Friday, May 30, 2008

Harvey Korman Died

I loved Harvey Korman.

In his honour, everyone should try to muffle their laughter today, and not succeed.

Post-Blue Martini

I'm tired.
Feelin' like hell.
Lookin' like hell.

It was a good evening. I'm strongly contemplating leaving at noon. yawn.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


After the excitement of yesterday, I seem to be suffering from post-traumatic stress.

Or else, I'm just bored.

And, once again, got nuthin' to blog about.

I have a birthday bash thing to go to tonight. And I just found out I've got a lift, so I don't need to drive. Maybe I'll have a few too many drinks. Then tomorrow I can perch at my desk and feel really miserable.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

The Test

Well, I'm back.

How bad was it?

Well, it's 12:50 p.m. and I'm having a beer. I may have another.

Al Swearingen would call this test a c***sucker.


I could've done a decent job on it if I had been given 3 hours. But it was 90 minutes. I finished it, but just. And I know I missed a hundred things.

First impression is that I passed the editing part and probably failed the writing part. The writing portion was only 30 minutes and it is so hard to formulate decent sentences (about the legal aspects of shipwrecks! fuck!) under that kind of pressure. Urgh.

I was the only person writing the test. Which is too bad, because when I finished I was so wound up that what I really needed was someone to giggle hysterically with. Fortunately the HR secretary was super nice and listened to me babble a bit.


Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Le Countdown begins...

In a mere 24 hours from now, I will be at the University of Montreal chicken-scratching my way through my test. urgh.

You'd think they'd lend me a laptop to write on. But no. It's a hand-written examination. Wait until they come to grade it. One look at my penmanship, and they will throw out my application saying, there's been a huge mistake, we gave this test to a 6-year-old. sigh.

Also tomorrow in work-related news, our Ms. Mushrooms boards a big old jet airliner to sunny, flooded New Brunswick. Land, and big strange rock formations, and floods. I hope the water levels are under control. I hope her nerves are under control.

Remember to get those 100 ml liquids into a plastic bag for security inspection.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Sayonara, Max

I loves me a political resignation.

Today I was browsing Le Devoir’s web site (instead of working, I admit) and they had an "expose" of Julie Coulliard, the Foreign Minister’s ex-squeeze. I thought I’d have to clean my computer because this woman is dirrrty. We already knew about her relationships with Hell’s Angels guys, but this was about her further business dealings with underworld people, her bogus "airport security" business which she has no expertise in at all, the suicide of her ex-business partner, her questioning by police in a murder investigation, etc. Bad news. Ugly news.

And tonight, surprise surprise, Maxime the Foreign Minister is gone, baby, gone.

What an idiot. Maxime has no judgement. There is no way this guy should’ve been holding the highest level security post in the Government. Now what? He left confidential documents in her apartment? Argh. Afghanistan? Who cares about Afghanistan, I have a dangerously hot girlfriend!

No wonder he’s gone. Though I’m no fan of Stevie Harper’s I’ve got to say that at least I know he’s a serious adult, and that he thinks with his brain and not with his wang.

One Day Late

Paul Weller turned 50 yesterday. Happy belated birthday to him.

Everyone's getting old. wah.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

You Bet

Dick Martin died. I don't have much to say about this except it will be fun to search obits looking for the word bippy.

Sunday morning chip blogging

I bought the new double-whammy Doritos, the ones with two flavours in the same bag. Interesting concept. Thumbs up for the concept.

As soon as I opened the bag and looked inside, I knew what the fundamental issue would be with these. The issue that will divide the chip-eating population into two camps. The Hillary vs Obama of chip debates. The Hot stuff (good ole girl Hillary) flavoured chips are a deep red and the blue cheese (elitist Obama) flavoured ones are a perky natural corn chip colour. This makes them easy to tell apart. So the question is: How do I eat them?

Do I alternate: a hot stuff, a blue cheese, a hot stuff, a blue cheese? Do I eat all the blue cheese first since this is the flavour I prefer? Or should I eat all the hot stuff first and get them out of the way. It's a dilemma, that's fer shure.

The hot stuff ones are too hot for me. I like spicy food, as anyone who has ever watched me enjoy curry chicken while wiping the sweat off my face, will attest. But I don't much like this particular type of hotness. I'll eat 'em, of course. That goes without saying. But I wouldn't want a full bag of this flavour.

I love the blue cheese, tho. They really have a distinct authentic blue cheesiness taste going down. But not everybody likes blue cheese. In fact, I'd bet a large majority of the population dislikes blue cheese due to its strong flavour. But I like these alot.

Conclusion: I was fortunate in that the proportion of blue cheese to hot stuff chips in my particular single-serving bag was 2 to 1. So I got rid of the hot stuff quickly (i.e. munch, munch, munch) and then could enjoy the blue cheese at my leisure. I still have half the bag left. What self control.

Friday, May 23, 2008


Seems like I have no complaints lately, therefore I have nothing to blog about.

This is weird.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Big Game Today

In non-hockey sport* news: The Champions League Final is on today.

Guess I'll have to be a bit distracted by the Internet this afternoon.

Go Chelsea. Kill Man U.

*Note I said "sport" news like they do on the BBC, and not "sports" news. I'm so Eeenglish.

UPDATE: John Terry is dead to me. Useless man.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Asians and Hockey

First, a bit about the Finals: yay, I'm glad we're going to see that Red Wings-Penguins final. (Sorry to anybody who isn't so happy, you know who you are.) My doubts about Detroit persist, though. I can see Pittsburgh winning it all.

In other hockey news, a friend of mine was happy today because her husband's team won a hockey tournament. This was a tournament for Asian teams only, meaning Canadians of Asian descent. And it was the 19th year they held this tournament.

I told her I didn't know what was more surprising: that Asians play hockey at all, or that they are on the 19th anniversary of their league.

Ever seen a Chinese hockey player? I haven't. Other than my friend's husband, and technically speaking I haven't seen him actually playing hockey. The only NHLer I could of that was Asian was Paul Kariya and I think he was only half-Japanese.

I wonder if their goaltenders are half-Chinese, half-French Canadian. Because frankly if you expect to have any success at all, you have to have a French-Canadian goalie.

Will ya look at those?

British men are obsessed with boobs. But not women's boobs, their own.

I blogged about this a long time ago, but I feel compelled to return to this subject because a) it amuses me, and b) it allows me to use one of my new fave words: moobs.

The Health Section of today's Times of London has this headline: Obesity fuels growing ‘boy-boob’ problem.

"Obesity has been blamed for the growing problem of “boy-boobs” – cases of teenage boys with breasts so well developed that surgery is needed to reduce them. "

So if the problem(s) is on an adult male, we use the word moobs, but if it is in regard to a teenage boy we use the term boy-boobs.

I wonder if this is gonna be on my test.

Now I'm not so keen on England. I don't want to go to a country where the men have larger breasts than I do. (Insert your own "not hard to beat" joke here.)

Monday, May 19, 2008

Movie News

News from Cannes that is guaranteed to give JAW Fan a fit: Wong Kar Wai presented the newly issued "definitive version" of Ashes of Time.

Apparently it looks gorgeous, and it's still impossible to know what's going on.

Given these parameters, we can only hope a definitive version of Chinese Odyssey is coming, too.

I love Ashes of Time. Is a DVD on the way...? Yes, please, I would like one. That would be very nice.

Queen of Denial

I just finished cleaning my bathroom. And why was I doing this on a Holiday Monday? Because I'm avoiding something else. The only time my toilet sparkles is when I'm pretending I don't have something else to do.

I'm supposed to be reading sample exams, and looking at vocabulary, prepping for my test. But am I doing that? I am not. I've been cleaning mildew out of the corners of the bathtub tiles with a toothbrush. This is serious denial.

I had a quick read of some of the material, and you know what? It's really British! Yikes! By jove! (Where's Blaque Jacques Parizeau when I need him?) I feel very North American reading this stuffy stuff.

On Friday one of my colleagues was looking at it. She noted one paragraph that began "Annexed hereto" and said: we don't say that. Nope. We don't say that. What are these people, Nazis? Annexed hereto please find the Sudetenland...

If I go over there, I'm going to be such a foreigner! When I lived in Washington I knew I was a foreigner, but the locals didn't. In England, as soon as I open my mouth, the truth will be known. I never done been a real foreigner before. Shucks.
Must buckle down now and study. Oh! Look it's lunch time. How convenient.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

In Television News

I am a genius. I repeat. I am a genius.

Nanuk = genius.

Regular readers will know that I've been living with an absolute crap t.v. for the past few months, but paralyzing fear of modern technology has impeded my progress in buying a new set. My set gave everyone a tall giant conehead and stubby little legs. And in the past 2 weeks the bottom of the screen had become so compressed, I couldn't read subtitles anymore.

Lo and behold, couple of nights ago, I'm lying in bed (and like most geniuses all my great ideers come to me in bed or in the shower) and I suddenly remember that I have a SECOND functioning t.v. It used to belong to my parents, and when I took in most of their stuff, I brought that t.v. And it is indeed functioning.

So tonight I see that there is supposed to be a Mets-Yankees game on SportsNet and this motivates me. I cannot watch Johnny Damon distorted anymore. I must see the real him. Johnny Damon, he's worth it.

So around 7:30 I get to work. There are a lot of wires and stuff involved in plugging and unplugging, running the t.v. through the VCR, etc. etc. Long story short, it takes me over an hour to get the "new" t.v. functioning. I missed the season finale of The Simpsons. Which is annoying. And then, worse, I switch the channel over to SportsNet and do I see Johnny Damon? I do not. It's Junior hockey. Oh well. At least it is done.

And it's a still a full 3 weeks before the start of Euro 2008. I will get to watch the Azzurri in all their beautiful glory. I am well pleased.

A Bit o' Hockey

Good for Pittsburgh. They have played really really well and fully deserve to be heading to the Finals. I've grown quite fond of Evgeni Malkin.

I'm worried about my Red Wings prediction now. They are deflating. This is not good. I don't want to watch a Dallas-Pittsburgh final, I wanna watch a Red Wings-Penguins final. Come on guys, smarten up.

As for the World Championships, well, what can you do? Anything can happen in OT. It was worth Russia winning just to watch Ovechkin celebrating. What a happy guy.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

The Preakness II

Oh well, I was wrong.

That is one beautiful horse.

The Preakness

Yikes, it's less than a half hour to the Preakness and I haven't done any prep.

Looks like everyone thinks Big Brown is going to do it again.

I predict an upset. I dunno who, but it won't be Big Brown. (Tune in in 30 minutes to hear me say: Oh well, I was wrong.)

Friday, May 16, 2008

Countdown to Meltdown

Found out that my test for the London job will be on May 28. Yipes!

That's 12 days. I should be a complete wreck by then.

What's a participle? What's a gerund? I know nothing.

Thursday, May 15, 2008


Big news in this part of town today is that somebody who works with somebody who reads this blog has been arrested as a sexual predator.

In discussing the matter, this question came up. The perp is a married father of three little kids, who has a full-time job. This means his life is busy. So how on earth does he find the time to be a sexual predator? That’s a long-term, labour-intensive crime. It’s not like spontaneously robbing a d├ępanneur ‘cause you’re drunk like the Hilton Bros like to do. This is weeks if not months of chatting to gain the confidence of your young victim, then arranging to meet, and going to a motel, and etc etc. You’d think the guy had a lot of spare time on his hands. I can’t be bothered to ponder his motivations, but where does he find the time? Doesn’t he watch hockey?

Second question. His wife knew nothing about this. Now this may be just me being ignorant because I’ve never been married, but how could the wife not suspect. Her husband has a thing for teen-agers, and this never came up in the conversation, never at all in the intimacy of their bedroom. Never once, he asked “Honey, why don’t you put your hair up in pig-tails and wear this schoolgirl’s uniform?” Or, if so, did she just think he was acting like a horny Japanese businessman? I guess I don’t understand the depths of denial that a person can live with.

Also, and maybe it’s a good thing that I’m nobody’s wife, but she never checked the history on her husband’s computer? I sure would.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Occupation: Worry Wart

Twenty-four hours ago, I got an e-mail inviting me to write an exam for a job I applied for way back in January. I’d assumed I wasn’t under consideration because it had been soooo long, and I’d heard nothing. But apparently I’m in the running.

So I’ve spent the last 24 hours worrying. About moving to London.

Here’s the question: If you are unhappy in your life, then it’s easy to pick up your stuff, move away and start all over again. But what if you are just mildly disgruntled? And you know yourself, and you’ve always been mildly disgruntled, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Do you still pack up and start over? In mid-life?

I’m a good candidate for this job, but I hope they don’t pick me. That way, they’ve made the decision and I don’t have to.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Putt, putt, beep, beep

I don't like to drive and try to avoid it. But Spring is here, and for the past two weekends I have found myself on the road, specifically Highway 20.

There seem to be an unusually large number of people driving on the highway at 90 km/h. I find this odd. When I pass them, zooming along at a mighty 105 km/h, I note that they are not little grey heads peering over the steering wheel, but regular middle-aged folks. Driving slow.

My frugal brain tells me this is to conserve gas. I can't see why else they are doing this. I'm not complaining about this trend. I'm sure Al Gore would be pleased. I just find it weird.

The Word of the Day


Today’s word comes courtesy of The Globe & Mail, who’ve taken it from a British tabloid. It means not to look. Or more specifically not to ogle. Or not to get caught ogling. To ignore whatever is in your field of vision no matter how tempting it is.

It’s a skill; it’s an art. It requires training.

Apparently, for reasons of domestic peace, it is more important for men than for women to master this art. I must confess I’m no good at nogling. I just gotta look.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Merci Maman

Happy Mudders Day to all the mudders out there.

I was reading Post Secret (use the link) this morning, as it is the Mother's Day Edition. I was struck by the number of postcards written either to or about mothers who have passed away. There are a lot of people out there with unresolved Mom issues. I don't have that problem. Things were always cool between my mother and me, and when she died, there were no unspoken problems lingering in the void.

So I'm delighted that for the first time in 3 years, Mother's Day doesn't hurt. The past two have been very sad, but this year I'm happy. I'm happy that my mother did not leave me screwed up. What a good relationship we had. Yay to that!

Merci Maman for making me normal. I love you. I miss you.

(I know, define "normal", but I know what I mean.)

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Let's face it, he deserves his own site

You've read 'em
You love em

Now the collected works of our resident poetic genius are being assembled in one site.

The Inveterate Introvert proudly unveils:

Nickname for Mr. Hairy Ears?

Please see the suggestions in the Comments box way down below.

Vote early, vote often!

Always ahead of the times

Far be it for humble little moi to blow my own horn (Kadooka! Kadooka!)


I would like to direct your attention to a recent posting on the blog of Oprah's O Magazine web site, which is followed-up in today's Globe & Mail. The subject: co-workers' bathroom habits.

HA! sez I.

This is so last month. We were discussing this way back in the glory days of NaPoMo.

I may sue.

Today in embarrassing stray accoutrements

I’m not trying to top the feline vulva story, but this is just plain odd.

We have a cafeteria in our building, it is a busy floor. Lots of traffic. When you step out of the elevators, you turn a corner and head down a hallway to the caf. The floor is carpeted in a dark industrial grey.

This morning, right outside the elevator doors, near the corner, on the path that everyone must use to get to their coffee, smack in the middle of the floor, abandoned, orphaned, on the grey carpet, sat a pristine, clean, very white panty liner.

You couldn’t miss it.

I’m still chuckling. I told my colleague, and she informed me later that when she went to the caf it was not there anymore.

But talk about an elephant in the room. How could you wait for the elevators and not laugh. Especially in this place that is so full of snobs and uppity-ups. Thankfully I was alone with my coffee cup and did not have to pretend life was normal.

I think every woman who carries a purse has experienced the runaway pad or tampon that leaps out and lands on the grocery store conveyor belt or the lunchtime restaurant table, but most of us can make the superduper fast retrieve with a minimum of embarrassment. Our reflexes in this situation are very, very good. So I dunno what happened with the little lost panty liner. I’m just glad it wasn’t mine.

Today in unfortunate anatomical conditions...

So there’s a man who often takes the same bus as I do around 4:30. We get on at the same stop, and he is like an accident I can’t turn away from. He’s a middle-aged businessman, usually in a decent suit and very presentable. Except for his problem.

Hairy ears.

And I don’t just mean some old geezer with tufts. Which can sometimes be kinda cute in an old geezer kinda way. I mean the weirdest, grossest, thickest, darkest ear hair I have ever, ever seen. And it’s all over. Completely covers his ears. Like Mighty Peking Man.

Being a hairy beast myself, you’d think I ‘d have a bit of compassion here. But I don’t. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever been subjected to. I kid you not.

He does shave them occasionally, but that seems to make the growing back out part all the more gross.

So here’s my problem. Usually I am in line ahead of him, and I try to get a seat on the bus behind someone who is already sitting because I’m repulsed by this guy’s ears and I don’t want him sitting in front of me.

But last night, the bus was completely empty when we got on, so I had to take any seat, and of course, he sat right in front of me. Not having blinders on me, I had to settle for wearing my ipod as a sensory distraction and staring out the bus window. That was a very long half hour.

I guess the only thing I need is a nickname for him because Mr. Hairy Ears just doesn’t capture the whole nasty experience.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Feline Medical Update

The vet just called. Miss Fatty Hitler is doing okay. Except she has a "swollen vulva".*


All together now: Girls: OUCH!!!!! Guys: EWWWWW!!!!

Apparently this happens to dogs sometimes, but this is the first time this vet has seen it in a cat. She's one for the medical books.

Some ointment and soft flannel on her bottom and hopefully she'll be good as new in a week. Then she can start her diet. Lucky girl.

*Again, this couldn't happen during NaPoMo, eh?

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

In Feline News

I took Miss Hitler to the vet tonight. She is smelly and has stopped grooming herself. I feared some kind of infection. But no. She's just fat, and possibly pre-diabetic.

Apparently, she has gotten too rotund to curl herself up and clean her bottom. Therefore she's been getting dirtier and smellier.

I thought she'd just given up and stopped caring. The George Costanza of cats.

But she's been on diet food for 3 years, I said to the vet. Turns out some cats gain weight on diet foods (just like me! I thought). Too much cereal, too many carbs. So after tomorrow, Miss H. has to be put on a kitty Atkins diet. An Atkitty diet, perhaps? Katkins?

I think I'll put all 3 of the crew on the same diet because it's just gonna be too much of a headache to keep her food separate from the boys.

Atkins for kats? I still can't get over that.

So tomorrow she gets tested for glucose and then put under general anesthesia for a complete shaving. (No obvious smutty jokes, please.) Then I'll have to keep a close eye on how she cleans her bottom, if she can, as the fur grows back. What silliness.

$300 worth of silliness.

Ya win some, ya lose some

On the medical front, I thought this was good:

Long-term use of ibuprofen may reduce the risk of developing Alzheimer's disease, a large US study reports. (BBC News)

This is good for me because I've always preferred ibuprofen over aspirin. Since I'm halfway to losing my marbles already, I'll take any promising news I can get.

And now the punchline:

A separate study also published in Neurology showed people with shorter arms and legs may be at a higher risk for developing dementia later in life. (BBC)

To which I can only ask: what the f***?

I'm doomed.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Today in coffin news

SOUTH CHICAGO HEIGHTS, Ill. — Bill Bramanti will love Pabst Blue Ribbon eternally, and he's got the custom-made beer-can casket to prove it. (The Globe & Mail)

Note to my executor: At the risk of stating the obvious, my urn should be Pringles can. Sour Cream 'n' Onion, if available. Cheez'ums also acceptable in a pinch.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Nah, nah, hey, hey


No riots last night. No problems. Lotsa police. Everything okay. Glad that's over for another year.

It's a great year to be a hockey fan in Pennsylvania. I hafta take Pittsburgh over Philadelphia. I like Sidney Crosby, but I also like Martin Biron. Oh well. It doesn't matter because I still say Detroit is winning la Coupe Stanley.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Kentucky Derby, So Sad

Poor Eight Belles. That makes me feel really terrible.


I'm not a millionaire. I did not win $20 million last night.

Clearly, there has been a miscommunication between the lottery people and myself. They appear to have missed the point. The point being that I don't want to go back to work next week. I was planning on staying home and counting my piles of money. And then restacking them. And counting them again. Stupid lottery people.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Seal with a Kiss

To end the work week on an odd note, how about that rapist seal?

According to the BBC: "An Antarctic fur seal has been observed trying to have sex with a king penguin. "

We all love us the penguins. They so cute and endearing. I understand that totally. I've been a huge fan of penguins all my life. But, please Mr. Horny Seal, leave the poor penguin alone.

"The bizarre event took place on a beach on Marion Island, a sub-Antarctic island that is home to both fur seals and king penguins."

These things always happen at the beach, don't they? I tell you, youngsters, stay away from the beach. I'll bet that seal was drinking beer and everything.

Why am I not surprised that this outrageous incident took place in the bra-strap snapping Southern Hemisphere? I tell ya, it's wild down there.

I'm desperate!

The lotto prize is $20 million tonight.

I'm not a regular lotto ticket buyer, but I just bought not one, but two tickets! That's $4.00 worth of tickets. 4 whole dollars from Miss Frugal's pocketbook!

That says a lot.

That's how desperate I am. I gotta get outta here.

Decisions, decisions

The Kentucky Derby is run tomorrow. A sure sign of summer.

Who to pick? I know nothing about the horses so I'll have to go by the name. But there are so many!

Cool Coal Man 50/1
Tale of Ekati 25/1
Anak Nakal 66/1
Court Vision 16/1
Eight Belles 16/1
Z Fortune 12/1
Big Truck 20/1
Visionaire 16/1
Pyro 7/1
Colonel John 5/1
Z Humor 66/1
Smooth Air 25/1
Bob Black Jack 25/1
Monba 20/1
Adriano 20/1
Denis of Cork 14/1
Cowboy Cal 50/1
Recapturetheglory 33/1
Gayego 25/1
Big Brown 3/1

I have to go with Denis of Cork, because it is the most MontyPythonesque name. But a double Z exacta is tempting...

Thursday, May 01, 2008

A new term: "chair-sniffing scandal"

Just in case you haven't taken the time to go to the link susieq provided in the comments below, here is the story. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"A WEST Australian Liberal MP is likely to call for a vote on the party leadership today following the chair-sniffing scandal involving Opposition Leader Troy Buswell.

Mr Buswell has been under intense pressure after admitting to sniffing the chair of a woman Liberal staffer in a Parliament House office in October 2005.

The staffer at the centre of the sniffing incident, who has asked not be named, said Mr Buswell, then deputy to former Liberal leader Matt Birney, lifted the chair and sniffed it in front of her and other people "to get a laugh".

I don't know if this could happen in Parliament here, but it could definitely happen at my workplace.