insert circus music please…

…all I wanted was toner. I’m pretty self sufficient - I’ll even put the toner in myself, I really don’t need IT to do it for me.

But we have this “system” in place. We have to submit an “IT help ticket” in order to notify the IT team that something is amiss.

I decided to go by the IT team (this was first mistake, actually going to the IT team was my second mistake and we won’t get into my first mistake). Okay, so I decided to go to the IT team and just double-check that no one had already submitted the request for new toner so while sleuthing – I went over to the other side and IT outlined the steps I would need to execute in order to have the toner changed.

I guess I am a little slow because I didn’t quite understand what they were saying, so I asked them very nicely with a pleasant smile plastered on my face, “I’m sorry but can you explain that to me again” I believe I asked them this question 3 times because I am still convinced that I misinterpreted what they were asking of me…could they really be asking me to do the following:

1. Submit an IT help ticket requesting IT to check if there is an available toner in stock
• This would allow IT to verify that toner is in fact needed for the requested printer (i have no idea what this means?)?

• Providing that there is toner in stock (not in the printer) - IT would notify me and then close the ticket (this would also allow them to pull statistics on how wonderful their turnaround time is) and my next step would be to:

2. Submit an IT help ticket requesting IT to change the toner
• Since I submitted #1 above, I will have my wish granted and the toner will be changed

Abracadabra – I present you with…drum roll please….efficiency.

So I took a deep breath and showed IT the paper which I had just printed that was bare of any words, symbols or drawings and said – I’m pretty sure that there is no toner. Thankfully, one of the IT people (yes this conversation took two IT resourses) – confirmed yes indeed the toner needed replacing, in which case I only needed to submit one ticket to “change’ the toner. (help me please).

So as I was recanting my fabulous story to my neighbour – I started laughing so hard that I was crying. I think all of the “interesting people” in the entire world have quite possibly gathered at this one company and therefore the only answer to these situations is to insert the circus music (“ this example seems somehow appropriate)”…

…you know when you have a situation and there are simply no words in the entire English dictionary to express it, when you can’t believe the ludicrous-y of the situation or just the sheer mind bogglement of it all…the best thing to symbolize these moments is by inserting circus music. I usually apply the concept of circus music to work only, although I suppose you could apply it to any situation – but you don’t really want to dilute the meaning of circus music.

It is when things are so helter skelter, higgledy-piggledy, when things are just so mind numbingly unbelievable that you can’t even fathom how the world goes around or in this case how my workplace survives…

So if you see me, glassy eyed, zoned out and in a daze, it just means that the circus music is playing…over and over and over…


NOTE: I usually try to provide definitions but for this parituclar blog…I think it best if we kept it simple.

when does the debauchery end?

debauchery (n) excessive indulgence in sensual pleasures; intemperance.

frolicking (n) merry play; merriment; gaiety; fun.

…a few weeks ago, I received an invitation for a shower & bachelorette party for a good friend of mine. I was happy to go except in reading the invite the only thing I could focus on was that it was going to be a “night of drinking and debauchery.”

What exactly does “drinking and debauchery" mean? And do I really want to indulge in it.

For some reason, actually a lot of reasons, I am just hung up on the word debauchery…I can’t say that I would feel better had the invitation said a “night of fun and frolicking,” but something about the word debauchery makes this 33 year old cringe.

Honestly, I have had no desire to debaucherize for a very long time and I think that is because of the image/memories that the word debauchery just equates to – someone being ridiculously drunk (i.e., standing straight becomes difficult), someone behaving ridiculously (i.e., dancing on speaker boxes) and being ridiculously in pain (i.e., still hung-over on Monday morning) really just has no allure.

Debauchery definitely had its time and place for me – I’ll be the first to admit that I partook in it...a lot - but to be honest I’m done with debauchery.

I know that it is just an invitation, but the fact that someone had the forethought to write the word “debauchery,” honestly made me laugh and shudder simultaneously.

And do we really have to equate the ending of one’s single life to drinking all night, wearing a penis flower on your head and begging guys to buy you shots because you’ve decided to become one with another? Or maybe we should equate it with the need to be hog-tied by your friends, thrown in the back of a van and dragged to a strip club, only to be thrown out because you were too drunk and therefore slept in a snow bank for two hours and were literally frozen when your friends (and father in law) decided to come and see what you were up to. Wow – sounds like fun and yes that was a true story. I’m almost sad that I never had a night of debauchery solely dedicated to my singledom life.

The funny thing was, there we were 12 girls sitting around a table at a club…looking at each other. The music was too loud, the place smelt of bleach and our feet stuck to the ground. We were now those people that we once made fun of – wondering why “old” people wanted to relive their youth by going out to a club. Don’t get me wrong, I’m only too happy to spend time with my friends; however I would rather just do other activities.

So if, after reading this, anyone does want to invite me out, I’ll joyously come, have a few drink, dance to a few songs, but I will be in bed by 12am – I’m sorry if that makes me old or if you find me a bore (actually I’m really not that sorry) but that’s my world and I’m okay with that.

although none of this really answers my question…when does the debauchery end?

I AM a britfender…

societal piranhas (ab) voraciously carnivorous large social groups who often attack and destroy

…yes you read right and I’ll say it again – I am a Britfender. Please keep your rolling eyes to yourself because I too have had my share. I have heard everything everybody has had to say about Britney Spears and good for you for having an opinion, even if it is on Brit. But at the end of day, if I’ve said this once, I’ve said it 1,000 times - yes I am a defender of Britney Spears now hear me roar.

I believe in karma and reincarnation (stay with me, there is a connection). Combining the two gets you - karmic reincarnation. I don’t believe we live on this earth once, just for someone to point you to heaven or hell. That would essentially be a waste. This is where karmic reincarnation comes into play because the basic ideology is that:

a) People are reincarnated and keep on being reincarnated until they reach enlightenment and for some that is a very very very long time
b) What you do in this life directly impacts your next life – so your bad deeds will in fact come back to haunt you
c) Essentially your path is chosen for you based on a) and b) above
d) And no you can’t go from being human in one life to being a goat in the next life (although some scholars beg to differ but this is my story)

So if you can follow my train of thought, there are two obvious thoughts here:

- Clearly Brit will need to be reincarnated a “few” more before she even comes close to enlightenment, and
- Just try to imagine what Brit must have done in her previous life to be in the mess she is in now?

And that is why I am a britfender.

I’ve heard all that the naysayer’s have had to say – which ultimately boils down to the fact that she is a product of her own actions and we should not feel bad for her. Well, remember that the next time you are in a traffic jam when you're already late; see a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break or meet the man of your dreams and then meet his beautiful wife (or not so beautiful wife). I believe that is what they call karma.

It’s all relative baby. And that’s what people forget.

So the question is why aren’t you a Britfender? I love the moral high grounded people - they are so visionary. Perhaps you have caught that green debilitating disease, otherwise known as envy? Are you jealous of the money, the fame and everything she has – you would have to be lying if you said otherwise. Wouldn’t you want everything she has, has done and is doing? Oh wait that’s right, you would be able to handle it so much better. I forgot. Regardless of your position on Britney, let’s make sure that you have zero sympathy for her for the right reasons.

Of course there are the some things that she probably could /should control; i.e., she could stop flashing her nether regions...or better yet wear some underwear; she could stop antagonizing the paparazzi or even stop dating them…she should just stop…period. But for whatever reason, whether it’s because she is bi-polar, has 54 personalities, is surrounded by enablers, is just plain dumb or is part of this karmic reincarnation phenomenon - she can’t. Maybe that is what happens when your entire life has been choreographed by someone else.

The problem is that I don’t know the real answer, I don’t know her reality and neither do you.

What we all DO know is what the media puts out there and we just lap it up. Shouldn’t the media have some responsibility in this colossal mess? Who is more to blame? The media that feeds society’s incessant need for information or the societal piranhas that have created a niche for the paparazzi. Are these two things even mutually exclusive?

Then I was reading an article in The Star that came on the heels of Brit being strapped to a gurney, taken to the hospital and being put on a suicide watch…the article had two awe inspiring thoughts and I knew where I wanted the blame to lie. The author stated that:

1. The media is not to blame, because once Brit flashed her private parts – it was all fair game, and
2. It is her time to pay

Uhmm not really so awe inspiring.

Why do we want her to fail and what does she have to pay for? For being rich? For not realizing what she has? That’s her prerogative…does she owe anybody anything? People will argue that she is a role model but when exactly did she get that title? When she was dressed as a catholic school girl, with two pony tales, gyrating round and singing “hit me baby one more time?” Well if it makes you feel any better, not only was she hit – she has been pummeled straight to the ground. (Hanna Montana should watch out…)

A lot of people love the soap opera known as the “Life of Britney Spears” – maybe because she has what you (materially) covet and that evil part of you can’t help but smirk at her demise. Why should she have everything when you’re in a dead end job, with a berating boss, a wife you can’t stand and a girlfriend you want but can’t have? Just to clarify, in case there was any misunderstanding, the only reason your life is not in the news is because it is essentially common and most people would rather slit their throat on a jagged edge of a corn beef can then listen to your story.

And that pretty much sums it up - you’re eating corn beef out of a can while Brit is chugging from a $535 bottle of Cristal.

Karma’s a bitch.

does sex make the relationship or does the relationship make the sex?

antiquated (adj.) continued from, resembling, or adhering to the past; old-fashioned

ice queen - a woman who refuses sexual advances; frigid

I was listening to the radio last week when the discussion turned to relationships and sex…asking what comes first – the relationship or the sex. Sort of like the chicken and egg conundrum.

For those that know my antiquated views, know, for me sex has meaning, emotion and blah, blah, blah. I’m not into one night stands, drunken encounters and let’s just say at the end of the day…sex can’t just be willy nilly. For me, it is mutually exclusive with respecting myself…but I won’t bore you with my rhetoric.

For others sex is just an act with no real meaning…at least that is what I’m told. This notion leads me to believe that sex is a lot like spin class…take a few layers of clothes off, sweat a little, maybe feel light headed…all that’s left to do is take a lazy drag of that cigarette.

In university I may have been known as some what of an ice queen and that was fine by me (maybe that’s still how people perceive me – and at 32 years old – that’s a complete whatever). I did a good job of keeping my ice queen title until 4th year when a simple 5 second, completely public, interlude cost me my title.

Just to clarify, this guy wasn’t a stranger…he apparently had haboured some “attraction” towards me (whatever that means)…but those 5 second made it fair game for an invite to have “sex in the bushes.” Right then. Right there. Seriously? No, seriously?

So could sex in the bushes have led to a potential relationship?

At that point I’d rather just arm myself with rabbit the habit …why go through the effort of having to kick some guy out at 2 in the morning….that and I have free porn.

If sex does make the relationship, then how quickly do you have to hit it? Does the 3rd date rule still apply? Or in this day and age when it seems like the pool of eligible mates is fast drying up – do you have to test drive all that you can in hopes of a winner?

Here’s another thought – what happens when the intent was a relationship and the result was great sex but the problem is that you are no longer together. Is it okay to just keep the sex but lose the relationship? I have an acquaintance that a few years ago broke up with her BF via a text message no less. She lasted less then a week before she found herself texting him again asking if they could just keep the sex. Other then the obvious question this brings up, i.e., why are we texting him this kind of info, if the relationship didn’t make the sex and the sex didn’t make the relationship – then maybe sex is just an act.

However in my world, this is just a shade of gray that I have no interest in understanding. In case you haven’t figured it out - my answer is that the relationship makes the sex. It’s not about getting into bed quickly – just so you can rate the sexual chemistry…because your thought is why tolerate the relationship if the sex is bad. Chemistry isn’t always about instantaneous combustion – sometimes it is a work in progress. if the relationship is right – then there is no question that the sex will be great as well. In MY world we have,

Jack and Jill sitting in a tree,
T-A-L-K-I-N-G
1st comes getting to know each other
Then comes more getting to know each other more
Then comes the feel (and I don’t mean the cheap kind, if you don’t know what I mean then you may want a new relationship)

my metamorphosis…

serendipity (n) an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident, good fortune; luck

metamorphosis (n), a complete change of form, structure, or substance

…by the time it is all said and done – I will have made it a little over a year. Actually it will have been 13 months and 13 days to be exact. That equals out to about 408 days or 587,520 hours. I suppose that is a long time – but unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your outlook) it did not feel like a long time.

To be honest, I am not sure all that I did in those 408 days but I’m quite positive that I did plenty and I am happy I did the things that I did – even though for some reason I can’t remember all what I did other then be part of the unemployment statistic.

Fine I guess I could go out on a mental limb…I spent a quarter of that time or about 100+ days in India and I have some great and some not so great stories. For example,

• as a result of a car accident I ended up in a hospital where the dr. concluded that I did not have a concussion because I wasn’t paralyzed.
• i was essentially violated by two woman during an ayurvedic massage
• oh yes, there was the ‘fabulous’ 300km bike tour through Rajasthan, which by the way is a desert
• i was part of a state election campaign. This meant going door to door campaigning for the candidate (who was my aunt) by pretending I was her daughter. Apparently Indians are more inclined to vote for a candidate if they feel the candidate showed them some “personal” attention.
• i went to the pharmacy located in the hospital to buy medication….for the dog.
• i traveled by plane, train, automobiles, rickshaws, scooters, horse drawn buggies, bike, boat and the dreaded camel
• and the list does go on…

Anyhoo – I also traveled to Cuba, to San Francisco and few other places. I got leaner but not meaner. I got myself a mangetar. And I suppose I exorcised some demons, got some perspective and I did that wishy washy thing of finding myself.

All of that has now come to an end - I wasn’t even looking for a change but sometimes it is just serendipity…which means I now have a job.

Now, I can no longer go to the gym leisurely at 8am and spend hours there, I can’t watch back to back episodes of ER in the morning, or keep abreast of General Hospital or even find out what Dr. Oz had to say on Oprah. I can no longer visit Michaels (that would the Arts and Crafts store) every Friday afternoon (and I thank all of the people who continuously passed along their coupons my way) and more importantly – it is the end of ghetto lunches.

I have been my own boss for so long that my biggest supporter sleeps on my left side and my biggest critic snores peacefully on the right. I was pretty content with the situation but all good things must come to an end so I grabbed my pillow and prepared myself to jump into bed with someone else.

For those that remember – I had defined my “ ZOPA” last year, which resulted in me leaving my job. I had said that my previous employer had lost out on me and I had won because I was about to embark on this journey – that no job could equal. And I was right and I can’t help but be a little smug.

Just to keep life interesting, my new employer was once a client/competitor of my old employer. From the rumours that I have heard – that relationship ended on a sour note and there are still a few residual effects of that. As a side note, I was very honest with the people who had agreed to be my references in letting them know which company I intended to work for. However, I was naïve in thinking that all of my trusted people who had chosen to help me – would in fact help me. Unfortunately, someone did have a problem with the company I was associating with and chose not to support me. I just fail to understand is why. After all isn’t a reference - a character endorsement of ME and not a reflection of an industry rivalry that may continue for years? It never ceases to amaze me what you can learn about people.

In any case, I am now officially employed and not only was I hired by them but they created a position for me…CREATED. Whether they hired me for all of the secret information that I possess (wow I could just be like chuck bartowski) or because they feel I could actually be an asset to their mgmt team is irrelevant – the fact is my old employer lost out and this is why I can’t help but be a little smug.

So now I have to answer to someone else. I’ll have to deal with people I may not like since I can no longer just turn around and walk away (which is quite a fabulous thing to be able to do). I’ll have to pay taxes. I’ll have to do all of the things that I guess we have to do in life…but this time it’s on my terms...well more or less :)

The sad part is that one day of employment has quickly erased 13 months and 13 days of unemployment – overall I may be in a better place but I’m right back into the dreaded routine. But there is good news – I have located a Michaels nearby ….only 0.98miles away…get the coupons ready…

i am not the biggest loser….

fat (adj.) - having too much flabby tissue; corpulent; obese; plump; well-fed

rationale (noun) - the fundamental reason or reasons serving to account for something

…I wasn’t even close. I was about 12 lbs away from being the biggest loser. 12 lbs. That’s 12 sticks of butter - imagine that. No really imagine that -12 sticks of butter.

I have spent the last 8 weeks and over $300 being part of The Biggest Loser at my local gym. It’s similar to the T.V. show just without the big weight scale and the commercial breaks.

I have spent more hours in the gym then I care to admit, I have spent time logging every single morsel of food that goes into my mouth so I can keep track of my caloric intake. I have spent a lot of time running on the treadmill, the elliptical machine, the bike, the stair master, the arc trainer and the damned rowing machine, which gave me calluses beyond belief. And I have spent a lot of time being tired.

The last eight weeks have certainly been hard - a lot harder then downing that junior whopper burger with extra pickles, poutine and a coke.

I have always loved weight loss stories. I love watching them and I love reading them. I can sit and cheer-on these people who I have never met but am buoyed by their stories. Maybe I love them because I can relate to them – although I always think that if I am watching a successful weight loss story on TV – then there’s got to be more to it then meets the eye. There has got to be a conspiracy by the network and that’s why the person has lost weight – clearly the person could not have done it on their own.

I know there are people out there who can’t understand the concept of being FAT. I mean why don’t all of us FAT people just stop eating so much – why don’t we just put down the damn fork? And it should be that easy but instead over the years, we’ve made our real (or perhaps no so real) emotional and mental issues the rationale as to why we’re FAT (thanks Oprah).

It is not all Oprah’s fault, after all there is always an excuse for not trying to lose the weight. I am busy. I am tired. I have a headache, I have no time. I have to work. I have to look after my children. I have to eat that tub of ice cream because it is there. I have to do my laundry. Actually I have no clothes to wear to the gym so I can’t go. It’s never going to work so why bother. I’ve lost 2lbs in 4 weeks – why bother. I’ll start on Monday. I’ll start next week. I’ll start on the 1st of the month. I’ll start January 1st.

The point is, I did the hard work but even when I was doing the hard work I really didn’t think it was going to work - at least not without heroic measures. Remember I have a lifetime of learnt behaviour and 8 weeks wasn’t going to change that. It is probably the hardest work I’ve done in a long time and the reality is there is no other way. At the end of the day I’m 15.6lbs lighter, there’s 20cm less of me and I have a BMI of overweight instead of obese. Sadly enough, that still doesn’t make me a believer.

excuse me ma’am, have you seen my fertility?

antediluvian (adj.) - very old, old-fashioned, or out of date; antiquated; primitive

mental (adj.) - pertaining to intellectuals or intellectual activity

Have you ever noticed that most rights of passages can only be only attained after passing a test of sorts?

- We are graded right from junior kindergarten (yes, Tommy exhibits exceptional art skills with his finger painting) all the way to high school (unfortunately. we have had to suspend Tommy because graffiti is not part of this curriculum)
- Some of us are then tested for four years in University just so we can obtain another coveted (?) pretty piece of paper (I think mine is in the basement)
- We are now tested several times in order to drive on the highway (back in the day – there was only one test to pass…you either did or you didn’t)
- You even have to take a test and answer questions about Canadian history in order to become a Canadian citizen (albeit you can take this test in several languages (other then English and French) which is beyond me because I can’t remember the last time I had to vote and the ballot was in Punjabi unless perhaps you live in Brampton…but I won’t even get started on that)

Now don’t get me wrong, I do believe that these and all the other plethora of tests are needed but what I fail to understand and what gets me slightly enraged is wondering why there are no tests that women/parents have to go through before they can have a baby and just to be clear I am not talking about a medical test to ensure the safety of mom/baby.

I am talking about a series of tests that women should have to go through just like their adoptive counterparts. Individuals wanting to adopt a child have their lives (and bank accounts) turned upside down - yet no questions are asked of women who can conceive…a psychological evaluation, pay stubs, a SIN number, reference checks – something, anything other then – well I have an ovary or two therefore I am a good candidate or better yet – it is the next thing to check off on my “life’s to do” list.

I am speaking specifically about those people who can perhaps materially provide for their children but other then that they’ve got nothin’ to offer…nada, zero. Just because you are in a perfect union (or not) with an income that allows you to support a child DOES NOT mean you should have a child. Be honest – we all know someone who has a child and we always walk away wondering why…

This goes out to those parents who don’t understand that the problem is not their children - the problem is the parents themselves and their own behaviour. When little Mary is running around the coffee shop licking the pastry display cases – this would be time to perhaps get off your ass and try something new – like stopping her vs. shaking your head and hoping she will grow out of it while you continue with your coffee. Or maybe your “me” time will have to suffer because using the TV as a babysitter – just doesn’t work. Again I fail to understand that if you have one child and realize that there is something amiss (let’s suppose little Johnny has the propensity to kick and scream at you…everyday) then perhaps you should think before having child number 2 but instead you have child number 3 AND 4. It is just unacceptable. If you don’t think these are your children – check out Nanny 911 – you may be surprised what similarities you find.

I know I know – life is a bitch and there are those that are less fortunate then others and are unable to provide certain things for their children. But I am not talking about material items – I am talking about nurturing your children, which perhaps naively in my mind has nothing to do with your background, culture, economic status, social status and any other excuse you want to use – because that is what it is - an excuse.

While a child may be a product of their environment they are more so a reflection of their parents.

Just to state the obvious – yes, I do think that I am the perfect parent. Why am I the perfect parent? Because I don’t have any children. So yes, I may not know the dilemmas that parents go through to raise children, but I was once a child and I know what was acceptable and what wasn’t – and that was because of my parents. It wasn’t because of some TV program and it wasn’t because my parents thought ‘freedom of expression’ was a better mantra then discipline. We’re talking about 4 year olds not 40 year olds.

So I have an easy solution to this debacle - a woman’s fertility should be kept under lock and key until she passes some sort of test and once successfully passed – then and only can they take their eggs with them. Brilliant isn’t it? Yes I thought so too.

Think of it as a library – once you have passed the requisite tests and have your fertility approval card, you can locate your eggs via the dewy decimal system, proceed to the self checkout (which naturally has a fingerprint verification system) - swipe them through – and off you are to fabulous parent hood.

To all the feminists out there who are thinking this is an inventive antediluvian plot to jolt womankind back to the days where we didn’t have the right to vote – fear not because that is not the intent. Although as a side note – 42% of Canada’s population is made up females aged 15+, in the last Canadian election approximately 40% of the entire population voted – I wonder how many women voted? I don’t have the time or the mathematical inclination to sort that out – but what I do know is 100% of all eligible women did not vote but the more important question is why do we have to be 18 in order to vote yet I can be a baby mommy when I am 15. Deep breath.

Anyways, as I was saying - having a child is not your “right” - it is a privilege. Yes it is your body but if you don’t have the mental capacity to raise a child – then you shouldn’t. We do not have the right to take our own life in the name of medical necessity thereby denying ourselves the self respect we deserve at death – yet we can procreate at any time, age, place – whatever wherever. Think of how ridiculous that is - just imagine - you are terminally ill and withering away and the only thing “it’s my body and I can do what I want” will warrant you – is a baby.

So excuse me ma’am, have you seen my fertility because…

I cannot find it in my box,
I cannot find it among his rocks
I cannot find it here or there.
I cannot find them anywhere.
I do not see it in my house
I do not see it with my spouse
I cannot find it here or there
I cannot find it anywhere

…and that may not be such a bad thing.