Quote of the Moment

   "Do you love me?"
   "If I could stop, I would."
   --Jackson & Tara, Sons of Anarchy
...

You don't always get to choose who you love. 

All growed up

Tonight I:

• played volleyball
• did laundry
• washed the dishes
• changed the bedsheets
• balanced the books
• responded to email

But let's be honest...I really wanted to do only the first item on this list. Being a wife is exhausting and we're not even married yet.

Taxing on the nerves

Oooooh a rant!

In writing a piece at work, I had one proofreader correct me to say "A & B" in my document.  The next proofreader then asked me to change it to "B & A" in my document.  A third hadn't noticed either way.  After a quick google search, I found it was customary to go with "B & A," but asked the first proofreader if she knew explicitly which way was the correct according to company standards. 

She could not give me a yes or no answer.  She danced around the question through IMs and emails and phone calls.  In the meanwhile, I phoned the third proofreader and together we decided to go with what was generally accepted as customary.  But when the first reader found out what I'd taken the initiative to do, I got shit on it regardless of my sources or reasons.  She basically patted herself on the back for "doing the legwork" to decide that her way was right and that the rest of us were wrong.  All I wanted was for her to tell me to either cite her source, or give evidence either way and she took hours to do so and then sulked when my research contradicted hers, but in the end I was forced to concede because her role as the proofreader trumped mine as the writer.   

This sounds like nothing, but it totally grated on my nerves today.  Shredded them.  And now I'm ranting. 

Tax sucks.

Song of the Moment: "Too Close" - Alex Clare

You know I'm not one to break promises,
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe.
At the end of it all, you're still my best friend,
But there's something inside that I need to release.
Which way is right, which way is wrong,
How do I say that I need to move on?
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

You've given me more than I can return,
Yet there's oh so much that you deserve.
There's nothing to say, nothing to do.
I've nothing to give,
I must live without you.
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing that I can really say.
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.
So I'll be on my way.
...

Heard it on the radio halfway through the song and forced myself to remember as many of the lyrics as I could so I could Google it later.  Totally worth it.

Corporate culture can be enthusiastic

   "Hey, oh my god it's sunny!  The sun is out!  Oh, sorry guys, I was just so excited that it was sunny out.  Like 'what IS that big orange thing?'  Oh my god, don't mind me, guys."
   --my Director this afternoon as she passed by the windows by our row
...

Have I mentioned I love working here?

Friday randoms

It's Friday.  It's lunchtime.  I'm ready for the weekend.
...

My work email spellcheck accepts "guesstimate" as a legitimate word.  Huh.
...

Is it bad that I read this article and found it (morbidly) amusing?  Yes, I know there's not much information, and yes, I know that it's sad that a man was killed in this accident, but the circumstances just take a turn for the ridiculous without that vital extra information.  From what I could glean from the article, my brain rewrote the events as this:

It was a dark night as a man walked down the lonely road at 3:30 am.  Suddenly, out of the darkness, a car appeared, driving too fast.  So fast, the man was struck in a instant.  While the car took off, the man stumbled, dazed and disoriented, now in the middle of the roadway.  Being as dark as it was and the hour that it was and at that particular intersection, a second, smaller car appeared too fast and struck the man again. 

The little car screeched to a stop.  Panicked, the driver dialled 911 and desperately called for help for the man on the road.  The driver jumped out after the call and ran to the man who was amazingly intact and trying to pick himself up a second time.

  "Holy shit, are you okay?!"
  "Yeah, I think so," came the disbelieving reply as the man swayed unsteadily to his feet.
  "Dude, take it easy, I just called the cops - they should be here any second."
  "Thanks - I think I might be okay."

Sirens could be heard approaching the scene.  The driver called after the man, trying to convince him to stay, but he had already begun to swagger off into the night.  A moment later, a police cruiser swung into view going too fast and struck the poor man a third time.

  "Aw fuck."

I know, I know, it's not funny...but it kinda is...
...

Dear Winning Lottery Ticket,

I know we haven't met and we've never actually spoken in person before, but I was kind of hoping we could change that this weekend.  Whadda ya say?

melody

C'mon lotto!

let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the South of France
let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters
and teach them how to dance
let's get rich and build our house on a mountain
making everybody look like ants
from way up there, you and I, you and I, you and I
   --from "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson
....

Winning the lottery takes an astronomical amount of luck and realism.  I know we're probably not going to win the $50 million tonight, nor one of the 50 $1million prizes...but it's always nice to dream.

A dark and stormy night

Hurricane Sandy was to make her full-force debut and performance on Monday night.  Unfortunately, that was also the night I had made reservations for Señorita, Malcolm and I to join a tour of the Haunted Streets of Downtown Toronto.  Even more unfortunately, that was the night Malcolm forgot to bring his rain shoes to work ("I have a change of warm clothes, my rain coat, my rain pants, an umbrella - everything except my shoes!").  :(  What with Sandy lurking about, we decided it was not a day to take chances with your gear.  And so, it was up to Señorita and I to press on alone, and that's exactly what we did.

Blustery as she was, Sandy had no bite.  Being on a budget as we were, Señorita and I hoofed it from work to dinner and from dinner to tour.  Not even halfway to each destination, we were already shedding gloves and scarves and hoods.

   "Is that all you've got, Sandy?!"

Of course, every once in a while, we'd get caught off guard by a gust of wind or by a random spray of rain, and our taunts would change.

   "What ya gotta be such a bitch for, Sandy?!"

However, despite Sandy's (dismal) efforts, Señorita and I arrived at the tour site, convulsed in giggles as we cursed the weak randomness of the Frankenstorm.  We made it through our tour of the Ghosts of UofT (route changed to accommodate the weather for fear of flying debris) warmly enough, except for during the parts we were chilled to the bone by the tour's stories.  The rain even held off right until the last 10 minutes of the tour.  We had a great time, with the weather only adding to the effect and making our warm drinks at the end even more satisfying.

Despite all the calls and emails and texts from our parents (and there were a lot of them) scolding us for being outside at all and horribly worried about how we'd get home, we had a great time even with Sandy.
...

On the train home, Señorita and I learned that both our parents experienced a power outage for some time that night, so when I arrived home to a lit house, I was a little relieved. However, moments after arriving home, Malcolm scurried down the stairs to greet me while wearing a headlamp. I asked the obvious question.

   "Oh, honey, did the power go out on you?"
   "Nope, but I'm prepared!"

Coconut is a fruit, right?

You may not have been aware of this, but October was healthy workplace month. Whether or not that's a city-wide, province-wide, nation-wide, or just a thing my company did, I did my best to participate. I put into motion my Director's idea of having "Fruit on the Floor" - at certain places around our floor there were stations set up for you to bring in and share fruit with your coworkers. It was just a little thing, but every little bit helps, right?

What doesn't help is when your master confectionist (is that a word?) coworker decides it's a good idea to try out a new macaroon recipe and brings in her experiment to get an opinion.

Chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons...

Resistance was futile.  But surrender had never tasted so sweet.

Who IS this guy?

Usually, once the proposal has happened and she says "yes," the stories go that the guy starts to take it easy after that - he's got her, why keep up the effort?  I know that happened in the case of one friend of mine (though in that case, they never got to the wedding stage...whew).  But for me, it's been the opposite.

Malcolm proposed last year and my weeping mess of myself said yes.  Since then, instead of lazing back and taking it easy, Malcolm's gone ahead and kicked it up a notch.

Now, when he takes care of dinner, he not only puts it together (after cooking or whatnot), he cleans up after.  Instead of just tossing the laundry into to dryer, he does the ironing! Instead of just rooting through the clean laundry basket while it's still downstairs, he carries it up to the room and puts some away!  He's the one that drags me out for exercise. 

Who is this guy?!

Gotta say, I like it.  :)

Love/hate relationship

And the wedding planning begins.  Part of the planning (a big part) is the budgeting.  I already know this wedding is going to put us in the poor house, but what wedding doesn't?  In an attempt to save money now, I've recommited myself to bringing all of my food and drinks to work from home, refraining from having to buy them each day (not that I was always buying food/drinks, but every little bit helps).

The only thing now is that when I have food cravings that aren't for what I've brought with me, I get sad.  :(  But it's all for a good cause - my cause - OUR cause. 
...

Dear Sushi,

Don't you worry - I will devour you another day...when I've saved up enough money to do so.

love,

melody

Who needs porn?

Over emails while at work:

melody - Feeling anything specific for dins?
Malcolm - Leftovers and instant noodles.  I'll cook
melody - Holy crap that's hot.  :D
...

And of course in the middle of posting this, he returns with:

"Not as good as a warm fart on a cold day.

Returning to randominity

Things I (seem to have) lost in the move

• white peacoat
• green scarf from India
• books
• the house elves

...

Wedding budgeting is killer.  I only just crunched a few numbers yesterday and I already feel in the poor house.  Brought coffee, breakfast, and lunch today.  Intentions of cooking at home later.  Diet of leaves and instant noodles to ensue.
...

Malcolm did a load laundry and his ironing yesterday.  It was nice.

What's in a name?

It's all the in the way you read things. 
...

At work, I'm a writer (surprise, surprise, huh?), but being a major corporate company, all of our publications need to be bi-lingual.  So, whenever I write things, I need to have them translated before I can have them published. 

This week, as much as I was slaving away with a million communications with a million modifications and a million edits and a crazy tight deadline, one single poor translator was assigned to handle my documents and requests. Usually you send your document to translation with 4 days for turnaround time.  I gave 2 days…on 6 documents. 

However, my translator was AMAZING and managed to get all of it translated and returned to me by the deadline, and even made accommodations and extra edits for all of my team’s changes.  So I decided to send a VIP notice.  A VIP notice is just a little certificate of recognition at work that the employee receives with your nice message included, and it’s also sent to their manager so that they know what good work’s being recognized.  My nice little message was as follows:

Dominique has translated an astounding number of documents over the past week - many of them rush submissions!  She has managed to come through on all of the time lines that she has promised, even accommodating all of the last minute additions and modifications that have come along on multiple projects.  Despite the complexity of each project, the technical terms, and the difficult subject matter, she's done a wonderful job and I want her to know that I really and truly appreciate all that she's done over the last few days.

Thank you, Dominique!

A little while later I got an email back from Dominique:

melody,

Thank you very much for your VIP certificate and your nice comments. I am touched!

Best regards.

Dominique

PS: I will phone my mom tonight to let her know about my VIP. I will also tell her that she should have spelled my first name with a "c", because many people think I'm a woman. (ah, ah, ah...) :-))

*hangs head in shame*

I felt like a class A idiot.  I told Dominique as such and he was nothing less than supremely gracious about it.  Probably gets it all the time from us Anglo-speakers. 
...

Too much velocity-raptor

We have a chat/messenger program at work.  The Intern used to send me the best gifs to accent some of our conversations and it was rare that I could find the right occasions to use them again in my chats with other colleagues.  Today I found a "right" occasion.

I complained to my supervisor that I still wasn't receiving meeting invites and had not been invited to the quarterly department meeting again.  She checked all of her settings, but couldn't figure why I wouldn't have received it.  I figured out why shortly after and sent her an IM to tell her.

"Never mind - I WAS invited to the event on Monday - it helps when you check the right month."

And then I sent the "right" gif.

I love that Raptor.

The keeper of coffee country

After walking for what felt like miles, I finally found a dilapidated little coffee shop at a neglected intersection on the edge of downtown where I could sit and wait for Malcolm to finish a training session.  When I entered, I felt at least three of a possible five pairs of eyes on me, sizing up the intruder attempting to enter their territory.  And what strange citizens they all seemed.

All patrons were of retirement age or older, and were mostly men.  There were two mustaches, one 10-gallon hat, an abundance of pockmarks and various scars, and a mysterious black suitcase on the floor.  As far as my first glace told me, no one was atually drinking any coffee, which was probaly just as well - the proprietor seemed already overwhelmed with the line-up of two.

The shopkeep himself was a character.  Owner of half the pockmarks in the place, his face was round and jolly and of an undetermined origin.  His accent was undeniably thick, but even when he paused to answer the cell phone screaming at his belt, the language he used lent no clues.

He had to ask me three times about my order of a medium coffee.
   "With cream and sugar, please."
   "Just sugar?"
   "Cream and sugar, please."
   "How many cream?  How many sugar?"
   "One of each, please."
   "Small?"
   "Medium, please."

Still flustered by the line-up of me and the mustached man that had come before me, theshopkeep spent a confused moment ringing in my order, wondering why there was a pile of change already on the counter.  I knew it had been the man's before me because we all three had watched him leave it there as payment.  The shopkeep's eyes widened in enlightenment when he remembered too, a moment later.

Nevertheless, I found the panic endearing.  And after me, and having dispersed the crowd, he returned to his element of keeping that shop and keeping it well.  One customer at a time, he remembered regulars and served the strangers.  He had well-wishes for the man who was freshly released from a hospital stay; he had congratulations for the man who earned an extension on his work as a labourer; he made suggestions for a girl who had to feed her picky sister. 

When he disappeared into the back to re-stock, the citizens stood sentry for him.
   "Eh!  Captain Kirk!  When a customer comes, call me!"
   "Ya!"
   *pause*
   "Any customers yet?"
   "Nope!" came the chorused reply from the Captain and his crew.

Locals who bordered on homelessness came to warm themselves with a small cup of coffee and to whet their whistles on free cups of water that the shopkeep poured with the additional warmth of generosity.  They discussed the latest deals on thrift items - where to find the best clothes or the latest shoes - sympathized on having to settle on bad weekly lodgings, and apologizing for not being around due to late rent cheques. 

This tiny microcosm continued to buzz until the 8 o'clock hour rolled around and I gathered my things to go.  One last look around the place and then I stepped outside into the brisk autumn air.  And then, like a mere hour ago, the coffee shop slid back into a non-existence without outsider eyes to believe it.

Losing my head over losing a head

A little while ago, Malcolm and I had dinner with another couple of friends of ours and at the end of the night when the guys went downstairs to look at gadgets, I had a drool over the wife's library.  We talked books and guilty pleasures and at the end she suggested I give Philippa Gregory a try.  I borrowed The Other Boelyn Girl and was on my way. 

Thank god it's over. 

For the last week or so that I'd had the book in my possession, I had not been able to put it down whenever I had a spare moment - even when I DIDN'T have a spare moment.  And the facts that it was a historical fiction and that I'd seen the movie before reading the book didn't have any effect on my need to read.  If anything, I think it enhanced it.  Because I basically knew what was supposed to happen at one point or another, I was EAGER for it to happen because I wanted to see how or why it happened. 

When are they going to chop her head off?!

In short.  I'm glad that I'm finished with it and can get on with my life...even if it's only on 3 hours of sleep today. 

Nerbs

At work last Friday and again this Friday, we got to discussing great nouns that have evolved (some officially, some unofficially) into verbs.  There were some good ones.  I've noticed that all of the ones off the top of my head evolved not just from nouns, but from proper nouns. Perhaps that indicates that if you do something and you do something well, "maybe they'll create a nerb after you."  I think that beats a building. 

The best:

to google: to perform a search [using a search engine] for something on the internet
e.g.  I'll have to go home and google what a nerb is later when I get to my computer.

to tetris: to manipulate objects in a tight space, ensuring maximum efficiency of space usage
e.g.  Man, we tetrised that stuff into the trunk really well - I can't believe it all fit!

to macgyver: to create an extremely useful object under pressure, using only the materials on hand at any given moment
e.g.  I couldn't find a spoon, so I macgyvered one out of this cup and fork.

to frankenstein: to create one whole object out of the best parts of other different, yet similar objects
e.g. I finished writing the communication faster by frankensteining it out of previous memos.

to multimedia: to bombard another person [their inbox, or your chat window] with link after link of videos, songs, or other mediums of entertainment.
e.g.  Heartbreak? Don't worry, I'll multimedia you back to life.
...

Update - September 28, 2012, 2:55pm
My supervisor was giving me advice on how the final draught of my document was probably going to look like after submitting it for review.

     "They'll probably look at the different versions, frankenstein some from each, and then tetris it all together."

Love it.  She's probably secretly been reading my blog.  :)

Not much to ask

Today's weather is making me feel exceptionally sucky. Therefore, I am making a list of things that I enjoy that may or may not be related to a date approximately one month in the future.  If I happened to have had these things today, I might not even have noticed the weather outside to have felt sucky in the first place.

I want:

• a new pair of rain boots and a giant puddle to redeem the time a few weeks ago that I jumped in a puddle - only to learn I had cracked a hole in them and then had wet feet inside my boots
• the latest Batman game for my PS3 (I'd say "new" game, but really it was new a year ago) and a weekend free to immerse myself in it
• a week off to cook random things from the collection of recipes I've been amassing
• some sunny, but cool autumn weather so that I can bring out all my scarves and make up for time lost while we were tropically travelling last year

And a winning lottery ticket - can't forget that.

Sparing myself some change

I was feeling in a bit of a funk today so to distract myself, I thought I'd take the time to finally type out my travel posts that I meticulously recorded by hand while across the globe, but then one thing led to another and suddenly, I had a new blog layout.  Welcome to my distraction.

What better way to deal with uncontrollable change than with some controllable change?  I've saved a copy of the old layout, but for now, it's in with the new.

We had good times, didn't we?

Pimp sleepwalking

I love my workplace.  I talk about playing racist volleyball and using pimp sticks and no one bats an eye. 
...

As I have done most of my life, I spent last night out playing at the CNE until late instead of doing "responsible things" and upon returning home after midnight, was faced with the task of having to pack and prepare myself for the next three days of volleyball tourney that I had in front of me.  And also, as I have done most of my life, I had not planned far enough ahead to have my favourite gear and clothing ready and washed to pack for this weekend. 

Some time after 1am, I threw a half-load of the things I absolutely needed into the wash and convinced myself that I could go to bed for a bit because I'd definitely hear the "I'm finished" alarm on the washing machine.  The plan was that I would then get up and throw the clothes into the dryer before going back to bed so that everything would be clean and dry and waiting to be thrown into my bags in the morning during my dash out the door to work. 

So this morning.

First of all, I slept later than I should have.  When I woke, I realized I couldn't remember falling asleep.  And then I realized I couldn't remember getting up and then going back to sleep.  Crud.  And yet.  When I walked down to the laundry room, not only did I find that I'd managed to get the load into the dryer (WITH a dryer sheet), I had somehow had the sense about me to hang up my incredibly-shrinking-dress to line dry as well as Malcolm's dress shirt.  Amazing.

After seeing all of the things as I'd apparently left them the night, I could vaguely recall being down in the laundry room in a ridiculous stupor, however, to save myself the strain of trying to recall details, I'm happy enough to believe that the house elves did it for me.  Or the bats.

My morning laugh

Monday at the office with a day off tomorrow to spend with Boo.  I threw my nose to the grindstone and initiated the plan of working tirelessly today to complete 3 projects and 2 mailings so that being off tomorrow, I could frolick guiltlessly. The plan was working great until I was (pleasantly) distracted by the following email from Brodder to my parents that he CC'ed me on...probably because he knew it'd amuse me so much:

Spectacular.  I can't say he can completely blame autocorrect on this one. 

Shoot for the moon

At 10:22 am today, the moon was still out according to the Star website. 

I am a little underwhelmed today at work.

Let them laugh

If you can't laugh with them, then that will leave them to laugh at you. I think it's incredibly healthy (and incredibly cool) to have a sense of humour and the ability to laugh at yourself.

The topic came up today as we debated whether or not our colleague was going to laugh at the fact that we'd spent 30 minutes "making her desk a safer place" while she was away at a health and safety conference this afternoon. While it seemed that those who knew her better thought she'd be less than pleased, I thought it had to be worth a laugh. At least a smile. My justification was that if somebody had done something like that to my desk, that meant that they spent 30 whole minutes completely focused on ME.

But then, that IS me and I'm really good at--as well as very fond of--laughing WITH people.

So is my Roomie, as this old photo evidence of my handiwork at her desk while she was on vacation will prove. Although, in that case, I took a moment to giggle (okay, laugh) AT her as well. I also spent the following week guarding my desk very, very closely.

---

Update - August 16, 2012, 9:02 am

She laughed!  But she also took names...  :)

Ahead

Today has been an incredibly slow day at work. I’ve been replying to my emails immediately in realtime and have managed to keep my inbox empty all day. All of my writing assignments have been written and are awaiting review or translation by other parties. My one conference call for today was cancelled just as I was dialing into the call.

I am ahead of the game.

Sweet.

Internally uninitiated

I have a summer intern as my cubicle-mate. He’s excruciatingly young and the fact that he’s got SUCH a baby face look to him doesn’t help at all. While I have to give him credit for knowing his business stuff (and hip-hop/rap history, juxtaposedly enough) his lack of knowledge elsewhere just kills me, reminding me just how old mature I am, and how sheltered he is.

City Vocabulary
Having been raised and reared in the distant suburb of Vaughan, the Intern is not very familiar with Toronto streets, places, or pronunciations.

   “Hey, Intern, where’s the Frank Ocean concert tonight?”
   “Oh yeah, I’m so pumped! It’s at the ‘Cool Hoss.’”
   “The what…where? You mean at ‘Kool Haus.’”
   “No, it says it’s…”
   “Trust me, Intern, it’s ‘Kool Haus.’”
   “Oh.”

Later that same day, he also learned that he was meeting his friends on “Queen’s Quay,” not “Queen’s Kway.”

Life Vocabulary
Then, on Friday after the sign-up sheet was posted, Intern finally learned what those regular family gatherings for dinners were called by others.

   “So, Intern, when your family gets together and everyone brings a dish to share, what do you call that?”
   “A family dinner. I’ve never called it a ‘pot-luck’ before today.”

Poor boy.

Keyboard etymology
Finally, while making review comments on a document regarding formatting, Intern kept making notes to “delete the extra enters.” A few more comments later, I realized he meant to delete the extra “hard returns.” I called over the cube wall to verify with him that that was what he meant. He called back,

   “What’s a hard return?”

Oh man.

Yes, coffee IS the shit

I have work to do, which is probably why I'm surfing random sites instead.  Anyway, long delayed story...

While Malcolm and I were in Bali this January, we treated ourselves to a lazy, languishing schedule.  One of our lovely mornings on the beautiful coast, we treated ourselves to a western style breakfast (our favourites here at home too) at a nearby cafe.  Noticing a sign for the infamous kopi luwak, we thought that while we were treating ourselves, we'd treat ourselves to a cup of the ultimate of ultimate coffees.

The cup was small, but DAMN was the coffee good.  The "nothing added, nothing taken away" sort of thing.    And so, we treated ourselves to seconds.  The coffee was supposed to be the best in the world (and it tasted that way) and the most expensive, but being in Bali, Indonesia, we weren't too worried about the price, though we admittedly hadn't seen it posted anywhere prior to ordering.

Then the bill came.

$5 USD per cup???


For comparison, our super filling, equally yummy meals didn't cost that much each.  It's not like it put us in the red, but we should have at least inquired after the price before purchasing, especially since we were in such a low-spending mindset.  Again, don't get me wrong - it was WORTH the $5 USD per cup.  WORTH it.  And besides, it gave us a great coffee story to tell; how many can actually say they've tried the best coffee in the world?

Anyway, so my digression brings me back to my distraction on the internet.  Being distracted, I found this post via a series of clicks through other sites, and I felt much better about those $5.  That's all.
...

Oh, and this afternoon, I felt a headache coming on, so to combat it, I went and got myself a huge cup of coffee.  Problem solved...or is that "problem deepened?"  Mmmmmm, coffee!

Not the retail kind

     "Why is it that no one seems surprised when I tell them I'm going to therapy?"
          --a friend of mine, who told me he was going to therapy, and I wasn't surprised

The more accurate reaction was that I wasn't concerned that he was going to therapy. It's because therapy is just therapy, not the end of the world. I think people need to be more afraid of needles and surgeries and chemicals being pumped into their body than a little one-on-one therapy during which you spend most of your time talking.

If you've elected to go to therapy (because really, it's rare that anyone can MAKE you go), then it can be seen that you're looking out for your mental health. Just because you go and join a gym doesn't mean you were overweight - it means that you're interested in getting your body into a healthier state. That's the same way I view therapy - you're trying to get your mind into a healthier state.

Anyway, mental health conditions have become so numerous and commonplace nowadays that to admit to having (or be diagnosed with) a mental health disorder is no longer taboo. It's practically the norm.

Nervous? Stressed? Anxious? Can't stay still or focused for longer than 2 minutes at a time? Those could all be due to an imbalance and therapy is the right way to treat it. Sure there are words like "bipolar" or "depression" that people still find scary or threatening, but really, the sooner you acknowledge and treat those issues, the less negative impact they will have on your life. Going to therapy? Sticking to it? Good on you.

p.s. Yes, drugs can be prescribed to help a lot of those conditions, but I've always believed that the best healing comes from you and comes from the inside out.

Downpour

Dear Pathetic Fallacy,

Yep, that's about right.

melody

Just grin and bear it?

   "The cost of replacing lost or stolen dentures is ineligible under your dental plan."

Who steals dentures?
...

   "Under the terms of your supplementary medical plan’s extended health care benefit, damage caused to your teeth while eating is not covered. Your supplementary medical plan only covers damage to natural teeth resulting from an external blow to the mouth."

So the moral of the story is that if you want to get your teeth fixed, you gotta take one to the mouth. Go big or go home.

The name game

This past weekend, 3/4 of the Sugar team were stuck at La Guardia airport together, waiting for a plane that was constantly re-delayed.  In an attempt to amuse ourselves, we shared travel stories.  When it was my turn, I tried to share the story of the flight attendant I had in San Fran that had the craziest name.  However, to my dismay, I could not for the life of me remember that crazy name during my re-telling.

  "Oh man, guys, it was such a odd name!  Like, WHO would have that name.  I can't believe I can't remember it.  It started with a 'b' and it was this woman's name...argh!  It definitely started with a 'b'..."
  "Bagina?  Was that it?  It had to be Bagina."

Oh gawd.  It wasn't.  It was something else crazy, but after that, it was no where as awesome as Bagina.

Slacking off Working at work

At all my previous work positions, I was accustomed to having to wear a whole wardrobe of different hats to manage all of the various tasks that crossed my desk on daily basis. Here at my new job, I was hired to be a writer and writing is all I do.

Not complaining.

However, by chance, I was asked if had time to sort through a list of clients and determine - based on data contained in the report - which needed to be contacted regarding our latest campaign. I agreed because I didn't happen to be writing anything at the moment. They thanked me and assured me I had two or three days to complete it. They then sent me the file.

It was an Excel file.

Nearly rabidly, I opened that file and sorted and filtered to my heart's content. Fifteen minutes later, I was done.

"You're done already?"

"Yeah, I'm a bit of an Excel geek."

"That's great!"

It was. I was presented with two more files to sort through, and then a graph to complete. Twenty minutes later, after I'd hit send, the colleague wrote back to me:

"You're AWESOME. You don't know how much time you saved me."

She really just didn't know how un-complicated it was. Shortly after that, an instant message popped up on my work screen.

Drugz: Hi there
me: hello!
Drugz: you're a tech wiz
me: hahaha
me: uhoh...is that a good thing?
Drugz: lol VERY good thing
Drugz: I just got a question from someone else: "I can't figure out how to imbedded a word document into another word document (or excel) so someone can pull up one doc that contains a variety of supporting docs."
Drugz: do you know how to do this?
me: there's a way...
Drugz: i'm listening...
me: http://www.geekrant.org/2005/09/14/word-embed-document/
Drugz: see...tech geek...i knew it
me: nope--supreme googler.
me: :)
...

Google makes me look like a geek. Excel makes me look like a whiz. Really, I was just shirking my other responsibilities. :)

A flash of intelligence

At least my version had the right kind of lightning in it. 

Struck

Due to sporting schedules and an extended sleep-in, Malcolm and I didn’t manage to get to the Whitby Ribfest on Saturday as we had originally planned. However, undeterred and with an appointment-free Sunday, (kept clear in the event that such a mis-schedule should happen) we made our way over to the venue to take in a late lunch just yesterday.

Looking out the front windows at home, the skies shone clear and sunny. It wasn’t until we’d piled into the car and were well on our way that we noticed the dark clouds following us. Our reaction?

“Meh.”

We’d just returned from a state-side shopping trip that had us facing clouds much like the ones chasing us that Sunday and while the American clouds had flashed and boomed, they didn’t let a single drop fall and instead passed us over completely and disappeared. Why wouldn’t this be the same?

When we arrived at the Ribfest, it was pretty clear that the clouds were not just going to pass us by as before. So, we made the decision to divide and conquer the food options before meeting to find seats in the food tent. Mission accomplished. Just as a light rain began to fall, we were sitting ourselves down, dry under the tent, to fest on our rack of ribs and blooming onion with extra ranch sauce.

We took in the sights as we ate. The rain was doggedly persistent, but not the heaviest of downpours. The band didn’t cower away, but instead completed its set before clearing the stage for Mother Nature. Other rib enthusiasts circled the tent, looking for a way in and a dry seat while spending more time shielding their precious fare from the rain rather than themselves.

It didn’t take long before everyone had either found a seat or had piled in to stand under the tent’s sprawling shelter. Lightning and thunder had crept in along with the rain, but, like the rain, weren’t enough to distract anyone from digging in.

And then.

CRACK!

The loudest crack of lightning – lightning, not thunder – I’d ever heard erupted overhead. The surprise and volume of the lightning made everyone duck their heads simultaneously as if it would have helped to escape the boom. Screams sounded all through the tent. A woman trembled, “was that a gun shot?” Malcolm assured her it wasn’t – it was too loud.

The screams we had first attributed to being from frightened children had not subsided. As they wouldn't stop, we looked for the reason: seeing the commotion halfway down the tent from us, we knew it before we saw it – someone had been struck by that lightning.

On-site paramedics flew into the crowd throwing tables and chairs through the air and out into the rain to gain access and make way. Security personnel swarmed those of us still shockingly seated and ordered us out of the tent. As we made our way away through the drizzle, we caught snatches of speculation.

“Did you feel that? I felt the shock in my legs.”

“I felt that through the ground.”

“Someone got hit by the lightning.”

“There were a few ladies lying on the floor over there.”

“Man, that’s exactly where we were sitting before we decided to move.”

As we neared the main intersection, emergency vehicles began pouring onto the scene.  Fire, EMS, police - it felt like all hands were on deck; definitely more than enough to treat just a few people.

When it was all said and done (and Malcolm and I were at Bass Pro Shops after finishing our ribs at home), I was innudated with updates as to what had happened.  Lightning had indeed struck our lightning-rod-equipped-tent.  It had run down to the ground, and then back up through the bodies of those in the immediate vicinity of the struck pole.  17 people were treated for non-life threatening injuries - mostly burns, but some trampling too - and the Ribfest had closed shortly after we'd been evacuated.

A close call, but we were witness to an awesome display of Mother Nature's wrath and lived to tell the tale. 

We also bought a lottery ticket, but didn't win.  :(  I guess they did say that it doesn't strike twice.
...

Weather update for today: Toronto's on tornado watch, extreme thunderstorm watch, and extreme heat alert.  If Mother Nature ate corn flakes, some asshole apparently peed in them.

Feels like burning

You know it's hot outside when you're sitting inside in your air conditioned office and you're complaining about the heat. 

Or it could be my hot flashes - it's hard to tell.

It's about time

With the new job, it's impossible for me to be functional if I don't try to start sleeping by 11:30pm (admittedly, that doesn't mean that I WILL be sleeping by then, just that I'm starting to get ready to try).  I have a 7:15am train to catch and have got to start dragging my ass out of bed by 6:15am.  Especially with my skin keeping me from sleeping through the night, gone are the days of catching 4 hours of shut eye before barreling through a 20-hour day.

However, here it is, nearly 1am and I'm on my laptop for the first time in what has to be at least a week, having a bout of creativity and motivation to innovate.  These hours will always be when the magic happens.  

Just another Friday at the office

Have I mentioned I love the office culture at work?

Dr. Evil's ransom

Like most offices, we have a weekly office lottery pool in hopes to hit it big. And, like most offices, we don't usually win more than a few dollars or a couple of free tickets. This week was no different for us...but for the mail room guy...

...$1,000,000.

Sure it's not the big win, but it's a WIN. True to form (wait, I haven't posted about my amazing boss yet, have I?), my boss gave him the week off to decide what to do next in life. While he was quite the dedicated employee with a sweet and kind disposition, we all hope he never comes back.  :)
...

  "Who's in charge of this office lottery?  Why wasn't HE part of OUR pool?"

Gone...mobile

A blogger app for my phone?! What took me so long?!

An exclamation would have sufficed

I recently emailed Boobin to let him know I was going to be in NYC soon.
...

From: melody
To: Boobin
Subject: July 20 - 22

NYC. I'mma be there.  Will you? :)
----------

From: Boobin
To: melody
Subject: re: July 20 - 22

I can't wait
----------

From: melody
To: Boobin
Subject: Re: re: July 20 - 22

There was zero enthusiasm in that sentence. I'm a little disappointed.
----------

From: Boobin
To: melody
Subject: re: RE: re: July 20 - 22

If it makes you feel better I teared up a little in the grocery store
----------

From: melody
To: Boobin
Subject: RE: re: RE: re: July 20 - 22

It'll have to do I suppose. I'll send you my travel details when I get home.
----------

From: Boobin
To: melody
Subject: re: RE: re: RE: re: July 20 - 22

I'm very excited. I just punched an old man in the face and yelled your last name
----------

From: melody
To: Boobin
Subject: RE: re: RE: re: RE: re: July 20 - 22

That's the spirit!
...

Hey, different people have different ways of showing how they feel. Who am I to judge?

Quote of the moment

   "Oh, she's a milk-first kind of girl."
     --English Etiquette, during a meeting on how to drink tea properly
...

We had a marketing meeting last week where as one of the learning activities, we were taught a crash course on proper tea etiquette (which seguewayed seamlessly into a course on proper meeting etiquette).  One of the notes that stuck out was that you were not supposed to add milk to your cup before pouring the tea into it first.  To do so was considered to be a low-class sort of action, hence, the excellent snooty quote. 

Under my skin

I haven’t been writing lately. I was worried that it was because I now have a job that requires me to be a writer all day, but I don’t think it’s that – I produced some good stuff my first week. I think it’s my skin.

What? How could it be my skin you ask? It can. It’s draining the life out of me. I don’t sleep through the night, I’m constantly distracted because either I’m crazily itchy or my body temperature is going nuts, making me ridiculously uncomfortable, or I’m too busy trying to tend the ever changing conditions of my face that I have little to no time to do much else.

I miss writing. It saddens me that my last post was at the beginning of this month. I’ve thought of so many good thing to write (including a chronicle of what it’s like being in my skin – yes, pun intended – for a day), but I just haven’t been able to focus on something long enough to get it done. And when I have a moment of clarity, I find I have to spend it on something responsible like cooking or cleaning rather than on creative release.
...

Dear Skin,

Can’t we just be friends again?

melody

On the Sleeper Train

The Head-back-open-mouther
It is what it sounds. Person sleeps with head back and mouth wide open. They could be a midway game – you know, the kind where you try to toss a sandbag into the clown’s gaping mouth to win a prize…except in this case, your prize is a dose of someone’s halitosis.

Despite strategic seating positioning beside the window whereby giving the sleeping rider a place to wedge their head upright, level, or even tilted forward against the window, they still manage to subconsciously maneuver back to their namesake position, allowing for other riders to check for cavities. Amazingly, there is no drool or snoring.

The Wild Head Bobber
This rider usually missed their chance at snagging a window seat and was unluckily allocated to an aisle seat with nothing to lean on laterally. Here, the onus is on the rider to sleep sitting straight up in their own seat. Attempts at this usually result in the wild head bob whereby the rider does not manage to keep his or her head against the head rest and instead ends up bobbing around with the movements of the train. There are lateral movements included as well as there is a tug-o-war between unconscious neck-muscle relaxing and conscious jerk-of-the-neck-muscles-back-into-the straight-position-ing.

A side effect of this rider not having anything to rest against for stability is the tendency to lean at random while sleeping. Other passengers have to react accordingly to the rider’s tilting body by either:

• leaning away
• giving the rider a gentle and discreet nudge in the other direction
• taking videos and bets on when the rider will eventually lean too far and fall out of their seat.

The Glass Divider Slider
When all the window seats are taken, aware of the dangers of leaning themselves out of an aisle seat, this rider snaps up one of the few side-facing seats just inside the doors of the train. This allows them the luxury of being able to lean against the glass pane that acts as a divider between those seats and the passengers entering or exiting the train car. However, this head rest comes at a price. This glass is somehow more slippery than the train’s windows resulting in the tendency for the rider’s face to slide around against the glass, providing a spectacle of smashed faces for those seated on the other side of the pane to be amused by.

The Forward Leaner
Not to be confused with the side-to-side leaner stemming from the wild head bob, this sleeping beauty starts off sitting up, and then slowly begins to tilt forward. It’s a start-with-the-top-of-the-head-and-work-your-way-down full body roll forward until the forward leaner has leaned their head so low that they’re doubled over and at eye-level with their crotch. Classy.

The Snorer
It is what it is and it afflicts any one of the previously mentioned sleeping riders on this list. If the rider is lucky, they’ll wake themselves at the first breath gone wrong and prevent any future snores from escaping. If they’re unlucky, then the snorer gets awfully funny stares, glares, and eye-rolls from the other unlucky passengers in the vicinity as they all just try to survive the long commute in and out of the city together.

The Twitcher
While this rider does not sleep awkwardly on the train, they do not sleep well on the train and tend to twitch and jerk at inopportune moments along the ride. Hold onto your belongings if you find yourself close to one of these.
…

And so now you know. I wish I could say that I categorized these sleep-types while I sat bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on my commutes to and from work this past week, but sadly, I cannot. I know them all because I assumed each of these positions myself at least once this week in a sad progression of sleepy embarrassment as I learned where to sit and how to sleep on the train. That is, except for the Twitcher. I am not one of those. But Slam apparently is. Apparently she managed to kick a man’s briefcase from across the seats during one of her twitches, a la Lucy vs Charlie Brown. He asked her if she was okay. She really should have asked him.

Learn-ding

ger•und
n. grammar

1. (in certain languages, as Latin) a form regularly derived from a verb and functioning as a noun, having in Latin all case forms but the nominative, as Latin dicendī gen., dicendō, dat., abl., etc., “saying.”
2. the English -ing form of a verb when functioning as a noun, as writing in Writing is easy.
3. a form similar to the Latin gerund in meaning or function.

I learned this word today. I can say pretty confidently that I’d never heard it before. Now I know it and now I know how to use it…sort of. Actually, I can use it 96% of the time, according to my work training test score.

I was just…refreshed that there was still more to learn.

Practice running

There’s always been something romantic about taking the train—until our trip to South East Asia I’d never done it and after doing it, I think I’m the only one who still finds it romantic. Landing my new job in the downtown core gave me the chance to do it over and over again as part of my now daily commute; however, having never gotten on the GO before, I used my extra day off before starting to go for a practice run.

A beautifully sunny day, I timed my route to the station and my path from the car parkade to the platform so I knew when I should start my trek. Easy. I spent the time I had before my train basking in the warm sun on platform, passing the moments with a crossword puzzle. Birds flitted through the long grass beyond the tracks and the CN Rail train chugged through towing an endless line of mysterious cargo. My commuter train pulled in on schedule and I took a comfortable seat on the upper level of the car with a great view to watch the world go by. Romance was in the air.

I alternated between watching the view and completing more of my crossword. A little further, I felt the familiar drowsiness that follows me on long rides and closed my eyes for a moment. I probably would have fallen asleep, but it was then that we pulled into the Pickering train station and a herd of under-aged, drunken elephants piled into my car and loaded themselves into the seats directly behind me. The rest of the 30 minute trip was destroyed by their loud talking and rambunctious roughhousing.

Romance ruined.

However, it was not all about taking a romantic train ride into the city, it was about learning the ropes and getting to know my work routine. Arriving at Union Station and ridding myself of their company, I leisurely made my way to my new office building, choosing to walk on the sunnier sides of the street. Finding myself in the building lobby and having timed all of the routes of transportation it took to get me there, I considered it a successful practice run and headed off to dinner with friends before hitching a ride home with Malcolm.

The next morning, getting to work went off without much of a hitch – it turned out there was more traffic than I’d seen the day before, but nothing to keep me from getting on the train in time. My first day of work went by smoothly and sweetly – the team was amazing to work with from the moment I stepped through the ultra-secure doors—and I left on time to head home. Having timed the route to get to the office, I estimated that it would take about the same amount of time to return to the station, giving me just enough time to catch that 5:20pm train home instead of waiting for the next one at 5:53pm.

Off I went. Following the crowd I even found a slightly shorter route to the station—bonus! Or maybe I was just lucky. About to climb the stairs to the platform, I nearly forgot to validate my train pass, but in remembering, I gave myself an opportunity to glance at the departures board listing the trains, routes and platform numbers. My train was leaving in 4 minutes from platform 12.

Perfect.

Up the stairs I went. I walked along the platform with the notion of sitting closer to the front of the train which would have been perfect…had I not been on platform 7. Shit.

The rails that ran between the platforms were not deep by any means and I could have sprinted (in my favourite four-inch heels) across the tracks to the right platform, but we’ve all seen the videos about how those bright ideas turn out. Instead, I opted for walking along the platform to the next set of stairs back down to the concourse level that would allow me to find my way to the platform 12. Unbeknownst to me, however, was that the next set of stairs was located at the absolute opposite end of the platform.

Glancing at the time, my heels and I picked up the pace at 5:18 pm. I didn’t see a train at 12 yet, but if the GO schedules stood for anything, it was on its way. I regrettably paused to ask an employee if there was a faster way other than the longest way, and with his initial “uhhhh” I immediately felt the urge to panic creep up on me. On his prolonged suggestion, I tore for the elevator, rode down to the concourse and sprinted as best I could in the directions the signs he’d promised me pointed. At the bottom of the stairs of the RIGHT platform for 12/13, I met a woman who seemed to be in the same rush I was.

   “Go on up ahead of me, I don’t want to hold you up,” she offered.

   “Nah, just come—can you SEE the shoes I’m wearing?! I’m not going to be THAT fast up the stairs.”

She insisted, but followed close behind. As I arrived at the top of the stairs, to my relief I spotted a train only just pulling in to the station. I slowed my pace to walk a little ways to where the first line-up of people was beginning. In that momentarily slower stride, I noticed something crucial: I was watching the train pulling into platform 13. Without thinking further, I whirled around and hopped onto the waiting train behind me, seconds before the doors sighed to a close.

A gloriously sweaty mess, I plopped myself into a seat and didn’t exhale until the voice over the loud speaker confirmed I was on the right train. Romantic train rides now ruined by both other passengers and by me, I just settled in for the regular old commuter ride home.

A couple more letters

Dear Self,

I am so proud of you.  You wrote your own resume, applied to a job that you wanted, and you shone the shit out of the interviews.  Excellent.  Congratulations on your new career as a writer.

Love,

Self
...

Dear Universe,

I owe you BIG time.

Thanks,

melody

Song of the Moment - "I Won't Give Up" - Jason Mraz

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
There's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find

'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up.

I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
...

I won't give up on us, God knows we're worth it.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

I know I've been writing to you kind of often lately, but let's just say it's because you've been so awesome about responding.  If you could do me a favour and just shine some good fortune on me tomorrow, that would be great--and that would probably keep me from asking about the money thing for a while too.

Thanks, Universe.

melody

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

I DID ask for sun the other day.  Thanks for listening.

melody
...

I was talking about pathetic fallacy the other day.  It's still pathetic.  So pathetic.  But this is in the good way.  Once again, it's pouring and I'm dancing and it's great.

Water-log

By the time it was over, there was water on the floor, the tub ledge, the mats, the ceiling, the toilet--there were wet indentations in the toilet paper roll and huge wads of it in the toilet itself.

I had noticed a spider on the ceiling AFTER I'd started to shower.  He was a mobile sucker and was making his way over my head where the shower controls and shower head was.  I tried to discourage him at first by flicking water up at him (water on the ceiling), but while it paused him for a moment, it wasn't enough to deter him and he continued to mosey on over the taps of the shower.  I really tried my best to ignore that he was there at all--I could barely see him without my glasses--but when he started to DANGLE from the ceiling, that was enough.

Out of the shower I flew (water on the mats), leaving the water running because there was no way I was reaching DIRECTLY UNDER the spider to turn the taps.  I grabbed a huge wad of toilet paper (wet indentations on the tp roll) which proved to be harder than you'd think with sopping wet hands--the water kept melting the squares.  Once I had an adequately gimongous mass of tp, I climbed back onto the edge of the tub (water on the tub ledge), aimed, and smushed the spider where he stood--upside-down on the ceiling.

Success!

I tossed the wad of a coffin down to the toilet below (water on the toilet) but missed (fail) because the wad stuck to my still wet fingers and changed the trajectory completely. I had to get down to retrieve the carcass (water on the floor) finally tossed him to his final doom in the can.

It was then and only then that I was able to finally return to my shower in peace.

Of course afterwards was when I noticed there was a spider over the sink...

Better in the Sun

This morning was grey.  It was dreadfully grey.  Though I'd already slept in, it took a lot of convincing to drag my body out of bed.  Not even a peanut butter and banana sandwich could break my gloomy mood.  I set the kettle to boil before I plopped myself in front of the computer to open up all I had to work on for the day.  Two minutes later, I tweeted about the lack of sun and bailed back downstairs to make myself a cup of tea to try to melt away the cold blueness I was feeling.

Back at the computer, I had to plug my phone in to charge since I'd neglected to do so last night--it was then that I noticed that I'd missed a call from a long distance number.  Normally this would result in me crabbily deleting the notification and grumbling something about damn-telemarketers...but this one left me a message.

No way.  Someone wanted to talk to me about my resume?  My application to a job was actually viewed and viewed by human eyes?

I called Sandra back (though Sandra wasn't even a Sandra - thank god I'd actually taken a minute to LISTEN to the message) and we talked.  And talked and talked.  And as we talked, I swear the sun came out, even just for a little bit.  

If ever pathetic fallacy actually said anything about the moment, I hope it was this one.  

Song of the Moment: "Somebody that I used to Know - Gotye feat. Kimbra

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
I told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kinda sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing
I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough

No, you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
Guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believin it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know

But you didn't have cut me off
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing
I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
and that feels so rough

No, you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
Guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
...

Though I'm pretty sure it's, like, EVERYONE'S song of the moment.

Arrested on The Fringe

Due to season finales and breaks, we've moved from those other series on to this one.  As Malcolm explained "I could get three seasons of this show all at once!"  Good enough reason for me.  It's been keeping us busy.

While each episode leaves you wanting for more, it's not the cliffhanger gimmick like the other episodes.  The plots are fun, but each episode wraps itself up nicely so that if you need to go off to bed before watching the next installment, you can do so without having to toss and turn wondering if our heroine is going to make it out alive.

What's also been keeping me busy is something that I really should have done (and completed) a long time ago.

Brodder bought me all 3 seasons a while ago, but I never cracked it open until now.  

"There's always money in the banana stand."

Do I get training for that?

I think I might just apply.  :)

Pop references

me:  How the hell was that a drawing of britney?
bro:  Google "britney car umbrella"
me:  Seriously?
me:  How did I not know this?
me:  In that case, that was an amazing drawing.

I can't believe we didn't screen shot that.  :(

Drawn to the dark side

I recently switched phones.  I went from a BlackBerry to an Android phone--it seemed that while I was away in Asia, everyone that used to be on my BBM list graduated that way too, so it was only natural that I catch up.  That and my friend GAVE me an Android; the Samsung Galaxy Nexus.  Only a day into using it did I realize that switching was probably a bad idea.

It. Is. So. Much. Fun.

At first it was Scramble with Friends and Words with Friends where playing against Brodder I continually got my no-ass handed to me and I kept going back for more.  But then I caved to what I knew was going to be my biggest addiction:  Draw Something.

I'd never played it before, only caught glimpses of it on my friends' phones, but I knew it was going to be trouble.  It was.  I probably downloaded it at 11:30pm, and finally threw in the towel to sleep at 4:30am.  Mostly because no one else was awake to play with me.

So. Worth. It.

I continued to play and add friends the next day.  I'd drained my battery only 3 hours after waking up from playing games continuously.  The best Draw Something chat I had was with dimps:

Coming up on Turn 21
dimps:  Playing with you is so much faster than playing with Kee.  It took days to get to this level.  With you it's been hours.
mel:  yeah, well, whether I draw slow or fast, it's still going to suck, so why take so long?
dimps:  true!

And I'm still at it.

(I know using words is technically not allowed, but if I didn't, she would have had NO clue.)

Not just cat-napping

I scooted upstairs to grab a book and found the cat still in bed.  The sunlight was streaming through the windows and had been for hours, and yet he had not stirred from his comfortable spot at the foot of our bed, despite our warm feet having been missing since morning.  I gingerly stepped over to him to see if he was awake enough for a pat on the head.  He opened his eyes not even halfway and dared me to wake him.

I left him as I found him.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

I was thinking about writing you another letter today about you possibly sending a little money my way and it being, again, groovy and supremely awesome...

...but I guess your ESP was on today.

Thanks again,

melody

Hunting a River Destination

My last post was inspired by the latest cliffhanger series we were watching, but of course I FORGOT to write about it.  FYI, that show would be The River starring Bruce Greenwood (Captain Pike, from the latest Star Trek Movie).

It's like watching Ghost Hunters mashed up with Destination Truth except that THINGS HAPPEN!!!  We pummeled through the entire first season in 2.5 nights.  But then again, I think it was just a half season.  C'mon season 2!!!

Hanging off the cliff

I can't seem to recall TV shows being so addictive.  They used to be about whatever they were about, and then they'd finish telling their story by the end of their time limit--be it half an hour or a full hour--and you were good until next week.  Yet somewhere along the way, someone (brilliant) re-invented the cliffhanger.

Sure I was told to tune in next time at the same Bat-time, to the same Bat-channel, and sure I did, but it wasn't because I needed to know whether Batman survived or not (because I already knew by that age that he always did) but because there really wasn't anything else on.  Now when I watch any show that's not reality--not that I watch reality--at the end of the hour, it does its best to sink its hooks into me to leave me wanting for more...and more often than not, it's successful.  

Cases in point?

The Walking Dead

Irresistible to Malcolm (he loves his zombies), he began the download of this series after he discovered a synopsis of it online.  While the plotline isn't that complicated (world apocalypse due to zombie infestation, few survivors that have issues with each other, everyone stays together anyway trying to find some rumoured about safe haven), every episode leaves you with the knowledge that someone is about to let their guard down when a zombie is just around the corner.  

That or Carl is just never in the fucking house.  

Alcatraz

Already the mystery of the show intrigues me as I have never in my handful of times to San Francisco been able to get my ass over to Alcatraz to check it out.  This show claims that Alcatraz never really closed in 1963 as history officially says it did--everyone disappeared en masse instead and are now mysteriously reappearing one by one, guards and in-mates alike.  The job of Det. Rebecca Madsen and Hurley Hugo Dr. Diego Soto is to find them before they cause any trouble and try to figure out where they came from, though their boss, Agent Emerson Hauser doesn't exactly make it easy for them.

(At the end of every episode, I expect them to stamp the logo of "LOST" across the screen--don't ask me why...)

The Firm

Shot in Toronto, half the allure of this show is trying to figure out the locations of the shots, and whether or not I recognize any of the BG actors from the set of Still Seas.  Even Dad's been cast a few times to be BG for this show.  The gimmick of this series is to do the flashback/flash-forward a couple of times to show you what's up next without actually telling you how you got there.  Damn them.  And double damn them for getting cancelled...I really love watching Juliette Lewis in trashy kind of roles like this.  Even better was when she was a weed dealer in Due Date.  I digress.

It's unfortunate that The Firm is the one of the three that's slated to be axed because of the three, I enjoyed its mash-up of characters the most.  The Walking Dead, while it had its shockers of killed-off characters, has left too many characters with predictably annoying traits alive--enough that I spend more time guessing the moments one of them will do something predictable than paying attention to the plotline.  Oh, and ZERO chemistry between the Asian dude and the White chick--it was nice that they tried, but it was awful.  Alcatraz isn't that bad, but I just can't get over Hugo being Diego half the time.  But then, I love Hugo/Hurley, so it's not something that's completely a bad thing.

It could also be that now, instead of watching things one episode at a time on TV, since we don't have cable and download everything, we have the option of vegging out for days at a time on the couch, delving deep into a single season or an entire series.  It could be that rather than get up off the couch to rejoin reality, I'd much rather laze about and live in someone else's world a little longer.

Or, it's just damned good TV.

And probably more to come

My last post included "The (SECOND) Poo Story."  Here's the first poo story, in case you were interested.  It also includes an ehbaba poo story in the comments, much to my tired delight tonight.  :)

Looking like shit

I BBMed Señorita just now:

  "I put more poo on my face.  This stuff is amazing."

The things that only your best friend would understand...
...

The (Second) Poo Story


So, my gloriously convenient eczema decided to break out under my lip recently.  I wasn't too worried because the last time that it did that, I found this cream that totally killed it in 2 days flat.  This time, it was oozy and cracked and gross for like, a week now.  Anytime it FELT like it was starting to get better, it would just go ahead and get gross a couple hours later.

Ugh.

So Señorita came over today on a totally unrelated matter, but I whined my heart out to her about it anyway--that my damn face would just not dry up and heal.  Being an RN, she stared at me and thought about it.

  "Do you want to try some of that iodosorb paste we put on Malcolm's foot?"

Sure, if she thought it'd help.  A while ago, Malcolm had a wound on his foot that was also having a hard time scabbing over and healing because it was just so wet.  Señorita had brought this stuff for him that I'd known he'd been putting on his foot that healed him up good and quick, but I'd never really paid much attention.

So, sterile gauze, saline, and paste in hand, she tended to me.  She checked me out and cleaned me up first, and then out came the paste.

  "That's what the paste looks like?"

Squeezed out of the tube onto a little square of gauze, the paste looked like a little squirt of baby poo.

Yup.  That's what it looked like and that's what she smeared on my face.  Okay, so I had shitty paste smeared on my face.  How long should this stay on for?

  "Let's try it for at least 20 minutes."

As so we carried on.  We chatted, had our coffee/shake, shared stories, searched the web, touched up the poo when it started to slide out of place from under my lip, checked out dating profiles, played with the cat.

Before she left for the day and I went to get ready to leave the house for a meeting, Señorita was kind enough to clean me up.

  "Yeah, I don't think this is going to stain too badly..."

STAIN?!  I wish I'd had a picture of the moment she realized that she forgot this might stain my skin a bit.  Talk about an "oh shit..." moment, while she was dabbing at my face with saline.  Regardless, it didn't stain my skin (too badly) and according to her professional opinion, it had helped.  For me, the result wasn't apparent until 3 hours later when I checked myself out again at home.

It worked.

My skin was still a little cracked and dry, but it definitely wasn't gaping or oozing.  With a solid 2 hours before I had to be anywhere else, I decided to go for a second round of treatment...hence, the BBM message.

Hey, if you can't smear shit on your face at home in front of your best friend, when can you?