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Showing posts from September, 2007

Hot Dogs in Water.

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There are times when I border on being sadistically immature. On those days I can't help but wonder if I somehow got bypassed on the assembly line in heaven when they handed out the nurturing female compassion gene.

Take for example the other day.

A very distraught young woman comes into our store to find out if hot tubs should have a high limit switch or something to prevent them from overheating. Yes of course, they all do. I was not familiar with her brand of tub, but since she has had it for 13 years without it overheating, I assume hers did too. However, after that many years, one would have to expect that it is possible for mechanical items to fail.

I really don't know what she expected to hear from us, but I was ever so glad my co-worker (one more compassionate than I) took over the conversation and allowed me to turn my back on them and concentrate once again on my computer.

I managed to hold myself together while she gave all the details of her tub heating to nearly the …

Reality: (n) the quality or state of being real or true.

What on earth did we used to watch on TV before reality shows began airing?

And typical of TV land, there is absolutely nothing real about any of these shows.

Survivor - where you are "stranded" on a remote island with 200 producers and camera men.

The Biggest Loser - Fat people lose weight... with perfectly portioned, prepared food and a nutritionist following them all day and a personal trainer pushing them to their limits every single day. And not a scrap of saturated fat or empty carb within 10 miles. Oh yeah, that's a reality everyone can relate to.

There's a reality show out there for just about every possible situation one could encounter (these are honest-to-goodness real shows out there) :

Ice Road Truckers - Imagine how intense the episodes get when the weather starts warming up ... ooohh.
How about America's Most Smartest Model - even the producers don't know proper English.

Murder - now there's a reality I'm sure millions of people will line up t…

It's no wonder postal services are becoming obsolete.

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My baby girl lives far far away and I only get to see her 2 or 3 times a year. Thank God for cell phones, email and Facebook, but I miss her.

Last week I sent her a package of treats in the mail. It was only $3 more to send by Express Post so I chose that option. I got a tracking number and could monitor when it arrived. As promised it was in Vancouver on the delivery truck within 48 hours. But she didn't get it. The next day the tracking number informed me the package was "forwarded to recipient's new address."

Funny, she hadn't mentioned anything about moving.

I waited another day and tracked it again. Still nothing. So I decided I'd better let her know I sent it and double check her address with her. I dialed her phone number.

"The number you have dialed is not in service."

Okay, I have to say this mom's heart sort of stopped for a moment. No address. No phone. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her on Facebook for a week neither.

I pressed red…

PPV: Predicting possible violence.

It's a good thing I don't have a blood pressure machine at home. I don't really want to know where my BP is sitting right now.

I went to the Bell store this morning to deal with some issues with our cell phones. As a result of unsatisfactory answers, Albert no longer has a cell phone. But I am saving $20 a month.

The service personnel asked if he could help me with anything else. As a matter of fact, yes. I need to get the Canucks Pay-Per-View package added to my Bell satellite programming before the first ppv game coming up on Saturday.

"Sorry ma'am, we can't do that here at the store. You must log onto bell.ca or call the sky dish number."

Ridiculous. But I understand this is not the poor guys fault, and I thank him and head off home.

I logged onto bell.ca and clicked around in circles for 20 minutes until I got to a page that told me that I needed to call a customer service rep at this 800 number to complete my transaction.

I call the 800 number. I beep and…

Lining up my blobs. It's not a pretty sight.

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Jade and I started our watercolour class today. Thank goodness they start with the elementary basics like, "This is a brush." And "This is water."

I learned lots. Like, watercolours don't really do what they are supposed to if you don't wet your paper enough. And you should think about what you want in a final picture before you start plunking crimson blobs on your background wash. And for heaven's sake don't line your blobs all up in a row.

As the class was finishing up, the instructor reviewed the things we learned and told us what our homework was: label all your brushes and stuff so we quit stealing each other's things and bring some weeds to class next week.

This startled Jade and she whips her eyes over to me questioningly as if to say, "Is she serious?"
I replied, "There was an S on the end of weed, Jade."
"Oh. I wondered." she answered. Yes, we are aspiring artists learning to let our creativity flow freely, but …

The rubber meets the road.

Whenever I'm at a red light and the driver next to me takes off with squawking tires or an excessively noisy engine roar I always say something like, "Oh yeah, I'm impressed," or "You got more money for fuel than I do."

On my way to work this morning I heard squealing tires as I entered the intersection when my left turning light turned green, and I immediately thought my derogatory remarks. But I soon realized I was the only moving vehicle. I totally peeled out in my front wheel drive old lady's car! How weird is that. I wasn't even in a hurry. My tire pressure must be low or something, but I can just imagine what the other drivers were thinking about the crazy woman driver with lots of money for tires.

Well, duh!

Sometimes I wonder why I work with the public. Apparently it's inappropriate to say, "Well, duh!" to your customers.

Let's imagine the scene:

A young couple... no, let's just say a couple (10 years ago I would have called them a middle aged couple) shops for a nine thousand dollar luxury item and loads it up with options so it becomes a 13 thousand dollar luxury item. The said couple fills in their financing application, arranges for Thursday delivery and leaves the building.

The financing company doesn't even bat an electronic eyelash before spewing back "DECLINED. Recent Bankruptcy." And it falls on my shoulders to phone and tell the female half of the couple that until the bankruptcy memo is removed from the credit bureau, we cannot even consider offering them a loan.
"But it's only been a couple of years and the memo can't be removed for 7 years," she knowledgeably responds. Then goes into a long rant about how they are back on tr…

My $9.50 was NOT wasted.

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It was Barbee's birthday the other day. A group of us girls made a date to go for a drink and an appy and then out to a movie.

Now when a group of females ranging in age from late 30s to ... uh, more than that ... go out to a movie, you'd expect it to be something like Ira and Abby or Nanny Diaries or Silk or Becoming Jane. But no. We went to Bourne Ultimatum. I really don't to action films. I'm a comedy girl. Maybe an occasional chick-flick. But Barbee's bday only happens once a year, so I eagerly agreed to have Rachelle pick me up.

Maybe I was tired, maybe I was still in vacation mode, I dunno. I walked out of Shooters (that's hooter with and ess on both ends) and looked to the left. Then to the right. I had no idea where I was or what vehicle I was looking for. Had I realized that 4 others were sitting in Rachelle's vehicle watching me, I may have been able to fake my way through it, but I rarely go down town and I rarely see Rachelle's vehicle. I felt…

The nose knows.

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Research has proven that smells conjure up memories. Not necessarily more accurate or more frequent than those brought on by sights or sounds, but they are more emotional.

It's true. Imagine looking at a photo of a someone who has passed on, and intellectually, in your head, you think thoughts and memories (good or bad) about them. Now imagine smelling a piece of their clothing. If you loved that particular person, you just close your eyes and sort of imagine the scent as an internal hug. (Or you shudder and screw up your facial expression if it was someone you have negative emotions for.)

One thing that really impacts me when riding the motorbike is the scent of the ride. You miss the emotion of travelling when you are locked in an airtight vehicle with the air conditioning blowing.

Nature somehow seems fuller when you experience it's scent. The forest, the fresh-cut hay, the ocean breeze, the musky dirt scent of a recently harvested potato field, visuals alone just don't al…

September depresses me.

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I try hard to love September. After all it's the month when all the leaves turn vibrant colours, kids go back to school, fruit and vegetables are cheap...

But it means winter is looming. And, I prefer green over yellow, my kids are all gone from home and all those fruits and vegetables bring with them fruit flies. Those annoying little pests don't bite and they don't buzz but you move a piece of fruit or the damp dish cloth and they burst into flight scaring the crap out of you anyway.

And how disgusting is it when you go to sip your drink and six of the drunk little buggers are floating on your wine. I knew Google would have a solution for getting rid of them.

(As a little side note, I am wondering how we lived without Google and the internet. 15 years ago, if you wanted to know how to dispose of fruit flies you had to pay $29.95 PLUS shipping and handling and order the book of 1001 Useful Household Tips from Reader's Digest and wait for 6-8 weeks for delivery. By then w…

And further more....

I'm glad you found me. I currently have nothing witty, profound or rude to say. But stick around, I'm sure something will come up.

Perhaps you are accidentally here looking for my blog about
Our Excellent Adventure Touring Across Canada.