News from the USA

You know, with the election coming up and the war still raging, and the economy tanking, you'd think there'd be more important subjects to occupy the media than Barack Obama's pastor. You'd think.

All I can say is: thank goodness for Roger Clemens. Because for all the hoo-haw and mock disgust over Obama's pastor, what the country really needs is an Idiot's Idiot.

And he's not even in trouble over steroids this week!

Yesterday, it was his alleged affair with a 15-year-old. Where did he think he was living? Austria?

Today, it's that he used his private jet to fly babes all over the country. Well, heck. Just what is a private jet for if not babe-flying. Please, he's a baseball player. Who else is he gonna transport across state lines for sexual shenanigans? Umpires?

NaPoMo goes out with a Bang

JAW Fan's last contribution to National Poetry Month:

T'is with great sadness, I must say
That NaPoMo does end today.
It's been a pleasure, sharing this time,
Celebrating the month with laughter and rhyme
Alas, it is over, so please don't cry
But the time has come to say good-bye
I have had great fun "doing my thang"
And occasionally referencing the glorious wang
To have been a part of this poet arena
Was greater than the funky cold medina
The only omission...and it's really a sin
Is that I didn't pen one single poem 'bout wind.
So I want to ensure, before I depart,
That the month's final rhyming word is "fart."

Hockey Round-up

(Sorry JAW Fan, but it IS that time of year.)

Avalanche = Crispy toast
Rangers = Angry, crispy toast
Sharks = Sharkey toast
Canadiens = If they lose tonight, it doesn't matter who Carbonneau decided to put in net, he will be crucified for it. Carbo toast.

End of the Month

Are your taxes done?

McDump Returns

I myself did not have a Sneaky McDump sighting yesterday, but my colleague did.
She popped into my office to describe the events. He emerged from the stairwell, cast a furtive glance up and down our hallway, and then ducked into the men's room. There was no mistaking him, she said. He was very suspicious-looking.

She doesn't know his real name. Nor do I. He's remains the Men's Room Enigma...

Hockey News

Avalanche = toast
Rangers = toast
Canadiens = starting to brown a little, but maybe not quite toast yet.

Oh No!

There are only THREE days left in National Poetry Month. This is terrible.

I hereby put forward a motion to extend NaPoMo throughout the month of May. That's an additional 31 days of NaPoMo fun!

Who's with me?

Paranoia?

Ever go out in public when you're sick and feel like everyone is gawking at you like you're the Elephant Man?

I had to go to the mall to buy cat food, human food and a newspaper, and I felt like everyone was doing a double-take to look at me. Which they totally were not doing. But it felt like it.

Yes, world, here I am. Looking like crap. Feast your judgemental, unblinking eyes upon me.

Argh, I'm back at worb

I still feel lousy, but I'm here. Maybe I'll go hobe at lunch time.

My boss told me to go see our nurse*, but I can't stand our nurse because she is so biased. If you're a friend of hers she will write you a note to send you home, but if you're not, she'll say, well since you made it in, I don't think you need to go home. B*tch.

I'm not a friend of hers, so I don't even want to bother seeing her.

*Yes, Ms Mushrooms, we have a company nurse. I know our "benefits" amaze you. Did I mention our Book Fair is next month?

Argh, I'm sick

I have a cold and I'm at home being miserable. Grrr. Sometimes circumstances just can't help but make me feel run-down, and then I'm out for the count. oh well.

The funeral was really nice. A small church, but pretty full up. I did not fall down, melt down and break down. In fact, the lectern was pretty high and there were a lot of flowers surrounding it, so my friends said they could really only see me from the top of my head to my cheeks. But the sound was clear, and my shaking hands were well-hidden so all was successful.

Linda's mother was very nice to me and seemed genuinely happy to see how many good friends her daughter had. She's a tough lady. She seems to have spent the last week supporting her distraught son-in-law. Linda's husband seems inconsolable. That was tough to witness.

Oh boy

This time tomorrow, I will be one of several eulogists (or eulogizers?) at my friend's funeral.

I've sent the text off to all our gang of friends and have been getting back positive comments. If I can avoid panicking and falling off a platform, or tripping and braining myself on the lectern, everything should be cool.

I keep thinking I should take a tranquilizer and a shot of something before the service, but that might lead to some Lucky Jim-type public speaking disaster. Sober I shall be.

Hockey Riot, I want a riot! Hockey Riot, a riot of my own

Idiots. How embarrassing.

And this, folks, is why the Canadiens should not get past Round 2.

Eye Exam Time

I've been meaning to schedule an appointment with the optometrist for months now. I'm due.

This morning I read this headline: Pepe blesses Ground Zero.

Who's Pepe?

Oh. Pope. I see.

In Hockey News

It's going to Game 7. I am well pleased.

I have noted before that I do not dislike the Canadiens, but I do dislike a lot of their annoying fans, and for this reason, I am often quite happy when they lose. heh heh. This being such an all-or-nothing town, the commentators were already getting their golf bags ready last night. Ye of little faith.

This being said, last night just before the game, I was on the phone with my 81-year-old Aunt Therese, who is a big fan of Carey Price. She had to hang up at 7:00 precisely because the game was coming on and she had to watch her favourite, Carey Price. Now the last thing I want is for Ma Tante to be disappointed, so I'll have to be rooting for the Canadiens tomorrow night.

You know what is a great Canadian moment? Having an 81-year-old widow hang up on you fast because the hockey game's coming on. I loved that.

Funny Old Guys

From this morning's McLaughlin Group:

Mort Zuckerman: "I love Abigail Adams. I used to date her before she married John!"
McLaughlin: "I used to date her mother. "

HA!

Oh Questy!

CNN reporter and lunatic Richard Quest was arrested for possession of meth, and loitering in a park.

This explains his nutty behaviour. Of course it's drugs. All these years I just assumed he'd been dropped on his head as a child.

A Mere 3 Hours Later...

My first load is hanging on the line. Situation functional, if not ideal. Translation: Yeah, there's a drippy tube, but that can be fixed after this weekend's washes are completed. Hooray.

Also, what happened to spring? We've gone from winter to summer with no transition in between. Well, it's not like Al Gore hadn't warned us. But it is rather disconcerting having the weather be so warm so fast.

My tulips have sprouted like some mutant creatures in a horror movie. Slow down, guys, slow down.

Also, the cats needed a lot of brushing this week. They were in a hurry to throw off their heavy winter coats, I guess. Shedding like crazy. Now they are chic and swell in their slim summer wear. And lying in the sun by the open windows. Open windows? Already? Yep.

Life Goes On

I now return to my regularly scheduled programming.

I was prepared to be hunkered down for the day, awaiting the delivery of my new washer, because the clerk at the store told me the delivery was scheduled for Saturday "between 7 a.m. and early evening". When I asked if they could narrow that range down a bit, they said "no".

So I got up at 6:30 (on a Saturday!) just in case they were early, fully expecting them to arrive in the "early evening". But no, my Saturday is not ruined. They arrived at 7:54 and were gone by 8:02. Yay!

My new Maytag is rather pretty.

Now I have to install the thing. Never a dull moment. Why do I suspect that my next post will be entitled "Anybody got any tips on installing a washing machine?"

This time it's for real

Linda died about an hour ago.

Hockey News (apologies to JAW Fan, but it just has to get done)

While the whole city is watching the Canadiens and the Bruins, and the route numbers on our city buses light up to say “Go Habs Go”, and our fire stations are covered in Canadiens banners, and more than a few dog-walkers have little Canadiens capes for their faithful companions, I am also watching the Flyers and the Capitals, and it is a fantastic series. I even stayed up to watch double overtime last night. It was hair-raising. Unfortunately, though, Ovetchin hasn’t done anything yet and I fear the Caps are almost out. Too bad.

The Senators were mercifully put out of their misery quickly. Thank gawd. If they could’ve been eliminated in 3, that would’ve been even better, but you can’t change the rules.

I fear a big crack has opened up in the Canadiens’ armour. Price looked terrible last night. The pressure is finally getting to him. I feel sorry for anybody who has to play on that team. The Bruins have deserved their wins, and the Habs haven’t deserved theirs, so I’d like to see this go 7 games, so Boston can bow out honourably.

Another Polar Bear Cub!

Here's Wilbaer:



After Knut and Flocke, he's the latest German Celebrity Polar Bear Cub.

Honestly, though, this could be a year-old picture of Knut, or a three-month-old picture of Flocke, and we wouldn't know the diff, would we? Face it, all these cuties look alike to the untrained human eye.


How come Germany has become the Land of the Celebrity Polar Bear Cub? We actually have polar bears in this country and none of ours is a celebrity! This seems wrong.

Life imitates Monty Python

She’s not dead yet!

One of our gang just called Linda’s boyfriend to offer support and sympathy, and he told her Linda is still in a coma and hasn’t died yet. What the hell??? I mean, what the hell???

Apparently, a member of their gang of friends (nobody I know, thank god) started phoning other friends saying she had died. What kind of total asshole does that? How can anyone start relaying information like this without being sure? I’m beyond appalled.

Her family does not expect her to linger long in the coma, and all life support systems have been shut off, but as of this moment, she’s still alive.

Who needs friends like this? There’s no limit to the utter stupidity of people. So now we all return to our death watch. This is unbelievable.

I can't express how angry I am at this person I don’t even know.

The Long Good-bye

My friend Linda died last night. She was a great girl. This is a very sad day.

She found out she had pancreatic cancer less than 3 weeks ago. I cannot believe how fast this has happened.

Linda always wrote birthday cards with a poem in them that started “Roses are red, violets are blue” and this was usually followed with a couplet about a) being drunk or b) being hung-over.

In her honour, I say:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Linda, you’re gone
And I’ll miss you.

I'm throwing in the towel

Headline from the Times of London:
Drinking, smoking and junk food give you Alzheimer's, research suggests

I'm marking the calendar: April 16, 2008. The day I officially fucking gave up on life.

Time to quote Leonard: I've seen the future, brother, it is murder.

Papal Visit '08

Benny 16 landed in the USA yesterday. There sure were a lot of Roman Catholics on the nightly news last night. Every network has its Papal Analyst on stand-by, I guess.

But CBS News wins because they have a correspondent who is a) an actual priest and b) hot-looking. Who can compete against that? And do you have to be raised Catholic to find certain priests hot-looking? Was any non-Catholic watching CBS News last night and thinking, wow, that priest is pretty hot? And would the same man, if he were not a priest at all, still be hot-looking? Or is it all in the collar? I like to believe this warped thinking is exclusive to Catholics. Warpedness is our home turf, after all.

Speaking of turf, the Pope will be saying Mass on Sunday at Yankee Stadium (that's where the Yankees play, in case you didn't know that). Suddenly, I feel a poem coming on...

Physio

Whirlpool
Ultrasound
Electric current
Ice pack

Repeat in one week.

Electric current feels grrrreat. But I wouldn't try it at home.

NaPoMo - midpoint

National Poetry Month marches on.

JAW Fan is not at work today, but fortunately he did leave behind a poem on a relevant topic, which I can use in his absence.

Therefore, without futher ado...

In an office, there worked a man
Who had a hang-up 'bout using the can
In order to do his number 2 chore
He used the john on another floor
But Nanuk caught on to his little game
And so we decided to give him a name
And that's why this man with the troublesome rump
Is henceforth known as Sneaky McDump

(P.S. For anyone keeping score, I think his Stephen Chow poem is the best so far.)

Nanukian Adventures in Medicine (A continuing series)

What a day off.

Started at the Royal Vic where I had a barium swallow x-ray with video. This is post-op follow-up to see if my guts are functioning properly. The video part is quite fun because I could see the monitor as I sipped that yummy barium beverage and watched it swirl down my esophagus in real-time with each sip and downward it went into the rest of my guts. I like video. Then came the x-ray which wasn't so fun. I was lying on a movable table and got tossed and turned and rolled around so the barium would spread all over my innards while the resident clicked away. I have been photographed from every possible angle. Call me Paris!

Then I went to the General to visit my friend who has cancer. She's in Intensive Care and has a million tubes in her and is on a respirator, so she cannot talk. It's very discouraging. But she could squeeze my hand and nod her head, so it was good to know she is alert and understands everything we say. Life sucks, though. I chatted with her mom and her sister, and then went home, counting my blessings.

Then in the p.m. I went to the Queen E to get my sprained ankle looked at since it's still hurting two and a half weeks after the fall. Looks like it's not broken, but I start physio tomorrow afternoon. I've never had physiotheraphy before. Another new adventure in medicine for me. 2008 has turned into a continuation of 2007. I'm using up more than my fair share of the national health care budget!

If there's a poem about this, it's going to be an epic....

Chow Time

At the movies yesterday, I saw a poster for a new comedy called CJ7 starring Stephen Chow.

I was excited, but I've just been reading about it and it sounds awful.

How disappointing. I feel like we've gone a zillion years without a new Stephen Chow movie and what's coming looks totally lame.

So where's my billionaire?

If you're a brunette, you're more likely to marry a successful man than your blonde counterparts. A study analysed the hair colour of the partners of the world's top 100 billionaires to determine if there is a predominant hair colour wealthy men seen to go for. The majority by a long way were brunettes, with 62% of billionaires marrying women with brown hair. (Times of London)

Remember the days when the Times of London was a serious newspaper?

In other wealth news, an acquaintance of a friend of mine won a lottery last week. It is one of those cash-for-the-rest-of-your-life scratch tickets. I believe it is $1000 a week for life, and the person who won is only 19 years old. Apparently, the young lady in question has already bought a house. I guess every bank would know that she is an excellent mortgage candidate.

All week I've been trying to imagine what life would've been like if I had known from the age of 19 that I'd always have money. Without working. Unless I felt like it. And I could quit when I wanted, no risk. Or work only a few months of the year.

The word of the day: Googlegänger

This is a person you discover when Googling your own name. It is someone who has the same first and last names as you do.

Which is all fine and good when you have a “normal” first and last name, like, fer instance, Mr. Anonymous does. Or Mrs. Anonymous, for that matter.

But when you have a weird-ass family name like I do, there aren’t a lot of Googlegängers out there for you to discover.

If I recall correctly, there is a second “Nanuk of the North” out there, and she is from Syracuse, New York. I suppose it would be kinda cool to meet her. If only to ask her how many people consistently mispronounce her name. Or ask her if she is Chinese? Or tell her she doesn't look Chinese. Or ask her if her father was Chinese.

On the National Poetry Month front: what rhymes with Googlegänger? I can’t wait to find out!

Torch

Weird fact: The tradition of the Olympic torch relay was started by the Nazis in 1936.

Weirder fact: The Chinese have hired Leni Riefenstahl to film it again.

Why not? She did such a good job in '36. And she's only 150 years old!

Yikes! I'm moving to another planet

The Canadian Cancer Society predicted yesterday that by 2010 (that's just 2 years from now, folks) one Canadian in two will have some form of cancer during their life. One in two. 50%. That's half of us. Is that clear enough?

Look around your workspace and count every second head. That's a lot of people. It's us and everyone we know.

This is alarming because in the past week I have learned of two serious cancer cases: one a friend, and one a work colleague. Both cases are grim.

How can I worry about cancer when I've got food shortages and food riots to worry about? My worrying brain is overloaded.

Stress and worry cause cancer, don't they? I'm doomed.

I'm gonna go look at pictures of cute baby polar bears. They're doomed too. D'oh. There's nowhere to hide!

Look! It's Flocke, the polar bear cub

Just look at her little face. Aw! She's 4 months old now and still adorable. But we can tell by looking at her claws that she's well on her way to becoming a terrorizing killing machine. Aw! So cute!

Question

If you were Sneaky McDump, what would be more distressing?

a) Knowing that some woman has realized what you are up to?
or
b) Knowing she is blogging about it?
or
c) Neither of the above. (One's bowel being the most distressing of all...)

Guess who I just saw?

Mr. Sneaky McDump!

I hadn't seen him since I blogged about him.

I guess his gastro problems must've gone away for a while, and now they are back.

I did notice he's gotten a haircut, but somehow I don't think this is related to the issue at hand.

Food around the Corner

In case you haven’t been paying attention, it appears the world is on the brink of a big food supply crisis.

Drought and inflation (caused by oil prices) have started wreaking havoc in some places, and it is spreading. There were protests against the rising price of pasta in Italy! Pasta in Italy could become unaffordable. Is nothing sacred?

The price of wheat is skyrocketing. Thanks in part to the Australian drought of the past few years.

There have been many food riots in countries all over the world. So, countries that normally export a lot have reigned in their supplies in order to feed their own citizens.

And yesterday I read that India has stopped exporting all non-basmati rice. Note this is non-basmati. I breathe a nervous sigh of relief. If India were to halt my supply of basmati rice, then it REALLY would be a crisis of biblical proportions. I might even have to write a sternly-worded letter to the Indian Ambassador.

April

April is National Poetry Month.

Hmm. I don't have much to say about this.


So much depends
on
a man
from Nantucket?

Our Modern World

My sis is having knee surgery today. Right now as I type this, actually.

About half an hour ago, I get an e-mail from my niece, sent via her infamous BlackBerry. It contained a picture of my smiling sister in the waiting room, in her hospital pajamas, paper robe and slippers.

It felt very immediate. Technology is odd, sometimes.

Hockey Playoffs

It’s that time of year again. I’ve been reviewing the match-ups (Canuckistanian teams only).

Ottawa vs Pittsburgh. Sigh. The Senators are sunk. Not that they deserve to go past the first round, as they have been positively crapola all season. They are lucky to have made it this far.

Montreal vs Boston. This should (in theory) be easy for the Canadiens. I’m quite certain they will breeze through this (ominous music builds in background). I’m even ready at this point to say that Montreal will win the Eastern Conference. But then they will get trounced by whoever wins the West. They aren’t winning the Cup.

Calgary vs San Jose. Hmm. This ain’t so good. But I don’t know much about the Western Conference, so I’ll just cross my fingers that Calgary pulls this off.

Fearless Prediction: Cup goes to Detroit.

Chuck Heston Dies

Well, now they can pry the rifle out!

Eggs for Breakfast

Earlier this week I came across a YouTube of Gordon Ramsay preparing scrambled eggs. They looked so good, I decided to attempt to use his method this a.m. As he said in the video, nobody has time to do this on a weekday, but on the weekend, yeah.

I had to substitute margarine for butter (no butter in the house, as usual) and 1% milk for creme fraiche (obviously, no creme fraiche in the house), but despite my inferior ingredients, they turned out really yummy. Frankly, I was surprised at how different they were from my usual scrape-the-eggs-around-the-pan scrambled eggs.

I'm converted to the on-the-fire, off-the-fire, stir like crazy methodology. Like most good things, it requires more effort but it's worth it.

Why can't I apply this to the remaining 99.9% of activities in my life?

Lighten Up Mates

CANBERRA, Australia (AP) -- Australia's prime minister came under fire at home Friday over a playful salute he gave President Bush at a NATO summit, which critics said seemed to suggest Australian subservience to Washington.

Oh come on. I don't think it is usually necessary to tell Australians to lighten up, but really. Look at this from Bush's perspective: He's used to having his ass kissed repeatedly and enthusiastically by an Aussie PM. A playful salute is a really big comedown. It's almost an insult!

Rah Rah

I just saw an advert for a new Russian restaurant called Rasputin.

I know I'm going to suffer a couple of Abba-related comments, but frankly, we've all seen pictures of Rasputin.

Is that a face you associate with a tasty lunch? I wouldn't want that grubby creep going anywhere near my plate.

Black Gold Indeed

In December 2006 I paid 68 cents a litre for heating oil. Yesterday, I paid $1.06 a litre.

I've run out of complaints. Somebody is getting mighty rich out of this deal, and it ain't me.

More Fun with Finns

Regular readers of this blog know that nothing holds my interest like the sex lives of Finnish politicians. Fortunately for me, they get themselves in trouble on a regular basis.

From The Globe & Mail:

"HELSINKI — Finland's Foreign Minister Ilkka Kanerva lost his post Tuesday over a text message scandal involving an exotic dancer, party officials said Tuesday.

Mr. Kanerva initially denied magazine reports that he sent about 200 messages by cellphone to dancer Johanna Tukiainen. But last week he apologized publicly, acknowledging that he had sent some messages yet insisting they were all work-related.

According to Ms. Tukiainen, Mr. Kanerva asked what she was wearing under her evening dress."

Next time I run into the Scotsman I'll ask him what he wears under his kilt. It's a work-related question!

Timing is Everything

Saw Life of Reilly last night. It’s, yes! about Charles Nelson Reilly. It was very good. He certainly showed how the beauty of a great one-liner is not just in its content, but in the delivery. Counting the beats, the pauses, before slinging out the great comeback. He made it look so easy.

It was also an incredibly sad movie. If you ask the question: how much mental cruelty can a parent inflict on a child? This move would answer: Plenty. Tons.

How resilient can a child be? Plenty. Tons.

When we were kids, it was still standard stuff to snicker and be cruel to the effeminate boys. I know in our elementary class, we all did it. I include myself. I’m really hoping all that has changed now. But I don’t know many children, and I don’t know any effeminate boys, so I have no idea. I can only hope that more compassionate parents are bringing up more enlightened children now. Too hopeful? Maybe. But if it was hard in the 1960 and 70s, imagine how much harder it was in the 1930s and 40s. Reilly survived and thrived, but how many young boys were destroyed by their families’ negativity and shame? A really grim thought.