My Journal:  

 

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This is my journal.  I'll only update it if I have something insightful or amusing to share.  If I start writing about what I ate for dinner day in and day out, then I'll know to quit.

But the goal of my journal is to exercise my creative writing skills and practice expressing my thoughts on a regular basis.  I hope you enjoy it.

Other Journal Archives>> 

 

 

Sunday, August 14, 2010
"How To Raise a Son"

It happened 1 week early but it was not an unwelcome surprise. My second child was born during the wee hours of July 17th, 2010. Even though this second pregnancy was so similar to my first, I knew on the 17th that I was in for a different ride....

First of all, my water broke at home in the middle of the night. With my first, I had to get the nurse in the hospital to do the messy honours. This time, I was awoken at 1am with the sensation that I had just spent an afternoon at Splashdown Park. I whispered to Robin, "OMG, I think my water just broke." And his response: "What? You're kidding me!" No, I kid not.

So we called my mother and she insisted she was awake (yeah, right). But what a trooper, she was over at our house from North Vancouver within 40 minutes. Meanwhile I calmly ran around the house gathering up last minute things to throw into my hospital bag (camera, cell phone, charger, etc). The 3 of us joked and quietly laughed about the craziness of it all while my daughter slept soundly in her bedroom, totally unaware that all of our lives would change so drastically very soon.

Robin and I got to the hospital and it was so quiet in the delivery ward. Last time, at the same time in the early morning, it was a zoo. Everything and everyone was so calm and serene. The nurse was just as surprised as we were to find out that I was 5 cm dilated already. Piece of cake, lucky me.

We were moved into a birthing suite and started the waiting game. But I was so mellow and my contractions were so mild that I let Robin sleep during the active labour (all 2 hours of it). Robin joked that he wished someone would just wake him up and tell him, "You have a boy/girl!" The nurse authoritatively informed him that he was so fortunate to have a wife like me because she didn't know any woman who allowed her spouse to sleep during labour. Ha, so true.

The nurse also told me how lucky I was. "Most women would kill to dilate like you, my dear!" I'm flattered, I guess? But then the pain started. Well, it's more like pressure. In the ass. Yes, it's all about your ass during labour. Most people won't tell you that, but it's true. And for me it induces a bit of a panic situation. I went from calm to 'Get this thing out of me!' very quickly.

I looked up to the nurse, doctor, and Robin and they all had bemused looks on their faces. They were thinking, "Well, she's kind of freaking out all of a sudden. What took her so long!" I told them I wanted to slap them all but I didn't have the energy. They don't call it labour for nothing. I was exhausted after only 25 minutes of pushing.

But then that moment happened. From my vantage point I could see the doctor pulling out my newborn, then suddenly I had a warm, wet body on my chest. "What did we have?" was my first question. The doctor was too busy with other things that she hadn't even had the chance to look. So after a 5 second delay which felt like forever, we were finally told, "It's a boy!" Wow. Seriously.

And what a little momma's boy he is. He loves to be held, cuddled, and coddled all the time. He's growing like a weed and feeding like a fiend. He constantly looks for me i.e. follows my voice. And I can't believe he's only been with us for 4 weeks. It feels like he's been with us forever in a good way.

So there you have it. Our family of 3 has turned into 4. And now I constantly wonder what both my children will be like when they're older. Will they be shy or outgoing? Attractive or average? Mellow or high energy? Only time will tell. In the meantime, I'm trying to relish each day I have with Sloane and Tai because I know they won't be my little 'babies' forever. It goes by so quickly, too quickly, that I need to stop and bask in their youthful beauty as much as I can. Nevermind the dirty diapers, spit-soaked blankets and sleepless nights. Those are just small inconveniences to raising happy and healthy children. I am not a religious person, but I definitely feel blessed.

Cue clouds parting and sun rays shining down and angelic music. Sloane and Tai, I am so very thankful to have you as my children and I will do the best I can to add happiness to your lives.

But if you think we're having a third child, you are totally out of your minds....

 


Monday, July 5, 2010
"Heartbreak Turns to Pride on the Playground"

I observed something interesting recently on the ferry. Sloane was hanging out in the children's area and we were seated a few feet away. She took a shine to 2 older boys (about 7 years old) who were playing in the corner but they wanted nothing to do with her. One boy was especially adamant that he didn't want a little baby hanging around them. When I heard those words I couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. At any minute I anticipated a teary-eyed little girl running to her mother for comfort. I braced myself.

But no. That didn't happen. Instead Sloane looked at them defiantly and exclaimed that she wasn't a little baby, that she didn't wear diapers. The boys repeatedly told her to go away but she just glared back at them and said, "No."

After a few minutes one of the boys ran up to me and whined, "She's not listening to me!" I proudly shrugged my shoulders and responded that she didn't always listen to me either. Finally the 2 older boys took off in exasperation and Sloane stood her ground and remained in the corner of the play room. Then another little girl and a gentle younger boy soon joined her and they all began to quietly play together.

I was so proud of her, not giving up and letting older kids bully her around. Or maybe she's a sociopath and didn't comprehend the aggression that was directed towards her? Oh well, whatever. I was still proud.
 


Sunday, July 4, 2010
"Quote of the Day 26: Thanks for Not Inviting the Grim Reaper"

And once again, today's Quote of the Day belongs to my oh-so-entertaining 3 year-old daughter.

We were on Mayne Island testing out the new motor boat. Sloane was very excited about the whole experience. The last time she had been on a boat was last summer with our little rowboat.

The water was a bit choppy but beautiful, and the blue sky was peppered with a few, fluffy clouds. The roar of the small engine was surprisingly loud and it was fun to be booting around the bay at a much faster pace than we were used to with our rowboat.

I was sitting up front to balance out the boat while Robin steered in the back and Sloane sat beside him. I looked behind me and saw our daughter gripping her daddy's leg quite tightly and her gaze was focused to her feet and not the breathtaking view. I thought it was a bit odd so asked how she was doing. Her monotone response: "I'm okay." Hmmmm, something wasn't quite right.

When we got to shore about 15 minutes later I jumped out to help drag the boat up on the beach. Sloane turned to her dad and admitted that she was indeed terrified of the entire experience, but then she sincerely told him:

>Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much for not drowning and killing me. Thank you!

So sincere and honest, but kind of crazy at the same time.
 


Friday, July 2, 2010
"Quote of the Day 25: Pickle Tickle"

Today's Quote of the Day belongs to my oh-so-entertaining 3 year-old daughter (yet again).

Darrick introduced Sloane to the "cut the pickle" game. He puts his 2 index fingers together (end to end) and tells her to cut the pickle. As soon as she separates his fingers, he pounces on her and says 'Tickle, tickle!' as he tickles her with his 2 fingers. Of course she loves it.

Well, after a few minutes of laughing hysterically and playing cut the pickle over and over again, she started to get silly and talk nonsense. But at one point I distinctly heard her say:

>Hide the pickle! Hide the pickle!

Oooooooh, yikes. Uh, not a good phrase for a young child to be saying. Yeah, my mind is in the gutter but c'mon - there are some things that children just shouldn't say.
 


Tuesday, June 29, 2010
"Egg Babies Make Me Want to Hurl"

My daughter loves bugs and insects, and I love her fascination and absolute fearlessness when it comes to studying and handling them. But today was a bit much.

When I came home from work, Robin told me to 'brace myself' because Sloane had something to show me. He then recounted the story of how earlier in the afternoon he took down a small wasps' nest which we suspected was abandoned. Of course Sloane was intrigued so they dissected it carefully. To their surprise (and Sloane's absolute delight) they discovered about a dozen wasp larvae or pupae (not sure what the exact term was).

Anyway, they were fat, white, and blind and just lolled around. Apparently Sloane picked them up and cradled them in her hands, proudly declaring that they were her egg babies. As they writhed and contorted in her dimpled hand she pretended to stroke them and said, "Tickle, tickle!"

When I got home she was all excited to show me her egg babies. She had put them in a little ledge of her playhouse in the backyard. I could see them, all fat and maggot-like, rolling blindly in their plastic container. I wanted to puke, but put on a brave face because I didn't want to discourage my daughter's intrigue with the insect world. But it sure was difficult not to toss my cookies.

 


Monday, June 28, 2010
"Monsieur Escargot"

Today when I came home from work my daughter greeted me while holding on to a small snail. It was her pet of the day. She was thrilled. I asked her what his name was and she proudly told me Guy (and she pronounced it as rhymes with Wii).

I loved how her pet snail had a French name. So sophisticated.
 


Thursday, June 24, 2010
"Cranberry Jell-O Stings Your Nostrils"

I am a fan of Bill Maher's political humour and the other day I happened to catch one of his stand-up shows on HBO. Now, even though I admire him I don't often watch his television show. So when I saw this 1.5 hour scathing stand-up performance I was beside myself with laughter, so much so that the cranberry Jell-O that I was eating came out of my nose at one point.

Note to self: don't watch Bill Maher while ingesting Jell-O (or any food item for that matter) because it stings the nostrils on the way out.
 


Wednesday, June 16, 2010
"Ancient Graffiti"

Today in the lunch room we were talking about ancient sites around the world (e.g. Great Wall of China) and I was surprised to hear that many of these historic landmarks have been defaced with graffiti. And we're talking vandalism from 300+ years ago.

What did these people write? Was it something to the effect of 'Weng-Ma was here"? Or were the messages more appropriate for the times? I have no idea. Did they write 'dirty' things, like the ubiquitous 'Fu-Q' insult, or crude drawings of male genitalia?

One wonders what people were thinking hundreds of years ago when they defaced public property....
 


Monday, June 14, 2010
"Psychic Driving"

I have many traffic and driving-related pet peeves and listing them all in one place would just be ridiculously long. But I encountered the same issue twice the other day and I just have to vent....

Attention drivers: we can't all read your minds. When I approach a 4-way stop and I'm positive it's my turn to go, I will enter the intersection. However, based on your actions, sometimes it's not clear to me that YOU understand what is going on or whose turn it is. So if I'm turning left and you're heading straight towards me and you start accelerating into the intersection as I'm turning left, I'm going to slow down because it looks like you're trying to go first.

So do NOT shake your hand impatiently at me and try to wave me through. Yes, I KNOW it's my turn to go. But based on your aggressive behaviour, it appears to me that you're clueless about what's going and and I'm going to be cautious in order to avoid a potential accident.

Idiots.
 


Thursday, June 3, 2010
"Quote of the Day 24: They'll Be Calling Child Services Again (or Confiscating Our Blender At Least)"

Today's Quote of the Day belongs to my oh-so-entertaining 3 year-old daughter (yet again).

The man likes a good homemade daiquiri or margarita once in awhile. We recently bought some fresh strawberries to he went out and got some dark rum and was mixing up some deluxe girly-drinks in the blender. Well, Sloane just thought the ruby-red crushed-ice drink was irresistible, especially with the straw sticking out of it.

She begged her father for just the tiniest sip so she was given one. But then of course she persisted and requested more. We told her no - this drink was Daddy's drink, it had booze in it and she couldn't have any more.

But that didn't stop her. She pleaded some more:

>Oh, but the booze is so, so, so very sour and delicious! I want some more!

Egad. What have we done?
 


Thursday, May 27, 2010
Is That REALLY the Best Sales Tactic You Can Think of? Really?
I am reminded of a recurring skit on "Saturday Night Live" on the Weekend Update with Seth and Amy called 'Really??!!' Basically the 2 news reporters would go off on a recent event that just reeked of ignorance and stupidity, and constantly question the perpetrators' decisions and actions, and punctuate every over-analyzed observation with an emphatic 'Really??!!"

I work on the 18th floor of a tower downtown. We don't have a proper reception so visitors have to ring the bell and whoever is free opens the door. The other day I opened the door and was greeted by a smiling, tanned, 30-something man who was shadowed by a younger, sullen-looking Asian guy who may as well not be present. Mr. George Hamilton proceeded to try and sell me on some spa services. I was honestly in the middle of something so I told him I would certainly take some of his pamphlets and leave them in the common lounge for my work colleagues to peruse them.

Without breaking that fake smile he apologized that he only had 1 pamphlet with the prices and services descriptions, and instead would love to come in for a few minutes and talk about it some more. I started to lose my patience ever so slightly when I told him I was busy and if he could at least tell me his company's URL (certainly they have a web site?) then I could circulate that to the office. Still grinning like an idiot he explained that they didn't have a web site.

At the end of my rope, I flat-out told him that I had to get back to work and there was nothing else I could do at that point. He asked if he could come back another day and talk some more? I told him why not, because the chances of it being me (as opposed to one of my co-workers) opening the door for him again in the future were slim.

Now cue Seth and Amy: Really? So, you're going door-to-door at busy, downtown offices and trying to get some face time to explain in person your company's different spa services? Really?? You don't have ANY advertising literature that you can at least hand out and potentially reach a wider audience other than the front-door person? Really? We're running a software business here. We're lucky if some of our colleagues remember to bathe and dress themselves appropriately for work, never mind splurging $200 on a full body scrub and facial mask. Come on, really?! REALLY!!!

 


Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Return of Pork Chops
Way back in the 1990s I remember Sheldon and I were obsessed with some flash movies about a psychotic donkey and his misadventures. But then the website closed up shop and we couldn't find them on-line anymore.

Well, the other day I decided to look for them and sure enough they had been dusted off and re-posted. I found my favourite one, "Pork Chops Goes to Vegas" (link is here).

I sent the link to Sheldon and we had a good laugh. OMG, the movie was as crazy as I remember it and it brought back good memories. Good times indeed.
 


Monday, May 17, 2010
Trumped By a 3-Year-Old (Again)
The other day the family unit was walking around the neighborhood. My daughter is a flower-lover so I was pointing out some colourful foliage to her. I saw what I thought were bluebells and drew her attention to them.

She carefully inspected them in her chubby, dimpled hands and then said matter-of-factly, "No, Mommy. Those aren't bluebells. Those are bleeding hearts."

WTF? Seriously. What the 'f' are bleeding hearts? I went home and Googled them and sure enough - the 3-year-old child was right, and I was wrong.

Good lord. I am in SO much trouble 10 years down the road....
 


Monday, May 10, 2010
Clever Labels Taken to a New Level
JJ, James and myself were speculating about the possibility of 2 people whom we know 'hooking up' and what would that be like. We are convinced one of the parties has Asberger's Syndrome, and the other party is just an all-round, creepy, brown-noser (basically a Greaseball). So it would be Asberger's meets Greaseball.

"So, in other words, an Ass-ball," I observed.

I had to give myself a pat on the back for that one.
 


Friday, May 7, 2010
Parental Units as DBs
One of my favourite blogs to read as a new parent is this one. I love the guy's sarcastic, borderline mean-spirited, tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Just when I think it can't get funnier, I read another entry and get a pleasant surprise.

I stumbled across one quote that I just have to share. As I've mentioned before numerous times, I try not to write too much about being a parent for fears of coming across as too busy-body, or authoritative, or (God-forbid) superior. Anyway, here's what he said:

>People who write about parenting, myself included, are busybody douchebags with control issues.

I could not have said it better myself. Bravo.
 


Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tracheotomy Dust Catcher
I am of Asian descent so I know there are some people (mostly also of Asian descent) who have some rather long and noticeable hair(s) growing out of moles. I personally have no problem removing hair from my own body, but I can respect other people's wishes (in this case I think it's superstition) to want to keep these tendrils flowing out of imperfections in their skin.

But today I saw a doozy. Holy cow! An elderly Asian man on the bus had about 30 long, thick, grey hairs protruding from his neck near his Adam's Apple. They looked like a geriatric sea anemone and they were positioned right where someone might have a tracheotomy insert. I know it's rude but I just hard to stare for a bit, to take it all in.
 


Friday, April 23, 2010
My Own Mr. Mom
The construction scene has been kind of slow lately, so the man has been working less than part-time hours. Don't get me wrong, we're not upset about this. In fact, Robin is digging the time off and opportunity to do some yard work and other maintenance tasks around the house.

And me? I'm loving it. I have my own Mr. Mom at home who cooks, cleans, and takes care of the child until I walk in the door from bringing home the bacon. Yep, no complaints here at all.
 


Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Beyond Fashion Faux Pas
On the weekend, the family was driving in the car in East Vancouver. As we passed a cyclist I noticed that he was wearing white cycling shorts.

"Now he's brave," Robin commented and echoed my thoughts. Yep, when you don't wear underwear under your skin-tight Lycra shorts, it doesn't leave much to the imagination. I could definitely make out the skin tone of the ass cheek as its owner was frantically pedaling beside us.

Then just as we started to overtake him, he did the unthinkable: he stood up in the saddle. Yeeesh! I got an eyeful, moose knuckle and all. Some people definitely need to look in the mirror (and in his case bend over to observe the view) before they leave the house.
 


Monday, April 19, 2010
That is One, Hot Tamale
I recently bought some Medium Salsa from Shoppers Drug Mart (their Organics line). And I was quite impressed how spicy it was. I don't know why but I'm always impressed when food in Vancouver is actually spicy. Good times.
 


Saturday, April 17, 2010
Would You Like More Tea, Polly Prissy-Pants?
Observing young children engage in make-believe play time can be just utterly precious (well, in my opinion). When I watch my 3-year old daughter play tea party, I just want to giggle as I observe her through a slit in the doorway.

Seeing how focused she is while arranging the tea cups and saucers, pieces of plastic toast and fake cupcakes, and little cutlery is just too adorable. But then when she gets her menagerie of stuffed animals and carefully organizes them around the table and then gives a running commentary as she's doing this, well - I just want to melt. It's so adorable.

It kind of reminds me of Cartman on South Park and his tea-time except I don't want to mock my daughter about it. Instead, I would love to be included and participate. And sometimes she does invite me. And I happily nibble at hard, plastic food and pretend to drink imaginary liquids out of tiny tea cups. And I love every minute of it.
 


Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wait, Couldn't That Be Some Food On His Upper Lip?
The other day while I was walking around downtown, I had to give someone a second glance. Amongst the sidewalk crowd there was a non-descript, young-ish guy (mid-30s?) and I thought I saw something on his upper lip.

"Nah, it couldn't be," I thought to myself. Always willing to give things the benefit of the doubt, I looked again, convinced there was some undetected food smeared above his mouth. But no, my initial guess was correct. The dude had a full-on Hitler moustache.

It was a little difficult to detect because he was fair-haired. So it wasn't a dark, severe, exclamation mark between his nose and lip. But still, I was a little surprised to see it downtown on Mr. Joe Average, dressed in his chinos and white button-shirt and carrying a knapsack. Bizarre.

 


Monday, April 11, 2010
Parents Behaving Badly
I
've come to the conclusion that some people just can't get out of the playground. In other words, I see behaviours that are reasonably acceptable and pretty much expected by children done by adults all the time. And funnily enough I saw an example of this over the weekend at the playground (of all places).

Now I didn't hear the entire confrontation but I witnessed and overheard parts of it. From what I could gather, 2 small boys (3 years old?) were fighting over one of the boy's toys. One of the mothers decided to intervene, quite aggressively (let's call her Loose Cannon). She stormed over and ripped the toys out of both the boys' hands and dragged her son (now crying and upset) away from the situation. When the other mother arrived (I'm calling her Potty Mouth) to comfort her son, LC stormed over again and from her body language and wild gestures it looked like she was chastising PM (for her parenting skills, for her child's behaviour, who knows).

Anyway PM's reaction was a full-on verbal assault of 'F-you, lady! F-off!" (and I've censored it here). PM also yelled the statement, "You don't touch another child!" It got kind of ugly but then it died down (only after it caught the attention of other park visitors who were eyeing the situation cautiously, like us, hoping it didn't get out of control).

Shame on both of them, I thought. There were so many other directions this situation could have gone in. There was no need to criticize another person's parenting skills or child's behaviour (hello, they're kids and children fight sometimes). Nor is it acceptable to touch another person's child in such a situation (life and death situation yes, but not regarding an argument over a toy). And there was certainly no need for the F-bomb in a public playground with dozens of children present.

And most importantly I couldn't help but notice the 2 boys' reactions. They looked shell-shocked and mystified by their mothers' behaviours. What a great example for these 2 boys.

Tsk, tsk, parents. You should look in the mirror occasionally and practice what you preach and realize children learn by observation. For shame.

 


Thursday, April 1, 2010
There's No Place Like the Workplace
I
've just recently started to tell my co-workers about my growing baby bump. Their reactions have been wonderful and supportive. It's especially sweet to see the guys' positive reactions (many of them are fathers). And since I've worked with many of my co-workers for the past several years, we've become quite familiar and comfortable with each other.

For example: I walked by Derek's desk recently and stopped briefly to eye his candy dish. It looked like the treats were for sharing but I had to verify with him if I could take one.

Without taking his eyes off his monitor or his fingers off his keyboard, he amicably responded, "No problem, go ahead and help yourself - Fatso." I looked at his face. Just a slight smirk. Nothing too cheeky, nothing mean.

I told him (in between laughs): you DO realize that most pregnant women would cry if you called them that. Then Chris (who was eavesdropping) added: yes, then they would beat you. But Derek's smile just remained intact when he told me, "Come on. I think I know you by now."

And it's true. He does know me well enough to make off-colour jokes and not offend me. Ah, sometimes there's no place like the workplace....

 


Monday, March 22, 2010
Endless Stories of the Child
My daughter is an endless source of amusement for me. Now that she has just turned 3 years old, I am constantly entertained by her developing brain and silly antics.

1) Dream On:
One thing that is part of our morning routine is I ask her about her dreams that she had the night before. Or I'll volunteer a description of mine, and then it's her turn to tell me about her nocturnal adventures. Now, I'm not 100% sure that she actually has these dreams and remembers them or if she's making the whole thing up? But based on her lack of hesitation when I ask her to give me some descriptions, I think she does tell me about actual dreams she has had and most likely just embellishes them.

So the other day she started to tell me about a dream from last night where she had a big sister named 'Funder.' I had to double-check on that (Are you sure you don't mean 'Thunder', sweetie?). And they were laughing and having fun and Sloane enjoyed being little again, and she was wearing a small hat in the dream too. These were pretty much her exact words. 

WTF. Holy crap. Seriously, we're both sleepy-eyed and she's sitting on the potty telling me all this and the descriptions and dialogue flow freely (there are no big pauses on her part) and I nod and smile but inside I'm thinking, 'I can only wonder about that 95% of your little brain that I don't hear about.'

2) Lucy Van Pelt Should Have Charged More:
My daughter and I also have in-depth conversations about her feelings. She will have her typical, young person tantrums every now and then but after a few minutes she wants to talk about them. She wants to discuss what events have just transpired ("I threw the ball and it hit the window"), her feelings at the time (her reaction, e.g. "I was very angry and frustrated!"), Mommy's reaction ("Mommy was angry because I threw the ball inside the house!") then her feelings after the fact ("I feel better now!"), then we often give each other a hug after I've asked her if she wants one, then she runs off happy and with a bounce in her step as if nothing bad happened. You would never know she had just been crying 5 minutes ago.

If this cycle of self-awareness, guilt-admittance, exposure of feelings and healing was this easy with everyone, I would totally be a psychiatrist. It would be easy money. But then after having these almost-adult level discussions with my daughter, she goes and craps her pants. Ah, still a child....

3) From Pampers to Depends
The other day Sloane was running after me, laughing, as I headed to the washroom. "I chase you, Mommy!" she yelled gleefully. Then she ran right up to my rear-end, jammed her nose into my butt crack (of my pants, of course), took a deep inhalation then mockingly exclaimed, "Ewwwwww-eeeee! You have poo in your diaper!" I was a little taken aback, mainly from the physical shock of feeling her little nose so close to my nether-regions that I could only muster the response, "Uhm, I don't wear diapers. I use the potty!" But she was running off in another direction, laughing maniacally. I just had to laugh too.

Where do they develop these senses of humour? What prompts them to pull such pranks? Once again, those little minds are so intriguing and their actions are so amusing.

 

Monday, March 15, 2010
"James Cameron as the Tin Man"

I like it when I surprise myself. It gives me a chuckle and keeps me on my toes. The most recent example of this was on the weekend and it concerns a certain movie you may have heard about called "Avatar".... 

I wasn't going to see "Avatar." I don't care if the rest of the world said (with their box office receipts and reviews) that it was a great movie, the biggest block-buster ever, yadda-yadda. I stand by my decisions no matter how illogical they may seem. And I just didn't have a compelling reason to see this particular film. Until my mother coerced me. Yes, my senior citizen mother had seen this movie in 3-D and kept telling me, "You have to go see it!" Then she finally sweetened the pot by making it effortless for me: she would provide babysitting on a weekend and I could go catch a matinee. Talk about an offer I couldn't refuse....

I balked at the 3 hour running time. Oh good lord! I don't have that kind of time! But there I was on a Sunday morning, tired from the recent daylight savings time change, in a dark theatre with some oversized glasses on. Ah, time to take a nap! (a $14.99 nap, I might add). But I didn't fall asleep. No, I was initially quite amused at the initial formulaic storyline and stereotype characters - this was going to be fun. And the 3-D effects definitely added another dimension of movie-going experience. I must admit my attention started to wane around the movie's half point (another 1.5 hours to go??). But then something happened. 

Suddenly I realized that I had a vested interest in these characters. I wanted the 'good' guys to win. I wanted to see a lesson taught. I wanted to see someone kick some ass. During the final, climactic scenes my heart was pounding and I totally forgot I was wearing the goofy glasses. No, I was totally immersed in the movie-experience. It was very big-budget (not really my type of movie) but still extremely enjoyable and entertaining. And in the end I thought the biggest blockbuster of all time actually had a heart (albeit a big, loud, explosive, predictable heart). And that's rare to find in Hollywood.

 


Wednesday, March 10, 2010
"Happy Greeter Disguised as a Grumpy Commuter?"

The othe morning on the skytrain I noticed this rather sour-looking woman. She was probably in her 50s with gray-ish hair, librarian-type glasses, and kind of borderline frumpy clothes (clog shoes and long skirt kind of look). And she just looked miserable sitting there. 

Later that day I had to run an errand at my bank downtown. As I came up the escalator, the branch greeter was there to welcome me. She had a genuine smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye. It took me a few seconds but I recognized her as the sour-puss commuter that I had seen earlier. What is going on here? Which one of her personas was her alter ego? Was she really sad-sack commuter or happy bank greeter? Go figure.

 


Thursday, March 4, 2010
"Adam Sandler Can Get Away With Saying It"

The other day while I was watching TV with the man, a shampoo commercial came on featuring fashion guru Stacy London.

Her hair was long, thick, dark and luscious. I thought she looked fabulous as usual. Without even realizing I was speaking out loud I stated, "What an attractive Jew." It was only when Robin laughed and said, "I was thinking the same thing!" did I realize my thoughts were spoken. Even though I was just in the company of my hubby, I felt a little embarrassed. Even though I didn't mean to sound offensive, my comment could have been misconstrued as offensive by the wrong audience. But no harm meant, no harm done.

 


Monday, March 1, 2010
"Radio DJ Spies"

I had a laugh during this morning's radio show. The DJ was telling a story about 2 obnoxious women in a grocery line-up who were loud talkers and were dropping the F-bomb like crazy. When the DJ went to pay for his groceries with his debit card, one of the women (directly behind him and well within earshot) started going off (very loudly) about, "OMG! Another one paying with debit! They should have a separate line-up for people who pay with debit and hold up the entire line-up!"

Just like the DJ's reaction, I was horrified at this rude woman's behaviour (and language) and laughing at the same time. But my main point of today's entry: people should be very careful of what they say in public (and be self-aware enough to know that they're loud talkers or not), or at least be aware of their surroundings because you never know who is standing within earshot of you. And even though the DJ didn't give any physical descriptions of these 2 ladies, I'm sure if they heard him talking about them on his radio show they would know immediately that it was them he was mocking on the air.

Who knows what these women's reactions would have been if they knew the whole Lower Mainland heard about their rudeness and was laughing at them? I don't really care, to be honest. We make our own beds. But, at least I got a good laugh. That's what mattered to me.
 


Thursday, February 25, 2010
"I Don't Like to Argue, But...."

The world can easily be divided into various 2 camps e.g. people who know how to have a good time vs. those who do not, people who like dogs vs. those who do not, etc. Well, another division has become painfully obvious to me lately: people who like to argue vs. people who do not.

I fall into that latter category. I'll argue or debate something that's near and dear to my heart but in general, everyday conversations I think I'm very easy-going. I'll listen to other people, hear what they have to say, etc. However, there are many people on this planet who just like to argue with you or take every opportunity to disagree with you or just point out the tiniest, little correction in every statement that you make. Some do it in attempts to show how intelligent they are. Some like to be devil's advocate to push limits, boundaries, and buttons. And some do it because that's all they know and that's who they are; for them, this is how they carry on social interactions with other human beings because they don't know any better. 

For me, people that fall into that last bucket are particularly annoying because I can't have a conversation with them without wanting to punch them in the mouth. So irritating. I don't enjoy being corrected every time I open my mouth (whether or not I'm wrong is a different story) because someone is oblivious to the ripples they are unintentionally creating in the conversation. It's just poor social etiquette and dare I say a sign of social retardedness.

Enough with you arguing morons. I'd rather talk to someone who knows how to talk and not just how to argue.
 


Saturday, February 2, 2010
"Lost In Translation Equals Jail Time?"

I remember taking a child psychology class back in university and learning about the frustrations of having a child as a witness to a crime. Their little, underdeveloped minds take great liberties when interpreting events. Now that I have my own small human in my household, that reality of misinterpreting events has become painfully real.

The other morning the 3 of us were lounging in bed on a Saturday morning. We were all getting silly, making Sloane sandwiches, wrapping her up in blankets, having gentle (VERY gentle) pillow fights, etc. But of course as per usual after 10 minutes of hysterical laughing and struggling under heavy duvets, the little child began getting a bit frustrated and starting complaining, "Stop!"

Well, later on you can imagine my horror when Sloane confided to me, "I don't like Daddy, because he hits Mommy then he hits me."

Okay, totally out of context! And hitting? Getting a gentle thwack to the head with a soft pillow is not hitting. Could you imagine if the wrong person heard her statement? Mommy and Daddy might be looking at some serious trouble with child welfare. Eeeeesh.
 


Monday, February 15, 2010
"In Hot Dog We Trust"

Today's entry might only be relevant to people with blood sugar issues....

Many people I know need to eat regularly. If they (we) don't eat regularly we get cranky, sweaty, short-tempered, verbally and/or physically abusive, etc. Over the years I have learned to seek out food on a regular basis and also feed my family in short time intervals. Over the weekend we (Robin, myself and Sloane) were at Ikea. As soon as we got there we decided to grab a $0.50 hot dog to keep our energy up so we could cover the huge warehouse space without blowing a gasket. Good call.

We ordered a cabinet for our basement renovations and to make a long story short we ended up waiting in multiple line-ups for pick-ups and exchanges numerous times. On his second trip back to the exchange counter Robin said he was getting another hot dog. I didn't question it. I took the beast-child and fed her a granola bar and let her run around an open-spaced area. After waiting an additional 30 minutes after that, Robin finally emerged from Ikea with the proper bits and pieces of our order. Hallelujah.

Driving back home he made the comment that he was proud of himself for not busting heads and throwing punches at the whole inconvenience of it all. I quickly replied that it was all thanks to the hot dog. Yes, the hot dogs kept his blood sugar even-tempered and stable. Thank you, Ikea hot dog.

 


Thursday, February 11, 2010
"Linguistic Child Cruelty"

The other day when I was on the playground with my daughter, something became apparent. She can't properly pronounce her own name (yet).

An older girl was trying to befriend my daughter Sloane, and kept asking her what her name was. My daughter would pause on the gymboree, then say, "Uh, I'm Swoane." The other little girl looked confused and would repeat her question and my daughter answered the same way.

Finally I intervened and told the new friend: "Her name is Sloane." OMG. I've given my daughter a name that she can't even say correctly. But hey, I can't imagine the linguistic butcherings when little Xerces or Xavier or Ulysses try to say their own names.
 


Tuesday, February 9, 2010
"Do Your Best Christopher Walken Voice"

I don't think I'm alone when I say that a good impersonation really impresses me. What is it about seeing someone do a flawless impersonation (voice, mannerisms) of a celebrity? Or watching a celebrity impersonate another celebrity? When I see a good impersonation, that person's talent meter goes up 10 points in my eyes.

I stumbled upon a clip of Kevin Spacey on 'Inside the Actor's Studio' and he's doing a bunch of impersonations. To be honest Kevin Spacey hadn't really been on my celebrity radar lately but after seeing his incredible parodies of some famous people (men, women, living, not living), I respect him all over again.
 


Friday, February 5, 2010
"Princess Wednesday"

I was listening with amusement to my co-worker talk about his preparations for his 4-year-old daughter's upcoming princess party. Then the attention turned to me and my daughter who is soon to be 3 years old. He wondered if my little girl had a fondness for all things pink and princess-y yet.

I smiled and told him the truth, "No, my daughter is intrigued by death and dinosaurs. And she also likes to pick up living insects."

Yes, I have a regular Princess Wednesday on my hands....
 


Wednesday, February 3, 2010
"Hobo Olympics Security"

My co-workers and I were enjoying an Indian lunch at a restaurant that sits 1 storey above Burrard Street. We couldn't help but notice a bright, pink knapsack that had been left at the bus stop below. Hmmmm. With heavy security patrolling the streets in preparation for the upcoming winter Olympics, we wondered if we should be concerned that someone hadn't investigated this mysterious, abandoned package.

But then after about 5 minutes of passerbys either ignoring the package or unaware of its existence, a homeless man bent down to rummage through it. He checked each zippered compartment but then walked away. We assumed that if he didn't find anything suspicious (like wires or explosive devices or white powder) then we were in the clear. There was nothing of value in that bag, nor was it a threat to our safety.

Thank goodness for the hobo Olympics security patrol to keep our streets safe!
 


Monday, February 1, 2010
"Wooden Daycare Device"

At my daughter's daycare I can't help but notice this unidentified, wooden device that hangs by the backyard gate. It looks like a cross between a meat mallet and a wooden spoon. It's quite heavy-looking and I imagine it packs quite the wallup if it were to make contact with anything.

And that's the mystery for me. What is it used for? Is it used to beat rugs? Is it used to kill insects? Is it used to discipline young children???

Oh, the imagination runs wild....
 


Thursday, January 28, 2010
"When the Internet Fails Society"

Normally when I reference a current event or news item, I provide a link to it. But not this time, and soon you'll understand why.

I was horrified recently about a video that was splashed all over MSN and YouTube and the like. It was a 30-second segment on a female, UK bobsledder who accidentally split her leotard (?) while practicing. The footage showed the woman being interviewed (stock footage) then it cut to 2 figures (from behind) as they got ready to push the bobsled down the course. As the woman on the right bends down to steady and ready herself, her spandex one-piece split from V to A and kept on going right up her backside, fully exposing her ass crack. Initially I wanted to laugh, but then I was mortified.

Was it really necessary to show this video everywhere, for the whole world to see? It's not like she's a comedienne who makes her living by poking fun at herself. No, she's a trained athlete who takes her passion very seriously. And the accidental, wardrobe malfunction just nullified her seriousness and commitment in less than a minute. I think the broadcasting of this incident was totally unnecessary and inappropriate.

Let's hope she's at least able to have a laugh about it in the end. Here's hoping.
 


Wednesday, February 20,2010
"It's Always Cracked Me Up"

Do you know what I've always found amusing, since I was probably a self-aware teenager? It cracks me up when guys who are younger than me call me 'Dear.' I don't find it insulting or pretentious. No, I think it's hilarious.
 


Friday, January 15, 2010
"Quote of the Day 23: Are You Saying My Designer Frames Are For an Old Man?"

Today's Quote of the Day belongs to my almost 3-year old daughter (sigh, yet again).

Lately she likes to try on our eyeglasses. There's something fascinating about glasses for a young child with perfect eyesight. The other day she put on my Gucci-frame prescription glasses then checked herself out in the mirror. She burst out laughing and told me:

>I look like a Grandpa!

Even though I found her comment a little offensive about my choice of eyewear, I had to laugh.


Wednesday, January 13, 2010
"How Much Does That Pay?"

I was cruising some job postings the other day (I always like to have my finger on the pulse of the job market at all times). An ad for a 'Data Warehouse Specialist' caught my eye, not because the description was interesting but because I thought the company was advertising for a 'Data Whorehouse Specialist.'

Yeah, that would be an interesting career change.
 


Sunday, January 10,2010
"The Lost Thing"

For Christmas, my brother (who lives in Toronto) sent Sloane the most amazing book. It's by Shuan Tan and it's called "The Lost Thing".
 
As soon as I saw the artwork, I was blown away by the retro-future look of it. Then I actually read it to Sloane and the writing was just perfect - suitable for a child yet intriguing and appealing for adults. All during the holidays I kept saying to Sloane, "Okay, I've read you enough books before bedtime. Unless you want Mommy to read you 'The Lost Thing', then I'll read that one to you."

I haven't encountered a book recently (children's or otherwise) that has affected me like this one. It was (dare I say) magical and inspirational (in the creative sense). And I have such a deep appreciation for the brilliance and simplicity of the story and the emotions that are genuinely created by reading it (no tugging of heart strings or superficial conflicts).

It was great to feel that way about something again. It's been awhile.
 


Tuesday, January 5, 2010
"Circle of Nine"

Sometime recently I happened to see the cast of the musical 'Nine' on the Larry King Show. Let me say upfront that there was a great deal of talent being interviewed at the same time in one studio. But after watching it for only a couple of minutes, something about it really started to irritate me.

The first thing that bothered me was how Mr. King just flitted from star to star. It became a dizzying editing effect as the camera spotlighted Kate Hudson for 2 minutes, then Fergie for 30 seconds, then back again to Daniel Day-Lewis for a long pause followed by a brief answer to an inane question. And each time the camera zeroed in on a particular starlet, she would momentarily light up and put on her best 'face,' always appearing a bit stunned at first.  And even though everyone seemed to be laid back and chill in the company of 'great talent', you could just sense the competitive edge in the room.

But I drew the line when Larry put the focus on Penelope Cruz. He didn't even give her a chance to respond to his ego-stroking questions (e.g. what does it feel like to be Pedro Almadovar's muse?). And then he had the audacity to tell the audience, "Let's take a look at Ms. Cruz's brilliant life. She's a legend. Here's a montage." She looked a tad embarrassed. I think she's still in her 30s and he was labeling her a legend.

After about 5 minutes of this, I had to turn the channel. It just all seemed so self-serving and self-congratulating, complete with hair flicks and head tosses with open-mouthed, exaggerated laughter. It was like circle jerk of talent - excessive, obsessive and jockeying for the best angle. And I didn't want to see how it would end.
 


Tuesday, December 29, 2009
"Get Ready to Call Child Services"

I have become one of those parents who threatens her child in order to get her to behave. I threaten everything from withholding food (but I would never starve her) to describing dragons that will pop out of nowhere to attack her if she's being naughty (just plain silly of me, really).

Well, the other day I was a contributor to a very bad example of parenting. Sloane was being especially naughty (I can't recall her exact behaviour) when Robin threatened to give her a swirlie. She stopped what she was doing and inquired, "What is a swirlie?" When Robin started to explain in detail what a swirlie was I thought to myself, "Uh oh. We've gone to far."

After the graphic description, Sloane just shrugged it off and continued with her everyday dickenry. But later that evening she wouldn't go to bed so I, in exasperation, blurted out, "If you don't go to bed right now, Daddy's going to give you a swirlie!"

She stopped jumping on the couch and instead hung her head down and jumped off and agreed, "Ok" as she headed in the direction of the bedroom. Then she looked up at me and said, "If I don't go to bed, Daddy is going to hold me by my ankles and put me in the toilet, and there will be poo in my hair, and then I'll have a swirlie on my head!" She was quite horrified by the concept and serious too. Even though I wanted to laugh, I just nodded in agreement and walked her to bed.

Yes, bad parenting at its worst. But it worked!

 


Sunday, December 27, 2009
"Communist Eye Shadow"

Yes, today's journal entry centers around make-up. But I do have a point to make.

I have worn MAC eye shadow for years. It's affordable, it wears well, and I don't really anything negative to say. However, I've been incredibly lazy lately and decided to try a cream eye shadow instead of my usual powder shadows because I wanted to avoid using a make-up brush to apply the darn stuff (you see, with cream eye shadows you just use your fingers). I told you I was being lazy.

So I decided to check out Sephora and their line of Benefit cream shadows. I was a bit surprised to see the selection of colours was limited to only about 8 colours. This was a stark contrast to the million colour choices that I'm accustomed to at MAC.

But as I went about selecting which 2 colours to get, I realized the selection process was so easy. By only having 8 (vs. 100) colour choices, I easily and quickly determined which colours were for me.

It was a pleasant surprise for me.
 


Thursday, December 17, 2009
"Holiday Fireplace vs. The Yule Log"

Our local cable access TV stations always air some kind of fireplace image during the holiday season. You've probably seen it: a continuous loop of video footage of a burning, crackling fireplace. And every so often a hand (usually a man's) appears on screen to poke at the logs and rearrange them.

The other day I was looking at the on-screen cable guide when I saw that there were in fact 2 different fireplace programs being broadcasted. Channel 2 had the "Holiday Fireplace" and Channel 4 had "The Yule Log." Based on titles alone, I assumed the "Holiday Fireplace" would be a superior show.

I checked out both and I was correct. "The Yule Log" was kind of grainy and dark and the fireplace seemed to be in the distance whereas the "Holiday Fireplace" was bright and vibrant and it made me feel warm and cozy.

Sorry Yule Log, but you suck.
 


Saturday, December 12, 2009
"Quote of the Day 22: You Can Never Go Wrong With Black"

Today's Quote of the Day belongs to my almost 3-year old daughter (again).

The family was on Mayne Island with Uncle Mark recently. Sloane and her uncle bonded. It was very sweet. The highlight was going to the Japanese Gardens one evening to see the Christmas lights. It was quite dark walking back to the car and Sloane wanted to hold Uncle Mark's hand. Now keep in mind that Mark is from Barbados.

When Sloane requested to hold Uncle Mark's hand, she matter-of-factly exclaimed:

>I like Uncle Mark. He's so very dark.

We all had to laugh. I mean really - what else can you do?
 


Wednesday, December 2, 2009
"World-Friendly Toys"

I saw this wooden Shabbat playset the other day at Winners. I thought it was so cool. I totally don't remember having toys like this when I was young. I love the toys of today.
 


Sunday, November 29, 2009
"Inevitable Injuries At the Workplace"

At my workplace we have a communal kitchen. I could go on and on forever about the savage, disrespectful behaviours I have witnessed (e.g. people anonymously leaving dirty plates in the sink, etc).

But lately I've noticed an especially freaky, inconsiderate-to-the-nth-degree trend in the office kitchen. Someone (or some people) is leaving the sharp cutting knives blade up in the drainboard or dishwasher. And one time I didn't notice it in time and ended up poking myself pretty badly while reaching across it. Dammit! I could have caused some serious damage if my wrist got sliced by the upturned blade.

I'm guessing somebody has a bone to pick with the rest of us office mates and is anonymously trying to inflict harm on us because seriously - who is that stupid and ignorant? If I ever find out who it is, I just might give them a taste of their own medicine.
 


Monday, November 23, 2009
"Bring On the Hard Candy-Mints"

Today's entry is seriously lame. But I'm writing it anyway. As I get older, I leave you with some timeless nuggets of advice:

1.) Wrap it up: if you think it might be cold outside (or wherever you're going to), bring a sweater. Cold temperatures never used to bother me. Now (especially during the fall-winter months) it's all I can think about. I hate being cold now. I shiver at my workplace under my layers of shirts and cardigans and suit jackets while I down mugs of tea or warm water. If you think that's a sad, mental image you should try checking it out in person. Pathetic.

2.) Forget the size chart: when buying pantyhose, review the height/weight/size chart on the package and purchase at least 2 sizes up from the recommended size. Your crotch, waistband, and toes will thank you. You will be so comfortable at work. I remember my mother recommended this years ago but I never listened to her advice. Now I'm a convert and I'm spreading the word.

3.) Granny Style: if you're concerned about VPL (visible panty lines), don't even bother with the body-hating thong or the expensive Spanx. Instead, head straight for the granny panties. Seriously. They are insanely huge and unflattering, but they'll do the trick. Just be warned, your spouse may not exactly be impressed by your choice of intimate apparel.
 


Wednesday, November 18, 2009
"November Half-Naked Promotions"

I was riding the escalator up from the Burrard skytrain station on the way to work the other day. It was a typical, cold, November morning. There was nothing extraordinary about it. However, as I slowly made my ascent, I could hear a dull roar at the ticket-machine level.

It sounded like a bunch of guys yelling. It wasn't angry yelling, but I could not figure out what it was. As soon as my escalator stair reached the top, I saw what was making the ruckus. It was about 20 half-naked young guys. Their chests were bare except for body paint and they were promoting some VANOC ticket giveaways. They were hooting and cheering and handing out pamphlets.

All I could think about was, they must be freezing cold. But they were certainly a site to see. It made my morning.

 


Sunday, November 15, 2009
"Clean Sinuses and Confessions"

During this time of flu season and H1N1 panic (don't get me started), I have become a Neti-Pot convert. For those who are unfamiliar with the Neti-Pot, you basically take a mini teapot-like device and flush out your nasal cavities using a warm, saline-water solution.

I think it's great. It's a gentle way to flush out germs and congestion without the use of medication. But I have to tell you, it sure is a weird sensation initially. When I initiate the pull of the water stream from one nostril up through the nasal cavity and then down the other nostril, the water pressure is momentarily borderline-suffocating. It's not exactly pleasant so thank goodness the sensation doesn't last long. If I'm not careful when I use my Neti-Pot, it almost feels like I'm being waterboarded.

Okay, not really. I'm being dramatic. But you get what I'm talking about.

 


Tuesday, November 3, 2009
"In This Corner: Box Fighter!"

Here is another entry which is inspired by Ashley who was inspired by UNphotographable....

This is a picture I did not take of my little daughter with a cardboad box over her head which covers her face and shoulders. She is wandering the house blindly looking for her mother as she curls and uncurls her little fingers, and exclaims, "Roarrrrr! I'm a Box Fighter!"

 


Wednesday, October 28, 2009
"Let's Get Physio"

Yes, yes, I know I'm getting older. But seriously, what is with all these health practitioners who are more than 10 years younger than me? I'm not disputing their professional knowledge, but it's just bizarre to be treated by these 'kids.' 

Earlier this week I went to a physiotherapist appointment. My therapist was about 25 years old (maximum 27) and he was slender, fit, and attractive. At one point, in his efforts to pinpoint the source of my discomfort, he instructed me to bend down and touch my toes. Then he pulled up a seat behind me and held on to my hips to observe my pelvic alignment. He repeated again to 'touch my toes' (i.e. my ass would be directly in his face) and I just laughed. I wasn't embarrassed. It just seems that I've come a long way to have this young, attractive guy request this seemingly compromising position all in the name of healthcare.

Yes, I'm getting older.....
 


Monday, October 26, 2009
"What Is Going On Up There?"

I have always had vivid dreams and now I think my daughter has inherited this gift. She'll wake up some mornings and start telling me about her wonderful, fantastical dreams.

The other day she started telling me that she was crying in the dark because the seal wouldn't hold her hand. And she was really sad and then the seal swam away but he left her an apple and then she was happy.

Or something like that. And I'll be holding her hand leading her out of her bedroom as she recites her dreams to me in her sweet, little girl voice. And I wonder what is really going on in that young, beautiful mind of hers? I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would love to see the world through her eyes even if it's just for a moment....


Sunday, October 25, 2009
"Present-Day, Futuristic, Female Warrior"

I was watching "Aliens" for about the 20th time recently. I love that movie. Sigourney Weaver's Ellen Ripley character has got to be the coolest, most kick-ass hero ever in movie history. Yes, a bold statement. But I stand by my opinion (after all, it's just an opinion).

I am aware of all the character analyses of this strong, female warrior in modern cinema. So I don't plan to regurgitate everything that's already been written about her. But when I watched the movie on the weekend, I saw it through a mother's eyes this time and thought to myself: what is one of the scariest things you can encounter in the real world? Answer: a mother grizzly bear protecting her cubs. And that's what Ripley was doing - rescuing and protecting her (surrogate) child.

Would I do the same? Would I run head-on into the alien nest to find little Newt and  confront the giant, grotesque, snarling Queen (also a protective mother) and remain sane and calm when I realize I'm surrounded by hundreds of hatching eggs (with face-huggers) and adult drones? It sounds pretty crazy and unrealistic, but I'm pretty sure I'd do the same. If you mess with my daughter, just hand me a flame-thrower and  some grenades and I'll become Momma Grizzly too.


Wednesday, October 14, 2009
"More Convos from Crazy Toddler World"

My young daughter sings this bizarre song (well, I guess most children's songs are kind of bizarre):

"Hurray for the ball, hurray for the ball
Hurray for the ball, ball, ball."

Well, lately I've been modifying it slightly and turning it into a game for her. Over breakfast I'll say things like, "Hurray for the fork?" with a distinct up-tone at the end of the sentence to indicate my confusion. And she'll correct me with a big smile and amused, squinty eyes, "No Momma! It's 'Hurray for the BALL!'" Then we have a laugh together.

Well, the other day my mom was over and the 3 of us were eating. I started the game again, this time running through the list of animals that we saw at our recent visit to the aquarium. Sloane rose to the challenge and we did some verbal dueling (and I cleverly engaged her in a subtle educational exercise):

Me: Hurray for the jellyfish!
Sloane: Hurray for the octopus!
M: Hurray for the sea otter!
S: Hurray for the crab!
M: Hurray for the beluga whale!
S: Hurray for the sea horse!

And on and on it went until Sloane pulled a kiss-ass clown move. She turned to her grandmother and threw her arms up and loudly proclaimed, "Hurray for PoPo!" (*this is what she calls my mom).

It was so cheeky yet so sweet I think both my mom and I had slight tears in our eyes.


Tuesday, October 13, 2009
"Coined a New Term, Time to Update Urban Dictionary.com"

Today's entry is crude and adolescent. But I don't care. If you're going to be offended, get over it or don't read it.

The crew at work coined a new term: Arby. You see, if you don't like something you can say it gives you a reverse boner. Or an RB for short. Or an Arby.

"Damn, did you see that youtube video of those chicks popping that Guiness Record-sized zit on that guy's back? It was so gross, it gave me an Arby."

That's right. You heard it here first.


Sunday, October 11, 2009
"Interracial Debates on Strip Clubs"

The topic of strip clubs came up over dinner the other night. I was at The Faux Bourgeois with the man and another couple. Sareh mentioned that she didn't like Andy to frequent strip clubs. The reason? It may not be what you assume.

You see, Sareh is Persian and Andy is white. She explained while laughing that she has to remind her hubby that these strippers create an unrealistic standard when it comes to hair removal. She's not intimidated by the fake breasts or the tight asses. No, it's the manicured absence of body hair that makes her quickly point out to her non-Middle Eastern husband that 'not all women look like that.' Made me laugh. Big time.


Friday, October 9, 2009
"I Can Tell You Where To Stick It"

Pet peeve #53: sticky labels on merchandise.

It drives me absolutely batty when I buy something and there is a price sticker (or some other kind of merchandising label) stuck to it, and when I go to rip it off it doesn't easily peel off and it leaves this unsightly, sticky residue that is next to impossible to clean off. In the past I've attacked these gooey messes with masking tape (hoping it'll lift right off), SOS pads, and more recently with Vaseline (that last one was a suggestion from my mother). Sometimes after trying all these options the mess is still there and I'm left feeling frustrated and disgusted.

Kudos to companies that have put some thought into this issue and design labels that are easily removed (e.g. Ikea). But for the rest of you, it's almost enough to make me not buy your crappy products. You suck.


Monday, October 5, 2009
"Oh, I'll Play It"

I went out for dinner with Mark recently. We were told there would be about a 10 minute wait  for a table (pretty standard). We decided to stick around, so we submitted our name to the hostess and patiently waited by the door.

We were engaged in conversation but then after awhile we noticed a couple of parties entering the restaurant then getting seated right away. We looked at each other, the suspicion unspoken (it was mutually understood). I cocked an eyebrow at Mark and he volunteered to inquire with the blonde hostess if perhaps we had been forgotten.

As he turned to go find her I whispered, "Play the race card, sweetie." He looked over his shoulder at me and laughed. After hearing the hostess' explanation (she said the other parties had reservations) it was interesting how the Chinese-Bajan couple got seated almost immediately after enquiring about our table. But I wasn't serious about playing the race card.

Or was I?


Friday, October 2, 2009
"Yes, Made From Real Girl Guides...."

It's that time of year again. The Girl Guides are out in full force selling Girl Guide cookies. We bought the choco-mint kind this year. I wasn't disappointed.

But Robin was reminiscing about the original, duo-type GG cookies, the kind we enjoyed as kids. There was one row of vanilla and one row of chocolate. I mentioned how I ate the chocolate ones but I detested the vanilla ones (they tasted like cardboard in my opinion). But then Robin revealed that his preference was the exact opposite to mine.

Once again, the yin to my yang. That's a good thing to have in any relationship: have 1 partner prefer the chocolate and 1 prefer the vanilla during GG season. I knew we are together for a reason.

 

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