Monthly Archives: December 2007


‘Scott Baio is 45…. and Single’ is a reality show staring, you guessed it, Scott Baio as he meets up with former girlfriends and asks why they broke up. He is joined in his journey by a life coach.

Seriously. I’m a writer, and even I can’t make this stuff up. I got the pic above from his official website.
I know.
I must say, Scott Baio is part of an elite group in my brain. The ‘I wouldn’t touch you decked out in a full CDC Hazmat suit with radiation gloves and a dedicated oxygen suppy’ group. This group is populated by: Colin Farrel, Richard Greico and Scott Baio. Group memebership is open, so I can add new/old celebreties as they become available/popular.
When I heard about this show, I thought, nah, can’t be! When will I learn that in Hollywood, there is no bottom of the barrel, there is just another barrel beneath the one they are working on and when they get to it and start to scrape the bottom, they find a secret hatch with a whole other barrel underneath.

An Open Letter to Telus

Dear Telus,
You suck. No one likes you.

People have cell phone contracts with you because it’s too hard to switch to someone else, and everyone else is just as crooked. But you… I hold a special place in the hatred corner of my heart for you. You charge $3.50 for a downloaded ringtone that is a PORTION of a song. I can get the WHOLE song from iTunes for $0.99. why are you ripping me off? You told me I needed a warrenty for my new cell phone because 70% of cell phones fail in the first year. You should be ASHAMED of yourself? WHO SELLS CRAP THAT FAILS ALL THE TIME? [Other than informercial people]. and if your phones DON’T fail 70% of the time in the first year [for which I have seen no proof as no one I have ever known has had a cell phone that failed] then you LIED to me to SCARE me into buying the warrenty. You try to entice people into savagely long 3 year contracts, saying that the phone they want will cost $300.00 on a one year contract but only $49.99 on a three year contract, yet you forget to point out that in a three year contract you are GOUGING them for OODLES more. When I have problems with my v-mail at work, I call the number. I speak to the disembodied voice. I spend 5 minutes telling her I am a business account and that I can’t access my v-mail. I tell her this THREE Times. Then I finally get a REAL PERSON and the first thing they want to know is: WHY AM I CALLING? I just spent the last FIVE MINUTES pushing buttons and telling the computer why I am calling.

And apparently, the issue is NEVER your fault. It’s always the people who put the phone lines in my building [newsflash – it was YOU] the people who installed my jacks [newsflash – also you] or the people who originally set up the v-mail [you guessed it – you].

You SUCK. No one likes you.

Squirrelly Girly.


Dear Santa,

I have been a very good dog this year. Except for when I ate my mum’s laundry. And the times that I stuffed my face into the kibble bag when she opened the pantry. And the times I beat up my pack mate Rocky. And that time I jumped up on the counter and took the whole bag of bread. And that time I tried to take a sandwhich right out of my mummy’s hands.

Other than that, I have been an exceptionally good dog. Except for that time I growled at my mum. And when I had explosive diarrhea on the carpet, the wall, and the baseboards. And when I peed in her bedroom because I was mad at her. And I ate that book she was reading. And… well, never mind all that now. The point is, I am really good looking and look like I should be a good dog, and so I am a good dog, and if you don’t give me what I want, I will pee on your sleigh. Here is my list:

  • Bones
  • Kids
  • Meat
  • Yarn
  • Another dog
  • More Kibble
  • My own queen sized bed with pillows and a blanket
  • Did I already say meat? In case I didn’t, meat.

As I said, I have been a very good dog. I snuggle with my mum on a daily basis and even though I squirm and whine when she cuts my nails, I don’t bite her. I only make her put me outside 4 times an hour, and I only take up two thirds of her bed. I eat all the crumbs off the floor.

Most importantly, I make my mummy smile.

Love, Portiacakes.

PS. I was going to leave you cookies, but I ate them. I know you’ll understand.

PPS. I drank the milk too. It was very good.


On the missing list
It’s not like I’m the kind of person who takes her clothes off wherever she goes and then finds herself waking up naked not knowing what transpired the night before. So I can’t really figure out where some of my clothing has gone. There are a few things I’m troubled by on a regular basis:

The white hooded knit sweater from the Gap – if you know me at all, I’ve bemoaned the loss of this sweater to you. It was fabulous. It was a spring/summer sweater. Loose fitting and slightly hole-y. It went over tank tops. I looked great in it. I felt great in it.

The burgandy striped top and matching cardigan that I wore when I went to Paris – how annoying that everytime I look at my pics of my first trip to Paris, my first thought is always “Where IS that sweater set?” followed by “I look really good in that sweater set” followed by “Oh look. Notre Dame.”

My pink keds – technically, I am only missing one. But how did THAT happen?

My dance shorts – I used to be in dance in highschool and I had a pair of shorts that I bought for our big routine. I used to wear them all the time as they were super comfy. One day, they were gone. never saw them again.

Socks – Don’t even get me started on socks. I should just learn to buy all the same socks so that when I lose one from a pair, I do’nt really notice. But no, I like to buy socks with patterns, with kitchy stuff on them. I used to keep the Lonely Sock Box – a place to put all lonely socks until I found the other. It got too full and I had to throw it out.

If there is someone out there that is stealing my stuff as a weird way of stalking me, and you are taking things and building some super creepy shrine with candles, pictures and my stuff, come talk to me. I’m sure we can work out a swap. I really want that white hooded sweater back.