And Award Season Rolls Around Again...

.
Well hell! I got an award. Ian gave me an award. Now why he gave this to me is a total mystery, the award being for blogs (check this quote) "which show great attitude and/or gratitude!" Now as far as I know I'm not big on the grateful and my attitude sorta sucks, so if I'm the best poor dear Ian can do, he's obviously more of a curmudgeon than I am. However, I do humbly thank him for making my blog post today an easy one.

I'm supposed to give this to at least 10 blogs with great attitude or gratitude (gratitude for what, I have no clue - fingers to type with?). Of course, this means that within the next few months, everyone in the blogosphere will have this award - if I can get it anyone can - the number of awards increasing tenfold every time someone gives it out.

Aren't awards supposed to be special? Unique? Obviously not blog awards... The Oscars they ain't.

But if dems da rools dems da rools. They're down there if you want to have a gander. Of course, I can't help but wonder what the writer of da rools was drinking or smoking when he/she/it wrote them cause:

2. Nominate at least 10 blogs, which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude!
and
5. Nominate your favorites and link to this post.

Isn't that all sorta redundant?

And so. I've decided anyone who thinks they have a great attitude or are terribly grateful about something - it's yours. Take it, run with it, give it to 70 peeps if you want.

Except for one person. Suldog. I'm going out of my way to give it to Suldog because, traditionally, every time someone gives him an award, he tears them to tiny bits cause he's a badass dude who don't take no shit from no one. I'm sure some well meaning folks were crushed by his "acceptance speeeches", but damn, they're a riot, and if I can give him an easy blog, I'm all for it. I aim to please. The first time I saw what he did with awards, I swore I'd pass it on the next time I got one. And this one just seems so damn fitting.

'Cause the man? he's got attitude to spare - though no doubt not the type that was to be the object of this award. And I can't wait to see what he'll come up with.


Rules for the award:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs, which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude!
3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Nominate your favorites and link to this post.

Though I hate ...

.
... to admit any good thing about winter, sometimes some things are... well... pretty.

There you go, all you winter lovers! I've said it! Savour it because it won't happen often.

I'm afraid I'll never live this down.








(It was snowing, thus the white spots. I should've gone out into the frigid cold of the previous day when it was sunny. I'll try again. Sometime. Maybe.)
.

How can you not love a man...

.
who signs his email:

• m'Amused - When telling me about a joke he heard


• m'Hoping - When I say "Yay for no snow", thus no shoveling when we arrive at the cottage


• m'Bzzzzz - When he sends me a pic of a real cool bug


• m'@ - When giving me the link to a website


• m'Abc-1-2-3-a-b-c-1-2-3 baby you & me ♪♪♪ - When we're talking about LOST on ABC

(yes, Mr. Jazz's name starts with M).

***************************

Today is my lovely Mr. Jazz's birthday and I wanted to pay tribute to him here. I am ever thankful because:

• He makes me laugh


• He bucks me up when I'm down


• He feeds me


• He indulges my passion for books, and is ever on the lookout for things that would interest me


• He loves me despite my many faults


• He makes me Margaritas and Cosmos
• He introduced me to all sorts of music I never knew existed - some of which, I admit I could live without the knowledge of


• He sees to it that we have a social life, otherwise I'd be a hermit


• He has hauled me halfway around the world, which though I always dreamed of traveling, I'm not sure I would have done much of without him


• He's got the prettiest blue eyes

***************************

We've been together almost 22 years and every day is fun. Every day might not be a beach, and sometimes he annoys the hell out of me - as I do him. But still, every day is fun. I still look forward to getting home at the end of the day to be with him. To have him wrap his arms around me and help me shake off the shitstorm of the day. He fills me up so I can face another day.

He makes it somehow all seem worthwhile.

And I love him more than anything.

Happy Birthday Mr. J.

One of my favourite pics of us ever. Taken by BB at Namche Bazaar in the mountains of Nepal. We were sitting on a huge rock facing Sagarmatha (aka Mount Everest).
.

Modern Times

.
Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.

- Ellen Goodman


Is it even worth it?
.

Of Useless Shopping Trips

.
There is a shopping trip that most women I know abhor, well two actually, one of which no longer bothers me, i.e. the swimsuit shopping ordeal. I got over that one when, years ago, I started wearing shorts and a tank top as swimming gear. Problem solved.

But there is still that little issue of "foundation garment" (a name Jocelyn pulled out of the mothballs) shopping. Bra shopping if you will.

The shopping trip from hell. I don't think there's anything quite like it for men. But I digress.

There is nothing more loathesome than bra shopping. Not. A. Thing. That being the case, I always put it off until that moment when I no longer have any choice since the above referenced foundation garments are pretty much falling apart - and unlike Jocelyn's, not because I cut them to pieces.

Simply because:

I.

HATE.

SHOPPING.

FOR.

BRAS!

Is that clear enough for y'all?

Last week I metaphorically bit the bullet. With a hop, a skip and a jump I descended upon the undergarment department of a major department store. I was grimly cheerful about this expedition because this time I was going to find a bra (and buy it in multiples) DAMNIT!

I bypassed the flannel pyjamas.
I bypassed the frilly nighties
I bypassed the thongs (thank god) and granny pants (thank god again).

I singlemindedly hunted down the boob contraptions, yes I did. And searched the racks. For something to fit my own. Not that there's much there to fit.

I searched. I searched high, I searched low. I searched left and right and middle. The search eventually yielded a precious few A cup bras. What the fuck happened to the A cup? Has it gone the way of the rotary dial phone and the telex? Has it become nothing more than a quaint anachronism? Is it being wiped from the face of the earth like the dinosaur and the dodo?

When did it disappear? Did they pass a law saying that anyone under a B must get a boob job? Under pain of death? What the hell!?

So I tried the bras. 'Cause the girls, little girls though they may be are less perky than they used to be. Remaining perkiness must be safeguarded at all costs.

Thus the foundation garment. That costs a bloody fortune. I mean, seriously, the cost of these things? How utterly ridiculous is it to have to pay $40 (at the low end) for what is essentially a quarter yard of elasticized fabric? With maybe a little lace tossed on to make it scrachy.

All the overpriced examples I manage to scrounge up were ill fitting and pinched and prodded in all the wrong places. Of course are there any places where a bra should pinch and prod? I didn't think so.

They were either Madonna pointy or too small or too big or too something and not enough of another thing. And really, it's not like I'm that difficult. I just want a bra that fits fer chrissake!

For instance, the fact that I have small boobs does not necessarily mean that I want a bra that contains five pounds of gel to pad me up to a C cup. That'd be false advertising anyway, isn't there a a law against that? If I wanted a C cup I would get a boob job.

Nor does it mean I want something that looks like a 10 year old's training bra, dontcha know.

There has to be a happy medium. Doesn't there? Yeah, I didn't think so - otherwise I would have found it by now.

Long story short, I didn't buy a single one.

Because. Not. One. Of. The. Damned. Things. Fit!!! Can you spell conspiracy?

So now I'll have to make another foray into the world of the foundation garment. Well, maybe I'll get a blog post out of that one too. I can tell you all about the snooty saleswomen.
.

Random Friday Rants

.
Naked News**: I can't help but wonder about this website. It's an all news channel where the presenters strip while reading the days news. It's fucking bizarre it is. I can understand wanting to see naked people online - that's what online porn is all about after all, but watching naked people reading the news? Why? Oh and for you cheapskates out there, you have to subscribe - except I think for a daily clip... Notice that all the presenters are female. I wonder why that is?


**Ok, I can't seem to make links work in Blogger this morning because, as we all know Blogger hates me, so you're on your own if you want to find this. It's really quite simple though...

On the radio: A radio commercial that I've heard a million times suddenly penetrated into the deep recesses of my brain. I have an excuse, it's early morning! So. This is a commercial for a mortgage company. In it they're touting how great it is to get a second mortgage "for all those things you really want to do, like renovations, that trip you're dreaming of, that"

Picture a Porsche screeching to a halt on the highway. The Porsche, obviously is my brain (I'm not about to use a Lada am I? Cut me some slack!) And so. Everything screeches to a halt as I try to process this information. Since when has it become a good idea to get a second mortgage to... um... go to Disney World? WTF sort of stupid commercial is that? Who is going to mortgage their house to travel? To renovate I can understand, but to TRAVEL?!?!?! These days? As I wander around the apartment, all in a tizzy over this, Mr. Jazz's reaction?

"Jazz, you'd be surprised."


Ford TV Commercial: Wednesday evening on TV, a commercial for a new Ford "car". I don't remember the name but it's being touted as the next big wonderful thing. The Ford Multi something or other. Operative word here being : BIG. The thing is huge! OK, maybe not so huge as other things they have on the roads, but a helluva lot bigger than all the Matrixes and Yarises I see pootling around Montreal. Have they learned nothing? Have they not yet noticed that people are buying tiny Japanese cars because they consume so much less gas? What the fuck is wrong with these people? And they wonder why they're going under? Jesus, what a bunch of morons!

And on the radio again: Another commercial for the Centres Stop (well Hell, it worked this time and no, I'm not going back to link y'all to the "news" site!). With the use of lasers they promise to rid you of your problems with: Tobacco, your appetite/weight stress, alcohol, the winter blues, the blues (I guess they go from the particular to the general), Insomnia, Compulsive gambling, migraines, soft drugs, fatigue, anxiety, soft drugs and tobacco (I guess they use a different laser for the two combined!), post traumatic stress, loss of libido and, last but not least, hard drugs.***

In short, ze laser, she is good for whatever ails you.

How much do y'all wanna bet that they're doing booming business with all those looking for a quick fix? I repeat: Morons!

***(sorry Ian, it looks like you're out of a job as a substance abuse counselor)

And now to tide you over the weekend...

Overheard in the food fair - A couple sits a table over, the conversation goes something like this (true and surreal conversation):
Cashmere man: I'm just saying we're gonna have to cut back

Wife With expensive blond streaks: What do you mean, cut back?

CM: It's just that I'm losing a lot of money right now

WWEBS: Not that much.

CM: That much. We have to cut back.

WWEBS: It's not like there's much we can cut back on (as an aside: she's one of the ladies who lunch who come slumming to the food fair - perhaps to prove they're like the rest of us - from time to time, usually when she's getting her $300 dye job done at the salon)

CM: We can start by not spending $200 every evening eating out.

WWEBS: ..... (but you can see the panic starting)

CM: Things are really not going well. I'm thinking of postponing the Florida trip.

WWEBS: ..... (panic continues to rise at the idea of OMG living like the rest of the world!) There's really nothing we can cut!!! We just need more money.

CM: Yeah, well, it's not like you're bringing any in!

That was pretty much it until he started talking about a sculpture of a bear he wanted to buy.

Surreal I tell you.

And really, does it make me an evil person to actually be amused (and feel really smug) by the trials and tribulations of the rich who spend $200 an evening on restaurants and now will have to be eating in? It does? OK, I can live with that.
.

Ways to Spend a Saturday Afternoon

.
What to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon?

There are so many options! A world of options. A veritable universe of things to do.

Have a cup of tea. Read by the fire. Have glass of wine and watch a movie... All of the above?

None of the above. How about...

Climb up to the roof .

Struggle onto the huge pile of snow - OK, flounder onto the snow like a beached whale. Yes, I know, the image doesn't work does it. Except in Monty Python sketches.

And shovel. Shovel off three or so of the six feet piled up on there.

You'd think a good push and it would slide right off eh? People start avalanches all the time. But not on roofs. I wish.

No. The damn stuff likes it up there. It's all patted down, it's all comfortable, plus, the view is spectacular so why slide off? After all, it's a lazy Saturday afternoon on the roof and damned if it's gonna go easy. More along the lines of kicking and screaming, if one can apply that to snow.

I should've taken pictures, but there you go, I was more into concentrating on not falling off the damn roof than taking artistic photos of Mr. Jazz and I waist deep in snow, struggling to make it to only knee deep in snow.

Winter sucks. Indeed it does.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, hell is not flames and heat. Hell is snow and ice. Except when you're in Australia, obviously.

* Image from On The Snow.com
.

Happy Happy

.
What constitutes a perfect start to the day?

Being sure it's Thursday and once you're at work, seeing the date on the phone and realizing that nope.....

IT'S FRIDAY !!!!
.

What If....

.
We women stopped wearing really uncomfortable shoes we pay a fortune for?

We all stopped dumping chemicals on our heads and let nature take its course? Grey can look good too.

We stopped buying constraining and uncomfortable clothes?

We stopped buying creams and assorted pots of gunk and goo that promise impossibilities - like turning back time - at $200 a pop?

We stopped paying a fortune for makeup (really, how many lipsticks do I need?) that contains... what? We've stopped using lead powder on our faces (an Elizabethan beauty staple), but is what we're using now necessarily that much better?

What if we stopped injecting the world's most toxic poison into our face paralyzing it and thus, keeping it free of lines and any sort of expression.

We stopped getting plastic implanted into our bodies and fat sucked out to look just so?

We stopped getting unneeded surgery to pull our faces taught? (And no, I'm not saying no one should get surgery, and I'm not judging those who do).

Would whole sections of the economy collapse?

How bizarre is it that women's fear of aging fuels such large areas of the economy? Because they're told they must look young at all costs? Why do we buy into it?

********************

What if we decided that not going against nature does not mean that we are "letting ourselves go"?

That getting older is not necessarily horrific. One of the most beautiful women I ever saw is in her late 70s no doubt, sporting wrinkles and sagging galore - and she is spectacular.

What if we realized that looking 30 doesn't make us any less 50?

That botox isn't beautiful.. it's just freaky.

********************

Yes, I know, it's the medias' fault. Or at any rate that's popular wisdom.

But are we incapable of making up our own minds? I can understand the wish (need?) for women to feel beautiful - God knows I'm not above it - but aren't we going overboard? What are we teaching our daughters? That youth is the be all and end all of existence? It's sort of sad I think.

Who, really is expecting this of us? From what I've seen, not all that many of our menfolk. They have a naked woman in front of them, perfection is the farthest thing from their minds. They're just grateful she's there.

I don't believe for a minute that a lot of it isn't our fault. We buy into it, don't we, to a greater or lesser extent. We could say no. And if we did, expectations would change, would they not?

But do we want them to?

Why don't we just say no?
.

Retrofuturology

.
They predicted flying cars - Hasn't happened.
They predicted a leisure society - We're still waiting and oh how we wish.
They predicted the internet. Yep, they did.

Here's a 1969 video on future technology. I particularly love the "wife will buy and husband will pay" thing. And the "keyboard"... Retro indeed.

Poached from the blog of Steve Proulx on Voir (in French)
.