Tuesday, February 27, 2007
We know you're trying to do us all a favour, but if you're gonna blow up with Dick Cheney, you gotta get closer than a mile away.
A bomb blast a mile away isn't even going to remove the sneer from his lip.
If you want to kill an old man, you gotta aim the guns closer and then let 'em rip. Cheney knows how to execute this move better than anyone. He'll tell ya.
Sorry, but I can't give you anything higher than a C+ for the symbolic effort. Do your homework. And better luck next time.
They are the most mercilessly horrid teases on the face of the Earth. The forecast continually promises us above 0° C temperatures, and this always about 3 days away. But when the day in question arrives it’s “oh, today’s high will be minus 3°”. You liars. It will never hit 0° again and you know it! Come clean!
*Their sadistic francophone counterparts Meteo-Media are no better. It’s all one big conspiracy, I tells ya.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Yep, Clooney's reign is over. I thought George looked thin and tired last night. Still dashing and debonair, but alas, the king is dead.
Long live the king: Clive Owen.
I have no words for him. Except maybe: ooh, aaah, rowr, grrr. etc.
And incidentally, on the ladies' side, I thought Jodie Foster looked absolutely stunning. Nobody ever talks about her but she's a knock-out. What a perfect dress.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I think Ellen DeGeneres is the least funny person on Earth. She really bugs me, so I have no interest in watching the show tonight. Except that I have $5.00 in the Oscar pool, so my high stakes demand that I tune in.
Update: Okay. I had to run some errands, so I picked up popcorn just for Oscar night. I also bought a bottle of wine, not specifically for Oscar night, but still. Don't nobody accuse me of not trying to make this evening fun.
(Actually, I'm still recovering from a bit of pre-birthday overindulgence on Friday night, so wine doesn't appeal to me that much. But it's there, in case of emergency.)
Three times so far this morning I’ve heard one of my favourite sounds: the crash, bang, thud of giant icicles detaching themselves from the gutters of the roof and hitting the ground. You don’t want to be standing under one of those babies when it comes down.
My first winter in the house, 8 years ago (already?), I was freaking out because I didn’t know what was happening and I thought the house was falling apart, like bricks were collapsing or a wall was shifting. Now I hear the familiar bang and think "spring will be here soon".
My good friend, The Weather Network, says temps may go above freezing by Tuesday. The last time that occurred was January 13. That’s a long cold snap. O Canada!
Saturday, February 24, 2007
They needed a study to figure this out? In Scotland?
Friday, February 23, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
What does it say about me that I didn't even know there was such a thing as cellphone porn until they banned it today?
When I hear Telus, I used to think of cute bunnies, silly monkeys and colourful geckos. Now I'll think of cellphone porn.
"Qantas has sacked a stewardess who gave a detailed account to a newspaper of a midair tryst with actor Ralph Fiennes in an airliner toilet cubicle."
I hope he was worth it.
"Fiennes has not commented on the incident, but spokeswoman Sara Keene was quoted as saying in News Ltd. newspapers that the actor was seduced by the airline stewardess. "She initiated the encounter," Keene was quoted as saying. "She was the sexual aggressor."
So there. Poor Rafe. He was practically raped. She probably dragged him into the toilet by the few remaining hairs on his head.
It must be so difficult to be Rafe. Sigh.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
The alert was lifted after police determined the employee had been ill for some time and had been experiencing nosebleeds."
Why did it take the police to determine the employee had been experiencing nosebleeds? Is this classified top-secret information? Is the employee not on speaking terms with anyone else in the Embassy? How lame is this?
Pass the Mussolini mustard, please.
Kind, generous and unstupid work colleagues,
Happy and well-behaved children,
and a happy and well-behaved husband.
Hey, your 30s are running out.
Enjoy what's left of them, time's a-ticking away...eek!
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Before seeing the movie, I went for a haircut. My hairdresser, who I've known for 10 years or so, was born in East Germany. He's a huge movie buff, so I asked him if he'd seen the movie. He hadn't, and was keen to do so, but was also apprehensive about seeing it.
He then proceeded to tell me about the day he packed his bags, at age 17, and crossed over to the West. It was rivetting. I even forgot he was cutting my hair as he talked. Fortunately for me, he didn't forget what he was doing.
He "escaped" before the Wall went up. He hates using the word escape but he doesn't have a better word for it. At the time, it was not so dangerous to go to the West, i.e. nobody shot at you. He packed a suitcase, bought a train ticket for Berlin and that was that. It was easy, if by easy you mean that all you are doing is leaving your family, your friends, your schoolmates, your co-workers and everybody you know and the only place you've ever lived to go to an unknown destination where you don't know a soul and have no idea what you will do when you get there. And you face the possibility that you'll never be allowed back and will never see any of these people ever again. But nobody shoots at you. So it's easy.
I asked him if he just decided suddenly to leave one day. He said no. He was a self-proclaimed bullshitter who spent all his time bragging about how was going to go to the West one of these days. He said, if you say it for too long and you never do it, eventually you become a joke. So I knew I had to actually do it or I'd be laughed at. That's reason enough for a 17-year-old.
He said on the day Joseph Stalin died all the girls in his class were crying and he said "what the hell are you crying for that old man for?" I'm amazed he ever got out of there.
This is a man who lives for 1) gambling and 2) women. I suspect in his youth those two priorities may have been reversed, but he's in his 60s now, and lives for blackjack before babes. He's very charming and I can just imagine what he must've been like 30 or 40 years ago. What could a guy like him do in East Germany? Other than get in trouble.
Actually, he said that if he had stayed, he would've joined the Party and worked his way up. Because he wanted to have the biggest apartment and the nicest stuff. That's why everybody joined the Party. True ideologues were very rare.
He said that back in the GDR he never could've spoken to me, as one of his clients, the way he does. Way too dangerous. He said, I know you and I've known you for a long time, but I don't really know you. I know what he means.
Aren't we lucky to grown up in places where we don't have to worry if the guy next door, or the mailman, or the bus driver, or the grocery clerk, is reporting back to the government on any offhand flippant comment we might make. What an insane system.
If this kind of stuff interests you, you have to see The Lives of Others.
All systems eventually fail. Just before I left, we discussed how much time capitalism has left before it too goes sucking down the drain of history. I'm more optimistic than he is. I think we still have a few decades left, he thinks the end is coming must sooner. How pessimistic. I chalk that up to his East German upbringing.
Just for you today, two images to make you go ah!
Montreal in winter and you-know-who.
Also to feed your nostalgia, we are having some real Montreal snow today. It's light, blowing a bit sideways, fluffy and retina-piercing white. And there's PLENTY of it.
A grumbling post about the trials and tribulations of shovelling may follow, as these things are wont to do.
Friday, February 16, 2007
The monarch, who was on his way to a pilgrimage site in Kathmandu to attend a Hindu festival, escaped unhurt.
King Gyanendra was on his way to the Pashupati temple in the capital for the Maha Shivratri festival when crowds chanting anti-monarchy slogans pelted his motorcade with stones. " (BBC)
He probably never gets to hob-nob pro soccer players either.
Twice a week, advertising circulars are delivered to our homes in a bag called the “Publi-Sac”. According to my sister, in English Canada they call it the “Ad Bag”. And for English speakers in Montreal there appears to be some kind of understanding that even though you can pronounce it correctly, it is more fun to call it the Poobly-Sack. I’m not sure why, but I admit I do it myself.
This past Wednesday, I was delighted to see a little bulge in the Publi-Sac because that indicates a FREE sample. Wheee. It’s like Halloween.
It turned out to be a box of new All Bran. I haven’t tried it yet. I’m saving it. For what? I have no idea. Armageddon? Who knows? But there is something very exciting about saving your FREE sample for a rainy day.
There are so many great FREE samples. I think energy bars, laundry detergent and dish-washing liquid are my favourites.
If there is one subject that people, especially young people, don't need any help to raise their consciousnesses, it's climate change.
What a waste of energy. It would be more helpful to the planet if everyone stayed home.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
“The newly rebranded Islamist underground in Algeria has carried out its first operations, involving the simultaneous detonation of seven car bombs just before dawn on February 13th.
“A statement claiming responsibility for the attack in the name of al-Qaida in the Maghreb was monitored by international news agencies in Dubai.” (Economist)
Great. Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb. Another new franchise. These guys are worse than Starbucks.
(Thanks to Susie in Melbourne for supplying the link to Aussie newspaper The Age.)
“The Qantas flight attendant at the centre of the alleged mile-high sexual encounter with Hollywood actor Ralph Fiennes could sell her story for as much as $400,000.
(Editor's note: He's not a Hollywood actor, he's British. That's much classier.)
“…her father says he and his wife are struggling to cope with reports that their daughter allegedly had sex with The English Patient star in a business-class toilet of a Darwin-to-Mumbai Qantas flight on January 30.
“Mr Robertson said his daughter would not have encouraged Fiennes to go into the toilet with her.
(Editor's note: but, Dad, it's Rafe!)
"I don't think she would have encouraged him to do anything like that. I couldn't imagine her doing it up in the plane. You've got other staff there and customers. I don't think she would want to do anything like that."
(Editor's note: And now, ladies and gentlemen, the punchline:)
Of those other staff, Mr Robertson told the newspaper: [They are] probably ugly as a hat full of arseholes and were just jealous."
Na na na na
Na na na na
Hey, Hey, Good-bye
And they’ve lost their No. 1 goaltender, which means (in news that only Pessimist Greg will care about) the young Slovak Jaroslav Halak will be called up. Perhaps he can become a saviour?
31% of men are thinking of giving candy, 9% of women want candy
29% of women most want restaurant meals, 17% want spa visits, 15% want flowers.
Okay, so that means a lot of the flowers and candy that are received are not, in fact, wanted.
And 61% of women want meals, spa visits or flowers. Where does that leave the other 39%? As Siggy Freud once asked: what do women want?
Went back out around 9:45. There was more snow than had accumulated all day. But the city plows had not gone by even once. Stupid snow. Stupid city. But I was keen. So I prettied up the place, and even did the roof! At 10:30 I was ready to go in, but lo and behold, here come the city plows.
At ten effing thirty.
Needless to say, my driveway got completely blocked. And I said: forget this. And went inside and went to bed. My driveway is still completely blocked this morning. Such is life. I'll deal with it tonight.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
That's a couple of big two-cheeked Montreal kisses for all.
But, more importantly, re the Big Storm....
I may regret this prediction in about 12 hours from now, but I don't think it's going to be that bad around here
(Cut to: Nanuk and her shovel in a snowbank around 8:00 p.m. weakly shaking her fist at the sky.)
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
"Three months away from his expected retirement, President Chirac has for the first time confirmed his appetite for extraconjugal affairs, saying that he loved many women in his lifetime “as discreetly as possible”.
"Amorous adventures have not played a determining role in my life. There have been women I have loved a lot, as discreetly as possible,” he said. Mr Chirac insisted that there had never been any question of leaving his wife, whom he met when both were students at the Political Sciences Institute in Paris." (Times of London)
When asked to comment, Rafe Fiennes was seen casually thumbing through the OED, looking for the definition of "discreet".
"Ralph Fiennes alleged antics on a recent Quantas flight to India has sent an airline attendant into hiding. Fiennes reportedly got up to no good in a business class bathroom with crewmember Lisa Robertson en route to Mumbai.
Her statement to the airline paints the scene: "While conversing with Mr. Fiennes during my break, I expressed a need to go to the toilet. I went to the nearby toilet and entered it; he followed me. I explained to him that this was inappropriate and asked him to leave. Mr. Fiennes became amorous toward me, and, after a short period of time, I convinced him to leave the toilet, which he did. I left a short time later."
But the couple was caught exiting the lavatory by two other crew members, who reported Robertson, who's since been suspended without pay." (Salon)
He's such a pig. How I love that Rafe.
Monday, February 12, 2007
So a look at today’s poll in The Globe & Mail is very discouraging as it does nothing to dispel the notion that Canadians are unspeakably dull, dull, dull.
Apparently, Canadians value fidelity and intelligence over everything else. Yawn.
Come on, people. How does this make us look on the international lovin’ stage?
"Money was rated important by only 5% of respondents. Being good in bed was a priority for 12% of males compared with just 4% of females." We are the laughingstock of the money-and-sex-crazed world.
"Physical attraction rated high for 30% of men but just 14% of women." Can’t we be more superficial, ladies? Why are we not pining for dreamboats? And, guys, 7 out of 10 of you don’t rate physical attraction high? You are not men, you are Devo!
I know it’s hard to be “hot” when it’s minus 20 and we’re all wrapped up in our touques, mufflers and mukluks, but let’s all stop being so sensible.
"Went grocery shopping on Saturday...Curry Lays are in fact available here (didn't see no wasabi chips, however).
Naturally, I had to buy a big bag. They were tasty in the sense that I had to eat the entire bag; however, am not certain they would be my first choice when I have a chip craving. In the Indian potato chip department, I think I would choose Tandoori Sizzlers over Curry Lays. Of course, if Curry Lays were served at a party, I wouldn't turn my nose up at them."
Friday, February 09, 2007
I looked it up in the Oxford and all it says is: "informal. a very attractive person, especially a man." Nothing there about the origin of the word.
I can understand the "dream" part, but "boat"? Why would we call somebody a boat?
Crazy Astronaut Lady, her Intended Victim and Captain Catnip.
Sometimes there are real benefits to the media having the attention span of a gnat.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
NASA calls them “MAGs” or Maximum Absorption Garments.
A NASA “diaper” can last 8 to 10 hours, depending on how much it is used.
The NASA "diapers" helped to influence the consumer diaper market, as well as feminine hygiene products. “It's what we call a spinoff, which is anything that is developed for the space program and then is passed down for commercial use.” (Newsweek)
On behalf of women, old folk and babies everywhere, I thank you NASA.
This is why the I love The Times of London. They can pull off this high-wire act of being a respected serious newspaper and still run items like this.
“A record 4,000 blokes in the UK had their man-breasts, or ‘moobs’, removed by cosmetic surgery last year. According to the British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons, that’s almost double the number for 2005, when 2,100 went under the knife for the same reason.”
"Newspapers have taken to printing shots of noted moobies, such as Simon Cowell, Tony Blair, Robbie Williams and Chris Moyles, going topless on holiday."
"Farcical, saucy, and somewhat tragic, man-breasts make ideal fodder for the British tabloid media.”
I love that last sentence. It says, tsk tsk, shame on the shameless tabloids for covering the exact same cheesy, funny story that we are now covering in our serious high-minded way.
Here’s the link: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/men/article1334483.ece
Funny, I see no mention of the manziere or bro.
Saucy. I love that word, and yet I never find an opportunity to use it. I love the British.
Glad to have you back on line.
Turns out Foxfire was the key. I have no idea what that is but others here mentioned it and turns out they were right. Hats off to you knowledgeable people.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Maybe it's just me, but I expect people like this, people who are clearly far-and-away smarter than the rest of us mere shlubs, to have a better grip on their emotions than everybody else. Is that unfair? Maybe. But that's the way I see it. These scientifically-brained people should have more self-control and more stable relationships because they think logically and with great precision and care, no? I guess not.
I get the feeling a lot of astronautical dirty laundry is about to come spilling out. These classic American heroes aren't going to seem so heroic after all. Turns out they are depressed, alcoholic, cheating no-goods like everybody else. Lunch-bag letdown.
I look forward to a public statement from Shuttle Captain Stud Muffin and Army Captain I Need a Restraining Order There's a Crazy Woman Out to Get Me.
I guess sometimes your life goes off the rails and it really isn't your fault. Weird. And slightly scary.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
2007: The Year of the Indian-themed snack food. It's about time!
More details as this important story unfolds...
UPDATE: Curry Lays are for now available only in Toronto and Vancouver. This is an outrage. Apparently Asian-Canadians aren't eating enough chips, so they are introducing two specialty flavs: Curry and Wasabi. But only in TO and VANC. Life is so unfair. Jeez, we've got Asians, lots of them. They need chips too!
The theory that only Asians would be interested in savoury curry or wasabi flavoured chips is totally racist. I'm contacting the Human Rights Commission. My chip-tasting rights are being violated.
I confess I’m intrigued why this woman who, let us assume since she is an astronaut, is not an idiot, would drive 900 miles, put on a disguise, and attempt to eliminate her romantic rival.
Can I be the first to call her the “Astronut”. heh heh.
She’s married and the mother of three kids. Wow. NASA: Hot bed of adultery.
Now we know what kind of shenanigans take place up there on Discovery. That’s astronaughty!
Miles O’Brien will be scandalized.
I just checked out the picture of the shuttle pilot who is at the centre of this illicit triangle. Hmm. Okaaay. Maybe he has a really great sense of humour.
What can I say about someone I've known for 30+ years. Therefore, instead of mere words, here is my gift, a couple of photos that will be dear to his heart.
Monday, February 05, 2007
I especially loved the features on Coringware and Woolco. Brought a little tear of nostalgia to my eye. Ah, Woolco. We had a Woolco in the mall in Valleyfield. It was known as "Le Woolco" in our house. Many a teen-age Saturday afternoon wasted in that mall.
Today it's a Zellers, and a pretty good Zellers at that. Much cleaner and better organized than the ones near me in Montreal. Thumbs up to the Valleyfield Zellers.
Anyway, Tandoori Sizzlers certainly do sizzle. I had one and thought “interesting”. It tastes like that thin crispy bread you get as an appetizer, except it’s on a Dorito. I couldn’t argue with this. So I had another, and another. After about 6 chips, I realized I couldn’t feel the inside of my mouth anymore. Thus, “sizzler”.
I’d give them a 3 out of 5 on the Nanukian Doritos-meter. Good for the occasional treat, especially if you’re in the mood for Indian but don’t actually wanna pay for a restaurant meal, but not something I could eat every week.
The elusive Cool Ranch remain my faves. Maybe this is because I can never find them anywhere. Their mystique grows with each passing month I soldier on without them. They are my great lost love.
(Yep, I’m gearing up for Valentine’s Day. If I have to yearn for a chip, so be it.)
Sunday, February 04, 2007
I wish I could remember the exact quote, but I can't so I'll have to paraphrase something he said that made me laugh. He was disagreeing with the saying "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger". He said, the opposite is true, what doesn't kill you makes you weaker and eventually does kill you.
You had to be there. It was so typical of him. Dark and amusing.
It was "only" a lite murder mystery by Anne Perry. And I did start it while I was sick at home. But still. This is progress.
I'm all keen to start another one today....since there's nothing on t.v. except some football game.
(I know, I know, it's a Big Deal.)
Friday, February 02, 2007
“…a prominent Ottawa lawyer has been suspended from the practice of law for 60 days after a disciplinary panel ruled Friday that he had engaged in professional misconduct by having a sexual affair with a client.”
I really had no idea you couldn’t sleep with your lawyer. Really.
I don’t have a lawyer so I suppose the point is moot. But still.
It isn’t illegal but it violates the code of professional conduct.
I wonder who else you can't sleep with. Your accountant? (Wow, that would be verrrry exciting.) Your broker? Your doctor? Your dentist? (I know this is being violated by my dentist and the friend that referred me to him.) Your contractor? HA! That one happens all the time. Your auto mechanic. (Now THAT would come in handy.) Your favourite foreign correspondent? Anchorman?
Later, short of money, he complains: groundhogdayisanightmarefromwhichIamtryingtoawake. yes. YES.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
According to its web site, it is “the last bastion of feudalism in the Western world.” It’s a genuine fiefdom. How weird is that.
Is there not something incongruous about a fiefdom with its own Web site? www.sark.info
It explains: “There is no true freehold, all land being held on perpetual lease (fief) from the Seigneur,… The Seigneur holds the Island in perpetual tenure from the Crown in return for certain obligations and annual dues (rente), and may not have that taken away from him unless he reneges on his commitment. Also he may not sell his Fief (the whole Island) without Crown permission.”
They have a Seigneur? That is so 17th Century!!
I know it’s none of my business, but shouldn’t somebody be trying to rescue the serfs of Sark?
This bit is interesting. And I stand corrected, the place isn’t 17th Century, it’s 11th Century:
Oath of Allegiance: The Seigneur, after inheriting the Fief, is required to pay "Foi et Hommage" to the Sovereign. The Seigneur kneels at the Sovereign's feet with his hands held out palm to palm and, in the case where the reigning sovereign is female, Her Majesty encloses the Seigneur's hands with Her own and the Seigneur says: "Souveraine Dame, Je demeure Votre homme lige à Vous porter Foi et Hommage contre tous". Her Majesty replies "Nous vous acceptons advouant tous vos legitimes droits et possessions relevant de cette tenure de Nous, sauf pareillement à tous Nos Droits de Regalité". This is the old feudal homage following the same pattern as that sworn by King Harold to William Duke of Normandy in 1064.