Hang on Sloopy

Thanks to my brother, Budge, who sent this gem to me.
It has been insanely busy at work
and I have come to hate Mondays.

But as the prelude to this email promised,
I giggled insanely.
When you get to the bottom, you'll laugh too.
Not just with me,
but AT me.

I don't blame you one bit.
Go ahead.
Laugh.

I am.

The following is excerpted from a children's book,
Captain Underpants and
the Perilous Plot Professor Poopypants,
by Dave Pilkey,
in which the evil Professor
forces everyone to assume new names.

Here are the rules:

FIRST:
Use the third letter of your first name
to determine your new first name:

a = snickle
b = doombah
c = goober
d = cheesey
e = crusty
f = greasy
g = dumbo
h = farcus
i = dorky
j = doofus
k = funky
l = boobie
m = sleezy
n = sloopy
o = fluffy
p = stinky
q = slimy
r = dorfus
s = snooty
t = tootsie
u = dipsy
v = sneezy
w = liver
x = skippy
y = dinky
z = zippy

NEXT:
Use the second letter of your last name
to determine the first half
of your new last name:

a = dippin
b = feather
c = batty
d = burger
e = chicken
f = barffy
g = lizard
h = waffle
i = farkle
j = monkey
k = flippin
l = fricken
m = bubble
n = rhino
o = potty
p = hamster
q = buckle
r = gizzard
s = lickin
t = snickle
u = chuckle
v = pickle
w = hubble
x = dingle
y = gorilla
z = girdle

LAST:
Use the third letter of your last name
to determine the second half
of your new last name:

a = butt
b = boob
c = face
d = nose
e = hump
f = breath
g = pants
h = shorts
i = lips
j = honker
k = head
l = tush
m = chunks
n = dunkin
o = brains
p = biscuits
q = toes
r = doodle
s = fanny
t = sniffer
u = sprinkles
v = frack
w = squirt
x = humperdinck
y = hiney
z = juice

My name?

Sloopy Dippinfanny.

Doesn't that just make you laugh out loud?
I couldn't make that up if I tried.
That is brilliant!

TH's name is Dorfus Dippinfanny.
Which raises a whole slew of questions
that I am NOT going to answer!

I do think that TH and I
should start introducing ourselves as
The Dippinfannys.
The Dipps, for short.

Now here's what I want you to do.
Follow the rules.
And post your new name in the comments section.

Oh come on...
as the email said:

"And don't go all adult -
a senior manager is now known
far and wide
as Dorky Gizzardsniffer!"

I wonder if everyone calls him
Mr. G?

More Valentines!

Robi put on her Saint Valentine hat
and handed out treats.

Popcorn!
Francisco!!



First she hands one to Cortini.
Cortini looks at the package.
Closely.
See ... top left corner:



"It pops red," Robi points out, as she hands me my package.

"Shut up!" I shout.

Then Devi walks by. Robi hands her a package.

"It pops red," Cortini and I say together.

"Shut up!" shouts Devi.

Robi calls Lady Fairchilde over and hands her a package.

"It pops up red," we all chant.

"Shut up!" shouts Lady Fairchilde.

Well, Kernels, you have outdone yourself.

Shut up, everyone.
Shut up, indeed.

Happy Valentine's Day!

As you know, it's Valentine's Day.
(Well, Sunday is.)
The day the patron saint of
Chocolate and Hallmark Cards
leaves gifts for good girls and boys.

Or maybe it's naughty girls and boys.
I'm never sure.

Our mail room delivered treats:



Not one to waste a moment in eating chocolate,
I immediately opened the white one.

Hmmmm...



Call me a pervert,
but does that look like what I think it looks like???

Tasting the Nummy Treat

I got to eat the cupcake.
Oh yeah!
Me.
Got to eat the nummy treat.
Chocolate.
With chocolate icing.
And a wee chocolate button.

Oh, you were thinking
the other cupcake.
Easy now!
I'm a married woman.

I'm all about presentation.
The cupcake comes in a wee box.



Let's take a peek inside, shall we?



Now if that doesn't scream
"Come take a bite outta me!"
I don't know what does.

It's pefection, dontchya think?



And now it's over.
I'm a little sad.
And more than a little spent.

Short and Stout

I've been fighting a cold for a few days.

But by the end of Tuesday's class
I started feeling worse.
Uh-oh.
When I woke up yesterday,
I was feeling pretty craptacular.
Hence my FaceBook status update.

My friend, Carrie, suggested I get a Neti Pot.
I've been thinking about getting one
for a while.
And thanks, Carrie, for reminding me.
My head is pretty fuzzy right now
and I can barely remember how to get home.

If you don't know what a Neti Pot is,
check this out:



Now, before you ask ...
and I know ya'll are thinking this ...
I am NOT going to video-tape myself doing this.
Don't even bother asking.

It wasn't uncomfortable at all,
just ... an odd sensation.
I have to admit that
it did clear out my sinuses
and I was able to breath again.

The entire time I was doing it, though,
I had "I'm a Little Tea Pot"
running through my head.
Mine does look like a wee tea pot.

This is the one I bought:



Sadly, it doesn't cure the cold,
and I feel like several heaps of crap today.
I can breath, but I'm coughing like crazy.
GTB got a glimpse of that on the train this morning.
It's worse now.

I already told Boss #2 I'm going home early.

The real stinker in all of this
is that I booked tomorrow off
so I could hang with my sisters.
We're meeting for breakfast at Cora's,
then some serious retail therapy.

BJ mentioned that she wanted
to pick up something
(I don't remember what it is now...
give me a break...I'm sick!)
and I know that I want to pick up some books.
Alex is always up for the bookstore!

I hope I don't make them sick.
And if I do,
I'm really sorry, girls,
but I need me some girl time
and I'm not cancelling.
Dammit!

Oh ... we got homework, by the way.
Basically we have to start writing our stories.
I finished my 'Postcard' story.
Go check it out.

The Man Rules

Thanks to Courtini
for sending me this.
I’ve read it before
but it makes me laugh every time.

Note that all the rules are numbered 1.
I’m guessing it’s either
they deem them all to be equal, or
whoever wrote this can’t count higher.
Probably both.

And, for the record,
I’m almost positive that TH
has uttered each of these phrases
at least once.
ESPECIALLY the commercial rule.



The Man Rules:

1. Men are NOT mind readers. (FIRST & FOREMOST RULE)

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon, or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work!
Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work!
Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. Anything we said six months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after seven days.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something. Or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions. Neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors--like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as Football or Hockey.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. I AM in shape. Round is a shape!

1. Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

More Holiday Greetings

As I've pointed out previously,
many people in our office
decorate their glass walls for the holidays.

Not to be outdone,
Robilicious bought some gel letters
and stuck them up on Boss #2's window.

Originally, it looked like this:



Festive, no?

But there are a few people in the office
who simply cannot resist temptation.
And I recently arrived at work
to find this:



I'm not sure what a Dipshy is,
but I'm guessing it's a derogatory term.
Or, perhaps, the 'Y' is supposed to be an 'IT'.
Since I know who re-arranged the letters,
I'm going with the latter.

On the plus side,
at least they said hello.

Right back atchya!

Is Hell Endothermic or Exothermic?

I'm sure this is fake.
Especially the final paragraph.
Quite frankly, I don't care.
It is still one of the funniest things I've ever read.


* * *


The following is supposedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.



Bonus Question:
Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?


Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A "

Bonne Fête à Moi

Today is my birthday.
Don't ask.
I'm old.
Oh, alright.
I'm 43.
I've already received more than a dozen FaceBook messages.
Plus emails and texts.
My BlackBerry may implode.

As usual, Birthday Week is hectic.

Monday was Spanish class.
Yesterday I had dinner and drinks with girlfriends.
Tonight, more dinner and drinks.
Tomorrow I have plans.
Then off to Sudbury on Friday to celebrate Memère’s birthday.

And wouldn't you know ...

I get in to work today and Boss #2 immediately asked me to book Night Staff for tonight.
"How late do you think you'll need someone?" I ask, thinking maybe until 8 or so.
"How late can we have someone?"
I try to remember what the current protocol is.
We used to have around-the-clock secretary staff.
"I think 1 or 2 am now."
He thinks about this. "Hmmm. Can we get someone later if we need it?"

Yikes!

Well, at least he didn't ask ME to stay.
I'm having martinis tonight with the girls.
I have my priorities straight.

However, it's clearly going to be a crazy day.
I'm definitely going to need a few drinks tonight.
And something tells me I'll deserve it.

A dry martini, please, Bombay Sapphire, straight up, stirred, with olives.

Just practicing my line.

Wait! Make it a double!!

Total Eclipse of the Fonze

I'm a country music fan.
I know.
I know.
Stop groaning.

I grew up listening to it.
It's in my blood.

I didn't always listen to it.
I listened to pop and dance when I was younger.

But when I stopped understanding the lyrics, I switched to country.

God.
You know you're old when you say you can't understand the lyrics.
Pretty soon I'll be shouting "Turn that racket down!"
And telling "When I was a kid ..." stories.
*shudder*

My preferred country station is Country 95.3.
Lea Cater is one of the morning DJs.
(Check out her blog at Country 95.3)
I've talked to her a few times.
She's really sweet.
I sent her a table runner when she bought her new house.
She says she loves it.
She may be saying that just to be nice.
But she did put it in writing on my Facebook group.
So it must be true.

Lea posted this video on her Facebook site.
I was in stitches while I watched it.
It has to be one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time.
The Fonzarelli comment had me burst out laughing with a loud HA!
Which got some odd looks, seein' as I was at the office and all.

Yeah, I was on Facebook at the office.
So what?

Anda one anda two

Robilicious and I had a craving yesterday for a Michel's Baguette danish. Can I just say, here and now, that these things are positively divine?

They are.
Positively.
And enormous.
Huge!
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.

It's brilliant!

Here's your hat, where's your hurry?

We have a pretty strong firewall at work. For obvious reasons, there are many sites that we are not allowed access to. Although this has recently changed, there is one previously blocked site that always made me laugh.

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.

Top 'o the Mornin!

A Happy Lucky Day to you all!

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.

Oh.
Crap.

Do you think that colour-blind leprechauns walk around in blue outfits?

Amazing Grace

Devi sent me this link.
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.
WOW! Goosebumps!!
The hair on my arms stood up.
And I teared up a little.


Update:
The embedding ability has been removed for this video,
so click here to view the video on YouTube.

Green Light, Blue Light

FACT: I'm colour blind.

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.

Oh.
Oh my.
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."
Poo head.

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."

Oh.
Crap.

Quote of the Day

Robilicious (with her serious face and serious voice):

"We should make a reality show. Me marrying Gerry Butler and you (pointing at Frantastic) marrying Trent Reznor. I'll be Season One and you can be Season Two."

We all paused. Frani looks at me. I look at her. Eyebrows go up.

We look at Robi ...

"What alternate reality are YOU living in?!!"

My Nora Obsession

You may have noticed my new blog ... Photography 3460. When you read the first post, you'll understand the concept. I'll be using this blog to expand on some of my posts there.

Today's expansion blog ... Nora Roberts.

I love Nora Roberts. I'm particularly addicted to her trilogies. The problem I have is that I cannot bring myself to buy a trilogy until she has published all three books. I read on the train to and from work. So it doesn't take me long to go through a book. And I simply don't have the patience to wait for her to catch up with me and publish the next book.

So I wait.

Just before we went to Mexico in December, I purchased her most recent trilogy -- The Sign of Seven Trilogy. Spent the entire vacation reading it.

And I wasn't the only one.

At the airport in Toronto, I saw at least six other women reading Nora novels. At the resort, I saw another eight fans. Some of them men! Which I realize shouldn't matter, but these are categorized as romance novels so I'm a little surprised. Although this trilogy is with male protagonists, and there is a little blood and gore, it's still a little weird to see men reading Nora novels.

Then the other day, I saw a man on the GO Train reading Blood Brothers.

Maybe Nora has a new fan base.

Gee ... d'ya think the guys will pick up some romance tips??

WWJD??

I found this Post-It note on the driver's side window of my car, right above the door handle so I couldn't miss it:



Hmmph!

I pulled the post-it from my window and went back in the house. I called The Husband who was already at work.

Me: "Did you have a note on your car when you left today?"

TH: "What??"


Me: "There was a note on my car this morning."


TH: "What did it say?"


Me: "You Need Jesus."


TH: "To do what, exactly?!"


Me: "I'm not sure."


TH: "Well, who left it?"


Me: "I dunno. God maybe?"

Showing more than just my pride

Our fine city is celebrating Gay Pride this week with Two-Snaps-Up-In-A-Zee-Formation.

Every year, during Pride celebrations, I am woefully reminded of how beautiful I am.

Quite a few years ago (back when I was young, hot and skinny) a few of my friends from the Rainbow Lions Club held a fundraiser during Pride Weekend. A dunk tank was set up and, for a few bucks, you could Dunk-a-Hottie.

A bunch of us from work swung by to support the Girls. It was a very warm day and I was dressed for the occasion. A short wrap-around skirt and a racing tank top. Underneath it all, a thong.

We watched them fill the tank, all the while "sipping" Mike's Hard Lemonade. I was feeling pretty good, which is probably why, when Steven asked if I'd be the first Hottie, I slurred Shuuure! Why not?!

It wasn't long before I was dunked. Standing in the tank, my skirt immediately floated to the surface, hovering somewhere around my armpits. My Lemonade-soaked mind deduced that the wall of the tank was high enough so no one could see my thonged behind. It's all good! I left my skirt floating, turned around with my back to the crowd and watched with rapture (I'm easily entertained) as the ladder was re-assembled.

I climbed back up the ladder and took my seat. I had just made myself comfortable when -- WHAM! -- same thing. Skirt floats up, turn around, watch the ladder, climb up, dunked again. Before I knew it, there was a line up of women about two blocks long. Women were approaching the tank, chatting me up. This went on for about two hours. WHAM! Dunk. Floating skirt. Thong. Turn around.

Finally, I was getting a little waterlogged (and a wee parched) and asked to come down. As I climbed down, there was an audible Aaaaw! from the crowd.

I walked over to where the coolers were stored and grabbed another Mike's. As I'm squeezing the water from my skirt, I turn around to watch the next Hottie get dunked and I freeze. Steven and Neil are laughing like maniacs. I am completely mortified. I had no idea that the entire front part of the tank was see-through! No wonder these women were lined up to dunk me. Free show everyone! Come see the straight girl get dunked and see her hiney!!

"Why didn't you tell me?!" I asked, giving Steven a shove. "Are you crazy?!" he says, "Do you have any idea how much money we made off you?" Glad I could help.

However, I now have a nice collection of phone numbers!

The Screenplay of my Life

Today is my birthday. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

I'm always melancholy on my birthday. I tend to treat it like New Year's Day. Not so much an opportunity to start fresh with resolutions to improve myself (although God knows I certainly need an overhaul), but more a retrospective look at my life.

If you read Sylvia Browne -- and believe what she has to say -- then we have pre-determined our purpose for being on this planet. We are all following some cosmic (or is that comic??) screenplay written by our spirit selves.

Whether you are born into poverty or wealth, abuse or love, illness or health … you decided this on the Other Side. The people you meet, the joy and sadness you experience, are all things that you have mapped out. Everything that happens to us, good or bad, is something that we have decided we are going to experience. And the purpose for these experiences is to either learn something or teach something. Perhaps both. If you don't learn your lesson or deliver your message, then you're coming back to get it right the next time ... or the time after that. However many times it takes.

I look back on the screenplay of my life and think … WTF was I thinking?!! Clearly there is alcohol on the Other Side, cuz I was really drunk when I wrote my map!

However, I think that Sylvia is right. We're supposed to learn something and/or teach something.

I have learned that I'm a survivor. For all the negative things I have experienced in my life, all the extra baggage I have carried around, I think I've turned out ok. Thank God I was sober long enough to write in my screenplay that I should be accompanied by a wonderful cast of characters. My co-stars are what get me through each scene and I couldn't have carried my part without them. Little gold statues to all of you!

So what happens now? Have I learned everything I'm supposed to learn? Have I taught everything I'm supposed to teach? If I have, is it over now? Am I leaving? Where will I go?

Woah! That's waaaaay too deep. Someone get me a martini.