The Last Day

I end the work year with one Sick Day unused. I feel very saintly. See my halo?

I should get the Order of Canada for this, or at least, the Order of Reasonable Good Health and Non-Fakery of Illness.

cough, cough

Happy Australian New Year

And Happy Asian New Year too!

You people have already partied into 2009 while we are still enjoying the last glorious moments of wunnerful, wunnerful 2008. yawn.

Another Test

Well, the Job Gods in New York who torture me for their pleasure have invited me to go back there again and write another test for another job.

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.

What a drab year!

My efforts at putting together a year-end best-of list are failing miserably. Did nothing interesting happen this year?

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.

Happy Belated Birthday

JAW Fan turned a youthful 44 on Saturday.

And Eartha Kitt died at a youthful 81.

Home again, home again

In an unprecedented turn of events, the Montreal-Toronto train on 24 Dec was on time, and the Toronto-Montreal train yesterday was also on time.

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.

Merry Christmas Everybody

See you in a few days.


Everybody dance now!

The Worst

Okay, maybe I have a twisted sense of humour, but I found this line very funny. It is a quote from a woman whose apartment was destroyed in a fire yesterday. (I know that part is not funny!)

"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.

Happy Birthday Rafe

My man, Mr. Fiennes, is 46 today and losing his hair at an alarming rate.

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.

Steve strikes again

Mike Duffy has been named to the Senate.

In a related story, the Parliamentary cafeteria has requested a 10% increase in its budget.

(Note for non-Canadians: Duffy is very fat and eats a lot. ha ha)

First day of winter

The snow it snowed.
The wind it blowed.

Apologies to NaPoMo.

I hate this season.

Only bright spot: More daylight starting tomorrow. One minute per day? I'll take it.

Snow Job

Oooh. A big storm’s a-coming, according to the weather folks. Toronto is supposed to get 30 cm today, but Montreal won’t get the biggie until Sunday. Now 30 cm in Toronto and 30 cm in Montreal are two entirely different creatures. The former = eeeek panic! While the latter = “shit, more snow”.

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.

Copy cat gurgle

Faithful readers of this blog will recall that I had surgery on my tummy in January. Prior to this and continuing ever since I have had a noisy gut. It snaps, crackles and pops a lot. It is a bit odd, and noticeable, and I am often glad to have my own office and not to subject co-workers to the symphony of gurgles that sometimes occurs.

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.

Mmmm, mayo.

I'll have it my way

I know I said I would not get a Christmas gift for that Muslim man, but having read this, I feel I'm changing my mind. I can pretend it's a gift for him, but let's be honest, it's a gift for me. mmmm

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

65

Happy Birthday Keef!

Mr. Richards starts collecting his old-age pension today.

Never thought he'd make it.

Really great? or not so great?

Got a message from Kumar yesterday. Monday was his first day on his new job in Toronto and he said it was “really great”.

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?

Chip Time! with your host JAW Fan

Despite my packing on the pounds, the cold snowy weekend that passed made me realize that I better store up on extra body fat, just in case I get snowbound and am unable to hit the grocery store for days. So, off to the dépanneur I stopped for some crunchy chip comfort...but into the Twilight Zone did step.

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.

Happy B-Day Lil Adolf H.

Back on November 25th, I wondered if anyone was still naming their kid Adolf. Well, now I have my answer, and it's more than just Adolf, it's the full Adolf Hitler. Crazy parents exist.

"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.

Year End

It appears the time is upon us when news organizations, bloggers and other ne'er-do-wells compile Top Ten lists of something, anything from the past year.

I should do that. But what should my list be about?

Nanuk's 2008 Top Ten List should include what? Any suggestions?

These shoes are made for throwing

So this Iraqi journalist went a bit nuts and threw his shoes at W, and hit him. Thus raising the question: why doesn't this happen more often?

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.