What kind of disgusting creatures work in my office?

The other day, I was on one of the elevators in my office building - I believe it must have been first thing in the morning (elevator rush hour, if you will) as the car was jam-packed. I steadied myself on the handrail and on the underside of said railing, my unsuspecting fingers detected a wad of gum! Ewwwwwwwwwwwww. What kind of pig would do such a thing?

If that wasn't repulsive enough, a few days later, I was walking down the hall towards my desk when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed (smack-dab in the middle of the wall) yet another heavily masticated piece of gum! I didn't touch this one, so I guess it was slightly less offensive (to my physical self, though no less damaging to my soul), but still - gross!

Today, I was accompanying a visitor from another company to my boss's office and on the way we had to side-step a half-eaten green lollipop (and its stick!) in the middle of the floor - nice impression to make on guests, huh?

One day a few weeks ago, I went into the bathroom and there was a used, feminine hygiene product on the floor - COME ON! - I almost puked. Needless to say, I found another washroom in which to do my business...

Are my co-workers such heathens that they can't be bothered to utilize GARBAGE CANS!!

Perhaps they erroneously believe they're so busy & so important that they can't waste their precious time properly disposing of trash.

Either way, I have a message for the offending barbarians: If I catch you in the act, I'm going to rub your nose in it - whatever it is. Don't think I won't - it's the only way you're going to learn.

Don't say you haven't been warned...

What'd I Ever Do to That Stupid Bee?!

The other night, after work, I was merrily walking down my street, greeting neighbours, petting dogs - I think I might have even been whistling - and, out of nowhere, I got stung by a bee, right through my pants!

Pretty disrespectful, on the part of the bee - it wasn't like I was frolicking through a flower garden or swinging a bat at his friggin' beehive, I was innocently walking down the sidewalk!!! Grrrrrr...I thought we had a deal?!

It's been a week now and I'm still a trifle nervous when I'm walking home. Who's kidding who here? For the first couple of days after this occurred, I must have looked like a seriously paranoid meth-freak, with my head whipping around every time I saw something - anything! - out of the corner of my eye. The BEES! THE BEES ARE COMING!! RUN! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Anyway - when it happened, it was a huge shock, I almost fell over, it hurt so much and it took me a minute or 2 to even figure out what had occurred (I guess adrenaline starts pumping through your body in response to the venom entering your system and, combined with the surprise & the pain, it left me feeling a little dazed).

I had to walk the rest of the way home with one pant leg hiked up to mid-thigh becase the pant brushing against the sting area was akin to repeatedly poking myself with one of those metal marshmellow roasting sticks that had been sitting in a fire for an hour.

It hurt & itched for several days - it's still somewhat itchy - but it's clear that I'm not allergic, since I didn't have one of those anaphylactic reactions & stop breathing. Yay!!

It was odd, though - the day after The Beecident, the actual "bite site" resembled little more than a mosquito bite - a small bump, almost no redness - it appeared to be healing nicely! However, the day after that, it had swollen into a monstrosity - 3 or 4 inches in diameter & swollen up from the leg signifcantly, red (almost purple) in colour. When I absentmindedly went to scratch the area, my hand glanced the gargantuan growth and it was so unexpected (and huge) that I actually jumped up off my chair! (How much do I love hyperbole? Love x infinity!!)

 It's much better now, but you can still see remnants of the protruberance on my leg - a rude reminder.

I'm still bitter- stupid bee. This isn't over.

Beware of bees! (see picture)

P.S. (A week after the beecident) I spotted this mockery in a storefront on my way home from work - clearly put there at the behest of the IBC (International Bee Coalition) to further frighten me. I bet bees fly out of these Backpacks of Evil as soon as you unzip them. Nefarious backpack bees! Run like the wind! Ruuuuuuuuuuuun!

I Stink.

No, really - I actually stink.

This is not a self-deprecating, false modesty, attention/compliment-seeking thing - I seriously smell really bad!

In your mind, right now, if you're picturing me, imagine cartoon stink lines emanating from my armpit-region (see artist's rendering at right). 

I don't know what the fuck is going on - a few weeks ago, I was on the subway heading home from work and I noticed a seriously unpleasant odour, that distinct sickly-sweet-sweat-scent, that I immediately attributed to the guy sitting next to me (it couldn't be me - duh!). Shortly thereafter, he got off the train -  and the horrifying realization came over me that he was gone and yet the stink remained! Oh no!

Obviously, my deodorant had failed me that day. *shudder* I figured I just hadn't put enough on or something. It happens. So, naturally, I made extra sure to apply an adequate deodorant volume in subsequent days...but, lo and behold, I was mortified to realize that the stink was becoming part of my daily routine.

UNACCEPTABLE!!

I surmised that perhaps I'd developed some sort of immunity to my current deodorant brand (Can that happen? I mean, if you can build up a tolerance to drugs and if you can develop an immunity to iocane powder, why not anti-perspirant?), so I went out and bought a whole new variety. My fingers & armpits were crossed in hopes that this would solve the Mystery of the Stink.

Amusing aside: A friend of mine once purchased one of those deodorant crystal things - oh, naturelle! After using it for a while, she began noticing a reccurrent & persistent odour - and, upon taking a whiff of the crystal, realized that it had absorbed the smell of her perspiration and she was actually APPLYING stink to her clean body!! EEK!

Anyway...the first day I tried out the new deodorant (not the "crystal" version), Poop & I spent a lovely, sunny, Saturday afternoon going to a bunch of "open houses" (condos, townhouses etc.). (Note: I had not yet told him about my recent scentual revelations.) We arrived home, I walked by him and he exclaimed, "Whoa! You stink!"

Thanks. You don't need to tell me that, I'm not hard of smelling.

The question is this: Can a person suddenly develop an insidious stink? And, the second question is: How can I solve this smelly dilemma? I can't live like this!

The Secret Language of Real Estate

As you may or may not know, I've been hunting for a new home to purchase - not sure whether it will be a house or townhouse or a condo yet, but the hunt is on!

Once the search began, it became immediately obvious that real estate agents (and the industry at large) speak a language all their own - an encrypted code designed to sell, SELL, SELL! by  relying on subterfuge & peoples' perceived stupidity.

I'm not sure who they think they're fooling, though....the code is about as hard to crack as an unboiled egg....

Should you ever find yourself looking for a new home, here's a quick guide to The Language of Real Estate:

Cozy  =  Tiny

"Open Concept" = No walls.

"Loft-Style" = See "Open Concept" & add stairs (or a bunk-bed style ladder).

"Boutique Building" = Built sometime between World Wars I & II

"Perfect for first-time buyers..." = Small and/or dirty and/or requires $$$$ in repairs

"Contents Included" = You clean this shit up.

"Juliet Balcony" = Floor-to-ceiling window that opens, but is blocked by a railing (Note: Seriously? Do people fall for this?)

"Condo Alternative" = A house too small for anything more than 1 or 2 adults & possibly a dog.

I'm forgetting a bunch. I'll add more as they come to me.

My Experience With Amway

I made a joke today on a friend's Facebook page about her being a "vampire crossed with an Amway salesperson" - based on her unrelenting status updates encouraging folks to donate blood, not in a harrassing kind of way, but definitely friendly/aggressive...but, also, with an undertone of "make the sale, no matter what".

The part about her being a "vampire" was obviously a reference to her NEED FOR BLOOD..the "Amway salesperson" part was a reference to everyone's image of a person who comes to their door selling Amway - conciliatory, fawning & deadly.

I had this fuzzy image of the Amway salesperson, ingrained in my mind, from the time I was young - I'm not sure why...movies, rumours, books - I have no idea. It became much more clear on February 14th, 1995.

I was in university, finishing up my last year at Queen's. My boyfriend (we'll call him Rocky) and I had plans that night for Valentine's Day (probably the last time I pretended to/or actually did give a shit about that particular Hallmark holiday).

We had dinner reservations for 7 pm. I got a call that afternoon from Rocky - he said he had received a call from an old friend, who was passing through town and "had something important to talk to him about" and that he and his fiancee wanted to stop by and wondered if he had plans.

Rocky told him that it was Valentine's Day and that we were going out for dinner. They said they only wanted to stop in for a few minutes, it wouldn't take too long, but he really needed to talk to Rocky. My boyfriend surmised that this guy was going to ask him to be in his wedding. OK. I was cool with that.

I arrived at Rocky's house during a crazy snowstorm, well ahead of our dinner reservation.

His friends arrived about an hour later than they said they'd arrive - but we still had some time to make our reservation.

We all met, exchanged pleasantries, chatted for about 20 minutes. The chit-chat waned and the fiancee said, "Honey, do you want to get the stuff from the car?"

My "this is weird" radar started beeping.

Rocky's friend went out to the car (in the still burgeoning snowstorm) and came back with a flipchart and markers and a box full of crap. 

I suspected this was not a "Can you be my best man?" kind of visit.

He set up his shit and started his spiel. I remember it, almost to the letter.

"Do you ever drive down the 401?"

Me & Rocky: Yes

"Who is working at the fast food restaurants there?"

Me & Rocky: Um...students?

"NO!! OLD PEOPLE! OLD PEOPLE WHO HAVE NO MONEY!"

At this point, I was freaked. I knew this dude was a scammer and he was using his previous relationship with my boyfriend to sell us something.

And I was pissed off.

At this point, our dinner was fucked. And that they were using their friendship to scam someone (us!), use someone (us!) and ruin their night (ours!)!

They carried on with their presentation...they tried to convince us that the only way to have any successful way through life was by joining their team...though it took them forever to actually mention "Amway".

Once they finally named the brand, I excused myself politely, and retired to Rocky's room. His roommate Terry visited me at one point (with a rum & Coke for me, thank you very much, Terry...wherever you are, thank you!) and we were both blown away by their ridiculous display. We commisserated.

Shockingly, afterwards, Rocky was  completely pissed off at me for "being rude".
Yep. I was rude. Oops.

And that was my experience with Amway. :)

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.

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....

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!

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.

I really hate Christmas.

The ubiquitous, nauseating holiday music.

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

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

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

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

THE CAROLLERS IN THE CAFETERIA

Yes, you read that correctly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four-Piece Carolling Combo for Hire

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

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