Anyone who knows me and (or) Capt Mike, knows how incredibly socially awkward we both are, and that we had to resort to third-party assistance to find one another. No, really. We did.
Which is why I couldn't stop laughing at the following news report from The Onion. Enjoy. :-)
Online Dating Helping Pathetic Women Get Their Hopes Crushed More Efficiently
So, it's 2008, and I am apparently still one who procrastinates. Capt Mike and I had a nice little Southern vacation over the Christmas holidays, complete with photo documentation, but I have yet to upload any to the Web.
It just doesn't feel much like a New Year. It kind of feels like mid-spring. Yesterday I walked the dogs in a short-sleeved t-shirt. Today, it's raining, but the temperature is still in the mid-teens. After 29 years, it's difficult to associate the changing of the calendar with anything other than cold weather and snow (or at least frost).
Don't get me wrong, I'm not missing wind chill factors or digging ice and salt wads out of Dexter's paws, but a slight dusting of snow wouldn't go amiss. Just one day to curl up with a cup of Tim Horton's, watching the snowflakes fly past the window. It doesn't need to be a blizzard, and it doesn't need to last for more than a day. It just needs to remind me that it's winter out there.
It was another green Christmas here in Seattle. While that might normally dampen the festive spirit back in Ontario, my little niece Bobbin was full of much Christmas cheer, delighting especially in a very large stuffed moose, a motorized tractor, and a toy piano that even the Peanuts' Schroeder would envy.
But my trip to Seattle served a two-fold purpose this year. Not only did I get to spend Christmas with my sister's family, I also got to go shopping for my wedding dress. In what turned out to be a record time for the store, I managed to secure my dress and Heather's Bridesmaid dress at "I Do Bridal". It's the same store where Heather bought her dress almost exactly 4 years ago. I am not going to go into great detail about it here, as Capt Mike has already been pressing for information. I will tell you what I told him: it's ivory and it's really pretty. :-)
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Happy Valentine's Day! And what better way to celebrate, than to dissect why exactly it is that we love to hear sad songs?
Author Tom Reynolds thinks he has an idea or fifty-two about it. He's written I hate myself and want to die: the 52 most-depressing songs you've ever heard. A gut-wrenching, heart-rending song for every week of the year presented in hit-list countdown fashion, analysed for your future listening enjoyment, or depression...whichever.
So, what are the Top Ten most depressing songs you'd ever not want to listen to? Why, they're
10. People who died - Jim Carroll Band
9. Sister Morphine - Marianne Faithfull
8. Hurt - Nine Inch Nails
7. Strange Fruit - Billie Holiday
6. DOA - Bloodrock
5. Seasons in the Sun - Terry Jacks
4. Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler
3. Honey - Bobby Goldsboro
2. The Shortest Story - Harry Chapin
1. The Christmas Shoes - Newsong
You can see a few very adoreable photos of our Seattle Christmas here.
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This morning, I woke up to an interview on CBC's Ottawa Morning with John McCallum, the Minister of National Revenue. He was promoting a new pilot project to be introduced during this year's tax season in Ottawa and the surrounding area: e-file or else. The interviewer asked him "Or else what?", and he arrogantly responded that since the majority of people in Ottawa work for the goverment, and their salaries are paid for by tax money, and they have computers at work that they're using for personal use anyway, Ottawa taxpayers should all be filing their returns on-line, and if they didn't, they could wait until at least Christmas for their refunds, and risk being audited.
Naturally, I was outraged. It's easy to get me outraged first thing in the morning (close relatives know this first hand), but this sent me right over. I quickly jumped out of bed, ran to my computer, and fired off the following e-mail:
----- Original Message -----
From: Saedigh
To: ottawamorning@cbc.ca
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 7:58 AM
Subject: e-file or else???
Does Mr McCallum realise that there are people in Ottawa who don't own a computer, don't work for the government, or don't have internet access for a variety of reasons? Does he realise that not all Public Employees rely on taxes to "pay their salaries" (i.e. cost-recover units like the passport office)? Does he also not realise that the employees of the CRA DO rely on taxes for their salaries, and that it's their JOB to deal with returns, however they may be filed? Does he plan to pay interest on the delayed refunds of paper filers, the way we have to pay interest on any money WE owe?
Does he even care about any of these questions?
Sincerely,
Saedigh
Ottawa ON
After breaking for the local news, the show came back with the listeners' response to the interview. Phone calls and e-mails had flooded in, mostly from outraged people like myself. One, however, had a slightly different sentiment:
"This is John McCallum. Happy April Fool's Day Ottawa!"
Indeed, I had been had. Thankfully, so had the majority of listeners. But I still feel like a nimrod.
We had a pretty quiet New Year's Eve this year. Not quite as quiet as last year, when I sat in HH's living room watching chick flicks, drinking wine, and eating butter chicken. We had decided that we would boycott the usual New Year's scene, as it usually resulted in disappointment.
This year, The Captain of Outer Space (to be introduced in a later blog entry) and I met up with some of his friends from back home and had a yummy Thai dinner at the Green Papaya. I can't get enough of their Chicken Panaeng. We then decided that we would try to find an establishment that wasn't charging a cover fee for the privilege of ringing in the new year with a hundred sweaty strangers. No small feat in O-town. The first year I lived here, I paid $40.00 to go to a local franchise bar to drink tepid fizzy wine and see a poor, cataract-ridden snow tiger (polaroids with the poor beast were an extra $15.00). This year we vowed it would be different.
So, after warming our bellies with red curry and satay, we ventured out into downtown Ottawa to look for a cozy little pub to ring in the New Year. We ended up at The Mayflower II on Queen St. and pretty much had the entire establishment to ourselves until shortly before midnight. Our only fellow patrons were a group of deaf youths (a surprisingly boisterous bunch when the clock struck 12) and an unconcious man at the back of the restaurant that pretty much kept to himself the entire night. It may not sound like much, but as New Year's celebrations go, this was certainly my best yet. Maybe we can make this a tradition. I'll have to bone up on my ASL and CPR for next year though, just in case.
Vanilla Cola
1 oz Absolut Vanilla vodka
1 lime, cut into wedges
Coca Cola (Classic)
ice
Pour vodka, cola, and lime juice over ice in a high ball glass. Garnish with lime wedge. As seen in Pulp Fiction.
It was pointed out to me that it's been a while since my last entry. For those of you who thought I might have been put out of commission by a rogue sausage roll at the Institut(ional) Christmas party, worry no longer. I am alive, well, and enjoying a downhome Christmas at my parents' house in Simcoe.
It's been a hectic few days since my last entry. Things I've learned in the meantime:
(1) A shopping mall on the last Saturday before Christmas should have you more concerned for your personal security than a day trip to Fallujah.
(2) Everyone in aforementioned mall arrived there in their own personal vehicle.
(3) Even Canadians have short memories where winter driving is concerned.
(4) Mother Nature doesn't care about your travel plans.
(5) Printers don't care about your travel plans.
(6) The Captain of Outer Space* harmonizes quite nicely to my rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.
Until next time, have a safe and happy holiday, and eat lots of turkey. That whole tryptophan thing is a myth anyway.
*Name changed to protect the innocent. He still doesn't know exactly what he's gotten himself into yet.
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