A Joke for Friday

Q:  How much do pirates pay for earrings?



I saw something today that defies logic.  When I went downstairs for my morning bagel a woman was there getting an egg sandwich.  A very basic thing, an egg sandwich - two pieces of toast, butter, a fried egg.  Fair enough.  But this woman wanted more.  A slice of cheese?  No.  Ketchup even?  No.

Her condiment of choice, on her egg sandwich?  Strawberry jam.

%$^&% !!!!

What the &^%$ is that (*%$ing white &^%$ that was covering my &^%$ing car this morning?



Wow, two entries in one day.

You know what I hate?  People who use four-leaf-clovers as symbols associated with St. Patrick. It's Shamrocks, you morons.  And it's a significant difference.  The whole freakin' point of the Shamrock thing in the first place was the fact that it has THREE leaves.

Now I know that your box of Lucky Charms has four-leaf clovers in it.  Here's a newsflash - it's a fucking breakfast cereal, dumbass.

What I Learned

I learned that on Friday, when the nice man from whom I buy my newspaper gives me a candy with my change, if I say "Oh, those are my favourites!" then I get two candies.

A Joke for a Monday

What's large and grey and protects you when it's raining?



Ash Wednesday is March 1.

Last year I gave up Diet Coke for Lent.

This year I am giving up taxis.

This should be interesting.

My Fridge

Guess what I found laying on its side on the very top shelf of my fridge (where I can't see things without bending right over)...

Egg Nog.

Belated Wishes

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Mine was fantastic, I hope yours was too.

My audience here is small, so I can say this: I love you all. My new friends and my old friends.

And my very old friends.



Dear Kate,

You bought your computer for Doom3.  Nothing much more taxing will be out for years. 

Your current video card is still a bit on the over-powered side. As is your entire computer.  You do not need an upgrade.  You really don't need a $650.00 upgrade that has as much memory as most of your friend's computers.



A Survey

Well, I was tagged by Phil to do this little survey.  The thing with these surveys is that they're supposed to help people gt to know you.  Well, if I wanted people to get to know me, I'd be friendly and approachable.  Have any of you ever seen me be friendly and approachable?

Still - for Phil I'm prepared to make some stuff up and post it.

4 Jobs you have had in your life, In chronological order:

Digital Media Planner
Project Manager
Digital Marketing Manager
Communications Specialist
(that's a breathtaking list of meaningless titles)

4 Movies you could watch over and over:

Master and Commander
Blazing Saddles
Young Frankenstein
I can't think of any others.

4 Places you have lived:


4 TV Shows you love to watch:

My Names is Earl (Jason Lee is totally my boyfriend)
House, M.D.
That's it.

4 Places you have been on Vacation:

New York

4 Websites you visit daily:


4 of your favourite foods:

Fish and Chips
Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding
Chicken Tikka

4 Places you would rather be right now:

St. Petersburg
The cottage (in July, not January)
London (always)
New York

4 Bloggers you are tagging:

Meh. If you're looking for something to do, do this.

Ah Ha!

I found an extra "p" that we can use for "hampster".  It was hiding over here, in "raspberry", where it is quite clearly not needed.


I used to laugh at people who called it World of Warcrack. And to be honest, I thought myself somewhat immune. After-all, being more of a first-person-shooter girl, it's not my sort of game and I hate the fantasy genre in general.

But, I fell victim to a pusher. And now, well... let's just say that it's not pretty.

I still have a job and a social life, and I get my errands done. But all my extra minutes are filled. All of them. Every last one of them. Plus I stay up too late.

And today I'm envious of Americans. Because it's MLK Day and the pusher and his friends are showing their respect for the dream by killing the Horde. And I'm stuck at work like a schmuck.

Tannenbaum II

Dear Christmas Tree,

Kindly disassemble yourself and get the hell out of my living room.

Yours most sincerely, Infamy

Everything I Touch (Turns to Shit)

Today is “Back to Normal Day”.  The holidays are officially over.  My bad luck (touch wood) seems to be over too.  It might be safe for me to talk about it, finally.


New Year’s Resolution, 2006.

OK – I have a number of personal resolutions that aren’t for sharing (and aren’t interesting anyway).

I also have one big, important one.  One that will make my friends fall about the place laughing.  Well, it’s not funny!  And I’m going to try very very very very hard to be better. I won’t say that I’ll be good, I don’t have it in me to be good, but I do have it in me to be better, I know I do!


Steal This New Year's Resolution

Yay! It's Christmas morning. I've already played with everything that was in my stocking (which mysteriously filled up just before my mom left last night). And let's pause for a moment and raise a glass to the Santa who rounds out puzzle books, chocolates and socks with Chanel No. 5. Yay Santa! So here I sit, a bit of a mess, not yet showered but man, I smell great.


Steal This Christmas Idea

The Best Christmas Tradition Ever:

I’m posting this so that you can steal the idea and present it to your family as your own. Although I must confess, it’s not my idea, it was my mother’s.



Really Kate? It's barely been two weeks. Windshield-washer fluid = No! Scraper = Yes!

Everyone knows that the temperature has nothing to do with your rush to get settled in the car. Everyone knows that it's because it's the only place you're allowed to smoke anymore.

See? Smoking really is dangerous.

What Makes Home, Home?

Phil made a post here about being home for the holidays and Gump asked him a very cryptic question about where really felt like home. After a bit of editing, the question came out as: "Does your parents' home still feel like home, or does your own house feel like home?"

I think those of us who are truly lucky have many places that feel like home. I moved out of my Mom's house when I was 19 and never looked back. That was *cough* years ago and I've lived away from that house almost 3-times as long a I lived in that house. But it still feels like home. No more so than my own home does, but home never-the-less.

I have one other house that feels like home, and that's my Auntie Chrissy's house. Chrissy has moved twice since I moved to Toronto, but her current house feels as familiar to me as the house she lived in when I was in High School.

I think there are measures that you can use to determine the level of "hominess" of any place:

1. When you first arrive, do you knock and wait, or do you knock and go in?

2. Do you feel confined to certain parts of the house, or no?

3. Do you take your own shampoo, conditioner etc. or use what's there?

4. Could you take your laundry there?

5. Would they do it for you?

Any other measures?

Typepad Goes "Boom"

I had a whole article composed in my head about the Heroic Recovery and how valuable it is to building customer loyalty. Mostly because I haven't written anything serious in a long time. I had a couple of examples from my own experiences, and I was going to link to Phil's post about TypePad. It was all very brilliant.

The thing with the heroic recovery is, you have to actually recover. And TypePad messed-up that part.

TypePad users (Phil and Allan) may be interested in this interview with one of SixApart's VPs.

I'm going to re-think that article. Perhaps I'll replace it with "Copy That I Wish I'd Written" because I have a boat-load of those laying around, too.

First Post

This is my first post made directly to this blog at its new home. I'm going to try very hard not to break it. Or at least, I'm going to try very hard to live by Clove's advice, and make nice, current back-ups before I break it. Everything from the old blog is here - including all of your witty comments, so have no fear.

Things are a little rough around the edges here. Especially in the archives. I wouldn't subscribe to anything yet - let's go on record with that one! But the plug-in that I've been fighting with for weeks finally works - and I think that I should have everything under control shortly. I may even be able to get some cool stuff working, we'll see.

Welcome to the new home, and please wish me luck with it.


Dear Kate,

Dear Kate,

I am very disappointed in you. Primarily, I am disappointed because you have been a driver in this country for 18 years and we have this conversation every year. Eighteen times, I have begged you to resist temptation, and 18 times (at least), you have succumbed.


Do you think it will ever work out differently? Do you think that just once it will actually do less harm than good?

I know, I know: the temperature Saturday morning was above freezing. Barely. It doesn’t matter. It has never mattered. You must learn to just say no. I don’t care if you left your mittens indoors, go back and get them if your hands are cold.

I never want to have to tell you this again:

Do not try to dissolve the remaining ice on the windshield of your car by spraying it with windshield-washer fluid. Use the fucking scraper.

Some Rodents are More Equal Than Others

Inspired by Gump.

So - the rat post. Isn't it interesting, that fine line between cute rodents and scary rodents?


Laughed Until I Cried


Q: Why is the sand on the shore wet?




This post might actually end up being useful for someone, sometime.  Someone who thinks they don't have room for a nice big Christmas tree.



Gump and I were talking about age, and it got me thinking about my favourite story about age creeping up on me as I sat unaware.

Just over two years ago was my first Hallowe’en in my new place. Living upstairs from me were four of the nicest young men imaginable. Nice, but not spiritless; they were trouble in the way that young men are, but they were great neighbours and I miss them.

Hallowe’en 2003 fell on a Friday night and it was unseasonably warm.  I dutifully bought candy and put out a pumpkin. So did the boys.  I had beer and cigarettes, and they had beer and cigarettes. We sat on the porch and talked and laughed and drank and smoked and handed out candy and I had a great time.  They made me feel like I was in my early 20s – no great feat as I feel like that most days. 

Eventually, the rush of children turned into a trickle.  Then it dried up all together. At 10:00, the young men and I went our separate ways.  They went to party and I went to bed.  Their evening was just beginning, and mine was over.  Or so I thought.

“Unseasonably warm” on the last day of October in Toronto is not the same as “warm”.  It had been a bit chilly, and a bit damp and I had been sitting on the porch for four hours.

As I lay in bed, my hip started to ache. 

I tried to ignore it.

It got worse.

About half an hour after the young men would have arrived at their party and begun their true celebration of the season, I got out of bed and lowered myself into a hot bath.  I sat there until the water started to cool.  Then I went back to bed.

It’s a long road between feeling 23 and being 23. And that road is hard on your joints.

Told You

I just couldn't leave it alone.

Me and Web Stuff

Like the new look?

I have a love-hate relationship with web stuff. I can't leave it alone, and I can't touch it without breaking it. I get thinking about something, then I decide that I want it, and how hard can it be? I'm clever, I can figure it out, right? So I dive in without looking. Then I spend an afternoon crying because I've fucked everything up and I can't fix it.


Tuesday Night

Steve (showing game to Kate): What's this?

Kate: It's Hangman

(stunned pause)

Steve: I mean, what's the solution?

Kate: Oh... "Cardigan"

The Thief, The Johnson Brothers and a Lack of Goodwill

To the Person Currently Eating off of my Old China,

Every six months in my neighbourhood, Goodwill puts white plastic bags in everyone’s mailbox, asking us to fill them with items that we no longer use. On a specified day, trucks from Goodwill cruise our streets and pick-up the bags. I bet you cruise the streets on those days, too.


Hallowe'en Candy

That time of year is slowly fading;  The "I have to get rid of this left-over candy" panic season.

It hasn't completely passed though, my cab driver offered me some this morning.  He had a big container of it on the passenger seat of his car.  Call me crazy, I declined.


If you're walking that awkward distance behind someone - where you're too close to be ignored, but still pretty far away - and the person in front of you holds the door for you:  Speed it up a notch, shorty! Unlike many people - I will lose patience with your sense of entitlement, and I will let go of that door right at the moment where you have to quickly catch it to avoid being hit with it.  And even though all you can see is my back, you can be sure that I'm grinning.

Bush League, Backwater Town

I was in a bit of a mood Saturday night, but it really began Friday night and it began, as so many things do, with cab drivers.  But the cab drivers aren't the point.  The decline of civilization in this city is the point.


Today's odd thing

Why does the guy at the sandwich shop think that I might want mustard on my egg salad sandwich?

How long is 12 inches?

How long is 12 inches?

At an average of  1/2 an inch per month, 12 inches is 2 years.

(and a 12-inch braid is about 14 inches of hair)

But!  I have done a good deed, my ponytail plus 5 others will make a beautiful custom wig for a child.


Well, turns out that over-indulgent self-expression wasn't for me. Who saw that coming?

A question:

What's worse:
1. Not having updated my blog in over a year?
2. Not having finished the damned Nelson biography listed on the right in over a year?
3. A grown woman answering to the name "Infamy"?