Maybe You Ought Notta Know.

Coming late to the news, as usual, I just discovered who the asshole ex-boyfriend is in Alanis Morissette's song about the bad ex. It's Dave Coulier. Next thought: Who the hell is Dave Coulier? I had to activate the memory banks on that one to recall that he's the guy from that really awful 80s t.v. show, Full House. Yes, the one that gave us Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Thank you so much for that by the way, Full House! But  he's not the cute one, and not the main guy. He was the other guy. The kinda fat creepy uncle. A lot of faded denim and brightly colored sweater vests?  You know the guy. Yes, him!

Then it occurred to me, thinking about that song, that Alanis Morrisette went down on Dave Coulier in a theatre? And then my next thought was someone went down on Dave Coulier?  Dave, born in 1959, is 15 years older than Alanis.  So if she was dating him when she was 18, he was 33. Apparently he was annoyed that her teenaged self would call him in the middle of dinner. Uh, sorry Dad! 

I love that song and I'm so glad I found out so many years later that it was Dave Coulier she was talking about because it's not only affected her credibility in my mind, it's kind of made her out to be a whacko.


Leaving messes, denying crosses, being duplicitous. Dave Coulier

Time for A New Post!

I know right?! God, that's a horrible expression.  With each successive new expression I think to myself, that has got to be the worst. Turns out I am almost always wrong. "But I digress" (that's a horrible one from like 1826).

People, invisible people of the internet, how much do you hate it when you hate it when you check in on a blog and there hasn't been an update? If it's as much as I hate it, then the answer is an awful lot.  I made the trip all the way over here!  (Somehow it seems worse when it happens to me.)

The sad thing is I don't really have anything to say. Actually I do...Xylitol.  That's not a fancy-talker swear word, it's a health food item.  And if you want to rid your mouth of plaque, eat Xylitol.  Must be pure, not mixed with any other sweetener or sugar alcohol.  You can buy it at health food stores in crystalline form, just like sugar, or compressed into mints or gum.  It is tasty and it will blow your mind in terms of plaque reduction.  It is candy that is good for your teeth!  How awesome is that!? If my dental hygienist were smart or not so obsessed with talking about her upcoming wedding, her mind would be blown by the state of my teeth since I started eating xylitol.  If your gums ever bleed when you brush or floss, xylitol will fix you up.  Seriously, Google it if you don't believe me.  And then don't forget to let me know how it's going please if you do start on it.

This is actually a serious post today, about parenting. As a mom, I am annoyed at other parents. I find so many of them simply abandon their responsibilities because their kids give them some grief. But, really, that's when you have to step it up, when you're actually getting the grief.

When your kid mouths off, storms off, disobeys and you respond by rolling your eyes, or throwing your hands up, or complaining about how awful she is, you're literally training your child to mouth off to you. The message you're sending is this: "If you want to me to back off/stop talking/not discipline you" just mouth off because I'll throw my hands up in the air and stop parenting. Parent your kids, especially when it's hard.

I also think you should:

Get off fucking Facebook. You're not 17, no matter how much you want to be.

Stop pretending to "get" Lady Gaga. I could puke from the number of times I hear parents say stupid fucking parent things like "Well she's controversial, sure, but she's really talented!". Is she? Would you actually know what "really talented" is? Or are you getting confused by the meat dress? She wrote some catchy songs that seem very derivative of Madonna. She can sing. Feh, whatever. But please don't act like your goddam Phil Spector spotting talent, because frankly, I doubt you know.

Newsflash, 50 is not really the new 30. It's still 50. You also suck at math. Jesus! And btw, 30 is still ancient to your kids anyway.

No matter how cool you think you are, you aren't cool. It's a law of nature. You can't fight it with your Gaga love or new math or any other shit. So please, put all of that aside and just step up, embrace your nerdy self and parent your kids like they need to be parented.

Your kids (and the world) will thank you. Probably in some very indirect way like by asking you to buy more pizza pops or bitching about their texting plan.

International Woman of Communication -- whatever

We went to Mexico over the holidays. I had never been to Mexico before and I loved it, but I was a little disappointed to learn that pronouncing things with a Spanish accent is not exactly the same as speaking fluent Spanish.

Me to son: No, don't worry, I speak Spanish fluently. Cinco de Mayo, por favor.

Well, it turns out I don't because pronouncing English words with a Spanish accent, is also not technically the same thing as actually speaking Spanish. It would be a lot easier if the Mexicans would just do that though.

And by the way I also speak Italian fluently: Pizza! Cappuccino! Nona!

Problem: I would like to know what are the cool clothes for the kids today, but I have no idea what they are and no way of finding out. I keep running it over in my mind.

Solution: And then hits me! Go into the coolest store in the entire mall (suburban! lame! whatever!) and just walk right up to the coolest looking (scratch that - could end up being lamest person based on my inability to discern coolness), walk right up to a store employee and ask him or her to simply "hip me up".

Then they tell me something like "Okay, start by not saying 'Hip me up'". And then the whole thing continues south from there.

My cool days, such as they were, are long over, and now my cool-dar is also gone. (I know how uncool it is to say cool-dar!)

And much like people say about fading youth, how you are, today, the youngest you will ever be, this, right here, right now, is the coolest I am every going to get. From here to eternity. (Well, I possibly could be a bit cooler in eternity -- I am assuming there's a cape or something).

Apps I`d like to see

You know those people who really believe their own press.
The kind of people who cannot tell when other people are blowing smoke up their ass. Someone is all OMIGOD you were so great!
And they are all fake modest about it because in reality they actually believe every word the smoke blower is saying.
They believe it in the Thank God someone finally GETS ME kind of way.

I wonder about those people. Do they still believe it when they are alone.
They probably do.
But they also probably have those deep existential moments of doubt.

It would be good if someone would make an app for that.

In the midst of the doubt, your iPhone would pop on and yell something about what a goddam phony you are.
Like a Holden Caulfield app.

What about an app that will tell me when I am getting my flying car and my goddam robot maid. I have been waiting since 1975.

Also, is there an app that can explain to teenagers that it IS in fact exactly like that.

Americans, Gather Around...

It's time to talk about the messed up way you pronounce words. Version 2.0 ("Cause I know I have had to talk to y'all about this before. And by the way, I have no problem with "y'all" because it's just so awesome. )

Word number one: COUPON. Where do you get the "queue" (kyew) sound from? You're all over our Canadian asses about the "OOt 'n' aboot", which I don't think we even say, and yet you're doing it way worse with KYEWpon.

You all do it, and I know you're doing it and I think you're doing it just to annoy me.

The word is pronounced Coo-pon. There's no Kyew. Here ya go: Cougar, douche, Military coup. Admittedly I had a hard time finding examples with the "oo" sound, and most of the words I did find are French words. But still, I believe my point had been made.

"Man-aise" I can't even...Who the hell are you to just drop entire syllables? You've got a lotta nerve, I'll say that.

But them you get all prissy with "Aunt" pronouncing it "Ahnt". We say ANT, like the country of (super polite) street brawlers that we are.

I can't think of anymore right now, but they are out there...

I know it is boring to talk about Blog Stats...

So, prepare to be bored.

I just took another look at mine and it turns out there are a lot of people who need to know how to pronounce the word "mayonnaise". I get at least three people a week coming to my site to learn the secret to correct pronunciation of that word. (In fairness, I do have a small treatise on it about three feet down.)

Man, just try to envision the situation in which one would find oneself that would require one to google "how to pronounce mayonnaise". Something about it seems sketchy! And stop saying "one"!

People also visit my site to learn about coffee drinking and its effect on acid reflux. I don't have anything written on that, but I'll tell you : DON'T DO IT! Coffee can be a real heart burner.

Have a great day, awesome peeps!

I Wonder...

if they will be selling some "Baby's First Hockey Riot 2011" souvenirs in Vancouver. A onesie, or maybe a Christmas ornament?

Everybody Has A Calling?

I was watching those plucky ladies of The View today, and they were discussing, among other things, the idea that everyone has a calling.

When you hear something like that I think it's natural to ask, "What's mine?" I don't know what mine is. Is it a calling to be a little bit irreverent and always either offering (extremely excellent and very helpful) advice or doing everything in your power to stop yourself from offering said advice? Because if there is, that's mine.

What about rolling your eyes and getting really exasperated in a I-Know-You'll-Discover-I-Am-Right-But-Will-Conveniently-Forget-You-Ever-Held-A-Different-Opinion kind of way at Facebook and Twitter-ing? Using Facebook and Twitter on your stupid TV show, in a "Oh, we have a comment from Facebook" or "@Sluttygirl69" says ... btw, are the current "Is the caller there?" Anyone old enough to remember that, Larry King, Phil Donahue, Oprah? Is that a calling?

How about going to Costco and then kicking youself for buying just way too much stupid stuff especially the big bag of chips, which isn't going to help anyone? Calling or no?

Have you ever visited someone's blog, say someone with whom you have some level of aquaintance, however trivial, and looked at their blogroll? Sometimes it's a real short list; othertimes the list is long. Like really long. Super long. And their title is alyways something like: Check out àll my friends and their super awesome reads! It`s those ones to which I am referring, btw (In case I am being too subtle).

Anyhoo, you`re at the site, and you notice the list, and you`re maybe reading posts and just catching up and shit, so you aren`t really reading the blogroll exactly, but you can`t help but notice that you`ve read halfway to Hades and the blogroll is still going on. It`s one of those Blogrolls that includes every person the blogger has ever read, or watched; or admired in some fashion; or feels ironical towards or it`s simply a listing of every person the blogger knows, will know or could potentially know in some form in this lifetime, except for you.

That, my friends, is good for the humility. And fortunately, there`s no shortage of the humility to go around.

Please

Don't mistake kindness and good manners for weakness.

Just FYI.

What Happened to Shame?

What happened to shame? Nobody does it anymore.

I don't know if this is just a Canadian thing, but it seems no one ever says anything about anything anymore, other that to say something is "Amaaaaazing!" (Nothing is that amazing, btw)

But some things are shameful. Treating people like crap, beating your kids, gambling away the family house.

I do not suggest we go back to using shame as a way to judge people as a way to make ourselves feel more important or superior to others -- nothing like that. We shouldn't go back to being so awful and judgemental that people just go underground with their bad behaviour. But I do think we should really start pointing shit out.

Ironically everyone is so afraid of being shamed themselves they wont shame anyone, even if they actually do deserve it, for fear of being shamed themselves.

Well Man Up I say! It's time to start calling people out again. For assholism. For nastiness. For cheating. For abuse. For lying. For stealing.

That's what I think anyway.

Yeah yeah I know. I should be ashamed of myself.

I'm having a better today than I was last post, and frankly feel a little embarassed at my petulance and ingratitude (someone got a thesaurus...). After all, asthma is far from the worse lung disease there is, am I right, motherfuckers!?

Valentine's Day: My husband bought me a grocery store bouquet (feh) and my son told me I'd have to share my card with his Dad. That seemed a little gay to me. (Maybe I can still have some hope for a gay son).

And now I have to do what it always seems like I am doing -- go to Costco.

Still living large.

Sigh

I just found out I have asthma. Such a loser disease!

It was already hard to look cool in my Costco track suit. It's infinitely more difficult trying to rock the budget brand Lulu Lemon with an inhaler in your hand.

Really not having a very good day.

I just looks at my Blog stats...

and I discovered that someone is looking at this log from an iPhone. An iPhone! Get your ass into the future, fast, mofos. It is on its way.

An iPhone!

Giving my head a shake right now.

Why?!...

are there so many assholes in the world? Seriously. If you doubt I am right, then come to my son's school's drive through sometime. You'll see. You'll see all too clearly, my friend.

Also, why isn't there more candy in my life? Did I ban it or something? No! Somebody get right on that.

Thirdly, what's with these assholes who start sentences with words like "thirdly". What are you, a former junior college English paper writer?

And most importantly, I hate the fucking suburbs. It occured to me a while ago that in the 10 years we've lived here I haven't met one (openly) gay person. In the city, it was a gay a day, at least. Now, nothing. Total dry spell. No wonder it sucks so much here.

Man, I am in a bad mood. And I am so old now that shopping does not snap me out of it. If anything shopping seems stupid to me now. How the goddam hell is giving goddam Nicole Richie $70 for a crappy t-shirt supposed to make me feel better.

dreams

When I was a girl, I had a dream for myself at 16. I wanted to change my name to Linda, buy a silver Mustang convertible, and get myself two silver poodles to ride in the backseat.

In reality, at 16 I had a mangy cat and a bus pass.

Still, that bus pass was some freedom, huh! In 15-27 minutes I am going to be outta here!

Oldy, please

The other day I was watching the fourth hour of the Today Show, with lovable dinosaurs Kathy Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotbe. As they were making their comments about Lady Gaga at the VMAs it hit me -- these nice old ladies should not be talking about the VMAs.

Time was not too long ago, when young and old were separated by different tastes and interests. All manner of tastes were different -- clothes, hobbies, interests, ambitions, music: The kids had their rock and roll and the parents had their Easy Listenin' or Big Band or whatever it was. Then the Babyboom Generation (you know, the people who will not shut up about The Sixties) decided that they would not only "stay cool", but they'd never get old. Today, old people cannot seem to accept the fact that they are a) old and b) not ever going to be cool again. But so many older people act like they are still 'down with the kids', and not only are they not, but I am seriously starting to doubt they ever were.

Old people, let the kids have their own stuff. Stay off their Facebook, stop pretending to like their music. Let them be young and stupid in private or with their peers alone. You had your turn, and you got to do it without your mom texting you every 15 minutes. Please.

Change out of those RandR jeans and put on your Paul Simon records. It's okay. It's good to be your own age. Really!

Infernal TV!

Who here is fooled by the "interactivity" schtick that tv producers insist on putting on their stupid tv shows?

Anyone?

I mean the Good Morning America style "Tell us what YOU think about this story on our Facebook page!"

And they read maybe 2 comments, which is supposed to demonstrate how interactive they are. And every show is doing this now. Are there people at home who actually think they are somehow a part of the goddam show because they leave a little message on the GMA Blog? Are people that stupid?

People, please! Don't believe the hype it's a sequel! (Does anyone remember Public Enemy?)

Ant the news now has Facebook and Twitter icons along side their network logo! What the hell? Is it old people not really getting the internet so they think to be hip they have to put up a Twitter ad?

I gotta get off the grid before it drives me crazy.

Alaska Cruise

Well, Dear Reader, I am here to tell you that my family just returned from a cruise to Alaska. You heard me, Alaska. How dare you judge me!

Interesting facts about cruising to Alaska:

1. No way you're the fattest person on the cruise. Not even close. Go ahead and eat some more cheesecake because most of the people here are fatter than you.

2. No way you're old. See number one above, and while you're at it, have some more cheesecake because you're still not the fattest.

3. Sometimes seniors get cranky, and once they start up, it's hard to get them off topic. What's it to you, you may be asking? Well, nothing, unless you're stuck with them at dinner then the bitching about how far you have to walk to the elevators gets real old, real fast. I can only be all "Yes, that IS far to walk!" for like 15 minutes. 20 at the most. I don't need the wife chiming in, too.

4. Cruise ship directors are awful, evil people. I am talking to you, Gene. And Julie from the Loveboat. You know what you did.

5. Can we just call it Alaska? Do we have to say Ahhhh LASSSS K AAAAAAAh! everytime? Again, talking to you Gene.

6. Pronouncing it Ahhhh LASSSS K AAAAAAAh does not make the eight block town anymore exciting. I don't care what Captain Stubing told you, it doesn't.

7. Yes, I can confirm that cruise ships are floating buffets.

8. The entertainment on cruise ships -- ai yi yi I am going to have to sub classify this topic.
a) The Big Song and Dance Show: This is one of those situations where you are really wondering if you and the lady next to you, who is simply raving about how fan-fucking-tastic the show was are watching the same show. I don't think so because all I saw was a really cheezy rendition of If I Could Turn Back Time (yes it can get even cheesier that Cher does it) and some abomination with several singer/dancers that was supposed to be a 1940s retrospective. You know, for the old fuckers on board. To say the show was bad does not do justice to its (equally) sad component. Watching it made me feel partially puzzled and partially violated, like Kenny G touched me in a bad place, and you're thinking eww and also you're thinking that's weird because I thought Kenny G was gay.

b) There was also a juggler. Bet you didn't know they still had those! Well they do, and they are about as entertaining as you would imagine they'd be.

c) There was a comedian. He was good.

d) And finally the sad comic-magician, who simply begged for people to give him good ratings on their cruise survey. We saw him in the buffet, eating with a friend. We were glad he had a friend. Seriously, the dude made us sad for him.

McSweeney's

Does anyone read the really great McSweeney's Internet Tendency? If you don't, you should. It's really funny.

Anyhoo, they do these Lists over there, and I was just reading them and I made my own:

Canadian Superheroes Who Are Well Known in Canada but Not in the US Because, Typical!, You Don't Even Bother to get to Know Anything About Canada, Unless It's Bad News, Then You're All "Woo hoo double murder in Canada today"/Nicknamess for Former Boyfriends of Mine.

Fake Polite Man -- pretends to like your parents then talks about how "weird yet boring" (like that's even possible), your entire family is behind your back.

Canadian Ivy Leaguer -- apparently there's a Canadian uni that's part of the Ivy League. I forget the name now. Stuns you into bored silence by constantly reminding you he attended an "IVY LEAGUE" school.

Heartbreaker Man -- The dude who can emotionally cripple people for like three months at a time because he just breaks up with you for no reason, but politely.

Hockey Man -- the guy who rescues other dudes from bad situations like, for example, the time when you were really having a heart to heart with your then boyfriend and almost had him to the point of talking about taking your relationship to the next level, by phoning up and telling them to put on the CBC right now to catch the most awesome goal on the replay.

Hypno Crazy Coloured Money Man -- This dude will hypnotize you with all his flashy, "crazily" coloured (big goddam eyeroll from Canada - like green is so sensible. It's not, you're just used to it) bills, and make you think he's going to spend it on you, but turns out he's super cheap, so that's kind of his power.

Superman -- I said yeah, motherfucker. Superman is Canadian.

New post

Blank Page

Stop taunting me!

Actually, it's okay.

People, have I told you how lucky I am to be the kind of person who needs you?

Is there anything in the world sadder than the trying-to-be-hip housewife? And she's all "That's not how I roll" . We just got you to stop saying "In da house", please do not start up with this "How you roll" business now.

I ask you, sincerely, is there anything sadder than that? Maybe the fake giant boobs. And the tan on the age deteriorated skin.

Be old, that is cool! Be your age. Be your life experience!

Don't try to be young. Don't you remember what a total asshole you were when you were young? I do. I was insufferable.

Be yourself, just the way you are. You're awesome as is.

I think I might be a PC!

You know that famous TV commercial -- the Apple Computers one -- that's supposedly the greatest commercial ever made -- the Citizen Kane of TV commercials. There's a room full of people dressed the same way, looking grey and extremely dour all bring dictated to, Big Brother (a la the novel 1984, not Julie Chen) style. And then suddenly there's a jogger and she for some reason has a sledgehammer and she throws it at the screen, smashing it and thereby ushering in a new era of computers.

It's all about comformity, maaaan and The Man, maaaan. I get that, but the company that seems to demand conformity and uniformity is Apple, not Microsoft. Microsoft if the company that has every Joe working on programs and add ons and such and Apple is all anal retentive about who can even sell their products.

I like Apple products despite myself, and frankly, I would probably be an Apple customer if it weren't for the creepy feeling it gives me. Plus, I don't drive a Volkswagen, so that may be a problem. I also don't wear "extreme" eyeglass frames. Come on! You know what I am talking about!

Plus, Steve Jobs, get a new outfit already, dude. The black turtleneck / faded Levis looked awesome in 1995. (Casually checking my calendar. ahem) And maybe stop getting so defensive.

"We're not perfect". Did somebody say you were?

A Joke About Canadians from Conan O'Brien

With massive overpopulation threatening the globe, Canadians maintain a population of less than 35 million. How do they do it? Zero sex appeal!

Chickka boom

English People, We Need to Talk*

That is, if anyone of us can understand what the hell it is you are trying to say!

Yesterday I was enjoying a leisurely scroll (my God, where else are you going to get a quality pun like that one. Not since The Family Circle!) through the Blogosphere (normally wouldn't use that word but need it to keep the dazzling metaphor going) when I happened across a weblog called Whateva Sista that illustates my point about the British vocabulary exceptionally well. You should go check it out.The whole language is practically porn.

1. "Feeling a bit peckish". Sounds dirty

2. "Toad in the Hole". Sounds really dirty and not particularly flattering to either the toad or the hole.

3. "Popped in". Again, dirty sounding.

4. "Sausage roll". As a noun, unappealing. As a verb, dirty!

Let's get it together, Brits!

* Suddenly angry English people who feel like commenting about what an idiot I am and how much I hate English people, let me tell you this. Of course I hate English people, but that is only because of Hugh Grant; and I already know I am an idiot because I have the English 121 paper about Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" in which I refer altogether too much to the "existential horror of man's existence" to prove it. So don't be thinking you're telling me something I don't know. And if you're still tempted to email me, I'm just kidding. Honest. But not about Hugh Grant.

I am reprinting this oldy but goody because of the BP incident in the gulf, to which we can add phrases like "Every effort is being made to plug the hole".

Americans, a few things:

I love your president! He's so awesome.

Your iced tea sucks. It's tea with ice. (I am making a big fat face of incredulity right now) Where the hell is the sugar and the fake lemon flavour?

Big Brother is starting again! I love that show!

Is our currency really that funny? "Monopoly money"? Come on, is that the best you've got? I am finding it harder and harder to politely fake laugh about it.

Man, those Cheez Its are delicious. We can't buy them here, so we have the Canadian version called Cheese Nips. They aren't as tasty and the name just seems wrong.

Your highway road signage is fantastic! Bet that's not a compliment you get every day.

Your litterbugishness needs some work. I am just saying. As a general rule, parents, please teach your kids not to throw trash out of a moving car.

And finally, Al Gore and the happy ending request. Thanks for a whole lot of new fodder for my nightmares.

Happy Birthday to the best country, evah!

Today's Thoughts

1. Kelly Ripa has a tranny body. Think about it: No boobs, no hips, super lean, very muscly arms. Like it or don't, that is a man's body.

2. Bryant Gumble is the best moderator The View has ever had.

3. The older I get the harder it is to lose weight. I am talking freakishly, super goddam weird hard.

4. I am turning into one of those "the more I get to know people, the more i like my dog!" weirdos. I should get a bumper sticker.

5. I think I might hate Facebook even more than I hate the internet. And that is saying a lot!

One More Thing About LOST

Ghosts talk, people live for hundreds of years, there's a magic well spring of light, a monster made out of smoke and the sideways world is purgatory.

Shyeeeeah.

If you don't watch the show, move on. There's nothing to see here.

Oh Beruther, The Jonas Brothers

I cannot tell you how goddam sick I am of hearing girls argue about who's the cuter Jonas brother.

For the love of Mike girls, grow up! There's really nothing to fight about! It's Nick.

Boo hoo, ahhh boo hoo ugly cry boo hoo hoo...LOST boo hoooo ba, mub hoo boo

LOST, I am going to be lost without you.

OMIGOD I loved Dr. Jack Sheppard, and seeing him, in the last episode, limping away, holding his injured side, walking slowly and carefully on to what he for sure knew was his own death. It made me cry, and was truly was one of the saddest things I have ever seen on tv. I think Matthew Fox is way underrated as an actor. Plus the handsome. Which, with the sideburns and the side part almost made my tv blow up.

I will miss that show so much.

Also, Terry O'Quinn, what a phemon. Incredible as John Locke, who was for me the most tragic and sympathetic character on the show. And also handsome!

What will I do now on Tuesday nights? Is there any way Matthew Fox could come over?

Marital Advice from Some Broad On the Internet (what more could you want?)

Here is my recipe for a lasting marriage:

Lower your expectations.

I say it glibly, but that doesn't make it any less true.

The Upside of Neuroses

Yesterday I told the old b 'n' c that I had developed an irrational fear that there was a family of mice living in my laundry basket.

Crazy?

Just crazy enough that I don't have to do laundry anymore.

Ode

Oh Other Mom with grey roots who I saw at the mailbox and who lives in my subdivision,
We should be friends.
How awesome you are with your grey roots showing about two months worth of growth -- high five.
Why don't we know each other
And provide each other with a safe haven from all the other moms in the subdivision with "trendy" tattoos and boob jobs
We could hang out
And wear our Costco pants
While we drink coffee
And talk about how we don't like to use pesticides in our yards

I hope your expedited letter showed up
I know you were waiting for it

Have you noticed that some people add a tag line to their blogs explaining that the blog is funny. Like:
Blog Title

Then tag it! (And capitalize every word, because what the fuck):

Subtle, Witty Humour About A Day In The Life Of A Single Working Person

My thoughts on this are as follows:

1. It is borderline sad when you have to tell people that your blog is funny.

1a. Props to you for adding in the "subtle, witty" part because that covers your ass in an argument with a stupid person ("Oh, it's subtle wit--I thought it just wasn't funny).

1b. If you don't get my humour, it's subtle wit. I'm just saying.

2. Who started the whole "day in the life" thing? And why did they start it exactly?

3. If you are telling me something is subtle, it ceases to be subtle. Again, just saying.

Thinking of my son's experience at school,

I'd have to say that it is really difficult to be a boy these days.

I could say an awful lot about this, but I am not in the mood this morning. Suffice it to say that these days schools are set up to accomodate girls and girls' learning styles.

Boys routinely get into trouble for learning in the boy style, which is unacceptable to most elementary and middle grade teachers who are themelseves former girls, (being women now, wisenheimers) and who see their idealized version of the classroom learning experience through the eyes of a girl.

My son and his friends got into big go-to-the-principal's-office trouble for being too noisy outside on the playground at lunch. Parents everywhere should be very alarmed to hear that. It is not a good sign.

But maybe more on this later when I don't feel so totally demoralized about it.


And just as a p.s. Fuck you, John Mayer and your goddam stupid "boys you can break; you find out how much they can take. Boys will be strong..." lyric. I have no doubt that that was your experience of childhood. Your excessive confidence, which frankly looks a lot like narcissism probably shielded you from most childhood hurts. But I can assure you, that not all boys are fixable once they are broken. And some are broken way too easily.

But thanks alot for making things even more difficult for boys. You're quite the goddam hero, asshole.

2010 Closing Ceremonies (like anyone cares now)

For those of you who missed it, here's my mini-review of the 2010 Closing Ceremonies:

(prepare to be mini-enlightened!)

These are my thoughts as they occurred:

1. Wow, I didn't know Lindsay Lohan was Canadian.

2. Oh, she's not. That's someone else.

3. How long does this song go on for?

4. It's amazing how much longer it feels sung in French.

5. This whole thing is like a really fancy, really eleaborate high school theatrical production.

6. Complete with speeches from the Principal and other people you aren't really interested in hearing. At this point I was tempted to pass a note to my husband. Then I remembered that I was not in highschool anymore.

7. Wow, Bill Shatner; no one is getting your jokes.

8. Wow, Michael J. Fox; no one is getting your jokes.

9. Wow, Catherine O'Hara; no one is getting your jokes.

10. Neil Young reminded me of the counsellor at camp who brought his guitar and then he'd bring it out and you'd know you'd have to sing around the campfire. Either that or risk him being free to wander around the camp talking to girls about how awesome it is to explore their sexuality. Except at camp, the dude wasn't usually 1000 years old. But still, it was cool because it was Neil Young. Or at least I am guessing it was because it looked like a super old dude who could have been Neil Young's grandfather. (Kinda weirded me out).

11. Alanis Morisette I liked. Stupid Ryan Reynolds!

12. Simple Plan is Canadian?

13. Hedley is Canadian?

14. Nickelback. I want my nickel back!

Some things I have noticed, (almost) post Olympics.

Stephen Colbert is kind of a dink.

Goddam Brits! I just saw a journalist or Radiotimesist, or whatever the hell they call themselves on tv talking about some act of buffoonery being "unCanadian".
Number one, what they hell do you know about what it is to be Canadian? How typoical British, to think you know. Honestly. And number two, don't ever tell me that something dorky is unCanadian. We in Canada know nerdy and uncool. Just check out our PM. (BUt he is awesome! Please don't audit me, Rev Can)

The Ruskies are sore losers. Two days after Canada beat them in a hockey game they started trash talking our our country, our military and our whole way of life in their paper, Pravda.
Really, it's just one game, dudes, and Canada has been there plenty of times before. I think Russia almost always beats Canada in the Olympics. Our only chance at ever winning a gold is when we are paired against the USA (holla!). Kidding! We also have a chance against Finland. Kidding again (the USA just kicked our butts in the last hockey game we played). But Russians, when you act like such assholes, it really makes me feel like I need to apologize. (You know, being Canadian and all). So let me say, on behalf of Canadians everywhere, I am really, really sorry that your Russian hockey team sucks so badly.

Hoarders

I love the show Hoarders. It makes me feel like such an awesome housekeeper.

Canadians!

I am watching Olympic hockey right now, (I'm Canadian! We have to). It's Canada vs. Switzerland, in case you are actually reading.

Canadians in the crowd, please lose the stupid "This is OUR game" signs. They are nerdy!

Can Just Any Idiot Have A Blog?

Yes! The answer is yes!

Take me for instance. I have difficulty operating an answering machine.

I just left a message for a friend (a friend mind you, not a super cute boy when I was 14) and here's how it sounded: (with an analysis in red)

Me: Oh hi. Wow, my timing sucks! Kay, first, who is this?

Me: Haha! Nice laugh!

Me: Where are you? Has someone invented the answering machine that answers personal questions now, because if so, I'd like to get one!

Me again: Oh anyway I guess you're not home. What was your first clue, Matlock?!

Me: I am just heading out to Safeway, but, if you feel like a chat, give me a call. Because I am leaving the house and won't be home?

Still me: Or not, but call me if you need anything (she had recently had a medical procedure). Do you need anything from Safeway? Again, won't be home to take the call for help.

Me again: Okay, talk to you later!

I'm a dork.

Shout out to my peeps!

Do people sign up for blogs and then never visit them again?

I am guessing yes.

But, if you have read ahead (or back) you'll know that I do not cotton to site meter, so I can't be a hypocrite and have it on my own site! Plus, I don't really know how to add it. But yeah! It's for my principles, word y'all.

(Do people still say word?") How lame am I!?

Have a good day, y'all.

Oh, and no...

I am not on Facebook and never will be.

Facebook--gah! what a perfect example of nerd's idea of what a cool name is.

Arrrrrrrrrggh!

Milly

Sometimes I fantasize about telling my mother-in-law about what her kids really think about her. How they had unhappy childhoods because of her domineering control and selfishness. How they lived in fear of her rages and how her constant disapproval made them live fearfully and still does.

But I worry that would be a bummer at Easter dinner

Parenting's Hard

I have one child who I like to say does the work of three. He doesn't really, 2.5 tops. I love that kid so much; parents know there are not words to adequately express how much you love your child. The paralyzing fear you feel at the thought that something has gone wrong. It just takes your breath away.

You are so happy to do without so they don't have to -- this is not martyrdom, this is natural. It's being a mother. Moms are not walking around in sweats and mom jeans because they have no self esteem or self respect; they are doing it, I think because they get their joy from their children's joy. Say what you want, mofos, but I think this is a rather beautiful thing, this selflessness.

And your children -- how they bring you such joy! Sometimes! But sometimes they act like assholes.

I think it's time to end the phenom of injured talk show hosts coming out to do their tv shows anyway. I'm looking at you, Ellen DeGeneres, even though I really like you.

I first saw The Amazing Randi wheeled out on a gurney on some Skeptic Special -- he was all bed bound incapacitated, wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to an IV. Frankly it kinda put me off skeptics.

Then, I saw Ellen do it with her back injury. If you are injured, please stay home. I do not need to see your hobbling, pain killer stoked ass on my tv. I have enough problems!

Then I saw Regis Philbin do it today. He came hobbling out on a walker, dressed in a bathrobe. I just about had a conniption fit, and then he tossed off the bathrobe and showed us he had recovered from his senior citizen related surgery. Sweet, Regis -- you got me!

But when Regis Philbin handles injuries the best, and he's 70 something, who's really winning here?

Future Fashion

Just saw a couple of minutes of Star Trek:The Undiscovered Country on tv. By the looks of what the space dudes were wearing I'd say we can look forward to a lot of chenille style robes and tunics! I am super excited! Happy New Year y'all!

Who can I tell this to, except my Dear Diary (aka 'Blog - stupid word) and my awesome peep who is following me. High five, peep, right up top!

I know this is rather down talk for this time of yera, but frankly Christmas is bumming me out. We're having the relatives over on Christmas day for dinner for the third year in a row and no matter how much effort I put in it will be wrong. I seem to suffer from two problems: I do too much/spend too much/make it "unnecessarily fancy" and at the same time I don't do enough/don't have enough craft activities available for the kids to do/make it too casual. It's a difficult pair of problems to overcome. I try hard to be chipper and stay above the fray, but inevitibly I get down about some remark from one of them that strikes me as particularly unkind, and I can always count on my husband to tell me I am being "too sensitive".. Do not fall for that on e, dear Peeper, it's just the modern day, less vulgar way of saying "she's on the rag" and they can use it all year round. I love men!

Earlier I asked my son to finish up what he was doing (like 5 mins) and then come and help me clean a little. I haven't seen him for three hours. Junior man!

And then the bumming me out part is that the years just seem to be going by so fast now, and it feels like just months ago that I put the damn Christmas decorations away and now here I am doing it again. Shopping and cooking and decorating for an entitled group of people who will come over, eat, roll their eyes about how long the turkey is taking, or the fact that the coffee pot is empty, believe me when I say, "No, no that's fine I don't need any help cleaning up!" and then head out the door about five minutes after I am finished working.

Aren't you supposed to end these things with some cute thing about how despite all that you're so glad to do it because it's Christmas and it's all so great!? Well I am not ending it like that.

Julie and Julia

I just finished watching the dvd version of "Julie and Julia". And I am a little sad to say that I expected to like it more than I did. I think it was because I found the Julie Powell character rather unlikeable. I didn't like her for a bunch of reasons, but here's a good example: When Julie made her "pilgrimage" to Julia's kitchen in the Smithsonian, and she pulled out the pound of butter and laid it in front of Julia Child's picture, as though it were a shrine, and said "I love you, Julia!" (You know, all plucky and hat-in-hand sincere and she seems to add, in that spunkly, plucky li'l look "I know you don't like me, but goll darn it I am going to like you anyway!...I momentarily softened. And then that moment passed as quickly as it came and I thought, how goddam contrived! My heart shrank two sizes that day.

And that was the nicest thing she did in the movie!

I feel mean saying that, but it is the truth.

Demoted!

I just got a group email forward wishing me a Merry Christmas and a happy new year. Not to be a nit picker here, but I think New Year's Day has acquired enough cultural significance as a holiday that it now deserves to be capitalized, but whatever, it's Christmas!

My point here is this is from a friend who was once a really close friend -- like best friend close. We've grown apart to be sure -- we haven't spoken in a year or more, and before that our frindship had been fading fast, but still, it bugs me to get this group forward. The email itself seems like the kind of thing one sends to the co-workers who don't warrant even one box of candy out of the 20 dollar multi-pack box of chocolates one buys at Costco.

It's not even a personalized message -- it's group forward! It seems kinda half-assed, frankly it seems kinda one quarter assed to me, but it's Christmas time and I am being generous of spirit!

Inevitably someone will say something like maybe you should be glad to have been remembered at all! But I don't feel that way; I feel a little slighted by the conscious degree of non-effort that went into the greeting.

And that's really all I have to say about that, Forrest Gump.

Yes!

Went to a Christmas party last night where there was "entertainment" put on by some kids. Who doesn't want to watch a bunch of kids they don't know butcher "Frosty the Snowman" in song and then proceed to act out a three act play about said snowman that they have written themselves. Written themselves! No editing! Really needed editing!

Tell me who because I'd like to know where they got the guts to admit that.

I honestly didn't know time could move that slowly; and I have had some really boring profs in my time.

Shout Out to My Peeps, Peep!

I just found out I have a follower. I cannot tell you how awesome that is, _______ (don't want to use your name in case that's not cool, but you know who you are!). High five! Let's come up with a handshake! Shriner style!

You, dear ________ have totally made my day! Thank you.

But seriously, get working on the handshake.

Starbucks Via

Well Sir, I have tried Starbucks new instant coffee. In fact, I have had it twice now, and I will say this: If you can't tell the difference between a cup of Starbucks regular brew and a cup of this Via instant coffee, you may be spending too much money on coffee.

Sure it's good for instant coffee, but that bar is not very high.

Really Funny Book

I bought a book for my husband called Don't Be That Guy: A Collection of 60 Annoying Guys We All Know and Wish We Didn't by Colin Nissan and Sean Farrell.

It is honestly the funniest thing I have read in a long time.

Peeps, Please

OMIGOD the Ladies of the View and the "Is it 'Twitter' or 'Tweet?!'". They are all exasperated and beside themselves trying to figure it out! Former school teacher Joy Behar takes the opportunity to give the ladies a grammar lesson, which seems lost on Sherri and Elizabeth. (Never try to explain anything to a Sherri with an i. They just don't get it). Funny part about that is the teacher was wrong...because...
they have the dude that founded twitter on and he explains it differently.

Did the Twitter people sell their souls to the devil to get all this free publicity.

Am I wrong to just totally not care about how Ashton Kutcher is spending his day. Because I don't.

Honestly, the whole thing bugs me.

When is the internet going to be over, because I think I am ready.

Yah, Hi Again, America

It's been over three months since I praised you for being awesome again and I still haven't heard back from you.

That's going to lose you some awesome points.

Natural consequences. (It's a responsible parenting thing--don't blame me. Blame those fuckers at the Lifetime Channel)

It is just so great that the USA is awesome again.

Welcome back. We missed you and your awesomeness.

I Rate My Own Blog

......Is there a grade higher than A+? Like maybe an A+, on merit, because you earned it, PLUS you screwed your prof.

Because that's what I'd give it. A++

If I were on Ebay, rating myself as a seller, I'd be all A++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++!!!!!!!!

Just writing this blog is like screwing myself.

The Shangri-La Diet...

joins the quark as further proof for the existence of God.

I'll tell you why.

First the quark. Remember when science taught that there was nothing smaller than the atom? Then the scientists found the quark, which was quite a bit smaller. It is like once we have something figured out, God pulls the old switcheroo and changes everything.

Okay, now take EVERYTHING modern science (including the fields of nutrition and medicine) has told us about what is healthy eating. And think of the two most fattening foods you can -- fat and sugar, right?

Correctamundo.

Now, tell me one diet plan that would for goddam sure would not ever work....that would be doing something totally insane like, oh, say, drinking oil and sugar water, right?

And that is the diet. That's what you do to lose weight. I'm not kidding.

Who else but God could make a plan like that work?

Time for An Update, Motherfuckers!

I don't really have anything to say, I just really wanted to find a way to work that title in.

I feel I am so hardcore, for a Mom. Who lives in the suburbs. And buys her track suits at Costco. Then wears them to drive her son to school. And then thinks to herself "Hmm what should I do today?" The decides to rock a Costco trip. It's fucking META hardcore.

That's how I roll.

Site Meter=Bad

I don't really like it when I see someone has site meter because it acts a bit like a telephone answering machine. (You don't need to know why I don't like answering machines either, because this is about site meters, but let's just say, Mr. Boolean, it involves "me" and "acting super dorky" and "People who once admired me maybe losing a little respect because of the loser messages I leave trying to be funny and realizing I wasn't and then trying to save the situation which only makes the message weirder, less funny and generally, the entire situation a lot worse.")

But back to site meter. Why is site meter like an answering machine you want to know? (Wow, you really can't get off that answering machine, can you!?) It's because it leaves a trail. When you visit a site it tells the inconsiderate-enough-to-use-site-meter webmaster where you have been and where you are going on the internet. And I am not cool like most people on the Internet, so I typically don't remember this fact until I have left myself sandwiched between my visits to Rosie O'Donnell's blog and a Google search for Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. (My mind is complicated and it works fast.)

And that's pretty much why I don't like Site Meter.

Well Now I'm Pissed

Rosie has left The View. Thanks alot Elizabeth Hasselbeck! May your googily eyes continue to google, but somewhere else because I can't stand looking at you. If they don't replace Rosie O'Donnell with either Kathy Griffin or Roseanne Barr, then screw that goddam show and the horse it rode in on.

Also in addition to making Kelly Ripa go away is there some way someone could make Sam Champion get off my tv screen as well? I have never been a big fan of his, but the last straw for me was when he was on location in some bad weather area--I think they were expecting a hurricane, and Sam Champion, NEWS REPORTER was reporting weather NEWS, from the beach in his BARE FEET. (To make matters worse he had rolled up his pants. Remember those fuckwads, from the 80s, who'd roll up their baggy jeans and wear their loafers without socks. That's what he looked like to me). Anyway, when someone asked him about being barefoot he went off on a tirade about how much he loves the beach. Like the news story is about him and his beach love. Not the potential impending hurricane.

Please, make him and Kelly go somewhere together, happily. I don't wish them any ill will--I just never want to see or think about either of them again. No offense Sam and Kelly, you just suck.

Kelly Ripa Has A Big Head. No, Really. She Does. Maria Shriver Big. Seriously. You've Seen It. Don't Pretend You Haven't Noticed.

I happened to catch a couple of minutes of Regis and Kelly this morning. It was one of those "phenomenal" road shows, this time from New Orleans. And Kelly was helping to build a playground for the children of New Orleans thus demonstrating her intense chutzpa and pluckiness by heaving a shovel load of bark mulch. (Have you ever felt bark mulch? It's like the world's lightest substance--it's practically freaky in its lightweightedness. ) and I was just wondering if there some way that someone can make Kelly Ripa get off tv.

She also talked a while about having eaten some oysters and how she then went for two long runs. I wonder if she has heard of exercise bulimia, because it's a thing. A very real thing.

More on hyper sensitivity, you freaks*

A while ago I wrote something about being hyper sensitive and honestly, from the comments and emails I got, I think I hit a nerve. Well of course I did we're sensitive. I just wrote a little thing about how there's hope for hyper sensitives because things get better with age, and I realized that there are a lot of hyper sensitives, like me, who need some hope. So I am going share everything I know with all of you young 'uns.

Here are the things that I know from my own experience about being way too sensitive.

Some things that help:

First and foremost know that being sensitive is a very positive thing. Even if you, like me, have spent a good part of your life thinking it was a curse, change your mind. Believe that, and if you don't, try hard to operate as though you did. It's a gift that few of us receive, and I have come to think of it as a kind of talent. Like perfect pitch. You might not have an occasion to use it all that often, but when you do nothing, NOTHING beats it.

And also, lighten up on yourself for God's sake! You're super sensitive and you take things way harder than other people do. Please be sweet to yourself. You're sensitive and easily hurt. Don't call yourself fat or ugly or stupid or thoughtless or foolish. Just don't do that any more. When you do that it's like your slapping your 8 month old self right in the face. Please, if you only do one thing, do this one.

Find kindred spirits. I don't really know too many in person but I do in books. I love Marianne Williamson so much. Her book A Return to Love changed and saved my life. Read it. I recently discovered Anne Lamott . She was an answer to a prayer. Read her fabulous books, they also help.

Email me or leave a comment if you feel like it.

* See that's a joke, don't get all "Man I am such a LOSER" on me.

Who Saw the Oscars!?

How long was it? 4 hours? About 3.75 of them centring on people you have never heard of? Is that how it was? Little bit of mildly funny interspersed. The kind that produces in you one of those "oh, tee hee that's amusing" kind of laughs? Like the cute commercials do?

Was Jack Nicholson there in the front row, looking all bad, because he's such a bad boy? What exactly makes Jack Nicholson so bad anyway? Is he a heroin dealer or something? Just wearing Ray Bans does not really make you bad. And not to get too picky, but Jack Nicholson is no boy. If you insist he's bad then he's a bad man which now sounds less cute.

Who else was there? Was creepy Joan Rivers out there making snarky remarks about people? God, if anyone should talk, that woman with her horrible plastic surgery and her homely daughter has got to be it.

How about the big GENIUS directors -- were they all there holding court like they usually do?

I don't know I didn't see it.

My Oscar Predictions

Best Picture: Don't care
Best Actor: Not relevant to my life
Best Actress: Care even less than I do about the Best Actor Category
Best Director: Yaw, like this is the one I am suddenly caring about
Best producer: Motherfucker, I don't even know what a producer does
Best Supporting Actor: Please
Best Supporting Acress: Shyeahh

Let's sum up--not interested in "The Oscars" ; don't give a flying fuck who does or does not win, and really don't get why anyone who is not in that self congratulatory industry does.

Women and Children First

That's over.

You can't have equality in pay and work and education and domestic responsibilities and then expect to be treated unequally when it comes to spaces on a lifeboat.

You Better Believe I Do!

Here's me: driving along in traffic, listening to maybe one of the greatest songs ever (Do I Do by the great Stevie Wonder), but not enjoying it it as much as I could have been because Senior Stan is driving about 35 kph (umm that's like uhhh, oh it's ummm , say roughly 22 mph) in front of me.

Since I am tailgating him so severly I cannot help notice his curly white haired lady friend in the front seat. She seems remarkably agile for a senior. I am impressed. Then I got a look at her profile; turns out she's a poodle. No really, an actual poodle.

Then I drive home to my cul de sac, still have the Stevie Wonder going, and my neighbour makes some comment about how I need to modernize my musical tastes and why don't I listen to Nickelback.

This is what I am dealing with people. 24/7.

Now don't you feel petty worrying about your stuff?

Yes, I thought you might.

Matchmaking -- Ladies, Here's How It's Done

Before I begin, I'll ask you to make sure you are seated comfortably because this match is simply going to blow your mind.

This is too good to fuck around with a lot of ellipses, so let's just get right to it...

I match John Mayer with Norah Jones.

IS YOUR MIND BLOWN RIGHT NOW!?

ARE YOU ALL, OMIGOD WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT!?*

I know, it's fucking awesome.

UPDATE:

My Entertainment news and gossip meter was all aglow today because apparently John Mayer and Jessica Simpson broke up. God Bless their hearts.

John Mayer make your goddam move already!


*You know why, because the great ones always make it look so simple, but in truth I have been ciphering in my laboratory for days.

Decisions, decisions

You know, I pretty much had it all figured out. I had decided that Johnny Depp was my imaginary husband. And then didn't Matt Dillon have to show up again in my life today. Now I have had to reopen the debate, because Matt Dillon has a certain je ne sais quoi, that with Johnny Depp is not so much of a mystery since you pretty much know up front what the quoi is. Matt Dillon can look, dare I say, a little preppy at times, which can come in handy in the lives of most women.

I am still thinking about it.

It is high time I realized

that I must give up the dream of the gay son.

My son likes girls; and that is just the way it is.

So for me, there will be no Sunday morning phone calls inviting me to brunch and an afternoon spent antiquing. Nor will there be any helpful shopping trips, or trips to the tony beuaty salon of a friend.

No, not for me.

Because my son likes the ladies.

But that's okay because he's my son and I love him anyway.

Rosie Vs. Donald T. (now that noone cares)

I side with Rosie O'. First, Rosie, whether you want to admit it or not, has done a lot to change television for the better. In her way, she has made celebrity and celebrities more human and more accessible. She's demystified something that probably never should have been mystified to begin with. And she's broken down some kind of invisible wall that existed between "stars" and their "fans".

Donald Trump may have done much to advance assholism and skullduggery, but I don't keep up with those fields so I can't say for sure. Why is his hair fair game? Well, much like President Bush's misproununciations, it's fair game because he does it so much, for so long, and refuses to even acknowledge there's anything wrong with it to the point that it surely must say something about the character of the man. Rosie knows she's fat and acknowledges it every day. So while she may not be changing it, at least she's acknowledging it. That's already far healthier.

Now that some time has past it really fucking offends me that people didn't stand up for her. And if it's true that Oprah said "Finally someone said what everyone was thinking" in response to that VILE Camile Paglia's horrible comments about Rosie and Donald Trump, then I am sad to say but I am disgusted with Oprah, too. (I really hope that's not the case). And Camille Paglia needs to have her feminist ID Badge taken away. And the decoder ring. She really does. She's a bad man.

WOW! I'm Time's Person of the Year. WOW! I'm flabbergasted! Well, truthfully I should say I am not really all that surprised. Like it's not right outta the blue because let's face it I do do a lot. Really, when you consider all my accomplishments, who else could they pick. But still, I do want to thank some people. First and foremost I want to thank our heavenly father, God. I don't have an agent or any sort of representation, but if I did I would be thanking them. Of course, the publishers of Time magazine, thank you for recognizing my many achievments over the year -- it's good to be appreciated, but on this level, wow again! Thanks to my wonderful family for being the main recipient of my accomplishments. (Many of you are probably thinking wow, she is classy to thank her family for what she has done. YAH, hence the Person of the Year award). And thank you to you, Dear Reader (again classssss-y because what have you got to do with it, really?)

Nucular

I saw your President on tv this morning and he said "nucular" about 15 times. But this morning, instead of marvelling at how far the Yale education has fallen like I usually do, this morning I thought it actually said something about the man.

He has been corrected countless times in the press, even ridiculed about his mispronounciation of that word. Mocked, I'd say in some circles, not mentioning any names, okay David Letterman, for six long, long, really, really long years, and yet he persists.

Despite the critics and the naysayers, he has stayed the goddam course of lousy diction.

I gots me a new favourite teevee show

30 Rock, baby!

Thir-tay rock. Mr. Alec Bladwin makes me weep with artistic and comedic
appreciation. If you missed it, you're a fuckup! Naw, not really, but kinda.
Kay, so watch it next time. It is fantastic, and trust me I have good taste. (I'm the one who suggested installing an Easy Bake oven in your computer)

Some Suggestions for Improving the Modern Computer

1. (I am getting tired of saying this so now I have to shout it. That's right, compunerds, your complete and total lack of progress in this area has forced me to put my finger on the caps lock button. I am not joking around.) FIND A WAY TO GET MY COMPUTER TO DISPENSE SOFT DRINKS.

2. On the topic of food, please, please, please work with the people at Mattel to install some sort of Easy Bake oven into the next generation of computers. I have several drives that I am not currently using and would appreciate it if I could slide a small cake pan in one of them while I am working. Ten minutes later, ding! There's cake. I could also accept a toaster oven; something that'll do a mini pizza or a bagel. I am frankly surprised, given the rotund nature of some in the "tech" field, that this has not already been developed.

3. Do something about the names of these websites. When I type in something like "hard candy" I expect to be taken to a website related to actual candy.

4. A make up mirror would also make a nice addition.

5. Some of these keys on the keyboard are absolutely useless. I already have one F key, I do not need any additional F keys, let alone 10. Duh! Honestly, what are you people smoking? Scroll Lock? Never heard of it, have no idea what it does, never will. It goes!

6. Make they keyboard self-cleaning. Nothing fancy, just a couple of Dr. Seuss type hands that come out and sweep up crumbs.

7. Change the "helpful"-It-looks-like-you're-writing-a-letter paperclip to one Mr. Johnny Depp.

8. Change the "start up" music to a voice that says "You're soooooo prettty!". That's just good for everyone's self esteem.

Isn't String Theory such a tantalizing idea. Imagine the possibilities of many different dimensions existing simultaeously, with many different yous in each one.

For sure in String A it turns out I did make it past the security guard at the studio where they filmed 21 Jump Street, and Johnny Depp did not in fact look super freaked out when I pulled out my 240 page Ode to his beauty (inside and out people, I am not shallow like some of you). We were married later that day and live happily together in...what am I crazy, I cannot tell you where we live, one of your alternate dimension selves will show up and try to harass us. Nice try, Internet!

String B: Puppy world!

String c: Fame. I am super famous in this one, but in a different way. I am like a combination of Mother Theresa and Beyonce. So I divide my time between caring for the dying and producing hit records and performing super sexy dance numbers on tv. I am loved by millions, including Johnny Depp. See you really cannot screw with fate. Brad Pitt hits on me constantly, and while I do find him attractive, I cannot go for it because of my high moral principles and his performance in Meet Joe Black.

String D: Bought a Quiznos!

Big Brother

Well, it's down to the final two. I have to say, given the choice between Erica and the alternative, I am voting for the senior citizen lady. Erica seems like a very nice fellow, but I have always had a spot in my heart for Maude. Go Bea Arthur! Grey Panthers all the way!

Of course I was sad to see Janelle go; and like all the others I spent so much time ridiculing, I, in the end, wanted to see Will kiss her. I found myself on the edge of the sofa yelling at the tv like the fellers do when they are watching a sporting event: "Yeeeessss, that's it, move closer. Good! Now take her hand, okay, good, gooooood, move in. Come on, you're Keith Partridge. Yawn and stretch! AW FUCKING Chicken George! Godammmmmit!" Intercepted. That's why I don't follow sports -- too frustrating.

And I am on the Will Kirby bandwagon. I may divorce my husband for Will Kirby and then start dating other guys just so I can dump them for Will Kirby.

Cut to my diary...

Mrs. Will Kirby
Mrs. William Kirby
Dr. and Mrs. W. Kirby

Duffland!

My eight year old son had a single objective: to buy every gun at Disneyland. It may surprise you to know that there are a total of seven guns for sale at Disneyland, and may not surprise you to learn that having nine guns in your suitcases makes for some good times at security screening.

You will encounter punk rockers at Disneyland, and, while not an expert in these matters, it does seem that getting into a whiny fight in line at the gift shop with your mom and grandma about how many Pirates of The Caribbean skulls you can buy with your Disney Bucks could negatively affect your streed cred.

There truly is a seamy underisde to Duffland, and I would say it's mildew. Every single water ride had a funny smell. I was wearing white pants, got splashed on the Pirates of the Carribbean ride and the water left yellowish stains on my pants. That was kinda punk rock.

All roads lead to the gift shop. No exceptions.

The only people riding motorized scooters were people who looked like they could have used a good long walk. Like really long. Say around the Earth twice. Jared, rock on!

Eight year old boys are way too cool to have their pictures taken with Lilo and Stitch, but their moms aren't! And it was all fun and games until Stitch tried to cop a feel. You can't tell me you have absolutely no feeling in those giant plushie hands.

Like Nature,

I, too, abhor a vacuum.

So, I bought a Roomba! It's a li'l robot that vacuums my carpet and sweeps my floors. And no, I do not have shares in the company, but I might get some one day.

And yes, you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, hippie.

Great News for Stephen Harper

And I mean that sarcastically.

Turns out that he has even more competition to be George Bush's best friend. George Bush has pretty much said that The Prime Minister of Japan is his second best friend, what with his recording an album of his favourite Elvis songs and everything. So, now Stephen has to battle it out with Vincente Fox for third best friend, when everyone knows he was really trying for BFF.

I just know at the next G8, Stephen is going to be expecting George to save a seat for him at his table, and George is going to be all "oh, sorry Steven, but Tony got here first." You know, trying to make it out like it was Stephen. So then Steph's going to have to be all "oh, that's okay, I was just coming over to say hi, but I am supposed to be sitting with Norway." And then Tony kinda stiffles a laugh, because he can be a real jerk about stuff like that, and Tony chimes in with "Oh when did Norway go G8?" Typical Brit, all sarcastic and everything.

The Stephen pretends he has a super important IM to answer and uses it as an excuse to leave.

If that doesn't make you cry, I don't know what will.

The Blowout

In our twenties, my friends and I were kinda hip, and so, for some reason, presumably as some sort of by-product of Canadian hipness, we could necer use the actual name for anything and so instead, someone, usually me, (because I was one of the worst offenders) had to come up with some sort of name that was usually meant to be used in a funny way (like saying "groovy" in 1985 for example, which I personally think I resurected from the dead, but I digress.

No, right now I am talking about the word BLOWOUT, which means "party" , big warehouse party but, given the times and our ages was pretty much crappy bachelor suite apartment party.

Doesn't the name imply loud music, lots of alcohol and some smashing of things? In reality, blowouts were usually held by one guy, in his apartment, with the stereo solidly set at three, an assortment of "appetizers" like mini quiches (it was the 80s)and hummus (in the 80s, see I told you we were hip), with Dan scurrying around with a garbage bag tied around his waist for easy trash disposal. Invariably, someone would get into a fight about strippers, and the passive aggressive guy would "accidentally" knock over a the dining table. The irony of the name vs. the experience was not lost on me.

Yeah, but like I said, we called it a blowout.

Unfair Fact of Life #76

No woman really considers it sexual harassment if she thinks the guy is hot. Best case: she finds it flattering; worst case it's a cute annoyance.

Slap an extra 20 years and sixty pounds on the feller; add one comb-over and whammo, you've got yourself a lawsuit.

I'm just saying.

Web TV Users UNITE!

Remember seeing things like this, on the internet, a few years ago:

I AM A WEB TV USER AND CANNOT MAKE PARAGRAPHS.

Then the person would go on and on in their free form, no-paragraph prose.

Apparently, there must have been criticism about Josephine Web TVUser's big ol' page of all caps text because she always felt the need to preface everything with that caveat. There she was, sitting on her hideaway couch in her double wide, and one day she decides she's going to get on the internet, and some asshole somewhere convinces her that WEB TV is the wave of the future. And she's not very wordly in such matters, plus the price is right, so she buys it. And on that day, that fateful day, she wasn't aware she was dooming herself to a lifetime of paragraphless forum posts, and the harsh, harsh world of the internet critic.

Will you not weep for Josephine?

True Confession

I do not know when I am "about to rock". And, like "partying", I am not even sure I am doing it when I am doing it. If in fact I am doing it.

I think there may be alcohol involved. Sure I can drink, but not like these 72 hour weekend partier boozers. That I cannot do. I don't like other people's company that much.

Way, way down this list I wrote a thing about how you know when you are "kicking back", but even that I was totally faking because I am not 100% sure about the kicking component. Is it necessary but not sufficient? Surely it can't just be the kicking because then I'd be kicking back every time I kick the dog and that doesn't sound right. (I don't really kick my dog, but thanks for thinking I did! sheesh)

If anyone ever figures it out, lemme know would you?

Nya nya nya nya (or neener, as you prefer)

Your President is spying on your phone calls.

LAME!

Today is our 10th anniversary!

I'd say it was a day that marks 10 soul crushing, hope and dream dashing, tediously boring anguish-filled years, but I worry that that might sound negative.

Aww, I'm a kidder.

They weren't all bad.

Most isn't all!

wink

MY New Charitable Giving Policy:

I will not be giving any more money for cancer research until they find a cure.

That ought to light a fire under someone's ass.

Adam Sandler's wife had a baby...

can you imagine the number of goofy voices that child is going to be subjected to? I bet he's doing one right now.

What the Hell is David Blaine Doing?

A goddam fishbowl? I wish he had asked me because I could have told him my son has a fish in a bowl and he lost interest in it after about two days. Things in bowls are maybe better ideas on paper.

His hands are are pruny! Who here is surprised by that? How is he going tinky? I understand he is sucking Ensure out of a balloon, which is already revolting enough, but please tell me he is not peeing in his li'l bowl.

And he has that little sign board that he writes messages on and holds up. He's all "Help me; I am in great pain". Well frankly who believes these guys anyway? They lie for a living with all the "illusions" and "sleight of hand" and shit. Dude's cried wolf as it were one too many times.

Plus I read on my lamer Yahoo home page that Keith Richards had "head surgery"! About goddam time! What is head surgery though? Is it like brain surgery; did he have an aneurism or something?

Hey America

For me, that 911 movie is too soon. I find myself sobbing at the commercials. And I am not even an American.

I will say this that as much as your country pisses off my country sometimes, and it does, September 11th taught me that despite all the grumbling and complaining and the pettiness, that Canadians genuinely *love* Americans. Even if you act like jerks sometimes, which you do.

We love America like we love no other country. Bad things happen to other people in other countries, too. And as awful as that is, and as much as we want to help and do help, and as sympathetic as we feel towards those citizens, it doesn't affect us as deeply as September 11th did.

Several days after September 11th, 2001 Canada had, in its capital city, Ottawa, the largest public demonstration in Canadian history. It was to show support for America. The largest public demonstration in Canadian history. We all cried, and felt shocked and horrified and tremedously saddened, but I think at the root of the feeling there was something else, and it was that we, as a country, felt protective of the United States at its most vulnerable time.

Canadians frequently grumble about America, usually about her politicians and their policies. From September 11, 2001 until about a year after no one grumbled, complained, disparaged or even rolled an eye at anything American. No one said we should do this -- it was a collective, unconscious decision made by a country that quietly said "This is the side we are on". It may have, in some way, even come as a surprise to Canadians, just how strongly we supported and loved our big, brash, bossy, beautiful neighbour to the south.

That movie is kind of bringing it all back.

Poor Stephen Harper

I just felt really bad for him, you know, at that summit with Mr. Hip Vincente Fox and Mr. Cool George W. And there he was, the nerdy cousin, with the inappropriate cargo vest.

The film footage is sad, too, because you can see he is right in W's face the whole time. He TOTALLY wants to be best friends with him, but George is all, I am sorry brother, but I already have a best friend and his name is Tony Blair.

Great! Like how in the hell is Stephen Harper, cammo vest wearer from Canada ever going to hope to compete with Tony G-dam Blair, with the cool English accent. Are you trying to tell me that W. is not a Bond fan?! Because I won't believe it if you are. And Vincente and George are talking about quesadillas and salsa and Stephen Harper tries to chime in with something about how strong Canadian beer is, but no one really cares because they are tired of Canadians playing the "strong beer" card.

So then, to shup Stephen up, Vincente (and let's face it, he's kinda rubbing it in, with his closeness to George) says something about clubbing a baby seal over the head and all of a sudden it gets real quiet.

But still, I just feel bad for him though because his suitcase was probably filled with bottles of maple syrup and hockey trading cards and maybe a Hudson's Bay blanket and most people just aren't that impressed with that stuff. (They would rather have liquor and cigarettes from the duty free, I say that, if you're a traveller, just so you know.) Especially the leader of the free world. Like he's seen a lot of this stuff already. Maple syrup is no big whoop to him at all.

Stephen will keep on trying though. Count on that.

I am even awkward on the internet

Doesn't it seem like everyone on the internet knows each other?

Case in point:
You read someone's Blog post, and the comments always seem so familiar. Despite the seeming familiarity and out of a desperate need to "fit in", I chime in with my "witty" comment and then hit post and read it and surrounded by everyone else's funny and appropriate comments, mine, which seemed really funny at the time I wrote it in the typepad box, now seems not very funny and weirdly inappropriate. And I imagine the other commenters who really are all friends are reading it thinking "who is this suburby chick and why does she leave such weird comments?"

Plus what is it with being taken off someone's blogroll!

That has happened to me a lot. And I will tell you this -- it feeds right into my Imposter Syndrome problem. RIGHT INTO IT.

I have been taken off more Blogrolls than I have been put on.

Thanks a lot, Al Gore. Thank you very much.

Last Book Club was Chez Moi (that means 'at my house'. Well, why didn't you just say 'at my house' then?)

Please allow me to set the scene.

Me, your heroine, on death's doorstep as a result of what the doctor called a "fairly nasty looking sore throat". FAIRLY nasty. The prescription I had for an antibiotic did not stop me from fulfilling my obligations as Book Club hostess. Nor did it stop me from loading my fat ass into my small SUV (4 cylinder--not a gas pig!) to drive to M&M to buy food for the Book Club ingrates.

I will start by telling you that the book we reviewed was "A Million Little Pieces" by Mr. Street Cred according to his Mom, James Frey. The dude is almost as Street as Carson Daly.

I will tell you what I told the book club ladies. I liked the book a lot for the first 3/4 of it. Then I started to notice the phoniness and the uni-dimensionality of the supporting cast. And I admitted it took me until I was three-quarters of the way through to notice this!

I said I'd have the same problems with the characters if the book were sold as a novel.

The ladies all disagreed with me...they all loved it and argued that they didn't expect any actual truth from a memoir. What they expected was "his truth as he remembered it" "His version of the events". Just FYI, in my memoir I am going to remember I was Mrs. Johnny Depp and I created Linux.

What about truth on a book tour, where he's talking about all these things happening to him as having actually happened in interviews? Where journalists ask him what was it like to be in jail, etc. And he said stuff like "Oh man, jail is hard!" (Like he'd know!)

Their answer? Silence. Then 10 minutes later they start talking about how they haven't seen me be so bitchy before. Apparently holding a different point of view and expressing said p.o.v. and thinking that the truth matters makes one bitchy.

(Didn't anyone else have those great arguments in university that would go on and on over bottles of wine and people would be disagreeing like crazy and even yelling, but it was okay to have a different point of view, it was even kinda good to...anyone remember that?)

and then...

one bad, bad woman who I really don't know well, but that didn't seem to stop her from scarfing down my hot hors d'oeuvres said, smugly...

"Well, I'd like to know what you thought of the book BEFORE you heard that Oprah didn't like it".

And then, in my mind, I quit the book club. But not before I grabbed those goddam cream cheese and sundried tomato puffs out of her fat little hand. (also in my mind).

Agree with me, or the baby seal gets it!

As a Canadian you really have to keep your eye on me. I could start clubbing baby seals at any time.

I hate the seal hunt, but did you see Larry King last night? I didn't. The whole topic upsets me so much. But I did flip past a couple of times, forgetting it was on, and at one point I flipped past just as Larry was asking "Why do they have to club them?"

Fucked if I know!

Besides the absolute unmitigated fucking HORROR of the whole thing, it really makes Canadians look like sickos. It's like we are the crazy serial killer neighbour who always attended the summer block party and seemed so nice with his kids and his homemade donuts, then it turns out he's been doing horrible things in his basement for years and you didn't know about it until he was 5/O'd on t.v.

By goddam Paul McCartney of all people! Who, some people tell me was in a band before Wings.

My Yahoo Home Page

First question you may be asking yourself is what kind of loser has Yahoo for her home page. I do! How do you do. I am not saying it's perfect though. Take today's:

Item 1:
There's a picture of a dog with his beagle ears kind trick photography'd up, so he looks a bit like the Flying Nun. That's good.

Item 2:

A Clickable link to something about killer abs. When will this expression go away?

Item 3:

De rigeur pic of baby in sunglasses. COME ON!

Item 4:

A bunch of links to fantasy babeball and fantasy football. Look, I have enough problems with the real sports, I don't need the fantasy version along for the ride.

Item 4:

HotJobs, which can very easily be misread if you take my meaning and I think you do.

Item 5;

Yahoo Health -- with the obligatory picture of a smiling woman eating fresh fruit. Now that's healthy!

Item 6:

Oscars predictions. Are you fucking kidding me? I don't even know who's nominated.

Item 7;

News item about Madonna getting a hernia at the Grammys. For some reason that made me think of Martha Raye, denture wearer.

Item 8:

Buzz Log: What the world is searching for. Kay, why do you need to know what other people are looking up on Yahoo. Seriously, what's it to you? Kids today!

Item 9:

Something about that dude who played the Hulk getting another job. High five Bru!

James Frey

If I were a pee-my-pants/roll around in my own vomit barfing up chunks of my own stomach/street fighter like James Frey is, I'd get a cooler shirt to wear on Larry King. Plus don't know if I'd bring my mom along. Kinda cuts into the street cred.

"Yu-huh I am a bad ass...just ask my mom!"

Oh negativity

I have a fairly rare blood type -- O negative. We are the universal donors--we can give blood to anyone. But, we can only take our own. (Unlike the other rare blood type, AB, who can't give to anyone else but their own selfish, selfish kind, but who can take anyone's blood I might add, and I am sure do, at every opportunity. The takers!)

When I used to watch ER, I would always feel a small surge of pride knowing when in an emergency situation and one of the doctors called for a unit of O neg, that I, if I lived in Chicago, and had donated blood recently, and the patient had lived, and it wasn't a tv show, that I might have been responsible in some small way (who am I kidding, some small way! -- the total way, the whole, entire way) had been responsible for saving that fictional character's life! That's big people--really, really big. Let's face it, I'm a hero.

When you are a O neg blood donor (hero), you get a phone call the second your body is again available to donate blood. The SECOND. You're a big shot of the blood donating world; you're like a celebrity (not really, but you really should be). Some years ago I stopped donating blood for a while. Then I thought, man, I need to get back to saving the world. So I called up the Canadian Blood Donation service and let them know I was available again.

"O negative!?" the woman on the phone exclaimed, clearly delighted.

"Yes" I replied, trying to sound humble, but frankly who are we kidding.

We made some chit chat and then she asked me her usual screening questions like have I ever had malaria, (No!) Am I HIV Positive (no!) Have I ever had syphyllis (no!) Have I spend three months or more in England during the 80s....

uhhhhh

why yes, as a matter of fact I did spend exactly three months in England during the 80s.

Uncomfortable silence. The sound of dashed hopes and shattering dreams.

"well, in that case" she said "we cannot take your blood."

Mad cow disease.

"No" I protested "I was a starving student in the 80s -- I barely had any money to eat any meat of any kind while I was there, let alone beef"

"Oh that doesn't matter" she said, her tone turning cold. Beef products are in everything from cookies to french fries" which I recalled was pretty much my entire diet during my stay in London.

"well, okay" I said "but frankly I am now a little concerned about my own health."

"Oh" she said "don't worry--it's very unlikely that you have acquired the human variant of mad cow disease".

That's good to know. But you still won't take my blood.

"No fucking way!" she said. (minus the swearing). "We can't take the chance."

Book Club Update

Well Sir, here's how it went...

We reviewed The Life of Pi, a book I was absolutely enchanted by. Here were some of the comments from other club members, which ties in nicely to my "Why do I join book clubs!?" theme.

Of course I gave my opinion and then nodded politely while everyone else gave their totally wrong opinions on the book. But here's what I was thinking...

1. "I hated it -- it was too pretentious. I felt like the author had saved up every clever and deep thought he ever had and them dumped them all into this book."

Suburby says: (please read that like "Survey says...", from the Family Feud! Thank you!) WRONG!

2. "I am not religious at all, so I could not see anything at all religious about this book"

My verdict: WRONG AGAIN!

3. "I prefer to read "lighter" books."

Inside my head: Quelle surprise!

There was then some general discussion about how badly zoos suck and bad 80s fashions. Oh, and curling. All of which was riveting.

If anyone has read The Life of Pi, please weigh in with your thoughts on the book.

I am so cranky today, look...

Who else is sick of the goddammed internet? I am so tired of reading crap like this " "Martha Stewart, ex-con and domestic diva..."

Is there a more hackneyed expression nowadays than "domestic diva"? Does every journalist have to write in that wretched combo style of half cutsey/half sarcastic? And why do things have to be done to death, and then pursued into the depths of hell?

Who else is sick of hearing celebrities complain about "the paparazzi"? After three years of Cameron Diaz bitching about it I am now rooting for them.

Regis Philbin: You can't sing.

Jamie Oliver: Dude, your tongue is swollen or something. What the fuck is going on with that?

Bill O'Reilly: It freaks me out to think that sometime post Sept 11th I found myself really liking you. You and Rummy. That tells me something about the frame of mind of the people who think you make sense.

Too...
cranky...
to...
continue

Bad Idea Redux

I have joined yet another book club. I belonged to one a while ago and quit, for some very good reason that I forgot and now suddenly someone asks me to join one and I am all "Oh book club! Great idea! Yes! I am in!" like a dork.

The book choices are lame (like Danielle Steele novel-lame) unless they are my books which I know are not lame because I have already read them. So the only non-lame books in the club are books I have read. Now I will have to force myself to read these ridiculous waste of time books so I can have something to say about the attractive female executive who fights the glass ceiling by sleeping with her boss.

SHATNER VOICE: Why-do-I-do-this-to-myself? Is there no way I can blame my husband for this? No way at all?

Mayonnaise

What is up with the people who don't like mayonnaise? (As I type this I know some of you American readers are pronouncing it man-aise, which is to my Canadian ear terribly exotic sounding. In Canada, we pronounce it mayonnaise, and now you probably just did it again...anyway...).

Why is it that people who do not like mayonnaise dislike it so intensely? Their dislike is so intense it seems to be expressed in degrees of revulsion. They are all "UUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH Mayonnaise!!". While you sit there with your tuna salad sandwich suddenly feeling like you're eating the contents of a military hazing bucket. It's eggs and oil, peeps. Egg yolks and oil. I think there's a psychological component at play in the mayo hating and I will leave it at that.

Personally, I do not like the taste of cilantro; I find it tastes a lot like soap, which if any food should rate on a revulsion scale it is something that tastes like something that is, well, inedible. But au contraire, cilanto dislikers just say "I don't like cilantro." We don't make Mr. Fresh Salsa consumer feel like he is drinking someone else's vomit by indulging in it.

The Horror, The Horror (and I do not mean the existential horror of man's existance

I am going state right up front that I am not crazy about using other people's bathrooms and even less crazy about people using mine. Someone pops into the bathroom and if I am not hearing the sounds of handwashing within about 30 seconds, I start to get nervous.

So, last week a visitor to my bathroom actually clogged it up, Al Bundy-style. And if that's not horrifying enough for someone like me, actually waited until the water tank had refilled itself and then, when the water level was at its absolute maximum height, flushed again (!) so that water et al began pouring out onto my bathroom floor, down the heating duct and out into the carpet in the hall. The old ball 'n' chain actually had to get out the carpet cleaner to suck the water out of the heating duct. Incidentally, I have a new name for the carpet cleaner now and that's the "no fucking way will I ever use that machine again" machine.

You haven't really lived until you spend your afternoon, running out of "rag" towels and having to revert to using your actual family bath towels (gah!) to clean up someone's overflow. As these situations tend to go, this one just kept getting better with caulking around the floor moulding disintegrating, linoleum bubbling up and water (ahem) stains being left on the ceiling in the garage. Witnessing this damage the person (who, by the way is notoriously cheap) then says, "Oh well, that's what insurance is for!"

I tell this story and my father-in-law tells me that he saw a news report that said the toilet bowl is far cleaner than the kitchen sink. Dudes, I do not know what you are putting in your kitchen sinks, but I can maybe make a few suggestions about what not to put in there, if you need some.

Moral of the story: Please don't ever use my bathroom.

wtf?

In reading these comments it is so encouraging to me to see that I am finally recognized for my contribution to the fields debt consolidation, portable air conditioning and perhaps most significantly, my huge contribution to the field of driveway alarm systems.

I cannot tell you how tirelessly I have worked to bring you, Dear Reader, the most up-to-the-minute information in these important fields. Finally someone, (Bless you chimes&alarms) has taken the time to recognize it.

The Thin Edge of the Wedge

If there is one thing I cannot abide it is intolerance. In any form. I am intolerant of intolerance.

And you people who are lactose intolerant are not excluded. Substitue the word Japanese for lactose and the problem becomes clear. "But Subbie," you may say, "that's different. One is bigotry and the other is simply a description of a physical condition."

Oh, that's what you'd like us to think, isn't it?

Some thoughts for the cast of Big Brother 6

For Kaysar:

Dude, you're not Lex Luther. Please stop talking about "your plan".

For Sarah:

Your boyfriend seems a little devious, plus you look so much like Posh Spice!

Maggie:

While loyalty is a trait I personally admire, you seem to be taking it to a weird level. Please see Kaysar's remark re Lex Luthor and remember it's a game for money not a battle of good vs. evil.

Janelle:

Breaking up with your boyfriend from the Diary Room of BB6 was one of the creepiest things I have ever seen on tv.

Howie:

"Boobies" is a word best left for eleven year old boys. Even then it's borderline.

Ivette:

You're some kind of crazy genius inventor! The coaster game! The ghetto slide! Bread pudding! Checkers!

No One Likes an Enabler

I can understand wanting to know how many unique hits one's Blog gets. I can understand having an interest in where those visitors are coming from, who is referring them, and even, albeit marginally, at what time they are visiting. What I cannot understand is the need to know the other stuff. I am trying desperately to see some way that the other stats might be relevant to my life...

Me, picking up phone to call friend. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep (that's me dialing)

Friend: Hello

Me: OH. MY. GOD.

Her: What!?

Me: OMIGOD!

Her: Whaaaat!?

Me: You are not going to believe who has JavaScript enabled!

Or, you think you know a person, then you find out that he has his screen resolution set at 800x600. And you're forced to get all "I don't even know who you are anymore!" on his ass.

And do not even get me started on the people who are using proxy. Do they not have any standards at all!?

How about, "You know I have to be honest, I wasn't sure about you at first, when we first met. I was concerned that maybe our values were too different to really establish a firm friendship. Then I saw you were using Mozilla, and well, that changed everything!"

I am going to assume that this is like Physics; I just don't even know how much I don't know. And I will leave it at that.

Unless you are one of those mofos who enable cookies, in which case, I don't even want to know you.

I Love The Brits!

I can't even try to be funny today.

I have been thinking so much lately about the bombings in London. I so admired the British "FUCK YOU." response to the tube bombings. The "You will not win."

I loved it and I still do. The British people rock.

Then I found out that the bombers were second or third generation British citizens. Betrayal makes it even worse.

The bombers' victims were the people who go to work every day to make the money to pay the taxes that paid for the education and the health care and the protection and the social safety net that the bombers and their families benefitted from every day of their lives. Salt in the wound.

I'll say this, too. I haven't heard a whole lot of "British people we stand behind you" support, and that almost bugs me more. So, for the record, British people, we stand behind you! And we should all look to you for how to behave when evil people do horrible things.

Camping

This morning I got up early and did the thing everyone does just a day before a camping trip: come on, yell out the answer if you know it! You've been camping, right? Yes! exactly, I went shopping for new bras. I tried on over 20,000 and bought two. Camping strength.

Then I stopped by the patio furniture section of the department store. They had an outdoor room set up with a comfy, cushioned furniture, a coffee and end table set, a bar, a portable air conditioner and a patio heater. There was an electrical generation station of some kind so one could plug in a television. And some smart dinnerware. And this was all enclosed inside one of those screen rooms, which had a zippered door and some hilarious employee had added a battery operated door bell to the outside. I sat at the bar and ordered a Mai Tai. Which, apparently, they didn't have.

I thought to myself what these people really want is a basement. I mean truly, like aren't there some sort of essential requirements that make one's stay outdoors actually be outdoors. How about "no doors" for one.

I'm a stickler!

Punctuating on the Internet

Five question marks after a question:

One question mark -- perfectly clear!

Two? Maybe a tremor.

Five? As near as I can tell, five is meant to convey incredulity.

Like this: Did someone actually teach you to punctuate the English language that way?????

Or is that something you came up with that on your own?????

For Hyper Sensitives Everywhere...

It has finally happened to me.

The thing I have waited for, since childhood, has finally arrived.

No, I am not talking about the Secret Agent beebee gun I send a dollar twenty five for to an address in the back of an Archie comic book in 7th grade. That has still not arrived.

But something far more wonderful has.

No, not my period. (That gift of womanhood was highly overrated by the way.)

I have finally reached the stage of my life that has been promised by many women, mainly Oprah, but she's every woman, or used to be until she turned in Oprah Van Houten, anyway.

It's here. I have come to that wonderful phase of my life where I no longer care what people think of me or my choices.

Sensitivity can be a very good thing; it makes you kinder, more compassionate, more considerate of other people's feelings. It alters your behaviour, for the better because it's unbearable to feel the guilt of having hurt someone, or the shame of not helping when you were able. But sensitivity has a price. It makes you sticky. Every little unkind word, every injustice, every sad story sticks. And it's hard to live like that. Ad no matter how hard you try, you just cannot brush it off. You can say you don't care, but you do. You can try to forget, but you can't. You can even decide not to be affected, and you will be. Because even that decision will have its own cost. And really, who wants to be an asshokle anyway.

What I chose to do was just live with it. I finally accepted that I was a sensitive person, and stopped apologizing for it. I stopped getting so angry at myself for letting things affect me, and simply accepted that they do. Instead of being angry with myself for being too sensitive, I decided to see it as a good thing.

And then a miracle! By age or by choice or by Divinity, I know not which, the dream of the sensitive person everywhere materialized in my life: it occurred to me that I don't care, not in a self-esteem affecting way anyway, what people think of me anymore.

But, and this is the miracle part, I can feel this way while still caring about other things. I get to keep the good parts of sensitivity without all the bad.

I wish the same for you.