Something to think about...

I've had this theory for a while, but I think that this ...
leads to this ... Even though the Golden Girls came before Sex and the City - I think the New York ladies become Miami retirees. The characters match up so well.

This is something for you to think about today and tomorrow. I'll be back on Monday with more observations. Happy Labour Day!

A 3 hour tour…

I’d just like to bring to everyone’s attention that the real, actual, honest to goodness, SS Minow is for sale. That’s right, the boat used on Gilligan’s Island is for sale in Parksville, BC and you can be the new owner of the vessel for only $90000. I’m not sure if I’d like to own the SS Minow – no friends would want to take a tour on it, and tourists would be too frightened to take a trip. Maybe if they threw in some of the professor’s primitive electronics and Gilligan’s hat – then I’d think it’s a better deal. Imagine people calling me skipper! Are these terms gender specific? Maybe I’d be skippa or skippita?

Ice Cream Novelties

I bought a fudgsicle yesterday – because the most fun way to eat ice cream is on a stick. I rarely see adults eating popsicles, and I don’t really understand why. What is so exciting about eating ice cream from a cup with a spoon? That’s for cereal and soup – not for ice cream. While I was eating this fudgsicle I read on the package that it is an “ice cream novelty”. I’m not really sure what that means – why is it a novelty? Ice cream on a stick isn’t really a new concept. I used to always eat fudgsicles when I was young. I remember that they had the endorsement of “Popsicle Pete”. After you eat up your ice cream, at the tip of the wooden stick there would be a certain number of Pete Points branded into the wood. If you collected enough points you could get cool prizes. You needed something like 100,000 points to get a baseball hat. Not quite attainable when you’d only get 1 or 2 points per popsicle. I never knew anyone who redeemed the points for anything - but imagine the job of the point counter over at the popsicle factory. All those multi-colored sticky wooden popsicle sticks that they have to count to make sure that the kids actually ate their fare share of popsicles. Now that’s a dream job!

The planet elimination show!

Last week a group of Astronomers of the International Astronomical Union gathered in Prague to dismiss Pluto as a planet in our solar system. I can't believe that they kicked Pluto out of the solar system club. I think it's rather mean. I mean just because it's small and far away doesn't mean that it doesn't matter anymore. Also I think these Astronomer's missed out on a prime reality show opportunity. Kicking things out is the recipe to success for reality TV - whether it's getting rid of old stuff you no longer need, eliminating people who really don't have useful talent, or swapping mothers (OK that one doesn't fit all that well), a reality show for Pluto would have been so fitting. Put all the planets in competition with each other and see which planet is the worst. My guess is that it would be that no-good Mercury. What has it done for ME lately?

Hotel services and amenities

A few days ago I was looking at a website for a hotel that I will be staying at in a few months. It looked quite nice – fitness room, swimming pool, and a 4 star restaurant. How fancy! I browsed around to find the hotel services and amenities page. This is always good to look at because it’s important to know if there will be a hair dryer in your room for styling your hair before hitting the town. I didn’t write this in the posts on my trip to France, but there were the strangest hair dryers in the hotel rooms there. They looked more like mini vacuum cleaners and didn’t have an on/off switch. They just switched off when you put the dryer back on the wall. But anyway… back to this hotel. So it didn’t list if there was a hair dryer in each room (I’m sure there is, but I like to double check). But one of the items listed under the hotel services was “smoke detectors and sprinklers”. I had no idea that this was a hotel luxury service – here I thought it was something that just made good sense. So check those hotel websites carefully to make sure that the hotel has smoke detectors and sprinklers. I wonder what effect this service has on the star rating?

The man with the grocery bag

Yesterday I saw a man carrying a HUGE shopping bag. I really mean HUGE. It would probably accommodate 3 weeks of my groceries that’s how HUGE it was. I guess it was a little tricky for him to manage carrying – so he opted to tie it to his belt. I have no idea how he managed to keep his shorts up with that tied to his waist. He had to tie it to his belt because he purchased one of those portable shopping carts so he had to carry that with his hands. What I didn’t understand is why didn’t he just open up the shopping cart and put his big bag in there? I guess that would just be too easy.

Surprise!

Yesterday I found a package of oatmeal cookies in my desk drawer - such a treat! I had completely forgotten that I had kept it there. I think I have a pretty good memory - I can remember where I've kept things from several years ago. I'm a promoter of "a place for everything, and everything in it's place". But this way of thinking doesn't lead to too many surprises. Whenever I find something unexpected I always then have to think back on why it is there, or why I decided to keep it there. It's really neurotic when I think about it. One thing that always gets me, is that I never remember is kleenex in my pocket. I usually keep a kleenex in my pocket because you never know when you'll have a sniffle or have to wipe off some food from your clothes. But I always forget that I've got that kleenex in my pocket when I put my clothes in the washing machine. Bah! The result of that is definitely an unwelcome surprise!

That Cat

There is a cat that lives in the house across the street from me. It always sits at the window and just stares outside. I think it doesn't like me - because whenever I walk by the house it always gives me a mean squinting look. Well actually it gives everyone a look like that. I don't know why it has to look so upset at everyone. It's not like the neighbors have done anything to it. Typical cat-like behavior I suppose. But the staring is the most interesting thing ... what it is looking at? Our street doesn't have any schools, shops, or even newspaper boxes on it. Its just houses so there can't be much to look at for the entire day. But it still sits at the window. I wish I could do that - just sit at the window and glare at everyone that walks by. I'm not sure if that is normal behavior ... but I don't see why it's ok for a cat do to that and not me.

Simply the best

Last week two of the most "influential Bills" were visiting Toronto for the AIDS Conference - Bill Gates and Bill Clinton that is. During a session at the conference, they shared their message for the fight against AIDS with a large audience. I read about their session in the newspaper, and also saw a large photo of the two men sitting together at the conference. While of course it is quite remarkable that these two men came to Toronto to share their message, what I thought was funny was something that was not so noticeable in the photo. They were drinking PC brand water. Bill Gates - the world's most wealthiest man was drinking a cheap brand of bottled water! I would have expected something imported from Fiji or Switzerland, but this was quality water bottled in Ontario. Not that it matters - spring water is spring water. But it gave me a chuckle and reminded me of when I was watching MTV cribs featuring Simon Cowell. He was showing off his fancy Hollywood home and gave the camera's a tour of his giant bathroom with luxury jacuzzi. On the side of his jacuzzi sat a bottle of Pert Plus. Only the best for Clinton, Gates, and Cowell.

The kid behind the bushes

Yesterday on my way home I saw a little boy relieving himself behind the bushes in the park by my house. It was weird – probably because that park has a washroom just on the other side of the bushes. Seeing that little kid I felt very embarrassed for him. Not because he was urinating in the bushes, but because his mom, standing on the sidewalk in front of the bushes, didn’t really seem disturbed that he was doing this. I think she was standing by the stroller chatting on her cell phone. What is the age that it becomes not-ok to pee in the bushes? On the rest of my walk home I wondered what would become of this little boy. Maybe having the freedom to go in the bushes will make him a free spirit hippie? Or maybe he will become a Nobel laureate? Or maybe the kid just had to pee and that’s it.

Sticky shoes

It started a few days ago. I ignored it thinking it would go away on its own. The incessant sticking noise! It's driving me mad! I think I must have stepped on some tape or chewing gum. It is making the sole of my shoe stick to the floor with every step that I take. It is so annoying! I keep wiping my shoe on the carpet under my desk but it is not destickifying! It almost sounds like two pieces of velcro being separated each time the sole comes into contact with the floor. In an attempt to assess all the scary stuff my shoes encounter during my commute home I made the following list: Carpet, linoleum (with wet coffee spilled), sidewalk cement, sand on the sidewalk, subway platform, subway train floor, subway stairs (with dry coffee spilled), sidewalk with bird and dog business, grass with strewn garbage (result of a windy garbage day), dirt. I think it's remarkable though how infrequently this happens to me. To think of all the scary stuff that I walk through on a regular basis - and this is the worst reaction? Not bad at all.

Rolling trouble!

On the weekend I attended the super-crowded Taste of the Danforth. A whole variety of tasty Greek food lining kilometers of Toronto (who could ask for more). This year there were more obstacles in the street than I previously recall … so it required the crowd to turn and dodge around booths advertising tropical juices, bus tours of Italy, and even olive sampling. In an attempt to keep the street clear of litter, Taste of the Danforth workers pull around hand trucks with garbage bins mounted to them. A great idea for transporting litter in an efficient manner. But remember how I said there were several obstacles in the crowded street? Well it is difficult to maneuver a hand truck full of garbage around a crowded, obstacle filled street. So difficult in fact that innocent Taste of the Danforth visitors were getting hit by the handtrucks. Innocent visitors like me! My poor ankle was attacked by a garbage bin handtruck! Of course the worker was extremely apologetic (I’m sure she didn’t want me to sue her), and I did my best not to shed any tears because the last thing that crowded street needed was the commotion of the first aid brigade coming to my attention. But for the last few days I have carried the memory of tasty Greek food, and dangerous garbage bins with me every time I step with my right foot.

Korean BBQ

A few days ago my colleagues and I visited an “ethnic restaurant” for lunch. It was a Korean BBQ. I’m not really sure what was so Korean about it. There was this tiny bowl of kimji, but other than that I couldn’t figure out what made it Korean. There was this grill in the middle of the table which is a burn hazard to say the least. I don’t know if in Korea they have grills in the middle of the table – but I think the novelty of that would wear off fairly quickly. Anyway – there we were at the Korean BBQ and they brought out a whole wack of raw food. I was shocked – I have to cook my own food! What is the purpose of going to a restaurant if you have to cook your own food? So there is no chef in the background there? It’s just a fridge and a table. Smart restaurant – imagine how much money they save in labour costs if they don’t have to hire cooks? Now here is the strangest part of the restaurant – they expect you to cook at your table but they don’t give you aprons to protect your clothes. Even when you go to a seafood restaurant you order a lobster they give you a bib so that you don’t get lobster juice on you!

A long stay

This week has a historic day for me – it marks my one-year anniversary in my current apartment. For the last 8 years I have been a nomad, moving about 3 times a year. My previous record for staying in a single place was eight months. But here I am now, topping that. It is very strange for me to stay in a single place for so long. Looking in my storage cupboard I noticed several empty boxes that I saved since last year in case I had to move again. It’s rather strange to consider how long you’ve been living in the same place. For me it doesn’t seem like a year at all – primarily because I don’t think I have a lot to show for it. That’s the thing about rentals I think – it’s not my place, so I’m not going to go to a lot of effort over it. I’ll keep it clean and livable, but beyond that is just too much. I’m not going to make this place a great living space just to move out and have someone else appreciate it! What do I look like – Martha Stewart (minus the money and criminal record)?

At the bank

The only scary incident I had on my entire trip was at the bank machine. I needed some cash so I visited a bank machine at “Banque Postal”. Everything was going smoothly until the machine only gave me 10 Euros instead of 200. Funny how the only time that I’ve had difficulty with a bank machine happens to be in a foreign country. I went into the “Banque Postal” to reclaim my money when I realized that it is not a bank at all – in fact it is a post office (I had a 50-50 chance there). So some advice … use the bank machines at an actual bank and not a post office posing as a bank. In the post office the employees barely spoke English (one of the ladies thought I wanted to buy a box to mail a parcel – clearly my French needs some work). Luckily the man in charge spoke a bit of English and was able to help me out. He called me into the back room of the post office which was dark and grey, and he went into a third room behind some glass that was probably bulletproof. I was pretty certain that he was going to rough me up (French style!), but instead he reached into a big vault and pulled out some cash. Fortunately he was able to verify that the machine short-changed me 190 Euros and was able to reimburse me. After exiting the back room I had a quick glance at all the people standing in line for postal service – and who was standing in line but witchy woman! And she was with a man who wasn’t crossword puzzle man. The scandal!

The witchy woman

After my baking experience on the beach, I decided that the sun and I should spend some time apart. Luckily on the promenade in Nice there were several covered bench areas where I could relax and still enjoy a great view. For a number of days I spent several hours in the shade, dividing my time between people watching, beach watching, and reading. Other than the men in speedos (which I have already covered) and leathery skinned topless women, the most interesting people that I observed were those that spent several hours on the same set of benches that I was sitting on. There were two people in particular – crossword puzzle man, and witchy woman. Every day that I visited the benches crossword puzzle man was working on a giant French crossword puzzle. I hadn’t seen this type before – it was two pages wide and had pictures of celebrities. Strange. Witchy woman was a really old lady (at least mid 80’s) with long dyed black (really black) hair, dark framed glasses, and a hippie-style beanie hat. Clearly the hair made her witchy and not the hat … but every person that walked by her gave her a double take. So there I sat with crossword puzzle man and witchy woman about three times on different days. They got so used to me that they gave me a nod each day when I was leaving. I wonder if they had any name for me?

On the beach

After spending a fun-filled week in Paris, we high-tailed it off to the French Riviera to spend some time on the beach. I was looking forward to swimming in the warm waters of the Mediterranean and seeing all the men in their swimwear. Nothing is more wholesome than a pot-bellied, grey haired, 60+ gentleman in a speedo. On my very first day at the beach I discovered that the Mediterranean sun is quite hot – more than hot, perhaps scorching is the right word. It would explain all the leathery skin I saw around the beach. As a result of this scorching sun, and my uneven application of spf 30, I came back to the hotel with a lovely sunburn that outlined my swimsuit. Cherry tomato coloured shoulders really are a good look for me. So at this point I had the entire gamut of sun exposure on my skin: sandal tan, sock tan, t shirt tan, shorts tan, sunglasses tan, and now swimsuit sunburn. Variety really is the spice of life! As a result of all of this, I had to spend the remainder of my beach days under the protection of a Nice Ville supplied canopy. But that didn’t take away from my beach experience… more on that tomorrow.

Paris the un-PC city

One thing remarkable about Paris - other than the outstanding art, architecture and culture, was how politically incorrect the city is. Accessibility means very little - which I realized after climbing my millionth stair to a tourist attraction. Ramps are my friend, and I sorely missed them while in Paris. There are also very few automatic doors or doors with the push-button opening. That makes me use my arms for crying out loud! You can't snooze on the commuter trains because they don't hollar out the stops along the way. Everything is really narrow so people more than 12 inches wide have a tricky time getting around. This photo is from the Centre Pompidou and it really needs no explanation of the un-PC'ness. We in North America know how to live - moving sidewalks and escalators, automatic doors, train stop announcements and wide corridors. Why should I have to walk, use my arms and listen when I don't really have to?

Riding the metro...part deux

Some of you may remember my post about running for the subway doors when you hear the chime ring. That chime is supposed to mean that the doors are closing so “stand clear”. Riding the subway this week I heard the announcer repeat, “stand clear of the doors” several times. On the Paris metro things were very different. First, some of the trains required the doors to be opened by the subway riders, using this complicated handle. I of course couldn’t figure out how to open the door so I needed assistance. You can’t be a passive rider on the Paris metro – it’s a very engaging activity. Then when you get into the train and the doors are about to close a very loud and annoying buzzing noise sounds for about 4 seconds, and the doors rapidly close. When I say rapidly – I mean if your hand (or any other extremity) is between the doors they will likely be chopped off. It might have something to do with France’s guillotine past? That there is a sticker beside each metro train door that indicates staying clear of the doors – with an animated rabbit getting caught. I guess the message from this must be that we’re serious about closing the doors – but we still know how to be fun. (Click on the image to enlarge it to get the full effect).

On the Metro … part un

While in Paris I had the opportunity to ride the subway through the city. Being vehicle-free on a regular basis, I was quite interested to see what this other subway system would be like. The metro was like a fortress of security. Instead of tokens they have these high-tech tickets with magnetic strips that get scanned and stamped by a machine that then unlocks the turnstile. But it is not just one turnstile; it is a turnstile and a narrow door that get unlocked. To get out of the metro you often have to keep your ticket and scan it to unlock the turnstile/door combo to get out. No cheating permitted there! Of course the very first time I put my ticket into the scanner something went wrong and the turnstile did not unlock for me. While trying to figure out what I did wrong (how hard can it be to put a ticket into a scanner) I got many strange looks from the metro employees. One time I discarded my ticket before getting out of the metro and I had to jump the turnstile/door barrier that I think amused the security guards more than concerned them – so in conclusion, while I was riding the metro, the metro employees could always have something funny to observe. I aim to entertain.

Paris – the smoking city

I have received messages from a few friendly readers asking for details on my summer break. So for the next few posts I’ll summarize what I did, and my crazy observations. My first week of the break was spent in Paris, France (not to be confused with Paris, Texas or the Paris hotel in Las Vegas). This was my first time to Europe, so of course I was expecting accordion musicians everywhere and barrettes on every goateed man. But alas all I encountered in the airport were usual airport-folk. The only exception was that many of them were smoking. I was quite surprised by the amount of smoking that I saw in France. Nearly everyone smokes … including old people without teeth (I guess they don’t have much to lose by smoking), young people (while on their skateboards), and refuse collectors (while hanging onto the back of the truck). But I suppose it really is to the advantage of smokers to be able to smoke anywhere. Think of all the money saved on cigarettes when you can just take advantage of all the second hand smoke!

Flying objects

There are mysterious things flying through the air at all times. I don’t mean UFO’s or reconnaissance planes. Those are mysterious items that are recognizable. But there are other things that fly through the air that completely freak me out. Bats are flying objects that scare me every time that I see them. Flying squirrels are just strange and I don’t really understand why they fly. But every now and again I encounter something flying that is completely unexpected. I was at a café when I felt sometime prickly and crusty fly through the air and land on the back my neck. I thought – thick dried leaf or maybe even cactus thorn (always wear eye protection around cacti because of flying thorns!). But when I shook off the flying object it fell to the ground I saw what it was – a GIANT GREEN grasshopper (it actually looked like the one in this photo). The nerve of that grasshopper landing on me and giving me the heebie jeebies! For the rest of my lunch the grasshopper was staring at me and plotting to jump back onto my shoulder (I’m convinced of it). I think he was looking to hitch a ride out of the city. Lazy grasshopper.