Happy New Year

Stay safe, be good, make a wish!

Whip Your Hair

Shush. The song may suck a bag of you know what's but Starr Andrews is miles better than you.  We both know that we would be on our arse before the singing started so give credit where it is due.


The Olympic Exhibition Skate is going to rawk when this kid performs.


Ya, I just called it.

Wordless Wednesday

The Rules

I opened a can of worms with my list of rules.

Thanks for the calls and private email flood.  I get that you think I am too rigid and that I inspire fear.

I call the shots in my life, not a six year old girl.  She is the child, I am the adult.  That's how I roll, yo.

Some thoughts... in random, chaotic order because my brain is still leaking.

Do I have too many rules? Maybe. But I believe kids need rules or they become directionless, bored mall rats who crave attention and cause a lot of trouble. That will not be happening on my watch. I also believe kids want rules.

Children want and need our guidance and if you think otherwise, you need to pull your head out of your ass because you are suffocating yourself.

Children want us to show them how to make it into and through this world in one piece. I believe if there are children in your life, you have a responsibility to them, a duty and an obligation to keep them on the right path, so to speak.

Rules are part of that.

I know it takes more to raise a child than rules, but rules help to teach a child about things like responsibility, manners, the value of hard work, and accountability. I honestly believe these things got cast aside with the "time out" generations; the lunatics were running the asylum and somewhere along the way we let the children in our lives down and taught them how to be lazy, egocentric, lacking in social graces, and ambitionless because they didn't have to work for what they wanted. If they didn't get what they wanted, the tantrums came and we told them to go sit somewhere until we eventually caved in.

And we caved in in some way, shape, or form.

We taught them that, without any hard work or ambition, they were entitled to start working at a management level, even though they lacked the qualifications and experience needed.  We did things like said it was okay to get rid of grades in schools because a failing grade may embarrass them. We said it was okay to institute "no fail" policies in schools because it would hurt their self esteem not to carry forward with their peer group. You know what that did? Created a situation where illiterate kids were entering high schools. And those kids are mocked without mercy. Is that embarrassing? Does this hurt their self esteem?  Ride a public bus for ten stops after school lets out and observe the cruelty.

Shame on us for allowing this to continue. Shame on us for not getting in their business and being an active part of their lives. Shame on us for parking them in front of the television or computer because we couldn't be arsed to extend ourselves and take the time to lead them, coach them, and guide them. We have set a bad example and should not be surprised some kids are in the shit pit they are in.

I know what I have said is polarizing. So be it. My nieces have rules to follow when they are in my care and I do not care what you think about it. I have to do what I have to do to get them back to their parents and I have to do it in a way that makes them not dead or bleeding or being stalked by some pervert on Facebook. If you want to send me a sanctimonious email that tells me what kind of asshole I am, or that I do not know what it is like to have children, do not waste the energy or bandwidth. My nieces are a very important part of my life and I love them like they are my own. If I have to tell them not to dress like a slut because it attracts the wrong kind of attention any day and the worst kind of attention when she is only twelve, you will not stop me. If I have to tell them homework before video games, I so will and you can suck it if you do not agree.

I am determined to contribute to their success, not set them up for failure.

My set of rules are part of that. Especially at the mall.

I Do Sam, I Do

(Originally posted on my old blog "The Domestication of a Punk Rock Foodie" on May 12, 2010.)

So I have decided that after Sam Worthington comes to Canada and lands on me and falls in love with me, we are getting married and he is taking me to the Poseidon Undersea Resort in Fiji for our honeymoon.

It is all under water. Can you imagine? How many people can say they took a bath underwater? With Sam Worthington? I know.

Now, if you see Sam, tell him I'm waiting. Patiently.

And slightly stalkerishly.

That is what he gets for being on top of my freebie five list.

Also, feel free to remind Sam that I am worth every penny of the 20K per week this place costs.

Who knew it would cost so much to have under water sexy times without drowning?

Happy Recycle Your Boxes Day

If you need me, I'll be out back making one of these...

I'm going to need a cuddle later so stay warm with some tea from this...

Merry Happy Christmas

Happy Almost Santa Day

Wordless Wednesday

Total Eclipse Of The Winter Solstice

I braved the cold last night to watch a bit of the first total lunar eclipse to happen on the winter solstice since 1638.  I'm told that this is only the second time it has happened in 2010 years and some pagan conspiracy theorist end of time types are going a bit bat shit crazy that it has happened in 2010.

No, Kenny, I am not mocking you.  Giving you a tin foil hat and a magic wand for Christmas would be mocking you.

Anyhoodles, here are a couple of pics that I took of the moon:

They should resemble this:

In situations like this, it is clearly best to leave the photography to NASA.

My Brain Is Leaking

Today, I told Ali I was "just gonna hawt mess it through the day."

Not even sticky notes and pre-set alarms on my phone can save me.

Oh, you have no idea.

This past weekend officially turned my brain into leaking Swiss cheese.

Saturday consisted of six hours (I spelled it so there would be no confusion) at the mall with my nieces, getting their Christmas shopping done.  I love them.  I go to great lengths to be not only their aunt, but their mentor and confidante.  But after they caused a major health scare, and fiscally and emotionally bankrupted me realized it was dark out, it was time to go home.

Lessons learned?  The customer service clerks will place bets on how long before you return "The Green Monster" stroller...

(imagine it with not one, but two seats, being navigated through a boutique style store).  We lasted less than 15 minutes.  Food court water is four times as expensive as gas ($2.24 for 591 mL, gas is less than $1.00 a litre... you do the rest of the math).  The tooth fairy is now paying $5.00 a tooth.  $5.00  for a tooth that is currently working its way through my youngest niece's digestive tract because she swallowed it while eating chicken souvlaki.  Dinner at the food court should never involve the questions "Do I give her the Heimlich?" or "We have to make her puke."

It was only hour three when that went down.  Literally.

I had nothing left in the tank when we got home.  But I had wet sheets in the washer that I forgot to put in the dryer and actually dry so I could make my bed before we left for the Christmas Shopping Extravaganza.  When I realized I did not have any sheets to put on my bed, at least none that were dry, I seriously considered laying hand towels all over my bed so I could just lie down and die.

Yes, I was delirious.  No, I did not remember I have four sets of sheets stored in an vacuum packed bag under my bed.

I no longer had a brain to remember with.

Sunday was equally manic.

Four pails of fund raiser cookie dough.  I bought it thinking it would be a time saver and a great way for me and the girls to bond over baking for the holidays.  Okay, so the bonding part is shite.  The day before, I had surprised them with $120.00 each for their Christmas Shopping Extravaganza.  I had been saving some money every month for them.

But it was not free money.  Oh no it, came with emotional black mail and a shit load of rules because Auntie is not Mummy and trying to beat sense into little princesses while in public is currently socially unacceptable and really not an option Auntie cares to explore.

The Rules:
-no whining, crying, complaining, or pouting
-even though your mother thought it would be fun times for you to have bags of sugar coated candy before you came to be my responsibility for two days, there will be no yelling, screaming, or acting like you just sniffed coke and need to scale the palm trees by the fountain
-while you have it in your heads that you are the world's most precious princesses and believe all the contents of the mall should be going home with you, there will be no shopping for you... we are shopping for your family's Christmas gifts
-when you are paying for your gifts, say yes to a gift receipt, no to plastic bags, and thank the people who helped you
-if you cannot touch Auntie or the cart you are too far away
-if you need to pee, you have to say something before it is running down your leg because the magic of the universe places all public bathrooms on one side of the mall... and we will never be on that side when you have to go
-if you need to rest because your boots/shoes/sister/the general public/the shopping cart/the Christmas carols playing in the stores/the current tilt of the world on its axis is irritating you, please politely ask to have a break
-do not make Auntie want to smoke because it has cost her a crap load of money to quit
-should you find the urge to break the rules irresistible, please refer to Princess J's story of when she was four and Auntie made her drop everything and dragged her screaming ass out of the mall and back home because she was a bad princess who wanted everything... Auntie does not count to three and follows through on her threats
-please remember this list grows every year because of naughty behaviour and Auntie Claus can very easily take all the stuff back and get her money back

Oh, and by the way, tomorrow you will be baking cookies with Auntie and all preceding rules will still in effect.

I will not be in The Office tomorrow.  Why?  Because Auntie still has her own shopping to do.  Gifts and food.  Uh huh.  Dinner for about twenty and not a thing has been bought.  Including the bird.  Good news is, all the baking is done and I have my own Shopping Extravaganza down to two lists and four stores.

I am leaving at zero dark stupid.

Do not call.  Do not leave a message.

I am officially on auto pilot and I cannot remember how to retrieve my voice mail anymore.

PS:  I will be making these melted snowman cookies at some point.

Mr. Hanky, My Not So Christmas Poo

(Originally posted on my old blog "The Domestication of a Punk Rock Foodie" on March 19, 2010)

I don’t know what’s wrong with people. Who knew my poo would cause such a crisis in someone’s life.

When I poo, sometimes it’s stinky. And guess what, it happens to about 6 billion people every day, including you. Sometimes, it will happen twice if you have a healthy colon and a high fibre diet.

Soooo, when you get all puritanical because people are pooing in the office bathroom, my advice to you is to get over yourself and your aversion to feces. It's a friggin' bathroom and designed for some pretty specific uses, one of which happens to be pooing. Oh I know, you don’t fart in front of anybody and you only poo when you are completely isolated from society, but I’m fairly certain the only person in the world who shits glitter and baby powder is Lady Gaga. For your own sake, relax and ixnay the poo perturbation. Ya, I know, I had a poo in the office bathroom but the poo-approved bathrooms on the other side of the building are under renovation and, for the next four to six weeks, you will have to deal with it.

Now, when you came to my desk with the air freshner and acted like I had shat toxic waste (which I didn’t… for what its worth you only knew I poo’d cos I farted), that was precious. It must have pissed you off that I didn’t rush to admit I had poo’d in the poo-free bathrooms and then apologize profusely for ruining your day. Really, it wasn’t necessary, was it? We both know what your motivation was. Epic fail if you were trying to make a point. You should know it gave me great pleasure to smile and tell you the scent was nice (scent of the freshner, not my poo). Honestly, it took all I had not to laugh and ask you if you were the corporate shitologist but I realized after that thought left my brain but before it had left my mouth that I was really close to crossing the line.

I'm not sure what is more cryptic to me...
1] Your reaction to poo.
2] The fact that, on a regular basis, you shit in that poo-free bathroom yet the rest of us are forbidden to use the bathroom for one of its originally intended purposes.
3] How the hell a bathroom became a poo-free zone.

Just wondering out loud, ‘kay? Don't hate the pooper, hate your shitty game.

By the way, I still have gas from the turkey rice soup I had yesterday. Yes, still. You should also know, I’m bloated so there’s more farts and poo to come. It’s gonna be great. And now thanks to you, it will also be “meadow fresh”.

Blessed

Do not just look for what you want to see,
that would be futile.
Do not look for anything,
but allow the insight to have a chance to come by itself.
That insight will help liberate you.

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Random Sauce, Part Four

If you know how to use a pair of scissors like they are pliers or a surgical clamp, you work in an office.

~~~~~

Serena Ryder is ah may zing.

~~~~~

Sometimes all it takes is a really good cup of tea to turn a really bad day around.

~~~~~

Using 100 words to describe three beautiful things isn't as easy as you think.

~~~~~

Snow looks pretty at first.  After five months, it is depression actualized.

~~~~~

Wordless Wednesday

He Did Not Forsake Us

(Originally posted on my old blog "The Domestication of a Punk Rock Foodie" on May 22, 2010)


I strongly suggest you get yourself a punk rawk anger shaman who has a wee bit of hippie dippie do to share. Ta Hank. And ta M-Dawg for showing up.

The following is the speech Rollins gave last year at the Sonoma State University commencement, on May 23, 2009. Hank spoke about it last night and I totally ripped it off the SSU site to share with you.

"It is an honor to be in front of you today as we congratulate all of our graduates and welcome their families and friends. My name is Henry Rollins and the fact that I was asked to speak briefly to you all today is one of the highest compliments and most terrifying propositions I have ever had and I only hope my words have some meaning and merit.

"I would like to thank you for going to college. I would like to thank you for taking years of your life and devoting it to study and the pursuit of knowledge. The world is in great need of people who can think, people who value ideas.

"For a moment, think of the person you were before you came here as a freshman or a freshperson if you will, and the person you are now. Of course, there was a large amount of good times, carrying on and engaging in behavior that we need not mention here. It is perhaps why the human brain is allotted such a vast amount of cells, so that it’s not a big problem when a few million fall off the back of the truck. But amidst all the fun and frivolity there were infinitely long stretches of time where you had to hit the books and work and work in order to achieve. There was no one there to tell you to keep at it but you. And you did it, and here you are. You may not need every single course you ever took to get you though life, but the focus and discipline that was required to complete the course will be invaluable tools that you will utilize and that will hopefully benefit you and those around you for the rest of your life.

"Your education and the time you spent here must be more than merely the means to a good job and financial security. Those are certainly important concerns but I am hoping for much more out of you. To come all this way only to become content cogs in a large machine or merely indistinguishable threads in a massive tapestry is not enough. It just isn’t.

"I know you are well aware of what is happening on planet Earth in 2009. Some say that we are in tough times. I believe we are in challenging times that are in need of bold thinking, fresh ideas and new ways of going about old things. This is where you come in. The future greets you today. You are a very big part of what it will be. So, it is incumbent upon you to take all that you have learned and all that you have worked so hard to achieve and do something with it that is more than the gathering of items and the purchase of a place to put it all in. Because at the end of the day, that is a bit of a checked swing, isn’t it? You don’t want to retire into the dull roar that quickly and quietly, do you? I should hope not!

"It is interesting, the excuses people give when they tell me why they don’t read as much as they used to, don’t travel or inquire as much as they did years before. They tell me they got tired, the kids, the job, the drive to work, the grind, not enough hours in the day, they say. When someone would tell the great philosopher Seneca that there wasn’t enough hours in the day, Seneca said that the gods had been quite generous with time allotment but that many people just don’t make good use of it. Not a second of your life will you ever get back. Make every day count, or acquire a taste for regret.

"I don’t understand how a mind that has been enlightened by years of study and immersed in an environment of such frenetic intellectual activity could ever suffer the crushing blow of complacency. I hope that none of you ever suffer this self-inflicted, greatly compromised condition. Not only is it inexcusable, it is boring as hell and no fun at all.

"Your curiosity must never wane! Ever. You are, therefore you want to know, want to go, want to know more and want to go further. As college graduates, you know all too well how much there is to know and the incalculable amount of fascinating things there are to explore, from thought to geographic destination. It is your curiosity that you must enhance, strengthen and value, more and more as the years go on and on. It is your curiosity that you must guard against exhaustion, apathy and that awful plague called middle age. You are allowed occasional but brief vacations from your curiosity, DVD box sets of television shows and carbohydrate rich foods are permitted—but don’t make a career out of it! It is your curiosity that you will pass on like a genetic trait to your children, infect all those around you like a virus and inspire the anger of those who have chosen to admit defeat. One of the greatest and most powerful words in any language is: WHY.

"When you stop wanting to find out, you’re done. There are few things more unendurable than being forced to spend time with someone who is intellectually incurious. This can never be you. Ask a question. Go forth. Arrive at the answer. Catch your breath. Ask Why. And then set off again. Never relent!

"The world is in need of bright minds. Individuals who seek to spread peace and prosperity by the way conduct themselves and the value they place on the lives of others and on life itself. These people, by way of their concern and awareness, whether they know it or not—are leaders.

"You lead through kindness, generosity, tolerance, innovation, the quest for knowledge and a basic, resolved goodness that is incorruptible, inexhaustible and undefeatable.

"You do not lead by intimidation, by economic coercion, overwhelming military might or sanctions.

"Brutality, oppression and the constant threat of violence only results in brutality, oppression and actual violence. The world has more than it needs.

"A member of Ku Klux Klan doesn’t need a frying pan upside the head! He needs an Al Green record and some good books. He needs better information so he can make better decisions and reach better conclusions. He needs to be inspired. You could do that for someone else, you could do that for a lot of people. It might take a lot less and go a lot further than you think.

"If you have noticed, I keep mentioning the people and the world around you. I have been doing this because you are surrounded. You are surrounded by millions of square miles of land, billions of gallons of water and who knows how many cubic feet of air. You share all of these finite and vulnerable resources with millions of people. Everything you do, affects someone else, perhaps more than you realize. I am hoping that you understand that your responsibility to yourself and your well-being must also somehow include the planet on which you live and the people you share it with because like it or not, it does."

On being cynical (from the "Provoked" tour) NSFW

Blessed

"Should a seeker not find a companion who is better or equal, let him resolutely pursue a solitary course; there is no fellowship with the fool." ~ Dhammapada 61

Christmas Puked: The Eulogy

I called it.

The sacred wooden Christmas tree was awarded to Service on Friday.

I am not entirely sure their effort was award winning, but it clearly was not Christmas Puked, which I am certain disqualified Corporate from every and any contest being held during the Christmas season.

I already have my plans for a truly tacky Christmas Buddha on the drawing board.  Next year, my workspace is gonna be a Very Neon Buddhist Christmas.  The Office Troll can jump up her own ass if she doesn't like it.  People will flock to rub his belly and delight in the Christmas carols and random chants that play when you tickle his belly button.

I know.  If there was a Buddhist hell, I would be second in command.

It is also worth noting the game of Where's Waldo? died on Friday.

Please excuse me while I gloat.

More Fave Things

Avon has come a long way in the last few years.  One thing I love love love from them is their Liquid Freeze Quick Dry Spray.  If you are anything like me, I do not have the patience to sit and let my nails dry.  Also, when that final coat goes on, my bladder decides it is pee pee time.  Or the phone rings.  Or I get an itch on my foot but it is on the arch of my foot,  not quite at the bottom of the arch but definitely not something you can scratch without your nails.  I know you know.  The price point on this stuff is tres reasonable.

My love affair with Pampered Chef continues.  Their crinkle cutter is worth paying for.  Yes, that is code for I probably paid too much but I had to have it.

Not only do you get a great ripple cut on carrots or potatoes or any other vegetable for that matter, you can channel your inner Nigella when chopping herbs:

My new winter boots... Makayla's from Payless Shoes.  I don't live in Ms. Paltrow's world so her latest edition of Goop is pretty to look at but not what I'll be wearing this season.

 
Again, Images and Shades in Edmonton is amazing.  The essie brand of nail polish is my go to brand.  Images retails this stuff for about half the price of Shopper's Drug Mart other retailers.  Below are Rock Candy and Angora Cardi.

I love coffee.

I require coffee in the morning like you need air to breathe.

I am, without question, Team Tim Horton's.  I also was Team I Need A Travel Mug That Is Hard Plastic, Slender, And Has A Leak Proof Lid.  This was an ongoing issue for me until I cheated on Timmy's the other day and went to Starbucks.

I really had no choice.  That is where the driver was of the car I was in was going.

She is not Team Tim's.  She is Team I Want To Be Separated From My Hard Earned Money By Paying For Overpriced Shitty Burnt Coffee.

I entered Starbucks and my search was over.  I found this pretty mug, hard plastic (it is winter here kids), complete with leak proof lid.  I have put it in my lululemon bag, almost full, and never had it leak.  Of course, it was also standing upright and not swimming around on its side, co-mingling with my wallet and lunch.

The price you ask?  Well, I am not sure.  The kid working the till was a useless tit (shhhhh I am being nice) and fucked up every order that was taken before me so it should come as no surprise that he did not charge me for it.  Who knew a soy latte was so difficult?  Starbucks really has to work on training their people to deal with the 2:00 coffee rush.  Sooooo by the time I got to the till, I was well on my way to stabbing my eyes out.  The kid took the mug from me, TOOK THE HOW TO CARE FOR YOUR MUG INSERT OUT OF THE MUG, filled it with regular coffee, got my my chocolaty goodness treat from the display cabinet, and charged me $3.83.

Now, if the Dalai Lama, Jesus, and Allah had been standing behind me, I would pre-paid their order and would have corrected this creature who was stripping the life off me.  But they were not behind me and the kid had to know the mug was new because he TOOK THE HOW TO CARE FOR YOUR MUG INSERT OUT OF THE MUG and put it on the counter.  He even took the sale price sticker off the bottom of the mug and affixed it on the how to care for your mug insert before he filled it.

Am justified.

Am loving my mug.

Apostrophe Abuse

I started university as an English major.

I know what you are thinking.

Behave yourself.

I am the first to admit that I am not Shakespeare.  I am well aware that what I produce here is not some sweeping prose that should be bound in novel form, sold at all the major retailers, and nominated for all sorts of elitist awards.  No, that stuff is downstairs in a filing cabinet waiting for my undivided attention.

What I am doing here is an experiment in free thinking and free form writing; I had a professor in a third year creative writing course accuse me of not being able to do such a thing.  He also said some stuff about fear of being judged, fear of success, blah blah blah.

And Cassie dared me.  Double dirty dog dared me.  I really did not have a choice in the matter, did I?

While my writing here may suck like a hoover, I have written emails that should be framed and passed down through the generations.  My "snot-a-grams" are legendary.  I can peel paint with them, but I do try to be diplomatic about the issue at hand.  I am not always a total bitch from hell who desperately needs Ritalin a demanding cow but the lack of common sense I am inundated with before 9:00 am frustrates me.

(And just so there is no confusion, if I send an email to you and I call you or someone you know a paragon of incompetence, feel free to loosely translates that to I cannot believe you got to work today without a road map and a tour guide.  Seriously.  More often than I care to admit, I wonder that about some people.  I understand this is not at all diplomatic.  I am not proud of that nor am I happy about thinking that way about people, but there it is.)

So, when composing emails, I do my best to make sure they are grammatically correct before I click on the send button.  I have spell check and grammar check automatically do their thing before an email leaves my outbox because I my brain leaks and I cannot be trusted to always remember to do this myself.  Lastly, the punctuation in the emails I write is carefully pondered before the email is sent out into the inky blackness of the Internet.  I work at a corporate level for The Company.  People expect me to at least spell right and use fairly good grammar and punctuation.  And let's be honest, people appreciate spacing between sentences.  It makes your stuff readable.

What is my point?  Why have I grumbled on for so long?

I recently received an email at work that crawled up my ass and rolled around while simultaneously causing my brain to implode and then explode.  I am probably going to get in copious amounts of crap for posting the gem below but after I read it and my brain splatter was wiped off my cube walls, I decided it had to be shared.  It is just too good to not be out there with all the other bad emails from management types who think they are doing us a favour by gracing us with their presence.

Oh yeah, this was written by a manager.  Who is older than 19.  Way older but equally arrogant and hypocritical.

Enjoy.  Christmas came early this year!

"Subject: Clean Up



Hello All




As we are all aware, we have our Customer Appreciation day on Thursday.Could you please speak with the folks in your area's and make sure that all area's are clean , and work space i.e.: desk's etc are as clean as can be.We all want to show our client's our best.Appreciate your effort's , and remember , the Customer's will be the judge's for the Decoration Contest.Let's make it a tough call for them



Thanks Again" (period left out because it was never in the original email)

Some days are awesome, non?

Go back and read it again.

You are so welcome.

It is like a gift that keeps giving.  Every time I read it, I find something new.

All this from a man who held a seminar on how to use the in/out board.  Because, for all the years prior to his arrival that we have been using the in/out board, we have not been inning and outing properly, efficiently, or effectively.  True story.

I know how to use a in/out board, Sir Dicksmack.

Another thing you halfwit dunderhead ninny,  I know how to use an apostrophe.  Oh, and you should  know, the Grammar Police called on behalf of the Capitalization Nation.  They respectively want their commas and nouns back.
 
I have said it before.. I am not creative enough to make this stuff up.  I am a magnet for crazy.  At work, I just sit back and it lands in my inbox.  Or in my cube.  It is part of the reason I keep going back for the punishment.  I get paid to be a part of the world's best yet unknown soap opera/unscripted reality TV show, I get fuel to drive this blog and I get to smugly and quietly know I am better at something than someone else.

Yes, I am like that.

PS:  For the wonderful smart asses in my life, do not privately email this entry with the errors in grammar and spelling noted and fixed, punctuation amended.  Do not email me with suggestions for a letter grade if I was still in university.  Or intimate I should go back to the U of A and demand a refund on my tuition.  I will hold your Christmas gift hostage.  Oh, I so would.  Cos I am like that too.

Wordless Wednesday

Santa Made It So

Look what was waiting for me when I got home after work today.

It is not some weak ass 6 ounce thing.  No, no, nay, nay.  It is easily 16.


And the angels sang.

Christmas Puked: Ground Zero

Well it finally happened.

Christmas puked.

Kids, do not forget what the sacred wooden Christmas tree looks like:

She is going to find a home in another department this year.

I don't know if I am on the inside of a candy cane or if the walls and ceilings are now suddenly swimming lanes...

... but I'm pretty sure I'm moving my desk back into the warehouse, even if it is in a shitty drafty corner that I have to share with an inflatable helicopter Santa (who by the way rawks with not one but two motorized propellers)....

Can you max out on bad taste?  Perhaps it is possible if you have an angel with the dead bird tree topper...

... or a "new" candle holder which I am pretty sure is in fact not "new".  Unless candle holders are now being sold as cat  hair holders or a two for one cat hair/candle combo.  Which would be awesome if you liked cats.  I do not.  Sadly the cat hair did not come through on the pic but the horror of the holder is painful enough, of this I am sure.

So the Office Troll (formally the Office Dweller) got her wish.  A projectile vomit Christmas.  What can you expect when this is ground zero:

The following are a few highlights.  I actually took over 35 pics when I was in there but I will not burn your retinas out with bad taste.  Brace yourselves, its gonna get icky.

Garland reindeer on doggie pee pads (okay maybe they are not pee pads but damn they look like it):

 A teddy bear Christmas tree but most of the teddy bears have fallen off so now it just looks like a dead headless body drunk buddy hugging bears while trekking through the neighbour's hedge:

We cannot forget Santa.  Especially when he is about three feet tall and wearing the Office Troll's glasses.  Which she is always losing.  One would imagine it is to be expected when said troll loses a dot matrix (oh yes you read that right) printer under a fake palm jungle and singing and dancing Christmas tree:

See, I told you I am not creative enough to make this shit up.  I get paid to go to the Land Of Crazy every day.  Every.  Day.

So where does one work with all this Christmas glory exploding around them?  Allegedly in this space:

And Martha Stewart wept.

To be honest, I was getting all twitchy and holy-shit-my-A.D.D.-is-making-me-stabby when I was taking these pics.

Remember my desk?

Yes.  O.C.D. and A.D.D. live here.  I will cut a bitch if that dusty, mildewy, fur ball infested crap lands on my desk.  For really.  I like that my desk is clean and reasonably clutter free. 

Turns out I could work for Martha.

The only thing that can stay is Dick Tree.

 At first glance, you do not see it.  But it is a big corporate mushroom print.  I would like to take credit it, but it was The Temp who came up with this masterpiece:

And what does this have to do with "Where's Waldo?"  Who the fuck knows.  What does "Where's Waldo?" have to do with Christmas?

Exxackerly.

Oh Henry

(Originally posted on my old blog "The Domestication of a Punk Rock Foodie" on January 24, 2010)

This week I received another sign that Armageddon is on the way.

Our anger shaman, Henry Rollins, has a girlfriend.

Say whaaa?

First things first, I’m not seeing Edmonton on your tour schedule, and now you publicly admit to being attached and in a committed relationship? WTF, Hank? Clearly, pigs are about to fly and that weasel Garry Bettman is giving Satan his own NHL franchise.

Henry, my friend, I thought we had a deal.

The Rollins Church of Cynicism cannot exist when our jaded leader falls in love. And how the hell am I going to convert others to your pontifications when you and the Bon Jovi Mobile are steering clear of E-Town?

I feel exactly like I did when I found out the Tooth Faerie is a hoax. Cheated and holding a box of manky old teeth. But without the box of teeth.

I swear to gawd, if Lady Gaga gets caught in jeans and a tee shirt, I’m jumping off the roof.

I was also cheated in another way this week. Book number three of the year was supposed to be Salman Rushdie’s The Enchantress of Florence. I am abandoning it. I am on page 184 out of 349 and this story still hasn’t picked up. As a matter of fact, after 184 pages, it’s been a complete snore and somebody really needs to liberate Rushdie’s thesaurus; his writing is excessively wordy and quite frankly, hollow. Oh ya, I went there. I’ve also dropped a couple of Rushdie’s books off my “I Must Read This Before I Die” list. Life is too short and he’s already shaved way too much time off my life with this piece of doo-doo.

I accept part of the blame for this situation. I did pick the book myself after reading stellar reviews and watching it appear all over Best Seller lists. Generally, I am not persuaded by a journalist’s review of a book or Best Seller lists. Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. And a Best Seller is exactly that, a best seller, and never a clear indication of what the quality of the book is.

Let me take a moment to remind you that Britney Spears is a best selling author.

Ya, that’s right, now you get it.

Literature is subjective, as are all art forms, and I should know better than to allow another person to sway my choice. The last time I picked up a book that people were gushing over was Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants. After four attempts, I still haven’t got past the second chapter of that cure for insomnia.  Just shoot me if I pick up anything by Stephenie Meyer.  Gawd, her writing is shite.

So, after reading The Dalai Lama’s Little Book of Inner Peace by His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, Stuck in Downward Dog by Chantel Simmons, and abandoning The Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie, I am rounding out the month of January with Cosmic Jackpot: Why Our Universe is Just Right for Life by Paul Davies. I have flipped through it and it promises to be a mind-fuck for sure… leptons and quarks, big bangs and big rips.

This better be good Trev or you owe me $34.95 and your testicles. And don’t think I won’t collect either.

Blessed

"Evil is like a shadow; it has no real substance of its own, it is simply a lack of light.  You cannot cause a shadow to disappear by trying to fight it, stamp on it, by railing against it, or any other form of emotional or physical resistance.  In order to cause a shadow to disappear, you must shine light on it." ~ Shakti Gawain

Random Sauce, Part Three

When I call you to talk to you about something very serious in nature, masturbating in my ear as a response is not only unflattering, it is rude and incredibly immature.

~~~~~

Sometimes the truth comes in large doses that are unbearable. And sometimes unloading the truth, while it may cause suffering, unloads a burden. That fucks with my Buddhist sensibilities but there comes a time when my self preservation is more important than your ego.

~~~~~

Respect.

~~~~~

Thank you for showing me what I am made of. Sometimes I forget about the strength that dwells within. Thanks for reminding me that I can be confident and live in a world that I created, that I own, and that is bullshit free.

~~~~~

Remember the third date rule ladies. Its a good way to weed out the frogs from the princes. And men folk, do not think that because the third date is over that its business time.

~~~~~

Stop. Before you go any further into your life, get your mobile phone/cellular device out, write down all your contacts and their information, and email it to yourself. You are most welcome.  Seriously, you will be thanking me when you lose/misplace/destroy your phone.  Trust.

~~~~~

Christmas Puked On Waldo: A Holiday Love Story

Where's Waldo?

He's at The Office.

Christmas puked on him.  And all over The Office.

It is a little bit my fault.  Kinda.  Sorta.  I just wanted to hide the beige monster.  Who knew it would turn The Office into some seasonal guide on how not to decorate?

First, the back story.

I used to sit in a shitty cubicle on the main hall.  I am now around the corner in an equally shitty mind numbing, spirit crushing cube...

... with a view (and a kettle)...

Above one portion of all the cubes on The Farm is a "cubbie" (which is code for a place to put your shit so we don't have to look at it.).  Behold the beige monster majesty...

There is just no way to hide it.  Unless you wrap it.  Which is exactly what I did my first Christmas with The Company.

Nobody told me that El Presidente was Mr. Christmas Decorator Extraordinaire.  I had no idea what kind of dragon I had poked.  I did not know there were motorized train sets and motion sensitive decorations in his office.  Nobody, NOBODY gave me the damn memo.

Now each department has a $200.00 budget.  It used to be $350.00 but we are in a recession people!  We cannot get new cubes on The Cube Farm, but we have a Christmas decorating budget.  Le sigh.

And a contest.  Did I happen to mention the contest?

Oh la! the contest for the sacred wooden Christmas tree.  It is fierce.

What started as a bit of fun and mocking between me and El Presidente resulted in Whoville last year.  Yes, complete with bent Christmas tree and a ten foot inflatable Grinch.  No, seriously....

Corporate (the Cube Farmers and I) have won the contest for all four years running.  Beat that bitches!  And yes it was four, we've only had the sacred wooden Christmas tree for three.  Suck it losers!

While I would like to say that we are just really creative and love Christmas, the reality is this... it is all about prevention.  You see, we have a co-worker who is an Office Dweller, Possessor Of A Door That Closes And Walls That Go To The Ceiling (noooooo I'm not even a little bit jealous, noooooo) and she has and entire skid of decorations.

Yes, a SKID.  Four feet long, four feet deep, about five feet high.  You do the math.  Uh huh.

All of our creativity is an effort to keep Christmas from puking out of her office into the rest of the corporate offices and The Cube Farm.  It would be okay but the reality is her stuff is dusty, dated, cheap, and smells like old lady crotch.  No, really.  It is some nasty ass funk.

After creating the majesty that was Whoville last year, we are spent, burnt out and this Cube Farmer some of us do not give a shit what the theme is this year as long as it is not "Christmas Puked."

My fellow Buddhist and Cube Farmer neighbour and I suggested an atheist Christmas.  Or clearing the place out and just having a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  Or having a Very Muslim Christmas with each cube representing an oil rich nation and the manger going in the country that has more desert than oil.

Those drama queens do not have a sense of humour.  Or irony.  Or social commentary.  Or congruence and polarization.

The suggestion of a Very Muslim Christmas went over like a lead balloon even though we were just trying to be all inclusive and give a proper shout out to our Muslim brethren.  Dead air.  Crickets.  No love for that idea.  None.  I had my hopes set high. I wanted to be Libya so I could get my Gaddafi on.  I got the crazy down to a science.

For what it is worth, no matter how far into the depths of hell you cast me, and even though I do not believe in 99% of Christian dogma, I know Baby Jesus was not down with racism.  Surely MC JC (Messiah Cometh, Jesus Christ... use it, don't abuse it) would have delighted in an ironic juxtaposition of multicultural celebration and consumerism.  No?  Well, I do think the Bible is Christian mythology and the whole idea of immaculate conception is a steaming pile of doo-doo, so what do I know?

Sadly, Santa will not be visiting an oil rich Islamic state this year when he comes to The Cube Farm.  Turns out drama queens do not like religious based controversy.  Oh, they will fuck their co-workers in their spare time at work or after work, but they Just.  Say.  No. to intelligent, thought provoking controversy.  Fraidy cats.

Next year, my fellow Buddhist and Cube Farmer neighbour and I are bringing in a huge Buddha with a gigantic Santa hat on his head.  With lights that are synced to chants.  And a candy cane bodhi tree.  And popcorn string malas.  Our side of The Cube Farm is going to be a Very Buddhist Christmas.

So what will Santa be visiting you ask?  Well it is supposed to look like a giant candy cane (it so does not) but it is really a game of Where's Waldo? (it so is).  I know, totally has everything to do with the spirit of Christmas.  Imagine it, the three wise men roll up to the manger... gold, frankincense, myrrh, and a Where's Waldo?  book.  It could have totally happened.  Just on papyrus and in Aramaic.

There will be pictures tomorrow as they were still "striping" the place when I left today.  To be honest, we are just one dry heave away from Christmas puking.  Seriously.

In the mean time, I will be plotting where to hide Waldo the next time I find him.

Hey, I gotta get my kicks from somewhere.  You saw where I sit all day.