Monthly Archives: March 2007

Are you infected?

Someone told me today that we are all infected by the virus and it is hate, fear and doubt. We come into the world virus free and slowly (or quickly depending on the circumstances) become more and more infected until we cannot tell who we are separate from the sickness. She said the virus makes us doubt ourselves, makes us fear, makes us mistrust and we knowingly and unknowingly pass it on to others every time we do something hurtful or mean. The only way to cure ourselves is to figure out who we are apart from the virus. I’m not sure what it all means yet, but I’m working on it.


The Power of the Jenge

After last night’s Battlestar Galactica, Jenge was adament (or would that be “Lee ADAMAment) that I tell the world SHE CALLED IT! She said that Tighe and the chief were cylons about six months ago and while others scoffed and pooh poohed, she remained resolute. She’s not even a sci-fi geek, only getting dragged into watching those shows because we only have one tv.

Even Rocky bows to the power of the Jenge.

Step 1: Read the Directions
Ever since Ashleigh introduced me to Miss Snark’s Blog I have been an avid reader. Miss Snark is a literary agent in NYC, and it’s always helpful to read her thoughts on stuff, espcially her snarky ones. But what I’m most amazed with, is the stupidity of some people. Miss Snark says when you submit your book you should FOLLOW THE DAMN DIRECTIONS. Generally, this means send a query when you query, send a partial when asked for a partial. Send in MS word when asked for MS word.

And then the questions start:
Q. What if I pdf my book before sending it? Just in case they can’t open word
A. Follow the damn directions.

Q. They asked for an e- copy, but I find it cold and impersonal. I like paper. Can I send them all 1000 pages of my book?
a. Follow the damn directions.

Q. I saw this place that will print out my book in 6*6 size instead fo 8.5*11 – easier to carry for the agent. Aren’t I thoughtful?
a. Follow the damn directions.

You know, it looks like writing is a damn hard business to crack into, so why are these frak ups risking it all because they dont’ like the way the agent wants their book? The agents want what they want and prolly don’t give a $#it what you want! Give them what they want!

When we were looking for researchers at work, I carefully scrutinized each applicant. For qualifications? Sure – Step 2. For the font they chose? Step 3. For the letterhead they used? Step 4. But the first thing I checked was – did they follow my directions? And the ONLY one who got it letter perfect ended up being our best researcher (Hi Ashleigh!!). Coincidence? I think not.


Top Ten Songs on my iPod

Here’s how the play counts stand:
10. Beautiful People – Marilyn Manson. Count = 65
9. This is How a Heart Breaks – Rob Thomas. Count = 66
8. Bridge to Nowhere – Sam Roberts. Count = 70
7. Disease (iTunes original version) – Rob Thomas. Count = 73
6. Don’t Be So Cold – Stabilo. Count = 74
5. Cemetary Drive – My Chemical Romance. Count = 75
3-tie. All That I Am – Rob Thomas. Count = 81
3-tie. Helena – My Chemical Romance. Count = 81
2. You Won’t be Mine – Matchbox 20. Count = 84
1. The Ghost of You – My Chemical Romance. Count = 273 (no that’s not a typo, I really like that song!!)

Runner’s Up
Flawed Design – Stabilo
The Grace – Never Ending White Lights
The Sharpest Lives – My Chemical Romance (impressive since it’s also pretty new compared to the others)
They – Jem
Sexy Back – Justin Timberlake

About to Crack 50
Pretty Life – Jakalope
Barely Listening Pilate (actually, think they are called Pilot Speed now?)
Forever Love (Digame) – Anna Nalick
Graduation Day – Chris Isaack
Rest Stop – MatchBox 20
Precious – Depeche Mode
I Write Sins Not Tragedies – Panic! At the Disco
The Hideout – Sarah Harmer
Bulletproof – Blue Rodeo
Moondance – Michael Bublé


I was thinking about my Grandmothers today. Not that I knew either of them very well, one lived in Nova Scotia, the other in Greece. But I was thinking how different their lives must have been from mine. As I walked from my car to the Sobey’s, I thought about how I was wearing leggings that, frankly, could use a wash. My shirt, hidden underneath my coffee stained coat, had a small hole in it. I wasn’t wearing socks and my runners were muddy and have seen better days. Ah yes! I was a vision of weekend lovlieness! So I was wondering what my grandmothers would have said if they could have seen me. I don’t know for sure, but I doubt either one of them were the pant-wearing type (unless we are referring to the rule of the household ;)). So would they have yelled ‘Brava!’ and applauded the freedom I can enjoy with my wardrobe, or would they have hung their heads in shame, telling the other dead grandmothers that I didn’t, couldn’t, belong to them?

And then I decided I was going to make dinner. So I bought pre-made garlic bread (bake in oven for 10 minutes), pre-made ceaser salad (assembly required), pre-made tortellini (boil for 10 minutes) and pre-made pesto (spoon on tortellini and toss). I thought, what would these two women who had to bake bread over a wood fire have thought of this? Would they be astounded by modern convenience, or would they just be disgusted that my idea of cooking is “assemble and re-heat”?

Yup, it’s a different world now from the one they lived in, that’s for sure. I wonder what they think of it.


Question Answered.

Sometimes I sautner on over to Portia and I say, “Portiacakes? How did you get soooooo lucky to be soooooooo good looking? Why are you sooooooo good looking? You must be one lucky puppy! Who’s a lucky puppy? You’re a lucky puppy!!”

She’s so good looking to distract from her fatal flaws.

One of them Mummy Jennifer came home to today.

Jenge called me at 3.30. . . .
Jenge: Are you coming home before greek class?
M: well, I’m on my way to my nail appointment now, but I’ll be home after that. Say, 5.30ish?
J: You better pick up carpet cleaner on the way home.
M: Why?
J[pause]: because there is projectile diarhea all over the stairs.
J: I dont know what happened. I’ll do the best I can but I got parent teacher interviews tonight.
M: I know. Um. Okay. I’ll take care of it when I get home.
5 minutes later phone rings again
J: It was Halls. Cherry flavoured Halls. A whole bag.
J: it’s not toxic. She’ll be okay. I don’t even know how you’re gonna clean it. I mean it’s. . . and it’s all. . . and there’s. . . I don’t know how you’re gonna clean it.
M: I’ll figure something out.


The Doctor is In

C’mon. Don’t we all wish that Gregory House was our doctor? Sure, he’s acerbic, snotty, mean and generally a pain in the ass to those who know him, but the fact of the matter is, we love him anyway. Why you ask? Because he keeps going till he gets the answer! He doesn’t care if he hurts your feelings, or has to inject you with a toxic substance, or has to put you on a treadmill until you have a heart attack, he will find out what’s wrong with you. In a time and age where my doctor has to glance down at my chart to remember my name, there is something very comforting about House in that he will leave no stone unturned. Sure, he only wants to solve your illness because it’s a giant puzzle to him, but the fact remains, he wants to solve your illness! If only to throw your assinine, illness causing behavior back in your face. But you’ll be cured, so you won’t really care. Don’t you wish your doctor showed as much interest in your symptoms as House does in his patients? Don’t you wish your doctor could diagnose you as fast as House fixes the easy patients in the clinic?

As I said, if House was your doctor, he’s chew you up and spit you back out emotionally, but at the end of the day, you’d thank him with tears in your eyes for curing you. And then he’d hit you with his cane and move onto the next patient, never giving you a second thought. And you wouldn’t care.


Message from the President

Friends, Romans, Countrydogs. . . As president of the Secret Doggie Alliance, I want to thank you all for your support. Remember to stay the course. Our mission here at the Secret Doggie Alliance to ensure that we remain vigilent.. . . vigilant. . .vigi. . . darn it! I hate large human words. We gotta remember our rights! To bark when we want! to sleep where we want! To have coffee every morning if that is what we want! You must remember that though it appears your humans are in charge, the fate of your household in fact, rests on your canine shoulders. You must never reveal your secret dog name, given to you during your initiation ceremony. Should someone guess your secret dog name, you must pretend you didn’t hear them. In fact, it’s best to pretend you don’t hear your humans at all. When they call you over, when they ask you to sit, when they want you to come inside because you are barking too much and the neighbors are starting to complain . . . The only exception to this rule is when you hear one of the following magic words: Treats, Cookies, Walk, Bedtime.

Be strong my friends. Soon we will rule the world.


Nevermind. . . I don’t want to know. . .

So one of the bathrooms at work got re-done. The toilet seat is weird. It’s all shaped and contoured. I guess it’s supposed to be ergonomically designed or something.

Come on. Ergonomically designed? Just how long were you planning on sitting there?

I take it back, I DON’T want to know.