OMFG. The Toronto Star is spelling the word "grey" as "gray". I don't know if this is new or if I just noticed it today, but it's SACRILIGE!!!! This is disgusting and obscene! Grey is spelled with an E in Canada, and that's final! Get a CANADIAN style guide already!

Sometimes it's quite handy to have a simple, clear, one-word job title.

I don't know how it does it, but this sportsbra I bought (of which I'm not going to mention the name because it's been discontinued and I don't know that there aren't people my size reading this) a) prevents anything from moving around, at all, ever, even while kickboxing (yes, I tried a slightly toned-down form of kickboxing in the dressing room), b) makes my breasts point upward, hence making my whole torso look slimmer, and c) looks completely smooth under a tight t-shirt. So obviously they have to discontinue it. I found one in my size, but I really want a second so I can have one for exercising and one for normal wear, rather than having to wear a sweaty bra whenever I want to wear an unforgiving top.

Two unrelated items of note:

1. Charmin Ultra trumps all other toilet paper sampled to date.

2. Rosemont Estates Diamond Chardonnay trumps all other white wines sampled to date.

Idiots!

It's a break, it's in the winter, why is this an issue? Why do they have to even have a big meeting about it? I'll bet if they just quietly printed "winter break" on the calendar, no one would even notice.

And newsflash to Ms. Scott: ceasing to exclude non-xians does not equal excluding xianity. She sounds a tad insecure in her xianity.

They aren't killing off BD, they had him lose a leg. Somehow that's even more poignant...

Things I pondered buying today (none of which I bought because I don't have time to try on)

- a bright orange peasant/hippy style shirt (justification: I look good in bright red, so why not bright orange?)
- a green skirt, which goes with nothing I own except my rare black and/or white pieces
- a slate/stone grey skirt, which goes with everything I own because my wardrobe is coordinated to black pants. I don't know why it occurred to me that light grey is a good colour for someone who is a) size 14 and b) a total slob
- a red jersey dress, which will either be very flattering or make me look lumpy
- a blue and turquoise dress, which will either be very flattering or make me look old
- a LBD, because I don't actually own one. Actually there are two that I pondered, but I'd only buy one of them.
- various pale green shirts, even though pale colours don't look good on me. My justification is that my eyes are pale green so it should be allowed, but pale for eyes is not the same as pale for clothes
- green pj pants, even though I need a full pj and the top that went with them is stupid
- several other more practical dresses that will either look good on me or look too old for me.

I don't know why I found myself attracted to so many impractical items, I don't know why I found myself attracted to so many clothes, period! I don't know why I felt inclined to buy brightly coloured dresses to wear to work, and I don't know why I'm constantly tempted to stray from the range of Colours That Work. I'm weird today.

The other problem with laundry is it takes up the whole day. It makes that day Laundry Day. At my parents', laundry was my favourite chore because I could throw the stuff in the machine, go about my business, attend to the machines when I heard them stop, and do the folding while watching TV. Here I have to change into Laundry Clothes (at my parents' enough loads of laundry were done that it didn't matter what I wore, it would be washed again by the next time I needed to wear it), find loonies and quarters, lug my stuff downstairs through public hallways, and watch the clock. At my parents', if I was a bit late collecting my laundry, someone would put the machine on air fluff until I could attend to it. Here, people (rightfully) take my clothes out and stack them on top of the machine. It's rapidly becoming one of my least favourite chores. (Taking out the recycling is still my very least favourite, followed closely by dishes). By comparison, vacuuming and washing the floors is nothing.

Toronto Police Services Board chair Norm Gardner was recently suspended for accepting 5,700 rounds of ammunition from the Toronto police force for his personal use.

The question no one has asked, to which I really want to know the answer:

What on earth does one private individual need 5,700 rounds of ammunition for?

I know virtually nothing about firearms, but doesn't posessing 5,700 rounds of ammunition imply that he intends to fire a firearm 5,700 times? Why on earth would anyone need to do that "for personal use"?

Interesting day on the comics page. BD from Doonesbury was wounded in Iraq (and I have a hunch they're going to kill him off), and in Get Fuzzy, Rob's cousin lost a leg in Iraq.

Apparently it's 19 degrees out right now. At 6:30 am! And it's supposed to go up to 24! Whatever do I wear? I've forgotten how to dress for this weather?

It occurred to me recently why The Phantom Menace is not a good Star Wars movie. (Yes, I realize I'm about five years late on this). The problem is not Jar-Jar Binks or George Lucas' hubris or trade disagreements or favouring showing off their computer fx technology over storytelling. The main, key reason why this is not a good Star Wars movie is because I did not leave the theatre wanting to be a Jedi when I grow up. Every other Star Wars movie, even upon the umpteenth viewing, has left me with fantasies of lightsabre duels and Jedi mind tricks and using the Force to accio* random objects. Just last night I watched Empire Strikes Back on TV, with commercial interruptions, while reading a newspaper and doing the dishes and playing computer games, and it still left me in a mood where if I were 15 years younger I would be spending the rest of the week dressed up in my bathrobe and pretending an old wrapping paper tube is a lightsabre. But Phantom Menace, upon first viewing in the theatre, upon the first time in my life that I've ever seen the words "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." on a big screen, did not leave me wanting to be a Jedi. That is its inherent problem.

*It's my blog, I can use Harry Potter verbs to describe Star Wars concepts if I want to!

I just finished Life of Pi (yes, I was a tad belated in getting to this book), and the verdict is yes, it does live up to the hype. It didn't make me believe in God, but except for the occasional mention of spiders (not entirely gratuitous, but unnecessary to the plot, and non-panic inducing and non-nightmare inducing but still mildly icky) I have no complaints. However, I don't have anything productive to say either, except that I really enjoyed the book. I'm sure it stands up to all kinds of analysis and symbolism and shit, but that's not my department. Good book, quite enjoyable, made me chuckle out loud on occasion, and made me produce a gamut of facial expressions that I'm sure amused my fellow subway passengers.

In our culture, myths, legends, fairy tales and fantasy, we already have the idea of a prophet. A prophet is a person who can basically foresee and foretell what is going to happen in the future, and no matter how much mere mortals struggle to avoid their prophesied fate, they always end up fulfilling the prophecy because it is their destiny.

What we need to add to our stock of mythical characters is a different kind of pseudo-prophet who, instead of foreseeing what is destined to happen, causes things to happen by the act of foreseeing them. They don't use their magic to make things happen directly, they simply predict them and, by predicting them, cause those things to happen at an unspecified time on the future.

A prophet looks into the Fates and foresees that "You are going to fall off a cliff", and despite the fact that you make every effort to avoid cliffs, you do end up falling off a cliff because it has always been your destiny. A pseudo-prophet, in a moment of malice, says "You are going to fall off a cliff!", and, despite your best efforts to avoid cliffs, you eventually do fall off one because the pseudo-prophet said you would. With the prophet, it has always been your fate; with the pseudo-prophet it only became your fate because the pseudo-prophet said so.

My Myers-Briggs type today: ISFJ
Other Myers-Briggs types I've had in my life: INFJ, INFP, INTP

When my flax bread gets moldy, the mold is white.

When my flax bagels get moldy, the mold is black.

Yes, I keep them in the same place in the same conditions.

Attention random strangers in the subway and the food court:

See how I'm intently reading a book?

That means I don't want to talk to people.

Not even you.

Not even about the book.

Yes, I know it's a good book.

That's why I want to read it instead of talking to you.

Thank you.

Props to Svend Robinson for either the best crisis management that I've seen in quite a while. A politician steals a piece of jewelry and has the entire country, myself included, on his side. If this is, in fact, entirely Mr. Robinson's doing (as opposed to him following someone else's script), then he can have a lovely career ahead of him as a crisis management consultant.

You know how they've done studies and established that there are certain talents (like multitasking) that females tend to be better at, and there are certain talents (like spatial perception) that males tend to be better at? I wonder if they've looked into how queerness affects these talents?

I also wonder if people who aren't blind but have service dogs for other purposes are often mistaken for being blind?