I think I might be blacklisted.

My cousin, Jean, (who is incidentally Sonny the Geeks sister) is one of those 'keep in touch' kind of people. A week does not go by without an email. Mostly they detail her life, updates on what is going on with her and hers.

Today she sends me pictures of her 'kids'. Not real kids, in the sense that they are not the same species as her, but she considers them family.

I took one look at the pictures and thought, those are some ugly ass dogs. I couldn't possibly describe how ugly these dogs were, but I have to say they are not as ugly as the dog her mother had for 30 years. (ok, it didn't live for 30 years, it just looked like it) Her mother had a really ugly dog, Bowser.

For those of you who are of the age, there was an episode of Bewitched where Darren and Larry are describing a dog to one of their clients (a non-existent dog) and Samantha is in the other room trying to create it.

The client asks, "Long or short hair?" and each of them says the opposite thing and the dog ends up with long hair in the back and short in the front. You get the idea. That was her dog. I kid you not.

Jeans dogs are not 'that' ugly but they run a close second.



Faces only a mother could love.



Before I could stop myself, I was emailing her that those were the ugliest dogs I had ever seen, bar Bowser.

I think I might be off the mailing list.

Bears repeating.

Trying desperately to find something worth watching on the boob tube I realize that every second and third commercial is about weight loss.

Pills that make you sweat, various torture devices for exercise with and without effort. This book, that book, hypnosis, palates, colonics, no carbs, protein power. The list goes on and on.

I'm sorry, but have people really failed to figure this out?

I have common sense, I know what I should be eating. I know that proper diet and exercise is the way to do it. BUT. I, like most, have no will power. I feel your pain, I really do.

If you can't rely on your own common sense, and have no will power like me. There is only one answer. I know I have mentioned this before but apparently people have not gotten the message.

Weight Watchers.

Don't laugh, people. Weight Watchers is the only program that works. And it is for one reason and one reason only.

It's not the cards, or the menu, or the counting of points. They change their program every other year. It ain't even Fergie.

The only thing that keeps you from wolfing down that extra large pizza solo, is the thought of that lady. You know the one. The old broad, the weight watchers lifer. You step on the scale and she gives you this pitiful look and says, "Oh dear, you gained a pound."

That chick is your will power. And she is stronger than you will ever be. You might think a month down the road that you don't need her. You have all the books, the calculator, the matching bag and daytimer. You don't need to pay this bitch to weigh you every week. But you are wrong, dead wrong.

The second you cut her loose, you are toast. She is what is keeping you from sitting down on the couch and polishing off 3 tubs of Haagen Dazs.

Weight Watchers is forever baby, deal with it.

Well-oiled machine.

Pro support at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™™ has recently gone 6-6 Monday-Friday PST. However, Americans being who they are, rarely take that for an answer and continue to call the number.

Sunday (the first official day here for the new hours)there are no pro agents scheduled, because pro is closed. Makes sense right?

However, the brain surgeons in charge have forgotten how to turn the phones off. By 11am, the home planet calls to ask why there is no one answering the phones. These being the same Rhodes Scholars who take care of the scheduling. There is 20 people on hold waiting. Frantic phone calls ensue. They manage to get some people to come in for OT.

But, and this is a big but. They can't get them to stay very long. By 8:30pm the place is empty. So who do they turn to? Tech routers. There are only 5 of us, that is usually all we need, since it is Sunday night.

So, there we are 5 tech routers and a team manager, a little blond chick. She twits around switching us from queue to queue. My blood was boiling. I finally comment to the girl beside me, loud enough for the blond chick to hear.

"So, is Blond Chick trained in Pro?"

"Ya, she is a pro TM."

"Perhaps she might think about strapping on a headset and taking a fuckin' call? If she sends me an email thanking me for my 'help' I will lose my mind. Help implies we are in it together....which we are most definitely not!"

And what do you know, 2 minutes later she was on the phones.

Sometimes you have to help them come to the right conclusion.

Just because your you're paranoid does not mean people are not out to get you.

I just wanted some coffee cream and sour cream. That's all. Is that so much to ask?

Apparently I had a contract out on me today. That is the only way to describe it. I felt like every other person on the planet was out to get me. Starting with my downstairs neighbor.

I come out to get in the car and she has me blocked into the driveway. WTF? The driveway is three cars wide once you get inside. But she parks right in the entry. Fuck you, I drove up on the lawn and escaped.

Then I am behind this idiot that is going 10 and swerving all over the road. It made a quarter mile ride take about 10 minutes. I finally get into the store, guess what? No sour cream.

Back on the road again. And again, I am behind this idiot who can't read a speed limit sign and has no idea what a turn signal is. He narrowly misses getting clipped by a semi.

The next store in line is also out of sour cream and they seem to think that their coffee cream is worth a dollar more than everywhere else. NOT. I am waiting to turn out on to the road from the parking lot when some crazy old guy flies out of left field and cuts right out in front of me.

Finally I get safely? into the grocery store. Well the automatic door was acting like someone was controlling it. Every time I stepped through it, it would close on me. It took three tries and finally I jumped through like Tom Cruis on MI.

This all without my morning coffee. It had better be worth it. I get my cream's and head for the checkout. A little girl who is way too young to have a little girl runs her cart up the back of my ankle. FUCK! I can feel that she has tore the skin. What next? I refrain from strangling the bitch, I just need coffee.

A two minute trip to the store, takes 40 minutes. I am not a happy camper.

Happy Belated Anniversary to me.

Again I missed my blog anniversary. It was Sunday, March 10, 2002.

Where has the time gone?

Happy St. Patrick's Day.
A limerick:

There was a young man from Lyme.
Who couldn't get his limericks to sound right.
When they asked him why not.
It was said that he thought.
They were overyly long, and far too complex, possibly even dull.

That one kills me.

Drugged and beaten in India.

My sister celebrated the Holi Festival. That's her in the middle.



Apparently they ply you with a cocktails laced with puree'd pot and throw paint at you.



It looks like a lot of fun, don't it? (insert sarcastic look here) I had to look up this ritual, I thought she'd been had.



Maybe they made this shit up just for the foreigners. Take out their frustrations at being invaded by so many of them. Sort of like mass murder without the inconvenience of all those dead bodies.

Pistols at 40 paces.

So we finally brave the 150,000 kilometers to Antigonish for my son's ear appointment. Ok, so it's not that far, but it might as well be. I live in Canada and it's March. I am talking snow people, weather makes everything seem farther away. This appointment was rescheduled 3 times because of weather.

The stupid ear guy won't see us up here till we first meet in his office in Antigonish. It's all about the ability to bill the government.

Anyway, it takes us 45 minutes to get there and we go into the office. I had forgotten what a great bedside manner this moron has.

The whole time we were there (which incidentally was a grand total of 5 minutes) he spoke like the boy was not in the room. In a hoity toity British accent.

(If your playing along, read this while tilting your head back and looking down your nose. Speak as if something were nauseating you. Draw out the sentences and drip them with disdain.)

"Is he allergic to any medications?"

"Been hospitalized in the last 12 months?"

"Any issues with runny nose?" I finally look at the boy. How the hell should I know, he's 15. I stopped blowing his nose 10 years ago.

"Um, he's sittin' right there, why don't you ask him." This is when I get the first of many snotty looks from Heir Doctor. I know, he's British but he seemed like a nazi.

"Does he snore?" He is not going to speak to the boy.

"Does anyone in the household smoke?"

"Just me." He looks up over his glasses, really great snotty look. I am going to remember that one so I can use it myself. It was impressive.

"There will be no smoking within 100 meters of the child." The boy gets a smug look on his face.

"We have two options. One being inserting tubes in his eardrums."

"Whoa, we're going right to the scalpel?" Another snotty look.

"Two we can try medication..."

"That sounds better than cutting him open. I just have the one, you see..." He is generous with the snotty looks. I think it might be a physical thing, he has several really good snotty looks.

"Fine, we will start with these." He passes me a prescription. "Then we will test his hearing again. These medications will be taken by the child continuously without interruption." Heil Hitler! Geez, I almost said that out loud.

So we leave the office and the first thing out of the boys mouth is, "Ah Ha, you have to smoke 100 meters away from me."

"No, you are going to have to be 100 meters away from me when I smoke. Hope you have some good shoes. We should pick up a tape measure so you know when to stop."

I walk the floor.

Tonight I had one of the cushy jobs at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™. I was walking the floor. This means I did not have to take calls. I was walking up and down the rows waiting for that deer-in-the-headlight look to come over one of the new hires in consumer customer service. I was there to answer questions. And what questions they were.

I have been a tech router for a while now, talking to techs and routing them to other techs. So I had forgotten what dense questions can be put to the unsuspecting cc agent.

"This lady can't tell if her caps lock is on or not."
"Is this a joke?"
"No, she says there are no lights on her keyboard."
"And the typing in all CAPS isn't tipping her off at all?"

"This guy just defraged his computer and now he has a trial version of the software on it. He never had it before, now he has it."
"He used the restore disk."
"He says he didn't."
"He's lying. He doesn't know he's lying but he is. Ask him 'how' he defraged."
Turns out he used the disk.

"This guy wants to know how to de-activate his software."
"Why?"
"He wants to format his device and start again."
"Once he formats, it will be de-activated."
How long did he wait on hold for that pearl of wisdom?

"This woman wants to know if we can do tech support on her computer without her being in front of it."
"Is that really a question?"
Blank stare.
Thanks for playing.

And another thing...

A co-worker asks how I got approved for a day off for tomorrow.

"Well at first she told me that I couldn't have it and I just calmly explained why I needed it. She agreed."

"Really? And that worked?"

"Yes, then I let go of her throat."

I am old. I ain't got time to waste.

I just endured watching two movies that I downloaded off the Oscar list. Capote and Munich.

How were they? Glad you asked. Let's just say that I wasted 4 hours of my life that I will never get back.

Both of these were based on true stories, well sort of.

In the case of Munich I am sure there is no proof that this guy headed up this task force that killed the Palestinians. But who the hell cares, it was a stupid movie. If they were going to make it up, they might have made it a bit more interesting. As it was I was routing for the PLO. I can't spoil it by telling you how it ends because I don't believe it did end. I thought maybe I didn't download the whole thing, but I was wrong. It was just stupid. Or I didn't get it. Either way, I am glad I didn't pay $10 to see it in the theatre.

Just when I thought I couldn't suffer any longer, I queued up Capote. Holy shit, what a yawner. I kept thinking that it would get better, but it never did. The only thing that kept me awake was the grating sound of Philip Seymour Hoffman doing his Capote impression. I am not even sure what the hell the movie was about. Was it about Capote? Cuz it didn't really get into his life, or what he was like. Was it about the murders? Can't say, it didn't really get into the details of that either. All I got out of it was that he was jealous of Harper Lee for writing To Kill a Mockingbird.

I did previously see A History of Violence, I enjoyed it. I thought it was a very interesting story. However, what perplexed me was that William Hurt got nominated for an Oscar for his role. I had to run it again, cuz I didn't remember him even being in it. He was, for about 5 minutes in the end. Just long enough to get shot in the head. What the hell is up with that? Viggo Mortensen was great in this movie, but he got nothing.

I also downloaded Crash, Syriana and Good Night and Goodluck. However, I am so disappointed with my movie experience today that I think I will hold off till next week to watch them.

And another thing...

Anyone else find a black rapping cowboy the least bit disturbing?

Hello? Can anyone hear me?

Haven't felt like posting lately.

But then again, who cares?

No one reads this shit anyway.

And the Oscar goes to...

Who the fuck cares.

Is anyone watching this? I am not quite through it yet. But I had more fun watching paint dry.

Basically it's video montages (preambled by speeches about how these movies absolutely must be seen on the 'big screen')no dig at the downloading community at all there. These riveting montages are interspersed with awards being given to people who no one knows for movies that no one has seen.

There were surprises. After all, with all the hoopla about the gay cowboy movie, we all figured they would bring it all home. But when Clooney got the first Oscar I thought "wow, this could be a good show". I was wrong. They faked me out by giving out the best actress oscar early.

Those Bastards!


Even the dead people montage was a yawner. Anyone recognize any name besides Richard Pryor? Hell I thought most of those people were already dead.

I was looking forward to the part where they have the original artists performing the best song nominees. I missed the chick from the song from the Crash. Never saw that one either. And the one from Hustle and Flow, well, I thought that was a joke. I think even Dolly was embarrassed by the song she sang, not one of her better ones. But when 'its hard out there for a pimp' won, I stopped paying attention.

Only funny part in the whole thing was when John Stewart looked at the camera incredulously and said, "In case your not keeping score. Martin Scorsese, zero oscars. Three 6 Mafia? One." Then even he couldn't supress a giggle. What the hell is up with that?

This year the pickin's were mighty slim. I never heard of half the movies and the ones I did hear of, I never wanted to see before and now I know I will never see them.

I can't even string a sentence together properly. This broadcast has sucked the intelligence out of me. This is truly 3 hours I will never get back.

And another thing...

Did I say three hours? Fuck, I am still suffering. But its like you can't take your eyes off it, you keep expecting it to get better. I am still waiting.

I'll tell you what's bugging me...

You can't say a prayer or mention God in school, but this kid can wear a 10-centimetre-long ceremonial dagger. Exactly which ceremony are you performing at school? Does it involve giving thanks to a superior being? Cuz, that ain't allowed.

You only give a shit because they are cute, I don't hear you say a word about how the pigs and chickens are killed.

Only till he figures out that that might be were he spends his golden years.

Oh ya, tell them they just can't come. That will stop 'em.

Holy Crap. The man is long dead. Who the hell cares now?

Whoa, another shocker. Anyone who ever called customer service for anything could have told you this one.

Ya better watch it now. Don't want to build up a resistance for those teen-age years when you will really need it.

And another thing...

I say to the boy, "I can't wait till you get your license so I don't have to drive you everywhere."

To which he replies, "I ain't driving this piece of shit."

And how was your day?

The morning after pill.

We have had it 'over the counter' here in Canada since April of last year. It's actually behind the counter and you have to ask the pharmacist for it.

People have a problem with consulting with a pharmacist and filling out the form. I don't see a problem. I had to consult with the pharmacist before she gave me my cholesterol medication, why not a pill to end a pregnancy? After all if you aren't wise enough to deal with your birth control before you have sex, maybe you need some advice from a heath care professional.

Women's advocates are jumping all over this, of course. But I doubt we are going to piss off many actual mature women. This is more for the teenager, who doesn't want to tell her parents that she is having sex. You have to take it within 24 hours, so it doesn't require you to consult a physician (good luck getting a doctors appointment that quick) all they ask is that you fill out the form (so your pharmacist can tell if you might be taking it too often and perhaps would benefit from a regular birth control method) and talk to the pharmacist.

No matter why you are taking it, it is medication, and you need to speak to someone who knows how it works and how it may effect you in the long term.

Suck it up, princess, and fill out the fuckin' form.

Deaf, dumb and nearly blind.

My computer took one look at me the other day and said, "Evel, I just don't think this is going to work out."

"Wait, what?"

"It's not you it's me. I am leaving you. Don't try to stop me."

"The fuck you are bitch, I paid for your ass, now get back here and make me a sandwich."

The skank whore asshole fucked off.

So, I figure it might just be the hard drive I installed. But after Sonny the Geek had time to look it over, he surmised that the mother board had given up the ghost. So he digs around in his little shop of horrors and comes up with another motherboard (in a cool mod case)and we slap the hard drive in it.

Sounds good eh? Well sound is not the best word to use here. There is no sound, or USB controller and since my video card was also toast the only one he could find was so old we can't even find drivers for it. So I am looking at 4 (count 'em) 4 colors. Sweet!

So we are searching the outer reaches of the geek universe to track down a driver cd for this mother board and a decent video card.

Who knew geeks were such hoarders?

It would make your head spin.

I went into the grocery store tonight. I had a hankerin' for some juice. I wasn't sure what kind I wanted, figured I would choose when I got there. I had thought my choice would be tropical, apple or orange. I could get really crazy and go for grapefruit, but hey, I was leaving it up to fate. I had had some at my sisters, couldn't remember what it was, I would know it when I saw it, right?

What I found at that grocery store was more than a little bit disturbing. There was an entire aisle of just juices. I stood there, baffled. How is anyone supposed to make a choice? There are just too many. I was getting really upset. Fuck it, I will go for the refrigerated kind. It wasn't much better there. There were a couple dozen kinds of just orange juice.

How is that possible? How can there be different kinds of orange juice? Oranges are oranges. With pulp, without pulp, grove stand, sugar free, less pulp, more pulp. Fuck, someone is obsessed with pulp. Then you move on to the dozen variations of orange combined with another fruit or combination of fruits. Row upon row upon row of juice. I was getting a headache.

Then I start thinking. Half this fucking store is dedicated to liquids of some form. Soda (every flavor even some I didn't approve of, not to mention the retro flavors, coffee (decaf, fine grind, regular grind, flavored, coffee free), tea (a kazillion flavors), water (how can there be so many choices of water?), fruit drinks, sports drinks (cocaine for the working class), milk (regular, 1%, 2%, soy, chocolate, chocolate soy, lactose free)and on and on. In every conceivable container and combination of flavors.

And don't get me started on the frozen drinks. I was upset. My 'quick' trip to the grocery store for juice became the quest for the holy grail. I was exhausted, and I don't even think I like the juice I got.

And the kicker? I didn't even see the flavor that my sister had. That meant there more choices than I was given.

Who the fuck needs this many choices in beverages? What is the world coming to? When you have 45 different kinds of apple juice but no cure for cancer. Put the fuckin' juice research money on that. Get your priorities straight.

And how was your day?

Greetings from India.

My sister sent some pics from India. So far she seems to be doing alright, except for maybe the fire in her hotel room. I am told it was totally not her fault. Anyway, on with the pictures.



This is a shot of the view as she landed at the airport. Does that airport look confusing to anyone else? Or is it just me?



This is her hotel, pretty posh, eh? She really knows how to rough it.



This one is the view from her balcony. Not sure what that is.



This is the guy that guards the hotel. I feel safe already. Love the uniform, although the sneakers don't match the toque.



This is a taxi. Doesn't look all that safe to me, but to each his own.



And just look where this poor girl is forced to have lunch. Every, single day.

Last but not least, here is the old girl atop one poor, sick, sad elephant. Yes, that nutt got on the back of an elephant. You may have to double click on the picture to get it started.


After she gets off, they decide to take another half hour to haggle over the price. I doubt I would have the time or patience for it.

Dan must be Irish.

It appears the women didn't need the stupid loonie. They pulled it out with a 4-1 win against Sweden to win gold for Canada. Betcha that was a nail biter for Dan.

Canada hasn't done too bad with 6th overall in the medal standings with 14.

I notice that the 3 gold medals were all for, what I would consider, extreme sports. Hockey, Women's Moguls (if you have ever watched that, your heart is in your throat), and Men's Skeleton described as flat out, head first.(luge just wasn't scary enough)

So far, it is looking up for Dan. Most of the really rough athletes seem to be pulling it out. He just has to worry about that men's hockey team. Oh, and maybe the figure skaters, they can be a vicious bunch.

Keep your loonie in stick on the ice.

Canada is not doing well in this years Olympics, as far as hockey is concerned.

Ya think it might be because this asshole refuses to get with the program?

What is this idiot's problem? He's Canadian, ain't he? Someone needs to strip this dick whad of his toque.

"My job is to make the ice for everybody," Craig said.

Fuck off, Dan. You think for one second that if it was a yank making the ice he wouldn't slip a silver dollar in there for good measure?

Does this crayon not realize that athletes are the most superstitious people on the planet?

It has nothing to do with the loonie. It has everything to do with the fact that the athletes think it has something to do with the loonie. I don't know why he didn't just keep his trap shut and not say whether he did or didn't bury the stupid coin.

If those boys and girls don't come back with gold, good luck getting back into the country, Dan.

Gretzky's been through a lot, he could snap. I'm just sayin'.

But I do hate you 'cuz your beautiful.

Emily's recent purchase made me think of this.

I am just coming off a 13 hour back-shift. I am dead tired, standing in line at the drug store, waiting patiently to pay for my coffee cream so I can get the fuck home before I drop. When up comes a couple of perky 20 something blondes.

One hands me a can and (in unison)they say, "Compliments of Red Bull!" They are way too happy and perky. I have an uncontrollable urge to snap their necks. I could do it too, neither of them were a hundred pounds soaking wet.

The cashier and I are stunned into silence. They smiled, waved and hopped into this:



"I can't believe I went to college, and the Boobsey Twins there get to make a fortune riding around in that, looking cute and passing out cans of caffeine for a living."

The cashier looks at me with a blank stare, "I have a bachelors degree, I want them to die in a fiery crash."

We are both going straight to hell.

And how was your day?

Hold please....forever.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"Ya, I just bought ten thousand dollars worth of computers with 'consumer specific, media enhanced software' on them and I want to connect them to my domain."

"That software will not connect to a server, it was not designed for that, you need professional software." Figured that was the end of the story.

"I know it won't do it now, I want you to make it do it."

"Excuse me? That software was designed with home users in mind, to turn their home computer into a home entertainment system. It is not designed for connection to a company domain. It has very limited networking capabilities, and domains will reject it because it does not have the required security for a domain environment."

I figured this would be the end of it. He bought the wrong thing and he needs to reevaluate his purchase and contact the OEM.

"I know what I bought, I know that it was not meant for this, but I want it to do it. I am willing to pay for it. I want you to connect me with someone who can get this done."

"I have noone who can do it."

"Connect me to the media pc people."

"Well that is a consumer group, they will not be able to help you connect this to the domain."

"Then give me a domain person."

"The domain techs will not touch the consumer product. They will just tell you it can't be done."

"I know there is someone who can do this, I will hold."

"Sir, I am sure there is some developer on this planet that could rig this up for you but I don't know who that is."

"Fine, I will hold till you find him." Are you kidding me? What does this guy want? David Copperfield? "Mamme, I am not going away, I will stay on hold till you produce a developer that can get this done for me."

I am losing patience with this guy. "Sir, I cannot 'produce' a developer that can do this by the end of my shift. I need at least nine months for that. And that is if I start right now."

The broken record replied, "I'll hold."

I will spare you the tirade about the Undisclosed Computer Software Company™ being the most technologically advanced company and all the money Bill makes. The usual crap. I was about to tell him that this is not 'Pimp my Ride' but I bit my tounge.

"Look sir, this is premier and developer support, but I cannot give you a developer that can do this. He just does not exist here. And I cannot leave you on hold till he does."

"Fine, give me your manager."

He gets my manager, who tells him that we cannot make the software magic and there is no solution for his problem. He proceeds to tell my manager that I promised him a developer. (He neglected to tell him that I intended to give birth to it.) He wants to hold for my manager's manager. It is 10:30 pm, he is not in. He offers a callback, he wants to hold. My manager refuses.

This crayon calls back 5 more times and gets everyone else still in the center, he will not go away. Finally one of the other managers takes him.

"You want to hold till my manager comes in in the morning? Fine."

He was still holding when we left the center at 1am. I am sure this guys company will be a resounding success.

And how was your week?

Just come home, Wayne.

We told you that bitch was just after your money. But you wouldn't listen. Now look what she has done. She took you from home and set you up in Hollywood. We didn't miss the fact that it was only days after marrying her that you left for tinsel town.

You were caught up on the hype. We understand, she was an yank actress, wholesome looking, cute as a button. Although no one had ever seen anything she had ever done.(except maybe Playboy) She said she was an actress and your a trusting sort, you believed her. We gave her the benefit of the doubt, we figured a nice boy like you wouldn't marry a conniving bitch. We were wrong, so were you. Just come home Wayne, before she takes you down.

No one here believes you had anything to do with this. Just come home, let that bitch twist in the wind.

Just yell 'Car!', and when she is dragging the net off the street, you could be half way to Brantford before the skank knows what hit her.

I can't understand why anyone would make fun of these people...

3 dead in renewed cartoon violence in Pakistan

In case you missed the sarcasm, are you kidding me? Cartoon violence?

It's almost a shame that Gee Dubya spends so much time and money on invading occupying liberating these countries. Seems to me, he should just work on a covert way of mass birth control. Then all he has to do is sit back and wait for them to kill each other. Problem solved.

And another thing ...

I don't pretend to know dick all about politics, so don't comment on my lack of understanding of the bigger picture. No matter what the big picture is, it is still rediculous and I just don't give a shit.

In other news ...

Perhaps Gee Dubya should think twice before he pisses off the VP. Just a thought.

Things are strange at 4 o'clock in the AM.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

Call starts of normal enough. Problem with the server, idle chit-chat while I create the case. Had a little problem with the premier account number, decide to call the technical account manager to staighten it out.

"Matt, I am just going to place you on hold while I straighten this out with your TAM, I won't be a moment."

"Ok, but I am going to place you on hold as well."

"That's fine, if you are not there when I get back I will wait for you."

"Ok, placing you on hold now..." I can hear him clear his throat.

And this is what I hear...I kid you not! He starts to sing, "Ma Na Ma Na.. doo doo da doo doo, Ma Na Ma Na....doo doo doo dooooo."

I lost it! It was the song from Sesame Street and he was singing it!

"Hey, this is not the Undisclosed Computer Software Company™™, I can't afford hold music!"

We were both laughing so hard we couldn't speak.

The later the hour, the nuttier the IT guy gets.

And how was your day?

...but I did stay at a Holiday Inn last night.

I have been back on 5-1 for this past week and I have to say, I have been having a ball.

There are lots of people around, (for me to make fun of) and lots going on. And the best part of all? After 8 hours I am out of there. On that other shift (that we will not mention) after 8 hours I still had 5 to go.

What the fuck was I thinking? I thought I would miss the 4 days off, but so far I am not. I am actaully going to see my son play hockey this weekend.

An update on my sister in India. If you can believe it, she called tonight for me to help her connect to the internet from work. She is standing in the office with the tech guy asking me what to do.

Holy shit, I know enough to be dangerous. I realize that compared to her I am Stephen Hawkings, but if you are standing in an office with a tech guy, you do not call Nova Scotia and ask your sister(the tech router) how to get connected wirelessly to the server.

Then she puts the tech on the phone? WTF? As I said, I am a tech router. I know enough to be dangerous and enough to know which technician to send you to when you pooch your system. I can't tell someone on the other side of the planet how to connect to his own system. The system that he, no doubt, set up in the first place. However, I am skeptical as to his experience when he tells me (in an accent that sounds like he is talking under water) that he will try that and come back. What? Try what? What did I say?

My sister comes back on the phone, "Where did he go?" I say.

"Oh, looks like he is going to try to get reception outside." What? Where did they get this guy? "I don't understand it, the guy beside me is connecting ok to the internet." Seems like there is a group of them there, all trying to get on the internet.

"And you have no problem with some strange guy walking out of the building with your brand new laptop?"

"Uh, oh no, people aren't like that here. Besides they frisk all the men on the way out of the building."

Nice.

After pulling a few teeth trying to get some information out of the other members of her mensa party, we figure out that the reason the guy beside her is able to connect wirelessly to the internet is that he is using a device that connects to his cell phone to piggy back onto the internet. Like a fancy dial-up connection. There is no server in the building.

"Are you sending launch codes or something?"

"Huh?"

"Is there some reason you have to get connected right now?"

"No, was going to send some emails."

"Then just wait till you get back to the hotel and send them, leave that poor little man alone before he tries to climb a tree to get a signal."

My mistake was that I dazzled her earlier today with remote assistance, now she thinks I am magic.

And how was your day?

Bon Voyage!

Well my sister is on her way to India and she is taking most of Canada with her.

I realize that India is a foreign country, but it is not another planet. She spent the week buying non perishable food items, and stuffing them in her bags. She often goes over the top, but we love her anyway.

She is staying at a five star hotel for Pete's sake, I think they will have toilet paper. Or maybe not. I know this image would upset my sister to no end. So lets not show it to her, ok?

At any rate, this would disturb her even more.

She also is wired to the teeth with electronics. Laptop, webcam, digital camera. She is freaked out cuz she can't get a cell phone that will work in India.

"Adele, they have phones in India." (I should know, I talk to India every single day, unfortunately.)

Take last night, for instance. Tech from XP calls in, the case is for Outlook, he wants me to redirect him. I explain to him that he should have just called through to Outlook instead of waiting on hold with the customer(approx. 10 minutes)to speak to me. I am getting the transfer code for him and he gets all superior with me.

"This case is not to come back to XP for any reason."

"Excuse me?"

"I want your company alias."

"I got your company alias..." CLICK

I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I know what goes into XP tech training. You have no degree, or fancy title. You have no power here little man! Good luck getting through again, enjoy the hold music, asshole!

Don't be alarmed.

And just like that, it is gone. After Wednesdays blizzard, we are looking at a high today of 10 degrees with a forcast of 4 degrees for Monday. (translation for the yanks, 10 degree Celsius = 50 degree Fahrenheit)



I know there are a lot of people out there that think that we have screwed the ozone and that all this whacked out weather is the result of it.

I am sure it is just a coincidence.

Oh, and it looks like I found my shovel.

Filed under WTF?

50 Cent is planning on writing childrens books.

I can't imagine any mothers buying these books. Unless, of course, he goes for that previously untapped violent crack whore market.

An ever growing demographic.

Recycling a great word.

I am returning an MP3 player for warranty. I walk into staples and head to the electronics desk. The ditzy blond at the cash register looks at me and indicates her register. "I can take you here."

"I need electronics, I will wait."

She stands there with a vapid look on her face. "I can take you here."

"You will only have to send me back over here, I need electronics."

It's like I am speaking another language. "I can take you here."

I am clearly not getting through to her, I gather up my stuff that I have laid out for the electronics guy and head over to her register.

"Is this everything?" Is this chick on crack? Is she not seeing the broken MP3 player? Does she think I am planning on buying the clearly old, broken MP3 player?

"Uh, I am returning this for warranty."

"Ok, you will have to take that to electronics." Why didn't I think of that? Back to electronics I go. The vapid blonde closes her register and moves to electronics.

"Can I help you?" I kid you not, I had to tell her again that I was returning it.

"Do you have a service number?"

"No, do I need one?"

"Ya, you have to call in and get one."

"Ok, lets do that then, who do I call?"

"Staples."

"Uh, I am in Staples."

"You have to call the service desk and get a service number."

"Can we call from here?"

"No, you go to that phone over there and phone the service desk."

I am not amused, the boy sees this and starts to inch away from me. "I have to go over there and call Staples, a store I am incidentally standing in and get a service number to take to Staples, the store I am in right now?" She looks at me as if none of it sounded the least bit out of the ordinary to her.

I head to the other end of the store to make the call. I am ranting the whole way and people are looking at me like I have lost my mind, and believe me I am close to it. "If that stupid bitch answers the phone at the 'service desk' I am going to strangle her." She is lucky, I actually had to call a chick in India. I get my service number and head back across the room.

Same chick, "Can I help you?"

I realize it's not brain surgery, but for fuck sakes, can they get someone working there that has a couple of brain cells?

That is it. I am taking back the word retarded. Cuz mentally disabled and mentally challenged has been around long enough for me to have retarded back. I need to be free to pin the label 'retard' firmly on the forehead of who it really applies to. Stupid blond chicks who work at Staples.

Keep it coming.

We are in the middle of a blizzard. Suprisingly enough, this time they warned us and they were right. I was promised a blizzard last week and was lied to.



Most people are upset, but I love storms. It means not only that I can not get out, but that no one can get in either. I can sit around in my bunny slippers and sip hot chocolate and watch tv, or surf the net unbothered by the outside world.



I realize that this is not as bad as White Juan, but I will watch my car to see if it gets buried. That is always a fun activity.



These pictures are not very clear, I took them through the window, cuz I am not a sucka! I am going nowhere.

The neighbors are always entertaining. These two are apparently brain surgeons or rocket scientists who must get out of their homes no matter the cost to life and limb. I have no idea where they think they need to be so badly but it never fails, they start early and are usually mobile before noon.

Fuck that, I ain't moving. As long as the power does not go out I will be fine. If it does I will no doubt lose my mind.

Film at eleven.

Crazy neighbor UPDATE

I don't know where the fuck he thinks he is going, he's like 80 if he is a day.

He is late, its almost one in the afternoon. Slow going I guess. They will perhaps have to delay the shuttle launch.

Notice the 991 sign at the end of his driveway, its almost burried.

Looking Back.

The boy turns 15 on Friday and looking back makes me a little sad. I am proud of the young man he is, but I miss the little boy he was. He was such a cute kid and we used to have a ball together.



He used to be happy with every little thing I gave him. Now he takes it as his due and wonders why he doesn't get more. I guess that is my fault, I did spoil him rotten when he was a kid. It was hard not to, he was just that cute.

It was also hard to avoid, since the boys father was such an asshole back then. He would call and tell they boy he was coming and then just not show up. You want to see pitiful? Watch a 5 year old sitting on the front porch with his backpack, waiting for his father who is not coming.

I would say, "Hey lets go to the mall and get a new toy." He would worry that he would miss his father. (Asshole) "We will leave him a note." I remember that like it was yesterday.

Luckily his father was shot in the head and from the pod came a new father. Ok, that didn't happen, but it was sort of like that. He seems to be making up for lost time. He even bought the boy a ticket to go see Motley Crue for his birthday. He goes to all his Hockey games and is taking more of an interest in what the boy does.

So the boy forgets the asshole he was, and at the same time forgets everything I have ever done for him. But I guess that is a mother's lot in life, we get no respect or gratitude till we are dead.

Can't come soon enough for me.

End of the back shift.

Shift bids are out and the employees at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ have lost their minds over their shifts. Every six months its the same thing. People lose the shift they wanted or don't get the shift they wanted and lose their minds. There is much crying and bitching, it is quite entertaining.

Things should start getting back to normal for me now. Back-shift was starting to get to me. Although I was only working 3 days, it was the weekend and it was 13 hour shifts. The four days off were wasted on me, for some reason I was waking up at 4 or 5 am and was lucky if I could make it past suppertime before I crashed.

So, I am back on 5-1 shift. I am not at all upset about losing the backshift, I really liked 5-1. But they got this floating days off thing that is a downer. I will not know from week to week what days off I have.

Is it evil of me to be entertained by the people around me losing their minds?

FYI - Blogger spell checker is not working, so you will just have to deal with the type-o's

A warm an fuzzy feeling.

Watching our Prime Minister Designate walking his kids to school.

They reach the gate, he turns to his son and shakes his hand. Awww, little man. Then turns to his daughter, she looks to be about 6 or 7, and ... shakes her hand? WTF? Are these his kids or voters?

I had a weird feeling about this guy before this and this latest episode does not make me feel any better. The man gives me the creeps. It started with his eyes, creepy eyes. Pale almost white eyes, like one of those husky dogs. But this cinches it, who the hell shakes their kids hands?

I got a real bad feeling about this.

My Eyes!

I think this is the single most disturbing image I have seen in my entire life.



Yes people, that is Barry Manilow. I can't write, I am too traumatized.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Sammy = Sleep-Deprivation

My sister is heading to India for work next month and I have agreed to take care of one of her cats. She has three. I know, she is one away from being 'that crazy cat lady'.

She has two others, twin tiger-striped. When she got them home she had no idea what to call them. Since one of them had blue eyes I suggested she call that one Frank. She thought that was cool, I guess. I have a thing with naming animals.

"But what do we call the other one?"

I thought it was obvious, "Uh... Deano." Like there was any other choice.

So, Frank and Deano lived happily together till one day my sister drags another one home. He was small and wiry, a short haired black cat. There was no other choice for a name, but Sammy.

Sammy became the bane of everyone's existence. He never left the others alone for a moments peace. He was on them constantly. They try to catch a nap and all they want to do is play. And he was absolute murder on my sister's leather couch.

I know, this begs the question. "Why does a woman with a leather couch get a cat, or why does a cat owner get a leather couch?" One of the mysteries of the universe.


On the other hand, Sammy is freakishly affectionate. When you bend down to say hi, he will get up on his hind legs, like a kid asking to be picked up. And he cannot get close enough to you. If he could get inside your head I am sure he would. It's hard to describe, but I have never seen anything like it.

And it's cute. For the first 5 hours. Then it is like having a newborn, only this time, you are breast feeding constantly. The cat is attached to you. Literally. You lay on the couch, most cats curl up at your feet. Not Sammy, he as to be under your chin. And if you move he will bite your cheek. Wherever you go, turn around and you step on him. Heaven forbid you need to go to the bathroom, he sits outside it and howls like you are torturing him.

I had worried how he would get along with my cat, Milo. Milo is older, fixed and much bigger. I worried he would hurt Sammy. Was I ever wrong. Sammy has not skipped a beat, he refuses to leave Milo alone. No matter how much Milo sputters, hisses and swats.

As we speak (or I should say as I try and speak) he is trying to get up under my chin, this was easier when he was a tiny kitten, but I can't imagine how he will accomplish this when he is full grown. I have to stop and pat him he is biting my fingers. He demands attention, or else.


He spent his first night with me last night. I don't think he gets the concept of sleep. I guess he figures I should follow his schedule. I didn't have any problem falling asleep with him running around, I am used to distractions. However, once he decided he wanted to sleep it was a very different scenario. He wants to sleep under my chin. Directly under my chin, and he wants me to pat him as he falls asleep. Unfortunately, when he decided this I was already asleep so he bit me when my unconcerned state would not comply with his demands.

I wake up to "THUMP". I must have reacted to him biting me. You would think that that would deter him. No, he came back with a vengeance. He got up on the bed and started meowing. Loudly. Short meows, almost barks. Mreh! mreh! mreh! mreh!, as if to say, "look bitch, I am ready for sleep and this is how it is going to go. I am going to curl into an upside down ball under your chin and you will scratch my belly until I go to sleep and if you stop I will bite your chin." I would turn over and get a nice hard bite on the back of the neck and he would hop over me and position him self again under my chin. I tried locking him out of the room, but the howling would start. Couple that with whatever neighborhood cat was howling outside my window (in heat) and I couldn't stand it.

It was a long night, but I think at one point I may have rolled over on him. I believe after that he rethought the positioning. I still woke up to wet nose on my lips. I guess he figured I had slept long enough, he needed some love.

I suck!

As a housekeeper, I essentially suck. I only have a small apartment and even with the boy and his ways I still should be able to get through the entire thing in a couple hours. But I just can't. I know exactly what goes wrong, but identifying your problem does not always lead to correcting it.

Here is how it goes:

I start in the kitchen, stack the dishes, fill the sink. The water is too hot, I move on since there is a jacket on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

As I take that jacket to the entry to hang it up, I notice the cat's dish is messy and there is dirt and dry cat food on the floor. I dig out the vacuum.

As I vacuum, I realize there are footwear there that are seasonally inappropriate and should be in storage.

Moving on to the storage I notice that that is a bit disorganized and start to straighten up. Look at that! Something that belongs in the bathroom.

I move it to the bathroom and notice that the sink is a bit grungy, I add comet to the sink and move on to the tub, there is a book lying next to it, I pick up the book intending to return it to the bedroom bookshelf.

Passing the vacuum cleaner and the storage closet, past the kitchen through the living room where I pick up something else destined for the bedroom. While I am in the living room I figure I should pick up the rest of the stuff littering it, my hands are full now, on to the bedroom.

After placing the book on the shelf I see another on the floor, I pick it up and start picking up everything else on the floor. I pick up the blanket and since I have it in my hand I might as well make the bed. During the making of the bed I notice a nasty glass of old pop on the nightstand, that must go in the sink immediately.

Back to the kitchen, place the glass in the water that is just the right temperature now. Start doing the dishes, one sinkload in the drainer and another bunch in the sink, add hot water. I notice a sock on the floor. That goes in the bathroom hamper.

I step into the entry on the way to the bathroom, I notice the half vacuumed floor. Pick up the vacuum and try and finish that, I see a screwdriver in the corner, proper location? Storage closet. I am still holding the sock.

Do you see where this is going? After 3 hours I am exhausted and there is not one thing that is completed.

Nothing ever gets completely clean. I have rarely placed the dish drainer in its home in the cupboard, since there is always either something in it draining or something in the sink destined for the drainer.

So, I guess what I do is tidy. Maybe I should invest in a cleaning lady. I miss the days when I could get my friend to do it for a couple bottles of wine.

Jeanette? Where are you?

Trash the vote.

Is everyone missing the fact that we are paying for garbage removal? Our taxes pay for that in the first place.

Then they come out with all this recycle crap and we have to sort all the garbage. Which, incidentally, used to be the garbage man's job. So, now we are doing his job of sorting, does the tax bill go down? Nope.

Now, since we can't be trusted, we have to put our garbage in clear bags, so they can make sure we are doing their job correctly. Do we get a discount for that? NOPE! And if we don't sort correctly? Do they tell us why they are leaving that bag at the end of the driveway? NOPE!

We are now faced with two choices. We either rip open the bag and sort it again or take it to the dump ourselves. Do we get a rebate on our taxes for that? NOPE!

Know what happens to all that perfectly sorted recyclables?

They pick it up from you, and then they SELL it! That is right, boys and girls, they pick it up from you and turn around and sell it to manufacturers. They get it for free and then they turn around and sell it for profit.

Do we see any of that cash? NOPE!

I think I will take my garbage with me to the poling station. Whoever takes it off my hands, gets my vote.

After all, what am I paying for?

I'm Back!

For the last week I have been without, not just internet, but any computer interaction at all. My hard drive was pooched.

Talk about culture shock.

I didn't know what was on TV. I didn't know how much money I had. I had no idea what the weather was or if the world was being taken over by aliens.

I know there are some people out there who have no computer let alone internet.

How do they function? Do you know any of these people? What do they do for fun?

Weird.

UPDATE: Ok, so it was 6 days. Sue me, I have been traumatized none the less.

What goes around comes around.

Sent to me in an email.

While vacationing on a ranch, Paul Martin gets thrown from his horse, lands on a rattlesnake, gets bitten and dies because the emergency room at the nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat him in time. So his soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a Liberal around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer." says Martin.
"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself.
He says you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But, I've already made up my mind, I want to be in Heaven," replied Martin.
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect 72 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse.
Standing in front of it is his Dad, and thousands of other Liberals who had helped him out over the years---Pierre Trudeau, Jean Marchand, Pelletier, St Laurent etc. The whole of the "Left" was there, everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.' They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Martin with a frosty drink, "Have a Margarita and relax, Paul!"
"Uh, I can't drink anymore, I took a pledge," says Martin, dejectedly.
"This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just gets better from there!"
Martin takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he thinks is a really very friendly guy who tells funny jokes like himself, and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like they pulled on the GST and Free Trade promises. They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Martin steps on the elevator and heads upward.

When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.
So for 24 hours Martin is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or frat boy joke among them; no fancy country clubs and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor, he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone special!

"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself. "Pierre Trudeau never prepared me for this!"
The day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."

With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Martin reflects for a minute, then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all
-- but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste, kind of like Sudbury. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.

The Devil comes over to Martin and puts an arm around his shoulder.
"I don't understand," stammers a shocked Martin, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster and caviar, drank booze. We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!".

The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us!"

Sigh! All we can do is have faith.

My son, the rock star!

The boy and his friends perform at a school concert.

That's the boy in the white t-shirt.

Please do not comment on the bad picture quality, I did not take them. I was not permitted to attend.

Cuz, you know, Moms are so uncool.

Curious-er and curious-er.

Remember this item from the 'Random Stupid Things' below?

- A break-in at a local residence netted the thieves eight restricted hand guns, Police are concerned that " they may fall into the wrong hands..."
HELLO, they are already in the wrong hands, Moron!

New developement. Seems the owner of the house that the guns were stolen from ... shot himself.

Maybe the 'thief' who stole the guns knew something the rest didn't. And if that is the case, it is too bad they didn't get all the guns. This one is turning into an interesting one. Too bad we can't call in the CSI people.

What the hell is the world comming to?