Haphazard Life

Hmmm...

2010-09-02T08:14:00.003-04:00

I've had a few emails from people that I seem to have disappeared.

That's because, as I mentioned in the previous post, I've moved house and taken up residence at WordPress.

Come see me there !

(http://haphazardlife.wordpress.com)

This is the end, my only friend, the end...

2010-08-01T16:06:00.000-04:00

OK. I'm done.

Lately Blogger has been acting a bit more psycho than usual and refusing to post comments from lots of people. I don't know why, only that most of them are from Wordpress.

So I've set up a Wordpress blog, imported this blog and that, as they say is that.

If you still want to read what I might have to say, please come visit me, bookmark me, reader me, whatever me at my new digs - the new and improved Haphazard Life - only change in url is that wordpress replaces blogspot (http://haphazardlife.wordpress.com).

Free cyber margaritas for the first week. Or beer if you prefer. Lets Partay!!!!

How cool is this?

2010-07-29T06:00:00.000-04:00

It's called The August Break and is the brainchild of photographer Susannah Conway.

Here’s the plan for the August break: you simply share one photo per day on your blog – Monday to Friday, or every day. Or whenever you want. Using any camera – DSLR, compact, Polaroid, Holga, iPhone (my choice), Instax, 35mm, video – with or without words – anything goes – for the whole of August. No pressure - just looking at August through your camera lens as a way to be more present this summer. And to have a little break from the pressures and expectations of regular blogging.

I'm thinking of joining, anyone else want to play along?

Little bitty spam pearls

2010-07-28T09:22:00.000-04:00

Experience safer, longer and more enjoyable sex or have your money back.. (Though its never happened before)

What hasn't happened before, the more enjoyable sex? And I have to wonder: safer?? How so? Are they selling you a condom? Actually I wouldn't be surprised.

And this one:

ViaGrow gives you more economic value & pleasure for less money - dont let the financial crunch halt your sex life.

I admit I like this one. In a sea of Viagra ads and "do you want to grow a fatter, longer penis" and "girls will love your huge dick" ads, this one does stand out because despite its lack of apostrophes and the use of ampersands in a sentence - which drives my inner grammar whore insane - I stopped and read it again before I hit delete.

ViaGrow - sounds like some sort of house plant fertilizer doesn't it? Hmmm come to think of it... but I digress.

Never, ever, not once have I seen a product like this linked to the the recession.

Can't you just picture the banker, sitting at his computer.

"Damned recession, I bought all this commercial paper, lost all my money and now I can't afford my Viagra!! Wait, what's this? ViaGrow? A cheap alternative to the bitty blue boner pill*? I can have sex again? Quickly, I must order this wonderful product now!"

Do people actually fall for it? Do they? Who? Why? Seriously, who are these people?

Of course, people fall for the time worn "my father was a murdered African prince and I need your help to get his money out of the country" scam. To the tune of thousands of dollars (and then go on TV to whine about it and you're just sitting there thinking HELLO! imbecile, if it looks too good to be true that's cause it fucking IS! and why aren't you way too horribly embarrassed about being taken in and having your common sense take a back seat to your cupidity to actually talk about this on TV? What is WRONG with you?)

So yeah, I guess ViaGrow the wonder fertilizer isn't that much of a leap of faith, is it?

* An alliterative banker no less!

Not Wanted on the Voyage

2010-07-23T08:18:00.005-04:00

And Noah went in, and his son,

and his wife and his sons' wives

with him into the ark, because

of the waters of the flood...

Genesis 7:7

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Everyone knows it wasn't like that.

To begin with, they make it sound as if there wasn't any argument; as if there wasn't any panic -- no one being pushed aside -- no one being trampled -- none of the animals howling -- none of the people screaming blue murder. They make it sound as if the only people who wanted to get on board were Doctor Noyes and his family. Presumably everyone else (the rest of the human race, so to speak) stood off waving gaily, behind a distant barricade: SPECTATORS WILL NOT CROSS THE YELLOW LINE and: THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. With all the baggage neatly labelled: WANTED or NOT WANTED ON THE VOYAGE.

They also make it sound as if there wasn't any dread -- Noah and his sons relaxed on the poop deck, sipping port and smoking cigars beneath a blue and white striped awning -- probably wearing yachting caps, white ducks and blazers. Mrs. Noyes and her daughters-in-law fluttering up the gangplank -- neat and tidy -- dry beneath there umbrellas -- turning and calling; "goodbye, everybody!" And all their friends shouting; "bon voyage!" while the daughters-in-law hand over their tickets smiling and laughing -- everyone being piped aboard and a band playing Rule Britannia! and Over the Sea to Skye. Flags and banners and a booming cannon... like an excursion.

Well. It wasn't an excursion. It was the end of the world.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And that is the first page of the prologue of Timothy Findley's Not Wanted on the Voyage, a retelling of the story of Noah's Ark. I can't imagine how it is I missed this one for so long... Brilliant book people, if you're looking for something to read. Damn, I wish I could write like that. Not that I've ever been interested in writing a novel. But every page is a delight.

Still Batting 1.000

2010-07-21T09:11:00.006-04:00

Once upon a time, the Jazzer discovered the intenet. Oh my! What was this place of "websites" and "forums" and all such things. Off I hopped (metaphorically speaking) to explore.

I first discovered forums on a magazine website. The first one I went to was a surprising world, to say the least. A world of discussion and exchange and drama and hissy fits and playground shenanigans with all the fights and bitch slapping one is wont to find in a girl's playground. What fun it was to watch. Until you get sick of it and move on. Before I moved on however I met she who would eventually be known as Running Goddess, an expat Montrealer who became a really good online friend. Then when she came to town, we met and became really good real friends.

"Wow", I thought, "And here I've been told all these innernet people are crazed serial killers!"

Who knows perhaps she's just waiting for the right moment all these years later.

I moved on to other forums, which for some reason were always filled with women and the same griping and bitching and drama. These places seem to be tailor made for drama queens, who gravitate to them in droves. And yet I hit it off with several people, among them ChooChoo, who I have yet to meet - Scandinavia is a long long hop away. Besides, it's cold there. I don't do cold if I can help it at all. And who knows, they might get a freak snowstorm in the middle of summer. You never know! However, we have been talking for about 4-5 years now at least a few times a week. I think it's safe to say she's not a psycho killer bitch (though she does have a psycho bitch boss - but that's not my story to tell.).

On yet another forum (or was it the same) I met Purple Goddess (yeah, I seem to have a thing for goddesses, being a frog you'd think princesses, but nope, I set my sights higher). She hails from Oz (or Australia if you're a stickler for detail) and when we went to Melbourne we called her. And were promptly invited to dinner. Our friend loaned us his cell phone "in case you have to leave really quick and need a lift". Of course he wasn't taking into account that it would be hard to wait for a lift in case of serial killer psychosis as he lived 3/4 of an hour away. Details! We hit it off splendidly. And when we returned to Oz several years later, PG and Furry (her husband, don't ask) loaned us their house by the sea for a week. That, people is above and beyond the call of innerwebz friendship.

Closer to home, a couple of years ago we went to Texas to see a friend in the Dallas area. I called Geewits and we met up with her for dinner. By this time I was pretty sure she wouldn't be an ax-wielding serial killer, I had the statistics on my side. And indeed she wasn't. A touch of insanity perhaps, but if you read her blog you know that. Geewit's brain is like god. It works in mysterious ways. Her blog is exactly like the woman I met, lovable, warm and quirky. Plus she has that southern accent.

Geez, this is getting long. Who knew. And I haven't even reached the point of this post yet...

Later on, back in Quebec, I got an email from XUP inviting me to spend the weekend in Ottawa because Violet Sky was in town for the tulip festival (the wet and frigid festival it should've been called this year). I had already met Violet Sky in Toronto and had a great meal with her, and was thrilled to see her again. Toss XUP into the mix and add a dash of Alison, and you have a helluva Friday evening. Imagine it: wine and cheese and four middle aged women. Middle aged women have years of stuff to bitch about and it was a wonderful time. Add an Ottawa bloggers breakfast to the mix along with the wet and frigid festival and you have the makings of a great weekend.

And now, finally, I've gotten to the point of my post (Yes! See I can do it if I try!). Because last night I met Paula, a wonderful illustrator who hails from Texas (and who let me know of some great places to go when we went there), and lives in, of all places, Montreal. The things love will make you do. She and her husband invited us to go sailing yesterday evening.

Yeah, I know - me... a boat. Doesn't bode well. But unlike the pedal boat, no bailing out was needed on this vessel. It was a wonderful evening, even when the boat was pretty much over on its side (now that, my friends is beyond cool). 'Twas not quite as thrilling as jumping out of an airplane for my 40th birthday, but it was way way up there. The water slapping the sides of the boat, the sunset, the birds, the other sailboats. I love love loved it. As did Mr. Jazz. I could've stayed out there forever.

And so once more a wonderful meeting of minds. No serial killers to be found. Nary a one. I'm beginning to think that it's all an urban legend.

It's great meeting people you know you'll like, and pretty much already know through their blogs and behind the scenes emails. I'll leave you with a few pics of the evening.

2010-07-20T08:27:00.000-04:00

There are things I like.

There are things I like immensely.

There are things I do not like at all.

I like certain things in my mouth. However, these things tend to be things I put there myself - like food.

These things do not include metal picks and water spraying ultrasound thingies, plastic vacuum cleaners and little round mirrors.

Nor do they include rubber clad fingers poking around.

Nope. Not a fan. Truth be told, these things disgust me beyond what would be natural for some reason. Having this crap in my mouth makes me want to hurl. This is not good when you're lying in a chair with your head lower than your feet.

The buzz of the ultrasound inside my brain. The scrape scrape of the... oh god whatever they call that thing along my teeth which is marginally (but only very very marginally) better. OK, no it isn't, It's nasty as all get out. I was trying to be positive but I was shuddering as I wrote it. It lasted less than an hour but felt like forever at least. I can only imagine the hell it must be for those with lots of tartar buildup.

I hate dentists. I hate dental hygienists. There is a special place reserved in hell for those people. Probably as assistants to the Evil One. Come to think of it, Satan is probably a dentist.

All in all, not the best way to end a day, espcially after spending two and a half - no, actually two hours and 42 minutes (!!!) taking the minutes of the mostest useless meeting evah! It could have been over in an hour tops had they just stuck to the stupid ass agenda... But that's work. It has no business here.

Thankfully Mr. Jazz had trout and salad waiting for me when I got home. It reconciled me with life in general.

But not dentists. Never ever dentists or the hygienists from hell.

I have a new favourite word.

2010-07-14T12:51:00.005-04:00

It's the bestest word EVAH!

It showed up as a word verification on Ricë's blog.

WOOMPATA

It is the most perfect word for a boring day at the office. I should print it out in a huge font and plaster it all over the office. Woompata !!!!

Now I just have to decide what it means. Any suggestions?

And the question begs to be asked

2010-07-07T07:20:00.000-04:00

What's the point of having a hot flash if it's 10,00 degrees in the shade?

Seriously, that's just overkill.

Huh...

2010-07-06T08:12:00.000-04:00

Roger Saulnier, a Saguenay jeweller who was thrust into the limelight last week when he saved the life of a young woman whose legs had been cut off by a train (he tied her arteries and stopped the bleeding) was arrested three times in the space of 24 hours last weekend (for drunk driving, break in and assault, and trying to get his ex - who he assaulted - to drop the charges).

People are shocked. And quick to judge (from Hero to Zero someone put out in Facebook or one of those places).

One of his lawyer's arguments is that "overwhelmingness" of the whole situation got to him.

Perhaps. Could be. I'm not a psychologist so I wouldn't know. I do know that if I had done what he did, I'd probably go off the deep end...

What I don't get is people's reaction. Because he performed a heroic feat he automatically becomes a perfect human being? I mean c'mon, he could be the worst criminal ever, he could be a hit man and it doesn't mean that if he saw someone in that girl's situation, he'd just sit there and watch her die. Most people would, I think, try to do something. He just happened to know what to do and a life was saved. Lucky girl.

But by the same token, why would we necessarily equate heroism with "good personism" (yeah, well it's my blog and I'll invent words if I want to, so there!).

Aren't most heros just ordinary people who find themselves in situations where they just do what needs to be done?

Ordinary heroes, they say. There's a pleonasm if I every heard one.

I'z sick of it, i iz

2010-07-04T20:16:00.000-04:00

Or at least I was. So I'm testing a new look. I'll update my blogrolls, try and put in tabs...

And we'll see how incredibly I screw up.

ZE TRIP - PART ZE LAST

2010-06-29T16:33:00.003-04:00

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Welcome to Normandy.

Where there are always raindrops on the flowers and leaves.

Where the skies are grey but many old stones are to be found, for instance in Bellême.

Such a pretty, nasty-tempered swan... you wouldn't think just looking at it...

A little further on, Nogent-Le Rotrou with its medieval castle (too bad their pics are so tiny). Well, at least the keep and some of the walls were medieval. The entrance towers are young, dating back to the 1500s.

An arrow slit. And here I was searching for some really scientific word for the little arrow window in the fortifications. It's actually called an arrow slit, it seems. Seems you'd have to be a pretty damn good shot to actually hit anything.

The keep.

The height of technology and hygiene at the time. A lavatory. People would go into a room at the top of the circled bit, there was a hole in the floor and they'd crouch there and do their business along the side of the wall, which might explain the state of the stone right there). Major ewwww. The middle ages might sound all romantic and shit, but all things considered I much prefer to live today.

Good thing she didn't use that particular lav. Ain't she cute though this Norman cow?

Now, let's leave Normandy (bye cow!) for Meaux, city of mustard (you have your Dijon, but you also have the old style Meaux mustard). I love these exposed timbers.

The cathedral is pretty much the only thing so see in Meaux though - St. Etienne. The side entrance

After Meaux, Fontainbleau and its palace. Nice enough place, but lordy is it overdone. Too bad they focus so much on how the royalty lived. I'd have loved to see the kitchens, servant quarters and have information on, for instance how many loaves of bread were baked each day, how many chickens were consumed, how many people fed, how many people were needed to keep the damn thing running...

This is the corridor the king had constructed for his own use to go from his private apartments to the public area of the palace. Eventually others than him were allowed to use it. Nice of him.

The library.

The empress Josephine's bedroom

The council chambers if I remember right.

Napoleon's bedroom. That's a teeny tiny bed he slept in.

Outside the palace.

The horseshoe staircase where Napoleon made his speech before leaving for exile.

And finally, the last lunch, the next day was back to Montreal, work, and thankfully, the World Cup.

How totall freaking awesome is this?

2010-06-27T20:00:00.003-04:00

I wish to take this occasion...

2010-06-24T08:00:00.000-04:00

To wish myself Happy Birthday from all of you.

Thank you.

Jazz (who is off having a happy birthday as this posts)

Dear....

2010-06-22T16:02:00.001-04:00

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Dear STM*

I just recently saw a big sign at the 51 bus stop crowing that you had added 14% more buses on that line at peak hours. Wow. Impressive. Though as a user of the 51 bus (the last leg of the annoying journey home) I haven't noticed a bit of difference.

Nevertheless, I now know where all those mythical extra buses come from!!!

Obviously from the #90 bus line where I waited in the driving rain for over 20 minutes for those four buses which, according to the schedule posted right there at the bus stop, should have come pootling by every five minutes or so at rush hour.

They didn't. I suppose they were busy ferrying commuters on the 51 line.

Finally, a bus did come. Jam packed of course. Sardines have more space in their oily little cans than we did in that bus.

That poor bus driver. It wasn't his fault and yet he had to endure the ill humour of edgy, obnoxious people. The lady in front of me pretty much shook her umbrella out on him. Nasty bitch deserved to be slapped. Instead he was nice and simply rolled his eyes. Me? I would've punched her out and sent you the hospital bill.

Over and over again from the STM we hear: "Take the bus! It's a great alternative to being stuck in traffic!"

Newsflash guys! You want people to take the bus? Well then provide commuters with a minium of service first. Why on earth would anyone want to take the fucking bus knowing they'll be stuck waiting 20 odd minutes for a bus that should be passing by every five minutes. It's obvious why people always look pissed of on public transit in Montreal. Because they are.

How about you save yourselves a lot of money (and perhaps upgrade service with it) and stop printing schedules you don't stick to, giving people hope that yes, the bus is coming. Eventually. Maybe. If we're lucky. 'Cause it says so right there, see? right there!! Just do the right thing and extinguish all hope from the get go. Seriously. Please.

Really why would anyone voluntarily take the bus in Montreal? WHY?!?!?!

You really really make me want to buy a car. The expense would almost be worth it.

Wetly,

Jazz

Société de transport métropolitaine, the Montreal transport authority.
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ZE TRIP - PART ZE SECOND

2010-06-15T22:08:00.003-04:00

So lets continue wandering along the Breton coast. Look! More pretty flowers.

A Breton beach somewhere - Morgat I believe...

Us again.

Only in France will they serve you espresso and macarons at McDonald's.

Me again, with the whole dark glasses and glamour thing going on. Unfortunately no glass of wine to raise to your health - I had drunk it by then. Draining glasses of wine is a talent of mine. They're there then, poof, they're gone.

Some buildings in Morgat.

On another beach. There were all those weird sand worms all over the place. I've never seen anything like it... (Edit: actually I just call them sand worms cause they look all wormy. However, they are just little swirls/squiggles of sand. I have no idea how they're formed or what they are...Maybe I should call 'em sand spaghetti?)

An anonymous church in an anonymous village somewhere along the road...

The door on this place? It was about as tall as I was. Very very strange door.

The church spire in Roskoff. This is the city where the ferries arrive from England and Ireland.

Who knew artichokes didn't actually grow in supermarkets? I had never seen an artichoke as a... well plant...

More old stones in Roscoff for Violet Sky. I admit to cropping the first couple of pics (and the last one in order to get rid of a bunch of random tourists. They were all over the place.

And thus ends Brittany, next up a medieval castle in Normandy - Nogent Le Routrou....

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ZE TRIP - PART ZE FIRST

2010-06-13T20:52:00.011-04:00

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Well, in the interest of keeping Geewits happy (cause I have to keep Geewits happy otherwise she harasses me by email), here are some pictures from the trip.....

We arrived in France on Friday, spent the night at a friend's place near Paris, and Saturday morning... ok, more like Saturday noon, we were off:

See, ze French road, ze French sky, ze Quebecer toes and ze lovely GPS we had the presence of mind to buy before leaving. And of course ze French car... which was actually an Opel, so technically it was a German car...

Brittany is far far away from Paris it is. A good 6 hours away. The next person who tells me France is tiny and distances are really small will get slapped upside the head. Yep....

The view from N&R's deck. They live just outside a tiny Breton village called Hôpital-Camfrout, so called because, it seems there was a leper hospital there back in the 1100s or something. Though I can't help but think a hospital back in the 1100s is definitely a place I wouldn't want to be...

Lucky for us they live close to the ocean. The ocean!!! Getting a regular salt water fix is important to my sanity, so it just couldn't get any better.... The pretty boat parking lot in Camaret.

Look! A Breton fisherman! Totally could be a fisherman anywhere in the world. But he's Breton he is!

And his boat was in much better shape than these...

The church on the pier (or whatever it's called - I'm not much for the right terms, as you might have noticed when I pointed out that "pretty boat parking lot") where I guess fishermen stopped off before they set out...

And the inside of the church. Isn't that ceiling cool? I love that it looks like the bottom of a boat. I actually saw several churches like that...

The fortifications:

Course we had to wander around town, more old stones for you Violetsky.

And some really old stones. Dolmens left by the druids thousands of years ago. Funny, really how you expect these places to be all silent and spiritual, not standing 20 meters from a bunch of modern houses.

The next day, on to Concarneau, a great town with a wonderful medieval walled town.... Obviously, this isn't the walled town... Just me and Mr. Jazz on the pier in front of the city... Ain't it nice that Mr. Jazz is able to keep his eyes open for a photo? One of his many talents it is. A talent that obviously I am sorely lacking.

A church where drunken homeless sailors could take refuge. There were, apparently, large numbers of drunk sailors in Concarneau, which is a major seaport...

A Concarnese cat checking out the pigeons... you could pretty much see the lust in his eyes. If he'd had wings...

A tavern that's been there for hundreds of years. It used to be out in the outskirts of town - it's about 300 meters from the walled town: the Korrigan Tavern. Korrigans are, according to Breton folklore a sort of fairy or dwarf-like spirit. At dusk they appear beautiful, but in the daylight they are ugly, with wrinkled skin and red eyes, so they tend to hid out during the day. Unfortunately, as I have to earn a living, I cannot hide out during the day when my eyes are all red and I'm not looking my best. Amazing what candlelight can do for your looks. Maybe Korrigans were actually just middle aged ladies in the times before good makeup and lighting.

The entrance of the walled town.

Inside the walls...

And to finish off the day - a purty French flower....

As I haven't yet set up the holiday pic post...

2010-06-10T16:57:00.003-04:00

I was staring at my computer screen, squinting. A colleague passing by said, "Wow, that's really fuzzy". Such blissful relief ! I thought it was my eyes, that my prescription would need to be changed. Again. So soon.

"You mean it's not me?"
"Um, no. How can you work like that?"

One quick call to Mr. IM and it was all fixed.

Unfortunately, I don't really see the crystal clarity of it. Damn.

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

I climb into the waiting bus. It's crowded. Suddenly I hear, "Please take my place m'am, you look tired". This time it's not a 10 year old boyscout practicing his manners because anyone beyond 15 looks positively ancient to him. No. This guy must be pushing 30. And it's the third time this has occurred in a couple of months.

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

So it has finally happened. I have joined that generation of tired-looking matrons for whom seats are given up on the bus and subway, though manners being what they are today, I thought it would happen much later. You know, when I'm old and decrepit, bent over with osteoporosis, leaning on my walker. I'm not liking this one bit, though I'm not stupid or vain enough to refuse the proffered seat. I don't have that much to prove. Or that much pride for that matter.

Obviously, I'm already seen as old and decrepit. Is it because no one today, even the 80 year old botox-embalmed Westmount ladies who lunch, looks older than 25? In a really really creepy way.

Is it because of the hair? No one has natural hair anymore, everyone colours, even though, truly, does it really fool anyone? Once everything is being sucked into the ground through sheer incapability of resisting the forces of gravity, I don't believe artfully coloured hair can fool even the blindest among us.

At almost 49 I have joined the ranks of the old and invisible.

I don't know why it bothers me so much, since I've pretty much spent my life being invisible, part of that mass that no one sees, so it's not much of a change. At least now I become visible long enough to get a seat on the bus, that should be a plus shoudn't it?

And yet...

Statistically, the halfway mark is past. And I don't care that 50 is the new 40 or 30 or whatever the hell it is, I can't fathom that I've reached that age. That I'm well into middle age and closing quickly on the "Golden Years" (Golden years my fat ass, more like tarnished pewter maybe).

What the hell happened to my life!?! Hell, I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm supposed to be thinking of what I'm gonna live on when I retire?

Which is a whole 'nother thing. Retire? I'll probably never be able to afford it and will die working as a Walmart greeter. Now there's a scary thought.

I mean, after all, the only good thing about getting old is being able to stop with the damn work already. And I'm already looking at working at Walmart.

WALMART!

Damn, I need a hot flash to distract me!

And now for the worst. Commercial. EVAH!

2010-05-26T08:25:00.001-04:00

And going back a bit to the 50s...

2010-05-22T08:21:00.001-04:00

Everyone needs a computer...

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How fucked is it...

2010-05-19T22:13:00.002-04:00

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That I am incapable of packing?

I used to leave for two weeks with a gym bag. A month with a small back pack.

Now I'm leaving for around two weeks in France - where lets face it, I can buy toothpaste or a t-shirt if I need them - and having an anxiety attack about it. I no longer pack light. Hell, I pretty much take everything but my bed. What the fuck!!! Get over it.

I just went outside to chillax a bit, It reeks (in a good way) of lilac out there. There's a word in French - embaumer (which also means, ironically, 'to embalm' - lets not go there), but I can't for the life of me find the English equivalent.

OK, back to the suitcase.

Edited to add: Plus. PLUS! Whenever I go on vacation I have to clean. I vacuum, I dust, I put stuff away. Who the hell will see that the dust bunnies have been wrestled into submission? I don't have a problem with breeding dust bunnies when I'm home, why on earth would they bother me when I'm not?

So what did I do yesterday? On top of tearing my hair out packing. I vacuumed, I cleaned, I did a load of laundry. That's just so fucking anal.

But now, I'm done and I will be gone.
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I can't help comparing this to my MacBook Pro...

2010-05-19T08:10:00.002-04:00

Pffft to titles.

2010-05-17T12:43:00.000-04:00

Spring seems to finally have sprung in Montreal - though of course my saying that probably ensures that we will barely get above freezing temperatures tomorrow...

To celebrate, it's time for that Spring vacation.

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Come Thursday evening I'll be on my way to France to see friends in Brittany and in the vicinity of Paris. And, if various constraints work themselves out and schedules miraculously mesh, maybe to meet a blogger - that would be Dumdad.

Who knows, maybe I'll haul some inspiration back from Europe with me. That'd be nice. 'Cause right now? Not so much. I try to believe it's because I'm too busy having a life, knowing full well that that's so not the case at this point.

Maybe since we're actually renting a car, we'll have all sorts of driving adventures where I navigate us clear up into Norway. Of course, Mr. Jazz - smart man that he is - went out and bought a GPS (aka Simon) with all those nifty European maps so he doesn't much have to beat his head against the steering wheel while I try to turn the map so that it's headed in the same direction we are because otherwise it just makes no sense whatsoever. Spatially challenged? Me?

And so, to paraphrase my friend Sully, Soon(ish) with more better stuff.
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Our Nation's Capital

2010-05-10T21:57:00.003-04:00

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Ottawa that would be. Where I spent the weekend and was tardy about blogging about it so both XUP and Violet Sky beat me to it 'cause they're way on the ball and organized and get everything done right away and make me feel like... hmmm... well, basically like a) i'm completely disorganized and b) total aside, the Habs just scored, so it's 3-2 against the Penguins and Mr. Jazz is a happy camper and I inserted this into the blog because his screams of joy pretty much lifted me 6 inches off the bed. The boy can yell, indeed he can.
And c) as you can see, I'm easily distracted so that might explain why I'm, as always, the last to blog. That and for some reason on Mondays they always seem to expect me to actually work for a living...

Aaanyway.

I seem to have digressed. Par for the course ain't it. And I will not digress into golf. I. Will. Not.

This was supposed to be about my weekend in Ottawa.

Let's start again.

I went to Ottawa to meet XUP and Violet Sky - and a passel of Ottawa bloggers I pretty much had no idea actually existed for the most part.

'Twas lovely it was.

Things I learned this weekend:

Ottawa bloggers are cool. They meet up once in a while and have Saturday brunches. Hell, I know of two Montreal-ish English bloggers, and though we've been in contact, I've not met either of them. It's a shame really. Paula and Bonnie, I'm talking to you.

The Ottawa Tulip Festival (the biggest in the whole wide world - prolly 'cause it's the only one) attracts LOTS of Japanese. Lots. Really. Oodles of 'em. Sorta like fall in Quebec attracts them. It's sorta scary actually. They are everywhere, taking pics of themselves taking pics of themselves taking pics of each other. The relationship of the Japanese to cameras is strange to say the least.

Frigid weather and rain make for cool pics of flowers with drops of water on them, but really, who gives a shit about drops of water on tulips. I mean seriously, this pic has been taken a million times - and way better. And Blogger, bloody minded thing that it it wouldn't let me put the pic here unless I go into HTML and do a copy/paste there and I did it so FUCK YOU Blogger and that's all I have to say about that and yes, XUP I know: WORDPRESSS.

It seems the Parliament buildings are not "just a pile of stones" and that I will never live down having said that they were. In my defense, I was cold!

It seems the Portage buildings (one of the big government complexes) ARE just a pile of ugly.

A women's weekend is truly something every woman should experience periodically. Much as I love Mr. Jazz, an estrogen weekend is something he cannot provide - even though he feeds me.

The By Ward Market. It's where Obama bought his cookies. It's one of Canada's oldest and largest markets. And the inside part of it has this creepy sculpture hanging from the ceiling. Look, the guy's apron has BLOOD painted on it! I might have creepy ideas, like looking at my face with my eyes hanging out, but damned if I'd do a sculpture with a guy holding a pig (4-2 Habs from what I hear) with blood on his apron. 'Cause, yeah, we all know he's gonna slit that pig's throat (and to hell with Blogger for not lettting me upload. I'll have to try tomorrow. Who knows I might get lucky - yes XUP, i know, WORDPRESS...) Update: This morning Blogger seems to be in a better mood, here's the pic

*le sigh*

Drinking chocolate milk (through a straw no less) is so many levels of wrong when you're an adult and eating a plate beyond full of beef. Imagine it. A huge plate of roast beef, a domino size of salad and a potato... and a glass of chocolate milk. With a strwa. NO! it wasn't me. But you gotta admit that this image, this whole idea, is beyond wrong. And XUP - she provides a mean colour commentary regarding chocolate milk and beef. A commentary involving stomachs exploding in the middle of the night. Hell yeah!

On the drive home I noticed that Ontarians generally drive in the right lane and use the left to pass and get right back into the right lane. Probably 80% of cars that drove in the left lane just because it was there were Quebecers. We're such scofflaws we are (have you ANY idea how long I've been waiting to use the word scofflaw? Thank you Quebec drivers for helping me to do so). The law - Pffft.

There is something inherently wrong about snow on May 9. Even if it's just flurries. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Sometimes I hate this country. Y'all are suprised to hear that eh? I had to say y'all, it warms me up.

4-3 for the Habs. Game over. Heh. I said they'd win. No one believes me. Probably cause I'm not a fan. But I know. It's my superpower. Except when it doesn't work. Which is 50% of the time. But tonight I got it right. Hopefully I'll do as well in the World Cup this summer. That is one series I'll watch. Me and Violet Sky.... yep.

OK, 'nuf of this going on and on and on... I'm going to bed. 'Night all.
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A solution to every problem...

2010-05-07T07:00:00.002-04:00

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Sometimes you gotta wonder at the things people will buy...

But I guess if it saves a marriage...

As an aside: I'm off to Ottawa today to meet the wonderful XUP and Alison, and hook up again with Violet Sky. I'll let you know if I still think they're great after the weekend, but I'm assuming they're be even better in person....
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Dear Cyclist

2010-05-05T07:45:00.006-04:00

Wow. You're doing the green thang! Good for you...

Must be great, pedaling along, the wind in your hair, eating bugs now and again. We all need protein....

What you don't seem to realize though is that riding a bike does not make you a really really fast pedestrian. On your bike, you're considered a vehicle; as such, you are obliged to follow the rules of the road. You're, like, a really really small car.

So, stop signs are for you. As are red lights. A four way red light with that picture of the little man? It means vehicles must stop so pedestrians can cross.

Yes asshole, this means you!

It doesn't mean, "Hey cyclist, cross now cause you're sure no cars will get in your goddamn way and to hell with whoever is crossing the street".

Because you count as a fucking vehicle you damn moron!

And because, if you don't stop, who knows, maybe a pedestrian will stick out a rigid arm and whip you off your damn "oh look at me I'm so cool on my $6000 rich asshole bike" and stomp on your head when you fall.

Just because she can.

Just sayin' dude.

Jazz

Cottage vignettes

2010-05-03T22:23:00.000-04:00

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It’s not all sinking pedal boats and killing rodents.

I’m back in bed on Saturday afternnon, reading a hopelessly outdated (and hysterically funny) issue of Women’s Day from July 1955, learning how to "cook" it in the refrigerator or freezer (jellied tomato-cucumber mold anyone?) and - this was the Woman's Day Workshop - how to cast a fish in plaster of Paris (I shit you not, page 66! - "Once the negative mold has been made, it can be used many times to make duplicates of the fish - fine gifts for sporting friends" 'cause everyone needs a fish cast in plaster of Paris!). I can't help but wonder if anyone actually ever did this, and more to the point, why?

Mr. Jazz is in the living room, watching the hockey game and transferring Gotan Project and the latest Porcupine Tree onto my computer so I can sync my iPod. Yay, I won’t have to do it for myself. Happy Day.

I push aside the magazine and snuggle down into bed with a sigh, finding that perfect position for a snooze. Mr. Jazz comes in, closes the curtains, kisses me and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I listen to the chipmunks rooting around in the old leaves under the feeders, and to the rain as it starts falling softly - then less so. My thoughts drift to the new hostas and ferns pushing their way out of the earth. This will be good for them.

My body grows heavy as I write this blog post in my head and sink into slumber, to the sound of the hockey game and falling rain.

Life is good.
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Dribs and Drabs Again

2010-04-27T10:55:00.002-04:00

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This morning, on the way to work I saw a beautiful Husky. He was obviously thrilled to death to be going on his walk. Bounding at the edge of his leash... I'm sure he was thrilled because it's SNOWING in Montreal today. Yeah, you read that. SNOWING. The magnolias are flowering and it's fucking SNOWING!! I'm sure BB with his love of all weather frigid must have been thrilled. Me? Not so much.

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I got this animation of Elizabeth's page in Facebook. Go watch it: Animator vs. Animation

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If someone somehow managed to pull my eyes out without severing my optic nerve, and they (my eyes) were hanging down the front of my face, could I see the floor and if I turned them towards my face would I see my face without my eyes?

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Has anyone out there heard of a certain type of pillow where the center is filled with water, which allows for perfect adjustment of your pillow size. I'm not sure whether I imagined this or if it really exists. If not, maybe I should invent it and make millions. But just the fact that I've had this in my head leads me to believe that it must already exist. I imagine my friend the omniscient XUP will know. People this woman is a veritable fount of information. And yes, I know, Google - but my brain is slow and I haven't made it to that point yet.

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I have a friend who works for a union. If you work for a union, I suppose you would be unionized, by your union. In case of a strike, who do you negotiate with? 'Course I guess I could simply ask her that.
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Recycling is always good...

2010-04-20T11:37:00.000-04:00

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Today we recycle.

But since I'm not recycling my own post, it's more like.. um.... spreading the good news. Warty Mammal, purveyor of all things ridiculous and funny, posted this link. Which before I poached from her, she poached from Slate.

Check this out - a slideshow on "feminine hygiene product" (i.e. tampax) ads, as compared to cigarette ads. It's freakishly funny... Go read it.

NOW.
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Nature vs. .... ME.

2010-04-16T07:13:00.000-04:00

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Warning: This post involves scatalogical issues, blood and gore and general heartlessness on my part. It might be unsuitable for some audiences. On the other hand, the very thought of blood and gore might reel you right in. Feel free to proceed. Or not.

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You know.

When you climb the stairs to the main floor of the cottage and the first thing you see is squirrel poop all over the floor, you know it's going to be a pain in the ass weekend.

Because poop on the floor entails poop on the counters, on the table, in the bed. Pretty much everywhere you don't want poop to reside. Poop in prodigious, mind boggling quantities, poop beyond your wildest dreams - if, of course, you're into scatalogical dreams.

And if you are? I really don't want to know.

At least he didn't get into the food.

All this poop obviously entails much vacuuming, stripping of beds, washing down/bleaching of countertops, tables, etc. And of course, possible ruining of jeans with said bleach. Jocelyn (I believe) once offered this nugget of wisdom: "Bleach Naked", which is all well and nice in certain circumstances, but when it's deep winter and about 3 degrees above freezing in the house, overall not the most user friendly idea evah.

Indeed, naked and frigid are concepts that do not sit well with me when placed side by side, or one surrounding the other as it were. Hell, frigid is a concept that doesn't sit well with me, period.

But I digress. Always I digress. What's with the digressifying.... CONCENTRATE Jazz!!! I blame menobrain. Yep, I do. Um. So...

All this poop obviously means a squirrel got into the house - a little red one like this dude, they grey ones are either too big or to stupid to find their way in. I actually quite like them, they're redheads and they have major attitude. But they shit entirely too much. How can a 200 gram rodent fabricate that much poo? Did I mention there was poo all over the place? Felt like it was pretty much carpeted in excrement. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating.

But just a little. The cottage was definitely poopy.

So yeah, they're cute, they're smartasses, and I really like them. Except when they find their way into the house, which happens every couple of years. They try to make you believe they just happened to wander in through some crack somewhere and needed to relieve themselves. Be that as it may, in such a case, in the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, "Of course you realize, this means war".

A war to the death. Yours not mine Red. I'm bigger, I'm smarter and most of all, I'm meaner.

I hauled out the rat trap** that hadn't seen action for a couple of years (last time Red - probably this guy's great grandfather - tripped the trap, got the peanut and vanished, leaving behind only a whisker or two. He was a smart one who deserved to live), baited it with a peanut and wandered back upstairs for a well deserved and very stiff drink - all that vacuuming, bleaching, changing of bed linens and baiting of traps that I tend to trip myself and squwoosh my finger in, on a Friday evening is utterly exhausting.

Knowing that the little buggers are diurnal, I figured we'd be ok until the next day.

We were.

Until breakfast when I heard the fatal crack (of course he couldn't have waited until after breakfast, no he had to ruin my appetite).

And so, downstairs I went, grabbing a pair of gardening gloves along the way. Poor thing hadn't even gotten the peanut. He lay there convulsing on the floor, blood spreading beneath him.

It was totally a Sopranos moment, it was. Totally.

So I picked him up gently and wrung his pretty red neck - amazing how hard that is considering his tiny size. You'd think it'd snap like a twig, but nope, more like a somewhat bigger branch. Aaaanyway.

Then I threw him outside, where, within a half hour, a crow made off with the corpse. I'm a big fan of recycling I am. To quote Bugs again: "Ain't I a stinker!".

Then I promptly collapsed into Mr. Jazz's arms shaking like a leaf. Why I didn't just back off and tell him, "Dude, you're the guy, you do it", I'll never know. It was one of those moments where you know what has to be done so you just do it without thinking. Easily actually. It's so very very bizarre.

So, after a mouse and a squirrel, I guess next on the list is a cat. They say serial killers tend to graduate this way to larger and larger animals... Food for thought.

** Yes one of those evil kill traps. Cause if the thing gets in and we don't catch it before the weekend is over, there's no point in having a live trap since it'll simply slowly die of thirst or hunger over the week. Quick and neat is the way to go. And believe me, there are enough of them out there that one less won't make much of a difference. The Darwin Awards principle at work - if it's stupid enough to get caught it deserves to die. Viz, great granddad who I was most definitely pulling for, though he probably ended up eaten by a cat. Or Bugs Bunny.
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The grim reaper...

2010-04-14T11:01:00.002-04:00

A blog is a broadcast, not a publication. If it stops moving, it dies. - Andrew Sullivan

Gasp, gasp...

Shudder....

What with the scandals in the Catholic church...

2010-04-07T10:24:00.000-04:00

...this is just brilliant. I just had to post this, poached from Patrick Lagacé's blog

Marc Murphy is a brilliant cartoonist, his website is here

Friday funny... oops, Thursday

2010-04-01T10:37:00.001-04:00

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Disclaimer: I have nothing against Christians, I know people who have a great faith in god and if that works for them fine, I totally respect it, just as they respect my point of view. This website is a riot though, in its exposure of the clichés - many of which anyone who has had an encounter with the evangelical types has been exposed too. That's where the mind boggles. But hey, whatever floats your boat, so long as you don't try to sink mine. So, in the spirit in which this was intended, have fun.

First I'd like to thank Rachel for posting this; it's so hysterical, I just have to share.

The following gems are from the I am a atheist website (and thanks again Rachel). And go to the site, their homepage is laugh out loud funny.

For instance - Atheist Rights and Responsibilities:

As a moral atheist you have a number of rights and responsibilities. These include (but are not limited to):
Have no gods.
Don't worship stuff.
Be polite.
Take a day off once in a while.
Be nice to folks.
Don't kill people.
Don't cheat on your significant other.
Don't steal stuff.
Don't lie about stuff.
Don't be greedy.
Remember, theists may condemn you for living by this code because you are doing it of your own free will instead of because you're afraid that if you don't a supreme being will set you on fire.

And of course - Arguments Against Atheism (I have been handed several of these over the years, some more than once - I wish I had had these answers...) :

As an atheist, you will occasionally meet a non-atheist who wishes to argue against your belief system. If you are interested in discussing the matter, you may want to prepare yourself by learning these simple responses to common anti-atheist arguments.

The Bible says that atheism is wrong. (I just stared when I was served this. If the bible says it, it's proof obviously - how does that follow?...)
"The Bible also says some guy's donkey talked."

If you believe in God and are wrong, then it's no big deal, but if you don't believe in God and are wrong, you'll be punished eternally, so it's not a good idea to be an atheist.
"What if you're wrong that God prefers unthinking self-righteous toadies to honest people who try and live a good life?"

Deep down you really believe in God. (The most rational of arguments, I think I got this one most)
"Deep down, you really don't believe that."

You're only saying you're an atheist to rebel against authority.
"And if the Beatles grew long hair to rebel against authority, then they really had no hair -- is that what you're saying?"

You probably are an atheist because you had a bad experience as a child.
"You probably worship God because you hate your real father."

There are no atheists in foxholes.
"Probably because we have less excuses to start wars."

If you don't believe in God, you'll go to Hell! (No, I think actually this is the most frequent one - my answer: It's your hell, you go burn in it)
"If you don't stop believing in God right now, I'll punch you in the face."

Why are you mad at God?
"Because he's supposed to be all good but he doesn't even have the common decency to exist."

Atheists are Satanic.
"Just like theists are agnostic?"

Without God there is no morality. (This one too rendered me speechless, and angry actually)
"Are we talking about the God that ordered Moses to kill babies and asked people to set animals on fire because he liked the smell?"

God is perfect, and He couldn't be perfect if He didn't exist, which proves that He exists.
"No, it just proves he isn't perfect."

People who follow Jesus are good, so you should follow Jesus.
"Chemotherapy can cure cancer, so everyone should have chemotherapy."

Jesus was either a liar, a crazy person, or the son of God. He spoke against liars, and his behavior wasn't crazy, so the only remaining possibility is that he was the son of God.
"So you're telling me that if a polite, honest-looking, well-spoken, nicely dressed man walked up to you on the street and introduced himself as the earthly incarnation of God, you'd figure he probably is? Have you considered the possibility that you're the one who is crazy?"

There were eye witnesses that Jesus worked miracles.
"There are eye witnesses that Bigfoot exists, Uri Geller works miracles, and aliens abduct people."

Most people who know about Jesus believe in Him.
"If most people jumped off a bridge..."

I know from personal experience that God exists.
"No he doesn't. He told me so himself."

God wants you to believe in him without rational proof.
"Then he's certainly doing a fine job of not tempting me with evidence."

You say you don't believe that God exists, but the word "God" is meaningless if there is no such thing, so you are admitting that God exists even as you deny his existence. (This one is brilliant in its very "convolutedness")
"That reminds me, I don't believe you owe me $100."

Hitler was an atheist.
"I don't know about Hitler's religion, but I do know that he was heterosexual, so can I assume you're against that, too?"

Einstein believed in God. Do you think you're smarter than Einstein?
"If he believed in God, yes."

The founding fathers intended the United States to be a Christian nation. Atheists aren't welcome.
"Are you sticking with the whole 'slavery' thing, too?"

The universe is so complex that someone must have designed it.
"I don't know -- that sentence was fairly complex but there was obviously not much thought behind it."

Atheists believe in evolution, but if we teach our children evolution in public school they will believe that they are no better than animals and will grow up immoral.
"I've met public school children. Most of them aren't any better than animals."

Evolution violates the second law of thermodynamics.
"No, but God does."

Well, evolution's only a theory.
"So's your old man."

How can you not believe in Jesus Christ when the evidence is overwhelming? (Ah yes, this one. I don't NOT believe in JC, historically, that is. Which has nothing to do with divinity)
"Well, Jesus's divinity is only a theory."

There's proof that God exists, like the Bible and miracles.
"If your twenty-year-old son still believes in Santa Claus because he read a book about Santa visiting and presents magically appeared on Christmas morning when he was a child, would you praise him for having faith in the face of overwhelming evidence or call him an idiot?"

My parents raised me to believe in God. Are you calling my parents liars? (What can you answer to such an argument, really?)
"Can we talk about the Tooth Fairy for a minute?"

There are so many wonderful things in the world, how can you say there is no God?
"It's really pretty easy: 'There is no god.' See?"

There is so much beauty in the world that only God could have created it.
"My wife's beautiful, and my mother-in-law made her."

If there is no Heaven, then where do you go when you die?
"The same place you were before you were conceived, I assume."

You can't prove God doesn't exist. (Never ever answer - "and you can't prove that he does", it only brings on the miracles and bible and the world is beautiful argument - The perfect Catch-22)
"So?"

You don't know everything.
"Do you?"

You can't see air, but you believe in it. (Actually, I don't believe in air, anymore than I believe in wood or glass or water. It's there, it's a fact, not a belief)
"I can't see ignorance, but I can smell it. Right now, in fact."

You can't see love, but you believe in it.
"And I agree that god, like love, is just a concept."

God made His image appear in this tortilla!
(Eats tortilla)

You call yourself an atheist but you have faith. Everyone has faith in something. (Yep, I have faith in my brain and my ability to reason - at least for now, some days I doubt that too - and no doubt so does BB for that matter)
"I have faith that this conversation isn't going anywhere. Bye!"

Dear....

2010-03-30T15:59:00.001-04:00

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Dear Ma'am,

a) Leggings are not pants
b) Cellulite is not pretty under leggings.
c) If you wore the trend the first time around, chances are, you shouldn't try it when it rolls back.

These are good principles to keep in mind. I'm sure you think the leggings make you look youthful. But no, they make you look like nothing other than ridiculous. Because Ma'am, that was really really not a good look.

Not.
At.
All.

Helpfully,

Jazz

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Dear Men in General,

What the hell is the idea with open legs thing. On buses, in theaters, every time you sit down.

Why do you open your legs that way? Do your balls need extra air? Are you wanting to show off your package? Because dudes, I really really don't care. In the morning I'm not awake enough to notice and in the evenings, I'm too tired to care. Besides, most of you don't have enough of a package for it to be noticeable in your pants. Unless you wear leggings - in which case, please see above.

I really do not appreciate sitting in the bus or on the plane or train and having you take up over half my allotted space with your spreading out. Close your damn legs already! Stop with the fucking sense of entitlement to all the available - or non available - space.

Because I just might have to haul along a hammer the next time I take public transport and shatter any part of your leg encroaching on my space.

Respectfully

Jazz

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Dear Visa:

I just received my new card with the nifty little microchip thingy that's all secure and coded with layers and layers and layers and is totally foolproof apparently.

According to you it's much better than a card with the magnetic strip which is way easy to get into.

According to you this is the future of credit cards, because my card? It is now unassailable.

I'd just like to point out the non-nifty magnetic strip on the back of my card (because so many people don't yet have the new microchip machines).

Let me also point out that by the time they DO have these machines, the microchip technology will have been circumvented by the bad guys and the cards will already be obsolete. But thank you for trying.

Admirably

Jazz

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Dear Jazz,

If it so annoys you that men take up all your space in the bus, why don't you say something about it, rather than just fume?

Because you're a pushover, that's why. Grow a spine Woman!

Annoyedly,

Jazz
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Why?

2010-03-24T17:00:00.004-04:00

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Natural Instincts hair colour:

For women: $10.49
For men $9.49*

Nair hair remover:

For women: $9.57 *(200g)
For men:      $6.89 (227g)

Gillette shaving gel:
For women: $4.17
For men:      $3.97

Mennen Speed Stick and Lady Speed stick:
For women: $4.47 (45g)
For men:       $4.47 (92g)

I didn't even compare shavers and shampoos and shower gels, but it's most probably safe to say men's versions are cheaper there too.

Once again, I ask: Why?

What the fuck is wrong with this picture? Are women deemed too stupid to realize they're paying more for the same product? Well, I guess so since that's exactly what's going on.

Then why do we stand for it? Why don't we simply stop and buy men's products. Skin is skin is skin and ours is no more fragile or sensitive than theirs. Seriously, why should we be expected to pay up to and over a dollar more in some cases? I want to know.

Join the movement (well, start the movement actually). I've been using men's stuff for a long time. So what if the can is grey rather than pastel pink and green? If you can get the same thing cheaper in the men's aisle, do it!

Seriously, I'm annoyed.

*All prices regular at Jean Coutu pharmacy, which tends to be a little cheaper than Pharmaprix (Shoppers Drug Mart)

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The Journal Series - Part II

2010-03-17T08:01:00.000-04:00

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Last week, I started posting stuff from my old journals. It seemed to be a hit, so I'll continue for a bit. Teenage angst gets real tedious real fast. Goddamn but teenagers can be boring, but then so can adults, so...

December 28, 1977

... Christmas itself was pretty dull, 'cept for the champagne, which by the way was delicious. I kept the bottle as a souvenir (and thus the abiding love story of my life was born, we have been together much longer than Mr. Jazz and I...)

March 24, 1978

I wonder what it's like to be old, I don't mean like 20 or 30. I mean really old like 50 or 60 or so (Ah pre-Jazz, now that I'm pushing 50 I have to think you are a most annoying little prat). I guess I'll have to wait and see. I wonder if I'll ever get there and if I even want to. It's weird to think of myself at 50 or 60 or 70 (and kiddo, it's even weirder to be there, scary weird actually, and believe me, it's weird to think of myself as 17). Somehow I don't see myself as a diligent grandmother baking cookies (In your Lit classes, this was called foreshadowing, and guess what? no kids, zip, nada - did I tell you I was lucid even back then? Yay me, at least I was seeing clearly sometimes).

March 28, 1978

From now on, guys'll be friends and nothing else. (Jazzy, they have to want to be your friends plus how can you have a broken heart - or something of that nature I guess, you weren't very precise - when you've never even had a boyfriend? Crushed by a crush? *insert eye roll here, please). Of course, I know myself well enough to not really believe this (kudos to you, you boy crazy adolescent). There must be someone somewhere, at least I hope so (ain't that just the saddest most pathetic thing? The be all and end all of my existence: I just wanted someone to love me...)

June 11, 1978

The prom was yesterday, and guess what? Yep, I didn't go. Instead Ann (names have been changed to protect the innocent - not that I know who or where they are anymore, but isn't changing names the done thing?) and I went to a restaurant for supper and then we went roller skating (I knew how to roller skate? Who the hell knew...) It was nice (classic case of "no one invited me but I really really didn't want to go anyway you know"). I guess I should throw out my pass for the prom, but I feel like keeping it as a memory of the useless end of high school (I never was a fan of high school, but I might already have mentioned that). L (I didn't bother changing that, who the hell is she???) came to see me at 10:00 am to gloat about the prom - I could've killed her. She wasn't supposed to go but at the last minute she asked an ex boyfriend to go and he said yes (exes! she had an ex and I had never even had a boyfriend!!! colour me green ...). And Lou went with a guy she hardly knew and now they're going out! (adding insult to injury). It's no fair (dude, life ain't fair, it's good to learn the lesson as soon as possible).

July 14, 1978

I'm starting to think the only ones who aren't crazy on earth are the ones that we supposedly sane people consider cracked. Maybe they're the only really sane people. Maybe they're right now planning a mass uprise [sic] and they'll put us all away instead (as you can see, I also had my philosophical moments and yes, I'm utterly embarrassed at the inanity).

August 2, 1978

I saw in an article that young people are returning to old values (seems like every year someone is touting a return to old values, it obviously is nothing new. I wonder if they returned to old values back in the day when the old values were the new values, or whatever). I think it might be true. In my case anyway. I was thinking about it on the bus, and even if before I had been ready to live with a guy, now what I want is to get married, no shacking up for me thank you very much! (famous last words - at least I wasn't talking about having kids - I plead temporary insanity for that little nugget).

August 11, 1978

I want to leave. Once I've finished school I want to have an adventure, i want to travel I don't at all want to get married only to regret it a couple of years later because I've never done anything. (I never did travel after school... that took a few years. more's the pity. It would have done me a world of good, but i acted all "responsible", and instead fled to Montreal to reinvent myself - at school and then I got a job - it's the best I could force myself to do in the way of "rebellion"). There are so many things I want to do, mostly to travel for a year and to make it (that's sufficiently vague to leave the way wide open)... and I want to get married and have children when I'm certain I've done all I want to do. (well there's a flip. I came to my senses about the kid thing, luckily. I wouldn't have made the best of moms).

... I try to pretend like I have confidence in myself. I'm starting CEGEP (a sort of weird hybridwe have in Quebec between high school and university - it equals about the last year of HS and the first of uni in the rest of North America) soon, leaving my life and my friends behind me and jumping into a whole new world. (How's that for melodrama?) Don't tell, but I'm terrified.... I know it'll be ok after a while, but diving is the scary part. Going back to English school where I don't know anyone at all...

Luc, that guy I met at D's place wants us to go out together, he wants to be my boyfriend! I said I'd have to think about it (ever the prudent one, but it's never a good sign when you have to think about it - it also isn't a good sign when you re-read your diary and think, who? because honestly, he didn't leave a lasting impression, I have no idea who this person is. The slate? it was wiped clean of him. You'd think after wanting a boyfriend for so long, the least I owe him is to remember him, but no, I'm drawing a total blank). I think I'm going to say yes. I'll have to tell mom, but I think she won't mind. D wants me to ask him if her ex is interested in her because she's still in love with him (for the record, I believe her persistence paid off, she waited years for the guy, but finally convinced him she was the woman for him. This bit of trivia I know because D is my cousin and I heard about this through my mom I think) I was too shy to ask though. I have to stop that too. (cause shyness can be switched off like a light, for the record, it didn't work, even to this day).

And thus ends journal number 2. Is my life riveting or what? More on Luc in the next installment.
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You know you're getting old when...

2010-03-16T08:26:00.000-04:00

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You think it's utterly ridiculous that a demonstration against police brutality would be staged again this year. In Montreal of all place.

You think the police did well to make the 100 or so arrests of idiots who were throwing bricks and rocks at them, among other violence.

You think that violence to protest against violence just confirms that you are indeed the idiots you seem to be.

Photo by Patrick Sansfaçon, La Presse

I fully understand the young hating authority, but c'mon, I can't help but think lots of people would love to have to deal with the level of police brutality we have here.

If Montreal cops are what you consider brutal, you should try a couple of other countries. Get over yourselves.

Yep, I'm getting old.

From the "How Stupid Can You Get" file

2010-03-12T06:00:00.022-05:00

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Everyone together now, let's spell Morons.

M - O - R - O - N - S

Who the hell cares who she goes to the prom with? So fucking what? And these are the same people who preach tolerance and loving thy neighbor in church on Sundays. Ugh

"I don't agree with homosexuality, but I can't change what another person thinks or does."

How the hell can you agree or disagree with homosexuality? It's not a fucking argument! If we're going that way, I don't agree with pregnancy! How abysmally moronic is that statement? And I don't care that it comes from a teenager. Use the damn head your god set on your damn shoulders!!!!

Ok, I'll shut up now and let you read for yourselves.

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Miss. school prom off after lesbian's date request

AP – This 2009 photo released by Constance McMillen's family via The ACLU of Mississippi, taken in Fulton, …

By SHELIA BYRD, Associated Press Writer Shelia Byrd, Associated Press Writer – 2 hrs 48 mins ago

JACKSON, Miss. – A northern Mississippi school district will not be hosting a high school prom this spring after a lesbian student sought to attend with her girlfriend and wear a tuxedo.

The Itawamba County school district's board decided Wednesday to drop the prom because of what it called recent distractions but without specifically mentioning the girl's request, which was backed by the American Civil Liberties Union.

The student, 18-year-old high school senior Constance McMillen, said the cancellation was retaliation for her efforts to bring her girlfriend, also a student, to the April 2 dance.

"A bunch of kids at school are really going to hate me for this, so in a way it's really retaliation," McMillen told The Clarion-Ledger of Jackson. Calls to McMillen by The Associated Press late Wednesday went unanswered.

School policy requires that senior prom dates be of the opposite sex. The ACLU of Mississippi had given the district until Wednesday to change that policy, arguing that banning same-sex prom dates violated McMillen's constitutional rights.

Instead, the school board met and issued a statement announcing it wouldn't host the event at Itawamba County Agricultural High School in Fulton, "due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events."

The statement didn't mention McMillen or the ACLU. When asked by The Associated Press if McMillen's demand led to the cancellation, school board attorney Michele Floyd said she could only reference the statement.

"It is our hope that private citizens will organize an event for the juniors and seniors," district officials said in the statement. "However, at this time, we feel that it is in the best interest of the Itawamba County School District, after taking into consideration the education, safety and well being of our students."

Kristy Bennett, legal director for the ACLU of Mississippi, said the district was trying to avoid the issue.
"But that doesn't take away their legal obligations to treat all the students fairly," Bennett said. "On Constance's behalf, this is unfair to her. All she's trying to do is assert her rights."

Itawamba County is a rural area of about 23,000 people in north Mississippi near the Alabama state line. It's near Pontotoc County, Miss., where more than a decade ago school officials were sued in federal court over their practice of student-led intercom prayer and Bible classes.

Anna Watson, a 17-year-old junior at the high school, was looking forward to the prom, especially since the town's only hotspot is the bowling alley, she said.

"I am a little bummed out about it. I guess it's a decision that had to be made. Either way someone was going to get disappointed — either Constance was or we were," Watson said. "I don't agree with homosexuality, but I can't change what another person thinks or does."

Other students are on McMillen's side.

McKenzie Chaney, 16, said she wasn't planning to attend the prom, but "it's kind of ridiculous that they can't let her wear the tuxedo and it all be over with."

A Feb. 5 memo to students laid out the criteria for bringing a date to the prom, and one requirement was that the person must be of the opposite sex.

The ACLU said McMillen approached school officials shortly before the memo went out because she knew same-sex dates had been banned in the past. The ACLU said district officials told McMillen she and her girlfriend wouldn't be allowed to arrive together, that she would not be allowed to wear a tuxedo, and that she and her girlfriend might be asked to leave if their presence made any other students "uncomfortable."
McMillen said she feared she would be thrown out of the prom because "we do live in the Bible Belt."

And now for something completeley different...

2010-03-10T06:00:00.014-05:00

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I've been keeping a journal for what seems forever. I suppose, like most girls, I started after reading Anne Frank's diary. And I remember reading Go Ask Alice which also inspired me to write - and become a junkie (in the interest of full disclosure, let me just say that I'm rolling my eyes at myself here).

A few days ago, I pulled out my first diary (the ubiquitous locked 5-year diary with six lines to a year, which rule I broke with my first entry evah) and thought it could make for a cool (albeit seriously embarrassing) series of posts. What with 35 journals to choose from (obviously I have no life if I can take the time to write 35 journals), I can take you from that first 13 year old entry all the way up to today, which would be way to close for comfort. But before then, we'll all be heartily sick of this and wishing that that proto-Jazz would just shut the hell up already.

And so, I will be posting excerpts from my journals (wonky grammar and all). As noted, most of them will probably be really embarrassing to me, but what the hell, I spend most of my days embarrassing the hell out of myself anyway. It's a gift. It's my superpower.

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To whit:

June 25, 1974

I got back from a trip to Chicoutimi yesterday (my birthday). I just got you today and I'm going to tell you everything. (not by a long shot baby - that would've been excruciating)

Sometimes I might put "later" because I might not write everything at the same time (because I might never have realized I was writing later if I hadn't spelled it out). Today I'm feeling high. I don't know why, maybe because I've got you to talk to now (that's sad). Well bye for now diary (Never one to follow rules, by now I was well into the third year entry)

Later: I'm reading "That Was Then, This Is Now" (teenage angst galore!), it's a real great book. A while ago I threw a plaster into Nini's (That would be BB - was my name for him for the longest time) paper basket. I was standing on the couch and I got all dizzy and saw yellow and green and red and sort of dots all over. I wonder if that's what it's like when you take drugs. I'd like to try them (drugs I mean) (I had high ambitions when I was 13 - or maybe I just wanted to be cool). Bye diary, see you tomorrow."

July 2, 1974

You know what I want to do Diary? I want to write a story. Maybe I could, wouldn't that be great? (who knew I had literary aspirations) You could help me, would you? (a touch delusional perhaps, this is a notebook, not a person, Dear)

Later: I just finished the first chapter in my our book, I don't know if I made a mistake trying to write, but anyway, I'll continue and we'll see. I hope it works (it obviously didn't). See you later.

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Surprisingly, this journal lasted me three years. And I never did finish it, it was much too regimented with all those yearly entries and dates already written down, it was just annoying.

I was pathetically obsessed with boys, and unfortunately they weren't obsessed with me. Utter humiliation to a teenage girl. What can a nerd expect though? As for those who might have shown some interest (and who I was head over heels in crush with):

February 14, 1975

He started talking to me in English. G told him I could understand everything he said in English. The first thing he said was What are you doing tonight?. My answer was, a lot of things that wouldn't interest you. He looked as if someone had slapped him in the face (Well Duh!) After that he said Do you want to sleep with me tonight? and I said no, I have better things to do. The best part was today on the bus after school. He leaned over from his seat on to mine and said, What about my valentines kiss? I just told him to buzz off. Then he asked again and i pushed him back into his seat. I'm not stupid, I know he was laughing at me. He has a girlfriend. And if he didn't I wouldn't be his choice (Actually, all these years later, I can't help but think I was an astute little 14 year old - plus I was terrified. What if?).

And on another note:

January 10, 1976

Everything is mixed up these days. I mean really, what do you do when you wish your own father was dead. Don't say it's natural cause it isn't, even if he is sick. I'm the sick one.

This is my list of things I want most (it strikes me as both hysterically funny and sad):

1. Dad dead
2. No more pimples
3. To have lots of money
4. Be popular

Of course the first and second will happen eventually (I kept my dreams well within the realm of the reasonable), the third probably never unless I marry some rich guy (didn't happen - but I got much better than rich) and the fourth will probably never happen either (bingo - did I say I was astute even at that age?).

P.S. In typing we got electric machines (gotta love the practicality of that after my list...)

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

The funniest thing re-reading this journal is that I have no idea anymore who most of the people are. I vaguely remember the guy I blew off, and one or two girlfriends, but otherwise - no freaking idea. Nor do I want to remember them.

So, your call people, shall we continue with this?
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Gotta love animations

2010-03-05T06:00:00.005-05:00

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I found this on Facebook, a friend had commented on it...

It is a really cool animation regarding safe sex. Don't watch it if you're easily offended.

I'm proposing the link because as it's rather, graphic YouTube requires you sign in as an adult, and I don't want to make y'all jump through the YouTube hoops.
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In Today's News....

2010-03-04T11:11:00.001-05:00

More on the niqab:

It seems that a memo was sent a few months ago to the Montreal police force, saying in essence that, if a criminal is arrested they are to be fingerprinted and photographed for identification purposes.

If this criminal happens to be a woman wearing a niqab (although I can't help but think the chances of that happening are remote), she is to be fingerprinted and requested to unveil for the mug shots.

If she refuses to unveil, she is to be photographed wearing the niqab.

Because that doesn't defeat the "identification" aspect of all this at all.

Words fail me. I mean, really, what the fuck?
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False adverstising?

2010-03-03T08:38:00.001-05:00

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There's a whole debate raging in Quebec these days regarding the niqab, and recently a immigrant taking French classes was told she'd have to take off her niqab in class in order facilitate interaction with her peers, or take the class online. She opted to leave the class.

It seems that the niqab doesn't only cause problems in the west. It seems to lead to cases of false advertising. (text of the article below)

Man claims fiancee hid beard under niqab

* By Bassam Za'za', Senior Reporter
* Published: 00:00 February 10, 2010
* Gulf News

An Arab ambassador said he decided to call off his wedding immediately after he discovered that his wife-to-be, who wears a niqab, was bearded and cross-eyed.

Dubai: An Arab ambassador said he decided to call off his wedding immediately after he discovered that his wife-to-be, who wears a niqab, was bearded and cross-eyed.

The ambassador claimed that the bride's mother deceived his mother, when she went to see his Gulf national wife-to-be, by showing her pictures of the bride's sister.

The Arab man, who also holds the title of minister plenipotentiary, claimed to a Sharia court judge in Dubai that the bride's family showed his mother photos of the bride's sister and not the woman he was going to marry.

Sources close to the case told Gulf News that the groom only saw the woman a few times. He did not realise that she had a beard because she wore the niqab the few times he met her, added the source.

"Every time the couple met, the bride would do her best not to reveal her entire face. After the ambassador and the woman, who is a physician, signed the marriage contract, the groom was sitting with the bride… he claimed to the Sharia court officials that when he wanted to kiss his wife-to-be, he discovered that she was bearded and cross-eyed as well," claimed the source.

The ambassador then decided to call off the wedding party and lodged a divorce claim alleging that he was tricked by his parents-in-law and incurred emotional and moral damage.

In his lawsuit, the groom also asked the bride to repay him his Dh500,000, the amount which he claimed he spent on jewellery, clothes and gifts.

During the trial, the bride asked the judge to dismiss the groom's lawsuit and demanded him to pay her alimony after the Arab called off the wedding party.

Gulf News also learnt that the ambassador requested the Sharia court to refer the Gulf national woman to a specialist to have her examined for hormonal deficiencies.

The court referred the bride to a specialist who countered the ambassador's claims and reported that she did not suffer any hormonal problems.

The court divorced the couple and rejected the groom's request that the pre-marriage gifts be returned.
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The mysterious disappearing meme...

2010-03-02T06:00:00.000-05:00

is back. So I figured I should post the damn thing before it disappears again...

1. What are your current obsessions?

I obsess over many things, not least why I'm obsessing over one thing rather than another.

2. Who would you most like to have dinner with?

Whoever is willing to pay for dinner at a fancy restaurant with expensive wine.

3. Last dream you had?

I was wading through a lake of blood and body parts. I was carrying a machete. Conclude what you will.

4. Last thing you bought?

Dinner in an expensive restaurant

5. What are you listening to?

Why must we always be listening to something in these damn things. No! I don't have music on, I'm not obsessed by having music on, despite the fact that yes, I do own an iPod! I'm not listening to anything. I'm hearing the ventilation system, colleagues chatting, a chair creaking. Silence. Blessed silence would be nice now and again. Why are people so afraid of silence, what is it they're afraid of? Do they think if the iPod or the TV isn't blasting it means they don't exist?

Rant over

6. If you were a god/goddess who would you be?

Well, duh. Bachhus

7. Favorite holiday spots?

Anwwhere but my desk

8. Reading right now?

This meme? ok, Iran, les rives du sang by Fariba Hachtroudi

9. Four words to describe yourself.

Right now? Lazy, hungry, bored... i can't find anything else, I'm too bored

10. Guilty pleasure?

As if I'd tell you

11. Who or what makes you laugh until you’re weak?

I'm never weak

12. Favorite spring thing to do?

Gloat that winter is over

13. Planning to travel to next?

France in May. Unless it doesn't work, in which case who knows?

14. Best thing you ate or drank lately?

Yesterday's black truffle risotto

15. When did you last get tipsy?

Tipsy? Ridiculous word. Last weekend. And I saw a great t-shirt at that party:

I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings.

16. Favorite ever films?

I took the liberty of adding an s to film - LOTR, One flew over the cuckoo's nest and Blade Runner. I think

17. Care to share some wisdom?

Life will eventually kill you, don't take it seriously

18. What item could you not live without?

Air

19. Thing you are looking forward to?

The end of this damn day

20. What’s your favorite smell?

Currently? Black truffle risotto

21. If you didn’t live where you do, where would you choose to live?

Probably the American south-west. In the desert out there.

Sunday at the cottage

2010-03-01T08:34:00.002-05:00

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Sometimes something great happens. For no reason at all. For instance, you walk by the patio door and there, sitting in a tree, not 15 feet from you is a barred owl. Nothing like Ian's Great Horned Owl, but nevertheless stunning. And there he sat, posing. Such a beautiful creature.

Look at his eyes, Barred owls are, apparently the only brown-eyed owls. He let me take several pictures before turning around and soaring away. I've seen plenty of cool birds at the cottage, but this is a first...

And then, on the way home we stopped at the spa. They have a thing for buddhas at this spa, and I thought they looked pretty cool in the snow.

And the mysterious disappearing meme is back. But that's for another day.
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Once upon a time

2010-02-24T01:00:00.003-05:00

Two score and eight years ago (plus four days), a baby boy was born. He was no doubt an adorable thing, but I wouldn't know, as I was under a year old myself and still doodooing the diapers at every chance I got.

As this child grew into a lad, raised by a houseful of women, he view of the world was molded by them into something quirky and deliciously different - for a boy at any rate.

As a teenager, he blossomed and as a young adult he traveled the world for over a year, discovering along the way that people are people and hell if they don't all like to party and drink copious amounts of beer.

Several years later we met. It wasn't love at first sight, not by a long shot as we were both with other people at the time. But a few years later, things dropped into place and I've had the daily pleasure of his company ever since.

Without him life would be grayer, duller and a whole lot less funny.

And I'd be way less well fed - which, might not be a bad thing, all things considered. Although it would surely be a much less healthy thing, considering what I'd be eating if I had to feed myself... but I digress.

Happy belated B-day post Mr. Jazz. I love you more than I can say - I'd have to invent a whole new language.

Rather than a post...

2010-02-23T11:25:00.000-05:00

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...today you get a link. A link to Tatty Tiara's latest post. People this woman is a must read. She is she is...

Go now, run along, she's waiting.
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From the oh ferchrissake file

2010-02-19T08:24:00.000-05:00

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ABC, CBS and NBC will apparently be interrupting their programming to air the Tiger Woods press conference.

What the fuck is with that? The guy is a golfer who cheated repeatedly on his wife because he's a "sex addict" (and I won't even go there, no, no snarky comments about how it's a wonderful excuse when you want to get off the hook for being a serial cheater and .... oops).

Anyway.

The guy isn't the president, he isn't the pope, he isn't god.

He's not announcing the beginning of the third world war.

HOW HAS THIS BECOME NEWS WORTHY OF INTERRUPTING PROGRAMMING ON ALL THREE MAJOR NETWORKS?????

You have got to be shitting me.
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You know what really pisses me off?

2010-02-18T19:15:00.003-05:00

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Disclaimer: this post includes foul language which might be offensive to some audiences. Reader discretion is advised. Or something. 'Cause bad language wouldn't be a first here, but we must be PC cause well, you never know whose virgin eyes might end up here...

And now I have to re-write my title cause that little disclaimer episode totally screwed up the rythme.

So.

You know what really pisses me off?

Well, I'm a tell y'all...

What really pisses me off is when the (looooong !!!) meme post I was working on today - and I really put work in it an' it was long and it was convoluted an' it was entertaining as all hell, though you'll have to take my word for that - which I saved as a draft because I wasn't quite finished (maybe 5 more minutes work...) and then came back to for the finishing touches...

has been deleted by Blogger.

Deleted.
By.
That.
Fucktard.
Blogger!!

(sorry for fucktard, but for some reason I love that nasty nasty word and have always wanted to use it somewhere. Blogger doing this to me is the perfect occasion. Fucktard!)

It annoys me to no end to work my little ass off for nothing (ok, big, yes Blogger my ass? it is BIG and if it sits on you it'll quash the miserable little cyber life right out of you, you evil assclown troll of the innernetses). Hell, I do that every day at the office, out there in the Twilight Zone, the whole working thing. For what? What I ask you? To what end? What's the damn point of that?

The last thing I need is to do the same thing in real life.

Bleh.

It might not be so bad, but it's fucking February (note the alliteration). I hate February and it hates me right back. AND it's in cahoots with Blogger to make my life a living hell. It is. Yes indeed.

You might not believe me but I KNOW. February and Blogger - twin terrorists of winter and the innertubes...

Bleh.

But y'all? I loveses, you i does, y'allses is my precisoussses

Christ I need a drink. At least then I'd have a reason for being incoherent.

Sentencing

2010-02-16T08:25:00.003-05:00

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Earl Jones (who I mentioned here) was sentenced yesterday to 11 years in prison after pleading guilty; he defrauded 158 clients of $50 million dollars. It's not muich when you look at the likes of Bernie Madoff, but it is a chunk of change.

The man is despicable, he found lots of his "clients" in nursing homes or he preyed on the dying or their bereaved families. He ruined is own brother fer chrissake. That's sick...

So he got eleven years. Problem is, in Canada that translates to about 22 months, what with the fact that he'll have to to 1/6th of his sentence and time already served counts double. He could be free after 22 fucking months.

His lawyer had the gall to say that it was much worse than that, that his sentence is to be alone, his family is gone, he has no friends. He is sentenced to be alone. Fuck off, his solitude is a result of his behaviour. It's his own damn fault and not part of his sentence.

The judge, on the other hand, had no choice, she was applying the law.

I can't help but wonder if this type of situation has anything to do with the fact that more and more people in Canada think the death sentence isn't such a bad idea.

Or maybe politicians want to be sure that the financial gurus, those who finance them aren't in too much of a bind if they are arrested - but that's a cynical view even by my standards.

There are more and more of these "victimless" crimes. And the perpetrators pretty much have a get out of jail free card. The whole concept of the punishment fitting the crime has been tossed straight out the window in this country.

Unless I'm the one being punished of course. In that case, lenient would definitely be the way to go. Except I'm to lazy get into a life of crime...

The Mind Boggles

2010-02-14T14:01:00.003-05:00

As seen in this week's Montreal Mirror:

FRESH HOT HATE

While the passing into law of the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act was generally met with a blend of applause and standard American indifference, four Michigan zealots are concerned the prevention of anti-gay crime interferes with their God-given right to violently hate gays. So outraged are they by the inconvenience, in fact, that they’ve filed a federal suit.

Filed by Dominos Pizza founder Tom Monaghan’s Thomas More Law Center on behalf of the American Family Association and three equally wing-nutty pastors, the suit alleges the Hate Crimes Act gives homosexuals legal protections that make them “more equal than others.” Furthermore, the plaintiffs are concerned that the laws equate their “deeply held religious beliefs” with racism and will stymie their “freedom of speech, expressive association and free exercise” of those beliefs. The act itself clearly states that it in no way will infringe on freedom of speech or freedom of expression laws.

In addition to getting its allegations wrong, the suit also dismisses the notion that Matthew Shepard’s having been tied to a fence and beaten to death in 1998 had anything to do with his homosexuality.
by SCOTT SAXON

Monaghan is described in Wikipedia as a philanthropist. My dictionary describes philanthropy as an "altruistic concern for human welfare and advancement". Yeah, as long as it's anti gay, anti choice (Monaghan is big in HLI).

How can you justify hate in the name of a god? HOW!?! Isn't catholicism, well christianity overall supposed to be about love and tolerance and all that hippie stuff? The religious right makes me sick.

Happy v-day everyone.

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In the news

2010-02-05T13:00:00.001-05:00

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Lotto Quebec has decided to go online with a casino. Oh horror, oh end of the world. All these people who don't gamble will start gambling and yadda yadda yadda...

The funny thing is how they're selling it as a way for people to gamble securely online. Seems lots of people get ripped off in online casinos. Who knew.

Honestly, I have no problem with Lotto Quebec opening an online casino. I don't give a damn. But fer chrissake people, stop being so damn hypocritical about it, it's not about "making sure people can gamble online securely". It's not a damn public service ! It's about making money. The government always needs more money. Just come out and say it. I dare you, just be honest for once, we can take it!

Morons.

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In other news:

The Quebec government has decided to use a new and revolutionary method of evaluating students: KNOWLEDGE ! Because 5 or 6 years ago, the govenrnment decided to reform the school system.They did away with marks and went for evaluating competence - your problem solving skills, your skills at getting along etc. etc. and hopefully, some general knowledge was evaluated along the way. After all you wouldn't want a child to feel bad because they flunked. (And I'm not gonna start ranting on that particular way of looking at things, nope. Not today) And it seems school boards didn't all have the same marking system so there wasn,t much uniformity across the province. Or something. I never really did understand what the hell they were on about - and since I don't have kids, it was sort of a moot point anyway.

I'm sure BB could explain it all to our satisfaction, him being a teacher and all. Or maybe he's just as confused as the rest of us.

And so, this week, the big announcement. Starting next year students will be getting marked (with numbers no less!) on knowledge of a subject. They're trying to spin it, but obviously the plan flopped big time. Once again some bozo pushed his lets-use-the-kids-as-guinea-pigs-and-see-what-happens agenda. Once again it didn't work. The mind? It boggles.

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In yet other news:

The Lieutenant Governor of Quebec... - ok, let me 'splain for you Americans out there. Technically the Queen of England is still the boss of us, so Canada has a Governor General who represents her here and each province has a Lieutenant Governor who represents her and both offices cost us a fortune and why the hell is she still our "Queen" anyway and what a stupid fucking system that is, but I digress - so the LG holds a highly honorific post and doesn't do much of anything except hand out medals to deserving citizens and that sort of shit. Well, the guy seems to think he's all important and stuff, because he had his face stamped on the medals it seems. Yes, his face.

HIS!
FACE!

What the fuck?

Listen to the sound of my mind boggling. Boggle, boggle, boggle.

Is the government as ridiculous outside Quebec? Really, I need to know.

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And a last tidbit.

This one freaks me right the hell out though.

The Mohawks of the Kanawake reserve south of Montreal have decided that any whites living on the reserve must leave as legally, only Mohawks can live in the territory. The 26 (or so) people have received eviction notices and have 10 days to vacate. Who are these 26 people? They are spouses and boy/girlfriends of Mohawks. And no mixing should take place. They have the law on their side, but damn. I'm flabbergasted (damn, I love that word).

Lots of ink is flowing, talk of racism, racial purity, Hitler, you name it.

Here is the mp3 link to a radio interview. It's on a French station, but the interview is in English, with the host translating from time to time..

Check this out...

2010-02-02T08:11:00.002-05:00

BB posted this today. Hilarious video.

Move over Shakespeare!

2010-01-21T16:08:00.001-05:00

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Can't think
Brain numb
Inspiration won't come

Weather's bleah
All grey
Need some sun to want to play

Job's crap
What's my goal
Seems I'm stuck in a deep dark hole

Family, well
That's OK
Something at least is goin' my way

Can't think
Brain dead
Inanity trundles through my head

* I can't help but find it somewhat creepy how Will's head somehow seems to not be attached to his body, like it's been lopped off and then balanced on his collar...

Sometimes you just gotta make a stand. Thanks Keith

2010-01-15T06:00:00.006-05:00

From Pat Robertson:

From Rush Limbaugh

And from Keith Olbermann:

Thank you Thank You THANK YOU !!!

Well hell, two posts in a day

2010-01-14T15:16:00.001-05:00

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Because I totally forgot until I checked out Alison's blog and she reminded me...

IT'S DELURKING DAY!!!!

This is the day to comment on blogs. To all you people who read but never ever comment, make yourselves known if only for this one day. Leave a comment. Be seen! Be heard! I'd love to know who you are.

C'mon I double dare you.
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Ian, this one's for you!!!

2010-01-14T09:28:00.000-05:00

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Brought to you by LIFE:

When Flying was fun - Those were the days!
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Logistics, Logistics, Logistics

2010-01-12T14:43:00.000-05:00

Over the past few weeks, Mr. Jazz and I have become hooked on the series everyone is talking about, Mad Men. Or maybe it's the series everyone was talking about because though we're well into the first season, apparently this series has been around for three seasons already. We can be a bit slow on the uptake Mr. Jazz and I.

It's a great series, about advertising executives on Madison (Mad) Avenue during the early sixties. Ah the sixties, such a wholesome era it was!

OK, screeching halt here. Lets just say the series shows pretty well that people will be people whatever era they live in.

So anyway, no major spoiler here - one of the characters is cheating on his wife (oh la la!!, who knew Tiger and Clinton weren't the first?)

And while watching the show I pointed out to Mr. Jazz that hey, isn't it bizarre. The ubiquitous cell phone is nowhere to be seen!

Which in turn brought out the observation: I wonder if it wasn't easier to cheat on your spouse in those days than it is today. Logisitcally speaking of course.

Obviously, if you want to be cheatin' nothing's going to stop you. But does all the technology we have to "simplify" our lives help at all?

On the one hand, back in the dark ages you could phone home and simply say "I'm dining with a client" and you were incommunicado from then on.

On the other hand, cell phones are very useful contact the "partner in crime"

On the other hand (yes! didn't you know I have hands sprouting all over my body, a regular octopus I am), if you don't answer said cell when the spouse calls because you happen to be doing the horizontal boogie with said partner in crime, questions will be raised.

On yet another hand - well I'm not sure I have another hand.

Point is, technology was supposed to simplify our lives overall. Microwaves and GPSs seem to have done so, but I tend to think that having a cellphone would complicate things somewhat if you're thinking of cheating on a spouse. If of course said spouse tends to call you at all hours.

But I don't have a cell phone so what do I know.

So now it's your turn. I don't often ask you to weigh in, but let me know what you think.

Seen on Facebook

2010-01-08T16:08:00.000-05:00

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You know, in that bar to the right, the one with all the (dare I call them stupid?) ads:

- Five foods for a flat belly - it seems these foods will burn your stomach fat. If you belive this, obviously FB has been burning your brain cells

- Three foods you should never eat - Because these foods will promote stomach fat.

My question is, if you eat the five and also the three, will you still be ahead by two?

My mathematical skills are still intact - though this calculation pretty much taxed them to their limit.
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And they raised the price of stamps!

2010-01-06T12:41:00.006-05:00

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I was incredibly thrilled to have such a great post for you!

You see, over my vacation I was in Korea (I think) and at one point wandering through a backwater market I happened upon The Bay. (The Bay for all you Americans out there is the national department store of Canadia - somewhere between JC Penney and Saks on the department store scale. Macy's perhaps? I have no clue).

I was flabbergasted I was! I walked in and a lady said to me: Good Afternoon Ms. Jazz (in a delightful Asian accent).

- ?!?!?! How do you know my name?
- Oh, security out back scans everyone entering with that camera and matches you against our international database and gives me your name through this speaker in my ear. If you're a thief, murderer or terrorist you won't be allowed in.
- !?!?!?!

I couldn't help but think that maybe they should let the US use that technology on planes.
And then I thought, there's a damn good blog post in this.
And then the alarm clock went off.

And I woke up, and when I was awake enough to function - after I had had my shower and was half dressed - it dawned on me that I didn't have a blog post after all. And it pissed me off.

Because the whole "My Resolutions" post, not so much thank you. (Besides, it's the 6th, isn't it too late for a New Years post?) I'm too old to be into resoultions. Been there, done that, couldn't be bothered to either keep them or feel guilty about it. If I had kept all my resolutions I would weigh about -95 lbs, have read all of Proust and never said fuck again.

Hasn't happened.

I read somewhere in the past week that we should not actually make resolutions. Resolutions set us up for failure you see. Instead we should have intentions or goals. What the hell is that? Is an intention or a goal less binding than a resolution so that, after three nanoseconds of "I intend to never eat chocolate again" when you don't manage it any more than if you had "resolved not to eat any chocolate" you'll feel less guilty about it?

And I shall spare you all a rant on the stupidity of a society where everything has to be safe and easy and one should never ever be too hard on oneself because damn, one might realise that one isn't all that special, and is basically just a cog in the machine.

Stupid-ass mollycoddling* I say! (I'd never say stupid-ass either if I had kept my resolutions).

Stand up! Take responsibility for yourself ! If, like me, you are so lacking in moral fibre, willpower or masochism, that you're unable to keep a resolution, intentions and goals won't work either. Within four days, you'll be back to your comfy habits, intentions all shot to hell. Though maybe intentions are less guilt inducing than resolutions. Or something. If you're into guilt over drunken promises made after taking stock of your life during a New Years party, go ahead, intend and resolve to your hearts content.

Me, not so much.

Who was it that said: Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die ? The guy had a point.

Have a good year y'all - and no, the title has nothing to do with anything, someone just now passed that nugget of information on to me.

* Let me edumacate you in these early days of 2010 (won't happen too often I'd say - usually when I don't know something I don't bother to look it up, I ask XUP because she is all knowing she is. Next best thing to god) - The origins of the word mollycolddle:

To "mollycoddle" someone is, of course, to pamper the person in an extremely attentive and solicitous fashion. As you found, "mollycoddle" is an extreme form of "coddle," which, when it first appeared in English around 1598 meant "to boil gently" (from the Latin "calidum," hot drink). The "gentle" aspect of "coddle" led, around 1815, to its figurative use to mean "nurse," "pamper" or "treat as an invalid," the sense found in "mollycoddle."

Decoding the "molly" in "mollycoddle" brings us to the noun form of "mollycoddle," which means "a pampered weakling" or "a sissy." "Molly" is indeed a "pet form" of the name Mary, often used in slang as a disparaging term for a prostitute or criminal's companion (as in a gangster's "moll"), but also contemptuous slang for a weak or ineffectual man. So to "mollycoddle" someone, in the original sense of the term, is to treat him or her in the delicate fashion a "molly" must be "coddled." "Mollycoddle" first appeared in English as a noun around 1833 and the verb form was in use by 1870.
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The Christmas Letter I'd Like to See

2009-12-24T06:00:00.002-05:00

Hello All!!!

Another year has passed and what a year it was!

Our move from Richville went relatively well and this apartment, if not the height of chic, at least has a roof. Of course, moving would never have been an issue if Hubby Dearest hadn't embezzled those funds. Well, the embezzlement was not so much the problem, but covering his tracks sure as hell was. What do they teach them in business school?

So now, he lives in a 12x12 cell and wears an orange jumpsuit. And lovelies, orange is SO not his colour. Makes him look quite green around the gills actually. Truly, they really must revise the colour palette in that place. He seems to be adapting well at least, he has a new friend called Bubba. Big man, seems to treat hubby well - quite taken with him Bubba is. Almost as if... naw. Anyway, it's nice to know he's doing ok.

It's also nice to know that idiot "girlfriend" of his is out in the cold, the bitch. Of course, she'll fall on her feet, they always do that sort ; there'll be another rich idiot man to pick her up and dust her off for another round.

I'd divorce his sorry ass, but I believe in standing by my man, especially when there's a secret account somewhere out in the Caribbean. In a few years we'll be living the life we were meant to live once again. Temporary setback. Yes, that's all it is.

The children are well, as always, at least I think they are.

Adolescent Boy has finally made friends. I'm so happy for him. True, they tend to be a bit rowdy (but they're teenagers, what can you expect) and love doing target practice from car windows, but I consider it building a skill set he never would have built up otherwise. Shooting a moving target while moving yourself seems like it would be really really difficult. I'm proud of my boy for stepping up. I do wonder though, why he has all those small cellophane bags of flour in his room. Maybe he's thinking of starting cooking school! It would be nice to have a cook in the family. People obviously cook much less than they used to if flour is sold in such small bags now. I wonder what the inside of a supermarket looks like...

Teenage Daughter has started a part-time job. She works evenings. A wonderful little go getter Teenage Daughter is. Personally, I think she must be rather cold in those stilettos and minis, especially in the snow, but you know how teenagers are. There's no talking to them. And she seems so popular! A few times, I came home from shopping (times are tough, so I have to keep my spirits up you know!) in the afternoon and she had friends over. Boyfriends. Never the same one though, she goes through men like I don't know what. Such a popular girl. She takes after me in that. I was such a popular teenager, though my mother wouldn't let me have boyfriends in my room. But times change, don't they?

Other Son... well, um.. I'm not sure I have one. There's a bedroom, there's a closed door and there's strange noises coming, I suppose from his computer. He's "gaming" apparently, whatever that means.

The other day, I had a visit from some nice men in suit regarding Other Son, they said they were from some place called Pentagon or something - sounds like that must be a really nice store catering to teenagers, but I don't quite remember, I was leaving to go shopping.... Maybe that was important? If it was, they'll no doubt be back. They mentioned something about hacking. Hacking what? Does Other Son have a hacking cough? Seems I would have heard him, but with the door closed all the time, well, I don't want to intrude...

And so, friends and family, another year comes to an end. It was a trifle trying at times, but this too will pass.

Wishing you a wonderful Holiday Season,

The Smiths

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And on that note, I bid you all adieu, most probably until the new year. May your holidays be merry and bright and empty of angst and expectations.

Happy Belated Festivus!

Um....

2009-12-23T08:55:00.000-05:00

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I know I'm showing my ignorance here but who's Brittany Murphy?
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Bah, Humbug! (Redux)

2009-12-17T10:43:00.002-05:00

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I'm doing it too - with slight edits. Seems everyone is recycling Christmas posts. It's the perfect time for regifting after all - especially those posts that were written before the advent of readers in this blog:

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

All of the other reindeer
used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
join in any reindeer games.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say:
"Rudolph with your nose so bright,
won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then all the reindeer loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,
you'll go down in history!

Now, I ask you, is this crap or what?

They hated him because of his difference, because of his red nose. Because he was a serious drinker, and a nasty drunk perhaps? Unless he had roseacea - they really should be more specific...

Point is Rudy was an outcast. And one night, because of the fog, he's shown favour by the fat man in red and suddenly all the other reindeer love him? I think not.

Au contraire. It would annoy the hell out of the others that he of all reindeer has been picked as the leader. The outcast as boss? Um, don't think so. Or at any rate they wouldn't be shouting out for glee. Grumbling and bitching? Definitely

And a red nose does nothing in the fog. If it were yellow, it could help, but red? Not so much, so what's up with that?.

You might point out that I'm anthropomorphizing these animals, but hey, I didn't start it - have you ever seen a reindeer shout out with glee? I rest my case.

Thus I feel safe in assuming they act like humans all the time - which is rather fucked up in and of itself, but that's a whole different ballgame (or reindeer game as the case may be).
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Guaranteed Feel Good Moment

2009-12-15T08:12:00.000-05:00

Early morning. You're getting ready for work.

You're sitting on the bed, staring into space - as you are wont to do It's just so damn early isn't it.

You snap out of it, sigh, and bend down to put on your socks.

The button of your pants pops off. The only reason it doesn't fly across the room is that you're bent over

Guaranteed to make you feel good about yourself on a gloomy Tuesday morning.
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'Tis The Season

2009-12-09T13:00:00.001-05:00

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Oh yes. Indeed it is. It's snowing on Montreal.

You all know my feelings about the proverbial white stuff. I've never made a secret of it - not a big fan of winter.

Unfortunately, unlike most of her green batrachian kind the Jazzer can't just dig under the mud and hibernate for a few months. It's that whole damn earning a living thing... Not a big fan of earning a living either. It's highly overrated.

And so.

It's snowing on Montreal. Coming down like there's no tomorrow. Or today. Depending on the media and how given they are to blowing stuff out of proportion we're expecting anything from 10 to 35 cm of snow (you Americans can convert it yourselves, there are tons of handy metric converters on the internet, gotta love the internet for sparing us the bother of calculating it in our poor overworked heads). Is it just me or is there a HUGE margin for error here? It's like weather prediction in the 21st century is still a crystal ball thing.

Most likely, we'll end up with something like 5 cm.

Aside: OK, I did it. I'm anal that way. I couldn't just leave it. So we're expecting anywhere from 4 to 14 (give or takes) inches.

And so.

People will be acting as if they've never seen snow before today. As if this were a first. As if they and their ancestors and the ancestors before their ancestors all the way up to the first moron off the boat who thought it would be a wonderful idea to settle here didn't get masses of snow every winter. Hell people it's not like you don't KNOW what winter is all about. Get over it!

Except me. Cause I don't bitch about the heat so I can bitch about winter. So there. Them's my rools.

And so.

Schools were closed already this morning before the snow even started. In case. I remember when schools would be closed only if the storm had already hit overnight. Yeah, I know. I know. I'm becoming my "back-when-we-were-kids" parents. You know, the you-young'uns-have-it-so-much-easier school of thought. In my defense, several people at work said the same thing when they got in. Either we're all getting old or everyone is a wuss today. Even in the latter case, we are all getting old regardless.

Sometimes I wonder, since it's getting so much easier for each subsequent generation, how mankind has actually managed to survive thus far. The mind boggles.

And so.

Traffic will be hell tonight; lots of people with no winter tires yet - because remember, we never get snow here in December, and everyone will be all traumatized that yeah, it's actually happened, we've gotten snow.

On a day like this, there's something to be said for public transport.

And so

Tonight and tomorrow it'll be news. Headliner on radio and TV. Front page in the papers. Because lordamighty we actually got snow in Montreal. SNOW!!! Who'da thunk it? Goddamn! It might actually displace Tiger and his ever more numerous female companions who keep oozing out of the woodwork.

People are morons.
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Check this out...

2009-12-07T12:21:00.002-05:00

How cool is this?

Jerome Murat
envoyé par Double-U-Double-U. - Regardez plus de vidéos comiques.
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Today's What the F**k Moment

2009-12-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

Cause I guess I shouldn't say fuck in a title, right?

Moving on (I'm digressing before even getting started; can you actually do that?)

Today's WTF moment is brought to you by Tiger Woods (damn but nicknames like Tiger annoy me - course if my name was Eldrick, I might go by some stupid nickname too - again with the digression!)

Ok, so the guy, was cheating on his wife it seems - oh lord almighty! The! Horror!!!!

Um... so what? Tiger is the first person to cheat on his/her spouse, perhaps?

Headlines like this: Tiger Woods scandal - Woods in intense marriage counseling are just waaaaay too much information - and none of anyone's business.

Why is this news on all the "serious" media from the CBC to the Washington Post rather than on Entertainment Tonight? This isn't news, this is something between him and his wife.

What's the fascination? Fer chrissake, the guy's famous for playing a sport where the point is whacking a tiny ball for miles and wearing ugly pants (unless they're over the ugly pants thing?) to great monetary advantage.

Why is this news? and more to the point, why does anyone care how he lives his private life? The operative word here being PRIVATE.

I know some will argue that actually he's a public figure, thus so is his life. That's bullshit. I don't care how public you are, you're still entitled to a private life, no matter who you're with in your car.

Why do people rejoice so much in the "downfall" of public figures - remember Clinton and all those other politicians? And have you ever noticed that it's almost always about sex? Why do people get so damn het up about sex?

Just a thought in passing, and moving away from Woods for a bit, I can't help but think many politicians have much worse stuff going on than sex scandals, things involving corruption and bribes and such. Things that should concern us as citizens, but nope, it's the guy who dips his wick in the wrong vat of wax who makes the front page. Maybe if people weren't so busy sniffing out sex "scandals" they'd sniff out the important stuff.

The Five Words - Finally

2009-12-02T12:44:00.002-05:00

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Quite a while ago - could it have been this summer? - Geewits did a post consisting of her thoughts on five different words and offered to give five words to whoever wanted them.

I did - hey, easy post eh?

She gave me the words; being me, I promptly ignored them. I'm good at ignoring stuff, it's my talent.

But I've finally gotten to it, so here we go...

Napping

There's nothing better than a good nap. On a Saturday afternoon. On the couch. After a nice cup of tea. In front of the fire. Oh yeah.

Or in bed in the summertime with cool sheets and nekkid butt. Or on a hammock.. or or or....

And it's ever so easy to just slip away that way - get comfy and you're off.

So why don't I just do more of it? I often feel like having a nap (at work, surprise surprise) but even on weekends, I rarely give in. Some sort of guilt thing I suppose. I am very good at sitting around doing nothing (another talent! just ask Mr. Jazz), but somehow, napping just seems too self indulgent. I'm not getting anything done (yes, this is a paradox for someone who can stare into space for 30 minutes at at time), but it seems I should at least be trying to vacuum or read or watch trash TV.

Image from the Firstpeople website

Boats

I'd love to sail. I would. I adore water - especially the ocean. But for some reason I rarely clamber into (onto?) anything bigger than a canoe (where I tend to go around in circles) or a pedal boat - and we all know how that turned out. Which might explain why I'm never invited on anyone's boat. That or the fact that I don't know anyone with a boat bigger than a pedal boat... Unless of course they're all hiding their yachts from me. Yacht. What a perfectly bizarre word that is. And why don't they spell it Yat?

Italy

I've never been. But it's on the list - as are so many other places. The world is so huge, life is so short. I'm sure I'll die before I see it all - or even most of it. I'm thankful to have travelled as much as I have, to have seen Ecuador and Nepal and Vietnam among other places. But I haven't even set foot in Africa, I've never seen Italy or Spain or Portugal. That's sort of sad.

Fact is, nowadays I tend to prefer traveling to see friends I rarely get to see. Maybe it's age creeping up on me (though most days I feel as if rather than creeping, it's roaring towards me like an 18 wheeler on the highway) but keeping in contact takes precedence over seeing new places. At this point anyway. I'm sure I'll see Italy eventually - and it won't be on a 15 cities, 10 days tour - but before then I'll no doubt see friends in Belgium, France, Australia and the US several times.

This had nothing to do with Italy right? Damn.

Dancing

Remember Elaine on Seinfeld? 'Nuff said.

Ok, I'm nowhere near that bad, I do dance to the beat rather than to the beat of my own drummer, but I've never felt comfortable dancing. Perhaps because I'm an introvert, dancing makes me feel uncomfortable. Wrong. Outside myself. Just somehow off. It just makes me uncomfortable dammit!

I've felt like taking dance classes pretty often over the years though. Perhaps because having the steps means you know what to do, how and when to do it. And not only do you not make a total fool of yourself, you impress the hell out of everyone else. Impressing the hell out of everyone would be good.

Eggs

I love them. I love the shape of them, I love the colours of them, I love their fragility and their strength. I love their variety.

I also love to eat them. Unfortunately, they don't return that particular lovin'.

For some reason, over the past few years I've developed difficulty digesting eggs. Not eggs used in cooking things like crepes or cake. Eggs as eggs. In some forms more than others. Omelets do not agree with me. At all. Nor do scrambled eggs. Fried eggs go over much easier (rereading this I just realized there's a pun there! I'm clever I am, or would be if I realized I was making a pun...), as do hard boiled. Egg salad sandwiches. Mmmmm. Poached seems to work-ish. But none of them leave my stomach feeling deliriously happy and content for more than half an hour. I react worse to some forms of cooked eggs. Is it the IBS? Maybe. Is this too much information? No doubt.

But as my love cannot be denied, I sometimes eat them anyway. That half hour of delirious happiness is worth the subsequent feelings of "why do you hate me so!!". Sometimes.

As I have really nothing for you...

2009-11-30T11:29:00.001-05:00

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You have to check this out.

Warty Mammal has this great post up. In it you'll find a link about bad (bad bad bad) toys to give a kid.

It's a riot, endlessly amusing. Go!

Go NOW!!

Anecdotally Yours: 15 toys not to buy your kids

And while you're at it it check out the rest of her blog. She's never fails to amuse.
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Soapbox Time

2009-11-25T14:19:00.002-05:00

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.

***********

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

2009-11-16T09:46:00.001-05:00

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

2009-11-13T07:00:00.000-05:00

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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

2009-11-11T07:00:00.000-05:00

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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...

20 Years Ago Today

2009-11-09T00:01:00.002-05:00

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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)

2009-11-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

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

2009-11-05T13:09:00.000-05:00

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...

2009-11-03T10:38:00.002-05:00

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...

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

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.

Dear Mayor Tremblay...

2009-10-28T08:31:00.005-04:00

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...

2009-10-26T21:53:00.002-04:00

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.

Aaaaaaand they're off!!

2009-10-11T08:35:00.000-04:00

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

2009-10-08T13:08:00.001-04:00

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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!

2009-10-06T12:03:00.000-04:00

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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

2009-10-03T08:00:00.001-04:00

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...

2009-10-01T15:27:00.005-04:00

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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.

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THANKSGIVING COMES FIRST !!!!

2009-09-30T08:00:00.000-04:00

In this case the American Thanksgiving. You know the one at the end of November ('cause it would seem they harvest so much later than we do here in the GWN*). The one where people stuff themselves to bursting and get up ungodly hours to line up in front of the Walmart doors to be the first to stock up on all that Black Friday schlock. After all, exercise is good after such a hearty meal.

And what's up with a holiday on a Thursday. Holidays (other than Christmas and New Years) should always fall on a Monday or Friday. Thursday is sorta whacked. Just sayin'.

But I digress.

So, Suldog just posted about seeing Christmas displays in the stores. In his words:

If you believe, as I do, that Thanksgiving should play out before Christmas; that Christmas carols should not be heard on the radio before at least Thanksgiving evening; that advertisers who dare to encroach upon Thanksgiving - or, God help us, Halloween - with their hideous advertisements should be told in no uncertain terms that you will not shop at their establishments; that malls who put Santa Claus on display before Veterans Day should be made ashamed of themselves; then please consider doing what I'm going to ask of you.

Should you be as incensed as I am concerning Christmas schlock, please post a "Thanksgiving Comes First" entry on your blog. Write from the heart. Everybody who visits your blog will know how you feel. Perhaps they'll also write about it, and so will their friends, and so on. I hope that, if enough of us do this, we might make some small impact.

Personally, I think Sully is a dreamer. But hey I saw my first Christmas display in AUGUST ferchrissake. That is beyond ridiculous! Atheist that I am, I really don't give a damn about the christian "little jesus born" aspect of Christmas. I like Christmas for the week of vacation I get. And the presents. Yeah, I'm shallow that way. In all honesty we could skip the whole damn thing (except for the weeks vacation, 'cause really, if I want a present I can buy it for myself) and I would be a happy camper. Christmas has become more of an obligation/annoyance than anything else.

But damn, I saw my first Christmas display in AUGUST! Granted, it wasn't a hot summer and someone might have mistaken it for fall - I'm ready to give them the benefit of the doubt, though I don't see why I should - but doesn't anyone flip the calendar anymore?

So: AMERICAN Thanksgiving comes first!!! Ours being on October 12, it wouldn't make much sense, and this post would have to be titled A Month After Halloween Comes First and it wouldn't make much of an impact at all, would it?

You have to wonder how retailers think. Do they honestly believe that people want Christmas junk this far before? I don't know anyone who will be buying twinkly little LED lights in August and early September when you can still be getting their greedy little hands on summer stuff for a quarter of the price. And let's face it, with the winters we get, the last thing I want to think about in September is Christmas and all it implies about winter and snow and slush and.... excuse me while I go hit my head against the wall now.

I have no problem with Christmas and it's place in the economy. Retailers love it. It saves some of them. But I fail to see how Christmas displays in September will entice people to buy more crap. But then I often underestimate the stupidity of the average consumer.

And so, I'm having my idealistic moment of the year (my one and only, and I reserved it for Suldog - he'd better be grateful). Perhaps if enough people do bitch about it they'll begin doing Christmas in November again. A woman can dream...

And Sully would see that it is good. And Sully would take a day of rest. And see that it was good. And pretty much shut the hell up.

OK, that won't ever happen in our lifetimes**. So much for my idealistic moment.

And thus, I reiterate:

THANKSGIVING COMES FIRST!!!

* Great White North
** Which is pretty much why so many of us are his devoted fans.
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Waddaya Gonna Do

2009-09-28T15:52:00.003-04:00

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Newsweek recently had a good article on the cost of health care and the choices that will need to be made in the very near future. Actually, they need to be made right now. And though this article centres on the US, the same thing applies here in Canada, home of free health care.

'Cause it isn't free, not by any stretch of the imagination. I just have to look at my paycheck - over 30% of it goes to the government. So yeah, we do pay for that free health care. And I'm not begrudging the paying. At all. It's just part of the package you know?

But the cost of health care is spiraling out of control. People are living much longer, having less children and in a few years there will be more elderly than there are young people to pay for their care. Old age is extremely costly to the system, and something will have to give somewhere.

Something along the lines of who do you treat? Whose life is more valuable? A 20-year old battling cancer or an 80 year old at the end of his life? Who gets the bucks? Do you spend the money on youth and pull the plug on the elderly? When do you stop treatment?

After all, they're at the end of their lives and however much you spend on curing them, they will die - sooner rather than later. Do you forget about treatment and just keep them as comfortable as possible?

But what about when your loved one is the 80 year old. Or yourself. Despite thinking, on a logical level, yeah, let the old go, when it's your own mom or dad things might feel a little different. Nevertheless, the line will have to be drawn somewhere. Maybe the Soylent Green system of um.. doing away with people at a certain age makes a certain kind of twisted sense*. Will it come to that?

I obviously have no answers, I never do. But what do you think?

* But not eating them as green wafers though. That's just... nasty.
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Inane conversation OR I'd do well on Twitter

2009-09-25T11:23:00.002-04:00

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You don't necessarily realize how bizarre a conversation is until you have it on IM. And it's saved. And you can read it again.

She - Patience, grasshopper

Me - Why grasshopper?

She - Why not? "patience, seaweed!" doesn't make any sense

Me - Well all things considered, nor does grasshopper

She - Makes more sense than monkey

Me - How so? It seems a monkey would be much more prone to impatience.

She - Alright, alright. Patience, monkey. Even better - patience, monkeyhopper!

Me - Monkeyhopper?

She - Mhm. I used both, see. Cause monkeys hop

Me - Patience, monkey.... patience, grasshopper. Grasshopper sounds better. Besides monkeys don't hop. They scamper.

She - Grassmonkey? Patience, grassmonkey.

Me - Crows hop. On the ground.

She - Grass-scamper. that's hard to fit into one word. Cause you need to use a - or say grasscamper, in which case it sounds like grass camper, which is just silly

So many of my conversations seem to end up sounding this way. Is this my conversational norm?

It's a scary thought.

Edit: I forgot to add that "she" is the infamous Choochoo
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Cotttage Vignettes Redux

2009-09-22T11:45:00.002-04:00

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I searched long and hard for a picture to go with this one, but nothing is... shall we say, appropriate for general viewing*. Thus it remains illustrationless. That, I think is a good thing.

One of the most wonderful things about cottage technology is the septic tank. Oh yeah, you gotta luuuuuuuve the septic tank.

Accumulator of all things nasty, the whole idea behind it is that the town has no need to pay for installation and upkeep of sewers. Instead you have your own personal little sewer system right next to the house. How cool is that? Yeah, not particularly.

Of course, unlike your municipal sewers, the septic system must be emptied now and again.

Last weekend was now.

You've all seen pictures of our lovely cottage perched on its hill. Well, the septic tank is perched on the hill too. Waaaay up there on the hill. About 70 feet up, 130 feet from the nice shiny poop vacuuming truck.

The driver and poop vacuuming operator wasn't thrilled at the idea of hauling his vacuum hose up 70 feet of hill. So he called into his boss "Hey, is there a truck around with two guys who could take this one?"

Answer: "Nope, you're stuck doing it."

Poop vacuumer: "You owe me" He listens a bit, laughs and hangs up. Then says, "He said, Yeah, I know, I did that place once and swore never again".

Nice to know my reputation precedes me. I can't help but wonder if there will come a time when they will refuse to do this job for me - and if that is the case, what will I be reduced to... He breaks into my philosophical reflection saying, "Well. You up to helping me get the hose up there?"

Never one to refuse a challenge (I really gotta think long and hard about that life rule, I do), I said sure.

Now it's not like I was the one hauling the hose up the hill. All I had to do was unroll the thing. And lordy that's a lot of heavy ass hose to unroll. A lot of huge damn hose. The thing is probably 5-6 inches in diameter. Of course, considering what flows through it... well, let's not consider that, shall we?

So all in all it was very interesting. I learned it takes a while to vacuum a septic tank, quite a while. I learned the trucks cost around half a million bucks - though why you'd get into the poop business in the first place is beyond me. Public service I guess. Very lucrative public service.

As he worked, I learned he'd been doing this for 25 years. "A damn good argument for higher education", he noted.

Interesting argument, but I beg to differ.

After all, Choochoo has a masters degree and her specialty is poop bugs. Hell, the woman could make a field trip to study my septic tank!

I guess it only goes to prove that whatever your level of edumacation, it's all about... well, never mind you get the picture.

* read : disgusting pics of septic tanks.
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Amazing Home Remedies

2009-09-18T07:30:00.001-04:00

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1. Avoid cutting yourself when slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold the vegetables while you chop.

2. Avoid arguments with the females about lifting the toilet seat by using the sink. (Though, isn't it as easy for us to put it down as it is for them to put it up??)

3. For high blood pressure sufferers - simply cut yourself and bleed fro a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure on your veins. Remember to use a timer.

4. A mouse trap placed on top of your alarm clock will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

5. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives. Then you'll be afraid to cough.

6. You only need two tools in life - WD-40 and duct tape. If it doesn't move and should, use WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

7. If you can's fix it with a hammer, you've got an electrical problem.

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The Mind Boggles

2009-09-15T08:37:00.003-04:00

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Damn I'm glad I'm Canadian...

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I thought I'd add this one Rice posted yesterday as a look at the other side. 'Cause all these people who are all rightous and don't give a damn about those who don't, they really should see what can (and does) happen with the insurance companies.

And as Rachel states in her blog post here, people brandish the specter of evil socialism and communism without knowing what socialism actually is:

"I’m really sick of health care opponents throwing the word “socialism!” around like it’s a bad thing. I’m also really sick of people cringing from that word in blind fear without at least understanding what that word really means. To put it in simplistic terms, socialism is public property or services paid for by taxes. The post office is socialist. The library is socialist. The police and fire departments are socialist, as are the water and sewage treatment plants. Social security, medicare, highways, prisons and the military, all are socialist. The public schools are socialist. The very foundations of our society, upon which we live and breathe and depend on every day, are socialist!"

Ze links

2009-09-14T09:01:00.002-04:00

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Last week, at Jocelyn's request, I posted the story of my beginnings with Mr. Jazz . In the comments, Ian noted that it would be fun to ask for people's stories. We did and as promised I've linked to them below. If you posted and I forgot you, please let me know and I'll add a link to your story.

You'll find BB's story here

Ian's is here

Here is Jeaux's

Pouty Lips wrote about it here

Geewits did it a while back, years actually, this is hers

And here is Birdies story, via Jeaux

And Birdie just pointed out that Big Island Jeep Guy also played. How cool, I didn't even know this blog existed until now...

A couple were posted directly in the comments:

Expat from Hell

Standing in the middle of the gymnasium floor, a mutual friend introduces me to a girl from Texas (a novelty in Southern California). "What do you have there?", he asks. "Waah, theez are maah tennis shoooz", she replies in that drawn out Southern slang. I was smitten on the spot - forever. I remain so 35 years later.

ChooChoo

I discovered he was married. That was a helluva turn-off. Never been quite that turned off in my whole, entire life, really.
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Friday Geography Lesson

2009-09-11T09:20:00.001-04:00

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The geography of a woman

Between 18 and 22, a woman is like Africa - half discovered, half wild, fertile and naturally beautiful!

Between 23 and 30, a woman is like Europe - well developed and open to trade, especially for someone of real value.

Between 31 and 35, a woman is like Spain - very hot, relaxed and convinced of her own beauty.

Between 36 and 40, a woman is like Greece - gently aging but still a warm and desirable place to visit.

Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Great Britain - with a glorious and all conquering past.

Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Israel - has been through war, doesn't make the same mistakes twice, takes care of business.

Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Canada - self-preserving, but open to meeting new people.

After 70, she becomes Tibet - wildly beautiful, with a mysterious past and the wisdom of the ages, an adventurous spirit and a thirst for spiritual knowledge.

The geography of a man

Between 1 and 80, a man is like Iran - ruled by nuts.
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Back to Reality

2009-09-08T13:45:00.004-04:00

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Labour Day weekend has come and gone. It's fun and sort of sad all at once. Let down and anticipation. The end of play and the beginning of work.

Unlike Ian, I always loved going back to school. There was a wonderful anticipation, the buying of supplies, the new notebooks an pencils, pulling out my pencil case (a leather one which my mother bought me in first grade and which I used until the end of university and still have today), the new clothes - and later the new uniform (bleh), it was all such fun. And I'm sure my mom was overjoyed too, as mothers are no doubt wont to be after a summe spent with the kids.

By the end of summer I was somewhat bored (though I'd never ever have admitted it) and school was a welcome distraction - if only for all the new books I'd get to read. I couldn't wait for the first visit to the library in the school year. Yes I was one of those nerdy kids who loved school and thrived in that environment. Even the fact of having to sit still for hours was overwhelmed by the sheer joy of learning.

For years after having finished school, and into my working life September still meant back to school, albeit in a nostalgic way. I'd wake up one morning with the anticipation of a new year, just to realize that, damn, it was just another work day at the office.

Now back to school means a whole different thing.

Back to school means my favourite lunch spots overrun with screeching teenagers. With boys in pants seven times too big hanging below (yes, BELOW) their butts. A couple of years ago, they'd just hang low on their hips so you could see their skivvies, now, they're under their butts, yep, they are. How the hell they stay up is a mystery I'll no doubt never solve (unless someone out there knows and can share with me?). And they don't even have good butts to show off for the most part. And I can't wait to see someone lose them sometime. But I digress yet again.

And the simpering teenage girls with their too tight clothes - how is it that female clothes seem to shrink proportionally to the "enbiggening" of male attire? If we go back to early 90s huge tunics and such, will mens fashion shrink again? The girls who shriek and holler even louder than the boys and have the added interest of way too much perfume and underwear hanging out?

So yeah, sharing my favourite lunch spots with a bunch of screeching teenagers, and the bus home with another batch of them. I'm sure I was no better at that age (though I was a nerd, so perhaps I was marginally better, the nerds seem to be) relatively speaking, but I'm my age now dammit and I've earned the right to bitch about the lack of manners and general bad attitude of the young'uns, yes I have. They're a bunch of uncivilized heathens they are.

And people, I have to admit I loathe them with a vengeance these days, they drive me fucking insane. I don't hate individual kids - well not most of them at any rate, though some deserve to be hated. Individually, they're usually quite entertaining, but as a group - damn they're annoying. If there is a civilizing influence in their lives, I shudder to think what they would be without it.

And so, I contemplate another 10 months of hellish lunch hours. Or of brown bagging it - I dunno which is the worst alternative. I imagine that I'll eventually get used to them again, it's either that or I'll have to jam my plastic fork up my nose and pull out my brains.
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A game...

2009-09-04T09:09:00.004-04:00

My buddy and fellow blogger Ian left an interesting comment on my last post:

"Here's an idea. We should ask fellow bloggers who wouldn't object to sharing, how they met their significant other and what was it that turned them on, aside from anything obvious. What think you?"

I think it's a splendid idea, so, here's the thing.

We'd love to hear your stories (I mean, c'mon people, who doesn't that type of story?). So post your story, leave a comment here that you did and I'll do another post with all the links.

And just to get things started....

You know all about the meeting of... uhem... minds, now let me tell you what else turned me on about the boy - and still does over 20 years later.

He's funny. He has me laughing all the time. If you can't sit around laughing with your spouse, what's the point, eh?
Those blue eyes...
His intelligence - he's wicked smart my boy is and that is a helluva turn-on. Eye candy is all well and nice, but when there's nothing to talk about it gets stale real fast.
The fact that he gives me space to be. When I was with the Ex (insert ominous drumroll again), I'd come to a party and people would ask, "How's Ex?" With Mr. Jazz, I'd go to the "same" party with the same people and be asked, "Hi Jazz, how are you!" . It was terribly bizarre at first. He never did anything per se, but the dynamics just totally shifted. And because of that I came out of my shell. The first time I was told, "wow, you're so funny!" I was flabbergasted. I had become a person and not an appendage. It was extremely liberating. And turn on-ing.
The fact that all these years later I'm still discovering stuff about him. He's still a mystery. In a good way, not in a "witholding asshole" way. I love how there's always something more. I'd be bored out of my skull if I thought I knew him so well there was nothing new to discover.

I could, if I dug deep into my tired little brain, find numerous other things to add to the list, but now, OVER TO YOU!

Please play.

For Jocelyn

2009-09-02T10:25:00.014-04:00

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As you know, I'm sorta tapped out these days, and I figure the best way to not stop blogging is to force myself to write. Because, all things considered I don't want to stop. Jocelyn asked for the story of my meeting with Mr. Jazz. It's not a romantic story, but it is very us. So this one's for you Joce.

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

Once upon a time, many many years ago, I moved to Montreal. Because I had to. Because Quebec city... well not so much. But since that is in no way germane to our story lets move along.

In Montreal I had many lovely adventures. And met this guy. The eventually to be vilified ex (insert ominous drumroll here).

He had some redeeming qualities I guess, despite the fact that my family unanimously hated him because they immediately pegged him as an asshole - and rightly so. After all, he, like Mr. Jazz fed me. But again, that information has nothing to do with Mr. Jazz so lets move on.

One of the good things about the ex is that he introduced me to a circle of "friends" with whom he regularly partied. One of those was Mr. Jazz.

The first time I met him, though, was at a concert. We (and he) had tickets to see a Genesis cover band. Now, despite the fact that I'm a girl, I love Genesis. To the point where I know (or at any rate, those many years ago - knew) the lyrics to their songs. The real songs from the real Genesis, not the pop band they morphed into under Collins. Don't get me started on the dreck Genesis became. But back then...

Anyway.

I later learned that Mr. Jazz, he was impressed. Cause being a boy, well he had the whole Genesis thing down. And he didn't know of many creatures of the female persuasion who did. And as a girl you have to love a show where there's no lineup for the women's loo - and there is one for the boys. Maybe that's why I've always been a fan of prog rock.

This, however was a couple of years before we ever got to the point of... um... exchanging bodily fluids. He was with someone, I was with someone (though to this day I wonder what the hell I was thinking) so we were all in happyish coupledom. We saw each other regularly at parties - which were held pretty much every week somewhere or another. And we talked to be polite but there was no inkling on the part of either of us of what was to come. Honestly, on my part there was no attraction. He was Mr. Not-Yet-Jazz, friend of the boyfriend.

And then.

And then the STBE* got a job. In Toronto. Temporarily. He was going, I was staying end of discussion, well on his side at any rate. I suppose he was doing the man-of-the-house-who-makes-the-decisions-while-the-submissive-little-woman-just-says-yes-dear thing. We'd been living together a year by then. WHAT was he thinking!?!

In hindsight thank god, 'cause I might still be living in the "Mistake by the Lake" today. In a suburb. In a house with three kids and an in ground pool. And soccer/hockey/baseball games. WHOA!!! Without him no doubt because I would eventually have come to my senses, yes I would. Yet, the very thought of babies/suburbs scares the living bejesus outta me.

This of course was the perfect excuse for a party. Perhaps also for a "we're well rid of him" party. That I don't know. They would've been polite enough not to tell me. Suffice it to say, in short order a send-off party was organized.

The beer and wine flowed in copious amounts - come to think of it they still do - and of course the type of conversation that shouldn't ensue... well it did. It sorta went like this:

STBE - Hey, Not-Quite-Mr. Jazz, while I'm gone, take care of Jazz.

Mr. Jazz - ....

STBE - You'll see, she's real good in bed**

Mr. Jazz - !!!!

And then he just walked away. Which was a good thing indeed because the STBE really didn't need anyone to witness me tearing him a new one, even though he already was one.

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

Cut to a few weeks later.

I'm at home and the phone rings. It's Mr. Jazz asking what I'm doing the next evening. I'm free so we decide to meet for drinks. (How sophisticated that sounds! Meeting for drinks. There's a certain Noel Coward-ness to it, even though at that age it meant a pitcher of cheap beer or sangria.)

And for the record, though I was still officially with the STBE (I was extricating myself - but damned if I had any compunctions about "cheating"), I had found out between the ill fated party and that call that his girlfriend was now his ex - to the surprise of many. They'd been together four years, which in your mid-20s is like, for-EVAH, dude!

On the evening of the "date" I came home to a phone message cancelling. He said he'd call back. Right. Any woman who hasn't heard that particular line, please raise your hand.

I'm waiting...

Yeah, didn't think so.

And yet, he called the next evening and we rescheduled though I swore I wouldn't, that his chance had passed. And for the record, he had a very good reason for cancelling.

We went to a Greek bar which, surprisingly for Montreal, still exists after all these years (Au Près de Ma Blonde). We used to spend a lot of time there, all of us, back then. I shudder to think how many gallons of alcohol the lot of us consumed there over the years. We probably kept them afloat during the lean times.

Ah Kanellos ( the owner). They just don't make 'em like that anymore. Over 20 years ago, he was already pickled. The man was always drunk. Always. At best he was very drunk. At worse... let's not go there. In all those years I never once saw him sober. I'm sure if he was cremated when he died, he must still be burning.

So there we sat, nursing our sangria when along comes Kanellos with a glass full of brandy which he dumps into our pitcher, claiming:

"You watch, special sangria! Good sangria, good sex!"

Again with the sex! Were people seeing something we weren't?

Dear old Kanellos, he was right, bless his pickled heart.

The next morning, to my dismay I had to go clean the carpets to my new apartment. The extrication proceeded apace.

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

And there, Jocelyn, is the story of our first and pretty much only date. Cause we basically moved in together right there, spending pretty much every night together from then on (22 years later we still do) though I figured he was my transition guy and I was his transition goil and when we got over the exes we'd go on with our lives.

Either we were deep in denial or we both have extreme transition periods.

*Soon to be Ex

** Whether I was or not is totally immaterial here, because after all, BB will probably read this and that is perhaps TMI for a big brother.
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As Shakespeare would say...

2009-08-31T08:52:00.006-04:00

Wow. It's been a while. Not because I've been on vacation or any such thing - more's the pity. Nope. Simply.... because.

I'm still out there reading and commenting on other people's posts. Everyone seems so inspired and I love reading it all. I, on the other hand, seem to have hit the proverbial wall. Why I've been able to keep it up for so long and suddenly, in the immortal (or not so much) words of Emeri: BAM!!, I have no idea.

These two paragraphs have taken me two days, and I can't help but wonder if I'm all blogged out and will ever again find anything interesting to say. Hell, I haven't mutilated, sliced or bruised myself horribly in at least two weeks, so really, what is there is to say?

Obviously then, the question becomes why do I do this? Why do I want to keep blogging if there's nothing left to blog? Why do I like it? Why do I sit here and tell people all the drivel that wanders through my head?

And oh lordy people, there is much, much drivel flowing through my little mind. Yea indeed, drivel abounds, drivel washes through my head in waves. And when the tsunami passes, it dribbles.

Drivel dribbles. And alliteraition abounds.

I obviously don't do it for the fame, because god knows I'm not a popular blogger with my 10-12 comments per post (though I do love you guys, your comments never fail to amuse, plus I need amusing so comment dammit!), and 2 or 3 others who simply lurk (hello Divine Ms. M, hello Mr. Scoots).

I do it even less for the fortune - Dooce I'm not; Dooce the mommy blogger extraordinaire who makes a living off her blog (I actually typed "blot" there, Freudian slip perhaps? I liked her until the ads started popping up all over the place and I got sick of reading about poop, her poop, her daughter's poop, her dog's poop, the lack of poop - I swear people it was(is?) a fixation! Actually I started getting over the Dooce thing when she morphed into a mommy blogger. Me and babies? Not so much, eh? But I digress.)

I have a friend who's been trying to convert me to Twitter and I wonder if I wouldn't be better off there, cyberhome of inane drivel. But I just don't get it. Yeah, I'm that old that I don't get Twitting. What the hell is the point of it? Are people on Twitter called Twits, I wonder? If ever I become a twit, I'll do it all in haiku, I swear.

And so, in a fit of pique, and despite my rule of shutting the hell up if I have nothing to say (which come to think of it, pretty much covers the last four years of my life as a blogger, so lets change that to my rule about blogging to say I have nothing to say), I decided to unload upon you, my 3.5 readers, just to see if I could get back into the groove.

We'll see.
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In the Immortal Words of Supertramp...

2009-08-21T08:55:00.003-04:00

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It's raining again...

I woke this morning to the sound of a torrential downpour and just laid there, listening, waiting for the sound to lull me back to sleep.

Surprisingly, sick as I am of the rain this summer, it's still one of my favourite sounds. Evah. I even have a CD of rain sounds. It's a love hate relationship we have, the rain and I.

As a child I loved rainy Fridays with a passion. Why Friday, I have no idea, but a rainy Friday was the perfect Friday.

Walking to school in Wellies and a yellow raincoat, jumping in the puddles, the sound of it falling on my rubber hat, the knowledge I'd be spending recess indoors, devouring whatever book I was loving that day - it made my heart sing. The rain is supposed to be melancholy, but for me, it racked up the anticipation regarding the coming weekend, it seemed so full of promise. I know, it's completely nonsensical, but then I've never been one to follow the rules of logic and reason all that closely. Hell, I'm the person who backs up towards a three foot drop when I'm sweeping - that should tell you all you need to know.

This love of Friday rain persisted into high school, and then, eventually, it petered out. Too bad really, it'd be nice if rain could still make me really happy - I'd have been delirious with joy this summer.

Please note: some seem to think that top picture is mine. I wish. I got it off the internet. Mea Culpa.
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Another of those things I love...

2009-08-19T12:54:00.005-04:00

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This weekend marked the end of this year's edition of 1001 Pots. It's an annual exhibit/sale of potters' work - the biggest in North America featuring 124 artists this summer. It's held every year from mid-July to mid-August. Outdoors, because rain won't hurt the art, and damned if it didn't pour this year.

There's all manner of stuff - cups and plates:

Kitchenware:

Bowls and more bowls:

Cool, funny and not so useful stuff:

Amazingly intricate stuff:

And stuff to hang on your walls:

This year's new thing: the silica garden, where shards of broken pottery go to live another life. Eventually all the cages will be filled with broken pieces. It's quite cool looking.

Only problem is, it's over for the year, which, however makes my wallet that much happier and heavier...
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Friday Funny*

2009-08-14T08:12:00.005-04:00

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Quote of the day

Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.

So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.

* Coz it's so much easier than writing a post and I'm lazy that way.

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Accident Prone? Me?

2009-08-11T10:14:00.004-04:00

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After the Great Deck Debacle of July 2009, I once more decided to see if I could, perhaps, learn to fly.

Didn't work.

I'm here to tell you that 48 year old women can't fly. Try as she might, this one just can't get her butt airborne for more than a couple of seconds. Maybe it's the middle age spread. Or maybe the laws of physics apply more unilaterally the older you get, but there you have it.

No flying was gonna happen last Saturday afternoon.

Let me explain. We were at the cottage and surprisingly (as in bowled over and stunned into speechlessness) the weather was good. I decided to sweep the porch. See that little black square in the white area there? That's the front door. The porch is maybe four feet wide on two levels, maybe four inches high each.

So there I stood, sweeping, facing the door (yeah, I know that was very bright, blame it on the fact that I hadn't seen the sun it what seems like eons - she types as the rain pours down. Again.)

As I backed up bit by bit I got to the end of that level of the porch. This tends to happen when you back up. I took one more step back, expecting to land on the same level, but, oops I was past all that and my foot landed 4 inches lower. Yeah, you do see where I'm going here.

As I tried to regain my balance on the second level of the porch, I stepped off there too.

'Cause dontcha know, I'm still trying to learn how to fly.

And so I fell three feet straight down, tried to regain my footing, didn't (of course, because then there'd be no blog post would there?), and tumbled halfway down the hill in front of the cottage. The hill that is flanked by 42 (count 'em! - 42) steps to make it up to the damned front door.

Luckily I came to a full and sudden stop on one of the numerous rocks that jut up from the ground otherwise I'd have ended up in the street and probably rolled down the hill into the lake.

And you know how it is, lakes, mud, bleh, so thank whatever deities live at the cottage for that rock.

And no, there will be no picture of monster bruises because they were all pretty much medium sized. Thus, I'm once more coloured blue and green and yellow over numerous parts of my anatomy. People must think I'm abused.

I'm not, I'm simply pathetic.

I can't help but wonder though, when in my life was the last time I've been bruise and cut free. Pristine as it were. Probably the day of my birth.

Yes, pathetic indeed.

But I have finally come to the realization that I'll never learn how to fly. More's the pity actually.
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Friday Funny

2009-08-07T14:41:00.004-04:00

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Because I have nothing interesting to say, because Mr. Jazz made me laugh with this one and because we all deserve a chuckle on a Friday:

Apparently the American Medical Association has weighed in on the proposed universal health care plan.

The Allergists voted to scratch it, but the Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.

The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, and the Neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.

The Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.

Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted.

Pathologists yelled; "Over my dead body!", while the Pediatricians said, 'Oh, Grow up!"

The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, while the Radiologists could see right through it.

Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing. The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow,and the Plastic Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter."

The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the Urologists were pissed off at the whole idea.

The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas, and the Cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no.

In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the entire decision up to the assholes in Washington!
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