Wednesday, 31 March 2010

21st Birthday

My brother and his friends singing me happy birthday:

It has been a good birthday. Thanks everyone! I'm grateful even for my sister who for some reason wrote in her card to me that I was turning 18...

"There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents, and only one for birthday presents, you know." Lewis Carrol

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

For My Mom

Sesame Street, though a part of my young life, was not a major player. I'm more from the era of The Magic School Bus, Stop the Smoggies, and Rescue Heroes. I have, however, grown up hearing stories of Sesame Street sketches. Tonight, when I so desperately need to be writing an essay on Louis Riel's 1885 rebellion that's due on Friday, I decided to finally search for these little Sesame scenes on YouTube. Much to mom's delight (and mine), her three Ernie and Bert favourites are all there. So, although it is nowhere near her birthday, I guess I should post them for her.

This first one is really funny, despite being written for widdle kidlets.

The second one is the song she and my uncle would sing on long car rides, much to the increasing despair of their uncle...

And this third one she loved because... YOU GET TO SEE BERT'S ENTIRE BODY. Plus, he's dancing. Go Bert.

Sesame Street seems like it was a pretty good show. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it more as a kid.

Does the same actor provide the voice for Fozzie and Bert? They sure sound the same.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.” Miss Piggy

Monday, 22 March 2010

Ring of Spies

This is something I wrote when I was what, fourteen or fifteen. It's a segment from an alternate-world medieval era novel I typed out called Ring of Spies. It still makes me laugh, even if it is ridiculous. Maybe that's why it makes me laugh. Anyway, it stands fairly well on its own, so I thought I'd post it. I'd like to think that my writing has improved somewhat since then...


Dora could not believe how hot it got in that little root cellar. It was supposed to be cool! Particularly in the wee hours of morning, as she reckoned it was. Everyone else was fast asleep, but Dora sat there, sweating in the sauna-like heat, wishing so badly that she could step outside for a breath of fresh air. She didn't dare, however, because she knew enemy patrols were just as vigilant during the night as during the day.

“Miss Spathe, I have to go to the outhouse,” she heard Jersa say, just waking up.

“Is it an emergency?”

“Uh-huh.” Jersa blinked a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes.

Instantaneously Threngal popped his eyes open. He had only been pretending to sleep. “I'll take you, Jersa. I want to go outside, anyway.”

Dora cringed. “Nay! Threngal, I will take her. It is too dangerous outside,” she ruled.

“But you have more of a shadow than I do, and so are more likely to be spotted than I am,” he answered, pouting.

“Threngal, I do not want you out there,” she commanded.

“Why not?”

“Because, you'll no doubt stay outside the whole night and get us all caught.”

“Will not! That's just mean!”

Henneth grumbled something in his sleep, then he too began to blink open his eyes.

“Henneth, will you take me to the outhouse? The other two are taking too long to decide who should take me,” Jersa asked as she shook his shoulder, hastening his waking.


“I have to go to the bathroom,” she whispered again, amid Dora and Threngal's bickering.

“Go yourself,” he mumbled.

“Ugh! Henneth! Someone has to stay out there to make sure no one comes to kidnap me!” she said with a larger, disgusted shove against his shoulder.

“That's right,” Dora said, finally overhearing the conversation. “And it can't be Henneth. He's too precious to Riles' spy ring. If something happens to him, the whole country might be messed up!”

“He's more qualified than you are, though,” Threngal piped up. “He knows how to sneak around.”

“Not that it would matter with Jersa beside him,” Dora pointed out.

“Are you saying that I can't sneak?” Jersa took offense.

“Nay, that's not what she's saying, Jersa. She's just saying that you make a lot of noise when you do it,” Henneth told her with a yawn.

“Don't bad-mouth my sister! She makes hardly any noise!” snapped Threngal.

“Listen. I'm the boss here, and I say that I'm taking her,” Dora said, expecting the heated debate to instantly cease.

“Who made you boss?” both Threngal and Henneth chimed together.

“So much for that idea,” Dora thought. Then she spoke out loud. “You mean that I have no say?”

“That's not what we said, and you know it, Dora,” Henneth spat out.

“I still have to go to the bathroom,” Jersa reminded everyone.

“Aye, and I'm taking you,” Dora said, grabbing her hand.

“Nay, I'm her brother. I should do it!” Threngal insisted, clamoring in front of them.

“I'll take her and show you that a good spy can sneak around even with a little girl!” Henneth declared.

“She's not noisy!” Threngal interjected.

Dora rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you can, Henneth, but just in case you can't, you won't.”

“But that's implying you think I can't!”

“Maybe we should all suffer and no one goes,” Threngal suggested.

“I'll suffer the most!” Jersa cried.

“Nay, she really needs to go, and we do need someone to keep watch while she's out there,” Dora vetoed. “I vote that we take turns. I'll go this time, Threngal will go next time, and Henneth the third.”

“She's not exactly going every five minutes,” Threngal sulked.

“Well, what do you suggest, then?”

“Maybe I need to go to the outhouse, too!”

“You do not!”

“I do so!”

“Um,” Henneth silenced them, “has anyone other than me just realized that the topic of our conversation has somehow managed to out-sneak us all and left the cellar by herself already?”

Dora and Threngal whipped their heads toward the open cellar door.

“And we still haven't decided who's going with her!” Threngal stomped his foot.

“We don't have time to, now,” Dora fretted.

All the three people scurried out of the cellar into the cool night.


It fits the theme of the story:

“You ought never to "sass" old people- unless they "sass" you first.” Mark Twain

Friday, 19 March 2010

Debacle of Names

My parents knew a guy named Stanley. This was fine, except that his last name was Lee. That made him Stanley Lee (or Stan Lee from time to time). And the really awful thing is, he married a girl named Leanne. So they became (say this quickly) Stanley and Leanne Lee. Or, if I write phonetically, Stanley-anley-anley.

And a family friend knows a guy named Robert Loblaw. Except he goes by Bob. So his name is *ahem* Bob Loblaw. Just imagine:

Hello, sir, I'm [insert your name here]. And you would be?
Bob: I'm Bablahblah.
You: Pardon?
Bob: Bablahblah.
You: I'm sorry? You don' have to be rude.
Bob: No! My name is BA-BLAH-BLAH!

Seriously, you'd think he's just go by Robert or something.

Also my dad found a name in the phonebook (Mom is convinced it's a joke). It says Pidas, Stu. Yeah. Not so good.

But the best (or worst?) story I've heard goes something like this (be warned, it is a little crass):

This woman we know somehow was at a church for something (I'm a little vague on the details). A man was there, Harold Butts, to lead a ladies choir. The emcee stood up to introduce them. "And now," he said, "would the ladies with Harry Butts please come up for their special number?"

Apparently the women were laughing too hard to go on stage.

Oh my, people. Please be careful what you name your kids.

"Even the most obedient and adoring of Nazis might have had difficulty saluting his Fuehrer with a crisp 'Heil Schicklgrober!'" The Concise Biography of Hitler

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

World of Wit

It's Roll Up the Rim to Win at Tim Horton's again, which means that inevitably a significant portion of the Timmy's customer base will think it is witty to ask the serving staff for a winning cup. I don't know, perhaps it is, but after every third customer or so asks specifically for a winning cup, the joke gets a little old. I'm always tempted to explain to the customers that I don't have X-ray vision to see through the rim of the cup any more than they do.

There's a variation of this joke, which also grows stale exceedingly fast. Instead of asking for merely a "winning" cup, the customer will sometimes ask for the grand prize SUV itself.
Order Taker: Anything else for you today?
Customer: Just a Rav 4, thanks! Bwah hah hah hah ha!
Order Taker (dead pan): Ah heh. It wouldn't fit in the cup, sir.

I mean, it's good for business that the customers are so enthusiastic, but it's really painful that they all think they're being so original with their jokes...

Some jokes come in and out of season. For example, it's not at all uncommon during the Smile Cookie charity drive to get requests for "just a smile", or a "box of smiles". First of all, this is confusing, because we don't know if they're joking or if they are asking for a cookie. Secondly, most of the people who "purchase" a smile are creepy middle-aged men who won't leave the window until they actually receive their large, toothy smile. Admittedly, for the right customer, it can be fun to draw smiles all over a Timbits box, but only with the lovable grandpa type of guy.

Creepy guys are actually fairly common around Tim Hortons, but there was one that was at least creative. He asked Debbie for a muffin. She told him we didn't have any muffins left. "Oh," he said, "Can I have your muffin?"

And of course there are the people who order a green tea without specifying whether they want any cream or sugar or whatnot in it. I guess it is kinda funny when we have to ask if they want their green tea black, but still not terribly original. And let's not forget all those people that come through asking for a Big Mac.

Today, however, there was actually a good, clean, Timmy's related joke that was pretty funny.
"Hey," said the man to Brenda, "I know something that what will put a smile on your face."
"Oh?" said Brenda.
"Life is like a doughnut," the man said. "You're either in the dough or in the hole."

Hee hee!

Beware. Your sense of humor is being judged when you attempt to joke with serving staff.

"A joke is a very serious thing." Winston Churchill

It seems that a disproportionately large number of my blog posts are about Tim Horton's. Perhaps this is because it's so tedious there that I remember anything remotely interesting, while in normal life there is just too much going on for me to choose any one thing in particular to blog about. I should maybe rename this blog The Coffee Girl, but then people might think that I actually like coffee, drink it, or encourage other people to do so, when I do not.

Saturday, 13 March 2010


I have not updated this for a rather sad long time. Inspiration has failed to strike, despite many interesting university lectures, dreams, and random occurrences. So for today, I will leave you with some pictures of me upside down. Because who doesn't like being upside down?

“The sound principle of a topsy-turvy lifestyle in the framework of an upside-down world order has stood every test.” Karl Kraus