tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31211799210159634032024-03-05T21:23:31.815-05:00what.will.you.be,Pea?anti-hopes and anti-dreams for a future generationricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-67228188350399573812012-11-30T22:58:00.000-05:002012-11-30T22:58:11.698-05:00New York, NEW YORK!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had the chance to visit New York City for the first time this past summer. With two kids in tow, we were only there for a day, only visited Central Park and FAO Schwartz, and happened to walk past Trump Tower on our return to the parking lot. But I was in love before we had even parked the car. <br />
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I know how sad it is that I had never been before. In hindsight, I didn't truly understand that the city was real until I saw it with my own eyes. I guess I just thought of it as a character in a movie; something that only exists on TV. By the time we were leaving town, we were already making plans to return. <br />
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While I now recognize that the Big Apple is real, my romantic notion of the city is still firmly rooted in fiction and pop culture. Movies and musical interpretations dominate my understanding of NYC so I might still find some surprises when I return - for better or for worse. <br />
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With that in mind, I proudly present to you the Top 10 things I expect the city to deliver the next time I cross the bridge. <br />
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1. I hope the hooker that grabs my ass in Times Square has, at least, recently washed her hands.<br />
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2. When I visit the converted firehall from the 1984 documentary film <i>Ghostbusters</i>, I want to believe that I won't be scared when Slimer flies around overhead, but in my heart of hearts I know I will be. <br />
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3. When Jay-Z and I are hanging out at a Brooklyn Nets game, I expect to be discussed as the mystery feller "hangin' with Hov" on TMZ the next day. <br />
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4. When I slam my hands down on a cabbie's car, screaming "I'm walking here, I'm walking here!," I expect him to flip me off.<br />
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5. If <i>Home Alone 2: Lost in New York </i>taught me anything, it's that no matter how dangerous the streets of the big city are, when your kids go off on misadventures, everything will turn out well in the end. So Pea and Peanut should be fine if we leave them in the hotel room for an afternoon.<br />
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6. As NYC is the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, I will expect to instantly become a handsome billionaire philanthropist who doesn't stress over car payments and a mortgage. Dream a little dream...<br />
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7. I expect the descendants of William Cutting and Leonardo Dicaprio to still be vying for supremacy in the Five Points, even though I will never go there... they put dead rabbits on stakes, for gods sake. That's F'in dangerous.<br />
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8. I expect there to be more crazy people on the subway than there are normal people. And I'm not talking crazy, like "oh that guy has 20 facial piercings, he's so crazy!" I'm talking "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! THAT CRAZY GUY'S GONNA PEE ON US!" crazy.<br />
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9. Not only do I expect to see Woody Allen filming in a movie in NYC, I expect to be given a supporting role in said film (this expectation ties back to #6 on my list - concrete jungle where dreams are made of).<br />
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10. While I know their battles are epic, over there on the Upper West Side of town, I pray the Jets and the Sharks can keep their fierce rivalry in check long enough for me to enjoy an exhibit or two at the American Museum of Natural History - coincidentally, the location of the best Ben Stiller movies ever made, <i>Night at the Museum</i>.<br />
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<br />ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-35119657710799031952012-11-05T19:51:00.000-05:002012-11-05T19:51:28.885-05:00My Alternative to NHL Hockey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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During the last NHL lockout, Texas Holdem' Poker made a big surge. Men around the country needed a competitive spectacle to occupy their time, and the stars of the poker world were all too happy to fill that need.<br />
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Well, now there's another lockout. And those that like poker have stuck with it. It looks like the rest of us hockey fans are looking for another outlet.<br />
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Look no further. I am offering up my own nightly ritual as fodder for the masses. Simply put, I suggest we videotape and broadcast my efforts to change my infant baby's diaper and put on her pyjama.<br />
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Here's what I promise to you, the fan:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Three 20-minute periods, during which the outcome is never a certainty.</li>
<li>There will be sweating, swearing, usually some hooking, and lots of shame.</li>
<li>Assuming I manage to get the diaper on, I will give a post-completion interview, where I will discuss my strategy during the diapering, which will likely involve some combination of luck, yelling and a complete disregard for whether or not the diaper is even on properly.</li>
<li>Headed into the pyjama'ing, I will offer viewers the opportunity to call in an choose the pyjama of their choice. This will allow you, the fan, to choose a zippered pyjama, or the dreaded over-the-head, buttons at the bottom model. Because unlike the NHL, I care about entertaining the fans. </li>
<li>On Saturday nights, a pre-game show will be available, where fans can watch as I also attempt to feed the infant dinner. A post-game show will also feature my midnight frustration at the baby's constant wakings. The post-game show is guaranteed to offer you a grown man's tears.</li>
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There you go hockey fans. Trust me, after you see me doing this, you'll never need another hockey game in your life. Oh, and for American viewers, I will also have a glowing diaper to make it easier for you to follow the action.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-50404302958454831762012-11-01T22:40:00.000-04:002012-11-01T22:40:28.539-04:00Bonding Made Easy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today, I hit a new high as a parent. Well, maybe it was a new low. No, it was a high. Yeah, a high. For sure a high.<br />
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Today, my daughter threw-up in my mouth. <br />
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Understand the high vs low dilemma now?<br />
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Context is simple, really. I get home from work, happy to see my family. I've been sick for a couple of days, so I have been avoiding Peanut for the most part, keeping from holding her and getting too close. Since I believe the worst of the cold is behind me, I figure, time to get back to hands on parenting.<br />
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As I pick up Peanut, she starts to whine a bit. It's close to her bedtime, so she's a little crabby. So, I go to my surefire Daddy-make-me-happy move, and hold her up over my head, a la Lion King. <br />
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At this point, she throws up. And since I'm craning my neck looking up at her, a substantial amount of vomit lands in my mouth. I immediately realize that she had corn for dinner. <br />
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Next steps: (1) hand the infant to my wife, (2) head to the washroom, (3) spit, (4) rinse, (5) repeat, (6) change throw-up stained shirt, (7) curse out wife for laughing at me, (8) receive baby back from my wife and continue evening bonding session. <br />
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At least is wasn't crap, right? RIGHT?<br />
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<br />ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-58803294936489832582012-10-18T21:33:00.000-04:002012-10-18T22:00:37.480-04:00Letter to the outside world<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-xIKD8xLXWKaSVuymRMeNbg1Zt04fe9x5g3SrxjIvxwCwbOjMfR5jOUmd3Jx9Cw5_16as8smSoNZV6oKwfQogk32TAVSLuoaoHtzwxc7B9RsZOxBYkITtLqRm70IzUmtYj-BTRBdvwo/s1600/300px-Go_the_fuck_to_sleep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-xIKD8xLXWKaSVuymRMeNbg1Zt04fe9x5g3SrxjIvxwCwbOjMfR5jOUmd3Jx9Cw5_16as8smSoNZV6oKwfQogk32TAVSLuoaoHtzwxc7B9RsZOxBYkITtLqRm70IzUmtYj-BTRBdvwo/s1600/300px-Go_the_fuck_to_sleep.jpg" /></a></div>It's been two hours since the infant took me hostage. It all started innocently enough, with a bottle of milk in one hand and a soothing bedtime melody playing on the radio... a beautiful lullaby, by the great children's musician Noel Gallagher. <br />
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By and by, we rocked. We stared into each others eyes and before long, sleep fell upon the infant... or, at least, a semblance of sleep.<br />
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Then, the moaning began. Powerful, incessant, belaboured moans seemingly designed to drive me up the wall. Moans so loud neighbouring children were kept awake in nearby chambers. Moans so long I wondered if my captor was planning on inhaling ever again.<br />
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Stockholm Syndrome perhaps setting in, I began to empathize with my captor. 'She's just trying to get to sleep,' I thought. 'Years from now, I'll look back on her moans with fondness'<br />
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But not today.<br />
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After what seemed like hours (in reality a mere dozen minutes), my captor lay quietly asleep in my arms. Time for a quick getaway, I figure. Not so fast, papa. Not so fast.<br />
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The mere thought of laying my captor in her crib beckons the moans, return. Now, louder. And in my annoyed state, the moans take on an arrogant tone. Like a child dangling their finger a centimetre from anothers' nose, as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'<br />
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In time, quiet sleep returns.<br />
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Then moans.<br />
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Then sleep.<br />
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Then moans.<br />
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Then, sleep?<br />
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Yes?<br />
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Nope, more moans.<br />
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Then sleep.<br />
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Then moans.<br />
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[Hours pass in the same fashion... ok, about 30 minutes, but that's a long time dammit!]<br />
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And then, my escape arrives. But for how long? The joys of teething. <br />
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ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-48868111193419328432012-10-17T22:09:00.000-04:002012-10-17T22:33:43.041-04:00The Petrified Dad<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Backgrounder: I'm doing this <a href="http://ricochayspeaks.blogspot.ca/2012/01/intellectual-property-borrowing.html" target="_blank">30-Day Blog Challenge</a>. This is blog post #3, covering the "A problem you have or have had in the past" topic.</i><br />
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I was talking with a colleague of mine at work today. She's about 4 months pregnant, and I asked her if she knew whether they were having a boy or a girl. She told me that while they weren't going to find out, she knew one thing for sure - her husband was absolutely petrified of having a girl. <br />
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Totally get it. To most soon-to-be dads, girls represent the unknown. Girls think differently and act differently; they have hair that needs to be tied, often in weird configurations like pony tails or pig tails; they like glittery art-and-craft-stuffs that make most of us cringe; they wear cute little dresses that we never know how to put on properly. That can be a lot for a guy to wrap his head around, and I didn't even mention the ultimate kicker: feminine hygiene pads. [Shudder.]<br />
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Personally, before the girls were born, I was in the "healthy and happy" camp. As long as everything was where it was supposed to be, I would be happy. I knew that, eventually, with coaching and genuine enthusiasm and a whole bunch of trial and error, I could learn the lady ropes. And then, when the girls were born, I realized that really, there isn't much of a difference between having a baby boy and having a baby girl. Pee-pee tents and hair accessories aside, it's all the same. <br />
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But, while the differences between having a baby boy and baby girl are subtle, the difference between having a teenage boy and teenage girl are astronomical. And that's the thought that makes me just as petrified as my colleagues' husband.<br />
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I've been thinking a lot more about these differences lately, after Amanda Todd became a household name in Canada and around the world. I've been thinking about the video she made and about the incessant abuse she faced for months before making a truly tragic choice.<br />
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I fear that my girls will face challenges that I will never be able to understand. I fear that girls use different tactics to put each other down; that we as a society have allowed the physical to dominate our judgement of others, especially in and amongst our little girls, and that teenage girls more so than boys feel the need to 'fit in' at the expense of another girl being marginalized. And I don't know how to handle that.<br />
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I know what my approach would be with a boy... teach him to throw a mean right hook, and to never start a fight, but to always finish one. It might not solve all of the problems, but it's a good place to start.<br />
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With girls, though, the challenges they face are unlikely to be physical. Girls play psychological games with one another. They harass and torment and ostracize one from the others. Their attacks often leave no visible bruises or cuts, but internal wounds. <br />
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My point isn't to say girls have it worse than boys. No matter the gender, bullying of any kind hurts and is unacceptable. My point is that I believe things are different between the sexes. I have an idea - good, bad, or otherwise - I have an idea as to how I would approach things with a boy. With two girls, the abuse they could potentially face as teenagers is foreign to me. Therein lies my petrification.<br />
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So, I've decided that my approach will be to remind them as often as I can that their self-worth has nothing to do with how they look or about what they wear. <br />
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I will remind them as often as I can that their self-worth isn't allowed to be dictated by anyone else's opinion of them. <br />
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I will remind them that it is <i>never</i> acceptable to treat anyone with anything less than complete respect.<br />
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I will remind them as often as I can that there will always be people who want to be ahead of them socially or academically or physically, and that's OK. Let them think that way; just be comfortable with who you are, and in the end, nothing else matters.<br />
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And most importantly, I will remind them that I will always be there for them. 'Cause that's good to hear, no matter what challenges they face.<br />
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<br />ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-68975695038117841102012-02-10T00:07:00.001-05:002012-02-10T00:09:20.272-05:00Back to the Future<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Backgrounder: I'm doing this <a href="http://ricochayspeaks.blogspot.com/2012/01/intellectual-property-borrowing.html" style="color: #992211; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">30-Day Blog Challenge</a>. This is blog post #2, covering the "Somewhere you would like to move/visit" topic.</i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlZFaJ1lq5ONsJSJ2u7B19EeQVnboGKYlvzRbxJasAHc-dNbb8nouX35jmoHyN4z1Lrz8W9VkDjB2ULhqhm5oUu5oJbUQKEx6Hev_Wxe8bsRFv6noHBChMjwW6iE9kET9n3c-X7X2_cU/s1600/Doc+-+2012-02-09+23-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlZFaJ1lq5ONsJSJ2u7B19EeQVnboGKYlvzRbxJasAHc-dNbb8nouX35jmoHyN4z1Lrz8W9VkDjB2ULhqhm5oUu5oJbUQKEx6Hev_Wxe8bsRFv6noHBChMjwW6iE9kET9n3c-X7X2_cU/s400/Doc+-+2012-02-09+23-31.jpg" width="197" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Remember, I was just out of</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>university, hence the horrible</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>jacket, shoes and unsightly</i></div>
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<i>neck fat. </i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">At work today, a coworker and I were talking about travel. We were discussing the importance of having that next big trip to look forward to, as a coping mechanism to get through a particularly busy stretch in the office.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">She is fortunate enough to be heading to Rome in a few months. She's going to stay in a villa, live life like the locals live, and bask in the glory of the cultured country that is Italy. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I, on the other hand, have no big trip on the horizon. Consequently, I no longer like my coworker.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I have been fortunate enough to have done a fair bit of travel though. After university, my wife (then girlfriend) and I did the backpacking thing, spending time in:</span></span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">England (London)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">France (Paris)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Italy (Rome, Venice, Pompeii and sort of Milan... a long story)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Spain (Barcelona), Switzerland (Innsbruck, Salzburg)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Germany (Munich)</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">The Netherlands (Amsterdam... try walking through the Red Light District with your girlfriend... it was amusingly horrible).</span></li>
</ul>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">It was only 3 weeks, but it was awesome.</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Since the Europe trip, I've also been to:</span></span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Cuba </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Peru</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Argentina </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Hawaii </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Beautiful Saskatoon, SK</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Breathtaking Buffalo, NY </span></li>
</ul>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Argentina was amazing. Peru was fascinating. Buffalo was... interesting. But if I could go anywhere again, to live permanently, it would be London, England. </span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">When we visited London, we stayed with friends in a hamlet called Gypsy Hill. That alone makes it cool. We took the train in and out of the city every day and absorbed all that London has to offer. The pubs were real pubs. The subway was an actual and legitimate mode of transport. And the history and architecture were da bomb.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Start sidebar...</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Did I use that term correctly, da bomb? I think it means 'the history and architecture were great.' Do kids still say da bomb? Is the fact that I said something is da bomb automatically make it lame? Do kids still say lame? As in, 'Oh God, my next post should be about how lame I have become; a caricature of a man, really.'</i> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">End sidebar. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">After we returned from our trip, my wife (then girlfriend) and I talked a lot about going back to London to live after we got married. Years went by, careers were established, and now we are firmly and happily rooted in our home and our life and our routine. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">So, if the idea of moving somewhere new if off the table, where would I want to visit? </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">London. Let me explain.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">My notion of London is based on a memory of what the city was to me at that moment in time. I was free from school. I hadn't yet started working. I literally had nothing to worry about, which automatically made the entire trip that much better. I could sit in the pub all night long, without a worry. I could accidentally ask for a mint julep instead of a mojito and play off my disgust with youthful naiveté. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Now though, things are different. I am older. I have different views and a different understanding of life. Surely, the city itself has changed. And at this point in my life I would curse the wasted money spent on a foul mint julep. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">As a result, I often wonder whether or not another trip would be just as memorable. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">That's why I picked London.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Plus, travel in the EU is much easier and cheaper than it is here, and London is fairly central to make side trips to Edinburgh, Dublin, Athens, Prague, Lisbon and Cannes. I could revisit my London memories, and check out the places I missed the first time around. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">So, shout out to all the sociologists out there, who need someone to help provide research on travel regression theories. I'm your guy.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Start sidebar... </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Did I use that term correctly, shout out? ...</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-81062845935916121162012-01-31T00:29:00.000-05:002012-01-31T00:29:07.483-05:00I'm awesome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZZ4z5UYfS_yjGZjBqx2jg685ZWJteyuK5_Ti72F4YKfqZSuQhW-cxMFc1g8l5-Ln3Q4qN1oT_mdjtWPurVXZ469jQtpIl99gJULIhG8P4cTl4Nzbp_qvv6NRdNjbb6QJ033X8fSz9cg/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZZ4z5UYfS_yjGZjBqx2jg685ZWJteyuK5_Ti72F4YKfqZSuQhW-cxMFc1g8l5-Ln3Q4qN1oT_mdjtWPurVXZ469jQtpIl99gJULIhG8P4cTl4Nzbp_qvv6NRdNjbb6QJ033X8fSz9cg/s400/photo.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Pea: Dad, there's a piece of Pooh missing.<br />
<div>
Me: BAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA (etc.)!</div>
<div>
Pea: What are you laughing at?</div>
<div>
Me: BAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA (etc.)!</div>
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Wife: (under her breath) You're an idiot.</div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-91238043904915840002012-01-25T00:32:00.001-05:002012-01-25T00:38:49.604-05:00Eighteen, going on old<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq1pTVSPyaRC3iRcCq_PVarFPOzteXOuZCSgbC8V42qtV_VC1K7U1YoHaOZlinoeX4ufY-OhwTVH22XoSJa0pFqMT7mVR7-zkXD4VoaETf_J2enDYnTNr0nGksn9FrxxxDFSXliW9Cq0/s1600/jay-z_kanye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq1pTVSPyaRC3iRcCq_PVarFPOzteXOuZCSgbC8V42qtV_VC1K7U1YoHaOZlinoeX4ufY-OhwTVH22XoSJa0pFqMT7mVR7-zkXD4VoaETf_J2enDYnTNr0nGksn9FrxxxDFSXliW9Cq0/s320/jay-z_kanye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I'm a music fan. I like a little bit of everything, from country to indie rock to hip hop to folk, and all points in between. I rarely turn down an offer to listen to something new.<br />
<br />
Like many people, I think, my musical taste varies depending on what I am doing. <br />
<br />
If I'm getting pumped for a big hockey game, I'll throw on some Offspring or Rage Against the Machine. If I'm quietly toiling away in the office, it's gotta be Ray Lamontagne, Basia Bulat or City and Colour. <br />
<br />
If I'm in the car, it's hip hop... all the time. A little Drake; a little Jay-Z and Kanye; a little Common. It's the big bass... literally enveloping me in the confines of a car. It puts me in a good mood.<br />
<br />
Now, I know listening to loud hip hop with lots of bass makes me a bit of a douche. Especially when I'm stopped at a light, and cars beside me can see the bass rippling through the air (ok, it's never really that loud... let's just say they know it's there). I guess doucheyness is like an occupational hazard that comes with hip-hopping in the car, and I can deal with that hazard.<br />
<br />
Ok, I <i>could</i> deal with that hazard. <br />
<br />
As I learned recently while I was on my way to pick up Pea and my wife at dance class, the douche factor increases tenfold when there's a friggin CAR SEAT in the back seat of the car! What a wake-up call I had when I turned around at a stop light, looked at the car seat, and realized that I'm not 18 anymore. <br />
<br />
So, from here on out, the volume is coming down and it's talk radio 24-7.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cimoNqiulUE" width="560"></iframe></div>
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<br /></div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-56497650323375005932012-01-18T01:48:00.003-05:002012-01-18T23:37:55.520-05:00I predict a riot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9sjo6dvj88BwY7RFAWi9o6QOBs97c-6tpnxh93grSPB-8gDpw8UvL0M0T9CqCCXHT3JDGv9KZ8jkyXwH23DLqpWAr4OjAtrqT2T3cF8qECtLTDZcj_okpXWNCJT374g4wRjtXgvW0FM/s1600/IMG_4855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9sjo6dvj88BwY7RFAWi9o6QOBs97c-6tpnxh93grSPB-8gDpw8UvL0M0T9CqCCXHT3JDGv9KZ8jkyXwH23DLqpWAr4OjAtrqT2T3cF8qECtLTDZcj_okpXWNCJT374g4wRjtXgvW0FM/s400/IMG_4855.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
While cleaning up tonight, I found a single, solitary monkey from Pea's Barrel of Monkeys, sitting alone in her play area downstairs.<br />
<br />
The actual barrel, as well as the rest of the monkeys, were upstairs in our bedroom, in the emergency toy stash we keep for those Saturday and Sunday mornings when Pea wakes up just a little too early (read every weekend).<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On my way upstairs, I brought the lone monkey with me to put away in the barrel where he belongs. As I tossed him in and closed the lid on the barrel, a vision ran through my mind... I pictured all of the monkeys rejoicing at the sight of their long-lost monkey cousin returning to the barrel from whence he came. Tears of joy flowed down monkey cheeks. Monkey prayers answered at last. Perhaps, monkey lovers reunited? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Then, <i>and I must emphasize that I actually thought this</i>, I wondered if perhaps one of the monkeys was angered by the sudden return of his plastic yellow counterpart. A love triangle re-engaged? A rivalry renewed? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
So then, <i>naturally</i>, my mind wandered to that aggressive reunion between former enemies... at best an uncomfortable greeting... at worst, little plastic monkeys hurling little plastic feces at one another in a show of dominance, with all kinds of other innocent monkeys running for cover from flying monkey plops. Was I responsible for monkey armageddon within that barrel? </div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, I thought, what the hell is wrong with me? Inanimate plastic monkeys causing me undue stress and anxiety?<br />
<br />
Stupid plastic monkeys. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1MNY2wnVdkvOr16u66Z8P7BhEyKTaQTcn-SzEyJmrNzTHDHzfb5m6Dnk6ttehG_upacNzLuWCG9s2o-DIcjamBvlN0q5mhU46CjHy4_wRqddRelicTTlEHF6TLsb_RQ7cEfIL72H9YS8/s1600/IMG_4852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1MNY2wnVdkvOr16u66Z8P7BhEyKTaQTcn-SzEyJmrNzTHDHzfb5m6Dnk6ttehG_upacNzLuWCG9s2o-DIcjamBvlN0q5mhU46CjHy4_wRqddRelicTTlEHF6TLsb_RQ7cEfIL72H9YS8/s320/IMG_4852.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-91056523834744811452012-01-15T23:30:00.000-05:002012-01-15T23:30:51.040-05:00Horrible Boss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dN-pL3ReK7WTavGOsSixQ_i3tPG3G-ucDuEaHy4QCKYZnH5DnwZ9KDy4jGDa0V7edGzo7j0Qj6APXsm70gX95mDpeEmtdrH1VYJPZhMhUMEAe_5out1JJaeEr5UkaEN5I1DGlr3rlf0/s1600/IMG_0493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dN-pL3ReK7WTavGOsSixQ_i3tPG3G-ucDuEaHy4QCKYZnH5DnwZ9KDy4jGDa0V7edGzo7j0Qj6APXsm70gX95mDpeEmtdrH1VYJPZhMhUMEAe_5out1JJaeEr5UkaEN5I1DGlr3rlf0/s320/IMG_0493.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
If Pea was an employee of mine, she'd be on a serious performance improvement plan relative to her dinner time insubordination. Every day, she looks me in the eye, ignores my requests, fails to deliver on agreed upon deadlines, and whines whenever she doesn't like the nature of her work. <br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
This weekend, she took the cake. Yesterday, dinner at Ikea went about as well as dinner at Ikea can be expected to go. She balked at her tilapia, spat it out on numerous occasions, and made us seem like 'those' parents who don't have any degree of control over their kid. Rightly so. Oh, the tears. So many tears. None of which flew from Pea's tear ducts.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Tonight, the shenanigans continued with a 75 minute dinnertime performance. This event included everything from a series of pop song interpretations to complaints over a concerning lack of corn in the pasta. It's a hard knock life, indeed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Sure, she's a good worker. She's cute, extremely smart and incredibly creative. So she gets to stay. But we're keeping a watchful eye on her performance. </div>
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Oh, and any suggestion that her poor performance is a direct result of bad management is nonsense. It can't possibly have anything to do with me... I eat EXTREMELY well... too well in fact, especially if you ask the scale in my bathroom.</div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-63397689698972677792012-01-14T00:19:00.000-05:002012-01-14T00:20:54.774-05:00ViewfindingI like to think of myself as a photographer-in-training. I have a basic dSLR, a couple of decent lenses (until I broke one of them recently), and ambition. What I lack is time, skill and the trained eye of a pro. <br />
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To help with the latter two, my wife bought me a few photography books for Christmas; namely, <i>The Digital Photography Book</i> series by Scott Kelby. These are great books. They're simple, funny, and easy to understand. There are step-by-step instructions on how to capture great images and ideas on how to think differently when looking through the viewfinder.<br />
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I suppose as Pea gets older and more self-sufficient, I will be able to spare more time, cultivate some skill and train myself to capture better images... to see things differently, and to use my camera to its full potential. Until then, I'll just keep on keepin' on.<br />
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Here are a few I managed to capture in The Distellery this Summer, long before I knew the difference between f/stop and aperture. Most of you will easily spot the overexposures and poor composition. But I like 'em.<br />
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Here's where I hope to get, over time - <a href="http://advanceafewstepsback.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://advanceafewstepsback.blogspot.com</a>. A few of these are hanging in our house.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-10681502244534337802012-01-13T00:21:00.001-05:002012-01-17T21:21:08.729-05:00With food like this, who needs arteries?<i>Backgrounder: I'm doing this <a href="http://ricochayspeaks.blogspot.com/2012/01/intellectual-property-borrowing.html" target="_blank">30-Day Blog Challenge</a>. This is blog post #1, covering the "Favourite Comfort Foods and Why" topic.</i><br />
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As a French Canadian, I am genetically predisposed to love many disgusting and unhealthy foods. One need only look up a recipe for <i>graisse de roti </i>(rough translation: pork fat spread) or <i>cretons</i> (rough translation: ground pork spread) to understand just how bottom of the barrel I'm talking about. It's truly amazing that anyone in my family makes it beyond 50 years of age.<br />
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But, not all of the comfort foods I hold dear involve intense indigestion before lunch (<i>cretons</i> is a breakfast food). Chief among them is Paté Chinois... you anglos might know it as Shepherd's Pie.<br />
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Simple concept, really: loads of mashed potatoes, cream corn, corn niblets and ground beef layered together, topped with pepper and served with ketchup. <br />
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If you add anything else - peas, carrots, beans, etc. - the code of my ancestors compels me to send a large vest-wearing motorcycle enthusiast to your house for a quick chat. <br />
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I'm serious. A biker. A French Canadian biker. To your house.<br />
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Seriously. <br />
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My paternal grandmother made it better than anyone you'll ever meet. That's because she added so much love that we just can't replicate the taste. Awww, I know. Also, it appears, she added a few spices and extras that she never told anyone about, so yeah, we literally can't replicate the taste. <br />
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My aunt comes a close second... I think she spied on my grandmother during <i>in camera</i> cooking sessions. My Mom makes a pretty mean Paté too. But nothing compares to the grandma version.<br />
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What makes Paté Chinois so comforting? Well, if you haven't caught the link to my grandmother yet, no amount of explanation could help. Let's just say she comes to mind every time I even think of making the dish, and I instantly feel comforted.<br />
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By the way, I know you are salivating at the mere mention of <i>cretons</i>, so here's how you make a "health conscious" version (which, as an aside, I believe is technically impossible): <br />
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PS - Yes, I also love pea soup, for you stereotypists out there.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-75479088386963614272012-01-12T23:27:00.000-05:002012-01-12T23:28:15.986-05:00Intellectual Property BorrowingI'm going to borrow an idea from <a href="http://sarahcasm.ca/" target="_blank">saracasm</a>, who borrowed an idea from <a href="http://www.domesticatedmomma.com/" target="_blank">Domesticated Momma</a>, who borrowed an idea from some other blogger out there in blogland. It's called the 30-Day Blog Challenge, and the idea is that every day for 30 days I write about a topic from a pre-defined list. <br />
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Here's the list:<br />
<ol>
<li>Current Relationship</li>
<li>Where would I like to be in 10 years</li>
<li>Top 5 Pet Peeves</li>
<li>Views on Religion</li>
<li>Favourite Comfort Foods & Why</li>
<li>Zodiac Sign and Does It Fit?</li>
<li>Favourite Childhood Toys</li>
<li>A moment you felt most satisfied in your life.</li>
<li>If you would have any job in the world what would it be?</li>
<li>Your guilty pleasures</li>
<li>Put your Ipod on shuffle and write first 10 songs that pop up</li>
<li>Bullet your whole day</li>
<li>Somewhere you would like to move/visit</li>
<li>Earliest Memory</li>
<li>Write 15 interesting facts about yourself</li>
<li>Your views on mainstream music</li>
<li>Your highs and lows this last year</li>
<li>A book you could read over and over and never get sick of</li>
<li>Your biggest regret in life</li>
<li>How important you think education is</li>
<li>One of your favourite TV Shows</li>
<li>How have you changed the past 2 years</li>
<li>Post 3 pics of famous people you find attractive</li>
<li>Your favourite Movie & What its about</li>
<li>Someone who fascinates you and why</li>
<li>If you had $1,000,000 to spend how would you spend it?</li>
<li>A problem you have or have had in the past.</li>
<li>Something that you miss</li>
<li>List 10 people dead or alive you would invite to dinner , include the menu.</li>
<li>Goals for the next 30 days!</li>
</ol>
A few guarantees up front: (1) it won't happen in 30 days, (2) it won't happen sequentially, (3) it won't be without random interruptions, and (4) it's unlikely that I will cover all 30 topics.<br />
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Essentially, this will be nothing more than a tool I will <strike>bastardize</strike> use to help focus my thinking and writing. <br />
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I suppose, for those of you who also read <a href="http://sarahcasm.ca/" target="_blank">sarahcasm</a>'s blog (and you should), you can compare our answers and then, in turn, start your own blog dedicated to comparing the two of us. If that is your intent, I am at once honoured by your flattery and deeply creeped out.<br />
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So, I'll start when I start. <br />
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By the way, there's a logo that seems to go along with this challenge, but it's a little dainty for my liking, so I am going to omit it from my post. Trust me, it's for the best.<br />
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What's that you say? You demand a picture with every blog post? No matter how dainty? Ok, ok, here it is.<br />
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What did I tell you? Dainty, right? Rule #1 - always listen to me when I warn you of excessive daintiness.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pea, running for cover?</td></tr>
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Yeah, it's been a while. Whatever. I've been busy and I've been lazy and I've neglected blogging. As Pea would say, "shocking behaviour." I'm sure your lives have been on standby since I last posted nearly a year ago. How you all carried on, I will never understand. <br />
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So, I'm starting over. Let's call it what.will.you.be,Pea 2.0. </div>
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When you start over, you usually do something a little different, right? So, to start, I'm abandoning the "I hope Pea never..." schtick to start each post. In the extensive market research I have been conducting over the past 10 months, it turns out most of you were skipping over that paragraph anyway, and you'd be surprised by how long it took me to create that one line.<br />
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Also, "the Pod" will henceforth be known as "my wife." Turns out "the Pod" wasn't the endearing term I believed it to be. <br />
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Pea, though, remains Pea. </div>
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Ok, now, what to tackle first? Wait for it... wait for it... farts. That's right, I waited over 10 months, stored up all kinds of experiences and good times, and I am choosing to start with farts. <br />
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One day, not too long ago, Pea came home from school with a new reaction to farts and fart perpetrators. She applies her reaction equally to her own farts as she does to mine, and really, to any noise that sounds remotely like a fart. <br />
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Here's how things typically go down. In this example, Pea is the farter, and I am the long-suffering but necessary smeller:<br />
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Pea: [FARTS, GIGGLES] (She gets the giggling from me... actually, she gets the farting from me too.)<br />
Me: Oh, what do you say? (Correct answer: excuse me.)<br />
Pea: RUN FOR COVER! I FARTED!<br />
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Then she proceeds to run from the room at top speed, laughing her ass off, which usually leads to more farts, and in turn, more laughter. Usually, it's funnier than the bridal shop scene from Bridesmaids. The only exception would be the odd time she thinks she hears one of us fart at the grocery store or in the mall. Then, not so much.<br />
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This scenario is funny enough when it plays itself out in our house. But, let's not forget that she picked this little golden nugget up at school... which means that, on any given day, Pea's teacher has to deal with roughly a dozen instances of 30 children running around a classroom, frantically "looking for cover" from a fart or fart-like noise. <br />
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I think we can all agree that that's what makes teaching so rewarding.<br />
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There you have it. what.will.you.be,Pea 2.0. Same old nonsense, 100% more fart references.<br />
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You're welcome.</div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-56265259199855414662011-03-02T01:16:00.000-05:002011-03-02T01:16:18.715-05:00Charlie Brown Goes Bowling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I hope Pea never knows I uttered "Good Grief!" under my breath every time her bowling ball made its way down the alley.</div>
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I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never knows I uttered "Good Grief!" under my breath every time her bowling ball made its way down the alley.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-31739049829264192702011-03-01T00:20:00.000-05:002011-03-01T00:20:59.047-05:00Sweet disposition, but a complete lack of abilityI hope Pea loves her Dad despite his lack of chops.<br />
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You know the song, "Sweet Disposition" by The Temper Trap? Well, I like that song. I first heard it on the <i>(500) Days of Summer</i> soundtrack, and earlier today I (legally) downloaded the <i>Conditions</i> album off iTunes.<br />
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The lead singer of The Temper Trap sings falsetto. For the non-musically inclined, like me, that means he sings like one of his testicles hasn't descended and the other is in a vice-grip (it's true, I Googled it). It's the high singing. Like Chris Martin from Coldplay, or, like me when I was in grade 4 choir. <br />
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Just a few minutes ago, as I harkened back to my elementary school choir days, I thought it would be a great idea to sing along. There are now 3 dogs barking at my front door.<br />
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As I attempted to sing, I was also reminded of the last time anyone judged me on my singing ability. Again, we're in grade 4. My teacher, who was also the choir teacher, handed out report cards and I was amazed to see a B grade for "singing." Like an idiot, I thought it wise to admit to anyone who would listen (teacher included) that I was lip-synching. The grade was quickly changed to a D... apparently, my lip-synching was so impressive that it saved my from a failing grade!<br />
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Now, since I can't do it myself, take a listen to Dougy and the boys, as they do it up right...<br />
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I may not know what I want Pea to become, but I hope she loves her Dad despite his lack of chops.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="241" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_b_YVrex0yI" title="YouTube video player" width="375"></iframe></div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-86773657215021157962010-09-08T12:38:00.001-04:002010-09-18T09:11:01.251-04:00A day in the life of a Flight Attendant, Part II<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dEPRJFrMkkBNht3NXGVy6s3m-OyX3pTZ7t4VV146rXuBHhsXvAUtD7kn-0sMKzb8e_ckuK4MWPWwDixSbUvDDPvLZl5Pr_nr2Lh0KFUJ4nAaNFb2nQfasod0rhoU8TvcdtFbC4ONZ_Q/s1600/DSC05850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dEPRJFrMkkBNht3NXGVy6s3m-OyX3pTZ7t4VV146rXuBHhsXvAUtD7kn-0sMKzb8e_ckuK4MWPWwDixSbUvDDPvLZl5Pr_nr2Lh0KFUJ4nAaNFb2nQfasod0rhoU8TvcdtFbC4ONZ_Q/s200/DSC05850.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">I hope Pea never curses out a plane full of passengers, grabs a couple of beers and pulls an emergency slide to escape a stressful job. <br />
<br />
Here it is, part 2 of my interview with Anne, a veteran flight attendant. <br />
<br />
After Jet Blue flight attendant Steven Slater made a so-called 'heroic' exit from a particularly stressful flight, I sought out an interview with Anne... to see if life in the skies are really as glamourous as a 1970s movies would have us believe. <br />
<br />
In part 1, Anne discussed the realities of turbulence, pants-less passengers and the rudeness of her fellow Man. In this installment, we discuss some lighter fare...<br />
<br /><b><i>
Ricochay (R): What do you like the most about being a flight attendant. </i></b><br /><b><i>
A: </i></b>I love my job for many reasons. The schedules can be wonderful. I can usually pick and choose the days that I want to have off, and I can usually get many days off in a row. This makes it convenient to visit many different parts of the world! Also, since most international flights will come with a layover of some length, I usually get a small amount of time to visit and enjoy the perks of that city or even country! <br />
<br />
We also get to meet many many different people, with different points of views and interests... whether they be the other flight attendants or the passengers. It's different from being in an office all day. I don't generally work with the same people twice, so you're always working with someone new and different.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: All right, so what do you like the least?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> The least... well sometimes the hours aren't the best - I mean I can start at 4am or work through the night without an inkling of sleep! As I've mentioned, passengers aren't always the friendliest people. It's often hard to be locked in an aluminum tube with a bunch of strangers, but even harder when they are overly demanding, don't know how to act appropriately, don't listen or simply seem clueless! </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;">It's funny how people seem to think that being on an airplane is different then real life. For example, people drop stuff on the ground, make a mess and don't clean up after themselves! I think it's a very simple thing to do to clean up after yourself. I'm sure these people don't drop things on the ground at home, without even thinking twice about picking it up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">
<br /><b><i>
R: So Anne, is there really a Mile High Club? </i></b><br /><b><i>
A: </i></b>I'm sure there is a Mile High Club... but to be honest I've never been a witness to it. Though, I don't really know why someone would EVER want to try to join the club — the bathrooms are so small, one would have to contort in such a random way... although for some people that might be the whole fun of it! </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Plus, those lavatories are not the cleanest things... you have to think of it this way, aiming is not ALWAYS easy when you are on a moving platform! Guys have a hard enough time hitting the target when the ground isn't moving on them!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">
<br /><b><i>
R: What location do you fly to where the customers get the rowdiest?</i></b><b><i>A:</i></b> I find that many people who fly south get a little crazy cause they are all going on vacation. They start their drinking early, and on their way back, they generally act like they are still on vacation. But I don't blame them, some people only get one vacation a year and really know how to enjoy themselves! Vegas can also be a rowdy destination... but I think that goes without saying. And remember, what happens on the flight to Vegas does not stay in Vegas! You will get arrested.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: Do you prefer to work red eye or normal flights?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Red eye flights are generally quite simple since everyone sleeps, and you have to find things to entertain yourself and keep yourself awake — that's the hard part! Normal flights are a little busier, people are awake but you don't have to deal with the sleep deprivation. And honestly, I like to be busy and don't like fighting sleep so a "normal" flight has more appeal to me!<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: What actually happens if someone uses their cell phone on a flight?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Honestly, you probably wouldn't be able to use your phone in the air... your phone would be roaming the entire time, looking for a signal... but that's what is interfering with the aircraft frequencies. I'm not exactly sure what that means — but I am aware that the pilots use radio frequencies to communicate with people on the ground, so it would probably interfere with that.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: What's the worst thing you've seen someone do to cover up smoking on a flight?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Yes, there are ashtrays on the plane... but that does NOT make it okay for someone to smoke onboard! I once had a passenger ask me "does it mean that it's okay to smoke cause there's ashtrays" We informed this passenger the actual use for the ashtrays: that if we were to find a cigarette butt on board, they would be a disposal for this butt. She took this as an okay to go into the lavatory and smoke. Not a good idea.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: Got any interesting stories about life in the skies to share?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A: </i></b>This is story I heard from another Flight Attendant. She was in the back galley after the service, and an adult passenger comes into the galley looking for the bathroom. She informs her that, unfortunately, both of the bathrooms are occupied. After arguing back and forth with the passenger that there was nothing she could do to help her, the passenger says, "Well then I'm really sorry but I have to go now!" The Flight Attendant looks down and there's a puddle on the floor between the passenger's legs.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: So, how many celebrities have you met at work? Care to name drop?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> I've met a few. Nobody huge, but I like it that way. I like the actors who are impressed that you know who they are. Probably the biggest I had was Drew Barrymore... she was a lovely lady. Very sweet, polite and kind. I was never a huge fan, but I really liked her when I met her! Other then that I've had a few Canadian athletes, hockey players, singers like Sarah McGlaughlin and Blondie. I've also had politicians and their relations.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And the actors? Kiefer Sutherland, Tom Arnold, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Holly Hunter... Every time I operate a flight to LA, I hope that maybe I'll meet one of the stars I admire... although sometimes they are on flights you would never expect… for example Blondie was on a Vancouver-Edmonton flight and Holly Hunter was on the way to Whitehorse, so you never know... you have to keep your eyes peeled!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">
<br /><b><i>
R: How often do you get hit on at work?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Personally, not too often. Although, I've worked with other Flight Attendants who are passenger magnets, they don't do anything different or special, but end up with a business card in the end. It definitely happens. I went on one date with a passenger, didn't amount to anything... but it was an interesting way to meet someone. I have colleagues who have met their significant other onboard... so it's quite a possibility.<br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">_______________________________________</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><br />
All right friends, there you have it. Being a flight attendant comes with great perks, like cheap flights to exotic destinations around the world and the chance to hobnob with some of Hollywood's elite. But as Steve Slater well knows, it certainly isn't the most gracious customer service job out there. <br />
<br />
The next time you're in the air, remember that Anne and her colleagues are just doing their jobs to the best of their abilities and let civility reign! <br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never curses out a plane full of passengers, grabs a couple of beers and pulls an emergency slide to escape a stressful job. </span></span></span>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-31713012936932042552010-08-30T10:13:00.002-04:002010-08-31T22:02:59.716-04:00A day in the life of a Flight Attendant, Part I<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">I hope Pea never curses out a plane full of passengers, grabs a couple of beers and pulls an emergency slide to escape a stressful job. <br />
<br />
Regardless of whether you think Jet Blue flight attendant Steven Slater is a hero or a criminal, I think we can all agree that he <s>holds</s> held one of the hardest customer service jobs out there. Flight attendants have to put up with cramped quarters, stale air, crying babies and customers who board the plane already jonesin' for their next cigarette even though they are hours from landing. <br />
<br />
All this, and the incredible burden of keeping 50-250 people safe flight after flight. <br />
<br />
After I heard about Steven's Billy the Kid'esque escape from the fuzz, I wanted to know exactly what it is that weighs on the mind of a flight attendant. I also wondered whether some well known flight-related folklore is fact or fiction. So I contacted a veteran flight attendant and asked some of my questions. Here's what I got.<br />
<br />Since my contact isn't authorized to talk to "the media", we'll call her Anna for the sake of anonymity. Anne has worked for regional and national carriers and loves the work she does, despite much of the nonsense she has to put up with.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><b><i>
Ricochay (R): Do you ever work a flight where there are no rude passengers?</i></b><br /><b><i>
Anne (A):</i></b> I would have to say that the majority of flights have rude flyers. Now, there's a range of rudeness... the extreme rudeness — such as yelling and calling you names — that's about 1% of passengers overall. But these are the same people who just don't have manners generally, or people who don't know proper behaviour. Thankfully, t<span style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">hese people aren't often onboard, you'll see them maybe once every one to two months.</span><br />
</span><br /><b><i>
R: What's the rudest thing a customer has ever said to you?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> I wish I remembered the exact situation that lead to this, but I think the rudest thing that someone has said to me, was that I was stupid. I vaguely remember the gentlemen arguing with me about something and I tried to stay very calm and help him out. I obviously didn't give him the answer he was wanting and he continued to call me stupid. In a very sarcastic tone, I replied "Thank You" and walked away.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: The Jet Blue incident seems to have started because a passenger was ignoring one of the in-flight safety rules. What is the one safety rule that gets ignored most often?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Hands down, the one safety rule most people ignore relates to the seatbelt sign. There's a seatbelt sign for a reason... it's not just a pretty light for people to look at, and the pilots aren't in the flight deck switching the sign on and off for fun!<br />
<br />
Whenever the light goes on, it's for a reason. You know the in-flight scene in LOST, where the plane hits turbulence and some passengers hit the roof of the plane? That can really happen! But people don't seem to care about the risks involved with standing, walking around or even just sitting without your seatbelt fastened. It's not like some passengers suggest. I don't enjoy walking up and down the aisle looking to see if everyone has their belt on. It's for everyone's safety. <br />
<br />
Another thing people do is unfasten their seat belts right upon landing. Would you unfasten your seatbelt when you are two blocks from home? NO! There's always a risk of a sudden stop or a bump... you never know. And trust me when I say that a sudden stop in an enormous aircraft is going to send you flying, if you'll pardon the pun. <br />
<br /><b><i>
R: You mentioned the in-flight scene from LOST. Have you ever hit really bad turbulence when you weren't expecting it? </i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> Most of the time, the pilots will be able to anticipate turbulence. But sometimes they can't. I was on the bar trolley once when we all of a sudden hit a patch of turbulence. I was holding a cup full of coffee and I actually saw all the coffee leave the cup, float in the air at my eye level and fall back down on my hand. Not good. There's always a chance of that happening even if the seatbelt sign is not on.<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: So with all these people ignoring flight rules, have you ever come close to losing it like the Jet Blue dude did?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> I've never come close to losing it like the Jet Blue flight attendant... but I have to be honest, sometimes people treat you so badly and drive you crazy that you feel like that could be the only way out! There are definitely days where I feel like screaming "I'm not going to be treated this way!"<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: Do you ever have sympathy for the folks on 'the other side?' The passengers I mean, not those who have passed before us.</i></b> <br /><b><i>
A: </i></b>Look, if I'm having a bad day, I don't run about taking my frustrations out on everyone around me! But every day we are blamed and treated poorly for something that's not even our own fault. <br />
<br />
If you sit in traffic on the way to the airport, then stress out as you worry about making it through security, only to have bad weather either in your departure or arrival city delay your flight — that's not my fault. Blame city planners and, I suppose, God for your day. Not me! <br />
<br />
But the reality is that we are the face of our airline. As a flight attendant, you are usually the last person a passenger comes in contact with, and you have the longest contact with them. So if they have had a bad experience with the airline or even simply a bad day, we often get the brunt of it. I suppose I get that. But I don't like people treating me rudely as a result. We still need civility as a society, don't we?<br />
<br /><b><i>
R: What's the weirdest customer request you've ever had?</i></b><br /><b><i>
A:</i></b> A passenger calls me over and asks me if I would mind if they take their pants off. Uh, what? What the hell does that mean? I didn't know what to say. I tried to answer the question, not really understanding why I would be asked such a rude question. Before I could get an answer out, the passenger interrupted me and let me know that he was trying to make a point because another passenger had no shoes on and had her feet propped up. I had never had such a bizarre complaint before. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">_______________________________________________</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><br />
Coming soon, part 2 of my interview with Anne. In the second installment, Anne tells us whether the Mile High Club really exists, what really happens if you use your phone on a flight, and what destination entails the rowdiest passengers!<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never curses out a plane full of passengers, grabs a couple of beers and pulls an emergency slide to escape a stressful job. </span></span></span>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-68021408534554223832010-08-26T22:11:00.001-04:002010-08-26T22:13:27.941-04:00Ridding myself of my karaoke demons!I hope Pea doesn't let the tone deaf ruin a potentially good time. <br />
<br />
In Pea's room, right beside the chair that the Pod and I sit on to put her to sleep, sits a dry-erase board. Affixed to said board are several pictures of people that are dear to Pea, the Pod and myself.<br />
<br />
One of these photos is a picture of the Pod and I, partaking in karaoke. It's one of my favourite pictures of us, hence its appearance on the Pea wall of fame. It reminds me of a different time in our lives, when we were young and free to stay out late drinking and singing the night away. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKjHTpZVEBp_wULPLze1t2vA8uu_9mPse3OFuqVF-CUn6uWWaJba-EXnriTIZCHSAdbro2TFtmc0we9sHQeETBuhF7iG_VBZedAfz74Bghbd5xFl69vsD_eUddErO-UAmkjX_U3ZrmTs/s1600/IMG_0850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKjHTpZVEBp_wULPLze1t2vA8uu_9mPse3OFuqVF-CUn6uWWaJba-EXnriTIZCHSAdbro2TFtmc0we9sHQeETBuhF7iG_VBZedAfz74Bghbd5xFl69vsD_eUddErO-UAmkjX_U3ZrmTs/s320/IMG_0850.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ironically, this girl can sing! <br />
She actually sings the anthem <br />
at Blue Jays games. Regularly.<br />
(And no, this is not the photo<br />
of the Pod and I.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the same time, I loathe the photo, for it is a constant reminder of my hypocrisy.<br />
<br />
You see, I hate karaoke. <br />
<br />
Why would anyone hate karaoke, you ask, perplexed? Let me explain. <br />
<br />
Not many people know this, but karaoke was invented as a torture technique during the Japan/China War of 1767. Japanese soldiers would force chinese POW's to sing popular songs of the day, to 1) humiliate their foe and amuse themselves at their expense, and 2) determine who would be killed in a daily culling. The soldiers that were released after the war continued the practice as a way of honouring their fallen comrades. <br />
<br />
So, I can't enjoy anything with such a horrible tradition.<br />
<br />
All right, I made that up. The Japanese are not evil like that. Hell, there wasn't even a war between the two countries in 1767. At least not as far as I know. I apologize for misleading you.<br />
<br />
The actual truth is that I once saw a 55-year old man sing Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" in a hotel restaurant/karaoke bar. This guy's rendition came complete with horrifying gyrations every time he sang the chorus, and a 65-year old back-up dancer rubbing herself against him for the duration of the song. It was like interpretive dance set to a horror movie soundtrack.<br />
<br />
All right, that's not really why I hate karaoke (but sadly, it is true). <br />
<br />
The truth is I can't sing to save my life. That is literal people. If Justin Bieber were to approach me right now, and threaten to cute me to death if I didn't sing "Baby" to his liking... well, I don't even want to think of a world where Justin Bieber is incarcerated.<br />
<br />
More to the point, <i>most</i> people can't sing to save their lives. But, with enough alcohol in our systems, we can convince ourselves that we can, in fact, sing effectively and to the pleasure of others.<br />
<br />
Yet, despite my highly publicized hatred of karaoke, I have been dragged on at least three occasions to sing for others, and plied with alcohol until I too lost my senses and picked-up the microphone.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUm8klhMkaUOa010gg_A2kB2kc-FoS3EDMqEjO1ZBsU5bsgl6Y6m6BZvxxhwN70bn_6cZ15DGYnrO2YeXKjFKJqU98nKJoGPzIlhCxM8-6p00vN-jxDbuj5yREhGT3U6fpXf0fHSd273s/s1600/IMG_0389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUm8klhMkaUOa010gg_A2kB2kc-FoS3EDMqEjO1ZBsU5bsgl6Y6m6BZvxxhwN70bn_6cZ15DGYnrO2YeXKjFKJqU98nKJoGPzIlhCxM8-6p00vN-jxDbuj5yREhGT3U6fpXf0fHSd273s/s200/IMG_0389.JPG" width="200" /></a>Now, I'm not an animal. Once in the moment, I get into things. But God help me, I don't want to.<br />
<br />
As I was putting Pea to bed recently, I found myself mulling over the complex emotions enshrined in that photo of the Pod and I. And it occurred to me, that I have to think of Pea now. Perhaps my hatred of karaoke is based on meaningless nonsense.<br />
<br />
I want Pea to feel comfortable expressing herself through song. Or, hopefully, singing beautifully for others! Growing up, I wouldn't stand for my sister singing in the car. Looking back, who knows if I was crushing a young dream of stardom.<br />
<br />
So I am abandoning my inhibitions and letting the world know that I am hereby renouncing my hatred of karaoke in all of its forms. I'm now up for a song as sung by someone other than the original singer, or a reasonable cover version. Whether you can sing or not, your tune is ok by me.<br />
<br />
<b>Ok, let's salvage this angry diatribe with a little audience participation. Favourite karaoke songs — what's yours, and why? No prizes. Do it, just because.</b><br />
<br />
My favourite is Pete Yorn's <i>Life on a Chain</i>, because it's the only song to which I know all the words from start to finish... and it's an awesome song. <br />
<br />
Now, you!<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let the tone deaf ruin a potentially good time. <br />
<br />
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<br />ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-4755736143030752762010-08-23T18:59:00.000-04:002010-08-23T18:59:53.364-04:00Tweets from GodI hope Pea doesn't let trademarks stand in the way of her creativity and ability to deliver an effective message. <br />
<br />
I recently found something so profound and awe-inspiring sitting on my front porch that I instantly knew it was what I had been waiting for to jump-start what.will.you.be,Pea. Not that I needed something to jump-start this blog, really... just time. And I made the time for this one.<br />
<br />
"Tweets from God." <br />
<br />
Do I have your attention yet? Because Grace Community Church certainly had mine with a headline like that. <br />
<br />
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"Tweets from God" is a 12-page brochure, produced by the aforementioned Grace Community Church, that asks the question — what would God tweet, were he in fact, able to tweet. <br />
<br />
A big hypothetical, because as we all know, Heaven is still operating on a dial-up connection, making tweeting, Facebooking and any other kind of social media use an absolute nightmare. <br />
<br />
I digress. <br />
<br />
So, lest I keep you in too much suspense, here are some of things the Lord Almighty has on his mind these days: <br />
<ul>
<li>Hey, me again. Just wanted you to know that I thought you handled that situation pretty well today. You're getting better... </li>
<li>Because I made you, I have had a special interest in you since before you were born. </li>
<li>The reason why my basic opinion of you never changes is because you are my kid. </li>
<li>You were not an accident, and neither are your circumstances. </li>
<li>Terrorism, climate change, war, you name it. I have everything under control. </li>
</ul>
Standard stuff, really. No surprises. <br />
<br />
All right, so on a few different levels I admire this brochure to no end. For one, they've flaunted and bastardized the Twitter trademark like I've never seen anything abused in my life. As a communications professional, that's saying something! They've used the Twitter font, colour palette, design and logo to suit their needs with an obvious and clearly deliberate disregard for the law. The number of times I have wanted to do just that in my professional life is uncountable, so that fact alone gets Grace kudos from this guy. <br />
<br />
Then, there's the fact that the brochure did exactly what it was supposed to do — get me to read it. I may not agree with everything in the document, but I have never — and I repeat, never — picked up a religious pamphlet from my front porch, thrown it in my knapsack, and brought it to work so I could blog about it later. Well done Grace. I can learn a thing or two from you about engagement. <br />
<br />
And of course, one cannot overlook the intended target audience and messaging that Grace is attempting to put out there. Twitter will of course appeal to the youth demographic; those who have likely little to no interest in any type of organized religion because of the sex scandals and/or lack of appeal to their interests. <br />
<br />
So, in the end, Grace appears to have hit a home run. <br />
<br />
But wait. Let's break down what God is actually tweeting about. "You're not alone." "I know how much potential you have." "I made you on purpose." This seems a little repetitive, doesn't it? We've heard all this before. It may not have been spelt out in 140 character increments, but the Chapters and Verses concept is really just one tweet at a time. <br />
<br />
I refuse to believe that after all these years of watching us mess up his creation, God doesn't have anything new to tell us. I mean, c'mon God, I get really pissed when people make edits to my writing at work, and that has no significance whatsoever. Am I to believe that your tune hasn't changed at all after two World Wars? Terrorism aimed at those who believe what you have to say? Men who ruin the lives of children whilst espousing your core beliefs? <br />
<br />
I think it would have been better had he given us an update on what he's really thinking. Maybe something like... <br />
<ul>
<li>@Adolf666 You're an asshole and for the record, you were an accident. I hope you are enjoying the incessant sodomy. #Fail. </li>
<li>@VaticanCityPlayers If I didn't want #homosexuals to marry, I would have made them #priests. </li>
<li>Maybe I should have given the Kid clearer instructions about when he'd be returning. My bad. </li>
<li>The crying statue of Madonna in remote Mexico? Not my doing. The creepy skeleton-like @Madonna in London? Yeah, that was me... and you're welcome. </li>
<li>@MayanCalandarForever I do have a lengthy vacation planned in #2012, but I assure you @GodsRightHandMan is perfectly capable of keeping shit together while I'm away. </li>
<li>Even I couldn't have predicted that @Lebron and @ChrisBosh would join the #Heat. #Didntseethatcoming. </li>
<li>#SexandtheCity3 is going to revolutionize film making. Trust me. </li>
</ul>
I may not know what I want Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let trademarks stand in the way of her creativity and ability to deliver an effective message.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-64671071439785848692010-05-14T20:29:00.003-04:002010-05-14T23:44:16.544-04:00Those Days Are Over!I hope Pea doesn't let shenanigans prevent her from doing her job. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Yes, that is me. The bearded guy is Jeremy Knight. Jeremy wrote, directed and cast me, so he's good people. <a href="http://www.impossibilia.com/"target="_blank">Elvis Deane</a> did all of the behind-the-scenes-movie-making-magic. Elvis is also good people.<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let shenanigans prevent her from doing her job.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-42499355085119709722010-04-20T22:19:00.001-04:002010-04-20T22:20:02.943-04:00This isn't what you think it's about...<br />
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I hope Pea is never enticed to make conversation where conversation isn't intended to be made.<br />
<br />
Is this weird? I think this is weird. Tell me this isn't weird. But even if you say this isn't weird, I will still think it's weird.<br />
<br />
Oh, and this is your official T.M.I. warning.<br />
<br />
I was at work yesterday, and I had to attend a sit-down "Business Meeting" in the men's room, if you catch my drift. <br />
<br />
Hey, I said TMI, so you had fair warning.<br />
<br />
Anyway, as I was tending to the last order of business on my agenda, the feller in the meeting room next to me was also closing his meeting. Just before he adjourned his meeting (aka flushed) I heard him say, and I quote, "Ahhhh, that's better."<br />
<br />
THAT'S WEIRD, RIGHT? I mean, c'mon, I didn't need to hear that, nor did the other gentlemen in their meetings at the time. <br />
<br />
Saying that, at that moment, implies that you were in some sort of discomfort or distress for an extended period of time, and quite frankly, that thought is far worse that hearing you comment on it afterwards.<br />
<br />
Ladies, I don't know what things are like in your meeting rooms, but in our neck of the woods there's no place for joviality and rhetoric. You go in, do your business in silence, and get out. Bing, bang, plop, boom. That's it. <br />
<br />
There has to be order in society! Talking in the men's room, even if it is a quip to yourself, well that's anarchy, plain and simple!<br />
<br />
So to you, mystery talker, I say this: you may not be able to keep your pants zipped up when you're in the mens room, but you can certainly keep your mouth zipped.<br />
<br />
Good day. I SAID GOOD DAY!<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she is never enticed to make conversation where conversation isn't intended to be made.<br />
<br />
PS - I dare any one of you to defend the potty talker! I DARE YOU!ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-86185307191839841222010-04-16T22:23:00.002-04:002010-04-16T22:26:07.090-04:00L'impacte de l'oiseau<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I hope Pea never puts up filters. <br />
<br />
My mother-Pod-in-law recently started taking Pea to an Early Years centre near our house. When she's there, Pea has the chance to play with other kids her age. This is a bit of a novelty for her since she has a relatively small circle of friends that she sees quite rarely, because they live far away and Pea can't yet drive anything other than a large mouse with wheels. <br />
<br />
Every time Pea returns from the Early Years centre, she comes armed with some kind of art and/or craft masterpiece (and yes, the mere fact that my daughter made this item makes it a masterpiece... you got a problem with that?). <br />
<br />
Recent crafts include a 'oiseau' (we live in Canada, I shouldn't have to translate that... in case I do, see the above photo) and a mask.<br />
<br />
The mask is beige, with some hairy stuff taped around the edges for effect and beauty. When I look at this mask, it's clear to me that both thought and care went into picking the amount, thickness, density and exact location of this hairy stuff.<br />
<br />
In seeing this mask, I have a very rare but vivid flashforward.<br />
<br />
I could immediately picture Pea in a small studio, somewhere outside of Venice or London, crafting piece after glorious piece of expensive, highly-coveted art. Like all great artists, she'd be in an extremely intense frame of mind, probably standing a few feet from her canvas and aggressively tossing the paint with a brush.<br />
<br />
A digression, I apologize.<br />
<br />
My stereotypical view of artists aside, it wasn't the idea of Pea creating that I was really focused on, it was the immense and obvious pride she felt at what she had done. <br />
<br />
My little girl's unfiltered pride may be my absolute favourite form of expression, second only to her laughter. <br />
<br />
So when I arrive to pick Pea up one day, she runs to the door, mask in hand, to show me what she's created. She isn't worried about whether I will like it or not. She isn't concerned that she missed a few spots with hair, or that maybe an older kid's mask was more elaborate and decadent. <br />
<br />
She was clearly proud of what she had done an it showed on her face and in her body language. I could tell she was trying to hide a growing smile on her face, and that she cherished what she had made just as much as I did.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to avoid the temptation to bring everything she has ever touched to work to show my colleagues, because the experience of seeing my prideful child is something I want to share with everyone... but that few people other than me and the Pod will actually care about. <br />
<br />
I guess that's my unfiltered pride, shining through. And I dare you to tell me it isn't warranted.<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never puts up filters.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-5900649544429089192010-03-08T23:10:00.000-05:002010-03-08T23:10:51.419-05:00Vince, how could you?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I hope Pea doesn't put her hopes in Vince Vaughan and Jon Favreau.<br />
<br />
Saturday was not my best day. For the most part, it was just Pea and I and throughout the day I was bested several times by a toddler. An emasculating experience, if there ever was one. <br />
<br />
It started out well enough. Pea had a swimming lesson and while we arrived a little late, we were both pleased to hop into the water... until we realized that the water in the pool was absolutely freezing. As I cursed under my breath, Pea and I reluctantly splashed around for 5 minutes before Paulina, our swim 'instructor' (she barely does anything that can be deemed instructing) decided we should all head to the hot tub to warm up.<br />
<br />
Are toddlers even supposed to go in hot tubs, I wonder? Oh well, too late...<br />
<br />
Once in the hot tub, we slowed down our pace considerably. I was content to just hold Pea, and she was content to just be held. <br />
<br />
Until she saw the slide. The small yellow slide. That she loves.<br />
<br />
Pea insisted that she go down the slide before we leave, which meant I had to hop back into the ice pool to catch her. As I muttered more curse words under my breath, Pea gleefully slid down the slide. I made sure she never touched the water, I think... when a guy goes from a hot bath to a cold shower, his mind tends to wander. <br />
<br />
So, the first part of the day ends with two undescended testicles and a rather lethargic baby.<br />
<br />
Once home, I decided to ride the wave of lethargy and put Pea down for her nap a little earlier than usual. Ok, an hour and a half earlier than usual. What can I say? She was clearly tired and I figured, why not?<br />
<br />
After her nap, a good one by Pea's standards, it was 'lunch time.' I painstakingly made her pasta, with veggies and meatballs while she was asleep and she ate two noodles and half a meatball, methodically pushing aside all form of veggie. She then refused yogurt, insisted on having a banana only to peel it and play with it, and then had me give her an apple so she could essentially rub it on the table. <br />
<br />
Fine, she wasn't hungry. But I lost it about a dozen times while trying to get her to eat. It wasn't pretty. And only one testicle had descended at this point.<br />
<br />
If you've ever tried to reason with a toddler, you'll know that they are essentially liars and cheats who will do and say whatever it takes to get what they want. Not on purpose, obviously, but it is nevertheless an agonizing experience to take someone at their word only to have them laugh in your face while they do exactly what they just said they wouldn't do.<br />
<br />
The lesson here: if you ask a toddler if she wants an apple to eat or to play with, and she says she wants to eat it, she's probably lying. <br />
<br />
After 'lunch,' our next stop was the mall. I had to line-up to get the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">money-grab</span> sticker for the car and truth be told, Pea was a pretty good little girl while we waited in line for over an hour. As a reward, we spent 20 minutes in a Bozo the Clown car, one of those $1 rides at the mall. She loved it, and I loved watching her play.<br />
<br />
Next stop — home for dinner. Logic would state that if she didn't eat lunch, she'd definitely be starving for dinner, right? Wrong. For an accurate description of what ensued over dinner, please re-read the above lunch passage, and multiply by a factor of two.<br />
<br />
At this point, I'm practically pulling out my hair. The crankiness, whininess and spontaneous bursts of frustration were unbearable. Pea was pretty emotional too. <br />
<br />
By the time the Pod got home, I practically ran out the door. I figured a bad day is best soothed by chinese food... and for the first time in months, a DVD rental. <br />
<br />
By the time I got home, the Pod had put Pea to sleep and we were ready to unwind with our take-out and out movie. Things were looking up.<br />
<br />
Sort of. I rented <i>Couples Retreat.</i> <br />
<br />
Wah wah wah waaaaaaah.<br />
<br />
I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't put her hopes in Vince Vaughan and Jon Favreau.ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3121179921015963403.post-20605199675041481472010-02-20T08:49:00.001-05:002010-02-20T13:24:37.493-05:00Um, wow.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
I hope Pea isn't subjected to bad bus shelter advertising.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Along my brief walk to and from work every day, I have the privilege and honour of of seeing some of the country's finest advertising work. There are some billboards, but very few. Mainly, I'm privy to some excellent bus shelter work.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In case you missed it, that last sentence was rife with sarcasm.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't get me wrong. I have many friends who work in advertising and there are some really great attention-grabbing bus shelters out there. Some advertisers do great work.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But, like any realistic Dad will tell his kids, you can't win'em all. Or, in this case, you can't Wind'em all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For the past few days, I've noticed a Wind Mobile ad that has been driving me crazy. Mainly because I just don't like it, but in large part because I can't imagine trying to build a brand without clear advertising, especially in such an important industry. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As I do from time to time, I imagine conversations between people I don't know. Seeing this bus shelter ad made me wonder what the ad approval session was like in the Wind offices when this gem was given the thumbs up. Here we go...</div>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: I think we should talk up the fact that we don't have contracts. It says here in my <i>Advertising for Dummies</i> book that we should focus on what makes our product unique.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: I never would have thought of that, good thinking.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Yeah, thanks. I got this book for Christmas.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Score!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Ok, so we don't have contracts. We are a relatively new company, and a lot of Canadians won't know anything about us. They won't necessarily recognize our name, so...</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: ... so we should definitely keep them guessing! That way they will have to go out of their way to find out about us, like a cool club that doesn't have a sign! Try this idea on, see how it fits... let's not even put a photo of our product on the bus shelter!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: You just blew my mind. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Thanks. I had a muffin for breakfast.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: I can tell.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Ok, so no photo of our product. What about the ad copy? Should we make it clear, or vague and confusing?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: I heard Snooki and J-Wow on Jersey Shore saying that everyone likes a little mystery and intrigue in their lives... it makes things exciting.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: I saw that episode too, but I think they were talking about what they like in men.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: But it must apply to advertising too, right?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: I'd imagine so.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Great. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Ok, so how's about "Don't sign right here please."</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: What do you mean? I don't get it. Does it mean, "Don't vandalize this bus shelter?" It's pretty confusing.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Long pause.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Together: It's perfect!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: But maybe we should put a little bracket at the bottom that says "No contracts."</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Did you read that in <i>Advertising for Dummies</i>?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: (flips through the book) I can't remember, this book is so big, I only skimmed it.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Ok, let's include it. Why not?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: This is really coming along. What about colours?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: How about green?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Really, green? I've heard green is an extremely difficult colour to reproduce in print. It can look very unappealing and it has an environmental slant that many people find off-putting.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Where did that come from?</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: The book.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Right... but green is my favourite colour!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: That's so true, you always look good in green! It brings out the colour in your eyes! Let's do it.</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Yay!</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Ok, so let's recap. We have a bus shelter ad with no graphic representation of our product despite being new to the market. We have sloppy and confusing ad copy. And a bad colour that you look good in.</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Way to go us!</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: Do you think we should get sign-off on this one?</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Naw. Let's surprise our co-workers with our cleverness and outside-of-the-box thinking.</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #1: You just blew my mind. Again.</blockquote>
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Inexperienced Ad Employee #2: Thanks. I had a muffin for breakfast.</blockquote>
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All this to say, the ad wasn't something that appealed to me.</div>
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I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she isn't subjected to bad bus shelter advertising.</div>ricochayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15821464249389216166noreply@blogger.com4