'sA-dE . com

Standing up for love

I think that perhaps the world would be a better place if more of us were more concerned with what was (or wasn't) going on in our own bedrooms, rather than concern ourselves with what might be happening in the bedrooms of our neighbours.

I am sure it is only a matter of time before the Conservatives take another crack at whittling away the rights of Canadians by revisiting the legality of gay marriage in Canada. Hopefully, before you cast a ballot limiting another citizen's rights and privileges in this country, you might consider this empassioned plea, and think how you would feel if your own rights were about to be stripped away with such a vote.

Originally seen on noise-to-signal, who originally got it from a few of my days.

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"Bother" is an understatement

I should likely have called this category "Things that royally piss me off". I mean, if I am going to blog about something negative, it's probably because it has elicited some sort of a visceral reaction from me, right? But I digress...

I seldom post on discussion forums. Occasionally I chime in on advice forums, like at WeightWatchers.ca, if someone needs to know what RDA stands for (recommended daily allowance, for those who are interested), but rarely in my older age do I now post to any other forums. I ascribe to that old maxim about arguing on the internet and the Special Olympics. I'm sure I don't need to repeat it here, but if you're curious, read any Fark thread and the adage is likely to make an appearance.

I figure that most other common-sensicals with internet access must be like-minded and abstain from posting their balanced, well-drafted arguments as well, since the overwhelming majority of comments I read on globeandmail.com and Yahoo! News forums seem to come from the low end of the bell curve.

Case in point: yesterday on Yahoo! On the same day that Capt Mike attended a ramp ceremony to welcome home a fallen Canadian soldier, news broke that a young Canadian medic had been killed by an IED in Panjwayi. While reading of the incident on Yahoo! News, I noticed the most recent comment posted to the article. Some sub-100 whose Yahoo! ID is HannibalHLecter (in case you wish to provide him with any feedback yourself) iterated that since Canada had the gall to build a Tim Horton's franchise in downtown Kandahar, we, the Canadian people, are just gagging for soldiers to die. Yep. Downtown Kandahar apparently has a Timmy's, and a coffee shop is why Al Qaeda hates freedom.

It's funny, I had always been under the impression that the Tim Horton's was actually on Kandahar Air Field, a secure, multi-national military facility, but I will admit that I only arrived at this obviously false conclusion based on what could only be described as propoganda Capt Mike, CBC NewsWorld, and Tim Horton's itself has been feeding me. Also, I had mistakenly assumed that the reasons for Canada's involvement in the war were infinitely more complex than Osama's dislike for double doubles. So thank you, HannibalHLecter, for taking the time from your no doubt busy schedule of downloading and self-gratification to enlighten and educate us. You've really opened my eyes to the fact that sometimes democracy sucks, because y'alls vote does indeed cancel out mine.

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Start 'em young, I say

Life is full of disappointment. Your secret crush probably won't ask you to the prom. You will in all likelihood be passed over for a job in favour of a rich boss's nephew at some point. And if you're a 13-year-old girl living in Ontario this Christmas, chances are that Santa won't be leaving Hannah Montana tickets under your tree.

I can remember when I was 5, and Cabbage Patch Kids were the "must-have" gift of the season. Parents lined up for hours in the cold to be the first in the store to snap up the pug-faced, hard-headed little dolls. Santa didn't bring me one that year... I got a My Little Pony and Pony Stable instead, which I loved. Six months later I did get a Cabbage Patch Kid, but I still played with my My Little Pony a lot more than I ever did that doll. From what I can tell, delaying my receipt of what was supposedly the world's coolest toy EVER didn't cause me any sort of emotional damage. I wasn't ridiculed at school for not having a doll. I didn't feel that my parents didn't try hard enough to buy my love. Apparently, they had gone out looking for a doll for me, but they didn't make a big deal about it. They didn't find one, and since they hadn't promised me that Santa would bring me one because I was such a wonderful, good little girl, I was none the wiser that Christmas morning. I was happily oblivious to the whole affair the way only a 5-year-old can be.

Now, a quarter of a century later (yikes), the same story is lip synced to a slightly different tune. For parents to be struggling with the decision between going into debt and getting their children a reasonably priced, less-trendy Christmas gift is, to me, completely ridiculous. Wouldn't that $1200 be better spent going into little Madison Dakota's RESP? Or paying down your own mortgage so that you can provide added security to your family? Is that not worth more than watching two hours of poor choreography?

Yes, I do realise that it must be the hardest thing in the world to feel like you are letting down your children, but are you really letting them down when you tell them "No"?

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A marriage made in heaven

I've been a fan of The Onion Av Club's The Hater for quite a while. For the uninitiated, The Hater, a.k.a. Amelie Gillette, scathingly and humourously blogs about those pop culture phenomena that most of us sane, normal, post-Tween people find ridiculously annoying, such as bad movie promos, The Hills, and reality series starring or inspired by Flava Flav. It's like The Soup without the bad CGI or a chihuahua.

I've not been a fan of Oprah for a lot longer, so I was pleasantly surprised by today's entry ridiculing Oprah's annoying annual list of "favourite things" that Oprah fans apparently can't live without, because they're just not trying hard enough.

Case in point, "The most unattractive outfit in the world".

You could not find less flattering lines or colours on the Home Shopping Network.

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An open letter to the idiot who decided to put the hockey arena in Kanata

Dear Idiot,

You are a very lucky man. Why, you might ask yourself? Well, because I have managed to avert certain disaster so that you, dear sir, would not have to replace my engagement ring.

You see, it normally takes me about 45 minutes to drive from my office, in Gloucester, to the outskirts of Kanata, where your beloved hockey rink is. However, when there is a hockey game on, it takes much, much longer. And when there is a hockey game on in less-than-fair weather conditions, it takes longer still. So, imagine my dismay when I left work at 4:30 pm yesterday afternoon and realized that the only direct route west across the city had turned into a veritable parking lot.

Now, I know that you, sir, cannot control the weather. Nor can you control the fact that my bladder holds only 250 mL of fluid. But you did, at one time, have the power to not put the home ice of the second-most popular sports franchise in Ontario in the middle of nowhere, the only access to which was the west-bound 417. I mean, you must have known that more people from Orleans would be coming to the game than from Arnprior, no? And you must have known that without lobbying OC Transpo for rapid transit out to said arena, that each of those hockey fans would be arriving alone in their vehicle, thereby causing it to take me until 6:30 pm to reach the exit to Bayshore Shopping Centre.

It was at this point that I decided I needed a pee break.

Pulling off the highway, I decided my best course of action would be to use the restrooms in Zellers. It was there that near-disaster awaited me, for after washing and drying my hands, my engagement ring slipped from my finger and into the trash can along with the paper towel I had been using. Yes. My as of yet unappraised ring flew down into the depths of used paper towels, kleenex, and one disposable diaper...all of which could be seen desperately strewn on the floor of the Zellers restroom moments later as I searched frantically to rescue my ring.

You are indeed lucky that I am not a more squeamish person. You are also lucky that Zellers chooses to employ easily accesible garbage cans, as opposed to those mounted into recessed walls, which are almost impossible to overturn and empty. However, all of this could have been avoided, had you not been a complete horse's ass and decided to put Scotiabank Place somewhere reasonable.

Sincerely,
Saedigh

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Westernized vs. Industrialized

So I was editing a paper today, and came across the term "Westernized" (capitalized just like that), used to refer to people living in industrialized or developed countries and who have a tendency towards sedentarity. This made me stop to think, why "Westernized"? Isn't that a bit arrogantly ethnocentric? Does it not sort of ignore the fact that not all of the countries in the western hemisphere have developed at the same rate or to the same degree? Does it not also ignore the fact that many countries in the eastern hemisphere have developed along the same time scale and to the same degree as many countries in the west? Does it not also ignore the fact that the line we draw between east and west is, in itself, arrogantly ethnocentric and an entirely artificial human contstruct, as is the very notion of a directional system that places the north at the top and the east to the left?
It reminded me of a "Cheese day" episode of The West Wing, where C.J. meets with a group called the "Cartographers for Social Equality". The map they showed her as being more representative of what the world should look like literally turned one's perspective of the Earth on its head.
Perhaps a more suitable term would be "Industrialized"? Or even "industrialized"?

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Bored and pissed off

....pretty much describes my present mood.

Bored, because I done my work day and pissed off because I am stuck waiting around for an Ultimate practice that isn't actually going to happen.

<vent> People*, I gave you a week's notice to sort yourselves out. You've known we were having a practice today for seven whole days. Do not e-mail me at 4:00 pm telling me that you can't come after all. Because then, it's too late for me to officially cancel the practice. If I send out an e-mail, there's a good chance people who actually intend to come won't get it in time. Which means that I have to stay in town for an extra two and a half hours waiting around on the off chance someone does show up, when I could otherwise be driving back to Pembroke to get home at a reasonable time, so I can walk my dog. The etiquette Gestapo invented RSVPs for a reason. </vent>

*Note: this does not refer to the entire ultimate team, just the people who chose the last possible minute to cancel to do so.

So, since I have nothing better to do, I decided to check out what my Middle-Earth name would be.

Elven Name Possibilities for Saedigh
The root name suitable for feminine and masculine is:
Imhith
More feminine versions are:
Imhithiel
Imhithien
Imhithwen

Hobbit lass name for Saedigh
Melilot Proudfoot from Deephallow

Dwarven Name for Saedigh
Redwater (This name is for both genders.)

Orkish Name for Saedigh
Shaghâk the Horrible
This name is for both genders.

Adûnaic name for Saedigh
Arûnrândam

I quite like the Orkish name. Shaghâk the Horrible has a nice ring to it.

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I tried to DQ something different, but The Man kept me down

Dear Dairy Queen International Headquarters,

I had been craving a Peanut Buster Parfait all week long (call it hormones), and finally talked my boyfriend into coming to DQ with me. When we got to the drive-in, I was sadly informed that there was no hot fudge, erego, no PB Parfait. When we asked why there might not be any, we were told that "Dairy Queen headquarters ran out". If that is in fact true, I have to wonder: did Dairy Queen do something to somehow tick off the global fudge market? How the heck does an ice cream store run out of hot fudge? How can there be no fudge-related contingency plan?
Needless to say, I am extremely disappointed that my craving must go unsated. I am thinking of switching my allegiences from DQ to Ben and Jerry's and a microwaved jar of Smucker's fudge. I would, however, be willing to let you persuade me not to go that route.
I look forward to hearing your reply.
Sincerely,

Saedigh

[This was the actual letter I sent them via their on-line comment form. I will post a reply if I ever receive one.]

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Whatever happened to mellow yellow?

Now, I'm not exactly a libertarian. I leave that sort of thing up to the experts, like our new Prime Minister. But I do believe that the different and varied levels of government should focus more on things like healthcare, education, security, and protecting our environment, and less on things like dictating what colour I can paint my business (or home, or car...). I have added the emphasis to what I think is the scariest part of the story:

Man fined for 'wrong colour' shop

The council said the colour must comply with the law
A Derbyshire estate agent is having to pay out £3,000 in fines and legal costs because he has painted his shop the wrong colour.
Paul Rodgerson changed the colour of his premises on Wirksworth Marketplace two years ago to yellow.

But Derbyshire Dales District Council said the colour does not comply with conservation area rules and Mr Rodgerson should repaint it.

Mr Rodgerson said he has no option but to change the colour and pay the costs.

'Heinous crime'

He added: "I think one's preference of colours is subjective and my wife and I liked the colour.

"But the law is the law, they've applied the law.

"I have been found guilty, as it were, of this heinous crime and now I'm obliged to repaint the building."

The listed building should be painted in a shade from an agreed "palette" of colours, the council said.

Councillor Irene Ratcliffe, from Derbyshire Dales District Council, said the issue was not really the colour.

"It isn't about the colour - it is about complying and I believe we have to enforce it as we have to live together as a community."

Enforced compliance. The new volunteering.

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Nothing like a nice bit of spam... mmmm.. spam

For almost 8 months, I was flying under their radar. Then, in the last two days, I have been inundated with comments by anonymous spammers telling me how lovely my "writings is" and directing me to their sites on how to cheat slot machines or play poker on-line. I can't imagine what has triggered this recent onslaught. They had left me alone for so long. I guess winter is the start of spam season, just in time for Christmas.

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Ennui

*Sigh*

This is the first Saturday in a while that I haven't had anywhere to be. No weddings. No functions. No obligatory visits. Capt. Mike is dropping off a car on the other side of the country. And I am bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

Last night I did laundry. I washed, dried, and folded pretty much every garment I own. This morning I went to the gym and did my weight routine and a BodyCombat class. That kept me on my toes, and busy for two hours. I have cleaned out my TV cabinet of all of the old notes and binders I had been hanging on to since University. I am thinking of maybe tackling whatever is in my trunk at the bottom of my linen closet. I don't even remember what I might have put in there. I could vacuum. I got as far as putting a fresh bag in the Dirt Devil, but then I decided I'd watch a movie instead.

Did I mention it's raining? That's probably why I feel so lethargic. If the weather were nicer, I could walk downtown, stroll around the market, check out clothes I can't afford at Red Velvet. But in the rain... there's really no good reason to go out in the rain. That's why when people are explaining just how stupid other people can be, they use the phrase "He/She doesn't even have the sense to come in from the rain." Seriously.

So here I sit, typing away, hoping that something entertaining will drop into my lap so that I can at least procrastinate in a meaningful way.

Maybe I should go check out that trunk.

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Cobwebs

Rain for two days, ultimate cancelled because of too much water on the fields, which is a shame because the Scooby Snacks just got brand new drifit jerseys - navy blue with the logo in orange on the back; got my haircut last Friday, still not sure if I am loving it or feeling luke warm... it's definitely less heavy feeling, but it gets awfully curly in the humidity... my hair never used to be this curly when I was a kid; my visa hasn't arrived yet... I would feel better if I hadn't had to surrender my passport to the consulate with the application... in these crazy times, a passport is pretty hard to replace on short notice if the need arises; why does this weather make me not want to do my dishes? Why am I procrastinating so much?

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Theory

I will preface this entry by stating that I am suffering from acute homemade spaghetti sauce intoxication [thanks mom and dad:-)], and thus have an almost complete lack of inhibition when it comes to sharing my opinions. Come to a family dinner sometime, you'll get the jist.
It never ceases to amaze me just how idiotic people can be. I have a theory about the devolution of the human species. It is based entirely on anecdotal evidence and conjecture, and would likely be wildly unpopular if I ever published it, but that doesn't mean it's not right. It just means people took it personally. Which, based on further anecdotal evidence, would lead me to believe it hit kind of close to home.
But that's for a future blog entry. Today's entry deals with the following newly discovered truth:
You may need to be a rocket scientist to afford an Infiniti G35, but you don't need to be a rocket scientist to drive an Infiniti G35.
This morning, I took my car in to get it's 40K service and oil change (stay tuned for a rant about what a money pit owning a car, new or used, is in a future in entry). When I got to the dealership at 8:00 am, it was closed. The door was locked. The sign on the door said it would open at 8:30. No big deal, I'd just be first to come, first served. Silver lining. Six other people arrived after me, saw me standing outside the door, looked at the sign, and said "darn, it's not open yet" and waited patiently alongside me. Person number 7 pulled up in a shiny new, highly fuel-inneficient Infiniti G35, saw us all standing outside in the cold, checking our watches, walked up to the door, pulled on the handle repeatedly, and looked completely dumbstruck.
"It's not open yet," I stated in that "state the obvious" sort of tone.
"Huh?" queried the sufferer of small-man complex.
"That's why we're all standing out here, instead of in there," I continued. I wanted to avoid words with more than three syllables.
"Oh. I thought you were all smokers or something." Not a single one of us held a lit cigarette in our hands, but I can understand his confusion. I mean, why else would a group of people stand outside on a Saturday morning looking as aimless as we all did?
I don't know why this guy pissed me off, but he did. Okay, maybe I do know why. Maybe it was his total lack of common sense, or his holier-than-thou "your pulling on the handle might not have worked, but mine will" attitude. Like elevator-button repeat-pushers. They can see it's lit up. They can see a group of people waiting. But they insist that their push of the elevator button will magically summon the pulley-guided beast from its slumber, where mine previously failed. Or maybe it's more deep-seated than that. Maybe it's further evidence of my misplaced faith in humanity and its ability to get a freaking clue. But I'm just a girl who gets drunk on tomato sauce, so what do I know?

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I've said it before...

...and I'll say it again: People Are Stupid.

I had a sugar low this afternoon, so I decided to go downstairs to the caf (the one with the overpriced coffee), and get myself some yoghurt. The cashier rung in my purchase as I approached, and looked at me expectantly for payment. She didn't say a word. No problem, I just looked at the little screen on the cash register to see the price: $1.22. I scrounged in my change purse for the exact change, and handed it over. She dutifully counted it, and asked "is this what you intended to give me? The total is $1.31."
"But the cash register said it was $1.22."
"Yeah. But I didn't press the total button."

Well, if you're not going to verbally mention the price, and if you're not going to show me the accurate total on the cash register, maybe it's a little too much for you to expect exact change. Hopefully you can figure out which of your little buttons to press before robots take over your job.

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Keen scientific observation

Coffee shops. That's all that was open yesterday. January 1st 2005 also turned out to be a bit of a bonechiller. Nothing like starting the year off with long underwear. So the coffee shops were all crowded to the hilt with adventurous Ottawans who had wandered out into the cold to escape their cabin fever and restlessness. At least, that's why we were there. I can only assume the rest of the city was of like mind.
However, sometimes, even on a Saturday, even on a Saturday that happens to be New Year's day, there are important things to do and even more important phone calls to make on one's cell phone.
He was walking south down Bank St. A trench coat too cold and too fashionable for Ottawa in January. Designer shoes that didn't provide much traction on the icy pavement. Blackberry held firmly to right ear. He turned into Starbucks at the exact same moment as we did. Naturally, he ushered himself through the door first, hand never leaving cell phone, cell phone never leaving ear. "That's the yuppiest dude I've ever seen. Bet he orders a latte," mused CoOS.
"Well, it is the Glebe. Chai latte, non fat, soy. Bonus if it's organic."
Guess which one of us was right? I wish I'd placed money on it.

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Tom, The British Christmas Spammer

A very persistent spammer keeps trying to post comments to the site. I've gotten spam before; usually they try once and don't get approved, so they move along. But Tom is special. Special in the short bus sense. He posts to the same entry (my first one, buried deep in the archives), with the same message. "I want a [insert random URL here] for Christmas!" Good for you Tom. But maybe you want to try writing to Santa instead?

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Two things that are wrong with our world

I went to Subway for lunch today. They've finally cottoned onto the fact that toasted really does taste better. But that's a whole other blog entry.
The girl in front of me ordered her sub (I think she got the steak and cheese, which is about $3.99 or so) and asked to put it on her Visa. Who charges a sandwich? And why does a 16 year old have a Visa?
Incidentally, Subway doesn't take Visa, or even MasterCard. I guess they share my philosophy: if you have to buy lunch on credit, maybe you should be brown-bagging it.
Bastardizations of those annoying Visa (It's all you need) and Mastercard (Accepted everywhere you _______) commercials are welcome in the Comments section.

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Bad parking

When my plan for global domination finally reaches fruition, the first thing I am going to do is change the yellow lines in parking spaces, so that if you park straddling them and giant rotating saw blade will emerge from under the pavement and cut your blue Grand Am in half. Until then, I will have to settle for some well-placed Post-It notes telling you exactly what kind of an idiot you are.

She does it every morning. She backs her stupid-assed Pontiac in on such an angle that sometimes she manages to nullify the existence of three whole spaces! I've seen her do it. Then she gets out of the car, looks at her job poorly done, and waltzes into the building in a blur of Giant Tiger hairspray and Delta Burke fashion accessories.

I need coffee.

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Mad world...

It's been a really long week. It's only Thursday. In French class, they taught me that the week starts on Monday. In English, we were taught that that first day of the week is Sunday. (How much sense does that make, in an English Catholic school, when they're also trying to convince you that God rested on the 7th day? Which is Sunday?) So, I either have 2 or 3 days left, depending on how you look at it, and it can't come quickly enough.

Currently in the CD player: The Garden State Soundtrack. Diggin' those Shins, man.
And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind
Well, I'd'a jumped from my tree
And I'd'a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would'a fared well.

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