Goodbye, cruel world...

Don't do it, man!

You have so much to live for!

Think about your children...like Little Billy No-Ass! You worked so damn hard to get him that seatless pool chair!












And what about your gorgeous wife....?

Wait a second! She's RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR!

DON'T DO IT, MAN!!!


(Ahh..SkyMall makes me laugh....)

Hide your daughters

That a lot of Wangs....

*Snert*

I'm so immature.

Shoooooooooes!!!

I just bought the two pairs of ballet flats in the lower right hand corner over the weekend at the Payless Shoes BOGO sale, wondering all the while if I really needed more shoes.

So when I got home, I took all my shoes out and snapped this shot. There are 22 pairs of shoes there, for those of you trying to count. 24 if you count the running shoes I have stashed at work and my house slippers.

I've always considered my shoe fetish to be rather tame compared to others' I know, men included. I try to vary my styles but keep them consistently timeless and fashionable, as well as comfortable.

The question is, do I have enough shoes now? Am I woman enough?

The answer to both those questions is a resounding NO: not until I have handbags to match.

The Sky is Malling

On the way to and from New York, I had the great pleasure of reading and taking home a complimentary copy of SkyMall, the airline shopping catalogue that showcases anything from massage chairs to fashionable women's apparel. Because apparently, you may just have the urge to purchase crap while you're sitting in your meat crate.

If nothing else, the catalogue does provide hours of entertainment: you really have to wonder what paleontologists will think upon unearthing one of these.

Or this.

Or this.

Or this.

Or this.

You know, this may just become a regularly featured showcase of crap....

A Helluva Tooooown...

Haroah Nuoak! John and I spent a fabulous three nights, four days in the Big Apple. Despite the Nor'Easter that blew through (it's what they call a big-ass storm that closed down parts of the city) and the subsequent wet and wild weather that I now blame for the cough/cold I am suffering, we got to see all the sights we wanted, and didn't have any major setbacks.

Highlights: this is a never-ending city. It's like walking around downtown Toronto and never seeing the sky. You live in perpetual city twilight because of all the skyscrapers. But wow, what a sight all that concrete is. And the streets haven't been painted with homeless people, would you believe!

The food was good, though pretty expensive anywhere along Broadway. If you ever plan to go, eat locally in places like Chinatown and Little Italy: it gets expensive to eat at chain restaurants in the big touristy areas like Times Square.

Shopping: meh, since the exchange rate isn't so good and we were both loathe to bring home crap, the only thing we ended up buying was an umbrella to stave off the rain, and some cough drops. The customs lady didn't believe us. (It's okay, though: I made up for the lack of shopping by going out today. John bought me the best hat ever for next winter...) We did visit the huge Toys R Us on Broadway and 42nd: to give you an idea of how big it is, there's a full-sized ferris wheel in the centre of the store. FAO Schwartz is still in business too, but I don't think it's as cool: they didn't have any Avatar toys at all.

Tips for travellers: fly into La Guardia Airport. It's closer than JFK.
Stay around Midtown. We stayed at the Rockefeller Center Hotel, a clean, quiet, no-frills hotel with nice fluffy towels and good service. Barely even a lobby to speak of, but the amenities are simple and the bed was really comfy. Plus, it was down the street from Radio City Music Hall, and steps from Fifth Avenue, Times Square, Central Park, and a whole bunch of other great sites. There was also a great little cafe next door that sold breakfast for pretty cheap (compared to going out somewhere to eat, that is.)

Coolest thing we saw there: I'm sure John would beg to differ, but I think it's this:

Help me USPS--you're my only hope!

And because everyone asks, air fare, hotel, and tickets to Les Miserables cost me a total of $1700 Cdn. on Expedia.ca. And it was well worth the money.


Next stop: San Diego Comic-Con! (In...oh...ten years or so...)

Presenting my doppelganger...

Aww, ain't she cute? And here I promised I wouldn't be THAT aunt--you know, the one who posts pictures up and boasts about how damn cute her first-born niece is.

Now at just over a month old, living with Bowie has revealed to me that she is, in fact, my clone. I've discovered some eerie similarities between the two of us that I just know her mom will blame me for passing on:

• We both eat too damned fast.
• We both whine and cry when we want to eat more but can't because we're too full.
• We both swallow air when we eat and, as a result, get painfully bad gas.
• We both love Uncle (white) John to hug and kiss us better.
• We're both easily distracted by shiny objects.
• We both need to eat every three hours or so.
  
• We both babble incoherently to anyone in the room, and fuss when not enough attention is being paid to us.
• In a choice between burping and flatulence, we'd both pick the latter.
• We both like to be swaddled like a burrito at bedtime.
• We both go through a lot of laundry.
  
• Passing gas is our favourite passtime, next to eating and sleeping.
• We both smell like baby: she because she is one, I because I eat them.
  

There are, of course, some marked differences between adult me and baby clone Bowie:

• Her burps are heartily encouraged. Mine are just frowned at.
• Her farts elicit delighted cries and praise. Mine clear the room.
• When she craps her pants, people smilingly clean her up and appraise the quality and quantity of mess she's made, making it dinner conversation. When I...you know, I'm not going there.
• When she's upset and crying inconsolably, she gets a boob shoved into her face. When I'm upset and crying inconsolably, I'm lucky if anyone hands me a beer.
• When she spits up, it's a cause for concern. When I spit up, it's a waste of food and usually an embarrassingly laughable moment.
• When everyone's staring at her in awe, she basks in love and sleeps peacefully. When everyone's staring at me in awe, I start rocking back and forth in paranoia and usually scream "STOP LOOKING AT ME!" at the top of my lungs.