Geek List

I am SUCH a geek. This monitor makes me drool. It's freaking brilliant. My 17" laptop monitor combined with the 21" flat screen to go with, just doesn't cut it when compared to the futuristic beauty of this baby.

I still enjoy playing hacky-sac with the guys on my breaks at work.

I spent ALL of last night trying to read tableture for guitar. Figured out the intro to Theory of a Deadman's "in the middle" and couldn't sleep for the excitement.

I sang along to Wayne Newton, all the way to work in the car this morning. (what's that all about? I'm supposed to be depressed and meloncholy)



I am soo exited about my new bike, it is almost completely preoccupying me. I have a picture of it on my desktop as a screen saver.

I wore heels to work, and tripped at least 4 times so far. It's currently 1:58 pm.

I still get all sweaty and nervous talking to McDreamy at the gym, cuz he still insists on saying hi and makes conversation. He's acting like he's on crack. He probably thinks the same of me.

I wear a blanket around me at work when I get cold. I have no problems with this.

I wear socks with sandles if I'm feeling too lazy to put regular shoes on to go to the store.

On the 'anti-geek' list:
I got a cat-call from some construction workers today. I still got it! But one of my 5000 bosses told me I'm intimidating and it makes me unapproachable. sigh! WHY??? Given the chance, I'd tell ya anything you wanna know ! I'm an open book. Honestly, I really am. I can't lie...ever! and I'm totally whacked most of the time. Needless to say, I drowned my sorrow at my impending spinsterhood in about 5000 cookies consisting of about 5,000,000 calories

And the Emmy Goes To...

And the Emmy for most alien-like face goes to…Barry Manilow. (big round of applause from the fluffed up, emaciated audience)

What the hell is wrong with that guys face? It’s like someone grabbed him by the ears and tied them back behind his head, pulling his face back into this weird and contorted shape that’s eerily like Joan Rivers with a spiky mullet-like haircut.

What’s with the Emmy’s anyways? No offence to anyone that enjoys watching these awards shows. To me, and remember, no offence to anyone, it’s just a bunch of overgrown, insecure children that need to pat themselves on the back for a job well-done, and boost their egos, so that next time, they’re puking up the one cracker they ate that day so they can maintain that svelt, size 1 figure they coveted for so long, cuz their careers depended on it, they’ll feel it was all worth it, because a bunch of stuffy critics decided that their 5 minute performance in some movie that no one remembered because it wasn’t even in English, was an absolutely fabulous portrayal of some real life hero that actually risked their life, or died, to save the lives of others, but received no award for it. The reward was reserved for the actor/actress that portrayed said hero. But that’s just my opinion. Take it with a grain of salt.

It’s all so pompous and ridiculous. I could barely handle watching it during the commercial breaks of whatever the hell it was I was watching on the other channel, I really can’t remember, sad isn’t it? But I remember Barry Manilow. I surfing through both channels that I have and happened upon him, and had to stop. I was a deer caught in headlights. The guy’s just not normal. I couldn’t stop staring at the screen. I sat there in the edge of the sofa, remote slipping out of my hands, and jaw on the floor. The host, introduced 2 people who were temporary hosts to introduce someone else, who introduced the next Emmy winner. Is this not going overboard? Anyways, that’s enough of that.

Mcdreammy saga continues: Well not really, just a quick question for the masses, that will hopefully clear up some questions. I’m so green in this whole dating thing, I have no idea about anything. I don’t understand men, I don’t understand dating, and I certainly don’t understand this thing called “chemistry”. Why is it there sometimes and why is it not sometimes, even with some really decent people…no chemistry. The same in reverse. Grrr…but, I digress. My question is this. I recently heard from a reliable source that McDreamy, although messed up emotionally, apparently, over the ruin of his marriage, and not able to get involved is a dog. Yup, a d.o.g. The fact that he was unable to use me, like the dog that he is, (and I think I totally would have let him, despite the fact that I know I would have end up terribly hurt and all) is confusing. What does it mean? I came up with two things. One good, one not so good.

A: he respected me.
B: he finds me really unattractive.
C: there is no logic at all.

I’d like to lean towards A, hope it’s not C, but am probably going to settle on C. He did manage to go out on 3 dates with me, and I know for certain, that I would never go out on even ONE date with a guy I found repulsive, but you never know, but I guess I’m shallow. Who knows?

Other news: my supervisor is micro-managing me, I’m going to lose it all over his sorry ass if he stands over my shoulder one more time. I’m doing 2 jobs at once right now. I’ve taken my laptop to the front desk, and not only am I taking over for the secretary in a busy office, I am doing my job as multimedia developer and building an online course simultaneously.

I bought the road bike I’d been ogling for a while. It’s not the best on the market, obviously. But a good entry level bike. It’s the 2006 Trek 1000 for a whopping $1065.00. This does not include the cost of accessories. I am going to NEED a pair of bike shorts with padding in the bum. Ouch!

Ha! Ha!

Picture: Courtacy of me, while driving through Quebec, Canada.
Alright, I can't claim any sort of kudos for a picture well taken, but in my defence, I was driving. I've passed this sign in Quebec many many times over the years, driving to Ontario to visit my mom, or vice versa, when I lived in Ontario. Everytime I see it, I giggle, and wonder to myself..."Who named this place?" "What were they thinking?" This town must be the laughing stock of Quebec. St-Louis-du Ha! Ha! It's the exclaimation marks that really get me going !!!



I woke up this morning, and Holy-Sweet-Lord-Thunderin-Jesus, it was cold. It's August!! Apparently, according to the radio that was blaring beside my head, it was a whopping 6 degrees (that's celcius folks) Damn that's cold, almost considered not getting out of bed. It's 26 degrees now, but Jeez, this morning ??? Anyways, it got me thinking...skiing! Oh baby, I'm excited. It's going to be a loooonnnggg fall whilst I wait for snow.



It's that time of year again. It's the annual DND photo contest. This was one of my winning entries last year. It won me a new camera (which I sold, ha! ha!) and printer (also sold) I have another wedding to photograph this August, maybe I'll get some more wedding shots. I hate weddings, everyone is stressed, slightly crazy, oh wait, did I say "slightly"? I meant to say, Bat-shit insane! and I have to follow around a crazed bridle party all day while trying to get some good pictures out of them. Inevitably, someone will cry. I don't mind photographing the groomsmen, assuming their not too drunk. A little drunk is fun. They'll do absolutely anything you ask them to. I'll post that photo a bit later, blogger seems to not want me to post anymore...grrr



Not the best technically, but it was fun none the less. Not to mention, I didn't have to worry about the drunken groomsmen having to pee later, during a crucial picture taking time. hehehe

I'm going to die a fat lazy sex addict

Your Deadly Sins

Gluttony: 80%

Lust: 80%

Sloth: 80%

Envy: 60%

Greed: 60%

Pride: 20%

Wrath: 20%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 57%

You'll die from food poisoning - and then the natives will feast on your fatty limbs.

How Sinful Are You?

Bastards at Starbucks

Yes, you heard me. I have been a faithful and loyal patron of Starbucks for years, enjoying their Grande Lattes, however, I am currently really pissed at them.

Yesterday, upon completing a long walk with B, I had a great desire for a Latte. I headed over to Starbucks, cuz well, that's just where you go if you want a good latte. At least in this town you do.

I ordered a Grande-DECAF-nonfat latte.
Grande - cuz it's the perfect size
nonfat - cuz I didn't want to undo the long walk with a cup full of fat
DECAF - cuz it was 8 pm.

I have one cup of coffee a day. First thing in the am. That's it, no more, cuz I have had such a hard time sleeping this past year.

At two am last night, I was in my kitchen boiling noodles and preparing to smother sundried tomato sauce and parmesan cheese on them, cuz DAMNIT, I was hungry. Why was I hungry? Cuz I was wide awake and it was 2 am and hadn't eaten anything since supper at roughly 6 pm the previous day, making that a total of 8 hours, no food.

All I could think about before succombing to the hunger and the desire for pasta, was that the "Bastards at Starbucks" did NOT give me a decaf. I was wide awake, and there was NO reason for it. Next time I go in there, (cuz lets face it, I can't boycot it forever I have no will-power) I will ask for the home phone number of the person making my latte. Why you ask? because this way, when they fuck up, by making me a regular caffienated latte with 2 shots of espresso placed so deliciously together with a large cup of fat, I want to be able to call them at home while they slumber peacefully in their beds and tell them about what it's like to be awake past two am on a week night when you have to get up 6:15 the next day to go to work.

Let's call it Quality Control.

One final note: I finally have an appointment with a lawyer about getting child support from my ex, who's not helped out in the past 3 years. Not a dime, nothing, nadda, nil, zilch. Would be different if he couldn't afford it, but he just bought himself a lovely brand spanking new custom-built home with central air, hard wood floors, etc... throw in some new furniture and ummm ya, he coulda helped a little, especially as he's no where near by to help in other ways, by like, ooohhh, I dooonnn't knnoooowwwwww helping to raise his daughter????

Bathroom Follies and Other Thoughts

Warning: This post may be offensive to some.

I don’t know why, but every time I use a public washroom, I think of the local government employee who was arrested quite a few years ago for planting microscopic cameras in the ladies toilet (actual toilet bowl) in the local Justice Building here. Or was it City Hall? No matter…

Anyways, I’m always wondering if someone is getting a good look at my “downstairs” while I’m working on one of life’s most basic functions.

Today, however, my “fear” was replaced with giggles. I was thinking about another incident in a bathroom on the weekend. I don’t know if anyone remembers my post about “the Elusive Bathroom Troll” but to sum it up, it’s about how most people will sit in absolute silence in the bathroom stall and hold it all in waiting for you to leave. They will literally sit there for ages. I like to doddle in those instances, it’s just way too tempting to torture someone you know is absolutely busting, waiting for you to leave.

On the weekend, however, I was at a festival thingy downtown, and had to pee. I walked into a surprisingly clean public washroom and proceeded with my business. Even I was trying to be fairly discrete with my bodily functions, and doesn’t some girl come in, and just let-her rip. Wow, I don’t know what she had been eating, but the word “explosive” comes to mind, cuz I’m sure it could be heard in China. I could barely control myself from laughing and embarrassing the poor girl.

Now flash back to today. I’m on the pot, at work, having a dump. There are three stalls in the “Ladies” at work. I’m currently by myself, and thank God for that, cuz all of a sudden, I’m thinking of the girl in the washroom from the weekend. I can’t help it, I’m giggling, but I’m trying not to make too much noise, cuz you can hear everything from the men’s washroom perfectly, so I can only assume that they can hear us too. And you never know when someone will walk in. My giggling is out of control. It sounds more like a medley of snorts, grunts and loud heavy breathing from my nose. This of course, makes me self conscious of the spectacle I’m making of myself there, and I’m imagining how retarded I must seem, which of course gets me to carrying on even more. I am now, still sitting on the pot, snorting, grunting, giggling through my nose, and have tears streaming down my face. I can’t help it. I had to walk all the way back to my office with my face screwed up, trying not to laugh out loud, cuz I really didn’t want to have to explain what was so funny.

A friend of mine, actually, my friends boyfriend, works in a call center. I hesitate to call him a friend of mine, as he's convinced I've been put on this earth only to tarnish my friends reputation by corrupting her innocent self. Ahem, I'm not exactly her evil muse, pushing her to get into trouble. In fact, I'm more innocent than she is. Anyways, I digress. He works in a call center making reservations to Ramada Hotels and it's subsidiaries all over North America. A woman called him the other day and said she's like to book a hotel next to the airport in Canada. To which his reply was "And which airport would that be mam?"
She said, "The one in Canada"
He said, "There's more than one airport in Canada"
She said, "Well the main airport then" (she's getting snippy now)
Canada's a big place...hellooooo???? There's more than ONE airport, more than ONE major city, more than ONE hotel.
If that were me on the phone, and I had to deal with an ignorant caller who refused to believe that Canada is more than igloos, penguines, Inuit, seal-clubbing, polar bears, and snow, I would have just agreed, and booked her into the closest hotel to the airport in Nunavut, or isolated her in the Yukon, and bade her a "nice vacation, and good luck to ya"

Anyone remember the beer commercial where there's a guy in a plaid shirt and he says he does NOT know Joe from Canada,and it's "about" not "aboot" and we don't all wear toques. Ya, it's true. Which brings me to my next point.

I do NOT know, Jon, Marry, Suzie, or Paul from the Base. I wish I had a dollar for every person who asked me that STUPID-ASS question when they ask where I work. It's an army base for Fucks-sake. Do they not realize how many people work here? The building I work in, is the size of a shopping mall, and it's only one building out of many MANY other buildings. In fact, if I'm not completely out to lunch, I believe I'm working on one of the largest bases in Canada. Yeesh!

Unpredictable Walkers

Sounds like a Seinfeld episode doesn’t it? Ya, the producers of the show certainly missed the ball on that one.

Unpredictable Walkers are my ultimate nemesis. The number one place I hate them the most…the mall. The number two place...the market. the number three place...walking trails/sidewalks. Those are the people that wander ever so slowly down the isles in no discernable direction, and seemingly lacking in spacial awareness. Completely oblivious to the fact that walking 3 people wide in a narrow isle, or congregating in a group at a crucial juncture, is indeed blocking others from getting by, and that those others are actually plotting their ultimate destruction and complete annihilation in their heads as they crawl behind them at a snails pace, hoping, no wait, praying for an opening before they do something they may regret for the rest of their lives. (or is that just me?) These are the same people that drive in the fast lane on the highway at exactly the same speed as someone in the slow lane, thus blocking all motorists from passing.

Unpredictable walkers are recognized by their lack of direction. They keep a slow, to extremely slow pace, which is never consistent, and often in the center of the isle and are easily distracted. They can and will, shift direction in a moments notice without first checking to see if they will be walking into someone, or cutting someone off. You can count on this. Often, this is done, as your trying to get by them, thus blocking your progress or walking right into you. Many times, they are holding lots of stuff. The female of the species often have extremely large purses that stick out. God knows how much stuff they feel is soo important to have with them at all times as to carry a full purse the size of a Lada.

These unpredictable walkers will at times have cell phones stuck to their heads having the most inane conversations in public. “Ya, I’m at the market….thinking of buying some lettuce….no, the coffee wasn’t very good” ummm...okay....WHO CARES!

These unpredictable walkers will also walk forward while staring off to the side, and even sometimes, looking behind them. If your walking towards them, you can see them coming, you know they don’t see you, cuz they aren’t aware that they are surrounded by thousands of other people trying to make their way through the herd. You have several options at this point:

A: Move to the side and/or stop and let them by, hoping they don’t suddenly shift directions and walk right into you. This happens a lot. If your quick, you can skirt them and offer to dance.

B: Make a loud coughing sound, or an “ahem” and hope to catch their attention before they reach you. This option rarely works with the cell phone, mp3 listening unpredictable walker.

C: Let them walk right into you. Refuse to budge, keep walking or standing exactly where you are, pretend not to see them, and let them barrel right into you. Make sure you are fully prepared to reap the repercussions of this one.

1.Make sure you and/or the U.W. are not holding any sharp or breakable objects. A set of steak knives and a carton of eggs for example. Either way, it’ll be messy.

2.Make sure the U.W. is not offensively large. You should be able to defend yourself in case the U.W. decides to retaliate.

3.Have an escape route, in the event of an aggressive U.W. Sometimes the little ones can be the most offensive.

4.Make sure they are above the age of majority, you don’t want to get slapped with a criminal charge for beating up a minor.

Sandal Ettiquette

Just a friendly reminder to all about the importance of sandal ettiquette. I know we are all well into the summer now and should have this under control but it never hurts to have a recap. I discovered that I had been in breach of some of the "rules" myself (much to my horror and have since remedied the situation) and figured it would be a good idea to send the message along.

Please, raise your big toes and repeat after me:

As a member of the Faux Paux Sister or Brother Hood, I pledge to follow "The Rules" when I wear sandals and other open-toe shoes:

I promise to always wear sandals that fit. My toes will not hang over and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs. And the sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps.

I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish-fresh, intact and chip-free. I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe.

I will sand down any mounds of skin before they turn hard and yellow.

I will shave the hairs off my big toe.

If a strap breaks, I won't duct-tape, pin, glue or tuck it back in to place hoping it will stay put. I will get my shoe fixed or toss it.

No matter how much it hurts, I will not live in corn denial; rather I will lean on my good friend Dr. Scholl's if my feet need him.

I will resist the urge to buy jelly shoes at Payless for the low, low price of $4.99 even if my feet are small enough to fit into the kids' sizes. This is out of concern for my safety, and the safety of others. No one can walk properly when standing in a pool of sweat, and I would hate to take someone down with me as I fall and break my ankle.

I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like Vienna sausages.

I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/boyfriend/brother/coworker when he/she asks me if her/his feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell her /him that her/his toes look like they've been dragged behind her/his car on the way to work and no sandal in the world is going to make her/his feet look good.

I will promise if I wear flip flops, that I will ensure they actually flip and flop, making the correct noise while walking and I will swear NOT to slide or drag my feet while wearing them.

I will promise to go to my local spa at least once per season and have a real pedicure - they are about $20 and worth EVERY penny. I say spend another $20.00 and get an even better one.

For all our sakes, please don't keep this to yourself - pass it on to other sisters and brothers. May God Bless your Soles as well as your Soul!