Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I can assure you that he fills those other days.
Case in point ...
Back in the day, before we were officially dating and just at the flirting stage, we worked together at a funeral home. I was a secretary, he was an apprentice. Space for administrative offices is at a premium in most funeral homes. So my desk was in the basement, at the bottom of the stairs, tucked into an alcove. It wasn't as dingy as it sounds -- it was actually quite nice. My desk was U-shaped and quite large. I could sit on my chair, pulled all the way up to my desk, stretch my legs out and not touch the wall with my feet.
I had gone down the hall to the staff room for a coffee. I wandered back to my desk. Took a sip of my coffee and set my cup down. Sat down at my chair and scooched it in.
Suddenly, I felt something crawl across my foot, up my calf and up my skirt, halfway up my thigh.
I screamed. Loudly.
I used my feet to push back and actually hit something. Sorta soft, but sorta hard. As my chair flew back, I looked under my desk.
And there, crouched underneath, giggling like a maniac, is The Husband.
The door at the top of the stairs bursts open. Right above me is the chapel, where a service is just starting. Everyone just heard me scream. My boss comes partway down the stairs and asks -- not so kindly -- why I screamed. He's pretty pissed off.
My only thought is that if I out The Husband, he'll get fired. So my immediate response was ...
"I saw a mouse."
My boss seems to accept this and returns to the service. I repeatedly slap The Husband as he crawls out from under my desk. Cussing him out and calling him every name I can think of and even making some up. He only giggles more.
I think the matter is closed.
Within the hour, mousetraps were set all over the funeral home.
The poetic justice is that The Husband, being the apprentice and thus the pee-on, was given the task of setting all the traps.
But whenever we tell that story together, he always grins and says it was worth it just to cop a feel.
Friday, March 27, 2009
And very yummy!!
But I digress ...
The closest Michel's is in Union Station. So we have to walk through some doorways, pass by the violin-playing street musician, and head to Union.
It's always the same Violin Guy. Sometimes he's accompanied by another man (who I think is his brother or cousin). He's really good. I like him. Often I walk through in the morning on the way to work and he's playing If I was a Rich Man from Fiddler on the Roof. (Side note: Fiddler and The Sound of Music are my all time favourite musicals.) I usually spend the day humming all day long I'd biddy biddy bum, if I was a wealthy man.On our way back, I drop a Twoonie in Violin Guy's case. He gives me a wink. We smile at each other. I feel great!
Then Robi points out that perhaps street musicians are the answer to weddings and other social functions. And when you think about it, it actually makes sense.
You've heard them play already, so you don't have to conduct an audition. And ... they can just prop their case open for donations, so you don't even have to pay them.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I need this on so many levels. But this morning was the last straw. Let me just say: Camel. Back. Broken.
I was walking out the door and I realized I wasn't wearing my watch. "Two seconds!" I yell to The Husband, who's getting in the car. I run back inside, up the stairs to the bedroom and expect to see my watch on my dresser. Nope. Run to the den expecting to see it on the coffee table. Nope. Back downstairs to the kitchen and expect to see it on the table. Nope.
Damn! I don't have time to quest for the watch, so I run out to the car.
I know it's a small thing, but I absolutely HATE when I forget my watch. Now I'll need to know what time it is every 10 minutes. Grrrr!
I texted BJ from the GO Train platform. "Still on for today? I need an effin drink. And its only 7:15!"
My GO Train Buddy shows up while I'm texting. He has his grumpy face on. I give him grumpy face back. "Dude, don't even start with me today. I forgot my watch, I'm in a shitty mood." Which, of course, gets us rolling into our usual morning routine of one-upping the other with comments.
As we're pulling into Union Station, he glances at his watch. The natural reflex is for me to flip my wrist and look at my ... what? Arm hair? Freckles??
I drop my hand on my lap and give him the "This is going to be one of those days" looks.
He grins and mutters "Ha Ha!"
BJ ... we're still on for drinks right? Can we go NOW??!
Monday, March 23, 2009
The OLG site.
For you non-Canadians, this is the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation. It operates and governs the provincial lotteries. For quite some time, we were not allowed access to this site. I know that it's because it's categorized as a gambling site.
But is seems kinda funny when we are allowed access to Workopolis. Which is a job site.
What kind of message does this send the staff?
We don't want you to win the lottery, but feel free to find another job.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I'm going to cave in any time now.
I gave up coffee for Lent this year. I'm having serious withdrawals. I've never smoked, but I think I now have an idea of what it's like to give up smoking. My doctor said caffeine is an equivalent addiction and I should be commended for giving it up.
Yeah, yeah. Just give me an espresso.
I'm drinking tea instead, because there's no way I could go through the caffeine withdrawal. I'm having serious headaches every day as it is. I can only imagine what it would be like if I completely cut out caffeine! I drink an average of six to eight cups of coffee a day, so you can appreciate the junkie persona I've adopted.
Coming to work all disheveled.
Not able to concentrate.
Sniffing other people's coffee mugs.
Maybe I should start a reality show: Decaf House.
Maxwell could be our sponsor.
Wait, maybe a coffee sponsor isn't such a good idea.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I closed my eyes and smiled.
Me: "Listen to the birds chirping. They sound so happy."
TH: "They won't be happy for long."
Me: frowning "Why not?"
TH: "It may be warm now but it's supposed to drop below zero Friday."
TH: "They'll be like frozen turkeys."
Me: What the??!
TH: "Tiny. Frozen. Turkeys."
As for the Spanish, it was a debate. Italian or Spanish. In the end, I figure with travelling to the States and tropical destinations all the time, Spanish makes the most sense. So Spanish it is. It starts April 27.
That means classes Mondays and Tuesdays until July ... I know, I'm a glutton for punishment.
I have to admit, the French classes were pretty easy. The Spanish should pose more of a challenge. As it is, I still think in English, translate to French then spit it out. I'm guessing that with Spanish, I'll think in English, translate to French, compare and translate to Spanish, then spit it out. I'll be speaking Spanish with a French accent! Mon Dios!!
On Monday, we drove out to Durham College to pick up my text book. On the way out, The Husband starts brushing at the steering wheel column. I glance over and there's smoke coming out of the column. Not a lot. Kinda like when a moth hits a light bulb. You get that little puff of smoke as the little guy is cremated.
We're both sniffing the air.
We couldn't smell anything.
Then there was no more smoke.
But a few minutes later, another puff of smoke.
The steering was working.
None of the gauges were off.
All seemed to be well.
It puffed a few more times.
Then nothing for the rest of the trip home.
It was a mystery.
This morning when we were leaving for work, The Husband debates on which car to drive.
"White car," he says. "I want to see if it still has Venereal Disease."
"You know," he says, all matter-of-fact, "That burning sensation."
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I realized this morning that I have nothing green to wear on St. Patrick's Day. I thought I did, but then it was pointed out to me that my green shirts are actually blue.
Do you think that colour-blind leprechauns walk around in blue outfits?
Friday, March 13, 2009
Amazing Grace is my favourite hymn.
It chokes me up every time I hear it on the bagpipes.
Her email promised goosebumps.
As I watched, I was thinking this is really quite amazing.
(no pun intended)
A beautiful song, sung by -- let's face it -- gorgeous young men.
In a spectacular setting.
But I wasn't getting goosebumps.
Then it happened! The wow-goosebumps moment.
The hair on my arms stood up.
And I teared up a little.
The embedding ability has been removed for this video,
so click here to view the video on YouTube.
I thought it was positively brilliant.
Thought I'd share it with ya'll ...
I love this Doctor!
Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life; is this true?
A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it ... don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.
Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.
Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine; that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!
Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.
Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good!
Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! .... Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?
Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.
Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans! Another vegetable!!! It's the best feel-good food around!
Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.
Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is a shape!
Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets..
Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, What a Ride"
For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.
- The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
- The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
- The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
- The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
- The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.
Eat and drink what you like.
Speaking English is apparently what kills you.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The following blog may contain scenes of violence and extreme language.
Reader discretion is advised.
In other words, go get a snack kiddies cuz Auntie Mo is very upset right now and needs to use some grown up words.
Go watch Dora.
Are they gone?
Let's get down to business ... Remember, you were warned ...
To use Frani's current favourite word, GO Transit was a complete ClusterFuck last night.
I was scheduled to work late last night. Normally I would work until 9, but times are tough and HR is trying to cut back on overtime, so I was told that there's nothing going on so I could leave at 7. But I'm looking at the piles of filing on my desk and I call The Husband to say that I'm going to catch the 8:13 cuz I want to get some work done.
So I'm puttering away. Making some progress on the piles. When I receive a notification email from GO Transit.
7:31 PM - GO Train Delay
Due to a bridge inspection East of Union Station, passengers travelling both West and East bound can expect delays and some modified service. Update to follow.
sigh. Alright. I'll deal. It may take a little longer to get home, but these things happen. Having worked at an engineering firm, I'm thinking that they're doing tests on the overpass and the train needs to pass more slowly or stop while equipment is moved into place. No biggie, I'm thinking.
7:35 PM - GO Train Cancellation(s)
The Oshawa 18:41 - Union 19:38 train trip will terminate at Danforth due to a bridge inspection. The Union 19:13-Oshawa 20:08 train trip will originate at Danforth due to a bridge inspection.
Oh for pete's sake! I call GO Transit to find out WTF? Cuz the times are off on the email. If they really mean the 7:13 train, then sending out an email at 7:35 and expecting us to take the subway to Danforth to catch the train that leaves at :23 after the hour isn't going to fly! Morons!
Buddy at GO Transit tells me they're not sure how long it will take. It may take hours. Apparently pieces of the bridge are falling off onto the track and this is causing a hazard. No shit, Sherlock! He says they're recommending passengers take the TTC to Danforth and catch the train there. At this point, it's 7:45. The train will be leaving Danforth at 8:23. I may or may not have enough time to get there. I happened to have a TTC token in my desk. I grab it and my coat and run out the door.
I have to take two different lines to get to Danforth and, of course, the timing isn't right so I have to wait 5 minutes at Bloor. I'm anxiously looking at my watch. I'm not going to make it. I know it.
There's one stop on the Bloor-Danforth line that is outside. My Blackberry buzzes. I have an email. It's GO Transit.
8:00 - GO Train Service Resumes
The bridge inspection East of Union Station has been completed and service has resumed both East and West bound. Passengers can expected (sic) some minor delays while service returns to normal.
You gotta be kidding me. I don't believe this. I'm halfway there. Probably won't make it in time. Can't go back. My eye is starting to twitch.
I get to Danforth. Run like a maniac up two flights of stairs, out the doors, towards the GO Train and I can hear the train bells. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
I missed the gawdam train. I'm SO pissed off at this point. I call The Husband. Swear like a sailor, hang up on him (sorry about that Hon!) and stomp back to the TTC. I'm thinking about what to do.
My only experience with the Danforth station was last year. The train engine died so they dumped everyone out at Danforth. We were asked to stand on the platform. It was January with a windchill of -20C. The train sat on the tracks with the doors closed. The station was closed because these smaller stations are not open off rush-hour times. My assumption last night, therefore, was that the station wouldn't be open, and I didn't want to sit in the cold and wait for the train. There was no way I could make it back to Union in time to catch the 9:13. Which would mean waiting until 10:13 for the next train. So I took the TTC up to York Mills. Waited for the bus to take me all the way out to Ajax. I got home after 10.
Once I was home, I did nothing but cuss and scream and whine. The Husband is a saint for taking all that.
When I woke up this morning, I was feeling calmer. I went to customer service and very calmly and politely asked them what the cut-off time was for a refund on delays. She said 45 minutes. I asked what was going to happen with the Danforth issue last night. She said if I went to Danforth, then they would refund the cost of the trip to Danforth, which is more than the cost of a TTC token. "I used two tokens," I pointed out. "I missed the train and decided to go up to York Mills to take the bus home." "Why didn't you just stay at Danforth?" she asked. And I explained that I didn't actually get to the station when I saw the train leave. And I explained my previous freezing Danforth experience. She looked stunned. "They did that?!" Yeah, they did that. "OK. We'll give you two refunds. Just apply them to the purchase of your monthly pass next month."
She was really nice and we had a laugh when I pointed out that yesterday GO Transit announced a price hike. Good timing, morons! I knew I was really pissed off yesterday and I didn't want to yell at the customer service rep. It's not her fault. So I apologized to her. "I didn't yell at you, did I?" She laughed. "No, actually, you seemed a little scared when you first came in." That's cuz I was afraid I was going to lose my cool and scream at you.
All in all, I feel better. Although I'm sure the girls in the coffee room this morning thought otherwise. It's a little difficult to stay calm when GO is constantly messing up.
From now on, I'm getting a refund every time GO Transit screws up.
Screw you guys and the horse you came in on!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Me: What's the name of the guy in Such 'n Such?
TH: (often, without hesitating) Blah Blah.
Me: Thanks (click.)
You'll notice there's no preamble. No 'how are you'. No 'goodbye'.
Straight to the point. Just the facts, ma'am, just the facts.
It really is the perfect scenario since I get my answer and he gets to feel a little smug.
So the other day, the Girls at work were talking about cards, and tarot and what not and somehow the conversation evolved to Bond Girls. And we're all trying to remember the name of Jane Seymour's character. I knew it had something to do with cards themselves, but the actual name eluded me.
So who you gonna call? That's right. (insert Ghostbusters Theme Song here)
But he was busy and couldn't come to the phone. Crap! How am I supposed to concentrate on work now? But as the day went on, my mind started puzzling it out. Cards, cards, cards ... AH! Solitaire!!
Phew! Now I can sleep tonight.
At dinner, I mentioned to The Husband that I had called for a trivial question.
TH: "What about?" (always eager to show off!)
Me: "I was calling to find out what Jane Seymour's Bond Girl name was, but I already figured it out. It was diving me nuts because I knew it had to do with cards."
TH: "Crazy Eights?"
Me: (eyes rolling, giggling) "No!"
TH: "OH! I know!! Old Maid!"
My apologies to Jane Seymour, if you're reading this. The Husband really did think you were hot.
Friday, March 6, 2009
But I digress.
The real reason I'm writing this blog is to kvetch about the dumb blonde customer at Starbucks. Girl needs to be bitch slapped.
We all placed our respective orders and walked over to the pick-up area. Sue and I got our Tazo Chai Lattes (I've given up coffee for Lent ... which is a whole other blog!) and Frantastic got a tall white chocolate mocca (with whip!!). Robi gave up Starbucks and Timmies for Lent (Robi's my hero; me -- I'm not that strong!), so she just came along for the ride.
So we're standing and waiting. And there's this ditzie blonde yakking away on her cell phone. She standing waiting for her coffee holding the lid in a napkin. Yak. Yak. Yak. Coffee Dude calls out "Tall Extra Hot No Fat Vanilla Latte". No one moves. I lean over to Frani. "I bet it's hers and she's so busy talking on her cell she's not paying attention."
Again, Coffee Dude calls "Tall Extra Hot No Fat Vanilla Latte."
Again, no takers.
Several seconds later, The Ditz holds her cell phone away from her ear. "What are these?" All snarky and waving her hand over the few orphaned cups of coffee on the counter. Coffee Dude tells her what they are.
And then ...
She takes her lid, using her napkin as a germ barrier, and snaps the lid on her coffee. And walks away, still yakking on her cell.
AND. LEAVES. THE. NAPKIN. ON. THE. COUNTER!!!!
Oh no she di-in't!!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
I have a difficult time distinguishing between green and blue.
Funny thing is, I didn't really know this until I was in my 20s (many years ago, if you're doing the math).
My high school art teacher, Mr. Blaise, would go on and on about my trees. "The trees are beautiful, Mo. Such vision!" Honestly, you'd think I was a savant the way he went on.
Little did I know that all my trees were blue.
I didn't know this until several years after high school; I was skimming through a magazine. I wasn't reading the articles, I was just flipping through the magazine and looking at the pretty pictures (oh look, shiny). There was an article discussing colour blindness. And there was a box with coloured dots with a caption below that said something like "If you can see the 9 then all is well." I'm looking at it and thinking "What 9??"
Then I read the article.
Hmph. Well, that certainly explains a lot.
And before you ask, I can see the difference in colours on stoplights. I can distinguish between red, yellow and green. But I have to admit that some green lights do look blue. So, for me, Blue and/or Green means Go.
Trees and grass look green. It's the teals that really mess me up. There's no teal in my world. There's blue and green. No middle ground. It's this or that.
Someone asked me today how I can bead and sew for my business if I'm colour blind. How do I colour coordinate? One of my colleagues piped up "She has a seeing eye husband." Everyone laughed. But to be honest, that's not far off the mark.
The Husband is my saviour when it comes to coordinating things. I'm constantly asking him if this matches or do these go together. Of course, you can only imagine the fun he has with me. He'll point at something that is clearly green and say "Look at the blue such'n'such."
We were at a car dealer one day, looking at the new releases. I was quite taken with a particular model and exclaimed "And it's such a lovely shade of green." The dealer looked at me with an expression that clearly said "Where's your helmet?" The Husband loudly whispers "She's colour blind." The dealer, nodding sagely, gives a knowing "OH!" and carries on with his pitch. The Husband quietly whispers in my ear "It's blue."