the middle of the day. Oh, I just realized what I called him in the title. It's not for that... I don't have one of those. I just wanted to call him something rude and derogatory.
So finally I told her to give me another appointment because I wasn't taking the 1245. She flips some pages and cheerily tells me he's available in December. More than a little exasperated I ordered her to give me something on or around the original date in November I had booked. I wasn't going to wait another month for him to look at my nasty, bubbly-growth (I'm joking). I realize it's not her fault, I know I got a lot of irate callers when I was working for my former manager. It's frustration, if I could take it out on him instead I would. Y'know, maybe I still will... after he tells me I'm OK. Huh. What do you know, all of a sudden he can see me same day at 245pm.
I bet she bitches to him and he gives me lots of terrible news when I see him.
October 11, 2005
Mmm... Chunky's Turkey Stew
That's what we had for Thanksgiving. It was not the same, no sir. Let me explain.
Long weekend, what did we want to do? Something away from home, that was for sure. No money for anything fancy, it had to be simple. What's the answer to all of life's queries: ROAD TRIP!
Yes my dears, we drove from the GTA up to North Bay, across Sudbury and settled in Chutes Provincial Park just outside of Massey (~1 hour west of Sudbury). We like Northern Ontario, actually we like Canada a lot and are determined to explore as much of it as we can. Why spend a ton of money to go down to all the has-been-to places like the Caribbeans, Kon-Tiki Europe and other exotic places when you can check out the icebergs of Newfoundland, the polar bear capital of the world in Churchill, Manitoba or the Rockies of the West?
So OK, that was the first day. We set up camp in the park which closes end of the weekend. It was isolated and quiet, it was beautiful. It was also friggin' cold! If you've never camped in sub-zero temperatures in the fall when the air is extra crisp, go for it! It's definitely an experience to sleep in multiple layers and a toque which I'm glad I had the foresight to bring and snuggled up to your honey for warmth. It was so dark we couldn't see in front of our faces... which resulted in Mr. Stinky's nose almost taking out my eye and lots of giggles.
Second day, we headed to Sault Ste. Marie, crossed the border into Michigan (McChicken..hee) and headed south. You may be surprised, but Americans in the north are very courteous and hospitable. We took I-75 down to Saginaw and cha-ching! Birch Run Outlet Mall/(Town). Apparently, it's a big shopping attraction with a ton of stores that people (especially Asians) flock to. It's less than 2 hours from the Sarnia-Port Huron border. Check it out: http://www.primeoutlets.com/cntrdefault.asp?cntrid=1015
We were going to stay at Pinery Provincial Park which is north of Sarnia but by the time we got to the area it was about 9:30pm and we didn't feel like setting up tent in total darkness. If we had gotten there sooner it would've been super cool to sleep in the cold and complete darkness again. So we just decided to keep heading east to home. Of course by the time we got home it was after midnight and everything closed for Thanksgiving Monday. No turkey for you!
Luckily we had a can of the above mentioned can of Thanksgiving dinner substitute. Mmm..bleh. I hope your dinner was better than that. It's cool, we're rebels at heart. Unconventional and unorthodox, we're going to have turkey this weekend. When turkeys are on sale. Take that! In your eye, guy!
Long weekend, what did we want to do? Something away from home, that was for sure. No money for anything fancy, it had to be simple. What's the answer to all of life's queries: ROAD TRIP!
Yes my dears, we drove from the GTA up to North Bay, across Sudbury and settled in Chutes Provincial Park just outside of Massey (~1 hour west of Sudbury). We like Northern Ontario, actually we like Canada a lot and are determined to explore as much of it as we can. Why spend a ton of money to go down to all the has-been-to places like the Caribbeans, Kon-Tiki Europe and other exotic places when you can check out the icebergs of Newfoundland, the polar bear capital of the world in Churchill, Manitoba or the Rockies of the West?
So OK, that was the first day. We set up camp in the park which closes end of the weekend. It was isolated and quiet, it was beautiful. It was also friggin' cold! If you've never camped in sub-zero temperatures in the fall when the air is extra crisp, go for it! It's definitely an experience to sleep in multiple layers and a toque which I'm glad I had the foresight to bring and snuggled up to your honey for warmth. It was so dark we couldn't see in front of our faces... which resulted in Mr. Stinky's nose almost taking out my eye and lots of giggles.
Second day, we headed to Sault Ste. Marie, crossed the border into Michigan (McChicken..hee) and headed south. You may be surprised, but Americans in the north are very courteous and hospitable. We took I-75 down to Saginaw and cha-ching! Birch Run Outlet Mall/(Town). Apparently, it's a big shopping attraction with a ton of stores that people (especially Asians) flock to. It's less than 2 hours from the Sarnia-Port Huron border. Check it out: http://www.primeoutlets.com/cntrdefault.asp?cntrid=1015
We were going to stay at Pinery Provincial Park which is north of Sarnia but by the time we got to the area it was about 9:30pm and we didn't feel like setting up tent in total darkness. If we had gotten there sooner it would've been super cool to sleep in the cold and complete darkness again. So we just decided to keep heading east to home. Of course by the time we got home it was after midnight and everything closed for Thanksgiving Monday. No turkey for you!
Luckily we had a can of the above mentioned can of Thanksgiving dinner substitute. Mmm..bleh. I hope your dinner was better than that. It's cool, we're rebels at heart. Unconventional and unorthodox, we're going to have turkey this weekend. When turkeys are on sale. Take that! In your eye, guy!
October 06, 2005
Dear Cute Guy
We get off at the same stop and live down the street from each other.The world was our oyster, we could've had it all.
My crush on you has come to a screeching halt. Today, lacking any subtlety, no warnings for me to look away, you raised your arm and sniffed your armpit. I agree that B.O. is unattractive, but the sniff test should always be done in privacy or at the very least in a smooth and random manner so as to be able to pass off the gesture as a chin scratch or a backwards look over the shoulder.
How can you expect to woo a girl with such crude manners? Did you think I would swoon because you proved to me that you can produce such a manly musk? You'll always be cute in my books, just not attractive. I'm sorry, you had potential.
Sincerely,
The girl on the bus you might've looked at.
Sam I Am
I do not like shoot outs
I do not like the Ottawa Senators
I do not like Aki Berg
I do not like Nik Antropov
I do not, do not like Tomas Kaberle
I do not, will not like Daniel Alfreddson.
I do not like green eggs and ham.
I do not like the Ottawa Senators
I do not like Aki Berg
I do not like Nik Antropov
I do not, do not like Tomas Kaberle
I do not, will not like Daniel Alfreddson.
I do not like green eggs and ham.
October 05, 2005
October 03, 2005
Why A Yea Was So Cool
He had been a (high-ranking) soldier in China and thus could be strict. He certainly had a no nonsense attitude. When we were both much younger he punched out my front tooth. It had just started to move the day before, so I did what any kid would do. I ran around wiggling it around with my tongue and fingers, showing anyone who had eyes. This irritated A Yea coz kids can be irritating, and he thought it was disgusting. He called me over and said he wanted to look at it. I opened my mouth and to emphasize the loose tooth, used the tip of my tongue to move it back and forth.
A Yea held my head with his hands and with one thumb punched in my tooth quick as lightning before I had time to pull my head away. I spent quite awhile bleeding into the lake with my face half submerged to ease the pain while he walked away satisfied that this wiggly thing wasn't going to bother him anymore. It hurt, but at least the tooth came out and I had a new trophy with which to show off to everyone.
He was also like a kid. We got a little older and I didn't get into as much trouble as I used to. I was hyper, had ants in my pants, got into trouble quite often (altho in my defense, a lot of the time I didn't even know why I was in trouble) and had a knack for breaking many, many things I touched. It wasn't unusual to find him with one of his 8 grandchildren on the couch talking and giggling and being silly. He'd ask me about school and if I had a boyfriend, I'd ask about his crazy Chinese opera music, what he was reading in the Chinese newspaper and anything else that came to mind.
He was smart. He spoke English, having gone to school in the States and had lots of stories about the old days back home, in the army, raising his 6 kids with A Ma and later travelling around the world when they retired. He was stubborn, open-minded and was a great influence on everyone around him.
How many people can say they had such a cool grandfather?
September 29, 2005
Dear A Yea...
I'm glad you're not in pain anymore
There isn't a time I remember when you weren't there
I'll miss you lots in the times to come.
I wish we didn't have to say good-bye.
I love you, A Yea.
Rest in peace.
Or restricted by your body.
I'm blessed you stayed long enough to see me grow up.There isn't a time I remember when you weren't there
I'll miss you lots in the times to come.
I wish we didn't have to say good-bye.
Rest in peace.
September 14, 2005
Racism Continued
Did you read the paper today? A proposal for blacks-only school. Can you believe it?? BLACKS-ONLY school!
BLACKS-ONLY!!!
So if a white administration suggested this we'd be back in the Rosa Parks era with a divided nation fighting for the right for all to be treated equally. But it's suddenly not racist if a black "executive officer of student and community equity" for the TDSB suggests it. He even wants race-based statistics on the students! They're so up in arms about the police and racial profiling but having the system in place at school is a good thing??! Uh hello, can't have it both ways, people!
They say it's needed to give special attention to the hopeless black kids out there who are falling behind in school, in life and in opportunities. Now if we take out the word "black", don't we have a lot of those other coloured kids in the same boat as well? Poor families come in every single colour there is out there, it's not necessarily about skin colour. The focus should be on socio-economics. If the government announced they wanted to put more money and time into schools in troubled areas, I might not have a problem with that. I might even applaud their recognizing that poor kids, living in poor environments with more problems to deal with than the average kid joe (eg. gun fights, making rent, absent parents), need an extra bit of help and encouragement.
What message are we sending out to kids, the black community and the rest of the community?
> If you're black you obviously aren't smart or good enough to be in a regular school. No no, you will go to a special school for blacks. And really, only black teachers can teach black kids so our plan is to completely segregate you from the rest of the world where not everyone is black. When you graduate from our black school and get back into reality, well, you'll just have to learn how to deal with it.
> If you're white, yellow, brown, magenta, etc. and feeling alienated, falling behind, losing hope and just generally not doing well in school... too bad! We don't have any special race schools for you.
Can I suggest a "Whites Only" school to help kids deal with the fact that the world is shrinking and there is a lot more competition for academic excellence with kids of other races and there's only so much white flight that can take place in Ontario with the mass influx of immigrants choosing to live in this province, and so with a "Whites Only" school they can feel at home in an environment with other white kids and not feel like they're drowning in the melting pot of other racial colours?
Or maybe an "Asian Only" school where we're all yellow, dressed in the crazy ensembles that is supposedly fashion, listening to shrieky Chinese opera and speaking only in my mother tongue. Once I'm out of school I'll be out of touch with society because I'll have become so cloistered in my little culture and I won't be able to communicate with anyone not Asian or understand why everyone laughs at my hair and clothes.
Seriously, is it just me?
BLACKS-ONLY!!!
So if a white administration suggested this we'd be back in the Rosa Parks era with a divided nation fighting for the right for all to be treated equally. But it's suddenly not racist if a black "executive officer of student and community equity" for the TDSB suggests it. He even wants race-based statistics on the students! They're so up in arms about the police and racial profiling but having the system in place at school is a good thing??! Uh hello, can't have it both ways, people!
They say it's needed to give special attention to the hopeless black kids out there who are falling behind in school, in life and in opportunities. Now if we take out the word "black", don't we have a lot of those other coloured kids in the same boat as well? Poor families come in every single colour there is out there, it's not necessarily about skin colour. The focus should be on socio-economics. If the government announced they wanted to put more money and time into schools in troubled areas, I might not have a problem with that. I might even applaud their recognizing that poor kids, living in poor environments with more problems to deal with than the average kid joe (eg. gun fights, making rent, absent parents), need an extra bit of help and encouragement.
What message are we sending out to kids, the black community and the rest of the community?
> If you're black you obviously aren't smart or good enough to be in a regular school. No no, you will go to a special school for blacks. And really, only black teachers can teach black kids so our plan is to completely segregate you from the rest of the world where not everyone is black. When you graduate from our black school and get back into reality, well, you'll just have to learn how to deal with it.
> If you're white, yellow, brown, magenta, etc. and feeling alienated, falling behind, losing hope and just generally not doing well in school... too bad! We don't have any special race schools for you.
Can I suggest a "Whites Only" school to help kids deal with the fact that the world is shrinking and there is a lot more competition for academic excellence with kids of other races and there's only so much white flight that can take place in Ontario with the mass influx of immigrants choosing to live in this province, and so with a "Whites Only" school they can feel at home in an environment with other white kids and not feel like they're drowning in the melting pot of other racial colours?
Or maybe an "Asian Only" school where we're all yellow, dressed in the crazy ensembles that is supposedly fashion, listening to shrieky Chinese opera and speaking only in my mother tongue. Once I'm out of school I'll be out of touch with society because I'll have become so cloistered in my little culture and I won't be able to communicate with anyone not Asian or understand why everyone laughs at my hair and clothes.
Seriously, is it just me?
September 06, 2005
But Do You Have to Bathe In It?
Perfumes and colognes are points of attraction, not people repellents.
Extra squirts do not make you smell better, just stronger.
Just because your brain and nose cells are dead and your nose hairs have fallen out, don't take it out on me.
I shouldn't have to:
-carry around barf bags
-change my seat
-hold my breath
-fan my breathing space
-be able to smell you when I enter an empty room because you left 5 minutes ago
-cover my nose when you're around
YOU DO NOT SMELL GOOD TO ANYBODY ELSE.
Let's practice safe squirting, once a day per person if you must. I find with our modern standards of hygiene, most people don't even need these "attraction enhancing" aids. Nothing wrong with good old soap, people. Use a little deodorant if needed, but keep it tame. I don't want to have to throw lit matches at you to see what happens.
Extra squirts do not make you smell better, just stronger.
Just because your brain and nose cells are dead and your nose hairs have fallen out, don't take it out on me.
I shouldn't have to:
-carry around barf bags
-change my seat
-hold my breath
-fan my breathing space
-be able to smell you when I enter an empty room because you left 5 minutes ago
-cover my nose when you're around
YOU DO NOT SMELL GOOD TO ANYBODY ELSE.
Let's practice safe squirting, once a day per person if you must. I find with our modern standards of hygiene, most people don't even need these "attraction enhancing" aids. Nothing wrong with good old soap, people. Use a little deodorant if needed, but keep it tame. I don't want to have to throw lit matches at you to see what happens.
September 02, 2005
Racism Part 1
We've all dealt with it. While I don't agree with it, it will always be around. There will never be a time when we are all joined as a group in our native dress singing and dancing under a rainbow while butterflies and poopless birds flit about in the sky.
What bothers me more than racism is reverse racism. It's not OK for anyone to say something deragatory about blacks, jews, islamics or any other group that feels the sting of racism on a regular basis. I don't understand why then it's OK to pick on the other groups. Have you ever heard the following?
"He welched/welshed on our deal!"
"I've been gypped."
"Irish people are always drunk."
"Typical Scot, always penny-pinching."
"Trailer trash redneck."
And so on and so forth. I have just insulted the Welsh, Gypsies, Irish, the Scottish and everyone who has ever been lumped in with the last group. I bet I would get in big trouble if I were to say similar phrases and use a "minority" group instead. Would you ever say "I've been Jewed!"? Hell no.
Notice I used quotation marks due to the majority population these minority groups make up in the GTA. I think "minority" really is a misnomer and should be updated.
It seems that it's become an increasingly acceptable practice to insult and act unfarily towards people as long as they are Western Europeans, a la white people. When did this become OK and why? When we think "racism", does it only exist for certain groups? I know for a fact that in the GTA, if you are a white male and you were thinking about a career in emergency services (i.e. Fire, Police and EMS), you had better have a back-up plan. Your skin and gender are not what they are looking for right now. Their mandate is to hire more people of colour and/or female gender because they need to better represent the population in which they serve. Can I not be a 29 year old white male when I'm rushing to an accident scene to help several black and southeast Asian people who were involved? Imagine how the bleeding hearts would be up in arms because an employer said, "Sorry, we don't hire black people even though we really have no valid reason for this decision."
Corporations are hiring people of colour now more than ever. They have to, it's a Human Rights issue. While I think equality is great, I have qualms about hiring because of colour. As a hiring body, I should offer you a job because of the contents of your resume and the interview. In other words, QUALIFICATIONS. It's not window dressing; having a rainbow of skin colours won't do shit for you if your employees are not able or right for the job. On the other hand, if you've ever gone to a bank in the Agincourt area you will notice that all the employees are Chinese. Pacific Mall, computer stores run by Asians, even churches are in this. Have you read their signs? Toronto Chinese (insert some denomination) Church, Mississauga Korean (same) Church. I know anyone can attend, but by naming yourself this, you are saying that your church specifically targets only these people.
Can you imagine if I set up a church and named it Toronto White Christians Church??
In a past tennis match between Venus Williams and some Russian woman, they checked each other as they crossed courts. It seems there was some feud going on and neither of them would move out of each others' path. Venus' dad fumed to the media that the Russian player was a "White Turkey" (she's tall and lanky). That is an outright racist comment but there was absolutely no backlash. Why?
Before you call me a cross-burning, Hitler loving, backwards and closed mind conservative, hate mongering Aryan, please note that I am not white. Or male. I am what you call a minority, but even I see what's going on in this world. Why the divisions? We don't have to love each other but surely we can accept that everyone's a little different and move on to a different topic.
What bothers me more than racism is reverse racism. It's not OK for anyone to say something deragatory about blacks, jews, islamics or any other group that feels the sting of racism on a regular basis. I don't understand why then it's OK to pick on the other groups. Have you ever heard the following?
"He welched/welshed on our deal!"
"I've been gypped."
"Irish people are always drunk."
"Typical Scot, always penny-pinching."
"Trailer trash redneck."
And so on and so forth. I have just insulted the Welsh, Gypsies, Irish, the Scottish and everyone who has ever been lumped in with the last group. I bet I would get in big trouble if I were to say similar phrases and use a "minority" group instead. Would you ever say "I've been Jewed!"? Hell no.
Notice I used quotation marks due to the majority population these minority groups make up in the GTA. I think "minority" really is a misnomer and should be updated.
It seems that it's become an increasingly acceptable practice to insult and act unfarily towards people as long as they are Western Europeans, a la white people. When did this become OK and why? When we think "racism", does it only exist for certain groups? I know for a fact that in the GTA, if you are a white male and you were thinking about a career in emergency services (i.e. Fire, Police and EMS), you had better have a back-up plan. Your skin and gender are not what they are looking for right now. Their mandate is to hire more people of colour and/or female gender because they need to better represent the population in which they serve. Can I not be a 29 year old white male when I'm rushing to an accident scene to help several black and southeast Asian people who were involved? Imagine how the bleeding hearts would be up in arms because an employer said, "Sorry, we don't hire black people even though we really have no valid reason for this decision."
Corporations are hiring people of colour now more than ever. They have to, it's a Human Rights issue. While I think equality is great, I have qualms about hiring because of colour. As a hiring body, I should offer you a job because of the contents of your resume and the interview. In other words, QUALIFICATIONS. It's not window dressing; having a rainbow of skin colours won't do shit for you if your employees are not able or right for the job. On the other hand, if you've ever gone to a bank in the Agincourt area you will notice that all the employees are Chinese. Pacific Mall, computer stores run by Asians, even churches are in this. Have you read their signs? Toronto Chinese (insert some denomination) Church, Mississauga Korean (same) Church. I know anyone can attend, but by naming yourself this, you are saying that your church specifically targets only these people.
Can you imagine if I set up a church and named it Toronto White Christians Church??
In a past tennis match between Venus Williams and some Russian woman, they checked each other as they crossed courts. It seems there was some feud going on and neither of them would move out of each others' path. Venus' dad fumed to the media that the Russian player was a "White Turkey" (she's tall and lanky). That is an outright racist comment but there was absolutely no backlash. Why?
Before you call me a cross-burning, Hitler loving, backwards and closed mind conservative, hate mongering Aryan, please note that I am not white. Or male. I am what you call a minority, but even I see what's going on in this world. Why the divisions? We don't have to love each other but surely we can accept that everyone's a little different and move on to a different topic.
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