Sunday, September 29, 2002
Saturday, September 21, 2002
God love them.
Rick Mercer does this "Thing" on This hour has 22 minutes, its a Canadian thing. He goes to the states and talks to people about things that are NOT happening in Canada, to show really that Americans have no idea what is going on North of the border. This is taken from NETcetera..... He tells people that these things happened and asks them to comment or congratulate. Too funny.
My Ten Favorite "TALKING TO AMERICANS."
by Rick Mercer (with my coments in brackets)
10) In Chicago: "Congratulations Canada on having running water in all five states."
9) In Washington, D.C.: "Congratulations Canada on your first national railroad."
8) In Washington, D.C.: "Congratulations Canada on 268 consecutive days of snow."
7) At Harvard: "Yes, I believe the seal slaughter should be stopped in Saskatchewan." (he actually had a professor saying this)
6) In Chicago: "Congratulations Canada on making Beaver Balls your national dish."
5) At Mount Rushmore: "Congratulations Canada, our Eskimo neighbours to the South, on your new Mount Mulroneyuk." (he also had most of them convinced that they were going to sculpt the ass end of all those presidents on the other side of the mountain)
4) Governor of Arkansas: "Congratulations Canada on preserving your national igloo." (my personal favorite, this one made me piss my pants, he told the Governor that our Parliment building was made of ice and with global warming we had to put a huge dome over it so it wouldn't melt.)
3) In New York: "Yes, I think Jean Chretien-Pinochet should be charged with crimes against humanity." (Jean Chretien is our PM)
2) In New York: "Yes, I think it is time to bomb Gilles Duceppe." (he's the Bloc Quebecois Leader)
1) Texas Governor George W. Bush: I'm glad to have the support of Prime Minister Jean 'Poutine.' (he caught him in the hallway heading out of a press conference, btw for those of you who don't know, poutine is a dish of french fries with gravey and cheese curds)
More links for "Talking to Americans".
Talking To Americans
Rick Mercer: Talking to Americans - CBC This Morning
CBC 4 Kids: Daily
Thursday, September 19, 2002
There is a special place in hell for thankless children.
My son calls me yesterday. Wants to know if I can get paid early? Someone at the skate park is selling his board for $30 and he wants it.
�You have a board.�
�Mom! My board is crap, this one is worth $100 and he�s selling it cheap.�
�I�ll see what I can do�
Well I know how much he loves skateboarding and I get all mushy inside. I go ask the boss if I can get paid early, no easy task since I spent the better part of that morning in a screaming match with him. (it was a draw)
Now I leave work, check in hand, and head to my friends house to see if she can cash it for me since the banks are closed. Half way there I realize that I am nearly out of gas, running on fumes. If she can�t cash the check I am walking home.
Twenty minutes later I am on my way back to town, bank card in hand. I get the cash and call my son on his cell phone.
�Never mind Mom, the kid sold it to someone else. Later� Click.
GOOD GRIEF! Your welcome.
I am still sore from baseball last weekend, hobbling around, dragging my old bones home at last, its 6:15pm. I walk in the door, and I want to cry. I am by no stretch of the imagination an even mediocre housekeeper, but my son lost his mind today, and quite possibly his life when he gets home.
Before me lay clothes, papers and miscellaneous sporting equipment strewn in a path from the front door through the kitchen and living room all the way back to my bedroom. I can�t believe that that kid had the nerve to ask me for money.
One hour later my son comes rushing in, �Mom, can we put that $30 in the bank so we can save for a new board?� When he says �we� he means me. �Fine� I tell him, I�ll give you the $30, you clean the house.�
That�s when he really lost his mind. He starts to rant and rave and go on. His head starts to spin and he starts spewing pea soup. (ok that isn�t exactly accurate, but pretty close)
�I have to do everything around here, I can�t clean the whole house, God, I am only 11.�
My turn to lose my mind, �What all, exactly, do you do around here?�
He looks at me, �I take the garbage out to the basement and then to the curb.� He is serious. He thinks he has won the argument.
�Ok, when you took the garbage to the curb last time, how many bags were there?�
He is not sure where I am going with this but he raises his eyes to the ceiling, thinking, counting on his fingers, �6 whole bags!� he says. He seriously believes that this is a huge number.
�Lets break this down. The garbage truck comes every two weeks, so in 14 days you have taken out 6 bags. So if you only took one bag out on any given day, you would have 8 days where you did nothing. Hmmm. If it takes you, say, 30 seconds to take the bag out of the house, and another 30 to take each bag from the basement to the curb. That�s a minute a bag. $30 for 6 bags, $5 per bag per minute?�
�Sounds right.� He doesn�t really want to do the math, so he concedes.
�At $5 per minute, you want me to pay you $300 per hour. How do I get THAT job?!!!�
He is speechless now, and I am cleaning the house myself. I finally get to the end of the papers and I turn around, I can�t believe it, he has actually dropped his coat in the middle of the living room floor.
At that moment I understood how people, who were not wise to begin with, could kill their own children.
Calmly I look at him, �Just how long do you imagine I will consent to live this life? Where I go to work each day to a job I hate, so I can feed and clothe you and buy you skateboards when the whim takes you, getting nothing but shit on in return? Hmmm?�
I leave him to ponder this as I lock myself in the bathroom, just in case the urge to kill him truly takes hold of me.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Sunday, September 15, 2002
What the hell was I thinking?
Today my son�s baseball team had their end of the season party. Someone had the bright idea of having the parents play the kids. You know, for fun. Sadly, no one informed me of this turn of events until I arrive. To make matters worse, the field had been rained on the night before and was basically a mud hole.
I am completely unprepared in my old sneakers, the ones that have the sole ready to fall off, but I just can�t part with them. Oh well, I figure I will never hit the ball, so I don�t really have to worry about running in them, right? Wrong, I forgot about balls, I was walked the first time I was up at bat.
Ok, now the kids are razzing me. You know how 11 year olds can talk trash, �Don�t worry, we�ll get her trying to run to second."
So next up is one of the fathers. First pitch is high and outside, the catcher misses it. All hell breaks loose when they realize I am actually going to steal second. The look on their faces was priceless.
Now I am on second, and the batter hits the ball just past the infield. I run to third and see that the ball is now infield. I stop. But do you think the fool behind me stops? I look back and he is half way to third and I am screaming �STOP�. He doesn�t stop, now I have to run home, half way there, the catcher gets the ball. I pivot and head back for third. The kids are going wild, �Run her down!�
I am almost back at third, I�m going to make it! That�s when my choice of footwear proves to be my undoing.
Two steps from third, the sole of my sneaker shifts in the mud. I can feel my leg going out from under me and I take a nose dive right into third base. Had I not built up so much momentum running, I may have been safe, but instead I ended up going ass over tea kettle right past the plate. I think I even took out the third baseman.
As I lay there, bruised and battered, covered in mud, I reflected on my decision to pick up that bat after 20 years. The only thought that went through my head:
�What the HELL were you thinking?�
Thursday, September 12, 2002
If you don't watch BB3, you will have no idea what the hell I am talking about.)
Ok, Jason is HOH. He nominates Marci and Amy. Marcellis is very upset over being nominated and throws a bit of a private tantrum, with only Danielle (Jason's ally) witnessing it. Now Danielle thinks that Marci is a threat to Jason, that if he stays he will come after Jason. This is the first idiotic thing Marci does.
Only two people can vote, Lisa and Danielle. With Jason casting the deciding vote in the event of a tie.
New twist, Golden Veto. You can use it to save yourself. However, this crayon is so full of himself that he can't comprehend anyone choosing Amy over him. He goes so far as to tell Danielle that if she wins it NOT to take him off the block, to just leave it.
Marci wins it. Dani and Jason are sweating now, their plan to get rid of Marcellis may go down the drain if he uses it to save himself.
Now for the really stupid thing. Quite possibly the stupidest thing anyone in the history of anything has ever done. He DOES NOT use the veto to save himself.
Dani and Lisa vote and it is a tie. Jason has to cast the deciding vote. The look on Marci's face when Jason said "I vote to evict Marcellis" was precious. I laughed my ass off. He hadn't even packed all his stuff, and had to go into the drawers and grab a bunch of his clothes and carry them out under one arm. Too Fucking Funny!
You just know his mother was at home screaming at him,
"What the Hell were you thinking?"
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
Oops! I said it again.
After watching BB3 24/7 for the past couple of months you really start to notice that people latch on to a word and use it till its like an old shoe with holes in the soles and missing laces. I myself have noticed after reviewing old posts that I apparently can not go more than a day or two without saying "apparently". The following is a list of the last 5 people on BB3 and the words that they beat their dead horse with.
Danielle - Dada, Dada, Da
She says this incessantly, she really hates to waste time actually saying a whole sentence and just says the first few words followed by dada, dada, da. God love her, cuz most of her stories are boring enough without hearing all the gory details.
Lisa - Totally
Lisa never does anything half way, everything is totally. Not partially, always totally. Which when you think of it, is pretty impossible. But apparently (gotta stay true to form) it�s the only three syllable word she knows. Makes her feel intellectual.
Marcellis - Intellectually
He uses this word in every single sentence to try and convince himself and others that he ever thinks of anything intellectually. He probably heard some photographer say it one day on a shoot and thought it was a really cool sounding word and decided to implement it in his daily life.
Amy - Sugar
I think that anyone who uses the word sugar as a term of endearment must do it with a southern accent. This southern belle is the master. However, after the 600th time she calls Jason sugar, it starts to grate on a persons nerves.
Jason - Amazing
This guy is perpetually amazed. He no doubt has grown up under a rock or has been keep in a cage in his parents basement for the past 20 years, cuz paint drying is �amazing� to him. Surely to God everything couldn�t possibly be amazing.
You know that the show must be getting boring if I am counting words like some sort of maniacal typing teacher. Must be the clerical background. �Hands on the home keys, ladies.� And you did it too, or suffered a crack across the knuckles with a ruler. Ah, the good old days.
Sunday, September 8, 2002
Is anyone else surprised that Michael Jackson walks around in public?
I know people that wouldn't be caught dead going to the corner store without full makeup and this fool walks around without a nose.
This man is in serious need of a stylist. Those Sergeant Pepper outfits have got to go. And the gold shin pads, what is up with that? Who in Gods name told him that was a good idea.
I remember when he was a trend setter, now he is just sad. And to add insult to injury he is also apparently mentally ill. Exactly how do you mistake a birthday cake for an award? Read about all the pitiful details here:
Jacko's MTV 'award'
At least he has abandon the whole "get rid of the nose" thing. He went about as far as he could without scraping the back of the inside of his scull. I heard somewhere that the tip of it actually fell off. That must have been his wakeup call.
So now I guess he is going back the other way now. If he can pull another record out of his ass, and grow that nose back, I think he would deserve an award for that, don�t you?
Saturday, September 7, 2002
Friday, September 6, 2002
More, Eva is
Thought I would revisit this little game.
Google Search: "Eva is"
Eva Is......Inside Her Cat (my personal favorite)
EVA is....not a superior way
EVA is ...simply net after tax income minus a cost of equity capital
EVA is ...an alternative medicinal therapy
Eva is ....the consumate songwriter
Eva is ....starting to tire
EVA is ...better than ROI (good to know)
EVA is ...old school
EVA is ...the result of a research project
EVA is ...a fancy way of saying "outside the spaceship". (new favorite)
Eva is .....a ho
Eva is ....arrested
Eva is ....a self-taught computer expert
Eva is ....a female elephant and was born in the wild (ok, not the most flattering discription, but sadly, true)
Eva is ....one hell of a climax
I could go on forever (but I won't). Try it with your own name, its quite entertaining.
Thursday, September 5, 2002
Elvis has left the building.
Finally sold my car. She is gone, gone, gone! And it only took a month. JEEZ!
As soon as I was thinking about a new car, my friend told me that one of her friends was looking for a car, and wanted my old one. Well the guy phones and says he has been around to see it and he is interested. Great, that was easy. I was so wrong. I tell him that I won�t know for a week if I am getting the new one, will let him know. One week later, I run into him at the bank,
�You got your car? Great, will be over on the weekend to get the old one.�
Weekend comes and goes, no one shows.
The next week he calls, says he will be up at the end of the week. No show. Finally another week and the guy shows up,
�I don�t have all the money ($750) would you take a deposit and I will be up the end of next week to pay the rest?�
�Sure.� He gives me $200.
You guessed it, the end of next week comes and goes. I am getting really pissed now. Does this crayon think I am a bank?
Meanwhile, I have satellite problems, and when the guy comes to fix it, he is eyeing the car. We chat about my car selling woes and he says, �If that guy doesn�t show�.give me a call.�
By about Wednesday I am really getting stewed. Every time he doesn�t show, he also never even bothers to call and say he is not going to show. Then I hear that he told his wife that he gave me $400, and she found out he only gave me two. I think maybe she has killed him and has him stuffed in a trunk somewhere. I am sitting at work and decide, fuck it, I am calling the satellite guy. He says that he will be up at 4:30 to pick it up.
He comes, he pays, he drives away. The way God intended car selling to be. I am sitting there, I literally haven�t even put the money in my wallet when the phone rings.
�Ya, this is so and so, I just wanted to let you know that I would be over tomorrow with the rest of the money and pick up the car.�
�That might work for you, if there was a car for you to pick up. I sold it.�
�Look, I waited and you didn�t show, someone showed up with the money in hand, and I sold it.�
�Oh, so I guess I will come up tomorrow and get my deposit�
�Oh, I am sure you will.� I sneer sarcastically. I just know he isn�t going to miss that appointment. The sarcasm is lost on him.
So, the old girl is gone. A little sad, but also a lot satisfying.
I am in total love with my new car, and am driving people crazy. Going over it with a fine tooth comb, seeing scratches and nicks, wiping off fingerprints, tossing papers out the window (fuck the environment, it messes up the car), even going so far as to freak out at the gas station attendant for slapping that dirty old squeegee on my just washed car windshield. I made him wipe it off with a paper towel.
Who washes the windshield of a car that is clearly still dripping with water from the carwash?
I am back to being a one car owner and couldn�t be happier. Hope the old girl understands, she was just too high maintenance.
Wednesday, September 4, 2002
Why do I even answer the phone?
The boss called tonight, he was cordial and funny and he joked around about what he had done that day. We shot the shit about the fish and the lady that had called looking for sponsorship from our company on a school trip without realizing that the boss was the older brother of the boy who had had a fender bender with her and was now paying to have her car fixed as well as paying for her to drive a rent-a-car. So, she probably is not going to get any money from us. It was a very pleasant call and I hung up smiling.
After he hung up I thought, �That was too good to be true�. And it was.
Ten minutes later he called back, he is very disappointed with me, someone very important had called, and he didn�t get a hold of him and now he will lose time and money. Generally conveying to me that I was an incompetent fuck, that should be shot at dawn, or at the very least be drawn and quartered.
The caller told me he had the boss�s pager number and so I said you should take his cell number too. That way you can also leave a voice message. The boss tells me that the man took this to mean that he should only call the cell phone. Clearly it is my fault since I should have known how important this man truly was, and apparently how daft. (being psychic and all)
First of all, I think it was unfair that the man had not identified himself as important. Then again, I should have known this, (even if clearly he didn�t) after all I am psychic. And I should have then paged the boss just in case the man on the phone was not just daft but also trying to deceive me by saying would page him, which he clearly was, since he didn�t, in fact, page him.
Then the boss tells me, I should know that in certain situations he does not check his cell messages, he relies on the pager. Again I should have telepathically known that indeed that situation was afoot. He continues on saying that I should have to accompany him on the job next week, drive in the drill rig and get dirty and bug eaten, so that I can truly appreciate the hell this poor soul goes through in order to finance my incompetent fuckness. He is serious.
�I think you should have to drive with me in the rig for 3 hours and sit around in the mud and the bugs for hours with the machine going so you can�t hear yourself think. We�ll do it next week�
�Well then maybe you can just stay home?�
�Maybe I will.�
�We�ll talk about it later�
(oh no we won�t)
This man actually expects me to go with him on the drill rig. Like some child being punished. Indecently the rig only has a driver seat, the other seat is a upturned bucket. If he thinks for one minute that I am going���.he is in for a rude awakening.
And another thing�.
If he thinks he can fire me for not joining him on this idiotic venture, he has another think coming. I am pretty sure there are laws against that sort of thing.
Maybe I should just stay home, let him try and do my job for a week or two.