Marley & Me (the movie): Utter (Dog) Crap

I had the misfortune of attending "Marley & Me" at the Cineplex this past weekend.

In hindsight, I would have rather rolled around in doggie doodoo than sat through that piece of shit.

God (Or should I say "Dog"?), what a horrific experience!

Normally, this film would NEVER appear on a list of movies I would have any desire to see. Not only does the whole thing SCREAM lowest-common-denominator-catering, syrupy, family-oriented, pap-filled monstrosity (not my proverbial cup o' tea) [see poster above..cutesy, right?]. But it stars not just one but TWO of the most annoying personalities in all of Hollywood--the loathsome Jennifer Aniston and the inexplicably famous, utterly charm-free Owen Wilson. Oy!

However, last week, as I was sunning myself in the Dominican, I had the opportunity to read the book on which this movie was based. And I found it to be thoroughly entertaining--heart-warming, tear-jerking (and not in an entirely nauseatingly cloying & manipulative way, which I despise) and hilarious.

And this weekend, when I was scanning the paltry selection of movies available for my viewing "pleasure", I couldn't find a single one in which I was interested--at least not playing at my local theatre--so, after perusing the various reviews, we chose "Marley & Me"...I was looking for light, comedic fare, the reviews had been generally positive and I had enjoyed the book, so how bad could it be?

I think, from my general tone thus far, you can accurately deduce just "how bad" it could be (and was).

It was so bad, about 20 minutes in, the gentleman seated next to me frightened (and, subsequently, amused) me with his seat-shaking snores.

And it wasn't *just* bad, as compared to the book. I know, "The book's always better than the movie!" However, in this case, I think it's doubly true..

One, because it's just not a good movie. It's boring and a waste of time. Aniston & Wilson did nothing to alter my negative opinion(s) of them--in fact, I wanted to smack them both, soundly, several times, throughout the film (but I see someone's already beaten me to it).

If you haven't read the book (and you're in full possession of your faculties, of course) you're still going to think it's a pedestrian, occasionally amusing, pointless story, about a bunch of jejune people about whom you can't be bothered to give two shits.

Two, because it's not just a watered-down, poorly translated version of the book, that suffers because of running-time-related content edits.

If you have read the book, you'll recognize that the WHOLE POINT of the book has been eschewed. The book, basically a compilation of newspaper columns by the the author, relays the touching tale of a crazy, irascible, incorrigible dog, with a bottomless pit for a stomach and an even bigger heart, and how this dog affects the people with whom he comes in contact. The book tells the story of Marley's human family on the periphery of the story about Marley himself.

The movie, unsurprisingly, is standard, chronological, bland Hollywood storytelling and focuses almost entirely on the human family--who aren't all that unique or interesting, simply an average family living their lives--and the dog just happens to be a part of it. That's not what I had anticipated and it was very disappointing.

For example, the book describes an event, late one night, when they hear screaming from their neighbour's yard--the man takes the dog and goes to investigate and instructs his wife to call the police. Once outside, they find their teenage neighbour has been stabbed--he and the dog comfort her and stay with her until help arrives. Marley's dedication in this scene as written is beautiful & touching.

In the movie, however, they don't even show Marley in the scene, other than by implication--the event is simply used as a catalytic plot-device aka the reason the family decides to move from that 'hood. Cheap! Cheap, I tells ya! Boo!

Oh well, the popcorn was good. And I was happy to get home and play with Kuda afterwards and appreciate the fact that she almost never consumes appliances in my absence. :)


Don't get me wrong, I highly recommend the book, if you're into that kind of thing (doggy-centric memoirs), but I seriously caution you not to waste your time or money on the movie version.

Oh, and, did I mention (kudos to whoever did this and to the folks who are featuring it on their site..much appreciated...):

Weird Weather

We've had strange, spring-like weather the past few days--with crazy wind & rain. "Warm & unsettled" was the official prognostication from the weather folks, I think.

I got up this morning to take the dog for a walk and when we went outside, the southern sky was a vivid, other-worldly pinkish-purple and the northern sky held 2 parallel rainbows. This lasted no more than a couple of minutes, but it was spectacular and I was glad to be up that early and out to enjoy it. :)

FESCHUK!

I've always had a real hate-on for Dave Feschuk, alleged sports writer for The Toronto Star.

I'm not sure why, but he's annoyed me since I first encountered his "work".

Maybe it's the unibrow, maybe it's the nefarious glare from his dead, dead eyes, maybe it's that I believe his articles are fluffy, ill-informed and poorly written...probably a combination of the 3.

I refer to him as The Evil Feschuk or in Seinfeldian, "FESCHUK!" a la "NEWMAN!".

I'm not sure why I still read his articles...sometimes, it's accidental....because I'm a basketball & baseball fan, I click on the link to an article about the Raptors or the Jays without even noticing the writer's name..then I find myself getting irritated by some idiotic statement, glance at the byline and inevitably mutter, "FESCHUK!"

Besides the fact that I very rarely respect anything he has to say, he could also use a good copy editor--one with more than a cursory knowledge of grammar. In the past week, Feschuk has TWICE used the word "inferred" when the word he should have been using was "implied"--two words with very different meanings.

(Though some sources now indicate that "infer" & "imply" can be used interchangeably, please don't give this credence. These are the same sources that cite "irregardless" as a word simply because it's become part of the redneck vernacular. It's this type of regressive laziness that is reducing the clarity of the English language. )


So, in conclusion...

Down with Feschuk!

Why Some People Shouldn't Drive--Part II

Last night/early this morning a couple of inches of wet, heavy, sticky snow was dumped on Toronto--the kind of snow that slushes up the streets & sidewalks, is perfect for building snowforts/initiating snowball wars and will not simply blow off your vehicle once you get moving, you must arduously & assiduously remove it yourself.

This morning, I passed a City of Toronto police cruiser, apparently being driven by a member of the force who possesses x-ray vision--or simply doesn't give much credence to the importance of checking one's blind-spot whilst driving.

This officer's vehicle had been thoroughly cleaned off--front windshield, back window, driver's & passenger side doors--except for the back seat windows. Huh? Too friggin' lazy to spend that extra couple of minutes to ensure maximum visibility while on the road, possibly weaving in & out of rush hour traffic while speeding to the scene of a crime? Hmmmm.

Strange behaviour for someone sworn to allegedly "protect & serve."

Unless this officer does, in fact, possess x-ray vision--in that case, mea culpa. In fact, I feel bad, let me apologize in song:

Did you ever know that you're my (super) hero?
And everything I wish I could be?
I can fly higher than an eagle, because you are the all-seeing wind beneath my wings...

Rambling Rant

I'm certain that if I stopped a bunch of people, randomly on the street, they'd have no trouble immediately identifying at least one recent perplexing ad campaign or utterly confounding piece of marketing to which they'd been exposed.

I fancy myself a fairly astute person and yet I am regularly stymied by advertising that is ostensibly being presented in my first language--sure, I may no longer exist in the ideal target demographic for marketers, but I'm not *that* far removed from current trends/pop culture, I should still be able to readily deduce the meaning behind the advertising I see. I mean, c'mon, gag me with a spoon!

Anyway, I was pondering the ubiquity and idiocy of advertising yesterday while at the Raptors game here in Toronto.

There really are very few places in North America where you can escape marketing. And, in some places, (like large-scale sporting facilities), you are simply inundated by ads, wherever you look, from the minute you walk through the doors. From the name of the venue (in this case, the Air Canada Centre) to company branding on every conceivable surface and product (including the cheerleaders--this year, sponsored by Irish Spring!).

During Raptors games, there are always several corporately-sponsored, featured prize giveaways during timeouts & halftime. Sometimes, they'll just give the shit away and other times contestants will have to do something--inevitably embarrassing and/or stupid--to win the prize.

There were many ridiculous giveaways yesterday, as per usual--including a BMO Bank of Montreal contest where, in order to compete for the big prize (4 Raptors tickets in shitty seats, I believe) people had to stand up in their seats, whip out their Bank of Montreal debit cards and wave them around like maniacs. Yup, that actually happened--almost half the arena was on their feet waving around their bank cards...seems like a good plan for all involved.

Sunday was also "Doritos Day" at the ACC.

This meant, that during certain breaks in play, employees/promoters would hand out bags of Doritos to the (evidently) hungry fans.

Of course, what this also meant was that the entire concourse of the ACC all the way to Union Station and beyond was litter-ally covered with the detritus of this stroke-of-genius Doritos promotion--chip bags absolutely everywhere (except, apparently, in garbage receptacles).

(See what I did there? Litter-ally? Because I'm talking about litter? Hahahaha! Goddamn, I'm witty.)

Which also raises the question: What kind of pigs inhabit this city that they can't fucking hold on to a goddamn chip bag until they encounter a garbage can? The city of Toronto--and most venues existing herein--are pretty fanatical about ensuring that there are plenty of garbage bins everywhere...Didn't Toronto used to have a reputation for being ridiculously clean? What the hell?

An Open Letter to the Littering Jackasses at the Air Canada Centre Yesterday

Dear Assholes,

I know, I know..the bag that held that delicious, free snack must have been cumbersome for you to transport. Probably heavy, right? Plus, you also needed both hands free for pushing people in front of you and/or dragging your snot-nosed kids and/or high-fiving people. And you certainly didn't want to put it in your pocket--ew, chip cooties!!

But please--in future--if you think you won't be able to manage depositing that little chip bag into a garbage can when you're finished with it, could you maybe decline the free chips?

No? Not going to happen?

OK, OK, I shouldn't ask you to deprive yourself of free chips. Silly me!

Here's an idea: When you're done with the chip bag, how 'bout you shove it up your ass, you inconsiderate, self-centred jerkface?

Thanks so much! You're a peach!

Love,
Julia

Why some people shouldn't drive...

(Dog pictured above not to scale and not necessarily the breed referenced in the following story. Dog in story was also much fluffier and sporting a much fancier hairdo.)

Driving to work the other morning, turning right on to Bloor, there was one car ahead of us, also turning right...at a glacial pace.

When this car finally turned the corner, it proceeded along at approximately 5 kms/hour. It was also weaving from side to side..

As soon as it was feasible, we moved into the other lane and passed this annoyance.

When we drove past the car, it became obvious why it was being driven so slowly (and yet dangerously) - the driver was simultaneously "driving" and talking on a cell phone - with a DOG ON HER LAP!!

What the fuck? As if talking on a cell & driving wasn't dangerous enough...

The phone was in her right hand and she was (presumably) steering with her left hand - this, however, cannot be confirmed, because the view of her left arm was obscured by the dog.

It's also important to note that this was not a small dog--it was medium-sized (and very fluffy) and it could actually see over the steering wheel from its position on the woman's lap. As you can imagine, the dog's fluffy mane significantly reduced the driver's already obstructed view of the road.

I really wanted to get out of the car, haul her ass into the street and beat some sense into her...but it was really cold that morning, so I resisted.

Bitch got lucky. Legit.

Woke up this mornin', got myself a gun..

OK, so I didn't really get myself a gun..and it wasn't this morning, it was last week..but anyway...

The other morning, my alarm went off, as usual, around 6:30. I hit snooze twice, maybe three times...I was just so tired! I mean, exhausted! I couldn't figure it out!

I finally hauled my ass out of bed and headed for the shower. I completed my morning ablutions with my eyes closed and half asleep (mascara goes on the chin, right?). I exited the bathroom and was perplexed--it was still pitch black outside! I mean, I know the nights are getting longer, but I couldn't fathom how the time at which the sun rises could have changed so much overnight.

The next step in my pre-work routine is to check the weather and determine my wardrobe for the day--I turned on the TV and was subsequently mortified. It seems as though, whilst setting my alarm the previous evening, I had accidentally set the time to an hour ahead.

So, I was up and ready to go and it wasn't even time for my alarm to go off. My exhaustion suddenly made sense.

I went back to bed for a catnap til it was time to leave and dreamed up various nefarious ways to circumvent the powers of all the evil alarm clocks, worldwide. My revolution will commence shortly.

Awesome dinner..Thai Veggie Stirfry & Rice..(Recipe Included!)

I made the greatest dinner last night..Thai Veggies & Rice. So delicious & so easy!

I suppose you could add tofu or seitan to this (or chicken or shrimp, if you were so inclined), but I like it just the way it is.

1 lb veggies (I used mushrooms, red & green bell peppers & asparagus--but I don't think it matters all that much, use what you like)
2 heads (heads?) of baby bok choy
2 jalapeno peppers
1 can lite coconut milk
5 cloves garlic (I really like garlic..I'm sure 3 would suffice..)
Fresh basil leaves (about 10), chopped
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon lime zest
1 tablespoon tamari (or soy sauce)
1 tablespoon red pepper flakes (I like it really it spicy--1/2 would probably work)
1 tablespoon lime juice

In blender, combine jalapenos, garlic, lemon & lime zest and coconut milk--blend until liquified.

Stir-fry veggies for a few minutes, add sauce, allow to simmer for about 10 minutes. Add chopped up basil, tamari, red pepper flakes & lime juice. Allow to simmer for a couple more minutes. Serve over cooked brown rice.

Enjoy!

My morning so far...

It's only 10:30 a.m. and I've already had a pretty full morning--it's remarkable how much you can get done when you're up at 6:30 on a Saturday!

Although the alarm goes off at 6:30 or so every weekday morning, getting up at what amounts to the crack of ridiculous on the weekend is not normally my thing. However, today I had a hair appointment at 8:15--I'm thrilled I finally found a stylist I like after the trauma of my previous stylist of several years unceremoniously abandoning all her clients (yes, I'm still somewhat bitter). In any case, the time was irrelevant--I needed a haircut.

So I got up, showered & got ready to go. Am I the only one who washes/styles their hair before going to a hair appointment? The entire time, I ruminate on the futility of it--they wash & cut & style my hair and I pay a whole lot for it. However, I am loath to go in with bedhead--not only is that embarrassing, but I'm afraid if I don't present the way I like it styled, she might cut it into a shorter--and more permanent--version of bedhead.

I got myself all bundled up for the 25 minute walk up to Bloor street. It was a wonderful walk--chilly, but awesome. It's a beautiful crisp sunny day--walking @ 7:30 on a Saturday morning is great (especially when it's -10..aka COLD for Toronto) because the only people you encounter are the necessarily dedicated dog owners out with their pets or ardent (aka crazy) exercise enthusiasts. Once I got to Bloor, I went to Second Cup and got a small soy pumpkin spice latte, which was delicious (though I've never experienced crack, I'm pretty sure that this is the beverage equivalent..oh my goodness, it's sublime!), then headed to the salon.

After my haircut, I decided to do some grocery shopping...I headed over to No Frills, a store that I normally eschew, despite the great deals to be had, because it's usually jam-packed and the way it's set up, it's extremely difficult to maneuver around the aisles. I figured Saturday morning before 9 a.m. it might be less busy than usual--and I was right. After No Frills, I hit a few of the many fruit & vegetable markets along my route to grab some fresh produce and went to the bakery to get some fresh onion buns for lunch.

The only people out and about on Bloor at this hour seem to be yuppies toting their "venti" Starbucks coffees, accompanied by one or both of the following:

a) the requisite giant SUV-stroller carrying their spawn (excellent for blocking sidewalks and aisles in stores, which happens a lot since these folks seem to believe the world revolves around them);

b) Overly groomed, purebred dogs all sporting designer attire (coats & sometimes even booties)--doesn't matter if it's one of those annoying purse puppies or a big giant husky, the owners seem incapable of not dressing them up. The dogs themselves appear to be chagrined by the indignity.

I walked home and the dog greeted me as though I'd been gone for 2 weeks instead of two hours--it's so nice to be missed! I whipped up a delicious facon & tomato sammitch for breakfast and proceeded to admire my pretty new haircut in the mirror for a while.

Time to get started on my cleaning...happy Saturday to me! :)

Bill Maher @ Massey Hall

So, I went to see Bill Maher do his stand-up gig last weekend at Massey Hall. I was very, VERY excited for this show...

I love Bill Maher. I love him. I have had a school-girl crush on him for years--presumably because of "Politcally Incorrect"....I loved the way he always lambasted right-wing dickheads on that show..I loved the way he called folks out on their ludicrous beliefs ( I just made a stand...sorry...I'm a left-wing, pro-choice, atheist....that's just the way it is...).

Anyway, I've loved Bill Maher for years. I was SO excited for his show. I mean--I've admired/loved him FOREVER!

So I went to his show and I was....disapointed. It was nowhere near as funny as it was supposed to be.

I've always enjoyed what he had to say. And he is/has been the only public person who has ever publically shared my opinions on politics, religion, morals, values etc. Anyway...let's not go there...

In addition to the fact that he didn't get onstage until 30 minutes past the scheduled show-time, it was way too warm in the theatre, which made it incredibly uncomfortable, and the woman behind me obviously had been a hyena in a previous life and evolution had failed her in that she retained her animalistic-laugh and inflicted it upon us every 15 seconds or so.

OK, so, Bill did his show. And it was.....um....sorta OK. Just not really that funny..which is kind of what I expect from a comedian...

I am a huge fan of comedy...and this show was NOT FUNNY!

Bill, I am no comedy savant, yet I saw your punchlines coming a mile away. Way too easy!

He had one or two original-sounding jokes that elicited genuine laughter from me, but that was it.

Fortunately for him, the audience was packed with devoted acolytes who had clearly consumed the Kool-Aid--they yukked it up at every single thing that came out of his mouth. Hell, they gave him a standing ovation before he'd even said a thing!

I was surprised by this--I always assumed his fanbase would hold him to a pretty high standard--after all, his comedy is fairly high-brow, based on current political & cultural happenings. While he's not opposed to telling the occasional dick joke, it's often followed by a reference to the U.S. Senate or an outrageous legal injustice.

While we're on the topic, here's a tip, Bill: Know your audience.

Sure, we're aware of who you are and the type of comedy you perform--however, we *are* Canadian, and while we are perpetually indundated by American media, we're not always aware of every miniscule political maneuver that occurs, nor are we necessarily familiar with every obscure redneck Republican politico whom you verbally decimate. Throwing a bone to your audience in the form of a (locally) relevent joke or two would be appreciated and wise.

Anyway, I still enjoy & respect Bill Maher, I just wish I'd had more side-splitting laughter moments that night.

Oh, and, it would have been nice to emerge from the show NOT to find the car window smashed in--but that's another story.

A Perfect Fall Day

So, last night I had the great fortune of sitting courtside for the Raptors first home game of the season..which they won..in overtime. Ah, sweet. It was soooo much fun!

After the game, we went for sushi in the Annex and I tried sake for the first time--also a great experience. Smooooth has a new name: Sake.

Today, woke up late, made a great brunch, then went up to Bloor and walked around for a couple of hours shopping..both window & actual.

Purchased the first of my annual poppies from a veteran (I usually lose them within a day, and today is no exception). I know they ask for whatever you wish to donate...I gave $4, which I thought was a decent donation, but the gentlemen responded to me in a manner that was significantly less friendly than the way he interacted to the lady who bought her poppy before me...I wonder if she gave more, or if she was a relative or something?

Anyway, regardless, support our veterans & buy a poppy (or 2). :)

It was a perfect day for walking around...the perfect fall day...not a cloud in the sky, crisp & cool, but not cold...I did my best to revel in the simple abundance of the season.

I came home and concocted some sweet & sour tofu with sesame seeds for a snack...it was surprisingly tasty..though I'd alter the sauce recipe if I made it again...more vinegar, less molasses.

And the Raptors won again tonight....and they had every right to lose..2nd game in a row, on the road, only 3rd game of the season, they didn't get to their hotel until 3:30 and last night's game must have been exhausting (they can't be totally conditioned yet to that kind of grind)...but despite some lacklustre offense at times, they pulled it out. I love you Jose Calderon!! :)

Happy turn the clocks back day, everyone!

Burglarific?

I was walking down the street today and passed by a fellow who was normally dressed, from the neck down.

From the neck up? Not so normal.

From the neck up? He was sporting a ski mask.

Mid-day, only semi-cold outside, and wearing a balaclava.

Either this guy was:

a) New to the country and confused about how to keep warm in a Canadian winter;
b) Confused by recent, inexplicable, fashion trends;
c) On his way to rob something.

I will continue to wonder.

CASUAL Friday?? What the what?

OK. I know the concept of "casual Fridays" is somewhat malleable...different rules, different companies..different standards...that being said, there are certain standards that people should just abide.

For example: Today, I was walking between the 2 buildings that make up my office complex, and I was hurrying and not paying great attention to much, because I was in such a hurry, and I passed by a group of women, to whom I would normally have paid no attention whatsoever, and my brain forced me to notice the fact that one of these business women was sporting a turquoise, velour, track suit.

Yep. You read that right. Turquoise. Velour. Track Suit. At work.

Unless this woman is some kind of undercover pimp, this is not appropriate work attire!

And what pimp is up and working at 9 am? I mean, sure, if they're collecting on tabs owed, beatin' down on a 'ho or two, OK, but, as IF! She had no gold chains, nothin'! Maybe she's pimpin' to my company's employees..if so..cool...you go girl...but..please..retire the track suit..it ain't pretty...

I'm not working at a retirement community, I'm not a friend of the pimps, I should not have to deal with folks in semi-purple velour track suits!

Note: The above image is a simulation and should not be interpreted as the ACTUAL woman I saw at my office.

A few thoughts about bowling.

Last week, for absolutely no discernible reason, I suddenly had an urge to go bowling.

Perhaps there exists a bowling mafia of sorts (I imagine they're called "The Bowling Crusaders" or something like that) whose sole purpose it is to subliminally convince people that they want to go bowling. Perhaps I came upon some of their subversive propaganda. I believe something like that must have occurred--otherwise, my bowling desire is utterly inexplicable.

In any case, we decided to go bowling on Friday night.

I was a little bit nervous--I haven't bowled since I was 11 or 12--and while I realize that I possess the fresh-faced glow of a teenager, that was actually a long, long time ago.

We planned to go 5-pin bowling as opposed to 10-pin--10-pin bowling is dangerous and I refuse to do it. I know millions of people have safely participated in this activity over the course of bowling history, so my fear is probably illogical, but it exists, and there's not a whole lot I can do about it--I'm certain that if I try to 10-pin bowl, my fingers will probably be ripped off my hands.

As crazy as this may sound, it will likely never be resolved--should I ever seek out the psychiatric help I so obviously require, I have an extremely lengthy list of issues that take precedence over my 10-pin-bowling-finger-loss-phobia (hard to believe there's not a scientifict term for this--I can't be the only one).

Anyway, 5-pin-bowling it was!

We found a place not too far from the house--turns out that on the weekends they have "Cosmic Bowling". Which basically means that the lights are out and random stuff around the alley is fluroescent--like your bowling shoelaces. Fun!

The experience was almost wholly enjoyable--in fact, it might be a new Friday night ritual!

Based on my burgeoning benevolence, I'm going to share some lessons I learned from my experience--should you ever have a sudden urge to go bowling, I want you to be prepared.

1. Bowling is not as easy as it looks. And I'm not referring to actually knocking down the pins and/or achieving a good score, I'm talking about the fact that bowling is surprisingly physically demanding!

My impression of the physical fitness of bowlers is based solely on television & movies (think "The Big Lebowski" and any of the blue collar sitcoms of the late '80s). As such, I had been misled into believing that those who participate in this activity do so whilst enjoying cocktails and maneuvering around ever-expanding beer guts and/or burgers butts.

And when we first arrived at the bowling alley, this assumption seemed to be accurate--the legions of white-haired, feeble- & decrepit-looking bowlers on the main floor would lead one to deduce, "If they can do it--anyone can do it!"

Not so. Let's just say, before we'd even finished bowling our 3 games, we were feeling the pain.

Quads, back, hamstrings, butt (oh dear lord, such cruel ass-pain), bowling arm: All useless for 2 days afterwards. I could not sit or stand, ascend or descend stairs, lift a mug of coffee or pick my nose without expressing my pain via gutteral noises and wrinkle-inducing facial expressions.

You've been warned.

2. Another tip: Do not, under any circumstances, imbibe bowling alley wine. Lighter fluid straight out of the can would be more palatable. I know, I know, I should have known better--I cannot justify this choice on any level, other than to surmise: PMS made me do it.

3. If you decide you still want to go bowling, after reading about my experience, I would recommend intensive training beforehand--or at least some mild stretching--to alleviate the resultant discomfort.

4. If there's a kid in the lane next to you whose bowling technique includes tossing the ball 3-5 feet in the air and vaulting himself halfway down the lane, do not attempt to duplicate his moves--even if it seems like a good idea at the time--the laughs you get will not be worth the bruises on your knees and you likely won't knock over any of the pins anyway. Trust me on this one.

So that's my cautionary tale. Hope you all learned something.

Now, I must dash--I'm having the name "Stu" stitched on my new bowling shirt and I want to pick it up before I (literally) hit the alley tonight. I think "Stu" is a good bowling name--and when folks see it emblazoned on my chest, they'll know I'm not a bowler to be trifled with.

STRIKE!

We don't want you.

I'm getting pretty sick and tired of hearing Americans expressing the following sentiment:

"If _____________ happens, I'm moving to Canada!"

That variable can be just about anything..."If McCain gets elected, I'm moving to Canada", "If I lose my job, I'm moving to Canada", "If someone steals my parking spot one more time, I'm moving to Canada" etc. etc. etc.

My first question: Do you honestly think Canada WANTS you?

My second question: Do you truly believe it's just that easy to move to Canada?

You express a desire to live here and you think Canada is going to respond something like this:

"Come on in!! Our population density is miniscule--we need you! And we don't have NEARLY enough former Americans living here--everyone knows, if you were born in the United States, you're significantly better--in every way--than someone who was born ANYWHERE else...your presence can only improve the quality of life of ALL Canadians!!"

Oh, you poor deluded Yank. Tsk tsk.

This is not the first time I've encountered this kind of egocentrism from an American. More than once, in the course of my life, I've met jingoistic Americans who expressed shock & disbelief when they discovered that I had no desire whatsoever to live in the United States--nay, that I don't even especially like to visit.

It's not that I'm anti-American. I love, and have loved, many Americans [insert requisite dirty jokes here]. I have travelled extensively in the United States and have enjoyed it immensely--but, the fact is, I always feel more comfortable once I get back to Canada. Which is understandable, since it's my home. And I have no desire to ever live anywhere else--I know, I know, that makes me lame & unadventurous and I'm 100% OK with that. But so be it.

My point here is that there are, in fact, a lot of Americans who are truly appalled and have a hard time grasping, that there are people in the world who don't want to live in America.

And I have to assume that the folks who believe they can just up and "move to Canada" whenever they feel like it are similarly afflicted with a disease of delusion.

Here's a tip: It's not that easy!

Here's another tip: If you want to move to Canada so badly, I'm willing to entertain offers.

That is, I am willing to marry someone to help them obtain Canadian citizenship--obviously, my service(s) will go to the highest bidder, so if you aren't rich and if you aren't thunder between the sheets, don't even bother applying. Men and women are both welcome--this is Canada, after all, and gay marriage is legal everywhere.

:)

Two Purses = Unacceptable

Lately, I've seen many women on the subway and on the street carrying more than one purse:

What the hell is that about?

My advice:

a) Buy a larger purse;

b) If you require more than 1 large purse, might I suggest a convenient, economy-sized bag--say, a back- or tote-bag, to carry your belongings?

Just a few ideas.

I guess it's not such a big deal if you want to carry everything you must tote in purses and, henceforth, must increase the number of purses you carry, exponentially, as your load increases...it just doesn't make any sense! 1 big bag would take care of all your carrying needs!!!

I need a hobby.

Random Tips for Dealing with Executive Assistants

1. If you stop by my desk to find out if my boss has time in her schedule for a meeting, don't walk behind my desk and look over my shoulder at my computer screen while I pull up her calendar to check.

It's creepy.

And annoying.

Fuck off.

The only time I want someone peering over my shoulder that closely is when I'm on my motorcycle with some leather-clad hottie sitting behind me as we go zipping down the highway toward some crazy drug-fuelled biker bash..which is to say: Never.

2. I am an assistant, yes.

And I am happy to help, when I can and when it's reasonable.

However, if you're not the person to whom I report, please don't ask me to set up your meetings for you.

I will happily advise you when my boss is available (unless, of course, you've broken Tip #1 in this post..then I'll help, but I'll probably be glaring at you while I do it and I might just fart at you out of spite, if I can muster one up).

What I will NOT do, is call around and find a time that's suitable for everyone on your goddamn list of attendees to see if they're available--so don't ask me! This will only serve to piss me off and, in the long run, will be no good for you, because your meetings (and anything else you might need) will automatically be relegated to the very bottom of my priority list.

It's your choice.

3. Should you choose to ignore Tip #2, might I suggest reining in that high-horse (named Douchebag) on which you rode in?

Arrogance and condescension may be effective negotation tools, if you are a tool. However, that old saying about capturing more flies with honey than with dickheadedness applies in the workplace as well.

I know it may come as a shock, but I'm actually smart enough to realize when you're talking down to me.

I'm also smart enough to realize that there's a problem in this sentence (extracted from the email you sent me this morning):

"Irregardless, we have to ensure the customers needs are being met and there issues are being attended to."

4. I know it might be difficult to accept, but, your priorities are not the priorities of the rest of the world. I know your world revolves around you. That's fine, we're all self-involved, to a degree...
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Where was I? Oh yeah. Self-involved. Sorry, I caught sight of my reflection in my shiny new stapler and I couldn't help but to stop and admire my pretty new haircut...I'm easily distracted.
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Anyway, just because something is important to YOU doesn't necessarily make it important to my boss or me. Please don't expect either one of us to drop everything to attend to you--odds are, it ain't going to happen.

And if you're annoying enough, I will start rumours about you (think STDs/ plastic surgery/ penchant for pony porn).

~~~~~~~~~

That's enough for today. I figure I'll make this into a series. I need something to do at work while I'm ignoring you ignoring me because I'm just a lowly assistant.

And with that, I'm off to the supply cabinet to steal post-it notes. Cheers!

What else could go wrong?

First, my apartment floods, leaving me living like a fucking degenerate for 3 weeks and then, actually homeless for a few days.

Second, my beloved Chuck Swirsky, the Raptors play-by-play man and all-round nice guy announces he's leaving Toronto to do play-by-play for the Bulls on the radio! Wtf?!! Chuck, it's like we never knew ya...

And NOW I call to make an appointment for a haircut and find out my stylist of 3? 4? years, whom I loved and the ONLY person in Toronto who could make my hair look halfway decent has LEFT the salon! ARGH! How can this be happening? I NEED a haircut! I might as well just start hacking away at it with some nail scissors, because I'm sure that's what will happen if I randomly choose a new person to cut it...

I hate this week.

Toronto: Anything Goes!

Recently, a group of us from my office went out for lunch.

On our walk back, 3 of us were walking ahead and I was walking behind with my co-worker, Joel.

Suddenly, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye…it was a naked butt…as I clasped my hands over my mouth and shockingly shouted, "Oh dear Lord!" I realized the guy was, in fact, taking a whiz into a bottle of some kind.

Joel said, "Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go.." and I couldn't even respond! It was a business district, right on Bloor street, and a guy was taking a whiz!

Then Joel said, "I've never seen that before.." and I said, "And that is your calm response??!"

In relaying the story to another co-worker, who was with us, but was in the group walking ahead of me and missed this debacle, he asked, "Was it a hobo?"

I said, "Um..well, he wasn't carrying a bandana bag on a stick, if that's what you're asking.."

He clarified, "OK, was it a disenfranchised person, then?"

I replied, "Yes, definitely."

He said, "I wish I'd seen that!"

Appalled, I responded, "No you don't!!! Are you crazy?!"

Gotta love the mean streets of Toronto.

My Public Demands It...

My cranky fan insists that I post more over here, and who am I to deny her?

While I was in the Dominican, I actually tried to maintain a diary of my activities every day--I had every intention of posting those as blog entries upon my return--but I just haven't found the time. Perhaps I will, someday, but it just seems pointless and anachronistic now, a month later. I suppose if I was capable of posting pics on this thing, it would be more interesting, but I can't seem to master that. And I can't seem to get up the gumption to figure it out. Oh well.

So I'll tell you my story of Sunday...this is A Day in MY Life..without pictures.

I got up and it was a gorgeous, sunny, warm spring day. Yay! Perfect day for a baseball game--lucky me, I have tickets to see the Jays vs the Red Sox! Go Jays!

I wanted to get some cleaning done before the game, which I did...some vacuuming (which led me, once again, to the conclusion that I desperately need a new facuum cleaner. Mine sucks! And not the way it's supposed to suck either! You know it's bad when it won't even pick up a dog's whisker off the floor! But I digress..).

Anyway, got some cleaning done and went to the game which was great fun--it's always fun when the Jays win, particularly when it's thanks to a GRAND SLAM HOME RUN by Frank Thomas (way to earn your cheque, there, FT, ya big cheapskate!)!!

I decided I would make a vegan "chicken" pot pie for dinner so stopped by the Sobey's on the way home after the game to pick up some ingredients. This meal is a lot of work, but well worth it.

I got home and started preparing dinner and cleaning...sautee, sautee, sautee...scrub, scrub, scrub...ding! ding! Gotta put the laundry in the dryer!

I finally got the pot pie assembled and in the oven...I kept on cleaning and as it cooked, I found myself salivating in anticipatory delight.

When the 30 minutes baking time was up, I opened the oven and was overjoyed at how pretty my pot pie was...perfectly and uniformly browned...smelling delicious. I grabbed my thumb-less oven mitts (created with love and bestowed upon me by the one and only, extremely talented, Buggles) and carefully slipped my hands under the tin pie plate.

I began to remove the pie from the oven and, as I did so, the goddamn cheapo aluminum plate collapsed in the middle! Smoldering hot gravy and pie pieces flew across my kitchen--walls, floor, oven, my bare hands!

Naturally, due to almost debilitating PMS, I burst into tears.

Then I realized the skin on my hand was sizzling and flung the steaming food pieces off and plunged my hand into the sink under cold water.

So...to sum up...

1. An hour of prep time--wasted;
2. No dinner;
3. 2nd or 3rd degree burns.

Got some nice blisters to show for it, though.

Totally Random

There's a dentist office that I pass every day on my way to work called, "Brill Dental"....now, this may just be me, but if I were naming a dental business, I would likely try to avoid naming it after a word that will simply remind potential customers/patients that I could conceivably be DRILLING into their teeth. Might as well call it "Boot Canal Dentistry" or "Booth Extraction Dental"....

I do respond to complaints.

I've had a couple of people complain that they miss my random musings.

Since I live to please my fans (and accept cash donations, by the way, as appreciation of my genius), I will try to post more frequently, even if I don't have a goddamn thing to say (as I usually don't).

The other day, I walked home from the subway. For those of you who live in Toronto/Ontario, you'll know that it has been ridiculously cold. It was like Dryden in February cold--and I did *not* sign up for that when I moved to southern Ontario!!

Anyway, I was well bundled up, so it wasn't too horrible. I had five layers on my upper body, which is pretty much my maximum--undershirt, sweater, fleece, another fleece, coat. And a purple toque.

Actually, I got off the subway a couple of stops before my stop, as I frequently do, just so I could get a bit more of a walk. I walked by the Running Room and saw a woman exit the establishment, sporting full winter running gear...those thick pants, one of those long jackets, toque...she came out and began jogging...I thought to myself, "Wow! That's dedication! Running on a day like today! Good for her!"

She proceeded to run half a block and enter the Pizza Hut.

Despite searching my mind to find some reason, any reason, that could make sense of this course of events, I could not. Who gets dressed up in running gear to travel half a block to a greasy pizza place?

I am still stymied.

Which is worse?

OK, this could be a recurring theme here at the Palace...a debate on "which is worse" of two evils (or annoyances)...today, we discuss, Which is Worse:

-the occasional "human" smells that assail you in a public (i.e. work) bathroom

OR

-being perpetually assaulted by the bold and unyielding stench of a raunchy air freshener

?????

My office building has recently begun using these vile pseudo-vanilla air fresheners that are so incredibly strong that their scent can be detected 20 ft away from a closed bathroom door.

As you may also be aware, "air fresheners" don't, in fact, "freshen" the air, they simply coat one's nasal passages with chemical oils so any other scents that may be present in the air are no longer detectable. Ew.

I hate a bathroom reeking of shit as much as the next gal, but I'm uncertain which is worse, in this particular instance.

Thoughts? Opinions? Which is worse?