See, I lied, I'm here today...

I shamelessly poached this from Malnurtured Snay ... (whose blog, by the way, is highly entertaining.)

“Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishesfor an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, and gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday as practiced within the traditions of the religious or secular practices or traditions of your choice or, if none, without regard to any religious or secular practices or traditions at all. We wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically healthy generally accepted calendar year 2007 with due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. The foregoing does not imply in any way that America is greater than any other country, that the United States is the only America in the Western Hemisphere, or that the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith, or sexual preference of cultures who have helped make other countries great is inferior. By accepting these greetings you are accepting the following terms. These greetings are subject to clarification and withdrawal at any time and imply no promise by the wisher to the wishee to implement any of the wishes herein. These greetings are freely transferable on the express condition that there be no alteration of the original greetings. These greeting are void where prohibited by law and are revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. These greetings have no guarantee or warranty of any kind. These greetings are valid for a period not to exceed one year or until the issuance of subsequent greetings or until clarification or withdrawal of these greetings pursuant to the terms of these greetings, whichever comes first. The sole remedy for any dissatisfaction of the wishee is, after service of written notice on the wisher by the wishee, clarification or withdrawal of these greetings or issuance of new greetings, at the sole discretion of the wisher.”

Blogging and bloggers

I’ve noticed that my links are in dire need of an update. But damn. If I add all the blogs I read, the list’ll be longer than my arm.

Because people, I stand before you now to admit it. I, Jazz, am a blog whore.

Besides those that are already on the list, there are many many others. In the past week alone I have discovered at least four really good blogs. I need to quit my job and plug in full time in order to keep up with everyone. It is a sad state of affairs indeed, when you know more about virtual people’s lives than about your own – and realize that, damn, theirs are so much more interesting than yours. Ever ever so much more.

Is it my inner mémère*? I never knew I had such an aspect to my personality. I mean, hell, the other day someone at the office asked me what I thought about K-Fed and I thought she was speaking about a new dog food or some esoteric branch of the U.S. Government. Which shows just how disconnected I really am.

But I can tell you all about ChooChoo's life in Hellhole, Jocelyn's problems with orientation and yoga, Blue Poppy's dogs (Ah, Henry!)and house in the mountains, Paula's latest illustrations, Ticknart's habit of locking himself out of his home and Steve's… um… Steve’s total and incontrovertible insanity. Jill has a thing for (against?) needles and her sweetie Slag fires pottery between hilarious (really!) prostate exams. Toast puts bus shelters in front of people’s houses and goes to 3 concerts a weekend.

Then there are all the others… These are interesting, quirky, people whose existence I never would have soupçonné** without blogging.

I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get them all into the same room, with wine and vodka galore. How quickly would it degenerate, how many of us are exactly what we appear to be on our blogs (me, pretty much, I can assure you. Total spaz and curmudgeon in the making – I’ve been using that word a lot in the past month. I love that word. Hmmm there’s a blog entry: words I love).

This is probably my last entry of the year as I won't have internet access after tomorrow. I really need to buy myself a computer. See y'all in the new year, and please don't write too much, I don't want to have to spend days and days catching up. Best wishes and happy whatever it is you celebrate. Me, I'm off to find myself a Festivus pole.

* Translation: inner gossip
** I seem to be losing my English today… Soupçonner = Suspect. But that’s not the word in English is it? You don’t suspect someone’s existence… Well, you do in French. And that's today's quicky French lesson.

Curb your 24

I just finished watching Season 5 (oops, Day 5) of 24 on DVD.

And I’ve come to the conclusion that Jack Bauer is not the superhero here. Chloe O’Brien is. Because without Chloe, Jack is nothing.

He can yell at terrorists all he wants. He can beat them, shoot them, interrogate them, scare the living crap out of them. But without Chloe?

Nada.

‘Cause Chloe gets him where he wants to be, walks him through everything, and protects him from the unimportant bad guys.

She illegally gets him where no man has gone and gets him out alive.

Without women, men are nothing – and no, I have no idea why I came up with that generalization, but I’m too lazy to change it now and meh, let’s face it, it often is the case – but I don’t want to turn this into a feminist rant.

Chloe is omniscient, she protects him, she cheats and lies to get him what he wants, and yet…support staff are so underrated. I’ll tell you all about that sometime.

So now I’m all up to date on 24. Nothing to look forward to until the next season comes out on DVD. Watching it on TV must totally drain this show of any suspense. Bauer catches up to evil terrorist and… don’t squeeze the Charmin. Nah, don’t think so.

I’m going to have to get started on Season 3 of Curb Your Enthusiasm Now there’s a hilarious, abeit cringe-inducing show.

Edited to add: After reading Jocelyn's comment: If you have any really good TV series to recommend on DVD, let me know please. Might be something to do over the Xmas hols since I won't be blogging...

(Pic from www.tvfodder.com)

______________________________________________________

Later: Totally off topic, but I just learned that, this week, we finally paid off the Olympic stadium in Montreal. Amazing. You gotta remember the Olympics were held in Montreal in 1976. Of course now the roof is falling in, but that's a whole other story for another day.

Women and hair

I’ve pretty much decided to grow the colour out of my hair and go, well, grey I suppose. Mostly out of curiosity to find out how much grey is actually in there after all these years of colour. Plus a good friend who is about 40 and completely grey and looks totally awesome so I figure, why not give it a shot?

The reactions I’ve had are really interesting. Mr. Jazz has no problem with it, he says I’ll look really good, but then he’d say the same thing if I came home with my hair purple and green one day, cause Mr. Jazz? Sorta biased he is. In general men just seem to not give much of a damn one way or another.

But women? Whoa. Most everyone has said (in come cases screeched):

YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!

Me: Um, yeah, I can, I just have to not dump more stinking chemicals on my head. If I don’t like it, I can start up again with the dye.

Them*: But you’ll look older!

Me: Yeah, I’ll probably look 45. No biggie, I am.

Them: Or even older!!!

Me: And if I think so, I can colour again.

Them: But by then people will KNOW you’re greying!!!**

Me: Um, I’m 45, it surely can’t be that big a surprise for anyone…

And the conversation goes round and round, never getting anywhere. What the hell is wrong with looking your age? I find it somewhat paradoxical that women bitch and moan about how they are obliged to look a particular way, wear a certain size, look no older than 19, and that society expects so damn much of them physically and yadda yadda yadda, but if a woman actually goes ahead and steps out of the mould, she gets blasted*** for it.

I'm really beginning to think that all in all women quite like their "hell" and despite bitching and moaning about it, are really quite happy to live there.



* Them because pretty much every woman has the same reaction

** Notice the exclamation marks. I’ve kept it down to three, but usually it sounds more like 10.

*** But I also got told by someone that I was incredibly courageous. Courageous? Too low maintenance to be bothered perhaps, but where the hell does courage come into it? Will people throw stones at me in the street ya think?

In keeping with the season

Last year I bitched about Rudolph.

This year I bring you a new look at the Night Before Christmas *

'Twas the night before Christmas, Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind toscrap the whole works!
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
Instead of "Thanks Santa", what do I hear?

The old lady bitches ‘cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money. The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes! If that ain't funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus money?

And the kids these days; they all are the pits
They want the impossible, those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo-yos, no request for them
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM!
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde.
I'm going SOUTH for the season


*Author unknown, but I thank him/her for the laugh

Random bits

As you might have guessed, I’m very easily annoyed these days – except by curmudgeonly old ladies, obviously. I’m a great believer in respecting our elders, personally I think they are given nowhere near enough respect in our society and yet they have so much to offer. Except those who are totally demented and drool all over the place. Them I can do without. Do I think that because I’ll be joining them in the not so distant future? That is indeed something to think about. However, rudeness annoys the fuck out o f me wherever it comes from. When I’m about to step on the bus and you push ahead of me, I don’t care how much of a little old lady you are, it’s just plain rude. (And this woman must not have been that old, maybe 65-70 or so, which doesn’t quite qualify her as a little old lady. Funny how when you reach 40+, 70 doesn’t seem so old anymore.) If you stand there, I’ll no doubt let you pass, however if you barrel past me, forget being nice, it just makes me want to trip you and watch you fall flat on your face. I’m evil that way.

It’s 8C in Montreal today (mid-40sF). It’s also 10 days before Christmas. Now, much as I like not floundering about in slush up to my knees, this whole balmy weather thing freaks me right the fuck out. Vancouver, who should be having this weather, is getting 20 inch snow storms and freaky-ass wind storms. Weird weird weird.

I’m going to the cottage this weekend for the first time in a month. It came to me that maybe the lack of unstructured cottage time might be partly responsible for my shitty mood (that and the fact that November was the sunlessest November in 50 years and that December seems to be vying for the same distinction). I'm used to going up every weekend so this is a first for me. I miss my birdies, I gotta feed my birdies, I must spend numerous hours mesmerized by the window watching the birdies do... well, watching them eat and shit basically. Jebus, I need a life. But this is not blog discussion. Posts about my moods are surely not that high on your to-read list.

I really have to get into the habit of jotting down blog ideas somewhere (so long as it’s not on post-its obviously). Yesterday I wrote a perfect blog entry in my little head on the way home from work. It was edited half a million times until it was at the point of bloggy perfection. When will you have access to this small masterpiece? Never. Cuz it’s gone because I was too damn stupid to write down what it was all about. See, I told you my mood sucks. I rarely tell myself I’m stupid anymore, except in this past month, and I'm making up for lost time.


Shaddap Jazz, go away, you're annoying me.

And now, for something completely different

Today I thought I'd bring you an important news story. Important news stories always go over really well. So here, from the Weekly World News, purveyors of fine news since… oh, who knows, is the gist of the story (I was gonna reproduce it in full for y'all, but apparently that would violate copyright laws and the WWN could sue me for everything I'm worth and I'd end up living in a sewer under the city, breeding with aliens and in a bizarre twist of fate, eventually, I'd be the headliner in one of their issues).


So, the planchette from a ouija board went crazy recently. No seriously! It did!!! C'mon, this is serious, five people were actually injured, one seriously... (note the copious use of the word serious in order to denote just how serious this is!)

See, what happened was, two kids using a ouija board - to their eventual dismay - channelled the spirit of a deceased English teacher. At the end of an independent clause the spirit went insane, ripped the planchette out of their hands, through the window and went tearing down the interestate, pursued by police, 'cause them cops? they have our safety at heart and rogue ouija board planchettes? Them's dangerous stuff. The planchette/spirit, as it turns out, was in search of....

A semicolon!*

Eventually the plastic thingy settled onto a copy of the World Weekly News** someone was reading in a coffee shop (thank god for WWN and its grammatical use of semicolons!) and finished it's sentence. Unfortunately, no one was there to read it since the reader, poor woman, ended up with third degree burns because the planchette upset her coffee all over her lap.***

If you want to read this article, with all the details and suspense here's a link to the story .

All in all, being something of a grammar whore, I can totally sympathise with the planchette.



* 'Cause dude, you need a semicolon at the end of an independant clause. You knew that. Didn't you?

** Surprise, surprise!

*** Well obviously if youre coffee is that hot, you're going to need to read the World Weekly News until it cools down!

It's the cows!

To those who say global warming is not for real, that it’s myth, I invite you to Montreal, where any snow we had is gone and it’ll be 7C (45F) today. It’s December 13. This is not normal Montreal weather. Course I’m not broken up about the lack of snow and cold, but I’m evil that way…

However, I’ll sleep much better knowing (as stated on the front page of newspapers last week) that it’s not my fault. It’s not the fact that I (and several million others) have cars that pollute and it’s not industry’s fault. Nope. It’s cows. Apparently cows are the single biggest producers of greenhouse gasses. And they degrade land tremendously. Whew it ain’t my fault! Bad cows!

Never mind that if humans polluted a lot less, and if the idea of sustainable development was actually ever taken seriously on a large scale, even the cows probably couldn’t fart enough to bring on global warming. Never mind the fact that the reason there are so many cows is that we “need” need (I need my 3 lb. steak and my leather couch!). It’s no biggie because apparently scientists are working on a way to recycle various bovine gas emissions to produce power.*

Or something.

Until then, I guess I’ll just watch the rain fall.


* Please note that even though it’s no laughing matter I choose to be facetious. Tearing out of hair and wringing of hands will not a better post make. Still, we’re heading for a helluva problem as evidenced here

More petty annoyances and kudos

Dear Cell phone girl on the bus,

I know your life is amazing and stellar and brilliant, but last night’s date? I don’t much want to hear about it high volume at 7:30 in the morning. Honestly, your life isn’t that interesting at all.

Please remember that if you keep this up every day, I might have to kill you, and then you’ll have no life

Worst regards,

Jazz


Dear people walking in packs on the sidewalk,

I know it’s yours. I know your tax dollars paid for it. But is it really too much to ask that you move over just a tad when you meet someone coming the other way? I know I’m not the skinniest thing alive, but I’m doing my best to keep out of your way. If I move one more millimeter I will fall into the street. So what the hell am I supposed to do? Climb on parked cars to get out of your way.

Asshats.

Pissed offedly,

Jazz


Dear girl at the food fair,

A faux fur (long faux fur) purse does not look wonderfully stylish. It looks like you killed a dirty, long haired alley cat, gutted it and slung it over your shoulder.

Seriously, lose the bag. You gotta learn that just because it’s in a store doesn’t mean it isn’t utterly ridiculous. Thankfully, you’re still young enough to learn.

Hopefully,

Jazz



Dear little old lady,

Little old ladies are supposed to be lovely. Little old ladies are supposed to be sweet. Little old ladies bake gingerbread cookies.

I’m sure you’ve never baked a gingerbread cookie in your life. You are a sarcastic, curmudgeonly old thing. You are me in 35 years. You rock! Take ‘em down another notch or two, they deserve it!

Admiringly,

Jazz

Monday Monday....

I had all these blog subjects bouncing around in my head yesterday.

I had lots of blog subjects bouncing around in my head when I woke up this morning. One of which was a bizarre dream, wherein my brother would stow his waterbed in my fridge so that it would be cool when he went to bed. I mean, what the fuck?

Now, well, all blog subjects have deserted me. They ran screaming from the room, tearing their hair out, when I arrived.

I am alone. Sitting on this chair, wondering where the hell everyone at the party went.

Damn, I hate Mondays, 'cause people? I ain't got nothing else for you. The best you're gonna get today is me sitting on this chair, wondering where all those witty blog entries ran off to.

Winter has struck

Geez. December already. Montreal is under the snow now. Seems like it’s for real and for a long long time. It also seems like about a week ago it was summer. I’m not liking this “time flies” thing, because the older I get, the more it’s flying. Except winter of course. Winter never flies. It drags, it digs in its heels, it refuses to fly, but rather it trudges along, annoying everyone except those weirdos who love the winter sports thing – you know the ones. They insist that stepping on two spindly boards and throwing yourself down a mountain, inducing frostbite and chattering teeth along the way is fun fun fun.

Much as I’m not liking the “time flies” thing, I’m liking the winter thing even less. People, I dread winter – which is not a good thing when you live in Quebec. Nope, not a good thing at all.

There’s the never-ending cold, the knee deep slush, the dark when you wake up in the morning, the dark when you leave work at night, the seeming hours it takes to dress, what with the coats, and boots, and scarves and hats and mittens… Bleh bleh bleh. And no, I don’t want to look at the bright side. Drinking good wine in front of crackling fires is all very well and good, but not how I spend most of the winter. And the "oh, you'll like winter if you do winter sports" thing? Been there, done that and I really don't see the great times in standing on two sticks and throwing myself off a mountain, inducing frostbitten extremities, brain freeze and chattering teeth in the process.

I might have been born here, and I suppose I should be used to it, but my birth was obviously a genetic fluke, I was born to be a southerner, drinking mint juleps on the veranda.

Could anybody from down there please adopt me?

Just one of those days

People annoy me. I think I could happily live in a cyberworld where all interaction is electronic and I never ever have to face a human being again.

At this point my ideal world would comprise my apartment and/or the cottage. All the books I haven’t yet read and want to. Tons of collage materials. Numerous DVDs and CDs. Enough food to last me forever.

I want nothing to do with a human being ever again, and I haven’t even begun the weekend. A weekend where I’ll be working, locked up with a bunch of people taking the minutes of their meeting. Nonexistant except as pertains to “what exactly was that motion?” Efficient. Indispensible. Invisible. Privy to lots more knowledge than I want to have. And yet not even there. Knowledge isn’t always power, sometimes it’s mere slavery.

The weekend isn’t even here and already I hate all of humanity. I shudder to think of what Mr. Jazz will have to go through when I get back Sunday night.

Most of the time I don’t loathe my job. Most of the time it doesn’t suck out my soul. But then there are those times where not only do I not see the point, but where I'd be happy to run away and join the circus. I'd rather shovel elephant shit than the proverbial bullshit. At least it's the real thing.

Today's incoherent spam

And I quote:

"And guess what you are worth living a life filled with fun, laughter, energy and love. Andres and colleagues point out that incorrect . You think they were not rejected? I'll let them introduce themselves, should they decide to oblige me. So, completely spoiled by instant, funny, inventive feedback, I'm going to start trying to post again. How did you learn to drive a car ? When l first started this my kids though I had finally lost all my marbles. Imagine for a second if Walt Disney had given up on his dream?And guess what you are worth living a life filled with fun, laughter, energy and love.to the island, locate the site using a forensic geology and anthropology"

Now, they're not trying to sell me anything, obviously. It ain't no rich African prince trying to move his father's ill gotten gains out of the country. It's not one of those "Buy this stock now for pennies and become filthy rich in 10 days" spams.

It's... well, who the fuck knows what it is? It sounds like a collaboration between two foreigners using the 50 words of english they know between them to write the next bestselling novel.

Taking in the Toronto Sights

There are things one should never ever be forced to see. Even on a weekend spent in Toronto.

Especially on a Saturday morning. Even more especially on the way to the St. Lawrence Market, orgasmic land of foodie happiness.

For some things there is no excuse. None. Under any circumstances. Ever.

You know how you regularly see women in way too tight jeans and they have the camel toe thing going on? Nasty, eh?

It was worse. It was beyond nasty. It was vile.

Picture it. 10:00 am. You’re walking along the street, the sun is piercing through the fog; the weather is warm… You’re with one of your best friends and your own Mr. Jazz equivalent. Life is fine. No, life is lovely!

And then you see it…

I searched the internet high and low to find a picture that could convey the horror of the sight but, luckily perhaps, none was to be found. Your imagination will have to serve.

Picture a man. Tallish, short of non-descript. Oh so phallic CN tower reaching for the sky in the background. Short jacket and tight, tight leggings. Yes, you saw right – tight leggings, and obviously no underwear… Strutting his stuff with the jewels outlined. In 3-fuckin’-D!

Every. Damn. Detail.

The image is forever seared into my brain. And not in a good way.
Vile I tell you. There is no excuse for imposing that visual on everyone he met.

You’d figure that at least he’d be hung well enough to make the site impressive. But no. Not impressive. A tiny little slug all curled up and sleeping. And the weather was balmy. Shrinkage à la Costanza could not be invoked.

The HORROR!!!



*photo of the CN Tower from Sauna.org

The ubiquitous Thanksgiving post (and I ain't even in the US!)

It’s Turkey day in the US. Day of canned cranberry jelly wobbling in a plate (God, I hate that stuff. Much as I like cranberries, I can hardly force myself to eat that goo, especially when it’s sitting there with the can still imprinted on it. – insert dramatic shudder here – Actually I’m not big on aspics or Jell-o in general).

Our Thanksgiving was long ago, the second weekend in October, and it’s never as big a thing as in the US, well in Quebec at least, I don’t know about the rest of Canada.

The big thing for typtophanatics in Quebec is Christmas. Same meal: turkey, stuffing, cranberry goo. Throw in a ham, change around the desserts and you have the same food coma except there’s a tree in the living room and no football to watch.

But at least the holiday madness starts a bit later. Thankfully. I’m very much the Scrooge sort when it comes to the hols. If I could simply disappear as soon as they start, I’d be a happy, or at any rate happier, person. It’s the cynic in me. It seems the older I get, the more annoying the whole thing becomes.

Where did the magic go?

I guess growing up and having to provide the damn magic yourself makes it that much less magical.

I’m going nowhere with this, right?

For the record, I hate Thanksgiving. Blogs are there for my entertainment. A good portion of those I read are American. The American blogosphere is in a food coma today, so I am sorely lacking in entertainment.

Y’all better have horrible tales of Thanksgiving madness for me in the days to come or I will be very very angry.