Christmas Whine

Twas the week before Christmas and all through the city

the people were rushing and acting real shitty.

The shoppers were ready with plastic in hand

hoping their credit would handle demand


The children were wondering "what's wrong with my mom?

Was it something we said or maybe we've done?"

No it's just Christmas. The season's upon us.

The money, the mayhem, the malls, and the madness.


Then out of the blue she gets an idea.

What if Christmas were cancelled for just this one year?

Would we miss it and wish that it hadn't been gone?

Or continue along as if it hadn't belonged?


Think of the money we'd save on this day.

Instead it's the mortgage and phone bill we'd pay.

Perhaps take that trip we've been dreaming about.

It has to be better than Christmas no doubt.


All that drinking and eating and wrapping til dawn.

The weight gain, the headaches the carrying on.

Life's greatest pleasures don't come in a box.

Unless it is vintage or big sparkling rocks.


So what's the big problem? What would we miss?

What If the season would cease to exist?

What would replace this age old event?

Where would all of our time then be spent?


The stores would be empty; no twinkling of lights

no candy, no presents, no silent nights.

No Christmas tree needles to sweep off the floor.

No holiday parties that just seem a bore.


Would you miss Uncle Jack asking "Why aren't you wed?

Don't you just wish you could say "Go drop dead!"

Just whisk it away make it all disappear.

No carols, no fruit cake and no Christmas cheer.


But wait. Am I wrong. Is there something I missed?

Why do I wish Christmas ceased to exist?

How do I get back that goodwill I lack.

Goodwill towards men and old Uncle Jack?


Liquor is quicker according to Nash

I'll just head to the store and I'll get me a cache.

Dull all the senses and in a blink of an eye

I'll be asking, "Get rid of Christmas?" But why?


I'll start with some wine and some cheese on a platter.

Whether it's red or it's white or rosé doesn't matter.

I'll drink to the season and hope for the best.

All of life's problems will roll off my chest.


I'll love all the hustle and bustling about.

I'll realize it's Christmas I can't live without.

It's all about family and friends far and near.

Good food and good times and a whole lot of cheer.


Oh now I can't wait for the day to arrive.

I act like a child and I feel so alive.

Things that once seemed so wrong now seem right.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Me and Mrs Jones

I love Halloween yet I can’t remember the last time I got all dressed up for the occasion unless of course appearing both dishevelled and discombobulated while medicating a self- induced migraine from ingesting mass quantities of coffee crisps, crispy crunch and smarties counts. That’s freaking scary. Just ask my kids. It was years before they realized Halloween was an annual event and totally unrelated to the monthly celebration of PMS. Yes during those periods (meaning moments in time) I was transformed; still the same person simply neurotic. Yes, I was sane but unhappy about it. It was flattering however to be thought of as an option for their choice of really scary costume –mommie dearest. Imitation is after all, the highest form of flattery.

These days however Halloween marks the only night of the year and my annual excuse for looking like Bridget Jones pre Mark Darcy. While she may choose vodka and Chaka Kahn I instead prefer chardonnay and the Sex Pistols. But unlike Bridget, and while we’re at it, for the record, I have never woken up in bed with a headache, hangover and my boss. Not that I can remember anyway. Other than that the resemblance is uncanny. So let this be a warning to you all. Should you happen to knock at my door this Hallows Eve be prepared to see something really scary. And no it’s not my living quarters although I’ll try and clean up the mess to avoid any confusion.

Bless Me Father For I Have Sinned

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been one full year since my last full-time job. These are my sins. Forgive me for not writing regularly on my blog. I am deeply disturbed by the fact that some consider a blog to be nothing more than graffiti with punctuation. I beg to differ. Good grammar is involved as well. In addition, I may or may not have been completely truthful when completing my EI reports. For instance.

Did I move during the period of this report? Did I move? It's because all I ever fucking do is move that I find myself in this position in the first place. When purchasing a house the realtor will tell you it's location, location, location. One is eligible for EI because of relocation, relocation, relocation.

Did I start a fulltime job during the period of this report? Yeah. This is why I am wasting my time and completing the report because I am so busy working. Give your head a shake.

Did I attend a school or training course during the period of this report? You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Tricks are for kids. Apparently, so too are jobs.

Was I ready, willing and able to work during the period of this report? Are you kidding me? I am so ready for work and more willing than a hypersexual. Am I able? Of course I am but to a prospective employer I'm damaged goods; faulty merchandise. antiquated; all washed up. More washed up than a kindergarten class with a bunch of 4 year olds plagued with pinworms. Washed up I tell you.

Did you or will you receive any other money during the period of this report? NO! and this is the God's honest truth. Call me on the other stuff. Other than the occasional change I find underneath the couch cushions EI is it.

And so help me God, I solemnly swear to be ready, willing and able to seek employment while visiting Florence, Siena, Volterra and Lucca. I will be a wine taster, art critic, air marshal (undercover of course) and official ambassador to Italy. So help me God!

In conclusion, let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Or is it let he who is cast out be the first to get stoned? I'm with Dylan on this one. Everybody must get stoned.

Night After Night After Night At The Museum

Well soon I will be off to Italy, the home of Renaissance Artists Michelangelo Buonarroti, Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, Bellini, and many more. I'm a cynical browser when I happen upon art. Something happens to me when I am faced with so much art displayed in so many museums. And being a natural cynic and judge, (yes I judge. I am a judger.) I just watch the critique come rolling off my tongue, not even bothering to stop myself just before I actually say something, anything stupid, with countless other non-cynical art lovers around. What can I say? It's a gift.

Critic Walter Pater, in his 1867 essay on Leonardo da Vinci, the creator of the most famous piece of art work in the world, the Mona Lisa, described the figure in the painting as "a kind of mythic embodiment of eternal femininity, who is "older than the rocks among which she sits" and who "has been dead many times and learned the secrets of the grave." Well I've heard the painting is really, really small. Someone should warn people. (You're welcome.) Anyway the painting is in France so I won't be among the disappointed.


Apparently there is a lot of 'naked art'in Italy. Perhaps I need to rethink the museum thing? In fact the Italian painter Botticelli is credited with introducing the female nude. Technically you could argue that Botticell was the Hugh Hefner of the the 15th century. During that time the hot temperatures(the temptation of Beelzebub himself) prompted people to remove their clothing. Keeping cool ranked higher on the list than the fear of reprisals for doing so. Apparently the glorious weather and hot temperatures caused folks to not only throw caution to the wind but throw their clothing off into it as well. Check it out. The Birth of Venus

Traveling abroad I anticipate a samll amount of culture shock to rear its ugly head; a temporary befuddlement if you will. For instance, will there be Ketchup flavoured or All Dressed chips available? Would it be polite to ask the locals what they thought of The Godfather Three? (Not a big fan). When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine is that really amore or are you just plain drunk? Never mind. I'll figure that last one out for myself.

PFO........Politely

Dear Cathy,

Thank you for your interest in our organization and for taking the time to meet with us regarding the position of Human Resources Officer. We enjoyed meeting you and discussing your candidacy for this position.

We were fortunate to have had several well qualified applicants for this position and met with each of the top applicants. Although you have an impressive background, we have decided to pursue an applicant whose skills and experience more closely meet our department's needs. Please be assured that this is in no way a reflection on your capabilities.

Thank you once again. Please accept our best wishes in your future career endeavours.

Sincerely,

Michael

Dear Michael,

I enjoyed meeting you as well and I am certain with minimal effort on your part and the help of Strauss-Kahn's legal team, you too can beat that work-related sexual harassment allegation. Remember, it's people's egos that require constant stroking and not their genitalia. Simple mistake.

By "well qualified" candidates I can only assume you meant young and willing to work for next to nothing. Kids today! Thanks for reiterating that I have an "impressive background". You, my friend, have amazing instinct. You are obviously referring to the time I went on the record by stating Amy Winehouse was even more fucked up than Charlie Sheen, may she rest in peace.

So you too have decided to pursue an applicant whose "skills and experience" more closely meet your department's needs. If by "skills and experience" you mean an applicant who is incapable of cursive writing and has no idea what a turntable is, then who can blame you.

Thank you for assuring me that this is indeed no reflection on my capabilities. On the contrary. Your perceptions are correct. I am capable of many things. In fact, I predict you will be reposting this very position within months of filling it, nine months to be exact. And for the record, had you hired me, reposting would not have been necessary.

In closing, may Allah declare a thousand fatwas on you and your family. God bless.

Sincerely,

Cathy

We All Fall Down

No I didn't fall off of the face of the earth but I did fall and no it wasn't off the wagon either. One would have to be on the wagon in order to fall off the wagon. Wagons are of no interest to me. Not a fan of the wagon. Hate the wagon. And no I haven't fallen in love or fallen for the wrong guy but on occasion I have been known to fall apart. It's those times that prevent me from going on the wagon (see previous statement). My fall from grace while inevitable has not manifested itself just yet. There but for the grace of God go I. What I have fallen from is my bike. Yes, I have fallen off of my bike and now I have a chip on my shoulder. Well actually I have chipped my shoulder. So technically I both literally and figuratively have a chip on my shoulder. Yes a chip off the old block...Bayview and Parkhurst to be exact.

Do you know what happens when one chips their shoulder? Well for starters one cannot comb one's hair (not that anyone would notice);apply deodorant (this they would notice);hail a cab;high five someone; sleep on one's side; make a toast or raise a glass to anything or anyone (trust me I've tried). I may not be able to raise a glass but my elbow still bends. (again see reference to wagon) God works in mysterious ways. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away-Job 1:21 (King James Version). Painkillers for a shoulder chip seems fair enough to me.

But a chipped shoulder leaves one incapacitated when it comes to the tennis serve. Without the ball toss there is no serve and when there is no serve there is no return of serve in tennis or return to tennis. No return both figuratively and literally.......again. The tennis return is of great interest to me. Big fan of the return. Love the return. Give me a week....or three.

Seven Days, Six Nights or It was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

The nice thing about being away is your readers are forced to either wait for new material or reread the old drivel. So thanks for the rereads. Personally, there’s only one bad thing about being away. That’s being away plus being without internet access. You know that question that's often posed to folks, "are you gay?" No, I mean the second most asked question, "If you were stranded on a desert island and you could take only one thing what one thing would you take?" and the pat, routine answer from all of those idiotic, vain, floss using Nazi’s is usually a toothbrush? Please, a toothbrush over say alcohol; water or internet access? In that precise order? Yuh, I'm stranded on an island and utmost on my mind is oral hygiene.

Of course one can learn a lot when one spends seven days and six nights (stranded) in the company of four women in what can only be described (in my mind anyway) as the maid's quarters of the Overlook Hotel. Here's Cathy!

If I have taken anything away from my seven day, six night excursion besides several fly bites and sunburned skin (oh and a real appreciation for Tina Fey) it would be a total understanding of the origin of the word catty. Spraying urine is one of many methods that cats use to mark their territory. If this be true then our cottage was one big cat box and the room assignments; food; and beverages brought therein were all marked with their respective smells. Just try eating one of my cherry tomatoes. When Sartre said, "Hell is other people", he could have only been referring to cottagers in the midst of a heat wave on Lake Herown. I mean Huron. Oops, my bad; Freudian slip.

Of course our stay wasn’t all that bad. The water provided much needed relief from the high temperatures we were experiencing and the weather was gruelling as well. Hot flashes and heat waves do not mix. They can however promote spontaneous combustion.

Did I have a good time? Of course I did. Would I do it again? Of course I would. Will I be invited? Probably not; a little less litter in the litter box.