Recycling Madness

Our office building is attempting to be the most environmentally friendly building in all of downtown Toronto. (Yeah Building!)

Two days ago I was sitting idly at my desk, checking YOUR blogs, when I was handed a little green box. The next day I came into find my usual trash box, now missing its usual plastic bag, and instead containing instructions that I was now to place all my ‘wet’ garbage into the green box (also without a plastic bag) and my recyclable garbage into the black box. The instructions went into grave details as to what was ok to put into the green box. Also included was the following note:

“To avoid unwanted pests, please be sure to empty and rinse your mini organics bin prior to leaving work each day. The Cleaning contractor is not responsible for emptying or cleaning them.”

We have also been threatened with regular audits of our garbage.

This now means that when I have a cup of tea from the local Starbucks or Tim’s (What ever tickles your fancy) I must now put my tea bag into the green box, and my cup into the black box, my straw into the brown box and then conscientiously empty my green ‘stinky box’ at the end of the day, and wash it as well.

Seriously?

This is worse that living at home, where I get regularly audited by my father. I am all for saving the environment and what not, but all this work at work has struck me as a smidge ridiculous.

Also I am scared of the garbage auditors. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a ‘not so’ secret loathing for the auditing function. And garbage auditors would have to be the bottom of the heap. How horrible would it be to end up on some worse ‘recycler in the building’ list?? Thus I am now saving my garbage to the end of the day and dropping it off at the corner garbage box.

I am still recycling paper….(Yeah CP!)

Trials & Tribulations of a Cool Breeze

The weather network promised a cool 25 degrees today.

They lied,

It was about 30 degrees at six am, when I drove all the way over to Brampton.

And then Map quest lied about Dixon road being right off the 401.

Finally I got into work, and I was red from all the heat and driving around.

So I decided that the time had come to break out my new fan.

I found my new fan sitting in its pretty box in my office, doubling as my second side table.

I opened up the box, anticipating the cool breeze and to my dismay, I realized that the stupid fan was all chopped up and required ‘assembly.’

I got over my initial shock and fished out all the parts, opened up the instructions and got to work. Thinking to myself I am a daughter of a handy man, how hard could this be??

First I was supposed to assemble the base of the fan. But I decided that the plastic base, which seemed to have no real substantial purpose, wasn’t really my thing. Next I assembled the grill, the grill nut (why is it called a nut? It doesn’t look like a nut,) and the blade. I tested the blade, closing my eyes to imagine the wonderful breeze which would soon be blowing my way. Then came the blade nut.

The stubborn bloody blade nut, refused to go where it was supposed to go. I tried to get the damn thing in for about twenty minutes, and then decided ‘Who really needs a blade nut?” Seriously. I was thinking of doing an audit of the fans in the area to see if the blade nut was imperative, but I was melting, so on came the other grill and in went the plug.

Now I am basking in the blissful breeze of a half assembled fan, and so if you do read one of those “The Stupidest ways to Die” new's lines about an employee who got accidentally decapitated because she was too lazy to put in the blade nut….well you’ll know who they were on about….

I developed a complex watching America’s Next Top Model.

I remember the scene clearly, J Manuel and Hottie Nigel Barker were pointing to a girl, discussing how her inner thighs touched.

This was considered to be an indication that she was too fat.

It is really hot in Toronto and I am wearing a very tight Pencil skirt. And my inner thighs are having a rub fete. It’s one of those days.

It is hot out there.

Oh goodness it is hot. I cannot wait to go home and just stand under my cold shower for the next hour.

Who has a pool, and am I invited??

If I were to Choose a Song to Describe me today: It would be:

One More Time - Machel Montano

All she say she wanted, was one wine from me
All she said she needed, was a little bit of my time
She never expected to get so addicted to my wine
She said, are you gonna hurt me?
Am I a statistic?
A victim of your circumstances, or will I just evicted
From this loving safety, please don't disappoint me
Not this time

[chorus]Gimme one more wine (one more wine)
One more time (one more time)
Gimme one more wine (one more wine)
One last time (one last time)

I have been watching a lot of the cooking network lately.

I love how the camera gets right into the food, and the new cooks are all messy and boisterous. As if to say that by making a bit of a mess the food will taste more delicious.

Last night, making my broccoli salad, my alter ego inspired by Jamie Oliver came out. I began to chop up the broccoli and onions and threw it into the bowl with all the pizzazz my hands could muster. I scurried around the kitchen grabbing ingredients (ok so besides the onion all that went into it is salt, pepper and coleslaw dressing) and tossing them in. Yelling to my make believe audience, “Oh look at those colors, Look at those flavors.” I grabbed my pepper grinder and began to grind in the pepper, ‘ohhing and ahhing’ along the way.

Then I began to toss it all up, just like Jamie does, bare hands, a few pieces falling out of the bowl and unto the kitchen top. Until my mother came by and smacked me across the head, reminding me that in real life Indian people don’t waste anything….as she put it, “Listen here, your not a gora, so wash those extra pieces and put it back in, we have two big hogs to feed.”

Mad Bull Tagged Me, I got Tagged Yippeeee!!! (Ahh Blogger Luv)

8 things about me:

wearing watches makes me so anxious, I feel compelled to always be looking at my wrist even if I have no where to go.

My personal mission is to rid the blogsphere of word verification

I read a book, usually from the library and if I love it, I buy it and keep it, for when I get old. I have an entire collection of beautiful reads, guaranteeing that when I am older, my precious moments won’t be wasted on crappy reads.

Fathead has convinced me that hair is the source of my every now and then pimples. Thus I am fanatical about keeping my hair out of my face.

I think a very tidy room, house, work place is evidence of a boring life. I think a little mess every now and then is good for the soul.

I love bluesy music. I often imagine myself in one of those old smokey halls, with their old microphones dangling around, and a beautiful singer propped up on a piano, crying her heart out in melodic harmonies.

I am having an affair with Thai food; especially shrimp panang.

Sometimes I wish I could start over, but every now and then I am proud of the woman I have become.

One more for good luck: Today my favorite poem is:

TodayToday I will not live up to my potential.
Today I will not relate well to my peer group.
Today I will not contribute in class.I will not volunteer one thing.
Today I will not strive to do better.
Today I will not achieve or adjust or grow enriched or get involved.
I will not put up my hand even if the teacher is wrong and I can prove it.
Today I might eat the eraser off my pencil.
I'll look at clouds.
I'll be late,
I don't think I'll wash.

I need a rest.

Oh I am mad.

Blood Boiling, massive levels of irritation, really really really mad.
I should wait for the object of my irritation to innocently walk back in, and then throw something at his head.

Yet I am so angry, that I actually feel the road rage like impulse, to hunt this person down and have it out in a spectacular Jerry Springer Like fashion.

What do you do when your are so angry you feel like you are about to boil over?

I’ve been busy. (I know, I know, most boring phrase to read in a blog.)

The good kind of busy when you get home at night, and you fall instantly to sleep, feeling like you’ve earned your days work on earth.

You feel like the big G would be proud of you. You are earning (hopefully) your rest in heaven.

Today I conducted a huge info session. We had a group of about three hundred people. And like any good event all sorts of fun things went wrong at the last minute: Banquet Hall people, who despite me meeting with them umpteen times and letting them know everyone would be there at 8.30 am sharp, got the impression we would start at 10 and began to mosey on in at 8.15. Little projector screen that went berserk I think for its own mirth. Big Whigs, who demanded we have five copies of their presentations printed out, yet didn’t even glance their way at the end of it (oh the trees, the trees,) coffee and tea which no matter how many times I ordered fresh pots, tasted tepid at best.

Overall the session went well. I rediscovered that speaking truly is an art form. Our second presenter was a consultant; tall, hot, oozing sex appeal and a voice you would beg to say naughty things to you at night. He had pizzazz and a passion for his subject which seemed to create a self made spot light on him. It was a revelation to see people dozing off and somehow come alive once he came on. I swear a few women were actually clutching their seats at the end of it all. Made me have a new appreciation for the Benny Hinn folks, who for the record I think are the cleverest shysters yet.

The funniest moment for me though, was when my absolutely 100% white boss, dressed in her beautiful black suit, with an elegant pearl set adorning her fragile neck, came around to my team and gave us props. She said to my bemused face, “Yo CP, Bump me some.”

I may never be done complaining about this

Word Verification makes me feel like I am at an eye test...

The Code

The Front End:
I spent the weekend with five gorgeous men. The kind of men who got the right kind of genes, tall, beautiful smiles, chiseled features (I always wondered what chiseled features were,) as well as bonus attributes like great jobs, shinning personalities etc.

And I got to be the only girl with them all weekend long.

The Back End:
I’ve known most of these fellas for a while now. The two who the following story rotates on live together. They are best buds. Roomie 1 who we shall call the Wizard, has been my flirt friend from a couple of years. We had a brief encounter when we first met, and pretty much a few more times over the years. Wizard is hot, however timing and circumstance never quite worked out, and the fact that I never felt too bad about it, never caused me to feel like I missed out on anything.

Rommie #2, we shall call the Don. The Don is hot, in the silent brooding kind of way and women tend to throw themselves at him in droves. I witnessed many such droves on Saturday.

Que Friday: We all went down to College Street, meh & my men, and about ten shots later, we ended up at some hookey club, shaking to the music. The Wizard who currently has a girlfriend is giving me the eye. Later on in the night, the Wizard is all over me. I don’t know if any other single person out there feels this way, but lately I’ve been feeling like it has become my second duty in life to keep men faithful. All the men in relationships seem to only need a few drinks or an hour long conversation, to suddenly forget their faithful ways and make a pass. Luckily for ‘most’ of the women, I live by the code, namely, & so far no one’s left overs have been tempting enough.


Que Saturday: We get to Music. Music is your perfect example of an uppity club. Women with pretty extensions and Bebe dresses, flouncing around, whilst gino dressed men buy then $20 drinks. The Wizard, probably out of guilt, is now acting super ‘friendly’ towards me, patting me on the back like one of the boys…whatever…

The Don in the meantime, has a girl following him around. Rather unexpectedly the Don grabs my arm and steers me to the back of one of the patios, and proceeds to get his mouth and hands all over me.

Now I almost died of a shock. I mean, in the group, I thought I was sort of spoken for by the Wizard. Sure there isn’t anything going on with us right now, but heck we had a past. Isn’t there a code amongst men, to not violate another man’s property, even if it is only a summer home?? I know amongst my girl friends, once you start to date one of us, you become a non sexual entity. And even if you cease dating for years, you still remain the original handler’s first pick. Permission must be sought.

So I ask: Does the code exist Or am I living in a different time?

Bloggers Justice

I guess there is such a thing as blogger’s justice.

The less your post (whatever the petty reason) the less people read.


Checking site meter today made me feel rather lonely.

So this is to let you know that I am back….with a vengeance, and all that good stuff.

& Now Back To Your Regular Programming....

Friday:
Octopus: Cousins ‘born again’ Christian friend appears in a barely there Lace Mini Dress, my friend K remarks, that he too wants to find God…..
Immigrants tickled by hookers on Church Street, attempt to take a picture and are chased away by their pimps… my first sighting of live pimps, am a little surprised that they dress so cliché…..kept singing 360 Mafia all the way home, “You know its hard out here for a Pimp”

Saturday: Shopping, bags, and bags of shopping,

We went to a store where items were $5, as a result people were buying a lotta shit…the following conversation ensued:

Me: Wowee people are Buying 40 pieces of stuff
JA woman: Listen maga gyal, if ve wanna buy 40 ve buy 40, me no need nah commentary from nuh maga yute STUPSE
Me: Um I was saying it’s a good thing…jeez
Me: Maga for real? Aww let’s hug
JA woman: Get away from me, crazy innjins..

Saturday night: Ghetto Club:

You would think I would have learnt from my first experience, but no, no, its takes CP a few tries to figure out what’s wrong for her. My cousin kept remarking that the place was filled with drunk Sri Lankan men and she feared for her life. My brother miraculously kept appearing at the front of the stage when the dancers were on. And subway fella made an appearance.

Subway fella seems to be a good on paper guy. Nice enough, dresses well, am a little vary about his choice of clubs, but….something is not so fabulous about his face. I couldn’t put my finger on it, until fathead pointed out that he looks like a raccoon. For the entire night, every time I looked at him I saw a raccoon, it could have also been due to all the second hand weed I inhaled….

Sunday: Free Machel Concert at Harbour Front, was anyone there? It was a fabulous concert, frankly I think it should be Machel’s life calling to go around the world and teach every man to move their waist like that. Wow, I’m getting a little Umm just thinking about it. Also as usual there was one monkey who had to demonstrate to the rest of the world that he was having a better time than all, by climbing up on one of the parapets. Shortly after a girl decides to be smart and join him. She got up easy enough, but oh was it funny watching her struggle and almost fall on the way down….(video to follow)…

Sunday night: Drove to Niagara Falls for the night. The falls are beautiful at night, and if you ever go, may I recommend the Brock Plaza Hotel. Best Location and the comfiest beds. Best of all we ended up getting free breakfasts at the falls view restaurant that is well worth an overpriced drink, simply for the view….free and it’s even better. A word of caution though, the hotel is European sized, so a bit on the cramped side, and if you do get ‘upgraded’ to a falls view room, don’t be a goof and jump up for joy like we did, because their version of a ‘falls view’ room is a tiny window, facing a building, and if you crane your head to the left, you see the falls.

Monday: I can’t begin to tell you the amount of times we walked up and down Clifton hills. My calves are currently spazzing from being worked out so much. It was a beautiful day. I got a wonderful tan, really enjoyed the maid of the mist, and was screaming my lungs off in the giant sky wheel, even though it is enclosed and air conditioned. I highly reccomend playing tourist for a weekend this summer, even in your own city, its barrels of fun.....

Then we went shopping again. I wonder how cuz is going to fit all her wares into her suitcase? I have a happy feeling that she is going to have to leave a few things behind, and wonder of it all, we happen to be the same size!

So all in all, a delightful weekend…..how was yours?

Teaser:

I'm Back, & boy oh boy do I have stories for you guys........

& lots of pictures too.....

Sadly I have do work first....more later on today!

The Weekend Is HERE! And its a Hot One.

Lots of things happening around the city, Machel is playing at the Harbour Front on Sunday, people have plans to go shopping on Saturday, there are pool parties to visit, there is a trip to Niagara Falls planned....

Time to Break out the Booty Shorts...

Have a Fabulous Weekend....I can't wait to hear all about it on Tuesday!

Ugh I’m a bad blogger.

I get a little busy and then I stop updating, it’s almost sinful.

Not sure how much sense my blog is going to make today, my beautiful cousin is in town, and we were out last night keeping up the family tradition of boozing and dancing.

I don’t drink too much, and seldom on a week day. But last night caught in the revelry of having my favorite cousin around, I started sipping early. By the time we got to the bar, I was shinning. (True Indian Term!)

We merrily got home at 3 am, when I fell into a wonderful drunken dream.

Fast forward four hours and I wake up in a panic because I have a meeting at 8, which means I have less than an hour to get downtown. My first steps out of bed, reminded me of the night before. I haul my butt into work armed with a large coffee, and make it in time for my meeting, only to find out its been ‘delayed’ an hour.

Boy did I feel frazzled. Made me realize how old I am. I remember the days when I used to party three times a week and then work ten hour shifts.

Has this ever happened to you? You’ve drunk so much the night before, alcohol seems to be coming out of your pores. I was so paranoid about it, that I brushed my teeth three times this morning alone. And I think I am wearing an entire bottle of channel. I also accosted our poor intern for all her gum.

Am off now to nurse my headache and attempt to discretely shut my door for a little snooze….

We have a temporary summer student who is with us for the next two months. I walked by her cubicle today and noticed 5 framed photographs, pretty colored candles and a few nick knacks.

She is only here for two months, does she really need the photo frames.

I walked through the rest of the floor and noticed that everyone has at least three photo frames with children/partners/pets.

Am I the only person who doesn’t feel the need to decorate my office as if it were my second home?

And do my six pairs of shoes count as too much personal stuff at the office?