Jersey

Here I am in beautiful New Jersey on our Springsteen pilgrimmage.

Sara Palin

I’m thinking I’m going to have a field day with the Republican Vice-Presidential nominee.

So, her kids are named:

Trig (like onometry?)
Track (and field? Or suit?)
Bristol (MyersSquibb)
Willow (whatever?) and
Piper (wait! That’s a near-normal name. Kid must’ve been adopted and arrived with a No-Name-Change-Allowed tag attached.)

And this woman will be in charge of the free world when McCain's rotted old carcass keels over? Putin’s wetting himself right now. I can hear his evil laughter from across the globe.

If McCain thinks he’s going to win over angry women who wanted Hillary in the race, he’s crazier than I thought. Women who support Hillary will not vote for a woman who is anti-choice. Insane. I’ll bet Pat Buchanan loves her, though. She had lots of babies. Yay for white American babies, even ones from Alaska!

Joe Biden must’ve already known this news last night, which would explain why he couldn’t stop grinning his massive toothy grin. Bring on the VP debate, he’s gonna slice, dice and julienne her hide and have it for breakfast. Chomp, chomp with his giant perfect teeth.

Barack's speech

The speech was pretty good. It didn’t have a lot of substance to it, I thought, just a lot of promises to do things that will never get done unless he has a big Dem majority in both Houses to push everything through. Can that happen? I dunno.

This morning I read some guy who described Obama as a "leftist" because he wants to tax the ultrarich. There is no such thing as a leftist in the United States. Silly.

But, man, what a beautiful speaker he is. He’s the best. After 8 years of suffering through the inarticulate babblings of a chimp who can’t string three words together coherently, don’t Americans want a President who won’t embarrass them on the world stage? Isn’t that reason enough to vote for Obama?

Best name for McCain I read today: Grampy McPlanecrasher. Heh heh.

Democrats

I've tuned in to watch Obama's speech.

But right now, Al Gore is on. I'm swooning. OH AL. (thud)

Not full of baloney

Someone just sent me the complete list of recalled meats from Maple Leaf.

Is there anything on Earth that sounds less appealing than "Bologna Chunks".

And I don't even dislike bologna! When I was a kid, bologna with french fries and lots of ketchup was one of my favourite treats. I confess it has even been an occasional comfort food right up until recently. But I'll be laying off the bologna for a good long time. Comfort food to be replaced by comfort wine. You never hear about wine killing anybody, right? right?

Back to work

It's another lovely day, and yet I am back at work. And busy! I need another mental health day. Fortunately I have 3 "sick days" I can still use between now and 31 December. And I fully intend to use them.

In car news. Last night, I drove my beloved old vehicle for the first time since the garage told me it is a Death Trap. It still drives perfectly. Now I'm wondering if I should go ahead and put the extra $1000 on it to keep it for a few more months. Decisions, decisions.

Speaking of driving. I went to the fancy IGA in LaSalle last night, and made the big mistake of going through Ville St. Pierre. Stupid effin' construction! Is there any street on the island that hasn't been dug up? I ended up in Lachine and had to get on the 20 to come back to LaSalle. In a Death Trap Car! Fortunately, IGA had some yummy curry chicken in stock which made it almost worth the detour. Is it crazy to drive 9 km just for curry chicken? I think not.

Mental Health Day

I'm at home today. It's partly because it's a beautiful day that I want to enjoy, partly for a mental health break and primarily because I'm reading someone's dissertation and I have to get it back to him this week, and I don't have the energy to give it its due consideration when I get home in the evening, so I've left it a bit late.

I'm alertly, speedily motoring along on it today and will have it back to him tomorrow. Is it wrong to take a paid day off in order to do other paid work? So be it. I'm sure I'm not alone in doing this. On the good side, the dissertation is on work-related stuff and I'm learning a lot about our esteemed employer while reading this. So, in a way, it's still work-related.

Must go sit outside and proofread in the sun whilst working on my tan...

A bit of political news

Peter Potato Head is in Kandahar on a surprise visit. The "surprise", I think, is that he brought Jim Flaherty with him. Flaherty, no doubt, having been dragged onto an army transport plane screaming "but I'm only the freakin' Finance Minister. Why do I have to have my fast ass shot at in that hellhole?"

I smell an election a-comin'.

You know who Flaherty reminds me of. Only one person will get this (Ms. Mushrooms, I'm looking at you.) Flaherty is But Cort, the bond company stooge, in Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

"Who's this?"
"Him? He's the bond company stooge."

MEN! (Part 6553 in a series)

Men are crazy. Collectively and individually.

There's a guy at work. Let's use his real name. Mark. Mark is the bestest. I love Mark. He is smart, hilarious, a born story teller, never obnoxious, always helpful and pretty decent looking. (And married, of course. Don't even ask.)

Anyway, Mark's hair has been thinning ever since he's worked here. (Is there a connection? Perhaps?) And I've just heard that he has spent $3800 to get his first hair plug treatment.

Mark? I said. Our Mark? You've got to be kidding. I never would've imagined him to be vain.

In his typical fashion, he's not hiding it. He's going around the building telling everyone how thrilled he is and how great he feels.

What is wrong with the world, when nice, not crazy, not stuck-up guys like Mark feel the joy of hair plugs? I'm so discouraged about you guys. Embrace your outer Homer. No fake hair!

Sister Mary Agnes would not cut it

"being ugly is not a requirement for becoming a nun. "

I have been nudged toward the story of the priest in Italy who wants to run a beauty contest for nuns. I'm scanning the story right now, and it doesn't mention any age limit. It is hoped that at least 1000 nuns from around the world will enter the contest. It is held on-line.

Well, is there an age limit? If not, fine. If so, where are you going to find 1000 nuns under the age of, say, 30? Not in Canada, that's for sure.

This seems a bit of a dumb idea, but if the priest thinks it will interest more young people in the Church, well, then go ahead. No harm done.

I am reminded of my late uncle, who was a convert, having been born a Scots Presbyterian. Every time he saw a young nun, he would look sad, and say "what a waste". My aunt Therese, his wife, had thought of becoming a nun in her youth, but married him instead, at age 21. I always figured he imagined he bested God on that front. heh heh.

I remember a year ago when I saw the story about a calendar featuring young, handsome priests. Yes, I remember it well (despite my failing memory, I remember it very well.) I didn't really believe these guys were real priests, but what the heck. Anyone who has ever had a sexy priesty fantasy (and frankly who hasn't?) didn't care if the guys weren't real priests. But if they were.....well, sigh.

I tried to find a connection between the attractive nun story and the ugly-women-welcome in Queensland story, but I guess there isn't any. oh well.

Complain, complain

OK. I have only one complaint about my job today.

I'm too busy to blog !

This is nuts.

Mad Men

I know most people aren't watching this, but I just have to quote:

It's Mozart!

I almost wet my pants over that. These guys are such idiots.

Go Peggy! She's gonna outDraper Draper.

Grind, grind

Boy, oh boy. It's turning out to be a lot harder to get over the disappointment of the London failure than I was anticipating it to be. I thought I'd bounce right back, but I ain't bouncin'.

I submitted another application to our overlords in NYC last Thursday, but it isn't a serious one. It's more like a rebound application. Just something to keep on trying. To prove to myself that I may be down but I'm not completely whipped yet.

I need a vacation, or a winning lottery ticket, or somethin'. Why can't I be one of those lucky people for whom alcohol actually works as a ticket to oblivion.

Where did it go? Where?

Septemer is next week. Back-to-school and all that jazz.
Where did the summer go?

I think I'll take a couple of days off this week. End-of-summer desperation days. There should be a provision for such things in any employment contract.

Putt, putt, pfffft

This certainly is turning into one helluva week.

My car, she be dead.

The mechanic says it will cost more to fix it than my baby is worth. He emphatically said: You cannot drive this car on the highway. So much for that.

I'm very sentimental about that car. I'm sad that its era is over.

I'm going to join a car sharing service. I don't need my own car (at least I think I don't) so I'm giving the car-share system a one-year trial. Another adventure.

I'm tired of adventures.

This is nice

A silver medal for Emilie Heymans in diving. I always thought she was a choker who couldn't perform at the big event. But not today. Good for her!

This is How to Celebrate

Funny details from Jamaica on how Bolt's hometown is celebrating:

Bolt family friend and member of the local municipal council, Phillip Service, told Reuters news agency that Falmouth town square was blocked by convoys of cars celebrating. "Some persons have placed desks in the road and placed a vast amount of liquor on them for everyone to drink and be merry. (BBC)

Vast amount of liquor = drink and be merry. So, that's how it's done!

Whale on the (South) Beach

I'm facing the grim fact of how much damage I've done during the uncertainty of the past few weeks and all the chip-eating I permitted myself to indulge in. Chips. And fries. And chocolate chip cookies. And wine. And wine.

I am a whale.

I have to get back on that dreaded Beach diet ASAP. sigh.

(Last week, JAW Fan's bestest friend, Ignatius, said that compared to other women he had met on-line, I was positively svelte, and that I should not call myself fat at all, and apparently, I don't know the meaning of the word compared to some liars he has met. Gee. I miss that man!)

Word of the Day: Showboat

So Bolt wins again, by a lot. I was reading the story in the G & M, but the best line was the last one, which referred to his win in the 100 m last weekend:

"He bettered his own world record in that race by winning in 9.69 seconds — despite slowing down over the final 20 metres to showboat."

I love the idea of factoring in showboating time. 80 metres of running hard + 20 metres for showboating.

As my niece commented last weekend, why is it only the 100-metre guys who do all these gestures and moves. You don't see swimmers or divers bustin' moves before they compete. It's just odd.

Also, what is with white sprinters who try to look black. Our man from PEI is especially guilty of this. Hey, kid, you're from Spud Island not Bed-stuy. Just be white already! Think Anne of Green Gables.

No London for Me

Finally. I heard from the London people, and I am out. The waiting is over.

"After careful consideration by the panel"...etc etc. Of course, they didn't tell me WHY I'm out.

In a day or two I'll probably feel really depressed and disappointed, but for now I'm just relieved.

I told the cats they have dodged a bullet. The move would've been traumatizing for them. They don't seem to understand the magnitude of this news. Dumb kitties.