Mamma Mia!

Is this a bad year to go to Italy? I have a ticket to ride to Rome in October, but do I want to go?

Bad things come in threes.

1. First they had the big eartha-quake-a
2. Today they had a nasty train derailment.
3. What will be No. 3?

I could always count the totally embarrassing loss to the Brazilians last week, but that's not quite a national disaster. (Some Italians may disagree with that. Really. 3-zip. It was ugly.)

Could my visit be No. 3? Will I, with all my negative powers, wreak havoc and bring doom to Rome? No. I am not No. 3, I am not a number. I am a free tourist.

Stay tuned...

Chip Time!

Take it away, JAW fan (I'm imagining balalaikas playing in the background):

When it comes to new chip flavours, President's Choice never ceases to blow my pants off...usually leaving me scampering around in my underwear, seeking for a place to crunch in private. This past week I had the glorious honour of sampling their new Greek Flavour potato chip (Feta, Olive and Oregano)...At first, I thought, nothing special here. Yes, they had a hint of cheesiness...but, seriously folks, nothing to write Aristotle Onassis about...However, the following day, after a couple more mouthfuls, these super tangy treats made me want to break some dishes in celebration. Obviously, my taste buds were napping the first time around or just purely lackadaisical for whatever reason.

In any case, "All hail Zeus!" is what you will shout after sampling these savoury snacks...snacks that would have made the saddest of Spartans dance his woes away in a fury of happy nakedness, leaving his confused wife wondering why her mousaka was left untouched.

On the still-ever-so-popular wang-o-meter, these Olympian delights measure a javelin-esque 8.5 inches and will have you secretly wishing that Zorba was your own private concubine.

The Return of the King Kumar

I was doing my dishes on Saturday around noon when I saw Kumar’s magical Corolla pull up in front of the house. Hadn’t seen him in 9 weeks (but who’s counting?) (Well, me actually.)

If you need to update your scorecard, let me say that a) we are definitely NOT getting back together, but b) we remain friends and on very good terms. And why not? Only Kumar manages to combine snuggling with a rambling explanation of Indian partition. He’s one in a million.

We did have a bit of a disagreement when he told me that he thinks Silvio Berlusconi is “The Man” and he should model his life after his. And I’m not sure he was joking. I said, Berlusconi is 70 years old with dyed hair, botox and plastic surgery! You wanna go that route, be my guest.

When Kumar is 70, I’ll be 90, so I don’t think his botoxed forehead will be a big concern of mine. My only worry will be, hey, where’s the orderly? It’s time to change my Depends.

Point to Ponder

I have been thinking about the "death comes in threes" theory, and I believe we are short a celebrity death. To explain:

1. David Carradine
2. The man who invented the magic fingers bed
3. Ed McMahon

next

1. Farrah
2. MJ
3. ????

We're due for another...

New link

Ms Mushrooms kindly reminded me of a great site that I had forgotten about.

So now, whenever you have a hankering to look at pics of Cats that look like Hitler, just click on the Kitlers!! link.

That's me: Always trying to anticipate my readers needs.

No need to thank me. Sieg Miaow.

Feeling Olde

The weatherman on CBC this morning said: "I don't know much about Thriller because it came out before I was born." What is this child doing on my t.v.?

True story: talking to my sister on the phone last night, she said, COMPLETELY unprompted, "this is so big, nobody's going to be talking about Jon & Kate anymore". I swear I had not once mentioned to her my new obsession. I didn't even know she had seen the show.

What will happen to Blanket? Blanket is 7 now. I guess he hasn't been dangled out of a window for years. Who will dangle Blanket now?

Celebrity Death DAILY DOUBLE *

Holy crap!

We need 2 poems.

I didn't even get a chance to post my usual Celeb Death follow-up, which was supposed to be:

1. Ed McMahon
2. Farrah
3. Who will be No. 3?

Even death moves too fast for my meagre blogging skills. What a bad time for the Anonymous family to be away!

Michael Jackson's best song: Don't Stop Til You Get Enough. Nobody is allowed to argue with me on this. I have spoken.

Worst song? Anything he did with the wretched Paul McCartney (the famous Cirque orgy attender.) (Enuf said.)

A Canadian aside: I'm watching Newsworld right now. Is it me or is Jian Ghomeshi getting better looking as he ages? He looks hawt. Jian just said about MJ: He was a Gretzky. Only in Canada.

*Is there any way to make this headline flash on-and-off? It seems appropriate.

Celeb Death News

So Farrah finally died. She was 62.

Not much to say, but maybe tomorrow we could all sport Big Hair in her honour.

You know who is really relieved by the timing of this news? The Governor of South Carolina.

Men are dumb

I didn't watch the news until quite late last night and it turned out there was another Republican sex scandal happening. Even a news-hound like me can't keep up with these guys.

The governor of South Carolina is a lovestruck nit-wit. And irresponsible. And a liar.

Dude, the only time it makes sense to fall in love with a woman who lives in Argentina is when you also live in Argentina. Also, if it turns out that you have been taking flights to Argentina, and the tax-payer is footing the bill, you deserve to be tossed out on your ear.

The good thing is that his wife is not standing by her doofus man. That's rare in US politics. Hang him out to dry. Stick a fork in him, he's done. etc. etc.

But the big issue is, of course, all this focus on Governor Dumbo means less time for Jon & Kate!

Holiday

Happy St-Jean to everyone. It's a gorgeous hot sunny and quiet day here. I'm enjoying with great outdoors of the backyard with my feline companions, who are luvin' the cool of the green grass.

Meanwhile, Kate says that Jon is unfit to be a father. I'm now addicted to reading the gossip about J&K. It's so much better than the show. He's clearly immature, but on the other hand, he was married to Ms Dictatorette. A bad match.

Stop me anytime.

Celeb Sidekick Death News

HEY-OH
HEY-OH

How can I grieve appropriately for Ed McMahon when Jon & Kate have split up?

Oh, the humanity.

Those people again

I believe it was just last week that I said I would not waste my time watching another episode of Jon & Kate +8. But I probably will. Because, once again, the Internets are innundated with J&K+8 "intrigue" over a big announcement tonight.

And I am enough of a sucker to watch to see if they are getting separated.

What an idiot I am.

Who cares? I don't, and yet I know I will watch. Somebody save me from myself.

Summertime Fun

Yesterday I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy. This is a great book, but for those of you who are not “into grim reading” these days, and you know who you are, don’t read it. It’s a 10 on the grim-o-meter. This is about the end of the world, and not even the world as we currently know it. The end of a worse world, with our world long gone.

Having seen the Road Warrior more times than I can count, a lot of this felt familiar, but it is still a harrowing read. It reaffirmed something I’ve always known about myself. I’d rather be dead than struggling for survival. I’m too lazy to live. Frankly, I can’t even battle three groundhogs and come out on top. Forget about survival of the fittest. The thought of scavenging and hiding, and not having a nice place to go to the bathroom? Nope, no thanks.

So if world powers decide that all-out nuclear war is inevitable, well, I’m painting a big ole bull’s-eye on my roof. Drop the bomb on me, baby.

Shake, shake, shake

The guy who invented the Magic Fingers Vibrating Bed has died.

I hope he died in his sleep, while being massaged.

He was 92.

Mahmoud's Troubles

How many days have these protests being going on in Tehran? Four or five, at least.

I see the photos of crowds numbering 500,000+ marching in the streets every day, and I have only one question: Don't these people have jobs?

I don't get it

For the past 2 Mondays I have watched the most hyped show on t.v. Jon & Kate +8.

Maybe it's because I don't have 8 children of my own, but frankly I find these people dull.

She is a shrew, and he is bor-ing. Platte! as we say 'round these parts.

The kids are cute, for sure. But, really, why should I care?

Dullsville (just down the road from "Squaresville").

Dream question

Did you ever have a dream where a total stranger is central to the story?

Last night, there was this guy in my dream. A young dark-haired guy. He was complaining that my father always had a big drama queen fit at Christmas. (Ah, dreams! I luv when they make no sense.) I swear I've never seen this guy before. It wasn't a case of him being someone I know but not looking like himself. He was really someone I've never seen.

My question is: how does our brain fabricate an image of a complete stranger in our dreams?

Hockey Joke

Starbucks in Detroit has a new offering on its menu. It’s called the Hossa. It comes without a cup.

Hardy har har.

Famous People R Not Us

I’m reading about the lawsuit that the Cirque du Soleil guy has launched against the guy who published the “tell-all” unauthorized bio about him. I frankly don’t care how many drug-fuelled orgies the guy hosted. But I do have one question.

Why do celebrities always attend drug-fuelled orgies? In this case, I believe both Paul McCartney and Robert DeNiro are named as attendees.

Now I personally am not famous, but I don’t want to attend any drug-fuelled orgies, and even if I was famous, I still wouldn’t want to. But is it an obligation under the rules of fame that you have to be keen on this type of thing?

Is it a case of, say, I suddenly became well-known, I would receive an invitation from Mr. Cirque, and then I’d be, like, oh well, now that I am a celebrity, I must attend drug-fuelled orgies because that’s what the famous do in their spare time.

Why does being famous appear to automatically mean that you are into multiple-sex-partner, multiple-drug parties? Can’t you just go to somebody’s mansion for a BBQ and a few beers? Are there celebrities who don’t attend these bacchanals? And, if so, are they considered L7 losers or “squares”?

And McCartney and DeNiro are in their 60s. Don’t you just get bored with it after a few decades?

June 16, 1904

Happy Bloomsday.

Things to do*:

1. Feed cat
2. Stroll about town
3. Go to a funeral
4. Visit a brothel

(*Clarification: Not MY list of things to do, just a Bloomsday list of things to do.)

Are we sick yet?

The H1N1 don't-call-it-swine-flu* virus is now a global pandemic.

And yet, here I am, stuck with an employer who has not yet allowed us ALL to stay home and garden. How inhumane.



*I suspect "The Pig Aids" is also unacceptable, but I haven't confirmed that yet.

Fatty fatty 2 by 4

I took the day off today to take Miss Hitler to the vet. It is time for her annual shave and haircut. She is so matted, she has long since ceased to be cuddly. But tomorrow she will be all happy and bare.

On the bright side, she did not gain any weight in the past year. She is still obese and too tubby to clean her own behind. But she is not obese enough to get her own show on TLC.

Chastity

I asked JAW Fan for a poem in re Chastity's upcoming sex change. Here is his contribution:

Even if Chastity Bono gets a wiener
It ain't going to make her any leaner.


Poor Chaz. No matter whether she's a woman or a man, poor thing, she's still gonna be nothin' but a portly dullard.

Tick, tick, tick

No doubt JAW Fan is wondering what is taking me so long to get to blogging about the web site we were both on this week.

Deathclock.com

For (morbid) fun, go the site, fill in the form, but fill it in 4 times: once for each of the categories Normal, Pessimistic, Optimistic and Sadistic. And see the results.

Clearly, it doesn’t matter if you smoke your lungs out and line your arteries with tasty, tasty fats, as long as you are an Optimist, you will live forever.

Here are my forecast death dates:

Normal: May 10, 2038
Pessimist: March 3, 2015
Optimist: June 1, 2050
Sadist: May 10, 1999 (I’m already dead)

I’d like to examine the scientific methodology behind this data. But, whatever, if it’s on the internet it must be true.

Nanuk, the New Optimist

Food Fakery

A couple of decades ago, when I was in Paris and looking for something to eat that wouldn’t cost a fortune, I went into a shop and bought two quintessentially French things, which were available at home, but I just never bought them: Orangina and BabyBel cheese.

I loved Orangina while over there, but once I was home it just didn’t taste the same, so I rarely bought it again.

But BabyBels I have continued to buy, when ON SALE, for the past 20-odd years. Last night at IGA (where else?) there were BabyBels ON SALE, so I picked them up. This morning I am reading the label; it says “Cheddar Taste”.

Cheddar Taste but not cheddar? Is it not cheese? Don’t tell me that my favourite food that comes in red wax with a red wax belt and looks like a Pac Man when you remove the “product” is not cheese. I am sad. :(

No Good Thievin'

Last week at IGA, I noticed a woman doing her shopping by putting her items directly into the large cloth recycleable grocery bag that she had placed in her shopping cart.

Later, as I was standing in line to pay (like a sap), I saw her approach one of the queues and simply pull her stuffed grocery bag out of her cart, and “excuse me, excuse me, excuse me” go through the queue and out the door. It was a quick move and very efficient.

And she wasn’t no spring chicken.

How much of this fraud is going around? And why is the criminal element always so devilishly clever?

Ah, it's Miller time

I had a meeting at 9:00 that I was worried about, but I got through it looking like I knew what I was talking about and didn't make a fool of myself. So it is over. Hurray.

And my boss has taken the day off sick.

You know what that means, eh? Guess who is sitting back and resting on her laurels for the remainder of the day.

Moi.

Sometimes, I'm not smart

I, for one, am happy it is raining pitchforks this morning. Why? Because when I did my spring planting a few weeks ago, it didn't quite occur to me that planting a lot more of everything meant a lot more watering of everything.

I'm developing heavy-watering-can-shoulder-itis.

So let it rain. Let Nature do my work for me. On the plus side, my green beans are growing like cray-zee.

My lettuce remains a lost cause, as my groundhog-in-residence (whom I have named George, because he needed a name since he lives here) is devouring every shoot on a nightly basis. And this morning, I was informed that a raccoon has been hanging around the 'hood too. He also needs a name...but not Rocky.

The never-ending story

I have cancelled my subscription of the 2nd romantic mail box, the one I joined last month. I had told myself that I would only pay for one month’s membership, unless a miracle occurred (and I was popular). No such miracle materialized, nor did I see the Virgin Mary in my cheese toast, therefore Ms Frugal is saving her $40.00 per month from now on. So there!

So now what? I’m staying on the other site because it is FREE. But it is dismal too.

I’ve considered:

a) walking along Ste Cate Street at lunch time, pitching myself to the ground, and waiting for some dashing prince to pick me up. But I might be lying on the sidewalk until 2:00 and that would be bad and I’d be late getting back from lunch. And I’d have footprints on my back.

b) buying one of those “how to meet a man” books. Actually, having just saved $40.00, I could probably get more than one of those how-to's. Especially at a second hand store. (What is sadder than buying some other woman’s cast-off how-to-find-a-man book. Clearly it didn’t work for her either…) (Or she found her man, and didn't need the book anymore? That's more positive. Let's believe that.)

There must be someone nice and solvent out there. With hair.

There is a handsome young gentlemen that I see several times per week at lunch. I could simply walk up to him and say “Hiiii. Where do you work?” But I live in fear of becoming the female Howard Wolowitz of the organization. Effin’ creepy.

Thinking about Death in the afternoon

Since I’m on the subject of inconvenient death…

Last weekend someone I knew very slightly died of a cocaine overdose. Her obituary started “Suddenly, at her home…”

I’ve seen that wording many times, and innocent that I am, I’ve always assumed that the deceased had either a) a massive coronary or b) fallen off a ladder.

Now, the next time I read “Suddenly, at home” I’m gonna be thinking cocaine overdose. Or that they pulled a Carradine, so to speak.

Life and little death questions

So, it's a beautiful Friday, sunny and getting warmer. What better time to sit and ponder the idea of having a family member pleasure himself to death.

David Carridine was 72. Let us assume he had adult children. Just how does one react at one's father's funeral knowing that he died this way? i.e. how can you not laugh about it. Is it even possible to grieve knowing Dad died while...well, you know.

It has to be the most pointless, stupidest death ever.

I wonder of all the men who've died doing this, and I'm certain there are more than we can imagine, how many died on their first try? I'd say most are probably first-timers with bad timing. Who knows?

Celeb Death News

Bill Killed.*

(*Like I'm the only person who's going to make that joke.)

RIP Grasshopper.

On the way to work today

I had to get off the bus on Monkland this morning because, as I had feared might happen, I started having a huge embarrassing coughing fit. The kind where my eyes start watering, and I cannot contain it, and it sounds like I am going to cough up a giant hairball. It was awful. I walked the rest of the way to the metro so I could cough like a maniac while attracting minimal attention. Not a great start to the day.

So far at work I have been quiet. I just keep making that rrrggghhkkk throat-clearing old geezer sound that drives people crazy, but I notice that everyone is keeping their distance from me.

I DON'T HAVE SWINE FLU. I swear I don't.

So sick of being sick

I swear this is the last day I am staying home. I coughed all night, so miserable. At one point I wondered what does bronchitis feel or sound like? I dunno. I don't cough if I am vertical, but as soon as I go horizontal, it starts. Blech!

I've gone so far as to shmear myself with VapoRub this morning. A return to childhood remedies. Just to loosen the darn thing up.

If I had a sore throat I might go to IGA to see if they have any of those Daniel Craig popsicles in stock. They probably don't.

I'm reading a PD James mystery in my misery. Cats don't bother my reading. They sure are lazy though. They don't do a darn thing all day, I've noticed.

In other news, Ms Mushrooms is on her way to TO right now, as I type, to give a couple of readings and attend the big gala on Saturday. I'm sure she is scared shitless.

Still illin'

I am at home today feeling like a miserable cow. I do not like being sick. I do not like it at all.

I have managed to read a book in 24 hours. I never do this unless I am sick. I re-read, actually, When We Were Orphans. It was like reading it new since not one line of it was familiar. Maybe I never actually did read it before? I dunno. Anyway, I liked it, but it is not as good as Remains of the Day.

I may read another book today.

(Reading a book a day. Is this what it's like to be Greg? No. That would be reading a book a day, while drinking obscure Czech beer.)

Grumble, grumble

I have been attacked by a germ that has left me coughing and with a scratchy throat since Saturday. I have therefore been grumpy and kept a low profile. It's not fun.

I assume Ms Susieq is back safely in Melbourne, after her world travels, and is now suffering from jet lag. Welcome home.