Regarding My Favourite Movie: I Am Torn

I'm not experiencing indecision on the identity of my favourite movie...it is and will likely always be "Harold & Maude". I absolutely adored it from my very first viewing (in 1997) and have loved it ever since.


It is beautiful & brilliant in every conceivable way...story, writing, performances, cinematography, music...everything is perfection!

It's the music I want to address.

All of the songs on the soundtrack are by Cat Stevens (this film came out in '71, so he was still "Cat" back then).


My favourite song is "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out" which was written especially for the movie and can be interpreted as the unofficial "theme" song of the film. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it makes me dance & it inspires me--it's that good!

Recently, I realized that its formerly feline songwriter/performer, now known as Yusuf Islam, had given T-Mobile the rights to "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out" to use in a commercial.

ARGH!

And therein lies my dilemma.

I don't even care about the whole "selling out" aspect, that's not what bothers me.

What I simply cannot reconcile is as follows:

On one hand, every time it comes on, it makes me happy...I sing along enthusiastically! I smile!

On the other hand, a generation (or two) are only going to know this fantastic ditty as the theme to a T-Mobile commercial and that is heart-breaking!

I can't believe that a Cat Stevens-related trauma is causing me such distress.

Baseball & Basketball Are DEAD in Toronto!!

Before anyone gets pissy with me in reaction to the inflammatory subject line of this post, please realize that the title is meant to be taken with a gargantuan grain of sodium chloride.

The other day, ESPN’s Bill Simmons (aka “The Sports Guy”) revealed the contents of an email he had received from a Toronto sports fan, "expressing..dismay that (A) Roy Halladay was traded, and (B) Chris Bosh is a mortal lock to be playing somewhere else next season. By August…Canada's best non-hockey player would be either Hedo Turkoglu or Aaron Hill.”

Thanks, Sports Guy!

This gives me the opportunity to address something that’s been sticking in my craw for months. (In case you’re wondering, when something is "stuck in one’s craw" it manifests as an uncomfortable pressure building inside you…much like it does inside Poopypants after “Chili Night in Canada”).

I’m not going to debate the identity of which athlete (not on skates), playing for a Canadian team, should be considered the country’s best player, in the absence of Halladay & Bosh. At best, it would be a specious argument; at worst, I’ll end up in a psych ward because I finally decided to throw feces at the insane co-worker who continues to insist that Rafer Alston could have saved the Raps, if we’d only “given him a chance”.

Yeah, OK.

What I will address is the pathetic, defeated attitude expressed by so many Blue Jays fans at the (entirely expected) departure of Halladay and the unbridled panic that sets in amongst Raptors fans at the mere hint of Bosh leaving (which is, obviously, also, a somewhat predictable transaction).

I'm not suggesting the exits of Halladay & Bosh won't be huge losses to their teams. However, some people seem to think that the loss of Halladay and the imminent/inevitable departure of Bosh makes the city of Toronto akin to a Jessica Simpson movie crossed with a dark & stormy Canadian night…that is, talentless & star-free.


Chris Bosh & Roy Halladay are/were the most popular and most visible faces on their respective teams. Most talented? Maybe. Ultimately, that determination will be made over time, based on the entire careers of CB4 & the Doctor, and the career successes of their Toronto teammates.

Were/are they integral parts of their teams? Sure.

Does their departure signal the irretrievable downfall of their teams, going into the next (couple of) season(s)? Hell, no. No, no, no. In fact, I couldn't scream “NO” any louder right now if I were being told I was being forced to attend a Nickelback concert!

Perhaps, if the teams were both on the precipice of something fantastic, with all the other necessary winning pieces in place, then the absence of Bosh and Halladay would be the ruination of the team(s)...but neither team is in that place!

And people seem to forget that both basketball and baseball are TEAM sports.

In basketball, it is conceivable for a marquee, franchise player to carry a middling team beyond the mediocrity with which they're surrounded. Bosh has shown that he can be that player (case in point, the 2005-2006 season...March of '06, Bosh got injured, the Raps went 1-10 in subsequent games without him). But the team is not currently winning (last season 33-49, so far this season 13-17)...sure, Bosh is their best player, one of the best in the league, but the team, as a whole, needs a LOT of work. Losing him certainly won't *help* the team, but that alone doesn't guarantee the Raptors' downfall.

In baseball, one ace player does not a playoff team make. A pitcher usually works every 5 games. A team plays 162 games per season. A really good pitcher can generally be counted on to get 20 wins in a season (FYI, in 2003, Halladay's best season, in terms of his W-L record, and the year he won his first Cy Young award, he went 22-7 with a 3.25 ERA). Assuming your ace brings in 20 wins, that still leaves 142 games with which to contend. I'm no mathematician, but, that seems like a lot of games.

Let me put it this way: If you have a car with a brand new shiny transmission, but the car also has flat tires, no oil and a body infested with rust, you're not going to get too far, no matter how impressive your tranny (yes, "impressive tranny" could be used as a euphemism).

To summarize: Toronto fans, relax. Our teams have waaaay bigger issues than losing their superstars. Like the Jays' new fetus of a GM. And the fact that Marco Bellinelli gleefully admits that if he weren't playing basketball, he'd be working in fashion.

Anyway...a quick farewell to Mr. Halladay. As he displayed for his entire tenure in Toronto, both on-field & off, Roy Halladay left Toronto the epitome of class...as evidenced by the full-page ad he took out in the Toronto Sun...

Thanks for everything, Doc. You will be missed.

Everybody Loves Christmas, Except Jesus

Driving to work this week, we passed a church with one of those signs outside the front of the building, whose letters can be added/rearranged/changed. Often you'll see bible quotes, psalms, ads for noon-time organ recitals etc.

The message on this church's sign read:


This message confused me, to say the least.

What could Jesus possibly have against Christmas? Who doesn't love birthdays?!

Unless the holiday to which they actually meant to refer was Easter and not Christmas...cuz that would make sense...I could see why Jesus wouldn't love Easter, what with the betrayal, the being nailed to the cross & the dying and whatnot.

It took me a while, but then I realized that what they probably meant to say was "EVERYBODY LOVES CHRISTMAS ACCEPT JESUS".

Ah! The light dawns!

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Post Script

Driving by the same church this morning, I took a peek to see if they had corrected the sign. Sure enough, it had been updated.

Corrected? Not so much.

Today, the sign reads:



Thanks for the clarity.

I had been affording them the benefit of the doubt, in that they simply might have used the wrong word. Now, I truly don't know what to think.

Can't wait to see how this message evolves over the rest of the week...

Dear Co-Workers...A Favour?

Dear Female Co-workers,

I have a small request. I hope it's not out of line, but I'm going to ask anyway.

I don't care what you do in your own home (unless you have me over, of course) but when you're in the workplace, an environment you share with many other people, would you be so kind as to make the effort to actually flush the toilet?

Entering a bathroom stall to be greeted by what you've deposited in the toilet bowl is a repugnant, nauseating, disgusting experience.

Honestly, is it really *that* much of an inconvenience to flush a toilet?

I'd be willing to bet a million dollars that a person too lazy to flush a toilet possesses a wardrobe of undergarments replete with skid-mark-stains, too.

I'm sure some of these miscreants have kids, as well. What kind of example are they setting for the next generation? Won't somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN?!!

Thanks for listening.

Love,
Julia

P.S. And from the "Passive Aggressive Notes" website....

Score: Jalapenos 2.5, Patchoulia 0

Everybody knows (or should know) that it's dangerous to wipe one's eye(s) after handling hot peppers.

I semi-learned this lesson via an experience, several years ago, when I absentmindedly touched my eye after slicing a jalapeno...as such, I try to be super-diligent, whenever I am cooking with jalapenos or any hot peppers, to wash my hands thoroughly after touching them.

Of course, if I had, in fact, fully learned the aforementioned lesson and if I were, in fact, super-diligent with regards to washing my hands after handling hot peppers, I likely wouldn't be typing this post right now, would I?

Last night I made a delicious, spicy, tomato-based cabbage/veggie soup for dinner.

One note about my cooking...when I have the time, I enjoy cutting up all my veggies beforehand, putting them in bowls, prepped & ready to enter the skillet/pot/saucepan/frying pan when it's their turn.

Why? My reasoning is twofold:

1. a) I like to pretend I'm a hostess/chef on a television cooking program. Even though those chefs do some chopping/demonstrating during the course of their program, that's frequently just for "show"--they always have their ingredients prepped, measured and ready to go!

1. b) Speaking of television cooking shows, I really miss The Urban Peasant. I wish I'd had the opportunity to meet and/or cook with him before he went to that big gourmet kitchen in the sky. Sometimes, when I'm cooking, I like to adopt his accent and use his phrases & mannerisms (even if I'm alone), "NOW! If you haven't got wine, use apple juice, if you haven't got apple juice, use water--use what you LIKE! It's YOUR KITCHEN!!"

(If you were wondering, I *was* dropped on my head as a child. Seriously.)

2. I don't like the pressure that's put on me when I've already begun the cooking part of the meal preparation and I still have chopping left to do...it's extremely stressful!

"The onions are sauteing, but I still need to chop the carrots, mince the garlic, locate the oregano & the basil...NO!! Crap! NO!!!! The onions are going to be too cooked, the meal's going to be ruined...AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!"

(See? Dropped on head=Julia kooky)

Anyway, last night, I chopped up all my veggies before I started cooking.

The jalapeno was the 3rd item I chopped. I stopped, washed my hands, and continued my chopping, cutting up the carrots, garlic & cabbage. I them proceeded to cook my soup...in went the onions, then the carrots & celery, followed by the jalapeno & the garlic...

If you deduced that I did not wash my jalapeno-tainted hands a second time, after putting the peppers into the soup pot, you would be correct.

Once all the ingredients were added, and my soup was simmering, I began tidying up the kitchen. The cutting board was still, apparently, infested with onion, because my eyes started watering. I wiped away the tears from my right eye and was immediately besieged by a horrific burning sensation...I realized we were dealing with a jalapeno-eyeball situation...

I couldn't even open my eye, the burning, searing pain was far too intense. I tried to flush the eye with water, but couldn't keep it open to do so. I tried bawling (not difficult)in an effort to wash away the jalapeno oil, with little effect.

I rubbed the eye a bit, with a towel, and then came to the appalling realization that not only had I rubbed jalapeno oil in my eye, but a teeny piece of the pepper was actually lodged under my eyelid! The blinding (literally) pain suddenly made more sense...

While all this was going on, I had also been crying out of my left eye and my face was covered in mascara...so I tried to wipe it off...at which point, I rubbed some still lingering jalapeno under the (previously unaffected) left eye!

I am a moron.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I then washed both my hands, thoroughly.

Poopypants conducted a quick internet search that revealed pouring milk in an affected eye supposedly helps neutralize the pepper acid/juice.

Naturally, we didn't have any milk in the house.

Another online suggestion was to use Visine, which I do have in my medicine cabinet.

Visine did succeed in quelling the burning, after a few minutes, which was, as you can imagine, a tremendous relief.

The reason I report the score as Jalapeno 2.5, Julia 0, is because not only did I actually end up rubbing both of my eyes with my pepper-infested hands, but, I think I may have infected the Visine with jalapeno as well! When I woke up this morning, I realized that my (still extremely red) eyes could use another shot of Visine...and when I inserted the drops, my eyes began burning all over again!

Summary: All homes should be equipped with one of those chemical eyewash stations, like they have in laboratories & high school chemistry classrooms. It's just good sense.

MAC Knives (and oddly specific warnings)

Last summer, we decided to finally spend a ridiculous amount of money to purchase a really, exceptionally good knife.

I cook a lot and a fantastic knife makes a world of difference, as I'd discovered assisting in preparing meals at other peoples' homes; people who had already seen the knife-light (likely glinting off the surface of a beautifully reflective & dangerously sharp utensil).

The knives I'd purchased in the past weren't exactly inexpensive, but were, apparently, of somewhat cheap (& dubious) quality; after a few months of use, despite proper care & sharpening, their dullness was insurmountable.

Insurmountable dullness is insufferable & intolerable, both in knives & at cocktail parties.

Despite rumours to the contrary and despite many questionable, juvenile sartorial choices, I am, in fact, an adult, and I determined that it was simply time for me to own a kick-ass, grown-up knife!

Research led us to the Japanese brand, MAC. We had asked several chefs about their favourite knives and they all indicated that MAC was the best, so...good enough for us! :)

And how do I love my new knife? Oh my. It's truly sublime.

I was, however, somewhat perplexed by some of the "Advice & Cautions" included inside the knife's box...

Most of the suggestions were pretty standard, typical warnings for the new knife owner, from a company interested in preventing knife-related litigation (as well as ensuring that the product is as effective as possible for as long as possible, of course)!

But they still cracked me up.

A few examples (Note: All MAC's pieces of advice are being conveyed precisely as written on the piece of paper that was inserted into the knife-box)...

Never use your MAC knives for a purpose they were not intended for.

Really? Interesting! That never would have occurred to me! (And, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention what a beautifully structured sentence that is...for.).

Do not use for prying anything open, don't drop the knives, don't throw the knives and don't expose to extreme heat or cold.

OK. Does anyone ever PLAN to drop things? Particularly knives or other sharp things that could render one toeless?? Does this suggestion that I NOT drop it actually lessen the chances that it might occur? Just wondering.

Additionally, were I planning to THROW my knives, I'd probably have an entire set, specifically crafted for that purpose. But I'm just guessing on that one. Really. Honest. I DON'T THROW KNIVES! (on purpose)

Never cut bones, frozen food, hard squash, or other hard items (cleavers and frozen knives excluded).

I'm going to go ahead and assume that when they reference bones, they're speaking to non-vegetarian knife owners and not psychopathic, "Tommy DeVito" (aka Joe Pesci in "GoodFellas") types.

And not cutting FROZEN food makes perfect sense.

But..um...HARD SQUASH? WHAT?

I...don't know what to say about that. I've never encountered a squash so hard that it might actually break a knife! And, if I were a knife-maker and wanted to warn my customers, mentioning, by name, just one--specific--food to avoid, because it might threaten the sanctity of my knife, I am fairly certain that squash wouldn't be my first choice!

I have no idea what the clarifier "cleavers and frozen knives excluded" means, so I won't even speculate.

Anyway, I love my new knife and highly recommend the brand. End of story.

P.S. I do realize this is the second consecutive blog post whose focus is a type of kitchen utensil. Rest assured, this likely won't be a three-parter.

Bad at Biting?

So, yesterday, we were at dinner and Poopypants announced, "I don't know if I'm not good at biting anymore or if I've simply been encountering low quality forks, but, the last two greek salads I've bought for lunch at work, after I took the first bite, the fork shattered!"

So, either he no longer knows the strength of his bite or the fork manufacturers of the world are slacking off.

I'm not sure which possibility is more disturbing to me.

Last night I had a crazy dream...

So, last night, I had a crazy dream. And it was so crazy, I decided to share it. I decided to share it on Facebook as a note, because, I thought, generally, people really don't care about other peoples' dreams.

BORING!

That being said, I thought that the friends in my dream (and a few others, who've always enjoyed the musings of my crazy mind) might enjoy the retelling of what went on in my psyche last night.

So, I did that.

And it turned out that everyone seemed to really enjoy the dream!

Even the folks who weren't IN the dream!

So, perhaps, others might enjoy it...hence, this post...my dream from last night:

No, I'm not about to burst into that Matthew Wilder song from the 80s. I actually had a completely bizarre dream last night.

Poop & I were living in a crazy mansion, with lots of art deco-type design. I was in the kitchen, creating a stir-fry for dinner. Poop came into the kitchen and said, "Have you looked at the calendar today? Joanna's having her surgery!"

And I said, "What? Omigod! I forgot!...OK, we're turning this stir-fry into a pot of soup and we're bringing it to her at the hospital...you finish the soup, I'm going to get changed.."

Then I came back from getting changed and noticed that he'd pulled out the absolute SMALLEST Tupperware container we had in which to transport the soup and he'd only filled it up HALFWAY!

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked

"What?"

"Why are you using such a small container?"

"Um....well....I want to have some soup, too..." he replied poutily.

I took over soup duty, put the soup into an appropriately sized container and we went off to the hospital.

When we arrived, I asked at the front desk and the attendant indicated, "Nope. Sorry. Nobody's having surgery today!"

Weird.

Then a gentleman came in and offered us the opportunity to take a test so we could become professional airline pilots--just like that--and we could take the test right there, in the hospital!

So, we took the test and we both aced it...then we figured out it was some kind of crazy scam and we planned to tell the FBI.

As we were leaving to go see the FBI (weird, since we live in Canada), I saw my friend Tara leaving the hospital and realized it was she, not Joanna, who had been having surgery. For some strange reason, Tara was sporting a hideous perm and random patches of hair were dyed bright yellow.

Anyway, I tried to give her the soup, but the desk attendant had eaten it. Oh well.

Then we were suddenly transported to my friends', Lance & Amy's house. Lance & Amy usually live in Rochester. But, in this dream, they lived in a faux wild west village (salloons, hand-painted signs, horses & wild dogs running rampant...you get the idea..).

Lance had gone to buy some paperback books & beer, so we were talking to Amy who indicated that it was Lance's 18th birthday!

Shocked, I asked, "18?! What?? You guys have been married for, like, 5 or 6 years, haven't you? You married him when he was 12??!"

Amy replied proudly, "I know, right?! He's very mature for his age. Did you know, when he was 14, he was given a "Genius Grant" from New York State? It's true."

Then I noticed David Suzuki looking for a gas pump, which was somewhat incongruous, considering his lifelong quest for being green and whatnot. I said, "Hey! Mr Suzuki! Go save an ocelot or something!"

Then, Lance returned, with his paperbacks and his beer, and accidentally allowed a whole pack of wild dogs into the house who, in turn, started fighting with our dogs and ate our pet bunny rabbit.

The whole thing ended with a 20-foot horse walking by the window being ridden by Stephen King.

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I really wish I'd made up even 1 iota of this tale.

Apparently, I wear fur!

Before I get started on this post...

Dear PETA,

Suck it.

Love,
Julia

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(Everybody get ready: Hilarious non-sequitur alert!)

I hate doing laundry.

My pseudo-psychiatric assessment of WHY I hate doing laundry so much goes back to my childhood...

*Patchoulia silently strokes her scholarly Freudian beard, whilst pursing lips in a manner suggesting that both her brain and her loins are working overtime*

When I was a kid, after my mom died, it became my duty to do the laundry for myself and my dad. I think I was about 9 when this became my designated "chore". I'm not saying that it was undue child labour being forced upon me, most kids have household chores to attend to, and this was actually a fairly pedestrian task and not really all that taxing...I'm just citing it because it's the only thing I can fathom as explanation of my laundry hatred.

When I was in university and I actually had to haul my dirty clothes up and down stairs (and sometimes even down the street!) to reach laundry facilities, I didn't do laundry very frequently, as you can well imagine.

When I got my first apartment in Toronto, after I graduated from university and had my "First Real Job", not only did I continue to eschew the act of doing laundry, sometimes going a month or 2 between trips to the laundromat, but I ended up with the equivalent of 3 peoples' wardrobes. When I ran low on clothing, I simply went out and bought more: Genius!

OK, I know that was stupid. I'm just telling you how it was, illustrating how much I truly dislike doing laundry!

So, the crux of this tale is that, in our household, Poopypants is assigned the job of laundry. Sure, I do it sometimes, but that's his "job". I think he's getting off pretty light, all things considered...I cook most of the time, I do the bathroom, I vacuum, I do 90% of the cleaning. Laundry ain't so bad! :)

Naturally, however, no matter how many times he washes a particular item of clothing, he very rarely remembers the care instructions. I finally got really annoyed, one day, and yelled, "CHECK THE LABEL!!!"
He does have a good capacity for learning and, since that (entirely justifiable) outburst from me, he *has* been checking labels on items for which he cannot recall whether or not they are supposed to go in the dryer! Good boy, Poopypants!

The other night while doing laundry, he says to me, "Are you aware that this sweater is made of rabbit?"

And I replied, "What?" thinking that I must have misheard him.

"Are you aware that this sweater is made of RABBIT?!!!"

"WHAT?!!! What sweater? What are you talking about? Rabbit?!!"

"This brown sweater..."

"Bring it here, the dog's on my feet and I don't feel like moving and I don't know to what sweater you're referring."

So he brought me the sweater...and I looked at the label to confirm this ridiculous revelation (as though I thought he was making it up).

Sure enough, 10% rabbit.

It doesn't even say "rabbit fur". It just says "RABBIT".

10% rabbit.

Maybe it's not even fur! Maybe it's, like, intestines or something!?!

The weird thing is, I bought this sweater from Old Navy i.e. the last place on earth where you'd expect the clothing to have even 1% natural ingredients of any kind! I always thought Old Navy was all acrylic, all the time.

So...do I continue to wear the rabbit-part-infested sweater?

I'm torn.

Probably not as torn as the rabbit, but torn, nonetheless...

Can YOU make any sense of this??

In the evenings, Poopypants & I often watch "JEOPARDY!" and we frequently keep score (for the record, I almost always win). :)

The other night, "JEOPARDY!" came on, and I reached over and opened the bedside table and grabbed a notebook in which we could track our correct responses.

I opened the notebook, flipping past previous evenings' "JEOPARDY!" scores, looking for a blank page, when I noticed on one of the pages, a list of some kind.

It was obvious I had composed the list, it was clearly in my writing, but I had/have zero recollection of the list--none whatesoever!

Even more alarming: The list makes absolutely NO SENSE!

I have to assume I wrote the list in my sleep...though "making lists in my sleep" has never been one of my habits...but what the heck was going through my mind?!!

Can you find a commonality or bond of any kind that links these wholly disparate items together? If so, please, pleeeeeeeeease enlighten me!!

(Note: Punctuation is as it appears in the original list)

Robert
Danny Devito
back hoe driver
17
Samurai's Love
slide
toe
drive
apple
Beverly Hills Ninja
Dodge Charger
Billy
Denzel W.
Reservoir Dogs
stinky
trip
earlobes & bones
Johnny Dangerously

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I gotta tell ya, I cannot fathom a single circumstance where I would ever have a need to reference "Beverly Hills Ninja".

This is inexplicable.

That Inexplicable Kate Gosselin Hairdo

For those of you unaware of "The Gosselins", I applaud you.

And I genuinely wonder how you manage to live without electricity!

Kidding, of course...but, the ubiquity of "Jon & Kate" is pretty hard to ignore. I have, in fact, encountered folks who are unaware of the existence of this kooky family and I assume it's because they're simply too busy with their own lives to notice the exploits of some silly reality TV couple.

Regardless, the "Jon & Kate" phenomenon is a pretty pervasive piece of pop culture and it occasionally feels like we're being cruelly inundated with pointless & tedious details about their lives via all forms of media. The public was initially exposed to this couple, and their 8 children (1 set of twins and 1 set of sextuplets) via their TV show "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" and the subsequent public fascination continued, virtually unabated, until very recently.

I'm not going to talk about the couple, their kids, their show, their pending divorce, nor the skanky crap being volleyed back & forth between them. I don't care about any of that. All I care about is Kate's hair.

It's atrocious.

Worse still, I'm afraid it might be on its way to becoming a "Rachel" or a "Farrah"!

Much like Farrah Fawcett's sausage curls of the 70s and the Jennifer Aniston bob from '94 known as the "Rachel" (for her character's name on "Friends"), both of which became THE style to sport in their respective eras, Kate's entirely inexplicable hairdo appears to be picking up steam in terms of its popularity. I've seen at least 4 or 5 women in Toronto, in the last week or so, freely walking around in public (acting as though they're doing nothing wrong), wearing the spiky-Kate Gosselin creature on their heads!

Don't ask me why...if I could explain that, I could explain parachute pants, I could explain "Everybody Loves Raymond", I could explain GWB's 2 presidencies.....well, I'd have incredible power, I'd be even more of a Goddess than I already am.

I don't know why. All I know is that I am now seeing it everywhere. And it's scary.

I've only been able to capture 1 photo, so far (see below), but I will do my best to get the rest of these morons digitally preserved. Their future grandchildren deserve to know from what idiots they've been sprung.

I have a co-worker who sports a semi-similar style...but, for some reason, it works for him...actually, I think, I should rephrase: He makes it work.

But he's been workin' it for much longer than doucheKate. If this haircut becomes famous, he should get some credit, cuz it looks waaay better on him, than on her or any of her douchey dopplegangers.

Dear UPS...

A couple of days ago, UPS stopped by the house to drop off a package.

No one was home, so they stuck up one of those "Sorry We Missed You" tags.

They didn't stick it on the front door. They didn't even stick it on the SIDE door....

They stuck it on the plastic shed, out back, where we keep store our garbage & recycling.

Now, if the package said, "NAME, ADDRESS, PLASTIC SHED OUT BACK", I could understand the error...but in what universe does a professional delivery driver surmise that the garbage shed is the residence?

"Hmmm. Big house. Couple of doors. Hey! There's even a back patio door! Naw...

That's probably just for show...this pretty little plastic structure must be where they live...they'll never see this little tag if I put it on one of the OBVIOUS doors...."

So, yesterday, we happened upon the little tag (whilst taking out some garbage).

Coincidentally, the UPS truck pulled up just as we found it (Delivery Attempt #2).

To UPS Driver: We just found this...

UPS Driver: It's been there since yesterday!

Right. Our mistake.

Dearest "Cheese Boutique": How do I love thee? (Plus: An odd, semi-related post-script)

There's an amazing gourmet foode shoppe near my house (an extra e at the end of a word means it's e-xtra swanky) called the "Cheese Boutique".

I've lived in this 'hood for 7 years and had never been inside til just the other day...which seems weird, but, since it's called the "Cheese Boutique" and I was vegan for so many years, I didn't think the "CHEESE Boutique" would have anything to offer me! Silly me. It's awesome! With something for EVERYBODY!!

http://www.cheeseboutique.com/

If you like cheese, it's got every possible kind...many of which, I've never even seen (or smelled) before. It's also got fresh breads, soups, baked goods of all kinds, organic veggies, desserts...I could go on and on!

And it's HUGE! Like the size of a regular supermarket almost!

And since it's sort of in a residential area (and not on the main drag of Bloor Street where a lot of these gourmet shops are located), it's not crowded either. The shops in business districts have their products JAM-PACKED in order to maximize the space available to them and, as a result, navigating around shelves & the other customers is almost impossible (at worst) and incredibly uncomfortable (at best).

Anyway, I love it!!! I love it so much, if I were Tracy Jordan, I'd take it out back behind the middle school and get it pregnant!

Yesterday, I was perusing the shelves, wandering around, because I had some free time and wanted to check out every bit of their inventory, at a leisurely pace. I wanted to see everything they had to offer and I also wanted to memorize where everything is so that I can be an expert patron of the store. (Everyone needs a hobby).

Oh! Also, you could conceivably eat enough samples of cheese & pickles & crackers & bagels & chocolates & cookies & chips & grapes & cake (etc etc etc) whilst walking around inside there, you wouldn't even need to buy anything! (Not that I'm recommending this...your patronage allows the "Cheese Boutique" to maintain it's fantasticosity!!).

It was a lot of fun. Wheeeeeee!

If you couldn't tell, I highly recommend the "Cheese Boutique."

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P.S. As I was looking through an area of canned goods, I noticed a can of something called, "Vegetarian Haggis". Um..WHAT??!!!!

Regular Haggis=Ew (but who am I to judge the Scots...to each their own, just keep it away from me)

BUT.....

Vegetarian Haggis=HUH?!?! What the WHAT?

I don't get it.

Why, why, WHY would anyone want that? <-------------not a rhetorical question

Why isn't this socially acceptable?

There are 2 things that Kuda the dog loves above all else (not including walks in the park & any kind of delicious snack):

1. Stuffed animals that make squeeky noises and

2. Tennis Balls

She loves all stuffed animals, to a degree, but she especially enjoys the ones that squeek. We recently discovered that the American Kennel Club (AKC) makes squeeky stuffies that are considerably more durable than your average stuffed animal--they last a few weeks or even months, as opposed an hour or two, which is great because these things aren't inexpensive!

I also suspect that the AKC spikes these toys with a canine equivalent of catnip--the dog really goes nuts for these things, way beyond explanation.

Last night she was playing, alternating between her stuffed squeeky toy (that we all know as "Ocelot") and her tennis ball.



Kuda & Ocelot in a quiet moment..


I then spied a white plastic object on the floor and realized that Kuda had chewed open her Ocelot and the squeeker had fallen out.

Suddenly, I was inspired to create the greatest dog toy ever: A plush toy stuffed with...a tennis ball!! Oh happy day for all dogs everywhere!

I jumped into action.

First, I distracted Kuda with a treat and while she was chasing a chunk of carrot across the carpet, I grabbed Ocelot and the tennis ball. I then went to work--I had to rip a bigger hole in poor Ocelet's back, but I was able to eventually work the tennis ball into the belly of the beast.

Once it was assembled, I tossed it over in Kuda's direction....and she began to freak the fuck out!

She grabbed on to it, then tossed it aside, then chased after it...then, inexplicably, she tucked her rump in & up and began randomly & vigorously HUMPING THE AIR!

We lost ourselves in hysterics--we'd never seen anything like it!

This is not normal behaviour for this dog--Kuda has never done anything like this this before.

She was spayed when she was a puppy and unless she unleashes (ha!) her secret desires by mounting furniture while we're all at work (or otherwise absent), I don't think she's a big "humper", per se.

My theory is that she was just SO INCREDIBLY EXCITED that she simply could not fathom any other way to express her joy!

My question is this: Why is this not socially acceptable for humans? When we are awestruck and rendered mute and stunned into immobility due to sheer joy--why can't we express ourselves thusly? Why can't we just "hump it out"?

Imagine what a happy world it would be.

Drop Everything--It's National Elevator Escalator Safety Awareness Week! Why Was I Not Told?!!

This morning, as I exited the subway, I heard an announcement come over the TTC's public address system. I missed the first part of the announcement, but I was able to decipher the tail-end of the message....

In that inexplicably monotonous voice (used for all announcements at the TTC) the female voice declared, "...and, since it is National Elevator Escalator Safety Awareness Week, please use extra caution on elevators & escalators."

Huh?

Wait just a second...National Elev..what?

Raise your hand if you were aware that this is National Elevator Escalator Safety Awareness Week.

*tumbleweeds*

I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that very few of us were cognizant of the occasion and, as such, have not been treating elevators and/or escalators with the respect & solemnity they deserve in this, their holiest of weeks.

I think the Escalator Safety Awareness Foundation (yes, it's a real entity, as a quick internet search revealed) needs a new PR guy. They're asking that we, the public, the users of escalating & elevating devices, use them--this week--with extra caution. But how can people fulfill this wish when the EESAW has been so poorly publicized!?!

Additionally, I'm curious as to what using escalators and/or elevators more cautiously would entail?

I may be wrong to assume that the majority of us who regularly utilize escalating & elevating technology do so with at least a modicum of caution. Personally, I've never sustained a single elevator- or escaltor-related injury, in all my years of being elevated & escalated--and I can assure you that I've never paid particular attention to my behaviour whilst riding one. Should I feel lucky to have survived?

So just how treacherous are they? Are escalators & elevators really such a dangerous menace that they need a whole week (every year) AND an ENTIRE FOUNDATION to be dedicated solely to making the public aware of the threat they pose?

Sure, I've seen the occasional "bad seed" attempting to ride the escalator hand-rail or some yahoo trying to push/hold open the doors of an elevator, but those instances are rare. So, other than not pushing people down escalators, what can I, a humble (ha!) commuter/office worker, do to behave EXTRA cautiously during this special week??

Hmmm..perhaps I'll stand at the top (or bottom) of an escalator (while throngs of people accumulate behind me) waiting for the moment that feels "safest", to step on...I'll inform people that each of the steps has an aura and I'm waiting for the safest one to present itself. They'll understand. It's "National Elevator Escalator Safety Awareness Week"!

My Upcoming Weekend

What am I doing this weekend, you ask? Well, let me tell you!

To mix things up, I'll be telling this story in pictures....

That's it, so far....looks like fun, no?!

Random Musings

Let's see...

Today, on the TTC, one of the escalators was being repaired. And the repairpeople had a giant (and I mean HUGE!) "Guide to Repairing Escalators" book open beside them.

OK.

Maybe that's not what the book was actually called--I couldn't see the cover--however, it was clearly an escalator repair guide.

I'm torn--should I be disturbed that they need a book? Or should I feel reassured that they're double-checking their work?

Another TTC tidbit: I saw a pirate awaiting the subway at Sherbourne station, today.

OK.

Well, I don't know for *sure* that he was a pirate.

But he had the jaunty eyepatch!

And he looked mean.

And, while I don't know if he planned to hijack the train and steal peoples' jewels, he did have an arrrrrrrrtistocratcratic air about him...

A Tale of Two Concerts

In the past couple of weeks, I've gone to a couple of concerts--both of which had been eagerly anticipated. The first, on May 7th, was Bruce Springsteen and the second, on May 16th, was The Tragically Hip.

I had been yearning to see Bruce for, oh, let's see...about 25 years. "Born in the USA" was the first album I loved in its entirety. That summer, I'm pretty sure I wore that tape out and had to buy a new one, due to continuous, ridiculous playing.

When I learned he was playing Toronto, I was incredibly excited--granted, he hasn't been relevent, in terms of "my music" in many years, but I had heard that the man and his band could still put on an incredible show (that turned out to be true..I'll explain more on this later...). In any case, I really wanted to be there. More importantly, the pre-teen me from the "Born in the USA" summer really wanted to be there.

As for the Hip, they were huge in my later years of high school and through my university years. I was never a crazy fan. I never saw them. I even went to university in their hometown, hung out with various folks from the Hip "organization"...just never caught a show. I did attend a show at which they performed, a music/camping festival in the early 90s, north of Winnipeg. I slept through their performance. So, I figured, I was due. I owed it to this band, this classic Canadian institution, and myself, to finally see them live.

I ended up getting tickets for both shows, which was fortuitous since they both sold out almost instantly (in the case of the Hip, they ended up adding like 5 or 6 more shows to the original 1 they had intended on playing at Massey Hall). I was super pumped.

I was counting down the days til the Springsteen concert. I had seen his half-time performance from the Super Bowl this year and it was, in a word, hot. When he literally blind-sided a cameraman with his crotchal-slide..well..c'mon...good times!

Anyway...I met up with some friends before the show at the always enjoyable "Harbour Sports Grille" near the ACC. Had a few cocktails and headed over to the show. The anticipation in the crowd was palpable. I'm sure I was radiating excitement and, if we could have bottled it, a new energy drink could have been invented right there and then.

Bruce came on, did his thing. And it was clearly "his thing". It was very much like a musical or an opera--an extremely well choreographed performance. Little passion (other than pre-orchestrated passion). It felt like that episode of the Simpsons where Spinal Tap played and said, "We were told they knew how to rock in Shelbyville. But nobody rocks like...[looks on the back of his guitar] Springfield!"

He pumped his arms a certain number of times per song, he said, "I can't hear you...Toronto..." no matter how loudly the crowd was pandering...I just didn't get it.

That being said, my friends who were with us, and had seen him several times in the past, really enjoyed the show. So, perhaps it was simply unrealistic expectations on my part that led to my disappointment.

Then again, there were several reviews in local papers that echoed my impression of the show...so, to each their own, I guess. The Bruce Springsteen train will inevitably keep on rollin'.

As for the Tragically Hip...

I had a great Saturday, to precede the show. Went for a big walk with the dog in the park, came home and ate lunch and watched the start of the Jays game on TV. Then I went out to run some errands in what became POURING RAIN..came home an hour or so later and the score remained the same...and watched the Jays win the game!

We went out for a lovely sushi dinner to our new favourite sushi place, Momiji, with our friends Chad & Sarah who had procured a sitter for the evening so we could all go to the show.

We were looking forward to treating them to a nice dinner, since they have been opening up their home to us (and the gargantuan gaggle of hippies we call friends) for YEARS for fun gatherings. Unfortunately, I don't currenly have a home suitable for entertaining--unless it's backyard weather...Chad & Sarah had even agreed to host a surprise birthday party for Brian, which occurred the previous weekend, and we all had a great time.

Naturally, we all ate too much (this place is reeeeally good) and headed to the show.

Massey Hall is one of the best venues in Toronto at which to attend a concert...the accoustics are incredible, it's aesthetically gorgeous, we usually get really good seats..and The Hip put on a pretty good show. The light/stage show was amazing!
Gord Downey is either seriously OCD or just has an incredibly crazy/kooky/jerky stage persona.

He also sweats more than any man I've ever seen.

I've been on stages, I know what those lights can do to a person! I also have a friend named Schwa--he sweats so much that he brings no fewer than 5 shirts to summertime concert--all this and I'm pretty sure Gord could give Schwa a run for his schweat.

He changed shirts a few times during the show (and there was an intermission) but for the entire evening he toted a white hanky/scarf thing with which he mopped his continually dripping brow--he'd then proceed to throw the sweat-soaked napkins into the audience, and certain fans were strangely compelled to fight for possession of these drenched tokens of rock star juice.


One of the problems, occasionally, of seeing shows at Massey Hall, specifically (and in Toronto, in general) is that the crowd is lame. Quiet. Seated. Bored. Indifferent. The great thing about this show was that not a single person in the entire place was sitting the entire time!
As anyone (with a soul) from Toronto can attest, they've been at a show (or a sporting event) and been yelled at for STANDING or DANCING. Yes, you read that correctly. At this concert: Everyone was standing and dancing. And it was a joy to experience (at a non-jamband show).

I *Heart* Hot Sauce

I love hot sauce. It really does make everything better.

For chinese or thai food, I like the chicken hot sauce...Sriracha:

You know: The one w/the big cock on the front. :wink:

For a more tangy hot sauce, I like the green hot sauce that is made in-house and sold at one of my fave restaurants in Toronto...it's called Utopia (the restaurant) and I couldn't find a pic of the hot sauce online, but it is awesome! If I've taken you to eat there, and I didn't encourage you to try to the hot sauce, feel free to smack me next time you see me: I deserve it.

I also enjoy Cholula, from time to time, though hot sauce snobs claim it's fairly pedestrian..(perhaps I've been hoodwinked by the cute, little wooden knob on the top and the fact that I just looove saying the world "Cholula"...c'mon, say it...it's fun!)

I reeeally like "Valentina's"....it's perfect for Mexican dishes, but I put it on almost everything..I have a bottle at home in the fridge and I keep a bottle in my desk at work...

My question relates to this particular hot sauce...in the store they have a "Red" version and a "Black" version...nowhere on the bottles does it explain the difference between them...the only english writing on the bottle is the "nutrional information". I've searched online, but have come up empty-handed. Anyone know?

While searching for this info, I discovered something else: There are a surprising number of blogs out there devoted to hot sauce! Who knew?

On one of them, the guy set out to consume an ENTIRE (different) bottle of hot sauce EACH DAY!...I have to admit, it was riveting...I read several weeks worth and will probably go back for more later...it was called "The Smoking Tongue":

http://smokingtongue.blogspot.com/

I also found these...but I don't have any comments yet, as I haven't had a chance to peruse them...at a glance, I can see they all do reviews of various brands of hot sauce...an excellent resource!

http://www.hotsauceblog.com/

http://www.frommildtowild.com/blog/

http://www.sweatnspice.com/567-10.htm

Saturday in Toronto

I had a ridiculously fun day today..went to the Jays game with some great friends, Chad & Sarah, who garnered a babysitter and took the train in from their burbalicious homestead.

It was supposed to go up to 22 degrees celcius today...while I'm not sure if the temp actually reached those lofty heights, it was definitely a gorgeous day, though very cloudy and the roof at the SkyRogersCentreDome was not open (which was a good thing, as it turns out, cuz it was raining quite a bit when we arrived).

Anyway, we met up w/Chad & Sarah about 15 minutes prior to the game and went in to enjoy a lovely afternoon of baseball (and they bought most of the drinks, so that's always a bonus!)

The Jays ended up winning 4-2 in extra innings, thanks to Lyle Overbay, who blasted a 2 run homer in the 12th, justifying his bobblehead game on Sunday. Way to go Lyle!

The only issue I have with the game, is with the fact that some people are fucking assholes. Dude..

Sarah and I went to the bathroom at some point, I think it was in the 4th inning...we came back and heard an incredible tale of assholishness...apparently, some folks were talking to other folks who happened to be a few rows ahead of them...

Note: During breaks in play, they play really loud music.

So, what happened was, these people were chatting (probably loudly, because the music in the stadium is incredibly loud) and some total cunt looks at them and says, "Were you born like that?"

It was a good thing I was in the bathroom at that point or this bitch would have had her asshole verbally and possibly surgically removed and handed to her.

But I was not there.

So Sarah and I returned to the seats and heard the tale of the bitch who didn't approve of chatting during baseball games.

We continued to enjoy the game.

Of course, later on, another 2 guys/fans, got chastised because they were standing up! Oh no! Not standing up!!

So the usher comes down to ask these 2 guys to sit down..and they politely asked, "Why?"

The usher said, "People were complaining. You have to sit down."

Then some grumpy fucking asshole, sitting a few seats behind them (probably the dick who complained that they'd been standing, in the first place), says, "She told you to sit down! So sit down!"

Hey, fucko, it's a BASEBALL GAME not the fucking SYMPHONY! FUCK OFF!!

Anyway, the usher gets them to sit down...and then I decided to stand up at every conceivable opportunity...sure, I had the usher bitching at me....I took that chance to call her a nazi...

Yay, Saturday! Yay baseball! OK! OK! BLUE JAYS! BLUE JAYS! LET'S PLAY BALL!

Weekend in The Cleve

For those of you who are wondering why I keep referring to Cleveland as "The Cleve", it's a "30 Rock" reference.

"For God’s sakes Lemon, we’d all like to flee to the Cleve and club up at the Flats and have lunch with Little Richard, but we fight those urges."

And for those of you who didn't know it was a "30 Rock" reference, we are officially no longer friends--I have no desire to associate with anyone who doesn't watch 30 Rock. What kind of asshole doesn't watch 30 Rock? An asshole with whom I don't want to be friends, that's what kind!

Anyway...

My (# 1 in the AL East) Toronto Blue Jays were playing a series in Cleveland over Easter weekend and, naturally, we decided to go!!

After a leisurely Good Friday, doing a whole lotta nothing, we drove down to Niagara Falls for the night...gambled for a few hours and got a good night's sleep, since we had to hit the road pretty early in order to make it to the stadium in plenty of time for the 1 pm game.

Before we left, we managed to grab a pair of 2nd row tickets (below face value, no less) from "StubHub"--right behind the Blue Jays dugout!! Woohoo!

We woke up Saturday morning and it was a beautiful, sunny day (a huge improvement over the previous day's rain--and the previous day's 3.5 hour rain delay of game in Cleveland!), however, once we stepped outside we realized it was fucking freezing!! Good God.

We had an uneventful drive to Cleveland's "Progressive Field" (formerly known as "Jacob's Field" and (still) affectionately referred to by those "in the know" as "The Jake"). Once we found parking (right across the street from the stadium), we exited the car (with fingers crossed no one would vandalize the car for bearing an Ontario license plate)and realized it was even colder, in Cleveland, than it was in Niagara Falls!! D'oh!

Speaking of "d'oh", I stupidly forgot my gloves in the car. Nor did I bring the blanket with me from the trunk. I'm so stupid.

Indians fans were everywhere, heading in to the stadium, though we did spot more than a couple of Blue Jay hats, here and there, in the crowd. Cleveland is the closest city for which Torontonians can travel for professional baseball or basketball, so it's no surprise that a number of folks made the trek--particularly since this was a long weekend!

I've travelled a lot and been to a number of cities for both Jays and Raptors games. For the most part, people in these cities (and inside the sporting venues) have been remarkably, overwhelmingly friendly and welcoming, even when I'm sporting my team's paraphernalia!

That's not the case in The Cleve.

Fans in this city are rabid & vicious! We previously attended a Cavaliers vs Raptors game and encountered exactly the same thing. Psychos abounded!!

We had wandered around the concourse of the stadium for a bit (freezing!) trying to locate our seats...(and what great seats they were!!). However, when we went to sit down, a crusty old man in the seats beside ours snarled, "I go to ONE GAME A YEAR and I have to sit by JAYS fans...why didn't you just stay home??!"

Well, thanks for the warm welcome!


I ordered a cocktail (something called a "Jelly Bean" w/vodka, watermelon liquor & cranberry juice...it's allegedly some kind of Cleveland Easter treat, though my friend Kimmy, who's lived in the area her entire life, had never heard of it...anyway, it was DELICIOUS! It was also very well iced and the ice didn't melt even a little bit, due to the extreme temperatures, so it was semi-painful to hold).


I'm not sure how cold it actually was, but we could see our breath, and the wind off the lake was very strong that day and, obviously, extremely chilly. Thank goodness there was not a cloud in the sky--it would have been far more uncomfortable than it was if the sun hadn't been beating down all afternoon. In fact, the staff were actually moving people from one side of the stadium (that was becoming more and more shadow-covered as the day wore on) to the other so they could be in the sun!


The game was amazing...the Jays pulled out a victory despite the best (aka worst) efforts of BJ Ryan (the Blue Jays' ostensible "closer") to ruin all the hard work done by ace Roy Halladay, the starting pitcher, and the collective Blue Jays bats....

The Jays were up 5-1 (I can't recall if it was in the 8th or the 9th that Cito brought Ryan in) and Ryan managed to walk the bases loaded. I was so distraught I actually left my seat and paced around the concourse--I couldn't watch! It was too painful!

Anyway, final score was 5-4 for the good guys. :)

Oh, and, Indians fans: Well done! You made us feel so welcome in your city!

"JAYS SUCK!!" ~ Some guy coming out of the washroom, upon seeing a Blue Jays cap--charming!

"She's a JAYS fan." ~ Dad, grumpily, explaning to his young child why I was cheering when the Blue Jays got a hit.

"JAYS SUUUUUCK!" ~ Dad a few rows behind us

"Daddy, what's suck mean?" ~ Child of the dad who believes the Jays suck

"It means they SUCK! I hate them! They SUCK!" ~ Same dad, doing some just excellent parenting...


Overall, we had a great time...I'm also pleased to report that not everyone was as rude to us as the Indians fans inside the stadium were. As we left the game, a gentlemen wished us a "Good night" and then, noticing our hats, laughed and said, "I *know* you two will have a good night..you're Jays fans!!"

After the game, we went to meet my friend Kimmy & her wonderful son (yep, he's one of the few kids I actually LIKE!) JD for dinner at one of her favourite restaurants, with lots of veggie options, called "Tommy's" on Coventry Street. If you're in the area, I highly recommend it!

We arrived pretty early so we parked the car and explored the neighbourhood a bit (after cleverly side-stepping some puke in the parking garage...stink-o-rama!) Very cool area, major hippie vibe, lots of places I'd like to go eat should I ever make it back to The Cleve!

We decided to go for a drink at a bar/restaurant called the "Laughing Lizard" (I could be wrong about the "laughing" part...but I know it had an adjective before the word lizard in the title...it could have been "laughing"...). The drink selection was gargantuan...I was having trouble deciding...I ultimately settled on a Bloody Mary and it was GENIUS! Mmmm...(((Genius Bloody Mary)))...

After dinner, we went to what must be one of JD's favourite places on earth, a crazy novelty store called "BIG FUN". As you can see, it was, indeed, BIG fun.



The GPS lady decided to take us on a scary trek through Sketchville (not a real place) on our way out of town...we were stopped at a light, for what seemed like an eternity, and I don't mind telling you, I was becoming a little bit nervous. In any case, we glanced over at the mini-strip-mall style store to the left and noticed that the windows were all covered with ads for the store's products/services..."Bibles: $6.95 and Up!"... "Crucifixes: Sm/Med/Lg"..."Rat Bait"

Wait--what?

Then we noticed the name of the company:



Wow. What a combination of services!! And, from the looks of things, they started out exclusively selling Christian supplies. Then, for whatever reason, they decided to expand--logically, into pest control!

I have a theory that perhaps, over the years, customers would come in for their religious materials and mention how bad off they were, pest-wise...and T & L, being shrewd business owners, decided to take advantage!!

And that was our trip to The Cleve! A whirlwind of adventure!!

See ya next time, Ohio!

And Cleveland sports fans: Stay classy!