Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
This is the same procedure as back in October, for a different but similar type of job. The test is February 3. Bleh. What an awful time of year to have to fly. I was hoping this particular job might have enough applicants from Canada for the powers-that-be to set up a test in Montreal, but it appears for now that, no, they did not.
I haven't even found out if I passed the October test yet. I was hoping to have that result before writing another exam. But, alas, it appears I have to decide whether I want to take another kick at the can without knowing if I kicked said can to their satisfaction the first time round.
I swear they think I'm made of money.
My favourite month: NaPoMo.
My favourite 2008 chips: President's Choice silver bag Buffalo Wings and Blue Cheese.
Runner-up favourite chips: Doritos Collisions.
My favourite book was Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively which I read in 2008, but was published back in 1987. So this is hardly cutting-edge news.
My fave concert: Leonard Cohen.
I don't think I had a favourite movie at all.
Really, not much to report.
I guess I might as well get on with my list of New Year's Resolutions for 2009. Resolutions are always good for a bitter laugh.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Mussolini-esque? I think so.
I dunno what prompted these stunning holiday season developments but in 10-odd years of taking the train to the Holy City for Xmas, on-time trains in both directions had never occurred before.
Is this a sign of improved management at Via Rail or a sign that the apocalypse is upon us?
Also, on the way up, I had a bloody caesar in my hand when the train had barely left the station, and it was one of the tastiest beverages I've ever had anywhere, train or no train. The steward must've had bartender training. Yesterday, I had to have another, upon embarking, to taste test. It was good but it didn't match that marvelous drink on the trip up. So yummy.
Arriving home yesterday, the sidewalks were skating rinks. Stupid freezing rain. I like ice in my drinks, but not under my feet. I managed to remain upright, but it wasn't easy.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
"I have no idea what to do," she said, "I don't know where to go. If the worst comes to the worst I can go home to my parents in Laval."
So her parents are a last resort? Wouldn't they be a first choice for most people?
I dunno what is worse: the parents or the fact that they live in Laval. Oh God, any place but Laval.
Monday, December 22, 2008
It happens to the best of 'em, I guess.
I'm sure he's celebrating by having sex with an airline stewardess or a Romanian shoe model or whoever happened to walk by him at some point during the day.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
This, of course, means that this is the weekend when Kumar expects to be driving to Montreal. I hope he stays home. The storm will get him either coming or going, so just stay home. The man apparently doesn’t know the meaning of the word “forecast”. He pays no attention to such things. He’ll never be a real Canadian until he learns to be glued to the weather forecast. Crazy foreigner.
This week we debated the merits of shovelling one’s own snow vs. paying some kid to do it. I, of course, being Miss Frugal, will shovel my own until death do us part, me and my shovel. He, on the other hand, being Mr. Spendthrift, has already hired the kid next door to keep the snow off his car. (Not even to shovel a driveway, just keep snow off the car! For heavens sake!) At $40 per month. His argument is: the kid, being 16, will spend the money, not save it. So the money goes into the economy, thus helping the economy. My counter-argument is: I’m cheap.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
All this to say that last night Kumar was in a tizzy, worrying about my tummy noises. Specifically, whether what I had was contagious. He is convinced that since he met me, his stomach is making similar weird sounds.
The man is a head case.
What does he think I have? Guinea worm?
I assured him that my condition, which was essentially a birth defect, is not likely to spread to anyone in my sphere of influence. Then I told him he is very weird. Then I told him that it is most likely that since he’s been under a lot of stress in the past month or so, it is probably manifesting in a nervous stomach. He kinda believed that was possible, but was still sceptical.
Hernias are not contagious. There is no such thing as a sympathy hernia. If you don’t believe me, ask the Mayo Clinic.
Burger King has released a limited-edition men's body spray that evokes the smell of freshly broiled Whoppers ... According to a press release, "The King is setting hearts ablaze for the holidays with his new scent of choice. FLAME™, a new men's body spray by Burger King Corp., features the scent of seduction with the hint of flame-broiled meat.
I repeat: mmmm
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The folly of youth.
When was the last time you described a day at work, any day at work, as “really great”?
Kinda makes one want to get a new job. A new job: full of promise and excitement and new things to learn and new people to meet. Unlike a regular old job: full of dread and the same old pain-in-the-ass uncooperative people who love to make your life hell.
Wonder how long he will remain in “really great” mode? He told me a while ago that one of his biz partners called him both: “the best guy in the world to work with, and the worst guy in the world to work with.” How long will it take until the Toronto folks figure that out?
That's it, folks, I officially throw in the towel (hopefully pulled off the body of some hot hunk in a locker room)...I am stunned, truly confused (much like Anson Williams at a MENSA meeting.) What could possibly have thrown me for such a loop?...Yes, you guessed it --- the Powers-Who-Be-Who-Assign-Names-To-Chip-Flavours.
Innocently, I purchased Pringles Extreme Blazin' BBQ. Can anything be more clear and concise, I thought. Well, needless to say they weren't "blazing"...but get this...they didn't even taste like BBQ. Any pre-conceived notion you might have of a BBQ chip, just throw it out the window. Call 'em Tandoori BBQ or call 'em Piri BBQ or call 'em Asian Spice BBQ...but they're all still rather BBQ-ish in nature. Well, these weren't. They were tangy and tart, and I thought to myself whilst gorging on them that they had a familiar taste...And then it dawned on me. They taste like Vinegar chips...hot n' spicy vinegar chips...Yes, you may all now pull a Moe..."Waaaahhhh"...I mean, at this point the chip corporations might as well not waste money on packaging, design, and marketing. Just sell your chips in a plain white bag with black lettering that reads "Mystery Flavour"...Have we gotten to the point where buying a bag of potato chips has now become a Kafka-esque experience? Am I but a cockroach in the chip fcatory of life? Has the whole world gone mad? Will Valerie Harper ever return to TV? Jesus Christ or Zsa Zsa, please do something!
Of course, now that I have vented, let me say this...hot 'n spicy vinegar...wow!...f * *king brilliant. Bold, fresh, innovative, tongue-teasing, nipple-arousing are just a few of the words to describe these long-tinned identically-shaped saline snacks. Bravo! Huzzah! and Hallelujah, Honey! These suckers might have had the wang-o-meter in a twist at first...but once it settled down, it registered a whoppin' bed-hoppin' 8.5 inches for these wickedly-sneaky tricky treats. Praise you, Mr. Pringles, and your magnificent moustache.
"Heath and Deborah Campbell were furious when their local baker in New Jersey refused to decorate a birthday cake with the name of their baby boy.
"But ShopRite, in Holland Township, ignored the parents’ pleas after concluding that “Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler” was an inappropriate use of icing sugar.
"Adolf Hitler Campbell turned 3 this week and celebrated at a party with his younger sisters Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie (sic – apparently in tribute to Heinrich Himmler) and JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell." (Times of London)
Three kids in three years. I got one good old Nazi concept for these parents: sterilization.
I should do that. But what should my list be about?
Nanuk's 2008 Top Ten List should include what? Any suggestions?
Monday, December 15, 2008
I bet David Gregory would love to hurl his loafers at the President.
My fave quote is from an Iraqi man-on-the-street: I think what he has done was a brave act and he will be marked in history as the first Iraqi and the first Arab who hit the American President with shoes. (NY Times)
The first Iraqi and the first Arab? Does this mean I've missed all earlier reports of French-, German-, Italian-, or Canadian-launched US-Presidential-shoe-flings? I'm really slipping.
While, on one level, I'd like to see this trend catch on (Oh Stephen Harper, where are yooooou?), I think it'd be wise to stick to pie-throwing.
I went to the dermatologist for a scaly patch my chin (yep, really attractive), and came out with not one, but two, prescriptions. One for my chin and one for my cheeks.
The doctor was an old, crabby guy who reminded me of the old, crabby doctor on Scrubs. So he looks at me and touches my cheek and says "You have rosacea." Then a pause. "You KNOW you have rosacea, don't you?" He was like a drill sargeant. I said, yes, but I've never done anything about it. So I get a prescription for that too and it wasn't even why I went.
While he was writing the prescription I asked a question, and he answered it, but then barked at me: "I was talking and now I can't remember what I was writing". So I shut up after that.
And as a bonus, to control the rosacea I am supposed to cut out all caffeinated drinks, not just hot ones, so no coffee, no cola and cut out spicy food. I wanted to joke and say "why not just kill myself? I have nothing to live for" but I sensed he was not the joking type.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Last night I was walking along Chester, and it was the first time I remember ever having to duck (and I'm short, remember) and push branches out of my way. Everything was heavy and thick with ice. This afternoon, I was out airing the comforter and I had to crack ice off the clothesline. It was at least 1 cm thick, even this morning.
Tons of snow and ice all around us. I guess I shouldn't complain too much about how much we got. This is going to be a long, miserable winter.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Ever have a cracked tooth? Trust me, it's effing agony. Fortunately I'm seeing the dentist emergency-style this afternoon. Even if he can't fix it right away, he will prescribe a pain killer, and man, do I want this pain killed. Kill this pain dead, sez I.
Goofily unaware of my problem, I had hot soup yesterday, and the pain was so crazy bad intense, that I thought that I was going to pass out. Which would've looked back at our dept's Xmas lunch. Never felt anything like it.
O Youth, how I miss you. Come back. Come back.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Huh? 3 months? Snowblower accident?
This implies that Joe clears his own driveway.
The man is a star in the NHL, therefore, he probably makes $30 gazillion per year. Hire a good Italian contractor, Joe. Really. He can mow your lawn in summer, rake the leaves in fall, and do the driveway in winter. It's worth the money.
Once again, he pushed the snow from his driveway onto my lawn. But fortunately for me, the snow was light and not packed, so I was able to fling the snow from my path onto his driveway. There was a pretty decent pile of it around his front tire by the time I was done.
Could be a long winter.
Question for JAW Fan: Did you go to work in shoes this morning? haaahaaahaaa
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
For those who read my last review, you remember that I have recently been busting out of my britches due to an over-indulgence in potato pleasures. Of course, you must then also remember that I had just discovered a super-colorful counter of Old Dutch chips at a nearby dépanneur. Needless to say my fat fanny was going to be put on hold...at least until I was able to sample those that went by the name of Mexican Chili...which I did.
Now, regular readers know that there was no possible way a chip could taste like chili..and as I wasn't expecting it to, naturally I wasn't disappointed. Mexican-esque barbecue would more accurately describe these sizzling rippled snacks. But praise Pablo and his well-packed piñata, they were mmmmmucho delicious. After just one handful of these Chicano crisps, the fiesta in my mouth was in full swing. Who needs Lays when you have Olés. Each bite made me want to put on one of my two Charo albums, throw a sombrero to the ground and cuchi-cuchi around it with my hands in the air. Never has a chip been so Undelay and Arriba-worthy. Take it from this hombre, a bag of these chips and some sangria and you'll be lady-bumping your f * *king ass off all night. You want a taste of Mexico without having to worry about trottin' to the terlet, then dive into a bag of these tantalizing taters, which are certain to earn the Cheech Marin seal of approval. My one disappointment was that I had company when these were purchased and could not devour them all myself.
On the wang-o-meter, these finger-lickin' fun treats rate a muy grande 8.5 inch burrito that would have Santo the masked-wrestler's tights testing the limits of durability.
I'm not unhappy with the Lib Majority. At least we'll have provincial stability while we endure federal insanity.
I'm trying but I just can't warm up to Iggy. He leaves me cold. As cold as the weather yesterday, despite which, I still went out and voted. So there.
Interesting to see Quebec Solidaire win its first seat. I like the idea of the return of genuine old-school socialists. I would vote for them if they weren't also old-school separatists. Most satisfying was the loss by the PQ candidate in that riding, a guy who represented our old riding in Valleyfield and who my mother disliked. Glad to see him go down to defeat. heh heh heh
Monday, December 08, 2008
Hard to believe, knowing how much I nag people about the duty to vote, but, crap! it's really cold out there, and the polling place is over 10 minutes walk from my house.
Wimpiness may prevail. Not to mention that my riding is 80% Liberal, so frankly, why bother?
Blame the weather.
On the other hand, in the can-do spriit of Giuseppe Filianoti, I have to admit that I, Nanuk of the North, am in perfect condition, ready to engage myself in a role in which I feel secure, that is to say, voting.
So maybe I'll make the effort.
Tenor cries betrayal as La Scala dumps him
The famed opera house threw its understudy into one of its biggest nights Sunday, removing tenor Giuseppe Filianoti at the last minute for the season-opening premiere of Don Carlo after he made mistakes during a dress rehearsal.
Filianoti didn't go quietly, telling the Milan daily Corriere della Sera that he had been “betrayed” by the opera house, “stabbed in the back at the last minute.”
“La Scala wanted me to say I was sick. But I, Giuseppe Filianoti, am in perfect condition, ready to engage myself in a role in which I feel secure,” the paper quoted him as saying. (The Globe & Mail)
The crowd may not have been happy but. judging from the photos, they got more tenor for their money with the understudy.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I put up the tree this afternoon, and for some reason, I think it looks especially festive this year. Don't know why cause it's the same old tree with the same old ornaments as every year, but it looks full and well-balanced this time.
Describing a tree as "full and well-balanced" is SO MUCH something my mother would say that it is truly frightening to note how every woman turns into her mom eventually. yikes. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon and so rapidly.
I have only 2 gifts left to buy, so things are shaping up well on that front too. The stores are pretty empty, which deserves a yay! for me the non-shopper, and a boo hoo! for the economy. I decided the Muslim in my life is not getting an Xmas present. For 2 reasons: 1) he's a Muslim, and 2) things are rocky at this time and too bad for him if he is expecting something. So there. So be it. I'm certainly not expecting a gift from him, so screw that. Does that make me unromantic? Damn right. Nobody ever mistook me for Keats or Shelley. Or Shelly Winters.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Does this not seem like a weirdly exaggerated punishment for the "crime"? Or have I got an especially tough hide that I don't see the appalling insult here. Are women not referred to in worse terms....um....everywhere, all the time? I think Hillary Clinton got called way worse things repeatedly during her campaign.
(Of course, my insensitivity may be a result of my rich cultural history. Not everybody has Richard'n'Willie in their background. "Good luck you skinny bitch".)
"Sloppy seconds" also reminds me of one of my favourite Gareth Keenan moments on The Office when he tells Tim he doesn't want his sloppy seconds. I love Gareth. Maybe that's why I can't take offense at that expression.
So I'll stick with the smallest one.
There is always an Xmas raffle held at work. The prizes range from really good (2 airline tickets to wherever) to decently good (bottles of booze!). This year they started a new policy. Only one ticket per person. The tickets are $20, and every ticket is guaranteed a prize. I did not buy a ticket because I am a grinch and a scrooge.
So for the past 10 days we've been told to buy our tickets, but without ever being told what the prizes were. Wednesday was the last day to buy tickets. Thursday, they send out an email showing us the list of prizes.
Is this not ass-backwards? Would they have not sold more tickets if people knew what the prizes would be?
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Last weekend, after getting slightly inebriated, I was suddenly attacked by that sneaky beast who goes by the name of Senor Salt Craving...and so I stopped off at the local dépanneur (convenience store to you non-Québecois). Expecting to see the regular assortment of Lays, Doritos, and Yum-Yums that are so typical of our dépanneurs, you can just imagine my surprise to see an entire array of Old Dutch (not to be confused with the Cleanser) chips in fanciful flavours. There before my eyes were a Creamy Dill and a Mexican Chili...however, I was drawn directly to the bag on the bottom shelf, "Roastin' Chicken".
Like a sly fox, I snatched up that poultry and off home I bounded, excited and anxious to sample what I hoped would be a savoury sensation. Surely these chips cannot possibly taste like roasted chicken, I thought...and I was right, they didn't. If you're expecting to be f * *king clucking after eating these, you won't. But they weren't bad either. On some level, I wish they would have been atrocious, thereby allowing me to use such phrases as "foul fowl" or "these chicken chips laid an egg"...but they weren't atrocious. They were edible and not without their own individual flavour...but the big winner here goes to the thickness of the chip. As most women say, it is the thickness that counts and not the length...well, damn it, they're right. The girth of these spudly snacks packed more potato to the crunch than any other. Face it, Lays chips are so damn thin you can practically see right through them (much like a 1970s Cher wardrobe)...but Old Dutch gave new meaning to the letters OD, as I quickly munched away on these man-sized critters.
To all you delicate dainty dames out there, this is a truck-drivin' chip, not some pansy-ass-Richard-Simmons-in-a-frock-prancing-around-singing-some-queenie-Neil-Sedaka-tune type of chip. We're talking the real deal here...a chip muscle-ripping, ass-kicking, kung fu-licking Jean-Claude Van Damme would be proud to endorse. On the wang-o-meter these cock-flavoured* chips score a simple six inches, but six oh-so-thick inches that will have you returning for more till you're sore.
On a side note, I have discovered that lately all this chip reviewing has been wreaking havoc on my belt notch. Yes, I fear I may be busting out of my pants (and hopefully onto Alec Baldwin's lap) all in the name of junk food journalism. Perhaps a break is in order...or perhaps I should start reviewing something different, such as frozen vegetables or diet sodas...or should I just get fat and keep my public happy? I'll have to give this some thought...until then, Happy Chip Eating.
*Blogmistress's editorial note: This is cock as in chicken, not as in...wang.
This means the govt will only fall in January, which means elections in early March when the Libs will still have Dion as leader.
Unless the opposition lets Steve do what he wants through the Spring 2009, so they have a new leader (Iggy? oh no.) when the Tories finally go down in the summer? How much damage can Steve do with another 6 months in office and the freedom to introduce appalling legislation? Plenty!
It's all bad.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Since he is essentially a partisan political hack, and has no idea how to be Prime Ministerial and actually lead the country and all the people, as opposed to just leading his party, I expect nothing from him except slamming the opposition and trying to scare the bejeepers out of us all.
I'm hatin' him big time already.
UPDATE: 7:05 p.m. Shorter Steve: Separatists are scaaaaarrrry. Be scared! Separatists! Separatists!
Interesting note: In English he said "separatist" but in French he said "sovereignist". Doesn't hurt so much, does it? A--hole.
Prorogue: to discontinue a session of a parliament without dissolving it.
I'd never heard this word before yesterday. Now I can't get away from it.
Also, the King-Byng affair. I hadn't thought of that since Grade 10 Canadian History (compulsory).
As much as I would prefer this to be a crooning battle between Elvis and der Byngle (Blue Christmas vs White Christmas?) it's not.
The King-Byng Affair was a Canadian constitutional crisis that occurred in 1926 when theGovernor General of Canada, Lord Byng of Vimy, refused a request by the Prime Minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King, to dissolve parliament and call a general election. (wikipedia)
All we're missing now is to find out that Steve-o is getting advice from his dog or talking to portraits of long-dead relatives.
Steve has to go!
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
You know what they called a place whose govt falls every other month?
Really, do we want to be Italy? (Azzurris notwithstanding.) Do we really want to start following the Italian model of parliamentary democracy? I think not.
I will only support the Italian model of government if they can guarantee us access to superior pasta. No more of the standard brands we get in this country. I want the real, home-made stuff like I devoured in Tuscany.
If we are offered lip-smacking, tasty pasta, then the govt can rise and fall like a thermometer. I won't care. I'll be happy.
Monday, December 01, 2008
This not being Thailand, or India, or anywhere halfway exciting, it's typically Canadian in that it's all taking place in Parliament, and nobody except political junkies is even noticing, but it looks rather like the government's going to be changing next week. It's all somewhat dry.
As unconventional as this take-over might be, I'm not against it. If it gets rid of Harper for a while, well, why not? It looks like the NDP will have 6 Cabinet seats. Oh boy, Jack and his mustache are going to be even more unbearable. And Stephane will be PM after all. Odd. He lost the election, and everybody in his party hates him, but he gets to be PM. Now that's democracy!
And Steve-o's head will explode. Cool.
I couldn't eat my Doritos while watching a 650-lb naked guy lying in his bed, feeding his face.
Maybe I need to retain that image (like it isn't already burnt onto my retinas) for future dieting reference.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Why doesn't this happen more often? Why doesn't it happen every year?
Deep-discount bargain shopping is our version of The Hajj.
Dozens, if not hundreds, of people are crushed to death at The Hajj, and in worshipping our god, shopping, we can manage only one fatality. The retail gods will be angry. They will demand more human sacrifices or they will not be appeased.
I hope that poor clerk's family sues Wal-Mart for millions. The guy was just a temp, for god's sake. What a pointless death. Disgusting.
Dust? In my house? What a preposterous notion.
Anyway, no antibiotics, nothing needed. Just keep an eye on him. He's certainly acting more like himself today than he was 2 days ago.
Now I can relax and veg for the rest of the day. And the rest of the weekend. zzzz. This grey November weather is makin' me snoozy.
I have to take Mr. D. to the vet. Our appointment is inconveniently scheduled for 11:30, right smack in the middle of the day, so I took the whole day off. My boss agrees that a sick cat qualifies the cat's owner to take a sick day. So that's that.
I've spent all week in the company of a sneezing cat. As cute as cats are, when one sneezes repeatedly in your face, it ain't so pleasant. I suspect he has an abscessed tooth. We'll see. Whatever it is, is doesn't appear to be contagious, so that's a relief.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Americans get to eat stuffing today, and I still have a month to wait until Christmas for mine.
Grumble. I luv stuffing.
Why hasn't anybody developed the stuffing-flavoured potato chip? What are you waiting for, chip innovators? Do I have to do everything myself?
Regardless. I can report that these J&Cs are very, very yummy indeed. I did not find them particularly cheddarish, but they are tremendously jalapeno-y. Hawt! I ended up burning my tongue a bit, so I had to put the bag away.
Chip Tip: They really go well with a beer. I had mine with a Corona. Si, si, senor.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A lota is a watering can-type device that South Asian people use to clean their backsides. Everyone who knows me, knows I am fascinated by all things toilet-related (and that’s why I so love the Japanese!), and naturally the lota is now a subject of interest to me.
South Asians don’t use toilet paper. They wash up with water. And the one South Asian that I know, ahem, thinks that Western people are unclean for using toilet paper to wipe. Yeah, yeah, says I, me and my dirty bum. I do see the point, though. You wash every other part of your body with water, so why use dry paper in your delicate area? Water works best. I’m talkin’ like a convert, now.
I’m not really sure how it works, but lotas come in all sizes and shapes. And, if away from home, in a pinch, South Asian people will just carry water bottles or Coke bottles filled with water with them to the toilet. One of the weirder things I have seen on the Internet is the infamous coffee pot on the floor of your hotel room.
If you are in a hotel room, and spot a coffee pot on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, chances are your room was used by a South Asian, and they used the coffee pot as a makeshift lota. So, um, don’t take any chances. Go to Tim Horton’s. The lota/coffee pot doesn’t actually touch the person’s behind, but frankly, even if it doesn’t, you don’t wanna be touchin’ that thing. And ya know what? Even if the coffee pot is safely in the coffee maker, I still wouldn’t touch it. Maybe the maid just took it off the floor and stuck it back in its proper place. You really don’t know where that thing has been. I repeat: Go to Tim’s.
I love multiculturalism.
Sick days are not cumulative. On January 1, we go back to having 7 sick days in the bank for the calendar year. If I don't take any of them, they are lost 4-ever.
Of course, there is a possibility that I may fall sick in December and actually need them as opposed to being "sick" (i.e. Xmas shopping).
What would Jesus do? Or Felipe? Or Matty? Moises?
What an odd coincidence, as I did not know about this story when I posted about the current shortage of Adolphs in the world.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
In search of some salt satisfaction this past Friday, I secured a sack of Jalapeno & Cheddar Doritos. It having been many months since I had even considered purchasing anything with the Doritos trademark, I was obviously overcome by an unbelievable and overwhelming urge to have my fingers turn orange and smell for the rest of the evening. Besides, the deep rich green colour of the bag and the flames coming out of the chip design seemed both calming and warming on this particularly f * *king cold November day.
Now, after my last few rants, I must happily say, "Thank you. Mr. Doritos. Bless you and a shower of kisses upon your fanny for having gotten it right"...Needless to say, these chips were Jalapeno-y and Cheesy, exactly as the name had promised. Were they the cheesiest of this triangular snack family? No...Were they the hottest pyramid-shaped pleasure food around? No...What were they, then? Well, they were simple, comforting, and decidedly yummy...yes, simple like Mary Hart's brain , comforting like Roscoe Lee Brown's voice, and yummy like Alec Baldwin in a frayed Speedo, his burly bulbous bits tantalizingly tearing away at the thin fabric, his masculinity on the edge of total exposure, sweaty with seduction and a-drizzlin' with dong dew...Pardon me, ladies, whilst I fan myself back to reality ...Where was I? Oh yes, Jalapeno and Cheddar...mmmm!!!....On the wang-o-meter, these rock-hard eight inch-scoring treats (to quote AC/DC) shook me all night long.
Monday, November 24, 2008
He figures they will always have schemes and business plans together, even, he says "when they are old guys in their 40's".
I have to go back to work just to stop shopping. And I hate shopping. But I keep finding clothes that fit, so I have to buy them.
It's like passing a rest stop on the highway, I have to use it 'cause I dunno when the next available one will show up. Same goes for work clothes.
I'm single-handedly propping up the Canadian economy. (A Sony t.v. is next...I can just feel it coming.)
This weekend was difficult, but my aunt's funeral was nice and all her nieces and nephews were there, which is what she would've wanted, to have all of us together with her. I'm really glad I cancelled my vacation to attend.
I need one more day to recover and snooze.
Friday, November 21, 2008
ESTP: The Doers.
The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities. The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.
This is the most hilariously inaccurate description I have ever read. Especially that last line.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
From NY Times: “The problem is there is absolutely no silver lining visible” .
But, but, isn't there always a silver lining? Oil dropped below $50 a barrel today. I'm almost tempted to raise the themostat and burn a bit more of it just for fun (and comfort). I'm already tired of living in an igloo and it's only November. The cats are shivering because I simply refuse to heat the house at a reasonable level. Maybe I should splurge.
In other positive developments: The weather channel is forecasting 5 to 10 cm of snow one day next week. Joy!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
And, is it me, or did the 3-second love scene between Bond and Fields feel like it had already been edited for t.v., and by t.v. I mean t.v. back in 1975 when sex scenes in movies were almost completely cut for television. They might as well have just shown a train going through a tunnel, like in that Monty Python montage. (This is where Mr. Anonymous pipes in to tell me that is not from Monty Python.)
One person who has not received any air-time on this blog, and deserves to be a regular character, is my nosy neighbour, heretofore known as Mrs. Nosy.
I like Mrs. Nosy, I even leave her my keys when I am away so she can check the house and visit the cats. Everyone trusts her with their keys. She is home alone all day, and is lonely, and is a one-woman neighbourhood watch. She sees everything, and talks about everything to everybody. And always in a judgemental tone, although the reality is she knows nobody gives a shit about her judgement.
She also can be depended upon for the casual, off-the-cuff racial slur. Fun!
So this a.m. I am outside, and I’m telling her how much I am enjoying the car-sharing program I have joined. She asked: “oh, is that the grey car I saw in front of your house”. The grey car. Kumar’s grey car. I can tell she is very, very curious about the grey car.
I said no, I rented a blue car twice and once a red car. But I ignore her on the grey car. Hee hee. This is kinda fun.
She first mentioned the grey car just days after Kumar first came over. I ignored her that time too.
Last week, when he was leaving, I mentioned the neighbours to him, and he looked at me and said, in his wry, inimitable fashion: “Your neighbours know exactly what I’m doing here. Especially the nosy one.” Heh.
Wait until Mrs. Nosy notes that the grey car has changed to Ontario plates! I predict she won’t be able to contain herself. This is what I get for living on a street where nothin’ ever happens.
As far as the song selection goes, I was disappointed. None of the faves I was hoping to hear. And, frankly, if I never hear Tweedledee & Tweedledum again, that’s fine with me. Also, Thunder on the Mountain, I just don’t like it much. The set list on the website is wrong. The second song was Lay Lady Lay, another non-fave. Also, Ain’t Talkin’ is another one I’m not that keen on. Really not a good set list for me personally. (On the bright side, I didn’t have to hear Maggie’s Farm.)
This Wheel’s on Fire was an interesting oddity. I liked that. And I thought Memphis Blues Again was terrific. And Watchtower was really good last night.
Ya win some, ya lose some.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Opening titles are interesting.
An early scene is set in Siena in the town square, a place I have actually visited! Bond, unlike me, though, does not spend over an hour wandering aimlessly trying to find his bus stop. I, on the other hand, did not get attacked by bad guys, so there's that. Our experiences of Siena do not run parallel.
There's a bad guy with a distractingly awesome bad bowl haircut. (Spoiler alert: it's a hairpiece!)
The villain, Greene, bears an uncanny resemblence to my cousin, Claude. This kept throwing me out of the movie-watching experience, because I kept wondering if Claude thinks this guy looks like him too, or have enough people he knows seen the movie yet that someone may have told him. whatever.
The main Bond girl did not appeal to me. I found her uninteresting. Miss Fields, though, is perky and cool, in her limited number of scenes. And has great boots. More Strawberry Fields would've improved the movie for me.
The Canadian agent is rather meek and quiet. And polite. A stereotype in every way.
Not related to the movie just the theatre: There were 5 people in line. Two ladies ahead of me, followed by me, and two ladies behind of me. So what happens? The two ladies behind me tried to cut in front. I said "there's a line". And they backed down. Fuckin' people who go to Cavendish Mall.
He's still insisting this doesn't change a thing for us. Riiiight.
If he tells me to "chill" again, I'll punch him.
Monday, November 17, 2008
After last week's Spicy Piri unspicy chip debacle, this weekend I decided to sample the other President's Choice flavour that had recently hit the snack aisle...yes, Barbecue Tandoori.
As a barbecue chip, they were full of flavour and brimming with well-balanced BBQ-ness. "Sassy" and "Crunchily-munchable" are the first two words that spring to mind to describe these pleasantly palatable potatoes...
Now, here comes the shocker (if you haven't already figured it out)...Taste-wise, how the bloody f**k is one ever expected to make a Tandoori connection? C'mon, these chips were about as Indian-inspired as William Conrad in a sari!...Obviously, barbecue was the key word here and that's it! You could have just as easily have called them Bollywood Barbecue or Benny Hill Barbecue.
I'm beginning to think "PC" should henceforth be referred to as "Poorly-named Chips" instead of "President's Choice"...My advice to the chip-powers that be, and I repeat, "Stop with the f**king cutesy names"...If you want to put a flavour in your title, then make sure they taste like it. As bad as Herr's Horesradish chips were (see an earlier review), they at least had it right where name and taste were concerned. And if you want cutesy names, then by all means have fun...I would love to purchase a bag of Karen Carpenter Ketchup, Brokeback Mountain Bacon, Raunchy Paunch-Inducing Ranch, or even Venereal Vinegar for that matter...
In closing, on the wang-o-meter, these delicious chips do score an elegantly erect 8.5 inches for lip-smacking barbecue delight, but a shamefully shrivelly-withered cold-showered 1 inch when it comes to Tandoori taste.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Sis and I had gone to see her in the nursing home just last weekend, and we are so glad now that we made that trip. We didn't know it would be our last. I really thought she'd still be around in December when I got back from Cuba. And that I would get to see her again. But no.
This has been quite the shock. And I decided overnight that I couldn't go to Cuba. Cuba will always be there, but this event needs to be marked. The funeral is next Saturday.
On the practical side, I did have cancellation insurance and it does cover this, so I hope my financial loss is minimal. The personal loss, on the other hand, is immense.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Anyway, the point of this post to wish Good Luck, Best of Luck, to Ms Mushrooms this evening at her book launch and reading! Read well, don't be nervous and sell some books!
Because, as our friend Raoul, likes to say:
TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT, JOHNNY BOY!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
This past weekend, to my initial delight, I noticed that President's Choice had released two new flavours of chips in their upscale silver bags...BBQ Tandoori and Spicy Piri. I checked the chili reading on the package for Spicy Piri and it read "three chilis"...their hottest rating to date. "Yowsa and Hot Damn," I thought, quickly reaching for a bag. At a $1.69, these high-end chips are a steal. So, that evening, after supper, I quickly ripped open the bag and dived in. "These aren't that spicy"...but continued to eat...and you know what? They didn't get any spicier afterwards. Either I picked up a batch gone wrong or the f * *king idiots at the PC corporation have no idea what the word "spicy" means. Folks, pick up a dictionary or go Wikipedia it...From now on, stop with the cutesy flavour names and just put on the pacakge "These chips are not spicy at all" or "These chips will set your f **king mouth a-flame so bad, you'll be crying like a five-year old girl who accidentally wandered into the midst of a Japanese Dodge Ball game." Seriously, these chips were about as hot as a Don Knotts centerfold. Is it possible the chip industry is losing momentum? Is the decline in the US economy affecting our potato snacks as well? Can't Obama do anything about this?...On the wang-o-meter, these chips score points for taste and crispiness...but, where their spiciness is concerned, they rank a locker-room humiliating 2.5.
(Nanuk's Editorial Note: Shoulda gone for the Tandoori.)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Which is dull, because any Russian playwright worth his salt will tell you that conflict is the stuff of drama, and harmony is well, bor-ing.
(I realize that Russian playwrights have nothing to do with Milton. I'm enveloped in literary references for some reason. And in two weeks I will get to visit a whole bunch of Hemingway-related places in Havana. Which would be cool if I liked Hemingway, which I don't. Perhaps I'll have a change of heart.)
The man is 108. I can't believe how good he looks. He seems to have all his marbles and looks about 30 years younger than his actual age.
He probably has more energy than I do. I'm impressed!
On Saturday, though, sis and I went to our parents' grave and we left poppies for my dad. So we did our pre-emptive boo-hooing on the weekend.
Time really flies. On 11 November 1998, I visited houses with a real estate agent, and I set foot in this little abode for the first time. I saw three cottages of the same type. This one was in terrible shape, but I knew it was this one I wanted. And the price seemed reasonable. Ten years later, the price seems unbelievably unreasonably cheap. What a deal.
One of the first things I said I would do when I moved in was to remove all the silly, ornate, golden light switches (they are so tacky Italian, I said) and replace them with sensible ones. And ten years later, the ornate Italiano light switches are still there. I don't even notice them anymore. Whatever.
Monday, November 10, 2008
He is in salary negotiations for a job in Toronto. Having gotten to this stage of the process, he is confident that he's getting the job. So I said: "Well, that's it for us." He was aghast and accused me of wanting to dump him. Which is so not true. I said: "You're going to move to Toronto". He said: "so what?"
He's an unrealistic goof. He thinks he can work 5 days a week, come back to Montreal on weekends, and we'll continue to see each other. His family is here, and he runs a software business here which he will continue to be a partner in. So weekends will be to keep up with the biz.
And he still thinks there's time for me. The man with the worst time-management skills I have ever met is telling me "Chill, woman" everything will be alright. I remain unconvinced. I knew this wouldn't last long, but I didn't expect it to be over before Xmas for these reasons. I just thought I would throttle him by Xmas, and that would end it. I guess there's still time....
Now he's worried that I'll cheat on him while I'm in Cuba. oh brother.
I was surprised to see the news of Paloma barrelling into Cuba over the weekend. I quoted Maxwell Smart to myself: Missed it by that much.
Paloma starts with a "P". You can't go much further than that in the hurricane alphabet, can you? I don't want to meet Queenie or Quentin or Quasimodo.
So the last two weeks of November should be okay, right? Right? I ain't never done been in a hurricane before, and I'm not interested in living' it. I don't even own Anderson-Cooper-style hip waders.
Note to self: Add rain poncho to packing list.
Now I can't get it out of my head.
I'm passing this info on in the hope that it will get lodged in somebody else's brain, and I can stop singing it.
Try it....The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the great lake they call Gitchee Gumee....keep going....
Friday, November 07, 2008
So, before deciding to “get serious” (euphemism) he asks H what her religion is. She said “Protestant” and it’s clear he doesn’t know what that is. (You’re not from around here, are you, son?) Anyway he looked worried and asked her if that meant Jewish. She said no. So onward they proceeded.
I said to my friend that Protestant is too specific. She should’ve just said Christian. Guaranteed he doesn’t give a shit about the differences between Protestants and Catholics (Sorry, Ireland). We’re all just soiled Christians in his book.
Anyway, everything seems fine but I see a big, big problem. He has already introduced her to the Koran. Run for your life, kid, says I. And this was even before the euphemism took place.
The quotable Kumar on Judaism, Christianity and Islam: “They all started from the same books, and then everything got all fucked up.” Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
K: You know, I thought you were lying to me about owning a car.
N: Why would I lie about that?
K: Because you take the bus to work.
N: What’s wrong with that?
K: (Incredulously) Who takes the bus when they own a car???
N: I do.
N: Because I don’t like to drive.
K: I don’t get it.
We made it past the milestones of Halloween and US election day. Can this last to US Thanksgiving? Probably, but only because I’ll be on vacation for the last two weeks of November. Then there’s Provincial Election Day. (Note to self: no more political talk.) Then Xmas, which he doesn’t celebrate so at least there’s that. Brother.
This week, he said "Tell me more about the car sharing thing." And I thought, why, so you can mock it? I said "Later. After I've tried it".
This raises some interesting points:
1) Did none of her handlers knows that she was not supposed to give a speech?
1a) If so, did nobody tell her?
1b) If they did tell her, did she just tell them to write one for her anyway?
1c) If they didn't know, what were they doing working on a campaign? or
2) Did she write a speech herself?
O, ye gods of news leaks, if 2) is in fact the case, please, please let that speech find its way onto the Internet. I so want to read it.
Other weird fact, her 7-year-old daughter bought a $700 purse with Republican funds? This is gossip gold.
My first rental went okay, but I got stuck in traffic in (where else?) Lasalle (at the stupid overpass) and got the car back to the lot with literally only 2 minutes to spare.
Lesson 1: Always book way more time than I think I need. I'd already thought I'd done that last night, but it still wasn't enough. Stupid Lasalle traffic/construction jam. grr.
But if you look at the standard cut-offs dates, the last year for baby boomers to be born was 1964. New Prez O was born, like me, and Mr. Anonymous, and Ms. Mushrooms, and Mr. Mushrooms, in 1961.
(Aside, will Oprah be willing to share her initial with the New Prez? I predict that not only will she do that, she will let him be on the cover on her magazine! Maybe even without her! Let’s see if that happens.)
(Michelle O, on the other hand, will only get a cover if she shares it with Oprah.)
Back to the topic. Even though ’64 is the cut-off, I have never felt like a boomer. I’ve always felt more like I belong to disgruntled Gen X. I don’t remember much about Woodstock and all that hippy stuff. And the Kennedys and Martin Luther King. I still dislike hippies. My first political memory is, however, of Trudeau in 1968 or 69. I still don’t think this makes me a boomer. PET came to our MP’s house which was just a couple of blocks from our house, and my sister made me go see him. She boosted me up and I said (memorably) “All I can see is the top of his bald head.” I never went in for Trudeau-mania.
To me, boomers are like Clinton and ding-dong W, in their 60’s or late 50’s. They are people worrying about retirement. They have grandchildren. They are not my generation. I’m a tail-end boomer, which is just like being a Gen Xer. We arrived when all the fun was over. We got the leftovers.
So is New Prez O, a boomer? I think this came out clearly in the campaign. Trying to tie him to the Weather Underground? He said “I was 8.” Not a boomer.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
My first thought was "Don't make me hate you." Second thought: "You cannot be serious" but I knew he was.
It has been obvious that he is a political conservative but I've been in denial about it. Now I have to face that awful fact. Ick. I don't want to be James Carville and Mary Matalin (reversed). This is grim.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
DALLAS (AP) -- A man has proven that you can never have too much underwear when he stole more than 130 pairs of panties from a Victoria's Secret store.
The report did not indicate what styles or sizes were stolen.
I see that the little town that always votes first, Diggler's Ditch, went 15-6 for BO. Does this mean anything? I dunno. But if it had gone for McCain, I'd be drinking already. I know that much.
This morning, I was thinking what if on Inauguration Day, Obama comes out in some weird garb, and declares "They were right! I AM a secret muslim! Ha! Ha! (evil laughter)" . Uh, then what?
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sunday, November 02, 2008
I shall be in el landa de Fidel, and thus will miss the shiftless bum on this swing through town. Why do I figure this won't be the last?
Answer: it's the "never-ending" tour. And it truly is.
The Quebec govt is currently running radio ads that tell us to greet one another by using the word “Bonjour”. This offends me to my core. There are many ways to greet each other, the ad says, but the best way is to say “Bonjour”. The fucking govt is telling us how to speak to each other. There’s a word for that.
I’m proud and happy to have been born into a bilingual, two-culture family. In this country, I consider that hitting the jackpot. But don’t tell me how to talk to other people. Don’t tell me what to think. Don’t tell me how to act. How dare you.
I was ranting about this to Kumar yesterday. (Yep, he’s already being subject to my rants. Lucky thing.) and when I used the word “fascist”, his eyebrows leapt up in a very cartoonish fashion.
The voice of the woman (of course it’s a woman’s voice!) in the ad is soft, gentle and has a lovely, not heavy, not harsh, Quebecois accent. The best way to deliver an intolerant, racist message is smoothly and gently, right? This pisses me off so much. Just be honest, put out ads where a strong, loud male voice says “Parlez francais or else get lost”. Grrr.
Friday, October 31, 2008
This game being the fact that he threatens to prescribe a statin, and I promise to reform my bad eating habits, so he gives me another 6 months to change. I don't change. And on we go.
Yesterday was the day of reckoning. I left his office with a prescription. Our actual exchange:
Me: You are going to give me hell.
Dr. S.: No. I'm not going to give you hell, I'm going to give you a prescription.
So now I am truly middle-aged. But he told me he has taken people off statins if they can show him that they have truly and for the long-term "changed their lifestyle". If I truly and in the long run "change my lifestyle", and the change will be visible on my blood tests, he will take me off the statin in a year's time.
Can I truly and in the long run "change my lifestyle"? I want to!! I really do!! I don't want to take pills. But today I had a Big Mac and fries for lunch, because work is pissing me off and I had to stress-eat with my colleagues. I'm screwed.
She's 48 years old. And taking driving lessons.
I feel for her. I got my license at 23. To this day, I still hate my sadistic driving instructor, Darryl. He did his job well, I passed my test, but I hated him. Darryl the asshole.
I did not get behind the wheel of a car for 14 years after that. So, at 37, it was like having to learn all over again, and I did not have a choice. I HAD to drive.
I can only imagine what my cousin's going through. (Stay away from LaPrarie!)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
There's only 5 days left. And only three of them are "November surprise" days.
Does this mean that the power-that-be (i.e. Mom) has accepted that she's not going to be Veep next week, so basically the kids get off the wedding hook? I hope so. Making those kids get married was such a dumb-ass idea.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Yes, for those of you not in the region, it effing snowed overnight. The roofs were white this morning. Gaaaaaawd. Just came in from outside, and a few flakes are still falling in the pretty cold wind. Fortunately they are melting on contact with the ground. Small mercies.
2 and a half weeks until vacation.... ah! This is exactly why I planned a November vacation this time around.
I do, however, remember Tony Perez doing a Dorion Suits commercial. (Watch, this is where Mr. Anonymous will pop up and say it wasn't Perez but Andres Gallaraga, but I'm SURE it was Tony Perez.)
That commercial, I can still recite: "They got so many suits, in so many sizes, it's easy to pick out what you want". At least I think that was what he was saying, his accent was pretty heavy. It started with something like "Going to get myself a couple of goooood-looking suits. Where you gonna send me? To Dorion Suits."
And, on the French side, Jacques Laperriere did commercials for a headache pill. Can't remember which brand. But he overstressed the word "penible". It was always "pour les maux de tetes peeeeeniiiible" My mother and I would be in stitches every time.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
I'm trying to remember the product and the hockey player in an old tv commercial, where the player got "two minutes for looking so good".
It popped into my head (at least partially) tonight, and the only thing I remember clearly is how dumb it was.
You know who I bet is loving this? Fidel.
Finally la Revolucion socialista has made it to US shores. Viva! He can die happy now.
On the aesethetic front, I was watching tv last night, and man, the Obamas are such a good-looking couple. He's handsome, and she's an absolute knock-out. And their girls are adorable. It's going to be Camelot. The whole world will fall in love with America again. I'm so looking forward to it. I want to feel what it was like when Kennedy was elected, and I believe that is what we are going to experience.*
Contrast with the McCains. Poor John. All that skin cancer has really left him looking bad. Of course, this is not his fault. His eyes, on the other hand, are crazy. When he gets that scary look, I think of the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode with the rapper Crazy Eyes Killah.
But Cindy. Yikes. All that botox has made her face so tight and scary. And that is her fault. You can barely see what is left of the beautiful woman she used to be. She could've been an elegant older woman now instead of a piece of plastic.
(*Yes, I am fully aware of the ominous undertone of that comparison. Let's not go there yet.)
I guess this is how people declare a commitment in our modern world? Funny.
I don't think I'll delete mine completely because "a while" is not much of an accurate figure. But I'm changing the status from "single" to "seeing someone" and making the account dormant. This is amusing.
Monday, October 27, 2008
I call Time Out.
We just had an October election, we have American election madness in November, and now a provincial in Dec?
I have election overload. Uncle! Oncle!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
But the cover was all about Madonna's divorce, and I just couldn't resist. I had to have it. Look at these headlines:
They both had secret lovers!
Guy called her "old, fat, ugly, wrinkled"!
Madonna's slaps, months without sex!
On A-Rod: "It's like she spit in Guy's face" !
Relieve me of my $5.00, please.
I'm not much of a Madonna fan (forgive me, Reservoir Dogs connaisseurs). I like her okay, but I don't own a single CD of hers. But I've always respected her as a businesswoman. She's been a hugely successful rich, rich woman for 25 years, and to my knowledge, she's done it all on her own with no Rene Angelil running her life for her. If she gets shafted in this divorce, I'll be really surprised. I can't believe she doesn't have an iron-clad pre-nup. She'll find a way to turn this to her advantage. I'm sure of it.
The gas responsible for the foul odour of flatulence and rotten eggs may play an important role in regulating blood pressure, Canadian researchers say in a study released Friday. (CBC)
I've always been proud of my low blood pressure, and now I learn there's a way to demonstrate it. prrrrt.