need some brida things?

I spotted this while stumbling home this evening. I'm still laughing, but then again, I'm drunk (as you can probably tell from the quality photography). Perhaps the person who wrote this was also drunk. I don't know how else to explain the missing "l."

I may think this post is really lame when I'm hungover tomorrow morning. Oh well.

RainyBow

what is wrong with people?

In the past few days:

• 2 toddlers froze to death in -50C weather in Saskatoon after their drunk father took them out with hardly any clothes on
  
• a baby was dumped face down in a stairwell that was -14C - she was found 2 hours later
  
• a mother left her two children in her SUV for 45 minutes in -30C weather - police had to break the windows to get them out
• a dead baby was dumped on the side of the road in Texas
• police laid charges for 2 men who sexually assaulted a 3-month old (i'm not linking the story on purpose)
  

I'm sure there's more.

Something is really wrong with our society. Ugh.

SunnyShine

when does it stop being fun and start being cougar?

I meet guys at the gym all the time. This evening a hottie I've seen before talked me up. After a few minutes of conversation, I decided he wasn't just hot but also rather smart. All was going well until he dropped a piece of information indicating that he was at least 14 years my junior. Then he asked for my phone number.

I've dated younger guys before, but I've always been careful to stay within the generation gap (10 years). What should I have done here?

To any of you tempted to respond that age doesn't matter, it doesn't matter for older guys, but don't forget that double-standards abound in my world. When does one officially become a cougar?

RainyBow

__________________________

SunnyShine note: NIKE

mommy, i want a boob

One of my good friends just got a bad case of mastitis. I cringed as I wrote that because I'm told it's uber painful. But I can't really feel all that badly for her. You see, my friend is still breastfeeding her child, who is now... wait for it... 18 months old.

Now, I know somebody inevitably will read this and say something like "well, my mom breastfed me until I was FOUR and I turned out OK," but, you know, that's just not normal in my world. Once your kid starts eating solid foods, the breastfeeding should slowly come to an end. Most North American doctors will tell you that all nutritional value to the child is lost after 9 months, and that after that point, breastfeeding is just a crutch for the mother to feel closer to her child. A creepy crutch, I might add.

My rule of thumb? If your kid can ask for milk in some semblance of a sentence, it's time to stop.

RainyBow

________________________

SunnyShine note: I'll raise you a nearly 3-year old. The sister of a friend of mine is still breastfeeding her child who turns 3 in May. He walks. He talks. He is learning to read. Make the madness stop.

apparently you can can anything

Today I was doing some work research and came across this. It's possible this is the greatest product I have ever seen. I don't think I would ever eat it, mind you, but I am amused all the same.

I'm not sure who came up with this genius idea but I would love to meet them. It's possible they could save the world from everything. I wonder what else he/she has up the sleeve?

Here's a question. Do you eat the canned cheeseburger cold? I'm assuming that if you are resorting to eating a canned cheeseburger, you don't have any way of heating up food. Also, what condiments are on this cheeseburger? Are there different options in case you want ketchup and not mustard? So many questions.

SunnyShine
_____________

RainyBow note: Germans.

i can see my food through the smoke... check.

Last night Sunny and I went out to a nice little bistro with another friend. I said bistro, so it wasn't a crappy $5 meal. Well, before any of us had arrived there was some sort of massive kitchen incident. I'm not sure if the restaurant lacked a ventilation system or whether nobody thought to deploy it, but by the time we arrived, the smoke was heavy. Part way through the meal my eyes were dry and itchy. By the end of the meal, I couldn't wait to get back to the cold outside. Sunny actually turned down some intensely yummy-sounding desserts in her haste to leave the premises. I told the waiter we had to go because we just couldn't take it anymore, and he said, "Yeah, I don't know what happened in the kitchen, I guess something."

Everything on my body reeked. It all went straight into the laundry basket when I got home. Our friend said her hair still smelled this morning.

This evening I had a lovely dinner out with other friends. After the smoke-filled experience last night though, the crappiest of food would probably have made cordon blue status with me tonight.

It left a bad taste in my mouth that nobody offered an apology.

RainyBow


_______________________________

SunnyShine note: Ugh. Was so disgusting. The dogs had their noses suctioned to me when I got home; I'm sure they thought I had leftovers in my pocket. Next day I had a gigantic smoky-restaurant headache too. So crappy.

at the car wash

The salt from the city's winter clean-up is killing my car and I've been trying to run through a car wash. Every time I try, something goes horribly wrong.

In the latest attempt, I pulled up to the pump, filled up with gas and chose to pay for a car wash at the pump. When I finished filling the tank, no receipt came out with the code for the wash. I went into the kiosk.

Me: Hi, I bought a car wash at the pump and no receipt came out, so I don't have a code. Can you please give me one?

Employee: Well, it didn't give you a receipt because the car wash is broken.

Me: Oh, OK. But I paid for a car wash. You should probably disable that function.

Employee [completely disinterested]: Yeah.

Me: OK, well, can you refund me the cost of the car wash?

Employee: No, I can't, but I can give you a code. [Jots something down on a piece of paper and hands it over.]

Me: This doesn't even look like a code, and I will definitely lose it. Can I please just have a refund?

Employee: Well, you bought it on your credit card and I can't refund to your credit card.

Me: Ummm... why not?

Employee: I don't know how and there's nobody else here.

Me [laughing]: OK, well, can you just give me the amount back in cash then?

Employee: I'm not supposed to.

Me: OK, but now I'm getting no car wash and I'm not getting any money back. That seems a tad unfair. I suggest you refund my money in cash.

Employee [big sigh, counting cash laboriously]: Oh, OK.

Is it really this hard?

RainyBow

more snacks

As you may have gathered from at least one previous post, I love snack food from other countries. Actually, I'm a source of much amusement, because when I get a new snack I don't just love it, I obsess over it. I keep it on my desk and admire it, then I photograph it, then, finally, I eat it. Throughout this long process, I talk about it. Endlessly.

Over the Christmas break, a friend went on some crazy central American cruise and was kind enough to indulge my little habit. Here are the two gems she brought back for me.

The white cigar-looking item is a rollito de coco, a delicious combination of coconut and sugar. Mmmmmm. The only alarming feature about this item: one of its ingredients was "vanilla raising." I'm hoping that's a bad translation of "extract."

The Pico Buzzy with the crazy face was a bit more of an experience. It looked like Jell-O crystals (which were a staple in my diet when I was like six). And it boasted a "tamarind flavor." Now, I like tamarind as much as the next person, but I've never really wanted to sample tamarind Jell-O crystals. I'm guessing that Kraft Foods' focus groups have overwhelmingly agreed.

I went all the way with the Pico Buzzy and poured a whack down my throat. It was like scarfing down a mixture of sugar and salt. And some artificial red stuff. I wonder if it's a big seller in some central American country.

RainyBow

why make an informed decision?

Well, I got too caught up in PowerPoint and chili cheese fries to mark the anniversary of two major court decisions in North America this week: Roe v. Wade and R v. Morgentaler. Whatever your feelings might be on abortion (and this post is not meant to express an opinion either way), I think it's safe to say that those two decisions were monumental in the social life of North Americans.

And so, one would think that in the case of unwanted pregnancy these days, since there are options, discussion of the merits of those options would be a given. When one of my high school friends got pregnant at 17, let me tell you, there was much discussion. I would actually say much agonizing. When you're young, broke, sick, and/or alone, and facing the prospect of bringing another life into the world, the decision either way can't be easy. I feel lucky that I've never had to face it for myself.

And yet I've seen two (really popular) movies over the last few months that would lead one to believe that weighing of the available options doesn't really happen anymore. First there was Knocked Up, an amusing film, but unfortunately based on the premise that no girl in the position of the main character should even consider a shmashmortion. I think abortion was debated (if one can call it that) for about two seconds in the film. (I don't even want to get into the incredibly insulting premise that a girl should feel grateful if some guy with no job and no prospects actually steps up and tries to contribute when he gets her pregnant--when women just have to step up all the time, and nobody thinks that's a miracle.) Then there was Juno, another amusing film, this time about a teenager who considers abortion only incredibly briefly, then decides to have the baby, with her parents' full support. I don't know about you, but I don't know any parents like Juno's. The parents I know would be incredibly upset, and would make their kid think through the consequences of all possible courses of action.

Again, I'm not saying that abortion's for everyone, and this isn't meant to be a veiled pro-life rant. But Roe v. Wade happened 35 years ago now and it's like we're still pretending we live in a society where there are no options, or at least not ones that need to be considered. Given how high the stakes are, that seems very wrong to me.

RainyBow

brain and artery death

OK, I have to give full disclosure before continuing this post. Here's what you need to know:

1. I hate despise television. I see very little merit in anything that's aired on the beast, except as a mindless diversion when you're ill. I'll admit to watching a few well-written shows on DVD: Arrested Development and Entourage come to mind. I know people who organize their entire schedule around the boob tube (including my sister, who will record one show while watching another), and it frightens me to no end. No wonder America is hurtling into recession. Read a book. Have a real conversation. Try something new. Take a walk. Seriously.

2. I hate TV celebrities, especially talk show hosts like Oprah and Rachel Ray. My friends are infinitely more interesting and they're not half as self-centred.

3. I've been a vegetarian for over 15 years. I occasionally eat seafood because I find it impossible not to in my world, but I do my best to avoid eggs and dairy. I've probably inadvertently eaten bits of meat or meat broth in something over the past 15 years, but I can't imagine really eating meat again.

Now that you've got the full facts, let's go onto the real post...

I haven't been feeling well over the last couple of days. Yesterday morning, lying on my couch, I decided to try crapola TV as a distraction from the pain of my throbbing head. I stumbled on Rachel Ray, who was talking about art. It was better than the other crap I had just flipped over, and, out of sheer laziness, I didn't change the channel.

After a commercial break, Rachel Ray came back with a cooking portion of the show. The big dish of the day was chili cheese fries. I've never had anything like it, but the dish seemed to be comprised of three layers:
- homemade fries
- chopped turkey (but I can't tell the difference between different meats so it may have been something else)
- a mixture of cheddar cheese, chicken stock, milk, and beer

She kept going on and on about how this was a great meal on its own and how much her husband loves it. She plated it and oohed and aahed over it, and the audience sure clapped a lot. I was thankful that I didn't have to watch anyone actually take a bite. I was already feeling more than a bit nauseous.

Do people really eat like this? And if this is a full meal, is it suddenly OK to replace fruits and vegetables with saturated fats? While watching this, I just kept thinking about how much money you'd have to give me so that I'd take even a bite of these chili cheese fries. I don't think I landed on an actual number, but it was a lot.

RainyBow

perspective

Rainy recently posted about The Congo. Here's some more perspective for you. Try to keep this in mind next time the barista gives you the wrong drink and you explode in a fit of rage. No matter how hard your life is here, it really isn't that hard.

Here are some facts to get you started in case you're too lazy to click the link:

1. 5.4M ppl have died since 1998
2. 45K ppl die each month - majority from treatable diseases like malaria (and trust me, malaria is treatable)


SunnyShine

RainyBow note: Another quick fact: life expectancy in the Congo two years ago didn't even reach 42 years. Let's guess at the causes: diseases that could be treated if medical care and/or drugs were available/affordable, infant mortality, malnutrition/starvation, war... there's so much more. None of it will be solved quickly, and very little of it affects me. I did nothing to be so lucky.

powerpoint abuse

I just got home from an orientation night for a volunteer position that would be really cool. The night itself didn't exactly sell the opportunity though.

The first 35 minutes of the meeting (yes, I said 35 minutes) was spent listening to three different people read bullets from PowerPoint slides, word for word. The presentation was intended to bring to life what the organization does and what volunteers can do to make it better. So someone just barfed all the information on to some paper, and then three people read it all out to us. And thank goodness they read it to us, because it's not as if a room full of people could figure out how to read a bunch of information on their own.

Well, they had my attention for approximately 4 of the 35 minutes, and those 4 weren't happy moments. As you may know, I have a fetish for proper usage of the English language, and one of the speakers just couldn't get any of the bullets right. I would say she stumbled on about 1 out of every 3 words she spoke. For a few minutes, I read along with her, silently correcting every one of her mistakes, hoping that I could will her into a state of better reading. Then I tired of that too.

Why oh why?!

This is not how PowerPoint was meant to be used. And this is not how PowerPoint should ever be used. As marketing smartypants Seth Godin writes, bullets are for the NRA. Your slides, on the other hand, are your chance to reinforce what you're saying, through images or simple language. They certainly shouldn't be your big chance to alienate your audience. Most of us can do that easily, without props, all on our own.

After the 35 minutes of hell, there was some extemporaneous discussion. However, most people around me had descended into a brain activity level just above coma, so the discussion was not what I would describe as lively.

I did momentarily snap back into the real world when I heard the words "scent-free." I almost choked on my stale Oreo cookie (thanks for that crappy offering, btw, you boring PowerPoint offenders). Apparently this place too is a scent-free environment. Between this and the yoga joint, I think I'm meeting more than my fair share of scent-free crazies these days. Perhaps someone is trying to send me a sign? Hopefully it's not written in PowerPoint.

RainyBow

PS: yay, Sunny's back.

lies and more lies

This is a little late but I still need to put it down for the record. Recently, the US President went to Saudi Arabia to ask for a little more oil. Not surprisingly, this was his first real trip to the middle east in 8 years in office. Interesting that he has no trouble putting his citizens in the hot zone so they can get their limbs blown off or get killed but he can't spare a minute to visit. Too dangerous maybe? What can you expect of a president who had never been out of the US when he took office.

So great that he has remained friends with the Saudis through these tumultuous times. You never know when you're going to need more oil to run all of the 16 cylinder vehicles the US is so fond of. Kittens and roses.

The war on terror shows no signs of ending. We must do our best to rid the world of the terrible Afghans and Iraqis. Damn, those Iranians are pesky too. What no one seems to remember - or maybe they don't even know - is that 15 of 19 of the 911 pilots were SAUDI. Of the other 4, 1 was Egyptian, 2 were from UAE, and 1 was Lebanese. No, there's no mistake.

None were Afghan.

None were Iraqi.

None were Iranian.

They were SAUDI. Who is Bush hobnobbing with?? The Saudis. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I don't recall any wars being declared on Saudi Arabia in recent memory. I do recall handshakes, smiles, and dancing.

It's all about oil, people. The US doesn't care about anything or anyone unless they are sitting on oil. Can't upset the Saudis and risk not getting their oil.

Please remember this when the bombs start falling on Iran in the name of the war against terror. Ask yourself why. The lies just keep coming and the Americans just keep swallowing them.


SunnyShine


ps....I'm back.

i've seen a lot on the road...

... but I've never seen this one. Apparently Virginia has seen fit to ban "outsized rubber replica[s] of testicles" dangling from trailer hitches, for safety reasons.

Seriously, was this ban really necessary? Has anyone out there remarked on the epidemic of rubber testicle trailer hitches before this news? And if people really are decorating their trailer hitches with these items, where do you think they're getting them? Is some genius out there making oodles of cash with the decorative rubber testicle replica business idea?

damn those books that make you think

This week I've been listening to the audio version of this book in my car to and from work. It's made me want to vomit in my mouth several times.

How did it get this bad? I've been resisting going completely vegan for some time now because it's so darn hard (in my family and in North America generally). When I finish this book I'm not sure I'll have a choice.

Dammit.

Weekend update: As the book continues, I've progressed from vomiting in my mouth to having difficulty reading from the tears in my eyes. Argh.

no bracelets, just pushed buttons

The Christ Church Unity people, otherwise known as the complaint-free people, have been pushing my buttons.

You see, I requested some complaint-free bracelets last spring. And I got all excited about them. Really, who wouldn't? It's not like any other charity sells plastic bracelets to raise awareness and funds.

Well, now it's 2008, and not only have no bracelets arrived, but now I get regular email updates from those people, rubbing it in. Seriously.

The emails are full of shiny, happy tales about people who have apparently been complaint-free for months. Can you imagine spending time with those people? I figure they're either seething with repressed anger and about to blow, or they're inexplicably accepting of mediocrity. Or maybe both. Either way, that's going to be one rousing round of drinks.

At any rate, the latest email update featured a super-happy person hawking the New Year/New You package. Seriously, why is she so happy? She's wearing a crapola tshirt (methinks someone over at Christ Church Unity thinks him or herself a pretty darn good graphic designer) and is holding the complaint-free book, which, although I haven't exactly sought out reviews, I'm willing to bet isn't exactly on the verge of a Nobel prize for literature. But better yet, check out the complaint-free world bumper sticker. Yup, she clearly thinks it's a good idea to put inflammatory statements on the bumper of your car, where nobody ever hits anybody.

I want my bracelets.

if there were an award for blurting...

Today I was at my desk in my open concept office, doing my stuff. I think I was typing. I'm a fast typist and I think I'm a bit of a loud typist, but nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, colleague of the birthing video fame was at her desk and leaned over the wall. This conversation ensued:

Colleague: Wow, that's really loud. You're making my head hurt.

Me [still typing]: What? I'm not doing anything different from usual.

Colleague [giggling]: Yes, but today I'm hungover.

Me [sensing that colleague wants to share yet another story, now devoting my attention to her]: That sucks. Did you have a really good night last night?

Colleague: I just had a friend over and we had some drinks.

Me: Fun. [Turning back to computer]

Colleague: It was my ex-boyfriend, you know, the one who was my boyfriend last week. But now he's dumped me again so now he's my ex-boyfriend and I'm so heartbroken because we were together for two years and I really love him. But he keeps dumping me every like two months or something. He's got really big problems and I don't think he's ever going to get any better. He's gone for professional help and it's doing nothing for him. And I know it's bad for me and for my kids, but I don't really want to be without him. So he came over last night and we got really drunk and talked through our relationship and I just think it has to be over once and for all because really it just can't go on like this. I can't put myself through this or my kids through this anymore. Man, it's so hard. I just don't know how I'm going to get over this.

Me [hands still poised over keyboard, completely traumatized by the fact that this story was mostly told to my back because I had had no idea the "I am hungover" statement was going to turn into a desperate cry for a conversation]: Ummm... do you want to get out of here and get a coffee or something?

Colleague: Oh no, I know you're busy.

the power of 60 minutes

Last night Anderson Cooper and 60 Minutes did a story on the current conditions for women in the Congo. This morning six people either emailed me or came by my desk to talk about the story and what they could do about it.

Women being raped and tortured in the Eastern Congo certainly isn't a new story. Sadly, it's an old and tragic one. The government in the Congo has done nothing. The international community, for the most part, hasn't done much either.

And yet today all I could think was that one news story has suddenly turned so many heads. I wondered what would happen if stories like this were covered with more frequency. If more people were given the facts, if more people were forced to watch the truth about violence like this--and I don't mean the stupid, gratuitous violence of North American films--would some people take action?

I've been thinking about this all day. Is it the media's fault, for not covering the story and informing the public? Or is it the public's fault for just not caring? On good days (like today) I like to believe it's the former; I like to believe that if only people knew, they'd want to help.

There are, after all, people doing amazing things. For example, there are these people, who are organizing runs to raise awareness and funds for Congolese women; there are these people, who are equipping the women in the Congo with education, job skills training, and a support system; and then there are the people at Human Rights Watch, who do so much great work.

On bad days though, I think it's the latter, that people just suck. And as much as I'm on a bit of a people-really-care-and-the-world-isn't-so-bad high today, it's quite likely that I'll have one of those bad days tomorrow. And I'll wish I were ignorant. Kind of.

oh no

I got a note from Sunny early this morning. For any of you that may not know, she's been pretty darn ill and far away on vacation.

She's definitely on the mend now, but she still isn't able to get out of bed and do too much without getting tired quickly. So she read all the books she had and could get her hands on (that is, all of those in a language she could actually read). Today, after running out out books, she resigned herself to reading O magazine (that's what they call the Oprah mag, right?). When writing me the note, she was in the midst of an article called, "Is your handbag killing you?" A buying guide for bags.

Hell finally has frozen over.

it's hard to understand me because...

I told this story twice today, so why not a third time?

On a hiking trip to the Adirondacks a year and a half ago, I met a hottie from Manhattan. I have a weakness for athletes, and he was a surfer. He was also a pilot, and because he could fly in and out all the time, we ended up dating for a while. He'd fly in for a night, we'd go out and have a good time, then he'd fly out again.

(Btw, that's my idea of a fantastic relationship, but let's not get into psychoanalyzing that one today, OK?)

Because pilot boy and I always went out for an evening only, and because there was inevitably drinking involved, I don't think I ever really got to know him. He was fun. He was also pretty young. Looking back, I now think I may have overlooked a few of his not-so-bright sounding comments here and there, chalking them up to his tender age.

One night we were out and he asked me what I studied in school. I told him that coming out of high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do other than that I wanted to learn to speak French fluently (go figure). So I did my post-secondary work in French at a school with a bunch of French people. (BTW, my French was pretty darn rudimentary at the time so I look back and think wow, I had balls. But I failed my first two papers, then I got smart and found myself a French boyfriend. And eventually I learned because I had to.)

But back to my night with pilot boy. The conversation went in many other directions and we were talking about someone else, when he stopped me and asked that I repeat something (can't remember what, as it wasn't memorable). As I was about to repeat it, he said, "You know, I find it hard to understand you sometimes because..."

... and in my head, I jumped to the natural ending to this sentence, which is "... you talk so quickly." I talk very quickly. I get told that a lot. But instead, that night, I got...

"... you have that French accent and all."

French accent?! Good lord. My family isn't exactly white bread, and my first language isn't English, but it sure ain't French. And I just told this guy that I went away to learn French and that it was pretty darn hard, making it clear to any other living being with a brain who may have overheard me that I didn't already speak it.

There was no avoiding the fact now: pilot boy may have been hot and fun, but he just wasn't smart.

After the French accent incident, I couldn't see him without snickering. Yes, I'm a snob; I lost any respect I may have had for him because of one thing he said. I told him I couldn't see him anymore and gave him the run-around when he wanted to know why, because I just didn't want to tell him he was dumb.

I think the frightening lesson from all of this though was that this guy flies planes.