I’m walking down Bay Street with the boyz, and there is a Craco on the corner, on roller blades, long black trench coat, with a paper bag on his head, screaming, “look at me, what color am I?”
Then (cuz I am the luckiest person in the whole of Toronto,) he sees me and yells, “Let me see your panties.”
And he yells over and over again, “Let me see your panties, I am still a man”
The boyz, being the gentlemen that they are, hustle me off laughing their heads off.
And all day I’ve had to put up with phone calls that start with,
“Ummm CP, May I see your panties.”
“Where yuh panties girl?”
“What I tell yuh about leaving dem panties on the sidewalk”
"Lemme see yuh panties nah gyal"
Thursday, November 30, 2006
To the Society Responsible for the production and enforcement of Underwear:
It has come to my attention that wearing underwear is now seen as optional for young Hollywood socialites like Britney Spears, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan.
Possible explanations:
-A dire need for constant air circulation
-Freedom from the constraints of spandex
-A protest to years of suffering for women forced to wear pieces of cloth that ride up their backside on purpose
-It’s a new fad, and everyone’s doing it….(said in sulky teenage voice)
Seeing a nipple out for a walk is one thing, seeing a girl’s beaver is whole other issue. For sure there are those out there (ahem Ahem ~men of the world) who are embracing this new trend. However, as a woman, I must protest that this will lead to some unreasonable expectations for us.
It will require us to:
-invest heavily in Brazilian waxes. (Do you have any idea the pain and psychological trauma involved?)
-it is highly inconvenient to follow this trend in Canada….my lady would freeze to death…
-Like mini skirts and skinny jeans, it can be an unflattering trend on many
I think it is imperative that a member of your society has a serious talk with these girls.
Make haste the warmth and conservation of the precious beaver is at stake,
Sincerely,
CP
It has come to my attention that wearing underwear is now seen as optional for young Hollywood socialites like Britney Spears, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan.
Possible explanations:
-A dire need for constant air circulation
-Freedom from the constraints of spandex
-A protest to years of suffering for women forced to wear pieces of cloth that ride up their backside on purpose
-It’s a new fad, and everyone’s doing it….(said in sulky teenage voice)
Seeing a nipple out for a walk is one thing, seeing a girl’s beaver is whole other issue. For sure there are those out there (ahem Ahem ~men of the world) who are embracing this new trend. However, as a woman, I must protest that this will lead to some unreasonable expectations for us.
It will require us to:
-invest heavily in Brazilian waxes. (Do you have any idea the pain and psychological trauma involved?)
-it is highly inconvenient to follow this trend in Canada….my lady would freeze to death…
-Like mini skirts and skinny jeans, it can be an unflattering trend on many
I think it is imperative that a member of your society has a serious talk with these girls.
Make haste the warmth and conservation of the precious beaver is at stake,
Sincerely,
CP
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Indian Chromosome
I think I am missing a fundamental Indian Chromosome:
The ‘I am now 25 (going on 26) and need to make my life’s preoccupation- marriage chromosome.’ It’s not that I don’t want to get married; it’s just that I don’t feel the need to worry about it, just yet.
I am more worried that I won’t ever have one of those ‘Gone with the Wind’ kind of loves. I mean I could theoretically get along with just about anybody. That’s so blah. I want the ultimate, the incredible, the unfeasible and the incomprehensible kind of love that makes life exciting. Yes I am a little too starry eyed.
I went to see my financial consultant, a genial old Indian fellow.
We exchange pleasantries and I say, “I want to buy a condo by the end of next year, so I need to make sure that I am saving enough money.”
He looks up concerned.
And he says, “Let me tell you a story….There was a girl, much like you, who come to Canada, and became very ‘Canadian’ (he spits the word Canadian like a bad taste in his mouth) and she bought her own condo. Then she ended up meeting a man, who she married, only the fellow mooched off her. Because she was independent the guy didn’t get a job, and when they got divorced he got half of her condo.”
(CP thinking and this has what to do with me??)
He looks at me sweetly (head titled) and says, “Listen you live at home, and when your Prince Charming comes, together you buy a house and Live happily ever after.”
And I stare at him and he continues on this line of reasoning for the next forty five minutes, giving me the most bizarre examples of why I should get married before 30.
I conceded the obvious fact: two incomes are a whole lot better for maintaining a standard of living. (I held back the fact that it wasn’t necessarily better for ones mental health.) Yet I would still like to have my own place.
He looks at me as if I am slow. And he repeats, deliberately articulating every word, ‘Just wait till you marry Prince Charming. He will take care of you.”
I say (a little louder) “that’s not an option.”
And then he drops the bomb, ‘Well I guess you are very Canadian now’ like an accusation or a curse.
UGH!
I am furious. Why does a woman who wants to take care of herself and better her future have to be accused of being an overly independent brain washed feminist who has shunned her roots?
I mean what’s the point of speculating over some man who may or may not arrive? I still have to live.
The little patience I had bled out, and I pissily said, “Look either you can help me, Or I can find someone else who will.” (I felt very George Bush, Your either with us or against us)
And he says, meekly, “So you want to buy a condo.”
The thing about Indian people is, You could win a nobel prize in Physics, Solve the Palestian and Israeli conflict, develop a cure for cancer, yet some auntie will look at you and say sadly, "So Sad no, she couldn't find a husband, poor thing."
The ‘I am now 25 (going on 26) and need to make my life’s preoccupation- marriage chromosome.’ It’s not that I don’t want to get married; it’s just that I don’t feel the need to worry about it, just yet.
I am more worried that I won’t ever have one of those ‘Gone with the Wind’ kind of loves. I mean I could theoretically get along with just about anybody. That’s so blah. I want the ultimate, the incredible, the unfeasible and the incomprehensible kind of love that makes life exciting. Yes I am a little too starry eyed.
I went to see my financial consultant, a genial old Indian fellow.
We exchange pleasantries and I say, “I want to buy a condo by the end of next year, so I need to make sure that I am saving enough money.”
He looks up concerned.
And he says, “Let me tell you a story….There was a girl, much like you, who come to Canada, and became very ‘Canadian’ (he spits the word Canadian like a bad taste in his mouth) and she bought her own condo. Then she ended up meeting a man, who she married, only the fellow mooched off her. Because she was independent the guy didn’t get a job, and when they got divorced he got half of her condo.”
(CP thinking and this has what to do with me??)
He looks at me sweetly (head titled) and says, “Listen you live at home, and when your Prince Charming comes, together you buy a house and Live happily ever after.”
And I stare at him and he continues on this line of reasoning for the next forty five minutes, giving me the most bizarre examples of why I should get married before 30.
I conceded the obvious fact: two incomes are a whole lot better for maintaining a standard of living. (I held back the fact that it wasn’t necessarily better for ones mental health.) Yet I would still like to have my own place.
He looks at me as if I am slow. And he repeats, deliberately articulating every word, ‘Just wait till you marry Prince Charming. He will take care of you.”
I say (a little louder) “that’s not an option.”
And then he drops the bomb, ‘Well I guess you are very Canadian now’ like an accusation or a curse.
UGH!
I am furious. Why does a woman who wants to take care of herself and better her future have to be accused of being an overly independent brain washed feminist who has shunned her roots?
I mean what’s the point of speculating over some man who may or may not arrive? I still have to live.
The little patience I had bled out, and I pissily said, “Look either you can help me, Or I can find someone else who will.” (I felt very George Bush, Your either with us or against us)
And he says, meekly, “So you want to buy a condo.”
The thing about Indian people is, You could win a nobel prize in Physics, Solve the Palestian and Israeli conflict, develop a cure for cancer, yet some auntie will look at you and say sadly, "So Sad no, she couldn't find a husband, poor thing."
Monday, November 27, 2006
The Great Curry Debate
What came first the curry or the chicken?
When asked what they are having for lunch:
An Indian person will reply, Green/Red/Butter Chicken Curry
A West Indian Person will reply: Curry Chicken
My Trini Friends reasoning is: (And I Quote) “It’s called CURRY CHICKEN.....not chicken curry.....u don’t chicken a curry....u curry a chicken.....”
My Reasoning: When the West Indians got on the boat from India, and on their passage learnt to wine. They Wine all day and all night and eventually all they remember was one curry recipe, they then applied to chicken and meat. Hence they call every thing ‘curry chicken’ because there’s only one kind of curry, whereas for the rest of us who got left behind in the mother land, we were forced to remember all 3000 curry recipes. Also we usually have names that go in front of the chicken curry, to describe, which specific curry it is e.g. butter chicken. Curry is not an adjective for Indians it’s a noun, a thing we make.
What say you, Chicken Curry or Curry Chicken?
When asked what they are having for lunch:
An Indian person will reply, Green/Red/Butter Chicken Curry
A West Indian Person will reply: Curry Chicken
My Trini Friends reasoning is: (And I Quote) “It’s called CURRY CHICKEN.....not chicken curry.....u don’t chicken a curry....u curry a chicken.....”
My Reasoning: When the West Indians got on the boat from India, and on their passage learnt to wine. They Wine all day and all night and eventually all they remember was one curry recipe, they then applied to chicken and meat. Hence they call every thing ‘curry chicken’ because there’s only one kind of curry, whereas for the rest of us who got left behind in the mother land, we were forced to remember all 3000 curry recipes. Also we usually have names that go in front of the chicken curry, to describe, which specific curry it is e.g. butter chicken. Curry is not an adjective for Indians it’s a noun, a thing we make.
What say you, Chicken Curry or Curry Chicken?
ON BELLS & WHISTLES
On Saturday we put up the Christmas tree. It’s huge and oversized and I love it. My pops is threatening to send it with me when I finally move out, I welcome it with open arms. Now my parents are true Indians. I assume Russell Peter’s is old news to you guys, but if not, here’s a good video: SEE BELLOW
Of my folks many warm qualities is their love for deals. In the summer, their favorite past time is going from garage sale to garage sale. They cleverly accumulate the junk they buy, hide it and then things innocently turn up. Case in point, we somehow had 100 red velvet bows for the tree. Yuck! That went straight back to the salvation army this morning.
Minus the velvet bows, our tree looks beautiful.
Of my folks many warm qualities is their love for deals. In the summer, their favorite past time is going from garage sale to garage sale. They cleverly accumulate the junk they buy, hide it and then things innocently turn up. Case in point, we somehow had 100 red velvet bows for the tree. Yuck! That went straight back to the salvation army this morning.
Minus the velvet bows, our tree looks beautiful.
On Shmoozin
This weekend, did an after work thing Friday, Martini’s with the girls at a place called Shmooze. I have posted a little email bellow that I wrote to a local reporter a year ago about Shmooze….and I think it still stands true. Yet every now and then I forget and go.
Hello Chris,
I caught your recent profile on Shmooze in Friday's (April 22) metro and thought I would share my recent experience with you.
Having visited Shmooze a few times in the last month, I have come to identify a certain method in the madness of the infamous 'Shmooze line up.' Getting into Shmooze after 5 is somewhat like getting into the gates of heaven, (to be expected when $2 drinks are on the table.) The disconcerting thing about it is that entry into heaven seems to be a heck of a lot easier if you are Caucasian.
Here is a little story from this Friday. We got into the line up at 5 o'clock and it was moving along. We happened to be waiting for a few people so we had the opportunity to watch the goings on for a while. Oddly the line ground to a complete halt once it got to people of color. In fact, the bouncers actually went through the line tapping certain 'lucky' people, granting them entry. All of these 'lucky' people had one thing in common, they all happened to be Caucasian. After waiting for an hour , we girls ended up being let in. However when we requested the bouncer to let our two male friends through as well, we were pointedly told that it was quite likely that they would have to wait an additional hour to get into the Mecca that is shmooze.
Once inside we were told by another bouncer that if our friends were 'brown' there was really nothing he could do to speed up the process. Perhaps I am naive in wondering how things like this can still happen in our wonderfully multicultural city? Does common decency fly out the window once an overweight man is given a clip board and head set? I understand that Shmooze is a private establishment, which reserves the right to refuse entry to people, but is it acceptable that such entry is subject or rather delayed through a test of skin pigmentation? My advice to all is 'you won't Not get into shmooze if you are of colour, you just have to be prepared to stand in line an extra hour or two, and put up with unnecessary attitude and fleeting looks of disgust from the bouncers.'
Cranky Putz
Hello Chris,
I caught your recent profile on Shmooze in Friday's (April 22) metro and thought I would share my recent experience with you.
Having visited Shmooze a few times in the last month, I have come to identify a certain method in the madness of the infamous 'Shmooze line up.' Getting into Shmooze after 5 is somewhat like getting into the gates of heaven, (to be expected when $2 drinks are on the table.) The disconcerting thing about it is that entry into heaven seems to be a heck of a lot easier if you are Caucasian.
Here is a little story from this Friday. We got into the line up at 5 o'clock and it was moving along. We happened to be waiting for a few people so we had the opportunity to watch the goings on for a while. Oddly the line ground to a complete halt once it got to people of color. In fact, the bouncers actually went through the line tapping certain 'lucky' people, granting them entry. All of these 'lucky' people had one thing in common, they all happened to be Caucasian. After waiting for an hour , we girls ended up being let in. However when we requested the bouncer to let our two male friends through as well, we were pointedly told that it was quite likely that they would have to wait an additional hour to get into the Mecca that is shmooze.
Once inside we were told by another bouncer that if our friends were 'brown' there was really nothing he could do to speed up the process. Perhaps I am naive in wondering how things like this can still happen in our wonderfully multicultural city? Does common decency fly out the window once an overweight man is given a clip board and head set? I understand that Shmooze is a private establishment, which reserves the right to refuse entry to people, but is it acceptable that such entry is subject or rather delayed through a test of skin pigmentation? My advice to all is 'you won't Not get into shmooze if you are of colour, you just have to be prepared to stand in line an extra hour or two, and put up with unnecessary attitude and fleeting looks of disgust from the bouncers.'
Cranky Putz
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
A woman from my work was home for THREE days because something fell on her toe. She claimed her toe was damaged and she was in great pain.
And now she’s here, hobbling around in her stockings, as she claims not to have a pair of slippers fit for the task. She isn’t accepting donations either.
Facts:
-Her foot is not in a caste.
-Her toe is not wrapped in bandages.
-She seems to be walking fine when no one’s looking.
-She went on a half hour shopping break.
-She keeps stopping every now and then to explain what excruciating pain she is in. I’ve heard four very varying explanations of how the accident occurred, yet no mention of a doctor, or x-rays.
I am contemplating, accidentally stubbing it.
I feel mean today.
And now she’s here, hobbling around in her stockings, as she claims not to have a pair of slippers fit for the task. She isn’t accepting donations either.
Facts:
-Her foot is not in a caste.
-Her toe is not wrapped in bandages.
-She seems to be walking fine when no one’s looking.
-She went on a half hour shopping break.
-She keeps stopping every now and then to explain what excruciating pain she is in. I’ve heard four very varying explanations of how the accident occurred, yet no mention of a doctor, or x-rays.
I am contemplating, accidentally stubbing it.
I feel mean today.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
On Great Tuesdays
You know what I got for all my Tae Kwan Do shout outs? My ass kicked.
In Olympic Training class you run crazy drills for an hour and half. Every now and then we spar each other. Until yesterday I was pretend sparring since I didn’t have any equipment. Yesterday my much too helpful instructor decided to lend me his.
And then they hit me for real. They hit hard, couple times they missed and my thigh is now sporting some heavy bruises. (I have to say here that I am the biggest weenie to exist.) Frankly before TKD, the most physical activity I had every preformed was walking down to the basement. I kept crying out and running to the other end of the djo at which the instructor, would hold me in place to ensure I got my share of the beating.
In Olympic Training class you run crazy drills for an hour and half. Every now and then we spar each other. Until yesterday I was pretend sparring since I didn’t have any equipment. Yesterday my much too helpful instructor decided to lend me his.
And then they hit me for real. They hit hard, couple times they missed and my thigh is now sporting some heavy bruises. (I have to say here that I am the biggest weenie to exist.) Frankly before TKD, the most physical activity I had every preformed was walking down to the basement. I kept crying out and running to the other end of the djo at which the instructor, would hold me in place to ensure I got my share of the beating.
Also went to 6 degrees last night. On Tuesdays they have a live Latin band. The band last night was Cuban and they played all the famous songs. I had a great time dancing it up. I took Fathead (my much younger brother) along with friends. Fathead’s been taking dance classes with one of his followers and he has gotten quite good. However he was the youngest person there by a mile. And he became prey for all the old ladies, the real old ladies. They loved him. Kept offering to teach him Bachata….poor fellow was a little turned off by their extra soft skin, but he was a good sport.
Funniest was hearing Fathead describe his bathroom experience. He goes to wash his hands and there’s the bathroom fellow standing there, first he opens the faucet for fathead, then as Fathead reaches to get soap, he reaches out and squirts some in his hand. So here’s fathead scrubbing extra hard, because he knows buddy is watching him. Finally buddy hands him a towel, and fathead cleans thoroughly and attempts to hand the towel back to him, and the guy tells no no you just toss it in there. Ahh first experiences, whish I could go back.
Met a hottie last night, he supposedly memorized my number, but frankly I don’t trust Latin memories.
Got into bed at about one and at two I get one of those silent calls.
Note to all: If you must call me at two in the morning, you are obligated to whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
You know when you’re trying on stuff and usually the lighting is horrible and you’re like, ekkk why is bum sagging like that, or where the heck did those lines come from?
Well today I standing in all my glory, and the tube light was flashing down on me and I had to say, DAMN, I look hot.
Everything is firmer, the lines are gone, and Ain’t nothing sagging.
Thank You Tae Kwan Do, Thank you!
Well today I standing in all my glory, and the tube light was flashing down on me and I had to say, DAMN, I look hot.
Everything is firmer, the lines are gone, and Ain’t nothing sagging.
Thank You Tae Kwan Do, Thank you!
Why David, Why?
I used to think David Blaine was a really Cool Kat.
I admit I was a sucker for his videos, where he did really interesting card tricks and levitated off the ground. I was intrigued. His handsome Persian looks helped rope me in.
Then I saw him in London, suspended over the Thames River for no apparent reason, living in a box with a light.
I remember the scene vividly, a bunch of Brits standing around cheering for him to look at them. This one fella had a wonderful cockney accent and was screaming, “Wake up you laszy Bastard, we traveled three hours to see you, wake up.” They then proceeded to pellet his glass box with eggs and tomatoes.
Here’s a picture of good Ole David above the Thames:
I admit I was a sucker for his videos, where he did really interesting card tricks and levitated off the ground. I was intrigued. His handsome Persian looks helped rope me in.
Then I saw him in London, suspended over the Thames River for no apparent reason, living in a box with a light.
I remember the scene vividly, a bunch of Brits standing around cheering for him to look at them. This one fella had a wonderful cockney accent and was screaming, “Wake up you laszy Bastard, we traveled three hours to see you, wake up.” They then proceeded to pellet his glass box with eggs and tomatoes.
Here’s a picture of good Ole David above the Thames:
David is at it again. He is going to be suspended fifty feet above Time’s Square and will spend two days spinning in a gyroscope (up to eight times a minute) after which he will attempt to escape his shackles and some how manage not to fall to his death.
The question remains, why? I know it’s a test of endurance, but surely there are better ways? Will the world be a better place if David does this?
His poor poor girlfriend….I am so glad I dumped him when I had the chance.
Monday, November 20, 2006
I love pencil skirts. Their sexy, they hug your bottom perfectly, their professional.
But it is such a bitch to get around in.
Walking up the stairs at Yonge today I felt like a penguin. And when you’re already of petite stature, the pencil skirt is disastrous to your stride.
This morning on the daily walkathon through the tunnel from Kennedy parking lot to the station, I was left in the dust.
But it is such a bitch to get around in.
Walking up the stairs at Yonge today I felt like a penguin. And when you’re already of petite stature, the pencil skirt is disastrous to your stride.
This morning on the daily walkathon through the tunnel from Kennedy parking lot to the station, I was left in the dust.
Friday, November 17, 2006
On Grey’s Anatomy last night Addison, sentimentally threw her wedding and engagement ring into the river….signifying that her marriage was over.
Now I have to say, Indian people would not do that.
No Siree bob.
Indian people, would pawn the ring, make a down payment on a house, or buy something to flaunt in the ex husband’s face.
Would you throw away your ring if things didn't work out? Also it get's me wondering if I should take up diving lessons and go hunt for my fortune at the bottom of Lake Ontario???
For the record if you don't want your ring, you don't want any bad ju ju, Ill be more than happy to take the ring off your hands!
Now I have to say, Indian people would not do that.
No Siree bob.
Indian people, would pawn the ring, make a down payment on a house, or buy something to flaunt in the ex husband’s face.
Would you throw away your ring if things didn't work out? Also it get's me wondering if I should take up diving lessons and go hunt for my fortune at the bottom of Lake Ontario???
For the record if you don't want your ring, you don't want any bad ju ju, Ill be more than happy to take the ring off your hands!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The flood gates of OJ Simpson disgust have been opened.
Almost every news reporter or anyone I’ve talked to have expressed absolute disdain for Simpson’s new book and upcoming interview, snazzily entitled, If I did it, here’s how it happened.
Last night I was watching dear old Anderson Cooper interview the father of Ron Goldman, one of Simpson’s victims. The father was obviously replused at this new development and rightly pointed out that the family was unlikely to see any of the money being made by Simpson, since he probably has had the money funneled into hidden accounts.
Infact Simpson who was ordered to pay $33.5 million to the victim’s families has been shielded from doing so, since his major source of income is his pension account, which is protected by state law.
What I was not aware of : After the capture and trial of Berkowitz various states enacted so called ‘sons of sam laws’ which sought to prevent murderers from profiting from their crimes and intending to use the profits to compensate victims. However the Supreme Court declared such laws unconsitutional in 1991.
The key point in the Simpson case is that he was acquited. No matter how convinced I or anyone else is of his guilt, he can not be tried again for the same crime, since he is protected by double jeapordy.
What must his kids be feeling, daddy sitting on a couch talking about hyptoteically killing mommy.
The man is something beyond evil… Yet the question remains….
Almost every news reporter or anyone I’ve talked to have expressed absolute disdain for Simpson’s new book and upcoming interview, snazzily entitled, If I did it, here’s how it happened.
Last night I was watching dear old Anderson Cooper interview the father of Ron Goldman, one of Simpson’s victims. The father was obviously replused at this new development and rightly pointed out that the family was unlikely to see any of the money being made by Simpson, since he probably has had the money funneled into hidden accounts.
Infact Simpson who was ordered to pay $33.5 million to the victim’s families has been shielded from doing so, since his major source of income is his pension account, which is protected by state law.
What I was not aware of : After the capture and trial of Berkowitz various states enacted so called ‘sons of sam laws’ which sought to prevent murderers from profiting from their crimes and intending to use the profits to compensate victims. However the Supreme Court declared such laws unconsitutional in 1991.
The key point in the Simpson case is that he was acquited. No matter how convinced I or anyone else is of his guilt, he can not be tried again for the same crime, since he is protected by double jeapordy.
What must his kids be feeling, daddy sitting on a couch talking about hyptoteically killing mommy.
The man is something beyond evil… Yet the question remains….
Will you watch the interview? Will you read the book?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Seeing RED!
The highlight of my mornings, is parking at Kennedy station.
Every morning, the competition is stiff. This morning, after patiently waiting in line for 15 minutes, I finally get to the entrance, and a quick scan tells me that there are about 3 precious spots left. Now I would like reiterate that I waited in line for 15 minutes. When dude comes from the other side, and pushes his way ahead. So I honk and he graciously gives me the finger. Walking to the station we exchange a few words, me thanking him for the finger first thing in the morning, him mouthing off a bunch of expletives, saying I’m a woman driver, and what was he supposed to do, that it was common sense to cut in front of someone. Frankly I didn’t dispute any of it. But by his logic, I had every right to be pissed-common sense after all. Also when he called me a woman driver bitch, it took every politically correct bone in my body not to point out that he was a ‘Chinese’ driver. Jack ass. I did tell him that if I was a man I would kick his ass. And frankly I was so tempted to drop kick him.
So that’s how my wonderful day started, and I won’t even get into the details of how last night ended. Suffice to say that I need all of you out there, to make me once again believe in the goodness of the ‘human being,’ cuz I am plum out of examples.
Every morning, the competition is stiff. This morning, after patiently waiting in line for 15 minutes, I finally get to the entrance, and a quick scan tells me that there are about 3 precious spots left. Now I would like reiterate that I waited in line for 15 minutes. When dude comes from the other side, and pushes his way ahead. So I honk and he graciously gives me the finger. Walking to the station we exchange a few words, me thanking him for the finger first thing in the morning, him mouthing off a bunch of expletives, saying I’m a woman driver, and what was he supposed to do, that it was common sense to cut in front of someone. Frankly I didn’t dispute any of it. But by his logic, I had every right to be pissed-common sense after all. Also when he called me a woman driver bitch, it took every politically correct bone in my body not to point out that he was a ‘Chinese’ driver. Jack ass. I did tell him that if I was a man I would kick his ass. And frankly I was so tempted to drop kick him.
So that’s how my wonderful day started, and I won’t even get into the details of how last night ended. Suffice to say that I need all of you out there, to make me once again believe in the goodness of the ‘human being,’ cuz I am plum out of examples.
Monday, November 13, 2006
True-isims -Courtesy of a forward
Never argue with idiots. They drag you down to their level, then beat you with experience.
Tell me what you need, and I'll tell you how to get along without it.
Accept that some days you are the pigeon and some days the statue.
Needing someone is like needing a parachute. If he isn't there thefirst time, chances are you won't be needing him again.
Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky, and Ithought to myself, "where the heck is the ceiling?"
After any salary raise, you will have less money at the end of themonth than you did before.
Tell me what you need, and I'll tell you how to get along without it.
Accept that some days you are the pigeon and some days the statue.
Needing someone is like needing a parachute. If he isn't there thefirst time, chances are you won't be needing him again.
Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky, and Ithought to myself, "where the heck is the ceiling?"
After any salary raise, you will have less money at the end of themonth than you did before.
Meredith Grey is engaged:
Pompeo and Ivery, 37, both Boston-area natives, grew up minutes away from eachother, but didn't meet until pals introduced them in Los Angeles in 2003. They
didn't start dating right away. "We were friends for six months; then one night
she just looked different to me," Ivery told PEOPLE in October. "
I couldn’t help but comment on the new Fiancée’s line…that one day she looked different to him….Um CHACHING…..she became the star of new popular show….SHE LOOKED LIKE CHACHING…
God I am a cynical bitch.
Weekend Highlights:
First off Movie Reviews:
1 Thank you for not smoking is a terribly smart movie….classis scene… the tobacco lobbyist gets the audience to blame medical experts and cancer zealots for wanting the death of a cancer poster boy….he asks why he a tobacco lobbyist would want to see the child die, after all he would profit more by getting him cured and keep him smoking his product…..
Other memorable quotes:
On being asked why he lobbies’s for tobacco companies:
Nick Naylor: [out loud] "I just need to pay the mortgage." Nick Naylor: [to self] The Yuppie Nuremburg defense.
~
Nick Naylor: That's the beauty of argument, if you argue correctly, you're never wrong.
~
Joey Naylor: Dad, why is the American government the best government? Nick Naylor: Because of our endless appeals system
~
2 “Find me Guilty’ with Vin Diesel….wow he can actually act…who knew?
On West:
Saturday night went to West, a trendy ‘we need to create a New York like atmosphere’ type club. Living in Toronto, I’ve gotten a little spoilt with all the multiculturalism in our clubs. I tend to go into ‘multi cultural shock’ when I see too many of one kind of people. West was a yuppie haven. Observations…when white people are drunk, they lack any sort of dexterity and like to have make out sessions that start at one end of the club and finish at another and all through the way step on as many feet as possible. Also saw a Paris Hilton wannabe…who took her role playing way too seriously…she flashed us a couple of times, dirty danced….
Why is that when men are picking in you up these days, they start with references to other men? In TO the new trend is to have a Sax fella circulate once the house music starts. While enjoying the highs, a dude comes over and says, ‘so do you find that sexy, a man that plays an instrument.’ I look at him and think, are you pimping on Sax player’s behalf? Or are you about to tell me you play the drums? For the record, a good man never needs to ask a woman if she finds something sexy.
Major irritant: When I tell men that I hail from Scarborough, why is that not one of them can resist saying…oh you must be a gangsta??? And then proceed to make funny hand signs ….Right there that’s a deal breaker….
1 Thank you for not smoking is a terribly smart movie….classis scene… the tobacco lobbyist gets the audience to blame medical experts and cancer zealots for wanting the death of a cancer poster boy….he asks why he a tobacco lobbyist would want to see the child die, after all he would profit more by getting him cured and keep him smoking his product…..
Other memorable quotes:
On being asked why he lobbies’s for tobacco companies:
Nick Naylor: [out loud] "I just need to pay the mortgage." Nick Naylor: [to self] The Yuppie Nuremburg defense.
~
Nick Naylor: That's the beauty of argument, if you argue correctly, you're never wrong.
~
Joey Naylor: Dad, why is the American government the best government? Nick Naylor: Because of our endless appeals system
~
2 “Find me Guilty’ with Vin Diesel….wow he can actually act…who knew?
On West:
Saturday night went to West, a trendy ‘we need to create a New York like atmosphere’ type club. Living in Toronto, I’ve gotten a little spoilt with all the multiculturalism in our clubs. I tend to go into ‘multi cultural shock’ when I see too many of one kind of people. West was a yuppie haven. Observations…when white people are drunk, they lack any sort of dexterity and like to have make out sessions that start at one end of the club and finish at another and all through the way step on as many feet as possible. Also saw a Paris Hilton wannabe…who took her role playing way too seriously…she flashed us a couple of times, dirty danced….
Why is that when men are picking in you up these days, they start with references to other men? In TO the new trend is to have a Sax fella circulate once the house music starts. While enjoying the highs, a dude comes over and says, ‘so do you find that sexy, a man that plays an instrument.’ I look at him and think, are you pimping on Sax player’s behalf? Or are you about to tell me you play the drums? For the record, a good man never needs to ask a woman if she finds something sexy.
Major irritant: When I tell men that I hail from Scarborough, why is that not one of them can resist saying…oh you must be a gangsta??? And then proceed to make funny hand signs ….Right there that’s a deal breaker….
Friday, November 10, 2006
You know you need a new job when:
- You get into work, say good morning, and then disappear to get a bagel for half an hour….and nobody misses you.
- Your phone rings twice a day, both times its your mum, who calls you out of sympathy.
- You can dedicate an entire portion of your day to blogging activities…..entire afternoons, or mornings…so much so that it begins to feel like work.
- After screening all the blogs in your favorites you press the NEXT button, to check out random blogs.
- Between 4.15 pm to 4.30 pm, you actually watch each minute go by.
- You couldn’t care less if people see that your on non work related sites for most of the day
- You have the audacity to sit down with your boss and say, we need to talk…..
- You save work, so that you have something to do tomorrow. And even after ‘saving’ for an entire week, your done in an hour, Monday morning.
- You are jealous of work-a-holics, you envy friends who work twelve hour shifts.
- You consider taking up smoking so as to have something meaningful to do three times a day.
- You have time to analyze every past relationship in excruciating detail
- You become the main ‘event planner’ for your group. So much so that people email you vague descriptions of things/events/restaurants /people they’ve heard of, and you find it instantly.
- You no longer take personal calls or run errands after four thirty p.m.
- You habitually take an hour and half lunch every Thursday, and never worry about being ‘swamped’ when you get back.
- When work is sent your way, you get excited….so much so that you need a minute to calm down.
- You have organized, itemized and relabeled all the files in your office.
- You have time to make lists like this one.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Cushion vs Flying Solo
Our Christmas dance is coming up at work.
Last year I went with Draconian and posse. This year the posse seemed iffy. I like parties. More so, I like free parties. This years party is a little far, in Mississauga (a 45 minute drive.) Some women from my floor got together and secured us a table, and they arranged a mini carpool. Only I was late, so now I have to drive myself there.
I am wondering. Is this a bad thing? Why is it we are so nervous to do things on our own? I like to think I am an evolved being. I enjoy shopping alone; I travel on occasion by myself (which I love cuz you meet so many people along the way,) I joined TKD all by my lonesome.
Yet there are things I won’t do on my own. I’ve never gone to a nice restaurant by myself for dinner. Even when it’s a Friday night and I have serious craving and everyone is AWOL. Instead Ill go to bed hungry and unsatisfied. I did go to a movie by myself. (Probably the worst movie to go to independently, it was Message in a bottle, and rather depressing to begin with.) I am a bit of a chatter box, and I do like being able to turn to the person next to me, and make a pointless comments. (Yes I am one of those.) I don’t usually go to clubs by myself, even if I am meeting people there. I usually drag a sidekick with me.
Yet why not?
I don’t want to bring a date to the Xmas party. I personally think company Christmas parties are purgatory for the spouses/dates. And at this point I can’t think of anyone I like enough to fork out the forty dollars for, just to have a safety cushion.
So what say you? Do you cushion…or do you fly solo?
Last year I went with Draconian and posse. This year the posse seemed iffy. I like parties. More so, I like free parties. This years party is a little far, in Mississauga (a 45 minute drive.) Some women from my floor got together and secured us a table, and they arranged a mini carpool. Only I was late, so now I have to drive myself there.
I am wondering. Is this a bad thing? Why is it we are so nervous to do things on our own? I like to think I am an evolved being. I enjoy shopping alone; I travel on occasion by myself (which I love cuz you meet so many people along the way,) I joined TKD all by my lonesome.
Yet there are things I won’t do on my own. I’ve never gone to a nice restaurant by myself for dinner. Even when it’s a Friday night and I have serious craving and everyone is AWOL. Instead Ill go to bed hungry and unsatisfied. I did go to a movie by myself. (Probably the worst movie to go to independently, it was Message in a bottle, and rather depressing to begin with.) I am a bit of a chatter box, and I do like being able to turn to the person next to me, and make a pointless comments. (Yes I am one of those.) I don’t usually go to clubs by myself, even if I am meeting people there. I usually drag a sidekick with me.
Yet why not?
I don’t want to bring a date to the Xmas party. I personally think company Christmas parties are purgatory for the spouses/dates. And at this point I can’t think of anyone I like enough to fork out the forty dollars for, just to have a safety cushion.
So what say you? Do you cushion…or do you fly solo?
The Power of Punctuation
Thought this was a cute little exercise~
An English professor wrote these words:
“ A woman without her man is nothing”
on the blackboard and asked the students to punctuate it correctly.
All the males in the class wrote:
“A woman, without her man, is nothing.”
All the females in the class wrote:
“A woman: without her, man is nothing.”
An English professor wrote these words:
“ A woman without her man is nothing”
on the blackboard and asked the students to punctuate it correctly.
All the males in the class wrote:
“A woman, without her man, is nothing.”
All the females in the class wrote:
“A woman: without her, man is nothing.”
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
On Perfecting Perfection
Yesterday Kristy Alley showed off her fantastic 55 year old body in a bikini on Oprah.
Today I get my braces off after two years.
Today I get my braces off after two years.
Things I will not miss about braces:
-Really odd men, coming up to me in clubs and saying in low hissy voices, you look sexy with braces…um.....no! No one looks sexy in braces, unless you’re a child molester.
-People wondering what was wrong to my teeth to begin with. The same people who would suggest repetitively that I needed to fix them when I was a kid.
-Having half my dinner stuck in my teeth.
-Going on dates and obsessively gargling in the washroom.
-Those mini brushes they give you to clean your teeth.
-The elastics that made me feel like spider man.
Things I will miss:
-Not being forced to go down…..men are always a little trepidacious when you got steel in your mouth, though it doesn’t stop them from trying.
-my ever so hot dentist, peering down on me every four weeks, with his sexy brown eyes
-free tooth brushes and dentist gadgets
-bonding with the other adult braces victims….i had a mini support group going for a while…
-my mother is going to actually expect me to find a husband now….ugh!
-People wondering what was wrong to my teeth to begin with. The same people who would suggest repetitively that I needed to fix them when I was a kid.
-Having half my dinner stuck in my teeth.
-Going on dates and obsessively gargling in the washroom.
-Those mini brushes they give you to clean your teeth.
-The elastics that made me feel like spider man.
Things I will miss:
-Not being forced to go down…..men are always a little trepidacious when you got steel in your mouth, though it doesn’t stop them from trying.
-my ever so hot dentist, peering down on me every four weeks, with his sexy brown eyes
-free tooth brushes and dentist gadgets
-bonding with the other adult braces victims….i had a mini support group going for a while…
-my mother is going to actually expect me to find a husband now….ugh!
So today’s my swan party….and everyone is invited….!
The Monday Blues
I was flipping like through TV shows like a maniac last night, I caught the following quote:
“Depression is realizing that you are going to die one day.
Boredom is wondering what you’re going to do till then.”
I hate to admit it, but lately I have been thinking, what am I going to do till I die??
I mean besides maybe get married, get promoted to a title like VP of something, and own a couple of houses, is this really all there is?
“Depression is realizing that you are going to die one day.
Boredom is wondering what you’re going to do till then.”
I hate to admit it, but lately I have been thinking, what am I going to do till I die??
I mean besides maybe get married, get promoted to a title like VP of something, and own a couple of houses, is this really all there is?
Friday, November 03, 2006
To the Committee of Daylight Savings Time,
While it is a joy to wake up to gorgeous sunlight, it is an irritation to come home to pitch black night at five pm.
This leads me to be:
-Lazy-not want to get on the blasted tread mill, put in the ‘fun’ Pilate video or go to tae kwan do class, instead I want to sprawl out on the couch and vegetate
-Plan fewer social events which is a major loss of revenue for the economy
-Feel depressed-which can lead to extended periods of ‘feeling sorry for myself’ and going to bed at the ungodly hour of 9.00pm
I therefore implore you to make haste, and bring sunlight back to five o’clock.
Sincerely,
Cranky Putz
If you invite me over for dinner or a party, you get the following choices:
-The cheapest, yet most exotic sounding bottle of wine available from some obscure wine region like Slovenia
-A dessert, commissioned to my mother, though at the last minute purchased from IGA, and repackaged to look home made
-A useless gift, re-gifted from past parties, you know the kind, votive candles, cd holders etc.
I usually get an email within five minutes, assuring me that I need never bring anything when I come over =)
-The cheapest, yet most exotic sounding bottle of wine available from some obscure wine region like Slovenia
-A dessert, commissioned to my mother, though at the last minute purchased from IGA, and repackaged to look home made
-A useless gift, re-gifted from past parties, you know the kind, votive candles, cd holders etc.
I usually get an email within five minutes, assuring me that I need never bring anything when I come over =)
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Lottery ticket Cult
At work I have this adorable little old Greek lady, who has conned me into the biggest work scam since Girl Guide cookies~ The Lottery Pool
Every couple of weeks, she patiently waits at my desk, while I hunt for loose change that miraculously add up to 10 dollars. Every Friday she patiently drops off a photocopy of the tickets she purchases.
Thing is, they have been playing for the past 22 years….(YES 22 Freaking years) and have never won. Not even a mild pot like say $5000. The most they’ve ever won are free tickets or a small $5 jackpot, which is then reinvested into the pot.
The old lady is clever, she pitched the ‘What if’ theory. ‘What if’ the department wins?
How much would that suck to be the only shmuck coming to work the next day ~Poor?
Thus I am now another peon flushing my not so hard earned money down the toilet.
Every couple of weeks, she patiently waits at my desk, while I hunt for loose change that miraculously add up to 10 dollars. Every Friday she patiently drops off a photocopy of the tickets she purchases.
Thing is, they have been playing for the past 22 years….(YES 22 Freaking years) and have never won. Not even a mild pot like say $5000. The most they’ve ever won are free tickets or a small $5 jackpot, which is then reinvested into the pot.
The old lady is clever, she pitched the ‘What if’ theory. ‘What if’ the department wins?
How much would that suck to be the only shmuck coming to work the next day ~Poor?
Thus I am now another peon flushing my not so hard earned money down the toilet.
BREAKING FLAVA FLAV NEWS
My obsession with this train wreck continues.
According to People Flava Flav is expecting his 7th child, from an unknown non flava flav contestant, according to the article:
According to People Flava Flav is expecting his 7th child, from an unknown non flava flav contestant, according to the article:
"Flav has confirmed this and Deelishis is aware that after things did not work
with the season-one winner, Flav conceived a child with a woman he had been
dating on and off," the rapper's manager says.
So its just a matter of time till Deelishis kicks his behind to the curb. And inspite of them saying Flav's new baby mama isn't a flaverette, wouldn't it be priceless if it was New York???
Season 3 here we come.
How scrumptious is Mario Lopez on Dancing with the Stars?
Not only is he a natural and um tight dancer, every time I see those dimples, well let’s just say I could do a lot with those sexy dimples.
What I don’t understand is how they can get 9’s, while some of the others get 10’s. As far as I see there is no competition. Mario and partner are precision dancers, practically flawless; their movements are tight, yet sexy. And their obvious off air relationship adds a definite passion to their dance.
After watching Mario saunter all over the dance floor, S and I checked out a bar called 6
degrees in uptown. Live Cuban Band named Sabo Cubano was playing some sexy tunes. In honor of Halloween I was a kitty kat and S a sexy cowgirl. Some people took their Halloween dressing seriously. My favorites were the Tin Man (Though dude did look like he’d worn the same costume for the last three years,) Two Lady Cops, a Cuban Cop (Who looked more like a Cuban show gal) and a plethora of French maids/school girls.
Then I got to dance the night away, with sexy men who have accents.
I could definitely get used to salsa Tuesdays.
Not only is he a natural and um tight dancer, every time I see those dimples, well let’s just say I could do a lot with those sexy dimples.
What I don’t understand is how they can get 9’s, while some of the others get 10’s. As far as I see there is no competition. Mario and partner are precision dancers, practically flawless; their movements are tight, yet sexy. And their obvious off air relationship adds a definite passion to their dance.
After watching Mario saunter all over the dance floor, S and I checked out a bar called 6
degrees in uptown. Live Cuban Band named Sabo Cubano was playing some sexy tunes. In honor of Halloween I was a kitty kat and S a sexy cowgirl. Some people took their Halloween dressing seriously. My favorites were the Tin Man (Though dude did look like he’d worn the same costume for the last three years,) Two Lady Cops, a Cuban Cop (Who looked more like a Cuban show gal) and a plethora of French maids/school girls.Then I got to dance the night away, with sexy men who have accents.
I could definitely get used to salsa Tuesdays.
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