Thursday, December 25, 2008
As you read this, I should be hurtling through the air in a thin metal tube at some 30 some thousand feet on my way to the (relative) warmth of Las Vegas and Palm Springs. After the frigid sub zero arctic temperatures we've been having, 45F seems positively balmy.
So unless a laptop with wi-fi connection to everywhere falls on my head from the sky I should only be back on the other side of the new year. Come to think of it, if a laptop falls onto my head from the air, it'll probably maim me in some horrible way that would preclude my ever blogging again. Que sera sera.
Until then (either the maiming laptop or the new year), I want to wish you all a great holiday devoid of weird ass family issues to stink it up.
May your holidays be balmy (either in temperature or in happiness) and your new year grand. I'll raise a glass to all of you.
Monday, December 22, 2008
And since I'm all about not having to think right now, it's perfect. I poached it from A little off kilter, one of my favourite blogs, you're welcome to it if you like.
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Gift bags are so much easier, but it really depends on what I have on hand.
2. Real tree or artificial?
Artificial. I only do a tree at the cottage, not in town, and since we're not there mostly during the week - except a few days at Christmas - there's no one around to water a real one.
3. When do you put up the tree?
Usually beginning or mid-December. When I was a little kid my parents would put it up on the 24th after I went to bed. I'd be woken for midnight mass and there would be the tree. It was magic. Even when I got old enough to help decorate it, the tree went up on the 24th, not before. It meant Christmas had arrived.
4. When do you take the tree down?
Sometime in January when I get up the energy to do it.
5. Do you like eggnog?
Nasty stuff it is.
6. Favorite gift received as a child?
Hmmmm... I loved my etch-a-sketch. Other than that, I don't remember any particular presents off hand, but I do remember being thrilled each Christmas.
7. Hardest person to buy for?
When you're 47, a parent. What the hell do you buy someone in their 80s. They have it all.
8. Easiest person to buy for?
9. Do you have a nativity scene?
Nope, well, not a traditional one. I put some of my extensive collection of Mr. Potato Heads under the tree. Mr. Potato Head, Mrs. Potato Head and Junior Potato Head, with a Potato Head storm trooper to guard them. Yes, I'm obsessed with Mr. Potato Head. To the point I bought the special however many-eth anniversary edition. I never got a Potato Head at Christmas. But I digress. So yeah, Mr. Potato Head under the tree. Kids who come over love it.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards?
Neither. I'm a grinch that way. Seriously, I can't be bothered.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
A three pack of grannie panties from.... a boyfriend's mom. What the fuck??? Just don't give me anything if you hate me, the message will get across. Passive aggressive bitch.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie?
Got none. Though I remember seeing one about a department store Santa Claus who kept insisting he was really Santa and the lady who worked at the store didn't believe him (she was of the bah, humbug school of thought like me) and he actually was Santa. Or something like that.
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Despite the best of intentions, way too late. Always way too late.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Nope. Not that I remember anyway.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Hmmm... I love Moroccan clementines at this time of year. And mom used to make this coconut raisin candy... damn, just thinking about it makes my mouth water. I can practically taste it. And any of mom's cooking, ragout, tourtière, etc.
16. Lights on the tree?
Isn't that the point of trees?
17. Favorite Christmas song?
Hate them all. And I'm surprised that retail workers don't go insane and kill all the customers since they have to listen to that crap day in day out for months. I feel for them, I really do. There is one I like, but I don't know it's name and I can't sing it for you and really, even if I could you wouldn't want that, trust me. Fingernails on a blackboard come to mind when I sing.
Most loathed song is Paul McCartney's Christmas ditty - Wonderful Christmastime. Possibly the most stupid lyrics ever written: The word is out / About the town / To lift a glass / And don't look down. WTF???
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
This year travel. We're running away to Vegas and Palm Springs. We're gonna wander around the desert simply having a wonderful Christmastime lalalalalalala ALONE!
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's?
Um... Rudolph? Dopey, Grumply, Doc, Happy, Bashful, Sneezy and Sleepy? Huh? What? Wrong story?
20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
Last year, a star. Previously the treetop has sported a snowman, Homer Simpson, a stuffed cat, and assorted other things. And yes, a Mr. Potato Head. But he fell off. Poor dear.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Depends on how awake I am at the time. Whatever works for us.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
Office parties, endless loops of Christmas songs, fake cheer, consumerism, wasted money on stupid things no one will ever use or even particularly want.
23. Favorite ornament theme or color?
Every year I allow myself one expensive ornament for the tree. I love our three mermaids (bought for Mr. Jazz actually) and the glass birds that I were always in the tree when I was growing up. Actually, if I had put up the tree this year I could tell you which exactly are my favourites, but I tend to forget them during the year and go, "oooohhhhhhhh, I have this?" every year. There is no theme or rhyme or reason to our tree. It's completely eclectic and crazy looking.
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?
Mom's "ragout de boulettes" (thoug mom's doesnt quite look like that. Who the hell knows what those pinkish things are...). You take chicken broth, make pork meatballs, boil them in the broth. Add flour that you previously browned in the oven to thicken, season with pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg and serve with potatoes (but not Mr. Potato Head) and sweet pickled beets. It sounds very bizarre written out like that, but it's delicious. Oh, and tourtière (a meat pie) Turkey is highly overrated I think.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Nothing, I have everything I need. A job, a place to live (two actually), a full belly and clothes on my back.
Ok, if I must have some wish... um... Peace on earth and goodwill to all men? Like that's ever gonna happen. Bah... Humbug.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Y'all know I don't love to cook. At all. However, baking is something I really like. I can really get into the whole cake and cookie thing.
For this holiday, I decided to share a special recipe. My Tequila Christmas cake. You'll love it I'm sure.
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 cup water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 bottle tequila
2 cups dried fruit
Sample the tequila to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the tequila again to be sure it is of the highest quality.
Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is sstill OK. Try another cup just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy.
Break 2 legs and add to the bowl and chuck iin the cup of dried fruit. Pick the fruit up off the floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something. Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window.
Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.
Monday, December 15, 2008
I haven't been blogging much recently, mostly because after a day on the computer at work, the last thing I want to do is log in more computer time. I just can't seem to find the energy for this anymore.
I like long weekends. It's fun to play hooky at the cottage on a Monday with Mr. Jazz.
It's much less fun to arrive at the cottage on a Friday evening, get out of the car, look at those 40 steps up from the driveway and say, "Fuck, they're gone."
Buried under a waist high dump of snow. Mr. J started shoveling while I hauled myself up to the cottage to get the other shovel.
Did I mention the waist high snow? The snow that gets over the waistband of one's jeans and slithers down inside? Cryogenics for the nether region. I don't recommend it.
Over an hour to shovel those stairs. It's still fall and I'm already so over winter. (sigh)
At least we'll be leaving soon. Over the hols we're going to Vegas to see a Cirque du Soleil show, then driving down to Palm Springs to wander around the desert (among other things, Joshua Tree National Park) and drink margaritas. It's been way too long since I've seen the desert. Much much much too long.
Ironic isn't it that the place I love the most in the world, the deserts of the US southwest are diametrically opposed to the place I actually live. There's something really wrong about that.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
No, rather with a whimper. Winter, she has arrived the bitch.
Montreal was expecting a dusting of snow yesterday. Instead, we got a good six inches, then some freezing rain, and now more snow.
The snow removal teams, the cops, the drivers, everyone was taken by surprise it seems. Go figure. After all, it's only December.
Denial is obviously not just a river in Egypt. Nor am I the only one who likes bathing in it.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
I've had nothing worthwhile to say over the past week or so. Rather than put up one of those long whiney "I have nothing to say" posts, I figured I should just shut the hell up.
Works for me.
This morning, because of unforeseen circumstances (a non-working spouse) I took the bus to work. The red demon stays home if there aren't two of us commuting.
It had been a while. I'm not a fan of public transport, though I use it most every evening. It gets me where I want to go, 60% of the time with more or less minimum fuss*.
Morning bus use is a special kind of hell.
Morning bus use when it's raining buckets is a very special kind of hell. At least in the evenings, you have getting home to look forward to.
Used to be, when I always took the bus in the morning. I could catch the 7:20 and have a 50-50 chance of being seated. Then it was the 7:10. Now, at 6:55** it's hell. Jam-f-ing packed. Toothpicks in a box packed. No bubble wrap to make things easier packed.
And then, just to top it off nicely, you have:
- The fat nasty lady who never stops bitching because someone is sorta dripping on her. - It's raining lady, a rain of Noah's arc proportions. You're sitting down, we're standing over you, we drip. Get over it.
- The guy who wields his backpack like a deadly weapon. - Dude! Take the fucking thing OFF! or at least hang it off the front of you where you can see the damage you wreak.
- The other guy who hasn't washed in a month. Nice.
- The kid with her iPod playing so loud you can hear it clearly 10 feet away. She'll be deaf by the time she's 20. Serves her right.
I have also developed an new and loving devotion to my little Red Demon. I love me my Matrix.
And so, a new day begins. (Crap, that sounds like a Celine Dion song, see what the bus does to me?)
* Lucky y'all, I'll spare you a list of the moronity that is the Montreal public transit system.
** You have to understand. I'm not a morning person. But when I have to take the bus, I'd actually rather be up at the crack of dawn than play the sardine game in the bus.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Ain't he cute that little guy to the right? Shouldn't he be sitting in front of a computer though?
Ian, over at Or So I Thought bestowed upon me this lovely award. It was great to see this after a hellish Monday, and knowing that Tuesday will probably be just as bad. Thank you Ian for thinking I scribble superiorily -yeah, I know, not a word, but there you go. Does that lose my my superiority in scribbldom?
Looking at this award though, I'm struck at how we no longer write. On paper. With a pen. Other than my journal (which means, I suppose that I write for "real" more than most people), I don't use pen and paper anymore to do anything other than jotdown shopping lists and notes to myself to remember this that or the other. Actually, I find myself jotting more note as the years go by and the old brain begins to turn to mush.
I can't remember the last time I took the time to sit down with my pen to write a letter to someone. A real, chatty email of a letter. A how're you doing, last week I this and that happened and on and on. I used to write a couple of 5-10 page letters a week. No longer. It's sad really, because somehow, typing doesn't hold a candle to the sensation of a fountain pen sliding on a good sheet of paper. Anyone want a letter?
Change is good, but sometimes what you leave behind, though it's much slower and less efficient, is even better....
Well, enough maudlin bullshit.
I don't know how many people I'm supposed to pass this onto, but I'll do two men and two women:
Dumdad - an expat journalist Brit living in Paris, his blog has been one of my favourites since I discovered him through... hell I don't even remember how I discovered him.
Joe - A writer photographer living in Florida. His photos are awesome. He takes ordinary moments and makes them extraordinary. His short stories are wonderful. Sort of like his pictures. Only problem is they don't come often enough.
Jocelyn - Everyone's favourite Midwesterner. College teacher and smartass, if her life is as hilarious as what she writes she must spend all her time laughing.
XUP - The Ex Urban Pedestrian. I discovered her with her first blog, where she was writing about being a pedestrian in the city. Literally. It was all about walking and the evils of cars. It was great. She returned and is a prolific and hilarious blogger. Read her if you haven't already. READ. HER. BLOG.
And because I like to break the rules when I can (and I haven't been able to do much of that lately) even if they're my stoopid rools, here's another:
Dorky Dad - He's insane. And funny. And his stories about family life have me on the floor laughing. I need laughs. Thus I love him. I'm a simple creature I am.
And to all you others I follow religiously, it's for you too, so if you want it take it.
Edited to add: Dumdad pointed out that he had given me a Dummy way back in February. A Dummy. All for myself. My very own Dummy. But since I'm an idiot, I had never noticed. Thank you Dumdad for recognizing my dummyness.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I got this from Rachel's blog, Lessons Learned. For the past couple of weeks, I've been thinking about art, what makes something art, who decides what art is, you know, all those lofty preoccupations that come with being sick of your job and more than ready for a vacation. So, when I saw this I had to do it. I find it rather funny that I've scored in the negatives except for abstract and cubist - and truly, I much prefer that type of painting to a 16th century masterpiece.
And so, here's what my taste in art says about my personality... However flattering the personality description is, I dunno how true it is, I tend not think so much about these things because I'm way to preoccupied by what constitutes art and shit like that. You'd have to ask Mr. Jazz. I highly doubt that I could be considered a visionary in any way shape or form though. But I really like that painting below. Would someone buy it for me please?
Non-conformist, Visionary, and Independent
23 Abstract, -16 Islamic, -5 Ukiyo-e, 16 Cubist, -16 Impressionist and -30 Renaissance!
Abstract art uses a visual language of form, color and line to create a composition which exists independently of what may appear to others as visual realities. Western had been underpinned by the logic of perspective and an attempt to reproduce an illusion of visible reality. It allowed the progressive thinking artists to show a different side to the world around them. By the end of the 19th century many artists felt a need to create a 'new kind of art' which would encompass the fundamental changes taking place in technology, science and philosophy. Abstract artists created art that was diverse and reflected the social and intellectual turmoil in all areas of Western culture.
People that choose abstract art as their preferred art form tend to be visionaries. They see things in the world around them and in people that others may miss because they look beyond what is visual only with the eye. They rely on their inner thoughts and feelings in dealing with the world around them instead of on what they are told they should think and feel. They feel freed from the tendency to be bound by traditional thought and experiences. They look more toward their own ideas and experiences than what they are told by their religious upbringing or from scientific evidence. They tend to like to prove theories themselves instead of relying on the insight or ideas of others. They are not bound by common and mundane, but like to travel and have new experiences. They value intelligence, but they also enjoy a challenge. They can be rather argumentative when they are being forced or feel as if they are being forced to conform.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
XUP's recent post reminded me of a conversation Mr. Jazz and I had recently.
Jazz: I have the proof for all those Christian right nutjobs that god does not exist, or that if he does he's far from perfect.
Mr. Jazz: Okaaaaay.... and that would be?
Mr. Jazz: Butts?
Jazz: Well see, god is supposed to be omniscient, to know all to have engineered man in his own image, eh?
Mr. Jazz: ....
Jazz: Now look at animals. They poop, it falls out their butt, they keep going about their business. No butt cheeks, no fuss, no muss, and mostly, no mess. Right?
Mr. Jazz: Um....
Jazz: Now us, we have butt cheeks that screw everything up. Things stick, things smear; toilet paper has become a thriving industry because of our faulty design.
Mr. Jazz: I see your point, but god?
Jazz: Well if god was so perfect, you'd think he'd have ironed out the kinks a long time ago. And if we are made in his own image (cause god has to be a guy, a woman would have thought to fix this), this makes him imperfect doesn't it?
Ergo, since god is perfect, and this issue delves deep in the realm of imperfection, god must not exist - because according to judeo-christian thought, an imperfect god is an impossibility. Thus Darwin was right, it's all about evolution, and human evolution contains a serious kink, perhaps because we were too busy evolving our brain to evolve our butt. It might explain why humans are so cranky all the time. If we had a well designed butt, we might never even have thought of the concept of war!
On the other hand, maybe god does exist and has huge investments in toilet paper companies - in which case, the joke's on us.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
After the recent boring Canadian federal election and the amazing recent election in the US, as I mentioned we're doing the whole election thing again in Quebec less than two years after our previous provincial election.
And our candidate are redefining the meaning of boredom. Yesterday the Parti Québecois and Liberals accused each other of being bad managers.
That pretty much sums up the whole election. We're voting for a manager, not a leader.
The only halfway amusing thing here is Mario Dumont who at the beginning of the campaign touted himself as the Obama of Quebec. The man for change. The man leads the ADQ, the party most to the right that attracts the most rednecks. The reactionary party. Oh the irony!
(Edited to add: This blog from Deux Maudits Anglais on Maclean's.ca just proves that Mario Dumont, like all politicians, is nothing but a clown. He just takes it to a higher level. And yet, he actually managed to be the official opposition leader after the last election. What is wrong with people? )
The whole charade makes the federal election look almost interesting in retrospect. That's scary.
Will we ever again see an inspired leader, whether at the federal or provincial level? Will we ever again see someone with a minimum of flair? A touch of charisma? A René Lévesque? (Love him or hate him, the man had charisma and he inspired people to believe in something).
God these people tire me. I
Monday, November 10, 2008
Friday, November 07, 2008
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Probably more. Everything has no doubt been said.
Halleluia and congratulations to the USA!
And I just want to add my heartfelt thanks to Sarah Palin for all the effort she put into helping this happen.
Thank you Sarah from the bottom of my heart.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Quebec government has decided to end the immigration problems in Quebec. Immigrants will have to sign a "contract" promising to respect our values, i.e. learning French, equality between men and women, the fact that religion and the state are completely separate etc. or they won't be allowed into Quebec. (You can read about it here if you are so inclined)
Of course opinion is divided. Some say it doesn't go far enough. Some say it goes way to far.
I say it's probably the most stupid thing they've come up with in a long time. Because we have an election coming up. And they want to gain the vote of people who are afraid of immigration - 'cause we all know everything will go to hell if too many of the big, bad OTHERS!!! are allowed in.
Of course this is a "moral" contact and is in no way legally binding.
So people will sign. Basically you can compare it to a messenger waybill. You sign for the package and do whatever he hell you want with it afterward.
What exactly is the point of all this? Morons. All of them. And now they want my vote...
For this I pay taxes. For this I give them half my hard earned money.
It's a good thing ridicule isn't a deadly disease. Because, damn, there'd be a helluva lot of dead politicians littering the province.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Mr. Jazz cooks. He pretty much does all the cooking at our house. And Mr. Jazz is incapable of following a recipe.
Last night's truly delicious dinner - pasta sautéed with lemon, veggies and arugula - started out in one of my magazines as a recipe for carrots sautéed in lemon butter and oregano.
I rest my case.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Rumour, which is growing ever stronger, has it that on November 5th they will announce a provincial election in Quebec for early December (somewhere around the 8th).
The Parti Québecois (sovereignists) is bitching, saying the liberals are calling an election because they're up in the polls and think their minority government might be voted in as a majority this time. (Well duh. Like you wouldn't do the same thing? Isn't that part of the strategy? Morons)
The Action Democratique (the right) are starting to utter the word constitution again. (Oy).
The Liberals - well what can you say about Charest's liberals. They and the PQ are alike in that they're also morons - but don't tell either group that because comparison will insult them both.
The Federal campaign posters haven't even all been taken down yet.
Election weariness has struck.
Fuck 'em all.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Some people have bad hair days.
I'm having a bad hair life.
No doubt in another lifetime I did something horrific that had to do with hair.
Maybe I was a Buddhist nun and refused to shave my head?
In this lifetime I'd love nothing more than to go around with a cue ball head.
Karma, she is indeed a bitch.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dear Scotts (or Kleenex or whoever):
It was no doubt a brilliant marketing coup, this supposed addition of lotion to your tissues in order to saver our poor little noses from being rubbed raw. However, I must say that I really never saw any difference between the lotion bearing tissue and the regular kind, and so, doubted that the lotion was really there.
I wish to extend my most humble apologies for doubting you.
A colleague passed me a tissue so I could wipe my glasses. It was a "lotion tissue". My glasses ended up hopelessly smeared.
I ended up terribly annoyed and wondering exactly what it is you put on tissues and if I breathe it will it cause more harm than good?
Perhaps a disclaimer on the boxes saying do not use to wipe glasses? Because really? Bleh.
There is really no point in denying the end of summer, it just makes those first few flakes of falling (alliteration no less!) snow that much more traumatizing.
Nevertheless, you will no doubt go deep into denial again next year. As you always do.
In this, you are a moron.
Dear door manufacturers,
Could you possibly find a way of making plate glass doors a touch less hard - or a touch less transparent? Walking smack into one makes my head hurt.
But at least this time I didn't break it.
If I had wanted to mother people, I would have had children.
If I had any maternal instinct at all, I would be a mom.
If I had an ounce of "nice" flowing through my body, I might take pity on you. One would think that having known me for all this time you would know I'm not big on "the nice".
As it stands, playing mom to colleagues doesn't even make it onto my list of things to do. I have too much work of my own to do yours too.
I am buried in work. Of course it isn't as important as yours, we all know that, but still, I have to get it done. And so...
I will not do your timesheets, I will not do your expenses, I will not order your lunch.
When I show you how to do something ('cause yeah, there are lots of things I know that you don't), or where to find some template in the server, please take note, it's really draining to have to repeat it every damn time you need this information. Five repetitions stretches the bounds of nice for me. Keep it up and I might have to kill you.
You are not kindergartners. You are adults. You drive cars, you have kids, you might even pay your bills for all I know.
Get your shit together and take responsibility for yourselves because. I. WILL. NOT. DO. IT. FOR. YOU.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
I'm not a big fan of fall and winter. No, let's rephrase that. I loathe winter with a vengeance. Winter was imagined as an especially refined torture for people like me. I believe one does not burn in hell, rather one stands naked for all eternity on the corner of St. Catherine and Greene streets in -30 degree weather with the wind roaring down off Mount Royal into the wind tunnel that is Greene. Even bundled up that is my concept of hell. Yep. Indeed.
Needless to say, I love summer, it's heat, the naked skin, the drinking of margaritas on the balcony, the flirty skirts, the sandals, that lovely "sunsweat" smell after spending a day outside. Even the humidity doesn't much bother me. And when it does, I just think of Green and Cat in winter. I wish it went on forever. And ever and ever. Unfortunately, I don't live in a country where I can actually do the summer year round thing. Maybe the next US president will annex Canada and I can go live in Arizona. I'm sure Palin already thinks we're a US state.
But summer does not last forever. Nope.
It. Does. Not.
Violet's post of today, with her talk of cold weather and sweaters made me realize that, once again I'm deep in denial.
Denial that winter is indeed coming.
Denial that the summer clothes have to be hidden away and switched over for woolens and tweed.
Denial that "margaritas on the balcony" season is OVAH!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I lied. That post back a while was not the last political post. On this "day after" I do have something to say about the Canadian election.
It's over and done with. We're stuck with another minority government, and thus elections in 1.5 to two years probably...
Of course a minority Conservative government is better than a majority Conservative government so I guess that's good.
Things I've noticed this morning:
- In all the radio interviews I've heard, if the candidate lost (whatever his party), it's the other parties' fault - never his or her own. How is that?
- The fact that the Liberals lost lots of seats is the Conservatives' fault.
- The fact that the Conservatives made zero gains in Quebec is the fault of the Bloc and Liberals' scare tactics.
- The Bloc MPs are refusing to speak to the press until Daddy Duceppe talks first. That is beyond ridiculous.
The whole thing reminds me of a sixth grade schoolyard scuffle. "Mr. Principal, it's his fault! He started it!"
Grow the hell up!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Rachel posted this meme on her blog recently and it was just too good to pass up... We all like to eat, but how far are we willing to go when it comes to experimentation? None of us are likely to be on Survivor anytime soon, so we won't have to eat yucky stuff in order to stay in the game, but still, one man's yuck is another man's yum, isn't it?
So here are da rools:
From the parent post at Very Good Taste
Below is a list of 100 things that I think every good omnivore should have tried at least once in their life. The list includes fine food, strange food, everyday food and even some pretty bad food - but a good omnivore should really try it all. Don’t worry if you haven’t, mind you; neither have I, though I’ll be sure to work on it. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise everything in the hundred, either; Wikipedia has the answers.Rachel adds another dimension to it:
Here’s what I want you to do:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.
- Colour in bold red the items you LOVED, and bold lime green items you HATED
So, without any further ado, Jazz's take on
The Omnivore's Hundred
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
10. Baba ghanoush
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses (I'm not a huge cheese fan at the best of times, strong stinky cheese even less)
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi (but I definitely prefer sweet lassi)
35. Root beer float
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects (There's a tasting every year at the Montreal insectarium, one of these days I'm going to go)
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more (I almost crossed this out, since I don't like whiskey, but hey, maybe this would work for me!)
47. Chicken tikka masala
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut (Not bad when you just taste it, but the greasy taste that stays in your mouth is disgusting)
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear (Well actually, not quite yet, but I have one ready in the fruit bowl)
53. Abalone (I'm of two minds on this one, probably a no since I'm really not that big on seafood, but I'd probably try a taste...)
54. Paneer (at any rate I've had Saag Paneer, if not the cheese by itself)
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal (been there done that, won't try it again anytime soon)
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
60. Carob chips
65. Durian (despite its less "nice" name of stinkfruit, it tastes surprisingly good - at least in Vietnam it does, maybe the exoticsm?)
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
69. Fried plantain
72. Caviar and blini (I've had them, but not together. Hate the caviar, love the blini)
73. Louche absinthe (I'd taste it, but i really dislike licorice-y tastes)
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill (but I ate at a place in NH called the Roadkill café)
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
79. Lapsang souchong
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. (I wish!!!)
85. Kobe beef (see comment above)
89. Horse (makes a kick ass tartar!!!)
90. Criollo chocolate
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa (I've had harissa, but I've never heard of rose harissa - so half of that one)
95. Mole poblano (A good chicken mole is amazing)
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee (too bad I hate coffee, I hear this is the best)
100. Snake (I almost got to that one in Vietnam, unfortunately, the restaurant didn't have any - or something at any rate).
Actually, I'm quite surprised at how many of these things I've tried... Who knew.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Dear Rich Westmount Ladies Who Lunch,
When will you realize that multiple facelifts don't make you look any younger. They just makes you look.... um... stretched.
Dear Lady in the park,
I was nice about it. Really. But you know, it's really annoying to sit down on a park bench (a public park bench), only to be asked after numerous heavy sighs, when I'm going to leave.
Because, you say, you came here to lie down - on one of the shady benches - because you're really tired and need a snooze before going back to work. And my daring to sit on the (public) bench was putting a crimp in your plans since you came to the park to sleep.
Digression here, but what is wrong with you people? Of five benches in the park three of the four in the shade were already occupied by stretched out snoozers. Don't you people sleep at night?
And so I got up and I went to sit on the one bench that still had someone vertical on it. "Oh, the guy said, you got the speech too? I was already sitting there when she arrived, but the hostility made me leave."
And so we watched you fuss. Take out a towel, spread it on the bench. Pick it up, spread it out again. And leave. Without ever lying down. While we sat in the blistering sun.
We said hurrah and moved back to "our" bench.
If I ever meet you in the park again, I will not be nice about it. And I will not move.
Dear Teenage Boys,
I might have mentioned this before, but the baggy pants... not so much.
I can understand they're the height of style - hell some of the stuff I wore at your age was beyond ridiculous.
But when your pants are so baggy they actually fall off your ass (yeah, I saw them fall, kid), it's a bit much. Just take it down a size or two and it'll be all good.
Dear Teenage Girls
Contrary to the guys, your clothes are basically painted on. The super low rise jeans, really really do nothing for you. Unless you weigh 50 lbs sopping wet (and we're in north america where pretty much everyone has extra padding) the whole jeans cutting into the stomach thing, not so much, ok?
Muffin tops look good on... muffins.
And you, Muffin, are no piece of cake.
Following fashion just because... ok, well I guess it is the sign of a 15 year old.
Hopefully you'll grow out of it.
Dear guy in Toronto,
Much as I dislike the baggy pants look (see above) it is a million times better than the "commando" baggy pants look.
Cause the idea behind the baggy pants look is to show off the waistband of your designer underwear, ya know? Not three inches of plumber's crack.
Kid, that's just beyond nasty. Put on underwear or smaller pants. Seriously. You look like a moron.
Friday, September 26, 2008
- True romance is having a man cook for you for over 20 years. That, people, is love. He makes a kick ass chili. Oh my...
- It's just a little bizarre when you're watching TV and a raccoon is chittering in the tree just outside the window. It sounds like he's commenting on the show. Actually it's sort of cute.
- We've been watching Sex and the City on DVD and I must say that I think Carrie Bradshaw is probably the most shallow, self-absorbed character I've ever seen on TV. Maybe the raccoon thinks so too.
- This said it's a highly entertaining show. I just keep waiting for them to fall off their shoes though.
- And another thing, how can the woman live in a studio apartment in Manhattan, and yet have a closet the size of a whole other apartment. This makes no sense to me.
- Despite the fact that fall means winter is on our heels, some fall days are the most beautiful days of the year. I love how the light changes in the fall and becomes so crisp and bright.
- Though I can' t wait for the day when "that monthly time" (aka the curse - for very good reason) becomes a thing of the past, getting there is hell. I do not deal well with insomnia, especially since I've always been a "head hits the pillow, she's out" type of person.
- As you can see, I am not one who uses "that time" to celebrate my womanhood. That is such bullshit.
- Mr. Jazz's evil margarita would be good about now.
- I have a week's vacation next week, that first October week at the cottage. YAY
- Which will most probably be spent shopping for a stove. A 21st century stove.
- And figuring out the Mac. I am beginning to make peace with the Mac.
- Survivor is on again! Yay. Survivor is my "reality" show fix. That and Amazing Race. Probably because the Probst and the Keoghan are pretty damn hot
- That's it, my brain is empty, see you in a week
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The government is going to build a new French super hospital in Montreal - that is a good thing, believe me, it's way overdue.
At first they were going to build it in a whole new location in Outremont.
Then, it seemed the best way to go was to renovate St. Luc Hospital.
This morning we find out that has changed. They're simply going to demolish St. Luc and rebuild. Now that in itself is actually a good idea I suppose. Way less constraints than retrofitting.
Hospitals are a nightmare in Montreal as it is. It's actually normal to wait 10-12 hours in the emergency room. What is going to happen now with, I dunno 600 less beds for several years?*
Thank god they're not tearing down an English hospital for the new English super hospital - yes, we're getting two. An English hospital and a French one. Don't ask.
All I can say, is you'd better not get sick in Montreal until 2013 (or whenever they actually do finish the new hospital - we all know what happens to target dates)
*This morning's political commentator was over the moon, "So great", he said, "Finally!" When asked what they would do with the patients? "Oh, they'll park them somewhere." And that's a direct quote.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
... in this?" I asked him as he put the frying pan onto the BBQ.
"Um, yeah, pretty much", he answered.
We were up at the cottage Thursday evening. It was cold outside. I was preheating the oven so I could pop in the garlic bread.
A few minutes later I went into the kitchen to do the garlic bread popping thing. There was a bright light in the oven.
That light, it was Close Encounters bright.
"What the (insert your favourite swear word here, preferably the one beginning with F for total veracity)", I wondered. OK, I screeched.
Mr. Jazz arrived, intrigued, no doubt, by my hollering and carrying on. It was a bit too much carrying on for garlic bread. Even for me.
Then I opened the oven. The heating element was burning. No, not just burning.
On. Fire. On bright-white-soldering-iron-flame-with-sparks-flying-left-right-and-centre fire.
What's a girl to do? Turn off the oven obviously, right? Well, nope, not quite, 'cause it just kept on burning, the flame slowly - well actually not so slowly - advancing along the element. It had a hellish life of its own. When the oven is off, so should be the fire, dammit!
Rather than just wait and see what would happen, which maybe would not have been the best of ideas all in all (though it was fascinating to watch, actually), we moved the stove and unplugged it. Yeah, I know it would have been quicker to just unscrew the fuses, but by that time, impressed as I was by the flames I wasn't quite thinking straight. I got this thing about electrical fires burning inside the oven. Go figure.
So now we have the perfect cottage stove. Only 3 out of 4 burners work and now the oven is shot.
The next morning we tried to unscrew the element and it crumbled in our hands... That is just weird. Seriously. A heating element crumbling in your hands is beyond bizarre. But I digress.
Still and all, we had to finish cooking dinner. Hard to sautée pasta (yes, you read right, and it's delicious, add lots of cheese) without a working stove - we hadn't cottoned onto the idea of plugging it back in and unscewing the fuse for the oven yet. That only came up the next morning.
Note to all readers: A BBQ doesn't heat a frying pan enough to sautée pasta.
Nope, it doesn't. And to think we had just bought a new gas BBQ this summer. And figured, meh, no need for a side burner, when will we really use it? Cheapness isn't great when you'll be facing a stove fire within a few weeks.
Because you'll definitely need that stupid damn burner then.
The morasl of this story: You need the side burner and sautéed pasta beats the hell out of microwaved pasta.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
In answer to Furiousball's comment of yesterday: "Holy crap, you guys have 4 parties?", I thought I'd give y'all a crash course on Canadian political parties. I knew there were actually more than four, but who knew there were this many. It's insane, and more than a little ridiculous*:
Registered Political Parties in Alphabetical Order :
(of these, the Conservatives, Liberals, Bloc and NDP and, I believe the Green Party are actually represented in the house of Commons)
- Animal Alliance Environment Voters Party of Canada - Who knew? They're platform is animal rights and the environment
- Bloc Québécois - This party is only present in Quebec. Their "mandate" is to promote Quebec sovereignty at a federal level. Yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either. I've already voted for them though because at least they can't do any real damage.
- Canadian Action Party - ??
- Christian Heritage Party of Canada - As the name says, they want Canada governed according to the bible. I guess I'd be stoned to death.
- Communist Party of Canada - Self explanatory
- Conservative Party of Canada - They are the result of a merge of the Alliance Party (which was previously the Reform party) and the Progressive Conservatives (yeah, I know, that name makes no logical sense whatsoever). They're our Republicans.
- First Peoples National Party of Canada - Speaks for itself.
- Green Party of Canada - Self explanatory. They're gaining in popularity and the head of the Party, Elizabeth May will be allowed to participate in the debate.
- Liberal Party of Canada - Our Democrats. Pretty much to the centre
- Libertarian Party of Canada - Never heard of them
- Marijuana Party - Only in Canada, eh? They want the legalization of pot.
- Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada - Again, pretty self explanatory
- Neorhino.ca - The successor to the Rhinoceros Party of Canada, they're our joke party. Their main election promise - since forever - is to break any election promises they make.
- NDP (National Democratic Party) - They're our lefties, people are saying they might actually make up the official opposition this time though I doubt it.
- Newfoundland and Labrador First Party - New to me
- Progressive Canadian Party - Ditto
- Western Block Party - Like the Bloc Québecois, they promote independence... of Western Canada
These parties are eligible to be registered:
- People's Political Power Party of Canada
- Work Less party
One deregistered party:
- Natural Law Party of Canada - I believe they have something to do with transcendental meditation... bizarre, I know.
And these three have lost their ability to be registered
(you need a certain amount of money and/or people behind you to register a party)
- National Alternative Party of Canada
- The Ontario Party of Canada
- Absolutely Absurd Party
So, there, in a nutshell is the political picture in Canada. And lest we forget, you also have those who are standing for election as independents. Keep in mind that most of these parties also have representation at the provincial level. It's a zoo it is. I just had no idea just how much of a zoo it actually was!
*Info taken from the Elections Canada website. This Wikipedia entry is quite detailed and informative
As an aside: Can anyone tell my why I Blogger isn't doing my hyperlinks anymore and I have to do the href stuff myself now? Am I the only one with this problem?? Seriously, what is going on?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
No sooner was the election called than the polls began. Well actually, the polls began way before election season started, but that's par for the course.
Every morning you wake to polls. Harper has x%, Dion y%, the Bloc another few percentage points and on and on, with changes in the numbers occurring depending on the latest speech by one or another of the clowns.
Ban the polls damn it! They're annoying and they mean nothing. Seriously, are you gonna vote for party X just because they're ahead in the polls? OK, right that's a stupid stupid question. I'm sure lots of people do just that. Scary thought.
As if the regular polls weren't enough, you also have the "fantasy" polls.
Like this one*:
If the heads of the four main parties (Conservatives, Liberals, Bloc and NDP) were stand up for election in the same riding, who would you vote for?
This has got to be the most inane, stupid, senseless, useless, ridiculous (ok, I'll stop with the adjectives now, you get the picture) poll ever, 'cause know what people? That situation will never ever happen will it? So why poll people on it? What is the point?
The things the media comes up with to fabricate news! The mind boggles - then steps back and boggles again.
Here's a poll I'd like to see: What percentage of Canadians are sick of polls? And what percentage of Canadians actually give a damn what the polls say?
* I swear this is for real! I was on my way to the cottage when the results of this poll came on the radio. I was floored, flummoxed and whatever other word you might come up with.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
How the world's nicest country turned mean.
Posted Friday, Sept. 12, 2008, at 11:17 AM ET
By Christopher Flavelle
Last Sunday, news came that Canada—sensible, quiet, some would even say boring Canada—will hold an election on Oct. 14, its third in four years. Those outside the country may wonder what the problem is; in Canada, after all, health care is free, the dollar is strong, same-sex marriage is legal, and the government had the good sense to stay out of Iraq. You might think of Canada as the un-America, where the only debate ought to be whether to spend the country's growing oil wealth on faster snowmobiles, bigger hockey rinks, or Anne Murray box sets.
But beneath the calm exterior, Canada's political system is in turmoil. Since 2004, a succession of unstable minority governments has led to a constant campaign frenzy, brutalizing Canada's once-broad political consensus and producing a series of policies at odds with the country's socially liberal, fiscally conservative identity. Canada is quietly becoming a political basket case, and this latest election may make things even worse.
Just scan the headlines. In June, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development warned that Canada—for years the only G8 country to post regular budget surpluses—was likely to fall into deficit this year, thanks to a reckless cut to the national sales tax. In February, the government proposed denying funding to films and TV shows whose content it deemed "not in the public interest," sparking cries of censorship from a sector that has historically received public support. In 2007, a member of the governing Conservative Party proposed a bill that would reopen the debate over abortion, a topic that governments both liberal and conservative have avoided for decades.
The country is projecting its uncharacteristic behavior abroad as well. After decades of encouraging countries to increase their foreign-aid spending, Canada cut its own, from 0.34 percent of GDP in 2005 to just 0.2 percent last year. Long a beacon of human rights, Ottawa announced last fall that it would stop advocating on behalf of Canadians sentenced to death in other countries. And Canada is now the only Western country that still has one of its citizens held in Guantanamo, but Ottawa has refused to press for his release.
But nowhere is the rift between the old and new Canada more apparent than with regards to the environment. Canada was an early and enthusiastic supporter of the fight against climate change, and as recently as 2005 it was the Canadian environment minister who helped broker an agreement to extend the Kyoto Protocol beyond 2012. Then last December, at a U.N. conference in Bali to negotiate a successor to Kyoto, Canada executed a neat 180-degree turn, trying to block an agreement that set a target for future cuts to greenhouse-gas emissions. Of the 190 countries at the conference, only Russia supported Canada's position.
Left-leaning Canadians blame the country's predicament on the current Conservative government, which was first elected two years ago. They're right, to a point. The Conservative Party, formed five years ago in a merger of the country's two right-wing parties, is Canada's first experience with an anti-government, socially conservative party in the mold of Reagan-Bush Republicans. Its leader, Stephen Harper, who is now the prime minister, once called Canada "a Northern European welfare state in the worst sense of the term."
But the Conservative Party wouldn't be in power, let alone willing to risk such divisive policies, were it not for the collapse of the country's most formidable political institution, the Liberal Party of Canada. The Liberals have been Canada's left-wing standard-bearers since the country's independence in 1867. And just as Canada's right-wing parties were coming together, the Liberal Party was coming apart.
In early 2004, Canada's auditor-general found that under the Liberal government, public funds intended to promote the federal government in the province of Quebec had been diverted toward advertising companies connected to the Liberal Party in the form of inflated payments. In response, the prime minister called a public inquiry, which only prolonged the controversy.
In the 2004 election, the Liberal government was reduced from a majority to a minority. Nineteen months later, it lost power entirely, and the party's leader resigned. The Liberals then embarked on a long, fractious leadership campaign—leaving the party exhausted and broke, and tempting the governing Conservatives to introduce ever more draconian policies with little fear of the consequences.
As the Liberals work on rebuilding, Canada's other left-wing party, the New Democratic Party, has grown at their expense; the Green Party, long a fringe movement in Canada, gained its first member of parliament when an independent MP joined the Greens; and the Bloc Québécois, which shares many Liberal positions but advocates for Quebec's independence, remains a force in that province. The Conservatives may not represent the views of most Canadians, but with four parties fighting for the left-wing vote, the Conservatives might win simply by sliding up the middle.
Italians and Israelis may have learned how to function under minority governments, but Canadians are still working on it. If the current election ends in a third consecutive minority government, the polarization of Canadian politics will continue, and with it the brutal, zero-sum politicking that has left the country in convulsions.
If the last week is any indication, that polarization is only getting worse. On Sunday morning, Prime Minister Harper began the race by predicting "a very nasty kind of personal-attack campaign." Two days later, his party briefly released an ad that showed a bird defecating on the leader of the Liberal Party. So much for Canadians being nice.
This is the link
Friday, September 12, 2008
Monseigneur Turcotte of the Catholic Church was to receive the Order of Canada, the highest civilian honour you can get in Canada.
According to the website it “recognizes a lifetime of outstanding achievement, dedication to the community and service to the nation. The Order recognizes people in all sectors of Canadian society.”
David Suzuki has it, as does Celine Dion, for whatever reason, I'm still wondering about her outstanding service to the nation; I can't quite get my head around that one.
Conrad Black has it, I'm sure it's a big consolation as he sits in his prison cell.
Many many "unsung heros" are also recipients of the Order. You know, real people who make a difference. They still exist apparently.
Henry Morgentaler is among the latest recipients. Because of Morgentaler’s battle, Canadian women have the right to choose what to do with their own bodies. I happen to really admire the man for going to bat (and prison) for women.
As an anti-abortion (I refuse to call them pro-life) Catholic, Turcotte has decided he cannot accept his medal. It's a moral decision. Receiving it at the same time as (now use your best deep and ominous voice here people) an abortionist, is anathema to the guy.
I guess Morgantaler is the devil. A Jewish devil, at that. Oh my.
I'm sure he'll accept it next time he's nominated, if everyone at the ceremony meets with his approval.
What I find totally ironic is that Turcotte has no problem with a couple of priests who recently admitted to molesting children and didn't go to jail. One of them is in a monastery somewhere, the other was given a scholarship and went to Rome to study some religious something or other.
The hypocrisy of it floors me. But, as the good Monsignor says, they are punished in their own way... Um, yeah, sure. Scholarships are a helluva punishment. Every child molester should get a scholarship to go study in Europe. That way our kids would be safe at any rate.
And then they wonder why people are leaving the church in droves. Well duh.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
No pithy comments today. No rants, no snarkiness.
I've been to two funerals in the past 10 days and I have to admit, I'm really pretty sick of it.
Not tragic "children killed in an accident" funerals. Just your regular, run of the mill the "Big C" funerals of friends' parents. A couple of months ago it was a family friend.
And it's freaking me right the fuck out.
It's bizarre when the parents begin to go. Over 20 years ago my father died, but that was not really in the order of things.
But now it's happening more and more, and I'll be going to more and more funerals as time passes. Soon it'll be my generation.
I've found myself preoccupied by death these days, I can't get it out of my mind.
And I'm not liking this one bit.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
.... in a land far far away there lived a little frog named Jazz. She lived in a little apartment with a little balcony in the trees with her little frog prince, Mr. Jazz.
The Js had been living happily every after for quite a while in utterly medieval conditions (no computer, no dishwasher, no microwave). When one is a frog, it's always good to not have too many possibilities for original cooking methods. You wouldn't want to end up with your legs nuked in garlic butter. It makes frantic hopping ever so much more difficult.
One summer day, out of the blue, Jazz's big brother, BB (now isn't that original) who for some odd reason is not himself a froggy, offered her his "old" laptop. "Old" meaning not the latest thing on the market and probably a year old and thus, as far as the B-ster is concerned hopelessly outdated. The Js jumped at the idea. Hey! A computer! An almost medievalcomputer by BB standards. Thus extremely reassuring by Jazzer standards. That could be plugged into the net. And shit. Whoa!
They were suitably impressed, medieval little froggies they were, and ready to jump into modern times.
Four months later they picked up the computer. Not that BB lived that far, maybe 1/2 hour away, but, well... obviously they weren't all that quick on the uptake. And though it was an absolute priority (they had been thinking of buying one for over three years by then), and they wanted it ever so much, somehow the whole modern times thing suddenly wasn't that much of a priority. The computer finally did enter the Jazz abode and just somehow made it seem a little bit shinier and more polished (and it was indeeed in desperate need of shine and polish).
Jazz waited a while to see if the house would miraculously become as shiny and clean and neat as a pin (all the time wondering where the hell that expression came from) but 21st century technology be damned, the laptop didn't have that particular effect. Nor did it make tea. Something of a letdown actually. You'd at least expect tea.
And so the computer made it's little place in the Jazz home. And a whole 10 months later a modem was purchased. That cute little blue box with the flashing lights sat on the table for a while, while the Js hopped around it, looking at it this way and that, wondering if maybe it wouldn't be better all in all to use it as an ever so original piece of art, in some sort of non-medieval assemblage.
Somehow that didn't come together.
Only one choice was left to them: Plug the pretty blue box into the laptop with that cute apple on it (Jazz had tried to eat the apple at one point during a snack attack, but the results were, to say the least inconclusive) and take those first tentative steps into the 20th century.
On a Mac. When Jazz has never used anything other than PC. Her little froggy (foggy?) mind is having problems wrapping iteslf around the whole Mac concept, plus she periodically tries to eat that stupid apple. Brain farts abound. The 20th century is a tough place to be for the Jazzer.
The Js are nevertheless still far from the 21st century - give 'em a break, from medieval times to the 20th in one fell swoop is already quite a jump! And they're still not thinking about a microwave since the whole garlic butter thing is a bit horrific to contemplate, but yes, they have moved into the 20th century. Bow down before them, oh ye of little faith! Bow down all you who said it would never happen! Bow down and give praise where praise is due!
The 21st century hovers however, and like a siren, sweetly beckons with a wireless setup that might soon see the light of day.
If Mr. Jazz can find a router that actually will clean the house and make Jazz's tea.
And they will live happily ever after for some time more.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Last night we were at S&M's for dinner. Friends of ours, not a kinky restaurant where waiters are dressed in bondage gear. It's not their fault those are their initials. I could call them M&S, but it just wouldn't have the same "je ne sais quoi" now would it?
During dinner, S mentioned wanting to see Obama's speech. We turned on the TV and we were confronted with Barney, who with all his Barneyness couldn't help but end up on YouTube an hour later.
This morning I searched for him and after a couple of purple dinosaur videos (scary stuff that - how did that oversized purple stuffed toy become so popular?), there he was in all his glory: Barney Smith.
The ex-republican from the heartland. The one with the checked short sleeved shirt buttoned to the neck (whoever dressed the guy really did a good job at the republican hick look). The one who has decided it's time for a change (I guess he wants to be able to buy a house on one salary again, poor deluded Barney). The walking cliché. Even the name: Barney Smith?? If he's for real, good on you Barney, for speaking up there; how did you get the gig?
Them spin doctors? They're good. Cynical? Me??
So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen! I bring you Barney Smith and his 15 minutes of fame.
As for Barak - the man has brilliant speech writers and despite my cynicism, I hope he does win the election - if ever there is an election... I'm beginning to think we're all in the twilight zone where it'll be American election time forever more. A sort of American Election Groundhog Day starring Barak Obama and John McCain.
I don't know how much change Barak can actually bring about but in last night's immortal words: Eight Is Enough!
And I have to admit, he chose well for his vice-p running mate. The fact that he has an old white man as sidekick might reassure all those who are a bit squeamish about voting for a black president. I think he would have tanked if he had run with Hillary. That's just too much change for the Barneys of the world. The pasty old white guy with the reassuring head of grey hair and the blindingly white teeth could do wonders for him.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
How long has this latest American election drama been going on? Years? Decades? Centuries?
It seems more and more likely (or so informed rumour has it) that Harper, our PM will be calling an election.
For this fall.
The election should be called around September 5.
The election itself would be held around mid-October.
A little over a month.
Only a month's worth of asinine promises and people trying to make me believe they actually have my best interests at heart.
That's how to carry out an election. A month of bullshit is more than enough.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Dear lady on the street,
The auburn hair and the short ruffled skirt do not fool us. You are pushing 80. Hard. Deal with it. I'm not a proponent of dressing frumpy, but there is such a thing as age appropriate. With your mini skirt and your low cut T, which shows off tons of saggy wrinkled cleavage you look like the female equivalent of a really bad comb-over. And we all know all comb-overs are bad, eh?
Seriously, you could be a really good looking old lady (because, ma'am, you are old), but the way you dress makes you look even older and more faded.
Not a good look. Denial is obviously not just a river in Egypt.
Dear teenager on the subway,
Guess what? Sticking your back pack between the doors to stop them from closing, thus keeping the train in the station is not funny.
It's stupid, it's annoying for everyone on the train, it's moronic, it's anything but funny.
And if you don't stop, I might have to tear you limb from limb.
Really kid, you don't want to face a 47 year old woman in the throes of both PMS and a perimenopausal mood swing.
Because you will lose. I guarantee it. You think I'm an old bag, but I can take you down in a nano-second... and stomp on your i-Pod just to piss you off.
Kid, you will not win, so smarten up.
Fuck you too.
No you are not an artist. I don't care what you say, you are in no way an artist. A wannabe, maybe, but not an artist.
And when you say things like how you're an artist and thus very creative and because of your creativity, unlike people who aren't artists and are not creative, you are very good at problem solving I want to strangle you because I've had to solve problems you very creatively caused.
And when you say that as an artist you are so much more sensitive than the rest of us, I want to tear you a new one, because you're no more sensitve than the rest of us schmoes, you just use it as an excuse to not deal with life. Guess what, we're sensitive too, we just put it on a back burner and deal with the assholes.
And the creative dressing? Um, c'mon that's just plain "you need an intervention" ugly. Seriously, even if you're plump, you can dress creatively without looking like a pumpkin - unless of course that's the look you're going for.... Ever heard of the concept of an accent colour?
You are insane and you annoy the fuck out of everyone around you. Get the hell over yourself.
Dear clothing manufacturer,
I do not look like this (especially with the Charlie Brown dress).
I have an ass. I have shoulders. I have a real body ferchrissake. Just because I have an ass and shoulders does not mean I am built like a refrigerator, straight up and down.
Just because I have curves does not mean I have boobs the size of Pamela Anderson. Just who the hell do you think wears your clothes?
Newsflash for you! The people who wear your clothes are neither models nor Pam Anderson. They're real women with real bodies.
Well there you go. Neither Pam Anderson, nor the models, nor those perfect plastic people will buy clothes from you, you're simply not at their level. They pay more for a bottle of nail polish than the cost of one of your suits.
Deal with it. We're real people, we have money to spend and we want clothes that fit even vaguely. It would be a nice change.