Olympic Fever

Yes I have it. That's were I have been. Glued to my tv. Took me at least four days of coverage before I realized they repeat the winning events, over and over and over. Now if its 9:00 at night and they are showing some ski type event and its daylight on the tv I totally have it figured that they are showing the event - again. Brillance comes naturally.

Little tip of the day: Don't put mushrooms in home made soup. Super yucky, slimy globs of tasteless bla. Wonder what the person who empties my work garbage can is going to think tonight? What the hell are all these mushrooms doing here? (Am I the only one who wonders if the people who empty the garbage cans at work have, um, specific opinions about the person whose desk it is under?)

Running out of time...

Just checked the half marathon website. It informed me that we will be running in 123 days. Holy crap. Better find my runners.

I am going to email the race officials with a couple of notes, observations, recommendations. First issue: Please state very clearly on all registration documentation that if you are planning to WALK during the half marathon and you have registered as a super fast runner, you better be having a freaking heart attack or some other similar medical emergency. These people are duly holding the rest of us up. Not to mention that when they STOP suddenly they create a domino effect and subsequently make fifty or so other runners behind them have to slam on the brakes! I suggest hiring race officals to fine people if they register under an inappropriate running level and then decide to go for a stroll. Have the fine money go to charity if you have to. That or paint "walk only" lines along the race course, just like the slow lane on the highway (not that too many people know the rules around "slower traffic keep right" but that's another rant all together) At least if a slow lane is provided when the actual runners need a walk break we can just signal, and move in. Yours truly. Self Proclaimed Turtle Runner

Bring Back That Lovin Feeling....

You know that happy, giddy feeling you get on Fridays, usually as the end of the work day draws near? That blissful, “don’t have to come back here for two whole days” kinda feeling. That “oh look, the sun is poking through the clouds better get a six pack” feeling? Or that “run through a field with bare feet” kinda happiness? Actually, strike that. That is just visual stupidity. Everyone knows that is just exercise. Nobody exercises on Friday! Well, I try to pretend every day is Friday – hence my name on the waiting list at Betty Ford. Whaaattt? It’s really more of a mental state I figure. You can really trick your mind into thinking its Friday (just don’t do such a good trickery job that you don’t get up for work on any given Tuesday). I say it’s better to have a good time on your “Mock Friday” and be tired the next day at work than to walk around all depressed four days a week. I think I might just start a movement. I mean really, you only live once and who doesn’t love a good Friday?

You Called Us What?

Was watching the news last night (which is something I don’t usually do. To depressing) but with all the Olympic frenzy going on I feel compelled to watch the news for two reasons: to give my brain a break from constantly watching the Olympic coverage and hey, a girls gotta know what is going on in the hood, right? Anyway, there was a report about a certain comedian calling Canadians “Syrup sucking ice holes”. For about 2.5 seconds I chuckled. Mostly because the word “ice hole” is super funny. Now, I am as a rule pretty tolerant of others humor, bad or good. I, in my Canadian laid back glory, also feel that people are entitled to their own opinions etc. etc. and all that crap. This time I was actually offended. I have not quite put a finger on it yet but the first thought in my head was: “What the hell, I don’t even like syrup”. I don’t think the dude has ever been to Canada because I know after I parked my snowmobile in the driveway and went out back to feed my polar bear I was still a little put off about this uneducated remark.

Sort of reminded me of the time I was in Dallas, crammed in a little cab that was going so fast I thought the cab had inadvertently moved onto an Indy circuit, and had a very enlightening conversation with the driver (who was from New York – which I might mention here may, or may not be all that far from Canada.) The driver of course noticed my bizarre accent and asked where I was from. After duly explaining that I was from Vancouver, Canada NOT Vancouver, Washington (something I have done a thousand times – especially in Portland at the marathon. I ended up just saying we were from the “other Vancouver”. Most of the people asking got it) I had to explain to the gentleman that I did not live in an igloo and in fact I did not even own a snow shovel. He was so seriously shocked about the snow shovel thing I had to tell him a few times (please refer to blog blot dated February 10, 2010) So I proceeded with the secondary tactic that is used when people don’t know much about Canada – I asked if he had ever heard of Seattle? (Thank you Grey’s Anatomy) Oh yeah, broke through the cultural barrier there! I explained that we were just a couple hours drive from Seattle and that in fact we drive there to see baseball games. For the day. We then go home after. Really. (Ok, only if we did not drink a beer an inning.)

So I suppose you are wondering if I am going to fire off an email to someone expressing my dismay about this serious injustice? Nope. Not going to do it. I try to make an effort to only email nice stuff – like thanking people and that jazz. I want to be one of those people who buck the trend and actually take time out to be kind. It’s a work in progress. So what am I going to do? File this sucker away in the “Burn” file in my brain and will most likely, in the years to come, try to work the word “ice hole” into a conversation. Seriously.

Sorry but nice only lasted about two minutes (commercial break) Rant - Telephone Technology

I make no bones about it. I pay for call display, voicemail and all the other telephone bells and whistles because I really only want to talk to the people I want to talk to when I want to talk to them. Why the heck would I bother paying for the services? If the caller id says “unavailable” or “blocked” happy days! I’m not answering. If you have to block your number then I’m not wasting my time answering. If you have something to hide, please don’t bother calling me, i'm so not interested. Call some other poor unsuspecting sap who actually wants to answer the phone. I have often thought about changing my voicemail message to say something to the effect of:

“Hi, I am just plain old not answering my phone and I most likely won’t be answering in the near future. If you want to leave a message feel free. If you are someone I actually want to talk to I will see that your number has come up on my fancy call display and don’t bother leaving a message. Unless some dumb ass erases the call display I will see that you have called and call you back. Seriously. If you have a blocked number, don't call back. Ever."

I already have friends who it is clearly understood between us that we may or may not answer our phones and just our respective phone numbers showing up on the call display is the queue to call back. Although this seriously backfires when your neighbour is calling you and they can see you walking around in your house and you don’t answer. I suppose (if it’s a good neighbour) that just might border on rude. Again, in this situation I have been known to call a couple of my neighbours and leave a message stating “I know you are home! I can see you!”

Just an aside – I have a few friends who are a little bitchy about my lazy phone etiquette – they will phone and leave nasty messages assuming I am home. There is nothing funnier than getting a voicemail message from a friend that says: "I know your effen home. Pick up. Where the hell else would you be? You there? No? Um, then call me."

And Now For Something Nice: Don't Freaking Get Used To It

For a brief moment I would like to take a commercial break from sarcasm and actually send a shout out to my people. Yes, I know it’s not like me to do this but heck it’s been one of those weeks.

I have had times in my life that have been so stressful that I honestly wonder how I made it through. (For those of you who require a visual think me, my car, driving at mach speed into a Tim Hortons, smashing through the window, getting out of the car and eating every donut in sight until the police or that "special" police car comes to get me. The only thing stopping me is thinking about the 3.2 million calories I would ingest.) This week I have had a couple of friends inadvertently be there for me without knowing how much their time and/or words really helped keep me from the crazy bin. Small gestures to them yes, huge to me. It got me thinking about how a friend can pull you through difficult times and how important it is to be a good friend. I believe the saying is true: Good friends last a lifetime. I also believe that people are brought into your life for a reason – good or bad and that you attract those people to you. I can also say that I have been seriously blessed in the friend department. I have neighbours who have become some of my closest friends, ex-coworkers who have become so seriously dear to me and people I have met through sport, school and of course running that have forever changed my life. To you all – I will, for now, raise my celery stick but mark my words come summer time I will have a martini to thank you all. (One of said friends better walk my drunken ass home after the “I love you man” celebration. Thank you in advance.)

Bored to Death? Reallly?

There was a story on the news the other night that hit me like a bad insult on a good hair day. It went on to explain to the viewers that in a recent study “experts say there's a possibility that the more bored you are, the more likely you are to die early.” Oh crap. Should I be going to the doctor? Apparently “people who were chronically bored should be worried.” This is one of the parts of this article that I question: “Someone who is bored may not be motivated to eat well, exercise, and have a heart-healthy lifestyle. That may make them more likely to have a cardiovascular event," said Dr. Christopher Cannon, an associate professor of medicine at Harvard University and spokesman for the American College of Cardiology.” Ok, I get this. But I question if the not eating well and lack of exercising does not come well before the boredom factor sets in. Kinda like the age old question: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? I can totally see how, once you stop exercising and eating well, you then become bored.

Isn’t everyone’s perception of being ‘bored’ different? How do the researchers decide if someone is chronically bored or chronically lazy? I know I consider myself bored if the show I am watching isn’t extremely captivating. Hence the simultaneous tv watching and book reading. I myself think the boredom that preceeds a nap is a gift. I know sitting around with nothing to do is ultimately boring but if you just add a nice glass of wine it’s suddenly a one woman party. Is that still boring? Who decides if the activity falls into the boredom category? To some sitting around watching your cats beat the crap out of each other is very boring, I on the other hand relish in this feline sport. May the best, most pissed off cat win! How about going for a six hour drive to Tim Buck Too? Boring? I suppose. Unless you spend that six hours shouting and trying your best to not tell people to shut up. Painful yes. Boring? Not so sure.

So I have to ask: Who was involved in this study and how did they measure boredom? I know a few teenagers who, unless they are constantly stimulated and are having a small fortune spent on them, are in a pepetual state of boredom. Do they need help or should we take out a loan for their entertainment purposes? Heaven forbid should we let them get bored and therefore depressed. Was the study riddled with teenagers who had their Xbox taken away?

The article went on to say that “boredom was potentially as dangerous as stress.” Well I’ll be. I know the last time I was stressed it certainly felt a bit different than practically being in a coma with boredom. I can’t say that I have ever noticed my blood pressure rising while I was bored. Wait, does your blood pressure rise because you are mad that you are bored? Do you then move from boredom to angrydom?

This part made me chuckle: “People who are bored also tend to eat and drink more, and they're probably not eating carrots and celery sticks." So why not strike a deal with youself: How about if I promise to eat carrots and celery while drinking and watching tv? That would be a multiple activity, right? What if I really go wild and eat vegetables, drink, watch tv AND yell at someone? That’s healthy entertainment, right?

Ok, I have to say it. Hello people, if you are that bored, pick up a book. (See list to the right if you know someone who is bored to death? Seriously, going to chuckle every time someone says they were bored to death. Oh you doooon't know the half of it! Call the medics!)

The Evolution of the Stupid Person

Back when I was younger, way younger, I really had a serious dislike for stupid people. I know, I know, this sounds like a terrible thing to say. I learned in a hurry that expressing my dislike for stupid people was, well, not a good idea. It would seem that some people I came across thought I was an extremely negative, pessimistic person. Not so, I say. Honestly, it was never a negative connotation, simply just a statement of fact. By no means did I ever go about my business thinking that I was smarter than other people. It was just one of those things that seemed to constantly come up and annoy me. I suppose you are wondering what I mean by “stupid”? This term was used to describe people who, although they appear to have their mental wits about them, make a concentrated effort to not use the grey matter that is carefully lodged behind their eyes. You know these people: they are the ones that will take 30 minutes explaining to you how to do something when it would take them less than a minute to do it themselves; or who will call you and ask a question because they are just too darn lazy to find the answer themselves; or people who like to remind you how educated they are but are apparently to “smart” to listen to simple instructions and then require you to explain these instructions over and over and over. (Don’t even get me started on what it looks like when these people attempt to drive and try to do another task at the same time! Like eating or heaven forbid, using the radio.) I am most certainly not talking about the stupid stuff we all do, like leave your bank card in the machine after withdrawing money or leaving your coffee cup on the top of your car and then drive off. I am no stranger to pulling a stupid maneuver, as I so eloquently point out, often. I am strictly talking about people who do something and leave you to think to yourself “honestly, could you really be that stupid?” Sometimes followed by “Where did you get your degree, a Cracker Jack Box?” What I have noticed about this group is that, as I get older, they seem to be multiplying - or perhaps I am just a little less tolerant?

I have now learned to squelch my verbal dislike for this special group of people. I suppose it really is discrimination on my part. I have decided to take the high road on this one. I am now choosing to look at these people as ‘entertainment’. They truly amuse me. I have even decided to start a list entitled: Top 10 Stupid People of the Week. Yes, week. It’s that bad. (OK, what the hell did you expect, daisy's? The Blog is titled: The Sarcastic Side. That's just who I am. I have dealt with it, so should you!)

Pretty in Plaid - Jen Lancaster ~ Book Review

Knowing I did not have another Jen Lancaster book to read right after this, I read at sloth pace and tried to savor each page. Not only did this book not disappoint in the funny area it was like a walk back in time (as it happens the author and I are very close in age). In this book, Jen Lancaster takes us on a journey through her life as seen through the clothing and shoes she happened to remember wearing/coveting/squeezing into at the time. Remarkable really. If I had to write a book about my childhood I cannot say my memory would be triggered most by the clothing I was wearing (although there were a few choice articles of clothing I can distinctly remember, but would be to embarrassed to mention.) Maybe what boy I had a crush on at the time or the best girlfriend I was constantly with, but no clothing (Purse/bag addiction came later in life. No I am not seeking help or waiting for a bag intervention. Leave me alone. I have it completely under control.) Actually with my memory I remember very little about my childhood. Excellent really. I can re-write my entire childhood/adolescence. Will add that project to the list. The bottom of the list. Anyway, enough about me, back to the book. Here’s what I suggest: If you have a friend that you are having a difficult time finding a gift for, go buy her all four of these books (she can buy herself the next one – out in May, or did I mention that somewhere?) This gift will absolutely show that you really, truly care about your friends emotional well being and you will look like a freaking genius for picking out excellent literature. Only the best for you sista! The first Jen Lancaster book I received from a friend was Bitter is the New Black and it was one of the most amazing heartwarming gifts I have ever received (ok, whatever, she mailed me her copy. So what. It came wrapped in brown paper, in the MAIL. It felt like a gift!) It made me laugh, it made me cry (with laughter of course) and it made my family think I was just a titch odder than they thought I was before (keep em guessin). What gift can you give that will afford all that?

Welcome Back To Elementary School

This week I had the bizarre pleasure of being plummeted right back to elementary school. Remember elementary school? When you were all young, stupid and did not have a care in the world. Your biggest worry was getting home on time to catch the afternoon cartoon line up. Oh the bliss. Um, except the catty elementary school bitches. No vending machines. The same teacher for every single subject and most of all the teachers pets who would do ANYTHING to get on the teachers good side. (I know there is a more appropriate, modern term for "teachers pet" but I was trying not to use words like "ass kisser". Wanted to keep this story readable by all ages. Screw it. There are some words that just need to be used to explain more thoroughly the point you are trying to get across. That and I just now realize that there is a swear word six sentences in. It's caution to the wind now. Reader beware.) Back to the funny, unfortunate story. It seems there are still people out there, who no matter how professional they like to appear to be, are still just big ole tattle tailers! Yup, I said it. Tattle tailer! Tattler! (Ok, really I told a friend this little story, with a tiny bit more detail and her word was Fucktard. I politely asked her not to use inappropriate curse words. The situation really lended itself to the addition of immature in front. Immature Fucktard. That's better.) So at first glance one could be a little pissed about said tattleing and the resulting ass kissing but then I took a better look at the situation. Oh my goodness. I have not had someone tattle on me for at least a decade or so (ok, maybe add a bit more time to that) and when I realized the extent of the immaturity it was all I could do not to fall into an insane hysterical state of laughter (good thing I was alone). I mean really, how grown up would that conversation had to have been. I wonder if it sounded like whining? Or maybe it was delivered in a mature, na na na na boo boo kinda way. Oh, where did it all go wrong. I am definitely going to ask that Recess be added to my contract. Why not? If I have to go that far back in through some age maturity filter than I certainly want to be compensated as such. Ha. My dad can beat up your dad!