Monday, December 20, 2010
Robi handed me a brochure this morning.
Said: "You HAVE to blog this."
First of all,
the name of the salon
made me think of Anjelah Johnson.
Her nail salon bit
(the last half of the video)
Even if you don't get your nails done,
you can tell from the howling laughter in the audience,
that her rendition is spot on.
I can confirm it is.
The last time Cousin Alex and I had our nails done together,
the head technician greeted each customer with
Alex and I couldn't make eye contact
cuz we'd just burst out laughing.
So back to Robi's brochure...
Looks harmless enough.
They have your typical spa services.
But, upon closer review...
Helluva deal, really.
Where else can you get the side of your ass waxed?
And for only $7.00?
Friday, December 10, 2010
For the longest time,
the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon
was my method of birth control.
As a child, and well into my teens,
my mother often cursed me
with the burden of raising a child like me.
I have no doubt,
that if I'd had children,
they would have been just like Calvin.
I am eternally grateful that my stepkids
are of the Stepford variety.
It's eerie, really.
Thanks to M'Licious for sending me these.
I have no doubt she was the female version of Calvin.
Monday, December 6, 2010
You probably didn't even notice I was gone.
It doesn't really feel as though I left.
Not to mention that when I left last Friday for Mexico,
I was only wearing a t-shirt and a sweater.
(And pants. I was also wearing pants.)
Only three days later?
I'm wearing winter boots,
a hooded down-filled coat,
and shovelling 10 cm of snow!
Snow, I tells ya!
grumble grumble grumble
I do, however, console myself with
memories of a wonderful trip.
We went away again with Crayon and her TH
When we went away with them last year,
the constant joke was that everything was deep-fried.
Which, in my humble opinion,
is a non-issue.
I mean, really,
there ain't nothin' wrong with deep fryin'.
Having said that,
the Grand Serenis took deep frying
to a new level of godliness:
You may think,
OH! MY! GOD!
But let me tell you, mi amigos,
that deep fried bread,
and baked beans
make one helluva breakfast!
That, my loyal followers, was breakfast.
Now, you may think there isn't much on that plate.
But remember, that's my second plate.
The one before that had
and some egg concoction,
which I'm sure was also deep-fried.
Surprisingly, I only gained five pounds.
I'm guessing the alcohol cancelled out the oil.
There is a God.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I can say,
with more than a little pride,
that I am now a paid, published writer.
Last night, at The Rivoli,
I read Memère Rosa.
I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be.
Though I did ask TH if he could see me quivering.
My hands didn't shake,
but my legs were like Jello the entire time!
He assured me it wasn't noticeable.
Then again, he does have a Shallow Hal complex,
and thinks I'm a size 2.
God bless him!
Which brings me to this snapshot:
Sadly, it's the best picture of the lot.
I'm not talking about the fact that it's out of focus.
That's because the room was dark,
and we don't have a high end camera.
I'm talking about the fact that
I need to have a conversation with TH
and explain that he needs to work on
taking pictures that don't
accentuate my muffin top.
Cuz the bottom two-thirds of that picture
have been cropped.
I do have great pics of the anthology, though.
Look! That's me, right there on Page 27.
The audience was great:
they laughed in the right places,
and clapped loudly at the end.
It was perfect!
Shout out to
Lady Fairchilde, Robi, M'Licious and Bobby-Jo
who came out to
and even one of the associates from the office.
A special thanks to Vikki Summerfield who pushed me to write,
and harasses me on a daily basis,
for more pieces to record for Life Rattle Radio.
And, of course...TH...
who puts up with the usual crap
that a writer's spouse puts up with.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
We're going to Mexico.
And we're going to the Grand Sirenis.
I've said it before,
and I'll say it again:
Yo amo México!
You'll recall last year
when bathing suit shopping,
that I pondered whether
Bikini Village had a berka section.
Well, maybe they don't,
but someone does.
Lady Fairchilde was kind enough to send me an email today.
"Ready for your vacation in a few weeks?
FCP* has some new swimsuits if you need one!"
Turns out, Solé Swimwear carries Burquinis.
The controversy behind these suits makes my head spin.
But I think I'm going to pick one up
and bring it with me.
Not for me, of course,
but to hand out to the few people who
insist on going topless
No one needs to see those droopy loaves, honey.
*First Canadian Place
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
This is brilliant on so many levels.
I can't believe she gets through this without stumbling.
And the lyrics are genius.
I'm sure Anita Renfroe was channeling my mother when she wrote this.
Monday, October 18, 2010
It's a rhetorical question, really.
'How are you?'
No one really cares about the answer.
It's asked more out of habit rather than a need to really know.
And yet, we ask it all the time.
We know in our heart of hearts, that if someone were to respond
with tales of their failing eyesight and acute lumbago,
we'd cringe and curse ourselves for asking in the first place.
Many years ago, I asked a colleague about his response.
As usual, I said good morning and asked how he was.
"Fine," he said, then proceeded to talk about something else.
I cut him off.
"Joe," I said, more than a little annoyed, "I just asked you how you were."
"Yeah," he says. "So?"
"Common courtesy dictates that you, in turn, respond with 'Fine. And how are you?'"
He looked at me, and with a small laugh, said "But, Mo, I don't care how you are."
I was insulted.
A million things flew through my mind,
all of which would have got me fired if I'd actually said them.
We stared at each other for a moment.
I could tell from his expression that he was waiting for me to get it.
And then I finally did.
He was right.
Of course he doesn't care how I am.
Why should he?
And I certainly could care less how he is!
So I stopped using the token response
and now only say "Fine" when someone asks.
If I really want to know,
and have time to hear the response,
Not too long ago, I was working overtime.
Overtime at my office means
working with the night staff
(a group of secretaries who work the night shift,
assisting lawyers who are working late into the evening).
I call up the lawyer who is my assignment for the evening.
He answers the phone all cheerful,
knowing from the call display that it's me.
I have to admit that I'm immediately annoyed.
Fake jovial banter pisses me off.
We're not friends, you and I, and we both know it.
You don't need to butter me up.
I'm getting paid to do your work.
It's going to get done.
"Hey, Mo!" he says. "How are you?!"
It's like we're long lost friends.
I may have thrown up a little in my mouth.
"Fine," I say, waiting for him to get on with his instructions.
Time is money.
Sun is shining.
John Deere combine's running.
Hay is waiting.
There's a pause.
Then he says, in his annoying, insipid way,
"I'm fine, thanks for asking."
(Insert Big Gay Al voice here)
And immediately carries on with his instructions.
Since then, each time I've seen him,
he ignores me.
We're standing in the lobby by the elevators,
waiting for a car.
He makes eye contact with me,
then immediately looks away,
says good morning to the building janitor,
(like they're best friends, no less)
then turns away and goes into the elevator,
never saying a word to me.
Ask me why I don't care how you are.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I know it's weird, but I'm a commercial junkie.
(though none of you should be surprised by my weirdness at this point.)
I love commercials.
Well, not the ones that are actually trying to sell you something.
Those are boring.
Why would I want to watch those?
I want to laugh,
and if a commercial makes me laugh,
then I'm sold.
Probably not on the product,
but at least I'll make a point of NOT changing the channel
when their bribe comes on.
One of my current favourite commercials is the Old Spice Commercial.
Ah ... (wipes tear of laughter) ... that cracks me up every time.
But not to be outdone, Sesame Street has taken a crack at spoofing it.
And no one is hotter than Grover.
I mean, just look at those hairy, blue pecs!
HA! (wipes more tears) Brilliant!
I am on a horse. (MOO!) Cow.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
I am sad to announce that Memère Rosa died on Sunday, October 3, 2010 at noon. Leave it to Memère to arrange it so that she dies at an honourable hour.
It's not as though she didn't arrange everything else. My mother told me that on Saturday, she insisted on telling them which clothes she wanted to wear and selected the jewellery. She even patted her white curls at one point and asked "Does my hair look ok?"
I'm sad that I won't see her again and hear her laughter, but I know that she's happy now. There's a card game somewhere that's been on hold waiting for her to deal. And I'm positive that the old saying "you can't take it with you" doesn't apply to her. She has thrown her dimes into the pot and ordered everyone else to ante up.
It is only fitting, then, that I announce that I've been invited to read at the Totally Unknown Writer's Festival at The Rivoli, on November 10, 2010. I'll be reading Memère Rosa, a story that pinpoints Memère's personality. For a sneak preview, you can listen this Sunday, October 10 at 9 p.m. to CKLN 88.1 FM Life Rattle Radio where you'll hear four stories written and read by me. Three stories have previously aired on Life Rattle, including Memère Rosa, but there is also a new story titled Hare of the Dog. Listen in on Sunday and stop by the Rivoli in November and say hello.
Je vous aimes, beaucoup, Memère. A la prochaine.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Have I mentioned I'm a huge Harry Potter fan?
An enormous Potterhead.
I can't tell you how many times I've read the books.
Well, I can.
I read the first book soon after it was released.
I was reading it to a friend's daughter,
the quintessential bedtime read,
and was intrigued by the story.
My friend insisted I'd like the book,
so I bought it.
And fell in love.
Each time a new book was released,
I would reread the series from the beginning.
Whenever a movie is released,
Do the math.
I've read the books many times over.
Part 1 of the last movie is set to be released
on November 19.
Needless to say, I'm well into the series
for the umpteenth time.
I am now reading The Order of the Phoenix.
They're sorting the first years right now.
By far, my favourite character has become
Luna "Loony" Lovegood.
And the actress who plays her in the movies
is spot on!
Lady Fairchilde, Robi and I have a date to see the movie.
I just ordered my t-shirt to wear on opening night.
I wonder if the WB will send it by Owl Post.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Didya miss me?
I know, probably not.
BJ's husband sent me an email today,
and I felt it worthy enough to break my blogging hiatus.
I know you've seen these before,
(perhaps not these exact ones)
but they make me laugh every time.
You could probably bring your travel time down to 5 minutes if you run a lot.
Goot to no.
Yeah, I've run into a few slipperies. They are very crafty!
There's no point in beating around the bush. So to speak.
Brings new meaning to Mind the Gap, doesn't it? Think this will catch on in London? They'd probably sell more souvenirs.
No effort to even make up a word. Just Cow 'Something'.
I'm going to this next year.
Thangs you for to halfing me.
Friendly bunch, aren't they?
This is brilliant! I like that their 'friendly security guards' are more than happy to 'sort it out for you'. I'll just bet they are!
Maybe this Elmo is like a Baby Burp and Poop.
I bet Elmo eats here.
Wash by hand in coleslaw then iron at 120C for a nice light snack.
This disturbs me. It's quite possible that this machine cooks hot dogs (though, why you'd need a machine for the sole purpose of cooking hot dogs is beyond me), but the picture of the dog is throwing me off. Is the wiener made of dog meat? Does the machine warm up dog food? Is it for the cremation of small lap dogs? I don't get it.
YOU NO DIE HERE!
As Lady Fairchild pointed out, it's especially funny that the Stick Man's NoNo Zone is crossed out (extra points to LF for using the term 'NoNo Zone').
Not quite an anatomically correct figure of a tranny, is it?
Helluva deal for fresh herpes, I'd say. I guess there's no frozen herpes available, since the freezer is out of control.
WHAT THE?! I don't want to know what this tastes like or, for that matter, smells like.
This is one of those retro grenades, like those huge cell phones from the 90s.
But if you're kidnapped, call someone else.
A glass of wine or bottle of beer while you're having a mani and pedi is never a bad idea.
I knew my cell phone smelled funny.
Love the fine print at the bottom!
Think there's a stained cape that goes with this t-shirt?
Wang's gotta do what he's gotta do.
This is my favourite one. There is so much going on with this sign, so many random warnings, that I want to rub up against the wall, just to see what happens.