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ShinyHappy - Thoughts for June 16th - 29th
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06/29/04 I wish I was more scary.
Today was a fairly interesting day for me. I got up wondering if I really wanted to try calling El Palenque again to complain about Sunday night. It seemed like it still bothered me enough that I wanted to, so I called at noon. No answer. I called again at one. Still no answer. I called at two and someone answered, who told me that I had to call back at three. I ended up calling somewhere between three and four and a woman answered the phone. I asked if I could speak to the manager, and she said she was the manager. In my previous conversations the manager had been referred to as a 'he', but of course it's possible that there is more than one manager in a restaurant. Let me give you the gist of the major points of the conversation.
My first question was whether or not she'd been working on Sunday night. She responded that she didn't know. I said, "You don't know if you were working on Sunday night?"
"Well, we have two locations." I said I'd been at the 653 St. Clair West location, and she was silent.
"So, were you working at that location on Sunday night?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you're aware of what happened then." I launched into my story of what had happened. I explained everything as well as I could, making it as obvious as possible that I'd been clear about my order from the first and hadn't changed my requests at all. I said that it wasn't so much the order screwups that I was calling to complain about, either, but the fact that I could hear very well the things that were said about me from where I was sitting on the patio, and what had been said as we were leaving. I told her how humiliated and embarassed I'd been, and that it had been a horrible experience all around.
Her responses? She started off with, "Well, maybe the chef was in a bad mood that night."
Flabbergasted, I said, "That's not the issue. Her mood wasn't my fault or my problem."
"Well, you have to understand that we have a very small kitchen. Nobody likes working in that kitchen. It makes them unhappy."
Again, I was dumbfounded. "That's still not the point. I made a very simple request. I should not have been made to feel so badly for something that was not my mistake. The size of the kitchen has nothing to do with it."
"O.K.. Well, I know who was working that night and she was just in a bitchy mood. I'll have to talk to her about it."
At this point I knew for sure that the woman I was talking to was the chef who'd been working that night. Her voice was exactly the same, and it was obvious that she was surprised that I'd overheard the things that had been said. I carried on telling her that this sort of thing was unnacceptable and that 'the chef' should be informed that her voice carried all the way to the back of the patio. She started offering me free credit at their other location, and I said, "Oh, no, we don't intend to come to either of your locations in the future."
Her response? "Well, we don't want you to go away unhappy."
Boggle. Boggle. Boggle. I responded, "It's too late for that! I left unhappy on Sunday night and I'm still unhappy. We don't want to come to El Palenque again."
By now it was obvious that she wasn't going to say much more than what she'd said, and I was going to start seriously repeating myself. So I ended the conversation by telling her that it wasn't the waiter we'd been angry at, it was the one woman in particular whose voice we'd heard the whole time, and who'd been working in the kitchen. She said O.K., she understood that, and I got off the phone. The only thing I can say that was good about the conversation is that she didn't try to rush me off the phone or anything. She just listened and responded (albeit half-assedly). The last thing she told me was that her name is Maria, which just verified for me that she's the chef. On the website the chef is listed as Maria Boce.
Frankly, I doubt the conversation is going past her at all to anyone else in a management position, so I'm going to write a letter to the restaurant, addressed to the owner. At least that way I'll know someone else is going to read what I have to say who might give a damn.
And that's that. The other exciting part of my day started off with me emailing the Ketylo hairstick people about my delayed hairstick. Someone else I know in Toronto ordered one after me and had hers arrive within a few days, so I was getting seriously pouty, here. The owner called and left a message telling me that he'd forgotten to do something with my package, talking about international something-or-other, but basically saying that it could be held up but wouldn't be forever. Small comfort to hairstickless me. When Andrew got home with the mail key I asked him to go check the mail and he did, coming back empty-handed. I was deflated, having gotten my hopes up, and started telling him my tale of woe about the border delay. He came over to the sofa as I did, and I noticed the worst poker face in the world hanging off his skull. I stopped and looked at him with great suspicion and asked, "Do you have my hairstick?"
He had my hairstick stuffed up the back of his shirt! I attacked him for it and now I am finally the proud and happy owner of a Kingwood Ketylo hairstick. Yay me! Yay hairstick! Yay hair! Yay gratification!
So I took my precious ... I mean, I took my hairstick with me in my purse tonight to Dan and May's because I couldn't bear to be parted with it for too, too long. We had a lovely time with them, even though I was a little bit spacey with the whole cold thing still hanging around. We ate sushi and watched Firefly, which is a lovely way to spend a night with friends. Andrew and I are taking off to Ottawa and Kingston for the next few days and are coming home on Monday, so I'm not sure how frequent my updates will be for the time being. Hopefully I can keep them fairly regular.
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06/28/04 Sickness definitely strikes again.
So I spent a lot of today shivering under a blanket on the couch. I don't know why, but I can't seem to stay warm with this cold (ha ha). I was on the sofa when Andrew left this morning, and I was there when he came home. I promise, I was up a fair bit in between those two times, even if I wasn't running marathons or leaving the apartment.
Dan and May knew that Andrew would very likely be attending the NDP get together for our riding tonight, so invited me to spend the evening at their place. I was hoping to feel up to going and doing that, but by late evening I knew I was in no shape. It was a major effort to drag myself to the polling station to actually vote. I did it, though, so I feel good about that. I'm feeling basically crappy now, however, so will not be writing much more than this. I'm making some tea and will be crawling back on the sofa with a blanket and my cat and waiting for health to return.
I did try to call El Palenque today to talk to the manager about what happened last night, but whoever answered the phone told me that the manager wouldn't be available until noon Tuesday. Hmmm. We shall see. I know there's not much that will happen as a result of me complaining, and there's even a strong likelihood that the manager won't give a damn, but I don't feel right about just letting it slide. If the manager doesn't care, I may just have to borrow a page from Colin's book and sit down to write a letter.
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06/27/04 All I said was, "No sour cream, please."
I'm so angry tonight that I don't even know if I'm going to be able to write a coherent entry. And I'm so mad about it that I have to tell it first, even though it puts everything out of order.
Andrew and I went out to dinner tonight. We wanted to stay local, so went to El Palenque. Never, ever again. Things started off sort of O.K.. We walked in and had to wait to be noticed, as the wait staff were standing outside the kitchen chatting with the chef. We opted to sit on the patio, and our waiter came and took our orders pretty quickly. I asked for the fried quesadillas, but asked for no sour cream and no dressing on the salad.
Our drinks came quickly, and food followed fairly quickly after that. As soon as my plate hit the table I saw the enormous quantity of sour cream all over my quesadillas. So I said, "I asked for no sour cream." He left with my plate. He came back a second later to say that Andrew's order was wrong also. It should have had the mole sauce instead of the orale. Andrew said he'd eat it anyhow as he was starving, but then it turned out to also be chicken instead of beef. Since chicken hasn't been agreeing with him at all lately, he asked for his original order instead: a beef burrito with mole sauce.
So we waited again. The waiter eventually came again with our orders, and as soon as he put my plate on the table I saw the sour cream all over the quesadillas. Again. And this time they weren't even the fried quesadillas, they were the regular kind. I pointed this out, and he said, "Oh, we don't have the fried kind now." He hadn't volunteered the information before bringing me something I hadn't ordered, but whatever. I wanted food. He went back to the kitchen with my plate and we heard the female chef complaining extremely loudly at this point about my order. We were very far back in the patio and could hear her very clearly. She said, among other things about my 'demands', "But cheese is O.K.?" in a really snotty manner.
He finally returned with my order. I was pissed off and hungry and really angry about the idiotic chef, so wasn't in a fantastic mood. My salad was good, but the quesadillas were something else. They were nothing like the fried kind, the kind I ordered and enjoyed last time we went. I lifted up the top tortilla layer to see what was in them and was very surprised to find huge mushrooms looming in the ground beef. I picked them out and managed to eat about three quarters of my meal before I gave up on it. I had to wait twice as long for a meal I hadn't even ordered and didn't enjoy, they'd screwed things up on us time and again, and still brought us the total bill without offering to even give us our drinks for free.
The chef wasn't done with me yet. When my plate went back, she said that it seemed like I was the type that nothing was good enough for (I assume because I hadn't finished my quesadillas completely) and then as we left Andrew heard her asking if I was 'that crazy lady'.
I'm just stunned. I've never had so much trouble with such a simple food request, and been made to feel so bad about myself for it. I don't really think the chef knew I could hear her so clearly, but I somehow suspect that she wouldn't exactly care.
So, Google, please take note: Never, ever will we be going back to El Palenque at 653 St. Clair Ave. W, or any of its other locations, nor will we be encouraging anyone else to. Not when far superior Mexican restaurants like Dos Amigos are nearby. The slightly longer walk will be well worth it. Perhaps if we wanted sub-par service and verbal abuse we'd darken the doors of El Palenque in the future, but I think we'll stick with restaurants where they care a little bit more about keeping their customers happy and actually give a damn whether they get the food that they ordered. Even though our waiter didn't have a terribly accurate memory regarding what I'd ordered, he did have the grace to apologize often and was the most positive part of the entire experience.
So that's why I'm so bitchy tonight. The earlier part of my day was fine. Rayna and I were going to go to watch the Gay Pride parade, but she wasn't feeling well so instead of going by myself I decided to indulge my curiosity and see what Honest Ed's was like. I'd never been before, so took the bus down to explore. I figured maybe there'd be some cheap conditioner I could buy (of course). As soon as I walked in the doors I knew my expectations had been a bit high. Apparently Ed spends all his money on lightbulbs for his flashing signs outdoors, because the inside just ain't pretty. Of course, when I want to buy something for around the house, I'll probably go back. Lots of things like slotted spoons and tupperware-type items for cheap, plus lots of funktastic kitschy items for home decorating. Andrew will be appalled.
And it seems that both Andrew and I are coming down with colds. Mine has been hovering for days, but is finally turning into the real thing. Yay for Neo Citran!
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06/25/04 Of dogs and desserts and deafening fun.
Today was the day that I was finally going to drag myself out and buy a pair of jeans. I've been needing a new pair for quite some time, and intended to make a trip to the Eatons center to shop until I found some. I had to call Rayna, though, to talk about plans for the weekend and we ended up deciding to make a little shopping trip together. So she picked me up and we headed for the Yorkdale mall.
Frankly, I found jeans difficult to buy even when I was 115 pounds, so needless to say it was irritating to attempt it now. Rayna and I both have the same shopping philosophy, however, which is to go in, find what you're buying, and get out. That made things easier on me, because usually having a shopping companion is an ordeal for me. And I never know what size I'm going to buy, either. Sizing is so different from store to store and brand to brand, and the last time I bought jeans was well over a year ago. I did finally manage to find a great pair, though, so I'm happy. Plus, in a size smaller than I thought I'd take, so woot! (Yes, I realize I've already made the point that sizing is pretty much meaningless. Let me have my small comforts where I can find them, O.K.?)
After we were done shopping Rayna took me to her parent's place to meet her dog Murphy. He's so damn cute! Rayna kept excusing his obsession with tennis balls, but I found it kind of endearing. I mean, really, what do dogs have to think about other than playing with tennis balls, eating, and licking themelves? So the whole time that we were standing in the foyer talking with her parents, Murphy stood up on the landing and rolled his ball down the stairs to us, where someone would inevitably pick it up and toss it to him, only to have it come back down again. Then we went outside with him where Rayna threw his ball around the cul-de-sac and he chased after it. Rayna actually has a ball-throwing device that makes the tennis ball go really, really far and you don't have to touch the dog-gobbery ball with your hands, either. Some genius invented that.
Then Rayna's parents, who are very nice and friendly, took us to Swiss Chalet for supper. After we'd eaten we did a tiny bit of minor sundry items shopping, then headed to the NDP office on Bathurst to see if Andrew wanted to go out for ice cream. We got there, expecting to find him hard at work on the phones, but instead found him lounging and chatting with the other people there, drinking a huge tumbler of wine and eating chips. Here I thought he was out every night slaving away for the greater good of the New Democratic Party, but no, he's lushing it up! So we dragged his drunken butt out to Greg's for some fabulous ice cream. First he wanted to eat real food so we went to a noodle place across the street from the ice cream, then went and got our incredible yummy goodness. Andrew again went with Sweet Cream, having no spirit of adventure when it comes to ice cream, but this time I made good on my threat and got the Grape Nut. And it is SO good! Holy crap good! It tastes just like Grape Nuts, so if you don't like them then it might not be for you, but you get like a million Grape Nuts in every bite and it's just fantastic. I like it even better than the Roasted Marshmallow. Next time I don't quite know what I'm going to get. Perhaps the Green Tea, as I've been intending to get that one. Rayna opted out of ice cream at the last minute. Tsk, tsk.
After this Rayna wanted to drive around and check out the Pride Weekend happenings, so we headed down to Church street. There was a Carribean group putting on a fantastic show out in the open. It cost a toonie to get in near the stage, so we gave our toonies and got stickers rubbed onto our breasts (the upper half, but still, they rubbed them on, and I guess Andrew's was rubbed onto his mighty pectoral) and went into the crowd. It was very engergetic, with lots of hopping and hollering and dancing and screaming, and by the time we left I was a little deaf in both ears. I swear, I'm really becoming an old fogey.
Basically, it was a massively fun day and night, from shopping to ice cream to dancing in the streets. Thanks, Rayna!
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06/24/04 I hope that doggie gets extra treats.
One of the first things I do when I get up is read the news online. Because I'm freshly wakened and perhaps not at my strongest mentally I usually go for the lighter stuff first, like entertainment. This morning, however, a headline really caught my eye. "Friendly Dog Averts Killing Spree". The article tells about a man who drove to Toronto from New Brunswick with the sole intention of killing a lot of people. His reasons why weren't made entirely clear, although they did mention that he was mentally ill. His reasons for coming to Toronto in particular, however, were spelled out. He figured that the people in New Brunswick were too nice to kill, so he had to come to the apparent City of Assholes, where it took a playful dog to change his mind and make him consider that maybe people here are just people too.
I've only lived in Toronto for eight months, but I love this city. Why do people think it's so nasty and mean? Before I moved here any qualms I had about it as a place to live were based on how large and intimidating it seemed, not on the niceness (or lack thereof) of the inhabitants. I was far more afraid of taking the subway on my own for the first time and getting very, very lost than I was of walking past people on the street after ten at night. I've had more strangers say friendly things to me out of the blue here than I ever did in Kingston. Yeah, I've also had some people peeing in my general direction, but as far as negative events go, those two times are the only things I can think of. Some of the nicest people I've ever met in my entire life live in Toronto. I want to move back here someday, probably in this very neighbourhood (Andrew has really corrupted me, man) and enjoy the impending St. Clair streetcar right of way! (See?!? Total corruption!)
After that, however, my day was fairly quiet. I'm still not feeling well and I'm not really sure what it is that has its claws in me this time. Cold-like symptoms are minor (although present), but I'm achy in the head and feeling really, really run down in general. I did manage to go for a good walk tonight, though, as I knew I'd feel bad if I didn't. I used to go for walks all the time when I lived in Kingston and wasn't as sick as I am nowadays. Then Andrew decided he was in a rental movie mood tonight so he picked up something for us to watch after he finished his volunteer work and went to the grocery store. I'd told him to just use his best judgement as I couldn't really think of anything off the top of my head, but I had some serious doubts when he came home with Bad Santa. I couldn't recall hearing much good about that one at all.
Well, I have to admit that I was really surprised by it. You have to kind of work hard to find the good, but it's there. Sort of. In a skewed, twisted way. I've never been the world's biggest Billy Bob Thornton fan. In fact, he gives me the jibblies, but this was a role that he excelled in. He's got just enough of an edge of natural scariness that his outbursts of rage were always hard-hitting. There was more moral and less idiocy than I expected, and I'd have to say that's a good thing. Although as a whole, the movie just makes you go "Ack."
Halo's paw is much improved today and doesn't seem to be bothering him at all. I'm very relieved, because for some reason I'm not very keen to take him back to that veterinary clinic. I'm not sure why. The vet was very nice and friendly to me, and made sure to sit down with me and tell me what I needed to know. But everything was always very, very rushed in there, with just two people (the vet and receptionist) around at a time and everything running late. When we get to Ottawa I'll have to make sure to find a clinic that I feel really comfortable with, rather than just pick the one closest to home. I miss the way the people at our vet clinic in Kingston treated him like he was royalty. They probably figured I'd fall to pieces or something if they didn't. Which could be true, as I'm likely proving right now with my new set of misgivings.
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06/23/04 There's an ill wind ablowin'
My Halo kittyboy is home and we're all happy about that. He actually wasn't too happy for the first hour or so, slinking around and hiding every time I made a move in any sort of general direction, but as time wore on and nobody stuffed him in his carrier, he relaxed. So, basically, there was good news for the most part from the vet. Halo's bloodwork this time was an improvement on the last time he'd been tested, over a year ago. Also, there's no real pressing need for me to do subcutaneous fluids right now, but I'm to keep an eye on him for a few weeks and make sure that he doesn't get dehydrated again.
Also, I asked about the whole impending Luna and food situation. I explained what was up with it and he said that I could switch Halo to the MediCal mature cat formula, which is approved for cats in the early stages of kidney disease but also a good kind of food for Luna, seeing as how she and Halo are both seven this year. So, we wouldn't have to have them on different kinds of foods, which greatly simplifies matters for us in that regard.
The only downside is that Halo came home with a swollen paw. It's the paw on his right leg, the leg that they had the IV in, but this has never happened before and it seems to bother him a bit. I'm not sure what could have happened, but I'm waiting until tomorrow to see how it is. I didn't notice it until after their offices were closed tonight or I would have called. It looks like it might be going down a bit already. I think. I hope. He has a big old shaved patch on that leg, of course, and it reminds me just a little of a poodle cut.
There's a huge black cat named Buddy that lives at the vet's office full-time, and when I was trying to get everything settled with them before I took Halo home Buddy was stretched out on the tiny counter. He moved over slightly while I signed the payment and whatnot, seeming half-asleep and uncaring about what was going on. I folded my papers and while I was talking to the receptionist I moved the papers, that I had resting on the counter, just a little bit. This big, huge cat immediately pinned the papers down on the counter with his front paws, like he'd pounced on a mouse. I laughed at him, and he continued to mess with me the rest of the time, smacking my papers back down whenever I moved them. When I was sitting on the bench a bit earlier waiting to be seen a guy came in and kept tweaking this cat's tail because it was hanging down off the edge of the counter irresistibly or something. Buddy didn't like that too much, though, and swore at the guy in feline, whipping his tail to the other side and glaring at him. I figured he wasn't a tomcat to be messed with, but he turned out to be a big old sweetie. Just a sweetie with boundaries.
I'm feeling a bit crummy tonight, like I might be coming down with yet another cold. I get too many colds, dagnabit. I think I notice them more, or at least their frequency, since I started writing this weblog. I have to get on the echinacea train again, I suppose. And drink more juice. Lots of juice, and tea with honey. And eat more chicken soup. And sleep more. And possibly take out shares in Neo Citran because that stuff is what is needed when I have a cold. I like stuff that makes me goofy and sleepy.
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I will start off today's weblog entry by saying, officially, congratulations to Colin and Jen, who became engaged on the 12th of June! I won't tell the tale of it, as Colin does the job terrifically here. It's a wonderfully romantic story, and I'm just overjoyed for them both. Congratulations, you two!
I'm blue tonight, though, as Halo is spending the night at the animal hospital. Rayna picked us up and took us there this afternoon where we had to wait an unreasonably long time to be seen. Halo knew as soon as I pulled out his carrier and started dusting if off that there were no-good things about to happen, so he hied himself off to the bedroom and hid under the sidetable. I dragged him out and off we went with him complaining all the way. Once we got to the vet's office though, he subsided into the silence of despair, only the occasional murmur of unhappiness escaping him.
The vet himself was quite nice, if overly brisk. He said that Halo was indeed a bit dehydrated and that if I wanted his blood and urine tested they'd have to keep him overnight, which was good because they could hook him up to an I.V. and get him rehydrated in the meantime. I pretty much expected this, so wasn't terribly surprised, but it was hard to leave my poor kittyboy all alone in a strange room while the vet and I went up to the front office at the end. In Kingston the vet always made sure that someone came and took him while we were still in the examining room, which I find more comforting, I think. Anyhow, I'm very much looking forward to bringing him home tomorrow. The question of whether I will have to resume doing subcutaneous fluids on him is still up in the air.
So after this Rayna and I went to her place where we watched Shattered Glass. I've been interested in finding out more about the Steve Glass scandal for a long time now, and I must say that Hayden Christensen does a remarkable job of portraying him as an unsympathetic character. Serious crawl-out-of-your-skin material, here. If you're not familiar, Steve Glass is a real-life journalist who worked for the New Republic magazine and faked an alarming percentage of the stories and interviews that he wrote for it and other publications. He got caught, but it's incredibly disturbing to see him scrambling to cover his tracks while playing on the loyalties and emotions of all his colleagues. Icky.
I found a great article written by the husband of one of his colleagues, actually, called Steve and Me and it's definitely worth a read if you've seen the movie. Frankly, I think it is even if you haven't. I have a pretty vested interest in writing and it was fascinating to watch this movie from the perspective of an aspiring writer. I'm not sure how deeply into print journalism I'd care to venture (at least of that sort), but anyone interested at all in the integrity of the craft would definitely find this story very compelling.
After this we tried to leave to go to Dan and May's place, but found that some jerk in an SUV had parked his beastmobile right behind Rayna's car, blocking her in her parking spot. We tried to talk to the super but she wasn't in, so we went back outside where Rayna leaned on her car horn a bit in the hopes of flushing out the loser. Eventually a woman poked her head out a basement window and said that 'he' would be right out to move it, and he did come out, claiming that he was only going to park there for a couple of minutes, as if we were overreacting. Rayna (rightfully) told the guy off for parking not only in reserved parking, but for blocking her in, and the guy called her a bitch. Nice. So that kind of left Rayna feeling (also rightfully) pissed off for the night.
We made it to Dan and May's and boyohboy did we have a good, delicious supper! The new barbeque was put to wonderful use. We had hamburgers, baked potatoes, and incredible grilled veggies. I didn't partake of the potatoes, but I did eat heavenly grilled peppers and sweet onions. I also did the unthinkable and tried a corner off a portobello mushroom. I was assured that portobellos don't taste mushroomy, they taste meaty. Well, the first nibble was bearable, but it turns out that I was just tasting the char from the barbequeing because it quickly degenerated into that highly distinctive mushroom flavour. Otherwise known as 'fungusy dirt'. I will admit that it wasn't as highly noxious as other mushrooms, but it was still a mushroom. Ew. So, no more mushrooms for me. Fool me once ...
And, like I said in the comments below, I did wash my hair with the White Rain Naturals Apple Essence conditioner and my hair turned out just fine, as it usually does with the Strawberry Essence. Although I looked in the mirror not too long ago and it is possible that my hair might be a little shinier than usual, so I dunno. All I really know is that White Rain is the BOMB!
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06/21/04 So maybe we really do want to die skinny and miserable after all?
I like to think, having become more hair-aware, that I'm fairly aware of what goes on my hair. So today at Loblaws I decided that I was going to compare the White Rain Naturals Apple Essence Shine Enhancing conditioner to the White Rain Naturals Strawberry Essence Extra Volume conditioner. I use the Strawberry for my conditioner only washing most often, and haven't bought the Apple, since anything that promotes body and volume is your best bet when it comes to conditioner only washing.
I picked up both bottles to see what the difference was, ingredients-wise. Imagine my shock as I read over both lists to find that there's no difference whatsoever! The only thing that could be considered a difference is that the Strawberry uses Red 40 and Red 33 colouring agents, while the Apple uses Yellow 10 and Green 3. And those don't add anything to the actual performance of the conditioner itself.
Now, I haven't been thrown into any sort of personal crisis wherein all my hair-fascination ideals have been shattered. No, I'm just bemused by how snowed we as consumers are on a daily basis by the companies that want to sell, sell, sell. The White Rain conditioners are still the utmost in fabulousness when it comes to conditioner only washing and I'd fight you for the last bottle in the aisle at Loblaws, don't think I wouldn't. I wondered to myself, however, how they could get away with claiming that different bottles of the same ingredients produce different results. After thinking about it, I figured that they can claim that the conditioner does all the things they claim, they just don't have to say that on every bottle. So it's not a lie to say that the Apple enhances shine without mentioning that it also adds body. Clever, no?
Maybe it seems too obvious to all you all reading this, but I'm just a bit naive at times, I think.
Tonight, for reasons which I will not go into here (and you'd thank me for it), I jokingly suggested to Andrew that we recite our favourite bible verses. I was then interested to see if he actually had one, so Andrew started (and ended) things off with, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a fat man to enter the kingdom of God." I was incredibly amused by this and had to assure him that no, I think that even fat people are welcome in heaven, it's the rich that might have problems. Matthew 19:24, Mark 10:25 and Luke 18:25 all back me up on this, believe me. They all read, more or less, "Indeed it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
As it turns out, Andrew was referencing the gospel of Sting. It has to do with a line from a song called All This Time from the album The Soul Cages, and it goes: "Better to be poor than a fat man in the eye of a needle." You can find the complete lyrics to this and many other Sting and Police songs at Stingetc.com.
Currently I'm reading and enjoying The Straight Dope, one of the books that collects together tons of letters to Cecil Adams from the Teeming Millions that he answers in his biting, acerbic manner. May loaned it to me and she was entirely correct if she thought I'd be horribly amused by it. Imagine my pleasure when I discovered The Straight Dope Online! If you don't know what it's all about, I encourage you to dive in. This guy answers all kinds of bizarre questions and calls people horrible names, questions their sanity and insults their education while he's at it. But since he gives the answers to the questions we all want to know the answers to, it's acceptable. Even he couldn't find out just how cats purr, though. It's a total mystery.
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06/20/04 I can think of lots of berries that are red, you know.
This afternoon I was browsing stuff online and thought that it was about the time for a cup or two of reviving green tea. I went into the kitchen to fill the kettle and glanced out the window, as I always enjoy the sight of the C.N. Tower against the clear blue sky on beautiful days like today. I was shocked, however, to see the tower outlined against massive billowing clouds of black smoke. I couldn't believe it. I knew that whatever it was, it had to be a very major fire to create that much smoke so high on the other side of the tower from us.
It turned out that the Island Yacht Club on Muggs Island burned down, although it is incorrectly referred to as the Toronto Yacht Club in the article. When Andrew came home from work at around 6:30 there was still a lot of smoke rising, but within the hour it was under control. We checked CityTV and found out what was going on. Thankfully nobody was seriously injured, as apparently the wounds suffered by a few people were 'minor', and no boats at all were damaged.
Andrew made his special macaroni and cheese dinner tonight. As it turns out, I never make it quite as well as he does, for some reason. One time I made it it did this weird thing where the cheese went all separate-y and strange, so I don't think Andrew wants me to try any more. The serving tonight was delicious, if paltry. He needs to figure out the raw vs. cooked state of macaroni. I was absolutely starving, having not eaten food since lunchtime and this was well after nine p.m., so to supplement my small bowl of cheesy macaroni I ate a bowl of cereal for dessert. Good, healthy, non-fat cereal of the Special K Red Berries variety. What exactly is a red berry, anyhow, and why don't they want to call them strawberries? They look like strawberries. Let's see ...
O.K., I went and read the box and they are indeed dried strawberries, or are listed as such on the box. So what up with the strangely childlike manner of referring to them as 'red berries'? That's like the time Andrew and I were on the train and a family nearby us got the cheese plate, and referred to their gouda and cheddar as 'the white cheese' and 'the orange cheese' respectively, causing us to snicker and eat our own cheese plate in a superior manner. Sometimes I don't know how we stand each other.
Speaking of healthy, non-fat stuff, I found a way-cool link to a way-cool site on someone else's weblog today and I can't remember whose weblog it was. But the site itself is just too cool not to share with y'all. It's called My Virtual Model and you can create a pretty accurate replica of yourself and your body type using it. It's intended to make you buy clothing by trying them on online, giving you a way to see how clothes will look on you without hauling your ass out into the sunlight for any kind of brief period, but I think it's a great tool for people who want to lose weight and see what they might look like, which is how it was referred to being used in the mystery blog I visited. To demonstrate this wonderful thing for you without showing you my own model, I've made a model of Andrew which, despite my best efforts, looks absolutely nothing like him. Build-wise, it's pretty much exact (the original they present you with wears only underthings, see ...) and I'm providing you with three styles of Andrew for your viewing pleasure. Firstly, we have Street Andrew, a hip, stylish guy who knows where his towel is. Secondly, Uptight Andrew who wears a tie and hates it. Lastly, there's Sporty Andrew, who wears a fleece to prove he's a rough and tumble kind of guy.
In case you couldn't tell, it's late and I'm tired. I'd better go to bed before I do something really stupid and choose to document that here as well. Goodnight!
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06/19/04 Baby bunnies rule the world!
Today was a very nice day. It was Andrew's day off, and we slept like it was going out of style, then didn't start thinking about what we wanted to do with ourselves for entertainment until evening. We'd mentioned catching a movie with Pez and Skye last time we saw them, but since lately we've so rarely had the opportunity to spend quality time together just the two of us I thought it might be nice to have a date night and make the whole day off a big bundle of quality time. So we did that.
In the interests of consistency we went to Pho Hung and ate a lot of pho. Andrew somehow managed to pour in about three times the amount of hot sauce that he normally would so his pho was a very bright and cheerful fiery colour, but he seemed to enjoy it all the same. There were no indoor seats available at all when we got there so we had to sit outdoors on the patio, and it was just a little too chilly for that sort of thing today. And this time they didn't even drag out the scary heaters. The food was terrific as usual, though, and the service was really good tonight, too. I didn't recognize any of the waiters or waitresses who brought us our food and drinks, but the guy who delivered the soup and Andrew's hot rolls assured us that the cold ones were coming soon, so I was at my ease about that. There was some small confusion about my Coke, but eventually between two servers going off for it, it reached us.
After the pho we thought about going to see a movie, but I really wanted to go to Greg's again and have some of their orgasmic ice cream. So we hopped on the streetcar and off we went. I finally got to try the Roasted Marshmallow! It's really, really delicious, although I think it would more correctly be called 'Burnt Marshmallow'. We both got medium cones this time (Andrew got the Sweet Cream again) and mine was really loaded up so I began eating it with a spoon. I noticed that when I ate the ice cream off the spoon it left a very strange, grainy sort of coating on the spoon that felt weird. It didn't leave any odd coatings in my mouth, though, so the trick is to not eat it with a spoon. Next time we go I'm going to get the Grape Nut ice cream, I believe.
Something that caught Andrew's eye and really bothered him while we were eating our cones at Greg's was the sign behind the counter on the wall that read, 'Ice Cream and Mixin's'. It's a big, neon sign, too, so whoever Ice Cream and Mixin are, they invested a lot of money in that sign and replacing it will be a pain in their butts.
Oooh, remember that I wrote in my weblog about the NDP signs covering one side of the bridge on Bathurst near St. Clair? Well, since then they've all disappeared! Andrew seems to figure that someone from another party tattled so they had to come down, but Marcus blames the fact that I exposed them in my weblog. If I have that much clout, then all the powers that be that are reading this blog, send money now and I'll write about your political campaign in glowing terms! Address information can be obtained by writing to me!
Or, if you want, just send money because you love me so. Either way.
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06/18/04 May is really not violent and crazy.
Well! Tonight was the night of Marcus' 30th birthday party at Dan and May's place, and boy, was it a party. The night started off great. I thought I'd be taking the bus to their place alone, but as I was waiting for the bus who came along but the birthday boy himself! So I had very pleasant company all the way there, where the party was ready to begin.
Oh, right, the big party was actually next door to their place where the neighbour's kids were having a backyard pool party with all their high-school friends. As our night progressed so did theirs, and theirs sounded far more drunken and rowdy than ours. The shouting and general tom-foolery got louder and more hysterical, and every now and again we'd mention how really very loud they were this night. We've heard them at it before, but this was evidently more out of hand. Finally a point came where we heard smashing glass. Then we heard it again, and a third time. Then screaming male voices saying something along the lines of, "Go home SLUT! Get out of here, you ----ing SLUT!"
We all kind of figured that things were getting more interesting. Then suddenly there was a lot of shouting about cops and the party started spilling out into the front yard, with more shouting and rowdiness and general teenage drunken mayhem. We went out onto the front porch to see what was going on. Apparently there was one individual in particular who was really hostile and violent. Instead of dispersing, though, it turned into a lawn and street party at this point. It went on for a while, and a car driving by at one point screeched to a halt, the driver getting out and getting in the face of a few kids. Stupid, because he was incredibly outnumbered, and thankfully he got back into his car and drove away. It wasn't long after that that the cops did start arriving. In total four cars showed up, with five cops getting out and breaking up the whole scene. Kids quickly started drifting away after this, the cars cruising a bit up and down to make sure it wasn't just clumping up nearby. We got to overhear some of the lecture that the kids who lived next door received, too. Apparently they themselves were the ones who called for help, though, which I think is a good thing. As Andrew says, things could have been far worse if they hadn't, even if they're not going to be the most popular kids in school for it.
So that was the violence and destruction portion of the evening. Oh, wait, I'm wrong. There was more. It began innocently enough with the yummy dessert that May assembled. Instead of a cake she had charmingly bought and decorated a collection of chocolate coated cheesecake bites, using six of them to make the letters of Marcus' name with a squeeze tube of pink icing. The cheesecake bites were delicious, and especially the ones with icing. So May brought out the tube of pink icing, and another tube of white icing, so that we could enjoy more icing decorating goodness. I asked her to please draw a baby bunny on a cheesecake bite for me. She gloobed some pink icing on one and pronounced it a baby bunny that had been hit by a truck.
Now, May and I get along. We both agree that cookie dough and icing are foods unto themselves, and I had no qualms about eating icing straight from the tube, which May encourages. So I took the tube of pink icing and, using my left palm as a canvas, proceeded to draw my own baby bunny there. I worked hard at it, and managed to produce a baby bunny of breathtaking realism, capturing the innocence and universal appeal with which each is born. I have reproduced my creation here and managed to get it pretty much exactly as it was on my palm.
Justifiably proud, I shared my creation with all around me, wishing to spread the joy of baby bunnies. But then May, in a fit of jealous rage at my far superior creation as compared to her own attempt, leapt up with the tube of white icing and proceeded to obliterate my delicate work of art with a giant, vulgar blob of white icing, screaming, "It's a baby bunny in a snowstorm!" My baby bunny was gone. I did the only mature thing there was to do, which was to run to the kitchen and tell her husband what she'd done. He didn't care.
The best part of the whole thing is that May was basically incapacitated with laughter at this point and when May gets overcome like this, she is just not good for anything except, well, shrieking with laughter. Which she did for a good long time, and I did too. At first I was a bit stunned as somehow in the fit of violence a string of the pink icing formed what I at first mistook for a Jesus fish above the snowy bunny, but I realized later that it wasn't facing in the right direction. So it was just a meaningless fish. Someone suggested a call to the Vatican and I'm quite glad I didn't make it, because wouldn't I feel silly now?
So in the end, it was really a highly enjoyable and satisfying night. But best of all, we got to celebrate the decrepitude of our dear, wonderful, fantastic friend Marcus who is turning 30! Happy Birthday, Marcus. :)
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06/17/04 It also comes in 'Decay Bouquet'.
Guess what I had for breakfast this morning? You can probably guess correctly if you've read yesterday's entry. Yes, I had my bagel, and it was good. In fact, I had a bagel and egg sandwich, and it was delicious. Have you ever tried a McDonald's McGriddle sandwich? Well, if you have, you'll know why this was good. A cinnamon raisin bagel with an egg white omelette. Oh my goodness. Yes, I understand that you might think it's weird. Deal.
Andrew and I were talking about the bagel adventure, actually, and I think it would have been funny if this morning he'd taken the bag of bagels again but left one behind, sitting all by itself on the table in the kitchen. He didn't, though, as the alarm did not go off this morning for some reason and made him run late again, giving him no time even to grab something to throw in his backpack foodwise. If I were a more stellar fiancee I might be moved to make something edible for him to take to work in the morning, or at least prod him to do so the night before. But apparently, I'm not.
I went out perambulating again this afternoon and went to the Bi-Best again to pick up a six-pack of Coke. I was in a browsing sort of mood and ended up looking at a bunch of bandanas. Seeing as how they were one dollar each and I've seen some interesting things to do with hair and bandanas when camping or doing other things that require effort and being in the sun, I figured I'd buy one and see what I can do with it. I've never been a bandana type, however. I recall wearing a rolled bandana as a headband for a while when I was a young teen, but that's about the extent of it. So I (of course) Googled to see what else I can find on wearing bandanas with style, and frankly, didn't find much. This site has a lot of people self-consciously modeling various bandana/babushkah styles, but I'm not really into looking as crisp and freshly-pressed as these folks when I'm wearing something as casual as a bandana on my head. And Gollan's Site shows how to tie your bandana on in a manly fashion, if any guys reading this are wondering how to. He makes a good point, however. When you fold your bandana in half, don't fold it so that the corners meet exactly. O.K.?
I noticed something kind of weird today. We bought a bottle of dish detergent the other day at Shopper's Drug Mart. Andrew asked what kind we should get, and since I didn't care we just grabbed a bottle of generic Life brand stuff. The last couple of times we've had lemon-scented name brand stuff, but this time it's just green liquid in a bottle with a green label that sports a daisy-like pink flower. It reads, 'Fresh Scent Dish Detergent'. The bottle is that oddly feminized shape that all dish detergent bottles seem to have (you know, the corseted waist type). Every time I'm at the sink and I glance at that bottle, though, I read the label as 'Fish Scent Dish Detergent'. Um ... ew? It turns me right off. And it really doesn't help that the liquid is green, although I can't offhand think of any fish that are actually green. The scent itself is very inoffensive, actually, which is great as usually anything scented drives me bonkers.
So tonight we had a very nice visit at Dan and May's (surprise!) and for an extra treat Pez and Skye were there too! We all just ended up sitting and chatting and having a good time. Andrew came a bit later than the rest of us as he was doing a bit of work at the NDP office, so we took the opportunity to talk about him (very affectionately) and it came out that pretty much all of us have seen Andrew in various states of undress on many occasions. Dan, May and Pez have all been his roommates at one time or another, and Skye, having dated Pez while the two were roommates, once caught him leaving the bathroom in only a towel. I think if he wasn't built like a Greek god this would bother him more, but he seems pretty comfortable with the whole thing.
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06/16/04 Bagel, bagel, who's got the bagel?
Today when I woke up I wanted a bagel. The other night Andrew came home with a few things he'd picked up from the store, and a bag of bagels was one of them. Usually I'd be all over that, especially the delicious cinnamon raisin kind he'd bought, but I've been making an effort to eat less blatantly fatty and high calorie foods lately and didn't want to pig out on bagels, which are not exactly diet fare. This morning, however, I was ready for one of them. So I got up, did the usual getting-up stuff, and when I was prepared for food went to the kitchen cupboard where I knew I'd put the bagels.
They were not there.
I glanced at the table, thinking that perhaps Andrew had left the bagel bag there if he'd had a bagel for breakfast. They were not there either.
O.K.. I then thought that maybe they'd be in the dish cupboard. Admittedly, the pasta and breads shelf was a bit full, so in the interests of space he might have seen fit to relocate them for a bit. But no, not there either. Where were the bagels?
They were not in the mixing bowls and tupperware cupboard, which was, in my opinion, the remaining bastion of remotely sensible places for bagels. We do keep the flour and rice in there as they are gigantic bags that don't go anywhere else. But no, the bagels were not visiting the bigger foodstuffs. I had no freaking clue where the bagels could be. We do not have a large kitchen. There are no corners or nooks or crannies in which a sizeable bag of bagels can hide. I knew I hadn't imagined the bagels. I was pretty sure I hadn't imagined the bagels ...
I finally gave up and made something else for my most important meal of the day, but whenever I went in the kitchen I had to look in the cupboards one more time, wondering if suddenly my vision would clear and I'd notice them lurking behind the cracker box or fish sauce. It didn't happen, and if it had I'd have felt a lot more stupid than I did when Andrew called and I asked him to please assure me that I wasn't losing my mind.
As it turns out he was in such a blinding rush this morning, running late for work as he was, that he'd just grabbed the entire bag of bagels and tossed it in his backpack rather than take one out and wrap it up. So when he dropped in after work before heading back out to go to another political meeting I welcomed the bagels home and tucked them safely back in the cupboard with the cracked wheat bread, macaroni and Anderson Thin Thin pretzels. I'm hoping to see them in the morning.
I went for a stroll up Bathurst tonight and was crossing over the overpass that spans the ravine walking path. I was shocked the other day to see that Norman Tobias' people had plastered the railing on the east side with his campaign posters, which didn't seem like a very NDP thing to do. I'm talking a ton of them. They did look pleasingly symmetrical and neat, except for one which had bothered me since the first time I'd seen them. It drooped down at a rakish angle, so as I walked past it tonight I couldn't help but stop and fix it. So there. I've done a little bit to help out Mr. Tobias' campaign.
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