Killer tomatoes

No folks.  Tomatoes are not on a rampage, harassing little old ladies and wiping out the competition (carrots and beans are cowering in corners at the thought), it's just me misreading the headlines - again.  The actual headline was about the killer tornados that have ripped across the U.S. recently, and while that has left a lot of destruction and death behind, I prefer my headline.  Think about it.  Tomatoes on the rampage.  Red, sloppy messes left behind as they hurl themselves at buildings and cars - wait a minute - doesn't that happen at Halloween by teens with a limited imagination and too much time on their hands one night of the year?  Where was I - oh yes.  The killer tomatoes.  Interesting phrase.  It could be taken in a number of ways, such as tomatoes that are actually in gangs dealing death and destruction to veggie homes and lives, intimidating the peas into doing their bidding (see terrorist peas), doing their best to overcome the onion and green pepper gangs, meeting heavy resistance, and generally running (or should that be rolling?) rampant through the garden.  On the other hand, if it's one of those tomatoes that is exceptionally large and ripe and adds all kinds of zest to a dish, then the phrase takes on a completely different meaning based on context.  After all, if they are exceptionally flavourful tomatoes, one could say they add killer flavour to a dish.  No matter which way a person slices it - so to speak - killer tomatoes are definitely something to watch out for.  Until next time.

Inedible celeb sandwiches

Maybe it's just me, but why ever would a person want to put a celeb in a sandwich in the first place?  I mean really, think about it.  Why would anyone want to waste perfectly good bread on a celeb (unless of course the bread used isn't really bread at all, but the latest red carpet craze)?  I can think of so many other, much more flavourful fillings for a sandwich than some overpaid person who may or may not contribute to the improvement of the world, never mind a sandwich.   However, if that's to your taste - so to speak, the next question is, where would one buy such a sandwich?  Can they be had at Tim Horton's, or Starbuck's for those who live in so many parts of the world?  What would they taste like?  Would the filling be thick or barely there (think any of the heavy celebs and way too many of the thin celebs)?  What would they cost and who could afford to buy such sandwiches?  Would you get your money's worth or would you regret paying for it?  Are they a one of or simply an immitation of the celeb in question?  Does this then mean the celeb sandwiches are really faux sandwiches and the money you pay is not for the actual celeb, but meerly an immitation?  What kind of sandwiches are we talking about?  Is it one of those thin, tea sandwiches that fit between two fingers and are barely there?  Are they a nice thick, filling, maybe too much, submarine type?  Can you mix and match like a BLT?  You know, different layers that when they are together you wonder why.  This, of course, leads to the fact that these combinations are inedible and therefore not sandwich material at all.  Wait.  Sorry.  The headline isn't about celebs in a sandwich.  It's about inedible sandwiches that celebs eat.  Once again it's the headline that's got me confused.  I do wish that reporters could at least write headlines that say what they really mean and not use sentence fragments or misplaced modifiers.  On the other hand, these grammatical inaccuracies do make for good teaching tools, so I guess there is a positive in all of this.  However, I will be passing on the next celeb sandwich I encounter, edible or not.  Until next time.headline that's got me confused. 

Recycled Bra doubles as shopping bag

Here's the thing.  I can confuse things quite enough when it comes to headlines (see pack your panties), but this is not one of my mistakes.  It was a headline I read (correctly because I'm more or less wide awake) and thought it would make a nice bookend - so to speak - to my panty packing blog.  Which brings us to the question:  What size bra was used?  Was it a tripple A (which would go well with Vicky Beckhams undies) or a quadruple D (which would go well with the extra large panties) or possibly, if your using panties and a bra for your groceries, a combination of sizes.  Can you buy the combo pack as a set - you know, bra and panty bags for heavy loads.  Somehow using an old bra to carry shopping in seems a little - what shall we say - odd.  True, packing your panties with groceries isn't much better, but that was an honest reading  mistake.  So the next question is, what kind of bra was it?  Was it underwire or extra support?  Did it have padding or not?  What about a maternity bra - they'd make unpacking your groceries much easier, all you need to do is unfasten the cup from the strap and there you go.  What about lace?  If it's a lace bra, or satin, or for that matter silk, is this being used not only for shopping but also as a handy purse?  How many groceries can a person pack into a bra and why would they want to?  Is this recycled bra used for a quick trip to the mini mart, or for a more extensive trip to the supermarket?  How many bras are shoppers allowed to bring to the store and which stores can they be used in?  I'm all for recycling so lets see if this catches on with or without the panties.  Until next time.

Melting

Contrary to possible popular opinion, and unlike the apparent rapidity of melting of the Wicked Witch of the West (got to love the alliteration there) in "The Wizard of Oz", and the musical "Wicked", melting does not happen at a rapid pace.  It's the hot season here, where temperatures hover in the mid to upper 30s most days, and the humidex places the temp in the lower 40s (celcius not farenheit) for two or three months.  Even though the temperature comes down modestly at night (we're talking upper 20s), this results in a person feeling like a slightly melted bar of chocolate or a half baked cookie, neither of which is particulary inspirational, especially when it comes to thinking or doing anything.  When it is cool enough to make a person feel human, it is also prime mosquito time, which means sleeping out on the balcony is out of the question unless you've got incredibly strong mosquito repellent and good, thick mosquito netting drapped over you.  Did the wicked witch of the west have to deal with all of this pre-Dorothy?  Did Dorothy have to deal with this, or does this kind of thing not happen in Oz (not to be confused with the slang term for Australians who I KNOW have mosquitoes and I'm pretty sure have areas where melting takes place though not in as heavy a dose as here)? What about the munchkins?  Did they suffer or were they heat/water proof?  Did high humidity generally contribute to the tin man's rusting issue?  Did the scarecrow have a problem with mold or was he able to control it with fresh straw (kind of  desoderant for scarecrows - so to speak)?  What about the cowardly lion?  Did he find he had an issue with mange and mosquitoes or was he bug free?  Are these questions we should be asking and why or why not?  I don't know.  All I do know is this season is very uncomfortable, especially if there is no Air Con in the apartment, or only in one room.  In the mean time, I'll continue to feel as if I'm melting until the monsoon season arrives and then there will be a whole lot of other issues.  Until next time.

Are you a veggie garden

I don't know.  I don't think so, but you never know.  I just might be and this whole human gig is really just my over active imagination.  Then again, it could be the other way around.  I do know that there are days when I feel like a vegetable, but I'm not sure I feel like a whole garden.  On the other hand, I do believe that veggies have their own personalities.  Take peas, for instance.  I swear they are the terrorists of the vegetable world.  Why you ask?  Have you ever watched them in action.  There they are, on your plate looking quite green and inviting, but the minute you try to scoop them up with your fork, they roll away, escaping off the plate, across the table and on to the floor where they go into hiding, waiting for just the right moment.  Then when you least expect it they strike.  You have forgotten the peas on the floor, and in your socks, or  barefoot, you step on said pea, so that it squashes and leave a really gross feeling, as well as a mess, on your foot.  Not fair.  Not nice.  Then again, there is the carrot.  It has a  completely different personality.  It's very skateboard/snowboard dude.  Think about it.  The long green top that flops every which way, much like long hair on a boarder, sometimes lean, sometimes chunky, but has a real grip on its world - literally.  It spreads out its roots and goes for it.  I can almost hear them talking and the conversation might go something like, "Hey dude.  Like watch the hair man.  It took a long time to grow it like that, and now you grab it and yank.  Not cool, man."  Which brings us to the tomato.  Once upon a time, a really good looking woman would have been callled a hot tomato.  Which is why, to this mind, they always seem so Valley girl, you know.  Shop til you drop and it's all about looks.  The whole, "So I said to my bff on the next plant, you know, its just too bad the way some of the plants look.  I mean take the radish.  Just so ... you know."  Peppers on the other hand are very latin in attitude.  The whole, "So like am I hot enough for you?" come on is hard to resist by anyone, and adds real zip to your life.   There you have it.  Not all the veggies in the garden, just some of them.  I'm sure you can, with your own vivid imaginations, come up with personalities for other veggies, but for now, I think I'll go eat a carrot, or something.  Until nex time.

The Groove

It's hard to believe it's been almost an entire week since I've posted.  It was back to work this week and so, as a result, I've been trying to get back into the groove.  You know, the thing that, after too many days and too long a time becomes a rut, and then slowly evolves into a trench, and before you know it, it's deeper than the Grand Canyon - until the next break.  If it's hard for adults to get back into the groove, it has to be even harder for children, especially those who have become aliens - you know - teenagers.  These creatures evolve slowly (much like the groove to trench).  They go from being (usually) delightful, excited, eager beings to something that has arrived from another planet and isn't happy about it, and delights in letting the entire world know it.  Don't get me wrong.  They do have their moments, and I do mean moments.  Mostly, however, they act like the creature from the black lagoon.  So how does one inspire said aliens to do their work and be almost enthusiastic about it?  Good question and one that adults have been asking for generations throughout history.  We've all passed through this phase, though like giving birth it's quickly forgotten, and still those who have managed to morph into semi-sentient adults still have a hard time understanding.  Every generation says the same thing "You just don't get it" - or words to that effect depending on the time period.  Actually we do, we'd just as soon forget it, suck up the whole alien vibe thingie and carry on in the hopes that these creatures will morph quickly and turn back into human beings without too much trauma.  Which brings me back to the groove.  Maybe being an alien wasn't such a bad thing.  The groove is now starting to look a lot like a trench - already, and we still have one more term to go before we can all crawl out of the Grand Canyon.  Until next time.

Seven alternatives to landmines

Ok.  So the headline really said seven alternatives to landlines, but somehow I think this is better.  Actually I can think of way more than seven, but what do I know.  The question is what kind of landmine and where is it located?  Is it a real one that causes way to many deaths and injuries, or is it more the metaphorical kind, that while can cause problems, is definitely not deadly - usually.  Personally, I think we'd all be better off if everyone just stuck to the metaphorical kind.  So let's examine the metaphorical landmine.  I mean really, how many ways can you put your foot in your mouth and set off all kinds of problems for both you and others.  For example:  men are always saying that they get into trouble with women when a woman asks a "no win" question (and ladies we all know what those kinds of questions are).  Of course you men never have the right answer because (and here's a little secret for you) there are no right answers.  Like the real landmines, the answer is hidden and you never know when stepping in the wrong place - metaphorically speaking - will trigger an explosion.  You know the questions.  "Does this outfit/dress/pair of pants make me look too fat?"  "Am I wearing too much make-up?"  "What do you think of my hair?" or the other much broader question, "So what do you think?" and you just know, guys, that you really have no idea what she's referring to and you know that no matter what you say, it's going to be wrong.  So, if you're smart, and I know you all are, you say something as non-commital as possible like, "Nice" or "no" with a quick glance up to indicate you heard the question but not long enough to have to elaborate.  This accomplishes two things.  We women are content in knowing that you kind of paid attention, and saves you men from setting off an explosion that can lead to all kinds of other issues that you really don't want to get into because you know it's not going to end well.  What does all this have to do with landlines?  Absolutely nothing.  Until next time.

Ways to have fun at the gym

Ok.  Maybe it's just me, but I have never found working out at the gym to be "fun".  A lot of sweat and hard work and most probably sore muscles, but never fun.  Unless you think sore muscles are fun, and then I'm not sure you and I would be hanging out together.  How does one have fun on a treadmill?  I've always had a distinct impression I was immitating a hamster - you know round and round and round we go and get absolutely nowhere.  Or let's take the stationary bike.  I've never really got that one.  What is the point of being on a bike if it doesn't go anywhere and it doesn't matter how hard you pedal, you're still in the same place you were before.  Kind of like when Alice and the White Queen ran like crazy and found themselves in exactly the same place as they were when they started to run.  The idea of going no where fast is not new.  I might get the whole stationary bike thing if there was a gigantic screen that changed scenery as a person rode, so at least a person isn't stuck just watching the rest of the gym attendees getting hot and sweaty and grunting and groaning.  After all, wouldn't it inspire you more to ride (stationary or otherwise) down a lovely country lane or next to an open field with grain waving in the breeze and the sounds of birds and cattle and tractors doing whatever it is they are doing?  I might not be encouraged to show up at the gym more, but it would be much more enjoyable if it were interesting.  Which of course brings me to the smell.  Gyms are not full of fresh air.  There is nothing sexy or inspiring about a room full of sweaty, smelly bodies, and stinky gym shoes.  Sorry, but it just doesn't do it for me.  It's that high school locker smell that tells a person that the owner of that locker hasn't bothered to take his/her sweat encrusted socks home to wash for a long time - probably a whole semester or more.  And let's not forget the shower room.  There may or may not be a curtain between you and everyone else there while you shower, but there definitely won't be one when you are at the locker trying to get dressed.  If you have any sense of pride or modesty, it's flushed right down the toilet when you are in the locker room with who knows how many other people that you probably wouldn't spend time with, and there you are, getting dressed in front of them.  Lumps, bumps, celulite and all hanging out for the whole world (ok the people next to you and anyone passing by where your locker is) to see.  If that doesn't put a person off, nothing will.  I think I'll stick to being fully clad while going up and down the multiple sets of stairs at work every day, and skip the gym - fun or not.  Until next time.

Snowboarder conquors Alaska

The headline reads that a snowboarder conquored Alaska.  I'd love to know how he/she did that.  I know snowboarders are considered,  by some, to be outrageous rebels bent on sliding down the side of mountains, across streets and over handrails on stairs, but to take on an entire state - and conquor it?  Wow.  So the question is, how did he/she do this?  Did he/she (and I really should read more than the headline to find out which gender this person is shouldn't I?) teach moose to snowboard, thus turning them into tanks on stilts?  Did he/she teach mountain goats how to snowboard down the mountains to deliver well placed head buts to politicians who probably deserved one in the - well we won't go there?  What about the bears?  I can definitely see a grizzly doing a double twisted half-pike down the main street of Fairbanks, wowing the citizens with its prowess and daring, and in the meantime delivering a shattering cuff up the side of the nearest military jeep, setting it on its side, can't you?  What about the brown bear.  Did it get into the whole snowboarding event and go for broke, or was it a little more conservative in its approach to snowboarding and use a much less daring approach to doing a whole gainer off the nearest handrail, thus losing the snowboard and sending it flying like a well placed mortar round?  Not to be left out, I'm sure the seals (and I'm not talking human Navy, though maybe they could learn a lesson or two from all of this) all had a hand in it.  Stealth and their natural ability to slide would definitely be an advantage in taming wild Alaskan humans into surrendering the land to them.  Does this now mean that Alaska will have a new name and what would it be?  Maybe snowboardination, how about skaboard, or even alasnow or alaboardation?  I'm sure you can come up with even better names.  Maybe the snowboarder who conquored this state should hold a contest to rename Alaska in honour of conquoring it, kind of like renaming a very large mountain when it was first climbed.  Which brings us to flags.  What will the state flag look like now and who will design it?  Will it be done in consultation with all those creatures that had a hand - so to speak - in the conquoring?  Will anyone even care and what will the snowboarder in question set out to conquor next?  If it's the Canadian prairies, I'm afraid he/she will have a tough go of it.  We may have a few hills, but certainly nothing to snowboard across, and if there isn't enough snow to cover the stubble, his/her snowboard won't be going very far (I know, I've tried cross-country skiing on such fields and it really doesn't work well).  Just a little something for us to all think about.  Until next time.

Man builds worlds largest jeep

Why?  Was he bored?  Unemployed? and if that's the case how was he able to afford the metal and parts required?  Was it the challenge, like climbing Everest or landing a lead part in an award winning show?  Or just because.  That's always a handy reason.  I did it just because (fill in the rest to your hearts content).  So if it's the world's largest jeep, what purpose will it serve in the grand scheme of things?  What about the engine (it doesn't have one yet), and if he also builds the engine and it all actually runs, who will buy it?  Will the giants in a previous blog want one to take them to their next hide-away?  What will it use for fuel and who will be able to afford a small oil field to keep this thing running?  Perhaps some billionaire in one of the many oil rich countries in the world wants it so that he (and it will be a he) can give it to his oldest off-spring as a reward for actually passing high school all by himself/herself, even though said offspring will probably never actually drive the vehicle and will have someone drive it for him/her.  Which reminds me, speaking of vehicles, what's with the paparazzi that decided to  block traffic in front of Sandra Bullock's home the other day?  Maybe she should get said giant jeep and her driver could simply drive over everything (assuming the paparazzi have enough brains to move out of the way of a giant moving vehicle) in its way - like cars blocking the driveway for instance.  Never mind.  It wouldn't work because the streets would be much too narrow for said  vehicle and the last thing a person wants to do is alienate ones neighbours because that person accidently drove over pretty much everything in pretty much everyone's yard, not to mention that it would probably destroy all the roads as well from the weight of said vehicle.  Guess this falls under the "it seemed like a good idea" category.  As a result I for one will pass on considering the ordering and/or purchase of said vehicle (not that I could afford it in the first place) until next time. 

Expressions of interest

Don't you just love it when people express an interest in you?  It can be at a casual social gathering, on a blind date, or applying for a job, and people always say the same thing:  "I/We are very interested in you."  Only problem is, far too many times those expressions of interest go no where.  For example:  let's say your friend sets you up on a blind date.  The date shows up and you and he/she hit it off.  You think things are going well, you part company and he/she expresses an interest in seeing you again (you know where this is going).  Yup.  Nothing.  You sit and wonder what went wrong.  Did you say something he/she didn't like?  Did your deoderant give out at an important moment, or did you blink at the wrong time?  Maybe you had something stuck between your teeth and didn't know it.  Who can really say what it is that puts the other person off, but put off he/she is.  The same goes at a casual social affair (and I don't mean the kind you might think I mean, though that is also a possibility), you are having a pleasant conversation at the newest exhibition at a gallery, or meet up with friends at a concert where they kind of introduce you to an acquaintance of a friend and you and that person have a pleasant conversation (at least you think it's pleasant - though you aren't quite sure what he/she is really talking about because that person is using some obscure reference point on art/music/whatever that makes no sense to you whatsoever), then he/she expresses an interest in having coffee sometime so the two of you can continue the conversation.  Of course nothing happens.  IF you should happen to meet these individuals again they will either act like they meant to get in touch but lost your (fill in the blank here) and couldn't, or act as if they have no recollection of ever expressing an interest in the first place.  The corporate world is not immune to this either.  I've had a number of organizations express an interest in me and my resume, and then nothing.  It's actually getting to be quite boring and a person starts to wish the companies in question wouldn't bother contacting you so you can move on to the next organization on your list, hoping that you will actually get an interview out of the "expression of interest".  Having said that, there is no guarantee that the interview will actually produce a job, but that's another topic for another time.  Until next time.

Eavesdropping

Question for all of you.  Why do they call it eavesdropping when you listen in on other people's conversations?  An eave, after all, is the overhang of a roof.  So literally speaking, you are dropping the hanging over bit of a roof, not listening in.  How eaves are connected to someone's ears is truly a mystery to me.  Unless it has to do with the overhang bit (not to be confused with a hang over which is a totally different ball of wax) - you know, overhang, overhear, over there, over and out - you get the drift.  Why would anyone want to drop their eaves in the first place?  Do they not like that hanging over bit?  Why or why not?  What happens if it's not there.  Where does one put one's eavestrophs then?  Are they attached directly to the roof so that water doesn't run down the side of the house and into the basement or whatever part of the house meets the ground?  When eaves hit the ground do they make a sound or are they quiet, like flowers and leaves from trees?  How do we know this?  Is this a "tree falls in the forest does anyone hear" kind of question?  Personally, I've never dropped an eave so I have no idea if it makes a noise when it hits the ground or not.  I DO, however, tend to listen in on other people's conversations.  Not usually on purpose, but just because there are times that no matter how hard I might try (and I emphasize the word might) I just can't avoid it.  Take my neighbour (please) for example.  She has the unfortunate curse of having a high pitched, whiny voice much like a mosquito.  It's very hard not to listen in on her conversations since it is at a pitch high enough to make anyone's ears perk up or be pierced (and I already have pierced ears so don't need any more thankyouverymuch). It seems that the conversations I hear the most are the ones where one person has a voice that carries, making it hard to ignore. While I don't often hear her conversations, sometimes it's unavoidable, and not very interesting.  There are more interesting conversations to overhear when riding on the bus, the tube in London (though most people on the tube are generally in a state of sonambulism so not much conversation there), the airport or train station, and my all time favourite, the coffee shop.  This works really well when I'm writing and stuck for things my characters might say.  So I guess you could say my listening in serves a purpose (though how useful is another matter).  And I promise I won't drop any eaves on anyone anytime soon.  Until next time.

It's official

I am actually, finally, officially on spring break.  No joke, no April Fool here, just a chance to unwind and generally do whatever my little heart desires.  A person doesn't really value time out the way he/she should.  Let's face it.  We rush everywhere to get no where fast, frantically plan and execute our escape and then speed through the holiday as if it was the autobaun only to return to work even more tired than when we left.  Then, of course there is the whole guilt trip thingie.  Did we pack too much, not enough, or even the right thing?  How will we know? Did we turn off and unplug all the utilities that could do something nasty to our residence when we're gone?  Did we make proper arrangements for the cat/dog/parakeet/rodent/fish for their care?  Did we leave anyone behind accidentally?  If it's been +25-35 for two weeks straight do we have a guarantee it will stay nice and balmy by the time we get to wherever we are going, or will it turn grey and wet as has happened too many time to too many people who expected to hang out on the beach, not slog through ankle to knee deep puddles.  Mind you, a bathing suit works well either way in such conditions.  You'd get wet in the water so why not wear it in the rain?  True, a bathing suit isn't overly warm when the very cold wind comes blowing across the lake, sea, ocean, but at least if you are getting wet anyway, who cares?   Well, ok.  The people who went to the beach to sunbathe (though given the warnings about needing to plaster sunblock on so thick you might as well bath in it) would be disappointed, but hey, nobody said life was fair, and they didn't really need to look like burnt toast on a bad hair day anyway.  As for me, I have a heavy date with my couch and DVD collection.  I might, occasionally, get out of my jammies and go for a walk to see what's going on in the world, but that's the extent of my holiday excitement.  After March madness, that's all the energy I can muster at the moment.  Might change after a day or two, but not right now.  Until next time, when I'm off the couch and ready to do something vaguely, semi-interesting.