Thursday, August 31, 2006

Delayed post

Stupid incident of the day : Climbing on the bus this morning I lost my sandal. Under the bus. Had to get off and some kid (laughing like a maniac) fished it out from under the bus and gave it back to me. (Well, in his defense, how often do you see someone’s shoe fly under a bus at 7:00 a.m.?) I knew it would be a long day when he grinned at me and said, “Here you go Ma’am” Ma’am?? Intellectually I know I could be his mom, but Jesus Murphy that made me feel old! Too old to keep my shoes on obviously.

Wait, this couldn’t have been today, must have been yesterday. Today I was already pounding on my keyboard like a maniac at 7:30. Not for any fun reason, nope. Work, work work work work. I’m drowning in the stuff. It’s miserable. Bleh.

It seems, Mr. Jazz and I were the only perople on Earth who had never watched 24. That little problem has been taken care of since a friend loaned us the show on DVD. At first I thought it was the greatest thing I’d seen in a long time. Now, with 5 shoes oops, shows left in the season, I’m finding it just a bit too over the top.

The daughter gets kidnapped, the guy helping mom find her is actually a bad guy who kidnaps her too… ok, stretching credibility here, but meh, it’s a show. And they need it to keep the guy in line (you’re not gonna do anything stupid if the bad guy has your wife and kid).

But once they’re found, off we go again. First they come after them again, then the mom becomes amnesic when she sees her car blow up and thinks her daughter is in it, but she isn’t because she jumped free just on time but knocked herself over the head and wakes up after mom’s gone and…It’s beginning to get ridiculous. Or are they basically making a spoof of these types of shows? Dunno. I guess I’ll have to watch the rest of the season. But I gotta admit, it’s highly entertaining.

I wasn’t able to post the above last Friday, Blogger wouldn’t let me. And this week has been so hectic that I simply haven’t had time to do it.

Update on 24. Way over the top. But I'm hooked. I can't wait to start season 2. Note to self, bring it to the cottage for the long weekend. I can't help but wonder if it's a continuation of the first season, next day-ish, ya know? If so, that'll be really stretching credibility - I mean how long can you last without sleeping at all before becoming completely useless? Unless we get to watch Jack Bauer sleep for half the season... Or unless Jack is actually some sort of 'droid who doesn't need to sleep at all. The anticipation is killing me! Well, ok, not really. But verdict on the show? Highly entertaining for now.

Early in the week, two 14 year olds were found in a field, dead. Suicide pact. How can things be so bad you’d get to that point? Granted, adolescence sucks, but still.

Of course the media are all over it. The big thing this week is what’s wrong with our children? Who’s to blame? What to do? All of a sudden, every columnist is an expert, there are interviews galore, debates, etc.

What about next week? Who will care then, when some star farts in public? Nobody much.

Oh, and what happened to Lebanon? I know there's a cease fire, but um... mais encore? I guess since there's no blood and gore right now, it's simply not interesting enough for prime time news...

Ok, go ahead, call me a cynic.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Dear girl on the subway,

Sometimes the dreaded Visible Panty Line is not a bad thing.

Especially when you are wearing a skirt so sheer we can see the pimple on your butt and the beige g-string disappearing between yer cheeks.

Yep, little one, when we can actually see the beige g-string clear as day, you really got to change skirts. Please. I'm trying hard to be open minded here, but girl, you might as well be naked. I'm hoping your parents didn't actually see you leave dressed like that this morning. And if they did? Well, then the mind boggles....

For your own sake, and ours, get some clothes.



Friday, August 18, 2006

Fly the friendly skies

Yesterday I got a call from the airport. A friend calling to say that the world was now definitely a safer place – they had confiscated her mascara…

I can’t help but think it’s simply a question of making people feel safer, though they probably aren’t. This being said, I don’t by any stretch of the imagination think that flying is unsafe; probably the safest way to travel these days with all the heightened security.

By definition terrorists will always be one step ahead. The liquid thing didn’t work; they’ll find some other way while security guards at the airport keep confiscating shampoo and mouthwash. They obviously aren’t using box cutters anymore, now the handy “mix the liquids and blow yourself up” method is gone too. They'll find something else.

The only people who might be more than inconvenienced by this are duty free store owners – 60% of their sales come from booze and perfume, liquid as it comes.

I suppose that even though they were stopped (Damn! foiled again!!) the fact that people are afraid again means that you can chalk one up for the terrorists despite the lack of pyrotechnics.

Interesting blog by an American traveller stuck in Lebanon. He began it when the war started: Reading While Falling

Overheard on in a radio interview of the Israeli consul in Montreal yesterday:

Interviewer: Well can we admit that it’s possible to think Hezbollah is a terrorist organization while still thinking that Israel has gone overboard on the killing of Lebanese civilians?
Consul: No sir, that is impossible (or words to that effect)

Very Dubbya and his “You’re either with us or you’re against us” spiel.

God, I suppose, is on their side.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

A book to read

Well as fluffy and sachharine as yesterday’s entry was, today’s will be different, because I’m having an existential crisis – or more probably PMS. And, hell, I don't much do fluff and saccharine.

But we’re not going to discuss the crisis, because my existential/PMS angst is pretty much as boring as it gets. Lordy, I bore the hell outta myself with it, so I’m not about to impose it on others.

Today, an excerpt from a book I’m reading “Eat, Pray, Love” a memoir of her year travelling to Italy, India and Indonesia by Elizabeth Gilbert, pretty much her spiritual journey. It was recommended by Blue Poppy , and it says much about the book that I absolutely love it, despite the fact that I have all the spirituality of a door knob. Me 'n God? Not so much, though I find others’ spiritual journeys fascinating – except when they go into the whole, “my beliefs are the right ones” spiel.

But again (as usual) I digress. Moving on:

“Letting go, of course, is a scary proposition for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we were to drop this handle for even a moment, well – that would be the end of the universe. But try dropping it. This is the message I’m getting. Sit quietly for now and cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens. The birds do not crash dead out of the sky in mid-flight, after all. The trees do not wither and die, the rivers do not run red with blood. Life continues to go on. (…) Why are you so sure your micromanagement of every moment of the whole world is essential? Why don’t you just let it be?”

I know a few of these people, I recognized them when reading this paragraph, and it really must be hell to put all that pressure on oneself. I can’t help but thinking also that these control freaks somehow have an exaggerated sense of their own importance, though I’m probably totally “dans le champ” (out in the field – what would the expression be in English?). Hell, I don’t know from psychology. But, seriously, the world won’t end if you actually take a vacation. Or if you cut people some slack. Or if you just chill already!

I’m pretty much the contrary – apathetic some would say (notably those control freaks), but I won’t be giving myself a heart attack anytime soon, rushing left and right trying to control every aspect of everything. I’m quite content to watch life rush along while peeling peaches on the balcony. For me, that’s where it’s at. I’d even venture to say that I’m probably a helluva lot happier than they are.

My mom, wise woman that she is, once told me, “There’s no point worrying about all the stuff you have no control over, take care of what you can change and that’s quite enough for anyone”.

The woman? She rocks.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Moments of pure happiness

My moments of happiness this weekend:

- Peeling my four last peaches. Perfectly ripe, where the skin just comes right off, the juice trickles down your hands to your wrists and the smell is the most wonderful thing in the world – and then you eat them. Pure bliss – well, if you love peaches I suppose.

- Going to meet a friend’s new daughter, sitting there, cuddling her with the two year old scrunched up against me. The baby starting to fuss and her sister stroking her head – immediately the fussing stops. Damn I love children.

- Driving to a friend’s place for dinner Saturday night along the winding back road and the wonderful camomilley smell of pineapple weed flowing into the car.

- Reading with Mr. Jazz Sunday morning. I love watching him when he's absorbed in a book. Ok, I bascially love watching him any time....

- There are other moments but it would be, um, indiscreet to discuss them.

When I uploaded the pineapple weed pic to photobucket, I saw this - I think it was used on a forum to illustrate how horribly horribly wrong a speedo can be. I had to have it of course

Friday, August 11, 2006

More Random Thoughts

Alrighty. The almost but not quite terrorist attacks. I’ve been seeing it happening already : the “evil Muslims” paranoia.

Sorta like when the conflict in Lebanon started; then it was the “evil Jews” paranoia (at least here in Quebec. Quebecers, for the most part, were squarely on the side of Lebanon - not Hezbollah, mind you, Lebanon. I have no idea how it was elsewhere; to my shame I don't really keep up with the news. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt as they say... I just don't wanna know).

Now, back to our regularly scheduled not knowledgable in world affairs blather.

It seems obvious to me, but obviously it isn’t for lots of other people : Jew does not equal Israeli any more than Muslim equals terrorist.

Why is this so damn hard to understand?* Sure you have some muslims with terrorist ties here, but for chrissake, don’t dump everyone in the same basket! By the same token, the Jews here are far from all being war mongering fanatics.

People really need to get a grip and realize the difference. The fear of “difference” is still alive and well – get over it! People are people and most of them are the same as you and want the same thigs you do. Most immigrants, muslim or otherwise, are here to get away from crap in their own countries; they came here to have a crack at giving their children a better life away from war and terror. Live with it, deal with it and get over your pathetic racism.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter. Rant over.

The hair is still cut. However the hair which was the epitome of hot has slithered down to not so hot. The hot, it is cooling (and not in the “dude, that’s so cool”, high school jock sense of the word). On a scale of one to 10, it has slipped to just about a 6. I have no doubt that the downhill slide will continue. I have no talent for hair. None. *sigh* I need to find a way to bribe Jason into coming over every morning to do my hair. Cause the Jazzer doing it? Not so much…

Three perfectly ripe sweet juicy peaches are sitting on my desk. The smell is driving me crazy. Edit: OK, well, not anymore, because between the writing and the posting, I descended on those peaches like the barbarian hoards of Gengis Khan on Rome. The peaches are no more, may they rest in peace.

The two bamboo plants on my desk are thriving. Most of the time, bamboo pretty much just sits in its water and does not much of anything. Mine grows. And grows. And grows. Mine has decided to take over the known (and unknown) universe. It's sorta scary really that plants of mine have survived. I don't do live plants. I do littlle brown nubbins in a pot. Until now. And now, I feel sort of obliged to them because they live. So I water them and worry about them not getting enough water if I'm on vacation. Damn them for surviving me! I'm sure they've done it just to spite me.

Oh, and by the way, is makeup sex a possibility when one has had only a pseudo-fight (very mild door slamming)? Or does it have to be a rip-roaring no holds barred brawl to qualify? Just wonderin’...

* ChooChoo would say it’s because 95% of people are idiots.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Random thoughts

Until the 60s, school was taught by Catholic nuns in Quebec. These nuns had missions in underdeveloped countries to convert the savages to the one true religion. *sigh*

To finance these missions, Quebec children were encouraged to bring a nickel to school to “acheter un p’tit chinois” (buy a Chinese kid). It was understood of course, that buying Chinese kids was a huge step towards saving their soul. What good catholic kid wouldn’t want to help save soul? They even gave you a card with a picture of your Chinese child on it (chinese children trading cards?). The Catholic Church is truly fucked. I have no idea if this went on anywhere else, or if it was the brainchild of some Quebec ecclesiast. I’m sure the intention was good (or was it?) but the whole idea just freaks me right the hell out.

What freaks me out even more is why I even thought of that: I saw a guy this morning walking the dogs with his adopted Chinese daugter. I see them every day, but today, BAM (apologies to Emeril for using his expression without his consent).

The Jazzer got her hair chopped yesterday. Nothing like a great haircut to boost a girl’s ego. I walked out of there with a smile on my face and an extra spring to my step. I was freakin’ hot! Damn I love Jason, he’s totally brilliant!

ChooChoo sent me this nugget of insect trivia this morning: "The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male’s head off." Which only goes to prove that some males have it worse than humans.

Course, she also sent me this: “Pigs' orgasms last a half hour”. Obviously some males have it BETTER than humans.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Spontaneous combustion and racism

I have a story to tell, but since I coloured my hair yesterday, I seem unable to string together three coherent thoughts, so bear with me. I’m not sure if the dye has seeped into my brain or whether it’s old age or not enough sleep.

Once upon a time, months and months ago, I used to frequent a certain internet forum. The place was cool, lots of nice people, and highly entertaining. I must admit, however, that for me the entertainment value stemmed to a large extent from the drama that was the board. All the “please send me some hugs today” threads I could do without.

I rarely participated in the drama, but watching these people tear into each other like rabid dogs… well, ok, so I have a twisted sense of humour.

What fascinated me most about the place (and eventually bored me to tears) was that this drama would be repeated over and over again. There were a few members who role was to tear people apart, others whose job was to let themselves be hacked to pieces, and others who were there to jump into the fray, take sides and start he said, she said matches (though for the record, it was mostly she said she said). Unfortunately, women are very good at bitching each other out that way.

One thing about that site I found really distasteful was the whole “oh my life is pain, oh my life sucks, oh woe is me” aspect. People who bitched and moaned and expected “oh poor you” responses while never ever doing a thing to tackle whatever problem they had. I’m pretty much a “if you’re not going to do anything about, shut the fuck up already” type of person. My pity parties generally last a few hours, or a day at most, and lordy they’re too damn pathetic to post about! LOL

Eventually I just left. It was a toxic, unhealthy place, and actually, once the novelty wore off, really really boring. Only good thing about it was several people I met.

Anyway – and yes, there is a point to this story – I recently learned (on another, much healthier forum) that the place had spontaneously combusted. It's at the point where the only way to be a member to pay for the privilege (as if that will change anything, other than making the strife more private).

What surprises me is people’s reactions. So many of them, on the new forum, are bemoaning the loss of that other place. Admittedly they were sick of what it had become but… and the litany begins… how could they do this to us, they treated us like dirt and yadda, yadda, yadda. People, it’s a business and they’re entitled to do whatever they damn well please. Get over it already!!!!

It really drove home, however, how some people really take these communities seriously. I’ve met several people from forums and consider them very good friends, but a forum is just one aspect of my life. To some people, their forums ARE real life, they are the place they go to socialize, to make friends they often will never meet; the forum is basically their complete life. And that is sort of sad I think.

On a totally different note, the Israeli-Lebanon conflict has hit home. The sister of an acquaintance of Mr. Jazz was turned away from a grocery store she frequents weekly in Montreal’s west island. She’s Jewish. The store’s owner is Lebanese. I guess the fact that there's a difference between being a Jew and an Israeli is lost on the store owner.

I don’t want to get into politics and whose side I’m on. All I can say is this attitude is totally unacceptable anywhere, but here in Montreal? I had thought (hoped?) people were above that here. Obviously I was wrong. Sad day indeed.

Friday, August 04, 2006

In which all is revealed

One of my bestest friends was over for dinner last night. Sly was explaining how she'd read somewhere that the main difference between plants and animals (i.e. humans) is that animals are chock full of iron and plants are full of magnesium.

Suddenly it all became clear. All those idiots? They're mutants. They have way to much magnesium and far too little iron.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Drumroll please

Damn this weather. It's hot and muggy and it rains all the time. I can deal with hot an muggy, no problem, but the whole non-stop freaking rain in Montreal these days just drains me. It's like the sky is pressing down on my head all the time. Depressing as all get out.

As for the ATCs I wasn't being coy when I said I'd post them - or not. I had to scan and upload them to Photobucket - which is done now. Also, lets face it, I had to do them because I had promised, but, well, I really don't think they're any good. But that's just me and my insecurities, because they're obviously no worse than some things I've seen on the internet. And I've seen some pretty horrendous stuff! LOL Of course I've seen some absolutely divine stuff also, and the fact that they're nowhere near as good, well honestly, it doesn't make me feel depressed or blah, it just pisses me off. Go figure. But then, in this weather, everything pisses me off, from asthma to ATCs - and people I haven't even begun to tell you about the rest of the alphabet... Hey, there's a meme idea: List things that piss you off from A to Z. Anyone game?

And in the spirit of full disclosure, I'm also sort of embarrassed that the JazzSis will see them because she's such an awesome artist to me. And I know she's shaking her head reading this and saying, Geez Jazz, you're so stupid sometimes. Yep JazzSis, at 45 I stil am.

I did a series of six ATCs based on expressions involving animals: When pigs fly, Drink like a fish, Raining cats and dogs, Straight from the horse's mouth, Sing like a bird, and Happy as a clam (now there's a bizarre expression. Where does that one come from d'you think? Are clams happy? Do they have the intellectual capacity to do anything but... um... sit there and be clams? But I digress yet again) Actually I did that last one because Happy as a pig in shit seemed a tad, um, vulgar to illustrate, dontcha know.

The Jazzer, being incapable of drawing a straight line if her life depended on it, is into collage as you can see. So anyway, here they are (drumroll please):

For Paula, regarding your comment on horses... who knows.... and here's another one for you:

The text isn't very clear, since I had to make it much smaller so it would fit.

Title: "Straight from the horse's mouth" and he's saying: "Freud said it best when he stated...."

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Life in the 5th floor loo

Dear woman who uses the 5th floor loo,

I completely understand your need to sit on the toilet rather than hover and thus, lay down a layer of toilet paper so your butt doesn’t touch the toilet seat. I understand that, really I do. I sympathise.

But my sympathy runs short when you leave that layer of paper on the toilet. How hard would it be for you to push it in when you flush? Really, I need you to answer this question for me. How damn hard?

‘Cause me? I’m sick of having to push the TP in with my foot myself. No offence, but touching paper that has been snuggling up to your butt? Not so much, thanks.

Perhaps you have a problem, perhaps you are armless (but in that case, how do you lay down the paper?). But you know, since we have to share the loo, it would really be cool of you to SHOW. A. BIT. OF. COMMON. DECENCY!!!