Pros: Cheese

A year ago, I would have never believed you if you told me I would be writing a list of pros and cons about moving to Wisconsin.

And I really wouldn't have believed you if you told me the pros would greatly outweigh the cons.

Then again, a year ago, I still believed a paint-by-number, careful, detailed approach would lead to an entirely predictable future.

How naive is that?

Things change, no matter how precisely and effortfully you take the "right" steps-- like when you nearly pull a muscle trying to stretch your short legs to fit your feet in the snowy tracks of someone else to avoid any more snow in your boots.

You always trip and fall into the snow anyhow.
(At least I do. But I'm exceedingly clumsy.)

Okay, I know I'm being cryptic. Suffice to say, things haven't turned out exactly as expected, and I've spent the last month scrambling, working on what feels like 12 potential back-up plans at once. Life has truly become an exercise in rolling with the punches.

Oddly enough, the punches are pointing towards the Midwest, which, up until recently, is never where I foresaw this West Coast Canadian girl ending up.

Even though there's a lot of panic and planning involved (and I must have nearly given myself carpal tunnel syndrome with all my frantic googling), there's something wonderful about how random this all is.

I mean, why the hell not move to Wisconsin?

Things I know that I didn't want to know, thanks to Facebook

Apparently my cousin got her, and I quote, "pussy pierced".

Apparently it initially hurt really badly.

Apparently it will be back and ready for action in 2 weeks.

Apparently it looks great.

Not only do I now know more about my cousin's genitals than I ever hoped to, but so do the rest of her Facebook friends, her aunt, her brother, and her mother.

Oh yes, and her grandmother.

TMI is a vast understatement at this moment in time.

The eagerly anticipated return of Skymall!

A personal note: Yep, still sick. I actually ordered a giant pizza yesterday morning to prevent myself from needing to cook for the day, as I wasn't feeling up to leaving the house. In an attempt to save what little brain power I have and actually get some real work done today, I am resorting to a half-written post from my plane trip.

***

Frequent fliers are all too familiar with the opulent symbol of the wastefulness of the wealthy that is Skymall.

For those of you who aren't familiar... a little background.

For the most of us, our money goes to the necessities (food, rent, utilities, gas, etc). We may even have a little to spare for, say, shoes or electronics.

Then, there are the upper class, who have multiple cars, lounging rooms, pool tables.

And then there are the people who purchase stuff from Skymall-- they've tired so much of the predictability of vehicles and vacation properties that they find it suitable to spend their hard earned cash on such cherished artifacts as cereal dispensers, and don't know what to do but shop when stuck in the same seat for over an hour.

Think of me as an anthropologist of sorts, educating you on the ways of the Skymall.

Product #1

I know how frustrated I get when I have to walk allllll the way from my cubicle to the lounge of my workplace to heat up my noodle bowl, or how aggravating it is to have to leave the couch when I want a hotpocket.

That's why I was thrilled to find out about the iwavecube Personal Microwave. Measuring at less than a foot cube, it will fit on top of my computer tower or on my end table (or in my poolhouse, as recommended in the ad), meaning I will never have to use my feet again!

Product #2

Tired of your children's complaints and seeming inability to do their chores?

Annoyed that your wife won't take your Princess Leia in a golden bikini fetish seriously?

In need of someone who really respects your authority?

The voice-activated R2-D2 will meet all your servant and geek needs!

Responds to over 40 commands, unlike your no good children,  and can even act as a motion detector to stop any no good thieves trying to make off with your personalized microwave.

Product #3

Do you ever have hostile urges to shoot something?

Do you ever wonder what the hell you are going to do with all these marshmallows?

The Marshmallow Gun will solve all your problems! With pump action grip and the ability to hold 20 bullets mini-marshmallows. Plus, dishwasher safe, so you can get rid of the DNA in a hurry!

Product #4

Great, you may think.

Now I can heat up my Hungry-Man dinner, get R2-D2 to play tag with me, and shoot my no-good children with marshmallows... but who will get me a beer?

Why, the Beverage Buggy will! 

This remote control tool will has enough space for two cans of beer.

Now if you could only get your damn wife to put them in the buggy for you.

Product #5

You know what I hate? Going on a vacation, and realizing I forgot my boating shoes. Awwwwk-ward.

Thank God for the Torrent shoe! It's 5 shoes in one, with detachable soles, so you never find yourself with only golfing shoes when you need fishing shoes again.

Product #6

You know what's embarrassing?

Cat crap.

Unfortunately, we haven't been too quick at figuring out how to make them use the toilet just yet.

*cue canned laughter*

However, what you can do is hide it... with a hidden litter box. Your guests will only see a stunning Tuscan handfinished claypot. They'll never know the shame that lies beneath if you turn the entrance to the wall.

Product #7

Books are so passe.

Don't be the last person on you street lugging around a paper version of the Bible to church.

All the hip kids know the solar powered speaking King James Bible is the way to go!

So, remember, folks, when that extra money is burning a hole in your pocket, and the folks at MyFreeImplants have taken out a restraining order against you, don't think charity... think Skymall.

Dirty old man sues 19-year old for shooting him down!

That headline ain't no joke, folks.

Rolf Eden, a 77-year old German who is apparently especially invested in his image as a Playboy (you know what? One Hugh Hefner in the world is enough, thanks), is suing a 19-year old woman for refusing to sleep with him.

The reason given for this lawsuit? Ageism.

Apparently, after a night of wining and dining, the 19-year old and our boy Rolf ended up back at his place, where his attempts to get down and dirty were rebuked, with the woman saying he was too old for her.

Rather than, say, accepting the fact, or even putting his tail between his legs and moving on, he is adamant that she could have simply turned him down without reference to his age, saying "After all, there are laws against discrimination."

He attempted to justify his lawsuit in a statement to the media, saying "That was shattering. No woman has ever said that to me before. I was crushed."

I kind of wonder if she may have been put off not only by the creepy Grandfather factor, but by the fact that he has been quoted as saying "I would like to die as I have lived -- on a woman." Quite the opportunity that presents!

I'm glad to see that Rolfy-boy considers his sexual desires to take precedence over a woman's right to choose her partner. It's all about equal opportunities, ladies!

Wealthy men... have I got an opportunity for you!

Wealthy men...

... are you tired of spending your money on cars and houses?

... do feel like helping those less fortunate that you?

... are you disappointed that starving African orphans aren't visually stimulating enough?

... do you feel that you can't see concrete enough evidence of your money's impact when you donate to vague causes like homelessness, education, or animal welfare?

... would you like to be able to take the time to get to know the people you are helping, and decide who is most worthy of your generousity?

If you answered "yes" to the above questions, then do I have an opportunity for you!



My Free Implants is the perfect opportunity for you to rid yourself of some excess currency while aiding women cursed enough to have been born with too small breasts.

You can browse our website to hear the tales (and, of course, see the photos) of these poor women, who lack the funds to enhance their mammories themselves. Once you've chosen a worthy recipient (or recipients, if you are feeling particularly philanthropic!), as an official benefactor, you can not only donate to their worthy cause, but engage in live chat with them, as well as receive custom photos and videos (for which you can request special outfits!).

How's that for the donation that gives back? Letters from foster children have nothing on custom videos (and vague other "interactive activities") from these grateful ladies!

Visit our website to hear about success stories, including the inspiring tale of how Morgan was able to achieve her dream of E-cup breasts.

We hope you will find it in your heart to join My Free Implants, and use your wealth to help improve these ladies confidence and self-esteem.*

* Science proves that self-esteem is inextrically tied in to breast size
Check out this highly scientific equation: Bigger boobs = bigger confidence!

Some things you just have to share...

You're Lolita!

by Vladimir Nabokov

Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real. Please stay away from children.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Okay, so this is a lame attempt at a post.
And I'm sure the quiz doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

But I'm still going to go scrub myself with some lye.

So very dirty.

PS. Home on Sunday! Boo for real life!

My new best friend and other end of week musings

I've taken to using coffee shops as my office, as of late. My lab has been a ghost-town lately. Summer classes are done (therefore no participants), and it seems everyone has taken the entirety of August off. As such, it is hard to find reasons to commute an hour to go write on a computer in a windowless, stuffy lab. I've actually found that coffee shops are the perfect blend of public and private for me. Private enough that I feel reasonably at ease in a corner with my headphones on, but public enough so that I feel motivated to work, rather than slack off. Plus, no matter how great my lab coordinator is, he doesn't make me white chocolate mochas upon command.

***

In an attempt to increase my affection for my spider neighbour, the Duke decided to name him Esteban. He says that there is no way I could harbour homicidal urges towards someone of that name, particularly if I pictured the spider speaking to me in a flamboyent Spanish accent.

***

So here's a tale of mixed messages for you...

As some readers already know, prior to my current relationship, I was in a relationship and lived for many years with another fellow. We broke up on fairly mutual and amicable terms (as resentment free as things can be, at least), and still keep in a reasonable, but not excessive, degree of contact (e.g., coffee every few months). Ironically, and probably very telling, since the break-up, we have both began relationships with individuals who are near polar opposites of the other-- his being a religious 21-year old fast food manager.

Lest you think I sound a little judgmental in that last sentence, let me assure you that any hostility you sense is a response to her reactions to me. I was actually very happy to hear that he had moved on, as it gave me more freedom in my own relationship, and he is a solid guy who deserves to be happy. However, I rapidly began hearing about her resentment towards me, including her profound jealousy, anger whenever my name came up, and accusations that I was keeping any contact with my ex secret from my own boyfriend.

In fact, I have reason to believe that she may be my short-lived phone stalker, considering that the series of four calls in an hour began right after he sent her a text message intended for me (totally innocuous, I may add, about a planned meeting that was our first in three months)- and that, when I asked my ex if it sounded like a plausible explanation, he agreed, saying "I wouldn't put something like that past her!"

Imagine my surprise when I see that she has sent me a message via facebook. I brace myself, expecting some scathing "stay the hell away from my man!" tirade.

Instead: "its *********. how are you? i think addin you as a friend would be a big step. we havent even met each other. but i thought a short message wouldnt hurt. i hope youre enjoying your summer. hope to hear back from you ^_^"

Huh?

How does one go from despising me and potentially stalking me to that?

I mean, it could be that she decided to be the bigger person and try to start a positive relationship with me.
But forgive me if I'm a little suspicious...

***

Last weekend was our a long weekend, and the Duke and I decided, since we were stuck in the city, to make the best of playing tourist. Thus, on Saturday, we decided to take a tram up a mountain, which is known for its views. It was rather comical- just as the tram started moving, the Duke exclaimed "Shit! I forgot I was afraid of heights!"

It was a pleasant day- we had a lovely lunch, were only a few meters away from some grizzly bears (in an outdoor pen- I'm not quite that gutsy), and just wandered around. However, being a long weekend, it was a little too rife with the "family" crowd for our liking. Towards around 6pm, it felt like we had pretty much overexhausted all the attractions, and were ready to leave and meet some friends for the big fireworks show. Unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea- several hundred people were lined up to cram into cable cars that left only every 15 minutes.

Loathe to wait, we made what seemed like a good decision- walk down the mountain. Without giving too much away, this particular mountain has a rather infamous trail-- which I will call the Evil Escarpment, or is also commonly known as Nature's Stairmaster. We figure that walking down a few kilometers of stairs can't be as bad as waiting in a neverending line full of antsy children, so off we went. Despite the fact that I am wearing a $7 pair of Chinese slipper.



As you can probably guess, by the simple fact that I am writing about it, the hike didn't go especially well. Stairmaster is definitely too flattering- this was one of the most trecherous trails I had ever seen. It is apparently a 40 degree slope at times, and the trail often takes you clamouring down large rocks and steps several times larger than your average stair. I had no opportunity to focus on the beauty of the woods, as every single step took painful amounts of focus, especially since my cotton shoes were seeking to slip off my feet at every moment. It was also excrutiatingly slow, as we had to yield to the side of the narrow path whenever someone was coming up the trail-- and, for some reason, my city is full of masochists who love the Escarpment and mysteriously claim to enjoy such an uphill battle.
It is an odd thing to have gotten no cardiovascular workout, yet be painfully sore.

We later found out that it is highly recommended that you do not walk down the Evil Escarpment for the sake of your knees-- which I could have figured out when I could barely walk the next day. I never thought the two steps up to my bathroom would ever be such sources of frustration.
***

Work has been frustrating over these past few month. Austin was probably my saving grace in feeling like I had actually achieved something in taking the course and developing some research ideas. I planned to use the summer as a CV stacker of sorts, with three manuscripts to be written. Unfortunately, my supervisor, who recently claimed to be working on a whopping 20 something separate projects, has still not given me back my first draft of manuscript #1 back- despite having given it to him around a month and a half ago. I know there are other people who are in a hurry to defend that are priorities- but it feels a little ridiculous. And all these various activities are so contingent on him... I can't start writing the chapter until I have some feedback on the paper, and now I have a second manuscript essentially done that I don't even know what to do with, because I know it is just going to end up on some secondary piles for ages. I wish I had known all this before, so I could have either used the summer to stock up my clinical hours, or taken more holidays, rather than forcing myself to the lab countless days to feel like I am accomplishing something... when it will just end up on the backburner anyways. Bah.

***

To end this post on a positive note, here's a clip from my favourite show of the moment-- Extras. Ricky Gervais is bloody hysterical, and he gets such great guest on the show willing to poke fun at themselves. In this case, witness Sir Ian McKellen discuss his profound acting techniques.



Oh yeah, and song of the moment is Rilo Kiley's "Moneymaker". Love it.

Whose bright idea was this?

Tired of awkward drunken conversations across bathroom stalls?



This, ladies and gents, is the ladies bathroom at the Hole in the Wall pub in Austin.

I'm guessing they are equal opportunists. If guys feel comfortable peeing beside each other, why not gals?

Is it a coincedence that this is the same establishment where I got a $2 plate of fried pickles during happy hour?

***

Anyways, I promise a *real* and thoughtful post is coming soon. The transition back into day-to-day life is a little bumpier (too much interpersonal drama that people are trying to drag me into-bah!) and busier than expected. I almost wrote a post the other day about all that was pissing me off, but I decided that y'all deserve a good Texas picture post before I start ranting at you! Stay tuned...

Reason #2 not to answer your phone at 2:30am

2:30 am.
I am fast asleep in my dorm room.

*Ring, ring*

Me: Hello??

Unidentified male: I just wanted to let you know that I just got back, I was pretty late.

*Note- I was very fuzzy headed at this point. I think he talked for a little while, but I am not terribly sure what was said, as I was just trying to decipher what was going on, where I was, and who he was. I know he asked if he woke me up, to which I said yes. At some point, in my befuddled state, after he has spoken for a bit, I make the decision that he sounds like my dorm neighbour, C., who may be calling his roommate and got the wrong number.*

Me: Is this C?

Unidentified male: No, this is Derrick.

Me: *Laughing and thinking that he is another guy from the program, as the name sounds vaguely familiar* Oh, you've got the wrong number! I was so confused! This is Princess' room!

Unidentified male: Oh, I was looking for Sarah. Sorry, I have been having a hard time with the dorm phone system!

*This furthered my ease, as there is definitely a girl name Sarah on my floor who is in the program.*

Me: Well, I will let you go to try and reach her.

Unidentified male: Wait! We should talk! I'm never going to know who you are!

Me: *a little nervous* It's two in the morning, so I should probably go.

Unidentified male: But you sound so nice! Your voice sounds really young.

Me: I have to go. I have to get up early.

Unidentified male: You're so polite! You sound like you could be a receptionist or something! And it's so funny that you thought I was your friend-- no one every mistakes my voice for someone else.

I get substantially more creeped out, but am still rather half asleep and, for some reason, trying to rationally end this conversation rather than just hanging up on the guy. He tries to find out more about me, and continues complementing my voice and such.

Me: I really need to go.

Unidentified man: Wait! You have an accent or something! I don't even know where you're from!

Me: Bye. *click*

***

It was only when I woke up and became a little more clear-headed that I realized what an odd interaction that was. The guy tried to start a conversation with me at 2am! However, I just wrote it off as a drunk guy who was happy to have a young sounding woman answer his wrong number.

So I tell a friend about it. And it turns out she had the same call around the same time, with a guy saying the exact same thing (Hi, I just go back... Oh, sorry, I was looking for someone else. But who are you?). Then I find out that at least two other girls in my class got the phone call, with the whole "You sound so nice and young" schtick. Same as me, they just thought it was another guy in the program at first who had called the wrong room, so they tolerated the conversation for a few minutes before they got creeped out. Then I find out two guys had calls and hang-ups around 2am last night.

So some guy is calling various dorm rooms in an attempt to start conversations with half-asleep women, and hanging up if a man answers! The weird thing is that it didn't sound sexual at all... no heavy breathing, and he sounded so normal and consistent with the wrong number thing for the first few minutes.

I need to stop answering my phone. Can anyone teach me smoke signals or morse code?

Desperately seeking a good metaphor!

One of the topics that has come up in my course is the hypocrisy and humour inherent in abstinence only sex-ed programs.

The hypocrisy is relatively self-evident. Not only are educators turning a blind eye to to the realities of contemporary adolescense in their insistence that chastity will be considered a viable option by teenagers (you can't compete with MTV, teachers!), but the bulk of the responsibility is placed on girls to keep their "gift unopened", as though it doesn't take two to tango. I also love the good ol' virgin-slut dichotomy, which never seems to quite disappear!

The humour, however, comes from their pathetic search for a metaphor.

Most recently publicized was the tape metaphor. The director of the Virginity Rules program brings out a tape dispenser, and takes off two fresh pieces. He claims that sex was created to bond to people together. However, he demonstrates all the dirt and diseases one picks up by hussying it up by sticking the tape to the floor and wall, picking up all sorts of lint and dirt (which is clearly the best symbol from chlymidia I've ever heard!). Then, *gasp*, when you get married... the tape doesn't stick together, because the two people were so casual with their priceless adhensiveness.

Similarly, in one class, girls are given an unwrapped candy bar to pass around the room. After twenty-odd people have handled it, and it is all melted and sticky, it is then compared to a wrapped up candy bar. Girls are then asked which of the candy bars they would like to give to their husbands- the nasty, used up one, or the one that is still pristine and wrapped.

Am I the only one who thinks that keeping your candy bar wrapped might serve a far better metaphor for men and protected sex?

I know it can be hard to recruit participants in the summer... but this is ridiculous!

Worst attempt at participant recruitment ever (posted in bathroom stalls throughout the university):

Taking a dump? Why not take a memory test instead?

... I'm assuming that is a rhetorical question.

Protecting our children from contact

A Virginia middle school has passed a rule banning all touching.

Claiming that students aren't able to distinguish between the shades of grey involved in human contact, the principal decided that it would be best to simply forbid all touching-- including hugging, high fives, and handshakes.

A 13-year old boy was recently reprimanded for putting his arm around his girlfriend at lunch.


***

This one certainly gives abstinence-only sex-education a run for its money-- 14 year olds are having sex, yet we deny them human touch in the public sphere?

North America has become so consumed by fear that it seems logical to ban high fives to prevent the discomfort of improper touch. Even more disturbing is the notion that 13 and 14 year olds, who are held criminally accountable for their actions in a court of law, are infantalized so much in this context that the teachers don't even attempt to educate them in the shades of grey of what is and what is not appropriate contact. Rather, the issue is dichotimized to such an extreme as to almost represent all human contact as violent or sexual.

One of the most basic truths about humans is that physical contact is essential to our development. Somehow this basic tendency has been turned into something to be feared.

We are becoming captives in our personal bubbles when a handshake is seen as a threat.

Do you think there's a market?

Most recent entertaining search term that sent someone here....

PhD Pornstar!!!

I am the #4 search term on google... but only if you put both words in separate quotation marks.
I guess he wanted to make sure I am an authentic PhD student, not just being skilled like I should have a doctorate of porn.

The vertigo equation

That would be me.
Still suffering from random bouts of vertigo.




Taking Gravol, as the lovely doctor claimed it would help with said vertigo, which I thought was important considering I was heading to a meeting with my case supervisor quite soon.




Being high as a kite.

Seriously, body, it's goddamn Gravol, not Speed!! Do you need to be reacting like this? Is the spinning head and inability to concentrated really necessary? I know I'm a cheap drunk and all that, but children take this stuff, for Christ sake! And did you not remember that not only do I have a meeting in less than an hour, but up until I swallowed that godforsaken pill I was rather productively plugging away at a manuscript. Now I'm teetering towards dyslexia (and had to retype that word like 5 times... what a cruel joke that is!).

I can't believe people do this for fun.

Mildly Freaky Sunday

This Sunday has proven to be a bit of an odd day.

It started out lovely and fairly typically, with sleeping in late and early afternoon Blizzards.

The Duke and I went to a series of short films at the documentary film festival. Some of the shorts were quite fascinating. In particular, a film called Talk to Me, was made by a man who recorded every answering machine message left for him over a 20-year period. Through a selection of these messages, he was able to tell a really unique but insightful story of his life. There was also a film that consisted of simple filming of people's public cell phone conversations in London. I though the voyeur in me would be a lot more engaged in the film... but as The Duke said, it really wasn't much more intriguing than what one hears on the bus daily. Though it does lead one to think a lot about the thinning boundaries between private and public space... but that is a post for another time.
Weirdest, however, was a Swedish claymation documentary short about female grafitti artists.



We then went to a BBQ for a good friend's birthday. My friend's new roommate is apparantely actually Mr. Self Disclosure's cousin. However, it was entertaining hearing about their crazy landlords who are actually named Igor and Elvira. I told them that I didn't care what they said... Igor did walk with a limp and spoke in the third person.
"Igor come to fix your sink."

The transit ride home from the BBQ was the most entertaining portion of the night, however. The drunkest/highest man on the planet got on our train, and promptly started letting out piercing chimpanzee like cries. He then pulled out a porno magazine and started waving it in an old man's face. When we got off the train, he somehow ended up across the street from us. At first, he stuck to the primate calls and following around pedestrians in an overexaggerated rooster walk. The chimp cries gradually evolved into Michael Jackson howls... which then, naturally, led him to moonwalking in the middle of an incredibely busy street. All whilst clutching onto his porno mag.

Somehow thwarting natural selection, he made across the street. As the Duke and I walked to catch a bus, he started keeping pace with us, opened up the magazine, and started shoving it in the Duke's face. The Duke managed to avert his eyes for long enough, and the man cackled "That's a smart man!" before running off.

He somehow ended up on my bus. For a while, he had positioned himself extremely high up, sort of dangling off this big guardrail type thing near the front of the bus in a monkey-like fashion. Then bus had to stop briefly for repairs, so he began some sort of comedy routine in which he rolled out some great one-liners like "Put on your seatbelts!" Once the bus started moving again, he began dancing and mock surfing in the aisle. But the peak moment was when he began doing full out gymnastics on a moving bus. The man was literally hanging upside down and walking on the ceiling using the handles on the bus!

Partway through this spectacle, a woman turned to the other passangers and said "Do you ever get the feeling like you're on candid camera?"

Best search ever (almost)

While it may not be lobster panties (see Dorky Dad for that story), I am pretty damn impressed that the search term "Sexual Maypole Dance" leads to my blog.

Hippies need porn, too!

Do you think I can get out of my lease?

As an adjunct to my post on lame housing posts on Craigslist, I bring to you the best roommates wanted ad ever:

Title: Free for the right female

I need a part-time assistant for housework ( laundry, some cooking,kitchen and washroom cleaning,dishes,ironing,vacuum,dusting....etc. DAILY...) decorating and massages as I am single and do not need to be :). Prefer female or 2 females. In return, you will have your own room in a bright, spacious 2 bedroom fully furnished house with all the toys at no charge and all the meals on the house and possibly other benefits. This is an excellent opportunity to save on rent and grocery. Let's help each other with our needs and enjoy this paradise living on acres of secluded living amongst million dollar mansions minutes drive from the beach and shopping. Send your detailed reply with pic and see if your the first to grab this opportunity :)I am looking for 420 friendly females and the house is smoking but ABSOLUTELY no other drugs.Occasional drinking in the hot tub is OK ;)

***
#1- Uh, daily housekeeping does not constitute part-time. As such, this is not exactly a steal of a deal, considering that a job may be hard to hold down with these demands.

Seriously, if you want a full-time escort/house-keeper, you need to offer a little more than a room and groceries! The seasoned escort makes enough to rent a room in one night!

#2- You really need to work on your sexual inneuendo. "2 females", "massages as I am single and do not need to be", "possibly other benefits", "helping each other with our needs" and "occasional drinking in the hot tub". Oh, and the ever so subtle emoticon wink?

I also love that you need to have a picture to reply.

I'm rigging my bedroom up right now to start taking some glamour shots. I certainly want to be the first to grab (*wink*) this opportunity!

A few lessons for those computer savvy landlords

Though I have found myself a lovely little apartment, my compulsion to check Craigslist several times a day hasn't abated.

I guess when ads are free, anonymous, and available to anyone who has access to a computer, you are really bound to get a real mix in terms of quality.

However, really, if you are looking to rent out your apartment to some decent tenants, there are perhaps a few things you should learn.

#1- Spell check. Fine, I realize not everyone has English as their first language or even is naturally talented in the art of putting together letters in the correct order. However, it really seems to me that anyone who knows how to use Craigslist should also have the knowledge of pasting your ad into word and running a spellcheck. After all, it's what high school kids rely on to make their papers presentable (and I totally adore the thesaurus function- saved my ass in first year lit).

#2- Reasonable price, or putting a price in the first place. Yes, I know this city is overpriced. However, I never, never, never will pay $1000 a month for 350 a square foot apartment in the "right" area of town. And, if you can't be bothered to put an actual price in the ad, I'm not calling, because I'm thinking you're going to pull a used car salesman role on my ass and start negotiating the price depending on how confident and knowledgeable I sound.

#3- Descriptions. "Nice one-bedroom in *city*". Seriously, you are going to have to answer a million times over where the place is, what its close to, etc, etc. Why not just save us both a little time and add a sentence or two of description?

#4- Reasonable times. Here's an idea... if you want to rent your suite to employed individuals, you might want to provide more than a half an hour at noon on Thursday as a viewing time, especially when you provide no contact information.

#5- Ridiculous claims. The one that inspired this post was an ad proclaiming "ITS LIKE LIVING IN A HOTEL", and then goes on to list such amazing features as "private mailbox". Wow! Such luxury!

#6- Ridiculous expectations. My favourite is those who have all these qualifications about what they want in a tenant. For instance, "one person only" for a place well over $1000 a month. If I can afford that much on my own, I'm gonna' buy!
Even better (I think I already used this anecdote in a reply to a comment) is the family's renting a room who want single, mature professionals. If I have a great career in my 30s or 40s, please shoot me if I have to rent a single room from some suburban family. I'd much rather fulfil my cat lady destiny in peace.

And, in categories all by themselves:
People looking for roommates to share a bachelor suite with them (perhaps looking to relive their dorm days?). Bonus points when they request someone of the opposite sex (I actually saw this!)

My favourite was one I saw a few months ago, in which the ad outlined some convaluted deal in which the lucky tenant could first sleep on the living room couch for a month or two until the roommates decided they trusted them, at which point they could share a bedroom with one of them (or take over her room when she went on holidays).

What a relief to be able to avoid these people for a few more years!

The reasons you don't want me to serve my country

I actually got a flyer in the mail today trying to recruit me to join the Canadian Armed Forces. It doesn't bode well for our country's national security that they are resorting to mass-mailing... particularly when people like me are the recipients.

This got me to think to the many reasons why the Canadian Forces, no matter what the pretty pamphlet said, really does not want me.

1) I'm small.
I'm all of 5 feet 3 inches (okay, 2 and 3/4 inches), and am currently topping the scales at a size 5. I also look around 18 on most days, and have a big dimple in the top corner of my left cheek. Not tremendously intimidating.

2) I'm weak and have little stamina.
"Okay," you say. "I know plenty of small people who are quite powerful." I assure you I am not one of them. I occasionally make it to the gym in three week bouts, but it never lasts much beyond that. I used to struggle to restrain an 11-year old girl I worked with. And I absolutely despise running. I'm really perplexed as to why people do it for fun, and believe "runner's high" to be some well-perpetuated myth by the people at Gatorade and Nike.

3) I'm a pacifist.
Not a big fan of weapons or war, so motivating me may be a little difficult.

4) I'm a coward.
I have the most exagerrated startle reaction ever. Entertaining for friends, but not so adaptive in Afganistan. Plus, did you see those pictures that went around about the giant sand spiders in Iraq? Yeah...no. I also worry excessively about day-to-day life, which may be a little distracting when peering through binoculars waiting for a sign of the enemy.

5) I lack motor skills.
The human brain only has so much capacity, and mine apparently all went into the more academic skills. I cannot carry a full coffee up a mild slope without splashing it in my face, and my friends like to remind me of the time I drove a scooter into a fence. Would you trust me with a tank or defusing a grenade?

6) I'm *almost* a psychologist.
You know that no one else there wants me around!
Feelings are for sissies...

7) I'm emotional and don't take criticism well.
I would seriously break down in tears the first time my drill sargeant called me a name. Then I would go to my bunk and try to figure out how I could work on becoming less of a pukey piece of scum... only to cry even harder when he called me it again.

I love my country, so for her sake, I don't think I'll quit my day job anytime soon.

Princess for PM!

My ex-boyfriend sent me a text message today saying, that while watching CNN, it occurred to him that I would be a good politician.

Ummmm.... thanks?