Another rant and then I promise I'll move to pretty birds and flowers for my next post.
The Canadian (or at least Quebec) justice system is just pissing me off. I’m a very liberal person, what some people would call a bleeding heart, but damn, this is just too fucking much. A pedophile has just been convicted. He’s 68 years old and not in the best of health. The judge has condemned him to house arrest and he is obliged to stay away from children for the duration of his sentence. All this of course because of his health issues. I shit you not.
Just dump him into the general prison population. As a pedophile, they’ll take care of all his health problems real quick.
Goddamn it, what the fuck is WRONG with people!
Rant over. The Jazzer will now go fume in a corner. Now back to your regularly scheduled activities.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Rants and Petty Annoyances
Petty annoyance of the day:
People who walk down the street with cell phones screwed to their ears annoy me.
People who walk down the street with hands free phones, waving their arms, and talking at the top of their lungs (maybe the hands free thing brings that on) – well they just freak me right the fuck out. Used to be people walking down the street waving their arms and screeching at the top of their lungs were deeply disturbed individuals. Now, well, I guess they still are.
Dear people with hands free phones (or with regular cells), believe me I. DON’T. WANT. TO. KNOW. Really. Your stories are of no interest to me unless they involve good food and/or kinky sex. Perhaps a list of really good wines to try out would also be acceptable. Otherwise: BASTA!!
Rant of the day:
Charles Guité who, along with others involved in the sponsorship fraud, embezzled a couple of million* of the Canadian taxpayers hard earned dollars was sentenced yesterday. He got three and a half years.
Not that he’ll spend three and a half years in prison. No. Seven months will be about it because in 1996, the Canadian government, in its infinite wisdom, voted a law saying that after having done 1/6th of your sentence, you were free to go (Oh, and the time spent in prison while waiting for your sentence and trial and all that count). I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it was a way of saving themselves if and when their time came. The question begs an answer: Why 1/6th? Why not 1/10th? Why not simply say, OK, you're sentenced to 10 years, but hey, why don't you just go on home now and be a good person**. And why don't judges now give out sentences that take into account the fact that people are out after seven months of a three year sentence?
Of course, the light sentence is understandable. I mean c’mon people, it’s a victimless crime! No one was hurt. Never mind that millions of dollars we worked really hard to give the government are down the drain – actually each and every government could probably be tried for embezzlement for the money they waste. But hell, it’s not their money so what the fuck.
Guy Cloutier*** spent 10 years molesting at least two underage children. He got 42 months also, and the 1/6th rule applies. The only way to get out of the 1/6th rule is if you can prove the person is a threat to society (i.e. Karla Homolka who did her complete 12 years).
Ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case. If you know any criminals, send them to us. It's easy livin' here in the land of snow and slush.
* Yes, I know, our scandals are pathetically small. Canadians are too nice for Enron.
** Actually, they do this quite a lot. They're big into house arrest now. Cheaper I guess, saves taxpayers money. Gotta love the paradox.
*** Doesn't it just figure that the only English article I found on this was in Wikipedia. I love Wikipedia (for the record though, I didn't spend hours searching).
People who walk down the street with cell phones screwed to their ears annoy me.
People who walk down the street with hands free phones, waving their arms, and talking at the top of their lungs (maybe the hands free thing brings that on) – well they just freak me right the fuck out. Used to be people walking down the street waving their arms and screeching at the top of their lungs were deeply disturbed individuals. Now, well, I guess they still are.
Dear people with hands free phones (or with regular cells), believe me I. DON’T. WANT. TO. KNOW. Really. Your stories are of no interest to me unless they involve good food and/or kinky sex. Perhaps a list of really good wines to try out would also be acceptable. Otherwise: BASTA!!
Rant of the day:
Charles Guité who, along with others involved in the sponsorship fraud, embezzled a couple of million* of the Canadian taxpayers hard earned dollars was sentenced yesterday. He got three and a half years.
Not that he’ll spend three and a half years in prison. No. Seven months will be about it because in 1996, the Canadian government, in its infinite wisdom, voted a law saying that after having done 1/6th of your sentence, you were free to go (Oh, and the time spent in prison while waiting for your sentence and trial and all that count). I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it was a way of saving themselves if and when their time came. The question begs an answer: Why 1/6th? Why not 1/10th? Why not simply say, OK, you're sentenced to 10 years, but hey, why don't you just go on home now and be a good person**. And why don't judges now give out sentences that take into account the fact that people are out after seven months of a three year sentence?
Of course, the light sentence is understandable. I mean c’mon people, it’s a victimless crime! No one was hurt. Never mind that millions of dollars we worked really hard to give the government are down the drain – actually each and every government could probably be tried for embezzlement for the money they waste. But hell, it’s not their money so what the fuck.
Guy Cloutier*** spent 10 years molesting at least two underage children. He got 42 months also, and the 1/6th rule applies. The only way to get out of the 1/6th rule is if you can prove the person is a threat to society (i.e. Karla Homolka who did her complete 12 years).
Ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case. If you know any criminals, send them to us. It's easy livin' here in the land of snow and slush.
* Yes, I know, our scandals are pathetically small. Canadians are too nice for Enron.
** Actually, they do this quite a lot. They're big into house arrest now. Cheaper I guess, saves taxpayers money. Gotta love the paradox.
*** Doesn't it just figure that the only English article I found on this was in Wikipedia. I love Wikipedia (for the record though, I didn't spend hours searching).
Friday, June 16, 2006
Working for me?!?
Today is a great day for Quebecers (or maybe Canadians as a whole). Today - if I understood correctly on the radio this morning, which is debatable since I'm nowhere near at my best in the early morning - is the day we start working for ourselves. Until today, every penny we earned was for the government. Half the year we work as slaves. Half the years not a penny we earn is ours.
Or maybe they were saying that this year, the miracle wouldn't happen in June, but rather in mid-November.
I choose to believe the first option. I'm an optimist that way.
Or maybe they were saying that this year, the miracle wouldn't happen in June, but rather in mid-November.
I choose to believe the first option. I'm an optimist that way.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Pun
All credit for this goes to Simi-Bee, who some of you know.
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good).....
A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
Just sayin'
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good).....
A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
Just sayin'
Porn vs. Erotica and Meal Bars
A friend was looking at the book I mentioned in my previous post, Forbidden Erotica, and the question arose: when does pornography become erotica? The pictures in this book are definitely pornographic, but the feeling of them isn’t the same as in what you see on the internet or in magazines. But the same acts are depicted by men and women and various combinations thereof. The feeling just isn’t there though. It seems more, well, cute, quaint and OMG-they-did-that-back-then-ish.
So, when? If a picture is 100 years old, does it become erotica? What is erotica versus pornography? My erotica is probably someone else’s hard core porn and vice versa. Is there a formula, a more or less clear cut line?
The common wisdom is that porn degrades women. How about degrading men, does that count? And again, what I find degrading is probably not what someone else finds degrading…
And is all porn bad? Mr. Jazz and I have been known to watch the odd "instructional" DVD and it was quite amusing and, well instructional - at least as far as we, ahem, managed to see. Does that make me a sleazeball? I don't think so, and if it does, well so be it, I can live with that.
Which reminds me of a conversation with a colleague recently. She had seen a completely veiled woman at her neighborhood grocery store (which seems sort of well just weird, ya know). She asked me how I felt about this? Did I find it degrading (there's that word again) to women, and oppressive, and should the practice be banned (not that you see that many women in Montreal who are completely veiled, the odd hijab here and there perhaps).
I dunno about banning it, what would be the point really? These women would simply end up never leaving their homes. Personally, I don't see how anyone can stand for that, but it's a whole different culture. I hope these women's daughters won't stand for it though, and their granddaughters and so on.
But degrading? I think it's more degrading for men, since women are veiled to keep them from the concupiscent looks of men. To keep them safe from men. As if all men are animals who feel the need to jump on any woman they see. Give men some credit please. Although it is paradoxical that men are the ones who want to keep their women safe... from others as bad as themselves? Somehow I don't think being veiled is keeping these women any safer. I'd like to see statistics on rape... though obviously rape doesn't exist in those communities. OK, I'll stop shooting off my mouth now.
On a totally different tack: Meal bars. Ewww. My m-i-l left me a sample at home the other day. Damn, those things are nasty. Tasted like a chocolate sawdust brownie. Whoever decided that you could replace a meal with a bar is in severe need of psychiatric help. Seriously, how hard is it to make a sandwich? There is no reason to eat that crap. Why do we fall for this stuff?
Advertising? If so, damn they’re good because although no amount of advertising will ever have me eating those meal bars, it seems lots of people buy them. I guess they're doing something right.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Hexak..whateverphobia
This cough is draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaining me. Yesterday, despite various puffers (Ventolin and Flovent) was particularly bad, I hacked my way through the day and spent the first half hour after I went to bed seemingly trying to get my lungs to exit my body à la Exorcist. Leftovers from 6-6-6? * It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting and I just want it to stop, even though my abs are getting a helluva workout.
Yesterday evening I finally did a collage that had been rattling around in my head for the past month. It started with a sentence which just popped into my head one day: Mary suddenly realized that she had chosen the wrong door.
I had sort of envisaged a Price is Right type thing, found pics of doors and of Mary and well, from there it somehow did a complete 180 from cute to rather “naughty”. I was flipping through a book Mr. Jazz brought home a while back, Forbidden Erotica, a book of erotic (pornographic?) pictures from the 1860s on. (As soon as there were cameras, there were people – men? – taking pictures of people having sex. And lordy people, we have invented nothing! But yet again, I digress).
When I saw those pictures, it suddenly struck me that Mary, sweet and innocent though she seemed, had a naughty voyeuristic side and a bit of text (Or had she???) and several pictures from the book were added behind the door. **
It turned out pretty much like I had visualized but don’t tell my mother!
* Oh and did you know that there’s actually a phobia related to 666 (probably what the patients who refuse to see Big Brother’s physiotherapist suffer from). It’s called Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia
** Sorry, no pics, I have no digital camera...
Yesterday evening I finally did a collage that had been rattling around in my head for the past month. It started with a sentence which just popped into my head one day: Mary suddenly realized that she had chosen the wrong door.
I had sort of envisaged a Price is Right type thing, found pics of doors and of Mary and well, from there it somehow did a complete 180 from cute to rather “naughty”. I was flipping through a book Mr. Jazz brought home a while back, Forbidden Erotica, a book of erotic (pornographic?) pictures from the 1860s on. (As soon as there were cameras, there were people – men? – taking pictures of people having sex. And lordy people, we have invented nothing! But yet again, I digress).
When I saw those pictures, it suddenly struck me that Mary, sweet and innocent though she seemed, had a naughty voyeuristic side and a bit of text (Or had she???) and several pictures from the book were added behind the door. **
It turned out pretty much like I had visualized but don’t tell my mother!
* Oh and did you know that there’s actually a phobia related to 666 (probably what the patients who refuse to see Big Brother’s physiotherapist suffer from). It’s called Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia
** Sorry, no pics, I have no digital camera...
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Apocalypse Nope.
Well, we seem to have miraculously survived the apocalypse. Whew, it twas rather touch and go there for a while, but you figure once it's tomorrow in Australia it can’t really happen anymore can it? If the apocalypse is on a particular date, is there a window of "apocalypse time" when the whole world is the same day? Or does the "beast" work on Greenwich Mean Time? There’s something to ponder for those who have really nothing more productive to do – and how I wish I was one of them.
Last weekend (I think), in Toronto, a terrorist cell was busted. Now muslim religious leaders are coming out to say that they condemn terrorism, that their community condemns it, the usual speech, ya know.
Question is why? Why do they have to do that? If these terrorists were christian, would christian leaders go on air to say they condemn it? Would jewish leaders? No. They wouldn’t. It says a lot about our society that mulsims feel the need apologize for their religion when a bunch of nutjobs goes ballistic. Do we really think because the terrorists are muslim, all muslims are terrorists? How does that follow?
It doesn’t. And it’s sad that many people might think so.
Last weekend (I think), in Toronto, a terrorist cell was busted. Now muslim religious leaders are coming out to say that they condemn terrorism, that their community condemns it, the usual speech, ya know.
Question is why? Why do they have to do that? If these terrorists were christian, would christian leaders go on air to say they condemn it? Would jewish leaders? No. They wouldn’t. It says a lot about our society that mulsims feel the need apologize for their religion when a bunch of nutjobs goes ballistic. Do we really think because the terrorists are muslim, all muslims are terrorists? How does that follow?
It doesn’t. And it’s sad that many people might think so.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
It's the end of the world as we know it...
I’m fascinated by the fascination people have with things that are even slightly out of their daily routine.
Yesterday, as I entered the mall to go catch the subway I saw a huge crowd of people peering down into the lower level. I raised my eyes and saw the same thing on the upper level – about 50 people looking down.
When I finally managed to make my way to the lower level and the subway, I saw what all the fuss was about. Two or three people were standing in front of Zellers yelling at each other, surrounded by Zellers employees who were most likely trying to stop them from strangling each other.
This was causing a massive pileup of people, all standing there watching. Watching what? An argument.
What the hell is the point to that? I seriously don’t get it. Am I not curious enough? Sure, I’ll have a look, but between that and standing around watching… I just don’t see the point – or the interest. Do these people have so little going on in their lives that this is the high point of the day?
The same thing happens on the highway. Drives me insane when traffic is blocked up for kilometres because of an accident on the other side of the highway. We aren’t involved; we don’t have to slow down to go around it. Nope people are stopping on a fuckin’ highway to look at an accident! Is it an “oh-cool-maybe-I’ll-get-to-see-blood-and-gore” thing? If so, it’s just sick.
But then, who the hell am I to judge – except of course when it takes me double the time to get to the cottage because of the rubberneckers.
Remember, today is 6-6-6 day. Apparently all sorts of nutjobs are calling for the apocalypse. Today the beast will be unleashed on the world. Evil will triumph (as if it hadn’t already). Repent, repent. If they’re right, well, it was nice knowing you. If not, we’ll just wait for their next end of the world announcement. It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine*... Stay tuned.
* Thank you REM
Yesterday, as I entered the mall to go catch the subway I saw a huge crowd of people peering down into the lower level. I raised my eyes and saw the same thing on the upper level – about 50 people looking down.
When I finally managed to make my way to the lower level and the subway, I saw what all the fuss was about. Two or three people were standing in front of Zellers yelling at each other, surrounded by Zellers employees who were most likely trying to stop them from strangling each other.
This was causing a massive pileup of people, all standing there watching. Watching what? An argument.
What the hell is the point to that? I seriously don’t get it. Am I not curious enough? Sure, I’ll have a look, but between that and standing around watching… I just don’t see the point – or the interest. Do these people have so little going on in their lives that this is the high point of the day?
The same thing happens on the highway. Drives me insane when traffic is blocked up for kilometres because of an accident on the other side of the highway. We aren’t involved; we don’t have to slow down to go around it. Nope people are stopping on a fuckin’ highway to look at an accident! Is it an “oh-cool-maybe-I’ll-get-to-see-blood-and-gore” thing? If so, it’s just sick.
But then, who the hell am I to judge – except of course when it takes me double the time to get to the cottage because of the rubberneckers.
Remember, today is 6-6-6 day. Apparently all sorts of nutjobs are calling for the apocalypse. Today the beast will be unleashed on the world. Evil will triumph (as if it hadn’t already). Repent, repent. If they’re right, well, it was nice knowing you. If not, we’ll just wait for their next end of the world announcement. It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine*... Stay tuned.
* Thank you REM
Monday, June 05, 2006
Smoke Free, Take 2
You know those days when you hate your life? Your job stinks, you can’t for the life of you understand why you’re wasting your time spending all this time doing something you really couldn’t care less about with people you don’t – in most cases – care about either. And for what?
I don’t even wanna contemplate that particular question. Bleh.
In less than a month I’ll be 45 and I’m having the usual existential crisis. It’s not even original, just the ordinary mid-life “what am I doing with my life” crap. Even my existential angst is totally within the norm. Totally bland and uninteresting, like me, like my life… so enough about that, who gives a fuck anyway. I’m thankful that at least when I get like this I annoy the hell out of myself within an hour or so. Since the choice is to walk along and slap myself silly or get the fuck over myself, I go for the latter option; much less painful all around.
So, the smoke-free bar experiment was a resounding success. The place still reeked of cigarette smoke of course, but it was amazing to actually be able to breathe and not be obliged to leave after 15 minutes.
Newest trend in Montreal, or so SKOAL is hoping: Chewing tobacco. The day after it became illegal to smoke in bars and restaurants, they had taken out full page ads in several of the free alternative papers touting their product: “All the kick of tobacco without the smoke”. Somehow I can’t help but picture a bunch of old men sitting around a stove in the general store with a spittoon at their feet spitting out a stream of brown which hits the spittoon (or the floor beside it) with a resounding plop.
I don’t know where they’re going to spit the stuff in bars (unless they begin providing spittoons), but hey, have your poison as long as you’re not poisoning me at the same time (apparently a half hour of chewing is about equal to four cigarettes – less lung cancer but more mouth and throat cancer). With my luck, I’ll probably step in chewing tobacco spit and slip and break open my head, thus ending forever my foray into the new and wonderful world of smokeless bars.
There is also, of course, a coalition of smokers taking the government to court over this. Apparently there is no real proof that second hand smoke is bad for you, so they’re trying to get the ban reversed. Well, whatever.
I don’t even wanna contemplate that particular question. Bleh.
In less than a month I’ll be 45 and I’m having the usual existential crisis. It’s not even original, just the ordinary mid-life “what am I doing with my life” crap. Even my existential angst is totally within the norm. Totally bland and uninteresting, like me, like my life… so enough about that, who gives a fuck anyway. I’m thankful that at least when I get like this I annoy the hell out of myself within an hour or so. Since the choice is to walk along and slap myself silly or get the fuck over myself, I go for the latter option; much less painful all around.
So, the smoke-free bar experiment was a resounding success. The place still reeked of cigarette smoke of course, but it was amazing to actually be able to breathe and not be obliged to leave after 15 minutes.
Newest trend in Montreal, or so SKOAL is hoping: Chewing tobacco. The day after it became illegal to smoke in bars and restaurants, they had taken out full page ads in several of the free alternative papers touting their product: “All the kick of tobacco without the smoke”. Somehow I can’t help but picture a bunch of old men sitting around a stove in the general store with a spittoon at their feet spitting out a stream of brown which hits the spittoon (or the floor beside it) with a resounding plop.
I don’t know where they’re going to spit the stuff in bars (unless they begin providing spittoons), but hey, have your poison as long as you’re not poisoning me at the same time (apparently a half hour of chewing is about equal to four cigarettes – less lung cancer but more mouth and throat cancer). With my luck, I’ll probably step in chewing tobacco spit and slip and break open my head, thus ending forever my foray into the new and wonderful world of smokeless bars.
There is also, of course, a coalition of smokers taking the government to court over this. Apparently there is no real proof that second hand smoke is bad for you, so they’re trying to get the ban reversed. Well, whatever.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
A new era in Quebec
Today is a landmark day in the Jazzer’s life.
Today, straight after work, I am going to Bily Kun to have a drink.
“Ok, fine, and this is a watershed moment for you?” , you ask, thinking to yourself because you’re much to polite to voice it out loud, “She needs a life. Seriously.”
Yes, it is, because beginning today smoking is banned in all bars and restaurants in Quebec. I will actually be able to spend more than 15 minutes in a bar without starting to cough, without my eyes itching and running. It. Will. Be. Pure. Bliss. Believe me, it will.
Ok, granted that won’t turn me into a barfly, but damn how nice will it be to actually be able to go comfortably into a bar once in a while.
Reaction is all the way over the place. Some bar owners say they’ll let people smoke, others are planning to close for a week to repaint and clean up. Lots of the smokers say they think it’s a good idea, lots of others say it’s a damn stupid idea, that there should be non smoking areas, period (sorta like having a peeing section in a pool I’d say, but what do I know, being a rabid non smoker who actually likes to breathe).
So tonight I will go celebrate. Have a glass of wine without rushing because I’m too uncomfortable to stay any longer. Chat with friends for a couple of hours, see what this whole socializing in a bar thing is all about.
For once I sincerely thank the government. Hell, they have to get it right once in a while.
Today, straight after work, I am going to Bily Kun to have a drink.
“Ok, fine, and this is a watershed moment for you?” , you ask, thinking to yourself because you’re much to polite to voice it out loud, “She needs a life. Seriously.”
Yes, it is, because beginning today smoking is banned in all bars and restaurants in Quebec. I will actually be able to spend more than 15 minutes in a bar without starting to cough, without my eyes itching and running. It. Will. Be. Pure. Bliss. Believe me, it will.
Ok, granted that won’t turn me into a barfly, but damn how nice will it be to actually be able to go comfortably into a bar once in a while.
Reaction is all the way over the place. Some bar owners say they’ll let people smoke, others are planning to close for a week to repaint and clean up. Lots of the smokers say they think it’s a good idea, lots of others say it’s a damn stupid idea, that there should be non smoking areas, period (sorta like having a peeing section in a pool I’d say, but what do I know, being a rabid non smoker who actually likes to breathe).
So tonight I will go celebrate. Have a glass of wine without rushing because I’m too uncomfortable to stay any longer. Chat with friends for a couple of hours, see what this whole socializing in a bar thing is all about.
For once I sincerely thank the government. Hell, they have to get it right once in a while.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Bleh
Nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing to say....
Can one be brain dead, but at the same time have one's brain full to overflowing?
I hold JazzSis (yes you!) responsible for this state I'm in. I picked up her cold when I went to see her a couple of weeks ago and after having percolated deep deep inside me it rose like a phoenix and possessed me like a demon.
Who knew a body could contain this many repusive secretions.
JazzSis is guilty as charged.
Now I will retreat and moan and whine and hack and cough and just generally feel sorry for my little self.
Adieu.
Can one be brain dead, but at the same time have one's brain full to overflowing?
I hold JazzSis (yes you!) responsible for this state I'm in. I picked up her cold when I went to see her a couple of weeks ago and after having percolated deep deep inside me it rose like a phoenix and possessed me like a demon.
Who knew a body could contain this many repusive secretions.
JazzSis is guilty as charged.
Now I will retreat and moan and whine and hack and cough and just generally feel sorry for my little self.
Adieu.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
A meme...
A meme I "borrowed" from Blue Poppy. Anyone care to do it?
I AM: Many things, sometimes contradictory.
I SAID: I would never join the rat race; I said I would live an exciting life. My MOM SAID: We’ll talk again in 20 years.
I WANT: Lunch
I WISH: I knew what I want to do when I grow up
I HATE: people who drive while talking on the phone (probably because one almost ran me over once – and had the gall to act as if it were my fault, when in fact HE was running a light)
I MISS: my dad, still
I FEAR: that I will die because of some idiot politician
I HEAR: this fucking ventilation system. All. The. Fucking. Time!!!!
I WONDER: if I would get in trouble if I smashed it.
I REGRET: not having lived my adolescence and never having done anything crazy.
I AM NOT: confrontational
I DANCE: rarely
I SING: only alone in the car – I don’t want to inflict that on anyone
I AM NOT ALWAYS: a nice person
I MADE: a cool collage yesterday morning when I got to work
I WRITE: because I can’t not
I CONFUSE: shallots and scallions
I NEED: to add more creativity to my life – and not in the sense of “Oh, you solved that problem very creatively”. I mean, puleeeeze.
I SHOULD: get my ass in gear and start altering that book
I START: many more things than I finish
I FINISH: pretty much every book I start
I BELIEVE: there is no god
I KNOW: I might be wrong
I CAN: make people laugh
I CAN’T: carry a tune to save my life
I SEE: that life as an adult is a million times less exciting than I thought it would be as a teenager
I BLOG: because, hell, I don't know. Because I want to be heard? Which would be pathetic. Because I have fun doing it.
I READ: voraciously
I AM AROUSED BY: Mr. Jazz
IT PISSES ME OFF: when people think because I’m a secretary I’m a servant, and a stupid one at that.
I FIND: Myself more and more fascinated by birds.
I LIKE: lazy Sunday mornings at the cottage
I LOVE: that the trees are finally green even if the weather isn’t great
I AM: Many things, sometimes contradictory.
I SAID: I would never join the rat race; I said I would live an exciting life. My MOM SAID: We’ll talk again in 20 years.
I WANT: Lunch
I WISH: I knew what I want to do when I grow up
I HATE: people who drive while talking on the phone (probably because one almost ran me over once – and had the gall to act as if it were my fault, when in fact HE was running a light)
I MISS: my dad, still
I FEAR: that I will die because of some idiot politician
I HEAR: this fucking ventilation system. All. The. Fucking. Time!!!!
I WONDER: if I would get in trouble if I smashed it.
I REGRET: not having lived my adolescence and never having done anything crazy.
I AM NOT: confrontational
I DANCE: rarely
I SING: only alone in the car – I don’t want to inflict that on anyone
I AM NOT ALWAYS: a nice person
I MADE: a cool collage yesterday morning when I got to work
I WRITE: because I can’t not
I CONFUSE: shallots and scallions
I NEED: to add more creativity to my life – and not in the sense of “Oh, you solved that problem very creatively”. I mean, puleeeeze.
I SHOULD: get my ass in gear and start altering that book
I START: many more things than I finish
I FINISH: pretty much every book I start
I BELIEVE: there is no god
I KNOW: I might be wrong
I CAN: make people laugh
I CAN’T: carry a tune to save my life
I SEE: that life as an adult is a million times less exciting than I thought it would be as a teenager
I BLOG: because, hell, I don't know. Because I want to be heard? Which would be pathetic. Because I have fun doing it.
I READ: voraciously
I AM AROUSED BY: Mr. Jazz
IT PISSES ME OFF: when people think because I’m a secretary I’m a servant, and a stupid one at that.
I FIND: Myself more and more fascinated by birds.
I LIKE: lazy Sunday mornings at the cottage
I LOVE: that the trees are finally green even if the weather isn’t great
Les Vacances they are OVER
Last night, waiting to fall asleep, annoyed at my insomnia (I always sleep wonderfully, except it seems the night before I return to work), I wrote a wonderful, witty, whimsical (such alliteration, oh my!) entry for this blog. In my head. And is it still floating around in this witty and whimsical yet empty head of mine? Somewhere where I might find it in some shape or form? Nope. Gone. There, in a nutshell, lies the problem with being a lazy insomniac.
The vacation was great, as vacations are wont to be, except for the rain. The rain in Paris, the rain at the cottage, the rain for the day or two we spent in Montreal. Everything is sodden (love that word, it captures the feeling so well). Sodden. The ground, the trees the birds the Eiffel Tower, me. Sodden. All of us. Two weeks of sodden.
Just as an experiment, let me play Pollyanna and put a positive spin on things – and watch carefully, because this isn’t gonna happen again any time soon. So: rain is good because once you get back from Paris you have nothing to do at the cottage in the woods except relax, and watch DVDs galore… It wasn’t a terribly exciting vacation, but Mr. Jazz made me margaritas aplenty so basically I have nothing to complain about. Margaritas, movies and nooky, what more can a girl ask for?
I did realize, coming back to work today, that I was born for a life of leisure. I was Marie Antoinette or Cleopatra in a past life and I want to keep it up in this one. ‘Course, seeing how they ended up… I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, something about idleness, something strong and puritanical of the “devil and idle fingers (or minds?)” variety, but I don’t want to know.
Le sigh
PS: This should've been posted yesterday, but Blogger didn't want me in here. If I were paranoid...
The vacation was great, as vacations are wont to be, except for the rain. The rain in Paris, the rain at the cottage, the rain for the day or two we spent in Montreal. Everything is sodden (love that word, it captures the feeling so well). Sodden. The ground, the trees the birds the Eiffel Tower, me. Sodden. All of us. Two weeks of sodden.
Just as an experiment, let me play Pollyanna and put a positive spin on things – and watch carefully, because this isn’t gonna happen again any time soon. So: rain is good because once you get back from Paris you have nothing to do at the cottage in the woods except relax, and watch DVDs galore… It wasn’t a terribly exciting vacation, but Mr. Jazz made me margaritas aplenty so basically I have nothing to complain about. Margaritas, movies and nooky, what more can a girl ask for?
I did realize, coming back to work today, that I was born for a life of leisure. I was Marie Antoinette or Cleopatra in a past life and I want to keep it up in this one. ‘Course, seeing how they ended up… I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, something about idleness, something strong and puritanical of the “devil and idle fingers (or minds?)” variety, but I don’t want to know.
Le sigh
PS: This should've been posted yesterday, but Blogger didn't want me in here. If I were paranoid...
Friday, May 12, 2006
Just stopping by....
On a Friday night, at the office*, in the middle of my vacation.... Do I need a life or what?
Just got back from Gay Paree yesterday, and it was, as ever, awesome. Even after having been there over a dozen times, it still surprises me every time I go by its sheer, well, awesomeness. What can I say about it? A couple of quick impressions before I get back to my vacation:
- Where does the evil Parisian waiter reside? Every time I eat in a restaurant in Paris, waiters are really quite nice. Is it because I'm not American? Or are they a myth?
- That legendary Parisian elegance seems to be just that, legendary. Honestly, besides a few really elegant Parisians here and there, Montreal women (myself excluded of course) seem a damn sight more elegant generally. But maybe I wasn't looking right.
- The Étoile just freaks me right the fuck out. How can people actually drive through it? I'd worm my way in and still be going around in circles six weeks later.
- The Cow Parade rocks
- BP - The area around Metro Vavin is wonderful... I even saw that café you posted a pic of once, Le Québec. And I found this great little paper shop - good thing Mr. Jazz was there or I would've bought 50 different journals. I'm on the brink of orgasm just THINKING about that paper!
Over and out. Off to the cottage.
* I have to pick up some books someone left for me, and I didn't want to do it during the day because, hell, I'm on vacation and don't want to have to give a blow by blow account to colleagues. So there.
Just got back from Gay Paree yesterday, and it was, as ever, awesome. Even after having been there over a dozen times, it still surprises me every time I go by its sheer, well, awesomeness. What can I say about it? A couple of quick impressions before I get back to my vacation:
- Where does the evil Parisian waiter reside? Every time I eat in a restaurant in Paris, waiters are really quite nice. Is it because I'm not American? Or are they a myth?
- That legendary Parisian elegance seems to be just that, legendary. Honestly, besides a few really elegant Parisians here and there, Montreal women (myself excluded of course) seem a damn sight more elegant generally. But maybe I wasn't looking right.
- The Étoile just freaks me right the fuck out. How can people actually drive through it? I'd worm my way in and still be going around in circles six weeks later.
- The Cow Parade rocks
- BP - The area around Metro Vavin is wonderful... I even saw that café you posted a pic of once, Le Québec. And I found this great little paper shop - good thing Mr. Jazz was there or I would've bought 50 different journals. I'm on the brink of orgasm just THINKING about that paper!
Over and out. Off to the cottage.
* I have to pick up some books someone left for me, and I didn't want to do it during the day because, hell, I'm on vacation and don't want to have to give a blow by blow account to colleagues. So there.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Paris, here I come!
It's been a while. But honestly I had nothing even remotely interesting to say. And I didn't have the time, work has been horrific. And and and... and I could find a million other excuses, but I really don't care because WEDNESDAY, I'M GOING TO PARIS!!!! and I ACTUALLY CAUGHT UP ON THE BLOGS I READ! Oh joy, oh happiness, now I know wassup with all those people out there who I don't know from Adam, but whose lives are more important to me than lots of people I know personally. Is that weird? (and why do I always write wierd first before correcting it? Deep thoughts indeed for a Monday morning).
This is the first time in ages I've really felt excited about leaving. Usually it only hits when I'm actually in the plane. But this time I'm all alfutter at the thought of going to Paris again with Mr. Jazz and wandering around and, well, despite staying with friends, doing something of the romantic vacation away with my boy.
I've also been thinking a lot about packing. Usually I'm a "jeans and a couple of t-shirts in a gym bag" type of packer. But this time, somehow I don't feel like packing light (which I notice makes packing much harder). Somehow Paris seems to call for flirty skirts and sexy tops. Makeup and cute shoes. And huges hopes that the weather will cooperate with this vision.
Old age is turning my brain to mush. Romantic? Flirty skirts? *shudder*
A couple of must dos when we're there:
La coulée verte is an elevated 4.5 km walk built on a disused train line. With tons of flowers and greenery. Several people have told us about it. Apparently it's spectacular.
And the Cow Parade is in Paris! I've always loved the cows, and I have a few of the figurines. To actually see some in person has been a long time project. And this weekend, my m-i-l told me she saw in the paper that they were in Paris! Yippi!
Then, there's the "just wandering around and taking in the sights and sounds" tour we always do.
And of course, the Père Lachaise cemetary No visit to Paris is complete without going there. I absolutely love the place and try to go every time I'm in Paris - and not because of Jim Morrison.
Last, but oh so definitely not least, I'll have to eat a Paris-Brest, the best pastries in the world, and hard to find outside France. I did find some here in Montreal once, but it just wasn't the same.
See you all when I get back!
This is the first time in ages I've really felt excited about leaving. Usually it only hits when I'm actually in the plane. But this time I'm all alfutter at the thought of going to Paris again with Mr. Jazz and wandering around and, well, despite staying with friends, doing something of the romantic vacation away with my boy.
I've also been thinking a lot about packing. Usually I'm a "jeans and a couple of t-shirts in a gym bag" type of packer. But this time, somehow I don't feel like packing light (which I notice makes packing much harder). Somehow Paris seems to call for flirty skirts and sexy tops. Makeup and cute shoes. And huges hopes that the weather will cooperate with this vision.
Old age is turning my brain to mush. Romantic? Flirty skirts? *shudder*
A couple of must dos when we're there:
La coulée verte is an elevated 4.5 km walk built on a disused train line. With tons of flowers and greenery. Several people have told us about it. Apparently it's spectacular.
And the Cow Parade is in Paris! I've always loved the cows, and I have a few of the figurines. To actually see some in person has been a long time project. And this weekend, my m-i-l told me she saw in the paper that they were in Paris! Yippi!
Then, there's the "just wandering around and taking in the sights and sounds" tour we always do.
And of course, the Père Lachaise cemetary No visit to Paris is complete without going there. I absolutely love the place and try to go every time I'm in Paris - and not because of Jim Morrison.
Last, but oh so definitely not least, I'll have to eat a Paris-Brest, the best pastries in the world, and hard to find outside France. I did find some here in Montreal once, but it just wasn't the same.
See you all when I get back!
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