The King's Breakfast

There's one thing I've never been able to understand about Canadians: why do you make sandwiches with dry bread?  So disgusting.  Makes the sandwich so dry and tasteless, not to mention, the contents fall out due to not having anything to stick to.  When I ask for butter on the bread, I get stared at as though I have two heads.  Even expensive catered sandwiches are served on dry bread. 

Furthermore, I was at a very high-end restaurant and they served a variety of breads, rolls, etc. in a basket while we were waiting to order (as you would expect), but instead of offering a plate with butter, they gave us a little dipping bowl of oil, that not only looked gross, but smelled distinctly raunchy.  I asked for butter, and was met with baffled glances from my fellow diners, and a peremptory shake of the head from the waiter, who said that they do not serve butter as most diners "prefer a healthier option".  I'm sorry, dunking my bread roll into a vat of rancid oil is healthy?

WHAT THE FUCK, CANADA.

The King's Breakfast by A.A. Milne

Thoughts on "the Good Life"

Thoughts on "the Good Life," aka my gym:

• Why do they play nothing but angry nigger music?
• Why is my towel always half the size of everyone else's?
• Why does the fat lady in the white high-waist knickers have to sit on the bench and spend fifteen minutes slathering her entire body in lotion?  I mean, I know it's important to moisturize, but come on - do that at home.
• Why are the 5 lb weights always gone?
• Why is every TV monitor set to the Y&R?

Thanks for listening.

A Punch in the Face

I'm sick of this passive-aggressive bullshit.  Here's a conversation I had recently with a colleague:

Her: "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
Me: (assuming it's work-related, as I hardly know this person) "Sure."
Her: "Are you by any chance diabetic?"
Me: (with a slight frown) "Uh, no?"
Her: "Oh. Oh, wow. Okay."
Me: (a little irritated, but curious) "Any particular reason you should ask?"
Her: "Oh. Well, you know.  You've always had that pot belly, haven't you?  So I just assumed ... right?  That maybe you were diabetic."
Me: (woodenly) "Pot belly."
Her: "Yeah.  But don't feel bad, a lot of people have that."

Yeah, but not you, you 20-something stick-insect. 

So before I blow something or someone up, take note: if you don't like me, don't talk to me.  If you despise me, step on my foot.  If you actively loathe me, punch me in the face.  But please, for pete's sake, let's drop all this passive-aggressive nonsense.  I'm not your friend, you're certainly not my friend, so stop trying to psych me out with the condescending tone of voice and the patronising manner.  I've had it.  A punch in the face may sting for a while, it may not be pleasant at the time, and it may leave a mark for a couple of days.  But it will definitely hurt less.

The Pillow Book of Miss Particular

(a blog post written in the style of The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. A wonderful, inspiring, must-read.)

Irritating Things:

People who barge into the elevator without waiting for the persons inside to step out.
Someone microwaving onions at ten-thirty in the morning.
Women you've only just met, who call you "hon".

Amusing yet Annoying Things:

Women trying to walk in heels two sizes too big.
Women who dress in men's clothes and with a man's haircut, and yet talk stridently about "women's rights".
Jack Layton.

Rare and Lovely Things:

A robin sitting on the roof of my car this morning.  He stayed there until I began to pull away.
The first daffodil in my garden, a splash of sunshine yellow, like the frill of a summer dress, peeking out from the tight green sheaf.

The Daily Snark

Things Not To Do On Public Transit:

1. Clip your fingernails.
2. Slather cream all over your hands.
3. Hum.
4. Whistle.
5. Mutter verses from a religious text.
6. Reveal the final score of last night's hockey game.
7. Talk loudly about a sensitive business transaction.
8. Adjust your thong.
9. Eat spaghetti.
10. Change your pants.


Inspired by my twice-daily train commute.  Believe it or not, I've witnessed every one of the above.

Progress Report

Just got back from gym.  A little irritated that I've still only lost 2 pounds.  Today I made it to 20 minutes continuous 2-minute walk, 2-minute run sessions.  I was pretty pleased with myself because that pushed me over the one mile mark!

I'm trying to drink more water during the day, as I know I don't drink enough.  I was somewhat surprised to find that the traditional "8 ounces" that you're supposed to drink six of in the course of one day, is only equivalent to one standard cup measure, that is, 250 ml.  That's like, a tiny amount!  For some reason I always thought 8 ounces was one of those tall beer glasses?  Anyway I was quite relieved, because I think I could actually manage 6 x 250 ml a day.

But why have I only lost 2 pounds??!!  Surely it should be at least 5 by now?  Of course it doesn't help that my beloved husband surprises me after dinner with Haagen-Daz caramel chocolate ice-cream. 

WANT.

Courtesy of Mr. Particular:  I WANT THIS.

Yes, I am insane.

Just scrubbed my bathtub until it shone.  Now I'm sitting down with a nice cup of green tea and an organic peanut butter sandwich, so why don't I tell you about my day?

This morning I got up at 3 am and drove 5 hours to see a man about a house.  We stood around complaining about lawyers for an hour, then I drove 5 hours home.  Now, what's the best thing to do when you've just spent 10 hours driving?  Scrub the bathroom, of course!  Seriously, by the time I got home I was so hyper, I spent from 4 pm to 7:45 pm doing housework.  The end result of this effort, quite apart from (obviously) a nice clean house, is that I feel all tingly, not to mention my fingernails are really clean.

Now, it seems to me that if married folks spent more time doing housework than they do galivanting, marriages would last longer.  (Kindly note that I said folks, not women.  So you feminist types can just hold your wad there, sistah.)