Friday, January 30, 2009

Six was enough

Yikes. The woman who gave birth to octuplets this week already had 6 kids! This deserves a giant: what the f***? No?

If you already have 6 kids, you don't need fertility treatments. That is insane. So now she has 14 kids and, according to what I have just read, lives with her parents. Sounds like the perfect life.

People are insane.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

How cold is it?

Or, more accurately, how cold has it been?

When I got off the bus this evening, it was minus 5 degrees, and I could not believe how pleasant it was. What a treat, this minus 5. I'm lovin' it.

Chip Revue: an old fave

Enter JAW Fan:
Well, I knew it would happen...and it did. Yesterday, feeling a little depressed, I fell off the wagon and onto a tin of Pringles. Unfortunately, they were not some new, exciting, double-combo spiced-up flavour...just plain ol' regular ketchup Pringles. That, however, I blame on the small ignoramus Familiprix drugstore near my house, which obviously does not find it important to stack their shelving with an array of potato pleasures. Granted, I did not enter the establishment in quest of chips (deodorant was on sale and I was running low on toothpaste), I should not really hold the pharmacy in contempt.

But then, after going home and pulling back that seal of freshness, I quickly realized that sometimes it is the simple things in life that bring the greatest know, like a beautiful sunset, a playful puppy, a young Siegfried Jerusalem knocking at your bedroom window with a hot new libretto and a jar of jolly jelly...or in this instance, a tin of ketchup chips. And how delicious they were. Was it because I had been on a chip hiatus that these little round buggers tasted so great? Or are these really just a f * *king fine chip? ...not to mention, ketchup equals tomatoes, which equals lycopene...delicious and a healthy choice to boot. Can one really ask for more in a chip? Oh sure, they would have been more delicious, had they been spread across Daniel Craig's naked torso or served to me individually by a bear-like bare-assed Alec Baldwin...or even by one of the Howells at a fancy-schmancy tennis party...but, alas, only in my Vicodin-induced dreams am I able to experience such bodacious bliss.

On the wang-o-meter, (like most Pringles) these chips rate a reliable and dependable 7.5 inches. Sure, they may not be the erotic hump heroes at a Caligula orgy, but like a good bedroom buddy, they're there to deliver pleasure when you need it most. So, thank you, Mr. Pringles. Your peter might not be the biggest...but it gets the job done.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Snow Day

My little heart is now set on being sent home around 3:30. I hope the powers-that-be in HR are thinking of me.

I'll have shovelling to do fer shure. Speaking of shovelling, a friend got a letter from her snow-removal thief, I mean contractor, saying that since we had now reached 150 cm of accumulation, they have fulfiled their contract for the year, and any additional removal they would do would be charged on a per centimetre basis. She is pissed off, and is resigned to shovelling for the rest of the season. And we are still in January. I find 150 cm to be a really low total for a contract. Didn't we get over 400 cm last year? Of course, we would surpass 150 in any winter. RIP-OFF ARTISTS!


The worst thing about a new budget is having to see Jack Layton and Denis Coderre on every newscast.

I guess I have to hope that Iggy supports the budget because the thought of a coalition with Jack and Denis in my face every day is really hard to bear.

In other news: more snow! huzzah.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Oh, Creepy!

Yikes. What a grin. I think we all know where he can stick that thumb.

Zsa Squared

So the word on the street is that Zsa Zsa Gabor lost millions in the Madoff ponzi scheme. The question is, what are we going to do about it? Are we going to let poor ZZ die broke? We need a Zsa Zsa fund.

If Larry King can help people save Ed McMahon's house, surely he can get folks to cough up a few bucks for the great Gabor. Come on, Larry, dahling. Charity begins on your show.

Happy New Year!

My fellow oxen, this is our year.

The Year of the Ox, year 4706 in the Chinese lunar calendar, is supposed to represent prosperity through perseverance and hard work. (MSNBC)

Are we ready to work hard, persevere and get prosperous?

My calendar tells me today is also Australia Day. I guess if you are Chinese-Australian by now you must be either a) really drunk or b) really hung-over. Happy recovery.

In Movie News

Weather note: Still too cold for my taste. grrrr.

Saw Gran Torino this weekend. If you thought Clint was a miserable curmudgeon in Million Dollar Baby, wait til you see him now. He’s kicked it into high gear. What an old coot.

Clint’s performance is the whole movie. And he is a lot of fun to watch. If this is, as he says, his last movie as an actor, well, I’m satisfied. If you want to get all artsy-fartsy and look at the “arch” of his “oeuvre” it’s a nice, neat ending to his on-screen vigilante persona.

Now, the really memorable thing happened in the theatre, not on screen. About halfway through, I thought I smelled smoke, cigarette smoke. Then I was sure I was smelling cigarette smoke. Then I noticed other people turning their heads this way and that. It was at the Forum with the stadium type seating and I was the near the back, so it was easy for me to spot someone in the fourth row with a big puff of smoke over their head and the red dot of a lit cigarette.

When was the last time this happened to you? If ever.

It was an old person, I could see white hair. Someone walked down and asked the person to stop smoking and the cigarette went out. Truly bizarre. After the movie ended, an usher was brought in and was about to approach the person, but then he said “She’s asleep”. It was an old lady, and she had fallen asleep during the movie, after her smoke. I left before he woke her up, but I’m still wondering what was up with her.

Maybe watching Clint smoke his head off throughout the movie just made her have to have one.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Smells like victory

Last Monday, when Kumar surprised me, I laid down the law. He is so unreliable about staying in touch, I told him he must start letting me know what he is up to, particularly on weekends when he will not be around. I ain’t waiting around for him no more. A short, painless message is all that is required. He said yeah, yeah, and I fully expected my demands to be unmet, ignored, forgotten about. At least he didn’t tell me to “chill, woman”.

This weekend rolls round, and hallelujah, there he is on-line, telling me about the additional $800 he has to put on the car, and the meeting he is having with a client this afternoon. I said happily: You listened to me! He responded: LOL. (This is IM, after all.)

I can’t believe it. I’d resigned myself to his being hopeless. I had given up. But he can be trained. This was almost as good as seeing him.

As I bask in my victory, I imagine he is thinking: Maybe she’ll shut up now.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Birthday Season

The season of birthdays has been officially launched. Starting with Mr. Mushrooms, in the next 4 weeks or so we will see: Mr. Anon, Mrs. Anon, Ms. Mushrooms and yours truly, all turn another year older.

Is this call for celebration or for drink?

Friday, January 23, 2009

Happy Birthday

Birthday greetings to MR Mushrooms. 48 today.

48 cannot be right. Because that would mean that the evening four of us spent together celebrating our 30th birthdays was 18 years ago. And THAT much time cannot possibly have passed already. Something does not compute.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Creepy

Has anyone been reading about this billionaire and his common-law alimony battle? It's so juicy. I am wondering if it is the Cirque de Soleil guy. Who else in Quebec is a billionaire with this kind of lifestyle? Hints in French media are that he is in the entertainment business, so can it be anybody else? As rich as they are, these people seem totally sleazy.

I noticed the story is now going national in The Globe & Mail, and apparently the New York Times is following it too. So it may not be long before we all know who it is.

The "ex" "wife" says she needs a helicopter. Well, my my, who doesn't?

This Winter


Even yesterday, which was an alleged milder day, was too cold.

Every day is too cold. waaaah!

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Headline of the Week

Former French President Chirac hospitalised after mauling by his clinically depressed poodle. (Daily Mail)

You know I love Barak and Michelle and their girls and all, but even they are no match for a deranged poodle on a rampage.

Sacré bleu.

Apparently the dog was on meds for depression. There are doggie meds for doggie depression? Who knew? I'm sure there are no meds for depressed kitty cats. How could you even tell if a cat was depressed? Because it sleeps all day? hahahaha. good one.

Oscar Nominations

Who the heck is Richard Jenkins?

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Kids Today

Monday night, I took a different bus home from work, for reasons of laziness. When I stepped off and walked towards my street , I saw a familiar-looking car at the corner. The door opened, and Kumar said “Hop in”. I was stunned. Not a word for 2 weeks and then magically he’s there. On a Monday?

Turns out he had a car accident on Saturday and only got the car back from the garage on Monday p.m. He said God wasn’t ready to take him yet. Crazy-ass Muslim. It was a one-person spin-out on black ice, and he wasn’t hurt. Except for the $800 repair bill. That made him moan.

He said: “I’ve been waiting in front of your house for 15 minutes, but I decided you weren’t coming home, so I left”. And that is how I ran into him on the corner of the street where I normally do not walk. I am still weirded out by the timing. It’s fate I tells ya.

He is learning that trying to work two full-time jobs is rapidly taking its toll. He says he’s given up eating and sleeping because he has no time. He looked very tired. And stressed. But he’s always stressed. I asked him about Toronto, and he said he would be driving back that evening and should be home by 3:00 a.m. and would go to work on Tuesday. What a life. No wonder he had an accident.

Three Little Words

Former President Bush.

Feels so good to hear that.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

The Benediction

Wow, that was the funkiest blessing I have ever heard.

I wish I was black.

The Big Speech

That was NOT a smooth oath-taking, Barak. Can he get a mulligan? I can’t tell who screwed it up, him or Roberts. Probably Roberts. Evil Chief Justice ruining Barak’s big moment.

He’s saying negative things. He’s dissing Bush in a subtle nice way. And calling partisan Congress petty children. Hee hee. Cool. Americans don’t want to hear negatory things. Okay, now he’s onto meeting these challenges. Now he’s going positive. Go O. He’s really echoing Abe Lincoln. Cool.

Oh. He’s bringing up “unpleasant conditions” again. President Scold. He wants Americans to be responsible. Yikes. Can people do that?

My summary so far: Get off your fat asses, America.

He’s dissing capitalism. Socialist!!

Now he’s slamming Bush on his scary terrorism bullshit. Excellent.

A shout-out to atheists! That is amazing.

Man, he gives good speech. There’s no flab on this speech. Every line is spot on. Nice.

Inauguration II

More Preamble:

The National Mall is very long. If you are sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, you might as well be in Virginia. It’s a long way from the Capitol. The sea of people, however, must be amazing to observe.
Obama has a poet doing a reading. Not every President has one. I’ll bet George didn’t. Yay, it’s a new day for poets.
Dead man walking. George looks grim. It’s like he’s marching to his execution. No such luck. Maybe the helicopter could take him straight to The Hague.
Bill Clinton is checkin’ out Michelle. He’s such a hound dog.
God, I hate Dick Cheney.
Funniest line I read yesterday: You can’t find any tooth whitener in D.C. because Biden has bought it all. Smilin’ Joe Biden. I likes him.
Barak looks grimmer than George. Maybe he’s thinking: Fuck! What have I done? But seriously, I’d love to know what he’s thinking.
Barack “H” Obama. Like we all don’t know what the H stands for. Secret Muslim!!
Rick Warren, fundamentalist a-hole. Make it snappy and, yo, get off the stage.
And now, representing obese Americans everywhere: Belt it out, Aretha. America feels so black right now. Sing it, girl.
Will Barak bring on an era of thin, fit Americans? Is this possible?

Inauguration observations I

Dick (Total Dick) Cheney is in a wheelchair. Personally I was hoping he’d go out in handcuffs.
Michelle is freakin’ huge. She is so tall next to Laura. She’s an Amazon.
Walter Mondale’s wife is wearing a dead rodent on her head.
Al Gore looks hot as usual.
A reporter asks Steven Spielberg what he is thinking: I wanted him to say “Bernie Madoff stole millions of my money. That bastard. I can’t get over it!” But no, he had mundane comments appropriate to the occasion instead. Too bad.
I lived in D.C. 22 years ago. I wish I was living there today.
The Obama daughters are so cute. I hope their years in the spotlight don’t mess them up forever.
I love Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter. They are still a great-looking couple. Yay, Carters!
The Clintons. Bill’s got a look that says “I’m never go away, America! Ha! Ha!”
Is anything else happening in the world? Anywhere? Is a bomb going off in a market in Baghdad?
Oh wow. The Obama grandmother is going to be living at the White House? Barak’s mother-in-law will be living with them? I smell a sitcom.

At Home with my Homey Barak

Nice day to be relaxin' at home. Watching Wolf and Anderson doing the play-by-play of the playas on Capitol Hill. Feels kinda like watching the Tournament of Roses parade.

Right now I'm trying to count how many member of the House of Representatives are wearing outrageously obvious hairpieces.

I think I'm going to get all goose-pimply when Pres O makes his inaugural address.

As for the outgoing President, I do hope the White House door did indeed hit him in the ass on his way out. Good riddance.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Insert your own joke here

"Scientists have found that the pleasure women get from making love is directly linked to the size of their partner’s bank balance. They found that the wealthier a man is, the more frequently his partner has orgasms. "

I have no comment on this at all. But this next paragraph is interesting, and makes us all out to be rather beastly.

"The study fits into a wider body of research known as evolutionary psychology which suggests that both men and women are genetically predisposed to ruthlessly exploit each other to achieve the best chances of survival for their genes." (Times of London)

There's nothing like ruthless exploitation on a cold winter night!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

A Hollywood Blonde

Everyone who loved Grand Prix wrestling as a kid should see The Wrestler.

Anyone who knows me knows I am a fan of The Mickey Rourke. There are detractors (looks Down Under) but this site has always been pro-Mickey, Mickey-friendly, and will remain so.

Two words to describe the movie: fuckin' bleak. A third word: bloody.

Lots of blood. And a simple story about a loser living a pathetic life. These things always smell Oscar. But it uses one of my all-time favourite songs Sweet Child O'Mine in a way that made me smile.

A warning, however, for Mr. Anonymous: hand-held camera. Beware.

I resolve

I have settled on 2 New Year's Resolutions for 2009, and so far I'm failing miserably at both of them.

1) Declutter the house. The less said about this, the better.
2) Pack a lunch once a week. Buying lunch is a big waste of money, I know it. As Miss Frugal, I don't really understand why my laziness trumps my stinginess, but it does in this regard.

That is why I set the modest goal of bringing my lunch to work only ONCE a week. We are now about to start the 3rd working week of 2009, and I haven't made my goal yet. So this week (delusional ambition alert) I plan to bring my lunch 3 times to make up the slack. Monday's lunch is already made, and I just have to remember to pack it. I'm feeling a little beam of pride already.

Tuesday, I've decided to take the day off and watch the inauguration. I was looking for a day to goof off and this seems ideal.

Friday, January 16, 2009


I was checking for photos of the burst water main on Peel, and I found plenty at the Gazette's site. So much for my bus route. At least I don't have a car parked on this street.

It's a tad chilly out

Far be it from me to complain, but we are now in our 3rd day of a big chill, and I'm getting a wee bit fed up.

A dozen broken water mains in 2 weeks leave me wondering if my street will be next. On the 7:00 news this morning I saw there was a lake on Peel and St. Jacques and I figure there was no use trying to take my regular bus.

I hope the price of oil stays low for at least another two months. I'm heating so much the cats are full of static. Sigh.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Crash landing at LaGuardia

Don't mess with Canada geese.

Saddest, saddest headline of the year

Johnny Depp to marry.

Noooo. Johnny, nooooo.

52 Pick Up

Talking to a guy at work today. We both go to the gym regularly, not that the average observer would notice from our outstanding physiques. At least not in my opinion.

Nevertheless, the guy says to me: "Look at my boss over there" (points to boss). I'm 52, and he's 53. He doesn't go to the gym and it shows." He looks at me and nods firmly, indicating that I am suppose to agree.

"Yes, yes", I respond. But honestly I'm thinking: a) your boss looks okay to me, and b) you look 52.

But the poor guy is convinced that he looks so much fitter and healthier than his boss, so what could I say.

The boss is Japanese, but he wasn't sleeping on a lady's lap pillow. I wish he had been. That would've been so cool.

Dee Plane, Dee Plane to Heaven

It's dead celeb week, for sure. Ricardo Montalban is No. 2 this week. Patrick McGoohan is No. 6. (Sorry, had to do that.)

Who's next? Any guesses?

My first thought re Ricardo was: Was he still alive? Who knew? I hope his heaven is filled with rich corinthian leather.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

A NaPoMo Teaser

It's true that April is still 2 and a half months away, but today I was delighted to receive a glimpse of what awaits us.

Without further ado, here is a bit of what National Poetry Month may hold in 2009, at the height of Great Depression 2.0.

Here's hoping' and a wishin'
There's place at the soup kitchen,
To eat and do some thinkin'
'Cause my bank account's a-sinkin'

Won't Be Seeing You

Patrick McGoohan died. Aw.

He lived to be 80, but he'll always be Number 6.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Why I love the Japanese, Part 3,292

They are so freakin' sick. Who else would invent these?

Bureaucracy is comin' to the USA

I am miffed as heck at the powers-that-be in Head Office, New York. I am scheduled to write a test on Feb. 3. Because there are sufficient applicants from the area, the test "may" take place in Montreal. To which I say: huzzah!

Here is what they said last week: "Montreal, Canada. Centre is to be confirmed. If we do not have a centre in Montreal, candidates will be convoked to New York." Okay. Fine.

So I am waiting to know if I am writing this here, or else I have to decide whether to spend the $$ to go down to New York, which I don't feel like doing.

So yesterday, they send out another message saying: "Please let us know by Wednesday, 14 January, if you wish to change your exam centre." Duh! Tell me where the exam centre IS and then I'll tell you what I'm doing. They want an answer by tomorrow. But they still have not updated the Montreal news. I'm annoyed!

In Gord We Trust

CBC is compiling "Obama's Playlist" which is (dumb) a list of 49 Canadian songs for Pres O's ipod so he knows us better. They were listing the current top 5 vote-getters and No. 1 is Canadian Railway Trilogy (Yes! my fave) and No. 5 is The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (always a reliable blog topic here).

We are a land of Gord lovers.

Lennie's Hallelujah was No. 2. I can't remember No. 3 but No. 4 was Northwest Passage by Stan Rogers. Now, maybe this makes me a bad Canadian but I had never heard Northwest Passage until last week, when CBC played it as part of the list. Holy mackerel, I said. What a great, great song. It made the hair of my arms stand up all a-quiver. I love that song.

According to this list, Canadians love maritime disasters. Maritime disasters R us.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Weekend round-up

I don't know about this "Dormex" pill. It did not make me dorm like a baby. I slept okay-ish, but I was expecting to be out cold, and rise a new person, Lazarus-like, on Monday morning, completely refreshed. That didn't happen. Phooey. I fell asleep around 11, and the first time I woke up it was...12:30. Then I woke up again at 2 and at 3. That's a pretty normal night. I guess it could've been worse, but I think I'll skip the Dormex tonight.

In other news, Prince Harry is an embarrasment. "Our Paki mate"? Good lord. You're a prince, clean up your act.

Which leads to my "Paki mate". Kumar is on the chopping block. Nary a sign of life from him this weekend, so his days are numbered. At what point does hopelessly unreliable trump quirkily adorable? Pretty darn soon, I think.

I saw Slumdog Millionaire. I liked it, but found it exhausting. So much happens. And there's a lot of cruelty in it. Casual cruelty that I found disturbing. On a lighter note, the Indian host of Who Wants to be a Millionaire is sooo smarmy. Regis was never like that. That being said, he is the character I will remember the most because he irritated me so much. And the movie ends with a Bollywood dance number, so who can really complain about that? Not me.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Reader

I'm a failure as a blogger. I can't keep up with events.

I was just coming on here to say that I saw The Reader this afternoon (why? Rafe! of course) and that Kate Winslet is fantastic in it and she should win an award. And then half an hour ago, she did. So there. The foreign press shmos of Hollywood agree with me. How often does an SS prison guard make me cry? Not that often, frankly.

I love Kate Winslet. In everything. She's always great. But I'm wondering if, other than Helen Mirren, there is any other "serious" actress who shows her boobs as often as Kate does. Not that there's anything wrong with that. In the immortal words of Zero Mostel, if you got it, flaunt it, baby, flaunt it.

Hey, the dippy chick from Happy-Go-Lucky just won. I'm one of the 10 people who saw that movie. She was so happy-go-lucky that by the mid-point of the movie, I wanted to strangle her. Right now she's Miss Blubbery-go-Lucky.

Sleep with the fishes?

I return from the drugstore with my generic box of sleeping tablets. Let's see how this goes.

I've slept moderately well for the past 2 nights, but that's because it's the weekend. Tonight will be pre-work Sunday night dread and sleeplessness, so it's the night to pop the first of these "Dormex" brand pills.

As I am certain everyone is waiting to learn: Yes, Sominex still exists. They had it at the drugstore. But I am paying more for a name brand? Miss Frugal? No way.

Friday, January 09, 2009


How about that $5 billion to bail out the porn industry? Good idea? or bad idea?

Frankly, I don't believe the industry is actually hurtin' because when people lose their jobs and have no money to spend to go out, don't they just stay home and amuse themselves? It's cheaper. I'm no economist and no pornographer, but like pawn shops and Wal-mart, the porn industry must be one of those whose fortunes run counter to the rest of the economy.

This being said, $5 billion is not that much, when the whole package is likely to run over a trillion. Which reminds me, at lunch this week, I said I didn't even know what a trillion really meant, and a friend said "twelve zeros" but that still doesn't help me understand the concept of a trillion dollars.

Isn't the porn industry, in fact, a bigger biz than the "legitimate" entertainment biz? Or is that a myth? Perhaps someone reading this who is in some way connected with show biz could advise. (Peers into distance.)

Help, need zzzzz's

I am at my wits' (wit's?) end. I am desperately seeking a cure for insomnia.

I have been sleepless for months, and this week has been the worst yet. I can barely function, and I'm this close (thumb and index finger a milli-millimeter apart) to heading to the pharmacy for Sominex. Assuming Sominex still exists...

I don't want to be another one of a gazillion droning drones who has to rely on pills to sleep, but I'm pretty well ready to give up.

Don't bother suggesting any of those "darkened room", "don't watch the news", "don't drink caffeine after 6" suggestions because, believe me, I've tried everything short of hitting myself over the head with a hammer. Any novel ideas will be greatly appreciated.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Exciting Update

My ExpressPost arrived in my sis's mailbox yesterday. She phoned me to let me know. What a happy nerd I was.

Also, I'm beginning to suspect the local news and weather people are a bunch of drama queens. Yes, it snowed yesterday and we went home early. Yes, it was a storm. But on the 6 o'clock news, you'd think it was a huge mega-storm and not just a typical winter storm. It was 20+ cm of snow. Certainly not the storm of the century, but the reporters were talking it up like crazy, and I thought Oh come on now. Stop it. Stop this silliness right now.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Watching the Mail

I had to send my sis an envelope by ExpressPost yesterday. I got a tracking number for it, and now I am being a mega-nerd by going to the Canada Post website to follow the journey of my envelope.

At 12:16 yesterday "Item accepted at the Post Office". At 05:00 this morning "Item processed at postal facility" in Mississauga, and now at 08:35 "Item out for delivery" in my sister's suburb.

So exciting (for a nerd). Honestly, there are days when it doesn't take much to amuse me.


It's snowing like mad. It is, once again, coming down sideways outside my window. Crazy-ass wind tunnel.

I want to be sent home now!

Update: YAY! We can leave an hour early. I'll take whatever I can git.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

How Romantic

My friend at work went to Jamaica to a resort for Christmas holiday. When she and her girlfriend made their reservation they didn’t notice that this resort advertised as specifically “for couples”. Well, it turned out that this “couples” resort catered 99% to honeymooners. Heterosexual honeymooners.

Seems the place was decorated with all the cutesy frills you can imagine. Somewhere somebody decided that people on their honeymoons are into cute and frills. Also, the resident photographer was constantly chasing couples around to take their photos in various exotic locales, etc.

Live and learn, my friend sighed. She said it took a few days but they finally got used to being stopped on the beach and asked “Where are your husbands?”

Paging Dr. Gupta

Hmmm. Sanjay Gupta is going to be the next Surgeon General of the USA? Interesting.

I guess that will finally end the long-standing reign of C. Everett Koop as "Cutest Surgeon General Ever".

I wonder if Sanjay will grow a serious beard.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

In Weather News

Yesterday, Edmonton set a record for cold: it was minus 42.

God hates Alberta.

Does Bill Gates = God?

Kumar was on a religious roll this weekend. Apparently monotheism is the only way to go. Who knew?

His latest analogy:
Judasim = Windows 95
Christianity = Windows 98
Islam = Windows XP

Me: What about Vista?
K: There is no Vista.
Me: But what if there is a prophet born right now, and in 150 years he becomes Vista?
K: No. It won't happen. There are no more religions.
Me: (skeptically) Really?
K: Yep. That's it. Hinduism has hundreds of gods. But there's only one God. So Hinduism is bullshit.

I like a confident man. Even when he is out of his tree.

Friday, January 02, 2009

No Murders Please, We're Old

In 2008, Montreal had the fewest murders of virtually any urban centre. Only 29 in all.

This is apparently because we have an aging population. Fewer whipper-snappers, fewer young hot heads equals fewer murders. Interesting.

Does that mean the image of the old crank on the front grass with his shotgun shouting "Get offa my lawn" is a myth? Sorry, Clint.

By this logic, shouldn't Florida have a murder rate of about minus a hundred?

Dieting word of the year

Scanning the gazillion or so articles on dieting that have appeared in the last few weeks, I have noticed the appearance of a new fad word: Disinhibition.

Whilst you make think that "disinhibition" could refer to lying down drunk in the street about a block from your house, you would be wrong. Well, sort of wrong.

Disinhibition is the loss of ability to control one's impulses. Which for purposes of this blog translates as the inability to put down the bag of chips, or to not purchase the chips, or to go back to the cupboard to get more chips. Or to purchase dip.

I must work on my disinhibition issues.

Canadian Winter for Dummies

Well, it's only January 2 and already I've complained about the animal-negligent lawyer and the lame-ass gold cane. Clearly I'm on a roll in '09. Next up....stupid, and therefore dead, snowboarders.

The Rockies are facing huge snowfalls and resulting massive avalanches. And still snowboarders choose to head into the areas that are off-limits to the public. And then they die. Two of 'em yesterday.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, yes, Virginia, it is possible to die of stupidity.

As for the other doofus, that stoner who was rescued after 3 days lost, well, he's another one. He survived, but dozens of people were involved in the efforts to find him. Shouldn't he have to pay somebody, like the Provincial Government, back for these expenses. There's nothing heroic about being a maroon.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Ye Olde Gold-tipped Cane

For as long as I can remember, ever since I was a wee child, every January 1st on the six o'clock news they run a story about the first ship that enters the Port of Montreal. Every year they show us pictures of some paunchy guy with a beard, the ship's captain, shaking hands with some municipal stooge while being awarded a gold-tipped cane. And now, after all these decades, I feel the need to ask:

Who cares?

Why are we supposed to care about some old bearded guy and his ship and the famous gold-tipped cane? Because, for the rest of the year, we never hear another thing in the news about any other ship that arrives in the Port of Montreal. And frankly, we don't care about the ships that arrive in the port, including the first one of the year.

Now the first baby born in a Montreal hospital? That we care about. Because a baby is so much cuter than a ship's captain. (Well maybe not always, but a good 99% of the time.) So why not offer a gold-tipped pacifier to the parents of the year's first baby? Fair is fair.

Happy New Year

Good health, prosperity and delicious chips to all.

Now let's get to back to complaining, shall we?

If I were to nominate someone as lousiest Canadian alive, my perennial choice would, of course, be Stephen Harper. But for the next few days the Prime Minister must occupy second place on my list of contemptible Canucks, for his reigning spot at No. 1 has been usurped by that piece of garbage Edmonton lawyer who left his horses to die of starvation...and now wants them back!

Can we all agree that this guy deserves national, if not international, scorn. I scorn you, Edmonton piece-of-crap lawyer.