Soapbox Time

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I've been pretty much incommunicado in the last week or so because of work. I'm swamped, I'm drowning and the last thing I want to do is type some more at the end of the day. Today however, Mr. Jazz sent me the link to an article that made my blood boil.

Steve  Proulx of the free weekly newspaper Voir posted this article on the paper's website on Monday. Here is my translation/summary, as most of you don't read French I think...

Everyone Is Reading It

I'd like to pick up on this post from the Librairie Monet blog called The Economy of Consensus (Sorry folks, it's also in French - Jazz)


The author (a bookseller) and I share the same malaise: the general curiosity about books can be measured in millimetres.


The blogger writes: :

"This summer, on vacation at the beach, I looked at what people were reading. It was predictable: Millennium, Fascination (the French title of one of the Twilight books - J) and Harry Potter. I feel like I have a plastic bag over my head. Are we condemned to all read the same thing? What happens to diversity?"

At the Salon (du Livre - the yearly book fair where all the publishing houses gather to tout their wares - J), I saw the same phenomenon.


The public has thousands of titles to choose from on just about any subject. Volumes from yesterday or today, inexpensive and expensive. Everything is there, the choice is theirs.


Everyone reads pretty much the same things (he then goes on to quote a couple of Quebec novels and authors) And of course those damned sexy vampires. Twilight = Sick. To. Death. Of. It. (For the record, me too! - J)


This infatuation for a particular book is hiding something, I'm not sure quite what. Perhaps a certain insecurity about books in general? Rather than risk being surprised (or disappointment), because we aren't all bulimic readers, we'd rather go with the popular vote.

Everyone is reading it, so it must be good.

Because of this, though, I'm sure a lot of readers miss the opportunity to read a book they'll really like.

A book written for them.


Well, that was an interesting little exercise. I haven't translated in forever.

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What really annoys the living hell out of me here is the whole elitist "if you're reading bestsellers you're reading crap" bullshit.

I'm one of those bulimic readers. I'll give pretty much anything a try - from bestsellers to obscure Eastern European writers. I LOVE reading and can't imagine leaving the house without a book in my bag. I freaking get nervous if I do that - even to go to the corner store.

But.

I don't expect everyone to be the same. The point is, these people are READING! Which is better than a huge whack of the overall population. So what if they're reading bestsellers because they're bestsellers. True, there is some bestseller dreck out there, but there's also some good stuff. Does it really matter that they're reading a particular novel because everyone else is?

Besides, for those of us who like obscure Eastern European authors, those bestsellers bring in enough money for editors to actually publish them. They're not going to generate millions, but the millions generated by the latest Dan Brown or Grisham mean that all 300 of us can read Mr. Obscure. I don't like Grisham or Brown much, but more power to them if they get people to read - and enable me to read what I like. Hell, I love Stephen King, the emperor of bestsellers ('cause saying King, the king of... is just too repetitive), so who the hell am I to judge.

All things considered, all of society works the same way, doesn't it? People wear the same clothes, eat at the same restaurants, take the same vacations, buy the same Uggs (now there are some ugly ass boots, but hell, if you like them why should it annoy me?)

Standardization is part of our society and has always been. For all the Brontës (and XUP, I LOVED Wuthering Heights), how many obscure (now lost) brilliant writers were there in the 19th century? I'd venture to think quite as many as today, all proportions being kept.

I can't help but smile at the whole "Read! Read! Read! (but don't read bestsellers 'cause they're not Literature)" issue.

Cultural snobbery drives me insane.
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The "Written" Post

Ticknart did it here. And I thought it was really quite cool, so I'm doing it now.  I hope the rest of you will join in. Oh, and in case you have problems reading it, the "translation" is below the images...

It might seem somewhat incoherent, but keep in mind that it was written at the ungodly hour of 6:30 on a Saturday morning - that in itself is a total obscenity. I have no business being conscious at 6:30 on a Saturday - and re-reading this, I realize that I wasn't completely conscious anyway. Which is good, I suppose, it precluded me from writing "neatly"...

So this is it - my handwriting. I told Ticknart I was going to do this and I did get around to it [Kudos to me!!]  - now I have to get around to Geetwits' 5 words - and I'll do that too, I swear. Actually I think this is a wonderful idea. I love writing. I have no problem with what my writing looks like - contrary to a lot of people who seem to think theirs is really ugly - I can't help but wonder what they expect... Actually I love that there are no longer any penmanship classes, when everyone's handwriting looked the same. I love seeing the uniqueness of other people's writing. Even when it's illegible - I work with engineers.

I love the feeling of a pen scratching across paper. And the sound of it too - when it's quiet enoug - like on a Saturday morning at 6:30 ferchrissake when I can't for the life of me get back to sleep!!!!

Maybe that's one of the reasons I've been keeping a journal for 36 years now. The act of writing - as opposed to typing, which I do entirely to much of, is very calming...

I used to write 3-4 letters a week - now I blog. It might reach more people, but it doesn't quite have the same feeling to it, does it. I think I'd be hard pressed to find anyone to write back tome these days - life gets in the way I guess. I'm not sure I could sustain the rhythm myself.

So there you go. Please "write" a post, I'd love to see your handwriting - I promise I can in no way see into your soul through it - I have no notion of graphology (is that the word?) whatsoever.

I just think it'd be really really cool.

C'mon, jump in!!

Jazz

Thought of the day

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Some people are like slinkies. Not much use for anything, but they bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs.

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I Vant to Suck Your Blood

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Have we ever talked about vampires you and I? I think not.

 The original - Vlad Tepes

I have to tell you, I am sick to death of the creatures. Really I am.

I remember reading Dracula the first time - it's one of those books I've read often. I was 12 or 13 I think, and Stoker captured my imagination and ignited in me a passion for vampires. I searched out all the information I could get on them and on Vlad Tepes, the original Dracula on whom the story was based (and this was way before the ease of the internet, when searching for information involved libraries an encyclopedias. Oh my!). We all know about him and his nasty habit of impaling people who annoyed him and watching them die while having dinner (and if you don't you can read up on him here or any number of places on the net - cause libraries and encyclopedias are so old fashioned).

Stoker's Dracula was a blood sucking inhuman monster. As vampires should be. Because once they become vampires, they lose all humanity, they have no soul, they're cold evil monsters. Gotta love a good monster.

And along came Anne Rice. Oh, Anne, Anne, Anne. You ruined vampires forever.

Actually, I quite liked Interview With The Vampire, it was new and different - told from the vampire's perspective. Lestat was a kick ass vampire - although Tom Cruise as Lestat was probably the worst possible casting when they did the movie... Seriously, Tom Cruise???  A vampire? That's beyond ridiculous... but I digress.

The subsequent books kept on with the whole "vampire as poor tortured soul" thing and that's just so far off base as to be ridiculous, cause a vampire? No soul, no feelings - end of story. OK, granted it really plays into the teenage girl and romantic hero thing, but nope. It just doesn't work.

And now 20-odd years after Anne Rice you have the Twilight thing and that TV show whatever it's called and tortured vampires in love with humans and it just drives me batty. Because vampires are supposed to be monsters. M-O-N-S-T-E-R-S. You know, like those things that hid under the bed and in the closet when you were a kid. In adult version.

Why must everything today be benign? Why can't we deal with horror and things that go bump in the night? We can't be safe, we'll never be safe, 'cause if a vampire doesn't get you, life eventually will. Why have vampires gone from fascinating supernatural beings to lovable tortured romantic beings.

Seriously, look at this:

"When you can live forever, what do you live for"

It's just wrong. Teenage girls notwithstanding.  

Excuse me while I hurl...

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20 Years Ago Today

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The Wall fell. With no bombs or violence, though the crash was heard around the world.

Günter Schabowski of the East German ministry of Information announced at the end of a press conference devoted to something else altogether that people would now be allowed to cross without hassle into West Germany.

"When? ", asked the journalists

"Immediately " ("sofort, unverzüglich"), he replied

No one really believed it, apparently, until a few hardy souls went to a border crossing and tried.

And the wall fell - if only metaphorically. It fell physically the next day.


It was a heady time. Everything seemed possible. There was hope. Everything was going change. 

It didn't obviously; the wall may have fallen but human nature being what it is, pretty much everything else stayed the same or worsened.

My moments of naivete and idealism are few and far between. I should have known better.

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Friday Funny (On Saturday)

A wealthy old gentleman decided to go on a hunting safari in Africa , taking his faithful, elderly dog Killer along for the company.

One day the old dog starts chasing rabbits and before long, discovers that he's lost. Wandering about, he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of having him for lunch.

The old dog thinks, "Oh, oh! I'm in deep shit now!" Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap, the old dog exclaims loudly, "Boy, that was one delicious leopard! I wonder, if there are any more around here?"

Hearing this, the young leopard halts his attack in mid-strike. A look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. "Whew!", says the leopard, "That was close! That old dog nearly had me!"

Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figured he could put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the leopard. So, off he goes. The old dog, however, sawhim heading after the leopard with great speed, and figured that something must be up.

The monkey soon caught up with the leopard, spilled the beans and struck a deal for himself with the leopard.

The young leopard, furious at being made a fool of said, "Here, monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine! "

Now, the old dog noticed the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thouht, "What am I going to do now?", but instead of running, the dog sat down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hadn't seen them yet; when they were within earshot, the old dog said...

"Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another leopard! "


Moral of this story...
 
Don't mess with the old dogs... age and skill will always overcome youth and treachery! "B.S." and brilliance only come with age and experience.

Sometimes It's Hard

A couple of posts back I was whining (as I am wont to do) about the cold after coming back to Montreal from the warm sunny California desert. I'm very much the broken record (for those of  you who remember that particular prehistoric product) in that regard. Always and forever.

In the comments, XUP asked why, if the cold was that bad for me, I didn't go live in the heat?"

And I had to stop and wonder. Why not indeed? As she pointed out, jobs can be found.

Unfortunately it's not that simple. Jobs can indeed be found, but getting a green card to work legally in the US is not so easy. Being someone's illegal alien maid or waitress? Not so much.

And, despite my whining about the weather, I do love Montreal. Unlike lots of cities, and most US cities I've been to, there's always something going on. There's animation, there's life, it's a great place to live. Now if only we could transport the whole city to the middle of the desert...

And then there's that other thing. That thing that means there is no way you can leave. That one thing that makes it impossible... Aging parents. That particular issue was brought home to us with a bang this week when Mr. Jazz's elderly aunt who lives downstairs began having serious issues. My own mother, who lives in another city has health issues (thankfully, my sister lives near her) and Mr. Jazz's own mom is getting on in years.

Moving to the desert sun is simply not an option. Because what do you do? Leave them on their own? No. We couldn't.

I find it very bizarre to be in this position. How can it be that all of a sudden we're caretakers for the people who have always been our rocks? These people who have always been there for us, who have always been so strong? We find ourselves watching those rocks crumble and it's very disconcerting, to say the least.

Finding help, finding a place for her where she'll be safe, knowing all the while she'll be angry that we're doing this, that she'll most likely consider we're ganging up on her, it's heartbreaking. And knowing we have no choice because she has become a danger to herself... it's heartbreaking. It's all heartbreak.

And I can't help but wonder what we'll do when our turn comes. Will we have the gumption - as my mom did - to move to a place of our choice before things become serious? I hope so. Especially as we have no kids to take care of us (not that that's any guarantee, or that I'd ask that of my kids anyway).

My mortality has been brutally shoved into my face. And I don't like it one bit.
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Awards keep falling on my head...

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Awards abound, they just don't stop coming, oh my!

Before I left  on vacation, Gaelyn at Geogypsy  awarded me the Best Blog Award. Isn't that sweet of her... I don't particularly feel like the best these days as I'm hardly blogging - life has been overwhelming me a bit lately, but nevertheless, here are the rules.

The Best Blog Award rules are:

1) To accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his/her blog link.

2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you have recently discovered and think are great!

Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Honestly though, I just don't have the gumption to link to 15 bloggers. Besides, if it's the best blog, how can every person who gets it have 15 best blogs on their lists. Doesn't best imply just one blog? And mathematically, doesn't it mean that eventually everyone who has a blog will end up receiving the award? Blogland is a very democratic place apparently...

So, ya know what? All those who read this, take it, please... I'd single out Suldog but I recently gave him one and he'd probably come to Montreal and string me up by the toes himself if I did it again...

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And then I returned from vacation, and Ian had an award waiting for me, and such nice things to say. I'm blushing...

I's got me one lovely blog it would seem. And another award.

The rules for this one are to pass it on to three others. Admittedly, it's a much more manageable number, and no doubt will take itself around blogdom at a much more leisurely pace.  But again, I feel lazy so take it, all of you. I give myself enough credit that I think if y'all didn't have lovely or bestest blogs I wouldn't be reading you*.

So here's to all of you! Your mission now is to keep me entertained...

To quote Suldog: Soon, with more better stuff.

* See Sully? You escaped two of them!!! When I go to Boston you'll be obliged to point me in the direction of the closest Trader Joe's.

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Dear Mayor Tremblay...

Today on my way to work I heard the most stupid thing to hit my ears in a long long time. Amazingly stupid actually. At first I thought I hadn't woken up yet and was still in my comfy bed dreaming deranged dreams. Alas I wasn't.

Now, I know municipal elections in the province will be held Sunday. And I'm sure with all the corruption scandals hitting your administration in the last couple of weeks you must be scrambling. Because of course they held it all under their belts until the campaign was well under way to exert maximum pain. Sneaky bastards aren't they? And yeah, of course they're no better, they're just doing better at covering their tracks. For now.

But !

But to put out a radio commercial* saying:  "Let's talk about integrity. Did the mayor know or didn't he? Let's put it this way, if you're working in a company and your colleague does something dishonest, do you think he'll go tell the boss about it? Or you? No, he won't, of course he won't! I had no idea but I have integrity and as soon as I found out about all this I took measures." (Note - contents of commercial updated after hearing it yet AGAIN!!)

Mr. Tremblay, let me impart a bit of Jazz wisdom here:

A) Whining won't help. Seriously, stop whining, it's cringe inducing in a grown man.

B) You are the boss. You won the last election. It's your business to know.As top dog, sorry dude, but ultimately you are responsible. It's as simple as that. You and nobody else. You wanted the power, you also have to take the lumps that go along with it.

C) The whole "don't blame me it's not my fault" thing is pathetic at best. Put on your big boy jockey shorts and take responsibility for your administration. You're not in grade school anymore. And acting like you are won't get you re-elected.

Of course it might. We are in Montreal after all and clowns abound, so we'll see on Sunday won't we?

Cynically as ever,

Jazz

* Not even an interview. That you just hear once. A damn commercial that will be played over and over and over again... Oy man! Fire your campaign manager!!!

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Damn, it's cold in Quebec...

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I'm back.

Much to my dismay.

The picture post will have to wait - of course if you want pictures of Joshua Tree you can go here - the pictures aren't any different really from the last time we went. As for the other pics - honestly I just can't be bothered to spend the time getting a post together. Had you not been so prolific, forcing me to spend hours catching up on your stories, I might've made the effort.

Meh... probably not.

It's no fun starting the day at 39 degrees (Celsius) and arriving in Montreal still in the 30s - Farenheit this time. It freaking SNOWED the day we arrived!! That is just so wrong on so damn many levels I can't even begin to explain it if you don't understand. SNOW fer chrissake.... Someone shoot me now.

Things I've learned?

- I am made to live in the sunshine and heat. I was. I was born in the wrong country. If reincarnation does exist, I obviously was beyond evil in a previous life.

- It is patently unfair that Canadians like me are totally screwed in this regard. The warmest we can do is Vancouver where it rains 300 days a year. Yes it does Ian. It DOES!!!!! Americans have no idea how lucky they are to live in a country where they can actually go live in the warmth if they want.

- Hiking in the desert is beyond brilliant (Palm Canyon is an especial favourite)

- Hiking in the desert when it's 105 degrees and the sun is beating down on you mercilessly is highly overrated actually. Forget about hiking when it's 105 and there's no shade. At. All. Have a margarita instead. Or a chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc by the pool.

- Sometimes a perfectly good hotel room seems like crap after nine days in a really cool, comfortable and extremely clean motel.

- Trader Joe's needs to open in Canada. In Montreal especially. Mr. Jazz and I could keep them afloat all on our own.

- You gotta love two days at the ocean after over a week in the desert. The contrast is loveley.

- It's 30 degrees (86F) in Palm Springs right now. It's hovering around freezing in Montreal. I rest my case.

- The 21st century has its good points - I've actually joined to the extent of getting an iPod (two actually, we got a nano and a classic, which holds all our music with space to spare - that sorta still boggles my mind - and the nano? it makes videos, has a stopwatch and a pedometer included... how useless and amusing is that. And for SO much cheaper than in Canada.

- PT Cruisers are - in my humble opinion - dumb excuses for cars. They're, like, girl cars. I hate PT Cruisers - but at least the one the rental place fobbed off on us wasn't white.

- What is the Californian (American?) obsession with trucks? Maybe not so much in LA, but as soon as you start going east, everyone has huge pickup trucks (I'm willing to give them sorta the benefit of the doubt as they might be work trucks - but probably not) or humongous SUVs - Escalades, Navigators, Hummers, Sequoias etc. Trucks made to go off road that will never ever see a dirt road, much less an off road track. I don't get it. Can someone explain this to me please?

- The Salton Sea is weird. Sorta creepy actually. More on that eventually.

- Redondo Beach, on the other hand is cool - cooler still is Hermosa beach, a half hour walk away.

- Like Geewits, I'm solar powered. And the fact that I'm back here does not make me happy. At all. Really. Not. At. All.

Now, I think I'll leave you, crawl into bed and moan listlessly for a time.

Goodnight.

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Aaaaaaand they're off!!

To paraphrase Led Zeppelin... Going to California.... on a big jet plane. Ok, I admit there's a lot of heartache lyrics missing here, but what the hell, it doesn't apply it's gone.  Call it artistic license. Or failure to actually search around for something that does fit...

'Cause I'm done California Dreamin' too. I'm on my way!!

Now, here's hoping our friends at Blogger won't hate me too much and post this as scheduled. Gotta love Blogger scheduling - if and when it works...

God how I love being on holidays with Mr. Jazz. And this is a first, a holiday with computer. Depending on how it goes (one computer, two people, how much time is spent  on it - somehow I think it won't be much) it might also be the last. But that is of no import here.

Cause people I.

AM.

AWAY!!

Away to California, land of sun and ocean, beaches and desert - and I will sample them all...

First stop: Palm Springs. Mecca of the geriatric and the gays. Bizarre mix, but there you go. The gays, lets face it, are much more fun - their evenings don't end at 6:00pm. But since I'm rapidly approaching geridom, coming here to practice seemed like an interesting plan. Nowadays, you see, I'm all about comfort and good wine and less so about the dormitory, outside toilet and backpack. I guess that's what old is all about...

On the program this time, back to Joshua Tree for hiking - cause there are so many places there we didn't manage to get to last time. We've been away 10 months and it's been way too long.

And hiking in Indian Canyon....

And hiking at San Jacinto...

And hiking at... We're on the way to gerridom, people. I didn't say we had arrived!

And wandering around at Salton Sea checking out the birds, among other things.
 
And to end up, a couple of days at Redondo Beach. 'Cause I need me my ocean fix before I take myself home. I need to breathe that smell, I need to hear the waves, I need to see the endless water before spending another several months cooped up in an office and wading through oceans of slush - much less interesting as oceans go, dontcha think?

And so from all of you to me and Mr. Jazz....


Have a great vacation!!!!

Correspondence - Gotta Love Public Transport

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Dear STM,

Wow, you got the really cool new 21st century system going dontcha? Those Opus chip cards. Just stick 'em in the machine and load 'em up with tickets or a monthly pass. It's all very ecological and shit. No more paper passes or tickets, reusable card. Kudos to you.

There's just one thing. A tiny thing but a fucking big annoyance nevertheless. Now, see, let me explain. I can load up to four different types of "fares" on my Opus card. As you mention in your website:

You can recharge your card with various transit fares, according to your needs. For example, you could load it with an STM monthly pass along with single fares to take RTL or STL buses.

That's great I think, it really is. Me? I really don't like loading my card often so I recharge with four packs of ten tickets - which will last me a couple of months.

But.

Yeah. you saw that coming didn't you?

But, I can't pay for the four packs with one swipe of my credit card. No. I have pay as I load each pack. Four times $20 in about two minutes. What happens? Each time my damn credit card has a fraud alert put on it, and I have to call the credit card company to confirm my purchases.

Because you. Are. A. Bunch. Of. MORONS!! who never thought your damn system through.

Ticketed off-edly

Jazz

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Dear credit card company.

How many times has this happened now? Three? Four? I understand the computer analyzes my spending habits, but by the third or fourth time, you'd think the computer would have caught on to the fact that every couple of months I make four $20 payments in about two and a half minutes.

What the hell do I need to do in order to establish this as a spending habit?  Can't you put a note in my file to not bother calliing when that happens and just unlock the damn card???

Yes, yes, my safety first. You're on the ball, that's for damn sure.

But I can't help but wonder if you'll "fraud out" my credit card when I go on vacation this weekend?

Chargedly,

Jazz

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Dear moron on the subway,

I was giving my seat to the hugely pregnant woman who got onto the subway at the same stop as you did. Not to you. You're only thirty and despite the business suit and that laptop you have to carry, I'm sure you can stand for a few stops. Get the hell over yourself.

To your credit though, when I loudly said, "that seat wasn't for you, it's for the hugely pregnant woman standing next to you" you sheepishly got up.

Kudos to you. The Jazzer, she is impressed

Eye-rolledly,

Jazz
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An Award! You really really like me!

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Bonnie, of Original Art Studio has just graciously bestowed on me the Over the Top Award. I don't quite get how whole girl in the apron is over the top, but Bonnie didn't conceive it, she just passed it on so I won't demand an explanation. The only thing I can think of is that the person who came up with this must have a boring life indeed if wearing an apron (with clothes underneath no less!) is to be considered over the top... Of course, me in an apron would definitely be over the top - y'all know about me and kitchens - not so much, right? But that's a whole other non-award thing.


Honestly, I'm not quite sure whether this is an honour or whether Bonnie has decided she hates me because this one involves a LOT of work. But seeing as I'm Blogless inMontreal - as opposed to Sleepless wherever, here we go...

The rules are:

Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It's quite tricky to use only one word answers! Once you have filled it out be sure to pass it on to 6 of your favorite bloggers. Alert them that they have been awarded! Have fun!

1. Where is your cell phone? Nowhere
2. Your hair? Grey
3. Your mother? Wise
4. Your father? Dead
5. Your favorite food? Edible
6. Your dream last night? Rock bands and motels (granted, it's more than one word, but there's no way to distill it to one word. And as for the dream... don't ask.)
7. Your favorite drink? Blood
8. Your dream/goal? Breathing
9. What room are you in? Office
10. Your hobby? Living
11. Your fear? Winter
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? 54
13. Where were you last night? Um....
14. Something that you aren't? Male
15. Muffins? Sure
16. Wish list item? Python
17. Where did you grow up? Around
18. Last thing you did? This
19. What are you wearing? Clothes
20. Your TV? Off
21. Your pets? Dead
22. Friends? Some
23. Your life? There
24. Your mood? Altered
25. Missing someone? No
26. Vehicle? Yes
27. Something you're not wearing? Leather
28. Your favorite store? Book
29. Your favorite color? Red
30. When was the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Saturday
32. Your best friend? Imaginary
33. One place that I go to over and over? Loo
34. One person who emails me regularly? Viagra
35. Favorite place to eat? Plate

That was ridiculously long - even for one word answers...

My six:

Choochoo - cause she's more than slightly insane, bored out of her tree and this might undull her for five minutes.

Lime - cause she's great at memes. Seriously, have you ever seen what Lime does to a meme? It's almost scary.

Suldog - cause he's, well, over the top. Plus he does wonderful things with awards - namely rip the person who sent it to him to shreds. I'm a masochist I am.

Geewits - her brain is a marvelous place. Plus she'll keep it for herself and not pass on the agony.

Fragrant Liar - well, you read her birthday post. What? You didn't ?? Get yourself over to her blog right away!

Jocelyn - Read her stories. You'll understand.

Rachel - 'Cause she seems to be into lists this week, and this could be construed as a list if you have enough imagination.

Yeah, I know, that's seven. I took the time to answer 35 dumb questions, so I have earned the right to do as I please... Rules Schmules.
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Must See Post

Fragrant Liar has a wonderful post up on... um... ageing.

Anyone over the age of 45, or getting there or thinking that despite all evidence to the contrary they'll never get older (get the hell out of Neverland people!) must read this. Check it out here.

A couple of excerpts to hook you...


Thirty years ago, I looked at my current age as far off in the future, in a land far, far away where gravity was of infinitesimal consequence. Time was something alien and against my primal mantra of I am young, I am invincible, I am the skinny girl with perky breasts.

(...)

These days as I prepare to speak, my measureless experiences crowd into my frontal lobe, jockeying for position to blast off my tongue first. Pick me, pick me, they clamor. And I reply tacitly, First come, first served. One thought breaks through the throng and lines up on the launching pad that is my tongue. It's coming . . . it's coming . . . Wait for it. It's . . . it's . . . gone. I am flustered and humbled by the ever-insidious brain fart.

I swear, the woman has been messing around in my brain. But enough about me, go there, go there now! And while you're at it, become a regular.

Because she's a great writer with a wicked sense of humour - I only wish I could write like her.

And because I said so.


PS: No, I'm not blogging at 8:00 am on a Saturday. I have a life. Which at this moment is being slept away, or maybe sexed away. Neither of which is wasted time. Gotta love blogger scheduling!

In the news...

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Winner of the stupid headline prize for today:

"Typhoon's devastation spares no one - not even children"

Um... Children should miraculously start floating in the air when disaster strikes? Who the hell wrote that line?


Winner of the D'oh!!!* prize of the day:

Stephen Harper, our "beloved" PM, for saying that Canada has no history of colonialism**.

First nation leaders are understandably rather pissed off at the comment.


And in the What-The-Fuck-Is-Wrong-With-These-People file...

One of our offices has no internet today. Bell Canada cut off their service because they weren't paying their bills, which stopped coming a couple of months ago.

Our question: Why did they stop coming?

Bell's answer: Because we weren't notified about your move..

For the record, the office moved 2 years ago, and they managed to send the bills for both phone and internet service for all that time. To the new address...

???

* aka the open-mouth-insert-foot prize
** no doubt he will argue that he meant that Canadians per se didn't colonize Canada. It's the brits' and frogs' fault. Won't fly you moron.

.