I bring my lunch to work. I do this because every food offering around my office is just plain NASTY. Also, this allows me to go for a walk a lunch time to get some much needed air and a little bit of exercise. Usually, I find these little strolls quite refreshing. Yesterday, not so much. It seems that someone decided it would be a good idea to turn part of my usual walk route into a fucking veritable pedophile's paradise. Screaming teenage girls everywhere. Dear LORD, were they always so shrill?

Anyway, it turns out the source of the mayhem was these guys: http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/454066

I have never heard of them. This makes me feel very, very old.

ps, Happy Independence Day to my American friends.

This weekend, I taking a course to get my motorcycle license. I have already picked out the scooter I'm going to buy when I'm done, thus allowing me to flip the bird to public transit for several months of the year. Unless it's raining, because rain sucks. Last night, I took the in-class portion of the course.

In my daily life, I'm surrounded by professionals. I deal with work people, my friends, and my husband. All of whom are smart. OK, some of the work people are dumb, but even the dumbest work people are smarter than some of the people who were on that course last night. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I'm rather annoyed that I have to share oxygen and other precious resources with these people, let alone the road.

Speaking of professionals, I had a job interview yesterday that showed much promise. Fingers crossed, or something like that...

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits! The comedy world will be worse off without you.

http://www.startribune.com/entertainment/tv/20651684.html?location_refer=TV/DVD/Gaming

A couple of years ago, I went to Mexico with this guy I had only been dating for a few weeks. In retrospect, it was kind of crazy. I mean, what if we got there and realized we couldn't stand each other? We'd be stuck sharing a room and a BED for the rest of the week. What if there was a serious medical emergency? We'd be relying on someone we barely knew to see us through to the other side. Crazy! BUT, it turned out to be an awesome time. We shared a level of compatibility and comfort that usually takes years to develop. It revealed that the guy I had only been dating for a few weeks was one I could see myself spending a whole lot of time without ever running out of things to say. Good thing that, because a little over a year later I married that guy...

On that trip to Mexico, I woke up one morning to see what I thought was a REALLY big bug in our bed. Given the location, I was OK sharing my bed with a really big bug. Not thrilled, mind you, but OK. I was not, however, OK with sharing my bed with a really small lizard. Especially one that was only inches from my nose. So I woke up screaming. The guy, wanting nothing more than to shut up his screaming (was I at that point?) girlfriend, removed the gecko. And in the process, it died. Maybe it just had a heart attack because some crazy woman screamed right in his ear, or maybe it was just sleeping and scampered away happily when it was laid to rest outside. We'll never know. We felt bad, but carried on with our lives. And we've had the running joke "SEE! I would KILL for you!" ever since. 

To honour the poor little guy, and our running joke, we've had matching permanent reminders etched onto our skin:


R.I.P. Little Gecko
August 2006
Playa del Carmen, Mexico

 Kid Rock is an idiot.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7459796.stm

I particularly love this gem: 

"Asked whether he was worried about illegal downloading, he replied: "I don't agree with it. I think we should level the playing field. I don't mind people stealing my music, that's fine. But I think they should steal everything. "You know how much money the oil companies have? If you need some gas, just go fill your tank off and drive off, they're not going to miss it." But he said he did not implement that advice himself. "No, I don't steal things. I'm rich."

 

I hardly ever go to see movies in the theatre anymore. I mean, we talk about it, but when it comes down to it, I can't be bothered to pay to leave my house to sit in an uncomfortable chair, alcohol-free, and watch something that I can't pause if I have to pee. Last weekend, we were in the Husband's home town for a party in our honour. It was sweet and all, but neither one of us is all that comfortable being the Centre of Attention, so we had to go out for an evening to take a break. And what is there to do in Windsor, Ontario? That's right, movies.

Monday night, we were back in town but still had showings going on here, so we had to clear out for couple of hours. What takes a couple of hours? That's right, movies. Last night was Girls Night Out. Because we are now all old and married and/or with children, big night out consists of a couple of martinis and, that's right, movies. After going for about 8 months without seeing a single movie in the theatre, I have seen three in the last 8 days. Here are my thoughts.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Sellouts: Crap. There's a theme in it that is just SO stupid, I don't know that I'll ever forgive them. There were some scenes that paid tributes to the first movies, so there were a few giggles but I'd recommend saving a few bucks and waiting for this one on video. Aside: Harrison Ford is in some damn fine shape for a 60-something. He's not Han Solo anymore, but I'd still do him. And I'd snap that scrawny Flockheart bitch in half for the chance. That is, of course, assuming my own devastatingly handsome husband was unavailable... *ahem*

Iron Man: Far more entertaining than I expected. Perhaps the best comic book adaptation I have ever seen. I forgot how much I like Jon Favreau directed movies. Wow. I was so pleasantly surprised. Gwyneth Paltrow is starting to look A LOT like her mother, which is fine because her mother has aged fantastically.

Sex & the City: Oh, you knew this was coming. Like us, the girls are older and wiser, settling in to their lives. Thoroughly enjoyable, and it reminded me just how funny the series was. But if you have a penis, do not go see this movie. And especially do not go see this movie and then gripe about how you don't get it. You're not supposed to get it, dumbass!

Because of trailers, I now want to see Hancock, He's Just Not That Into You, and The Women. Me? Suggestible? NO! Not at all. And now, I am off to enjoy the first weekend in months that I haven't had to do stuff around the house to sell it.

My luck did hold through our offer date last Tuesday. In fact, we got a bidding war! Two of them were very close, one of them was higher, but there were a whole bunch of things didn't sit right.

1. The bidder was in Calgary (for the non-Canucks, that's about a 4 hour flight from here) which isn't a problem per se, but it does make it a little harder to arrange to get things signed and the legalities are different from province to province. On it's own, fine. But there was more.

2. We have no idea when they saw the place because their agent said they arranged it through our agent's office, but our agent has no record of it, so we can't even be sure if they've been to see it.

3. They were willing to put down a HUGE deposit but they didn't want it deposited in a GIC to earn interest on it. What person, not wrapped up in nefarious schemes, walks away from interest income? No, thanks. I've got plenty of money, I don't need anymore. Oh, but that wasn't a big fear on their part because they didn't have a deposit with the offer anyway and they hadn't made arrangements to get one here. If there had been a FedEx slip to show it was on the way, maybe...

4. They wanted until June 18th to have their lawyer examine the Status Certificate and the offer was conditional on that. You want us to take the place of the market for EIGHT days so you can find a lawyer in the province you're moving to, and you don't have a cheque to back that up? Um. No. Oh, and welcome to the Big city.

5. They wanted three walkthrough visits up to closing. That's an unnecessary pain in my ass. You have the room dimensions, use them.

If there was only ONE thing that was kind of sketchy about it, we might have been willing to go forward, but five things that raise an eyebrow? Um, no. We just don't have that many brows! We excluded the sketchy offer and chose from the other two. Our soon-to-be-former abode will belong to someone else on August 8th.

Speaking of raising an eyebrow... 167 people out of a population of 300 million get a touch of the runs and every major food chain in North America holds the tomatoes? WTF?? As if the people of North America need to be told to eat LESS vegetables? Yonder lies the path to hell.

Wish me luck. Today, I am running in a 5k race. After work. After not having run at all since APRIL because of the house-prepping stuff. Clearly, I am crazy.

Our place is for sale. For the last week, we have been living in our home while doing our very best to remove every trace of living in our home. This really kind of sucks, but I should take pictures anyway because it'll never be this clean for this long again.

On my way home today, I managed to miss the heavy rain that is falling by all of 15 seconds. I am never this lucky. May this good fortune continue through our offer date tomorrow!

My husband is stuck working late. This happens often, and usually, it's no problem. But today, on my way home from physio, I stopped by his office and put the wine in the car so I didn't have to lug it home on transit. Now, I am home and it is Friday and I have no wine. This makes me quite sad. In other news, I received good news today that may allow me to quit my job (which I officially don't like very much anymore). Peep this, yo:

Bacheelor, MasteerMBA, and Doctoraate diplomas available in the field of your choice that's right, you can even become a Doctor and receive all the benefits that comes with it!
Yes, I'm sure that any prospective employer would be thrilled that I have a Bacheelor, let alone a MasteerMBA or Doctoraate. I'm just throwing away opportunities left and right here.

Our Diplomas/Certificates are recognised in most countries. No required examination, tests, classes, books, or interviews.
No siree, Bob! None of that waste of time book-learnin' shit for us!

** No one is turned down Good, because I couldn't take THAT rejection.** Confidentiality assured
But if confidence, then how I may give good news my employer that I have MasteerMBA??

CALL US 24 HOURS A DAY, 7 DAYS A WEEK
For US: 1-801-504-2132
Outside US: +1-801-504-2132

"Just leave your NAME & PHONE NO. (with CountryCode)" in the voicemail
WTF? Why is this in quotation marks? Am I missing a wink and a nudge here?

our staff will get back to you in next few days
Hurry, hurry! I can't wait for become a Doctor and receive all the benefits that comes with it!

1. I hate painting. It is perhaps the most de-motivating thing - EVER - to put a huge amount of time and effort into a place you're not going to live in. I already view our place as a temporary shelter because the new house is home.

2. My mother's packrat habits know no bounds. Yesterday, she offered me a bathmat. "I have extras. One white, one beige." Who the hell has ONE "extra" bathmat, let alone two? Next time she offers me something for the place, I'm taking it and firing it down the chute. It's the only way anything will ever get thrown out.

3. When we DO finally get all the work done and list this bitch, my reward will be a weekend out of town. The Husband's home town. With my mother and my in-laws. For four days. Heaven help me!

4. I don't even live in the US, and I have no interest in hearing any more about the Hilary, Obama, OR John McCain. Though I must say, Ellen's plea to McCain (and I can't stand Ellen) was one of the most eloquent I've seen in a very long time. Perhaps SHE should run for President?

5. I don't have a fifth. I just don't think lists should end at four. If anyone is looking for me, I'll be the one at home, covered in paint, swearing like a sailor. Only the paint part separates it from any other weekend. Happy Friday!

From the Residential Tenancies Act

You must give the tenant this notice at least 60 days before the last day of the rental period or, if the tenancy is for a fixed term (such as a one year lease), at least 60 days before the last day of the fixed term. The termination date must be the last day of the rental period or the last day of the tenancy agreement, if the agreement is for a fixed term. When you are counting the days for the notice, do not count the day that you are giving this notice.

Once you have given this notice to the tenant, the tenant may terminate the tenancy on an earlier date by giving you at least 10 days written notice of the tenant's intent to do so.

In other words, if you sell a place that you own that is occupied by tenants, you MUST ensure that your Agreement of Purchase and Sale has a closing date that gives 60 days from the last day of a month (i.e., sell your place on May 7th, your closing date must be no earlier than August 1st). Once you fulfill your end of the bargain and serve your tenants their notice, they can in turn serve you a notice saying they are leaving with 10 days notice. Thereby obligating you to PAY for the fucking place to sit empty for two fucking months. Colour me grumpy!

Note to self: NEVER be a landlord again.

Tonight, we are going to bid on a house. We don't know yet if there are competing offers. The house is small, but lovely. It's in a fantastic neighbourhood. It's not the one I saw last week, it's another one that's in an even nicer spot. It has the corresponding higher price tag, which should come as no surprise.

OMFG! I cannot believe how much money we're about to pay for a little place to hang our hats. I feel a wee bit queasy just thinking about it. Later tonight, an old house on the Danforth may be ours. I'm not sure I believe it...

In other news, we spent the whole weekend getting this place ready to put on the market. Spending your entire weekend working on a place that you're leaving really, really sucks.

Edit 10:27pm: WE GOT IT!! This beautiful home in a lovely neighbourhood is OURS!

Four years ago, I bought my first home. It was a big deal, the symbol of my independence, my "I don't need a man, I can do this my damn self" statement. Oh, how good it felt! There were some really good times had in that little place. But then there was the man. And I while I didn't need him (still don't), I really wanted him (still do) to be a part of my life. And so, the symbol of my independence had to go to contribute to this wonderful life we are building together. My, how quickly things can change!

Last night, I sold it. The new owner (a woman, probably a few years younger, probably making HER big "I don't need a man, I can do this my damn self" statement) will take possession of it on August 5th. *sigh* Bye-bye, little condo on Front Street!

When there are many daunting tasks on the go, I make a list. Most of this time, this list is born of a deep understanding of myself and how I react to things. For example, the new house purchase. I decided that FIRST, we were going to sell my old place (and get rid of my pain in the ass tenants who are frustrating the fucking shit out of me in this showings process); then get this place ready for sale so that when we found something we liked, we'd be able to turn on a dime to sell it. The plan was to not even look until those two things were done.

Yes. Well. Sunday was a really nice day. Just for shits and giggles, we decided to check out open houses on a few places just to validate our price range before we started talking pre-approved financing with our bankers. And while we were driving around, we saw a sign for another open house. And it is perfect. Ideal location. Already renovated with everything we want PLUS extras. Gorgeous. More than ample space. Good schools, nice parks, a few minutes walk to the subway. Fucking perfect.

So now, we have to go to the bank and quite literally beg for bridge financing so we can buy this completely perfect house that we can in no way, shape or form afford until both of our places are sold. I KNEW this was going to happen! I should know well enough to know to listen to myself, dammit!

So, I'm moving again. OK, first I'm going to sell my condo and evict my tenants, THEN we're going to buy a house, THEN we're going to sell this place, and THEN we're going to move. All told, the process will probably take 4-6 months. But then we will have a house of our very own. To demonstrate that commitment issues never really go away, I can readily admit that I am MORE nervous about owning joint property than I was about getting married in the first place. This proves that broken girls can never really be fixed.

...or why a trip to MOMA was a total waste of time...

I'll admit it, I am not exactly an art connoisseur. I like pictures of things that I can recognize. I don't mind if it's a little "out of focus" looking, like Monet. Heck, I can even take the loose interpretations of Van Gogh. Take this Monet for example. It's so well known it borders on cliched but I love the whole series anyway, so THERE! :P



There is a texture to it, created by brushstrokes and layers of colours that is abstract and precise at the same time, coming together to form something that is magnificent to behold:



And then... there is Contemporary Art, like Picasso:


If it weren't for the tits, I'd have no idea this represented a person. In fact, I'm still not completely convinced. How about Jackson Pollock?


Some guy named Fred who paints houses for a living has a drop cloth that looks just like this in the back of his pickup truck.

And then, there is the truly offensive. The swill that sycophantic twats in galleries all over the world swoon over, while the rest of us wonder what the fuck this world is coming to. Like this one, with a tag that reads "In the last 10 years of his life, Reinhardt focused solely on square black paintings." Now you're wondering if there is seriously a square, black painting hanging in a gallery somewhere, right?


Yes, there is. At MOMA, in fact. If this is high art, I'm Wonder Woman. It made me want to say Fuck. Right. Off. to the half-wit at the museum who stood in front of this thing and said out loud "It just speaks to me on so many levels." Oh, no it doesn't. Go look at a sheet of black construction paper and see if it says the same thing, you moron. This is not moving, it's doesn't "speak to anyone", other than as a profound insult to the intelligence of gallery visitors every day.

Because of the proliferation of shit like the black painting above, and the installation that that was a fountain and a strobe light masquerading as art, I give contemporary art two thumbs down. Or one finger up. Whatever.

The Travel Fairy's gift of a cold did not leave me alone while away. I did suck it up and soldier on, but I suspect it would have been much more fun if I had been 100%. And if I could have gone for more than 4 hours at a time without needing a nap...

Some highlights:
 
When The Husband tells the story of when he came to Canada (he was 5), the first memory he has of his new world is his dad waking him up to see the Statue of Liberty as their plane landed in New York. (They changed planes there). It really was the symbol of hope for a better life ahead.


The $50 Burger. OK, not just the burger (which was actually only $32), the food in general. Jesus, it was good. I could barely smell or taste anything, and it was still damn fine.


Finally getting to drink beer in the cheap seats (which are not so cheap when you buy them from a scalper) at Yankee Stadium, and not a moment too soon. For those that don't know, this is the last season for the Yankees at the House that Ruth Built.


Random "WTF?" signage in restaurants everywhere. If I suspect my waiter of terrorism? Or the guy behind me? Or the salad? Seriously, WTF?

Getting so blind, stinking drunk on fancy martinis with the man I love that neither one of us has any recollection of this picture being taken. Damn, I have a lot of fun with that man!


I'm still sick as a dog, so I'm home today but I'm too tired to keep staring at the screen. Next time, I'll go into detail on "Why I Hate Contemporary Art." In the meantime, amuse yourself with more pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jwarrender/sets/72157604668867725

Off to New York tomorrow. The Travel Fairy was kind enough to bring me a shitty-ass cold the day before we leave. Nice! Whatever, I'll dope up to the gills and soldier on.

I'll say "Fuck YOU!" to the Pope for anyone that asks.

See you crazy kids soon!