Treadmills are Evil

I have a question for you.

Suppose, just for the sake of discussion, that you started an exercise program at the YMCA/YWCA in your community.  And you designed a twice-a-week workout consisting of about a half hour of very fast walking on a treadmill followed by an hour of weights.

And suppose on a Monday evening, you were on a treadmill, very busy talking to your friend on the next treadmill, and somehow lost your footing, causing you to flail around like the subject in a nerve-gas experiment, and, instead of jumping off, you inexplicably tried to climb back on with your left foot while your right foot was on the floor, leading to a very ungainly galloping motion which quickly ended in an epic faceplant onto the moving belt which then shot you off the back of the machine until you stopped with your shoulder still touching the belt which then proceeded to sand off a couple of layers of skin.

And suppose that you went to work on the Tuesday morning wearing a sleeveless dress because a) it was hot out, and b) you didn't want anything touching your ouchy, oozing shoulder, shining under a thin layer of Polysporin.

And suppose your co-workers exclaimed in horror at your bruised and road-burned shoulder and asked you how it happened, what would you say?

1. Bar fight.

2. Motorcycle accident.

3. Saving baby from house fire and being hit by collapsing, flaming beam that hurtled down from the ceiling as you choked on smoke, scanned the blazing room, and managed to scoop up both the wailing baby and an unconscious kitten before staggering outside into the front yard lit by the strobing red lights of fire trucks and collapsing from smoke inhalation.

4. The lame, lame truth: That you were unco-ordinated enough to fall off a treadmill.  And probably shouldn't be allowed unsupervised around gym equipment, any vehicle with a combustion engine, or high-heeled shoes.

What would I say, if this far-fetched scenario were to happen to me?

Well, I'd go with Number 1 when greeting the other attendees at a meeting, and grudgingly admit to Number 4 when faced with non-believing stares.  You know, in the unlikely event that anything like that were ever to happen to me. 

Just for the sake of discussion.

I am a marketing GENIUS!

So, garden gnomes are hot right now. You know, these guys that you place strategically around your yard and gardens:

Their popularity probably has a lot to do with this movie:

Or maybe with the Travelocity gnome:

Personally, I love garden gnomes. I've liked them since 1997, when I saw the movie The Full Monty.

I like them so much that I made this gnome.  With my rudimentary mad knitting skillz:

I also made this gnome.  With my mad gestational skillz: (I made the hat too.  With my mad.... hatational skillz):

And then it hit me: niche markets!  For gnomes!

There already are garden gnomes for zombie fans:  

And garden gnomes for hockey fans:  

I can totally see the next logical niche-market step.  Are you ready for this?  

It's CLASSIC!

Garden gnomes for Toronto Maple Leafs fans:

Because seriously, that team has been the walking (or maybe skating) dead for YEARS.    I tell ya, they'll just sell themselves. 

But that's not all.   How about personalized garden gnomes?

Garden gnomes for Jane Austen fans:

Or, garden gnomes for the 6 to 16-year-old female demographic:

Or, (my personal fave) garden gnomes for the discerning over-30 female demographic (these might be hard to keep in stock):

(You might want to enlarge this one.  Trust me.)

Oh, I haven't forgotten the 9 to 109-year-old male demographic.  For them there's the Scarlett Johansson garden gnomes: 

I just have to check if Madonna has trademarked the cone boobs.

And start looking for venture capital.  Lots and lots of venture capital. :)

Transit of Venus

Hee.


Sorry.

To whom it may concern, 2012 edition

It's that time again, more passive-aggressive letters from Party of 3:

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Dear man behind me in line at the grocery check-out,


Sighing loudly and checking your watch ostentatiously because I'm holding up the line by letting my child buy a chocolate bar with her own money, which she is counting out slowly as it's nickels, dimes, and quarters, doesn't make me move any faster.


But it does make you look like an asshole.


Namaste,

Alison

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Dear Hydro One,


Yes, I *do* have a problem with the planned power outage that I got a prerecorded phone message about.  A blackout from midnight Saturday to noon Sunday.  Really.  Really?  You couldn't plan an outage on, say, a Tuesday from 9.am. to 4 p.m., when everyone is at work ? No? Of course not, because that would MAKE SENSE.


Cordially, Face-palming at your stupidity,


Alison

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Dear lady at the wedding reception,


There is a difference between a capon and a caper.  What you had on your cracker, nestled up against the smoked salmon and creme fraiche, were capers.  Trust me on this.  A capon is a chicken.  And maybe I shouldn't have corrected you, even though I did politely say, "I think you mean capers" when you said, "I love the taste of the capons with the salmon".  But insisting that you were right when you obviously weren't and I when I had already dropped the subject, that's social fail.


And your hat looked stupid too.


Warm regards,


Alison

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Dear Evil Ninja Assassin Cat,


Please fill out the following short survey and return at your earliest convenience:


1. Complete the sentence: Alison's toes are


a) edible.
b) actually small rodents.
c) attached to the feet of the person who feeds you and would like to stretch her feet out to the bottom of the bed when she finally gets into bed at the end of a long day to relax with a book or maybe an episode of C.S.I. on dvd and not worry that her toes will be punctured and shredded by your sneak attacks and has to curl up in an awkward ball which is SO. NOT. COMFORTABLE.


2. Which place would Alison prefer that you give yourself a tongue bath?


a) On Alison's chest while she's lying in bed reading, blocking her view of her book, but making up for that by giving her an up-close-and-personal glimpse of where your testicles used to be.
b) On the clean, folded laundry in the laundry basket.
c) Outside.


(OK, that was a trick question.  Folded laundry in the basket? As if.)


3.  Which of the following things are you allowed to bite?


a) Alison's arm, at random and unpredictable times.
b) Angus, especially his bum.
c) Toy mice, yarn balls, tennis balls, spiders, cat treats, guys who come to the door with clipboards and try to trick you into buying a water heater.


Thanks in advance for your co-operation,


Alison


*************************************************************
Dear Leah and Rachel,


Towels, especially wet towels, do not belong on the living room floor.  Keep this up and I'll make you dry yourselves off after showers using kleenex.  And not the good, two-ply kind with the lotion, either.  They'll be the cheap, no-name brand that won't soak up any water, but just cover you with little sodden kleenex balls.  And heaven help you if you leave *those* lying around on the living room floor.


I mean it.


Your mother.

**************************************************************
Dear person who invented wine,


I love you.  That is all.


Devotedly,


Alison

Surviving the all-day meeting: tips and strategies

All-day meetings can be a necessary evil in your job, but they don't have to adversely impact your positive attitude.  There are many things that you can do to get through an all-day meeting at least partly sane.

You must do your utmost to pay attention to the discussion.  This is very important.  Your input is valuable and you can't comment intelligently if you haven't been paying attention. I can't stress this enough.

But there comes a time in every meeting when it all goes south.  Someone will jump on his favourite hobby horse and ride off into the semantic sunset, while a couple of other participants will veer off onto esoteric tangents that no one else understands.  If you are not the meeting chair, there's not much you can do to bring the meeting back on track.

That's when you reach into your 'all-day meeting toolkit' and find a way to pass the time without going totally and irrevocably batshit crazy.  Here are some ideas.

1. Imagine scenarios which are WORSE than being in the meeting, where, if given the choice between the two, you'd pick the meeting. Award yourself extra points for creativity. Some examples are:

• in a helicopter with a broken tail rotor, plummeting and spinning towards the barren, rocky ground of some desolate tundra
• trapped in a time-share resort presentation with 22 crying babies and seated next to someone who says, "Have you seen my tarantula?  He seems to have climbed out of my purse". 
• on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet the morning after you consumed >17 margaritas
• in Arkansas*

This should help you feel better about being in the meeting.

2. Look around the meeting table and try to match up participants with similar characters on The Big Bang Theory.  Award yourself extra points for not snickering out loud or betraying your thoughts with inappropriate facial expressions.

• do it again with Friends
• do it again with Game of Thrones
• do it again with The Sopranos

2a. Try to figure out who would win, the Sopranos or the Lannisters, if they ever came up against each other.  Award yourself bonus points for imagining conversations between Tony and Tyrion.  Award yourself extra bonus points if you imagine Tony using the words "F#*&ing dwarf". Award yourself super extra bonus points if you imagine Tony having to remove a dagger from his thigh.

• do it again for Downton Abbey vs. Grey's Anatomy

(I don't have any earthly idea how that last one would work, but trying to figure it out would distract you, and, really, distraction is the best you can hope for in one of these meetings.)

3. Mentally reorganize your wardrobe.  Imagine you are wearing your hottest outfit.  Now imagine what each of the meeting participants would look like wearing your hottest outfit. Deduct points if any of them look better in it than you do.  Deduct extra points if the person who looks better than you do in your hottest outfit is of the opposite sex.

4. Listen carefully for sentences that sound dirty when taken out of context and write them down. Award yourself extra points if you're taking minutes for the meeting and you include those sentences in the final written notes.

(When discussing the different symbols that can be used on geological maps to represent normal faults and thrust faults, one of the geologists in the all-day meeting I was in yesterday said, "I'm really not impressed with their thrusts."  *snicker*) 

5. Pick some jargon or buzzword and award yourself points whenever the word is said out loud.  Promise yourself one chocolate bar/beer/ice cream cone/margarita/reward of your choice for each mention. 

(I picked "planar features". I will be very drunk and/or fat this weekend.)

6. Decide which of the following Monty Python sketches best represents the underlying theme of the meeting:

• Four Yorkshiremen: Everyone bitches and moans about how much harder they have it than everyone else at the meeting has it.
• Argument Clinic: Two individuals or factions within the meeting insist on taking opposite sides of every issue on the agenda.
• The Dead Parrot: One individual or faction attempts to convince another that the project being discussed will really work. The second individual or faction keeps presenting compelling evidence that the first individual or faction is wrong.  The first person/group is unfazed and keeps trying to discredit the evidence.
• The Spanish Inquisition: Lots of people rush in and out and there is a general confusion about what are the main points on the agenda and what the meeting proposes to accomplish.
• Spam: Participants are expected to make a final corporate decision by choosing from a long list of very similar sounding options. (Or, if there are any Vikings present, then obviously this is the sketch you choose.)

If all else fails, stand up abruptly so that your chair rocks backwards, clutch your stomach, and say, loudly, "Could you all please excuse me for a moment, it's that darn dysentery again".

That ought to buy you at least 20 minutes out of the meeting room.

;-)


*kidding, just kidding, I'm sure it's a great place

I may be geeky, but my kids still think I'm cool. Kinda.

Facebook wordless

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Why the world needs editors: "I'm sure that's not what they really meant" edition

Why the world needs translation editors: beefs on the loose edition

I am totally reblogging something I saw today on Dave Reevely's blog in the Ottawa Citizen, as it fits in so well with my "Why the world needs translation editors" series.  This is an actual press release sent out this afternoon by the Service de police de la ville de Gatineau. (Gatineau is the city in Quebec right across the river from Ottawa.)

"Appeals in connection with two animals.


On October 27, 2011 to 12h22 P.M.


The SPVG received a call in relation to an animal or a beef, who was walking in public at large and was threatening to the population. The call stated that there could be two beef in liberty.


The call was received October 27, 2011 to 12:22. The beef was walking freely on the 148 or the Montreal Road West, near George Street in Gatineau (Masson-Angers). Throughout the duration of the intervention, the police found that the animal was aggressive and threatening to the population. The police even had to ask staff to primary school St-Jean de Brebeuf to bring the children inside the school for safety. Several times the animal has dark on patrol cars and police officers.


Around 1:27 p.m., the animal was at the height of the shore road and path of the Quai. It was impossible to contain the animal because of its high aggressiveness. With the consent of the owner, the police had no choice but to kill the animal. The animal has since been taken over by its owner.


Meanwhile, a police officer spotted the second animal in the George Street exit of Highway 50 eastbound. The police managed to contain the animal for some time, but again, the animal was aggressive and difficult to contain. With the consent of its owner the police had to shoot the second animal (2:08 p.m.).


It is important to know that prior to slaughter animals, including the police tried a few times to get the beef into the trailer of their owners using different tactics (in collaboration). The animals showed a lot of aggression and loaded with police officers, patrol cars and the trailer’s owner several times, the decision to kill the animals was necessary to protect citizens (the animals were threatening the population). All measures have been taken to ensure that no person has been put in danger when the shots were fired police officers."

Ah Google Translate, how I love you.


Poor beefs :(

10 signs that I might be watching too much C.S.I.

OK, I'll admit it. I have a slightly disturbing obsession with the C.S.I. franchises. And maybe I've been watching too much. The signs? I mean besides making up my own hometown version: C.S.I. Carp?

1. I'm seriously considering wearing latex gloves to do the housework around here.

Like the laundry.


And cleaning the kitchen.


2. I've also thought that figuring out who left the half-full glass of milk on the kitchen counter that was knocked over by Max would be so easy if I only had a fingerprint kit. Because both girls deny it was them.



3. I've been looking around online for those special flashlights. Not because I need one, but because I want one.



4. I've been considering incorporating vests and lab coats into my wardrobe.

I think I could totally rock a vest.





5. I find myself wondering what the Windex budget for the C.S.I. Miami and C.S.I. New York labs is, seeing as they are composed almost entirely of glass.










6. I was using a pumice stone the other day on very dry, scaly feet and caught myself thinking, "Ooooo! Epithelials!"

(There's no picture for this one.)

(You're welcome.)


7. I've taken to standing with my hands on my hips a lot.



And taking my sunglasses off very, very dramatically.


8. I sometimes wish I had tweezers and an evidence envelope when cleaning underneath the dining room table.




9. I really like C.S.I. humour.


Really like.

Really, really like.

10. The clincher, when I realized that perhaps really do watch too much C.S.I., was a couple of days after I let Leah stay up and watch an episode of C.S.I. with me on DVD. I went down in the basement and saw a Barbie crime scene laid out on the floor.

Crap. What have I done?