I really hate Christmas.

The ubiquitous, nauseating holiday music.

The co-workers' cubicles adorned with so much tinsel, garland, ornaments and other cheap, Christmas crap that it looks like some dime-store Martha Stewart is conducting a "You can't have too many tacky decorations!" seminar.

The constant queries..."Got your holiday shopping done?" "Ready for the holidays?" "Is that a carrot in your stocking or are you just happy to see me?"

The endless holiday specials on television...Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Santa Drank My Imodium...etc...

All these annoyances pale in comparison to the proverbial straw that broke the Christmas camel's back..an incident that shall henceforth be known as...

THE CAROLLERS IN THE CAFETERIA

Yes, you read that correctly.

Outside the cafeteria in my office building today, there was a quartet of Christmas carollers regaling us with all the Christmas classics, in four-part harmony, attired in period clothing straight out of Dickens!

For a split second, I tried to revive myself, assuming I was trapped in a horrific nightmare.

But, alas, it was, in fact, really happening.

I couldn't help but wonder*, how did my company find this musical combo? I've never seen an advertisement for "Carollers for Hire," have you? It's really got to be tough to make a living at this in, say, April....

*"I couldn't help but wonder..."....my homage to Carrie Bradshaw's patented segue...she uttered this phrase at least once in every single episode of "Sex and the City"....

Only 13 more days until Christmas...praise Dionysus, all hail Bacchus...pass the vino...I'm gonna need it..

Four-Piece Carolling Combo for Hire

Available for weddings, birthdays, funerals, Hanukkah parties (not recommended), retirement parties, boat shows etc.

Familiar with all Christmas carols; yodelling, tap-dancing and/or lap-dancing available upon request.

Diet Coke vs. Diet Pepsi

Yes, I am so desperate for a blogging topic that I am resorting to "cola wars" to fill the space...

I was a Diet Coke fiend for many years, as are/were most of my girlfriends.

In fact, my friend Gill is so adamant about the supremacy and superiority of DC (as we lovingly called it), that she angrily reconsiders our friendship whenever I mention that I now prefer Diet Pepsi.

But why do I listen to Gill? She smells bad. And lives in hell..er..L.A...What does she know?

Anyway...I loved Diet Coke and believed I always would.

When I started working for a (now-defunct) movie theatre chain back in '01, I was disheartened to learn that they were a Pepsi company. All of their pop machines were stocked with Pepsi products. Whatever was an aspartame addict with a penchant for Diet Coke to do??!

I could have ventured out to procure Diet Coke, or I could have brought it from home, but I was enticed by the relative proximity of the Pepsi machine and the allure of paying a mere 50 cents per pop--a great deal! As a result, I grudgingly started drinking Diet Pepsi...I wasn't happy about it, but I will admit to enjoying all that extra change jingling around in the bottom of my back-pack.

One day, a few months into my tenure at this company, we ordered lunch from a pizza place that served Coke products. Huzzah! Diet Coke for Julesy! Woot-woot!

I was breathless with anticipation.

When lunchtime and pizza arrived, I hungrily threw aside the pizza boxes and tore open the plastic bag--cruelly tied with an impenetrable knot--that entrapped the beverages.

The satisfying "fzzzt" when I cracked open the Diet Coke was almost orgasmic.

*glug*glug*glug*

Something was horribly wrong. The Diet Coke tasted AWFUL!

"Something is wrong with this Diet Coke! It tastes like ass!" I cried in terror.

One of my co-workers took the can of pop from my hand, took a whiff and then took a tentative sip.

"There's nothing wrong with this pop. It tastes just like Diet Coke," she pronounced quizzically.

I frantically grabbed another one from the bag, opened it and took a drink. It, too, made me retch.

The realization that I had slowly become addicted to another brand of pop washed over me like a carbonated, low-calorie, tidal wave.

Years later, Diet Pepsi remains my preference.

Perhaps they use addictive ingredients culled from the rainforest that, if used for good (rather than cola-related evil), could cure a multitude of diseases.

But, for now, I'll just sit back and enjoy an ice, cold Diet Pepsi and try not to think about it.

*$@! You

How do you feel about people who use a lot of foul language?

It seems some people negatively judge others who regularly pepper their speech with expletives (or who seem to rely solely on derivatives thereof for their adjectives and adverbs).

Even I do it...when I hear someone who swears a lot, I think, "Is that really necessary?"

Which is fucking retarded, since I'm as big a potty-mouth as the next guy--if "the next guy" is a truck driver.

Wait--I messed that up--what I *meant* was, I'm as stinky as the next guy--if the next guy is a Merrickville farmer.

But I digress...

Anyway, my point is, that I swear a lot...exemplified by the fact that when I was in Grade 7, my dad told me (and not in a "fatherly pride" type of way) that I had "worse language than a truck driver." And my dad busted truck drivers for a living, so you can be sure he was on the receiving end of more than one expletive-laced tirade from them.

True, swearing is pretty lazy language usage--can't I come up with a more descriptive adjective than "goddamn"? Am I that unintelligent?

Is the judgement based on the fact that swearing is viewed, historically, as the language of the plebs? The vernacular of the uneducated or unsophisticated? Unabashedly uncouth?

Ah, who gives a shit....Vive la pottymouth!

Happy fucking holidays, assholes!

Love,
Julia

Utterly Depilitated

Ladies, how many of you are amazed and appalled, on an increasingly regular basis, by odd, unwanted hair(s) making appearances in strange places on your body... ??

Older women, who I can only assume are trying to make me cry, assure me that, as you get older, the frequency with which these interlopers appear increases AND the hairs get more thick and/or disgusting.

Thanks, for that, ladies. God knows I love those little perks that come along with aging...

I was in my early twenties when I first encountered an odd, out-of-place hair on my body. A lone, dark hair appeared on my right boob (aka "Righty"). Turns out, if left unattended, this particular hair will grow unabated to astounding lengths--a medical marvel, really! So, it wasn't all bad..I contacted Guiness, but they didn't seem impressed...losers....

Anyway, this hair wasn't really that big a deal, easily rectified with a quick pluck, nothing more than a minor annoyance.

I had girlfriends in high school (of Italian descent) who, unfortunately, had to have their substantial moustaches waxed or bleached before they even turned 16. Ugh. That had to suck.

And I always secretly felt superior in that regard--I may have had zits, and a boatload of other teenage problems, but at least I didn't have a moustache! Hahaahahahahaha!

And that, my friends, is just how karma works...call it karma, call it the Fates, call it "I told you so-itis"...whatever it is, the cosmos saw me gloating and decided that I, too, should know the pain of female facial hair.

For a long time, I resisted the idea that I had facial hair. "It's blonde," I thought, "No one can see it..."

Then one day I saw a woman with a very thick moustache that had been bleached--and, oh--you could see it, alright....

I realized the time had come to take action.

I purchased my first "home wax" kit. I was not without trepidation, but I felt I had no alternative.

Lo and behold, the moustache wax went well! I felt free, like a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders (or, more accurately, my upper lip)...

I realized I could also use this wonderful wax to remove the hair from other areas of my face...I mean, I'm not a cave-woman, I might as well have an entirely smooth visage, yes?

Unfortunately, my cheeks didn't respond as well to the wax as my moustache area* did and I broke out in a heinous, persistent rash. :( Oops.

-------------------------

*Moustache Area: The area where the moustache goes. This area doesn't have a name, to my knowledge. I sometimes hear it referred to as the "upper lip", but that makes no sense to me--isn't the "upper lip" the one above the "lower lip"?

Anyway, I hereby christen it The Moustache Area...which, incidentally, would also be a great name for a gay bar in the 70s....

--------------------------

The last time I attempted the waxing was several months ago. My five o'clock shadow was telling me that it was once again time to take action.

I thought, "Hey, why not try this 'Nair for Facial Hair' stuff?"

I, of course, didn't make the connection that if my skin is super-sensitive to waxing, it might not be the best idea to slather on a toxic lotion designed to uproot hair so it can be easily wiped away (and proceed to leave it there for 3 to 10 minutes).

So I decided to give it a shot!!!

As I was marvelling at the ease with which the hair just wiped right off my face, I noticed a bit of redness on my right cheek. Then I noticed that the more hair I wiped with ease, the more redness, tingling and--omigod!--burning ensued!

The instructions that accompany the Nair do mention a "slight" risk of "irritation" and they suggest that, even though the Nair product is FULL of moisturizers and emollience, that you should also use your own moisturizer following the application of the Nair.

I tried to apply my own moisturizer to my rapidly and increasingly reddening, blotchy, burning skin.

Yeah, no go.

The second the moisturizer touched my skin it was as though I was pouring lemon juice on a paper cut imbedded in a third-degree burn.

So I slathered my face with Polysporin (this was painful, but I figured I had no choice at this point, I needed to heal) and tried to get some sleep.

It's not so easy to sleep when your face is on fire and you fear you're going to wake up looking like something out of a horror movie.

I'm hideous! Look away!

But, on the plus side, I don't have any hair on my face.

Grammatical Pet Peeve of the Day

Those who know me, even peripherally, are well aware of my obsession with good grammar. I truly believe it is one of my missions to assist in saving the rapidly devolving English language in any small way that I can.

As lofty as this goal is, the best I can usually do is to surreptitiously correct my boss's emails, presentations, announcements etc. or to silently stew over poorly composed advertising copy.

Tip: An apostrophe NEVER MAKES IT PLURAL.

So, for the company currently advertising in the Toronto subway system about how they can get me out of debt (allowing me to rejoin the "have's"), please take note.

I'm not a stickler for everybody's grammar--if you send me an email, replete with spelling errors and grammatical missteps, I'm not going to think less of you or mock you (unless I'm feeling particularly saucy).

There are, however, people who should be held to a higher standard. People who should know better, based on their particular stations in life. People to whom proper grammar should be second nature and whose very livelihoods are based on their alleged expertise in these types of matters.

Journalists, for example, should not only be aware of proper grammar themselves, but the people in their employ whose job it is to check their work to ensure it's correct, should be even more well-versed in its application! Editors, copy editors, proof-readers etc. should be beyond reproach in this realm! There's no excuse for bad grammar or wrong word usage in a published piece. Or, rather, there should be no excuse....

It's important to note that I'm not talking about a writer's stylistic choices, or colloquialisms, used in writing, which may not adhere to traditional grammatical "rules."

I'm talking about big, bad, unambiguous mistakes.

For example, Peter Howell, an entertainment columnist for the Toronto Star, reviewed a movie a while back and tried to use the phrase "deus ex machina" to describe the events of the film.

Instead, the phrase that was printed was "deux ex machina."

Naturally, being a former drama major, I was appalled by this and felt compelled to write to Mr. Howell to inform him of this tragic mistake.

I generally have nothing against Peter Howell..he's a fairly benign presence at the Star (he doesn't regularly invoke my ire and incite my rage like, say, oh, I don't know..FESCHUK...) I usually agree with his assessments of films. I respect his opinions. But I still felt the need to point out this error. I mean--c'mon--you're reviewing films, you should at least know the proper term for the dramatic device you're describing!

Anyway, Mr. Howell emailed me back explaining that his "idiot copy editor" changed it to "deux" rather than "deus" and I was inclined to believe him.

Apparently the same copy editor is still in the Star's employ--yesterday, in discussing Danny Devito's drunken appearance on "The View", Mr. Howell described him as being "sauced." If you're liquored up, you're soused, not "sauced"--though, granted, the liquid by which you achieved your soused state could accurately be described as "The Sauce."

A slippery slope, I know, but one that writers must gingerly & regularly traverse.

I know this subject is something about which I tend to pontificate, and if you don't care and think I'm wasting my time, that's certainly your prerogative. However, if that is, in fact, the case, I can't fathom why you'd still be reading this post...

Anyway, I implore someone out there to give me a job as a copy editor. I'd be really good at it.

Plus, I'm a lot of fun at office parties...more fun than Britney Spears at an "I just got divorced and I'm foregoing panties for Hanukkah" party, in fact.

Call me!

The Mystery of the Pharmacy

Why do I love shopping at the pharmacy? Doesn't everyone? I think so. But why?

You can spend less than 5 minutes in a pharmacy, walk out with $50 worth of merchandise (in the tiniest bag imaginable) and be so excited about your purchases that you have to rip into the bag and examine your newly acquired toiletries/makeup/sundry pharmaeceuticals as soon as you leave the store!

I spent $175 at Shopper's Drug Mart this past weekend!

In my defense, it *was* 20X the points day, so I stocked up on a bunch of stuff..like excessive quantities of tampons, a new hairbrush, razor blades (which are inexplicably expensive--possibly to deter people from suicide?)...

A few of the other items I procured:

-brown, liquid eyeliner
-cleaning towellettes
-laundry detergent (Note: I have 1 full and 1 half-full container of laundry detergent at home. This particular purchase makes NO SENSE!)
-A new toothbrush
-24 cans of Diet Pepsi
-Shampoo for colour-treated hair (I'm getting my colour done next Saturday...I'm all about planning ahead...)
-3 pairs of socks with funny patterns on them (1 pair is covered with dogs in coats--I love dogs in coats!) and 2 pairs of plain black socks.

I clearly have a problem.