I hope someone out there with better legal knowledge than I have is paying very close attention to this. I think it is getting very very close to hate speech if it hasn't crossed that line already, and someone should be ready to pounce when it does. I also hope someone with excellent legal knowledge is pondering ways to remove Canada's obligation to provide Catholic education under the BNA, because if one of these things isn't overthrown soon Canada is going to be in a very sticky constitutional position - we're going to be legally obligated to provide public education in a religion that has been deemed hate speech and, depending on how far they go, is subject to censorship.

Speaking of going to hell, I understand the example shown here with no difficulty whatsoever, if I encountered it while reading a newspaper I think I wouldn't even give it a second glance, and I think I know which committee produced it.

The only sign I saw that one of the biggest concerts in history is currently going down was these four scruffy guys on the subway this morning. Although they seemed to have perfect sight, hearing, and command of English, at every stop they would go "Is this Sheppard? How far to Sheppard?" At least they had the decency to entertain us in between by spontaneously breaking out into early Beatles hits in perfect four-part harmony.

I'm not going to the concert. Half a million people is too many. Instead I'm going to relax at home and play with food. I've decided, just for variety, that today I will eat nothing that could be considered a main course, but everything I eat must be wholesome. So I'm having triscuits dripping in melted Gouda, steamed veggies with lemon dill sauce, Italian bread, salad, nectarines, and whatever else I decide to buy.

Mad props to Sheila Copps for being the only person in Canada behaving like a candidate in the Liberal leadership race!

I don't get it. Why would a confirmed serial rapist be carrying a condom? And if he does, in fact, use condoms, why would he only be carrying one?

In the grocery store. I go into a self-bagging lane. Usually I hate self-bagging lanes, but this one had a much shorter line. I make the guy give me extra bags, and proceed to double bag all my purchases. This old lady at the other belt stares at me: "So THAT'S how you double bag!"

WTF? She's 80 and she couldn't figure out how to double-bag? That was my first time bagging other than at self-checkers which have their own bagging racks, and I was all alone. She was with a gentleman who I will judgementally call her husband. So they are two people with at least 150 years of life experience between them, and they couldn't figure out how to double bag? With two people?

I am feeling so much hatred and anger and frustration right now that I can't sleep.

Basic human respect, that's all I ask. Whether I'm wearing a suit or jeans. Smiling sweetly and treating me like you're SURE my intentions are good but, you're terribly sorry, you just CAN'T do anything to help me, is not that hard, and is infinitely preferable to treating me like I'm trying to rip you off by doing a normal business transaction, or that my money is worthless just because I'm younger than you.

I have full security clearance, my services has been billed for as high as $100 per hour, and my professional decisions could affect the course of people's lives. So don't fucking treat me like I'm an awkward bratty 12-year-old trying to scam free stuff just because I'm trying to purchase products and services.

I'm tired. I crave croissants and don't have the stuff to make them with, and it's super humid outside so I don't know if going groceries is a good idea right now.

Five days of work, and then I get a nice long weekend. And I my current project is big enough to keep me occupied for at least three days and it's not nearly as annoying as it could be.

I think my father would be offended if he knew that I don't find work to be complete and utter hell. His analogy of work is "Do you eat to live, or do you live to eat?" He got confused when my answer was "neither". I mean, food isn't my life, but I'm not going to just wolf down bread and water when there are much more enjoyable foods out there. Same with work. It's not my purpose for living, but I'm certainly not going to pretend it doesn't exist and make no effort to adapt my life to it.

I made faux long island iced tea. Instead of adding LIIT mix and lemonade and lemon juice to coke, I just added LIIT mix to Pepsi Twist. It tastes about the same but looks different.

I am going to see Prisoner of Azkaban when it comes out next year, because, unlike the other Harry Potter books, it doesn't have any major spider scenes. Coincidently, it doesn't have any major Voldemort scenes.

This raises the question - how long before people are allowed to give spoilers for Order of the Phoenix?

I was treated like a teenager by a store today. I hate it when that happens. It ruined my day.

Why the fuck would a store allow an exchange but not store credit? Is store credit not just a slightly belated exchange? Exchange is when I give them one item and they give me another item. Store credit is when I give them one item, they give me a piece of paper, then another day I give them the piece of paper, and they give me another item.

It's so fucked up. They had a 2 for the price of 1 deal. I tried on many items, and bought two items for that were marked at $40 each. When I got home, I realized that I had accidently purchased a size medium in one of the items instead of a large, doubtless a mix-up from all my trying on. I took it back, but there were no larges left. And when I asked for store credit, they acted like I was trying to get them to give me a free item to which I'm not entitled. But they were the ones who were handing out free items in the first place! According to their signage and pricing system, I was entitled to 2 items of a value of $40 each. So why act like I'm trying to rip them off when I ask for store credit for a value of $40, but there would be no problem with exchaning it on the spot? I felt like throwing the shirt at them and saying "Here, take this, you obviously need this more than me."

Last night, as I lay in bed, I felt safe. This had me worried. You see, I felt safe up for my entire life until the moment I met mi cielito. At least I thought I felt safe - the moment I first embraced mi cielito I really felt safe for the first time in my life. What I had been feeling up until then was unsafe, but I didn't recognize it because I felt that way all the time. This made it difficult for me to recognize risk, because I felt equally safe walking along a dark street at night and curled up in my little bed at my parents' house.

Then mi cielito came along, and I was safe for real. The only problem is, I only felt safe in his presence, so I felt unsafe the rest of the time, whether walking along a dark street at night or curled up in my little bed in res. However, this did make me extremely cautious when alone, and any potentially risk behaviour would be reserved for when I was with mi cielito and feeling safe (this, of course, had the added advantage that if I tried anything foolish, at least I'd be with an escort).

Then, last night, I felt safe. And I was alone. What could this mean? I hadn't felt "safe" alone since before mi cielito materialized into my life. And this "safe" had really been unsafe. Had I lost the ability to recognize safety again? What was wrong with me? I fretted about this for a bit, and then fell asleep.

I forgot all about it until just now. There's some kind of fratboyish party going on next door, and they had just started spilling out into the hall as I was about to take my garbage out. I saw all those loud drunk cleancut boys in their khakis, and felt that it wasn't safe to go into the hall. Unsafe.

That means that last night I felt safe. Alone. And safe.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. It has never happened before.

There's an interview with Erica Jong in today's Globe and Mail, in which she expresses distress over the fact that many young women today still identify with Isadora Wing.

I would be very interested to know if any of these young women are, and intend to remain, childfree.

I told myself that my treat for getting through the week would be a nice sleep-in this morning. I went to bed last night, snuggled up with my covers and stuffed animals, and closed my eyes with the intention of not opening them until they opened themselves.

I woke up at 8:47 a.m. All by myself. I must be getting old.

I've been doing some thinking and figuring stuff out, and I think I've figured out a rough financial strategy for my life. I've discovered that I will be retiring at age 55, so this has led me to decide to start working out. What's the connection between those two clauses? As I look up my family tree, I realize that I am most likely going to live at least to 100, maybe even 110. So since I've got 40-50 years of being an old retired person, and I want to spend as little of this time as possible being frail and hobbled. So I'm going to start doing some light cardio, a bit of yoga to stretch my already feeble limbs and joints, and hopefully eventually some weight training. Right now I think just doing push-ups is enough weight training, but I'm hoping to acquire some light hand weights (10-25 lbs, nothing serious). In the back of my mind I'd like arms like Serena Williams, but this is never going to happen for someone as sedentary as me. (Although there is a weight machine in the basement, but I hate going down there because it's a basement, and also there are too many frat boys and creepy old men in this building and they have as much right to walk into the weight room as I do.) Anyway, once I get in some sort of shape I might move up to distance running or biking and real weights, but I think the point right now is to get myself in reasonable cardiovasular shape and build some flexibility and muscle tone, as a long-term investment.

But enough about me! I have a question about child-rearing! Are kids who are out of diapers and can walk (as opposed to toddle) supposed to be in strollers? I've seen a few 4-year-olds in strollers lately, and this seems weird to me. I don't know anything about kids, but it looks funny to have a kid in a stroller whose legs are skinny (as opposed to baby-chubby) and who can talk in sentences. I'm trying to think back, but I can't remember at what age we stopped being in strollers. Although I know I was 3 when I started Montessori school, so I couldn't have been in a stroller then. You don't pick up your kid from school and put them in a stroller! Or maybe I'm reading the age of these kids wrong - maybe they're 2 or 3, but they are definitely not toddlers.

Qqch me manque et je ne sais exactement quoi. I don't mean overall, I just mean right now. I have my comfort food and Harry Potter and merlot and a warm flood of sunlight coming in my window, that should be able to cheer me up, right? But it isn't working.

It's weird how Harry Potter usually cheers me up though. Those books are so comfortable. The story arc is nice and formulaic - he starts out at the Dursleys', generally pops over to see the Weasleys, goes to Hogwarts on the train, new Defence Against Dark Arts teacher, some Quidditch, a hint of bad guys, xmas, more bad guys, more Quidditch, a battle against Voldemort or some incarnation thereof, usually a trip to the hospital and a nice chat with Dumbledore, then back home on the train to start all over again. But the plots are always full of nice twists and turns despite the formulaic pattern. It does comfort me though. Some days I'll just read every Quidditch match in his Hogwarts career. Sometimes I'll read every chat with Dumbledore. Every time I go back through an old book, I find new clues of what might happen next. When I need to clear my head at work, I wonder if Ron and Hermione might end up together (it seems like the tee-up to that is too obvious, but a Sidekick Gets the Girl plot would be a refreshing change), and whether Harry will end up with Ginny or with Luna (who must have been introduced, and made female, for a reason). Or maybe Luna will end up with Neville. Or Ginny with Neville! Of course, we'll probably never find out since Hogwarts only goes up to grade 12. Unless there's a second series following Harry to Auror school. Wouldn't it be something if J.K. Rowling threw us a twist and ended the series with Voldemort killing Harry? Then Ron and Hermione could get married and become Aurors and work on overthrowing Voldemort, with Hermione being the l33t one and Ron being the bumbling sidekick.

Some people are such fuckwits I marvel that they haven't died of stupidity of been killed out of frustration.

I saw a homeless person with way too much luggage. She had two of those giant 80 lb. military backpacks, 3 or 4 duffel bags, and a couple of large laptop cases of all things. She was panhandling, asking for spare change. I wanted to say "I'll give you some change if you can lift all this stuff up at once."

I hate it when things have mandatory surcharges, and they don't include them in the price. It's just like sales tax - why don't they include sales tax on price tags instead of making you calculate 15% in your head (which sounds easy, but quick - what's 15% of $3.69?) and add it to the list price? The phone company says they charge $19.93 for a residential line, but there are mandatory Touch Tone and 911 fees on top of that, plus PST and GST. Wouldn't it be easier if they just gave you the final price? I know I tend to get really pissed off when in the back of my head I'm thinking "Okay, it's under $20" and it ends up being closer to $30. Same thing with a long-distance plan I was considering. ONLY $1 SERVICE CHARGE PER MONTH they trumpet, and then the fine print mentions that there's a $2.95 network fee. I'd much rather they be upfront and say that it's $4 including all fees and let me decide with that information!

Come to think of it, they should do the same thing with income taxes. You hear what your salary is, and your paycheque comes back with 2/3 of what you were expecting. Of course everyone expects this now, but I'd imagine everyone would be a lot less bitter about paying taxes if they just told you what your salary after tax would be and had the employer pay your income tax directly to the government without it passing through your expectations first.

I'm not sure about the word "hero" for Jessica Lynch. I mean sure, she went through shit and she deserves recognition for that, but she doesn't come across as a hero so much as someone who was pushed around by fate. She had the misfortune to be born into a situation where joining the military was the best available career option. She had the further misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and get captured. She had the good fortune to be a tiny little blond girl, which might have saved her life. (Despite the fact that this is disgusting stereotyping, I think being a tiny little blond girl might have made her look to the Iraqis more like a kid who just stumbled into a bad situation, and less like The Enemy. I doubt GI Joe would have gotten such good care). She didn't really do anything that makes her any more of a hero than anyone else who has been a POW, she just happened to be the most photogenic of the lot. (Some may say the most tragic, but I reserve that adjective for the guy who may never get to see his unborn child).

Even if she isn't a hero, she still deserves something. I think being able to live her life how she wants to and have opportunities so she can support herself without having to cash in on her 15 minutes of fame like some pathetic reality show contestant or former child actor would be appropriate. But the opportunities available to Ms. Lynch must also be available to her fellow former POWs and vets. If, for example, Jessica Lynch gets a full university scholarship because she's Jessica Lynch and no one else who had been through the same hell gets a full scholarship, that would be little better than her having to support herself with talk show appearances and Playboy pictorials.

Purely hypothetical question:

Suppose you lived with a roommate. Suppose your roommate said "I hate doing dishes, and I hate having dirty dishes around. I'll pay 60% of the rent if you do all the dishes, and make sure dishes are done at least once a day." Would you go for it? Would you do their 3 least favourite chores in exchange for them paying 60% of the rent? What if it were 75%? Would you do all the chores if they paid all the rent?

I was so grumpy this morning, because I felt a bit sick and my bank had put us through shit yesterday. I was all set to write a nice blog entry about how terribly grumpy I felt, but then my mood lifted. I've been trying to think about why my mood lifted, and I think it's because my last project of the day was a copy-paste text. It wasn't all copy-paste, but it cited a lot of laws, so those could be copy-pasted from legislation. Copy-pasting cheers me up for some reason. It makes me happy to see final copy materialize with minimal effort on my part, and I can let my mind wander while I do it. I think I would be a lot more efficient if I always had two projects on the go: one normal, and one copy-paste. Then when I'm in a bad mood I can systematically copy-paste, and when that gets boring or my mood gets more productive I can do some normal work.

I overheard some people talking about their jobs on the subway, and their jobs sounded like Generic Office. Like comic strip characters who "work in an office" but we don't know what their exact jobs are. I didn't think any real world jobs could be described that way, but either there are jobs that can be described that way, or I stumbled upon two performance artists

GRAWR! The cable guy isn't here yet! I wanted to do a bit of shopping today - nothing major, just pick up a couple of things at the dollar store and a couple of tops at Fairweater's, it's just a block away and shouldn't take more than 1/2 hour. But I can't because the cable guy hasn't come yet and the mall closes at 5 on Sundays!

I want to call and say "Hello? Where's my cable guy?" but I can't do that because the buzzer is hooked up to my phone and if he comes while I'm on the phone I won't know and I won't be able to buzz him in.

I'm going to the bathroom to take a great big dump. That will probably guarantee that he comes while I'm on the toilet.