Saturday, November 03, 2007
Your Nose is So Pink.
I'm so ridiculously all about Facebook, that I can hardly think about my blog anymore, clearly I lack some sort of mental faculty. But I was reading over past entries and thought, well, don't delete it 'cause it's not that bad. And it's a good exercise in writing for the day when I write the great Canadian novel. (Not with that grammar, says Susan). Bah, that's what editors are for!
I am currently marvelling at the night I had a work. The particular cross section of society that frequent the Y is a nightmarish rainbow of teens and the senile and crackheads. I really don't get paid enough. I mean, I know pretty much everyone thinks that about their job, but:
1) I called 911 tonight
2) had to tell 911 that I didn't need that ambulance after all
3) had a visit from the cops
4) a second ambulance was called, this time for realsies.
And a resident yelled at me because their mail wasn't sealed and...I could go on.
Now I'm shivering in my house that is already too cold and it's only Nov. 3 and I'm hungrier than a lion. This night is going to end in a sandwich and Jowie though, so all is not lost.
You know Blogger, Facebook lets me post photos whenever I want. Suck on that.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
More pictures by me.
Internets and the obtaining thereof.
My coworker is in the process of buying a computer for her daughter, the first household computer. She's worked on them at work, but it remains an intimidating piece of technology for her. I was trying to work up some enthusiasm, being a fan of computers in general and the internets in particular. I explained Google and everything it's spawned, which is all the more impressive if you're not like, technologically jaded.
She then, dear woman, asked if talking to someone from England over the internet was more expensive than someone in North America; basically, are there long distance charges. I didn't laugh, because this woman is lovely and it's not REALLY a dumb question if you haven't grown up with the internets. I explained to her that no, it didn't cost any more and was, in fact, free and that yes, it really was practically instantaneous. I related an anecdote about my conversations with Barb, my erstwhile Australian and I was thinking of our conversation from last night:
me: you're a gutsy businessman, and I respect that
Barb: I'm all about making risky decisions
me: I know. You once wore white shoes after Labour Day, to the disgust of all the other country club wives.
Barb: Not to mention my skullcap that said, "Down with pants! Up with skirts!"
me: well, I'm not sure that was more risque than the white pumps. Either way, you caused quite the scene.
Barb: It's what cause the hundred years war
me: a little-known cause.
maybe I'll write my thesis on that
'On White Pumps and Red Hair: A Guide to the Jerk who Started a Really Long War.'
‘On White Pumps and Red Hair’ could actually be the title of your autobiography
No, I don't know how the picture relates to this entry. I took it off Deanna's website, and I'm sure she stole it from somewhere else.
Monday, June 04, 2007
All product placement is unseemly, but this is ridiculous:
How Pond's Shaped The Starter Wife.
I really want to live in a world where people don't try and sell me things all the time.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
If you move to Australia, you will end up looking like this. Or so I've told Barb, who is safely ensconced in his new home. No freak crocodile attacks yet to report. I'll keep you posted.
I want to move somewhere. I've been thinking more and more the Working Holiday Visa thing that Jo and I did a couple o' years back. What's so wrong with saying goodbye to Canada for a year or two? I can't really think of anything right now. Eire? Deutschland? We'll see.