Random Facts

Hmph.

Three months without a post.

Depression is a wonderful thing, is it not?

I have little to write about and even less to amuse

you with. So instead, I offer you random facts about myself.

First a useful fact - then something completely random.

(but all true)

Okay? Here we go.

Fact:

I do not have a middle name.

Random:

Left to my own devices, I will usually read.

Fact:

I am 40 years of age (41 in 2 weeks)

Random:

I have never been off the North American continent.

Fact:

I am allergic to general anesthetic which classifies me as malignant hyperthermic.

Random:

I am nervous in large crowds of people.

Fact:

I am married, but have no children.

Random:

Given my choice of how I want my steak prepared, I will normally say 'blue'.

Fact:

I have one sibling - an older sister.

Random:

I look horrid in yellow, pink or purple.

Fact:

I own more watches than all of my friends put together.

Random:

My baby toes do not touch the ground.

Fact:

I've been married for 14 years.

(to the same man!!!)

Random:

I think bacon makes anything taste better.

Fact:

I am owned by three cats.

Random:

I sing in the shower.

Fact:

I prefer action movies to chick movies.

Random:

I am easily moved to tears.

(could be the reason for the fact above...I dunno)

Fact:

I hold no firm religious beliefs save that organized religion and organized crime are the same thing...only one has better clothes.

Random:

I am terrified of spiders.

Fact:

I am a caffeine addict.

Random:

I have never been able to get the hang of a yo-yo.

There...

At least it's something.

Now I have to try to remember to update this thing more often.

=)

No Harm, No Fowl

Today is Thanksgiving here in Canada.

Normally I would be cooking a turkey, baking pies,
preparing vegetables and all the other things that
go along with the holiday.

This year though - things are different. With The Man
out of work, and me working for less money and less
hours in retail, the coffers are pretty light around here.

Money spent on a big fancy turkey dinner are more
wisely left in the bank for things like hydro and the gas
bill.

It's sad - but I am determined not to let it get me down.

I have much to be thankful for - even if I do it over
hot dogs instead of turkey.

My family, my friends, my health and my home.
(well, my home for now at least)

I am also thankful for losing my former job. Sounds weird,
but it's true. I never realized how unhappy I was until I
was forced out of there. I miss my co-workers and friends
within the company, but I sure don't miss going into that
soul-sucking environment anymore.

But I digress.

Happiest of Thanksgiving to all my friends and family and
to those just passing by. May you also have much to be
thankful for.

Eenie, Meanie, Minie, Moron

There are times, I find, that I have to ponder the
intelligence of the general populace. Being a card-
carrying member of the human race, I believe I have
every right to question other members on their
outright stupidity.

This morning as I watched the news, I heard a story
about these two schmucks... some knuckle-dragging
morons, who decided it would be a hoot to sneak into
the Calgary Zoo after hours and get into the tiger cage.

Let's see.

Here are some interesting facts about tigers:

They are the largest member of the cat family;
an average adult male weighing in at a mere
660 pounds.

Tigers are fierce, carnivorous predators and are
very territorial.

They have powerfully built legs and shoulders,
giving them the ability to pull down prey substantially
heavier than themselves. (that's 660 lbs...remember?)

Their prey of choice is buffalo, wild boar and other mid
to large size mammals. When prey is scarce, they will
kill other large cats such as leopards. (jeez...!) There have
been documented cases of tigers killing a full sized
rhinoceros.

Tiger jaws can snap shut at 900 lbs/psi.
(holy sh*t!)

They have tremendously large, powerful paws- all
equipped with five razor-sharp retractable claws ranging
from 80 to 100 cm in length.

Tigers see in the dark. Very, very well.

Now, after relating all that, I have a few questions for the
above mentioned addle-pates:

1) how much did you have to drink before this
started to sound like a good idea?
2) do you understand that you are allowed to
say NO when someone dares you to do
something stupid?
3) what did you THINK was going to happen?
4) were you dropped on your heads as children?

Honestly, I think the gene pool is in serious need
of some heavy duty chlorine. I seriously wish
that the tiger had castrated these two oafs.

Had I been there, I'd have cheered the tiger on -
perhaps even going so far as to spray these mental
deficients with gravy or ketchup to make them
more appetizing.

Go, Tigers!


(click the pretty kitty for the story)

Humor Me

I was afforded a rare treat recently.

The Man downloaded a stand-up performance of
Billy Connolly the other night.
(completely legally, of course. ~cough, cough~)

It's title is 'Was It Something I Said' - and I highly
recommend it to anyone and everyone I know.

Connolly is truly one of the funniest men I have ever
seen. His humor is simple, effective and downright
hilarious.

He also shares some of my views on things like religion
and music.

Observe.

Thyme and Punishment

Why does every slightly different occupation seem to have a
special-interest television program now? Are we really that
desperate for entertainment?

Ice Road Truckers, Cake Boss, Coffee House Kings, Loggers,
Deadliest Catch.

The list goes on and on...and on.

I'm waiting for the likes of:
Meter Maids - A Scooter, A Skirt and an Attitude;
or Pimp My Yard - Landscapers, Lawns and Lunacy.

Seriously - it is going to get that bad.

It's got to stop.

Although I don't watch a great deal of television anymore,
I do like a few of the newer crime and investigation series.
The Mentalist and Bones, for example.

So - I've come up with my own idea: Let's combine an
investigative series with a dumb catering/cooking show
and have:

♪♫ dum-ta-da-daaaah ♪♫

Law and Hors D'ouvres - Crime, Cops and Caviar.

Somebody call the Fox Network...I think I've got a hit.



Believe it or not, it really does say 'Crime, Punishment, Food'

And they said Latin wouldn't come in handy.

Pfffft.

It Ads Up

I know that recently I ranted on about a stupid commercial.

Commercials are necessary; I understand this.
How else are we as consumers going to learn the wonders of
the Sham-Wow, Kentucky Fried Chicken's mashed potatoes,
Microwavable milk shakes (yes...it's true), and assorted other
products that we couldn't possibly live another moment
without?

Personally, I don't mind commercials so long as they do not
insult my intelligence or assault me with irritating sounds,
infectious songs (Hotwire, you can go to Hell!) or just
plain banality.

Here is a commercial I saw not that long ago that I find not
only amusing, but very well done. Not only that, but it's for
the best beer on the planet.

Baa-a-a-a-d Company

Do you have what it takes to follow blindly, regardless of what
is going on around you?

Can you turn your head and ignore obvious favoritism, questionable
practices, nepotism, and a blatant disregard for fair treatment of
employees?

If so, We Want You!

We will reward you with crappy hours, strict rules (which you
can break if you get to be one of the precious favored few),
a laughable incentive program and of course, all the stress you
can force yourself to swallow.

If you can do your job quietly, without asking any questions,
without making any waves, just keeping your eyes on the asshole
in front of you - then you have the makings of an exemplary
employee.

It's sheeple like you that make our job easier.

Come.
Join our Team.








And, just for fun - some very appropriate lyrics:
do yourself a favor and check out the song, too.

SHEEP - Pink Floyd (click it for awesomeness)

Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away;
Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.
You'd better watch out!
There may be dogs about
I looked over Jordan, and I've seen
Things are not what they seem.

That's what you get for pretending the danger's not real.
Meek and obedient you follow the leader
Down well trodden corridors into the valley of steel.
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes.
Now things are really what they seem.
No, this is not a bad dream.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by.
With bright knives He releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection, and great dedication
Master the art of karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water.

Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The dogs are dead!
You better stay home
And do as you're told.
Get out of the road if you want to grow old.

Dining in 'Style'

While watching TV this morning, I saw a television commercial
for Pizza Hut in which a family are blindfolded and then are
'taken to an Italian restaurant'.

We are supposed to believe that this 'family' is driven around for
a little while and then returned to their own home to be served
Pizza Hut's new Tuscani Restaurant-Style Pasta Selections.
Of course, they're all stunned to realize that they are in their
own home and eating take-out from a pizza joint.

I have several problems with this commercial.

One: I've had just about enough blindfolding in commercials.
If you want to impress me with someone wearing a blindfold,
it better come with a last cigarette and a firing squad.

Two: These people are returned to their own home.
WHAT?
How incredibly dense do you have to be to not even recognize the
sounds, smells and feel of your own abode?? They look shocked to
find themselves sitting at their own dining room table - same
uncomfortable chairs...same height to the table. These people are
frickin' morons.

Three: Tuscani Restaurant-Style Pasta selections. Hmmm...
Let's see here.
Restaurant-style dishes...FROM A RESTAURANT!!!! I should
freakin'-well hope so!!!
Gah!

I hate commercials...I really do.

I was in a good mood earlier - now, I'm just pissed off.

Restaurant-style....pfffft.

What a Mangled Web We Weave

So, here I was...washing my hair in the shower this morning when
I happened to look up at the ceiling.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!"

Big, spindly-legged spider!

How I hate spiders! They creep me out and give me all sorts
of heebie-jeebies. I know it's ridiculous to be afraid of something
one thousandth of my size. It's a completely irrational fear - and
yet, it is very real.

My hair still full of shampoo, I am now afraid to put my head under
the water and close my eyes for fear that when I open them again
it will be dangling in my face.

As I watched it with revulsion and terror, I noticed that it was
having difficulty making its way across the ceiling due to the
condensation from the steam of the shower.

An idea struck me.

I turned up the hot water.
Steam rose up in billows.

The hideous creature began to scrabble more frantically - its
disgusting legs desperately trying to cling to the wet surface of
the ceiling.

Suddenly, it fell.

Fuck.
Hadn't thought of that.

I leaped back, watching the thing curl up into a wet, broiled ball
in the bottom of the tub.

HA! Take that, foul beast!!

"OWWWW!!!....OWW-OWW-Hot-hot-hot!!!"

Boiling hot water was now scalding my skin - and shampoo was
stinging my eyes.

Small price to pay for victory.

Nature: 0 Lynn: 1

Spiders....gah.

Whine List

I get so tired of the conflicting reports from so-called 'experts' claiming
that such-and-such is good for you, or this is bad for you...or this causes
cancer, this cures cancer...and this - this'll make your nose fall off!

I just finished watching a report on the morning news about the argument
over red wine.

Now, I like red wine. It's got more flavour and more body
than white wine and it compliments most things well...
(particularly Oreos - but let's not go there).

I'm not fooling anyone however, when it comes to the
reasons why I drink red wine. I'm not trying to improve
my health or my oxidant levels...I'm enjoying a glass
(or two) of wine. I couldn't give a rat's ass if it was good
for me or not.

Frankly, I have always found that things that are supposedly
'good for me' tend not to taste so good. Okra comes to mind
....bleh.

Anyway...apparently red wine really IS good for you, provided
you're drinking several thousand litres. Good news for winos,
not so good for your average glass-a-day type.

According to the latest studies, the 'red wine is good for you'
thing is just a myth. One more thing we can chalk up to good
advertising and bad science.

I was happier in my ignorance, I think. Even though I didn't
drink wine for it's supposed health benefits, it still used to give
me a little bit of a happy feeling knowing I was doing something
good for my body. Kind of like eating a chocolate coated granola
bar. The goodness is there - it's just buried under all that yummy
sweet stuff.

Ah well - so much for the illusions of bad habits being good for you.

Next thing I know, they'll be telling me that cigarettes don't have
Vitamin C in them.


read the article

One of Those Days...

To Bee or Not to Bee

My headspace is cluttered with so much crap.

Sometimes I wonder how I even manage to
function on a daily basis.
I think most of what I do is programmed into 'auto-pilot
'...at least, that's what I'm hoping. Because when I
occasionally have the time to take mental inventory, I am
shocked and appalled by the amount of useless
garbage I find rattling around up there.

BUT - every once in a while, one of those useless
things comes in handy. Kind of like that piece of
copper wire in the bottom of your junk drawer.

The other day at work I was having a conversation
with someone I'm not overly fond of, but for civility's
sake, I remain on amicable speaking terms.

Sadly, I don't remember what we were discussing - only
that I had said that something was impossible. This guy
then starts chirping at me, saying 'Nothing is impossible. If a bumblebee can fly, which is an aerodynamic impossibility, then anything can happen."

Gee...thanks, Hallmark.

Suddenly, facts from days gone by started flooding from all
corners of my brain!

"Actually," I said, "that is a common myth propagated from the
faulty analogy between bees and conventional fixed-wing aircraft.
It became a catch-phrase of every wannabe self-help guru and
pocket-lining pulpit banger who had the audacity to use it without
researching the facts!

Bees' wings are small relative to their bodies. If an airplane were
built the same way, it'd never get off the ground. But bees aren't
like airplanes, they're like helicopters. Their wings work on the
same principle as helicopter blades--to be precise, "reverse-pitch
semi-rotary helicopter blades. A moving airfoil, whether it's a
helicopter blade or a bee wing, generates a lot more lift than a
stationary one."

I found myself staring at a very confused and slightly frightened
co-worker.

I apologized and walked away before I could get into how the bees'
thorax muscles worked in order to make 200 wing beats per second
possible.

Why do I have this stuff in my head????

Time for some cerebral spring cleaning - hopefully before someone
gets hurt.

Working Out

~sigh~

So, The Man is out of work...

It would be nice to say that he's taking the summer off
to enjoy the weather and take a little vacation - but the
fact of the matter is that he's lost his job.

My plans of a new computer system, a vacation of my own
and a little financial breathing space all came crashing down
around my feet last Thursday when he got his notice.

Fun, fun, fun...

Just when you think you're finally back on track, someone
changes the route.

Maybe it's time for a change in venue. There's really not much
around here in the way of gainful employment anymore. He's
too old to join the military (not to mention far too insubordinate)...
he can't speak French, so any government jobs are out - and he
would probably stab someone in the face if he worked in the
food service industry.

I'll be looking into putting my house on the market in the next
month or so, I guess.

Anyone want to buy a 112 year old house???

An Occasional Error

Ever been talking to someone and in the course of the conversation
they use a word or phrase incorrectly?

Usually you let it go, not wanting to draw attention to their
mistake or embarrass them.

I was recently relating a story like this to a friend and co-worker, so
I thought perhaps I would share it here as well.

Years ago, a friend of mine had a big Christmas party and invited
most of the people she knew, both from work and from school. It
was quite the shindig, let me tell you.

Anyway, at this party was another friend of mine, Janice*. Now
Janice had a terrible crush on a certain guy and had never known
how to approach him.

This particular guy, whose name was David, happened to be of the
Jewish persuasion - but had attended the party all the same.
None of us cared about his religion anymore than he cared about ours
- so it was all good. Besides, why miss a good party over something
so trivial?

Under the influence of a little too much Christmas cheer from the
punch bowl, Janice approached me to ask what it was that the Jewish
people celebrated this time of year.

"Hanukkah" I replied. "The phrase is Happy Hanukkah."

She thanked me and stumbled off in search of David.

I happened to be standing within earshot when she found him.

Janice threw her arms around him and in her tipsy and tremulous
voice wished David a "Happy Holocaust!!"

I nearly died.

To this day, every time I think of that night I do two things:

1) cringe and 2) laugh hysterically.

Needless to say, Janice never did get anywhere with David - although
he did forgive her...eventually.


*names have been changed to protect the inebriated.

Kann dieses nicht berühren!!

Some things just strike me as incredibly funny.

This, for example:



Why is it funny?

I don't know.

It just is.

Accept it.
Laugh.
Move on.

Hoops!!!

Gah!

What is in these things??

Note that I have included in the picture the list of ingredients.

No comment on the 'nutritional value' - I'm sure that they're

absolutely bursting with vitamins and minerals.

If anyone can tell me what is in these that makes them so damned

addictive I'd be most appreciative.

Honestly, I swear these things are coated in flavored cocaine or something.

Where I work, we have one of those annoying snack machines
in the cafeteria. Normally, I can ignore that machine - but not
when there's HOOPS in it.

I can hear them calling to me...luring me with their evil, barbecue flavor.

I actually broke a ten dollar bill so that I could feed coins into that
infernal machine for more of these things.

Is there therapy for Hoop addiction?

I sure hope so.

I Toad You So

Gangs, gaggles and groups...

If there is more than one of the same thing in the same place at the
same time - then there's a name for it.

Why do I bring this up?

Well, I was recently speaking with an acquaintance of mine about the return of the nice weather and that soon I would have the pleasure of hearing the sound of the peeper frogs and groups of tree toads that congregate near my home in the evenings.

He fixed me with an I'm-smarter-than-you stare, interrupted
me and said 'not'.

"Beg pardon?"

Again he said ''not''.

"Not what, exactly?"

"No, no...tree toads. A group of toads is called a knot. K-N-O-T."

Oh..
(like I needed to know this) Thanks, jerk. J-E-R-K.

It seems that saying there are a bunch of, group of, whole
fuckofalotof whatever just isn't good enough anymore. Now
we need to know the actual name of the particular group.

Did you know, for example:

A group of Finches is called a Charm

A group of frogs is called an Army

A group of Geese on the ground is called a Gaggle, but
a group of Geese in the air is a Skein

A group of Goats is called a Trip

A group of Hares is called a Husk

A group of Kangaroos is called a Mob

A group of Owls is called a Parliament

A group of Rhinos is called a Crash

A group of Whales is called a Pod

And a group of know-it-all acquaintances is called a STFU.

Mustang Sally

I was checking out a few things that The Man had
downloaded on Bit Torrent recently.
(gasp!...illegal downloading..sshhhh!)

A few albums...an updated version of CorelDraw, and...porn.

I have no problem with porn - have been known to watch it
myself, actually. (it's funnier than most comedies these days)

What I found the most amusing however, were the names of some
of these 'porn stars'.

Becky Banger...Tiara Tantric...Lily Luscious...and the list goes on.

Besides the annoying alliteration, these names are just ridiculous.

Everyone knows the 'How to Find Your Porn Star Name' thing - why
don't they use that kind of thing? Incidentally, my porn star name
would be 'Baby Ruth'. How cool is that??

Then there's the comparison between porn stars and children's toys.

My Little Pony(tm) toys had some strange names...Ruby Lips, and
Lickety Split, for example. Sound like something you want your
five year old playing with? Me neither.

To further my point and also to entertain you somewhat, I offer
you a quiz: Porn Star or My Little Pony.

Good bucking luck.




(Click the pretty pony, baby)

A Dedication

I cannot name the person to whom this is dedicated.

I wouldn't do that.

Not that I believe this person would read my blog - I
doubt they would take any interest.

As much as I am loathe to dedicate a song by one of my
favorite groups of all time to such an individual, it's lyrics
ring true - and everytime I have had to speak to this person,
these words go through my head over and over.



Brain-storming habit-forming
battle-warning weary
winsome actor spewing spineless chilling lines ---
the critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
and really not an awful lot of fun.
Well who the hell can he be
when he's never had V.D.,
and he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Court-jesting, never-resting ---
he must be very cunning
to assume an air of dignity
and bless us all with his oratory prowess,
his lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air.
And every night his act's the same
and so it must be all a game of chess he's playing ---
``But you're wrong, Steve: you see, it's only solitaire.''

Acquaint By Numbers

Ever just follow random links out of boredom?

Me too...although normally it only takes about three
clicks before you end up on some porn site or other.

Yesterday, I was clicking away on hyperlinks and ended up
on a Numerology website and got to reading.

I do read my horoscope most days although I don't put
a whole lot of stock in it. It has become more of a habit
than a belief - something to do between the editorial page
and the comics.

I learned to read tarot cards years ago, have done my
share of scrying, and take more than a passing interest
in palmistry. The desire to understand the past, be aware
of the present and glimpse the future is an inborn trait
for me...and I'm sure I'm not alone.

Anyway, numerology.

I know a few people who are right into this stuff and
swear by it's accuracy. Numbers, they say, are no
accident. Everything has a sum - and when all things
are added up, patterns become visible.

So finding myself on this numerology site, I couldn't
help but enter my information to see what my personal
calculations said about me.

I was impressed for the most part. Much like my astrological
sign descriptions (Capricorn), I saw myself in much of what this
numerology report said. There were a few aspects I found a
little laughable, but by and large, it was pretty close.

If you know me personally, click on the numbers box and see
what you think.

If you don't know me on a personal level...feel free to click and
find out if you want to get to know me better.

Incidentally, any cracks about my hyphenated birth name or my
maiden name will earn you swift retribution....(that's part of who
I am too =P )

Rules is Rules

Isn't it great when you have the day off, your friends
have the day off, and you try to decide what to do?

Please, for the love of all that is holy...plan something
in advance.

Anything.

Hours spent drinking coffee while playing the 'I dunno... what do you wanna do' game is frustrating, boring and
wastes valuable time. Usually by the time a consensus
is reached, it's 8:00 pm and the day has been utterly
spent.

Go get a manicure together. See a movie. Shoot some
pool. Go shopping...something!!

It's either that - or resort to

(insert scary music here__________)

The Rules...



Click the comic for bigishness

XKCD

Fruit Ballad

I hate to do this so often, but I'm one of those people
who firmly believes that misery loves company.

Come...keep me company.
You know you want to.

If you are brave enough (and need a good laugh),
please click on the picture below to hear a song that
is cute, stupid, and terribly contagious.

Sing it to your friends...see how long they stay your friends.

Incidentally, this was introduced to me by a co-worker
who sings it everytime he passes me (which over the course
of my day amounts to about 20 times or more).

I love him...and hate him too.

(nothing but love, Giuseppi...nothing but love!)

Spring Careening

Ah, Spring!

The sun is getting brighter, the days a little
longer...and no matter where you go, you cannot
escape the smell of thawing dogshit.

As much as I am glad winter is over, the arrival
of Spring brings so many annoyances with it.

Here are just a few:

Bicyclists. Sorry - I'm not a bike person. If you
can't obey the rules of the road, then your bike
is not a vehicle, it's a toy. And toys belong
in the yard.

Skateboarders. Die. All of you. Now.
The sidewalk is not a half-pipe, bus stop benches
are not for jumping and railings are for hands - not
your damned skateboards!

Rollerbladers. You can die too. Take your fancy-
shmancy dance moves to the nightclub and get off the
damned sidewalk.

Joggers. Nike vs. Michelin - need I say more?

Please don't get me wrong. I have no problem with
any of the above activities in and of themselves. I
just hate it when they interfere with MY attempts to
get somewhere...especially when I'm driving.

I drive a very large vehicle - and I have no qualms
whatsoever about taking any one of you out with it.
I will sleep well at night, comfortable in the knowledge
that I did my part to better the community.

...

The previous post was for one person in particular.

Judging from the emails that I received today, it has
come to my attention that I have several friends in need
of support and/or comfort.

Of course that message was for you.

...and you too.

To Whom It May Concern

It's going to work out...

Maybe not right away - there are undoubtedly hard
times ahead.

You're going to be okay.

I promise.




I won't give up if you don't give up...

The Wearing o' the Green

St. Patrick's Day...Faith and Begorah!! Let us all get
shitfaced drunk on green beer and do silly jigs like
overgrown hobbits on meth.

Surely this is the legacy the proud Irish
intended to pass along to the rest of the world.

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

Drink...get drunk...fall down...get back up...hit someone...
(preferably a stranger, but a friend will do)...drink some more.

And don't forget your silly fake accent! Jesus-Mary-n-the Saints, ya
canna' be heard speaking today without a rich Irish brogue!

Which brings me to this:



Someday, the Irish will kill us all in our sleep.
And we'll deserve it.

Playing Post Office

Canada Post sucks.

There.
I said it.

I'm sure that now all my mail is going to end up
crumpled and damaged, or strewn across my
front yard instead of in my mailbox - but at the moment,
I don't really care.

This morning, I sent a package to California. The box was
not heavy, over-sized or even oddly shaped. Just a
run-of-the-mill box weighing in at a few pounds.

The guy at the post office tells me that I have to tell him
exactly what is in the box and how much the contents are
worth.

I looked at him with my usual charming 'you have got to
be joking me' look and gave him his answer: "It's a gift -
it's none of your business, and it's worth a great deal to me
and hopefully to the recipient as well."

He fixes me with a cold glare and then says: "Lady, just tell
me what's in the box and what it's worth approximately."
He sighs like he had to explain molecular physics to me.

These people make about $35.00 per hour to be like
this...and it pisses me off.

I try a different approach.

"Look...this is a birthday gift for a very good friend. If it
was your birthday, would you want to know what was in
the box before you opened it and how much your friend
spent on you?"

His face softened...a bit.
A human connection from the Canadian Postal Service...
who would have thought???

"I still have to put something on the label," he said.

"How about gift", I replied.

"...and for value?"

I smiled.
"Priceless."

"Priceless...ok. To insure a package of this size and weight
at 'priceless' value will be $42.25 and the postage to send it
express will be $34.70....so that's uh....$76.95 all together."

Have I mentioned I hate the Postal Service?

"Fine...'gift'...value...$120.00....happy?"

"$41.10, ma'am. Thank you and have a nice day."

"Ah...go stamp yourself."

More Sticky Notes

Gah...!

♪♫ Hot Tamale...Hot, hot tamale...Hot tamale - Hot! Hot!♫♪

It's not a commercial (although it should be!).

It's a song, of sorts - and it's stuck in my head.

See for yourself...although you can't blame me for the
strange looks you receive from friends, relatives and
co-workers when you go around singing this for hours
on end.

You were warned...


(touch the tamale)

Sliced and Diced

I was discussing hobbies and pass-times with a group
of people at work the other day.

Most of these people are fairly new to me, having been hired
while I was off on medical leave.

They are all younger than me by many years - most of them
being in their early twenties.

The conversation turned to Dungeons and Dragons.

When I suddenly chimed in with my love for D&D I was
met with looks that ranged from surprise to reverence.

Yes... I'm a dork.

I play Dungeons and Dragons and have for many many years.
And I still play with the same group of people that I started
playing with.

D&D is fun.
It's therapeutic as well.
For a few precious hours I can go from being middle-aged,
middle-management Lynn to ONYX, Ptahian Cleric/Psyonicist
with the power to heal, resurrect the dead, control minds, and
kill with a word.

There is no better way to release the frustrations of a long
week.
(well, there is...but this is a pg rated blog)

I have found that if you play D&D with someone long enough,
you'll get to know who they really are.

No matter what class or alignment you play, your real self will
eventually shine through.

My main character is a cleric; a healer...a helper and protector.
Believe it or not, that's who I am.

I have many other characters I play, but Onyx, my cleric, is by
far my favorite and the easiest for me to play. She's also my
oldest character...the one I first began with.

D&D has changed so much over the years. Rules have changed,
new classes have evolved while others have disappeared all
together. But no matter how much it changes, the basic premise
will always be the same:

Become someone powerful.
Smite your enemies.
Take their stuff.

Who doesn't want to do that?

Juxtapochicken

I was watching The Nature of Things last night-
an amazing show that translates the mysteries of
science and nature into entertainment for an hour.
It's host is David Suzuki, a Canadian Zoologist,
Geneticist, Eco-Warrior, and all-round incredible man.

Although these kinds of programs often depress me due
to the doom and gloom forecast for the planet should
things not change, I love Suzuki and always enjoy his
presentations as he can still find ways to insert a little
humor and humanity into even the darkest of subjects.

Dr. Suzuki has multiple doctorates, honorary titles
galore - including the Order of Canada; he has been
adopted by no less than two native tribes and has
earned the respect of the scientific community
around the world for his outstanding commitment to
the environment.

When the program was over the mandatory
commercials commenced. The first ad to come on
was for KFC - and I began to laugh hysterically.
(The Man thought I'd lost my marbles)

Am I the only one who finds this funny?



Well...I know Dr. Suzuki would have laughed...

Driving to Distraction

Driving home from work last night, I was nearly rear-ended
by some fucknut who was gawking at some chippy on the
sidewalk.

The driver ahead of me put his left signal light on and came
to a stop. So...I stopped as well.

But not Mr. Ogle-Eyes... Oh no.
He was too busy trying to impress some twelve year old
prostitot in a microskirt.

Had I not leaned on my horn (causing the driver ahead
of me to think I was an impatient idiot) I would have had
the lecherous moron in my trunk.

I will admit that when it comes to driving, I get frustrated
really quickly. There are way too many morons out there
with drivers' licenses.

I'm not even going to comment on the cellphone freaks
who are happily talking and texting and whatnot instead of
paying attention to the ton of metal they happen to be
operating.

When I first heard about Road Rage, it seemed like a
bizarre concept. Killing people just because they cut you off
in traffic or whatever.

I believe I understand it now...and fully endorse shooting
people who shouldn't be driving in the first place.
(ok..ok..I don't want them dead, I just want them off the
damned road)

One of my favourite online toons is Neurotically Yours, with
Foamy, the wonderful ranting squirrel.

Foamy has some suggestions for improving peoples' driving.

Please, check it out. You'll be glad you did.


(click the squirrel)

Funny Feelings

Ever get the feeling you're the butt of some cosmic joke that
everyone is in on but you? Or, as Ian Anderson so eloquently said "Do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damned real and in the present tense...or that everybody's on the stage and it feels like you're the only person sitting in the audience..."

Conversations suddenly stop when you show up...and
snickering resumes upon your departure. Sounds like
paranoia, I know - but I've never been the most self-
confident grape on the vine.

Besides...every once in a while, the paranoids are right;
Someone really IS out to get them.

I've got no problem laughing at myself - hell, i do it all
the time. I've got faults aplenty and more than a few
foibles too. I just want to know what's so funny this time
so I can enjoy the joke too - even if it is at my expense.

Sticky Notes

I have had the same song stuck in my head for about
three days now.

Usually, the songs that I get stuck in my bean are
insipid and annoying. You know what I'm talking
about, don't you?

The song Barbie Girl nearly drove me to absolute
distraction a few years back. I hated the song with a
passion - and yet, for some reason never adequately
explained to me, it would get jammed in my brain
and refuse to leave.

When I was in high school, the song You Spin Me
Round (like a record, baby) pushed me to the very
edge of the lunatic fringe. No matter what I did, I
could not shake that stupid song out of there. I would
listen to good music and be fine - but the moment it
was over...
♪♫ You spin me right round baby, right round - like a record baby♫♪

Aaargh!

At least the song I currently have in my head is not a
silly poptart song.
It's called Konstantine, by Something Corporate - and
I really do love it.

Makes me want to play piano again...

Ugh

Yes, it's been over a week since I updated this thing.

Forgive me -- I've been very sick.
I still am, in fact.

There is a horrendous cold/flu/plague going around
these parts. It's highly contagious and unmerciful
in its victim selection.

Last Friday I came home after work feeling alright
except for a bit of a sore throat. I woke up Saturday
morning sounding like a cement mixer, complete with
a chest full of gravel. Happy freakin' Valentines Day to
me.

I also had a low-grade fever which gave my already pale
complexion a nice sickly sheen. Trés sexy, let me tell you.

I am feeling better for the most part, although I still have
a wonderful barking cough that every so often makes me
sound like I swallowed a goose. You know:
~cough, cough...cough...honk...cough~ It's a thing of
beauty, it is.

So, there it is. The reason I haven't updated my blog.
If you require further proof of my illness, please feel free
to stop by. I'm sure I'm probably still contagious.

~honk~

White Noise

~sigh~

I am sick and tired of the small-minded nonsense that
seems to go on in this backwater cracker box of a
town.

I'm not going to go off on an anti-racial slur rant - if I do,
I'll never stop. All I will say is that when it comes to open-
mindedness, this town's collective mind is water-tight.

Which brings to mind the following excerpt from Blazing Saddles...
a truly brilliant film. If ever there was a town that could be
summed up in a fifty-six second clip, it's this one.

Sesame Street-walkers

There is a strange and frightening phenomenon around these
parts; one that makes me wonder if Jerry Springer is putting
something in our drinking water...

Out and about as I was this past weekend, I started noticing
young girls - nay - children dressed like hookers and pole
dancers. These girls could not have been more than nine,
possibly ten years of age. They weren't huddled together
like some pre-teen posse either. They were here and there,
some with parents, some not. Short skirts (like short!),
half-tops, makeup...hell, one of them even had CFM boots!!
(if ya gotta ask...ya don't need to know)

As a society, we are disgusted and appalled when any woman
gets sexually assaulted. No Means No and all that jazz...
BUT - what about all this false advertising going on? Especially
on frickin' children?!

Who is to blame for the way these kids are dressed? MTV...
Whatsherface Cyrus...Barbie?? NO.



Parents.
Plain and simple.

My mother would have sent my head spinning from my shoulders
if I had attempted to leave the house looking even remotely
that slutty. And that would have applied until I was 17!

Now, that having been said, I did see one of these prosti-tots with
an adult woman - arguing about something the little tart wanted.
The woman was about my age - and dressed more or less like
the child - more cleavage, less makeup. Then I heard the
one word that made me shudder:
Grandma.
This was the child's GRANDMOTHER!

I guess apples really don't fall far from the tree.

yes...that is an actual Barbie(tm)
Black Canary Barbie

Sad...no?

Friday, etc.

It's Friday!

For a year and a half or so, I could hardly keep track
of what day it was. Not working tends to make one
lackadaisical when it comes to things like that.
One day is pretty much like the next...

Being back at work for one week has certainly changed
that. Trust me when I tell you that 4:00 PM cannot
come fast enough today. (it's currently 4:49 AM...ugh)

I seem to be doing okay - I'm tired and irritable, but most
people wouldn't say that is anything other than my
robust personality anyway. The medication I am currently
on make me kind of 'fuzzy' and 'not-quite-there' - which
often makes for interesting conversation...But, all in all,
I'm getting by.

Thank you to everyone who wished me well in my return
and who have inquired since then.




I received this award from Jen yesterday with
the instructions that I am to list 5 of my addictions
and then pass it on to my favorite blogger. It seems
silly to pass it back to Jen - who is by far my favorite
blogger. (and also my best friend)

For your amusement, information, blackmail purposes,
whathaveyou - I shall list a few of my addictions:

1) CAFFEINE: ambrosia, lifeblood...that which makes
all things possible. If there is no coffee - there is no Lynn.

2) RECIPE BOOKS: I have far too many - but never enough.

3) MUSIC: It is the language of my life.

4) THE INTERNET: Take away my television, newspapers,
car, husband (please!), just about anything - but I must have
access to the net. It's where all my friends live.

5) CHOCOLATE: Well, d-uh.

Aw...Fudge!

So, I survived my first day back at work.

A lot has changed since I've been away. There
are a lot of new faces, new policies, new stupidities.
It goes with the territory, I guess.

Sadly, one thing hasn't changed. The fact that even
though I am a manager and have come up through
the rank and file - I am only really known for one
thing there.

FUDGE.

That's right...fudge.

I made the mistake of making a batch of fudge and
taking it in to work to share with my colleagues while
we were still in training. Suddenly I was inundated
with requests for fudge. 'It's my mom's birthday and she loves fudge!'...'Will you make me some fudge for my sister?'...'I love your fudge - will you make me some?'
and so on and so on.

One day I printed up a list of the kinds of fudge I can make
(17 in all) and what it would cost to make each variety and
gave it to a coworker who had asked for such a thing. Within
an hour, there must have been 50 copies of that list around
the building - and once again I was approached by people
asking for fudge.

Anyway...when I left work on medical leave, I guess people
went into fudge-withdrawal or something. Upon my return
to work yesterday, I was welcomed back warmly and asked
over and over again...'Do you still make fudge?'

Well...at least I'm remembered for something.

Work Weak

You know...4:00 AM comes really early.
Especially when you aren't used to things like
alarm clocks anymore. It took me about five
minutes to figure out what that annoying noise
was.

Today is the day I return to work.

Yippee.

I suppose I should be thankful that I am well
enough to do so - and yet, a very large part
of me wants to get back in bed, curl up in a ball
and forget that place even exists.

I'm afraid.

Afraid of relapse...afraid of having to field all the
stupid questions I am no doubt going to get...afraid
of stressing out and going postal. All these things
and more keep on clamoring around in my brain - and
I've only had one cup of coffee!! It's too damned
early for this kinda thing...

Well, they can't expect miracles on my first day back,
can they? Knowing my boss, I'm sure I'm already
three miracles behind.

Should I survive the day, I'll let you know how
it goes.

♪♫ Hi-ho...Hi-ho ♫♪

Condomnation

I had a very interesting conversation with an acquaintance of
mine recently. She was telling me that her thirteen year old
son came home from school the other day with condoms which
were given to him in health class.

Now, I don't have kids - nor should I - but I really didn't
understand her anxiety and anger at the teacher, school and
administration of said institution. Instructing kids about the
importance of condoms isn't telling them to go out and have sex...
is it? That was the gist of her displeasure with the school and
it's teachings.

I figure by the time a kid reaches the age of thirteen, they
probably know more about sex than I do. They've had access
to the internet all their lives - and have no doubt seen if not
memorized the Animated Kama Sutra.

Condoms are so commonplace these days...it's not like when
I was younger, let me tell you. Back in the day it took all your
courage and usually a little of a friend's to go to the check out
counter with your box of Trojans. Sheesh...nowadays they're
right at the damned till - between the Dentyne and the
Junior Mints...and they're colored, textured... flavored even!!

Kids these days...they've got it so easy.

So, my advice to parents of young teenagers is this:
Lighten up.

Better your kids learn about safe sex and have condoms
given to them at school than have them find out on their
own what happens without them...right?

Signs of Life

♪♫ I saw the sign..and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign..♫♪

They're everywhere - you can't avoid them. They
tell you where to go, how far it is, how fast you can
go to get there. Then there are signs that tell you
where you can't go - and how much it will cost you
if you do. They tell us to stop, yield, keep left,
be cautious, merge, give emergency vehicles the
right of way and so on.

Still, we take these simple messengers for granted -
rarely even giving them a second glance. We know
what we're doing and where we're going...we don't
need a sign to tell us.

So, sometimes, special signs are required. Signs that
glow with pretty lights and warn us of danger. Signs that
we will pay attention to if for no other reason than they are
cool to look at. Signs like this one:


Then, along comes some genius (whom I would definitely
sleep with just for the sheer joy this brought me) who took
it one step further. By cleverly hacking into the computer
that programs said sign, he made it much more attention-
grabbing. Trust me when I tell you that reading this sign
will definitely save your life.






It may also cause a few fender benders as people not
only slam on their brakes, but do quick u-turns in
order to make sure they read it correctly.

Small price for such giggles.

read about it here

The Un-Curmudgeoning

Some of you may have noticed the Grace in Small Things
badge on my sidebar.

If you've never heard of it - give it a clickola and check
it out.

I made a promise to a friend that I would do my best to
become more personable and not quite so curmudgeonly...
more 'approachable' was her term. Apparently I am a grumpy
so-and-so who hates everything and everyone. This just
isn't the case!

It's not that I don't like individuals - I have grown quite fond
of many. I just don't really care for people in general. But I
am going to attempt to better my opinion of the populace, and
perhaps the populace's perception of me. (yeah, right)

Don't get me wrong here. I have no intention of becoming a
sweetness-and-light kinda gal. That just isn't me. I also have
little to no interest in doing this every single day as one is
supposed to. That sounds too much like work for me. But every
once in a while, I'd like to share a few things from my life that
make me smile.

So it is with twinkling eye that I present my first Grace in Small Things
- or, the little things in my life that make it more livable.

1) My coffee maker.
It makes great coffee - and it has a timer. This makes my
life and anyone who has to deal with me in the morning's
life a whole lot easier. Trust me.

2) My mailman.
Most postal workers are overpaid putzes...but my mailman
actually takes the time to knock on my door when he has
a package delivery for me - rather than just dumping it
between my doors. I appreciate this to no end. He's also
rather good-looking, which is an added bonus.

3) Frosted windows on cold mornings.
There's just something awe-inspiring about the way frost
paints glass. At least there is before your husband wakes
up and etches pornographic doodles into it.

4) The inability to play my favourite game.
Haven't played World of Warcraft since the end of July -
and yet, I am still friends with all the people I became
close to through that game. If I haven't told you guys
and gals lately...I love you all.

5) My fuzzy socks.
Today, they don't even match. (unless you go by thickness)
The floors are cold - but my toes are cozy warm in my ultra-
fuzzy foot covers. Warm feet are of utmost importance on
days like these. Not only that, but if I shuffle along the floor,
I can create enough static to shock the cats - and that, my
friends, is entertainment you just can't buy.

Medical Mayhem

Doctors.

There is a real shortage of them in our area.
Finding a health care professional in this part
of the country is nigh on impossible.

My GP is the busiest man in town - and is nearing
the age of retirement. It's frightening.

Recently, The Man was fortunate enough to be
taken on by the newest doctor in town after being
without a doctor for years. He had an appointment
with her today and ended up having a heated argument
with her regarding medication for chronic back pain.
It ended with The Man telling the doctor in no uncertain
terms what she could do with her ideals and future
treatment plan.

In short, he is now doctor-less... again.

He's going to need a mortician next - because I'm
going to f*cking kill him. I could not believe it when
he told me what he said and the results thereof.

~sigh~

Anyone want to buy a man?

Cheap.

Snakes on a Plate

In the realm of food, I think everyone likes
something that their friends and relatives think
they are insane for. Personally, I like coarsely
ground black pepper on fresh strawberries...
Hey - don't knock it until you've tried it!

I like to think I am open-minded when it comes
to trying new foods. Some of them are wondrous
delights...others, not so much. But I do try them.
Well - most of them.

I have an allergy to shellfish and a lot of seafood,
which keeps many of the stranger things off my plate.
There is one thing, however, that has recently been brought
to my attention that I could probably eat - I just
can't bring myself to even try. I cannot wrap my head
around them, much less my tongue.

I'm talking about these:




Eels.

ICKY!

I have a very close friend who says that eels
are incredibly delicious. To the best of my knowledge
he is completely sane - so I can only assume he is
serious when he says this.

Now, I'm all for delicious...but when delicious comes
in the guise of a slimy water snake, somewhere
something has gone awry. Perhaps that's why
nature made them look so terrible - so we wouldn't
learn of their deliciousness.
(wow, deliciousness actually IS a word!)

It seems, however, that eating eels is not new.
Whilst watching the news over morning coffee, I
was informed that new research has brought to light
the fact that Jesus and his Disciples were depicted
dining on eels and orange slices in the famous painting
of The Last Supper.



So much for bread and wine.

Can you imagine holy communion with eel and orange
slices? Would certainly give sunrise service a whole
new spin - especially if you were hungover!

~gag~

I realize that the depiction of The Last Supper is strictly
Da Vinci's interpretation - but if the great master thought
that eels were good enough for Jesus, I guess the least I
can do is try them. If and when I do - I'll be sure to let
you know.

Taking the Cake

Years ago, my mother and I took it upon ourselves
to learn fancy cake decorating. We took two classes;
one being festive cakes, the other one wedding cakes.

Knowing how to make really cool cakes was a great way
to impress your friends and co-workers. It's also a
good way to get roped into providing such treats for every
so-and-so who happens to have a birthday, christening,
bar mitzvah, baby shower, bridal party or retirement.

It isn't a cheap hobby to take up. Cake pans are not only
expensive, they are also easily dented - and thus ruined.
A dent in the pan equals a divot in the cake...a big pain in the
butt when it comes time for icing.

Then of course, there are the icing tools. Tips, bags,
colours, spindles, pegs, columns, ad infinitum.

The icing in and of itself is often a royal pain. One smidge
too much liquid and the icing won't hold. Add more sugar,
you end up with candy. It is a delicate balance - and this
is still when it is uncoloured! The addition of colour is
always a gamble. Sometimes it's perfect - and sometimes
you get a colour that nature never intended to exist.

Most cakes take anywhere from 3 to 9 hours to ice
properly (well, if you want it to look good anyway).

So imagine my shock and horror when I saw this:


Yes, that IS a cake. To perfect scale, too.

I can only imagine the time, effort and tears that
went into the smoothing of that fondant icing.

Somewhere, a cake decorator is still weeping and
massaging his/her aching hands.

Long after that enormous cake has become so many
crumbs on the hardwood, the creator of said delight
will have nightmares of it.

A feat of culinary genius it is - but it is doubtful that
little Tommy or whoever appreciated the effort behind it
- or the price tag it came with!
($360.00 - pittance, really)

I no longer do fancy cakes, except for very special people.

After seeing this, I am happy to be retired.

Read the article here.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

Well, the cold has finally snapped.

It's a lovely day today - just barely below zero.
In other words, the January thaw has begun.
It won't last - and it will be painful to see it go -
but for now, it's very pleasant.

The snow is melting off the roof, and the icicles
are crackling and falling from the eaves.

According to my best friend, Jennifer, the cold
weather has headed south. I'd say I'm sorry
to hear that, but I'd be lying.

You see, Jen was a cold-blooded Canadian like
myself - but she moved to Florida and became
one of those wimpy warm-bloods. heh heh

I get such a kick out of my southern friends telling
me how 'cold it is' where they are. Puh-leeeze...!
To say I am amused by this is putting it mildly.
Come and visit me - tell me about your chilly
75 degree weather. Poor babies...

Meanwhile, I am going to enjoy this wonderful
weather we are experiencing before the mercury
once again dips to -30 (that's -22 for you wimps)