I'm bored.

Really bored.

Really, REALLY bored.

So bored, I actually looked up my horoscope today. But rather than being swayed by the overly-generalized advice/warnings/predictions, my mouse hovered over a new feature ... "Celebrity Compatibility".

"Oooh" I thought. "This might be interesting."

I enter my Zodiac sign (Libra).

I enter the name of the celebrity I am curious about being "compatible" with....

What? Do I actually HAVE to say who? Don't you know me by now??

Yeah, well I did.

Johnny. Mr. Depp. Jack Sparrow himself.

*sigh*
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Sorry, kinda spaced out there for a moment. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Anyway, here are the results:

"When Leo and Libra join together in a love match, theirs is an agreeable union. When the Lion's unbounded energy mixes with Libra's natural sense of harmony, this is a romance of great balance. Libra calms and soothes Leo's flamboyance. This couple sustain one another for a long time. Theirs is a highly compatible relationship."

Oooh. "Calms and soothes." I can see myself doing that....mmmmmm

See, I KNEW astrology was dependable, highly scientific and accurate in every way.

And don't try to convince me otherwise.

I suppose you are wondering how I happened to get a photo of a banana at work yesterday (see post below). Well when I was in our lunchroom cleaning out my coffee cup, I saw it sitting there on the counter and laughed to myself when I saw "VD" on it.

Then I thought it might make a funny post (as we Bloggers tend to do).

So I go back to my office and grab my trusty digital camera.

I return to the lunchroom, but am a bit unsure of what to do since I am no longer alone; a nurse is now sitting at one of the tables.

I march up to the counter and take the photo anyway.

As I turn to leave, the nurse asks "Did you just take a picture of that banana?"

I simply looked her straight in the eye and responded "Yes!" and left the room.

Add another member to the ever-increasing list of those who are convinced I am daft.

Since moving to our new offices last fall, staff from two hospitals have been struggling to co-exist in smaller, shared spaces and not always with great success.

Take the "Lunch Room", for example. Like many large offices, things tend to go missing in there. Heck, someone even had the audacity to steal my favorite blue Tupperware bowl and sealer last month.*

So if you want to ensure you'll actually get to eat YOUR lunch, it must be labeled before placing in the fridge.

But really, I think this may be taking it too far.

Or perhaps it's meant as a scare-tactic. A hex or warning for ne'er–do–well fruit-theives.

If not, it sure is an unfortunate set of initials...



* Until it er, 'mysteriously' reappeared in my cupboard at home....ahem...

My neighbors must think I am mad.

Truly.

Certifiable.

Why? Well, who else would be standing around in their socks on the driveway during a lightning storm, taking pictures of the sky?

Well, me actually (um, you DID see that coming, didn't you?).

Anyway, I HAD to, and I did't give a crap what they thought (well, as long as they didn't think I was trying to take pictures of inside their homes, that is...)

But it's so strange. Last week I read on the net about some rare cloud formations called "Mammatus Clouds". Little did I know that I would spot some over my own home just a few short days later. Tonight I took these photos of the quickly-changing formations; within minutes they were re-shaping, moving, disappearing and re-appearing.

From Wiki: "Sometimes very ominous in appearance, mammatus clouds are harmless and do not mean that a tornado is about to form; a commonly held misconception. In fact, mammatus are usually seen after the worst of a thunderstorm has passed."

Read more about them here.

What a show. Er, the CLOUDS, not me in my socks, during a lightning storm on the driveway taking pictures of the sky.

You've probably read / seen in the news recently that the Vatican has issued the "10 Commandments for Drivers". You can read them here.

They are very good and things we all should follow. However, calling upon my daily experiences behind the wheel, I'd like to present my OWN

New & Improved 10 Commandments for Drivers

1. Thou shalt not read thy newspaper whilst careening down the street at 60 kilometres per hour.

2. Thou shalt not apply lipstick, mascara or other makeup during morning rush hour. Thy rearview mirror is not to be turned towards thyself in vain.

3. Thou shalt not attempt to halt traffic in all directions so thou may partake of Tim Horton's / Starbucks drive thrus.

4. Thou shalt give clearance to cyclists, who apparently have the divine right to take up the whole lane whilst peddling 10 kilometers per hour, may fly between lanes and thru traffic lights at will.

5. Thou shalt at least attempt to slow down / avoid large puddles in the presence of pedestrians. Especially seniors, children and those with cell phone cameras.

6. Thou shalt not flick thine cigarette butt out thy window, lest it come to rest back inside thy car, igniting thine back seat.

7. Thou shalt honor and avoid at all costs thy older driver who always wears a hat, drifts in and out of lanes and cannot see over thine steering wheel.

8. Thou shalt always slow down to under thy speed limit in the presence of the law.

9. Thou shalt not rubberneck into limosine windows to view a potentially almighty celebrity.

and finally,

10. Thou shalt not take the name of God in vain whilst filling up thine gas tank.

Amen.

A few years ago, I made the foolish mistake of signing up for the Columbia House DVD club. I fulfilled my subscription and then quit the club, finding their prices higher (especially with postage) than those at my local stores. And I didn't have to wait weeks to get my movies either. No, it just wasn't for me.

Since that time, however, Columbia House has nagged, pleaded and cajoled me endlessly to re-subscribe as I was "such a good customer".

I have received numerous phone calls, mailings and emails. All those "special offers" I have politely refused. Yesterday, since I was home on a vacation day, a new tactic reared it's ugly head.

Now I am getting recorded message phone calls. Yup, I answer the phone, and after a long pause, a recorded commercial is playing requesting I re-join "The Club".

They just DON'T GET IT.

Therefore, here is my Open Letter to Columbia House Canada:


I do not want your cheap CDs
I do not want your DVDs

Please stop calling me at home
I will not order over the phone

I will not order over the net
Can't you record it in your system yet?

I will not order by snail mail
I will not order by e-mail

Please stop your letters
Please stop your calls
You're driving me up the walls

I've been polite
I've been sincere
I do not want your products here!

I will not "click here" with my mouse
I will NOT subscribe
COLUMBIA HOUSE!

Thank you.

Since I was on a vacation day today I drove my daughter in to school to write an exam in the mid-morning. On the way home, I spot two City Workers, decked out in their finest bright orange vests and thick clipboards snooping around our neighborhood yards.

"Oooh, this doesn't look good" I think.

No. Not good at all.

I drive up to the front door and pull an Official-Looking-Notice out of our mailbox.

The "Sump Pump Discharge Inspection Report" (I kid you not) is a 10 point report card by the City's Water and Waste Department.

These City Workers have the important task of checking each and every house to basically make sure they have a drainage hose running out and properly pointed to the street.

Very Important indeed.

Why, I hate to think of the community without such policing of our drainage hoses.


I am proud to say, we passed the Inspection with flying colors. The City can now be assured that OUR home will not be the cause of improper drainage, hose-mispositioning or any other Water and Waste improprieties.


Perhaps with all the bad weather we've been having lately, the City is worried we will all end up with indoor pools in our basements that will be missed on our property taxes this year.

Now I realize I didn't marry Norm Abram, but really, don't most guys come with a gene for even attempting home repairs?

For example, this is hubby's idea of "fixing" the broken sink.


He placed this warning here about a week ago. The drain literally broke off where it screws into the sink. This note was also accompanied by a request for me to go on the 'net' to see what replacement part we need.

"Um, what???" I thought he was kidding.

"Yeah, look it up on the Internet to what size part we need" he says in all seriousness.

"And how the heck would I do that? Maybe by MEASURING it? The you would ALREADY know the size you need. Or maybe, just maybe, you can take the broken piece over to Home Depot a few blocks away and match it up to a new part?"

I shake my head in dismay. You see, hubby seems to think the Internet is a magic place where all answers can be found. One day maybe, he'll actually learn to use a computer and the Internet.

Until then, he's stuck to the TV (which, surprisingly, when it breaks down gets replaced the SAME DAY).

And every time he accidently channel surfs to the New Yankee Workshop, his response is the same "Oh, sure, *I* could make that too, if I had all those expensive tools."

No, honey.

No you couldn't.

I am an addict. I need my coffee.

I admit it. It's the first step on the road to recovery, they say.

My fall wasn't pretty. I never HAD to have coffee every day. A very long time ago, my English / Irish family were tea tottlers. It was quite a treat having a cuppa Red Rose with my parents when I was young. Made me feel real grown up.

My decent into addiction began when I entered the workforce and the oh-so-gawd-awful-boring world of business meetings. In the early 80's there were no Starbucks or even Tim Horton's. Coffee at meetings were usually made by some Java Pusher who added crystalized 'coffee' flakes to hot water, powdered whitener* and sugar.

Lots of sugar.

"Take it" they would insist. "We all drink coffee". I shook my head and searched in vain for ANYTHING else to drink. No tea, no juice, heck ... even bottled water was years away into the future.

I tried my best to resist, but after one too many boardroom time-wasters, I finally succumbed to temptation and filled my styrofoam cup with the vile brew. I choked it down, burning my tongue which actually helped tolerate the caustic taste.

But it didn't take long for the habit to take hold.

I was done for. Finished.

I soon began actually buying coffee for home, moving up from crystals to the real stuff. I purchased a coffee bean grinder. Then "flavored coffees" entered the scene... not that coffee didn't already have a flavor, but these were heaven compared to the bitter brew only available until then.

And now, here I sit in my office, my personal coffeemaker percolating my Irish Cream, Vanilla Maple, or Butter Pecan stimulant. On weekends I get my "fix" at Starbucks.

Yes, it's been a swift and slippery slope, one that I will surely continue down, at least until I retire.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to a meeting. Where's that Starbucks travel mug at?


* If we were REALLY lucky, instead of whitener that floated and gelled into globs of lumpy chemicals, we would get those mini-tubs of creamers; aka "an edible oil product"...yes, in fact, that WAS written on the label.

Some days it just pays to keep your mouth shut.

And your hand off the car horn.

Take today, for example. Like any other weekday, I drove up to the parkade at work, behind a lady who was obviously having some difficulty using her automated gate opener to work. She waved it around in attempt to gain entry.

"No problem", I think, "sometimes it just takes the scanner a bit to respond."

I wait patiently.

However, the fellow behind me in line obviously lacked such a trait. Even though it only took a few seconds for the lady to get the gate to raise, he whipped his Lexus around my van, sped up to the gate, squealed past and cut me off, squeezing in behind said lady and me.

"Okay", I thought, "what a jerk. He got a whole car ahead; what an accomplishment". He proceeded to SIGNAL at every turn inside the parkade.

"Geez", I shook my head, "what a loser." I was so tempted to honk him, or worse.

On the third floor he finally parked and as I slowly passed to give him a dirty look, I realized my patience had saved me.

That "jerk" was my boss.

I WAS going to submit this to icanhascheezburger.com, but instead I'll just post it here. Dakotah's photo with slight alterations (click for full size version):



For more photos like this one, go to http://icanhascheezburger.com

Do you think she is trying to tell me something?


Needless to say, Lapdog won.