Wednesday, November 23, 2011


I was telling a group of work girlfriends over the weekend about this one time I accidentally mis-texted a wildly inappropriate message that was intended for my mom to a male coworker whose name happens to be alphabetically adjacent to hers on my recipient list... aaaand who also happens to be my boss. (What can I say - I've got fat thumbs and slow reflexes).

Most of the ladies laughed.

One of the ladies leaned forward, pointed at me and in the Voice of Eternal Damnation said, 
“I am so signing you up for Sexual Harassment Awareness Training.”

I totally S.H.A.T.

I can only assume that this means I'll be seeking alternate employment in the near future. Dear soon-to-be ex-coworkers: it's been nice knowing you. I would apologize for all those off-colour jokes/texts/emails over the years, but I'm not actually sorry - it's just how I roll. Maybe if you're not feeling too terribly victimized by my perverse sense of humour you could give me a call sometime. We could make out. Er, hang out.

(Oh, what the hell. I meant make out.)

To kick my job search off on the right foot, I'd like to use my blog as a forum for supplementing my formal resume (bo-ring!) with a list of some of my many "alternate" - yet highly transferable! - skillz:

- created well-received employee initiatives
- conflict resolution experience
workplace safety training
- emergency preparedness planning background
- developed innovative terminology
- accomplished cook and baker
- um ... plant sitting expertise ...
- ... possesses high degree of hepatic fortitude
- really awesome hair ... and, uh ...
- hardly steals the covers at all.

If you happen to know anyone who's willing to pay top dollar for such broad-ranging talent, hook me up. Preference will be given to candidates who have completed Sexual Harassment Acceptance Training, or who have demonstrably comparable experience.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Plus, I'll Know Which Plants to Eat

People are all about the zombie apocalypse these days. I hardly know anyone who doesn't secretly believe they've got the ultimate in zompocalypse planning all worked out. Even weirder is that everyone is so frigging cagey about their plan, as if it's actually going to be implemented and they don't want anyone else getting in on their gig. ("Dammit, Greg, this was the office tower I picked out special for me and my flamethrower - what the hell are you doing here?")

Seriously. It's ridiculous. People don't even adequately plan for feasible eventualities like, say, retirement, or inclement weather conditions. Why the zombie apocalypse of all things?

Not to mention that their cherished zompocalypse plans invariably reveal gross tactical errors: castle defense scenarios; heading to the Arctic (it's not exactly hospitable for you there, either); not having a botanist on their team.

Me? I'm just going about my life as normal, contributing to my RRSP and carrying an umbrella. Truth be told, if the unthinkable ever comes to pass, I'll actually be looking forward to finally meeting someone who wants me for my brains.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Mitten String

It's been a beautiful fall here in Cowtown this year - so beautiful that we didn't have to crack the Rubbermaid of winter gear until last week.

In the past seven days, Medium Fry has already lost the two pairs of mittens remaining from the dozen or so we procured for her last winter.

"Maybe," she says, "you should put them on a string."

I like the part where she implies it's my fault because I haven't properly secured the mittens.

Know what, sweetie? To hell with a string. What we really need here is some sort of bungee cord, so if you even try to lose a mitten it comes back and smacks you upside the head. Now that would reinforce the principle.

Actually, I don't know who invented bungee cords, but after having been around for over a century don't you think they could use a little capacity upgrade? Consider the progression of the telephone - twenty years ago portable technology meant yelling into a four thousand dollar brick. Today, the iPhone is smarter than most people I know. But bungee cords? I'm not saying they're dumb, exactly, but they certainly haven't gotten "smart" in the sense that phones have - same elastic cord, same metal hooks, year after year after year. And sure, they hold your lunch box on your quad or keep your sleeping bag rolled just fine, but when it comes to any advanced parenting applications the traditional bungee cord falls sadly short.

What we need is a smart bungee - one that senses the issue at hand, then reliably calculates and enacts the desired parental response. The potential applications are limitless - The Mitten Bungee. The House Keys Bungee. The "you were wearing your glasses on your own face, where in hell could they possibly have gone?" Bungee.

And, at the pinnacle of bungee evolution, The Homework Bungee. The Homework Bungee would not only smack the absentminded child upside the head if ever s/he was about to misplace the homework, but would also ward off all manner of threats to the safe completion and submission of the homework, including (but not limited to):

- put the homework in the backpack*;
- zip up the backpack*;
- fend off hungry dogs;
- remind the child seventeen times to do the homework;
- find the kid some paper;
- find the kid a pencil;
- find the kid a calculator;
- find the kid a goddam full-size eraser;
- find the mom some patience**;
- sop up purple Kool-Aid spills*;
- find the mom some Advil;
- remind the mom what the fuck an integer is;
- check the homework;
- sign the homework;
- put the homework back in the backpack*;
- zip up the backpack*;
- fend off hungry dogs;
- remind the child seventeen times to hand in the homework*;
- repeat. Daily.

Come one, parents. You can't tell me you wouldn't willingly trample someone at Target on Black Friday if the Homework Bungee went on sale.

* Asterisks denote items for which a head smack is warranted. 
** Yep, I get one, too, for losing my shit^^^ over math homework. 
^^^ But seriously - I already passed Grade Six, why am I being punished?*
* Ow. Oh, I get it. Bad attitude.