Saturday, November 27, 2010

The Practice of Writing - A New Experiment

Since I got my Sony Book Reader, I've been trading in most of my novels at the local Used Book Store, Book Brothers. I've managed to save up around $200 in credit by trading in all my books. Not needing to use the store credit for novels, I decided to poke around the non-fiction section to look for crafty books. After finding a number of art related books to take, I stumbled upon The Practice Of Writing by Robert Shcoles and Nancy Comley. It appears to be a text used for college English courses. Recalling my many, many posts regarding my poor writing ability and lack of grammar, I decided that maybe this book could help me actually DO something about my problem. Perhaps I can learn to express myself better. That being said, I've decided you will all be my evil guinea pigs. I will post the suggested assignment here and if you are so inclined, you can critique. I will still be writing my regular posts as well. This has not turned into a writing blog. These posts are meant to be a short-term experiment only. Be gentle, I have no self-esteem.

Part A) Assume that you are in a small group of people that you have just gotten to know and like. There are only three or four of you sitting around, relaxed. Maybe it is late at night. Because you are getting to know one another, you have been taking turns telling about the most frightening or impressive experiences in your life-a time when you encountered danger of death or injury, fear of pain or disgrace, threat of violence or accident, or something of equal importance, which you will never forget.
Set this down on paper exactly as you would tell it to the group.
I chose to tell the story of the time when Hubby almost burnt down our house. Here is part A:

Last spring we had gone to a party at a co-workers house. We ate, we drank, we made merry. Then we left. When we were a few minutes from home, my cell rang. I answered, “Hello?” A deep voice replied,

“Hello mam, this is the Chatham-Kent Fire Department calling.” I was immediately suspicious. Why would the fire department be calling me? Certain that someone was pulling a fast one I said,

“Uh-huh, yeah and I’m the first transvestite Pope. Did Cindy put you up to this?”

“No mam. This really is the Fire Department. And I really am standing outside your door with a very large axe. Are you in the area, or should I break your door down?”

“Um, I’m just around the corner. I’ll be there in 30 seconds. Please do NOT break down my door.”

I couldn’t believe it. Why was the fire department at MY house? I probably would have been humiliated at this point without the large amount of alcohol in my blood stream.
We turned the corner and there they were, along with all my “concerned” neighbors. I walked up to the man with the very large axe and said, “Hello, if you promise to put the big axe down, I’ll open the door for you”. I could hear the smoke detector screaming inside. “Can anyone tell me what happened?”

A neighbor, whose name I STILL do not know replied, “We heard the smoke detector going off and no one was home. We called the fire department just in case. Hope your cats are ok. Neighbor Dave had your cell number and the fireman said we could call before they broke your door down.”

“Err. Thanks,” I said. They probably just wanted the annoying sound to go away. The fire-fighters trudged all over my carpet with their muddy boots and discovered a candle burning, which had eventually set off the smoke detector right above it. No fires, but we were lucky. I remember shaking the fireman’s hand while simultaneously beating hubby into a pulp with the other, (he left the candle burning).

I still haven’t got the mud out of the carpet.

Assignment Part B: After you complete the first part of the assignment, imagine that in English class you are asked to write a paper about the same experience "in the third person". That is, you must tell the same story, but in this version the central figure should be yourself seen from the outside and called "he" or "she" rather than "I." This is a more formal and extraordinary ind of writing, further removed from and ordinary speech situation.

Here is part B:

She was smiling as they drove. They were laughing, and recalling funny bits of the evening, quoting outrageous one-liners and feeling merry. Unexpectedly, her cell phone rang. She picked it up and said, “Hello?”
A deep voice replied, “Hello mam, this is the Chatham-Kent Fire department calling.”
She was immediately suspicious. Why would the fire department be calling her? She was certain that the friends they left behind at the party decided to play a practical joke on her.
“Uh-huh,” she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “and I’m the first transvestite Pope. Did Cindy put you up to this?”
“No mam,” the man replied in a serious tone. Then, “This really IS the Fire Department. And I really AM standing outside your door with a very large axe. Are you in the area, or should I break your door down?”
Her heart race increased, and she began to panic. Was her house on fire? What was going on? Is this a joke gone too far?
“I’m just around the corner. I’ll be there in 30 seconds,” she said. “Please do NOT break down my door!”
She couldn’t believe it, but the sense that this was a plot by her friends seemed more and more unlikely. She filled her boyfriend in on the situation as they drove the few short blocks to the house. The fire department was parked on the street and her neighbors were standing outside. She would have liked to believe it was for her own best interests, but it seemed unlikely due to the fact that she disliked most of them and avoided all of them like the plague.
“Can anyone tell me what happened?” She said.
A nameless neighbor, who she believed lived next door, replied, “We heard the smoke detector going off and no one was home. We called the fire department just in case. Hope your cats are ok. Neighbor Dave had your cell number and the fireman said we could call you before they broke your door down.”
“Err. Thanks,” she said. As she turned the key in the door she could hear the blaring of the offending smoke detector. As she opened the door, the fireman pushed by her and into the house. Their boots made muddy tracks across her light-colored carpet.
A lit candle was found in the living room, which had set of f the detector above it. There were no fires, but she felt relief at their luck. She shook the fireman’s hand with one hand, and smacked her boyfriend with the other. It was he, after all, who had left the candle burning.
She ushered everyone out of the house and closed the door. Looking at the mud on the carpet she thought, ‘I’ll NEVER get that out.’

I had a hard time writing the second part. When you are writing and not "talking" more descriptive words are needed, and much more background. I had difficulty keeping it short enough to make a decent size post out of. Hopefully you are not all cursing me for the lengthy post. Let me know what you think of my experiment, or if I'm wasting your time. The last thing I want to do is put anyone to sleep. Perhaps you will want to play along with me.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Top 10 Things I need to get through the day

10. A creative outlet. A way to express the billion ideas that go through my head on a given day. Like this blog, or scrapbooking, or developing an elaborate practical joke to play on my coworkers... like taping over the laser on everyones computer mice, changing the letters around on keyboards... or taking the wheels of rolling chairs and waiting for the crash. Such a satisfying sound.

9. A To-Do list. This is critical. Without written instructions I will procrastinate for eternity.... like I'm doing right now!

8. Exercise. Without it I'm cranky and generally sleepy. It also allows me some much needed down time and helps me to feel better about myself. Lately I've been so busy it's hard to fit more than the nightly stroll with the puppy, but I'm headed back to the gym as soon as vacation starts. I really miss it.

7. A quick game of be-jeweled. Warning: It's addictive. It does keep my brain stimulated and relaxes me at the same time. When I'm playing I'm in the zone.

6. A quick huff on the crack pipe... ok, not really, but I had you going there.

5. A bowl of cereal. Really. No Joke. Cereal really should be in a food category all by itself.

4. My morning coffee.

3. My afternoon coffee.

2. My after supper coffee... are you seeing a trend here?

1. A good night kiss from Hubby. I know you never read this, but you make my day.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Oh Funny, Where Art Thou?

I've lost my funny. Do you know where it is?

I always thought of myself as having a good sense of humor. It's part of my charm, created by the desire to make my parents laugh instead of fight. Laughter eases the tension. Now that I've gotten to the point in my life where things are relatively stable, I'm happy, I have a good job.. the funny just seemed to slip right out of me. Perhaps now that I'm not in a constant state of panic I've gotten lazy? Maybe I need stress to be funny. I suppose I could find some. What if I ran into my boss' office and told him off? That would create tension, and then maybe I could make a joke about that! I am kinda laughing just thinking about how purple his face gets when he's really, really mad. Plus, he has a shaved head so I get a real kick out of watching the veins pop out of his head like an inflating water hose.

Maybe I could send out a mass email detailing what I had for lunch today, see what responses I get and make a joke about that!

Good Afternoon Everyone:

This is just a quick note to tell you all that I really enjoyed my lunch today. The grapes were particularly delish. That's all. You can go back to work now.

I feel like my posts lately are sub-standard. I mean, if I'm not funny, people will focus on my lack of grammar, spelling ability, and my obvious misuse of the English language in general. (I just noticed yesterday that blogger has spell check... so now I'm un-funny AND un-observant). Maybe the pressure to write a good post will bring my funny back. Lets give it a try...

Once upon a time there was a hippopotamus who felt discriminated against because she really wanted to be a flight attendant, but company policy stated that all animals must be contained in the cargo area of the plane....

Not very funny. I know. See? I think I've lost it forever. I wonder what happened? I think I'm burnt out. Vacation is coming. Maybe my funny will come back then. Also I think those business law classes are affecting my brain. Discrimination? Really? Out of all the things I could have chose, I picked workplace discrimination? Oh Elvis, do they even MAKE therapy for that?

Fia The Destructor

Did I mention that when we adopted Fia, we weren't sure what kind of dog she was? It was the vet that told us she was a Basenji. I've been a dog lover all my life, but had never heard of the breed. I didn't really give it much thought at the time. She was a beautiful dog, she was loving, playful, and good with children. That's all we really needed in a companion.

After noticing some peculiar behaviours, I've started researching the breed a bit. Everywhere I go there are tales of Basenji Destruction. DUN DUN DA! (evil sound effect added here). On every breeding site I went to there were multiple warnings about the breeds tendency to completely destroy everything you own, and turn it into really expensive trash. At first, I wasn't really worried. She's been a good girl, and had proven trustworthy. The only victim of her appetite for entertainment so far had been the front door mat, and I didn't really like it anyway. Although she did do a number on her crate when we first got her and thought that shutting a high energy dog away in a small confined space would be a good idea while we were at work. Not so much.

Yesterday I came home to a completely destroyed pair of shoes. My favourite work shoes. The ones I wear almost everyday. She looked so miserable about it too. Poor puppy. My suspicion is she's getting bored. Basenji's aren't supposed to be left alone. From what I've read, even 10 minutes is a risk. I found this yesterday while I was continuing my research:

23 Pounds of Trouble
Ya wanna hear a reality story? My first Basenji—whew—now that was a boy who taught me about Basenjis!

About 20 years ago, my son and I answered an ad for a Basenji for $75. When I walked into their house I saw a large pile of debris in one room and I thought at first that they were remodeling. Yeah, remodeling, right, Basenji-style!

We took home the youngster anyway and he was such a brat, although nothing I hadn't already experienced with the German Shorthairs. Besides, this guy was a little tiny thing, so what kind of damage could he do?

When I went to work, I didn't crate him. I was only going to be gone six hours and so I thought a little guy like this shouldn't need a crate. When I returned home I walked in to find about $10,000 worth of damage to the small rental house we lived in. The ball-feet were chewed off the still-standing pecan dining room table; the couches and chairs were down to the springs; drapes were down and shredded; door, window moldings, and sills were gone; the rug was torn up off the floor; and the little dear was in the process of digging through the wall to the outside. In fact, he was through the plaster, through the lathe, and had reached the cedar siding when I caught him.

Amazingly, I didn't get angry, I was just so stunned! I was quite impressed with this little Basenji's “abilities”. Needless to say, I bought him a crate.

Later that day I thought it best to take him with me when I went to pick up my paycheck. He wasn't crated in the car. I was gone five minutes at the most. When I returned (sigh) he had done a number to the inside of the car: Steering wheel chewed through and half gone; upholstery down to the springs—no piece of vinyl or cloth was where it had once been; he stripped the inside of the car. This made driving home quite uncomfortable and interesting. After that he rode in a crate.

These are just two of the multiple horror stories we went through with this little monkey. Still, I lived with and loved that little guy until the day he died at eight years old. And I thank him for teaching me his Basenji ways. Very good lessons learned, though I wish I had been more prepared for his homecoming.

Sam Anderson
Washington State

So far the destruction has been minimal. We're hoping it stays that way. My options are few but I'm looking into getting a dog walker to break up her day a bit and tire her out. It's really unfair of me to expect perfection, but she comes very close.

If you're thinking of getting a basenji, I would highly recommend them, but be prepared to make some accommodations for your new friend. I don't mind. She's worth it.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Have A Nice Day

You all know how much I love my Tim Hortons. Although recently, they've been slipping. I wrote about this once before here.

I'm a big fan of quality customer service. In my teenage years I was a career waitress. I took pride in giving my customers quality service and an enjoyable experience with no hassel. I guess that's why I'm so dissapointed when people don't take the time to make sure the customer is satisfied.

Yesterday I made my after-work stop at Tim Hortons for a quick bite to eat before I went to class. I ordered an XL double-double coffee with milk, a LG chocolate milk, and a cheese tea biscuit. A simple, easy order. I pulled up to the window, handed the cashier my pay pass card and waited.

The first thing to come through the window was my chocolate milk. I took it from him, and noticed as I did so that something wet squished through my fingers.... it appeared to be whip cream. The cashier had already dropped the window, so I knocked.

Me: Um, excuse me..
Him: Yes?
Me: There's something on this... (I held it up to show him)
Him: Oh. No problem. (he hands me a napkin)

I wiped the crud off my hands and held the chocolate milk back towards him

Him: Yes?
Me: Um, could you wipe it off with a cloth or something, or can I have another one? This one is sticky.
Him: Ya. I guess. (takes the chocolate milk back through the window as if it's the most tedious chore ever).

He handed me my milk back. It was still sticky. I gave up and threw it on the seat beside me. He also handed me my card back.

Him: Have a nice day
Me: Um... I'm still waiting for my coffee....
Him: Oh. Right. Hang on.

While he's busy making my coffee... the line is piling up behind me and I can sense from the arm waving going on in the next vehicle back that people are getting impatient. I feel awkward. Finally the guy hands me my coffee.

Him: Have a nice day.
Me: Um... my tea biscuit?
Him: Oh. Did you order that? (the girl working next to him says... "Yep... a cheese one".
Him: Oh. Do we even have those?

He walks over to the display case and checks out the situation... and comes back empty-handed.

Him: We don't have any.
Me: But I've already paid!
Him: Well, do you want your money back, or would you like something else?

I've now been sitting at the drive through window for about 7 or 8 min. I think the cycle time is supposed to be less than 60 seconds. Much more hand-waving happening in the truck behind me and everyone inside the store is sitting around idle, waiting for the next order.

Me: Just give me a doughnut.
Him: Sure. (goes and gets the doughnut and hands it to me).
Him: Have a nice day.
Me: How nice of you to say.

I'm now irritated. This has been happening more, and more often of late. I even switched to the other Tim Hortons accross town. I'm actually thinking of switching to McDonalds coffee (gasp!). I wouldn't have minded all the trouble if he would have at least apologized for the wait or showed any kind of desire to help me at all.

In the big picture, this means nothing. A minor inconvenience in a world with bigger problems. But in a customer-service industry, you would think I would get some customer service for my money. Maybe even a smile.

Ok. I'm done ranting now.

Have A Nice Day.
Picture from Tim Hortons official website here

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Full Moon

The Boy missed his camping trip to come and stay with us this weekend. When I picked him up last night, I was concerned that he was missing the fun with his fellow Cubs. And this is how the conversation went....

Me: Are you sad to be missing your camping trip with Cubs?

The Boy: Not really. It's probably a good idea that I didn't go.

Me: A good idea? Why?

The Boy: It's going to be a full moon.

Me: Oh. Of course. Does that mean the warewolves will be out?

The Boy: Maybe.

Me: Are you scared?

The Boy: Not really. I could defeat them.

Me: I bet you could.

The Boy: I would hate to kill anything that didn't need killing though.

Me: That's a good philosophy.

The Boy: I would only kill it if it attacked me and tried to hurt me.

Me: In self defence right?

The Boy: Right.

photo shamelessly stolen from here

Friday, November 12, 2010

Why do I need a phone that does all THAT?

Hubby has just gotten a new IPhone 4. If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know how I feel about phones. If you're a newbie, you can get a pretty good understanding by reading this.
While I confess that it does some pretty nifty stuff, I'm disturbed by the amount of time that people actually spend messing around with them. Further increasing the amount of minutes a day spending ZERO time communicating with real people, in a real environment. Pretty soon we're not going to talk to each other at all. Everything will be just text, text, text.
Did you know that there is a GPS function that you can use to actually pinpoint the exact location of other Iphone users? So if I had one, and hubby and I both had the app, we would be able to find each other anywhere. The only time I can think of a useful purpose for this is in the shopping mall. After running around to all my girly stores, it would be easy to find hubby at the "man" stores when I'm ready to go. Other than that, why would anyone need to triangulate my exact location on the planet? I can picture the argument now....
Ring Ring
Hubby: You said you were going to the mall, why are you at the ice-cream store?
Me: Um... because I wanted some ice cream?
Hubby: And were you going to tell me that you were getting ice cream?
Me: Probably not.
Hubby: And were you going to get ME some ice cream?
Me: Probably not.
Hubby: See? You're so selfish.
phones can do amazing things, but why would we possibly NEED all that stuff? Can't a girl just have a calorie-fest in private anymore? Jeez.
photo shamelessly stolen from here

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Storm Chaser

Driving from The Boy's house to ours gets very boring, very quickly. It's about a two hour drive. On such an occasion, to pass the time, The Boy and I were chatting. We talked about space, and planets, and why he should be nicer to his grandparents. We also talked about what he wants to be when he grows up. Keep in mind... he's 9. He's got a while yet to decide.

Me: So kiddo, if you could be anything when you grow up, what would you pick?

The Boy: A storm chaser.

Me: You mean one of those guys who risk their lives to run around after tornado's?

The Boy: Yep.

Me: That's so cool. What made you want to do that?

The Boy: The Discovery Channel.

Me: What do you like about it?

The Boy: I saw a tornado pick up a cow on tv.

Me: Yes, I know. That was the movie Twister. We watched it together remember?

The Boy: Actually I think it was two cows.

Me: You know that's just a movie right?

The Boy: Do you think that could really happen?

Me: Um... I'm not sure. I think maybe if it was a super humongous tornado.

The Boy: Ya. Like maybe an F-10. Do they have F-10's?

Me: I don't think so.

The Boy: Maybe Global Warming will get bad enough to make super huge tornado's and then I can chase an F10 in my tricked-out trailer?

Me: Global Warming? Aren't you 9? What tricked out trailer?

The Boy: The one I'm going to get to chase tornadoes. And other storm's... but mostly tornado's.

Me: How are you going to trick out your trailer?

The Boy: I'm going to put a couch in it, and a super big tv, and one of those dopper thingies that they use to find out where the tornado's are.

Me: You mean doppler.

The Boy: That's what I said.

Me: Right. What else will be in your tricked-out trailer?

The Boy: A computer. So I can play Plants vs. Zombies. Do you think I can get the Internet in my trailer?

Me: I'm sure you can.

The conversation went on like this all the way home. I was impressed by the amount of thought he'd actually put into his plan. He was a little bummed out when I explained that he would have to take science and math all the way through school, and probably go to University. He asked if he had to take science to drive the trailer, and could he hire a meteorologist. Sigh.

The next weekend we went to the mall in Welland, where they had a hurricane simulator. It looked like this:

The Boy was so excited, he HAD to try it. It was 2 dollars. It started up and we could see his hair blowing around and he had his eyes squished shut. We asked him how it was when he got out:

Me: So how was it?

The Boy: Windy

Me: Still wanna be a storm chaser?

The Boy: Yep.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

My Three Favourite People

This picture was taken last weekend. It's one of the few, rare moments when Hubby, The Boy, and The Dog are standing still long enough for me to snap one. Just as I pushed the button on the camara the sun ran away behind a cloud, so the lighting is not so good, but I'm happy with it anyway. Fia won't look at the camara without trying to lick it so this is the best I can do.

Monday, November 08, 2010

A Present For Puppy

Fia, the newest member of our Family, got a new bed this week. It's basically a giant pillow and is much more comfortable than MY bed. I'm thinking of trading her. She sleeps on our bed most of the time anyway. Maybe she'd like it better.
We are still having some trouble building a relationship between the felines and the canine. The cats basically try to ignore her, though Felix really would play with her if he wasn't worried about getting eaten all the time. Fia doesn't like to be ignored. Especially by her "competition". You can tell she would just like to put an end to it all and eat them. I believe she is aware that this would upset me because every time she chases them she looks at me with the most fore lorn expression. As if to say, "I'm sorry mom, but they're so tasty-looking, can't I eat just one? You DO have two after all...." It seems as if she wants to eat Samantha more than Felix. This surprises me. Samantha is the skinny, bitchy one. Felix is plumper and would make a much better meal. Samantha would be more of a snack really. An appetizer.

Bon Appetite!

Sunday, November 07, 2010

A Feast Of Crows

We're having a sort of crisis at work right now, so I've basically been here since Friday. I was up at 5 this morning and unfortunately had to stop for gas in the wee hours of the freezing November morning. Half asleep, I jumped out of the car and started filling my tank. After a few minutes, I woke up enough to be aware of my surroundings. The sound penetrated my sleep-fogged brain before anything else. The sound of many tiny crow voices screaming their CAW-CAW morning salutation at each other. It was then that I noticed how loud the sound was. It was still very dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see that outside of the bright fluorescent lighting of the gas bar, there were literaly hundreds of black moving shapes in the darkness. They were everywhere. I could hear the sounds of multitudes of tiny bird feet moving around on the overhang of the gas bar, above my head. There were too many to count. Nervous, but fascinated, I watched half of the flock suddenly take off and wing into the early morning darkness. That still left too many to count. I finished pumping the fuel and ran into the store to pay. I asked the clerk if it was like this every morning. She seemed unimpressed, and replied that they were there most nights until around this time. I ran back out to the truck and pulled out my camera to see if I could take some video. Because it's dark, it's hard to see them, but maybe you can get an idea by watching this....

After taking this video, I started the truck. I must have startled the flock perching on the roof because they all took off. Mass amounts of bird feces dropped out of the sky like little bombs of filth and disease (thank god I was in the truck and protected under the gas bar canopy). I couldn't believe the sound. The sheer number of wings required to make that much noise was staggering to my imagination. I don't particularly like birds (except the cute songbirds), and find them scary in large quantities. I was totally freaked out.

I've noticed in the last few years, that the amount of crows that show up during harvest time is increasing. When I drive home from work in the early evening, they blacken the sky. I will try to get you some pictures tonight. They reek havoc in the city, particularly on garbage day when they rip apart bags and drag garbage all over the streets. The city does nothing, other than advise people to purchase crow-proof garbage containers.

More crow craziness coming soon.

Thursday, November 04, 2010

Introducing Miss Fia

This is the newest member of our family.

We rescued her from the Humane Society. Can you believe someone would give her up? She is a besenji mix. I have no idea what she's mixed with, but she's super cute. And so sweet. She very rarely barks, and loves to cuddle. She is happiest just being in the same room as her humans and is very playful.

We named her Fia - which is Italian for Flame apparently, because of her red coat. She looks kinda like a red fox, but hubby said I couldn't name her Foxy. He didn't want to be yelling that around our neighbourhood, as the hookers might get the idea that he was talking to them.

I was nervous about getting a dog. We're not home for long stretches of the day and I was concerned about leaving her alone. We started out with a crate. The first day we left her alone I put a big fluffy pillow in there for her and her water bowl. When we got home she was sitting in a giant pile of fluff and most of the water bowl had been eaten. She had also managed to eat the plastic tray in the bottom of the cage and some how kick it out completely.

On day number two we left the big pile of fluff in there, no water bowl and gave her a kong to chew on. She managed to rip the curtains down from inside the cage and eat the curtain rod, and the curtain.

On day number three, we moved the crate to the center of the room. We came home and she had chewed the crate until she somehow escaped and was running around the house. She bent the sides of the bars with her teeth. Luckily, nothing was destroyed, although she had collected 1 shoe from each pair that hubby and I own, and piled them on the couch... mercifully they were in pristine condition.

On day number four we came home and she had bounced the crate over to the spare bed and had eaten a chunk out of the mattress - from inside the crate. She then bounced it over to the dresser and chewed off the knobs for the bottom drawer.

At this point we decided that we could no longer keep her in the crate. Not only did she not enjoy it, but we were quickly running out of solutions, and the crate was rapidly deteriorating from her teeth of destruction. We decided to leave her out while we went grocery shopping. We left her for about an hour and then returned home to check on her. Again, she stole our shoes and slept on top of them, but chewed nothing! We have left her out ever since and she's been lovely. There have been a few times where the teeth of destruction have gotten out of hand, but nothing that would not be expected from any dog left alone.

She is a very sweet dog, and someone spent a long time training her to be well behaved. I suspect that she wore a bark collar at one point, because she is very reluctant to bark or whine. When she does she gets this surprised look on her face... as if she is unsure that the sound actually came out of her own mouth.

More doggie stories to come. Isn't she cute?

Random Strange Quiz

Someone sent me one of those weird, random question emails today. You know, the ones where you divulge useless information about yourself so we can all be idiots together? So I decided since I had to fill it out, the least you could do is read it. I'm vindictive like that.


2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Not sure. I'm a cold-hearted bitch!

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Yep. I write like my mom. Comes from years of writing my own notes to get out of school.


7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? No way. Not at all. Never. Ok. Maybe all the time.


9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No. I'm allergic to scary.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? I'd have to go with Captain Crunch. But I'm a cereal addict.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Not ever. I'm a big fan of shoe horns.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? I could totally kick your ass.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Caramel Pecan Crunch.


15. RED OR PINK? Pink. Red is for serial killers, and I only do that on weekends.

16. What is the weather like outside? Bloody Freezing

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST My brother. He's an ass, but it would be nice to see him once in a while. He lives in Alberta.


19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Black shoes with small heal that make a really annoying sound when I walk. I actually like the noise, but secretly I like to drive everyone crazy.
Be right back, I have to go make a couple of laps in the hall just so everyone knows I'm still here.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? cinnamon raisin bagel toasted with butter.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? lift trucks smashing into stuff.

2. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Orange. How can you be sad when you're orange?

23. FAVORITE SMELLS outside? fresh cut grass. Oh, and gasoline... which may account for the lack of brain cells I seem to have these days.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? boring conference call from work.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Ya. She kinda grows on you... you know, like fungus.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? love to watch track and field at the Olympics.
27. Hair Color? Blond. And yes, it's natural.

28. EYE COLOR? bluish greyish.

29.. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? no, but I probably should.

30. FAVORITE FOOD? Anything I can put cheese on.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings. I'm allergic to scary, remember?

That new one with Matt Damon... don't watch it, it was super bad.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Purple with grey and black stripes.



36. Car or truck ? Truck. I'm a redneck, what can I say?

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? possibly my step-mother, but not sure.


39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Mammoth Hunters by Jean Auel, and the never ending business law text from my online course.

I don't have one.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Dexter! Who wouldn't want to watch a show about a vigilante, damaged serial killer?

42. FAVORITE SOUND? rain on the roof. And thunder.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? God. Rolling stones I guess. I don't see any country in this selection.

Anywhere that isn't work related.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Does saying the alphabet backwards count?

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN Hamilton Ontario

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I'll be shocked if anyone answers back. Who has time for this crap?

That's all I have to say about that.

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

You Stink.

After chuckling over the adventures of Madame DeFarge over at Bateau De Banane, I was inspired to put my two cents in ( me, with an opinion? Shocker.), regarding our tendancy to... over-scentsitize ourselves. Is that a word ---->Scentsitize? Well, it should be.

I'm often told how lucky I am to have lovely pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair. What no one realizes, is that with these characteristics comes incredibly sensitive skin, eyes, and nose.... all of these things are irritated by the general populations tendency to bathe in scents.

Well it may be a drag for some, I'm totally loving the fact that public places seem to be implementing fragrance-free policies these days. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with light, pleasant scents, and I happen to be a big fan of body spray myself. However, I will never understand why certain folks think it's attractive to drown their co-workers in eye-watering perfume and cologne.

Also, at this time, I would like to point out that I've noticed the majority of these over-scented offenders are not women, but men. Apparently they think it adds to their sex appeal. I'm hear to tell you that if you're 6 feet away from you and I can smell you, it's not a good thing, regardless of the scent. What are you trying to hide with all that smell? Did you pull your shirt from the bottom of the dirty laundry pile and think that your plastered-on man perfume would cover the stench? Well, it doesn't. Now you smell like dirty laundry AND cheap cologne. Good Job.

On one of my first dates with Hubby, we went to a comedy show. I was dressed to impress, with lovely make-up and the whole nine yards. Sitting at the table next to us was a lovely woman wearing what must have been an entire bottle of some heavy, musk-scented, eau-du-stink. My eyes were watering so badly that tears were pouring down my face and the contents of my nose were dribbling down my chin. How lovely. I was completely sure my date was ready to bolt for the door at any second. Who wouldn't want to continue dating a girl with a dripping face for no apparent reason? He probably thought I was a psychotic, high-maintenance crazy person with loads of emotional baggage and needing therapy. Just the kind of first impression everyone wants to make. Just because it's true doesn't mean I was ready to let him know so soon. I was saving that for date #3. I apologized and wiped the running mascara from my face and tried to control my dripping face. Thank-fully hubby turned out to be one of those understanding men and was kind enough to over-look my facial impression of Alice Cooper.

So please. Try to control yourself. Moderation is the key! Don't bathe in it, it just makes you stink.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Top 10 Things to do with Nine Dollars and Thirty-Two Cents

After paying the bills, the never ending cycle of credit card debt, and paying for gas, this is my total disposable income for the week.

Top 10 Things To Do With $9.32

10. Invest in an RRSP. My retirement calculator says if I invest today, in 40 years I will have $93.78. I can retire for a whole day!

9. Buy a new pair of socks. Everyone loves socks.

8. Give in to temptation and try out the new cake and shake milkshake from Tim Hortons (stone cold creamery.. now you can buy coffee AND ice cream at Timmies... isn't Canada lovely?). It's reported to be the highest calorie milkshake ever (1680 calories and 88 grams of fat... which works out to be 135% of the daily recommended value. But who needs statistics anyway? Certainly not my butt or upper thighs.... which is where the ice cream will end up).

7. Put it on the credit card and save $.08 in interest this month. Then I will have $9.40 cents of disposable income next week!

6. Buy a lottery ticket and hope I win enough to complete the magical list of things I'd do if I was a millionaire found here.

5. Borrow $0.68 cents from hubby and buy a new Wii game from Wii Share.

4. Buy the new lipstick that I've been eyeing for months and will probably never wear.

3. Send it to United Way. They can put it with the rest of their money and maybe buy a pencil or some staples.

2. Put it away for that trip to Australia that will probably never happen.

1. Change it in to pennies so that it looks like I have lots of money, throw it up in the air and dance around shouting, "I'm rich, I'm rich". Which is the cheapest form of entertainment I can think of.
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