Stupid Angry Canajun

2003-09-13T11:55:00.000-06:00

Blog Grr Just in time for the new arrivals of freebies at Blogger, I'm in the process of creating a new site at TypePad. A blog site that I pay for.

Not like I have an actual life to worry about.

The new blog should be known as stupidangrycanajun.typepad.com although gord only knows if I got that right.
Personal Piss-off Rating: No additional Peeves (I'm too busy right now to calculate)

2003-09-12T20:27:00.000-06:00

Special Education, Part Two Ah. Some details might convert my earlier rant from mere complaining into something even less coherent. We've all had two years to reflect on the events of September 11, 2001. Some of us, it seems, have avoided the issue so completely as to make believe nothing unusual happened.

Believe it (or else) it is not my way to impose my stringent and hard-hearted views upon the rest of the world. Shit, I have enough trouble finding my own path. But my gord, when I listen to eight non-stop hours of how "the Americans are just looking for cheaper oil" and "all they want is to stick it to Canada" - the end result is, I want to "stick it" to some very special people.

Let's explore the topic of "the oil." Is the invasion of Iraq about oil? Of course. Without the oil, the terrorists would not have had the funds to commit acts of terror outside their own countries. Would America invade Iceland? If Icelandic terrorists slammed planes into America, I have no doubt that America would respond in kind. Would Icelanders slam planes into America? Highly doubtful. As far as I know, Iceland is not home to multiple fanatical terrorists who wish to demolish the Western World. Why doesn't America invade other countries where civil liberties are non-existent? Perhaps because America hasn't been invaded by terrorists from these other countries. I'm sure that Americans would like to see democracy and peace throughout the world. Is that reason enough to enter by force? No, I didn't think so. Read Damian Penny for words that express my views coherently.

So I ask again, where was our Prime Minister during the Ottawa September 11 ceremonies? With glowing hearts, we saw thee rise, the true north strong and free. From far and wide, oh Canada, we shed our tears for thee.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 208 Peeves (These are additional peeves)

2003-09-12T19:30:00.000-06:00

Special Education Several (OK, all but two) of my co-workers attended school several years after I graduated. Did all the smart teachers retire after I graduated? Did the school districts suddenly develop a conscience and hire only those students who could not be employed elsewhere due to extreme stupidity? Where exactly is the problem in education? Is it the water, the air, the consistently cold temperatures that might be permafreezing the brains of most canajuns? My co-workers have become so frighteningly dim-witted that I wait until the parking lot is cleared before I dare to start my vehicle. Giving them a ten-minute head start just might mean I am not sharing a road with people who can't tell right from left, never mind right from wrong. Speaking of my vehicle: Whenever I start the ignition, my car calls me an Air Bag. I find that quite rude. Of course, giving them that head start means I miss the trail of breadcrumbs they must follow to get home at the end of each workday. What moron leaves the trail for them to find their way back to the office five days a week? One of these days I expect to see a short bus parked outside the office, with most of my co-workers inside.

Speaking of special, just think how special this boy must feel. And kudos to the school board who decided not to discipline the three bullies too harshly. Send them home from school two days early, that'll learn 'em. What is school for, but to prepare children for real life? After all, where was our Prime Minister during the Ottawa September 11 ceremonies? With glowing hearts, we saw thee rise, the true north strong and free. From far and wide, oh Canada, we shed our tears for thee
Personal Piss-off Rating: 208 Peeves (27 for the combined ages of the bullies, another 27 for the combined IQ of the administrators involved, another 27 for the combined IQ of the government officials in Ottawa – yes, I'm particularly generous today – 127 for the combined IQ of my (all but two) coworkers plus the mechanic who programmed "Air Bag" into my vehicle – the mechanic gets 100 for creativity)

2003-09-11T20:51:00.000-06:00

Position Available SOON: Canadian Foreign Service Diplomat

Job Description: Promote our bilateral and multilateral agenda with countries and international organizations. Promote Canada's peace building and democratic development initiatives. Negotiate audio-visual cooperation agreements to enhance cultural links between countries. Translation: Close your eyes, shut your mouth, accept the bribes along with the bullshit, count your pensionable hours and invest in an off-shore retirement home as quickly as possible

Qualifications: The diversity of the work places a premium on flexibility, adaptability and sound judgment. Translation: Strong Liberal Ties. One or more close family member joined at the hip to one or more senior federal official. MUST be able to ignore the obvious AND deny the undeniable without snickering or blushing. HIGH tolerance for alcohol is extremely desirable

While we appreciate your application to this position, we cannot possibly acknowledge every entry. Only those who meet our rigid standards will be contacted for an interview. Translation: Those with any conscience or sense of moral outrage need not apply. If we don't already know you, we are NOT hiring you

My thanks to Tim G of Right On! Blog for the tip about Peter Worthington's column.

Lest ye think I make this up, take a strong anti-spasmodic before reading this official missive
Personal Piss-off Rating: 75 (One for every thousand dollars of diplomatic salary)

2003-09-11T18:28:00.000-06:00

Last night Hubby and I were complimented by a local restaurant. The hostess led us to a booth that would comfortably fit two people of less than 40 pounds each. Being as both of us are significantly more than 40 pounds each, we were extremely flattered.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 210 Peeves (One for each pound that was flattened by the booth's table)

2003-09-11T18:15:00.000-06:00

Chaos Day Much as I resist linking to multiple sites for fear of creating chaos, I must admit I enjoy chaos from time to time. Today is one of those times. September 11 is an official Chaos Day. Let us celebrate accordingly.

First, and this is big, the topic of 9/11. There are literally thousands of sites that reference the invasions of September 11, 2001. Feel free to read or not read, as long as you continue to think. I lost friends that day. I will say no more

This leads to the topic of mortality. If you can read this entry, you owe it to your brain to read this entry and this one from Arrrrgh!!! Of course, it would be most advisable to read the rest of that blog (at least those entries that load when you first visit; bookmark that site). Check Ann's entry and then delve into Broad At Bat. Meditate upon Chuck's entry at You Big Mouth, You!. After that, I shall pause for a moment to pay homage to a friend, whose father passed the veil from this life to the next. Then I shall pray for another friend, who is on the verge of passing, and whose family is working to provide organ donations to maintain the cycle of life on this planet. Anyone who does not believe there is a life after this one is welcome to keep his/her beliefs, just as I keep mine. Keep that which serves you.

Yin and Yang. One cannot do justice to those who die unless one does justice to the living. One year ago, a very dear friend of mine (who, oddly enough, is also related to me) took his first steps (again) after experiencing the very worst and the very best of medical care. Ken asks how to quit loving someone quickly. My advice is, let the love transform into the absence of hate. Sure, I get pissed off; some moments I am downright volcanic. What I hate is that people get caught in the belief that thinking is too difficult for them. Will I hate them when we meet again, on the other side? I do not believe I shall meet Osama or Saddam there. How about you?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 2003 Peeves (Not much thought required for that one)

2003-09-09T20:12:00.000-06:00

Gord bless sticky notes These little gems help me to retain what little sanity I have. A sticky note with "2003/08/05 Package to Jim on 2003/08/15" moves through the days in my journal. Every day I write a line indicating what else was done to achieve this goal. On the due date, I put a huge check mark through the entire note and place it in my "DONE" pile. Ah, satisfaction.

Sometimes sticky notes display messages that are less professional. Twelve months ago I wrote "Jimbette asked me for the log book from 1994. I told her I've never seen that log book" on a sticky note, along with the date. Today this proud note achieved star status. This note has been in my journal for exactly twelve months and has been updated once a month for the last year. Yes, on or around the ninth day of every month, for the last year:
- Jimbette asked for the same non-existent log book
- Jimbette was shocked that the 1994 log book is not available
- Jimbette told me she really needs the 1994 log book
- I asked Jimbette what she needs the log book for
- Jimbette (in her most serious tone): "We need to keep records, you know."

Makes me wonder what happened in 1994, when Jimbette was responsible for maintaining the log book.
Cow.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 199.4 Peeves (Duh)

2003-09-09T02:16:00.000-06:00

Not Again You check CNN for the latest news on TV. You check Nealenews for the latest on the Internet. You want to read this article at least twice. Here's a brief summary: Al Qaeda promises to kick our collective butts in a way that will make the attacks of September 11, 2001, seem like a walk in the park. There are also comments from American officials about the tape and the situation that seems to be building in Iraq. One man in particular is described as a Jordanian, believed to have been the leader of Al Qaeda's Baghdad cell. He was "reportedly under house arrest in Iran" and is now believed to be on his way to Iraq. When one is under house arrest, one can apparently determine within which house one will serve one's sentence. Why is he being allowed to travel? Specifically, why is he being allowed to travel to Iraq? I can't think of a single reason why a North American would be allowed to wander across country borders when under arrest in Iran. Then again, I can't think of a single reason why a North American would receive a sentence of "house arrest" rather than "survive as long as you can in this skanky hole we laughingly refer to as a prison, you capitalist Islam-hating lower than life form." Then again, as a recovering moron, I may be trapped in that limbo between "knowing" and "not knowing." Do I believe the threat on the audiotape? Do I believe that terrorists are swarming to Iraq? Do I believe that the terrorists are gaining easy access and able to meet secretly in Iraq? I thought U.S. President Bush was going to use money from Iraq's oil to pay for the country's restoration. I thought it obvious that the Pizza Man did not voluntarily lock an active bomb around his own neck. The FBI is still investigating that one I thought thirteen year olds should be afraid to attack police officers. Then again, even I don't understand Canada's view on young offenders I thought I could walk out of my front door without being attacked by my neighbour's Rhodesian Ridgeback. I was wrong, three times out of three, when the dog ran up to my front door and I chose the most painful of all evils, retreating instead of whacking the neighbour with my clue-by-four I thought that, having provided my current address to at least five people in the oztario government over the last three weeks, someone would be able to update a file and send mail to me without requiring me to make another long distance phone call to obtain information that should be mine without question. Wow, is my face red; I forgot my house wanders aimlessly and at random I also thought that people who take and make phone calls on behalf of a provincial government might actually speak English clearly enough to be understood without an interpreter. So, as you can see, I can frequently be wrong.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 285 Peeves (Trust me, how could I be wrong?)

2003-09-07T18:48:00.000-06:00

A License to Kill When public transit is a rumour, not reality, and your closest neighbour could have an all-night party without interrupting your sleep, you tend to regard a driver's license more of a right than a responsibility. So yes, I can understand why these young people were driving to and/or from parties. Any thinking person knows why armies want recruits who are less than 25 years old: these are the same people who believe they are immortal. So yes, I can forgive some of those same young people for being in the bed of the pickup truck. I can even understand how someone can lose care and control of him/herself by consuming alcohol. Do not expect me to understand, appreciate or forgive that same person for voluntarily being in care and control of a vehicle. Canajuns are all agitated about cell phone being used by drivers. Perhaps we should first determine how to pull ourselves out of the Stoned Age.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 171 Peeves (Maximum number of years lived by the people involved in this crash)

2003-09-07T12:35:00.000-06:00

Weekend Update

Compliment of the Week Boss (he-who-signs-my-paycheque) bought me lunch.

DID of the Week Acidman's Beth Taylor/Grace/Rene. This highly complex and unemployed collective claims several distinct email addresses, including Acidman's. I suspect this group of personalities formed after a radioactive spider bite went terribly, horribly awry. The core personality of this group was searching for Spiderman's website when another personality moved the fingers on the keyboard. Result: All hail Acidman!
(DID = Dissociative Identity Disorder, aka MPD, Multiple Personality Disorder. You're welcome)

Word of the Week Downage. Runner-up: Blog*Spot. Nuff said.

Surprise of the Week Mahmoud Abbas' resignation. He was disrespected and powerless. What went wrong, did he not get a corner office or something? Runner-up: U.S. unemployment rises. What went wrong, aren't people smart enough to kill themselves instead of turning to the government for help at a time when taxes are ~~crushing the life out of them~~ being cut?

Darwin Award Candidate Mr. Big(ger) Crack(er). Folks, this guy is 26 years old. Who the hell left him alone with firecrackers? Thank gord this guy can no longer reproduce. I'm sorry, I really shouldn't make fun of someone whose shoe size exceeds their IQ by a factor of two. Nowhere could I find the name of his day supervisor, who really needs to be reprimanded.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 35 Peeves (There was a lot of addition and subtraction to determine this rating)

2003-09-06T15:08:00.000-06:00

Official Explanation "Blogger and Blog*Spot experienced downage today due to too many packets being sent our way. We're mostly back up. Still looking into some things." See status.blogger.com if you don't believe me.

Where were these packets coming from? How many is too many? Whose age was down, and how can I reduce my chronological years? Shazbot, I have backtrekked into moronicy.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 60 Peeves (These are additional peeves)

2003-09-06T14:08:00.000-06:00

Linkmore Someone admonished me to link more. "Provide more blog links in your text. It shows you support your fellow bloggers." Way cool. You called me a blogger. Now that my ego has soared to new heights, let me mention one teeny problem: I snap when I encounter the dynamic duo of "Cannot find server" and "The page cannot be displayed". Is the problem with my computer, my ISP, the server at the other end, an electrical outage? Do I care? And do I care if the link is available eight minutes later? Honk if you're highspeed. If I want to be frustrated by non-functioning links, I'll go back to 9600 baud. Non-functioning links have been a fact of life in my world for the last two months. Just today, I was not able to access any blogspot blog for several hours. And not all of these are the cheap rat-ass free sites like you're reading at this moment. Pissed me right off. Meant I had no discernable reason to avoid housework. Fortunately, I was smart enough to keep hitting "refresh" so I was able to continue avoiding housework on the pretense that I was actually on the Internet. Actually, I was on the edge. What of the impact to an Internet newbie? And what about those poor saps who are forced to answer the "help desk" phones at ISPs around the world? The spin off effect is frightening: mass panic, evacuations, children left unattended at Christmas parties, I dare not go on. Can you comprehend the chaos if I provided more than one or two links per post in this blog?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 96 Peeves (Down to a more manageable level to start)

2003-09-06T00:01:00.000-06:00

Sasquatch-A-One Lest ye think I speak unfairly of Saskatchewan (which is, after all, the major breeding ground for Alberta; we only think Newfoundland is the largest contributor because of the accents or lack thereof): This particular news item makes my blood boil. In Saskatchewan, a 26-year-old man was convicted of sexually molesting a 12-year-old girl. The man is given "house arrest" instead of "jail time." Please understand, if your dog runs away in Saskatchewan, you can see your dog three days later. That land is f-l-a-t. So if the 26-year-old sexual offender decides to make a run for it, well, chances are he won't be out of eyesight for several days. That is not the point. This 26-year-old man was trying to have sex with a 12-year-old girl who said she was 14. That is not the point. This 26-year-old man gave alcohol to and attempted to have sex with a girl he thought was 14 years old. That is not the point. The point is, I cannot find any law in Saskatchewan that would allow the government to remove from judgedom a man who needs one more neuron to have a synapse. This judge makes all Saskatchewanians look just plain stoopid. (Thanks to Nealenews.com once again.) Did you notice I haven't even touched on the potential racist angle here? I am so gaddam proud of myself I might just shut up for a few minutes.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 380 Peeves (These are additional peeves; I tried to tie this in to the age of the offender + the age of the victim + the judge's IQ, but I ended up with a negative rating that way)

2003-09-05T23:10:00.000-06:00

An Angry Departure from the Norm Recently, "Tucker" (a blogger) revealed some deeply personal information to me, in private. Yes, that is rather oxymoron-ish, isn't it? A blogger, keeping something private? And, gordblessme, I respect the right to privacy (which is a separate issue from Bill 44, for those who are keeping up with Alberta politics).

Take "Iffy", his lovely wife "Eejit", add alcohol with their remaining brain cells, throw in Internet access, and you get Tucker-Shaken-And-Stirred. A seemingly normal couple, Iffy and his lovely wife Eejit violated Tucker's space. Space can be physical or virtual. Access does not automatically confer ownership. A sane and rational person knows this. A sane, rational and sober person respects this. Eejit may claim she fell out of her family tree but the truth is, she was pushed out. She could review her behaviours, including the high probability of substance abuse, and take responsibility for herself. She prefers to claim perpetual victim status. Now I'm not saying Eejit is a moron; I'm saying she prefers downhill skiing in Saskatchewan ("The view is sooo much better!"). Iffy slid down the family tree in the middle of the night to join her. As you might guess, Eejit denies all responsibility for the violation and Iffy apologizes excessively to Tucker. Iffy contacts Tucker and promises this will never, ever happen again. Iffy is so sure of this that he is willing to cease contact with Tucker (huh?) just in case Tucker doesn't trust him any more. And then the predictable and reprehensible plea: "But please don't make me stop reading your blog" (here comes the emotional heart tugs) "because I need to know what's going on in your life and" (here comes part two of the one-two punch) "I just love the way you write." Listen up, dude, the name's Tucker, not Sucker You saw that one coming, didn't you?

Tucker, who has far more class than I, felt it acceptable for me to release this rant on my blog. Tucker does not need my opinion on handling this situation. My opinion is (surprisingly) somewhat abrasive: A heartfelt apology can be said many, many times. A heartfelt apology need only be heard once. Once again, you read it here first If I don't hear your heartfelt apology, you can bet your bottom dollar it's because I am not ready to hear it. Don't keep repeating it like a mantra that gets you out of jail for free. Try again when I am in a more receptive mood. Like that ever occurs An apology that is not heartfelt is a waste of your vocal chords and my hearing aids. Keep repeating it and you will need a "get out of hospital for free" card. They are in my version of Monopoly When I do not hear your apology: believe, understand and know that you have lost my trust. This condition, by the way, gives me the right to call you a Loser.

In case it isn't obvious, all names have been changed, out of respect to Tucker. That same respect means there will be no further details released unless Tucker makes that request.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 200 Peeves (These are additional peeves: 10 for each whining "I'm sorry", 50 for the initial violation and 50 for the malicious final plea)

2003-09-05T19:14:00.000-06:00

Children, Christmas, Chretien Being not overly fond of children, I limit my contact with things child-centered. The brains behind the Huggabunch really, really hated children. The Huggabunch scare me, fergordssake. Who the hell wants to walk through mirrors? Read books by Lewis Carroll and talk to me about fun with mirrors. Fun, did someone mention fun? Let me tell you how to have fun at work. According to Shrillita, stomping around barefoot is fun. Stomping is fun. Bare feet are fun. Screaming when a bare foot comes in contact with a sharp object imbedded (not far enough) in the carpet is fun. Did I mention that Shrillita is having this much fun at work? Are bare feet more or less offensive than bunny slippers in an office environment? Perhaps it is helpful to mention that bare feet do not increase productivity, according to my (admittedly limited) survey results. Speaking of Shrillita, she is working on the Children's Christmas Party. Did I mention I do not care for children? I thought so. Did I mention I am not a Christian and that I do not celebrate Christmas? More precisely, how many times must these facts be mentioned before people stop asking me to take over the arrangements for the Children's Christmas Party? Has anyone considered what kind of children's party I would arrange? None of this Santa Claus crap; at what point did Santa Claus replace Jesus Christ in the Christian version of Christmas? I'll deck the halls with mirrors and make the children do the fire walk to get their presents. Presents would consist of Huggabunch dolls. Door prizes would be Huggabunch videos. The jury is still out on who would hand these delightful treats to the little ones: Jean Chretien or Nick Lysyk (they are both so good at handing out things they don't personally own). Is it possible to plan a better party than that? I don't think so.

Here, staple something and leave me alone.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 316 Peeves (One for each million that Mr. Lysyk allegedly stole from the Bank of Montreal, 100 for the morons who allowed him to steal that much before doing anything constructive, and the rest because: Jean Chretien, Huggabunch, Christmas, Children's Parties, that's why)

2003-09-04T23:03:00.000-06:00

Even the U.N. is pissed off at Canada Nealenews points to this gem in which we find that Canada was slapped on the wrist (let's face it, folks, that's about all the U.N. can do at this time) for returning an American citizen to the U.S. This American citizen was sentenced to die in the U.S. for crimes he may or may not have committed. He did, however, escape from prison and headed straight for, you guessed it, Canaduh. Here's a direct quote from the above article: "The UN Human Rights Committee said Canadian authorities were wrong to deport Roger Judge in 1998 after he had served a separate 10-year term in Quebec for crimes committed in Canada." These crimes included armed robberies and assaults, for which the American citizen spent ten years in maximum security in Quebec. Quebec is part of Canada, in case you're confused by the local lingo Being a fugitive, he is no longer allowed to appeal his death sentence. Now then, good people of the United States of America, whether or not this man is guilty and deserves to die is not for me to decide. Personally I am opposed to the death penalty in most cases. Why? Because, as a recovering moron, I am fully aware that several non-recovering morons decide the fate of various individuals in various capacities. However, this man was convicted of some harsh criminal activities in Canaduh and I, for one, do not want him here anymore. Not if he's going to commit further crimes, and not if he's going to live on my tax dollars in a prison cell, taking up valuable canajun real estate. You can have him back. Apparently the U.N. figures this is exactly the sort of person Canaduh deserves, being as we were so stupid to let him in (refer to my previous post about border crossings). Sorry, U.S., this is one fish I'm prepared to throw back.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 53 Peeves (These are additional peeves: one for each year he wasted money and real estate in canaduh, one for each year of life the two victims lived, and ten for the guards who were tricked into believing he was still in his bed)

2003-09-04T22:19:00.000-06:00

My secret super powers are secret no more Today, I revealed my UHD (Uterine Homing Device, for those who lack this particular super power poor things) to save ~~the world~~ Shrillita. She stood at least three feet from me or the metric equivalent and screamed "Where did I put your stapler?" Under normal conditions, a super hero does not reveal super powers to mere mortals. Fortunately I grasped the extreme urgency of the situation (after all, I have super powers and am able to grasp situations in a single thought). Given that the known Universe would implode if Shrillita did not immediately find my stapler, I broke down and revealed my magical ability.

I spoke these words clearly, without a glimmer of irony: "It's in your left hand."

Shrillita was obviously overcome with emotions. She, too, grasped the unique and ferocious power of the moment. She barely had the energy to shriek "Oh shit!" before she ran off to staple various objects to various other objects. With my stapler. My special stapler. This is the stapler that won Silver in the most recent Stapler Olympics. That is why my stapler is so highly cherished and venerated by my co-workers. Oh, sure, each one of them could use the stapler on her desk. Each of those staplers was selected with love, purchased with quiet reverence, and delivered with care. But no, that is not enough. When various objects must be securely stapled to various other objects, only my special stapler is up to the task.

One of these days I shall sneak a tube of Super Glue® into my special stapler.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 315.46 Peeves (For the nine (yes, nine, I counted them) other staplers in the office, x $11.99 + GST, and the balance for making me reveal my UHD)

2003-09-03T22:32:00.000-06:00

Perhaps Homeland Security officials haven't had time to read Canadian news lately. There's something they should know, and damn soon, because the following headline has me a mite concerned: U.S. easing border checks for Canadians. Excuse me, what are you thinking? Easing border checks, making it easier for Canadians to enter the U.S.? Did you miss the little tidbit about the guys in Ontario who entered the country claiming to be students at a non-existent school? Are you confused about the entertainment factor up here? Here's a hint: It's our politicians who entertain, not the media. OK, some of the so-called journalists can yuk it up with the best of us, and some of our editors are, well, drunk, but you know, journalistic ethics and all Our Immigration Officials have absolutely NO sense of humour whatsoever. In fact, some of them have NO sense at all. Think Monty Python here. The twenty (or so) men being detained in Ontario represent a fraction of a percentage of the people we (your neighbours to the North, the ones with odd spelling) allow to saunter across our borders every year. We don't verify the existence of schools they claim to attend. We don't do TB testing anymore. We have not been overly conscientious about screening our new arrivals for a couple of decades now (perhaps longer, if anyone cares to investigate) except for one small issue: one's place in the arrival line is determined by the amount of money one promises to invest in Canada. Those with higher amounts go to the front of the line. It's a simple process, and one that the Homeland Security officials might want to look at before opening borders to us.

Oh, wait. Good news: No one can put a timetable on these "border improvements" except to say that "Agent training begins this fall."
Personal Piss-off Rating: 20 Peeves (These are additional peeves)

2003-09-03T21:55:00.000-06:00

Standing proudly for canaduh

We have:- The most expensive and least useful gun registry in the entire Milky Way Galaxy
- A prime rate of 4.50% (Earn 0% interest on bank accounts of less than $5,000, but still, it's a lovely gesture, isn't it?)
- 18% of the population aged 40-50 who, quite rightly, fear they cannot afford to retire, ever surprisingly, no politicians of this age group expressed this fear
- The ability to earn money for ourselves, not taxes, sometime after July of every year
- GST, PST, HST, all Sorts of Taxes and creative ways to waste them
- Chronic Depression: the leading illness

We don't have:- Nasty, ugly hackers (let us not mention that kid from Montreal)
- That endlessly annoying Verizon Guy (yet)
- That Dell Dude (he was not using canajun-grown)
- The Montreal Grand Prix (anymore)
- Tasers (Defend myself against a criminal who might have rented a gun to commit a home invasion or bank robbery? Good lord, man, we're canajun, we have laws!)
- Children who commit serious crimes (if we did, the "children" would do serious time, right?)

gaddam I should not watch TV news
Personal Piss-off Rating: 450 Peeves (Tied to the prime rate, you see)

2003-09-02T22:52:00.000-06:00

Inspirations and Desperations from blogs. Rob at Depthmarker provides both in the post "I Miss My Friends." Having spent so much time with one of my previous employers in recent daze, I am reliving some of this. PC terms include: Rightsizing you were the wrong size; Downsizing you were too upbeat; Terminated before you went Ahnold on them?; Released From Employment nothing at all like early parole; Contract Terminated as is your career here. The reality is: You were FIRED, Kicked In The Ass, Shoved Out The Door, Here's-Your-Hat-What's-Your-Hurry GET OUT. Two acquaintances of mine were Released From Employment due to suggestions that they were, separately and at different times, less than loyal to our employer. When the Queen is your employer, you had better be damn sure you appear loyal 24/7 The jolt of hearing about each parting of the ways left me shaken and somewhat stirred. Later, when I was given to understand that due to my poor taste in becoming ill while employed I had forfeited the right to be paid, it was less jolt, more jilt. Yes, I felt jilted. Unloved. Having recently learned that I am still not officially released from employment, I am once again feeling the love. It's like my village called because they want their idiot back.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 35 Peeves (Based on a complex loyalty-to-lunacy ratio)

2003-09-02T20:28:00.000-06:00

Surface mail addressed to me (with the complete address, including the postal code) ends up being returned to sender with a Canada Postie remark: "No Such Address." Funny how the universe works; this address exists most days, as it has for the past fifty years, then suddenly one day boom my house disappears and therefore my mail cannot be delivered. Until today, I blamed my mail delivery problems on my house's inexplicable need to wander the streets probably panhandling, or hanging around at the local mall, harassing shoppers; now, I wonder … could it be that someone is a little too busy to actually deliver the mail? No, that is impossible, as I am told whenever this happens and you had better believe I call Canaduh Post each time I learn my mail took a cross-country detour. . A report from CBC (via Nealenews) says a few letter carriers might be selling their routes (cash under the table, of course) so they can carry out their other weighty obligations (such as home-based businesses, or golf). The article clearly states: "The Crown corporation explained that if the problem was so widespread, it would have received complaints from customers." Ah, complaints. FYI, complaints apparently do not include: screaming, waving of the offending much-returned envelope, gesticulating in a way that can only be described as "offensive" in at least six cultural groups, or writing a calm yet oddly severe letter to the head of Canaduh Post, complete with photocopies of the envelopes being discussed and requesting an explanation for the lack of service. Those would not be complaints. Those are clearly the rantings of an insane person whose house magically disappears during mail delivery moments. I wonder what a complaint looks and sounds like?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 200 Peeves (100 for each employee who has been reprimanded)

2003-09-01T14:09:00.000-06:00

Dubya hates Canaduh because we have it and he doesn't.

The world's best orange creamsicle donuts are at the Donut Mill in ~~Dead Rear~~ Red Deer, AB, in Gasoline Alley on Hwy 2. I do not work for Donut Mill, I am not being paid to advertise Donut Mill, I have no affiliation with ~~Dead Rear~~ Red Deer, I am just telling the truth once again
Personal Piss-off Rating: -10 Peeves (Goooood donuts)

2003-09-01T13:59:00.000-06:00

As a vegetarian like you care by choice, I believe it is your right to choose a carnivorous lifestyle. Will you be granted those same privileges in later years? Pete Guither has a magnificent article on this topic. The article is designed to make readers laugh and think at the same time. Don't tell me you weren't warned.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 45 Peeves (These are additional peeves)

2003-09-01T00:42:00.000-06:00

Shutting Down the Pop Stand

Show some respect for law and order! Order me a soda while you're at it! These wacky youngsters think they have a right to sell pop a block or two from a state fair (are you ready?) without paying the requisite $60 fee for a license. What were these children thinking? Worse, what were their parents thinking, allowing their children to experiment with free enterprise in a free society? Thank heavens someone complained about sellers at the fair. Kudos to the quick thinking law enforcement officer who slapped those children back into reality. Where were the neighbours, whose job it is to report these sort of offenses before every kid thinks of a way to get a head start in business? The lack of complaints about these two young hooligans is distressing. Compare this with the vigilant neighbour in Naples, Florida, who wasted no time in shutting down the lemonade stand run by a six year old - again without a permit. Warning: the link above reveals that the city of Naples broke down under pressure from militant supporters around the country, and allowed the six year old to reopen her lemonade stand without a permit. If this is not blasphemy I don't know what is. Are we as a society so weak kneed that we bow to every minority group with access to a telephone? Show some backbone, people. Be on the lookout for children who flagrantly violate those most sacred and important of laws. Report such transgressions immediately to your local police department and to your local religious leaders. A few public floggings might set these younguns on the straight and narrow!
Personal Piss-off Rating: 120 Peeves (The minimum number of days each of these kids should spend doing some hard time)

2003-08-31T13:12:00.000-06:00

What, No Week End Review?

On Saturday I went out of town to a Recovering Morons Convention.

No one else showed up.

Should be home later today, if I can find the trail of bread crumbs.
Personal Piss-off Rating: Unchanged

2003-08-29T11:13:00.000-06:00

For the Record

- I am female. (That is for Bill, the Peoria Pundit – who has another excellent article revealing the true nature of coughchokejournalismspewhack that should be required reading for people who think the media is NOT controlled)
- This is not the kind of self-medicating to which I aspire (driver is charged with impaired after fleeing the scene of five-car accident). Let's hope Carlos Teixeira, the tow truck driver, doesn't get charged with something for his efforts. Thanks to Tim G. of Right On! Blog for the heads-up.
- Attention, recovering morons: You might be a teacher if from the Braden Files. Take special note of items 3, 5, 9, 10, 14 and 16.
- Someone in the oztario government called me back.
- Someone else after only five additional phone calls, all long distance in prime time in the oztario government has committed to working on my little problem. (The problem: I stopped working for them almost seven years ago, and have yet to be released from employment. Back in the day, there was a rule that if you didn't show up for work and didn't contact the office for seven consecutive days, you were deemed to have abandoned your job and were therefore fired. Was that rule downsized? Sure would be nice to get a Record of Employment and notification of how much pension money I am no longer eligible to receive.) The plot thickens here: I am only listed on one of two payroll systems. Which system? What are these systems? Why are there two systems? Where have my paycheques been going? Reissuing all that back pay is going to cause the government some serious financial grief.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 236.6 Peeves (Five for the state of media; ten for the impaired driver, because I am in a particularly charitable mood for no discernable reason; eight for the two-payroll-systems; 213.6 left over from yesterday because I'm only half as pissed off since someone did call me back, a day late and at a time when normally I would not be home to receive the message anyway, but still, one must acknowledge the tremendous effort)

2003-08-28T23:21:00.000-06:00

Actual Thoughts Bill, the Peoria Pundit, is a closet canajun. If you don't believe me, check out his Constitutional amendments I'd like to see. gaddam I love actual thoughts
On this auspicious occasion, no Peeves are noted

2003-08-28T23:00:00.000-06:00

Speaking of Canajun Tax Dollars This just in from Canada.com: The Prime Minister wants a raise. Fine, alright, technically that is not the headline. The headline is "Top Judges Demand 20% Pay Raise." And you're right, those hard-working, under-valued, yea even unloved judges are struggling to get by on $216,000 per year from the government. I know I would have to make several major adjustments in my lifestyle if that was my salary. So how did I get that Jean Chretien wants a raise? Check out this excerpt from the article: "The amount that the judges secure from the federal government will have a ripple effect, because it is used as a benchmark for the pay of federal politicians. "The prime minister's salary is now the equivalent of the chief justice's of Canada, so when the chief justice's salary increases, so does the prime minister's," said Judith Bellis, judicial affairs director for the federal Justice Department." (Emphasis added for special effects)
Personal Piss-off Rating: 20% extra (I'm feeling unloved)

2003-08-28T22:27:00.000-06:00

Long Rambles Are Common During A Moron's Recovery

Saw Rocky's Fast Express on the side of a large truck. I want to hire that driver for my next company, Bullwinkle's Leisurely Delivery. Our motto will be "Sure we're slow, but we're honest."

And yes, I am serious about that animal skeleton on the front lawn of my beloved office building and the bicyclist who "stole" the skeleton. My life is so wonderful I do not have to resort to making things up As an example, my ongoing feud to obtain release from my employment at the oztario government, so that I may learn how much pension money is not available to me any longer …

Having all but exhausted the route of contacting the oztario government by mail, I thought phoning would be the next most exasperating form of communication. Hey, I was right Today I spent almost an hour on the government wheel of misfortune. Perhaps you've played this game? The rules are fairly simple: 1) Avail yourself of a touch-tone phone and touch-tone phone service (this step is crucial); 2) call the government; 3) get voicemail (a no-brainer, your tax dollars are hard at work or hardly working); 4) hit the zero key on the phone pad (which activates the direct line to someone with an IQ of zero); 5) listen to the musick/recorded message/silence until the IQ0 person says something unintelligible; 6) explain your request; 7) listen to the musick/recorded messge/silence until you get voicemail; repeat from step 4 until A) you hang up in disgust; B) you retaliate with musick/recorded message until someone says something unintelligible; or C) you visit the offending office to deliver your message in person. Since I'm in alberduh and the offending office is in oztario, I may not choose option C for at least the next week Nice to see all those customer service excellence seminars I gave were not in vain. Here's a sample of today's conversations, complete with my thoughts in smaller font:

IQ0: "Mfblfgp" For the love of gord, ENUNCIATE when you answer the phone, especially in the Minister's office
Me: "May I please speak to Shamalama Tootaters?"
IQ0: "There's no one here by that name." Shades of "Who's on first"
Me: "Last week I called this number and spoke directly with Shamalama. Has she moved to another office?"
IQ0: "Shamalama Teetaters works here. There is no one by the name of Shamalama Tootaters in this office." I can see why you're confused. The names are so dissimilar. And Shamalama is such a common name, especially in Toronto
Me: "OK, then put me through to Shamalama Teetaters, please."
IQ0: "She's on vacation." And you're on my last nerve
Me: "OK, then put me through to the person filling in for Shamalama."
IQ0: "There's no one in the office today." Are you the beta version of artificial intelligence? Or are you answering the phone from home?
Me: "No problem, I'll just call Ernie at home tonight."
IQ0: "Who's Ernie?" The Sesame Street gag is just too obvious
Me: "Ernie. Eves. The Premier. Your boss' boss."
IQ0: "My boss is not in today." I took twelve days off a year, without pay, during the Rae administration, to save your ass
Me: "Where is your boss?"
IQ0: "I don't know. She's taking a new job so she isn't doing this one anymore." Where's a tape recorder when you really need one?
Me: "I'll bet someone is working in the government today. Got the number for any other Minister's office?"
IQ0: transfers me to someone's voicemail
Me: returning to step 4, hitting the zero key
IQ0: "HSHFLIKKNM"
Me: "Hi, me again, that person's at a meeting, is there any other minister on your list?"
IQ0: transfers me to another voicemail
Me: returning to step 4, hitting the zero key
IQ0: "Oosniflibij"
Me: "Please stand by for an important recorded message." CLICK

Eventually I did speak to a live human being who works in HR. She listened while I explained my situation. She asked me where I worked, then told me that department doesn't exist. It probably downsized while I was in the wheel of voicemail doom She asked me exactly what form needs to be filled out to terminate my employment. Doncha think YOU should know that, being as you work in HR and all? She asked me who fills out said form. Refer to my previous question She decided the form is probably filled out by Payroll and hey, guess what, Payroll was outsourced. I wonder if IQ0 works in Payroll She took my name and phone number and promised to call me back this afternoon.

She did not call me back. Oh. Gasp.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 356 Peeves (Complex calculations of this nature have been outsourced)

2003-08-27T23:46:00.000-06:00

Sometimes They Speak For Themselves

Quoted from canada.com: "Federal Transport Minister David Collenette has a message for consumers frustrated by high gasoline prices -- get used to it. He says the Liberal government will not consider lowering the federal excise tax on fuel...In Moncton, New Brunswick yesterday, Collenette says he wouldn't recommend lowering the federal gas tax to ease the burden on consumers. He says taxes are an inevitable part of life. The minister says consumers will have to live with higher fuel prices."

Why do they have to make it so easy for me?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 61 Peeves (I'm too tired to reveal the calculations, you'll just have to live with higher peeves)

2003-08-27T21:42:00.000-06:00

My cat is deranged. Tonight he pawed at the TV for ten minutes, trying to touch the birds on the wildlife show. Then he jumped up on the TV stand and poked at both the screen and the back of the TV set. As the TV was muted, it is unlikely that he was attracted by bird sounds.

My coworkers are deranged. Today they pawed at their keyboards for several minutes, trying to touch the information in the database. Then they jumped up and poked at their screens and the back of the computers. As the network was down, it is unlikely that they were attracted by the prospect of doing actual work.

My townsfolk are deranged. The pattern is changing here to keep you interested Someone tried to invoked a voodoo-ish curse upon our beloved office. We discovered the bones of an animal on our front lawn. The skull was conspicuously absent. The skeleton, sans skull, was approximately three feet long and picked clean. The skeleton lay on the front lawn until a bicyclist stuffed it into a green garbage bag and cycled happily away. Yum, there be good eats at someone's home tonight. Soup's on!

People are deranged. "McDonalds made me overeat." "Zippo made me do stupid tricks with lighters." "Marijuana makes me commit crimes." "You owe me because your ancestors oppressed my ancestors." Do you want some geez with that whine? Asking these people to accept some responsibility is obviously out of their time zone.

Maybe I have West Nile Virus. Just after biting me and just before meeting its Maker, a certain mosquito yelled "Y'all die now!" I am convinced it was from southern Alberta, identified as the source of Albertan West Nile Virus
Personal Piss-off Rating: 14 Peeves (Minus one for my cat; three for my coworkers; two for the attempted curse; one each for the bicyclist and the soup; five for lacking responsibility; three for the skeeter)

2003-08-26T22:17:00.000-06:00

Teacher He's Scaring Me

Um, OK, make him stop now. The President of the U.S. spoke to members of the American Legion today. The NY Times article reports he has adopted a new strategy for a new kind of war. Is that because the strategies for another new kind of war have been less than successful? Here's a hint: The so-called "war on drugs" has not been wildly successful in changing the minds of people who are strung out by abusing drugs. Here's another hint: This same war has not exactly brought the illegal drug trade crashing to its financial knees Back in the day, a country went to war for one of two main reasons: 1) The leader of Country A wanted control of Country B; 2) The leader of Country B resisted losing control to outside forces. Then the world became enlightened and imposed restrictions upon "bad countries": cut off foreign aid, call them unpleasant names to smear their reputations in global arenas, refuse to acknowledge visiting dignitaries, right? Now what? Does Country A attack Country C to lull Country B into a sense of false security? Does Country A attack itself to wreak global confusion? Oh wait, we're already in a state of global confusion, or maybe that's just me Maybe President Bush wants to clone Shrillita. He could use the clones as his ~~evil minions~~ ambassadors around the world. Now THAT might just work. She's enough to drive people into irrational actions, like making terrorists act like calm, rational people.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 65 Peeves (My homework is finished. You do the math)

2003-08-26T21:02:00.000-06:00

Note to self: Organize links in the right bar. And publish fully, not just enough to mess up the content.

2003-08-26T18:18:00.000-06:00

Whee

Someone thoughtfully erected ~~a slalom course~~ several barriers on the road between me and my office. What fun. Some drivers expect me to share the road when there is only one lane. You are welcome to challenge the theory that two three-dimensional objects cannot occupy the same time-space position. According to my calculations, there is enough room for my vehicle, period.

Fortunately I don't have to use that road when getting my passport photo taken. Canada has banned smiles in passport photos. Did we all look too happy at the prospect of leaving? Some people are happier than others to be in Canada. Lowlifes are stealing from the people who used to own homes in Kelowna. Check Nealenews for more heart-warming stories.

Speaking of Kelowna, Doug takes a moment to slam CNN. According to this site, 2,998 people were killed, reported dead or reported missing as a result of "9/11". Latest reports in Canada indicate 30,000 people were evacuated as a result of the "Kelowna Fire." Yes, we're lucky that people were evacuated and not killed. Yes, we still share their loss. It is hard to believe that the footage from a massive fire doesn't make headline news, unless (I guess) you're CNN. If you are able to help, these links put you in the right direction.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 10 Peeves (Three for roads and those who should not be on them; one for no smiles on passports; three for thieves; one for each letter in CNN)

2003-08-25T20:37:00.000-06:00

Spinning

Warren Kinsella makes some compelling points about political response to "the blackout." Warren, love ya, and I accept your views. No amount of hot air was going to fix the problem. The point is, a fair amount of hot air was expended on affixing the problem. Any politician with an interest in voters might have taken the time to reach an expert or two to get some solid advice to pass on to the voting public. Earlier you quoted Murray Campbell's piece which says in part: "It was little noticed at the time, but last June the Liberals pressured the government to issue public-information pamphlets about what to do in a blackout." While Mr. Chretien has the entire country to think of, he has not gained a whole lot of points with his responses (or, more precisely, lack thereof) to some major Canadian issues of late, including "the blackout" that (in all fairness) affected the capital city of Canada. Politics is a difficult, dangerous game when played seriously. Terrorism, SARS, the mad cow fiasco, and "the blackout" were all unthinkable forty years ago. Please, for the love of all that is sugary and Tim Hortony, throw us a bone and tell us that the Liberals are finalizing workable plans for the unthinkable.

2003-08-25T20:10:00.000-06:00

Today's Driving Tip: When you have care and control of a vehicle, the game is "Driving" not "Hopscotch." Choose a lane and stick with it! Keep playing "Hopscotch" and someone will turn the roadway into a giant game of "Tag."

Today's Left Turn Tip: Don't pull out half-way into the street and stop. Especially if Hubby or I am driving along the street you're afraid to pull out into. Of course, the person who did that today is probably already emotionally scarred for life

Funerals: Broad at Bat talks about holding a funeral at a skateboard park No argument with her sentiment. My family has issues with hiring stand-up comedians and buying copious amounts of alcohol for my wake. Oh, wait, problem was paying for the open bar; fine then, have a cash bar Methinks it takes some maturity to respect the departed and the living.

Politics: Come on, even if you think he's a moron, it is almost impossible to refrain from having an opinion about his campaign. Platform? Who needs a steenkin platform? His celebrity status is his platform. If this man fails in his bid to become Governor of California, he should seriously consider a position in Canaduh's Senate.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 5 Peeves (Four for stupid driving tricks and one for having to replace the starter on my beloved Found On Road Dead)

2003-08-24T14:07:00.000-06:00

Weekend Update 24.Aug.2003

Conversation of the Week Boss stage whispers to Shrillita, "Keep your voice down, this is confidential." Shrillita, standing no more than three feet away, screams "What? I can't hear you."

Local News
Economic Upswing occurred in ehduhmonton yesterday. I bought a shirt.
Economic Downturn occurred in my family. Oztario needs more time to investigate my claim that my employment was not properly terminated. Ergo, I have not yet received my back pay with interest. Damn, I already spent it yesterday!
Fashion Tragedy occurred when rent-a-cop insulted his hairdresser. Results can be fond at local mall where said rent-a-cop is sporting a spoofy new doo, reminiscent of a toilet bowl brush. We can only pray that he is not assigned to "public washroom tour of ~~doody~~ duty."

Larger View
Fire makes for great photos and wonderful human interest stories – so why have the fires in B.C. received second-billing to the blackout of the east? My guess is that fire has its own personality, and is hard to pin down and interview.
Suspected Terrorists are being held on immigration charges right here in Canada. Maybe we should provide more information to our immigration officers, so they can catch people who are enrolled in non-existent schools before officially greeting them and providing the hand-outs and goodies that make Canada so attractive? Perhaps someone in authority can place "Recovering Morons" brochures in immigration offices, and encourage participation by the employees therein. In no way do I support random arrests on trumped-up charges, and neither do I support acts of stupidity or terrorism. Oddly enough, my tax dollars support all of these actions
West Nile Virus has been confirmed in seven people in Alberta. For those who are particularly squeamish about this, the trick seems to be to avoid mosquitoes from southern Alberta. For those who are paying attention, that's also where the fires are raging most fiercely. Coincidence?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 45 Peeves (No calculations provided for this one)

2003-08-23T23:21:00.000-06:00

Timid Wanderings into World Politics

Paul Bremer is the American civil administrator in Iraq. He says Iraq has become "one of the battlefields in the war on terrorism." Mr. Bremmer was quoted as saying "It is now unfortunately the case that Iraq has become one of the fields of battle in this global war." Huh? Am I backtrekking into rampant moronism again? Did I wake up in a different dimension where the planet is similar to, but not exactly like, the planet I was on yesterday? At what point in recent history was Iraq not involved in terrorism? Did America invade Iraq on this planet, looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction, or was that in another reality? And if that all took place on this planet, can someone please explain to me how WMD are unrelated to terrorism? "Oh look, honey, someone bought us a WMD for our 50th wedding anniversary!" "Geez, I know we're newlyweds just starting out our lives together, but really, how many WMD does one couple need in a one bedroom apartment?" Are these questions we hear all the time? Or are WMDs actually considered weapons of mass destruction (as opposed to all those weapons of non-mass destruction, which perhaps are used to destroy only energy, no mass)? Wait a minute, maybe it was one of those non-mass weapons that caused the big power failure on August 14?

Back to the original point: If anyone is under the delusion that Iraq is not involved in terrorism, this is your 11th hour wake-up call.

Deeper thinkers are already wondering about the connections that tie Iraq et al with the Palestinian militant group Hamas. Abdel Aziz Rantisi (mark that name down for this year's Christmas card list) hails as a leader of Hamas. He is quoted as calling President Bush "an enemy of Islam because the U.S. government froze the assets of Hamas leaders in response to a suicide bombing of a bus in Jerusalem" because the frozen money doesn't belong to Hamas. Therefore, Americans stole Muslim money. Huh? Let me get this straight. Hamas doesn't have any money. The assets frozen by the U.S. belongs to Muslims. On the planet of my birth which may not be the planet upon which I am now resident Hamas is Palestine's major Muslim fundamentalist movement. Remember, fundamentalists take the "fun" out of – damn near everything If the frozen assets belonged to Muslims who don't agree with Hamas, who did the assets belong to? The Koran states in part "That which you have been given is but a fleeting comfort of this life." The concept of here today, gone tomorrow. Sure, I'm only quoting part of a holy book and only that part which suits my purpose – does this approach sound familiar to anyone?

Bah. Religion. Use it, abuse it, lose it. Don't even get me started on the life and death of John Geoghan, the former Catholic priest whose part-time work as an avid child molester resulted in prison time and prison death.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 150 Peeves (Lower than anticipated due to heroic self-restraint)

2003-08-23T12:33:00.000-06:00

Some Acts of Randomness

Thinking About Blogging is not unlike thinking about doing. Some planning is wise. Excessive planning is counterproductive. Recovering Morons learn to think about consequences of actions before taking action. Blogging is a dangerous activity for Recovering Morons unless we occasionally indulge in some thought. By occasionally, I mean before creating the blog, before publishing, and many times after publishing. Clearly my life was lacking in positive stress, which is why I continue to blog and fret, blog and fret, fret fret fret

The Falsehoods of Privacy and Publicity, aka blogging. The lure of anonymity often overrides the reality of potential harm. So many bloggers have discussed the concept of rules for blogging that to pick one or two bloggers' comments may seem unfair. Such is life. Both Acidman and Broad at Bat have reviewed the issue with clarity and honesty (and a viewpoint with which I agree). Of course, since both are intelligent and articulate people, they represent a small percentage of this world's human population, so there you have it. People with class are not perfect and whatever mistakes might be made are not malicious in nature. If my blogging style offends, the reader can choose to discontinue our relationship. And Acidman discusses how to create a readable blog. Which leads me to my next act of randomness.

My Blogging Style is like passing on a phone message to my readers. Maybe it looks like trying to cram too much information into a small square. This is exactly how I write phone messages, on those damn pink pads designed for people with miniaturized hand writing. It is possible to fit the first three chapters of your autobiography on one of those pages if you write the word "OVER" on the bottom of the first page, with the obligatory arrow, and continue on the back The reality is, each post is an attempt to provide the essential message. You, the reader, are deemed intelligent enough to determine if you have enough information to make a decision about the situation. If you require more information, you are free to ask. If you have enough information to make a decision, you proceed with your life and take responsibility for further actions.

The Concept "Freedom of Speech" as I understand it allows me to say what I believe, end of sentence. Freedom of speech does not give me freedom of falsifying instructions. People with class understand that distinction without belabouring the point. People without class grab onto the phrase "freedom of speech" and set out to damage other folk for pure enjoyment or power (or both, as is usually the case). That's the difference between advising people there's a fire in a crowded theatre, and yelling "Fire" just to see the people running and hear their screams. If you don't understand the difference, ask your day pass supervisor to explain it.

The Attention To Details by both blogger and reader can bring moments of pure joy. Read the comment line (tag line? Descriptive phrase?) in the blue box at the top of Depthmarker before enjoying their writings. Where do your opinions come from? Read the yellow left side bar at You Big Mouth, You! before taking advantage of his Right Wing Conspiracy services please remember I lean to the left. The comment (tag? Description? Whatever) for Arrrgh!!! sums up life rather neatly, as evidenced by the writings therein. Details can make all the difference.

Personal Piss-off Rating: 1 Peeve (The traditional rating for making me think)

2003-08-22T19:06:00.000-06:00

Going to the doctor may be bad for your canajun health. Reporting this may alienate me from certain medical professionals in the family. Big deal, like they give me any discounts or bumping rights NOT If this link is still available, you can get the scoop from the illustrious and often pompous Globe and Mail. To make things easier, here's a quick summary: canajun doctors responded to a survey. The survey was designed to reveal levels of mental health and stability. Guess what? Many doctors are stressed out and overworked. OK, problem number one: Does anyone see the irony of asking doctors to complete a survey that is designed by the Canajun Medical Association to prove the doctors are stressed out? Problem number two: Go ahead, try to get your doctor to fill out a form to acknowledge that you are stressed out at work. You'll get the standard advice: exercise more, eat a healthier diet and when all else fails, here fill out this prescription and take these pills. Oh, wait, apparently some doctors are taking their own advice – sort of. The article states: "Many doctors quietly endure depression, alcoholism, drug abuse and marital problems, said Michael Kaufmann, medical director of the Physician Health Program in Toronto." Red flag, people doctors are quietly enduring ALCOHOLISM and DRUG ABUSE and they are still practicing medicine? That's why the phrase is "practicing medicine", right? Of course, anyone with an arms-length interest in health knows that drug and alcohol abuse is not a rarity among medical professionals. So here's my favourite part of the whole ~~scheme~~ story: "More research is needed, Dr. Hanson said, so the CMA will devote $50,000 to further examinations of physician health." Did you catch that? The CMA will devote $50,000 to study what's wrong with our doctors. Don't tell me our health premiums aren't well spent.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 15 Peeves (One each for the survey and the CMA; three each for the ~~stupid~~ standard advice and for the original idea of the survey; one for every $10,000 that the CMA is investing in ~~padding their pockets~~ future studies; two because I'm still pissed off at the city of ehduhmonton over the whole no-liquor-sales-no-liquor-license-no-smoking quandry)

2003-08-21T23:09:00.000-06:00

Heh heh. "France without castles." There, I subtracted 6 Peeves because I re-read Anticipatory Retaliation's remarks. That line is classic. Thanks.

2003-08-21T22:48:00.000-06:00

I Just Flew In From Alberduh and Boy Are My Arms Tired

Words to live by: "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is."
Words I live by: "If it sounds too strange to be true, it probably isn't."
I thought my decade-long employment with a provincial government ended in December, 1996. Smack me with a maple leaf and colour me red, white and shocked: the provincial government has not released me from employment. It's good to be wanted, isn't it? Ask anyone who's been profiled on America's Most Wanted. But I digress. It is hard to beat that warm, fuzzy feeling. Prozac isn't dulling it, I'm out of Glenfiddich and I'm still feeling fuzzy. And warm. And a little dizzy, so nothing out of the ordinary there. What's scaring me is that I may be backtrekking into the Land of Moron. This situation does not make sense to me. If my employment with Oztario is terminated, I cease to work for Oztario, right? If my employment with Oztario is not terminated, I continue to work for Oztario, right? Essay to Mothership. Come in, Mothership. Over In December of 1996, Oztario stopped issuing me paycheques. Coincidentally, I stopped commuting to work on a daily basis. Seems to me my employment was terminated. How wrong I was. Help me. I try to logic my way out of this labyrinth. I am hopelessly lost. Although I stopped all productive work for Oztario in 1996 and yes, I worked my fingers to the bone while I was employed there, there was no window in any of my offices dammit, my employment has not been terminated. Am I owed back pay? Am I going to be sued for abandoning my position? Am I owed back pay with interest? Is this all pensionable time? And speaking of pension, that's how I discovered this mess. Until such time as my employment is officially terminated, I can receive no information on the status of my pension. That's just how things work, in the land of Oztario. Until such time as the government of Oztario deems it acceptable to reopen their phone lines, I am unable to speak to anyone about my situation. Essay to Mothership. Come in, Mothership. Over Ask me how much I care about a power outage, rolling blackouts, half-lights and half-wits working half-time at half-speed. Sympathy don't feed the bulldog, mister. I want my back pay with interest and I want it now. And send a bottle of Drambuie with that, you cheap bastards.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 300 Peeves (One for every month of back pay owing, 50 for being out of Glenfiddich, 50 for making me think so damn hard, 50 for the power outage, 10 because Mothership isn't responding and the remainder for the interest on my back pay. Bastards)

2003-08-20T21:55:00.000-06:00

Still In Denial

Hang my head in shame. Several years ago I had a nodding acquaintance with someone who cannot be named here. For simplicity's sake, this person shall be known herein by the pseudonym Tequila. Tequila was a recovering moron and a politician to boot. Heavy is the head that wears that double crown. Please, give me a moment; this is very difficult for me Heavier is mine, for not being more attentive to Tequila's needs (as clearly stated in the solemn vow for recovering morons. No, strike that, I've said too much already!). Tequila hails from the canajun city herein known as Happyton, Ontario. Happytonians rejoiced the day Tequila took the pledge of recovering morons. Canajuns grew to know and love Tequila the day she declared she would leave politics if the villainous and immoral GST was not revoked. This was a glad time indeed. sob What a coup! Canajuns across this great and wondrous land knew that victory was within our grasp. No politician would dare slap the face of a fellow entertainer by maintaining the villainous and immoral GST. Pass me a tissue, please To this day, no one is entirely sure what happened. The infamous Tequila song is strongly suspected as the motivating factor. All that is known is: One day, Tequila snapped. She turned her back on her solemn vow and on her declaration of leaving politics. We were stunned. Happytonians were the most stunned. Tequila took advantage of this state of shock and held an election to prove that she was wanted, nay, needed in spite of revoking all that is good and pure and right. Happytonians, reduced to zombies by the depth of their shock, accidentally voted Tequila right back into office. Oh bloody hell, are those tears blurring my vision? I think you can see where this is going. Politicians everywhere learned the dirty little secret: shock + poorly designed ballots = huge chance at winning office without deserving it.

The rest, as they say, is history. Is this all because I turned down the chance to mentor a certain moron from Happyton? I'm sorry, I just can't say anymore Honk!
Personal Piss-off Rating: 62 Peeves. (I'm still in mourning)

2003-08-19T22:16:00.000-06:00

Interblogview

Courtesy of Broad at Bat, an interview. And yes, I'm using the term "courtesy" rather loosely

canaDuh Rules
1) If you want to participate, send an email with the heading "interview me" and the URL to your blog/site.
2) I respond by asking you five quasi-original questions.
3) You update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4) You include a snappy version of this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5) When others ask to be interviewed, you ask them five semi-original questions.

canaDuh Qs and As
1. What would you say has been the biggest challenge for you as a recovering moron?
A: Huh? No, wait, I mean, besides this question? No, no, how about … gaddam yes, you have another question?

2. Who is your favourite wrestler, and why?
A: Kurt Angle. For those who know nothing of wrestling, his given name says it all. For those who know wrestling, no explanation is necessary. Runners up include Faarooq, the Ultimate Warrior, the Undertaker (not the remade Underbiker thank you very much) and THE ROCK. Sean Connery. He doesn't wrestle? Who gives a rat's ass?

3. If someone were to be, you know, a little concerned about the increasing level of your Mood Swing Rating, what would be the quickest way to earn some negative peeves and lower it back into the Amused zone?
A: Gee, I think the psych said other people are not responsible for my reactions so I don't think I should release this particular secret. See Q4 for the secret ingredients to my world-famous cake. One secret is enough per interview. Ask any famous person.

4. How can I get some of that world-famous cake?
A: Send me all of the ingredients, a round-trip bus ticket to wherever you're at, and at least two weeks lead time. Ingredients are mostly cream cheese, chocolate, icing sugar, six eggs, a LARGE bottle of Glenfiddich and a LARGE bottle of Jack for the Hubby. Make that three weeks lead time.

5. What advice would you offer to wannabe Canajuns?
A: Give yer head a shake. We have no more room. Go away, silly pig dogs. My igloo is standing room only. Bring cash and lots of it. If the wannabe is already here: "LEAVE NOW while you still can."
Personal Piss-off Rating: 6 Peeves (Two for each of the hard Qs, -1 for the Glenfiddich and -3 for letting me say SEAN CONNERY and THE ROCK in the same paragraph)

2003-08-19T18:55:00.000-06:00

Received an interesting call the other morning (Saturday morning, as power was returning to the wonderful land of Oztario). A friend and former co-worker (from my life in the IT industry) had enough time during a power onage to say: "[insert name of previous boss here] left a message on my voicemail, begging me to track you down. Seems [previous boss] is having trouble getting the office network back up. You are instructed to fax a copy of your emergency preparedness plan to [previous boss] immediately. The computers aren't working. The phones only work sometimes. So she figures the fax machine must be the only reliable form of communication. [Pause for hysterical laughter from the person transmitting this message] She demands you tell her how to get power back. Her fax number is XXX-XXXX. That is all."

Sure, I'll get right on that. Since I was the one cut from the payroll in favour of other, younger, more chi-chi employees with less experience and more bounce, I must have reverently preserved each and every document from the hell that was my employment with your company. And, with all of my experience in the industry, I am confident that 1) your fax machine was not affected by the power outage; 2) the document I wrote seven years ago is still completely applicable to the network you're running today; 3) the information that will save your ass is available to you free of charge, because I'm so generous and giving and not in need of income to maintain my carefree, gypsy lifestyle. And let us not forget that I am 100 per cent confident that you read the original document and followed my words of wisdom faithfully. You have continued to update the document and keep it in safe places (that is, a copy with each senior team member, in case the unthinkable happened and someone had to recover without me being there). You know my psychic powers are so impressive that I know exactly how the network is set up now, and what tricks, smoke and mirrors you can apply to get power to the office long before power is fully restored to your geographic area. Oh yes, I am omnipotent. Which, of course, is why you had no problem downsizing me to make room for your protégé, who would not survive in the cold cruel world without your care and guidance. Yup, I'll get right on that. You just wait for the 2,500 page fax of blank pages, one copy for each team leader and a few extras because your photocopier might not be working just yet. With no cover page, and no identifiable information for you to track me down. Stand at the ready.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 5 Peeves (I'm laughing too hard to clarify the calculations)

2003-08-18T20:46:00.000-06:00

Today's Shamless Plugs

Plug and Rant Broad At Bat has no comments. Check out her Follow-ups. Focus on the Boys and Boobs. I can't help but read that Additional thought as: "I could SO easily have ranted in a totally different direction, like how "I'm a man, I can't help it" is udder bullshit. (So consider yourself warned.)" Now that the obligatory joke is out of the way, here's the stupid angry rant: Any man who truly can't help gawking at any woman is a man who truly has no control over his eye muscles. When I jab you in the ass with a cattle prod, you will stop staring at her and start looking elsewhere. Personally I don’t give rat's ass if your self-esteem is so low that you don't stop until you have face planted in the gutter. And attention all women: Why are you dating a man who's self esteem is so low that he can't imagine acting like an actual, mature human being? And if your man is looking, not gawking, get a fricken grip and do some growing up yourself.

Rantless and Shameless Crabby Bill was like that before I married him. He also has no comments. He was like that before I married him, too. So what's the deal with him and the Broad? Is he looking, or gawking? Where's my gaddam cattle prod? Where was I before that spectacular train of thought derailment? Oh right, interesting answer to where he would live, considering I'm afraid of heights… And never did I ever use the term "Trawna" when referring to To-ron-to. Three syllables, take it slow if it's your first time en-un-ci-a-ting. Did anyone else catch Uncle Mel on the rampage, that the rest of Ontario (and the rest of the world, if he can help it) needs to ease up on the ol' power usage because To-ron-to is the centre of the canajun universe? Well, it is. And if the morons in To-ron-to would ease up on the gaddam neon signs, perhaps more people could return to work. Just a wee Western thought for ya, Mel. Love ya!

Rantless and Reckless You Big Mouth, You! has no comments. I'm noticing a trend here. Catch him before he conquers Sweden. I have dibs on the fjords.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 6 Peeves (Four for the whole "I can't help it"/"Stop staring" rant and two for the neon signs)

2003-08-18T18:20:00.000-06:00

Anticipatory Retaliation makes me think. Compliment? Criticism? Interpret as you wish. There is the stunning revelation was that Americans thought of Canada before the Iraq War. Smack me with a rolled up towel and call me ~~Jacques~~ Jock Canajuns are so bland. Who knew anyone thought of us? You'd be hard-pressed to find an intelligent Canajun no, the sentence doesn't stop here, quit nodding and keep reading! who would argue with the notion that Canada is "France without castles." (Sure, we have Casa Loma and some lovely homes that approach castle status, but I digress.) Our countries are similar. Our strengths are complimentary. How to phrase this delicately? Oh crap, here it is: We canajuns vote in those who AMUSE us, not those who REPRESENT us. Want to upset Joe Canajun by dissing the Prime Minister? Stand in line, and be prepared to hone your criticism to a funnier level than Joe's. (Remember, canajuns are naturally funny. We are the Number One comedian breeding ground on this planet.) Sadly, we canajuns failed to realize that Americans weren't in on our little voting secret. When our politicians started saying nasties to and about Americans, we FORGOT the Americans didn't know the entertainment factor. THAT is where we fell down on the job. We failed to publicize. Sure, we hired actors to stage looting in Ottawa AND we finally hired the right PR people to publicize the event. But ask us to give up our beloved ~~pumpkin head~~ leader who ~~can't speak three words in any language and be clearly understood~~ speaks for sheer entertainment value? I don't think so. That would be as un-canajun as believing that America won't kick ass on our jointly-beneficial behalf.
Personal Piss-off Rating: -5 Peeves. (1 for making me think, and -6 for the classic "France without castles" line)

2003-08-17T15:55:00.000-06:00

Oh. My. Gawd. Ehduhmonton is the City of Bylaws and Bohunks. Proof: A private club for recovering substance abusers cannot allow smoking without a liquor license. Said club cannot obtain a liquor license because the club has no intentions of serving liquor. Thanks to ColbyCosh.com for bringing that to my attention. Oddly, upon ~~ramming the non-smoking law down the throats of law-abiding smokers in ehduhmonton~~ implementing the bylaw, the city did NOT build in ~~an automatic cash grab~~ the option of smoking licenses. Note to Edmonton City Hall: Be the FIRST to make (more) money off smokers. Create smoking licenses NOW. For the love of all that's western, don't let the evil that is Toronto beat you to it. With all the fricken bylaws that restrict the rights of ehduhmontonians to enjoy life, you'd think the blood-sucking bylaw officials would have enough income and be busy enough to avoid looking for extra paperwork. Apparently not. Allow me to explain the rationale for this sentiment from several years of learning to understand the limited mentality that is the city of ehduhmonton: "You silly recovering substance abusers, what gives you the right to have a cigarette along with your coffee? You were so weak as to become the pawns of a substance that god-fearing, self-righteous, holier-than-thou ehduhmontonians like myself would never consider allowing into their back yards, never mind their homes (because beer doesn't count and so what if I get pissed to the gills three times a week, I am not an alcoholic). So you think you can attempt to regain a normal life, get a job, and become a responsible tax-paying citizen living in a respectable community like this? It will never happen. We are the hard-core right, we speak to god on a regular basis (like most Sundays, unless there's a really good sports event on TV), we like the broomstick shoved up our collective asses and we will never allow anyone like you into society, to remind us of what could happen to any one of us at any time. Weakness be damned. Read the Old Testament and see I'm right, gaddammit."

Need I point out that I do not agree with the above sentiment? I do not agree with the above sentiment.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 15 Peeves. One each for the bylaw, the bylaw officer, the government official, the turndown and the lack of imagination; nine for the sentiment; an extra one for the government official because her response really pisses me off)

2003-08-17T13:20:00.000-06:00

Weekend Update 17.Aug.2003

Compliment of the Year Hubby remembered our 11th anniversary and almost got a dream present for me.

Local News
Driver of Notable Mention TMU 756 Mr. Suba-moron-u, if you can't afford the speeding ticket, maintain top speed at the posted speed limit. Do NOT pass me like I'm standing still, then slam on the brakes as soon as I pull in behind you – just because you finally noticed the radar trap at the bottom of the hill
Dog Attack Five-year-old boy mauled by neighbour's ~~dog whose owner needs more help than I can imagine~~ Akita. Stories like this slur responsible pet owners. Slurs like this make it almost impossible for responsible pet owners to rent decent accommodations. Thanks for thinking of the rest of the world, Ms. My-Dog-Has-The-Right-To-Be-Psycho-At-Large.
More Power Fergawdsake, turn down your stereo. It could happen in Alberta!

Larger View Link N Think
Whew! U.S. Marshals ~~murder – oh wait, that isn't politically correct~~ fatally wound one of America's most wanted. Don't you feel safer now?
Uh Oh Cedar Grove, West Virginia has their very own sniper. Listen up, only a coward shoots those s/he does not know (except in times of war; the U.S. has not declared a state of war on U.S. soil, unless I missed that announcement). It doesn't matter if the coward is psychotic or a sociopath. Mental illness is no excuse for acts of random evilness. A deputy sheriff reportedly said people should not be alone when fuelling up at gas stations at night. Is that so the sniper must fire twice, and perhaps be in the area long enough to be caught? Get a grip. Put up some barriers. Think about your neighbours and the guy who lives alone and never speaks to anyone. Have we learned nothing from recent internal terrorism?
Nomination Here's one for the Darwin Awards. When freedom of expression leads to a pointless death, it may be time for other long-hairs to rethink their "look" – or their choice of employment. By the age of 40 you'd figure the guy might have considered some safety factors on the job. Watch for upcoming legislation to protect those who aren't smart enough to protect themselves.

No Link, Just Think All hail PGA golfer Mike Queer, for having the courage not to change his name. Oh wait, his name is Mike Weir. That is clear in the written word and remarkably funny when spoken. (Try saying his name aloud, you'll see what I mean)

Personal Piss-off Rating: 20 Peeves, with 10 in reserve for upcoming legislation

2003-08-16T16:14:00.000-06:00

By all accounts, Edmonton is a beautiful city. My apathy about ehduhmonton knows no bounds. It is truly a limitless apathy. An emotional response of "hate" would at least bring some sense of satisfaction, some handles onto which I could grasp. "Apathy" is wispy, providing no parameters against which to lean. For the record, I seem to lean to the left

For those of you who have seen Edmonton, you saw trees. Trees are good. Trees are my friends. Edmonton has thousands of trees. It should be pretty. The mere fact that these trees are in ehduhmonton may be colouring my perception. Instead of seeing vibrant growth, I see ugly furniture in the pre-lumber stage. Why just today, Hubby and I went a-furniture hunting (it being furniture season and all). We saw (and sat on) pretentious, overpriced couches. We saw (and sat on) pretentious, overpriced futons. We saw (and sat on) pretentious, overpriced, ugly furniture. I may have farted on one or two of these items, not to mark my territory, just to emphasize my displeasure I do not have good feelings for the trees of ehduhmonton.

Rivers are good. Rivers are my friends. The North Saskatchewan River flows through Edmonton. City dwellers refer to the "north side" and "south side" of the city, as determined by the river, and are quite passionate about their "side" of residence. Instead of seeing a babbling brook, I smell raw sewage and remember the houses that slid off the river bank. Why just today, Hubby and I went for a drive along the river. We saw (and drove by) pretentious, overstuffed joggers. We saw (and drove nowhere close to) pretentious, overdressed cyclists. We were repelled by the smell of something very angry and very dead. For the record, no one in the car farted during this entire trip I do not have good feelings for the river of ehduhmonton.

Birds are good. Birds are my friends. Side note: There are very few blue jays in ehduhmonton. There is a natural border somewhere around the Manitoba-Ontario border. Black-and-white magpies rule the area east of that border. Magpies are the wardens of bird life. Very few blue jays received sentences so harsh that they must attempt to live in magpie territory. Hubby had arranged to get me a bird for our anniversary. Long story short, we are knowledgeable about pet ownership. A particular kind of parrot had been selected as the bird of my dreams. We made all the right moves. We have worked in animal rescue. We know when to proceed and when to withdraw Then the phone call announcing "change of plans" dramatically altered the bird's next home (and Hubby's gift-giving plans). At this point I should be registering anger or at least resentment at people's inability to plan ahead regarding responsibilities. Instead, I feel empty, devoid of emotion and remarkably not pissed off.
Crap. Am I getting old?
Personal Piss-off Rating: 10 Peeves. (I don't even have the energy to do a proper calculation)

2003-08-16T14:56:00.000-06:00

An International Rant
Idi Amin kicked the bucket, shuffled off this mortal coil, and has not joined the choir invisible. He was not the King of Scotland, despite his claims to the contrary. Saudi Arabia, stating Islamic charity, gave him sanctuary instead of giving the world a sense of justice. Charity: giving aid to those in need, especially those who are suffering; a synonym for Mercy. This must be some new definition of the word Charity, with which I am unfamiliar. Of course, who can say what Amin's sentence, if any, would have been? Maybe some kind, charitable judges would have sentenced him to life with four wives in Saudi Arabia, forcing him to play the accordion every day. Maybe they did, and we just didn't hear about it.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 807. (One hundred for each year of his reign of terror, one for each wife, one for each kidney that had been donated and one for the nerve to ask for another kidney. Maybe he should have put aside one or two human kidneys instead of eating them. Bastard)

Speaking of Scotland: 15 years after a Pan Am plane was blown up over Scotland, the families of the 270 murder victims have been offered financial compensation. Libya accepted formal responsibility for the actions of its officials. If your eyes don't bug out on reading this, you need to slow down and read it again: A government accepted formal responsibility for the actions of its officials.
Personal Piss-off Rating: -100. (Sheer shock value)

2003-08-15T17:48:00.000-06:00

Frick a doodles, what the hell happened yesterday?

Thursday morning I made special arrangements with the courier to ensure an important package would be delivered to Toronto by 9 A.M. Friday. The courier picked up the package at 3 P.M. Mountain Standard Time, approximately one hour after the blackout occurred. Mental note: make sure we're not charged the surcharge for the 9 A.M. delivery that never was.

It was flattering to hear that some Murrcans believe Canajun ~~blood-sucking leeches~~ government officials are smart enough to plan an outage for the U.S. and remember to cause an outage in Canada, to avoid detection of the plot. Ontario Premier Ernie Eves was quoted as saying: "We are not back to normal." Imagine being in Ottawa after sunset and seeing Quebec all lit up. Did any of our politicians actually see the light? There are just too many jokes here for me to handle at this time. I can't type, roll on the floor laughing and hold my aching sides at the same time. Multi-tasking my ass off

Happily, the mental power outages continue in Alberta. Jimbo Redneck called today to complain that "those bloody Newfies are getting all the jobs, while we sit around and watch the grass grow." Um, yes, and Jimbo, do you think that is a knock on the hard-working Canajuns from Newfoundland? The logic escapes me, as do my tax dollars which are paying you to sit on your ego-inflated cheap rat-ass thanks to Employment Insurance, canajun-style.

On the drive home tonight, I spotted this billboard: "JESUS IS LORD of Edmonton and area". No wonder Calgary is jealous.

Here are six other reasons why Calgary hates ehduhmonton:

- Calgary has the Stampede. Ehduhmonton has artsy festivals throughout the entire three weeks of summer.
- Calgary has the Saddledome. Ehduhmonton has a stadium blocking every street you need to drive along to get to your destination.
- Calgary has the money. Ehduhmonton has the entire provincial government.
- Calgary voted Ralph Klein out as mayor. Ehduhmonton has Ralph Klein as the premier.
- Calgary has Arson Awareness Week. Ehduhmonton has drive-by shootings.
- Calgary has Emergency Preparedness Week. Ehduhmonton has West Edmonton Mall.

The facts speak for themselves.

2003-08-13T18:33:00.000-06:00

For Clarification

One week ago, I shared a special moment in which I became one of the elite "lazy old rich folk." For all of you who revel with me in that category and for those of you who envy us I proudly present: Things that Piss off Lazy Old Rich Folk

Country western is not just a style of music. It is the elevator music of hell.

Wrestling is fake. I enjoy it. My job is real. I don’t enjoy it. Shut up.

The Shift key on your keyboard is more than decorative. Use it.

I have Restless Leg Syndrome. I can kick anything within a three foot radius, without advance notice. You have been warned.

Your town is hosting Straight Pride Day. Create a float and prepare your chichi costume NOW.
NOW do you see why Straight Pride isn’t a popular Day?

Shut up about weed. Any plant is a weed, in the proper growing environment.

If you don't like the way I drive, move back to Saskatchewan.

Pull your gaddam pants up.

Any car that sounds like a sewing machine on wheels is just asking to be run off the road.

Go ahead, Mr. Zippy, park in the spot for disabled patrons. You'll need it by the time we're finished with you.

Personal Piss-Off Rating: 20 Peeves. (A two-fer-one special)

2003-08-12T20:33:00.000-06:00

Tornados (approaching from the west) disturb me at a much deeper level than the hail storms (approaching from the north) and the severe thunderstorms (directly above me). On my list of "Things to do in this lifetime," tornados rate NOT. OK I tried both "tornados" and "tornadoes" and neither one looks right

Inclement weather certainly separates the precipitation from the clouds. This was one of several observations as we drove home (Hubby and I) during a brief and violent rainstorm. Humour being universal, the storm stopped five minutes after we entered the house. Ha ha, gods, very funny.

Being a dental ditz, I completely failed to make an appointment to have "the tooth" repaired. First I called the dentist office to find out they have a new number. The office moved within the same mall, so of course they couldn't retain the original phone number. I called the dentist office (new number) and discover they are not officially open at the new location and won't be taking patients until Thursday. The receptionist asked if I would like the number to the emergency clinic. I said yes. She hung up on me. I found the number for an emergency clinic and gave them a call. The office re-opens at 8 a.m. Wednesday. Funny, my tooth reopened at 8 p.m. Monday. Clearly I should plan ahead. I called the new number for the dentist office, to get the number for the emergency dental clinic. The gal who answered said she couldn't help me because she's the cleaner and doesn't actually work in the office. What a relief. The cleaners aren't actually working. You just can't be too careful with germs these days, especially in a pseudo-medical facility. Then I remembered the old wives' tale that a filling made during a storm drops out as soon as the storm is over. Good thing I ~~made that up~~ remembered that in time, to save myself an extra trip to dental hell. I'll wait for good weather to get the tooth fixed. Or Thursday, whichever comes first.
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 12 Peeves. This is almost funny

Our summer "help" started today. Apparently someone called the temp agency whose motto is, "We Help Those Who Can't Help Themselves." RC is constant entertainment. She has no idea why I call her RC. It's short for "Rice Crispies" (insert appropriate "I know this name is copyrighted to the yingyang" symbol here). She snapped, crackled and popped her way through the day. She snaps her bra strap. That would be the bra strap hanging out from the spaghetti strap top that really isn't designed to hide bra straps. She cracks her knuckles before moving from one task to the next. Fortunately she didn't do much so her knuckles weren't overly noisy today. She pops her gum. She chews gum while she eats lunch, fergawdsake. She was so busy with all of these activities she didn't have much spare time to file, poor thang. Can't wait to see what – or who – tomorrow brings.
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 12 Peeves. I'm not good at math

Short note to self: Did I not learn from the last time I stayed online during a thunderstorm and blew up the puter? Why yes I did. I learned: sparks are especially pretty in the dark; it is bloody expensive to replace puter parts that meld together like a jumbo serving of spaghetti and glue; Hubby has a wide range of facial expressions for short bus special occasions; being offline sux; did I mention sparks are especially pretty in the dark?

2003-08-11T20:50:00.000-06:00

Welcome to my version of Monty Python's "Black Knight." Part of a back tooth just gave up the ghost, fell out of my mouth, and shuffled off this mortal coil. How bloody attractive. Even better, my dentist is not working tonight. Where are this man's priorities? sunovabeech I hate dental work The big news is, less than 24 hours to claim this as a work-related injury. No outright blame, no low-class finger-pointing and shrieking, nothing so obvious. The goal is subtle, hard-to-pinpoint, vaguely disturbing blame evenly applied throughout the office. A single comment like "I'm sure this would have happened even if I had not tasted your insert the home cooked specialty here" is a softly nagging blend of blame-free and guilt-laden sentiments. People walk away feeling vaguely complimented. The guilt hits later, if anyone actually thinks about what was said. Who am I kidding? It hurts to open my mouth. I'll just shutthehellup and get the tooth fixed. Maybe Hubby can call the dentist for me tomorrow morning.
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 130 Peeves. Did I mention I hate dental work?

The heavenly talent show has a new addition, the class act formerly known as Gregory Hines.

Still sucking the life force out of anyone with intelligence: Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, "Baby Doc" Duvalier (formerly of Haiti); Idi Amin (formerly of Uganda, he who may be dead by the time I finish this post); Paul Bernardo; Karla Homolka; Charles Manson; Charles Ng; et cetera, et cetera. Sadly, each of these names jumped out without effort. Other names have faded with time. Not the anger, just the names. There are those whose faces are known only to their victims. The theme: The hunt for power, gone wrong. Don't ask me why these creatures exist, why these crimes happen, or why preferential treatment is often provided to the criminal and not the victim. For clarity, I know what it's like to look at the wrong end of a gun. For more clarity, that's the end where the bullet exits at high speed That particular experience made me very angry. Volcanic, you might say. I relive that experience when I hear about terrorism at any level, from one-on-one to world-scale. sigh
Personal Piss-Off Rating: Off the scale. It appears that I should not blog while in the throes of a dental misunderstanding. I'm off on a tangent and there isn't anything funny about terrorism.

2003-08-10T12:23:00.000-06:00

Company BBQ day Cheer with me, now, everyone. What better way to spend a Sunday than with those same people you spend five days a week? Your bosses show appreciation by inviting you to a day without pay and for which you spend money, time and energy bringing home cooked food. How could you not feel special? I know I do.

"Ah'd really presheeyate yer world-famous cake," stressed he-who-signs-my-paycheque, when he called in on his way back from world travels. No doubt you would, Boss. You know you're hankering for home cooked meals after a couple of days of whining and dining at some of the finest restaurants in the U.S. You know it takes two days to bake this cake so you conveniently gave me two days' notice. You know I would ~~rip the arm hairs off most people who asked me on such short notice~~ do this for you, and not because I think it's part of my job. I do this because, well, wimp mode ON because I would rather work for you than look for another job wimp mode OFF. Gad, I am so weak. Where the hell did my get-up-and-go go? What happened to that righteous anger, the need to free the oppressed and avenge the wrongs of the evildoers? OK, wait. I just killed a spider, with my bare hand. No girly screams, no yelling for my husband, just boom buhbye spidey, and wipe my hand on my jeans. Let that be a warning to all other buggy creatures who think of venturing into the hallowed halls of my hovel. There. I'm feeling more omnipotent already. And I still resent spending the day with "staff" and not being paid for it. OK. I'm both stupid and angry again, yea me.

2003-08-10T02:04:00.000-06:00

Saturday's To Do List: 5. Get chichi haircut - not done; 4. Finish cake for tomorrow's company BBQ - not done; 3. Negotiate peaceful end to the world's worst fashion tragedies - not done; 2. Negotiate a second (part-time) job for extra income - not done; 1. Get a mechanic to stop that frighteningly new bigass WTF noise coming from the car's back brakes – Hurrah, done

Priorities can change on a moment's notice. The Number One item on my list wasn't even on my radar until Hubby walked in and said "So, which do you want to drive to the mechanics, my truck or your car?" Point Number One: I love my car. It's a Found On Road Dead. Point Number Two: Hubby was a professional driver for years. He knows how to fix vehicles. When Hubby declared we needed a mechanic, I knew there was a problem. Point Number Three: Hubby loves his truck. He had one condition under which I could drive said truck: Over his dead body. When he offered to let me drive his truck, I knew there was a big problem.

Hubby borrowed my car this morning. Shortly before pulling into the dirt road that leads to our ~~grass hut~~ charming home, the brakes began squeaking. Furiously. The car went from silent to "What the hell is that" in less than ten minutes. So our convoy set out, Hubby in the lead. We get to a stop light. His truck stops. My car stops. The car behind me stops. The ass end of my car jumps up and down like some low-rider special, making noises not unlike those when the air conditioning unit fell out of my car a few months earlier. The car behind me backs up. The car on my left decides to make a U-turn, which was somewhat odd considering we were on a one-way street. Hubby steps on the gas and moves ahead when the light turns green. I step on the gas and turn the radio to full volume (only two blocks to the mechanics at this point). As I pull into the parking lot, a pedestrian who heard me coming actually took two steps back and waved me on. He looked scared, the sissy-boy. The mechanic had the same sissy-boy look on his face, but he always looks like that when I show up unannounced. Bless his heart, this guy has always saved my butt like when the air conditioner fell out of my car, and I used a couple of bungee cords to hold it just far enough off the road so I could drive to the shop, and he fixed it and told Hubby how resourceful I was instead of saying what he really thought, "Dude, how can you let this woman drive???" and this time it is my car's butt that needed saving.

I hope the car is ready tomorrow. If Hubby drives me to work before going to school, I'll be at the office before 7 A.M. The only thing that will keep me sane in that event is pretending I still live in Ontario and resetting all the clocks two hours ahead.

2003-08-09T11:40:00.000-06:00

Speaking of things medical, someone out there is missing facial skin and I have it. This skin was discovered this morning when I looked in the mirror after my ~~cold water because the hot water tank is faulty and the landlord is tearing down this place eventually so who cares but that's another story~~ shower. This skin does not belong to me. As a protective measure, it is huddling into wrinkles all over my face.

Please, would the owner of this skin contact me to arrange immediate transfer? Thank you.

2003-08-09T10:32:00.000-06:00

Oh the shame of it all. Last night I once again found myself in the depths of moronics. Thanks to the support of those-in-the-know, I believe I am back on the road to recovery. Let me explain:

Last night I was at an intersection in downtown ehduhmonton (aka Edmonton, Alberta). Picture this: One ambulance, three ambulance supervisors, entire intersection gridlocked due to these vehicles, all lights flashing. First thought: Several people injured or at risk. Reality: One person passed out at a bus stop. Three supervisors stand around laughing while two attendants load the patient into the ambulance.

This is very embarrassing for me. Please, try not to judge me too harshly. I hope this will help others to find ways to escape from moronic hell

For several years, canajun TV, radio and print media have featured spots on the woeful financial state of health care. Mind-numbing repetitions of funding failures bear down on the average citizen. We are supposed to feel guilty about becoming ill. We are supposed to avoid seeking help if we develop a chronic medical condition. And, shame of shames, I actually started believing our health care system was in financial trouble! Last night brought this moronic thinking to a crisis point and happily, today I am fighting back.

After all, if money was a problem, three fricking supervisors would not attend to one gaddam person passed out at a bus stop, would they? Technically, none of the supervisors attended to the patient. They alternated between standing around laughing and randomly moving their vehicles to block ever more traffic. That isn't the point, of course. The point is, three fricking supervisors with lights aflashing are on the scene and not one bystander is concerned about this.

So breathe a sigh of relief! Canajun health care is just fine, especially in ehduhmonton. We can afford to ~~waste all sorts of money~~ provide entertainment for health care workers. Need a cast for a broken leg? Show the doctor how funny you walk without the cast. Get the doctors laughing and odds are in your favour you'll get the cast for free. Need someone to stem the flow of blood from a deep wound? Do your "Black Knight" imitation (a la Monty Python) and, when they've stopped laughing, I'm sure the hospital staff will find a bandage. Show some creativity. Draw cartoons. Perfect your vocal or physical impersonations. All it takes is a little thought to bring some joy to the lives of the poor underpaid medical staff and you, too, can get decent medical care right here in the great canajun west.

2003-08-08T07:38:00.000-06:00

So, Mike Bullard. My Momma says "If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all." Not to disrespect my Momma; I guess I just didn’t grasp that concept (among so very many).

So, Mike Bullard. In the list of top 10 comedians of all time, Mike Bullard rated not. Mike and I are "of a certain age" to put it delicately (I am, after all, a lady!). Mike and I grew up within a few dozen miles of each other. Mike also grew up within a few miles of Kevin Newman. While growing up close to me is not newsworthy, growing up close to Kevin Newman means Mike gets a new job the day after ending his last gig at CTV. That’s because high-school-buddy Kevin is a news anchor on Global National News. Guess where Mike’s new job is? You got it, Global Television. Clearly this is all-Canajun crap No more name dropping. Let’s just say a certain famous comedian (who oddly enough did not make it into my top 10 list) went to the same high school as yours truly. Let’s just say that a certain comedy club owner asked me to quit college and be a standup comedian. Let’s just say I’m a moron because I believed that a steady income was more important that making people laugh. (Well, OK, I still believe a steady income is important. And standup comedy does not offer the stratospheric levels of income that one derives from a job as an executive assistant. I have economic needs, you know.) Bitter, me?
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 129 Peeves. (One for each year following my rejection of the offer to be a stand-up comedian, and 100 for moronics)

All is not lost. There is hope. In reviewing the above, I was able to define the error of my logic (aka moronics): What you know is still less important than who you know. So that’s today’s lesson. You’re welcome.

This is Day Number Three of Boss-Not-In-Office. After Day Number Two, Boss desk is looking good. That means you can actually see the wood that forms the surface of this desk. For the last three weeks this desk looked like the aftermath of three ~~spawns of satan~~ small unsupervised children. Perhaps Day Three means the boxes in his office will be unpacked or moved to storage. Storage is winning the vote at the moment. No men will be asked to move said boxes to storage. Broad At Bat might appreciate this sentiment for her Women Suck Week special.

Of course, first priority is to arrive at work without further vehicular damage. Is it possible to get all vehicle windows replaced with glass the same prescription as one’s eyeglasses? This could ~~kill the current rage of gaddam insurance hikes~~ reduce so much needless mayhem. How about making all gas pedals green, and all brake pedals red? This is another great idea you read here first. I have copyrighted these so don’t even think about trying to claim them as your own.

Funniest news headline in Canada yesterday: "Mulroney touted as mad cow messiah."
Second funniest news headline in Canada yesterday: "Canadian technology to probe Mars." (Thank god we’re not probing Uranus) I do not make this stuff up.

Well, OK, I added the obligatory Uranus part.

2003-08-07T21:59:00.000-06:00

It’s All About the Power, Baby

How women drive men crazy

- The one woman who enters the data into the spreadsheet gathers three other women around to watch her enter the data. She isn’t teaching the other women how to do anything with the data or the spreadsheet. She’s just hogging the glory of the moment by controlling the resources of as many staff members as possible.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 5 Peeves. (One for the original gal and 1 for each of the three other women who revel in this time-wasting crap)

- There are seven women in my office. All of us are over the age of 21. Five of these seven women call all of us "girls." Honey, I haven’t been a girl for over two decades and I am not flattered by this term.
Personal Piss-off Rating: 7 Peeves. (One for each woman)

How women drive other women crazy

- Shrillita asks me to pass a message to a client. Shrillita knows that Joe will argue with the messenger and she is unwilling to face Joe’s wrath.
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 3 Peeves. (Read on)

How I drive other women crazy

- Shrillita looks up from her desk to find Joe glaring at her.
Personal Piss-Off Rating: 0 Peeves. (When Joe started arguing about the message, as I knew he would, I said I was helpless and he would have to work it out with Shrillita because she is the one with all the power in this situation)

This is Day Number Two of Boss-Not-In-Office. Boss phoned today. He said his ex-wife called with good news. (Anyone who has been through a divorce will probably understand how unlikely that phrase is.) His ex-wife said her cousin’s next-door-neighbour’s son has checked into rehab. This is the kid who bored me into firing him yesterday. Apparently I’m still employed.

Hubby woke me up early this morning to report that my car was vandalized overnight. Oddly enough, all that happened was the removal of my driver-side mirror. The cost of replacing it is so low we won’t put in an insurance claim. Apparently I’m still lucky. Come on, lottery!

Thank you to Chuck of You Big Mouth, You! for appreciating one of my earlier posts. Chuck, I solemnly swear I will attempt to continue entertaining you with my life. I swear it, on my Tim Horton’s coffee. Chuck knows whereof he speaks. He understands why Canada Isn’t a Real Country and he has an excellent list of the 10 Top Comedians of All Time (as requested by Acidman). Check out You Big Mouth, You!, then visit:

Ann of Depthmarker.com. Ann, if you’re reading, I would like to be noted as being a blogger over 40. Years, that is. Yes I can remember banking before ATMs. And yes, I love a fresh perspective. Wisdom is not necessarily measured in chronological years, just as moronics is not necessarily measured by weight. Moronics are most commonly measured by volume and weight, a complex calculation that I cannot reveal at this time Depthmarker.com is a site for sore eyes.

You might be interested in knowing that I am living in the Mountain Standard Time Zone (although I usually call it the Twilight Zone, except in print where I am supposed to include some sort of symbol to acknowledge that I don’t own the phrase). This means my posts might appear to be a day late. Similar to my paycheque and not unlike my IQ.

2003-08-06T21:56:00.000-06:00

Last night I made a conscious decision to stay up far later than is good for my wealth. This morning I made an unconscious decision to go to work. At least I think that’s what happened, because I have no memory of driving to work. Just suddenly, bing there you go, I’m at the vintage-card-table-that-now-serves-as-my-desk with screams of “Are you going to f-cking help me or not?” coming from the telephone receiver shoved into your ear. (I think not, and poof I disappear. Dammit, it didn’t work)

Using my least contemptuous tone, I begrudgingly ask “The problem, sir?”

“Holy f-ck, I don’t f-cking get this f-cking system!” he whines. He is a new employee. The company has the legal right to terminate his ass, no reasons given, for the first three months on the job. He is a problem employee. He has been with the company for two months and cost us over $1,000 in damages. He’s been advised to refrain from excessive violence during working hours. This an insult to his moral right to make money off the lazy old rich folk.

“Tell you what” (I’m rolling my eyes and wondering how often I can do that before my eyes lodge permanently backwards) “Tell me what I said to you, and stop at the part you don’t understand.”

Mr. Whine reels off every step of the process, ending with “And I f-cking can’t do f-cking nothing if you f-cking fire me.” Then he stops.

Silence. How peaceful. Bliss. Quiet at last. This is wonderf- “So what the f-ck do you say to that?” he screams.

Dramatic pause, including audible deep breath. “You do understand. You don’t like it. You want special treatment. I’m helping you. You’re fired, for boring use of profanity. And to celebrate this magical moment, I swear by all that is caffeine and sugary (I put my hand on my Tim Horton’s coffee to confirm the solemn occasion) that if you ever bore me like this again, you will have a thesaurus shoved up your cheap rat ass faster than you go through a bottle of Jack for breakfast. I will charge you with several counts of fashion abuse and one count of verbal assault. My uncle, the judge, will sentence you to enough jail time with Bubba to improve your creativity. This conversation is over.” Pause, switch to cheery voice: “Have a special day.”

It was a breakthrough moment for me. In that instant, I personified everything that young ~~spoiled drunk~~ man thinks of as “the system”. Just suddenly, bing there you go; I’m “lazy old rich folk”. sniff I’m so gaddam proud. Pass me a tissue.

On the way home, I drive along a two-way street. One side of the street is designated north-bound; the other side is designated south-bound. Heading north-bound in the north-bound lane, I notice a small car heading towards me. The gentle townsfolk here have a wacky sense of humour, and I have no sense When the car is close enough for me to see the glazed eyes of the driver, I notice a pickup truck following the small car. According to my calculations, there is enough room for me to pass both vehicles. The small car only wipes out my driver-side mirror, so I do not adjust my calculations. The driver of the pickup truck stares at me with that slack-jawed, raccoon-in-the-headlights look of most other drivers in this town. He swerves to the right. I maintain my course. Our vehicles exchange paint molecules as we pass. My thoughts wander lazily to calculations of when the police will arrive at my home to investigate claims of unsafe driving, and I realize I have enough time to stop in at the convenience store and pick up some lottery tickets. After all, I am on a winning streak today! Hmmm, what exactly did I repress about the drive into work?

2003-08-05T20:46:00.000-06:00

Acidman asks for opinions and reasons. The topic: 10 Funniest Comedians Of All Time. I limited my list to (relatively) famous people. By way of introduction, I highly advise not drinking liquids while listening to:

10. Richard Pryor One time his wife, about to be his ex-wife, said she was taking her Rolls Royce and leaving. He shot out the tires of the vehicle, saying “You leave with what you brought.” Yes! Anyone who shoots the tires of his own Rolls rates high in my books.

9. Rick Bronson He makes Crohn’s funny. Especially the camera-up-yer-butt part. Especially if you have personally experienced a camera up yer butt. And even if you haven’t. Medical personnel don’t like to admit they enjoy his humor. They do. Mention his name next time you’re getting a camera up yer butt. You’ll get a good seat.

8. Rita Rudner “And that, Your Honor, is when I killed her.” If you’re happily married, you know what this means. If you’re not happily married, think about this line.

7. Mike Durrett Not only does he research and write about comedy, Mike is one of the naturally funniest guys I’ve ever met. No cracks about how many men I know to be qualified to make such a statement. He's at humor.about.com.

6. George Carlin For all of his pre-heart attack stuff. For all of his post-heart attack stuff. For losing his wife and not losing his audience. Gotta love George.

5. Robin Williams If only for his Scottish imitation. You may not find this funny if you didn’t grow up in a Scottish household, and more’s the pity for you. I’ve never heard the entire skit because I end up in the fetal position clutching tissues to my eyes, screaming for him to stop between heaves of belly laughs.

4. Mae West My hero. Don’t get all caught up in the gender issue, especially when Mae West is involved. Like the divine Ms. West, I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist it. She packed a whole lotta woman into five feet (and six-inch stilettos).

3. Steven Wright I raise his hand to nominate Steven Wright as Groucho Marx, re-incarnated. Need help understanding this? Listen to Steven Wright’s joke about telekinesis. Need help understand his joke? You need help.

2. Groucho Marx My other hero does not require any further explanations.

1. God If you don’t think God has the best sense of humor ever, you just aren’t living hard enough. If you’re an atheist, substitute the phrase "Free Will" where you see the word "God" and no, I don’t apologize for mentioning God, thanks for asking.

2003-08-05T20:38:00.000-06:00

Marie-Antoinette Guillotine visited my office today. She is an equal opportunity kind of gal. She despises everyone, including (it seems) her own children. Ms. Guillotine feels it is her god-given duty to bear children, not to raise them. She ~~inflicted her three spawns of satan upon us~~ brought her three lovely young children. The oldest child is four, the youngest is 18 months. I am not a math major and even I can figure out this is not a good situation. If you have never seen the office of a major construction company, picture this: an entry way, several offices, some desks and chairs in an open area, and a small kitchenette. If you have never seen the aftermath of Ms. Guillotine’s attempts to make me babysit, picture this: an entry way strewn with confidential documents, several office doorways blocked by items that were previously in the offices, some desks and chairs in an area enclosed by the contents of a small kitchenette and files pulled from cabinets. Did I mention the phone calls placed to random, wrong, long distance numbers? To be fair, there are several items you can’t see, such as the deleted computer files (surprise!) and the garbage cans (check the front door). Listen, at my age, if I wanted children, I’d talk to my psychiatrist, not my family physician. I do not want small children and I certainly do not want to babysit. So I don’t. As she was leaving, I handed Ms. Guillotine a form for vision care benefits. "I didn’t ask for this," she sneered. "Ah," I said gently, "I took a poll and we decided you need to get your eyes checked if you don’t see what you need to clean up before you leave."

No, she didn’t clean up. No, I don’t expect to lose my job. And yes, I expect she’ll be back next month when she once again runs out of people willing to tolerate her behaviour. She may be irresponsible, but at least she forgets quickly.

2003-08-05T20:37:00.000-06:00

After reading the news about the Jim Bean fire via The Fat Guy, I felt a day of mourning was in order. Boss, he-who-signs-my-paycheque, always has his cell phone with him. I called him on his cell to explain the situation: "Boss, my Uncle Jim Beam was in a terrible fire. I must rush to his side." "Way ahead of you," Boss replied, "Ah’m at the airport. Ah’ll call if’n he asks for y’all." Curse the luck! I spent the day at work with narry a phone call. Except for that one collect call from the States, and the guy just babbled incoherently into the phone.

2003-08-04T20:44:00.000-06:00

How does one express gratitude that is beyond words? Acidman encouraged you to visit my site, after I confessed to my exalted RM (Recovering Moron) status. I considered sending alcohol (which, in Canaduh, is always the appropriate gift) then I found out how ~~damn much it was gonna cost~~ much he hates bottled liquids so I am on the prowl for a new gift. Suggestions greatly appreciated, as are donations to cover the costs of the requisite wrappings, trappings and card ~~with picture of cat~~ which are exorbitantly expensive in Canaduh (nothing but the best for Rob!). Many great links and hits to you, dude.

Why do I blog, anyway? It isn’t like I had a lot of spare time and nothing else to do. Therapy sessions alone could take up three to five hours a day, if I let them. Like that’s gonna happen. Housework? Sure, I’ve heard of it, and what I’ve heard isn’t all that appealing. In fact, personal experience leads me to believe housework is highly overrated unless you actually want to eat off my floor, in which case you need therapy more than I do. My dog doesn’t eat off the floor. We may be po’ folk but we got class, and a dog food dish and water dish to boot. So how clean does the floor have to be? Clean enough to not be a health hazard and nothing more. Besides, I actually work outside the home and try not to miss a day of the fun and frivolity that is my employment. If I miss time, I don’t get paid, so getting to work is a high priority for me.

If it wasn’t boredom that drove me to blogging, what did? To share my wisdom with the world? I don’t think so. If someone offered me the chance to run the world, I’d run screaming. I don’t want or need that kind of responsibility. To see how many people wanted to read my words? Hardly. Sure I have a tracker on this site, but that’s just to show ~~I haven’t completely lost my technical skills~~ how techno savvy I am. This blog provides a means of communication that is foreign to the rest of the good townsfolk in my neighbourhood (and the other 90 percent who are using up my oxygen). Blogging makes me feel different, a feeling with which I am intimately familiar. Blogging reminds me there is a world that is not layered according to income, wardrobe, make and model of vehicle, or education. Perhaps I blog to retain my tenuous hold on sanity, to remember what life was like when I was in a world entirely foreign to where (and how) I live now. And that is worth a year’s worth of clean floors and more.

I am a Recovering Moron, and damn proud of it. Thank you.

2003-08-04T16:02:00.000-06:00

The question is: What makes me so ~~gaddamed~~ qualified to determine who is a moron and who is not? Simple: I am a recovering Moron. Like Alcoholics, Morons are forever in recovery. We must remain vigilant to the possible onslaught of moronics around us. To remain in recovery, we learn to identify moronics and how to take large, sweeping steps to avoid same.

When I was a moron, I thought some pretty stupid things. For example, I thought every family should own a single vehicle and rely more on public transportation. I remember the day I began recovery. I was six years old. I visited my cousins on their farm. That’s when I learned that some people cannot rely on public transportation because, frankly, there is no public. The light bulb went on. At the age of six, I went into Moronic recovery and have maintained that status for the last forty-plus years without too much slippage. Through the love and support of fellow recovering morons at Morons Anonymous, I learned not to be too hard on myself if I backslide occasionally. This is more difficult than recovering from alcoholism. Like AA, MA teaches us to find new friends and new hobbies and habits. Unlike alcohol, which must be obtained through physical action, moronics must be avoided through physical action. Some of these actions include assuming the postures of our mascots, “See no stupid, hear no stupid, speak no stupid.” Some of these actions are socially unacceptable and are imperative to our survival, so there are times when we, as recovering morons, must simply avoid all human contact. At least, I am sure that’s what the judge said to me during the last court case. “And this had better be your last court case, young lady,” he said, so it must have been some time ago. What was it he said about no sharp objects and no pyrotechnics?

Any more ~~blump~~ questions?

2003-08-04T13:56:00.000-06:00

More on WSW: Remember that old line about women going to work only so they could find a husband? Jimboette is actually doing that, in my office. You know how easy it is to separate work and homelife when you’re living with one of the employees, right? Hey Jimboette, here’s a quarter, get a clue: You found the guy, you’re supposed to quit work and live off his income, remember? Meanwhile, Jimbolina is actively trying to dump her husband and won’t, not until she can find someone who makes more money. She expects this magical prince will also welcome her troop of three juvenile delinquents with open arms. I want some of what she smokes for breakfast.

How about Jimbolee, who married straight out of high school, dumped her main man after finally cluing in to his infidelity, and six weeks later is on the hunt for a good man? Hello, why not spend some time sorting your priorities out and experiencing life as a single woman?

My favourite, Shrillita, she of the high octave voice with no apparent volume control, who moans when her man is out of town and can’t wait for him to leave when he returns. Shrillita hates being on her own, so she meets Boy. Boy is unemployed. Shrillita complains that Boy isn’t working, and Shrillita finds Boy a job. This job requires him to be out of town for weeks on end. Shrillita complains that she hates being on her own. Boy returns home for a week’s rest. Shrillita complains that Boy messes up her schedule when he’s at home. These mood swings bring new depth to the term psychosis. To be fair, Shrillita may not be actively psychotic; she may just be a carrier much like Typhoid Mary was for Typhoid. My favourite part is her monthly panic, when she runs around checking her home pregnancy tests at work. Hey honey, here’s a quarter, get a clue: There are ways to prevent unwanted pregnancies, starting with "Don’t sleep with your boyfriend until he’s your husband" since you’re so gaddam religious that you can’t consider other forms of birth control

You go, Broad at Bat. I’m so here for you. And if ever you want to explore Overall Stupidity, my blog doors are open to you.

2003-08-04T12:38:00.000-06:00

This is something I could so get into. Broad at Bat wants ideas for her Women Suck Week (which I shall conveniently refer to as WSW). Oooohh Jimbolina don’t fail me now. Here are some entries I really should email to her, just random thoughts so far:

Women with big nails and bigger hair who expect to be treated like queens simply because they look like they belong on Queen Street (this is a Toronto joke, and gaddam funny too). And then get upset because someone treats them like freaks.

Women who spend $50 on nail polish, then complain because hubby wants to spend $30 for a steering wheel cover

Women who order the most expensive item on the menu, eat two bites and push the plate away saying "Oooooh I’m just so full." And then order the most expensive dessert.

Women who rally onlne for a cause in Guatemala and won’t consider getting their big nails dirty by helping to clean up a local park where their own children play.

Women who blindly follow the (airquotes, everyone) fashion gurus (close airquotes) and throw away perfectly good clothing, glasses and shoes because those items are no longer in style, then complain about their husbands who want to upgrade the old 486 in the computer room.

Twenty-something women who believe they are failures because they aren’t married.

What kind of warped logic is going on here? Am I always right, just because I’m female? Actually I’m always right because I’m gifted that way. Being female has little to do with it.

For those women who are feeling hard done by, I believe women used to be better parents. I believe women deserve to read, write, vote; work outside the home, own homes, run companies, and make mistakes. I can’t quite figure out why women aren’t smart enough to learn from the mistakes that men have already made and not repeat those mistakes.

See Broad at Bat for more.

2003-08-04T09:49:00.000-06:00

Today is a statutory holiday. My presence is not required at the office unless one of the bosses calls me. Naturally I celebrated by waking up before my husband and starting the housework. Said housework was ignored all weekend for some unknown reason. After washing the dishes, cleaning the stove, emptying the garbage, vacuuming and washing the floors, I treated myself to a cup of coffee in the mug and another half cup on the counter. There are some fricking evil people who design coffee makers as coffee spillers. Whenever I pour coffee from that gadddam machine I feel so special, in a short bus sort of way.

Now, it’s time to check the news. Oh look, an executive at Hyundai fell out of his office window at midnight. Several notes allegedly found in his office indicate he was depressed over dealings with North Korea. Shocking news that Microsoft servers were disabled by a Denial of Service attack on Friday. Morons with Internet access open emails from an unnamed administrator; morons can now infect their own PCs as well as sending the virus to others. Remember the email from Bill Gates? People actually thought Bill Gates sent emails to normal folk. Now we get emails from anonymous administrators because our emails are expiring and we dutifully open the attachments because why exactly?

Tell me, did the Rapture take place? Were the brains of the good people taken from this planet, leaving only the robotic bodies to perform stupid functions?

And now for the best news of all, Canajun style. Apparently Asians aren’t moving to Canada anymore. It seems Vancouver is too expensive for them. Read that line again if your eyeballs didn’t bug out the first time. Canada is now importing large numbers of East Indians, Moroccans and Romanians. Many of these new immigrants choose to live in Montreal. Translation: These new immigrants either speak French or weren’t told that the province of Quebec operates as a separate country within the cozy financial blanket of the government of Canaduh. Quebec has its very own language, laws and immigration department. Talk about being short bus special. Have I mentioned that people in France hate Quebecers (or, picture air quotes here, les quebecois)? I hope our American neighbours take note of that. France, the country you love to hate, in turn hates Canada. Puts a whole new spin on defining your enemies’ enemy, doesn’t it?

My house has become a den of dirt over the last week. Time for me to continue cleaning.

2003-08-03T22:12:00.000-06:00

Further thoughts on employment: As an ex-semi-executive (high enough on the ladder to make some important decisions, low enough on the ladder to be completely expendable at the whims of my boss’ views on my health) I am familiar with business practices, forward thinking, the big picture, and the concept of pro-active rather than reactive. I’m also familiar with the term "do more with less" and how stupid people jump on that to fire hard-working folk so the slackers have the chance to do more with less – in this case, less brain cells, and more equipment and responsibility to mess up.

With the experiences gained through prior employment and years on this planet, I have an often unique perspective on jobs. In other words, I am good at my job and I am political enough not to rat out on other employees who are incompetent. Who am I to judge? Until such time as I am the boss and have the right to evaluate Jimbo’s work, Jimbo can continue to create paid overtime work for me and I’ll smile while doing it.

So a few days ago, during a staff meeting, one of the Jimbolinas pipes up with her concern: "We (I guess she means the royal use of the word) don’t like her (points at me) title." Boss says "Okay, why?" Jimbolina says "Executive Assistant makes it sound like she’s the executive." Boss stares at Jimbolina, clearly fighting the urge to strangle her. Several moments of uncomfortable silence later, Boss turns to look at me. I laugh. Not just giggling, or silent mirth, this is full-fledged belly laughing. I am too old for this crap. I love being an executive assistant. It’s like being an executive without all the perks including the salary. I graduated from college and worked my way up in the I.T. industry for almost twenty years for the joy of working in a construction office as an executive assistant. I make half the money I used to, with twice the stress. Protecting my territory? Just not interested. Boss, struggling to regain control of the meeting, asks me what I think of my job title. "Do any of you have any clue what an executive assistant does?" Silence. "Thank you, that’s what I thought. Next topic?"

2003-08-03T13:01:00.000-06:00

Nod

Acidman at Gut Rumbles speaks about my his views on work (see August 3, Weekend Duty). Having invested more than a decade into a job I loved and excelled at, I lost everything except my marriage when I insulted my employer by requiring use of their long term benefits package. How rude of me. What was I thinking? What right did I have to become unable to work after a mere 12 (or so) years of putting in more than 50 hours each week? Mind you, the first time I received an award for perfect attendance, I felt I was being treated like a kindergarten student. I was some pissed that, having forfeited my vacation due to someone else’s scheduling screw up, having gone to the office with a temperature of 102 because no one else could make it in, the moron who typed up my certificate couldn’t even take the time or energy to spell my name correctly. This should have been my first clue that my love for my work was not reciprocated. Fool that I was, I continued working there until the gods decided to pull the plug for me. Sheeyit, I’d be working there today and making twice what I’m earning now, if I hadn’t been so stupid as to become gravely ill.

Like Acidman says, I still work hard for my pay. I have no guilt about the raise I received earlier this year. I also have no fear or loathing about said raise. There was a time when getting a raise meant more visibility, increasing your chances of being fired or laid off at the whims of one’s supervisors. Those gentle days have passed. The low man on the totem pole is more likely to be fired than the incompetent bosses. Responsibility has taken a new mask, much uglier than the last. Our culture now rewards those who make bad decisions and punishes those who follow orders in carrying out those bad decisions. For reference, check the settlement package of any executive who has driven a major company into the ground. Compare this with the settlement package of any lowly employee who lost his job because of the executive. It’s enough to give you a temperature of 102 and miss time off work.

2003-08-03T01:28:00.000-06:00

Big New Flash

Who: The Government
What: For / Against Homosexual Marriage
Where: North America
When: Summer 2003
Why: The following crises have been resolved satisfactorily: Wars, Hunger, Homelessness, Abuse, Poverty, Disease and Economic Downturns

Apparently it’s time for me to find more reliable news sources. Last time I checked (about ten minutes ago), wars, hunger, homelessness, abuse, poverty, disease and economic downturns were rampant worldwide. Shrug my shoulders, I place solving them higher on the old priority list than making homosexual marriage a huge political platform. I don’t give a rat’s ass if someone wants to marry an individual of the same or opposite gender, as long as informed consent is given without duress. And I’m one of those cranky old-fashioned women who consider marriage to be the number one cause of divorce, so my opinion is hardly worth noticing. I’ve been married for a long time. It ain’t all sweetness and candlelight and romance. If two men or two women want to sign a legal commitment to all that marriage entails, I’ll drink a toast to their courage. Just don’t expect a wedding present, the finances are a little tight at this time due to disease and economic downturns

2003-08-03T01:11:00.000-06:00

Freedom of Speech

The tragic flaw in legislating freedom of speech occurs when a government fails to legislate requirement of thought. If thought was a requirement, two thirds of my townspeople would be in jail. Forgive me for an uncharacteristic moment of kindness. Experience has shown that nine tenths of my townspeople would be jailed for failure of thought. Therefore one can easily see why governments did not legislate requirement of thought. There wouldn’t be enough taxes to pay for the jails to house the non-thinkers. Also, most government officials would be jailed and then, who would pass more laws? Dayam. The more I try to justify this, the deeper a hole I dig.
This post rates TWO Ningnings.

2003-08-03T00:35:00.000-06:00

You're So Polite

Yes and we dress badly. We also spell funny (like adding extra letters to words). No wonder you think we are stupid. We live north of the American border. No wonder you think we're angry. We are Canajuns. And I am one pissed off Canajun. All hail the blogs, removers of borders, the blogs that bring boredom and rage into your lives. This is one such blog.

A few more posts may be required in order to set the proper tone here, so stay tuned