Not snippets

Ugh, I woke up late. This is probably related to the fact that I went to bed late. Now I've got no time for snippets or anything else. Doesn't matter. Everyone's off on their final summer hurrah weekend anyway. We're not going anywhere unless you count the hike I've planned for tomorrow. We're going to climb a mountain. Some might call it a hill as it's only 1500 feet. For smokers, two flights of stairs is a mountain, so we'll see how it goes.

I'd sit and chat more, but I'm already running late for work. Have a fab weekend all.

Times are changing

You've heard of course that the only constant is change. Whether it's the seasons, the drama at work, the life cycles of plants or just the sky, changes are occurring all around us, all the time. I like to make it a game to see how many differences I can spot. This is an especially useful game if you're stuck in a (imaginary) rut. If you look out your window the very first thing in the morning, I guarantee you, you'll see something you've never seen before. Even a grey, overcast day is not the same as others. The particular gray pattern, lighter and darker patches stretching across the sky, the contours of the undersides of the clouds - see if you can find an animal in the swirls. Even sunny days, thanks to our seasons, will display a brand new arc traced in the sky by our most familiar fireball.

You can do this throughout the day, witnessing change in action.

I do the same thing (of course) with bowel movements. Both mine and sara's in fact.

If you watch and pay attention to the plants, the animals, the sky, the people and relationships around you, you will start to see patterns of change. These patterns will interlock and layer upon one another until you'll glimpse the whole wonderful interconnectedness of everything. (Some might say God.) You can only glimpse it though, if you could take it all in, your heart might explode.

* * *

It was mildly refreshing to see that America got it right. Albeit just barely.

When lies reveal truth

What was really lovely last night was seeing Senator Larry Craig on the news proclaiming furiously that, "I am not gay!"

As though the very notion was a fate worse than death.

It was pretty much like Clinton proclaiming "I did not have sexual relations with that woman!"

Basically, the louder they shout the denial, the more strongly the thing they are denying is accurate.

Wouldn't it be refreshing to just hear these guys say, "I'm human, I make mistakes, and all my needs are not being met in my current relationship."

I know I'd be far more forgiving if they did.

I can't help myself

Some days just don't start right. Yesterday was one of those days. It started when I woke up to hear the coffee percolating in the coffee maker. So charming and wonderful that spouse would set that up for me before going to bed for my first day back to work. Well, it was supposed to be back to work, but I'll get to that. I lay there until it finished percolating and then went to pour myself a cup. It was water. Spouse had forgotten a key element in the coffee making process, the coffee. Sigh. So I poured it all out and prepped a new batch (this time with coffee!) but as I was doing this I got the sudden urge to go. This happens sometimes, just thinking about the coffee can signal my bowels to contract. (Also, incidentally, stepping foot into a clothing store.)

It was really insistent, this urge, but I just wanted to finish making the damn coffee when, OOPS, a tiny (seemingly) ooze slipped out and I threw everything down that I was doing and shuffled my way to the bathroom trying to keep whatever matter-slash-liquid had escaped between my buns. I arrived at the toilet just in time. However, as I was sitting there, I noticed a big blotch of brown on the floor near my foot. Oh my. And then I saw another one by the door. Then I noticed the inside of my leg. This was not a tiny ooze. This was voluminous enough to run down my legs and leave a Hansel and Gretel trail from the coffee maker to the toilet. I frantically set to cleaning up before spouse awoke to mock me relentlessly. (I'm wondering now if this is related to the hemmorhoid ointment.) All of this before I can even have coffee. What a friggin' nightmare. (Though I'm giggling now.)

Drama over, I blogged, showered and dressed in my monkey suit to start the day. I spent several hours doing prep work for classes and then got an email saying the students were absent today in my classes so they are canceled. Sigh.

Today though, really, I start.

This n that

We had quite a day yesterday. We did Ikea, Home Depot and Costco in five hours with a similar number of hundreds of dollars spent. We got carpets to cover up the destroyed floors, and it was really alarming to see the Christmas crap on the floor at Costco. I almost bought my Christmas cards, but then I thought, "It's August!" I'm not buying Christmas stuff in August. Anyway, I've learned my lesson at Costco. We had to renew our cards which had expired in 2003. But we still have five boxes of macaroni and cheese from the crate we bought there four years ago. Plus they don't have the no name brand which I think is cheaper than Costco anyway. It's a strange model they have that you have to pay just for the right to shop there.

Some funny search terms leading here yesterday:

* pictures of canadian raccoon dung

Although I don't have a photo of raccoon dung, I do have a photo of mock raccoon dung. I hope this visitor found what they needed.

* I accidentally ripped the head of my penis off

Oh dear, that can't be good. Might I suggest going to the hospital instead of googling it? Make sure you put it on ice so they can sew it back on before it shrivels up and dies.

* my cocaine is sticky

I'm sorry to hear that. That would naturally present problems with the imbibement of the substance. Maybe you can just dissolve it into some tea to salvage it. Good luck.

* face sores on heroin

Gee, not sure about that one. I've heard of speed bumps, erupting pustules on the skin. But heroin sores? Perhaps it's true, but honestly I'm not even interested enough to find out.

* sticking something in urethra

God I cannot believe I wrote about that. I had already blocked my memory of writing about it. Shudder.

Anal update

Man, that Preparation H is a miracle. I feel like writing a letter to the company. Even though spouse brought home the ointment last year, I had avoided using it. The whole applicator business just really turned me off. Plus I'm of the tribe "that if you leave it alone, it'll go away on its own". Well, it (they?) didn't go away on its own, and the whole thing came to a climax when an irritated spouse in the middle of doing laundry came out to the living room to show me what I had done to a pair of underwear. I guess I'd been scratching that itch a bit much (and shut up, I wipe fine). So I told him I would use the ointment. I didn't use the applicator, I just washed my hands real well after. It was interesting to note that I got a new perception of the lay of the land there, seeing with my finger. Is this TMI? Probably. Anyway, I've used it only twice and, well, to quote someone I'm sure, "it shrunk that shit right up!" I can't believe I could have avoided a year of discomfort so easily. Doh!

Squeamish? Oh come off it, we're all turddroppers.

Poutinalicious

Here you see Poutine Americano and Poutine Galvaude. Dan and I enjoyed these last month on our jaunt to the country. They really should give you some rolaids with every order.

Interesting things from the Wikipedia entry on poutine.

* The word poutine, or "mess" colloquially, was not used for this dish before 1978.

* In New York city, you can find a similar dish called "disco fries".

* It's possible the word originally came from the English "pudding".

* It's pronounced exactly as the president of Russia pronounces his last name.

* The largest poutine ever assembled was in Dundas square in Toronto in 2004. 808 pounds.

Blogger keeps informing me that poutine is misspelled, which is interesting because it's not.

This, that and the other thing

I've been lax in my blog duties. Usually I keep a little journal with me at all times so I can jot little things down as they come to mind. Then I put them together for snippets Friday. Over the last couple of months though, I've gotten out of the habit, summer vacation does that to you. Next week, the big routine starts again, so hopefully you'll see something more scintillating here next Friday.

I'm kind of preoccupied this morning. A missing spouse will do that to a person. I'm not sure if I should be worried or irritated, as the two are battling for position. The last communication I had was last evening around 9, when I checked in with him on his cellphone. They (him and his work buds) were going to have just one more shooter and then come home. Yeah, I've heard that before. I suppose my revealing this here is my irritated side coming out. But really I hope he's okay. (Update* he's home and okay. Looks like he had a wild night.)

I clicked the link for the Starbucks Oracle on Naked Boy's site. This is a cute little personality test based on what you order at Starbucks. I put in grande coffee of the day. Because that's what I drink and I'm boring that way. Here's my result sprinkled with my two cents.

*Behold the Oracle's wisdom:

Personality type: High Maintenance (wouldn't that be more for someone who has a foo-foo coffee?)

You pride yourself on being assertive and direct; everyone else thinks you're bossy and arrogant. (There is probably a wee bit of truth there.) You're constantly running your mouth about topics that only you would find interesting. (Duh, I blog.) Your capacity for wasting other people's time is limitless. (I think I have a lot of unused capacity, thank you very much) Your friends find you intolerable, that's why they're plotting to kill you. (oxymoronic, that)

Also drinks: Water. Bottled, chilled, with four ice cubes, a twist of lemon, in a crystal glass. (Yes I'm a water guy - tap water.)

Can also be found at: Trendy martini bars (Oh my god, how did it know?)

Sticky carpets

See these? These are the little area rugs we bought from Ikea a couple years ago. We've got five of them in the kitchen. A couple of weeks ago, Serge threw them in the washing machine. (When we got them, this was a main selling point. Sure they are small enough to fit into a washing machine, but just to verify on the tag, yes, Machine Washable. )

So Serge washed them and then placed them back in their spot to dry overnight. Some days later, as I was vacuuming, I went to move the rugs so I could vacuum underneath, and they wouldn't budge. It seemed like they had been glued to the floor. As I tried to lift the rugs, it was like pulling on really sticky tape. And then this:


It seems as though the wet carpet and the varnish had some kind of "superglue" reaction and now if we pull up the carpet, the varnish and stain on the floor come up too. I was and am horrified at this. The tag certainly didn't alert us to any danger to our floor from the carpet. (Which would be very very salient, considering you would be placing the carpets onto the floor.) When Serge saw it, he was delighted. Why? Because now we can REDO the hardwood floors. Of course he's right, but my solution is going to work just as well at a fraction of the price (and work). Buy new area rugs for those spots! This could become a source of future discord, I'm sure.

Family moment

Okay I can't sit here staring at the blank screen any longer. I've got to go teach my class this morning and if feels like the beginning of the end because the floodgates of employment have opened and it looks like my dance card is going to be full, full, full. Not that I'm complaining. Yet.

So in light of the fact that nothing noteworthy has occurred, I'll tell you a little embarrassing story from my past.

The whole family was enjoying a beautiful week of houseboating on lake Powell in Utah. This is probably a good 15 - 20 years ago, and I was in my "sun worshipping" mode as we motored down the lake. Up on top of the houseboat with my headphones on, I was laying out soaking up the glorious rays. My eyes were closed and I was who knows where in my daydream when something snapped me to the moment faster than a smelly fart. Someone pinched the head of my penis. I opened my eyes to see my aunt bent before me, the head of my penis clutched between her fingers as tears of laughter streamed down her face. My female cousins were howling behind her. I couldn't hear them because of the headphones, but apparently my junk was hanging out of my bathing suit for quite some time before they played their little trick.

I'm turning red again just recounting it.

Removing body parts

One of the things I noticed when I came here was that there was a large number of "denturologists". These are specialists in dentures (Is there a correct English term I'm unaware of?). About the only exposure to the field of dentures I've had is Florence Henderson peddling Polydent. I suppose dentures are something one keeps quiet about, like hemorrhoids.

Last night, when Florence Henderson danced and sung the praises of her product on tv, I asked spouse about why there were so many denture places. Is it because people just have bad teeth up here? Is it because, though everyone's medically insured, everyone has to pay for their own dental work? Do poutine and beer rot teeth more quickly and vigorously than other diets?

He said that no, like braces for teenagers today, it was quite a fashion back in the day. Then he mentioned a member of his family who got dentures as a teenager. I was aghast. "You mean people had all their teeth ripped out of their head because it was the thing to do?!" He admitted that the financial side of taking care of one's teeth might have played a role, but that a whole generation of people freely and willingly had their teeth removed and dentures made. Thus the large number of businesses centered on dentures thrives. Bizarre.

Still, I suppose it's no more bizarre than ripping the flesh off your baby's penis.

Boring weekend update

It's been like autumn all weekend. I actually cranked up the heat (much to spouse's displeasure) and it's the middle of August. I think I used the air conditioner 4 days this season. We usually have a good hot spell in September so maybe this is just an early taste of fall.

We did very little this weekend. We spent a few hours Saturday morning collecting the money from the donation parking meters. It's pretty impressive that almost a grand a week is being put into the meters. Yesterday, the highlight of the day was walking down the street for breakfast where I had my usual eggs benedict.

I've also been tracking the hurricane in the Caribbean. I love watching the satellite images and seeing the progression of the storm. It's like a spinning top, or, a whirlpool in the bathtub drain. I like to watch it here. (click on all 109 images at the bottom and then press play.) It looks like Jamaica got whacked good yesterday.

For the inquisitive

Okay so I'm going to talk about lap dances. For the squeamish among you, there is no need to go further. (thus guaranteeing that everyone will read further.)

Several years ago, I'm thinking three or four, we were out for my birthday. Sometimes it is fun to finish the night at a stripclup ogling the boys on stage. Certainly when I first visited Montreal in '95 and on subsequent visits, I behaved as most Americans do, my eyes about fell out of my head (while other things pressed from their confines) when I saw what a real gay stripclub could be. Short of the guy I saw jack off on stage once in a seedy San Francisco jizz stenched theater (don't ask) the boys here do everything but. I had been to "strip clubs" in the states but they were more like "ladies night" up here. I don't like to go on ladies night, the boys on stage turn into coy things, just a little flash of the junk here, a little ass cleavage there. Tame. Boring. No, I much prefer the guys walking out sporting a rock hard-on and waving it around like a trophy. Ahem. So the dancers do their thing on stage and then they circulate among the patrons watching in the audience. It's a stage with bar tables all around. The dancers are very friendly and inquisitive, as I'm sure tourists are an easy target. They offer to take you in back for "contact dance" for $20 a song. The songs are all 3 minutes as they go with the performances on stage. It is best to establish the exact number of songs you are willing to pay for, or you stand a chance of being taken advantage of. Scrupulous, nude dancers are not. Double ahem.

The booth. So it's my birthday and spouse knows I've had a thing for years about one particular dancer. Anyway, Serge says to go ahead and "buy" him, he'll pay (I love spouse). So he gives me $40 and I go to find Daniel, his stage name. I tell him I want two songs and he takes me into his room, says I can do anything I want except penetration and then works on himself a bit to get, err, more attentive. (Insert thrillingness here.) At the end of the two songs, he says he will give me two more songs if I massage his back. So I do and then I pay.

So at the market Thursday, that's the guy who mistook my cart for his while we were both perusing the veggies. He, of course, had no recollection of me.

Snippets

* Sara would like to know which plate is hers. If I weren't in the room, she'd go ahead and choose. (Last night's dinner was Artichoke, bbq chicken thighs and cheese quesadilla.)

* I have a compass on my keyring. It delights me to no end that I can always find North.

* The price of gas increased 11% overnight. Why didn't I fill it up yesterday? Why?

* I bought the plane tickets for Europe next June. Now, I receive a new mile distribution policy for Aeroplan effective September. It turns out we will receive ZERO miles for those flights to Europe. This might be the last straw with Air Canada. (Basically if you buy an economy ticket now, you get between zero and 25% of miles flown. Up until now, we got 100% of miles flown.)

* In other related outrageous moves by money grabbing corporations that we do business with, the cable company has sent us a new policy for bandwidth usage. We signed up for the fastest internet with no limits. Now poof! Limits. Do we get any kind of discount for the reduction in service? No, no we don't. According to their letter, they feel that the alotted bandwidth will be sufficient to suit our needs. (Okay it's 100 gigs, but still.)

* It seems to me like careless and carefree should be synonyms. In a way they are. I mean, sometimes lucky and stupid go hand in hand.

* Only once have I paid for a lap dance alone. It was here some years ago. Imagine my surprise as he (to die for!) accidentally put things in my basket at the market yesterday. He had put an identical sack of avocados in my cart by mistake. It was up to me to decide which was mine. I was too flustered to pick mine so I just chose randomly.

* The most awesome storm (the third in the awesome category this season) swept through yesterday. Hail, funnel clouds, the works. Here's a geeky video as I gawked.

Mushy dog post

Sara is such a treasure. Every day she makes me smile and my heart contracts, like a squeezed sponge, and out pours all this love for the beast. I think if I had children, I wouldn't be able to take it, my heart would simply burst. As she has entered her feeble years, I thought my heart might grow colder, wearier, but I just keep loving her more every day.

She is groaning a lot these days. She doesn't stay "up" for very long, and when she lays down, a low grumbling moan escapes her maw. Serge and I cluck and soothe her. When we go for walks, she starts stumbling after a couple of blocks, but she just ignores that her limbs are failing her and can't believe it when I turn around to go home. Already!? she thinks and then sneaks glares at me, even as she stumbles more and more, her back legs giving out under her. When we get home, she waits at the bottom of the 7 step entry and then presents herself for carrying up the stairs. Gosh my heart breaks with love when she does that.

I've been giving her these chew rawhide chips lately. She doesn't go for the rawhide bones now, it's too difficult for her and she loses interest. But these chew strips last her an hour, she gets a good tooth workout, and she loves them. She does the funniest thing (always has) when she gets a new chew treat. First she seizes it, quivering with excitement, and runs off to her designated chew area (which she has decided upon, not us) and then looks back at me, tail wagging and wild eyed look. She wants me to chase her. It's as if the toy's value increases when coveted by others. If I don't chase her a bit, she will whimper at the chew toy. We used to think she was whimpering with joy, but now I think that she needs to be chased before it can be eaten. Sometimes she'll come to wherever we are and toss it into the air repeatedly until we, yes you guessed it, chase her. It really is cute.

Money grab

Now that we've got this car, I've used it a couple of times to go downtown. And though some areas have the old style insert-the-coin parking meters, the downtown core has had them largely replaced by pay kiosks located on each block. There have been a couple of surprises with this new method. One good and one bad. First the bad. When I stopped to make a deposit at the bank, I paid for 15 minutes at the kiosk and went inside. Seeing that the line was very long, I decided I might need thirty minutes and returned to the kiosk to pay another dollar. But when I looked at my ticket, I realized I had just paid for the same 15 minutes again! Sure enough right on the kiosk it says "Each transaction is handled separately from previous ones". (Imagine if this was the case with the old style meters - that each time you added money, it started again from zero!)

So the lesson here is do not add money to the meter until the time has nearly expired, otherwise, you'll pay twice for the same minutes. Now the good. While enjoying a visit from friends down in the old port, we were enjoying some lovely beer on a terrace some distance from where I had parked. Since we lolligagged longer than planned, it was necessary to add time to the kiosk. The good news? It's not necessary to find the kiosk nearest your parked vehicle, you can key in your parking space at any kiosk in the general area. There happened to be one just outside the place where we were enjoying our brew. Perfect, add another couple dollars and no worries. But still, it's wise to remember to wait until your original time has expired.

Same or different?

We had a lively discussion the other night about the differences between Americans and Canadians. In attendance were those with widely varying views - from there being basically no differences to there being radical divergences. I could see both angles. On a human socio-economic level, life is very similar in the two countries. However, I see huge differences in the way each interprets their national identity. It's not as simple as Canadians are peacekeepers and Americans are warmongerers. Actually I think Americans view themselves as powerful, yet benevolent. I tried to speak from my experience living in the two countries, and from there I see more of a sense of community here. Sure capitalism and consumerism are rampant up here, but there's a very (important in the minds of the people) strong social safety net that is not to be toyed with. Indeed, a recent poll in Quebec showed that people were not in favor of lowering sales taxes and instead felt it should be used to bolster the existing social programs in place.

So the way I see it, the way of life is very similar, but the worldview is different. Does that make Canadians nicer? Who knows.

And you? What's your take on the matter?

Word musings

Did you realize we say the word "the" in two different ways? We say "thuh" before a consonant and "thee" before a vowel. Try it out on these two sentences.

"I would like the other one."

"In the place I told you about."

See? You automatically pronounce the word in two different ways. It's funny, you probably didn't notice you did that. Students find this frustrating and illogical. (Quebecers often say, "I would like "thuh udder one".)

I wonder where the expression "It's the pits," came from. Is it a pit like a depression in the ground (or under the arm) or is it like the nut in the middle of a peach?

Or what about "down in the dumps"? We take old junk to the dump. Also, every morning I take dumps. This gives new possible interpretation to "Don't dump on me!"

Nowadays, I here the people proclaim, "It's the shit!" I haven't ever been particularly pleased with any kind of shit and yet, this is some kind of accolade. Crazy youngsters.

This 'n that

I'm all fuzzy headed this morning. We had a swell time at a friend's barbeque last night, lots of good conversation with lots of intellectually stimulating people. Unfortunately, (though at first I thought fortunately), there was tequila. There's a different quality to a tequila buzz, and thus a different kind of morning headache. I love the former but could skip the latter.

I clicked a link yesterday from Brite Yellow Gun's site to a movie site. I figured I was going to click and see a trailer for the movie. No. It was the whole movie. I was totally sucked into the film (though you can skip the first five minute intro) and have been pondering its message. There are three parts. First, the film debunks the veracity of the Bible, which I found a bit dull since I have no emotional investment in said book. Then I found very interesting the take on events surrounding 9/11. There's a lot of fishiness about that day, but I don't want you to think I'm a whacko, so you'll have to watch. The third part reveals who's really in control in the world, and left me feeling quite hopeless. If you'd like to enjoy those feelings, you can watch it here:

http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

I knew I was an old geezer white trash

*** THE EVERYTHING TEST ***

There are many different types of tests on the internet today. Personality tests, purity tests, stereotype tests, political tests. But now, there is one test to rule them all.


Traditionally, online tests would ask certain questions about your musical tastes or clothing for a stereotype, your experiences for a purity test, or deep questions for a personality test.We're turning that upside down - all the questions affect all the results, and we've got some innovative results too! Enjoy :-)



PERSONALITY
You are more logical than emotional, more concerned about others than concerned about self, more atheist than religious, more loner than dependent, more lazy than workaholic, more rebel than traditional, more engineering mind than artistic mind, more cynical than idealist, more leader than follower, and more extroverted than introverted.
As for specific personality traits, you are innovative (86%), adventurous (69%), intellectual (63%).

STEREOTYPES
Young Professional (70%)
Old Geezer (67%)
White Trash (64%)


LIFE EXPERIENCE
Sex (35%)
Substances (68%)
Travel (53%)


POLITICS
Your political views would best be described as Socialist, whom
you agree with around 83% of the time.

SOCIOECONOMIC
Your attitude toward life best associates you with Middle Class.
You make more than 70% of those who have taken this test,
and 31% less than the U.S. average.

If your life was a movie, it would be rated PG-13.
By the way, your hottness rank is 67%, hotter than 72% of other test takers.

TAKE THE TEST
http://www.thatsurveysite.net/take.php?id=eay

Powered by ThatSurveySite - http://www.thatsurveysite.net

Snippets

* My slumbering babies.

* The weirdest dream yesterday. Serge came home with a couple of guys who wanted a three way with him. He said I needed to clear out. One of them was my high school best friend. (Married to a woman in real life.) Serge shoved a martini in my hand and sent me out for an hour. I was crushed, trying to be magnanimous and give him this "fun" but it sure felt shitty to be woken up and sent out of the house, here I am walking down the street, NAKED, with a maritini at 6 in the morning. It probably looks weird that I have a martini glass walking around like this. Still not many people are out at this hour, thank God. I hope I don't cut my feet, gosh I really hope I don't cut my feet on any broken glass. (I was more concerned about cutting my feet than the fact that I was sauntering down the street naked.) Then I woke up mad at Serge.

* A couple things I've learned this week. When you don't leave the house nothing happens. Also, no money is spent. Fascinating, I know.

* A friend of ours informed us that we shouldn't rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. That because we have the fancy "sensor cycle" model, if we rinse first, the sensor will determine that "washing" isn't needed, only more rinsing. Then the dishes don't come out as clean. We should always leave a little food caked onto everything according to him. I find this hugely difficult to believe, but at the same time I'm insanely hopeful that it is true. We shall see tomorrow.

* Sara let a fart the other day that I swear she stored up for 12 years. I had to run from the room gagging, trying to curse, but only succeeding in gagging. It was like a skunk's spray atop a rotting animal and then shat upon. Vile.

* Hey, if you've linked me and I haven't returned the linky love, just drop me a line or a comment and I'll slide you in on the sidebar.

* This was taken last weekend at the Flora exhibit in the Old Port. I thought it was preety.

Attacking the innocent

Once I got through my chores yesterday, I sat down to play a little scrabble on-line. I joined a table and began, as I always do, wishing my opponent good luck. My opponent opened the board with a bingo (this is when you use all your letters and receive a 35 point bonus) for which I commended him by saying "very nice". My opponent thanked me for my kind words. A few turns later, I played a bingo - terries - for which my opponent remained silent. No biggie, it's not necessary to congratulate someone for this, just polite. Then a few turns later, I had the audacity to play "orzo". Apparently, this convinced my opponent that I was cheating, because the chat box came alive with his vitriol.

Normally, when this happens, I just resign, it's not worth it joining a pissing contest. Still, I couldn't believe this person went nuts over "orzo". For years, this was on the menu (with porcini mushrooms if I recall correctly, hmm, I wonder if he would have had the same reaction had I played porcini) so it doesn't seem like a strange word to me at all. I decided to play with the guy.
I particularly like how he skewers me for misspelling "possess" even as he uses "your" for "you're" and "shouldn't of" for "shouldn't have". Please note that I do not mention that.

I was actually giggling. Such incredible spewing from this guy and he is so convinced that he got my number.
It went on a spell, and I thanked him for providing me with blog fodder. He stretched out the end of the game for 10 minutes, tossing epithets my way, which gave me a chance to take photos of the chatscreen. (It's impossible to highlight the text and copy it.)

The sad thing is that this is what many people are like. Bitter and angry. It comes out easily when someone is cloaked by the anonymity of the net. I wonder how easily it comes out in day to day contact with people. I sure hope he doesn't have kids.

Almost Zilch

I got in the car yesterday to go do my grocery shopping at the big fancy Loblaws nearby. The problem with this is that things cost more at the big fancy store, and let's not even mention that I'm taking the car to do it. It's very close, but just far away enough to make the prospect of carrying things home propel me to shop at the smaller, dingier market even closer. But now there's a car. Dammit, I really don't want to add to my carbon footprint, but the big market has a butcher. And a bakery. And a sushi bar. It's the butcher counter that really sells me. I get to pick out my slaughtered animal and then the nice man wraps it up tenderly, like a present.

I spent almost double what I figured I would.

Oh my God, I just remembered I can go to Costco. I could've gone to Costco! Still, I've been known to drop many hundreds of dollars at a time in that place. It's probably best that I stay away for now. Things are really tight until I go back to work at the end of the month.

Oh god. I just reread what's written so far. How could anyone care about this? I need some inspiration. Or an activity (must be free). A class. Some kind of new skill to learn. What I should probably do is quit smoking next week and get over the worst of it before I go back to work.

Universe? Can I get some fodder, please?

A touch of blue

These last couple months have gone by so fast. All across the continent, teachers are dreading the approaching return-to-work date and I'm no exception. It makes me want to wring every possible drop of pleasure out of the remaining days. Screw what I was supposed to have accomplished. Vacation, by definition, excludes accomplishment. Still, I had wanted to write more, knit more, make more music and go someplace new. Funny how no matter how much we have given to us, we can always find a way to miss something or desire more. We crazy humans. What are you gonna do? I for one am remembering to be grateful and shushing that little "unfulfilled" voice. Sometimes I think the notion of fulfillment is absolutely attainable - as a simple choice. As long as basic human needs are met (food, water, shelter, social contact) contentment is right there waiting for us to grab it. It's so hard though sometimes. Even though I can intellectually justify being fulfilled, my heart sometimes aches nonetheless. It's that darned dread of going back to work that's mucking everything up, sigh.

Back to reality

Well I survived. I wish I had the stamina of my youth when my body seemed invincible and my liver impermeable. I think I'll be tired the rest of the month after Bob's visit and all the craziness of gay pride week in Montreal. (Is it possible for me to write a sentence without 'I' in it?) Yesterday was the last day of it and I put Bob on a plane this morning. I hurt all over but especially around my mouth from all the grinning. (grin)

Outside a huge thunderstorm is raging. Lightning and thunder are shattering the air. Sara is at my feet quivering. (Look! Three sentences sans 'I') Serge just toddled off to work in the rain, poor guy.

Here's my annual collage of the gay days nonsense. The song is Boy from Ipanema, by whom I've no idea. Enjoy! (You can full screen the video if you double click and go to youtube.)

Divercite dot org

Partying in the village. Stayed up way past my bedtime. Spent way more than budgeted. Drank well over my limit. One more day of this nonsense. Very good that it only comes once a year. I'm unable to form complex phrases. Foggy aptly describes my brain. That is all.

A little ride to Quebec City

It's a two and a half hour drive to Quebec City. We were famished upon arriving and sat down to order crepes. Being a rather touristy location, this meal cost over $100. Really, it's just some fancy pancakes.

Near Quebec City, there is a sizable waterfall which we made a point of visiting.

We took a tramway to the top of the falls and then walked down. Here's Serge and Bob up at the top.

Those crepes left us hungry, so I had my annual beavertail with chocolate and bananas. The others opted for ice cream.

After the long ride home, the sky made a spectacular performance and a thunderstorm developed overhead and produced some of the best mammatus clouds I've seen up here.

We were tired after all that driving and walking so we ordered a pizza and watched the lightning show until late. A great day, all in all.

Hiccup

So sorry. Too busy entertaining with copious drinking to blog. Off to Quebec City this morning. Will return with photos tomorrow. Mwah!

I heart you guys

That was so charming yesterday in the comments. You know, when the anonymous commenter dumped his or her judgmental crap, I was initially incensed. In my mind I protested, "After all the sleepless nights he caused me, after all the money he cost us, you can say this?! At least you threw the Jesus line in there, because that got me thinking. Thinking that you are a presumptuous individual who seems to be able to "know" the will of some Guy as told by a story cobbled together by power hungry men long after His death. I'd see a shrink if I were you. I've half a mind to delete your skanky comment. Hmm. I wonder if anyone will comment you into your place."

And then you all came through. A bunch of comments displaying the same irritation for the anonymous commenter as I was feeling. I love you guys!!!

I'm up early today to rush off to the airport. No, I'm not going anywhere, I'm picking up our friend Bob who arrives on the red-eye from LA at 7am. Bob is in town to visit and enjoy the Diverscite festivities. We may also take a jaunt up to Quebec City. Certainly there will be copious drinking happening. Looks like a fun and laughter-filled few days coming up. Just in time too, I need some blog fodder.

Probably the last ND update

Spouse put the car to use right away and took the rest of nude dancer's belongings to an aid organization yesterday. We have been slowly getting rid of his things, dumping the junk and offering goods to others. The only thing left of his is a couple boxes of papers. The garage looks so spacious now!

So of course nude dancer calls yesterday evening. Comes out with a story of getting back on his feet, of gainful employment and a promise of money that he owes us. Serge was stern on the phone and stated that all his stuff is gone because we needed the space in the garage. "Everything? Even my photos?" he asked. "There are a few papers left, maybe the photos are there, I'm not sure," spouse replied. "Well I did have money to give you, but, well, okay" sighed nude dancer as he hung up. Spouse and I reminded each other all evening, "Do not feel guilty!" We waited well beyond a reasonable amount of time (7 months of his crap filling our garage) before finally ridding ourselves of the last of it. This all reminded me of something my grandpa used to say - a day late and a dollar short, because had nude dancer only called the previous day, he might have been able to get some of his belongings.

No, we do not feel guilty.