Monday, November 24, 2008

The Rules

Last week I stumbled upon a website that I have been enjoying tremendously. It's called 1001 rules for my unborn son. It's an ongoing project filled with great advice that made me pause, smile, and read until I'd gone through them all (304 as of today).

I even employed one of the rules this last week at my company Christmas party- "Rule 243. There is no need to tell anyone you are leaving the bar (or in my case, the party). It's called an Irish Goodbye. And it comes in handy."

Here are a few more of my favourites:

258. No vanity license plates.

245. Look people in the eye when you thank them, especially waiters.

242. Hang artwork at eye-level.

235. When singing karaoke, choose a song within your range.

232. There is exactly one place where it is acceptable to wear gym clothes.

168. Be cool to the younger kids. Reputations are built over a lifetime.

148. When handling a frog, be gentle.

125. A t-shirt is neither a philosophy nor an advertisement. It’s a shirt. Wear it plain.

86. Never criticize a book, play, or film unless you have read or seen it yourself.

14. Men with facial hair have something to hide.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

One of my not-so-favourite things

When people ask me what I do, I usually tell them I'm a psychologist. This isn't technically true yet but it's the easiest way to explain what I do.

My least favourite response is: Are you analyzing me right now?

What am I supposed to say to that? That's just awkward.

I have two requests, internet.
First - give me some funny one-liners I could respond with.
Second - write a comment about the most frequent/funny/annoying response when people learn your vocation or hobby.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Trouble from above

Monday night I was sitting at my desk writing a court report when I heard a strange tapping noise above my head. I looked up, praying there weren't mice in the ceiling. In an instant, water was dripping like crazy onto my desk.

I ran up to the staff suite and found a spare garbage can to catch the water. While I waited for the on-call maintenance guy, I climbed atop my desk with the intent of removing the already water-stained ceiling tile before it was completely soaked. As I was pushing the tile, an object started slipping toward me from inside the ceiling. I scrambled to get out of the way as a giant blue mop bucket plummeted toward my head. Hm...I'm guessing that the ceiling leak might be an on-going problem.

Nun Watch Update: After a very long dry spell, I saw three nuns this evening while walking to the University with Kyle. They were all wearing white winter jackets to match their habits.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Adventures in dog sitting

Saturday 12 pm
Lhotse is the lovely dog of our friends Karen and Greg, who are in Europe for two weeks. We are taking care of her for the second week of their trip. Kyle and I drive to Taco Time to pick up Lhotse from her first set of dog-sitters.
Jamie: Is there anything we should know before we take her home?
Other dog sitters: No. Not really. She will pretend to be chewing her bone on the floor while sneakily destroying your carpet. Watch out.

Jamie: Okay. I can handle that.

Saturday 2 pm
Kyle and I are in the off-leash park, walking Lhotse and our dog Chaz.

Jamie: Lhotse's butt looks weird.
Kyle: Yeah?
Jamie: It looks like she has balls. Is that norm
Kyle: I don't know. I've never had a girl dog.
Jamie: Me neither.

Saturday 5 pm
Kyle and I are looking out the kitchen window, watching the dogs in the back yard.
Kyle: Chaz is still humping Lhotse. Why is he being such a tool?
Jamie: They've been going at it forever. They need to take a break.
Kyle: Maybe I should take Chaz back to my par
ents' house.
Jamie: Yeah, he can't keep this up. He's an old man and needs to rest.

Sunday 2 am
I'm awoken in the middle of the night. I hear Lhotse making weird noises.

Jamie: Kyle, get up. Somethings going on with the dog.
Kyle stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen. From bed I can hear him.
Kyle: Lhotse, are you okay? You're hurt. Where are you bleeding from?
Kyle: *!$^&*
Jamie: What? What's wrong?
Kyle: Come check this out. See where she's bleeding from.
I wander into the kitchen to see blood all over the kitchen floor, emanating the area of Lhotse that had earlier appeared to be her balls. She's in heat.

Sunday 1pm
Kyle returns from walking Lhotse.
Kyle: I had her in the off-leash park but we came to a big group of dogs and three of them started coming after her, sniffing aggressively. I had to put her on her leash and take off.
Jamie: Yeah, maybe we shouldn't take her to the off-leash park anymore. The last thing I want to tell Karen and Greg when they get back is that their dog was gang-banged at the park.

Sunday, 3pm
Lhotse is desperately lonely and crying on the back porch.

Jamie: Maybe we should let her in. She's reall
y sad. What if we block off the kitchen and let her stay in there?
Lhotse runs in, leaping with joy as we're reunited after two long hours apart. Her tail is wagging like crazy, acting acting much like a propeller and spraying drops of blood everywhere.

After cleaning up the mess, we become the Macgyvers of dog sitting. Our problems are solved with the creative use of simple household objects - an old pair of underwear, a pad, some scissors (for a tail hole), a safety pin, and some duct tape.

Background by Jennifer Furlotte / Pixels and IceCream