1. Thou shalt not add friends unless they are, in fact, your friends.
2. Thou shalt not use a grossly outdated profile picture, regardless of how good you looked back then.
3. Thou shalt not abandon your e-mail account and use facebook exclusively.
4. Thou shalt not have more applications than friends
5. Thou shalt not embellish your profile with not-quite-accurate descriptions/stories/statistics. You're not fooling anyone.
6. Thou's profile picture shalt not display you in a bikini. Unless you are a professional underwear model or prostitute, of course.
7. Thou shalt not include your home address in your profile, dumb ass.
8. Thou shalt not post pictures that make your friends look awful. That's bad e-karma.
9. Thou shalt not be surprised if your employer discovers your profile — or that you've been updating it at work. Don't be stupid; they're not.
10. Thou shalt not post every unfocussed, self-shot pic you took of the same people during your latest alcohol-infused adventure. One or two is more than enough.
Thursday
Selling homes: image doesn't matter, apparently
Image matters in this day and age, whether we want to admit it or not.
Or so we've been told.
For most of us, our personal image is not all that crucial to our professional success, but for people like real estate agents — people who put their faces on signs in effort to attract business — you'd think they'd try a little harder than the rest of us schlubs. But no, they don't seem to.
As I casually trolled the local real estate market yesterday, I was astonished by the lack of professional-looking agents there were. So much for image being everything in this judgemental, materialistic society of ours.
If these people are still able to make a living while looking so foolish, I think the whole idea of self-presentation is a sham (and if that's the case, I'm changing back into my sweatpants, folks!)
Really, now. They can't be serious. I mean, would you buy a house from this guy?
.... he looks like a Latin dance instructor, soap opera villain, or professional hustler. Or maybe all three. He doesn't look like a respectable real estate agent.
And what about this woman?
... she's not even interested enough to make eye contact. Her portrait gives the impression that she's unmotivated and avoids confrontation; anything but outgoing. The lack of effort she's put into her hairstyle also doesn't help matters... aren't real estate agents supposed to exude professionalism, trust, and confidence? The poor woman is the opposite; she's more like the poster girl for a crisis help line.
Moving right along, there's this lady:
Is she a church lady, a school bus driver, or the chain smoking bingo-playing lady from down the street? I'm not sure, but either way, I would never buy a house from her. Or a low-cost condo, for that matter.
Lastly, we have this guy, who, despite his mismatched eyebrows, appears to be one of the more prominent agents in the area:
He seems to have photoshoped himself off of another other person who originally appeared next to him in the photo — a former partner? ex-wife? we'll never know — and it adds to the intrigue.
In the end, it (like image, apparently) doesn't matter. He's still smiling, despite whatever might lie in his salty past. And you know what? Good on 'em.
Now if you'll excuse me, my sweatpants are calling my name...
Or so we've been told.
For most of us, our personal image is not all that crucial to our professional success, but for people like real estate agents — people who put their faces on signs in effort to attract business — you'd think they'd try a little harder than the rest of us schlubs. But no, they don't seem to.
As I casually trolled the local real estate market yesterday, I was astonished by the lack of professional-looking agents there were. So much for image being everything in this judgemental, materialistic society of ours.
If these people are still able to make a living while looking so foolish, I think the whole idea of self-presentation is a sham (and if that's the case, I'm changing back into my sweatpants, folks!)
Really, now. They can't be serious. I mean, would you buy a house from this guy?
.... he looks like a Latin dance instructor, soap opera villain, or professional hustler. Or maybe all three. He doesn't look like a respectable real estate agent.
And what about this woman?
... she's not even interested enough to make eye contact. Her portrait gives the impression that she's unmotivated and avoids confrontation; anything but outgoing. The lack of effort she's put into her hairstyle also doesn't help matters... aren't real estate agents supposed to exude professionalism, trust, and confidence? The poor woman is the opposite; she's more like the poster girl for a crisis help line.
Moving right along, there's this lady:
Is she a church lady, a school bus driver, or the chain smoking bingo-playing lady from down the street? I'm not sure, but either way, I would never buy a house from her. Or a low-cost condo, for that matter.
Lastly, we have this guy, who, despite his mismatched eyebrows, appears to be one of the more prominent agents in the area:
He seems to have photoshoped himself off of another other person who originally appeared next to him in the photo — a former partner? ex-wife? we'll never know — and it adds to the intrigue.
In the end, it (like image, apparently) doesn't matter. He's still smiling, despite whatever might lie in his salty past. And you know what? Good on 'em.
Now if you'll excuse me, my sweatpants are calling my name...
Sunday
To those who deserve it, happy Mother's Day
It's Mother's Day, a day for us to honour the women who gave us life
and thank them for all they've done.
As much as I appreciate my mom, I won't be rushing out to buy her a
sappy card or a bouquet of overpriced flowers this Sunday. It's not
the commercialism of the holiday that deters me - I just don't think
cards or flowers do the woman justice.
And that $35 brunch won't cut it, either - if I took her to one of
those things, she'd probably lecture me about spending money
foolishly. (After all, she can make delicate eggs benedict, bake
scrumptious scones, and whip up waffles like nobody's business - and
hers taste better than the restaurant's, of course.)
For me, Mother's Day is a special day to look back and acknowledge
all that my mom has done for me - and what I put her through as a
teenager, as well. The exercise reminds me why mothers get a day to
themselves: they really deserve it.
Older and slightly wiser, I can now look back and see what a pain in
the ass I was as a child. It gives me a renewed sense of respect for
mothers like mine who do their jobs so well.
To be a true parent is a terribly unpopular job. Befriending
teenaged offspring and being "the cool mom" is a much easier and
tempting option - but my mom never took the bait.
And in the end, I'm glad I had that I the mom I did instead of
someone like Stiffler's famous party-hardy mom. (But just for the
record, mom, all of my guy friends used to tell me how "hot" you were
- some of them still do - so I guess you must share some attributes
with the renowned M.I.L.F.)
So mom, this Mother's Day, I want to say thank you. Again. In case
you forgot since the last time I told you, I am sincerely grateful for
all you've done for me over the years.
Not that I've always been particularly appreciative.
I still remember how mad I was when you refused to extend my curfew
past 12:30 a.m. I was always the first one to leave the party, but in
retrospect, you did the right thing. Sure, the early cut-off had me
resenting you for the majority of my high school years, but you were
right: not much good ever happens after midnight.
And thanks for taking the time to follow-up with my friends' parents
to make sure my alibis always checked out, too. Granted, they usually
did - but only because I knew you'd find out if I fibbed. It kept me
fuming, but honest.
When I acted like an irresponsible child, you somehow managed to
treat me like an adult. You were usually far more rational than I was,
though at the time I was convinced of the opposite.
Being my mother was anything but easy. I was a grumpy, self-absorbed
and rude teenager. Anyone who lived under the same roof as my
adolescent self deserves a medal - but you rarely let my unpredictable
mood swings stop you from anything. Through it all, you demonstrated
the truth that is behind the philosophy, "a mother's love is
unconditional." Though I don't know how you did it, you never lost
faith in me. Thanks, ma.
I used to think you just didn't get me, but now I realize you always
got me, totally and completely. That's why I couldn't stand you - 90%
of the time, you knew what I was thinking and were able to stop my
trouble-making before I had a chance to get started. You busted me for
things I didn't even do, which I still find incredibly impressive. Way
to nip those problems in the bud.
You were never afraid to be the bad guy, to put your foot down, or to
teach me a hard lesson. Having such a strong mother was terribly
frustrating at times, but it also was exactly what I needed. I think
the world could use more moms like you.
Despite all of our blow-outs, my mother is now one of my closest
friends. She is an incredible source of support that is always there
for me. My mom's my rock, and always has been. It just took me a while
to realize it.
Thanks for everything, mom. Happy Mother's Day.
and thank them for all they've done.
As much as I appreciate my mom, I won't be rushing out to buy her a
sappy card or a bouquet of overpriced flowers this Sunday. It's not
the commercialism of the holiday that deters me - I just don't think
cards or flowers do the woman justice.
And that $35 brunch won't cut it, either - if I took her to one of
those things, she'd probably lecture me about spending money
foolishly. (After all, she can make delicate eggs benedict, bake
scrumptious scones, and whip up waffles like nobody's business - and
hers taste better than the restaurant's, of course.)
For me, Mother's Day is a special day to look back and acknowledge
all that my mom has done for me - and what I put her through as a
teenager, as well. The exercise reminds me why mothers get a day to
themselves: they really deserve it.
Older and slightly wiser, I can now look back and see what a pain in
the ass I was as a child. It gives me a renewed sense of respect for
mothers like mine who do their jobs so well.
To be a true parent is a terribly unpopular job. Befriending
teenaged offspring and being "the cool mom" is a much easier and
tempting option - but my mom never took the bait.
And in the end, I'm glad I had that I the mom I did instead of
someone like Stiffler's famous party-hardy mom. (But just for the
record, mom, all of my guy friends used to tell me how "hot" you were
- some of them still do - so I guess you must share some attributes
with the renowned M.I.L.F.)
So mom, this Mother's Day, I want to say thank you. Again. In case
you forgot since the last time I told you, I am sincerely grateful for
all you've done for me over the years.
Not that I've always been particularly appreciative.
I still remember how mad I was when you refused to extend my curfew
past 12:30 a.m. I was always the first one to leave the party, but in
retrospect, you did the right thing. Sure, the early cut-off had me
resenting you for the majority of my high school years, but you were
right: not much good ever happens after midnight.
And thanks for taking the time to follow-up with my friends' parents
to make sure my alibis always checked out, too. Granted, they usually
did - but only because I knew you'd find out if I fibbed. It kept me
fuming, but honest.
When I acted like an irresponsible child, you somehow managed to
treat me like an adult. You were usually far more rational than I was,
though at the time I was convinced of the opposite.
Being my mother was anything but easy. I was a grumpy, self-absorbed
and rude teenager. Anyone who lived under the same roof as my
adolescent self deserves a medal - but you rarely let my unpredictable
mood swings stop you from anything. Through it all, you demonstrated
the truth that is behind the philosophy, "a mother's love is
unconditional." Though I don't know how you did it, you never lost
faith in me. Thanks, ma.
I used to think you just didn't get me, but now I realize you always
got me, totally and completely. That's why I couldn't stand you - 90%
of the time, you knew what I was thinking and were able to stop my
trouble-making before I had a chance to get started. You busted me for
things I didn't even do, which I still find incredibly impressive. Way
to nip those problems in the bud.
You were never afraid to be the bad guy, to put your foot down, or to
teach me a hard lesson. Having such a strong mother was terribly
frustrating at times, but it also was exactly what I needed. I think
the world could use more moms like you.
Despite all of our blow-outs, my mother is now one of my closest
friends. She is an incredible source of support that is always there
for me. My mom's my rock, and always has been. It just took me a while
to realize it.
Thanks for everything, mom. Happy Mother's Day.
Saturday
Man, I wish I could get fired like these guys...
There's not much to encourage high-ranking managers and CEOs to work hard these days. Really, it's enough to make me want to give up journalism and become a failed executive...
The Man gets paid very well for his work. And when a big dog gets the boot or just chooses to abandon his post, the will still cash-in.
Some examples: Hydro One paid its outgoing CEO $3-million; the former boss of OC Transpo, Alain Carle, received about $130,000 after being fired after just six months on the job; when Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation chief executive, Duncan Brown, stepped-down in March, he pocketed nearly three-quarters of a million dollars on his way out the door. And the list goes on.
My question: will someone pay me $720,000 to get lost? How 'bout if I volunteer to disappear?
(It's tough to be hard on Greg Geddes, who worked for the city for 23 years and was fired last month during a shake-up at city hall. The job he had for the past three years was deemed no longer needed, so he was given to golden heave-ho to the tune of $270,000. But still... )
The Man gets paid very well for his work. And when a big dog gets the boot or just chooses to abandon his post, the will still cash-in.
Some examples: Hydro One paid its outgoing CEO $3-million; the former boss of OC Transpo, Alain Carle, received about $130,000 after being fired after just six months on the job; when Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation chief executive, Duncan Brown, stepped-down in March, he pocketed nearly three-quarters of a million dollars on his way out the door. And the list goes on.
My question: will someone pay me $720,000 to get lost? How 'bout if I volunteer to disappear?
(It's tough to be hard on Greg Geddes, who worked for the city for 23 years and was fired last month during a shake-up at city hall. The job he had for the past three years was deemed no longer needed, so he was given to golden heave-ho to the tune of $270,000. But still... )
Clash of the tree-hugging titans
The environment is a mess, we all know that. (Some are still in denial, sure, but deep down they've got to have an ounce of smarts somewhere.)
Yet today's question is not who is right or who is wrong. It is not which party has the best environmental record, or whose carbon footprint is bigger than whose.
What I want to know is this:
Who would win the battle for environmental supremacy, if it was fought in a WWE freestyle match: John Baird or Al Gore?
I can see it now:
"Ladies and Gentlemen! In this corner, wearing the blue shorts, standing 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 190 pounds, all the way from the wilds of Nepean, John "the hammer" Baird! ... And in the other corner, also wearing blue shorts, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighing in at 205 pounds, the man who conveniently brought us the inconvenient truth, Al Gore!"
"Now... Let's get it on!" *DING DING!*
Naturally, David Suzuki (wearing green shorts woven from all-natural fibres, standing 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighing in at 145 pounds) would take on the winner of the first match. My prediction: if he takes on Baird, he'd pull out some crazy judo moves and surprise us all (make sure to put down a few dollars on that match-up; I'm sure the odds would pay handsomely). But if Gore won round 1, he and Suzuki wouldn't settle their battle royale in the ring. They'd be more likely to decide the winner through a tree hug-off...
A brief background:
Just days after John Baird announced the Tories' plan to cut greenhouse gas emissions, former U.S. vice-president Al Gore dismissed it as "a complete and total fraud." Environment Minister Baird countered, saying, " It is difficult to accept criticism from someone who preaches about climate change, but who never submitted the Kyoto Protocol to a vote in the United States Senate, who never did as much as Canada is now doing to fight climate change during eight years in office..."
Mr. Baird seemed to forget his government has done sweet F-A to help the environment, despite being more than a year into its 4-year term — and that it was his party's nemesis, now-Liberal leader Stéphane Dion (who was the Liberal 's Minister of Environment at the time) who pushed to commit Canada to Kyoto. Mr. Baird also failed to recall how the day before, he called for the nation to pull-out of the agreement and not look back. (such minor details, yes, I know... how silly of me to dwell on them — sorry, folks.)
Environmentalist and former Nature of Things host David Suzuki also pooh-poohed Mr. Baird's "plan" — which, in case you're wondering, is a watered down environmental strategy that would see Canada abandon its Kyoto Accord commitments. It calls for air pollution to be cut in half by 2015, and for greenhouse gases to be reduced to levels five per cent above 1990 levels over the next 13 years. Yawn. Or should I say, wheeze and hack...
Somehow, PM Harper managed to keep a straight face while defending his party's, as he put it, "tough" new plan.
Yet today's question is not who is right or who is wrong. It is not which party has the best environmental record, or whose carbon footprint is bigger than whose.
What I want to know is this:
Who would win the battle for environmental supremacy, if it was fought in a WWE freestyle match: John Baird or Al Gore?
I can see it now:
"Ladies and Gentlemen! In this corner, wearing the blue shorts, standing 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 190 pounds, all the way from the wilds of Nepean, John "the hammer" Baird! ... And in the other corner, also wearing blue shorts, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighing in at 205 pounds, the man who conveniently brought us the inconvenient truth, Al Gore!"
"Now... Let's get it on!" *DING DING!*
Naturally, David Suzuki (wearing green shorts woven from all-natural fibres, standing 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighing in at 145 pounds) would take on the winner of the first match. My prediction: if he takes on Baird, he'd pull out some crazy judo moves and surprise us all (make sure to put down a few dollars on that match-up; I'm sure the odds would pay handsomely). But if Gore won round 1, he and Suzuki wouldn't settle their battle royale in the ring. They'd be more likely to decide the winner through a tree hug-off...
A brief background:
Just days after John Baird announced the Tories' plan to cut greenhouse gas emissions, former U.S. vice-president Al Gore dismissed it as "a complete and total fraud." Environment Minister Baird countered, saying, " It is difficult to accept criticism from someone who preaches about climate change, but who never submitted the Kyoto Protocol to a vote in the United States Senate, who never did as much as Canada is now doing to fight climate change during eight years in office..."
Mr. Baird seemed to forget his government has done sweet F-A to help the environment, despite being more than a year into its 4-year term — and that it was his party's nemesis, now-Liberal leader Stéphane Dion (who was the Liberal 's Minister of Environment at the time) who pushed to commit Canada to Kyoto. Mr. Baird also failed to recall how the day before, he called for the nation to pull-out of the agreement and not look back. (such minor details, yes, I know... how silly of me to dwell on them — sorry, folks.)
Environmentalist and former Nature of Things host David Suzuki also pooh-poohed Mr. Baird's "plan" — which, in case you're wondering, is a watered down environmental strategy that would see Canada abandon its Kyoto Accord commitments. It calls for air pollution to be cut in half by 2015, and for greenhouse gases to be reduced to levels five per cent above 1990 levels over the next 13 years. Yawn. Or should I say, wheeze and hack...
Somehow, PM Harper managed to keep a straight face while defending his party's, as he put it, "tough" new plan.
Wednesday
THIS is why you won't see me wearing a baby Bjorn for another decade or two:
Canadians aren’t having enough babies, according to Stats Canada. We need to rely on an eager immigration program to keep our numbers up.
Not all Canadians are abstaining from child-raising — statistics indicate lower income families (and the poorest single women) are in fact reproducing at a more than sufficient pace. But when it comes to the people the government and economists say should be encouraged to have kids — educated, financially stable and working Canadians — the figures show a decline.
If this trend continues, we’ll have more poor and fewer wealthy to support them. This, my friends, is not a good forecast. Something needs to change — but that something is a complex issue, and not one I imagine will budge unless serious and drastic steps are taken.
There was a good and thought-provoking editorial in the Ottawa Citizen a few months back that dealt with the issue of Canadian birth rates. The more productive, prosperous Canadians aren’t reproducing nearly enough, the columnist explained, while the poorest Canadians are increasing in numbers like nobody’s business. How they (or social services) will support these children is another issue — one the column didn’t really address. (and that very worthwhile and controversial rant is one for another day.)
This afternoon, I want to focus on the former issue, that of the career-minded, professional Canadian women and her lack of baby making.
This issue is a hot-button issue, and no matter how hard one might try, it’s impossible to discuss it effectively without crossing the politically correct line a time or two. But as a 20-something female of this great country, I am hereby authorizing myself to cross it.
See, I am one of those educated and increasingly financially-stable, working Canadian women who *should* be getting ready to have a baby in a few years. But sorry, Mom, it ain’t gonna happen. For several reasons. And for once, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in my thinking.
First, there’s money. It costs money to buy diapers, feed extra mouths, and finance all the other stuff parents need to finance. In this materialistic and costly world we live in, it isn’t easy for people in their 20s to comfortably state “yes, I have enough money to finance a life.” Personally, I feel the need to buy a house and make some payments before taking that step. And then there’s the issue of work: will my employer finance maternity leave? I’m on a contract, so no way. And while my partner is full time and working on a federal government project, he doesn’t get any real benefits to speak of. If we were to become pregnant, we’d be in trouble.
Second reason babies are not the best idea that has crossed my mind in recent days is the simple fact that motherhood can sabotage an otherwise promising career. As a fairly recent grad, I am still at the bottom of the corporate totem pole. I have a ways left to climb, and if I were to suddenly find myself up the duff, I’d likely find myself back at square one in 9 months time.
In many industries, child bearing can nullify years spent climbing the corporate ladder. If you’re in a high-power role, you can’t just disappear for a year or two to pop jr. out — your company will notice you’re gone. Temporary replacement? Sure — but that costs the company both time and money. Suddenly the decision to hire a female sales VP doesn’t look like such a great idea. Female employees become more expensive, and less desirable.
A friend of mine has a toddler and admits she will have a second sometime soon — but that soon is going to have to wait. Why? Her employer just spent $7000 to train her, and she feels obligated to complete the term she’s committed to (two years) before announcing her need for time off to become a mummy a second time.
And you know what? I don’t think she made the wrong decision. In the grand scheme of things, it is the responsible choice: if she were to “accidentally” find herself pregnant a year into her two-year contract, how pleased would her employer be? And more importantly, how likely would they be to give the position to a women a second time? Like it or not, the reality would be the memory of “said-she-would-but-ditched-half-way-through” would be fresh in the minds of whoever was hiring for the position during round two.
Women have a responsibility to one another to not exploit our gender. In the same way we don’t call in sick every month citing “cramps,” we have to hold our own. My friend knows this. Add to it that she works in a male-dominated industry, and the pressure to succeed and prove herself (and her fellow female colleagues) as worthy and very-worthwhile employees becomes even more present.
Should she have to choose between work and her family? Of course not. But as she told me herself, “It isn’t fair, but we don’t live in a fair world.” She has accepted the situation for what it is, and has acted accordingly.
Will her fertility hold out? Who knows. Hopefully. But that magic number— 35 — will be in the rear view mirror after the two-year term is complete. Despite the popular proclamation that “35 is the new 25,” fertility doesn’t listen to societal trends. But it’s a risk my friend is willing to take — but the possibility of fertility or other problems must linger somewhere in the back of her mind.
This woman is a shining example of balance, having been able to, along with her husband, successfully negotiate the scale between work and raising a family. But others aren’t so lucky.
Some women have made the decision not to have children. And that’s totally fine — there are fewer more personal decisions one can make (and respect). But why all of a sudden do we not want kids?
The simplified answer is we’re selfish: we want to live a social life, the ability to travel to exotic locales, and to not have to commit to much. Freedom is big right now — financial freedom, personal freedom, whatever. But beyond these lifestyle choices, women are also putting work before family, figuring kids simply are not a desirable option — and if that option is exercised, life (and work) will become significantly more difficult.
I asked the columnist who wrote the Citizen editorial about birthrates what he thought about the issue, and he told me an interesting story. He said when he went to his university reunion, of all his graduating class — which enjoyed a 50/50 male/female split — only 2 or 3 of the women had started a family. The other women just didn’t want children, he said.
That made me think.
Did they not want kids, or did they just know they couldn’t; that it would be self-inflicted professional sabotage, so they subconsciously removed kids from the list of possibilities?
I don’t know for sure, and there’s no real way to know. I’m not a psychologist, sociologist, or any sort of statistical magician. But the fact that a lot of smart women are choosing not to have kids is not a coincidence —and unless we figure out a way to encourage working moms to be just that (without causing massive economic slowdowns or industry backlash) the trend will continue.
Not all Canadians are abstaining from child-raising — statistics indicate lower income families (and the poorest single women) are in fact reproducing at a more than sufficient pace. But when it comes to the people the government and economists say should be encouraged to have kids — educated, financially stable and working Canadians — the figures show a decline.
If this trend continues, we’ll have more poor and fewer wealthy to support them. This, my friends, is not a good forecast. Something needs to change — but that something is a complex issue, and not one I imagine will budge unless serious and drastic steps are taken.
There was a good and thought-provoking editorial in the Ottawa Citizen a few months back that dealt with the issue of Canadian birth rates. The more productive, prosperous Canadians aren’t reproducing nearly enough, the columnist explained, while the poorest Canadians are increasing in numbers like nobody’s business. How they (or social services) will support these children is another issue — one the column didn’t really address. (and that very worthwhile and controversial rant is one for another day.)
This afternoon, I want to focus on the former issue, that of the career-minded, professional Canadian women and her lack of baby making.
This issue is a hot-button issue, and no matter how hard one might try, it’s impossible to discuss it effectively without crossing the politically correct line a time or two. But as a 20-something female of this great country, I am hereby authorizing myself to cross it.
See, I am one of those educated and increasingly financially-stable, working Canadian women who *should* be getting ready to have a baby in a few years. But sorry, Mom, it ain’t gonna happen. For several reasons. And for once, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in my thinking.
First, there’s money. It costs money to buy diapers, feed extra mouths, and finance all the other stuff parents need to finance. In this materialistic and costly world we live in, it isn’t easy for people in their 20s to comfortably state “yes, I have enough money to finance a life.” Personally, I feel the need to buy a house and make some payments before taking that step. And then there’s the issue of work: will my employer finance maternity leave? I’m on a contract, so no way. And while my partner is full time and working on a federal government project, he doesn’t get any real benefits to speak of. If we were to become pregnant, we’d be in trouble.
Second reason babies are not the best idea that has crossed my mind in recent days is the simple fact that motherhood can sabotage an otherwise promising career. As a fairly recent grad, I am still at the bottom of the corporate totem pole. I have a ways left to climb, and if I were to suddenly find myself up the duff, I’d likely find myself back at square one in 9 months time.
In many industries, child bearing can nullify years spent climbing the corporate ladder. If you’re in a high-power role, you can’t just disappear for a year or two to pop jr. out — your company will notice you’re gone. Temporary replacement? Sure — but that costs the company both time and money. Suddenly the decision to hire a female sales VP doesn’t look like such a great idea. Female employees become more expensive, and less desirable.
A friend of mine has a toddler and admits she will have a second sometime soon — but that soon is going to have to wait. Why? Her employer just spent $7000 to train her, and she feels obligated to complete the term she’s committed to (two years) before announcing her need for time off to become a mummy a second time.
And you know what? I don’t think she made the wrong decision. In the grand scheme of things, it is the responsible choice: if she were to “accidentally” find herself pregnant a year into her two-year contract, how pleased would her employer be? And more importantly, how likely would they be to give the position to a women a second time? Like it or not, the reality would be the memory of “said-she-would-but-ditched-half-way-through” would be fresh in the minds of whoever was hiring for the position during round two.
Women have a responsibility to one another to not exploit our gender. In the same way we don’t call in sick every month citing “cramps,” we have to hold our own. My friend knows this. Add to it that she works in a male-dominated industry, and the pressure to succeed and prove herself (and her fellow female colleagues) as worthy and very-worthwhile employees becomes even more present.
Should she have to choose between work and her family? Of course not. But as she told me herself, “It isn’t fair, but we don’t live in a fair world.” She has accepted the situation for what it is, and has acted accordingly.
Will her fertility hold out? Who knows. Hopefully. But that magic number— 35 — will be in the rear view mirror after the two-year term is complete. Despite the popular proclamation that “35 is the new 25,” fertility doesn’t listen to societal trends. But it’s a risk my friend is willing to take — but the possibility of fertility or other problems must linger somewhere in the back of her mind.
This woman is a shining example of balance, having been able to, along with her husband, successfully negotiate the scale between work and raising a family. But others aren’t so lucky.
Some women have made the decision not to have children. And that’s totally fine — there are fewer more personal decisions one can make (and respect). But why all of a sudden do we not want kids?
The simplified answer is we’re selfish: we want to live a social life, the ability to travel to exotic locales, and to not have to commit to much. Freedom is big right now — financial freedom, personal freedom, whatever. But beyond these lifestyle choices, women are also putting work before family, figuring kids simply are not a desirable option — and if that option is exercised, life (and work) will become significantly more difficult.
I asked the columnist who wrote the Citizen editorial about birthrates what he thought about the issue, and he told me an interesting story. He said when he went to his university reunion, of all his graduating class — which enjoyed a 50/50 male/female split — only 2 or 3 of the women had started a family. The other women just didn’t want children, he said.
That made me think.
Did they not want kids, or did they just know they couldn’t; that it would be self-inflicted professional sabotage, so they subconsciously removed kids from the list of possibilities?
I don’t know for sure, and there’s no real way to know. I’m not a psychologist, sociologist, or any sort of statistical magician. But the fact that a lot of smart women are choosing not to have kids is not a coincidence —and unless we figure out a way to encourage working moms to be just that (without causing massive economic slowdowns or industry backlash) the trend will continue.
Monday
Not coming down for a while, apparently...
So lesson #76 for the year 2007: nearly two months after giving up tea and still living the coffee-free life means that one cannot drink the better part of a 2L cola and expect to go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Work in the morning does not matter, nor do the things you planned on doing before heading to the office.
Instead, you will find yourself rediscovering former co-workers you forgot you once had on facebook at 2 a.m.
Not that I'd know or anything...
Work in the morning does not matter, nor do the things you planned on doing before heading to the office.
Instead, you will find yourself rediscovering former co-workers you forgot you once had on facebook at 2 a.m.
Not that I'd know or anything...
Sunday
Raw food = Slow food
I admit, I love to cook. I am kind of obsessed with food and yes, I’ve been called a restaurant snob. I try to eat well, but I admit, I’m not always that exciting. I tend to eat the same things again and again, day in and day out. The work lunch is very predictable: homemade soup, carrots, an apple, and some crackers or yogurt. 4 days out of 5, it’s the same soup. But there’s a reason: it’s tasty.
Keeping this in mind, I’ve recently been taking steps to change. I’ve gone though my cookbooks and made a collection of recipes I want to try. And yes, I’ve tried a lot of them already. Some have flopped and others were great and will be revisited. New cookbooks are currently en route from India, too (I wanted some good, authentic Indian recipes; none of this North Americanized, watered down curry BS). Another thing I’ve been doing: trying the recipes from the paper’s food section.
One of these sections a few weeks back was on a new movement called Raw Food. Raw foodies are extreme vegans. Now, granted vegans are pretty extreme on their own, but these raw food vegans take the extremism to a whole new level. Vegans don’t eat any meat or fish, and won’t touch anything that comes from an animal in it: no milk or eggs or cheese, and nothing with any animal byproducts in it. The next level, the raw level, is no cooking.
Cooking destroys many of the vitamins and nutrients in food, this is a fact. It’s no secret that microwaving essentially obliterates the goodness of veggies and ther foods, but cooking — on a stove or in an oven — also weakens the nutritional punch of foods.
So raw foodies don’t cook anything. That’s why it’s called raw, genius.
The raw food movement here in Ottawa is being led by a woman whose name escapes me right now, but it doesn’t matter. She runs simplyraw.ca and gives cooking (um, vegetable slicing, pureeing, and chopping?) classes/detox workshops as well.
Those who prescribe to the raw food regime dehydrate some things, including their pancakes, which take 8 hours to make (nothing like getting up at 3 a.m. to start breakfast). But even when dehydrating isn’t necessary, raw food can take a long time.
A lot of the recipes I use (the ones that require traditional cooking) take a while. And I’m patient, since I love cooking and know the time is well-invested. But the raw meal I made tonight was just silly.
I made “living lasagna.” I used my fancy new mandoline slicer to trim zucchini into lasagna noodle-thin noodles (you can’t use regular noodles in raw food: they’ve been processed, and require, um, cooking) and made my tomato sauce from scratch using my hand blender to puree everything.
Since raw foodies are vegan and therefore don’t eat cheese, I followed the instructions to make a ricotta substitute out of cashews and pine nuts. The nuts had to soak for 2-4 hours before being pureed along with salt, some oil, and lemon juice into a ricotta-like paste.
I also chopped mushrooms and peppers, and minced leaves of fresh spinach and basil into a beautiful and fragrant mélange.
The reason I tried this recipe was three fold: I wanted to try something new, I like vegetables and healthy eating, and the regime came highly recommended from both a cousin of mine who took a raw food workshop a few months ago and the paper’s food critic.
I started soaking the nuts at 2 p.m. The sundried tomatoes started their bath at four. And at six, I started getting ready to put it all together. To be fair, let’s say I started at 6:30. Two hours of chopping, mincing, slicing, and pureeing later, I had my lasagna. I couldn’t believe it took that long to put the damn thing together — and I made a half recipe! That’s just crazy. I’d hate to think how long it’d take if I had to cook it, too.
I guess this fast paced life of mine has made me impatient. I like to have my meals quick. 30 minutes? Perfect. And hour? Hmm, ok, if I didn’t have to work late. But two hours for a cold meal? Come on.
I didn’t bother eating it. I put it in the fridge to sit and marinate and hopefully become tasty overnight. I wanted a hot dinner, so I boiled some veggie dogs, which were just fine. Not “bright” tasting (as the previously mentioned food critic sang as he praised the raw food) but they hit the spot.
I’ll let you know if the living lasagna turned out to be a disaster. But I doubt it will. I’ve already tried the “rawsome apple crumble” (which was so-so, but I didn’t use dates, as it suggested, and I think that’s why) and am totally sold on the marinated kale salad (massaged with salt and lemon juice to make it wilt and become easy to eat), which is great with diced yellow peppers, cherry tomatoes, and its dressing of avocado, celery, soy sauce and lemon juice).
I honestly wish I had more time to dedicate to nutrition. There is so much to research and explore… so many recipes waiting to be discoveres, so many tastes just waiting to be experienced. I think I could easily become obese in a very short time if I didn’t have a day job to distract me from this part-time obsession of mine.
Mind you, if all recipes took as long as the living lasagna, I’d be dead before I got through all of them. But then again, maybe not. Healthy eating (and moderate, not over-eating) leads to longevity, they say. Perhaps those crazy raw vegans are onto something.
Keeping this in mind, I’ve recently been taking steps to change. I’ve gone though my cookbooks and made a collection of recipes I want to try. And yes, I’ve tried a lot of them already. Some have flopped and others were great and will be revisited. New cookbooks are currently en route from India, too (I wanted some good, authentic Indian recipes; none of this North Americanized, watered down curry BS). Another thing I’ve been doing: trying the recipes from the paper’s food section.
One of these sections a few weeks back was on a new movement called Raw Food. Raw foodies are extreme vegans. Now, granted vegans are pretty extreme on their own, but these raw food vegans take the extremism to a whole new level. Vegans don’t eat any meat or fish, and won’t touch anything that comes from an animal in it: no milk or eggs or cheese, and nothing with any animal byproducts in it. The next level, the raw level, is no cooking.
Cooking destroys many of the vitamins and nutrients in food, this is a fact. It’s no secret that microwaving essentially obliterates the goodness of veggies and ther foods, but cooking — on a stove or in an oven — also weakens the nutritional punch of foods.
So raw foodies don’t cook anything. That’s why it’s called raw, genius.
The raw food movement here in Ottawa is being led by a woman whose name escapes me right now, but it doesn’t matter. She runs simplyraw.ca and gives cooking (um, vegetable slicing, pureeing, and chopping?) classes/detox workshops as well.
Those who prescribe to the raw food regime dehydrate some things, including their pancakes, which take 8 hours to make (nothing like getting up at 3 a.m. to start breakfast). But even when dehydrating isn’t necessary, raw food can take a long time.
A lot of the recipes I use (the ones that require traditional cooking) take a while. And I’m patient, since I love cooking and know the time is well-invested. But the raw meal I made tonight was just silly.
I made “living lasagna.” I used my fancy new mandoline slicer to trim zucchini into lasagna noodle-thin noodles (you can’t use regular noodles in raw food: they’ve been processed, and require, um, cooking) and made my tomato sauce from scratch using my hand blender to puree everything.
Since raw foodies are vegan and therefore don’t eat cheese, I followed the instructions to make a ricotta substitute out of cashews and pine nuts. The nuts had to soak for 2-4 hours before being pureed along with salt, some oil, and lemon juice into a ricotta-like paste.
I also chopped mushrooms and peppers, and minced leaves of fresh spinach and basil into a beautiful and fragrant mélange.
The reason I tried this recipe was three fold: I wanted to try something new, I like vegetables and healthy eating, and the regime came highly recommended from both a cousin of mine who took a raw food workshop a few months ago and the paper’s food critic.
I started soaking the nuts at 2 p.m. The sundried tomatoes started their bath at four. And at six, I started getting ready to put it all together. To be fair, let’s say I started at 6:30. Two hours of chopping, mincing, slicing, and pureeing later, I had my lasagna. I couldn’t believe it took that long to put the damn thing together — and I made a half recipe! That’s just crazy. I’d hate to think how long it’d take if I had to cook it, too.
I guess this fast paced life of mine has made me impatient. I like to have my meals quick. 30 minutes? Perfect. And hour? Hmm, ok, if I didn’t have to work late. But two hours for a cold meal? Come on.
I didn’t bother eating it. I put it in the fridge to sit and marinate and hopefully become tasty overnight. I wanted a hot dinner, so I boiled some veggie dogs, which were just fine. Not “bright” tasting (as the previously mentioned food critic sang as he praised the raw food) but they hit the spot.
I’ll let you know if the living lasagna turned out to be a disaster. But I doubt it will. I’ve already tried the “rawsome apple crumble” (which was so-so, but I didn’t use dates, as it suggested, and I think that’s why) and am totally sold on the marinated kale salad (massaged with salt and lemon juice to make it wilt and become easy to eat), which is great with diced yellow peppers, cherry tomatoes, and its dressing of avocado, celery, soy sauce and lemon juice).
I honestly wish I had more time to dedicate to nutrition. There is so much to research and explore… so many recipes waiting to be discoveres, so many tastes just waiting to be experienced. I think I could easily become obese in a very short time if I didn’t have a day job to distract me from this part-time obsession of mine.
Mind you, if all recipes took as long as the living lasagna, I’d be dead before I got through all of them. But then again, maybe not. Healthy eating (and moderate, not over-eating) leads to longevity, they say. Perhaps those crazy raw vegans are onto something.
What the country really needs: A Canadian Correspondents’ Dinner
Ah, the annual correspondents’ dinner. How I would love to one day attend. Each year we hear the awkward details and try to imagine what it must have been like. The president cracks jokes at his own expense and rubs shoulders with some of his fiercest critics: the media. But they share a meal and at the end of the evening, everyone is left with a warm fuzzy feeling inside (ok, several cocktails help being on this feeling… but who cares how we get there, as long as we get there).
So why doesn’t Canada have one of these babies? I think we could really use an event like the correspondents’ dinner in Ottawa. I think the city — nation, even — would be a better place for it.
Now I know this will never happen, as long as Stephen Harper is at 24 Sussex. After all, he and his administration has shut more doors to reporters than any other PM’s office that any reporter on the hill can remember.
Still, I think it would do wonders for his public image. Right now the PM is more like an angry dad than a confident leader of a democratic country. He’s grouchy and yells all the time, and when someone asks a tough question (dad, can I have $20 to go to the movies?) he disappears. (go ask your mother? Who’s that? Equally PMS-y John Baird? Or is mum the far more feminine but still confusing and rife with mixed messages Stéphane Dion?).
How would Stephen act in a correspondents’ dinner-like setting? It would be interesting. He’s got a great team of speech writers so I’m sure they could work out an agreeable routine. This year President Bush cracked a good one about the dinner from the year before, when his approval rating was at 30% and his vice president had just shot someone. Those we the good old days, he quipped.
Harper wouldn’t be able to do that, because if he would acknowledge that he’s been in office for over a year, he’d have to stop referring to his team as “Canada’s new government” (scroll down to see my previous rant on the overuse of that phrase) and might realize that after more than a year’s time in office, he really can’t keep blaming the Liberals for everything.
Still, I think a Canadian correspondents’ dinner would be a good move for Harper. And if he doesn’t surprise me and start throwing a good party, maybe the next administration will. Sadly, I’m not going to hold my breath or bet on it. I think our country’s political leaders are so paranoid and stale, it just won’t happen. Unless the country goes to hell and Belinda Stronach somehow winds up PM. Lord knows she loves the spotlight, and sure can throw a party.
So why doesn’t Canada have one of these babies? I think we could really use an event like the correspondents’ dinner in Ottawa. I think the city — nation, even — would be a better place for it.
Now I know this will never happen, as long as Stephen Harper is at 24 Sussex. After all, he and his administration has shut more doors to reporters than any other PM’s office that any reporter on the hill can remember.
Still, I think it would do wonders for his public image. Right now the PM is more like an angry dad than a confident leader of a democratic country. He’s grouchy and yells all the time, and when someone asks a tough question (dad, can I have $20 to go to the movies?) he disappears. (go ask your mother? Who’s that? Equally PMS-y John Baird? Or is mum the far more feminine but still confusing and rife with mixed messages Stéphane Dion?).
How would Stephen act in a correspondents’ dinner-like setting? It would be interesting. He’s got a great team of speech writers so I’m sure they could work out an agreeable routine. This year President Bush cracked a good one about the dinner from the year before, when his approval rating was at 30% and his vice president had just shot someone. Those we the good old days, he quipped.
Harper wouldn’t be able to do that, because if he would acknowledge that he’s been in office for over a year, he’d have to stop referring to his team as “Canada’s new government” (scroll down to see my previous rant on the overuse of that phrase) and might realize that after more than a year’s time in office, he really can’t keep blaming the Liberals for everything.
Still, I think a Canadian correspondents’ dinner would be a good move for Harper. And if he doesn’t surprise me and start throwing a good party, maybe the next administration will. Sadly, I’m not going to hold my breath or bet on it. I think our country’s political leaders are so paranoid and stale, it just won’t happen. Unless the country goes to hell and Belinda Stronach somehow winds up PM. Lord knows she loves the spotlight, and sure can throw a party.
Honk if you`re...
If you’re female, you know the scenario. You’re walking down the sidewalk and a vehicle drives by and honks. What the hell, you wonder. Was it a friend of mine? Was it some desperate guy who liked what he saw? Or was the driver so paranoid that they thought they’d honk, just to make sure I didn’t leap off the sidewalk and onto the roadway as they passed? Do I look suicidal?
I just don’t get it. If you know me, stop and say hi, or call me later.
And if you’re one of those lonely guys, get a life. And by get a life, I don’t mean honk at random women. Trust me, you won’t meet your soul mate during a 65 Kmph drive-by.
I am genuinely confused. What are these men thinking? Girls will excitedly catapult their phone numbers into the flatbed of their pick-up truck as it zooms off? Flash them as they drive off into the distance? Get real.
And don’t worry, grandpa, I’m not a jumper. But if you’re really and truly concerned, slow down a little.
My first experience with this phenomenon was back in my teens. Remember, I grew up in a small town so when people drove by and honked, you knew them, so it wasn’t the same.
Oh, the joys of big city living. Or just visiting. At first I thought it was a genuine compliment from a shy admirer. But no, I was wrong. Then I went to Calgary, home of the lonliest and easiest to please men on the planet, apparently. I swear to gawd, every third truck honks in that town. It got real old real fast.
I have a girlfriend who really enjoys the attention. She yells at the drivers as they speed off, and I kind of want to jump into the bushes and hide when she does. No wonder they never turn back; if anything, I think any driver notices her reaction would be smart to gun it.
Perhaps a honker will read this and be able to shed some light on this subject for me. Apparently, it is just too bizarre a concept for me to understand.
I just don’t get it. If you know me, stop and say hi, or call me later.
And if you’re one of those lonely guys, get a life. And by get a life, I don’t mean honk at random women. Trust me, you won’t meet your soul mate during a 65 Kmph drive-by.
I am genuinely confused. What are these men thinking? Girls will excitedly catapult their phone numbers into the flatbed of their pick-up truck as it zooms off? Flash them as they drive off into the distance? Get real.
And don’t worry, grandpa, I’m not a jumper. But if you’re really and truly concerned, slow down a little.
My first experience with this phenomenon was back in my teens. Remember, I grew up in a small town so when people drove by and honked, you knew them, so it wasn’t the same.
Oh, the joys of big city living. Or just visiting. At first I thought it was a genuine compliment from a shy admirer. But no, I was wrong. Then I went to Calgary, home of the lonliest and easiest to please men on the planet, apparently. I swear to gawd, every third truck honks in that town. It got real old real fast.
I have a girlfriend who really enjoys the attention. She yells at the drivers as they speed off, and I kind of want to jump into the bushes and hide when she does. No wonder they never turn back; if anything, I think any driver notices her reaction would be smart to gun it.
Perhaps a honker will read this and be able to shed some light on this subject for me. Apparently, it is just too bizarre a concept for me to understand.
The Olsen Twins face their monster
Mary Kate and Ashley Olson are finally willing to address a problem that has been plaguing them for years. Instead of letting this issue fester and continue to haunt them, they’re finally agreed to face the music and admit what we’ve all known for a long time. After it’s all said in done, the twins will at last be able to look at themselves in a mirror and not feel guilt or shame.
The girls are getting nose jobs.
Instead of looking within to face the real monsters that face them (eating disorders, chain cigarette smoking, for example, which, if not stopped, will cause their already fragile health to deteriorate) the former child stars are going under the knife.
At age 20, the pint sized pair are hardly past the “child star” status.
I’ve honestly never looked at a picture of either Mary Kate or Ashley and thought their noses were funny looking. I’ve never noticed them, actually. Instead, I usually think “man, she really could use a sandwich” or shake my head and grown, “Great role model for their pre-teen fans...” after noticing the cigarette between a pair of bony fingers.
The whole thing is just so sick and wrong, and really speaks to the pitiful state of our society. I could go on, but I won’t.
The girls are getting nose jobs.
Instead of looking within to face the real monsters that face them (eating disorders, chain cigarette smoking, for example, which, if not stopped, will cause their already fragile health to deteriorate) the former child stars are going under the knife.
At age 20, the pint sized pair are hardly past the “child star” status.
I’ve honestly never looked at a picture of either Mary Kate or Ashley and thought their noses were funny looking. I’ve never noticed them, actually. Instead, I usually think “man, she really could use a sandwich” or shake my head and grown, “Great role model for their pre-teen fans...” after noticing the cigarette between a pair of bony fingers.
The whole thing is just so sick and wrong, and really speaks to the pitiful state of our society. I could go on, but I won’t.
Wednesday
Canada’s “new” government: Still new after 387 days... and counting.
Moral of the story: Never buy a car from a Tory.
If I bought a "new" car from Stephen Harper, it might have 38,700 kilometres on the odometer — not too new, if you ask me. It probably wouldn’t be all that fuel-efficient, either, but that’s besides the point (Kyoto is “socialist scheme,” remember?) and it’d probably smell like cheeseburgers.
But I digress... Since we live in a wired world (and this is appearing on a blog) I visited dictionary.com to see what the experts say ”new” really is. “Of recent origin, production, purchase, etc.; having but lately come or been brought into being: a new book,” reads the first definition.
Perhaps dictionary.com’s fourth definition (“unfamiliar or strange,”) or sixth one (“unaccustomed“) is more appropriate for the Conservatives.
I think Mr. Harper is choosing the 11th (and second-last) interpretation of the word when it comes to his government’s newness: “being the later or latest of two or more things of the same kind: the New Testament; a new edition of Shakespeare.” In this light, we could have this same new government for the rest of time, if no other party is elected.
God help us.
I also find it ironic that this definition seems to be exclusive to the great and prolific, the Bible and Shakespeare. Have the Conservatives achieved holy status? Was Othello a Tory?
It’s clear that Stephen Harper’s interpretation of “new” is not in line with the majority of Canadians. I know, I know, I, too, am shocked.
Here’s another thought: following the PM’s trusty model, my brother could sell his text books from last year as “new,” instead of “used.” This is great news! Or does it get even better? Does it mean he can return the textbooks to the college bookstore where he bought them at the beginning of the semester? I’m sure he still has the receipts, so there shouldn’t be a problem! After all, they’re still new, not used! Just ask the PM!
Do you remember the good old days, when Clinton was president and the only definition being debated was “sex?” Oh, those were the days. It opened up a lively international dialogue, spicing up dinner conversations (and bedrooms?) coast to coast. But those days are long gone, my friends.
And here we are, it’s February 2007, and we’re enduring our 55th week of newness.
Let me say it here and say it now: I am tired of my new government, no matter how old they really are.
If something is new after 387 days, that means....
- A new baby could be walking. And talking.
- You could hear he following during an episode of the Price is Right: “... A NEW CAR! This 2006 Ford Focus comes complete with 38,700 kilometres on the odometer, over a year’s worth of wear and tear, and one flat tire! Its oil needs a change and the fluids should be topped up, but you’ll be right at home behind the wheel of this broken in beauty, if the price is right... “
- you can return your new spring wardrobe in July, cash in your tank tops in September, and enjoy a winter coat for a few months before getting a full refund.
- the Liberals are still to blame for everything, apparently.
If I bought a "new" car from Stephen Harper, it might have 38,700 kilometres on the odometer — not too new, if you ask me. It probably wouldn’t be all that fuel-efficient, either, but that’s besides the point (Kyoto is “socialist scheme,” remember?) and it’d probably smell like cheeseburgers.
But I digress... Since we live in a wired world (and this is appearing on a blog) I visited dictionary.com to see what the experts say ”new” really is. “Of recent origin, production, purchase, etc.; having but lately come or been brought into being: a new book,” reads the first definition.
Perhaps dictionary.com’s fourth definition (“unfamiliar or strange,”) or sixth one (“unaccustomed“) is more appropriate for the Conservatives.
I think Mr. Harper is choosing the 11th (and second-last) interpretation of the word when it comes to his government’s newness: “being the later or latest of two or more things of the same kind: the New Testament; a new edition of Shakespeare.” In this light, we could have this same new government for the rest of time, if no other party is elected.
God help us.
I also find it ironic that this definition seems to be exclusive to the great and prolific, the Bible and Shakespeare. Have the Conservatives achieved holy status? Was Othello a Tory?
It’s clear that Stephen Harper’s interpretation of “new” is not in line with the majority of Canadians. I know, I know, I, too, am shocked.
Here’s another thought: following the PM’s trusty model, my brother could sell his text books from last year as “new,” instead of “used.” This is great news! Or does it get even better? Does it mean he can return the textbooks to the college bookstore where he bought them at the beginning of the semester? I’m sure he still has the receipts, so there shouldn’t be a problem! After all, they’re still new, not used! Just ask the PM!
Do you remember the good old days, when Clinton was president and the only definition being debated was “sex?” Oh, those were the days. It opened up a lively international dialogue, spicing up dinner conversations (and bedrooms?) coast to coast. But those days are long gone, my friends.
And here we are, it’s February 2007, and we’re enduring our 55th week of newness.
Let me say it here and say it now: I am tired of my new government, no matter how old they really are.
If something is new after 387 days, that means....
- A new baby could be walking. And talking.
- You could hear he following during an episode of the Price is Right: “... A NEW CAR! This 2006 Ford Focus comes complete with 38,700 kilometres on the odometer, over a year’s worth of wear and tear, and one flat tire! Its oil needs a change and the fluids should be topped up, but you’ll be right at home behind the wheel of this broken in beauty, if the price is right... “
- you can return your new spring wardrobe in July, cash in your tank tops in September, and enjoy a winter coat for a few months before getting a full refund.
- the Liberals are still to blame for everything, apparently.
Sunday
Recycling 101: Make it user-friendly. Dammit.
Tomorrow my fair city gets a new wine bottle recycling program. Hip hip hurray, we’re all going to be greener: we’ll be enviro-friendly AND richer for it, too. When we return our wine bottles to the Beer Store locations, they’ll give us $.50 per bottle in cold hard cash.
But wait a second, you say. WINE bottles to the BEER Store? Isn’t that a contradiction?
You bet it is. And only a province like Ontario can do such a thing with a straight face.
Now I’m all for recycling. I’m anxiously awaiting urban brown boxes (compost/organic waste collection) and I recycle everything that I can (and will carry plastic bottles for hours in order to find an appropriate receptacle instead of sending yet another product to the landfill). But this new wine bottle recovery system is seriously flawed. And dare I say, stupid.
First, the obvious: Why would I, a self-confessed wino, take my bottles to the beer store? I hate that place, and it is totally out of my way.
The green-aspect of the program is totally lost, unless you walk there (carrying a box of wine bottles… um yeah right) or take the bus (you’d look like an alcoholic, but in your own defense, you’ll fit right in on the mid-morning rides).
The extra gas a person would burn in their own car while making the special trip to the Beer Store will cancel out any carbon emission saving the recycling effort could possibly represent. In fact, I think my carbon footprint will grow if I participate in this program.
So here’s my simple, lazy-yet-practical solution: I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for years. Keep your lousy 50 cents, Ontario; my bottles are going into my blue box, and if someone wants to rifle through it as it awaits pick-up, it’s fair game. My laziness is their gain. Or something.
If the province was serious about getting more people to recycle their wine bottles, they’d get the stores that actually sell wine, the LCBOs, to collect the darn things. And they’d offer a better incentive, too. A measly 50 cents per bottle really is pocket change. While running into the Beer Store, you could reasonably plunk that much into the meter in order to avoid a parking ticket (yeah, most Beer Stores have parking lots, but that’s beside the point. And the lot at the Bank Street location is almost always full whenever I go… well, the two times I’ve been).
A case of beer is worth a few bucks in refunds; why is a wine bottle any different? If they put a $1 enviro levy on wine bottles, THEN you’d see the returns. But at .50, all we’ll see is frustrated wine drinkers and even more blue box rummaging than we already do.
It is a well-intended program, but it needs a realistic, worthwhile incentive in order to be effective. Bottles should go back to where they came from, and the penalties for non-compliance need to be higher. The return depots should be moved to LCBO locations, and each bottle should carry a minimum $1 levy. And while we’re revamping the program, let’s include all liquor bottles, too, while we’re at it.
I’m serious about recycling, but it’s hard to be dedicated when the province takes such a scatterbrained and impractical approach.
I think Ontario has followed the Feds with this latest enviro policy: all talk and very little action – and what action we do see is ridiculously limited, user-prohibitive, and ass-backwards. Yes, this is just one of many great initiatives brought to you by the overpaid bureaucrats at Queen's Park. Roll your eyes, throw up your arms, and enjoy.
But wait a second, you say. WINE bottles to the BEER Store? Isn’t that a contradiction?
You bet it is. And only a province like Ontario can do such a thing with a straight face.
Now I’m all for recycling. I’m anxiously awaiting urban brown boxes (compost/organic waste collection) and I recycle everything that I can (and will carry plastic bottles for hours in order to find an appropriate receptacle instead of sending yet another product to the landfill). But this new wine bottle recovery system is seriously flawed. And dare I say, stupid.
First, the obvious: Why would I, a self-confessed wino, take my bottles to the beer store? I hate that place, and it is totally out of my way.
The green-aspect of the program is totally lost, unless you walk there (carrying a box of wine bottles… um yeah right) or take the bus (you’d look like an alcoholic, but in your own defense, you’ll fit right in on the mid-morning rides).
The extra gas a person would burn in their own car while making the special trip to the Beer Store will cancel out any carbon emission saving the recycling effort could possibly represent. In fact, I think my carbon footprint will grow if I participate in this program.
So here’s my simple, lazy-yet-practical solution: I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for years. Keep your lousy 50 cents, Ontario; my bottles are going into my blue box, and if someone wants to rifle through it as it awaits pick-up, it’s fair game. My laziness is their gain. Or something.
If the province was serious about getting more people to recycle their wine bottles, they’d get the stores that actually sell wine, the LCBOs, to collect the darn things. And they’d offer a better incentive, too. A measly 50 cents per bottle really is pocket change. While running into the Beer Store, you could reasonably plunk that much into the meter in order to avoid a parking ticket (yeah, most Beer Stores have parking lots, but that’s beside the point. And the lot at the Bank Street location is almost always full whenever I go… well, the two times I’ve been).
A case of beer is worth a few bucks in refunds; why is a wine bottle any different? If they put a $1 enviro levy on wine bottles, THEN you’d see the returns. But at .50, all we’ll see is frustrated wine drinkers and even more blue box rummaging than we already do.
It is a well-intended program, but it needs a realistic, worthwhile incentive in order to be effective. Bottles should go back to where they came from, and the penalties for non-compliance need to be higher. The return depots should be moved to LCBO locations, and each bottle should carry a minimum $1 levy. And while we’re revamping the program, let’s include all liquor bottles, too, while we’re at it.
I’m serious about recycling, but it’s hard to be dedicated when the province takes such a scatterbrained and impractical approach.
I think Ontario has followed the Feds with this latest enviro policy: all talk and very little action – and what action we do see is ridiculously limited, user-prohibitive, and ass-backwards. Yes, this is just one of many great initiatives brought to you by the overpaid bureaucrats at Queen's Park. Roll your eyes, throw up your arms, and enjoy.
Fighting ATM Fees
All this talk about ATMs and fees has me shaking my head.
There was Jack Layton, standing on a frigid Toronto street corner last week, condemning the nation's banks for charging customers for using their ATMs.
Layton was damning the banks for charging customers who didn't have accounts with them – the competition's clientele – for using their ATMs. During his demonstration, he was using his Scotiabank Interac card to get funds out of a CIBC ATM.
Now, I'm no fan of the big banks. And I hate being ripped off. But even frugal old me can see why banks charge "outsiders" to use their ATMs.
If you take more than two minutes to think about it, it's obvious. It is in the banks’ best interest to make sure their customers are the ones who use their services. When a financial institution installs an ATM, it costs money – and every month they spend more to maintain that machine and rent the space it occupies.
Banks do not go through the trouble an expense of operating an ATM in order to serve the competition's customers. They do it for the convenience of their own clients (who finance the ATM by paying monthly banking fees, taking out loans, etc.).
This is big business, people. I have no idea how much it cost CIBC to grease their way into 7-11 stores (and a lot of gas stations, too!) but I know this much: it wasn't cheap. But it was all in the name of marketing.
Banks scatter ATMs throughout the urban areas in effort to get Canadians to bank with them. If there were 20 Caisse ATMs compared to 3 RBC ATMs in my neighbourhood, I would likely want to bank with Caisse. Why? Because as an active consumer, I know that if I'm a RBC customer and I keep on having to go to Caisse ATMs, those “convenience fees,” or 'non-resident service charges' as I prefer to call them, would soon add up.
When selecting a bank – and to a lesser extent, an ATM – we as consumers should take the time to weigh the options.
Many banks charge customers $20 or $25 a month just to have an account with them. Some charge nothing. And that's why it's important to shop around.
The bank I use doesn't charge me anything to have an account with them – and I have three accounts. I also get free cheques, unlimited use of their affiliated ATMs and can make as many debit card purchases as I want.
But in exchange, I do not get a lot of the premium services offered by other financial institutions.
I didn't read my service agreement thoroughly, and once deposited a U.S. cheque for a few thousand dollars into my account. As a result, I had the deposit, along with the equivalent amount that had already been in my account (ie: twice the deposited amount) frozen for 60 days. It was terrible, but I brought it on myself. Since my account had essentially been frozen, I borrowed money from a friend to pay my bills and learned my lesson.
If banks were forced into providing free ATM services to all customers, mark my words, we'd see a decrease in the number of bank machines.
And when the big banks move out, you know who'd move in? Those annoying privately owned and operated cash machines that charge everyone anywhere between $1.25 and up per transaction. You’ve surely seen them in bars and restaurants, or a shopping centre. The financial industry calls them “white label” machines, and apparently they already make up about three quarters of all ATMs in Canada, (bank-owned ATMs constitute 31 per cent of the
I don't think there's anything wrong with banks charging other banks' clientele to use their ATMs.
Instead of targeting these fees, we should be looking at banks who charge their customers to use their debit or Interac cards to make purchases.
When you pay by debit, the funds are transferred directly from your account to the store's account. If you don't have the cash, the machine says so and your transaction is declined. There's no credit involved; a debit transaction is essentially a cash transaction.
That's why it's silly for some banks to charge their customers for using their debit cards to make purchases. (Though is mildly effective at encouraging us to spend less or not make that impulse buy).
Depending on what sort of account you hold with what bank, all of your debit transactions might be free, or you might have a certain number of free transactions allowed per month, then be subject to a set fee for every transaction above that limit. Or, you might have to pay each and every time you use the card.
And that, my friends, is crap.
But is it up to Mr. Layton or Jim Flaherty to enforce? Perhaps... but before that, the onus is on us, the lazy public, to do our homework, and literally put our money where our mouths are.
If your bank charges you ridiculous fees, or doesn't have convenient ATM locations, take your business elsewhere.
There was Jack Layton, standing on a frigid Toronto street corner last week, condemning the nation's banks for charging customers for using their ATMs.
Layton was damning the banks for charging customers who didn't have accounts with them – the competition's clientele – for using their ATMs. During his demonstration, he was using his Scotiabank Interac card to get funds out of a CIBC ATM.
Now, I'm no fan of the big banks. And I hate being ripped off. But even frugal old me can see why banks charge "outsiders" to use their ATMs.
If you take more than two minutes to think about it, it's obvious. It is in the banks’ best interest to make sure their customers are the ones who use their services. When a financial institution installs an ATM, it costs money – and every month they spend more to maintain that machine and rent the space it occupies.
Banks do not go through the trouble an expense of operating an ATM in order to serve the competition's customers. They do it for the convenience of their own clients (who finance the ATM by paying monthly banking fees, taking out loans, etc.).
This is big business, people. I have no idea how much it cost CIBC to grease their way into 7-11 stores (and a lot of gas stations, too!) but I know this much: it wasn't cheap. But it was all in the name of marketing.
Banks scatter ATMs throughout the urban areas in effort to get Canadians to bank with them. If there were 20 Caisse ATMs compared to 3 RBC ATMs in my neighbourhood, I would likely want to bank with Caisse. Why? Because as an active consumer, I know that if I'm a RBC customer and I keep on having to go to Caisse ATMs, those “convenience fees,” or 'non-resident service charges' as I prefer to call them, would soon add up.
When selecting a bank – and to a lesser extent, an ATM – we as consumers should take the time to weigh the options.
Many banks charge customers $20 or $25 a month just to have an account with them. Some charge nothing. And that's why it's important to shop around.
The bank I use doesn't charge me anything to have an account with them – and I have three accounts. I also get free cheques, unlimited use of their affiliated ATMs and can make as many debit card purchases as I want.
But in exchange, I do not get a lot of the premium services offered by other financial institutions.
I didn't read my service agreement thoroughly, and once deposited a U.S. cheque for a few thousand dollars into my account. As a result, I had the deposit, along with the equivalent amount that had already been in my account (ie: twice the deposited amount) frozen for 60 days. It was terrible, but I brought it on myself. Since my account had essentially been frozen, I borrowed money from a friend to pay my bills and learned my lesson.
If banks were forced into providing free ATM services to all customers, mark my words, we'd see a decrease in the number of bank machines.
And when the big banks move out, you know who'd move in? Those annoying privately owned and operated cash machines that charge everyone anywhere between $1.25 and up per transaction. You’ve surely seen them in bars and restaurants, or a shopping centre. The financial industry calls them “white label” machines, and apparently they already make up about three quarters of all ATMs in Canada, (bank-owned ATMs constitute 31 per cent of the
I don't think there's anything wrong with banks charging other banks' clientele to use their ATMs.
Instead of targeting these fees, we should be looking at banks who charge their customers to use their debit or Interac cards to make purchases.
When you pay by debit, the funds are transferred directly from your account to the store's account. If you don't have the cash, the machine says so and your transaction is declined. There's no credit involved; a debit transaction is essentially a cash transaction.
That's why it's silly for some banks to charge their customers for using their debit cards to make purchases. (Though is mildly effective at encouraging us to spend less or not make that impulse buy).
Depending on what sort of account you hold with what bank, all of your debit transactions might be free, or you might have a certain number of free transactions allowed per month, then be subject to a set fee for every transaction above that limit. Or, you might have to pay each and every time you use the card.
And that, my friends, is crap.
But is it up to Mr. Layton or Jim Flaherty to enforce? Perhaps... but before that, the onus is on us, the lazy public, to do our homework, and literally put our money where our mouths are.
If your bank charges you ridiculous fees, or doesn't have convenient ATM locations, take your business elsewhere.
Thursday
Gone, but not forgotten
Our good friend Donny Rummy may have left the U.S. administration, but his linguistic legacy lives on, thanks to the BBC.
Here's a link to their audio library of quotations Donald has graced us with over the years.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/news/bh/rumsfeld.shtml
I can't help but see the parallels between his verbal mess concerning "knowns" and Chretien's explanation of "the proof" (how could we ever forget that?!):
Rummy: "As we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns - the ones we don't know we don't know."
(this quote won the "Foot in Mouth" award from the British Plain English Campaign in 2003)
JC: "No, a proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It's a proof. A proof is a proof, and when you have a good proof, it's because it's proven."
Here's a link to their audio library of quotations Donald has graced us with over the years.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/news/bh/rumsfeld.shtml
I can't help but see the parallels between his verbal mess concerning "knowns" and Chretien's explanation of "the proof" (how could we ever forget that?!):
Rummy: "As we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns - the ones we don't know we don't know."
(this quote won the "Foot in Mouth" award from the British Plain English Campaign in 2003)
JC: "No, a proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It's a proof. A proof is a proof, and when you have a good proof, it's because it's proven."
Saturday
A word on the current Best Buy television ad campaign:
(originally posted Dec. 12, 2006)
Yes, the ads are really annoying - that goes without saying. But just in case you men out there haven't clued in to the fact that advertising doesn't always tell the truth, listen up. This just might save your relationship
One of Best Buy's holiday commercials shows a husband shopping for his wife. He asks the male sales rep for suggestions, and they go from big, to bigger, to biggest tv. The last one, the rep assures the man, would prompt the man's wife to repeatedly exclaim "I love you," do a happy dance, and give her husband a big bear hug.
Gents, do not be fooled. Instead of the good books, I can pretty much guarantee buying your wife a big screen tv will secure your gullible self a place in the dog house.
Unless you're far more financially secure than the rest of us, chances are you don't have $5000+ floating around your bank account, patiently waiting to be spent on something.
Let's face the facts: when you live together, your money is "our" money. So that $5000 tv you just bought her was really the kitchen renovation she was hoping for. Or vacation to the tropics.
And we lassies aren't stupid; she'll know the tv isn't for her. Remember that episode of the Simpsons when Homer buys Marge a bowling ball, complete with "Homer" engraved in it? Yeah, that's what you'd be doing here. (Another thing worth remembering: the bowling ball prompted Marge to take bowling lessons, and she nearly had an affair with her bowling instructor...).
The bottom line: If you give your wife a gigantic tv for Christmas, you might as well pick up some divorce papers, too. You just might need 'em.
Yes, the ads are really annoying - that goes without saying. But just in case you men out there haven't clued in to the fact that advertising doesn't always tell the truth, listen up. This just might save your relationship
One of Best Buy's holiday commercials shows a husband shopping for his wife. He asks the male sales rep for suggestions, and they go from big, to bigger, to biggest tv. The last one, the rep assures the man, would prompt the man's wife to repeatedly exclaim "I love you," do a happy dance, and give her husband a big bear hug.
Gents, do not be fooled. Instead of the good books, I can pretty much guarantee buying your wife a big screen tv will secure your gullible self a place in the dog house.
Unless you're far more financially secure than the rest of us, chances are you don't have $5000+ floating around your bank account, patiently waiting to be spent on something.
Let's face the facts: when you live together, your money is "our" money. So that $5000 tv you just bought her was really the kitchen renovation she was hoping for. Or vacation to the tropics.
And we lassies aren't stupid; she'll know the tv isn't for her. Remember that episode of the Simpsons when Homer buys Marge a bowling ball, complete with "Homer" engraved in it? Yeah, that's what you'd be doing here. (Another thing worth remembering: the bowling ball prompted Marge to take bowling lessons, and she nearly had an affair with her bowling instructor...).
The bottom line: If you give your wife a gigantic tv for Christmas, you might as well pick up some divorce papers, too. You just might need 'em.
Political conventions are funny things…
(originally posted Dec 6, 2006)
The Liberal leadership race took place this past weekend in Montreal. Now, as a self-confessed political junkie, I can’t help but comment on the shenanigans.
First off, it all sounded like a lot of fun. I wish I could’ve been there – not as a card-carrying, ballot-voting Liberal, but just as a fly on the wall. Why? Well, the Liberals, it seems, know how to party. At least at their convention, where all the ingredients for a scandal-ridden, cocktail-driven few days of insanity were present: long hours with little sleep= irrational decisions; skipping meals but sipping drinks= lowered inhibitions; “I’m Liberal” thongs and red “liberal” condoms a plenty; and, of course, Belinda Stronach. It was a potentially toxic combination.
+ 
+ 
= trouble!
(I tried to find a pic of the famed Liberal thong, but failed. Sorry, folks).
I wish I was there to see it all, but I wasn’t. But maybe if I was there, I’d understand how it all happened. Ok, Iggy was on top, Rae was #2 and Kennedy and Dion were virtually tied for 3rd place. But how did thousands of apparently educated, politically savvy people end up choosing Dion? Quebecers don’t like him, and he can hardly speak English. I’d like to see him go door to door in Alberta. Rick Mercer should accompany him; now THAT would be award-winning comedy (well, at least good enough for a Gemeni)
I feel bad for Dion, really. He looks like a rodent and political cartoonists have been portraying him as such for years already. Sadly, nobody likes a rat. He’s got some great ideas, especially about the environment – if he can deliver them is a different story altogether, but I digress – but I would’ve liked to see Kennedy win. Canada having a PM named Kennedy would do a lot for American relations (Plus, he’s from the West, is relatively popular in Quebec, and would’ve been the most voter-friendly across the board). I’m glad Ignatieff (aka Ignoramus) didn’t win. He’s too inexperienced and isn’t ready. And Rae, man, where to start? The guy won’t even say if he’ll stick around since he didn‘t win the party leadership. What kind of “leader” is that, if he wants to be #1 or nothing at all? Come on.
I’m comforted knowing Kennedy, or GK as some call him, will play a large role in Dion’s government – regardless of whether it is a minority or majority government. And I think considering all options, Dion isn’t too bad. He was my #2 choice, when I think about it, and it could’ve been worse.
But did anyone listen to the speeches on Friday night? I did, but I’m not sure if the commentators on CBC radio were. I only tuned in as Dion was getting cut off my the music at the end, so I’m not sure what, exactly, he had said. But I head GK, Rae, and Iggy speak, and the former blew the latter two out of the water. I think it was obvious Rae’s speechwriter stayed up all night partying and forgot to write his address until moments before he took the stage. It wouldn’t surprise me if his speech notes were scribbled on cocktail napkins. It was so general, so politically vague, and just went on and on without saying a word. The way Rae continuously repeated himself was annoying beyond belief, and by the end I wasn’t sure if it was an overused literary device or if he actually has some sort of stutter. In short, it was ridiculous. Ignatieff followed, and it was the first time I’ve ever really heard him speak. Turns out he sounds like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. His slow, robotic delivery was creepy and condescending. He as if he was addressing a room full of three year olds. He was a Harvard professor, they say, and his speech made me wonder what his university lectures must’ve been like – and made me want to talk to his former students and ask how many of them managed to stay awake. I gave him an A for Awful.
But the next day Dion was crowned the winner, so really, who cares? They also sold out of size medium Liberal thongs. The party is over, my friends.
The Liberal leadership race took place this past weekend in Montreal. Now, as a self-confessed political junkie, I can’t help but comment on the shenanigans.
First off, it all sounded like a lot of fun. I wish I could’ve been there – not as a card-carrying, ballot-voting Liberal, but just as a fly on the wall. Why? Well, the Liberals, it seems, know how to party. At least at their convention, where all the ingredients for a scandal-ridden, cocktail-driven few days of insanity were present: long hours with little sleep= irrational decisions; skipping meals but sipping drinks= lowered inhibitions; “I’m Liberal” thongs and red “liberal” condoms a plenty; and, of course, Belinda Stronach. It was a potentially toxic combination.
+ 
+ 
= trouble!(I tried to find a pic of the famed Liberal thong, but failed. Sorry, folks).
I wish I was there to see it all, but I wasn’t. But maybe if I was there, I’d understand how it all happened. Ok, Iggy was on top, Rae was #2 and Kennedy and Dion were virtually tied for 3rd place. But how did thousands of apparently educated, politically savvy people end up choosing Dion? Quebecers don’t like him, and he can hardly speak English. I’d like to see him go door to door in Alberta. Rick Mercer should accompany him; now THAT would be award-winning comedy (well, at least good enough for a Gemeni)
I feel bad for Dion, really. He looks like a rodent and political cartoonists have been portraying him as such for years already. Sadly, nobody likes a rat. He’s got some great ideas, especially about the environment – if he can deliver them is a different story altogether, but I digress – but I would’ve liked to see Kennedy win. Canada having a PM named Kennedy would do a lot for American relations (Plus, he’s from the West, is relatively popular in Quebec, and would’ve been the most voter-friendly across the board). I’m glad Ignatieff (aka Ignoramus) didn’t win. He’s too inexperienced and isn’t ready. And Rae, man, where to start? The guy won’t even say if he’ll stick around since he didn‘t win the party leadership. What kind of “leader” is that, if he wants to be #1 or nothing at all? Come on.
I’m comforted knowing Kennedy, or GK as some call him, will play a large role in Dion’s government – regardless of whether it is a minority or majority government. And I think considering all options, Dion isn’t too bad. He was my #2 choice, when I think about it, and it could’ve been worse.
But did anyone listen to the speeches on Friday night? I did, but I’m not sure if the commentators on CBC radio were. I only tuned in as Dion was getting cut off my the music at the end, so I’m not sure what, exactly, he had said. But I head GK, Rae, and Iggy speak, and the former blew the latter two out of the water. I think it was obvious Rae’s speechwriter stayed up all night partying and forgot to write his address until moments before he took the stage. It wouldn’t surprise me if his speech notes were scribbled on cocktail napkins. It was so general, so politically vague, and just went on and on without saying a word. The way Rae continuously repeated himself was annoying beyond belief, and by the end I wasn’t sure if it was an overused literary device or if he actually has some sort of stutter. In short, it was ridiculous. Ignatieff followed, and it was the first time I’ve ever really heard him speak. Turns out he sounds like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. His slow, robotic delivery was creepy and condescending. He as if he was addressing a room full of three year olds. He was a Harvard professor, they say, and his speech made me wonder what his university lectures must’ve been like – and made me want to talk to his former students and ask how many of them managed to stay awake. I gave him an A for Awful.
But the next day Dion was crowned the winner, so really, who cares? They also sold out of size medium Liberal thongs. The party is over, my friends.
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