Thursday, March 30, 2006
I see a lot of those because I work in an upscale neighbourhood. Usually, the ladies who lunch are something of a joke. Always perfectly dressed, perfectly made up, perfectly coiffed, they look, with their facelifts (which are sometimes so terribly terribly wrong) and collagened lips and lipo-ed stomachs and thighs, like plastic mannequins. Empty. Vague. The biggest challenge of the day is rolling out of bed on time to get to the spa for a massage and manicure.
But no, I'm wrong, the biggest challenge is interviewing to find that new maid. Black maids are so "out" now, you absolutely must have the flavour of the month: a Philippina. Maids from the Philippines are where it's at - and they're being snatched up like hotcakes. And you know, good help is hard to find, so really, it's quite stressful being a lady who lunches. Really! If there's no maid, who's gonna wash the toilet?
Then all of a sudden it hit me. Yesterday, heading back to the office I actually envied them. I'd like my biggest challenge to be making it on time for that massage. Having nothing to do with my time but spend my bigshot lawyer husband's money shopping for clothes and redecorating the house every year.
Yep, I'd like to be a lady who lunches. For a minute there it seemed like such a wonderful job. But then I thought of those botched face lifts and mega lips... And the obligatory bleached blond hair. And the maintenance time required for all that plastic "perfection". And the vacuity and the emptiness.
And I walked back to the office, looking forward to the weekend and spending it in the cottage we worked so hard to buy.
Friday, March 24, 2006
From the "you know you're getting old" file:
- You know you're getting old when you go to this really good hamburger place (Frite Alors) and lots of students are there because you're next to one of the Universities and they're all drinking beer and you look at them and the thought flashes through your mind: Are they old enough to drink? And you realize you're old enough to be their mom (and you thank whatever powers that be that you aren't ANYONE's mom)
Thursday, March 23, 2006
The book I was going to alter and was so enthusiastic about? Not so much anymore. I gessoed a few pages, and then it just petered out. Whatever possessed me to think I could do that? Inspiration is gone. None left. Nada. Though I have to say I love the matte look of black gesso. You could drown in it. Le sigh.
Not in a good place this week. Job sucks, weather sucks, sick of it all, the routine, the day to day grind of just getting things done. Le sigh deuxième.
In an effort to see the bright side, name five good things that happened this week:
1. My neighbor gave me a plant now that I no longer have cats who systematically eat them (one actually tried to eat a cactus I brought home once). It's a spider plant. Apparently something I can't kill unless I try really really hard. And maybe not even then.
2. It's sunny today.
3. Mr. Jazz and I are going to dinner tonight before heading over to a friend's place (which is a mixed blessing because I so envy his life. He's a musician, so 9 to 5 is so not on his radar).
4. I'm feeling ok today, since the IBS has calmed down.
Ok, well, how about we keep it at 4? Ah well, nope...
5. I just recieved an email from Mr. Jazz. :-)
I want spring. I want sunshine. I want heat.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Oh, I love this one. A no doubt lovely American family (the McLellans – Ann, Pam, Nancy and Dale) recently sent a letter to every member of the Canadian Senate – perhaps thinking that, like the American senate they have some sort of power. Unfortunately for them, the Canadian senate is simply a place you park your old cronies to reward them for services rendered, but again, as usual, I digress.
As I was saying, this letter as sent to the Senate to protest seal hunting in Canada. Once again, the hunt is making us the pariah of the western world. Couple of weeks ago it was Paul McCartney posing with a whitecoat (you know, those cute babies with the big black eyes and white fur?), which, by the way are not the seals which are hunted. But l’m not gonna rant on millionaire celebrities who pick causes for photo ops and know nothing about what’s going on – and show it by their stupid half assed comments about well, then, if there's nothing else there, the people should just move and… shaddap Jazz.
So Tusday the McLellans – well known of course for their political activism no doubt, somewhere, maybe – announced in a letter to every member of the Canadian senate that they were canceling their holidays to Canada because of the Atlantic seal hunt, a practice they find horrible and inhumane. They noted that they had cancelled a vacation last year for that reason and were thinking of coming back this year but wouldn’t if the seal hunt wasn’t cancelled – 'cause the McLellans, they have some big time political clout I suppose. That’s $8000 bucks Canada is losing – granted it’s $8000 US, which might be enough to float the whole country for a couple of months if worse comes to worse.
They go on to say that they have a lot of respect for Canada because their ancestors are from here (um is that seriously a valid reason for respect?) but the seal hunt goes against everything the like about Canada, they want us to do what’s right and stop the horrible massacre of innocent seals.
One senator, Céline Hervieux-Payette answered them. She did get a tad bitchy about people getting into crap that is none of their business though. She said that what she finds horrible about the US is the daily massacre of innocent people in Irak, the execution of prisoners (mostly blacks) in American prisons, the massive sale of firearms to citizens and the destabilization of the planet by the aggressive US foreign policy*.
She also informed them that the seal hunt is a part of the basic economy of the coastal areas, whether for natives or whites and that the hunt is not recreational, contrary, for instance to deer and moose hunting – which so many Americans come here to do. It’s an activity which allows entire populations to stay in an area where there are basically no other commercially viable activities.
So why doesn't the McLellan family bitch about that? OK, I admit it!! A moose is way less cute than a whitecoat (which, dare I repeat it haven't been hunted since the early 80s). Apparently, Ms. McLellan sent an email to a paper here saying that if we refuse to stop the seal hunt, we should, at the very least, euthanize the animals before killing them… Euthanize? Isn’t that killing them? Last time I checked a dictionary euthanization = killing, get your definitions right, Ann. Oh, I guess she wants us to give them a shot to put them under before we kill them, all 300,000 of them. Yeah, uh huh, that’s gonna happen. We'll get on it right away. *shakes head* Shall we also euthanize all the cows, chickens, pigs killed in American slaughterhouses? Don't they deserve a little respect too? Nah, not cute enough I guess. And what about the Norwegian whale hunt?
Now, the fact that the seals number 5.8 million (three times the population of the 70, when Brigitte Bardot went ballistic over the hunt) and that only 325,000 of them are culled per year isn’t mentioned. You’d think Canada is getting ready to kill every seal in the northern hemisphere. Course, if the seal hunt is stopped, maybe we can go hunt Americans, ‘cause we Canadians are evil dontcha know.
All facetiousness aside, it really pisses me off how people think they can just waltz in and tell others what to do even without the facts and figures. And this goes for the seal hunt as well as any number of other issues around the world. If you're gonna choose a cause, why not that of excision in africa, of women's rights in Pakistan where girls reglarly get acid thrown in their faces if they don't live up to the in-law's standards, or where girls are given over to pay debts and end up raped and abused? Oh right!!! That's UGLY. That's no fun! Damn, how stupid of me.
Signed: Jazz, obviously having a hard time giving up the sarcasm.
* the term is courtesy of my friend ChooChoo because I couldn't for the life of me think of what it was in English - being a nasty immoral French wench and all. ;-)
Thursday, March 16, 2006
This morning, on the news they were saying how the SAAQ (Société d'assurance automobile du Québec, the government auto insurance board who regulates god knows what actually) is thinking of raising rates on small cars. Now, most people buy small cars because a) they're into less pollution and ecologically sound consumption b) they want/need to economize c) it just makes more sense. But, the wonderul SAAQ has come to the conclusion, that they should pay more in insurance because it would seem there is a higher incidence of injury in accidents with smaller cars. Smokers pay higher insurance rates, well, so should small car drivers because they are endangering their lives. Apparently, more studies are necessary and this won't be happening for a few years, if ever. Well, here I am thinking it would be cool to have a Smart car because they're small, easy to park in the city, use so little gas and pollute very little; maybe I should think Hummer instead.
And these people are in charge of my tax dollars...
Urban legend of the day: Mulch being sold here in Quebec comes from all those trees Katrina tore up. Which hey, is a good thing, at least they're being used. But (insert ominous music here) this mulch is full of TERMITES! TERMITES THAT CAN EAT YOUR HOUSE IN NO TIME AT ALL! (must be a mutant breed of super termites if they're gonna survive Quebec winters). Rest assured ladies and gentlemen, it's a hoax. The mulch you will be putting on your suburban flower beds is safe. Thank god, I could almost picture suburbia crumbling to dust, I am highly reassured.
Had a bizarre conversation at the restaurant the other day regarding eating meat. We got to talking about travel and how you could eat dog in Vietnam if you wanted to. Now, most people will freak out at the thought of eating anything along the lines of Fluffy or Fido. This I can understand, we in North America see cats and dogs as family. Over there, it moves, it's edible - easy to understand in a country where your next meal is not necessarily a given... but I digress.
So, her problem was with eating a carnivore. Cows, sheep, goats, pigs - no problem, but an animal that eats meat is disgusting. Why I asked? Because they digest meat, so you're eating dead animals... Um, but eating a dead animal doesn't bother you? Well, no, because it isn't full of dead animals. Aaaaaaall righty then.... I don't really understand the logic behind that, but whatever. So I asked her, have you ever eaten shark? Yep, really good. Well, sharks eat other fish (and lots of the fish you eat are carnivorous). No, but that's ok, because fish are different. Different how? Never did get a satisfactory answer to that one...
The logic escapes me in this, but I will admit that I refrained from pointing out that the stuff they feed cows today is just chock full of ground up animals. I was feeling oh so magnanimous that day.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
This morning I heard on the news that the Liberals, who find themselves in the opposition for the first time in years, are screeching and carrying on about how we must bring our soldiers back, how they have no business in Afghanistan and yadda yadda yadda - as politicians do so well.
They seem to have conveniently forgotten that a) they sent them there and b) while they were in power they felt no compunction about having soldiers in Afghanistan.
Gotta luv 'em...
Then there's "Bite Me". That one is older, but what the hell is up with bite me? Kiss my ass I can understand but bite me? Every time I hear that one, I feel like biting the person's ear off or something. It makes no sense people! None at all!! Really, find something else.
This morning at the gym they played Floyd's Comfortably Numb. A cover. A dance cover for chrissake! Sorta defeats the purpose dontcha think? How can they do that to Pink Floyd, and how can Floyd actually accept such a total and utter massacre of their song? I guess the money was good or something. (Tsk Tsk Jazz, such cynicism.)
Also at the gym this morning, while I was ellipticating* my way to nowhere, I couldn't help wonder what I was doing there. Have I ellipticated, climbed, biked, rowed, and ran my way to China yet? Why do I get up at 5:45 to go to the gym? To stave off old age? sickness? I know plenty of people who lived to a ripe old age and were never ever in shape, and others who were die hard health nuts who died at 40 of cancer or a heart attack. Wouldn't I just be better off sleeping those extra 40 minutes and taking the bus into work with all the other drones? Just so many ants doing what we are programmed to do, work work work until we drop dead of the previously mentioned heart attack or cancer. What is the point? *sigh*
Listen to me, I sound like a nihilistic 16 year old. My period is late. At the rate I'm going I think it won't be late for much longer. LOL
* Action of using an elliptical trainer. As far as I know it was coined by Lauren on a forum I once frequented.
Friday, March 10, 2006
I received an email newsletter this morning from the hotel we stayed at when we went to Australia last year (in Port Douglas). Telling me how great things were, that they now had a gym (yeah, right, I'm a km from the ocean and I'm going to be in a gym? I don't think so) and that they would love to see us again. Damn how I wish... But not in the gym. Nope. Uh-uh, ain't gonna happen.
In other news...I've been wandering around checking out websites. Altered book and collage artists (often one and the same). There is some beautiful stuff out there by very talented people.
Although it's inspiring stuff, it's also pretty discouraging, ya know? Me, do stuff like that? As if. Look at some of these links from Collagecat ! But this time I'm going to try anyway. It's not like I have to show it to anyone else if it sucks, or even if it doesn't. It's an experiment! Nothing more. An experiment. Keep that in your head Jazz. Who cares if it sucks, so long as you have fun doing it.
Edit: This morning I happened across a blog with the same format as mine. But it wasn't written in italics. Why is mine? I thought maybe my font, but nope, it's been changed and I have the same problem. I've checked the italics, but they're not on. I've even gone through the template, but I can't figure out the problem. Oh, and big bro? You who say my technical savvy is neolithic at best, you notice that I managed to install links (long ago) and a counter. It's just italics I'm useless with.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
The friend I wrote about earlier arrived on the last day of February. She and the love of her life came to dinner on Saturday with their new dog, who just happens to be the most adorable bitch (I’ve always wanted to say that about a dog) I have ever met. She’s white with a black head and butt. Absolutely the cutest thing on four legs…
OK, so you’ll be thinking that meeting the dog far outshone seeing her again. Well, the dog is a close second.
In the shower at the gym this morning, I was thinking of how I’d call her in here, because obviously she will be popping up now and again and I won’t be using real names – protecting privacy and all that. I figured famous lovers might be in order, so…
My first thought was for Tristan and Isolde. But their story is just too tragic; she ended up in a nunnery and he ended up castrated. I wouldn’t want to tempt fate, ya know. The nunnery might do, but the castration bit… not so much.
Of course you have the obvious Romeo and Juliet. This one is not so much tragedy as adolescent histrionics. She’s supposed to marry someone, when actually she’s already married to R so takes a potion to appear dead in order to get out of the marriage (um., how about just say I’m already married? Bigamy wasn’t an option back then either). He hears she’s dead and runs to her family’s crypt (how the hell did he get in? Did they leave crypt doors open back then?) He sees her “dead”, poisons himself over her. She wakes up (what, three minutes too late?) and kills herself because he’s dead. I mean, c’mon people, we’re supposed to believe that? Again, it just doesn’t work for me.
Batman and Robin… Even as a kid I could tell these guys were very strange, though of course they weren’t "like that". I wouldn't even have known what "like that" was to tell the truth. Robin runs around in tights, a red tunic and a yellow cape, for chrissake. Just the colour scheme… ewwww, it always offended my sensibilities. As for Batman – jeez, superheros just weren’t that buff when I was a kid, obviously. But of course, this has nothing to do with them, I was just into famous couples here....
Now, there's always Antony and Cleopatra. But then she stuck her hand in a basket of poisonous snakes. Another relationship with issues.
Bonnie and Clyde? Speaking of issues, both dead riddled with bullets….
Harold and Maud? Despite their age difference, the Harold and Maud age difference is just TOO big, plus it’s backwards.
How about S&M? (I know what you’re thinking, you nasty minded bunch of perverts but it stands for Seattle and Montreal.)
OK, well, that was quite a digression, so back to S&M, but mostly S.
So, S&M (oh yeah, I quite like that) came to dinner Saturday at the cottage. It was good. Much good food, much good wine, many good laughs.
I admire S’s chutzpah. To actually go through with it and do what she did. To leave family, friends, job, and come to a place where French is the dominant language and the culture is so different. To be completely dependent on M because she won’t be allowed to work for several months… That takes guts. And lots of them. She’s not just changing cities here. She crossed the whole fucking continent. I imagine she's feeling a little unsteady. Hell, I'd be running around tearing my hair out. I just hope the transition goes well.
I know you’ll eventually read this S, so really, girl, you rock! I wish I had half the guts you do.
Well, I have found the book I’m gonna alter. I decided to go with something not too big for the first one, so I got a spiral bound book of flashcards. The only problem I foresee at this point is the format since it’s about 4x7 inches, which isn’t very wide and the spiral is quite big. But whatever, it’s an experiment.
Sunday night I went through it selecting words I’d like to highlight and that I think I can work with.
I find it ironic, though, that a confirmed atheist will be altering a book of flashcards whose theme is bible stories. It will be interesting to see how I manage to work my way out of that particular dilemma
Enough already with the music in the locker rooms. I know it's supposed to relax us, but please! The little birds tweeting with new age piano music in the foreground, the babbling brook with the violins, the crashing waves with the guitar. IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE! We don't need that sort of crap at 6:30 in the morning, we need something to wake us UP! Give me the the nature sounds alone and I'll be perfectly happy, otherwise, how about something peppy in the morning?
But, for the third time this week, I had an awesome work out this morning. I usually have lots of trouble getting to that point so early in the day (the Jazzer is so not a morning person), but for some reason it's going great this week. Je pète le feu*, as we say in Quebec. I have so much energy I'm not quite sure what to do with it.
So it's International Women's Day today. Yippi. Is there a point really? I can't help but think we don't really need it here (ducks head in anticipation of rock throwing**) and it sure as hell isn't stopping little girls from being sexually mutilated in Africa; or women in Pakistan and India from having acid thrown in their faces if they don't live up to the in-laws expectations; or women all over the developing world from being faceless and basically non-existant although they do 90% of the work.
International Women's Day. Yippi! (insert heavy sarcasm here)
But still, je pète le feu!
* And yes, your automatic translator is right. It means I'm farting fire. Sounds so much better in French doesn't it?
** By the way I consider myself a feminist
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
And here I thought I had been abandoned in cyberspace, while all the time my comments aren't working.
Edit: oops... apparently I had to make a new post for comments to appear, they'll not appear in the old ones. Why didn't I think of that? *hangs head in shame at cyber stupidity*
Re-edit: OK, slap me with a dead salmon. Hit me over the head with baseball bat. Of course you can comment in old posts, the pencil is there. What, did I think comments would appear by miracle. Jazz is a total spazz - well, at least it rhymes.
Re-re-edit: Obviously dead salmon and baseball bats aren't enough for me. I just now realized, after all this time, that the little pencil icon is there so I can edit a post. How about slapping me with dead whales and hitting me over the head with huge boulders? Just put me out of my misery already. Oy!
Re-re-re-edit: That pencil icon is really quite cool! Woot!
Ladies and Gentlemen, this morning's Jazz moments were brought to you by the number 6 and the letter X.
Monday, March 06, 2006
News bulletin for your information
It is 7:00 a.m and it is a total waste of time for you to preen in front of the loocker room mirror, touching up makeup and fixing your t-shirt so it shows off your cleavage just so. I can guarantee you’re the best looking female in there now. I promise.
But at this hour, well, it's basically the equivalent of the "Early Bird Special" in restaurants. Nary a youngster to be seen. The only looks you’ll attract are those of forty and fifty something civil servants, several of whom probably need viagra to get it up. Believe me, that’s not the attention you want. And if you’re here for the trainers, all the eye candy trainers on on the late afternoon shift. At this hour the trainers are highly ordinary. They're the trainers who aren't around to pick up gym bunnies.
Do yourself a favour, come at 5:00.
Obviously some people are sick of winter. Seen at the bus stop: a woman wearing leather clogs, black pantyhose and a flirty little white cotton skirt printed with flowers.
Um, Hello! It's March 6! IT’S 10 BELOW THIS MORNING!!! What were you thinking when you got up? You’re in Montreal. It won’t be spring until mid-April. And then probably only in your dreams.
And even if it were spring, black leather clogs, black stockings and a white cotton skirt? I’m no fashionista, not by a long shot, but even I can tell you that that’s wrong on just SO many levels….
Seen at the magazine stand: The Family Circle cover for this week: A huger picture of amazing looking brownies and a headline: How Four Women lost 250 pounds. Is it me or is that just bizarre? A magazine with multiple personality disorder. It can't decide whether to promote the scrumptous dessert or the weight loss. Family Circle and Women's Day do this all the time. "The amazing walking diet" with a picture of pecan pie. The paradox of modern life in North America. Go figure.
When I finally got through to a true and real human being (seriously, a live person!!!) I was asked for my social security number. Makes sense. Then my name, address birth date and who I was working fort three years ago (why three? good thing I'm not a job hopper). Am I married? His name? His birth date? I was just about to tell the lady that no, I had no idea whether he was wearing boxers or a g-string today (actually I did – nary a g-string has ever nestled between his cheeks, thank god. G-strings on men are wrong, just so wrong, I don’t care how perfect looking the guy is, but I digress), when the interrogation ended and my "numeric code" was duly handed out to me.
I know they have to do the security thing, but I can think of any number of people who know all those details, so what exactly is the point here? If identity thieves are so honest that they’re gonna pay my taxes for me, more power to them.