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...
..................

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.
..................

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?

Clumsiness is Next to Bruiselyness

My clumsiness is becoming even more detrimental to my well-being than usual.

OK, I've always been clumsy.

I did slam my thumb in a car door when I was 17 (without any intervention from anyone--I can't say I was pushed, unfortunately--and with zero alcohol consumption on my part). To this day the nail (and I use the word loosely) does not grow properly. Truth be told, it's pretty friggin' gross.

I have a pretty big scar under my right eyebrow from where, in the late 90s, one night I whipped open the freezer door, instead of the fridge door (which is what I was going for) right into my eye and I was way too embarrassed to go to the hospital for the necessary stitches.

I have a giant bruise around my eye socket this week. In my defence, it was mostly the dog's fault..we were play-fighting/wrestling and she reared up her head and smashed her skull into my face. It hurt so much, I was sure that she, too, would be injured.

I was in a massive amount of pain, but my first concern was her well-being:

"Omigod! Kuda, are you OK??!"

*pant* *pant* *wagwagwag* *run to retrieve ball*

She was fine.

This morning, I punched the bathroom doorjamb as I was walking into the bathroom...granted, I was in a hurry, but I've lived there for over five years and I'm pretty sure the width of the door hasn't changed in that time. Now I've got a cut and an impending bruise on my hand. Yay!

I noticed this morning, as I was drying my hair, that I have a giant round bruise on my wrist. No idea where that originated.

*sigh*

If I die in some horrible accident, odds are, it will be entirely my fault...possibly as a result of a dog-induced concussion...

Mini-Rant Re: Frosty the Snowman

I was in the grocery store the other day and, naturally, they were piping in the most annoying, god-awful, cheery holiday songs (yep, call me Scroogette, I fucking hate Christmas).

I noticed it was "Frosty the Snowman"...what kind of sick-ass, cruel mother-fucker came up with this terrible tune?!!

I mean, it's just insane! Think about it!!

"Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul.."

Sounds good, so far, doesn't it...

Notice the PAST TENSE in reference to this alleged "jolly happy" guy...

Also note, he's referred to as a "soul" implying, he, too, is also past tense.

The whole friggin' song is like a eulogy!

And this is for kids?? What the fuck?!

"Frosty the Snowman, knew the sun was hot that day, so he said, let's run and we'll have some fun now before I melt away!"

Ostensibly an admirable sentiment...seize the day and all that crap...but a little morbid, no?

Hey kids! I'm going to expire later! Let's grab some broomsticks and mock that traffic officer before I'm nothing more than a puddle on the ground!! Woot! Woot! PAR-TAY!!!

Exeunt Rant. Happy freakin' holidays!

Bagels, Mustard and World Peace

You know what annoys me??

The fact that a plain, toasted bagel in my office cafeteria is 80 cents, but at the Tim Horton's, it's $1.11.

The fact that I can only get a good deal on bagels (i.e. in the cafeteria) until 10:30 a.m. Why can't you just keep bagels on the menu all day? Lots of people like bagel sammitches (for lunch)! I mean, I know I do!

The fact that I can't get a GREAT deal on bagels (by bringing them from home and toasting them my own damn self) ever, because although my office has a cafeteria and a Tim Horton's, there are no public toasters or "kitchenettes" (at least not on the floor on which I work) in my building!

Enough about bagels.

The other thing that bugs me today is the fact that no matter how enthusiastically you shake a bottle of mustard, when you first squeeze/pour it, you always, ALWAYS have to deal with that icky, mustard-pre-ejaculate. Ew ew ew!

Oh, and, what's up with all the stupid unrest in the Middle East? Probably related to an untoasted, expensive bagel that's covered in a thin film of watery mustard-like liquid...

My Trip to The Cleve (Part II)

Saturday morning, November 24th

Awoke bright and early at the crack of 9:30 am to a dreary and cold-looking day. We were psyched for the Raptors/Cavaliers game, which was to begin at 1:00 pm.


After a brief discussion about what whether or not we were going to have breakfast or lunch or brunch, and where we should go for said meal, my insistence upon ordered room service was agreed upon.


I love room service. I'm not sure why. Something about food being delivered to me, on a tray, with little silver covers over all the dishes, plastic wrap covering the juice and water glasses is terribly exciting to me. Not to mention the fact that I can eat it all in my underwear, should I so desire. I don't care that it costs a little more, the multiple fun factors make the extra cost worthwhile.


We had omelets and homefries and toast and it took a ridiculously long time, so they brought us FREE apple juice! REAL apple juice, too!


We ate our brunch and watched "The Craft" on TV...what a great "bad" movie...gotta love it...and then we got ready and checked out of the hotel.


The Quicken Loans Arena (aka The Q) is located only a few short blocks from our hotel, so we stowed our bags in the car, we each grabbed our respective Raptors-flag-on-a-stick to take to the game with us and headed over to the venue. Unfortunately, the security guards wouldn't let us bring the flags in with us...actually, that's not exactly true...they had no problem with us bringing in our flags, but we couldn't bring in the sticks, as they could, apparently, be brandished as weapons. Yes, this actually happened.


Apparently, The Cleve is more violent than Detroit. Last year we attended a Raptors/Pistons game at the Palace and the security guard there initially told me I couldn't bring my flag-on-a-stick into the arena. I managed to convince him I wasn't going to hurt anyone with my flag-on-a-stick. I assured him it wasn't dangerous and pointed out the little ball on the top of the stick whose sole purpose, I'm sure, was to prevent injury. After my convincing testimony, he allowed me to bring my flag-on-a-stick into the game with me.


We weren't so lucky at The Q. We ripped our flags off their sticks and threw the sticks in the garbage. It was very sad. And, as you can imagine, waving around tiny flags sans stick is just about as much fun as it sounds...not very.


:/


The Raptors went on to blow a nice, first-half lead and lose a heartbreaking game. A couple of other things that occurred to me, seeing a game for the first time in this building:

• The Cavs organization must believe their fans are all suffering from ADD. Every single second of non-playing time is filled with a game, or dancing, or the annoying in-game host or hostess addressing the crowd. It was sooo incredibly annoying. I actually mentioned this to Doug Smith, the Toronto Star reporter who covers the Raptors and he confirmed that at all the other arenas in the NBA, they only do ONE game during breaks, but at The Q, they do TWO!! I'm glad I wasn't just imagining things.
• There sure are a lot of jerky fans in Cleveland..we got up to go to the bathroom, sporting our Raptors gear, and the entire SECTION booed us!!! And it's not like the Raptors were winning...
• I'm not sure what the point of flashing the Pittsburgh Steelers logo on the big screen (while the Raptors were shooting free throws) was. Sure, it inspires boos, but it implies the fans are too stupid to realize that it's a good idea attempt to disrupt the opponents' free throws via obstreperous antics. Oh, and the cross-sport hate is a little odd, too...

Anyway, all in all, it was a really fun trip. Thanks America! Thanks to The Cleve!!

My Trip to The Cleve! (Part I)

This past weekend, I took a roadtrip to The Cleve! The original purpose was to see the Raptors play the Cavaliers on Saturday...I mean, how frequently do the Raptors play an away game, within driving distance, on a weekend? Hardly ever!! Of course we had to make the trek.

Then I discovered that a band I like, Ekoostik Hookah, was playing Friday night at the House of Blues--so I immediately ordered a set of tickets for their gig.

Of course, I was also overjoyed at the prospect of visiting with my friend Kimmy, who lives outside The Cleve, and whom I haven't seen in AGES!

We left Thursday night and stayed overnight on Grand Island (we planned to do some shopping for clothes and we wanted to ensure that we were in the U.S. for the required 48 hour period, so we could return home without having to pay any ridiculous duty charges).

Grand Island is a tiny strip of land on a body of water connecting Lake Erie & Lake Ontario (I'm unaware of what it's called) between Niagara Falls and Buffalo--where they actually make you pay a toll to leave the island.
Pretty sweet scam they're running, if you ask me.

Prior to this trip, I assumed the whole point of Grand Island was to operate the world's crappiest amusement park (if you've ever driven between Niagara Falls and Buffalo, you know what I'm talking about) and making money by forcing people to pay up to get the hell outta there.

Evidently, the island has one more purpose: they host hockey tournaments (the hotel at which we stayed even had a stack of sheets titled "Hockey Agreement" on the Front Desk counter...I guess those hockey players are habitually rambunctious or something and other hotel guests, like myself, frown upon that type of activity. Unless, of course, I'm the one instigating/perpetrating said shenanigans--in that case, it's OK).

Anyway, we had a decent sleep and got up and went to Denny's for breakfast. It was great. Having never eaten at a Denny's when I was growing up, it's still sort of a novelty for me. I had a great veggie omelet (no cheese) and some excellent rye toast (with flax seeds) and a tomato juice. God, I love tomato juice. I wish it was better for you--it's like 98% sodium, though. Boo.

Oh, and they had kick-ass hot sauce...that, now that I think of it, I probably should have stolen. Curses!

After breakfast, I grabbed a coffee (to go) and we hit the road. It was a beautiful sunny day and we wanted to stop by the big mall in Erie, Pennsylvania. Ah, Pennsylvania--the land of no sales tax on clothing. Gotta love it.

We stopped at the mall, bought a few things and decided we'd stop on our back to do some more shopping, since we were a bit pressed for time--we wanted to enjoy our visit with Kimmy before we had to head into the city for the concert.

We headed out of the mall and, lo and behold, the weather had turned from sunny and clear, to a full-on blizzard!!

This is typical of Pennsylvania (or at least typical of our luck whilst in Pennsylvania)--the last time we passed through Erie, we pulled off the highway to do a bit of shopping (and take a break from the blizzard-conditions). In the 30 minutes we were in the mall, they CLOSED the INTERSTATE!! We were stranded in Erie for 12 hours. Luckily, we got the last hotel room in the Greater Erie Area. Not so lucky was the condition of the room--disgusting--but we were in no position to complain.

Anyway, this time, we hit the highway and held our collective breaths in hopes that the snow storm would be brief and we'd make it to The Cleve as planned.

A couple of hours later, we pulled into Kimmy's driveway and the sun was once again peeking through the clouds and the snow had dissipated. We had a great visit with Kimmy and her husband, George, and it was SO much fun to meet their hyperactive, energetic & crazy Lab puppy, Evy. What a sweet (and aggressive) character!

Kimmy made us some delicious lentil soup and I enjoyed a couple of very nice glasses of J.Garcia red wine (Thank you Kimmy, thank you Jerry!) before we hit the road once again.

We arrived downtown, without any hassles or wrong turns--gotta love the GPS! Unfortunately, the GPS doesn't take into account all the roads that are closed in downtown Cleveland (or the fact that it's basically impossible to get around downtown) because of all the road construction they're doing. Apparently, they're putting in some kind of streetcar/trolley system? I dunno. It's a mess, whatever the higher purpose, and we had to circle the hotel area about 5 times before we were able to find a road that would actually allow us to pull up in front of it!

After checking into our hotel, we popped out for some provisions (booze, snacks) and headed back to the hotel to chill for a bit before the concert. The folks at the CVS were incredibly friendly (even though they were trying to close early and had already turned off most of the lights) and they were obsessed with our $1 & $2 Canadian coins. What a novelty!

I know I shouldn't get so excited about American television, but some of the channels in the States are just so much fun. Like that USA channel? When ISN'T there a version of Law & Order on? How cool is that?!

The concert was fun, we met a bunch of nice, friendly people (none of whom could believe we came all the way to The Cleve from Toronto for a basketball game!). We headed back to the hotel around midnight, ordered & enjoyed some delicious pizza and watched the New Jersey Nets lay a beating on Seattle (Boo. Burn in hell, Wince Carter. Scumbag.).

--To Be Continued--

The Cleve/Why Aren't You Watching "30 Rock"??

Henceforth, Cleveland, Ohio will only be referred to as "The Cleve"--thank you, Jack Donaghy*!

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

*If you don't know who Jack Donaghy is, I'm not sure I want to be your friend.

Because that means you aren't watching "30 Rock".

(NOT to be confused with "Third Rock from the Sun"...very different shows...)

And if you're not watching "30 Rock", that can only mean 1 of 3 things:

1. You're Amish and don't own a TV.

2. Your exhorbitant pornography expenses dictate that you can't afford to pay your cable bill and, therefore, have no way of enjoying the brilliance that is 30 Rock (the funniest show on TV).

3. You're simply retarded.

So start watching 30 Rock--that's an order!! (Would I lead you astray? Pffft. As if!!)

It's smart, clever & altogether witty television...which is generally the kiss of death for a television series (See: "Arrested Development" or "Sports Night" for examples of this phenomenon)!! It needs your viewership--and you won't be sorry!

Here's the thing about 30 Rock: The genius of Tina Fey is such that for every 6 or 7 intelligent jokes that are made, there is at least 1 ribald poop joke catering to the lowest common demoninator viewers/everyone's inner five-year-old--there's something for everyone!!

Anyway, Jack Donaghy is the slick (& hysterically funny) NBC executive on 30 Rock as portrayed brilliantly by Alec Baldwin (who, quite deservedly, won an Emmy this year for his performance in the role). This show, regularly & literally, has me rolling on the floor laughing and Jack Donaghy is often the reason. And, thanks to Jack Donaghy (or the writers of 30 Rock, to be more accurate), we now get to call Cleveland: "The Cleve"! Which is infinitely more fun than saying "Cleveland"....and I'm not even sure why....

It's true, "We'd all like to flee to The Cleve", but only a few of us are so lucky! :)

Mr. Big(stuff): Who do you think you are??!

In the newspaper the other day, I happened upon a tiny blurb about Chris Noth (aka the sexiest detective to ever swagger through Manhattan Homicide on the original "Law & Order" aka the illustrious Mr. Big on "Sex & The City").

This piece indicated that Noth and his long-time girlfriend (?!) are expecting a BABY in 2008!!

Girlfriend?! I didn't know he had a friggin' *girlfriend*, never mind a LONG-TIME girlfriend! And now they're having a KID?!!!

Someone needs to tell these people that Chris is supposed to be waiting for ME!!!

I had it all planned out: He was going to see me on the street (during one of my many jaunts into New York City), instantly become enchanted and sweep me off my feet, like a scene from some kind of cheesy-ass Jennifer Lopez romatic comedy, where she's the lowly but kind-hearted meter-maid and he's the dashing and kind-hearted billionaire dog-food manufacturer.

I can't believe this is happening. Does this mean I'm NOT going to be Mrs. Big now?!! ARGH!!!

Chris, the least you can do is keep your personal life out of the gossip rags, OK?! At least then my oh-so-vivid fantasy life can remain somewhat intact...it's really the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning...and the possibility of a pumpkin spice latte in my future, of course...

Home sick...

I'm home sick from work today. Just me and Kuda, cuddled up on the bed. She's a great home-sick companion...too bad she can't make me soup.

I just finished the 2 books I was reading and there's nothing on television to keep me occupied, though, save Bill Kurtis's singular & ominous voice intoning about "American Justice". I'm not sure why I find "American Justice" so intriguing. Perhaps it's a secret crush on Bill Kurtis. How can you blame me? He's a silver fox!

Clearly, I'm hallucinating.

Oh, and I just learned that there's now pharmaceutical help available for my "restless leg syndrome (RLS)". Thank god. There are, however, some disturbing potential side effects of the drug...should I experience increased gambling or sexual urges, I should contact my doctor. Really? This is a PROBLEM? Alright, whatever.

Melon, Meet Mallet

I have had a headache for 2 days. Which seems extra-annoying because I so rarely get headaches.

It's probably a tumour.

Yesterday, when I realized my head had been aching all morning, I thought perhaps it was a result of a caffeine-deficiency. Usually, I get my coffee around 8 am and nurse it until at least 10 am (tepid coffee is A-OK with me). Yesterday, however, for some reason, I had scarfed back my entire large (er.."grande"..) coffee within 20 minutes!

Of course, my quicker-than-normal coffee-consumption might have had something to do with the fact that I somehow spilled a large portion of it onto my (light-coloured) coat before I even reached the office. I have no idea how it happened--I didn't trip, I didn't have a sip-related/jostling mishap--I just glanced down at myself on my way into the building and became aware that I was COVERED in coffee. I'm such a tool.

Anyway, I surmised that my headache might have been due to a caffeine craving, so I grabbed a Timmy Ho-Ho's and hoped for the best...unfortunately, the pate-pounding persisted..

*sigh*

Oh, and, the Raptors got trounced last night. I don't want to talk about it. Scratch that: I will NOT talk about.

Monday, Monday...

I don't feel like writing anything today.

Apparently, I didn't feel like writing anything on Friday, Saturday or Sunday either.

That's not entirely true...but on Friday, at work, I was incredibly busy (actually working) and Friday night I was otherwise occupied, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of the Raptors embarrassing the New Jersey Nets on the television.

Saturday, this cold I've been fighting rendered me grumpy and unable to perform any task more strenuous than watching movies and snacking.

Yesterday was a full day...it started out great..it was beautfiul outside, so we walked up to Bloor street for brunch at The Dark Horse. My brunch could have been better...I ordered my omelette with salad on the side, instead of the homefries, and I ordered dry toast (no butter). Naturally, my toast came buttered and my omelette arrived sans salad.

The waitress quickly replaced my toast and assured me my salad was coming, as she had accidentally ordered the potatoes with my meal instead of the salad.

Turns out, I didn't get my salad until I was finished eating everything else (good thing I didn't wait!).

Then, when handing us the bill she said, "We didn't charge you for the salad."

Um, yeah, I should hope not..considering it was your error and I didn't get it until I was actually finished eating...how magnanimous...

We left The Dark Horse and grabbed a couple of coffees from Second Cup. Since it was Sunday (and I got paid last week), I splurged on a "Pumpkin Spice Latte" as described by Brian as "Pretty fucking delicious." It really is, I highly recommend it, if you're into such things.

Then we walked home and I did a bit of cleaning before we headed down to the Air Canada Centre for the highly anticipated match-up between the Raptors and the Boston Celtics.

The game was painful and I don't want to talk about it. In fact, I posted a sign on my cubicle wall this morning warning people that I do NOT want to talk about the game and I'd appreciate their cooperation (Signed: Management).

So let's just say, we went to the game, we had phenomenal seats (thanks to my perpetually generous boss) and then we went out for dinner afterwards.

Oh, and, I saw Doug Smith outside during half-time! (For those of you who don't know, Doug covers basketball for the Toronto Star..I just love him..he's hysterically funny & sarcastic, has great basketball knowledge and is actually unbiased in his reporting--unlike a lot of sports writers--which I greatly appreciate).

Unfortunately, I was too shy to say hello. Maybe next time...

I'll never be an effective stalker if I'm too bashful to say hi...that's the very first thing they teach you in stalker school! No wonder I only got a C-....

A Revelatory Morning

Evidently, a larger than usual quantity of existential angst spilled into my consciousness this morning...pondering my own worth (or worthlessness) is my way of wiping up the mess..or at least containing it to manageable area...

This morning I realized that I hadn't posted in here in a while.

I also realized, in re-reading some previous posts, that I really seem to have little of substance to say. This saddens and embarrasses me. Am I truly as shallow as I present myself in my seemingly petty, pointless prose?

There are several blogs that I read, regularly, and the ones that I enjoy the most are those that are personal, provocative and thoughtful...mine's nothing like that (unless questionable body odour and murderous canines inspire you..and why shouldn't they, really?).

Regardless of any niggling doubts I may have about my niche on the web (or in society), people do pester me to post more frequently. And, as everyone knows, I do try to cater to my fans...yes, fans, plural!...I know of at least 3 people who regularly read my ramblings! Ha!

Note: I have no idea why I am so alliterative today. Persistent PMS, possibly?

Anyway, I've decided, in light of the high demand, to post more frequently...even if it's simply a Kevin Smith-style regurgitation of my day-to-day activities (Have you checked out Smith's blog, "My Boring Ass Life"?...despite what the title implies, it's actually consistently amusing!)

Perhaps, by forcing myself to write something more often, I will unleash a previously untapped contemplative version of me.

Perhaps, I will become an inspiration to millions.

Perhaps my readers will become so obsessed and enamored with me, as a result of my generosity of spirit, that they will stalk me and send me vast quantities of cash via PayPal.

Amen.

What the hell is that god-awful smell? And why is it FOLLOWING me?!

Do you ever get up in the morning, complete your usual morning ablutions, leave the house, proceed to get in your car or hop on the subway and realize, "Holy crap! Something stinks!"

If you're on the subway, an errant odour or two isn't all that alarming or even out of the ordinary--commuters in their outer-wear packed like sardines in a giant tin can are bound to emit some foul scents. And folks in this situation seem to feel they can pass gas with impunity, since it's likely they won't be identified as the source of said malodorous vapors.

But then you get off the subway and you're walking down the street, a cool breeze wafting through your hair, the scent of coffee and car exhaust permeating your senses, and suddenly, there it is again--The Stink.

You assume the person emitting The Stink has followed you off the subway and you pick up the pace.

You arrive at work and as you're walking into the building, you run into one of your colleagues and, as you're blithely discussing your respective weekends, you smell it again. You assume your co-worker is The Source and wonder if you should say something...naw, probably best not to inform someone with whom you work that they reek.

You proceed to to your desk, boot up the ol' geekbox and commence your day (checking your gmail, sports scores and miscellaneous message boards) and, lo and behold, there it is again, like a fart in an elevator: The Stink.

You first thought, "How the hell did it follow me all the way to my desk?!!"

Your second thought, as a result of your superior powers of deduction, "Omigod. It's me. I'm The Source of The Stink!"

You're wholly chagrined and feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You're also entirely befuddled...how could you possibly be The Source of the Stink?!

This isn't one of those mornings when you rolled out of bed after 3 hours of sleep, grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, slipped into some sweats and flip-flops, and headed out to purchase desperately needed coffee to prevent your skull from collapsing--if your olfactory senses were functioning at all at that point, The Source of The Stink should have been fairly obvious. No, no, no! You showered and cleansed yourself thoroughly...you got dressed in clean clothes...a quick footwear-check confirms you aren't walking around with poo or any other mysterious smelly substances on your shoes...how could this be?!

Has this ever happened to you?

Naturally, I'm not speaking from personal experience...this is an entirely rhetorical post....a public service if you will....to make those who encounter an unidentifiable smell somewhere on their person feel less alone.

To protect myself, however, I will be installing rear-view mirrors on my backpack--you know, just in case a stranger thinks it's funny to rub something smelly on my back when I'm not looking. It's important to be vigilant about these things.

Heed my warning, people. The Stink is out there.

Are all babies Japanese?

Last week I was in search of a baby gift for my friends who are expecting their first child in a few weeks. I went into one of those chi-chi baby stores, that I normally avoid (the same way I purposefully cross the street when I see the aggressive, flute-playing panhandlers in my neighbourhood--Back off, Zamfir! I gave at the office!).

I don't have babies. I don't particularly like babies or kids. A store like this, suffice it to say, is more than a bit overwhelming for me. As I stood in the middle of the store amid the strollers and bibs and dainty, baby-sized, steel-toed boots, I sensed a panic attack looming.

I approached the sales clerk, whose girth indicated she might go into labour at any second, and requested her assistance in finding a gift appropriate for a brand new baby.

She replied, "Oh, we have so much great stuff. These 2 companies, from Vancouver, make all of their clothes out of 100% organic cotton..."

So far, so good...Canadian company, organic cotton...I like those specs...

"Here we have some onesies, hats, and of course we have the kimonos...they're great for breast-feeding. And these pajamas all have different, cute pictures and phrases on them...."

She continued to babble on about their amazing products, but I had stopped listening. Tumbling through my mind, like a pair of running shoes in the dryer, was the phrase "Of course we have the kimonos."

Huh? HUH?! Great for breast-feeding? What?! Wait--is the baby going to be breast-feeding another baby? Because that's the only reason I can fathom that a baby would require a kimono....

I was perplexed and had to interject, "Excuse me. Wait. This may be a stupid question, but, why in the world would a BABY need a KIMONO?"

"Oh, that's not a stupid question at all. Babies get really hot. The kimono is really handy, especially when breast-feeding. If you'd ever held a baby, you'd know that."

Um, yeah, OK, lady.

I've held plenty of babies (usually against my will) and never once did I think, "You know what this sweaty bundle of poo needs? A kimono. That would make everything better."

Needless to say, I didn't purchase a baby-sized kimono. I hope that doesn't make me a bad friend.