Awaiting the Second Draft

The more I think about it, the more the dating scene seems to be like the NHL.

We are all looking to win the Stanley Cup, aka the good guy/gyal who we can have a contented life with.

What we want are the “star players,” the Ovechkins, the Crosbys, The Staals….

We prefer to get them when their rookies, so we can mold them to our liking.

A few us, used to be star teams back in the day. We were the popular girls who always had boyfriends and were inundated with candy grams on those 'special' days in high school.

Then they introduced the salary cap; we somehow got into long term relationships that didn’t work out, and suddenly we are five years older stuck with a few bozos. When we are finally become free agents, we look around, we soon realize we’re trading for other people’s leftovers from the first draft.

And the left overs suck. They are all either too old, prone to injury or worse they lack “Skillz.”

So we make the choice to suck for the next couple of years, so that we can get first dibs on the second drafts….you know: the ones coming off disappointing marriages looking for the ‘real’ love of their lives, the past geeks in UNI & have been transformed beyond belief or playas who are finally ready to keep their pants on…

How long till the second draft?

When speed Dating is Necessary!

I met him last year at our company golf tournatment. He was part of the registered massage therpy team we hired to handle the event. Seemed like a nice guy, we chatted, joked, he said call me.

And I thought to myself, massage therapist, nice fella, I should call. And so I did.

We chatted, and chatted, and chatted, for about a year. We never met up.

I lost interest quickly. I figure if a man doesn't make an effort to see you, chances are you don't really want to see him.

Then last week, he starts calling me down, says we have to meet up, how about Saturday. I idly agree. Give me a call Saturday...and he does. But I am busy, ghetto whinning, so I say call me mid week. He says how about Wednessday. I say sure. And he calls again, right after work like clock work. So I say, what heck, he's making the effort, lets meet.

I walk into the joint, and he meets me at the door. Wearing an oversize yellow sweatshirt that is mustard yellow. He looks like my eighteen year old brother on a sunday. We get to the table and he makes the preliminary chit chat. We order drinks, and he finishes his in seconds. Then he says "Oh I only have thirty dollars on me, But I want another drink."

He proceeds to order a beer, and when the beer comes, he opens up his wallet, and begins to count his cash, including change. He opens up the dessert menu, and begins to add up the costs. He points to both his drinks and says, "ten dollars, plus apple pie, which would be another seven dollars, plus taxes, hmm not sure ill have enough." And he looks at me hopefully, like Ill be contributing to his shortfall. (He somehow misses my horrified and incredulous stare.) Then he begins to talk about how he never wakes up before one pm but how he is working hard to grow his business.

Eventually he gets to the topic of women, and how he doesn't like dating women from Toronto. Apparently the city spoils us. (It somehow never occours to him, that men like him 'spoil us' and not in a good way.)

I have never drunk a glass of wine so fast in my life. Twenty minutes later I am making excuses about an early conference. I practically scream for the waiter to bring us the bill.

And then the clincher.

He tries to short change me. I've had one drink, and he tries to take all the change.

Eventually i got my money, and he attempted to walk with me to the parking lot.

I was about ten steps ahead, and did a cusory wave back.

Men of the world, if you invite a woman out, please oh please be able to afford the $5 drink, wear something that shows us you care (after all chances are, I took a shower, did my hair and wore make up,) and most of all don't tell us how much you hate women....... if for nothing else but a good first impression.

I love Indian people, I am Indian. They are a generous, down to earth bunch. No superiority complexes with Indians. Sure we are the butt of jokes on accents and smells, but overall, I love my people. Only every now and then, I come to the conclusion that there may be some truth to those jokes:

(Please read the following in Apu’s voice~ I’m not promoting stereotyping here, but honestly the ICIC Rep, was Apu’s cousin)

ICIC: Good Morning, Thank you for Calling ICIC Bank, how may I be of assisting today?

CP: Well, I opened a high interest savings account on line, and I got an email saying to give you guys a call.

ICIC: Madam, Just to confirm, you are calling ICIC Bank because you have a high interest savings account. Please confirm Madam.

CP: No, I applied for one, but I got an email saying to give you guys a call to complete the account set up.

ICIC: Ok Madam, what I heard was you are calling about the high interest savings account; Please confirm that what I heard is true.

CP: well yeah…...sort of…..

ICIC: Madam Please tell me your name

CP: Cranky Putz, C-R-A-N-K-Y P-U-T-Z

ICIC: Madam, I heard CRANKY PUTZ, please confirm that this is correct.
CP: Yes

ICIC: Madam please holding on, while I secure access to your personalized information

CP: Ok

(4 long, horrendous on hold song-minutes later)

ICIC: Madam I am sorry to inform you that you do not have a High interest savings account with us. Please go on our website and set up one.

CP: (Reaching the height of irritation) Yes I know that, I did apply for one, and YOU GUYS sent me an email to call you

ICIC: Madam, I am so sorry, Just to confirm you are interested in applying for a high interest savings account, please confirm what I have confirmed.

CP: Seriously?

ICIC: Pardon me madam?

CP: Look can you not just look up my information?

ICIC: Madam, Just to confirm I am going to put you on hold while I talk to my superior to find the bestest solution to your problem….

CP: Bestest?? OK fine. Whatever….

(Four minutes later)

ICIC: Madam I just want to confirm to you that you do not have an account with us, please go to the website to apply for one, please confirm that you understand this statement

CP: Never mind, goodbye,

ICIC: Madam just to confirm that you are now saying you wish to end this conversation, I would like to thank you for calling ICIC, and wish to ask you to call you again, so we can help you with any problems you may have.

CP: (Incredulous silence, before slamming the phone down.)

Every now and then you make a choice and do something that perhaps you should not have done. But you did it, and have no real regrets about it. Heck it happened. No one was significantly impacted by it, and perhaps the intention behind it was suspect, but it happened.

And you tell a friend; more out of the need to tell someone rather than as a solicitation for commentary on the choice.

You are given commentary. Obviously commentary you don’t want to hear. All you wanted to do was tell someone. And you begin to feel that instead of telling an impartial friend, you’ve mistakenly been to the ‘confessional’ at the Catholic Church where the judgment is immediate and you’re given the number of verses to get out of the conundrum.

Suddenly the choice seems a lot bigger than it was yesterday.

The friend connects dots, some relevant, others obtuse at best.

And you start to get a little irritated. Yet you are reminded that this is what friends ‘are supposed to do.’

And you begin to remember why you began a blog to begin with: Anonymous confessions to people who will always try to put a happy spin on all your little stumbles.

Ghetto Whine and Fine Dine….

A weekend of Contrasts.

Ghetto Whine: Saturday night S lured me out to club in the north end of the city, called Trilogy. S and her friend Angie had been there twice and cautioned that it was a bit on the ghetto side, but the music was great.

A bit on the ghetto side was an understatement.

Trilogy is the definition of Ghetto in Toronto. I first got an inkling of the ghettoness when we arrived in the parking lot. It took me back ten years, when I admittedly hung out with the boys wearing jeans so roomy, he could fit furniture in there. There were a ton of cars parked in the parking lot, with people getting their pre-juice on. By way of contrast, older folks tend to get a little more civilized with their pre-drinking; you go to someone’s house. But back in the day when everyone lived at home, the car became the bar. I literally remember certain people’s trunks as mini liquor stores. You always wanted to be in that car. We walk inside the club, and I notice the clothes. You gotta love the ghetto wear. The rules are simple: Tight, White and It should be able to provoke a Fight. Also on display, Booty Shorts (It is still winter in Canada,) fake nails, illuminated by the wonderful white lights, thongs suggestively hanging out of jeans and pot bellies, proudly on display adorned with belly chains. The men were attired in their roomiest gear. I even spotted some hood rat sporting a huge pull over with a skeleton on the front. The club was popping. The music was hot. I actually saw three different versions of the dutty wine. All looked very painful. There were four fights, mainly a bunch of pushing and shoving, yet, overall, a safe ghetto night. I have always taken the sight of myself at four am, drenched with sweat, hair frazzled, and calves hurting to be an indication of how much I enjoyed the night. The problem with Toronto is that clubs are very segregated. You got the upscale Yuppie clubs on King Street, who play the token top 40 fare, add a corny saxophonist and drummer to get what their version of an underground club, which never pans out, to the ghetto clubs that are fun, yet too fraught with the possibility of being accidentally hit with a bullet to be worth the risk. Toronto needs to come up with a middle version.

By way of contrast Sunday I went to the “Red Violin” on Logan and Danforth. It is a Brazilian Steakhouse Rodizirio, which I accidentally stumbled on with a friend. They have live music, and the concept of eating is really interesting. Basically it is a big buffet but the food is brought to you, but very good looking waiters. I mean the fellas were coming around with their sticks filled with succulent meat, asking me if I wanted a piece, and I had to stop myself from replying, “You have no idea.” You are given a card that is two sided, one side says your still eating, and the other says, you’re either taking a break or you’ve had enough. The food is excellent, with little servings of meats, cooked in a zillion different ways, sides of mushrooms, fries, rice and beans. It’s a great idea if you got a couple of hours and really want to enjoy a beautiful slow meal. It is a bit on the pricy side, but worth the experience. They also had the most delicious drink, coconut rum, pineapple juice, amaretto and a touch of cranberry…..anything with pineapple juice and coconut rum is good in my books. So that’s my date or impress the wife recommendation for the month.

WHAT HAPPENED TO INDIA??

Perhaps they were right.....I am a Jinx....

Oh the Horror, The Horror,

Dracs & I were riding up the elevator, "enjoying" the ten floor ride……and as he was getting out I impulsively tried out my round house kick on his behind…..just to give him something to remember me by…..

I thought the coast was clear, but as soon as my foot made contact with buns of steel, I realized there were two suits standing in front, laughing their head off. As they got onto the elevator they said, ‘Nice kick.’

How red was I for the next two floors?

This is why you do not fool around with people who work in the same vicinity.

Quibs & Ribs

Have you ever been in a job, where not only are you not qualified, you are also (to add insult to injury) not really interested in learning about it?

Every now and then we have investment managers come out to visit us and give us a little education on their portfolios and the market in general. Investment Manager 'Tom' is your typical North American IM. A well dressed, well meaning man from a nice suburb, who is very enthusiastic about his otherwise boring as hell portfolio. The guy was talking bonds and yield curves for forty minutes, and my eyes began to glaze over five minutes in.

Dear readers I am a meeting connoisseur. I have the ‘meeting’ body language down pat.
Here are a few pointers:
~Sit back in a relaxed yet attentive pose,
~One hand should be bellow the table: this allows you to fidget the hand un-noticed, thereby giving you the flexibility to occasionally stab yourself in the finger whenever you need a quick wake up call
~The other hand should rest on the all important presentation.
~A key skill is the ability to drift to more entertaining thoughts, whilst simultaneously nodding and flipping the pages of the presentation in unison with others. This skill is developed by practice…keeping your head tilted to another more attentive member at the meeting allows you to follow their lead.

As soon as I stopped listening to IM Tom’s presentation I began to find him very interesting. As he gets more animated about his presentation IM Tom, begins to foam at the sides of his mouth…yuck...

Then we got to the best part of the presentation “the free lunch.” My boss suggested the Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge is a chain of restaurants in Toronto that specializes in good ole mass produced Southern Comfort food. Their most famous and delicious item is their baby back ribs, drenched in BBQ sauce and melt in your mouth.

You can’t go to the Baton Rouge and not have the ribs. It’s like being Catholic and saying the Pope’s optional. Not quite right. The dilemma then became how do you eat sweet succulent ribs in a professional manner? Let’s be honest here, I am not a salad girl. I grew up with salad being a side. It was never a meal and I don’t care what anyone says it will never be a meal. You can add all the meats, veggies, dressings and scraps of left over you want to it. A salad is still just dressed up lettuce, whose origins happen to be sustenance for animals I was born to prey on. I am simply adhering to the laws of the food chain. Ribs are always the way to go.

At restaurant:

IM: Well it’s a good thing I didn’t have breakfast today, I can go crazy.

CP (Hopefully): Really what did you have in mind?

IM: Maybe the Louisiana chicken BBQ salad…..it comes with chicken, corn, fresh romaine lettuce blah blah blah
CP (In my head: Oh the rabbits will be so envious) (slyly) : Hmm…sounds interesting…oh hang on here…they have a lunch menu, ohhh the ribs are on here…..Must say the ribs here are delicious…

At this point I sneak over a look at IM who is looking a little like a crack addict whose been given the opportunity at ‘tasting’ the good life again…

IM: Well I guess I could splurge a little, my wife wouldn’t like it, but she would never know…

CP: (Knowing I have him hooked) oh it will be our little secret and believe me your tummy is going to sing thanks….

Needless to say lunch was amazing, and now all I have to do is not fall asleep at 3 pm.

Ahhhhhemm……..

An Announcement: Hence forth you must refer to me as Lady Man Magnet, or HRH~LMM…

Why you ask?

Well since you asked……………………

Case#1….I was at lunch with the peeps yesterday, and a tall gorgeous Latino man walks in and sits down across from us. Our riotous lunch group are the rowdy bunch found in cafés in all high schools, the only thing we don’t do is break out the dominoes…(though I suspect its just a matter of time till this happens.) One of little bursts attracted the attention of Hot Latino (HL) who couldn’t look away after that. I mean the guy was hooked. He was looking over, smiling, giving me the cute half smile. My overly observant partner K, was like, “Yo tell dude to come over and make a play or put his tongue back in his mouth.” When we get up to leave, HL says, ‘Hey do I know you from somewhere……’

Case #2….For the past couple of mornings I’ve been running into tall brown fella. TBF is very well put together. Today we were in extremely close proximity, and I noticed he was not only wearing a grey suit, with a well suited pink shirt and tie… (the right pink) and a matching grey over coat, but his gloves were leather with tiny manly details. I have decided to be more impressed and less concerned about his potential gayness at this point. TBF has been giving me the hungry I want to ravish your ‘natural beauty’ eyes for the past two days now. Today he worked up the courage to say “Have a good day”….I find his shyness sweet.

Henceforth please refer to me as Lady Man Magnet....LMM

My people are working on the production of mini LMM’s to hang on your refrigerator door…(thanks N for the suggestion)

On Pussy Cat Hoes and Cricket Scores…

There’s a new Reality Show on TV, entitled The Search for the Next Pussy Cat Doll. It basically consists of twenty well toned hoes, clad in the tiniest shorts imaginable, wiggling their behinds and bitching about each other for an hour each week.

I was bombarded with re-runs of the show’s premier episodes this weekend and a couple of things came to mind:

• Besides the lead singer, I cannot identify any of the other pussy cat dolls….why on earth do they need another one?
• On that note they should rename the show: “Who wants to be the Next Background Pussy Cat Hoe, Whose Name and Face No One’s Gonna Know”
• The basic criteria to be a doll seems to be flat abs, the ability to wear the least amount of clothing, and to shake your tush in a way the critics deem to be slutty yet not over the top and we wonder why four years olds on You Tube are doing the Dutty wine and demanding to wear halters…
  
  In other news very dismal results for the Asians in World Cup Cricket. The Paks lost to Ireland and are out (needless to say my pops is jubilant.) The Indians got their behinds kicked by Bangladesh. Now I am not a huge sports fan. I watch certain sports simply because there is little else to do in Canada on cold evenings. So I am pretty shocked by the stories of people dying over the losses…and here, and others burning effigies and storming homes all because they felt someone didn’t play well.

I understand feeling passionate about a game in the moment, (sort of like when your in the throes of passion and about to get into the “highlight” and he decides to be ‘cute’ and tease you some more)….its annoying. However how do you still feel so passionate about the whole thing a day later??? The moment’s passed people, on with the next game…

Kingston Girl has inspired me to make a list of No No’s in a salsa club:

• Sweaty hand Man: a simple hand wipe on your jeans will take care of this
• Excessive Sweating Guy: You know the kind, your body barley touches his and its like you took a dip in the ocean. He always brings an extra shirt to the club…..
  
• Arrogant Flashy dancer who cares more about spinning himself than making you look good.
  
• Wide turn men: Ladies this is importante: If a guy can’t control your spin, he is very likely to drop you….you don’t want some fool who watched “Dancing with the Stars” last night, spinning you five times till your dizzy, only to lose you and end up on the floor.
  
• Grinders: Cheesy men who use the drum beats songs to grind up on you, bwoy my Shakira moves are fine tuned and if I want to grind up on you, you will know….until then keep your distance.
  
• Hard On men…yeah we can feel it, and yes we know all the heat is “exciting” but show some control man!!!!
  
• Fabio’s who come attired in spandex….No dude No!
  
• Counters: They’ve taken classes and continue to count out steps in their head, and every time they mess up they have to stop and recount….dude fake it, its dancing its fun, u mess up carry on…….no one’s going to notice.
  
• Limb Yankers: Do not pull on my limbs when turning me around, I am a delicate creature. And I can follow jut fine…
• The droppers: Complicated dips are reserved for practiced men with a little girth, if you’re a puny and have taken two classes, there is no need to try intricate dips.
  
• Advice Givers: The type of man who thinks he can dance. In fact he is so sure of his superior dance skills than instead of being the man and leading you around the floor, he stops to give you ‘helpful’ advice on how you should be moving. This keener gotta keep moving.
  
• Wall Hugers: You’ve come to a salsa club, hugging the wall sipping on a beer is not optional, if you don’t know how to dance, learn, its fun, and you don’t even have to dance salsa, just move your behind to show that you appreciate the wonderful band.
  
• Fugly Men: Like the one I blogged about bellow, who see fit to ask you why you aren’t smiling….its cuz you’re a&& is annoying me right now….and you are not good looking, and are lacking the essential charm to make your comments interesting…so Buzzzzzzzzz off
  
  Ladies, did I miss any? Gentleman you have any gripes?

The past twenty four hours have been XXXciting.

Last night was a balmy fifteen degrees in Toronto. Girls broke out the skirts and sandals, smokers were wearing T Shirts.

To celebrate S and myself headed out to 6 degrees for some Spanish entertainment. It was wonderful. We shook our bon bons, drank candy apple martinis (my new most favorite drink in the world) and flirted with boys with/without accents.

I am particularly fond of the few odd ‘characters’ that show up to these events. Like last night there was the Japanese fellow, 50+ who asked me to dance. I said why not and headed out to the floor. I handed S my glass, at which time Dude took off his glasses and asked S to hold it. The look on S’s face was priceless, I almost died of laughter. The way I see it is, the few old cats who still don their tight black pants on a Tuesday night to dance the night away deserve some attention too. I hope I am having some fun at their age.

Another highlight of the night, (for the men at least), was a hot Latina chica who showed up dressed in a body fitted black dress that had teensy buttons up the side, with a huge slit. The dress barley covered her behind to begin with, so the slit was high. It was quite outfit and Latina knew she was there to get some attention (if not action.) The girl was beautiful and confident. The thing is when you dress like that your pretty much sending a very poignant message to men. Truth be known she made me feel old, because even though I enjoyed her confidence and can remember days when I used to don similar daring outfits, I couldn’t help but shake my head at her.

A dude got on my nerves last night too. S was off with her Cuban squeeze and I was standing by the bar doing my thing, when non attractive token Indian dude comes over. First he makes some corny comment about how I’m not smiling. Telling someone they are not smiling, will not make them want to smile. Then he asks me if I know the guy I was dancing with. I said yea he’s a friend. Then he says, “What’s his name?” Like it’s a test. For a minute I genuinely forgot so I said,….er…its….and Random Dude totally goes off, like I was pretending to know the guy just to get random dude off my case. (In retrospect, this probably happens to him a lot, given his Fugly attitude, so his concerns may have been warranted.) The rest of the night, every time Random found me alone, he would come up and say something sarcastic like, “Do you want to dance, OH I mean, not with me, because your too good for me.” At some point my good humor left me and I said, “Yeah dude I am too good for you, now F*^$ off.” (And I never swear!)

Today I made an offer on an itsy bitsy condo. I am so psyched about it, I can’t think of anytime else. Mainly I am wavering between utter panic and utter happiness at the thought of it.

Fathead recently went for an interview for a summer position at my mum's work, this is what the manager who interviewed him, sent the rest of the team this morning:

Hi John:
As mentioned, I interviewed this candidate last week. He is a first year Management student. He is a personable and ambitious individual. He is interested in pursuing an MBA upon graduation and is interested in focusing in Marketing, Finance or Human Resources. He was accepted into an apprenticeship program as part of his studies where he was able to demonstrate his entrepreneurial and business acumen. He was hired at AE as a seasonal worker but due to his positive attitude and enthusiasm has been retained beyond the Christmas season. He started at East Side Marios as a dishwasher and was promoted to a line cook position within a month of being hired (normally this doesn't happen for four months). He showed initiative by learning other positions early on so he could fill in for workers that couldn't come in for their
shift.

I would recommend him for a position as a
Summer Student at Blah Blah.

regards,
S

I loved the part of Fathead being promoted from dish washer to cook
in a month....I am going to save this email, and one day when he's a big
shot, I'll bring it out so he can eat from some humble
pie....

A General Blog About General Things:

A lot has been going on lately.

I hope to have a fulfilling job by the end of the month. The kind where you are doing actual work and at times are even stressed out about it. How excited am I at the possibility of being stressed out? So far all my jobs have been well paid internet surfing gigs.

Next I’ve been investigating the possibility of owning 650 square feet of over priced high demand property in up town. A convenient ten minutes from salsa three times a week, with the yummiest restaurants, and most uppity homeowners. Lady Cranky would like to be a little uppity. So I’ve been going through the whole mortgage approval process realizing how poor I am. Then I came up with the brilliant idea of selling time shares of sorts to all the men in my life. Now I’m not saying their buy in has anything to do with sex, but instead since the condo would be so conveniently located, they could buy a share, so that they have a place to crash for one month or a week out of the year….that sort of thing. So far I’ve only had one taker, who I suspect has an ulterior motive….

It’s also wedding card season. Yesterday I got two fat envelopes. Wedding cards are fancy these days. When you open the envelope like confetti falls out all sorts of extra paper: replies, gift registries, directions, what you should wear to what. Both marriages are a uniting of two different religious beings, and such have two equally important ceremonies. It took me several reads to figure out when I had to be where and what kind of outfit would be involved.

Next issue that comes up is a date. Who do I take to the wedding? I could take a boy. But frankly there isn’t anyone I would want to spend four awkward hours with. My friend S has thrown her hat in, insisting that Weddings are the place to meet men….after watching “the last Kiss” I think she needs to re-phrase that with “It is the place to meet someone else’s man.” Yet I think it’s a good scenario two single girls at a Trini wedding….soaking in the culture. N has promised that if I come sans man, I will be hit on constantly, and after this long boring winter, I could use some positive reinforcement.

TOO funny not to post

Miss Jamaica? What She Say?

It’s minus thirty five and I am hibernating.

My new hibernation routine is as follows….wake up at 6.15 and lament till 6.30 how much it sucks to be poor and have to work for a living. Walk to the subway, the whole time cursing my parents for not immigrating to Australia. Get on the subway, and try and stay as far away from anyone who happens to cough or sneeze….since I am now paranoid by about my “BAD LUCK.”
Sit at work for eight hours, procrastinating because it really is WAY too cold to actually work. At 4.30 gleefully head home, to have a hot shower and get under my covers.

I simply can’t understand my foolish friends (YOU KNOW WHO U ARE) planning parties and calling me up to “Hang Out” It is minus thirty five. It is too cold to Hang Anything Anywhere. Go Home and Sleep, call me in a Month. Unless you happen to be of the opposite Sex, good looking, have buns of steel and are willing to get under the covers with me, then please by all means call me to “Hang Out.” (Read this part in soft raspey voice.)

I watched Babel last night which is a newer version of Crash. Same idea…same connect the dots process. Did anyone else watch it? Did they paint those wrinkles on Brad? He sure looked old. And I really need a second opinion on this: did anyone else get creeped out by the last scene with the dad? Or was that just me?

An example of an email conversation I have on cold days:

CP: It's cold and Liz Hurley married my rich man...Life is very Unfair this morning

Dubai Belladonna: Ewwwwww.... You fancied Arun Nayar???? YUCK!!!!

CP: No I fancied his money...

Dubai Belladonna: Read up about him - His family is rich my love - His mother who is German and separated from his father holds the purse strings..... He and his brother own some paltry software company in Bombay.... all he has is a pittance doused out by his mom every month..... may be a lot of money to us coz he's dashing about the world attending parties but none of that is his.....Plus all the parties for his wedding are being sponsored mostly by the Gorej's and the maharaja of Jodpur ... so there you go .....I'd prefer people who earn the cash themselves.....

CP: U may have preferences...hence your marrying poor (or middle class)

I am most able to charm German Mothers...

I have absolute belief in myself....

Dubai Belladonna: My husband is not from the Nayar family but he ain't poor missy - If he reads this he'll give you a talking too!!!

Ya - this is what the -35 degrees does to you.... but really I think with his floppy hair and drying looks that he appears to look more like Wooster from Jeeves and Wooster : )

CP: He would be my Jeeves, My very rich Jeeves, My rich Jeeves who would be flying me all over the world to throw lavish parties; pre approved by his German Mum ofcourse…..my mum in law……

Dubai Belladonna: Jeeves was an old gay English fart ..... : )

CP:

Sigh....

You’re seriously slow today

You keep bringing up all these negatives.....

But I am a positive person....

I banish thee to the land of negativity.

JDID YOUR NEXT!

Inconvenient LIE

Al Gore Lied To Me, Global Warming is a Myth..

It is Minus 35 today and there are iceicles falling from the CN Tower....so they closed a highway

I am forming a group of pilgrims who want to migrate to a warmer climate....say Australia....any takers??

My coworker was telling me how she does not have cable television at home, nor does she allow her kids to use a computer. Instead she claims that she encourages her children to read and find ‘olden day’ ways to amuse themselves.

At first I thought “that’s a great idea.” I for one am sick of kids that sit around playing with their play stations all day.

Then I wondered how these kids are going to compete the new generation of techie kids out there. I remember when computers first came to Dubai; my mum took a course on how to use it. I learned from good ole trial and error (I would like to say here that I was a whiz at DOS.) Fathead (my brother) surpassed us all. He plays intricate games with people worlds away and even made three short films which actually won a few awards.

I am all for encouraging kids to read good old fashioned books, to actually remember their times table instead of googling it and to have some hop skotch type fun. Yet we also have a responsibility to let them progress, without selfishly withholding what deem as bad. Sure her kids are probably more innocent about sex and life in general, but I can’t help but think that are also more ill equipped to deal with the real world.

And hello, what about blogs…you know these kids would love to blog!

Possible things Dracs could have got me from Trinidad:

A Key Chain












Soca Warrior Head Gear







A Carnival Costume



TnT Swimwear

A Hot Carnival Man??

INSTEAD,...... I got a "boys soca warrior soccer uniform."
The kiddie version. You know the kind, the pants have the little breathable nets underneath. A few of the letters have fallen off, so it reads " OCA ARRIOR"

-I do not play soccer.
-I have shown no interest in Soccer besides cheering on Horsey (Rhonaldinio) at the world cup.
-I am a nifty dresser....where would I be wearing this outfit exactly?
-And let this be clear there is nothing sexy about a kids soccer uniform.

I went to Church on Ash Wednesday, mainly as a gesture of peace towards my pops who was miffed about something or the other.

And the time comes where they pass around the basket for collections…and did I not see this sweet old lady rise up from her seat, hold out a twenty dollar bill, and help herself to change……

Is this kosher? I mean if you only want to give $2, can’t you just wait till next week and double up? Do you really need to dip in and make change???