Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
This time Friday, I'll be on the plane to Dallas.
This time Saturday I'll have reconnected with Patty after a couple of years, can't wait.
This time Sunday, I'll be in Corpus Christi.
This time sometime next week I'll have met Geewits (also can't wait)
This time the week after that I'll be spending a week at the cottage.
I love vacations.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
It just seems like such a stupid way to die. And a pathetic way to die. Dying in order to fit some arbitrary standard of beauty is a tad ironic isn't it? 'Cause the lady? She ain't fitting nuttin' no more.
I understand insecurity. Hell, I haven't worn a bathing suit in years; I wear surfer shorts and a tankini top if I get anywhere near the water. We all have our issues. Especially when confronted to perfect bodies on the beach.
But between that and actually risking death in order to free myself of my fat ass... well not so much thank you. Because a fat ass doesn't make me any less acceptable - at least not in my eyes. And it makes sitting much more comfortable. Jesus Mary and Joseph, what's wrong with me?!?!?!
As far as I'm concerned, plastic surgery should be reconstructive. Some people really do need it. But there's a huge difference between being deformed and wanting Angelina Jolie's lips. Ok, maybe not the best example, cause those lips?.... Ok, Mom, if I can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all... right. Gotcha.
What kind of society do we live in that having huge knockers is supposed to change your life? The only thing it would change as far as I'm concerned is that I could get a job at Hooters. Not something I'd want to do anyway, so it's a moot point.
Collagened lips, paralyzed faces (I'm sure people whose faces are paralyzed from strokes find this one sort of ironic too), mega-boobage, butt implants, faces so lifted they're hardly faces anymore.
And apparently more and more men are jumping on the bandwagon. Boys, get a hold of yourselves! Now, before it's too late. You really don't have to act stupid because women do too.
Yes, I understand societal pressure. It's all the fault of fashion magazines and all that crap. Right. Of course.
And the idea of actually basing one's life on the dictates of a Vogue or Elle or Glamour magazine, doesn't that strike people as more than a little whacked? Again, I read fashion magazines, I love 'em (especially the shoes! oh the shoes! I saw these perfect red shoes.... ok, off topic). I also love the irony of the "be healthy" articles and the clothes hanger teenagers modeling the clothes. No people you don't have to look like them! They're 13 and they're there to make the clothes look right. If the clothes don't look right on you, buy something else, don't fucking get lipsuction!!!
I'm begining to wonder if there wouldn't be lots of money to be made in brain transplants.
People can blame the media for all the ills they want. When it comes right down to it, it's another case of people acting like idiots. Because you know what? If people just fuckin' decided to accept themselves aleady, the whole damn "system" would collapse. This whole, how-dare-you-actually-look-your-age-you-should-never-look-older-than-35-even-if-you're-106 culture would be a thing of the past. Yeah, I know, pipe dreams. What does that expression mean anyway? What pipe?
It's a profoundly sad society when people strive to look like cookie cutter clones (oooh! alliteration!!!) of one another.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Penis – (Aw, c'mon, you have to admit this is a really cool cake! Geez, I wonder if it'll show up on Blogger Play)
I know, penis is easy. But I like ‘em. Well, I really really like one of ‘em. The others I envy. Yes indeedy. Penis envy. How can you not envy an apparatus that allows you, when nature calls very very urgently to just whip out said apparatus and do your business? That allows you, when you’re snowshoeing at -20 (Celsius or Farenheit makes no difference at that temperature) to not have to bare your blindingly white ass – which, come to think of it can serve as camouflage in this case – and freeze it off in order to answer nature’s call? I rest my case.
Parenthood – I never felt the call. I don’t think I’d have made a bad mother, mind you, but at the same time the whole giving birth thing seems more than a little, well….um… horrific to me. Popping a watermelon out of my cootchie does not strike me as a good time. As for the sleepless nights, the tantrums, adolescence…I can barely direct my own life, let alone someone else’s. This being said, I love kids, I love watching them grow and develop, I love playing with them and talking with them. Just not full time.
Parthenogenesis – Thank god this isn’t how humans reproduce, if only because I really like having fun with that first item on the list. Plus I really like this word even thought I don't have much in the way of thoughts on it.
Popularity – I was never one of the popular ones. I was a total nerd/geek in high school. The one who got picked on. The one with almost zero friends. How I envied the popular kids – the jocks, the pretty girls – all those Friday and Saturday nights reading Tolkein in my room. How I fantasized about suddenly becoming one of them. At university, things were a bit better, though not by much. It helped that there weren’t that many of us in translation and we were always together anyway so once is a while my sarcasm had a chance to shine with people who could actually appreciate it. And eventually I grew up and figured that hell, it must be sorta sad when the high point of your life is high school and that things go downhill after that. Now I realize that that probably wasn’t the case, yesterday's cool people are still today’s cool people in most cases. And I still have days where I envy them.
Plants – I’ve never been good with plants. Usually I manage to kill them within a couple of months. Except for Lucky Bamboo. I’ve had one on my desk for over a year now and it’s thriving. I had to transplant it into a pot of earth because it was growing out of its pot of water. It's a mutant. Now there are three "babies" coming out. I’m gonna be a grandmother! The mind boggles.
Penultimate – Next to last. I’ve made it this far. I was wracking my brain at first, but all in all this went really well. I’m always surprised at how these memes start out terribly difficult and then stuff just tumbles out of my brain. I guess I need direction to blog. I need to be told what to do. I’m the perfect little drone, not a leader. I don’t think I could have my own company – I’d never get anything done. I’d just sit there staring blankly at my computer screen… Now, a last one and I have to get my ass to work.
Plano, Texas – Next week at this time I’ll be on a plane to Dallas. To see a friend I haven’t seen in a couple of years. Oh, look at that, her name beings with P, would that make eight? Yeah. So. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years, she moved from Arizona, where once she was Mr. Jazz’s cousin’s girlfriend who I started emailing with way before we ever met (on Mr. Jazz’s insistence. He told me after meeting her, "this woman is a really good friend of yours"). When she and the cousin separated and she moved to CA we visited her there a few times. Now she’s married to a really awesome guy and is living in Plano and it’s been way too long since I’ve seen her. And I can’t wait for next Friday. Plus, while I’m there, I’ll be meeting Geewits!
- Big Brother because I like to make life hard on him,
- Geewits because she's in my head alot since we're meeting soon,
- Evil Spock because his mind works in mysterious ways,
- Jocelyn because her answers will no doubt be good for a giggle,
- and Choochoo because maybe this will entice Bergerac home.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Talk about conspicuous consumption. The mind boggles.
And speaking of cars and consumption, yesterday I saw a Hummer3 parked in front of the office. They're shrinking. This thing is only about the size of a really big SUV. I can't wait for the Hummer 6. It'll be the size of a SmartCar, except it'll still be butt ugly, cost a fortune and guzzle gas like there's no tomorrow.
Oh, and in case you haven't seen this, it's absolutely fascinating: Play displays photos uploaded to Blogger's public blogs in real time. I picked this up in a blog last week.
Monday, September 17, 2007
I imagine the point is to garner more traffic to your blog. Theoretically, I suppose, people would go there, check the blogs on display, vote for them and start frequenting yours because it's just so damn briliant. Or something along those lines.
Imagine the tons of emails they send out blind to any and all blogs out there. How many people respond? Flattery will get you everywhere I suppose. 'Cause I'm quite certain my stellar blogging talent hasn't awed them to the point that they could no longer survive without interviewing me.
For some reason, this brings to mind Ticknart's Friday blog about "writing" vs. blogging. Fantasy writer Robin Hobbs has a rant against blogging on her website which is totally ridiculous. But then I never facied myself to be a writer so... meh. But sentences like this:
But my dear friends, it is NO COINCIDENCE that blog and blood begin with the same three letters!
don't help her make her case in my opinion. But what do I know, blogger has eaten my brain anyway.
I dare hope that rant was somewhat tongue in cheek. Who knows, maybe she's a closet blogger, or a blog reader and trying to hide her addiction.
...oh, it feels like writing, like the easiest sort of writing, the writing that needs not to be justified on the morrow. It is the writing that makes the idle stupidity of the day something of worth...
And now, onto the idle stupidity of my day:
For the first time in months I've spent a whole day in closed shoes rather than sandals. My feet, they are not happy. Already they are craving freedom. What will they have to say when I reintroduce them to pantyhose....
Friday, September 14, 2007
Who among you is responsible for this outrage?
Once upon a time, fridges and stoves were quite simple. You had a smooth white surface with smooth chrome handles and smooth little knobs. Smooth being the operative word here.
Speaking of knobs, which of you is the knobhead who decided it would be a wonderful idea to add texture to the knobs, scrap the smooth chrome handles and replace them with textured (and padded in the case of my fridge) handles? Oh and while you were at it, add texture and pattern to the metal of the fridge and stove?
First off, I don’t spend enough time in the fridge to actually need a padded handle, although, seeing the size of North Americans now, some people might, in order not to develop unsightly callus on their hands. But the size of North Americans is for another rant.
Now, Mr. or Ms. Designer, my point is that kitchens are places that lend themselves admirably to getting dirty quite quickly what with the grease, the cooking, the spills and other assorted incidents.
Textured plastic takes to grease and “dirt” like flies to shit (or bees to honey if you want to be pastoral about it). It gets into those tiny grooves and holes and crap and it’s pretty damn near impossible to scrub in places without a toothbrush (at any rate in the case of my fridge handle). Do I look like someone who has the time to scrub my appliances with a toothbrush? I thought not.
And no, I couldn’t get appliances with no texture, they seem to no longer exist.
I said Mr. or Ms. Designer. I retract that, no woman on earth would design an appliance that way. ‘Cause dude, she’s the one stuck cleaning it.
And by the way, I think stainless appliances are to the 2000s what Avocado Green and Harvest Gold were to the 70s. So there.
Dear Aldo Rossi and Alessi.
The Il Conico Kettle is a beautiful piece of design. Yes indeed it is. Yup Yup.
I own this cool kettle. It was given to me as a gift from my mother in law who knows I love everything having to do with tea – most of all drinking it of course. But that has nothing to do with this correspondence.
How stupid do you have to be to design a kettle with a stainless steel handle welded directly onto the kettle itself? Granted, it looks good, but have you any idea what happens when a kettle is brought to the boiling point? Yep it gets horribly hot. You know what happens to the stainless steel handle soldered directly onto the kettle? Bingo! It gets as hot as the kettle.
Now every kettle I’ve ever dealt with was conceived in such a fashion that the handles stays, if not cool, at least manageable. Not so this one. The first time I picked it up I dropped it immediately. But not before the damage was done to my hand. I mean, who thinks that a kettle handle will get that hot? Logically, no one.
You’re lucky I don’t live in the States, I could’ve sued your ass and would be living high now. I mean, hell Aldo, if you can sue McDonald’s because your coffee is too hot and win… Damn what a case I had.
Once again, I'mnot surprised this was designed by a man. Most men are idiots when it comes to kitchens.
Dear women in the public restrooms,
Now, I know that despite the fact that your chances of catching something on a toilet seat are next to nil unless you have open sores on your butt, you don’t want to sit on the toilet in a public restroom. Believe me, I understand. I favour the crouch and pee method myself.
However, peeing all over the toilet seat is just plain disgusting.
Take a page from the boy’s book and lift the toilet seat, because unlike men designing kitchen stuff, this is something that makes perfect sense.
This way, the hole will be bigger and hopefully easier to aim at, the seat will stay dry and I won’t want to hurl every time nature dictates that I have no choice but to use a public loo.
It’s really not a hard thing to do. You can even use your foot to lift the seat if you so choose.
Dear lady on the elvatator,
Common courtesy dicatates that when you get into the elevator, you hold the door if someone is at most three steps away from the door. You do not hit the close doors button. It really makes you look bad when they’re halfway through and the doors close on them.
At the very least, have the courtesy to look sheepish. Don’t just stare at the person shoving at the doors to get out of the um… tight spot she happens to be in. Or, I dunno, maybe, um… hit the open door button you dumb cluck*
Plus, how stupid do you look in you flip flops and leggings and short sweater. Yes, I know it’s comfortable, but you’re at work, not lounging around the house. There are limits to casual Friday. Your look seared my eyeballs and inflicted severe psychological trauma. Remember I was forced to look at you while trying to stop the damn doors from squeezing the life out of me.
Besides girl, your really are not of a size to be wearing leggings anywhere, anytime. If you think otherwise you hare highly delusional. I recommend therapy.
*I was going to use the other C word but figured I shouldn’t alienate my readers.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Now, I’ve been accused of many things in my life, but nice was rarely one of them. ChooChoo surmised that my brother chose me because I know where he lives and can fuck with his mind if I so choose. In other words, he did it to placate me.
Or maybe he really believes I’m a nice(ish) person.
It’s not like he ever told me that during the numerous “torture the little sister or at best simply screw with her mind” sessions of our youth. I’m sure he’d say it was all out of concern to prepare me for the big bad world. And maybe he actually believed it. How fucked is that?
Or maybe he really believes that I’m a nice(ish) person.
Nope, there has to be something behind it, there has to be another reason he’s doing this to me.
Wait!!! My friends seem to think I’m nice(ish). Oh, not in so many words, but if they thought I was a total prick(ette?) they wouldn’t hang around with me… Unless they tolerate me because of Mr. Jazz. Yeah, that’s probably it. Whew!
I know. BB is reprising the “fuck with the little sister’s head” sessions from way back. He has actually devised an new and, I must admit, brilliant way to torture me. Hats off to him. I bow down before your superior talent at screwing with my head, BB! 'Cause apparently "Nice Matters" and all that shit.
So now, on to business. Apparently I must pass this on to five other bloggers. Since it seems BB and I have pretty much the same list of favourites, I can only be thankful we don’t have to pass it on to 20 or so people. Then I would’ve been screwed indeed. So, besides those that BB already tagged, I bring you:
Geewits is a really nice woman in Texas who I’ll be meeting within a few weeks. At which point I'll be able to confirm the niceness factor. The fact that she neglected a cough to the point of developing pneumonia last week does not make her any less nice. Simply extremely negligent of herself. Plus she just stopped smoking. You go girl!!! You can do this.
Josie is a Vancouver mega blogger (at least once a day) who seems to be the epitome of nice. She is the mother of nice. She is the nice to end all other nice. Oh, and did I say she seems really nice? A little too quick to call herself and her life boring, but that’s about as bad as it gets. I'm sure she has an totally evil dark side and spends her evenings scaring little children, but she keeps it very well hidden. So. Nice.
And of course Constant Whiner another Texan who I unfortunately won't be meeting due to lack of time in Texas. Now, I’m not sure how nice she is, but she’s nice enough to make me laugh every time she blogs, which is not nearly enough in my book (hopefully she'll pick up on that hint). Actually she’s sort of evil, but that makes me laugh too so hell, she’s nice in my book. She works in Dilbert’s office and I don’t know how she survives it with her sense of humour intact, which obviously makes her nice, right? It's distinctly possible her evilness is disguised as nice to throw off her co-workers. I wouldn't put it past her.
Evil Spock might not seem to be the best choice for a “nice” award. After all, everyone knows Evil Spock is bent on taking over the world and becoming the ultimate potentate of the universe. However, he’s willing to give away locks of his hair to be sold for a fortune when he has achieved his goal. Now if that’s not altruism (and some sort of a bizarre Samson complex), I don’t know what is. Besides, it’s always good to suck up to the future ultimate potentate of the universe. I mean, he’s most probably delusional, but who knows?
Dorky Dad likes to think he’s a curmudgeon, but he still has a lot of work to do in order to achieve real curmudgeonliness (is that even a word?). He’s a nice Minnesota curmudgeon in training with a lovely wife and an adorable toddler who runs him ragged and could conceivably be the real future ultimate potentate of the universe. The Boy does seem to have it in him…
Now off you all go to spread the niceness... or something.
PS: I must add that that is probably the single most saccharine looking award ever. And I can assure you that this image will not make it up on my sidebar. Nice doesn't need to be pink and fluffy. It can be grey and black and tastefully and minimally designe. Nevertheless, I bestow upon this image the Pinky Sweet Hurl Inducing Award of the year.
Monday, September 10, 2007
After this morning’s incident in the bathroom, I figured I’d do another list of things I’ve done, this one being the cringe worthy list (Some or most of these might have made it to my blog before, but I simply cannot be bothered to go trolling through the whole thing in order to find out. I'm lazy like that.) :
- This morning I managed to burn my eyelid. I was drying my hair and somehow poked myself in th eye with the business end of the blowdryer. You know how it’s got a metal screen on the front? Yeah, I tried to brand myself…
- I’ve managed to practically sink a pedal boat (I could link to this story but again, I'm truly way to lazy to be bothered), but y’all know about that.
- I’ve also walked through a restaurant door. A plate glass door. Shattered it. Bang. Ouch. Much mayhem and many flustered waiters ensued. They opened the second door and escorted me to my table. Probably because they were afraid I'd walk through that one too. Not a good idea in January in Montreal. The restaurant would've been a tad chilly after that.
- I pretty much flipped myself over a subway turnstile once when I swiped my card through too quickly. More quickly than the signal could make it to the turnstile obviously. Idjit.
- I’ve put a scarf through the office shredder – while it was around my neck – about a month after I started my job. They still talk about it. Embarassing doesn't even begin to cover it.
- I walked into the plate glass door at the office (I have a thing for plate glass doors dontcha know). I saw the outside door was open so I simply assumed the inside door was open too. It wasn’t. Again, ouch.
- I’ve flown off a horse – when it turned right at full gallop I continued straight. It's an interesting feeling, flying is. I wonder if that's how birds feel, execpt for the landing of course.
- I've stepped on my skirt and fallen to my knees while boarding a bus. At rush hour, of course. Paying hommage to the bus driver perhaps.
- I've burned myself on ovens and wood burning stoves too many times to count.
- I've also sliced and diced myself more often than I care to remember, including the time I pushed the lawn mower over my foot.
I’m a danger to myself. Sometimes I wonder how I made it to 46.
Friday, September 07, 2007
According to his new book, Brian Mulroney hates Lucien Bouchard because it seems Lucien betrayed him.
Newsflash Brian. You are both politicians, what can you expect? I'm sure you betrayed your share of people too in order to climb as far as you did. No one is whining about it. Seriously, get over yourself.
In other news.
Daniel Brière, a hockey player for those of you not in the know, chose to sign a contract with Philadelphia over Montreal. Two months ago. Quite a while you say? Yep, and yet....
And yet it's still front page news in Montreal that the guy went elsewhere. Feelings are hurt, I suppose, that a Quebecer would prefer somewhere else over Quebec.
I know Montrealers take their hockey seriously but this is ridiculous. It's been two (count 'em TWO) months. Stop whining! (again) Get over it!
He was quoted as commenting that if people were still upset after so long, he figured he had made the right decision. Well duh. Indeed.
The McGill subway station is in really bad shape and probably needs lots of emergency work. I'm thinking it'll probably collapse one day at rush hour, The Bay (a department store for those non-Canadians among you) will tumble into the hole and they can always blame a terrorist attack. As an add-on to this story, it would seem that a good portion of bridges and overpasses in Quebec are in dire straits. It's a matter of time before more of them collapse.
Of the three, am I the only one who thinks only the last item somewhat newsworthy?
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
So, instead, in the spirit of my last blog, here is a list of things still to do - or in a few cases, do over again:
- Participate in the Tomato Fight in Bunol
- See Barcelona and Gaudi's buildings
- Go shark diving
- Skydive again
- Take a year long road trip through Canada and the US with Mr. Jazz
- Spend at least a month living by the ocean
- Spend a few months living in Paris
- Go back to the Grand Canyon
- Live full time at the cottage
- Spend more time writing and making collages
- Attend the Art Fest at least once
- Meet all those bloggers I love reading
- Learn to ride a horse without at the same time experiencing the "joys" of unassisted flight like I did every time I tried to ride
- Learn to draw