A new era in Quebec

Today is a landmark day in the Jazzer’s life.

Today, straight after work, I am going to Bily Kun to have a drink.

“Ok, fine, and this is a watershed moment for you?” , you ask, thinking to yourself because you’re much to polite to voice it out loud, “She needs a life. Seriously.”

Yes, it is, because beginning today smoking is banned in all bars and restaurants in Quebec. I will actually be able to spend more than 15 minutes in a bar without starting to cough, without my eyes itching and running. It. Will. Be. Pure. Bliss. Believe me, it will.

Ok, granted that won’t turn me into a barfly, but damn how nice will it be to actually be able to go comfortably into a bar once in a while.

Reaction is all the way over the place. Some bar owners say they’ll let people smoke, others are planning to close for a week to repaint and clean up. Lots of the smokers say they think it’s a good idea, lots of others say it’s a damn stupid idea, that there should be non smoking areas, period (sorta like having a peeing section in a pool I’d say, but what do I know, being a rabid non smoker who actually likes to breathe).

So tonight I will go celebrate. Have a glass of wine without rushing because I’m too uncomfortable to stay any longer. Chat with friends for a couple of hours, see what this whole socializing in a bar thing is all about.

For once I sincerely thank the government. Hell, they have to get it right once in a while.

Bleh

Nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing to say....

Can one be brain dead, but at the same time have one's brain full to overflowing?

I hold JazzSis (yes you!) responsible for this state I'm in. I picked up her cold when I went to see her a couple of weeks ago and after having percolated deep deep inside me it rose like a phoenix and possessed me like a demon.

Who knew a body could contain this many repusive secretions.

JazzSis is guilty as charged.

Now I will retreat and moan and whine and hack and cough and just generally feel sorry for my little self.

Adieu.

A meme...

A meme I "borrowed" from Blue Poppy. Anyone care to do it?

I AM: Many things, sometimes contradictory.

I SAID: I would never join the rat race; I said I would live an exciting life. My MOM SAID: We’ll talk again in 20 years.

I WANT: Lunch

I WISH: I knew what I want to do when I grow up

I HATE: people who drive while talking on the phone (probably because one almost ran me over once – and had the gall to act as if it were my fault, when in fact HE was running a light)

I MISS: my dad, still

I FEAR: that I will die because of some idiot politician

I HEAR: this fucking ventilation system. All. The. Fucking. Time!!!!

I WONDER: if I would get in trouble if I smashed it.

I REGRET: not having lived my adolescence and never having done anything crazy.

I AM NOT: confrontational

I DANCE: rarely

I SING: only alone in the car – I don’t want to inflict that on anyone

I AM NOT ALWAYS: a nice person

I MADE: a cool collage yesterday morning when I got to work

I WRITE: because I can’t not
I CONFUSE: shallots and scallions

I NEED: to add more creativity to my life – and not in the sense of “Oh, you solved that problem very creatively”. I mean, puleeeeze.

I SHOULD: get my ass in gear and start altering that book

I START: many more things than I finish

I FINISH: pretty much every book I start

I BELIEVE: there is no god

I KNOW: I might be wrong

I CAN: make people laugh

I CAN’T: carry a tune to save my life

I SEE: that life as an adult is a million times less exciting than I thought it would be as a teenager

I BLOG: because, hell, I don't know. Because I want to be heard? Which would be pathetic. Because I have fun doing it.

I READ: voraciously

I AM AROUSED BY: Mr. Jazz

IT PISSES ME OFF: when people think because I’m a secretary I’m a servant, and a stupid one at that.

I FIND: Myself more and more fascinated by birds.

I LIKE: lazy Sunday mornings at the cottage

I LOVE: that the trees are finally green even if the weather isn’t great

Les Vacances they are OVER

Last night, waiting to fall asleep, annoyed at my insomnia (I always sleep wonderfully, except it seems the night before I return to work), I wrote a wonderful, witty, whimsical (such alliteration, oh my!) entry for this blog. In my head. And is it still floating around in this witty and whimsical yet empty head of mine? Somewhere where I might find it in some shape or form? Nope. Gone. There, in a nutshell, lies the problem with being a lazy insomniac.

The vacation was great, as vacations are wont to be, except for the rain. The rain in Paris, the rain at the cottage, the rain for the day or two we spent in Montreal. Everything is sodden (love that word, it captures the feeling so well). Sodden. The ground, the trees the birds the Eiffel Tower, me. Sodden. All of us. Two weeks of sodden.

Just as an experiment, let me play Pollyanna and put a positive spin on things – and watch carefully, because this isn’t gonna happen again any time soon. So: rain is good because once you get back from Paris you have nothing to do at the cottage in the woods except relax, and watch DVDs galore… It wasn’t a terribly exciting vacation, but Mr. Jazz made me margaritas aplenty so basically I have nothing to complain about. Margaritas, movies and nooky, what more can a girl ask for?

I did realize, coming back to work today, that I was born for a life of leisure. I was Marie Antoinette or Cleopatra in a past life and I want to keep it up in this one. ‘Course, seeing how they ended up… I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, something about idleness, something strong and puritanical of the “devil and idle fingers (or minds?)” variety, but I don’t want to know.

Le sigh

PS: This should've been posted yesterday, but Blogger didn't want me in here. If I were paranoid...

Just stopping by....

On a Friday night, at the office*, in the middle of my vacation.... Do I need a life or what?

Just got back from Gay Paree yesterday, and it was, as ever, awesome. Even after having been there over a dozen times, it still surprises me every time I go by its sheer, well, awesomeness. What can I say about it? A couple of quick impressions before I get back to my vacation:

- Where does the evil Parisian waiter reside? Every time I eat in a restaurant in Paris, waiters are really quite nice. Is it because I'm not American? Or are they a myth?

- That legendary Parisian elegance seems to be just that, legendary. Honestly, besides a few really elegant Parisians here and there, Montreal women (myself excluded of course) seem a damn sight more elegant generally. But maybe I wasn't looking right.

- The Étoile just freaks me right the fuck out. How can people actually drive through it? I'd worm my way in and still be going around in circles six weeks later.

- The Cow Parade rocks

- BP - The area around Metro Vavin is wonderful... I even saw that café you posted a pic of once, Le Québec. And I found this great little paper shop - good thing Mr. Jazz was there or I would've bought 50 different journals. I'm on the brink of orgasm just THINKING about that paper!

Over and out. Off to the cottage.


* I have to pick up some books someone left for me, and I didn't want to do it during the day because, hell, I'm on vacation and don't want to have to give a blow by blow account to colleagues. So there.

Paris, here I come!

It's been a while. But honestly I had nothing even remotely interesting to say. And I didn't have the time, work has been horrific. And and and... and I could find a million other excuses, but I really don't care because WEDNESDAY, I'M GOING TO PARIS!!!! and I ACTUALLY CAUGHT UP ON THE BLOGS I READ! Oh joy, oh happiness, now I know wassup with all those people out there who I don't know from Adam, but whose lives are more important to me than lots of people I know personally. Is that weird? (and why do I always write wierd first before correcting it? Deep thoughts indeed for a Monday morning).

This is the first time in ages I've really felt excited about leaving. Usually it only hits when I'm actually in the plane. But this time I'm all alfutter at the thought of going to Paris again with Mr. Jazz and wandering around and, well, despite staying with friends, doing something of the romantic vacation away with my boy.

I've also been thinking a lot about packing. Usually I'm a "jeans and a couple of t-shirts in a gym bag" type of packer. But this time, somehow I don't feel like packing light (which I notice makes packing much harder). Somehow Paris seems to call for flirty skirts and sexy tops. Makeup and cute shoes. And huges hopes that the weather will cooperate with this vision.

Old age is turning my brain to mush. Romantic? Flirty skirts? *shudder*

A couple of must dos when we're there:

La coulée verte is an elevated 4.5 km walk built on a disused train line. With tons of flowers and greenery. Several people have told us about it. Apparently it's spectacular.

And the Cow Parade is in Paris! I've always loved the cows, and I have a few of the figurines. To actually see some in person has been a long time project. And this weekend, my m-i-l told me she saw in the paper that they were in Paris! Yippi!

Then, there's the "just wandering around and taking in the sights and sounds" tour we always do.

And of course, the Père Lachaise cemetary No visit to Paris is complete without going there. I absolutely love the place and try to go every time I'm in Paris - and not because of Jim Morrison.

Last, but oh so definitely not least, I'll have to eat a Paris-Brest, the best pastries in the world, and hard to find outside France. I did find some here in Montreal once, but it just wasn't the same.

See you all when I get back!