When I grow up, I wanna be...

A LADY WINGMAN!

Sign me up!

RIP Terry Schiavo

May she finally rest in peace.

What can I say that hasn't already been said?

Except, of course, that God would be one ironic fella if the Pope were to lapse into a permanent vegetative state.

(Dear Lord: I'm not a religious woman, but...)

I know, I know, I'm going to burn in hell, etc.

The Chinese have done it again!

Well, actually it was the Germans. But it would have been cool to add this to the list of pasta, gunpowder, and paper.

Now there's finally a solution to my plastic bag problem.

RIP Johnnie Cochran

OJ's lawyer has died.

Next on Fox: The Johnnie Cochran Story, starring Will Smith as Johnnie Cochran, as Samuel L. Jackson as Snoop Dogg, and Neil Patrick Harris as the ghost of Tupac Shakur.

The Appalling Race Roundup

From former Ray vs Denise champion, Denise Ing:

***

Thank you to everyone who hosted an event for Raymond vs Denise 2: The Appalling Race. It was truly challenging to both Raymond and myself as evidenced by the close scores throughout.

11AM - Effie created an impressively elaborate scavenger hunt that had Raymond running away with a victory. In contrast, I ran into some branches and cut my lip. I quickly turned this to my advantage by telling everyone Raymond punched me in the face. Nonetheless, the score was Raymond-3, Denise-2

1PM - Met for competitive lunch in Koreatown. Joined by Jon, Amy, Jenn and Edwin. Elaborate Rock,
Paper & Scissors rules were quickly thrown out the window because Raymond was "starving". Raymond got the non-spicy appetizer and spicy main dish. I got the spicy appetizer and non-spicy main dish. No points were awarded but Raymond and I both got our rewards when we left our "friends" to deal with the bill. Thanks, guys!

2PM - Outdoorsy Fiona and Heny decided to test our survival skills. For almost an hour, Raymond and I struggled to start a fire with a piece of flint and an Ikea butter knife. Raymond created a single whopping fire that soon died out. I created three fires that died out even more quickly. Unclear on who was more pathetic, Fiona and Heny awarded equal points to us. Raymond -5, Denise-4.

3PM - In the true spirit of The Amazing Race, Jennifer and Edwin allowed us to choose our task: count or calculate. I chose to count tiny shell pasta. Raymond chose to calculate the income tax return of Harry Potter. Points were awarded on accuracy. Equal accuracy meant a tie except for the fact that Raymond finished first. Raymond-6, Denise-4. Special note: Jenn and Edwin had spent 3 hours counting tiny shell pasta in preparation for the event. It was worth it!

5PM - On arriving at Jennie and Jason's, Raymond did not find an early arrival bonus. Instead, Raymond and I raced up the stairs to the 31st floor to see who would get the bonus. Instead, we became lightheaded and exhausted at the same time. We were then ushered to a dual Scrabble/Puzzle game. Again, Raymond and I came out with equal points - previously unheard of in Scrabble. Raymond-8, Denise-6.

7PM - A relaxing round of Simpsons trivia awaited us at Joe's place. I prevailed with knowledge of Flander's store (The Leftorium) and Germany (The Land of Chocolate). Raymond lost due to ignorance of Radioactive Man's sidekick (Fallout Boy) and Apu's last name (who really knows?). Raymond-9, Denise-9.

8PM - Back to Jennie and Jason's for an unexpectedly elaborate challenge: The Tin Chef. With a budget of $20 each, Raymond and I had to create edible/tasty dishes with oranges! With little experience, Raymond and I managed to impress judges with bowels of steel (Fiona, Jason and Jennie) with our creativity and nerve. Raymond's chicken and orange stirfry impressed both the judges and Raymond. But my whopping five dishes of orangey goodness won the judges over. Raymond-11, Denise-12.

10PM - In the final event, Jon and Amy boldly snubbed the embarrassment rule and had the opponents eat chocolate pudding without their hands. Raymond demonstrated that "it is not about speed, it's all in the rhythm" and won by a longshot. Final score: Raymond-15, Denise-12.

Again, thanks for all the effort and enthusiasm. Be sure to catch this summer's blockbuster: RVD 3, a cheap cash-in on the first two installments.

Denise

Walktopus

Suddenly, I have a craving for calamari to go.

The article about this octopus behaviour here.

RIP Andre Norton

RIP Andre Norton, the estranged - but always friendly - auntie of sci-fi.

Norton passed away March 17 of a congestive heart failure at the age of 93. She was a prolific sci-fi writer of more than 200 books and short stories.

I've never read any of her work, but it's going on the list. Meanwhile, (not to yuk it up too much now, it's a sad time after all) , I feel sorry for the page at the Merril Collection (my old stomping grounds) who must now undergo the task of entering the death date manually onto the file cards.

Don't forget: 2005. PERIOD.

Raymond vs. Denise II

And now you ask, "What the hell is...?"

Last year, my older sister's wacky friends, Ray and Denise, held a birthday competition where they each performed a series of tasks/stunts and earned points based on their completion and the quality of completion. For example, points were awarded to whoever threw up the most after going on a few rides at Wonderland. Points were given out for whoever could get into a stranger's photos. And so forth.

Think of it as The Amazing Race... only stupid.

Denise was last year's champion. Now Ray plans to topple the Empress of Everything and claim the Throne of Thrills and the Footrest of Follies for himself.

But this year, it'll be more difficult. The two titans will go head to head and race around the city to various destinations - i.e. their friends' houses - where they will perform gruelling tasks the likes of which you've never seen.

Stayed tuned for it folks - and god, I wish I were joking - it's THE APPALLING RACE.

And you'll get all your RvD2: THE APPALLING RACE coverage here, only on OF NO IMPORT.

And now a message, paid for by the Associates of Raymond Chow.
(I shit you not, this is what I got in my email. Why are my sister's friends so much more interesting than mine? No, not you John. Nor Teri, Cindy, Yee Lee, Susan, Janny, Cristina, Karen. And whoever else is reading this. Bah, who am I kidding!? You'd never do this, would you?)

(Dark ominous music.)

Narrator:
"Denise Ing claims to be a proud 'Canadian'.  Why then does she claim to be a proud
Chinese and a proud Catholic?  Which statement is true?  Is any of it true?
Can you trust an RvD winner who flip-flops her demographics to please any special
interest group that comes along?"

Narrator:
"Denise Ing claims to support education and healthcare.  Why then are school
teachers on the verge of a strike, and hospital emergency rooms pushed to
capacity?  Since Denise Ing won RvD1, your healthcare and education have not
gotten better.  They have gotten WORSE."

Narrator:
"Denise Ing claims to be a champion of the little guy.  Why then does she
still maintain economic ties with her family's Dutch banking conglomerate:
'ING Direct'?  A company that has admitting to doing business with the
Nazi's during World War 2?"

(Happy music begins.)

Raymond Chow:
"On March 27th, we have the opportunity to speak our voice.  Let Denise Ing
know that one year of Denise Ing as RvD champion is one year too many.  My
name is Raymond Chow, and I approved this message."

From the depths of late-night work hell....

I write this nearly 3 hours after everyone has left the office. It's production week here, and things need to be done. This is second time this week I've stayed this late. But at least I get free dinners out of it.

Is it a bad sign when you actually enjoy working late because there's no one else around? Am I really getting more anti-social?

Let us Pray to the Goddess of Technology...

Computers are like spouses: they are both the most wonderful thing in the world and the most infuriating thing in the world. (But I still love you, John!)

So I have no idea what's happened, but my DVD-ROM/CD-R drive won't work. I've been buring things lately and the drive has just gotten slower and slower since I started. Now it won't read any disc at all.

Help! Anyone out there have a solutionn apart from mine, which is to break the tower open and scold the first component I see?

Genie Awards

Now, I'm all for supporting Canadian film and art, but I've got a beef with the Genies.

Mainly, does anyone know what a Genie looks like?

Oscar has the naked man with the sword. Grammy' Gemini: two facs got little gramaphones. Golden globes: golden globes. MTV Movie Awards: gold popcorn.es. I can even tell you that the Motor Trend Car of the Year award is a gold caliper. So what the hell is a Genie?

Well, this is. That's right, the symbol of great award-winning Canadian films is a strangely androgynous chair back with a J.Lo booty and an extra ass for a head.

Now with all due respect to the sculptor, couldn't we have something that's not so... ambiguous? I'm not saying we should have a big ol' film canister with a reel of celluloid sticking out of it wrapped around a maple leaf, but maybe something a little more classic and memorable. If I saw that on someone's shelf, I'd have assumed it was picked up at a trendy Queen Street furnishings store and not some great honour won through dedication, hard work, raw talent, and a very low budget that didn't allow the actors or directors to eat for a month.

But perhaps the Genie statue's design isn't the problem. (Again, I'm no professor of art or design, so what the hell do I know?) Maybe it's that after 25 years, this honour means little to the Canadian public. We try to make it out to be a big deal, an opportunity to wave our flag around and loudly mumble the words to our forgettable anthem. But how does the Canadian public see the Genies?

In a recent conversation, friends jokingly said that anyone could win a Genie, and that it was like the "actor's welcome package". I myself laughed and said it was a step above winning a Razzy.

Now that I ponder on it, I think the Genies need more pizzazz, better PR, a bigger green room, a longer red carpet, a nicer take-home gift bag, something! But as Canadians, we just don't dig that scene. We don't have two hours of Genie countdown with commentary on what who is wearing and who they're with, etc.

I guess the bottom line is that the Genies AREN'T the Oscars, that Canadians AREN'T Americans, and that's the way we're going to keep them.

Still, what a gawdawful statue. Can we at least get rid of one of the asses?

That reminds me... what does a Juno look like?

I love Toronto

It was a gorgeous Saturday to walk around the city.

Had dim sum with the folks, did a little tour of Chinatown and Kensington Market, headed down to Queen Street West and perused the many eclectic shops in the neighbourhood. Haven't been down in a while, so I've missed out on a lot of great new things.

They opened a Nutty Chocolatier, and it was aboslutely gorgeous in there. Lots of Gelato and ice cream all ready for the first day of Spring! And free truffle samples! YUM!

Sadly, the used bookstore is closing down May 22 - yet another victim of the Heather Reisman Chapters/Indigo empire. But I picked up a pile of books for the family at half off.

But coolness to the max: Bakka has reopened a location on it's home street of Queen St. West, aptly called Bakka Phoenix, at Markham Street. The shop isn't as homey as the other two stores were, but it's still the most awesome place to get sci-fi and fantasy.

Another cool shop on our voyages was the iconic shop that had all kinds of keen imported trinkets including food and floral miniatures and these wicked custom handmade steel figures of all kinds of sci-fi charaters like the Aliens from the Alien movies, Star Wars characters, Godzilla.... they're made with bike chains and things you find in the hardware store. So cool.

Had pizza at Amato's - YUM!! Shortly thereafter, we had dinner with the family in Kensington Market at this new place that barbecues everything in a wood-burning oven. Very keen. They're still in their first month, so they haven't worked out all the kinks yet, but it's worth the visit.

I dunno why I'm suddenly a big ad whore for these places... I think I just miss walking around the city I love so much. Thank gawd for Spring.

Kisses and hugs for all of you!

Well, not for all of you, just for John, really. But you sad people will take what you can get, right? (I might pont out that you are reading my blog...)

Now onto serious topics:
Is there nothing beer can't solve?

I've just come off a horrible day at work. I started the day cranky, I ended it crankier. I was so tense that my hands were shaped into permanent claws. My spine has a giant knot stuck between my shoulders just below my neck.

So I had a beer and chugged it down as quickly as I could. (Which is to say quickly for me - I'm a tiny one, I am.) It didn't hit me until about the last 1/7 of the bottle. At which point I relaxed and went "ahhh, no more pain and anxiety knots."

Then I sobered up again, and the pain began again. So I went home and had another beer. But this beer, being of rather poor quality, didn't do anything to relieve the back pain. It only makes my head spin slightly.

So here I am, trying very hard to concentrate with a giant kink in my back to write this post.

All I actually wanted to say was that this week, my boss made yet another request of me to add to the list of bat-shit crazy stuff he wants.

He asked me to remind him to call someone about buying a truck. A broken truck. That doesn't drive.

Your challenge this week is: can you guess why?

The person with the correct response earns 1,000,000 Vicki points to be redeemed at your local Vicki outlet*.

*(Some restrictions apply. Not available in Quebec, Nunavut, the Northwest Territories, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, the Yukon, Ontario, Alberta, British Columbia, or the Maritimes. Vicki points are to be taken under strict professional medical supervision. Vicki points may cause blindness, werewolfism, diarrhea, the condition known as hot dog fingers, gigantic eyeball, and various other symptoms. Use only as directed.)

Dear LOTR, they can't....

Let me get this straight.

Peter Jackson made a masterpiece trilogy of movie that took 7 years to complete, millions of dollars, thousands of man hours, and innumerable pairs of silicon hobbit feet, and the Mirvishes want to debut a two-hour MUSICAL version of Tolkien's classic?

Poor J.R.R. He's probably spinning in his grave like a top right now.

Now here's a fun game - write your own LOTR lyrics!

Aragorn!/He's a ranger!/No one could be stranger!/Though he'll keep us out of danger!/
Aragorn!/He was born/to take the seat as King!/He'll free us from the Ring!/The ring of power!

Legolas!/He's got nice ass!/Even for an elf he's fair!/(Gimli likes his underwear!)

Gandalf likes the hobbit leaf/though it makes his mind quite slow
He won't go without the grass/(not the kind you mow!)

Boromir/you're not strong enough/so in scene three you'll be killed off!

Merry and Pippin/we didn't need you/to be in this show/we couldn't afford you/so we changed the story a little bit/and made the Fellowship seven/don't worry our great lord Tolkein/is singing your praises in heaven....

Sam and Frodo/don't know/Mount Doom is easier to get to/on eagle-back/You'll get through/the perils of the laaaannnnnd...oooffffff...MORDOR!

Things that make me go RAAAARRGGHHH!!!!!

My new favourite thing to fantasize about is setting people on fire with lighter fluid and strike-anywhere matches. It used to be breaking people's knees with a baseball bat, but I retired it after I realized I had lousy follow-through and kept hitting my own knee with the momentum of the back swing.

So I'm on my way home, and I woman on the corner is begging for change. "Spare change?" she calls repeatedly. Then a couple of big guys waiting on the corner for the light to change respond.

"I haven't got enough change to change my mind!" Says one loudly.
"No thanks, got some." Says the other gruffly.
"Haha! Good one!" The first one laughs.

Now, I don't have the right to say they were wrong to deny the woman a little money, considering I don't give handouts myself, but something about these two really irked me. Maybe it was because they were fat, greasy white trash boors in beer t-shirts and trucker caps with bad moustaches and thinning mullets.

Not 20 feet away on the next block, a woman slowly passed a biligual bank machine and loudly pointed out to no one, "They're in Chinese now!" and muttered quietly to herself, as though waiting the be acknowledged for her brilliant discovery.

This, too, irked me, being of Chinese descent. Now, she didn't go outright and say it, but I think the message was clear from her tone: the chinks are taking over and they're starting with the TD bank machine!

Horrors! The yellow peril is upon us! Hide your ruddy-skinned sons and daughters from these devious slanty-eyed Chinamen!

So I did it, twice, within the span of 30 seconds. I took out my imaginary bottle of lighter fluid and made ready my imaginary match in my palm. I walked up, sprayed the offending hunk of flesh with the pungent fluid and before the creature even figured out what was happening, I sparked the head of the match with my thumbnail and tossed it at them.

And the world was suddenly bright with the light of humanity's waste aflame, their wild writhing a dance to the gods that made them, and the screeching was their music.

And by the music and the dance and the new light of the dark world, I felt cleansed and at peace.

In my head.

Yeah, some of you are probably going, "CUKOO! CUKOO! Call the men in white!" and others are probably googling the Possible-Dangerous-Offenders Tip Line right now. But I felt the quiet rage pulsing in my veins tonight after these encounters. Why?

Maybe I saw each of these passerbys as representing everything I deem is wrong with North American society. Maybe I hate racism (if that was indeed what it was) and neanderthal moronity enough to want to burn it out of our collective, even if it meant getting rid of individual human beings.

Does that make me a bad person, or a sane one? Or does that make me a potential despot who should never be allowed to hold office?

The bottom line is, they bothered me. So naturally I wanted to set them on fire and watch as they tear through the streets clawing at their burning flesh. Naturally. (Admit, you do too.)

Super innuendo

From the animated series, Justice League Unlimited, The Cat and the Canary:

[Black Canary talks to Green Arrow in the gym.]

BC: "You happy punching the bag, or do you want to go a few rounds with me?"

How did the censors let this one slip past? I choked on my own breath laughing.

Bunny Kitty movie, part 2

If you liked the first part of this cute little flash, you'll love the second.

Evil cartoon clone

Sir Richard Branson. Multi-billionaire with a penchant for technology and spending money on interesting projects often involving flight. Considered one of the top 100 Britons of all time.

David Xanatos. Multi-billionaire with a penchant for technology and spending money on reawakening winged creatures known as Garagoyles from a thousand-year-long enchantment. Travelled back to the 10th century to pull a Biff/Griff a-la-Back-to-the-Future to later become one of the richest men and most influential members of the Illuminati in the world.

Coincidence? I think not.

Here's a scary thought...

What if everyone in the world were forced to write a blog entry everyday?

Apart from the dictatorial overtones, I can only imagine the good that would come from having every single persons thoughts broadcast through a medium that could technically be accessed by just about anyone in the world.

Of course I'm not saying that everyone should just write whatever they think, like "Boy, would I ever like to bludgeon my boss to death with a dead tuna," or "Today I made a big poop that was the colour of creamed spinach and it smelled like Apple Jacks." Unless that kind of thing floats your boat.

But imagine this: everyday, every man, woman and child over the age of 6 would have to write a blog entry. Nothing long or meaningful. They could just leave one word if they wanted to.

But imagine how much thought people would put into it. No one ever says just one word, especially if the public's around to hear it. People would be forced to put a cohesive thought together and write it out in a sentence. And think about the improvement in grammar and spelling! Nobody wants to look like an idiot (and even if they do, they do so wittingly) so they'd be forced to think about the spelling of they're and their and there.

And once you get past the grudging "Oh, fine, here's my mandatory blog post of the day", they might even start to talk about interesting things, like "Today, I almost killed my boss, but decided the repercussions were too great, and I hate the Jello they serve in jail."

Stress relief! Just like diaries, they would allow people to release some tension and (anonymously) gripe about their lives.

Sure, enforcing this system would require major revolution in the computing and identity industries, but I still think it'd be neat. Maybe if everyone earned Internet access time based on the length of their blogs, anoymously tracked through email accounts. I dunno, I'm no wizard, and barely practical when it comes to revolution, but a girl can dream.

Office Space Case

Co-workers, god bless em, can be a major source of your daily peeves.

Considering you probably spend more time with your co-workers than, say your family, friends, or loved ones, this comes as no surprise. Not all of them are bad, of course. I lve all my co-workers, if only for the terrific stories I get to post here. Just some worse (stupider/noisier/more annoying/lazier/pickier/etc.) than others.

Among my least favourite noises coming out of people's mouths are the words, "Vicki, just to let you know..." followed by one of the below phrases:

1. "...there's no more paper in the printer."
2. "...we're out of paper towels."
3. "...we're out of milk."
4. "...the fax machine is flashing and I don't know what it means."
5. "...there's a tea bag in the back of the dishwasher. Just to let you know."

Just to let me know. Huh.

Those are all real lines, by the way, spoken to me by real human people who are much older, and who make much more money than I. Here's how I responded to them:
1. "What you mean to say is 'Vicki, could you please help me fill the printer paper tray?'"
2. "They're in the supply closet. Where they've always been."
3. "Uh huh. And you want me to...?"
4. "It means 'my moron-o-meter is going off because no one will read the digital display that clearly says OUT OF PAPER.'" (Inside my head, of course.)
5. "...[long, agonzing stare]...So, instead of reaching in and taking it out yourself, you walked all the way over to my office and used up precious oxygen to inform me that there is a lone teabag inside?"

Is it so difficult to just tack on a couple of extra words to that phrase and change a couple of punctuation marks so that instead of informing me of the state of things, they can simply ask, "Vicki, we're out of milk, and we're too lazy buy more, so could you please go out and buy some for us? Thanks, you're the sweetest girl ever and I'm naming my first-born after you. Have some money."

The other phrase I cringe at is, "Vicki, I don't know who else to tell, but..." followed by, 1) "...the toilet's backed up again"; 2) "...there's a dead thing in my filing cabinet"; 3) "...I keep getting all this junk mail? And, like, I don't want to see it? Y'know? It, like, makes me crazy?"
But at least with the "I don't know who else to tell" line, I can see that the person is sorry for bugging me and understands that I am not necessarily the office plumber/janitor/tech-person, but I will know who is.

The boss is the worst, because he uses this line to cover himself:
"[NAME], could you get someone to clean up the kitchen/take out the garbage/clean up the bathroom/etc."

Someone? You mean, like, me? Or whoever [NAME] is?
So you end up shovelling shit for a hour, and he comes back and says "Oh, I didn't mean YOU. Go ask [NAMES] to help you." Now, maybe I'm too nice and take on too much alone, but why would I go and hand off this horrible job to someone else when you decided to come directly to me and basically tell me to do it? Do you normally go to the nearest person and say to them "could you find someone to take care of this big pile of shit? 'Cuz I know you have nothing better to do here than hopelessly run around and discover just how low on the food chain you are."

Fortunately, I don't have to deal with as much of all this anymore, though I do get the occasional winner. Like today, someone said to me, very pointedly, "Vicki, I missed tea time."

As if I could have roused you from your office, sat you down in the kitchen, then siphoned a gallon of tea into your maw through a garden hose. How about I make another pot, just for you? No, no, I don't mind doing it if it will keep your flapping noise hole shut. I'll do you one up and flaggelate myself with said garden hose for not having served the tea directly to you in your office on a silver tea service cart with fine china and sugar cubes. AND THEN I WILL HUG AND KISS A POISONOUS SNAAAAAAAKE!!!!

Now that's sarcasm!

Again, love the co-workers. No offence to anyone who's reading this from my workplace. Chances are none of these people are you. I bear no ill will, and y'all probably know that I keep my rage close to the surface. Very close. Just under my skin. Like a spandex catsuit.

Me love you long time...

Just finished a great book by someone who is the person I aspire to be.

Kim Wong Keltner's The Dim Sum of All Things was given to me as a Valentine's gift from John. He said it was about a Chinese-American girl who falls for a white guy at work, so he had to get it for me.

Little did he know, the main character, Lindsey, is my evil American twin. She's 25, barely speaks Cantonese, works at a magazine where she's forced to clean up after everyone (*ahem*), and she quotes Star Wars!

The best thing about the book is all the Cantonese words that are spelled out in English, and the family members in Lindsey's life, from her Bruce-Lee-loving brother to her mahjong-playing grandmother.

All I can say is that every CBC should read this book. It's lots of fun, and easy read, and doesn't get too Amy Tan on you.

Go read it. NOW!

More ways to waste your time

This fits into my category of "ooginess".

ooginess: [ooo-gee-nez] n. 1. that which makes you feel oogy [adj]; 2. a state of bewilderment, disorientation, and in extreme cases, nausea and dizziness, usually elicited by visual media. e.g. movies include Labyrinth, Legend, Willow, The Dark Crystal, and various other fantasy films from the 80's.

By So Sister definition, oogy movies are those that make you ask yourself, "Have I been asleep for the past hour and a half?" or alternatively, in extreme cases of ooginess: "Did I just do a kilo of coke and not realize it?"

- From The Big Book of Oogie, by Fiona Kwong, Jenny So, and Vicki So.

More than meets the eye...

Everybody's cashing in on Transformers.

Who'd thunk it'd be good for more than just selling toys?

Misery...

I am home from Ottawa and after a l0ng day at work, I've decided life sucks.
Not that I'm not grateful for all the things I have - television, a job, running water, a malaria-free environment, etc. - but bare with me whilst I whine.

I miss my Johnnie (hi my cutie! I wuboo!!). We've been together for 54 months and 5 days now. (Yay! Happy montha-penta-day-versary!) And having just spent four days and three nights with him, waking up next to him each morning and having him lavish me with affection and tea, I am now bereft of his presence. I sob at the black void left in his wake. I cringe at the hollowness of heart and the emptiness of my soul. I wail in despair as I realize that today is the first day of the longest period of time before I get to see him again.

In short, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Thus, I shall howl at the moon until he is returned to me.

Awwwwwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0000!!!!

Okay, feelin' better.

From the Toronto bus terminal...

I am writing this from a very awkward pay-Internet station within the bus terminal. So I gues Bell does have a fallback plan for replacing the revenue lost from disappearing phone booths. Keen.

Except of course that this thing is horribly unergonomic. And not terribly cheap either. I put in $2 for 10 minutes with the option of adding each extra minute for 20 cents each. And the corner that they put this station in is filthy - dunno if I should have used this thing now that I think about sanitation.

But anyhow, my bus just pulled in, so I better get on it if I want to get a good seat.

Only 65 cents left anyhow.

Going to Ottawa - Bye!

All I want for Kwanzmaskah....

Never too early to start shopping! Here's item number one on my Christmas/Wedding/Bat Mitzvah gift list.