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.