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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Dear Diary

There's a really cute boy on my bus. I think he looked at me yesterday.

Heeee....

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?

Dear A Yea...

I'm glad you're not in pain anymore

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.

I love you, A Yea.
Rest in peace.

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?

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.

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.

Sleep, Interrupted

Iggy is a pest. He torments Whiskey constantly, and doesn't know when to draw the line. We are also subjected to the never-ending pain that is Iggy, albeit in a slightly different form.

He is super affectionate and I don't mean "for a cat/animal". He is a freak of nature that loves to love. Not in the humping things kind of way, no no. He's a "loving you 'til you smother" kind of guy. He has a very loud purr that will wake you up from your deepest slumber and that's when he's most likely to strike. Sometimes he'll come snuggle when we're on the couch watching TV too. He doesn't just purr until he's settled down, he will go on until he passes out and I don't know how long that is because I've never been able to outwait him.

Purring aside, he's a kneader and a head butter. He will head butt (hard) the tub, toilet, chins, walls, etc. His favourite position is nestled between my shoulder and head, massaging my neck while purring and hypnotizing himself, you have to see his "dazed" face. That's not the end of it. While he's blissed out he will actually start to drool. I have looked at him and seen it running down his mouth and dripping off his lips, and onto me. Soaking me. Numerous times. What the hell, cats can drool?!?? While cute at the beginning, we don't allow him to do this anymore and will push him away. He has learned somewhat, but will still try to sneak in some cuddle time when he can... with mommy. He will ignore Mr. Stinky, but he will not leave me alone!

Last night we were tired. I had a little bit of alcohol and we slept deeply. At 4:01am the devil struck. I was awoken by loud purring and a fuzzy head rubbing/head butting my hand. Pushed him away. He climbed onto the bed and head butted my face. Pushed him away. Repeat twice. Nestles between my ankles and does the army crawl (lying on belly, pulling oneself forward with arms only) up to my neck. Pushing away evolves into throwing off the bed. Mr. Stinky hisses at him, I yell at him. This goes on for about 15 minutes, all the while he's purring away like a diesel engine reaching for my head or neck, until I finally had enough and lock him out of the room.

My sleep had been broken.

I wanted a lapcat, not one with a drooling fetish for my neck. And certainly not while I'm sleeping. Stupid cat.

Is the Love Gone?

I LOVE MY BBQ.

I just want to establish that fact. As a red-blooded Canadian (no hyphens for me, thank you), I love my BBQ. It's a 365-day appliance and sits a mere two feet from our house, just on the other side of the sliding doors. We have two tanks on the go, no more half-cooked dinner fiascos! We give it attention every few days, clean the grills with every use... by the way, cast iron grills are the way to go! Purchase cost is a little more, but they really are the shiznit.

So yah, recently it came to light that maybe I'm getting a little barbeque worn. It seems we cook on it so often I'm looking forward to non-barbequed foods more. We had company this weekend and they brought steaks. While the steaks were really good and I thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated them, they weren't special. As in, I have steaks so often I could actually go without for awhile.

For most people who don't barbeque as much and year-round as we do, including our friends who brought the steaks, this is a meal to look forward to. Listen to it sizzle, smell the beef, watch it grill, taste the moo-tastic-ness. Nothing says summer like throwing the meat on the BBQ and cracking open a beer... if your BBQ is a summer appliance. But you know, it's hard to beat the smell of the grill in the middle of winter when it's quiet outside, a blanket of snow on the ground and burgers and dogs (or your food of choice) are ready in 5.

What I'm trying to get at is that although I do love to BBQ, it's just another everyday way to make a meal. It's getting a little cooler, I think it's about time I can safely use my oven and slow cooker again without overheating the house. Who doesn't like to walk in the front door and smell a roast, lasagne or TURKEY cooking?

Superman.. HELP!

How do you resolve/get over/undo/whatever a situation where you know a great, big, fat wrong has been committed (nothing illegal, but you know in your gut it's wrong) but you can't?

For example:
-throwing that very expensive sweater into the dryer when it's practically screaming "DRIP DRY ONLY" coz you forgot to do the laundry last night and now you absolutely need need your lucky sweater for that interview in an hour
-deciding that, during your drunkest moment, you need to even out those bangs
-keeping quiet while Sally, your BFF says "I do" to George even though you know he's a complete sleeze who cheats on her and you should know coz he told you he loves you 2 weeks ago, the lying shithead

So we need Superman to come and start spinning the world backwards so I can go back in time to fix this thing somehow (and smack a few people in the process) and I come out the happy winner. Because as long as I'm happy, who the hell cares about anything else?

Off With Your Pom Poms!

Poor little Iggy Pop... today's his last full day of being all male and we hope the operation goes well. He'll be meeting his fate tomorrow at the vet's office (which, by the way, is the same office where a girl I grew up with back in my church days is now a vet). He's getting declawed too coz he won't keep them sheathed, he likes to fly and cling onto things. Sometimes screaming and bleeding ensues. He can jump (most of the way) and claw his way up on a window sill almost 5 feet off the ground.

We joke that his testicles look like pom poms coz, if you've ever seen an intact male, that's what they look like. Especially since he's cream coloured and they're dark brown. I talk about the most appropriate things. Bwah!

Interestingly enough, I'm currently reading a book about the Boxer Rebellion that occurred in China in 1900. Eunichs are discussed which is neat coz they were actually a large group of "semi-men" with certain political powers. They even carried out a lot of "accidental deaths" by order of the Emperor. Men could choose to become eunichs at any age and some had kids before making the decision. The penis and testicles were cut off with a sharp knife in one swift cut. Eunichs usually had a sour, rank smell for the rest of their lives due to their inability to "hold it" or hold anything in anymore. Grooooss.

OK, so my cat won't become a eunich but losing 2 out of 3 bits can't be such a happy thing either.

Peter Jennings (1938-2005)

I had wanted to talk about my camping trip this past weekend. But then I picked up the paper this morning and saw that Peter Jennings had passed away. I'd rather write about him and what he meant to me.

I don't know Peter Jennings, other than what he looks like and what he does. He doesn't particularly mean anything to me, although he does have Hollywood-good looks. He's got a deep, but comforting voice that reassures the viewers that no matter how sad and despairing the news items he delivers, there are also good things going on in the world.

For as long as I can remember, he was a part of my childhood. Every night my dad would turn the TV channel to ABC's "World News Tonight" at 6:30pm. Sometimes I felt irritated coz we were already in the middle of CFTO News and besides, it's "Ah-merrr-ican" news... who cares? But he did and he wanted to hear about more than just the local happenings. It was always Peter Jennings, my dad never watched other newscasts.

I didn't really watch his news or pay attention... well sometimes I would just to hang out with my dad. What was important to me was being with him, I wanted to sit and be with him when he came home from work. It's the end of the day and everyone's tired and looking to unwind. I remember asking him questions on the occasion I did listen to the news and sometimes he'd answer me. Other times he was so into the story he'd be leaning towards the TV, concentrating hard and wouldn't even hear me.

I also remember Peter Jenning's voice filling the room, even when I was somewhere else doing something else. I grew up with Peter Jennings talking about the changing world, sometimes people are around for so long you think they might live forever.

So hearing that he had passed away from lung cancer, I felt sad. Sad for his family, sad for the world, and sad for me. One of my more memorable childhood experiences is gone forever. He won't be there anymore when I flick through the channels, his voice won't fill the living room anymore. I still remember fondly the good 'ole days of hanging out with my dad and Peter Jennings. Those were some good times.

Eau De TTC

Seems like I'm not the only thing stinky around here. For those of you who take the subway a lot, you'll know what I'm talking about. I grew up on the TTC, taken it at all hours of the day, on many bus routes and have made a few observations. And smelled a few things.

I'd like to know why the University/Spadina line always has newer, better and cleaner trains than the Bloor/Danforth line. Kind of unfair to the east-west commuters. I had an appointment in Scarborough today and took the subway from work. The University/Spadina train was fine. It had a/c and it was neat. I then transferred onto the other subway and man did it stink! It was hot, sticky and smelled strongly of old urine. Eeeww. My sense of smell is somewhere between humans and wolves and strong smells really bother me. I had to move, it helped a little but still. Groooss.

Note to the TTC: Could you perhaps hose down the Bloor/Danforth trains once in awhile? And maybe hang up a few of those car fresheners to help mask the overwhelming aromas of B.O. and urine. Thank you in advance.

Love, Stinky T

Goodbye, My Love

So Gary's going to Florida. I'm so heartbroken, I really thought the Leafs would keep him. We hit it off the moment he came to Toronto in 2000 and it was just bliss since then. We whispered sweet nothings to each other over the phone late at night, he would scowl at the TV cameras during the games... his secret way of saying he adored me, and we'd pass each other notes of giddiness thru the complicated network of sportcasters, trainers, security, etc.

Such sweet love, such sorrowful goodbyes. I'll be thinking of you Gary, send me tickets when you settle in and I'll come visit when I can.