I am awe inspiring

I know you all aspire to be me. I mean, who wouldn't want to be me.

I text profanities to your house. I can't pump gas at an old school gas station. I pull fast ones on Canadian Tire. I'm part of National Geographic's Base Camp. I was invited to Darwin's birthday party. I drink and drill. I know to ask Santa for all the real important stuff for Christmas. I publicly humiliate myself on Facebook (and the dodgeball court for that matter). And I want to have boobies when I grow up.

But today, today I did something that I think tops them all. Because, while all those are pretty funny stories and ones where we all shake our heads at my stupidity because it's what gives me my charm, today I was just stupid.

Okay, you know how people do things and you think to yourself, "how the hell did you do that? How stupid are you?" I've had one of those moments in my life - a few years back, I locked my keys, wallet, phone and all belongings in the car while it was running. In the work parking lot. It was stupid and well, stupid. I just wasn't registering what was going on around me.

Apparently the "I'm not registering" disease came back with a vengeance tonight.

I stopped for a few groceries and some cat litter at the grocery store on the way home. I was already running late for book club as I hadn't accounted for the craptacular weather that hit O-town this pm. So, after scraping my car, driving to Loblaws, shopping, scraping off my car and getting back on the road, I was debating even going to book club at all. I figured I'd decide when I got home.

I pull into the driveway and get out to take the groceries out of the trunk. WTF? Where are my groceries. OMG, SOMEONE STOLE MY GROCERIES FROM THE BACK OF MY CAR. Then, considering I hadn't left my car unattended since I got into it AT the grocery store, I replayed the visual memories back in my head. Okay, don't remember loading them into the car. WTF?

That's when I realized, because of the cat litter, I had done a "car order" to pick them up in the drive through. I went to the mall, went into one store, was out in under 20 minutes and I left my groceries at the store.

There are no words.

There's something about precipitation

Precipitation, in all its formats - rain, snow, sleet, hail, even leaf falling - puts me in a romantic mood.

(insert record scratch)

Yes, you did just read that. They make me feel romantic. I want to cuddle with someone and watch whatever precipitation it is fall to the ground and accumulate. I want to watch people scuttle to and fro in vain attempts to protect perfectly quaffed hair and outfits and be thankful I'm inside with a loved one.

So today, without someone to be my bad influence or inflict a negative influence upon (the cat doesn't count even if she was sleeping with her head in the pillow facing mine), I dragged my sorry butt out of bed and to the office. But not before grabbing one of my favourite romantic CDs (Nat King Cole's 20 Golden Greats) to rip to my computer and listen to all day. It's going to be a long afternoon of looking for motivation to address the 400+ emails in my inbox.

*inside voice* Groan....

And because you all aren't big on engaging/commenting I throw out this question - what mundane thing makes you feel romantic?

Professionalism Gods, please save me!

Dear Professionalism Gods,

Please help. I am trapped in an office and work place that seems to have forgotten what it means to be a professional. While my visual senses are accosted by velour track suits on Fridays and daily reminders that my colleagues don't know professional cubicle decor and my auditory senses are bombarded with complaints of constant disrespect from the big bad "E"mployer, I fear I have finally met my whits end.

Today I received the following email:

This Friday has been declared Sundae Day. We will be gathering to make our sundaes at 2:00.

The sign up sheet is on the closet door.

(NB. I did not change the font colour - that's the way it came.)

While I think that employee morale is at its highest point since I started, I cannot attribute it to all the random cake gatherings, "coffee time" get-togethers, potlucks for any old reason including "it's Tuesday", I worry that it's come at the cost at the expense of the professionalism in our office.

So, dear Professionalism Gods, give me the strength to take the right course of action which doesn't alienate my coworkers and ensures my professional integrity is maintained.

Your faithful follower,

L
(Epilogue: this was all written during my 15 minute afternoon break. I have a right to my break. CUPE says so. ;o) )

So true

Okay, so this is really funny. Shout out to L for sharing via her status update.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus&feature=popular

However, he has obviously never flown with Air Canada. Like ever. And I mean never.

Wasted Hair and Makeup Products Chronicles (WH&MPC) - The Sailor

Preface: One of the most important rules I picked up from another blog when I had just started this one was to never blog about the person you're dating unless you're sure they can handle reading it. Okay. Point taken. So given that it's been about 3 months since my "blind" date with the Sailor, I figure I can blog about it.

In November, I had a pleasantly surprising email from I asking me if she could give out my email address to this guy she works with. She thought we would get along and that because he didn't want kids, we should meet.

(insert record scratch here)

Because we both don't want kids we should meet? Hmmm. I'm not sure what I think about that. While I'm glad that my friends know me well enough to 1) suggest blind dates for me and 2) not set me up with someone who wants to father a whole brood of young ens, I'm not sure that that should be the main "qualifier" for me meeting someone. But really, it's now going to be a huge factor in whoever I date so I guess it's a viable qualifier, non? So long as it's not that combined with "he has a heartbeat and a job" to make him my proverbial soul mate in their eyes (there, you've been forewarned).

Anyways, I said sure, why not? After all, I'm a pretty easy going lady, I don't plan on getting all caught up in the romance of situations nor the idealistic notion that some day Mr. Darcy will come along and sweep me off my feet so bring it on. I know by now, after my previous eavesdropping, third wheel date, that dating will have its highs and its lows.

The next day, I got an email from the Sailor (aka the Blind Date). I call him the Sailor because it's easier to refer to all the men in my life (because there are so many) by a descriptor rather than their actual name - like the banker, and the parking lot guy and the emailer. It just makes dishing dirt go easier. After about a week of sending emails back and forth in which he proved himself to be smart, funny and on the charming side, I decided to bite the bullet and "ask him out". I've since learnt that perhaps my "look I'm impatient and have no use for this small talk BS back and forth" can be a little intimidating. To that I say, "move on if you're intimidated by me because I'm not about to change now." He took me up on my offer to join me at the Nature Museum on a Saturday morning - right when it would be prime and full of kids (such a planning blunder on my part).

We agreed to meet in the gift shop and before I even entered I saw him. And felt...nothing. Uh oh, not good. We did the whole - "Sailor?" "L?" bit and then headed into the museum. For the next 2 hours, we made small talk, did quizzes together, tried to be patient with all the little kids, and ran through the art gallery section. And yet, no spark. While he was just as smart, funny and charming as in email, and in fact finished a couple of sentences for me, there was just something lacking. There was no chemistry.

Upon recounting the stories to friends and family, I've gotten the whole "how do you know there's no chemistry? Maybe you needed to give him a second chance. You're being too picky." All to which I say, I know when I know. No chemistry, no need to give him a second chance and yes, I am being picky. I'm worth it. I'm not being unrealistic but there were certain things that said we were not going to be compatible long term. Besides, if this was blind date #251 I could see some of those points being a little valid but realistically, this is blind date #1. I don't think I'm romantically ruined for not taking the first one that comes along. And no, this isn't like I who will not swing at the first pitch she's thrown, regardless of how good it is because she's superstitious that way, this was not one I even considered swinging at. (How do you like that ball analogy - gotta get ready for the season in a couple of months!)

And as the steam roller business men say in You've Got Mail - "on to the next".

The wasted hair and makeup products chronicles

My favourite place to go on the weekend is Starbucks on Merivale @ Hunt Club. I love to sit and read, write in my journal and people watch. Added bonus that there's usually some nice "scenery". I've also ventured there on weekend evenings when the place takes on a whole new aura because...

It's date night.

Oh yeah.

No, I'm not the one on the dates but I love sitting near the dating couples and eavesdropping. Take for example the inspiration for my blog title.

One Saturday night I went to SBucks for a night of reading. I can't remember exactly what I was reading but it was something non-fiction and heavy because I was hoping for a quiet time with my coffee. So in I go, armed with my book and like the OCD freak I am, I can't remember if I've locked my car. Now, besides this couple on the date and the 3 SBucks slaves, I'm the only other person in the place. I happen to have parked right outside the picture window that the couch le couple is on is in front of. So, as I look to see if my car is locking through the window, she starts giving me the stink eye.

Whoa honey, he ain't that cute - number 1 and number 2, puh-lease, you think I'd be THAT obvious and stare at him like that if I thought he was? Puh-shaw.

So, because she gave me the stink eye and it's a free country, I decided to stir the pot. I told you I was mischevious in my own special ways. So I decided to sit at the bar looking out the window just to her right. Now she's got her back turned to me if she faces him and he has direct sight of both of us. Stink eye me will you? Feeling insecure are you? Here's a little lighter fluid to that flame - oops, stay away from the hair, might catch on fire with all that back combing and hairspray.

ANYWAYS (wow that was some cattiness - can you tell I played dodgeball tonight and got a little agressive), it got to the point though that he was such a loud talker that I couldn't concentrate on my book so I did what any normal people watcher would do.

I eavesdropped.

The guy was one of those guys that makes a sound effect for EVERYTHING in a story. No, in fact he was the type of guy who told a story around making sound effects. Splashes, bangs, pops, hisses, screeches. The only thing he didn't use was a freaking machine gun noise. Although, I'm sure he would have if I had stayed long enough. I thought, oh god, poor girl, now I feel bad for her even if she did give me the stink eye. She was just politely nodding and "umm hmm"ing along to encourage him to keep going. But then she did the oddest thing.

She did the "oh my god you are the funniest man I have ever met so I'm going to laugh really loud and hope you notice that it's a flirting thing" laugh.

WTF? Now I wanted to beat both of them. Him for being an idiot. Her for encouraging him.

Anyways, then she proceeded to refuse to get a second cup of coffee. And he kept insisting. At what point, even after you say, "come on", "I'll pay", "why not?", "are you sure?", etc etc. do you think he finally got the point that she was done with him and just secretly thinking "I hope my girlfriends haven't left for the bar yet so that this hasn't been a total waste of my night." Well, I'll be honest, I don't know because I had to leave before it got to that. Because *I* couldn't stand to be on their date anymore.

Totally jaded, I texted the Mexican Princess to tell her that I forsaw "a lot of wasted hair and makeup products in my future."

Her response?

"Rome wasn't built in a day."

Awesome. That's what I wanted to hear.

So with that, I begin the Wasted Hair and Makeup Products Chronicles. These will be my rants and raves about the dates I have and the trials and tribulations of them. Some will be sensored and some probably should be. I think my first blind date story will start us off. Stay tuned....

There's a reason I don't work in the gov't

I skimmed a book a while back (it's on the shelf for future reading) re. moving up the food chain if you're a woman. It's called Nice Girls Don't Get The Corner Office.

There were quite a few things that I agreed with and among them was the credo that "your office isn't your home, don't decorate it as such" advice which I for the most part stick to. I have one photo of an elephant at the TO Zoo up, a Hoops and YoYo mini snow globe that JB gave me, my tasteful Ikea lamp, and a small, 1"x1" plexiglass frosted tile with an L scratched into it on my desk. Other than the lamp, any passerby can't see those other items unless they are actually sitting at my desk - and with reason, they're for my eyes only. But that's it. No photos of me with friends, no cards, no nonsense. I go for the "I'm here to work because I (*gasp*) want to be and I'm glad I have my job" not "I'm here AT work and wish I was somewhere else and that's why I have a constant reminder all around me at my desk".

So, other than personalized email signatures with inappropriate quotes, I have a disdain for the cluttering of personal items at a desk. And the next few pics are a testament why. My buddy A is moving offices and his big lament to me on the phone the other night was, "*sigh* I just don't know if I'll have room for all my stuff in my new office" to which I said "dude, it's a completely different office and job. What STUFF are you taking? You're not leaving files for the next person?!?" to which he retorted "no, like my stuff stuff. My hockey guys and posters and stuff."

W.

T.

F.

I had him explain and then begged him to take photos so I could make a mockery of him in my blog. To my surprise - HE DID!!!

Check it out.



















Okay, other than obsessive Canadiens stuff, it's a bit tacky but meh, whatever. I've also been just told that yes, that is a debit terminal there on his desk and the Homer Simpson poster was recently taken down from it's place above it - you know, not because he didn't want it up anymore, but in preparation for the move.




















Okay, here's another goody - the Italian flag. Now A's Pakistani, so the only thing I can figure is that as a big soccer fan, he likes the Italians?!?? Don't forget the weird pool calendar there.



















And some up close shots of the hockey players. And a Stanley Cup replica (yes, I know you're once again impressed that I can name it upon sight even!).



















Oops, looks like the goalie's being benched to the in basket! Yowsah! Seems they pulled him at the last minute so the big boys could play on top of the credenza! Even *I* know that pulling your goalie at the last minute won't buy back your luck decorating style.


















And last but not least, let's not forget the hockey screen saver. (And the Elmer's glue for sniffing)

Now, I know that these kinds of desks happen everywhere and there's a real doozie on the other side of the wall from me (but too close for me to take photos of and post them - for SURE I'd get caught somehow). But seriously, people, it's your work space. While I know that A deals with all of his clients on the phone and by email, I still don't see this as professional.

Am I being too harsh?

I've learnt my lesson

I learned two very good lessons in first and second year university. 1) I'm mischievous and it can get me into trouble if I don't keep it in check and 2) Drunk dialing is NEVER a good idea.

In first year, I kinda did a little drunk dialing home (yes, home) and ended up with a worried father who overreacted due to his already heightened concern over his baby girl's move into the big city. Let's just say I didn't do it again after receiving a stern and poorly timed lecture by an RA while I was trying to help fellow residents sneak some stolen road signs into the building through the back door. So, lesson 1 and 2 learnt? Right? Not check.

In second year university, I learnt that drunk dialing to a friend in another city, who may have also been drunk at the time (it's a bit of a drunken haze, you see), is NOT a good idea when you have a camera in hand and other people passed out in the near vicinity. It is also not good when it was the good old days where you had to walk uphill both ways in the freezing cold in 8' of snow to catch the OC Transpo Bus and take film to get developed to truly know how your pictures turned out. After a mortified realization that the guy at the photo place wasn't giving me a knowing look because I was having a good hair day but because he and his coworkers made copies of my photos and when I only understood why after seeing them while at the food court, I FINALLY learnt lesson 1 and 2. Okay - now check.

So tonight, when I became the "victim" of drunk dialing, I was completely caught off guard. Now I'm sure someone must have drunk dialed me in university but I can't recall a single time it happened. And I have learned from my mistakes. Drunk dialing is not good. But the one thing I discovered tonight is that I am the RIGHT person to call for drunk dialing because I will not involve you in the kind of mischief that I can so easily get into sober, never mind drunk.

So, dear drunk dialer, dial on, I say, dial on. And rest easy knowing that I have learnt my lesson and will only chuckle with you about it in the sober light of the morning and will never hardly ever try my best not to pay you back.

How much faith should I put in signs?

Okay, I believe in signs. Not stop or yield or no U-turn signs but signs from the universe that something was meant to happen, that a course of action should be taken, that everything is as it should. It's the universe's way of making sure that karma is kept in balance. And boy oh boy, I've been showing the universe some good karma these last 2 years through all the thick and thin moments life's thrown me.

So it's with great trepidation that I write this post.

When I moved into my house, I began taking public transit to work. I would come and go at odd hours and never was on a consistent schedule - especially in the evening. Frequently, I'd come home after dark and would walk along the green space paths behind my neighbours' houses and then cut between the townhouse rows to the mailboxes and my street. About a month into commuting, I noticed that a funny thing started happening. The 3rd path lamp in from the road where the bus would drop me off would inexplicably turn off when I walked under it. Sometimes even as I approached it. Oddly enough, if someone was before me on the path, it would stay on for them and then shut off as I got within 10 feet of it. Sometimes it would turn back on by the time I turned off the path (about 100 metres away) and sometimes it wouldn't. But it was eerie because it started happening up to 3-4 times PER WEEK.

Once I got my car, I stopped commuting past this lamp and I kinda forgot about it. Until it started happening again. Now, when I'm driving down a street, it happens to me all the time. In fact, in the last 24 hours it's happened 5 TIMES. It's been going on since I came back from my Mexicoma and I can't help but wonder what the universe is trying to tell me.

Sure, the rational scientist in me says, "dude, you're a whack job, it's overheating or something and it's JUST coincidence." The believer in karma and signs says "Look for the sign and embrace your endearing bat-shit craziness, it's what makes you endearing!"

So what to do? I mean, when you think of what lights going out could mean, it's never a "good" sign. It's not like a light coming on. It's extinguishing. Turning off. Ending. I don't want to say/write the words but maybe it's the end of something (and hopefully not someone - especially if said someone is moi). I mean, am I totally bat-shit crazy and paranoid or do you think I'm on to something? And what if I miss the sign that's intended for me - or even worse - ignore it? What retribution will the universe take then?

And what a reunion it was

I temporarily "lost" my toque back at Christmas time. It was a traumatic experience for me which I complained about in my blog. It resurfaced on my brother's head a while later and (he was probably teasing when) he claimed he wouldn't give it back.

So, anyways, I chastised him and made multiple references to getting my toque back in Facebook status updates. Basically, I tried to shame him into getting it back.

Feeling the love on V-day, my SIL, bless her little heart, gave it back.

As a tribute to my toque, I had to put up a post about getting it back and then show you just how damn cute I am in it.

Who? Me? Yes, I did!

Obama was in town yesterday. It was a bit feverish. People stayed home from work rather than fighting the traffic. I kinda understand and then I also kinda think, wusses. It's a better story to say you survived the hell traffic detours rather than hiding from them. Although I'm sure the RCMP and Secret Service thank you for making their day a little easier.

ANYWAYS, on my way into work yesterday morning, Bronson was eerily quiet. Now, I went down it 2 full hours before the flying Obamamobile (aka Air Force 1) landed, but still. And even then I passed bus loads of journalists (Greyhounds marked Media 1, Media 2 and Media 3) and a few black suburbans randomly pulled over at the side of the road with flashing lights. What I wasn't expecting, but now understand given the pedestrian traffic that uses the lights at Brewer Park to get on campus, was the RCMP and media trucks set up on campus and across Bronson.

So, on the sly, I tried to take photos of the "circus" from about 50 ft away with my camera on my phone. I say on the sly because I worried that if I was too conspicuous about it, I would either be shot or, even worse, have my phone confiscated. You laugh at the ridiculousness of this comment but you SO know it would happen if they were Secret Service agents. So here are the pics I took (I added commentary for your benefit - click on the pics if you can't read them and they'll blow up bigger):























Not too descriptive, eh? Let's just say that if I felt it safe to get closer, I would have.
Actually, knowing that they're Canadians, I'm sure the RCMP officers would have actually posed with me had I asked. *sigh* Thinking on my feet is sometimes not my strongest ability. Instead I looked like this university student randomly hanging out in a pretty much deserted parking lot "trying to get reception" on her phone. (There's a reason I didn't pursue an acting career.)

















After that, I then, ahem, stood on a desk to watch the motorcade go by. 12 Ottawa cop cars, 40 vehicles, 2 ambulances and 2 helicopters later, Obama passed me by without so much as a wave. Jerk. I must say though, to his credit, that he had a much more impressive motorcade than the one I saw in DC last April when Bush decided to go for a little spin on his mountain bike:

(insert photo here - I forgot to get it off my computer - whoops)

Karma is making a comeback

Okay, I figured at one point in time I would start to see some returns on all the good will I've been putting out into the Universe in the last year. Well, it came with a price today - $284.76.

For the last few months, I've been debating paying for parking. Yes, somehow, my monthly parking fees have NOT been coming off my paycheque. Now, I'm not stupid enough to think that I won't get caught and have to pay back all that I've owed so I had finally decided it was time to fess up given that timing is everything in these situations if you want to even try to fight it and being tax season, I could fake my ignorance being that I just found out when looking at my tax forms.

So before I did that, I decided to go into the parking website and just look at what my info says. I did notice that they made a clerical error when giving me my pass back in August and it won't expire until 2020. This also leads to my other dilemma - if my pass is good for another 11 years, and any parking lot attendant who walks by it won't give me a ticket for an expired pass, in theory I could NEVER pay for parking. Ohhh, what to do! The moral high road takes the cake - I'm going to confess my sins.

Once logged into my parking account, I went to my "history". There I found my pass payment information and it read "paid" so I clicked on that link and got the following print out:
















Could it be? Could someone have made a bigger clerical error and said I paid for it in full when I didn't? Wait - did I pay for it in full and I'm the whackjob who doesn't notice a $284.76 one time payment off of my paycheque? Back into the payroll service I go to see that no, in fact no payments have come off in lump sums nor monthly installments.

Do you know what this means? It means I'm SCOTT FREE! WOOT WOOT! This only somewhat makes up for the fiasco I had getting the pass. And I will sleep easy at night.

Now, dear Universe, if this is all my karma pooled up for 2008 given to me in one shot, I must say it's a good one but I'll still be a little disappointed that you couldn't also send me a handsome parking ticket officer to scold me for my "dishonesty".

Who's da biggest geek of dem all?

DASSS RIGHT! ME!

So, National Geographic is my homepage on my work computer. I do this for two reasons:

1) As anyone who's sat with me in brainstorming meetings will tell you, I'm obsessed with National Geographic and think that anything the Society touches is golden from their websites to their publications to their photos. GOL-DEN.

2) I am very aware of the fact that by having my employer's website as my home page I'm daily skewing their web stats. It's like false advertising.

So, when Nat Geo (as I fondly refer to it) gave me a pop up window this am inviting MOI to join "Base Camp" where I'll get invites to participate in surveys and tell Nat Geo what ideas I think are good or crap for them to implement, you know I HAD to sign up.

So I sit here patiently waiting for my first task at "Base Camp" (reference to Mount Everest if you didn't catch it). Such a kitschy name, I love it!

Ahhhhh...yea....

I like really firm beds. I do. I can't explain it and well, it's just something that appeals to my body to sleep on. When I bought a new mattress for my old bed frame (now in the tenant's room) with a slat mattress, I thought I was in heaven. I now have a new bed frame and a box spring and mattress for it that are also to die for - not quite as nice as the slat frame/mattress combo because it's a bit less firm but still good nonetheless.

Le ex and I used to get into bed some nights and let out a mutal "ahhhhh hunh ohhhh" sigh. Kinda like one of those "oh my god this is the best thing that has happened to me ever was getting into this bed" kinda sigh. We were like two kids in a candy shop.

I still feel that way when I get into bed but I feel kinda silly making that noise to myself now - especially for fear of the tenant heard me. But there are times that it escapes because I just can't help myself. I never felt like I could explain it well until the other day when MChen's blog directed me to the Urban Dictionary's word of the day and I went through archives and found this:
















So that's it - I have bedgasms.

Lemmings are the shit

So the speaker at the lecture tonight is a bit of a lemmings fan. Now, unlike what we like to think about lemmings, they do not run off cliffs. The Disney video below was actually found out to be a fake - they corralled the lemmings and forced the poor little guys off the cliff.



Anyways, lemmings are the rodents that control the Arctic. The presenter was going on about how these "little chaps" get "chewed on by everything" and then proceeded to list what they get chewed on by - basically, they're at the bottom of the on-land food chain up there. They are apparently also pretty nasty even if they look really cute, I mean really cute...like REALLY cute. He also told us that the Lemming Mantra (and I'm paraphrasing that part) is "go eat your neighbours kids" (that part is a direct quote). How Darwinian of them. After all it is all about...

survival

of

the

fittest

And if that doesn't amuse you, check out the sweatshirt on the dude who sat in front of me. One word - AWE-SOME.

I sang Happy Birthday. Twice.

Today was the 200th anniversary of Darwin's birth. And I went to a Darwinian birthday party.

Well, really, it was a reception in honour of Darwin's birth and it was before a kick-ass lecture. Needless to say, I was pretty stoked about the "party" and of course, the cake. While I had been promised Darwin's head on a platter, all I got was the evolutionary chain of the Galapagos represented in a cake. If you don't see the relevance of that, you need to read this.

There were four layers representing the water (in blue icing), the shore (in sand coloured icing), the vegetation (in green icing) and the air (in blue icing). The thing was made of pound cake and easily weighed 30 lbs - like 2 people to carry it 30 lbs. And it took 2 days to make. But there were some fun things on it like the gummy worms coming out of the shore/vegetation meeting points with chocolate sprinkles to represent dirt, the gummy spiders, the fondant butterflies, the fondant sloth and, as no self-respecting Darwinian birthday cake would be complete without it, the monkey on top (made from icing and an Oreo. And each layer - a different flavour sensation. I had two pieces but the best of the two was the shore layer with chocolate pound cake with espresso icing...hea-ven-ly!

I am evolving

Okay, so I don't believe in a higher being.

Unless you consider Darwin. Darwin is the man.

It's Darwin week on campus. Yup, celebrating 150 years since the publication of The Origin of Species and 200 years since the anniversary of his birth (Feb 12th). I know I've ranted about the Jesus fish before on cars but man oh man, if they were selling Darwin fish on campus for this week's lectures, I'd SO be buying one for Fiona (my car).

Anyways, so while in a meeting yesterday, JJ and I heard that there is apparently a Darwin reception being held tomorrow night before the last lecture of the week. We were scandalized to think that we, the biggest geeks in the room, were not invited.

After much publicly-humiliating begging cajoling to be invited to the party with Darwin's head on the cake, we got our invites this afternoon. While I don't want to admit that we squealed like little school girls were more than a little excited, we immediately replied with enthusiastic "yes's".

I will for SURE be taking a picture of the Darwin cake for a follow-up for y'all. I know, you can hardly contain your enthusiasm. We feel the SAME way.

Post-script: I am an ass. I forgot to thank L for ensuring that JJ and I got on the VIP list. Apparently I haven't evolved.

I pulled an Emily Chen

Okay, so I was trying to get to Emily's blog M on the Side this evening and I realized I didn't have it book marked at home - oh the shame! So I googled Emily Chen.

Well done, Em, your website Emily Chen Design and Illustration comes up first. But then there were more links. And then there was one to Urban Dictionary that reads:

emily chen

a combination of one of the most common first names and one of the most common chinese last names ever, it is a word used to describe a typical chinese-american girl. emily chens are identified by their genius, overachiever-ness and hardcore asian parents. they usually pursue college application-boosting activities like math and science team, student leaders, and debate squad.

lisa zhang is so smart and she has really demanding parents. she's such an emily chen.

Now I know my friend Emily isn't chinese but isn't that cool? To have an Urban Dictionary definition named after you? I am SO jealous. Apparently though if you look up my names separately they come up - but not as one and definitely not with a smashing definition like Em's.

There's a reason it's $4.99

What I can't figure out is why it isn't cheaper. And an autobiography no less. Oh my. There are no words.



PS - thank you new cell phone - this blog post wouldn't have been possible without you!

I try not to rant about work

Because I'm thankful to have the job that I do have but sometimes it's just not that easy.

Two bones of contention from today:

1) *Warning: this rant contains dialogue which may be TMI - Too Much Information - for all readers. You've been warned. Read at your own discretion* Why is it too hard to do a "courtesy flush"? Sure, we've all had those moments when we have flushed and not all of 'whatever' goes down and we have to flush again. It's kinda embarrassing but so is crapping in a public washroom so really, is it not less embarrassing to flush it all away rather than leave some as a welcoming present for the next person to come? It's just common courtesy.

2) What is it with people and their signatures on emails? Must they truly be a reflection of ourselves? In our daily lives, are we not afforded enough freedom in our society to chose our clothing, our hair colour, our food, our speech, etc. that we don't need to personalize EVERYTHING we come in contact with just to prove that we are unique from the person who sits in the next fabric box beside us? Case in point - I just got an email with this "quote" at the end of it:

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

UGH!!! It must be FU Friday.

What is it about me

That screams "send me bizarre and oddly appropriate quotes based on what's going on in my life via email to my work email address"?

I got the weird Bertie C. Forbes quote about 8 months ago that was oddly well timed and while I was on holidays I got this one:

Treat every problem as a road block which forces you to take a detour.

You may find the best during this forced detour, if your mind is active and vigilant.

Seriously, WTF? From "Prince" no less. No attachments, no nothing. Yes, I know it's spam, I'm not that much of a neophyte but hunh??

Anyways, I figure if I throw this out to the cosmic void that perhaps I'll get a response?

Charming me? Charming YOU!

I was having a discussion with an acquaintance recently about how I, um, ahem, use my assets to get help at any hardware store. While it's not something I like to necessarily admit to doing - I prefer to just say that I always get help whenever I go into Home Depot and never have a problem finding someone - because well, it's using my sexuality a bit to get ahead in life, I can't seem to stop doing it. Come on, can you blame me? If you could go in to any Home Depot or Canadian Tire or Rona and have your own personal shopping assistant to answer your questions and take you from department to department to cross off the things on your list, tell me you'd give up that advantage based on your principles...

Yeah, I didn't think so.

So last night, I had to go to the AC counter at the airport to pick up my ticket to TO for Monday. I'm using up my voucher that I was given when I got bumped off the flight home from Calgary in November (read West Coast Story - Act III and IV for a recap). Because it's like cash, I had to turn it in to AC but no matter, the airport is conveniently close to home for me.

ANYWAYS, there was literally no one in line at either the baggage drop off, self-check in kiosks, nor the ticket purchase counter when I arrived. Except for one guy, about my age, talking to the two women at the double counter at the ticket purchase counter. He was smartly dressed - in a Gap commercial kinda way - and was charming the pants off the two women working behind the counter. They were falling all over themselves trying to help him with whatever problem he had. Why it took two of them to help him, I don't know and for what I can tell based on my interactions with them, Her Royal Flirtiness (ticket counter woman #1) was really just there for show and the Cougar (ticket counter woman #2) was the one doing all the work. When I started to get annoyed, I then remembered that well, I turn on the charm as well in certain cases to get what I want and for the first time, could appreciate what other HD customers must be thinking when they can't get a sales associate to help them and I have them at my beck and call when I go in.

I guess there's always two sides to every story, right?

Coming soon to a blog near you

I don't normally answer my cell while at work. However, knowing that my brother is at home with the kids these days, you never know if he'll need a bail out or just a sanity break so I decided to answer it.

Turns out it was Telus asking me what I think of my service.

"It's fine but I hate my phone" was the reply.

"Why do you hate your phone?"

"Because I don't have a camera and I'm getting carpal thumbal syndrome from texting."

"Well, let me see what I can do about that..."

I was going to wait until my contract was up in 18 months to renew it and get a new one. I figured I could survive with my craptacular phone if I had done so for this many years already (I think it's been about 5, give or take a year). However, if I agreed to add 18 months to my contract to bring it up to 3 years, they'll put a $150 credit onto my account so I can go in and get a new phone.

Guess what I'm doing this weekend? That's right - phone shopping!!! And hopefully, images of the crazy stuff I talk about will soon be coming to you!

They deserve to be fired

So, with being in a Mexicoma for the last 16 days, and well, to be frank, not giving a rat's ass about much going on in the world during that time, I forgot that yesterday was Superbowl Sunday.

While doing laundry and not having energy to do much other than channel surf last night, I came across the half time show. In all honesty, it's the first time I've ever watched it and had to get stills of the JT/Janet controversy after the fact. Knowing all about the scandal though, I was super pumped to watch whatever could possibly follow that performance from 4 years ago.

I'm watching and for a second (remember I was REALLY tired and beginning a cold) I didn't know who they were talking about as the performer. And then I clued in.

Bruce Springsteen? Are you serious? WTF?!? Whoever made that decision needs to be fired. How...boring! And panning to the audience of scary cougars belting their hearts out with him while holding mock candles? Oye.

But it was like a train wreck you can't help but look at. And if I tried to change the channel, the only other things on were Wipeout (which was funny only the first time I saw it even if it does send the nephews into peels of laughter) or Extreme Makeover Home Edition which are both just worse. Speaking of, anyone else think that Ty Pennington isn't aging well? And when did he turn into a blubbering, bad-punning idiot? He has always been eye candy but once upon a time I used to be okay hearing him speak - now I just want to slap him across the face whenever he opens his mouth. Well, now that's an interesting visual, isn't it...

But I digress. Seriously, Bruce Springsteen???? I'm speechless in disgust. That's it. No witty come back, no scathing insults. Just "ugghhhh". It seems like it's just not even worth my brain power to do so.

*insert disgusted face here*