Drummers Make Bad Boyfriends.

Last Thursday night Scott, my dad, and I went to hear my good friend Vanessa Rodrigues play at The Rex. I met Vanessa nine summers ago at the Fine Arts Centre in Banff, Alberta. We spent 4 weeks as roommates during their International Jazz Workshop. I think we got paired up because we were the youngest people there. Vanessa was just finishing up highschool and she proceeded on to McGill and majored in Jazz. I was moving from Iowa to Toronto to go to U of T. Vanessa is one of those ridiculously talented musicians who just seeps music from her every pore. Getting to hear her play was a lot of fun because I had never heard her play organ before and I also haven't heard her in a few years.
Observations - she plays with balls - friggin' all out, unapologetic, in your face, eat it up and come back for more. It is so cool because here is this physically tiny person playing music like a monster. She was playing with Chris Gale (bari and tenor sax) and Davide DiRenzo (drums). They were clearly having a fabulous time playing with her, and they had the standing room only crowd at the Rex eating out of the palms of their hands.
Vanessa has a cd out - you should buy it (I bought one but she ran out of copies, so she is going to mail me an autographed version). She also has a listing of all of her upcoming shows, so if you ever in Montreal go check her out. I'll make sure I blog about her next Toronto performance in advance.

Katie dear, it just isn't worth it.

I think the stress from being a lying liar and pretending that she is dating Tom Cruise is getting to Katie Holmes. Their whole relationship just reeks of a scam cooked up by their agents (Brad & Jennifer anyone?). The funny thing is, even the media thinks it is a ploy for attention (yet they are still reporting on it and taking tons of pictures). If I were Katie's parents, I'd be all "Dude - you are 42 and she is 26. You nasty pervert, go lay your hands on someone else's daughter".

To make my point about how they are totally not even dating:

• they both have movies coming out in the very near future (Batman Begins for her and War of the Worlds for him)
  
• they had only been dating for 2 weeks before Tom was professing his love for her in the media
  
• he won't admit how they met (because their entire "relationship" is contrived)
  
• there are more pictures of them kissing in public than there are of JLo w/Puffy and Ben combined
  
• she looks super uncomfortable in ALL of the pictures of them together (OMG - he is trying to stick his tongue in my mouth...AGAIN)
  
• he really really really wants us to know that he is not gay
  
• she really really really wants us all to know that she is a virgin and will stay that way until she is married
  
• Tom has never been a big talker in terms of his relationships, failed or otherwise - why now? Huh?
  
• She just broke off an engagement to Chris Klein (someone should tell him that this thing with Katie and Tom is not the real deal) - poor guy got caught driving drunk right after the news broke.

Anyway, I kind of feel bad for Katie on this one. I got 2 cold sores last summer before our wedding (thankfully they cleared up before our big day) and they were totally due to stress. My recommendation to Katie is that she doesn't need to be a beard for Tom, and that once her movie is out, she should dump him and give a tell all interview to People magazine and say something nasty like he is a bad kisser and not too bright. Then she should call up Penelope, Nicole and Mimi and they can all get together and laugh about how short he is and what a small pecker he has. Hey - they don't call me fickle feline for nothing!

You may have been a good smuggler, but now you're Bantha fodder.

American finally got it right and turfed that pompous fucker Scott Savol. I wanted to throw my beer at the TV screen when he started waddling towards the couch, praising the lord the whole way. You ass-hat. God has bigger problems than you (hard to believe, eh?). I'll give Anthony credit for knowing what's what and I loved the look on Scott Savol's face when Anthony whispered, "it isn't over, we aren't safe". At least he knows that their time is limited. He'll go next week, and he knows it. Happy Birthday dude - you're safe for now.

In my opinion, Carrie or Bo will win this thing. I think it is interesting how clear the psychographic split is with the final four:

Carrie Underwood - Country music fans all the way. Like Bo and Vonzelle, she has stayed true to her style throughout the competition, (Constantine's downfall).

Vonzell Solomon - R&B music fans all the way, plus the urban crowd. She reminds me of when Whitney first started her career (remember how nice and sincere and pure of heart she was?).

Bo Bice - Rock & Roll fans rejoice. I think it is pretty fabulous that he is a true rocker - drugs and all. He's the real deal, and should give Carrie some how-to-rock-the-mic-stand lessons.

Anthony Fedorov - Clay Aitken fans need something to listen to. Anthony looked like such a dirt bag in his jeans and t-shirt tonight. He'll have to pull off a miracle next week if he wants to stay in the competition.

On a final note, I think the group songs are extraordinarily awful. That rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" made me angry. It was like they were running through it for the first time - and the part where the ladies sang together proved that just because you can sing as a soloist does not mean you have the ears to sing in harmony. This is why instrumentalists look down on singers and think they are dumb. I should start a petition or something...

I'm not feeling it, Dick.

Dear Dick Wolf,

When I first heard you were launching a fourth Law & Order show, I have to admit, I was wary. Then I heard that Lenny was going to be on it, and I thought, well, I'll give it a shot. Then Lenny died , and I thought, maybe not. To be fair, I had good intentions. I started taping it faithfully, every Friday night. Then one day, Scott said to me "Kat, are you actually going to watch these five Trial By Jury episodes you have taped, or can I erase them?". I got all possessive of my recorded shows and very defensive (how dare anyone even THINK about deleting shows that I recorded??). I conned Scott into watching the premiere episode with me. I believe I managed to stay awake until minute 32 (or whenever Bebe entered the show). And don't get me wrong Dick, I love me some Lillith. I just don't buy Bebe as an ADA. Can't do it. Also, the cops on Trial By Jury don't even qualify as decent HITG (Hey It's That Guy) material. How can you have Ice-T as a cop on SVU and expect me to tolerate some no frills actor?

So what do you decide to do Dick? You start tying this dung heap of a show to your really good shows. You make your main L&O show all Law and leave the Order for a "to be continued" - psyche! - on Trial By Jury. You fucker. I hate that shit. Then, to make matters worse, you pissed in your own soup - again! Last night's SVU (aka "Hottie and Sexy") was awesome. Some of the best guest appearances ever with Angela Lansbury and Alfred Molina. I had a bad feeling about it too, because I saw that Trial By Jury was scheduled right after SVU. So, ten minutes to the end, when nothing had been wrapped up and the SVU ADA just had the crap beaten out of her, I turned to Scott and said "you realize what is about to happen right? We are being FORCED to watch that terrible show Trial By Jury." But you know what, it wasn't so bad. And you want to know why it wasn't so bad? Because they used Hottie and Sexy from SVU on the Trial By Jury episode, with limited quantities of Bebe and the boring cop brigade.

But you aren't fooling me Dick. I will only tolerate this for so long. You aren't a bad person, you are just doing bad things. You raised the game with L&O by bringing on the Sopranos dude Michael Imperioli, I'll give you that. And hiring Chris Noth to work on Mr.Ridiculous next season is inspired. And Hottie and Sexy..well, since Sexy is getting a divorce on the show, I expect sparks to fly by next season. Just give up the ghost on Trial By Jury dude. It sucks and it is polluting the franchise.

thanks for listening,
Fickle Feline

ps - please take Elisabeth Röhm off of the Law & Order homepage . She's been gone for a while now and we all know that Annie Parisse could wipe the floor with her.
pps - please update the SVU site - the episode listing hasn't been updated since March 29th!

This is not my first post about Law & Order:
Hottie & Sexy | R.I.P. Lenny | Elisabeth Röhm | Chris Noth | Annie Parisse

Rule #62: A lady never changes her panties on the beach.

Oh Jenna. Did your dad never tell you that it is not proper to take off your underpants in public? I mean, if you aren't getting paid for it? And you are over the age of 2 years old (still in diapers)? I keep wondering to myself, why didn't you put your bottoms on when you put your top on (I am assuming in private, or else we'd have pictures of that too)? Regardless, Mondays consistently suck donkey bollocks, and today was maybe a bit worse as I may still be recovering from certain festivities already mentioned. But you made it better, you cheered me up. I love nothing better than silly stupid shit like this, I only wish that Usher or Clive Owen would also bare themselves like this with a shutterbug in their midst.

By the way - not sure if anyone mentioned this to you, but you are the fucking daughter of the President of the United States! That means you need to have some discretion...and you aren't fooling anyone with that white thong missy.

30 is the new 20 - Part 3.

Wow. Just wow. A girl really couldn't ask for a better 30th birthday party - where to begin? First off, you know it was a good party when you wake up to find your dining room wall covered in vodka. We partied so hard last night (we went to bed at 5:30am), that it is just now that I managed to get my head together to blog about it. And as rough as I felt today, it was totally worth it. We had quite the turnout too - my sister Haschmo came up from Ithaca, and let's see….how many people were crammed in our house last night? Just short of 30…Raye and Cathy have already blogged about it. Lulu did in fact drink gin & juice (and she wore these fabulous gold shoes!) and Stephanie and Shane brought Charlotte (and didn't even mind when I yanked her socks off so I could examine her toes). Our friends totally spoiled us with gifts (our wine collection has been restocked, we now have killer shot glasses, gift certificates to Best Buy, Home Depot and The Keg, cocktail glasses…a dinner invitation, a Dave Chappelle dvd, a book by Roald Dahl for Scott and a sparkly K necklace for me). Also, Jen M. made her killer cheesy garlic artichoke dip. I don’t know how we got so lucky to have such wonderful and generous friends - we certainly don't deserve them.
Highlights include meeting Chris's new girlfriend, holding Charlotte (she is SO TINY!), getting kissed by many many people (it was a very amorous evening), the wonderful chocolate cake we bought from Dominion, standing in my kitchen full of lovely, smart, fabulous women, doing shots with Dave, lending my nalgene bottle to Lulu and Chris for their train ride home (it may have been filled with Coke and JD), a deep drunken discussion with Haschmo, and finding out that my friend Jen J. was also celebrating her 30th birthday (how we have known each other for almost 7 years and not known that we have the exact same birthday is baffling). I am told I also baked cinnamon buns at 4am (pronounced "cimmamum buns" in my less than sober state).

I'm going to need to rest up because we have 2 more birthday parties this month and even though we are all getting old, we still know how to have a good time!

PS - my mom and Scott spoiled me terribly - from my folks I got a new purse for spring with a coordinating pink wallet, the Incredibles dvd, and a cookbook. Scott got me a gold and diamond horseshoe necklace that I pointed out to him months ago. I am a lucky girl.

30 is the new 20 - Part Deux.

One day left and counting...actually, more like hours left and sobbing. Meh. Scott had great words of encouragement for me last night - "I'm not going to lie to you hon, turning 30 sucks". Wow. Thanks for that. I decided to do a little case study on my friend Lulu to prove my "30 is the new 20" rule.

Lulu - 30 in 2006:

• still dresses skanky and goes out dancing
  
• looks like a child prostitute in this picture
  
• has a hot 23 year old boyfriend (half your age plus 7 rule!)
  
• is in her 1st long-term relationship with said boyfriend
  
• does not know how to drive
  
• is fixated on the idea of cockpunching
  
• loves Jennifer Lopez and is jealous of her booty
  
• has a flat dumper
  
• drinks her coffee through a cocktail straw
  
• has a condo in downtown Toronto
  
• steals her wireless internet from her dumb neighbour
  
• has an Ipod mini with a pink sleeve that her boyfriend gave her for Christmas
  
• is going to travel the world when she grows up
  
• is going to work abroad when she grows up
  
• thinks that Clemintine and Delilah are good names for girls
  
• wears stiletto heals to work and tells people they are "comfy"
  
• owns no less than 4 pairs of red running shoes
  
• knows what the best bottle of wine that you can buy for under $7 is
  
• is going to drink gin and juice at my 30th birthday party
  

Time to start getting ready for my part-ay tomorrow. Should be a good time - and Stephanie and Shane might even bring Charlotte!!!

[*Blink*] 30 is the new 20 - Part 1.

I'm turning 30 on Saturday. Yes, 30 on the 30th, my "champagne" birthday. We are celebrating on Saturday, by way of a birthday party for both of us (and by celebrating, I mean, getting together with our other old friends and commiserating about how much our backs hurt and our bones ache and about how much our families want us to have babies). Then we will get drunk, and maybe cry.

At the xbi, the social committee sends out a birthday email every month highlighting the employees who are celebrating their birthdays that month. The email typically mocks and embarrasses those who are getting older...I'm talking heads pasted on fairy bodies, with poems that are meant in fun, but are tongue in cheek and may make you blush. I'm not going to lie - all month I was wondering "what the hell are they going to do to me?". I was picturing my blonde head mounted on a gorilla body, or maybe a baby's body...something horrible/unimaginable.

So, considering how bad it could have been, I got off light. The talented dudes in our production department paid tribute to the four "April birthday babies" by creating Tronesque video games using our faces. I've taken a couple of screen caps to illustrate their creative prowess. Scott was impressed because at his work, his coworkers merely gather 'round his cube and sing a half assed version of Happy Birthday (and let's face it, nobody likes that - not at a restaurant, not on your voicemail, and certainly not by your lame-o coworkers).

If God Had a Shaft.

Okay, so before you do anything, you have to go and check out David Usher's website. It is surreal. Make sure you look at the Hi-Fi version and then sit and stare intently as the page loads. I have it on high authority that David Usher is a little bananas (I can't figure out if that makes him hotter than he already is or not...). I listened to the samples of his new cd "If God Had Curves" and quickly filed it in the "music for bedwetters" category right behind Cold Play. Not my cup of tea, but he sure is fine/doable.

Onto politics. As someone that voted Liberal in the last Federal election only out of fear that the Conservatives might actually win in our riding, and potentially assisting that awful homophobe Stephen Harper in becoming Prime Minister, I am absolutely THRILLED that Jack Layton and Paul Martin were able to come to an agreement to avoid another election. Got that Mincemeat Vixen? I would have voted NDP...meaning, despite my stirring the pot with my unions are not up-to-date post, I do actually lean to the left. While a minority government is not ideal, I actually think that their ability to work together to get stuff done is very positive. It isn't about making a "deal with the devil" as Harper would have you believe, it is about compromise and finding a middle ground that the majority can live with. That's Canada buddy. If you don't like it, move down to the US where folks ultimately get 2 choices, neither of which are fantastic.

Last word - American Idol. Dude. Paula, pull yourself together...he wasn't all that good. I think Simon needs to stop telling Scott Savol to pack his bags though, it's getting him the sympathy vote. So long Constantine. Despite what Paula says, you are not going to move on to great things, you are going to wallow in mediocrity and then fade away and turn to dust. Pitchy dust at that.

A True American Idol.

Just wanted to remind everyone what an American Idol looks like (in case you forgot or have been brainwashed into thinking that one of the remaining six is even qualified to photocopy Mariah's sheet music). I'm not saying that I really dig Mariah Carey's music, but I do appreciate her talent (there may even be copies of her first 2 cds floating around somewhere in my music collection). I think Mariah's biggest mistake was leaving adult contemporary music for urban music. She needs to put some pants on and make like Celine Dion. That, my friends, is when she will start selling records again. And don't tell me she sold more records in her first week with this new album than any of her other records. That's nice and all, but it won't last. I'm not going to bother reviewing this album because Solitaire already did, so check it out on her old site.

Jennifer called tonight during American Idol. I didn't pick up because I was trying to stop bleeding out my ears - have you tried to get blood out of carpet? I'm not sure what happened tonight, but the only person who sang in tune was Bo Bice. You can hate on Simon all you want, but he is the only judge who consistently hears what the television viewing audience hears, vs. what the studio audience is swept away with. Trust me, I have 2 degrees in music, I know what I am saying. So, after calling Jennifer back, we conferred on the following - to recap:

Carrie Underwood - pitchy, but cute and we all know she can sing the shit out of country. I think she was sick tonight (did you hear her sympathy coughs after she sang?).

Bo Bice - likely the best performance of the night - at least the most in tune. I wish he would put down the mic stand though.

Vonzell Solomon - pitchy, but you gotta love this girl. She knows karate and she sings hard songs well. Also, she is damn cute.

Anthony Fedorov - so, cheesey, must, get a, glass, of water, to dissolve the Cheese Whiz, blocking my airway.

Constantine Maroulis - I hate Nickleback SO MUCH - and you didn't even sing it in tune! For that, you must be punished, though I doubt it will happen. I too have had love for a Greek man, so I understand the spell that the women of America are under. Warning - if you make that kicking motion at the camera one more time, I will reach through my television set and punch you in the cock.

Scott Savol - dude - you tried to sing Luther Vandross - you got no right - if America has any sense, they will send your woman beating ass home tomorrow.

And for all of you still searching the holy grail of Jeff Prasertlum, I thought I would let you know that...well...Brad Pitt is getting jiggy with Angelina Jolie. I'm thinking that Jen, even though she is a Godmother to little Coco, is not interested in procreating (at least not with Brad). We should probably thank her for that, as we would likely be blinded by the beauty of any baby they created together. So, if he wants kids, who better to hook up with than Angelina Jolie? Just add water and stir, instant family and a hott woman to boot.

Pssst...don't drink the water, pass it on.

Well, we just found out a few hours ago that a good friend of ours is "in the family way" (aka knocked up/expecting/up the stump). It's a little early for grand announcements so we will conceal her identity for another month or so. Needless to say, we are absolutely thrilled for her (and her husband, though his work really is done and all of her's is ahead). So, congratulations Mrs. and Mr. XYZ and your Christmas Baby.

Now, about Britney. Hooza! What can one really say? Let me take a shot. Talk about letting it all go. This girl does not care about anything. Not her hair, not her clothes, not her boobs (her poor boobs - don't they look sad?). They're all "Hey Britney, we are sore and saggy and it is not fun down here at your waist, can you hoist your sisters back up please?". Okay, maybe they aren't saying that, but for the love of all things holy girl, put a bra on.

10 reasons why I love my husband.

10. Before we left for Ithaca on Friday, he declared "it's my day off, I'm having a beer!" So I did too (well, I don't drink beer, so I had a Mike's lemonade). It was only 12:30pm, but that's okay, because it was our day off.
9. At the border, the US customs official asked us "Citizenship?" to which Scott replied "Yes". I believe the correct response was "Canadian", but since we are just about the whitest folks on the planet, and we drive a friggin' Camry, they rarely even look at our passports, let alone give us a hard time for not answering their questions correctly.
8. When we arrived in Ithaca, he brought in all of our bags from the car, and then got us both some beers out of the fridge and started tossing Cleo's (1 of 3 Boston terriers) slimy squeak toy across the room. Then he laughed when he saw that Cleo had managed to get her gooey saliva all over his jeans.
7. Since our favourite restaurant in Ithaca was full and we had to wait, and there were only 3 spaces available at the bar, he stood outside with my brother and my sister's boyfriend and made puppy dog eyes at me through the window while I sat at the bar enjoying what they call the "big red flight" with the ladies. I felt kind of bad for him, for like a minute.
6. At the same restaurant (a tapas restaurant - which means you share appetizer size portions with everyone) he happily ordered a large order of his favourite chicken wings knowing that 3 of the 6 people at the table are vegetarians and the remaining 2 of 6 cannot eat spicy food. Leaving him and the chicken wings and no competition. Nice.
5. He went to Target with me on Saturday and did not rush me. I spent 2 hours in Target, and he did not complain once. Not even when I returned three times to the women's clothing section, convinced that I had not possibly seen everything they might have to offer.
4. He bought himself three t-shirts at Target, each one with a juvenile saying ("Chick Dig Me", "Don't Hate the Player Hate the Game", and "World Poker Tour Champion"). We later agreed that this may have something to do with a symbolic teeth kissing at turning 30 on that very day.
3. He spent his 30th birthday celebrating his first Passover (a helluva a party really - 19 drunk people singing and eating and drinking...) but likely not his first choice for his 30th birthday. Pics to come later.
2. On the way home today, as we drove past an overhanging Burger King sign on the interstate, he yelled out at the same time as me "Cheeseburger, Fries and a large Coke!!!". This is an inside joke between us (we think that these signs look like drivethrough order windows and you have to yell really loud and fast so they can hear your order). Yes, completely juvenile. We repeated this at the next sign, 30km later.
1. Tonight, when we went grocery shopping for this week's groceries he dropped me off out in front of the grocery store so I wouldn't get rained on.

Heading down to New York for a boozey Passover.

And by "New York", I really mean Ithaca (upstate New York). Whenever we venture south to go and visit my brother and his wife, I tell people, "yeah, we're going to New York for the weekend" (which is totally dumb, because I immediately have to clarify that no, I don't actually mean New York city...making me look even less cool than if I had just said "we're going to Ithaca for the weekend"). I guess I always figure that people won't know where Ithaca is, but the smart ones do. I think maybe that should be my litmus test for whether or not people are worth talking to...a thought.

Another clarification, I am not in fact Jewish (not that there would be anything wrong with that if I was, just that I am not). As I was leaving the xbi yesterday, I told the big kahuna "yeah, I'm going to New York (see, I did it again) for Passover" and he looked at me, trying to figure out the most tactful way to say what he was thinking which was "oh, I didn't know you were Jewish". Jokingly I said, "did my blonde hair and green eyes throw you off?" (or maybe it was the Christmas cookies I made this year). He has a point though...I don't know that many Jewish people who look like me.

I grew up celebrating both Christian and Jewish holidays. Made for interesting times around Hanukkah/Christmas and Passover/Easter when my step-siblings would come visit for the weekend. I remember that for a few years I scored a lot of presents (double dipping on the holidays) and something about kosher Easter baskets. Also, my mom (also not Jewish) makes a better Passover than any Jew I have ever met. Seriously, her brisket rocks.

So, off we go down to Ithaca for a boozey Passover. I say "boozey" because apparently my brother's Passover ritual involves taking extended drinking breaks whenever he sees his guests' eyes start to glaze over. I'm hoping this helps Scott enjoy the experience (especially because tomorrow is his 30th birthday!). I've done my share of full length sedars and they can be as long as 3.5 hours if you read cover to cover. We'll be back on Sunday, I'll let you know how it went.

Who in the world is Jeff Prasertlum?

Jeff, whoever you are, thanks for the traffic you have sent my way. I can't help but wonder, if you really do work at Allstate, do you still have a job? Are you the laughing stock of your coworkers, friends and family? Regardless, I guess you learned your lesson, eh? Hoax or not, your name and email are written all over this, and while you were once famous for your participation on the University of Florida's Intramural Sports Team (way to go!) you are now known worldwide for your lack of discretion. Tisk tisk. I think your new nickname should be Ron Mexico.

Onto more important things. How about this new pope? Since I can't possibly be funnier or more disrespectful than the Mincemeat Vixen, I ask you to go to her site and be forewarned, you may snort your beverage through your nose (for me it was diet coke with lime, which stings).

I am sad for Scarlet Johanson in this picture. She looks really uncomfortable in that outfit, and she is so much hotter than this picture indicates. Also, she is hugging that orange fishstick Paris Hilton. Ick. Also, Benicio Del Tores deserves a cockpunch for saying they had "the sex" in an elevator at some awards show. First off dude, you are an old pervert bordering on pedophilia and second off, you are gross. Thirdly - if you were fortunate enough to get with our girl Scarlet, have some fucking class and shut your apple doll face about it you A1 douchebag.

PS: I am still really raw about the fact that Anwar got voted off when that woman beater Scott Savol and glorified cruise ship singer Anthony Fedorov are still on the show. America, what is wrong with you?

Updated: 33 degrees of separation.

I originally posted this yesterday, then deleted it this morning when I saw that the Arquettes were threatening legal action against anyone who posted the stolen pics of their kid Coco. Anyway, god bless google's caching system (and let this be a lesson to anyone who posts and deletes anything online) - it will always be there....somewhere.

From yesterday:

[Pictures removed because I do not need the grief]

You're probably wondering where these pictures of "CooCoo-for-Cocopuff" Arquette's christening came from. Well, let me tell you. Apparently they came from Jennifer Aniston herself (though I'm not entirely sure why she would be emailing them to some dude at Allstate?) Anyway, this guy is no "friend" of Jennifer's.

He forwarded her email to his buddies within minutes and in only a day or two it made it all the way to little old me (33 forwards later). Perhaps I am just as bad for posting these pics on my blog, but I figure they are already out there (someone from Court TV has them from what the email forward trail tells me). Also, they are completely boring, and I'd like to call this dude out.

Here is the original email:
---------------------------
"Prasertlum, Jeff" (jpras@Allstate.com)
04/15/2005 01:11 PM
To
"Paul Darrow (E-mail)" (pdarrow@marcusmillichap.com), "Dean Meyers
(E-mail)" (DMeyers@PIRNIE.com), "Rich Pashkin (E-mail)"
(rich.pashkin@ey.com), (drill1958@aol.com)
cc
Subject FW: Friends in town

check it.
-----Original Message-----
From: Jennifer Aniston
Sent: Friday, April 15, 2005 12:32 PM
To: Prasertlum, Jeff
Subject: FW: Friends in town

Jeff,
Here are some pic's of that Christening that I went to, that I was telling you about...
---------------------------
So, if this guy really did betray her trust, I hope she finds out about it and cuts this dirtbag off. Cute baby though.

Catherine the Great, I'll say.

Congratulations to Catherine Ndereba who won her fourth Boston Marathon today. Having dabbled in running in the past (a few 10k races and Running Room memberships) I have tremendous respect for anyone who can run for 26+ miles (in 2 hours, 25 minutes, 13 seconds). That's like running at pretty much break neck speed for over 2 hours, with nobody chasing you (well, I guess the other runners are chasing you, but it isn't like they are wielding guns or anything). These days I run on a treadmill most of the time (saves my knees and ankles from hurting so bad). I like running outside better (much more interesting) but pounding the pavement is too hard on my joints, and when you are as pale as I am, running in the sun is a recipe for "burnt Kat on a hot tin roof" (not pretty). So, big ups to Catherine - the only woman to win four Boston Marathons - and big ups to fellow blogger Mike of Prepared to Give Up who was also running today.

Don't worry your pretty little head.

Jennifer and I were talking last week about the amazing pressure that is put on women to be physically perfect. This is not a new conversation by any means, but it stirred up some stuff in me and has made me very cranky and pissed off. I hate how much time I have spent in my life being critical of my appearance and allowing my inner voice to talk negatively to myself. Not thin enough, not stylish enough, not cute enough, not sexy enough, not good enough. I wish I had spent all that time reading or studying or doing something positive instead of beating myself up.

We teach our girls from such a young age that if they want to be valued/loved/respected they have to fit into a certain physical mould. It gets reinforced everywhere they look; there is no escaping it. I was lucky enough to grow up in a household with highly educated parents who were always supportive of me and focussed on things like education and skills instead of popularity and looks. But it eats me up, because I see it all around me every day. It is amazing really, how successfully women have been oppressed by stereotyping and commercialism. Keep 'em thinking that they need to look like "this" and to look like "this" they need to buy "that". And by keeping us focussed on "this" and "that" it keeps us from looking outside of ourselves and seeing the world for what it is, and actually using our brains, and finding our voices and demanding, oh, I don't know, equal representation in government for starters.

Scott and I were at hoity-toity Sherway Gardens yesterday and I was really uncomfortable and pissy. From the moment we walked past the 700 series BMW parked at the valet stand outside of Holts to the sea of bleach blondes in their stiletto heals and perfect manicures, my skin was crawling. He didn’t understand why I was so moody, and I just said "this place makes me feel like I don't measure up, that I'm not perfect enough, rich enough, pretty enough…I never want to come back to this fucking place". I'll take Queen West over that place any day…at least there people look normal, and maybe even unique (gasp!). So, I'm not saying I'll be able to stop the voices, but I'm going to damn well try to rein them in. Wish me luck.

If this is America's finest, I feel bad for y'all.

I am perplexed by this season's American Idol. Is America deaf? Did the talent get culled too early (ie - before they even got to Hollywood)? I thought shit typically flows downstream, but apparently it floats to the top. Let's recap the top 12:

TOP 7:
Anthony Fedorov - This guy is brutal. Cheesy, out of tune, a sloppy second to Clay Aitken. He needs to go home, but clearly someone is voting for him. Why?

Anwar Robinson - At first I was totally into him, he's very musical. I think he doesn't switch it up enough though, and he dresses like a friggin' hippy.

Bo Bice - Kind of old for American Idol...I can't see him winning. Plus, would any rocker with an ounce of cred go on this show? Would any rock band with an ounce of cred want a singer who would go on this show? Maybe Nickleback, but otherwise, me thinks not.

Carrie Underwood - Likely the best singer left - I hope she turns it on in the next few weeks because if she gets voted off it will be all dudes and Vonzelle. She knows how to use her instrument and has a true style (more than I can say for anyone else on the show).

Constantine Maroulis - Scott's pick to win (not that Scott watches the show - he wanted me to clarify that). Just that he has happened to be nearby a few times when Constantine has "turned on the charm" (gag).

Scott Savol - Workin' my last nerve and the very proof that there are a lot of fat white Americans who vote for their own kind. I hate this guy, so, so much. He wobbles like a weeble and he emotes like a man in a coma.

Vonzell Solomon - I like Vonzell, seems like a sweet girl, but there have been much better singers on this show that did the R&B/pop thing (LaToya London anyone?).

SENT HOME:
Jessica Sierra - I never really got her appeal. Also, they dressed her like a muppet. When you are short and top heavy, you need to be careful (I should know).

Lindsey Cardinale - No clue how she got into the top 12 in the first place...she danced like Brandy used to dance in her Moesha days (elbows and knees and I'm girl please!).

Mikalah Gordon - America was on crack when they put Fran Jr. in the top 12. This girl was TERRIBLE. Her only assets were between her shoulders and her ribs and that only gets you so far (besides, Scott Savol has bigger boobies than her).

Nadia Turner - Truly my favourite, but probably too musical for America and too much like Fantasia (gasp - we can't have another funky black woman win this thing...).

Nikko Smith - Cute and a good dresser, but pitchy as all get out. We all knew his days were numbered.

So, I'll keep on watching, and mocking, and commenting, but I won't buy the cd of whoever wins - I never have and I never will. Now, off to watch my favourite show...

Hit me baby one more time, one more time, one more time.

Have you heard the news? Just kidding. Of course you have. I reported it here, weeks ago. Oh Britney, we've seen you develop into such a lovely woman. Remember her first 'scandalous' video? The one where she was dressed as a Catholic school girl? Seems pretty tame now. I mean, we've seen her dance with snakes, strut her stuff in barely-there flesh coloured bejewelled body suits. We've witnessed several boob jobs, broken hearts, mental break downs, a Vegas wedding...and the girl is only 23 years old (JLo, you're fallin' behind!).

We've seen her kiss a girl an old woman (twice!). And the lies, oh the lies. First she and Justin were just fine, then they broke up. And she was a virgin, wait, scratch that, not a virgin (but SOOOOOOOOOOOOO in love, so it was regrettable, but acceptable). Then, getting married...psych, eloped....and not pregnant...just kidding, totally pregnant. I suppose when you live in the spotlight, this type of stuff happens. I do think she asks for it a bit, you don't see Ms. Aguilera flaunting her private life nearly as much as Britbot. And now Brit and her sleazy excuse for a husband are going to have a reality show...so don't try to tell me you just want your privacy. Ever. Sadly, not a yet a girl, not yet a woman, soon to be a mother.

Christina Aguilera is sexier than unions.

I'm probably not going to be very popular for saying this (when has this ever stopped me?) but I don't care for unions. Let me qualify that statement, I don't care for modern day unions.

Toronto barely missed coming to a grinding halt due to a too-close-to-call TTC strike that was called off at the 11th hour (well…make that 5:30pm). I had a pretty frank discussion with a co-worker at the xbi about my feelings. It went something like this:

Me: If I was the TTC, and the union was telling me about their pension, security and guaranteed pay increase demands, you know what I would say?

xbi co-worker: ?

Me: Fuck OFF!

xbi co-worker looking at me laughing (he is used to my "somewhat" outspoken opinions).

Me: Yeah. When is the last time you had a job that guaranteed you anything? Oh, never? Me neither. You know what I would say to all those hockey players and the Players Association while I was at it?

xbi co-worker: Let me guess.

Me: Fuck OFF! Go play in Europe. When you come crawling back I'll hire you back at 25% of your original contract and see who's laughing then.

xbi co-worker: You are a bad person.

Me: Maybe, but I also know that unions, for the most part, are outdated and no longer serve the purpose for which they were originally intended. My grandfather was a coalminer in Pennsylvania. When he should have been in school he was in the mines, and he worked his entire life in the mines. And he needed a union, damn straight. Hockey players do not know the meaning of hardship. Also, I hate hockey.

(/rant)

My main point is that I think that unions tend to breed apathy, and the attitude that workers should meet the minimum requirements of their job and then expect a lot in return. In the field I work in, if the company doesn't do well, I don't do well. I don't get guaranteed pay raises, I have to earn them. I don't have a pension; I have to invest my money to make my retirement a reality. I think that often unions force companies into no-win situations and then set their very members up for failure to boot when they strike. Often the very increase they negotiate for their members turns out to be less than the money they lost by not working (way to go!) and leaves the company in an even tougher position than they were in originally because of the lost income from the days closed. I know that only scratches the surface, and yes, there are still fields that need unions (nurses for instance, maybe teachers….though I think they should both be a mandatory service as well as the TTC).

So, I'm glad the TTC didn't go on strike because while I could have found another way to work, there are a lot of folks out there who do not have other options, they would have been screwed. But I'm willing to bet that in 3 years we'll be back in the same boat, holding our breath to see if they are going to get in a pissing match over a 0.25% increase. Nice.

PS: My mom belongs to a union, and she has a PhD in Sociology so I am probably going to hear about this BIG TIME.

Samba - the drooling turd burglar.

This morning when I woke up, I looked down to the end of our bed and saw Samba sitting at our feet gazing at us intensely. When she saw me looking at her, she took this as an invitation to walk up the entire length of my body and stand on my chest, purring. Informing me that she would accept my affection so please commence with the petting. It's always the same thing with her - I pet her so she can turn around in joyful circles, randomly sticking her catass in my face. What is it about cats and their asses? They enjoy flaunting their little pink puckered poopers, and always in close proximity to my face. So inappropriate. She really is a very sweet creature. We got her right before Christmas 2000 from the Annex Cat Rescue (her original name was Sybil, which I didn't especially care for). She was so tiny when we got her and she broke our hearts with her double purr and fear of everything. When she was little I would sit her on my lap and make her box her own tail (hours of endless entertainment). She didn't seem to get that the very thing she was attempting to catch and bite was attached to her ass…also, the very action of us shaking her tail would make her fart endlessly…such a rotten smell from such a little beast.
She hasn't grown much (I think she is a grand total of 7 pounds) and she lives every day waiting for Bossa to chase her down the hall. Luckily, she has her own room that we put her in when we are out so that Bossa won't catch her. We used to let them both have free reign, figuring that Samba would be able to outrun Bossa. That ended when Samba started peeing and pooing in our bedroom (poor thing was too afraid to leave our room to go to her litter box down the hall lest Bossa harm her). Also, a trip to the vet due to a suspicious chunk missing from Samba's tail informed us that this little girl needed to be inducted into protected custody.
She is an odd little beast. She adopted a monkey I had given to Scott for Valentine's day (Bongo). He is roughly the same size as her, so they wrestle, cuddle and sleep together. She even cleans him sometimes. We feel a bit bad for him when we find him ass up in the middle of the hallway…Samba is not the most polite of kitties. She has a lot of toys but the thing she likes to play with best are her dried up turds - hence the name "turd burglar". We find them in random corners of her room…I suppose we should just be glad that they remain in her room and that they are dried up. The other thing she does when she is very very happy is drool. So, if you are lying on the bed petting her, you have to watch out because she will drool right on your face, which is totally nasty. She also likes to sleep on top of us, preferably on top of your bum/crotch. She prefers Scott to me, though lately she has been selecting me over him (not sure if this is a good thing). In the winter her favourite thing is to sleep next to Scott, nestled into his armpit. In the summer she hides under the bed because she hates the ceiling fan. A weird little kitty, but I appreciate that she has forced us to interact with her on her terms - perhaps there is something to be learned here.

I think I just spontaneously ovulated.

Our friends Stephanie and Shane welcomed their first baby into the world on Monday. Welcome Charlotte Jean. A perfect name for a perfect girl. What a little angel! It seems that the last of our coupled off Burlington friends are getting hitched this summer, so the transition into supposed adulthood is upon us. Being in the twilight of my 20's (a direct quote from Jennifer's Scott) I appreciate that it may be time to consider growing up. But I still have 3 weeks before I have to commit to anything, so I plan on living it up and not succumbing to the not so subtle parental pressure coming our way. Scott thinks I am reading too much into things when I claim that his parents exchange knowing glances when they see me drinking wine with dinner, as if to say, "well, I guess they aren't trying yet". My mom (who will be a wonderful grandmother one day) talks openly about when we have children. And I keep reminding them all that we haven't even been married a year, give us some time. Wasn't there a woman in India who had a baby at the age of 65? I have 35 more years of fertility in front of me...

The chicken wing saga (aka "wet wet heat").

Last Thursday Scott mentioned to me that he was thinking about making chicken wings for when his folks came over on Saturday to watch the Final Four. Me being sick and me not really caring, I nodded and said "yeah, sure, sounds good". He did some more research on Friday (I believe this entailed typing "crockpot chicken wings" into google). He claims that he looked at many options before going with the selection at the top of the page (it has since been demoted to #2). The winner: "Linda's Crockpot Chicken Wings".

He happened to mention his crockpot and chicken wing intentions to the Domestic Goddess and she was quite alarmed (Picniclighing just sadly shook his head, Jasmine for once had no comment). I understand her concern as I shared it (won't the wings get really moist and fall off the bones? They won't be crispy!). I had already accepted that Scott was going to proceed, no matter what. She made all sorts of terrific suggestions for alternate recipes, but to no avail. He got up early on Saturday morning to venture to the grocery store (this is how I knew it was important) and he made those chicken wings, making sure to point out to me that he added his own "special touch" which was to baste those wings with honey so that the sauce would stick to them.

And while they were certainly not crispy, and they did kind of fall off the bone at bite #2, they were also very tasty. I think that we both agreed that further exploration of chicken wing recipes is merited and that in the mean time, we'll probably just stick with M&M.

Kibble Kibble Num Num/Chocolate Molten Lava Cake!

The highlight of my weekend began and ended on Friday night when Scott and I got to meet Domestic Goddess (aka Jennifer), Picniclighting (aka "S") and Kibble Kibble Num Num (aka Jasmine). The plans for this meeting of the web minds had been in the works for several months (Christmas, work, sickness all getting in the way), so I was pretty psyched when Jennifer and I exchanged final confirmations this week that we were a "go". Suh-weet. Funny, you would think that I would be nervous meeting someone for the first time, but it actually didn't cross my mind until after the fact when I was saying to Scott, "that seemed really comfortable from the get go, for me at least". And then I secretly wondered in my paranoid mind "maybe they thought we were totally obnoxious and couldn't wait for us to leave?!"

Scott and I managed to get to their apartment on time…unusual for us because (I'm gonna throw Scott under the bus on this one) Scott has this thing about trying to cram 4 hours worth of stuff into a 90 minute time span right before we need to go somewhere or someone is coming over to our house which inevitably leads to him either driving like a maniac or me greeting our guests solo because he has just gotten into the shower. Right off the bat we both felt at ease, how could we not with Picniclighting (a loyal Raptorblog member and forum moderator) and Scott watching the Raptors game and Jennifer and I talking about weddings and cooking, impending home ownership and blogging. Jasmine is a lovely lovely cat (and quite the conversationalist). Picniclighting makes a mean fruit plate and Jennifer is not called the Domestic Goddess for nothing. She made this killer chocolate molten lava cake that is to die for. And not that President's Choice stuff either, she made it from scratch and then tried to tell me how it really is "easy" to make. I think she was kidding me and this is more in line with the Caramilk secret (how do you get the yummy melty chocolate in the middle of the cake?). The warm chocolately cake was topped with fresh cream and berries and my tummy was in heaven.

Funniest moment of the night: Jennifer, S, and myself mocking Scott's intentions of making crockpot chicken wings (more on this later - photos, review, ratings). Note to Jennifer, yes he made them as originally intended...and while they were not crispy, they were pretty good [gasp].

Boys will be boys moment of the night: when Scott was saying he thought Araujo was having a great game and S looked up his game stats for the game thus far and proved him wrong (I never thought Scott would find another kindred spirit with a similar love for the Raptors).

Drunk on a triple word score.

I think I'm still recovering from this fever/headache thing. I did manage to haul my ass into work today, but I took a nap from 6:30pm - 8pm only to be awoken by a rude telemarketer from Carriage House who refused to give me her home phone number so I could call her at home while she was eating dinner with her family. Not that I was eating dinner, but you get the point. Bitch (her, not me). Then, making matters worse, I discovered that not only is the O.C. not on tonight, but ER is a rerun. Wtf? I don't ask for much, just a little guaranteed Thursday night TV. These networks show no loyalty. Scott won rights to the big tv tonight, so he upstairs playing the new Fight Night playstation game, and even I will admit that it is pretty cool...for a boxing game.
As promised, I have proof that Scott and Jennifer did play scrabble to the death on Saturday and they may have ingested several "pops" as captured in this photo.

I was the score keeper, and it appears at the time the picture of me was taken (why am I so shiny?) that Jennifer was in the lead, and I was half in the bag. I do believe that Scott was the winner of game one, and Jennifer rallied to win game two (a thumping from what I understand). Tomorrow Scott and I are going over to the Domestic Goddess's house for dessert and a Raptors game and we will finally get to meet her, her husband, and her kitty Jasmine face to face/whisker to whisker. I promise to blog about this and take pictures, as this is an important occurrence in the history of the Fickle Feline Blog.

I'm a slaaaaaaaave for you.

I woke up this morning to the sound of a car alarm going off outside my bedroom window. That was great, especially since I have had a headache for the past two days and the alarm continued honking for over an hour. Good times. Makes me even more cranky, which leads to me being judgmental. Britney Spears is such a fucking car wreck, and once again I can't look away. I look at her and all I can think is "you poor, stupid, uneducated girl. Why would you want to marry someone who is willing to leave his pregnant wife baby mama and child for you? Do you really want that type of man? I mean, how will you feel when he does this to you?" It looks to me, from this picture, that Tony Pierce is right and Britbot is in fact 'expecting'. I suppose that at least when her wankster of a husband deserts her and moves to Vegas to live off of whatever they agreed to in their prenup she will have her millions of dollars to wipe away her tears with. It could be worse, she could be trashy and broke, instead of trashy and loaded. If I were Justin Timberlake, I would be feeling mighty relieved that I didn't end up tied to this crazy girl. If I were Christina Aguilera, I'd be all "yeah, look at you now - - HAHAHAHAHAHA".

If they want to drink Merlot, we're drinking Merlot.

I feel like I am a little late to the party as Jennifer and Adrianne have both already blogged about this weekend. Ah well, I suppose the fact that I have managed to sleep for approximately for 20 of the last 24 hours is a reasonable excuse (thanks in advance to everyone at the xbi who came to work sick passing it on to me).

Jennifer arrived on Friday and we immediately fell into our typical comfortable rolling conversation that includes:

- reminding each other of crazy things from our childhood
- lovingly mocking our mutual "Scotts"
- sympathizing about our outlaws
- discussing how fat my cat Bossa has gotten and how Jennifer's 2 cats and 2 dogs are getting along

She tells no lies when she says that we had some kickass Japanese food in the stripmall by my house, though the definite highlight of my weekend was going to the spa on Saturday for manicures and pedicures. She picked "You Ottaware Purple" for her toes, I picked "SoHo Nice to Meet You" for mine. Being the sensible ladies we are, we both opted for clear polish on our fingers (it infuriates me when I get colour polish on my fingers and then it chips within a day).

On Saturday night, Scott took us to see the movie Sideways. Loved it. Everything about it. Especially the part where he says that he is not going to drink any "fucking Merlot". Brings to mind the Martini party we went to at Joe and Kevin's house where Scott's coworkers were all drunkenly discussing how "pedestrian" Merlot is. Ummm....okay. Not sure when all you superstar office workers became wine sommeliers, but whatev. I have been trying to branch out and try new things as of late, but I tend to fall back on my favourites, Cavespring's Gamay and Riesling. That's some good stuff (according to my semi-educated taste buds), and you like what you like, I'm not here to judge.

Jennifer and Scott proceeded to have a Scrabble-athon until 4am (picture to come). I kept score for the first game and called it a night just before 2am...it is nice to know that my bestfriend and my husband get along that well, both of them being word nerdlings. Our scrabble board was stored in a musty closet, so it saw its last game (Scott threw it out the next day). I am sure it will be replaced by Jennifer's next visit. I think they still have a game to play in their best-of-three series as they are currently tied at a game a piece.

On Sunday morning, Jennifer and I headed downtown to meet the lovely Adrianne for brunch. I hereby confirm that she is just as funny in real life as she is on her blog. We three fabulous ladies then proceeded to get our shop on, (amazingly enough there were a lot of stores open on Queen West on Easter Sunday). Jennifer introduced me to American Apparel, and I am now in love. I bought the most perfect black t-shirt ever (one that hugs my curves and doesn't fit like a bag). I also went to Peach Berserk and was fitted by the famous Kingi for a custom made shirt - more on this later as it deserves its own blog entry.

After a busy morning, I rushed home to put on an Easter dinner spread for Scott's folks and his brother Chris. A hit, I think. Woke up Monday morning a little hung over and a lot sick and I am still recovering.

You Must Believe In Spring.

I'm beginning to doubt that spring is coming...this winter weather is wearing me down. Seriously, it is almost April...wtf? The Easter Bunny is going to need snow shoes at this rate. Regardless, I do feel like I am coming out of hibernation....the next few weeks are going to busy.

Jennifer is coming to visit this weekend. We are going to the spa for manicures and pedicures tomorrow.

Also, we are going to have brunch with Adrianne on Sunday.

I believe Chris is coming over for Easter dinner.
Stephanie thinks her baby is going to arrive this weekend (early!).

Domestic Goddess invited us over for dessert on April Fool's Day. (I'll finally be able to move her up to my "Blogs: People I Know" list).

Scott and I are going to see the Raptors play Vince at the ACC with Solitaire, Domestic Goddess and her hubby and countless others.

We're having a joint 30th birthday party and Alex, Cathy, Raye, and Chris will be joining us.

And it looks like the snow is finally starting to melt...

Miscommunication Leads to Complications.

It's interesting how sometimes you can be having a conversation, and unbeknownst to you, the other person is having a sidebar conversation in their head (I am the QUEEN of sidebar conversations and non-sequiturs, don't even front). Last night Scott and I were discussing his general discontent with his current employment situation. I was trying to point out that at one point he was actually really happy there and I said "It was good for a while". I should point out, that right before that, I had asked Scott to come hang out with me (if you know what I mean and I think you do) and he had responded that he couldn't as he had work to do. So, when I said "It was good for a while" I guess he was feeling bad about telling me no, so he got all upset and sad looking. And I'm looking at him like, dude, what is the big deal? And he is all stumbling and looking SO SAD and I kind of realized, maybe he took this the wrong way...so I clarified "I mean, your job, your job was good for a while". And we both started laughing, though I think he looked pretty sad and he said "I thought you meant our marriage was good for a while". HAHAHAHAHA. Like him being bummed out about work would affect our marriage. Says he to the woman who got laid off 2 weeks after our honeymoon and spent the next 3 months in what my best friend Jennifer refers to as "the boozey period". We have been through so much, a job will never phase me, like it or not.

Don't ask me for $$ when I'm trying to buy booze (and don't call me Ma'am!).

I don't like being asked for money. Not via the phone (which I rarely answer anyway), or a stranger knocking at my front door (which I rarely answer anyway), or at the grocery store check line ("would you like to donate $2 for MS research?"), or through work affiliated charity giving (you want to take MORE money off my paycheque??), and ESPECIALLY not when I am trying to enter the LCBO.

Scene: Kat, after completing the weekly grocery shopping decides to go to the LCBO to buy some girl-drink-drunk-coolers and some staple-of-the-house-Canadian Club. The doorway of the LCBO is crowded with no less than seven women and their daughters plus their accompanying signs, pink balloons, pink ribbons and hands extended outward towards innocent unassuming customers.

Kat's Inner Dialogue: "Fuckshitcuntwhorecocksuckerandtits - I really need to buy booze and there is no way around these bitches".

Soccer Mom: "Would you like to support us in our breast cancer walkathon? We're walking 60 kilometres!"

Soccer Mom's Inner Dialogue: "Certainly, if you have money to buy booze, you can afford to give us a little money."

Kat: (attempting to dodge little girls dressed in pink - what the hell are they doing in the LCBO anyway??) "Uhhh...I already give to other charities..."

Kat steps into the LCBO only to be immediately accosted by a woman shilling Bailey's.

Bailey's woman: "Ma'am, would you like to try some Bailey's?"

Kat's Inner Dialogue: "I can't believe that woman who is old enough to be my mother just called ME Ma'am! ARRRRRGH - ALL I WANT TO DO IS BE LEFT ALONE TO BUY MY BOOZE IN PEACE!!!"

Kat: "No thanks." Walking quickly to the back of the store searching for her coolers....

I know I sound like a total fucking bitch, but I absolutely despise being guilted into giving money. I give to charity, and not just $2 either. When I give to charity, I want a tax receipt, I want to know where the money is going and that it is a recognized charity. I will never support charities that use children to con me into giving money (awh, isn't that cute the little girl is selling chocolate bars) and I get super pissed off at people who position themselves outside of stores and attempt to get me while my wallet is still open.

Note: Baileys is fine in coffee and on ice cream, but not something that is exotic and needs to be sampled (we all know what the stuff tastes like). If you want me to buy it, give me a coupon or something but leave me alone. And don't call me Ma'am, Ma'am.

I decided I'm hella cute.

I am still on my WWJD kick, so please pardon my twelve-year-old sense of humour and roll with it. Not a lot to say tonight except a few random thoughts...

#1) Blogger has been sucking big donkey bullocks lately. And, if I were Blogger I'd be all "screw you, it's free, we don't care what you think - IT'S FREE!" But Adrianne has flipped to movable type and Jaime has moved to WordPress, so I'm starting to think about it. I just don't want to put a lot of time into moving to something else - Scott thinks that the minute I start focusing on look and feel instead of content I will completely lose interest and stop updating. He might be right on this one and I hate it when he is right (and I am wrong) so I am still hemming and hawing (quite a sight really). But I am wicked jealous of Adrianne's new dooce style header, so I may just fiddle with my template and see what happens.

#2) I have this major brain blockage when it comes to the words affect and effect. I know the difference, but I have this crazy fear that I will screw it up at work, so I usually try to avoid using both words altogether. Makes for some interesting/awkward wording and when that doesn't work, panic stricken emails to Scott asking him to confirm that my use is correct. We had a fifteen minute nerd-love dinner conversation about this exact topic last week and he quizzed me up and down, assuring me I was okay. But still the crippling fear lives on.

#3) The dentist called me back and "lucky me" they can fit me in for a cleaning on Monday night because someone cancelled last minute. Joy oh bliss, I guess it is good that I have very little notice as it will minimize the potential sleepless nights and bad dreams. I fucking abhor going to the dentist (no fault of theirs as they are quite excellent and I drive all the way to Burlington because they are the least terrible dentist I have ever been to). I am the worst patient. I squirm in my seat, yelp at the slightest touch, demand no cold water and inform the dental hygienist right up front that I am well aware that I don't floss enough and she does not need to tell me and if she does I will never come back. When they stick those little pieces of plastic coated bits of cardboard torture in my mouth for x-rays I choke and dry heave. I can only imagine what they have written in my file. Maybe I'll lie to them and tell them I'm pregnant to avoid the x-rays. Scratch that, Scott's entire family goes to the same dentist so that might lead to some awkward conversations/disappointment.

#4) I didn't step on the scale this week, but I did work out 3 times and do pretty well with the eating. I decided I'm hella cute and my curves are pretty sexy. I still want to get fit and lose weight, but I'm not going to hate on myself in the mean time...no sense in that.

What more could a girl want?

Last night Scott I had a date. And not just any date, a date that involved my favourite food, and my favourite music, with my favourite man.

We started out at Spring Rolls. Scott had made a reservation for us, and the hostess tried to stick us in the table right by the front door (wtf - he made a reservation!!). I don't know about you, but I am hyper-particular about where I sit when I go to a restaurant. I figure, you are paying a premium to be there, so you should be comfortable, or else what is the point? I have left restaurants because I wasn't comfortable where we were seated. I have pissed off countless waiters with my demands. I will not sit by the front door, bathroom, kitchen, or bus station. I just won't, and that is it. I also do not want to have my back to the front door (I must have been in the mafia in a past life), and I do not want the sun shining in my face (I'm a piece of work, eh?). So, we get seated in an acceptable location (Scott seems to have learned how to deal with my seating requirement weirdness - he puts up with a lot). I loved the food, Scott tolerated it...Thai food is not his thing, so going out for Thai food with him is a real treat. After dinner we had some time to kill so we wandered around the Eaton Centre. Scott bought me the John Legend cd, which I love. I browsed in Sephora, Scott browsed in Harry Rosen. It became very apparent that we need to get better paying jobs if we ever want to move from browsing to buying.

The Jill Scott concert was supposed to start at 8pm, but it started at 8:30pm (CP Time). It was awesome, top to bottom. She is such a diva - the woman had no opening act and she sang for over 2 hours. Ridiculous. Not a sour note all night, her band is so tight, I can't even stand it. Scott swears that she waved at us... She came out for her encore in her slippers (I imagine that wearing those killer silver open-toed heals would be hard on her feet). We saw her in 2001 at Molson Amphitheatre and I enjoyed every bit as much tonight as I did back then. What I love about her is that she truly is the complete package. She sings, she moves, she makes you laugh, she tells you like it is, and she is so honest and on the money when it comes to love and life. What hit home is something she said about how women don't tend to give our men props enough when they do great things, but when we are pissed off at them, we let everyone know. I do a pretty good job of singing Scott's praises, but I am also very articulate when I am not thrilled. So, let me sing it from the rooftops: "He did good".

WWJD?, Chick flicks, and a kick in the ass.

This morning as I was pulling onto the QEW, I was cut off by a (wait for it) minivan driving motherfucker. Not, as it turns out, a green minivan driving motherfucker, but a purple minivan driving motherfucker. Since it is Marchbreak, all of the breeders are home with their children and traffic was actually not too bad, so I wasn't in my typical oh-damn-this-sucks-it's-only-Monday-and-I-am-so-sick-and-tired-of-winter mood. I mean, the sun was out, Sheryl Crow was on the radio (shutup) and I actually felt pretty good. So I didn't drive my car up this person's ass like he deserved, but I did follow him, amused at his mullet, baseball hat, CHIPS sunglasses, French bankrobber mustache and the big "what would jesus do" fish on the back of his purple minivan with the license plates "SHARONA1".

To answer your question (I know you are dying to ask!): apparently, what Jesus would do, is Jesus would drive a purple minivan and cut people off. I have never understood the need to state one's religious beliefs on one's vehicle, nor do I understand why anyone would pay to get vanity plates on a piece of shit Windstar, let alone something as uncool as "SHARONA1". If I really, really, wanted a certain name, and it was taken, I wouldn't settle for my favourite name with a "1" on the end. No I wouldn't. I would pick something else, or better yet, not do it at all.

Anyway, now that we have settled "What Would Jesus Do" we can all rest easy. My previous Poker Widow blog got a big pro-Scott reaction, to which I say "none of you really know the situation, so whatever". I will say, that if I have to be at home, by myself, I plan to:

a) drink really expensive wine
b) take a nice, long, bubble bath (using only spa quality products)
c) watch a previously Scott-vetoed dvd (selected from estrogen alley, the place no man can safely venture without his penis falling off)
d) eat yummy Neals Brother organic cheese popcorn

If you are wondering why there has been a lack of updates on the weight loss front, it is because I have been completely unsuccessful at shedding a single pound. I think it has something to do with turning 30 (I was warned this would happen). To combat this (I considered giving up, it really wasn't an option) I am getting super strict/honest with what I am eating and writing every, little, stinking, morsal, of food, down. I am eating a lot less at work so that I can eat a reasonable dinner at home, and I am switching up my workout routine with some weight lifting. I guess we'll see what happens. I am hoping that once it warms up outside I might also come out of hybernation mode and even maybe feel a little less hungry (hey, I can hope). Now I am going to go watch my new favourite show "Fat Actress" (after Jesus cuts you off in his ugly purple van, that's what he is going to do too...).

Edited to add: I don't have a problem with Jesus, followers of Jesus or anyone affiliated with Jesus. I only have a problem with people who publicize that they consider "What Would Jesus Do" when driving their vehicles, and then proceed to drive like assholes, which I personally consider to be rather un-Christian.

I have become a Poker widow.

Scott's Burlington buddies recently started playing poker and he has been totally sucked in. It has become their Friday night ritual at either our buddy Dave's garage, or at Mike's kitchen table.

I am not going to lie - I don't understand it, I don't encourage it, in fact, I downright loathe it.

That is where he is tonight - at Mike's house. In fact, he's crashing there. He tells me that he needs to blow of steam, that he doesn't get to socialize with them that much, and that this is a great way to do it. But I think it is a shitty habit, kind of juvenile, and a sad attempt to hold onto "the good old days". I suppose it is cheaper than going to the bar, but something about it bothers me. I'm not sure if it is because I am being deserted pretty much every Friday night, or that it is gambling, or that women clearly aren't welcome, or a combination of all of them. I just hope that he understands that once we have kids, it will not be cool for him to go fuck off every Friday night to go gamble with his friends in some hotbox of a garage inhaling second hand smoke and pretending like they are big time. So, enjoy it now, I guess. If you're looking for me, I'm in the basement playing Barbies with Jennifer.

Yes, I am bitter.

Pussy Cyclone is Coming to Get You!

Scott and I just got back from seeing Margaret Cho (2nd row centre seats!) at Massey Hall. She is so so funny, my face hurts from laughing and smiling. We went with our friends fabulous Lulu and Chris (aka porcupine head) and had a blast. We started by having dinner out at Baton Rouge and one snotty waiter and several dirty martinis, beers, and glasses of Australian wine later, we rolled over to Massey Hall. If you have the chance to see Margaret Cho live, I strongly/highly recommend/demand that you go. It will be the best money you spend on a comedian all year, so do it. She was much more political than she has been in past shows, at least what makes it onto her dvds. Unsurprisingly, she does a creepy Björk impression and had just the right amount of physical/facial expression humour mixed in with a few jokes at her mom's expense. And she loves the fact that she was named worst dressed to the Grammys - gotta love that.