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Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Grammar/lexicon at the gym

I went to the gym to swim this morning.  The gym I go to has those fantastic Jedi automatic doors that slide open when you approach them.  It has two sets of them - one from the outside to the vestibule, and the next set leads you into the entrance area of the gym to check in.  

For the last few weeks, on especially cold days (when the temps are below zero Farenheit...and very below zero Celsius), they allow the external sliding doors to open and then shut off the interior sliding doors so as not to blast in frigid air repeatedly.  In this case, you are to use the manual door on the side.

Today was one of those days.  I am supposing that perhaps people were asking the reason for closing off those doors because today I found a sign on the doors explaining themselves.

The sign read: "Due to the cold climate, please use the side door."

This is both amusing and disturbing.  Did I have to mention it to the front desk?  Of course I did.

Me: "Hi!  Has any picky person mention anything about the sign yet?"
Gym desk girl: "Um, no?  Uh, what does the sign say?"
Me: "It says due to the cold climate the doors are closed.  And of course, climate is permanent and if this were true, the doors would always have to be closed.  Temperature is the fluctuation of daily highs and lows, which would be more appropriate in this case."
Gym desk girl: "Um...oh.  Yeah.  Okay."  (Confused look.)
Me: "I apologize - the English classes haunt me and I can't leave it alone..."

Or is it that people are so propaganda-fied that they don't even know the word "temperature" and the only thing that can easily pop into their minds is the word "climate"?  Distressing, indeed.

Either way, the Resolutionists have nearly ceased attending.  They didn't even make it all the way through January, perhaps because of the climate temperatures.

Peace, love and brain freeze,
Ms. Daisy  

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Selfish-ies? Narcissistic-ies?

Ya'll know I don't have facebook.  I haven't had it for quite some time.  I have been emancipated from the social media tornado for more than a year and half.  Up to that point, I was an avid facebooker, checking the who's and what's daily (or more than once daily).  If you have dropped facebook, you can vaguely remember the chasm that the minutes of your life swan-dove suicidally into.  You may be thankful to be out safe on the other side.

I am.  I realized what a lot of time I spent in a pretend reality, making bold comments and getting my blood boiling from what I took as complete bafoonery and lunacy.  Why did I participate in such nonsense?  

When facebook got it's fabulous (not) "timeline", I bailed.  I really didn't need my life out on chronological order for all the world's weirdos to see.  I did miss (for a while) "seeing" people I won't bump into in real life (but now I can just ask my friends if I'm desperate to know what happened to so-and-so from high school), but the time that I got and the break from being addicted was worth sacrificing the downsides.

Recently, my MOTHER (of all people - I say "of all people" because she couldn't upload a photo to a computer to save the lives of all of her grandchildren combined among other "impossible" computer tasks) told me that so-and-so took "selfies" of herself on a near daily basis, to which (OF COURSE) I replied, "What is a 'selfie'?"  This was a red letter day for mother.  She knew something on the computer and I did not.

For those of you who don't know, apparently a "selfie" is a picture you post of yourself onto your facebook.  You purposely take a picture of yourself and do it often.  I am not exactly sure how this is so different from all of the pictures people usually put on facebook of themselves, but maybe it is more frequent and a way to make it so you are not totally considered an awkward goofball freak who smiles at themselves in their iphone on an hourly basis.

Or, according to SaRAWRR on Urban Dictionary, a selfie is:  "A picture taken of yourself that is planned to be uploaded to Facebook, Myspace or any other sort of social networking website. You can usually see the person's arm holding out the camera in which case you can clearly tell that this person does not have any friends to take pictures of them so they resort to Myspace to find internet friends and post pictures of themselves, taken by themselves. A selfie is usually accompanied by a kissy face or the individual looking in a direction that is not towards the camera."

Wow.  So cool.  How could you not want to participate in such coolness?

Oh.  Here's another definition that you can read for the day.  It lists the symptoms (according to wikipedia) of narcissism: "Some people diagnosed with a narcissistic personality disorder are characterized by unwarranted feelings of self-importance. They have a sense of entitlement and demonstrate grandiosity in their beliefs and behavior. They have a strong need for admiration, but lack feelings of empathy...Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by dramatic, emotional behavior, and an over-inflated sense of self-importance that is in the same category as antisocial and borderline personality disorders."

Yes.  That sounds lovely.  Also according to wikipedia, narcissism has doubled in the last ten years.  Surely apps like the "selfie" don't encourage that whatsoever.

This reminds me of the idea that people go out to do something exciting with half of their purpose being that they will upload photos of themselves doing it to facebook.  It seems that this motivation is backward (at the least) and wiggidy wacked narcissistic (on the other end).
You are familiar with the story of Narcissus, right?  He fell in love with the face in a water reflection and died because he found he could not have the object of his desire.  You can quite  imagine the people kissing their monitors now, can't you?  (Reminds me a little of that movie that is just coming out where that mustached-man falls in love with the Siri girl in his iphone...)

There is quite a difference between keeping a clean and pleasant appearance and the undying love and worship of your own image.  One is attractive, and while the other tries at beauty, it is repulsive and ugly.

Don't be repulsive.

Deep thoughts.


Peace, love and is it better to pretend you don't know that you're taking a picture of yourself as evidenced by you not looking at the camera even though your arm is clearly in the shot?
Ms. Daisy

I think not.  I think it looks like split-personality insane, but that's just my opinion.

Monday, January 20, 2014

Gallbladder: Take 3

If you aren't aware, hubby has gallbladder issues.  He experienced his first serious gallbladder attack where a stone got stuck in a tube and he turned yellow in August.  We've been on the exploration for a solution ever since.

We went to see many different people - one was Dr. Stupidpants, a surgeon, who couldn't even open up an ultrasound file to look at the films and whose suggestion was, "I cut you here, here, here and here."  Oh, wow.  That is soooo helpful.  Thank you for your wise and astute intelligent remarks.  Great jorb, Hamstray.

We went to the naturopath.  She prescribed some Betafood (by Standard Process) and Phosfood (that stuff - if you have gallbladder issues, GET IT.  Like, run.  Now.  Don't be without it.  I am pretty sure it saved him three times at least.  You can take it as soon as you are having an attack.  But, wash your mouth out after you swig it down with water - or whatever you took it in - because the phosphorus is on the other side of calcium in your body and you don't want to ruin your teeth.), and some other things.  One of which pretty much was torture to him - he had to eat vegan, gluten free and fat-free for a week or two to press reset on his gallbladder.  This meant he got to eat extreme amounts of quinoa and veggies.  If you ever feel the need to lose about thirty pounds, apparently this is a quick way to do so. (By the way, he didn't need to lose 30 pounds, which is quite a disturbing thing to dear hubby.)

We explored integrative medicine and nutrition.  We did chiropractic.  I youtubed accupressure for him and gave him detox baths with pink Himalayan salts.  I researched essential oils that may help.  I fed him more quinoa.

More recently he's decided he's had quite enough.  It's been six months of gallbladdering and he is full of it.  He went to talk to a different surgeon this week to see what they would say.  (What do you think a surgeon would say to you?  They say to cut it out.  Um, duh.)

And today was the last strand of hope before no return.  He went to a very strange, quirky, arrogant, genius, experienced naturopath/physician.  He threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, "This is easy!"  


We're going to try one more thing.  It is the cleanse.  Oh, you know about it.  If you've done any gallbladder reading, you've heard about the apple juice, olive oil, lemon juice (sometimes Epsom salt) thing.  People swear by this and say it will make you feel like a new person.

I'll report later and let you know how it goes.  Until then, if you want to be fascinated, youtube something like "gallbladder flush" and you will stare in horror and amazement.

I'll keep you posted!

Peace, love and healthy gallbladders please,
Ms. Daisy

Friday, January 17, 2014

Return of the Resolutionists

As you may know, I like to go to the gym to swim.  I swim probably about three times a week throughout the year.  In the winter, I add volleyball, and in most of the other seasons, I add running throughout the week.

This week, we were bombarded.

The resolutionists have returned.  (Note: they didn't arrive at the start of the new year as it was too cold apparently to exercise - this is a sign that they just might not have the compunction to keep it going for longer than 4-6 weeks, by the way.  I mean if you aren't going to get out there when it is -13 F, are you really that dedicated?  No, I didn't think so.)
I'm pretty sure I saw these
guys this week.  Ooh, the
intense hotness...

Apparently, in these United States, it is good hilarious fun to make New Year's resolutions. I'd say the top of the list is to get fit and healthy - especially after all of that holiday eating and well...overeating.  You can find all of the magazine racks filled with articles on "How to Lose that Gut" and "Firm and Tone Your Butt" and "Low Fat Wonder Recipes" and the like.  It is the mantra of January - press reset, lose the holiday pounds.

Now, this is generally a very good thing.  The whole world benefits from a healthy population, right?  Less money spent on problems overall (well, I suppose maybe some physicians would be more bored with all of these healthy people running around, but I think it would be okay).

However.  Resolutionists only last so long.  It is as if it is only a new hobby or fad to exercise and somewhere near the sugar-laden holiday of Valentine's Day, they drop like flies.  When exercise becomes a quick fix and something to do in January, nothing changes.  For a life change, you need to persevere and be dedicated to permanent changes.  Unfortunately, the resolutionists are something akin to holiday gym decorations.  Very soon, you get your locker back, your shower back, your place at the mirror back, your plug for your hairdryer back and you won't see them for the next ten and a half months.

But until the midpoint of February, I'll play musical showers and keep tossing out weird garbage from my locker (two unmatched wet and stinky ankle socks?  Really?).


Peace, love and keep calm and swim on,
Ms. Daisy

Monday, January 13, 2014

Ranger Rick and his hate speech propaganda

I am a lover of the library - it is a wealth of fabulous information that you get to delve into to your heart's delight.  I have passed this on to my littles and as a result, they are frequent frequenters of the resource as well.

One of the littles checked out an issue of Ranger Rick (a kid's magazine about animals...or that's what it is supposed to be, anyway) and was reading away.

Hubby came in to the kitchen guffawing at the irony of the article title from something on his phone that said something along the lines of, "Climate Change Expedition Stuck in Antarctic Ice and Bitter Irony".  Wow.  Read this article for full ironic effects. 

And if you want to laugh even harder, check out this article about climate change voodoo.

Then, the little with the magazine bursts out laughing and hands us a blurb in Ranger Rick that says something along the lines of, "sheep belch often.  Sheep's belches have a very naughty nasty horrible evil chemical known as methane.  There are many sheep in Australia.  This means there is a lot of methane in the air from these nincompoop sheep.  Evil methane causes climate change = sheep are evil."  See full page here.

I may have paraphrased.

Here is the close-up.  

How. Ev. Er.

This, right here, m'dears, is a prime example of hate speech against sheep.  I will not stand for this.  Sheep can't help it!  They were born this way!  They were born to burp methane!  What's next?  Persecution of cow's behinds?  (Oh, actually, yes.)  I am sick and tired of all of these people saying sheep burp methane because they learned it from their environment.  No.  That is sick.  You haters need to accept that they were born like this.  God made them this way.  And if you can't handle it, then take your fringe thoughts and go live in a backwards community on Antarctica where it will be soon a prime vacation spot and 80 degrees F every day!  You have to be accepting of the sheep.  What about love?  Are you going to hate them because they're different?  That's what haters do, they gotta hate.  

Keep your propaganda out of Ranger Rick and plop it back onto the nightly news where we're used to being entertained to uproarious laughter.

Peace, love and grab some popcorn and watch as the world goes mad,
Ms. Daisy

Friday, January 10, 2014

Grammar fail: again.

Wouldn't it have just been easier to say, "Cash or checks, please."?  And do you take minor credit cards?  And if so, what is a minor credit card?  If you want to exclude something, just tell us what you do accept.  Golly.

Peace, love and please write your grammar failure on your vehicles,
Ms. Daisy

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Fun Questions: Answers!

'Ello, lovelies!  If you haven't looked over the fun questions, have a go at it first here.

(Don't cheat.  Write your answers neatly.  Use pen.  Name upper right corner, please.)

Finished?  Good.

Here are the answers to see if you're a genius.

1.  Billy's mom's other child is...Billy.  Yeah.

2.  A butcher's clerk weighs...meat.

3.  Mt. Everest.  They just hadn't figured it out yet.

4.  There isn't any dirt in a hole.  That's why it is called a hole.

5.  Incorrectly is always spelled "incorrectly".  Unless you're a spelling failure.

6.  Madeline must live in the southern hemisphere!

7.  It's not just in British Columbia - heck no, I don't know anywhere where you could take a picture with a wooden leg.  I much prefer using a camera.  Wooden legs aren't much for keeping good photo memories.  Although you may use it as a "memory stick"?  Har de har har!

8.  Neither, good people.  Yolks are yellow.

9.  If he stacks it all up into one giant pile, I'd say it would be one giant haystack.

10.  You'd be in 2nd place now.  Speed up, would you!  You do want to win, right?

That's it for today.  I hope you've been entertained and stretched your mind.

Peace, love and I dare you to walk around town taking pictures with a wooden leg,
Ms. Daisy

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Fun Questions

Recently I came across some questions in an educational meeting that I found to be rather amusing and I've decided to share my amusement with you for your particular enjoyment.

Get your brains ready to roll, cuz here we go...

1.  Billy's mom has three children.  The first is named April, the second is named May.  What is the third child's name?

2. A clerk at a butcher shop is 5'10" tall, has a size 13 shoe.  What does he weigh?

3.  Before Mt. Everest was discovered, what was the tallest mountain in the world?

4.  How much dirt is in a hole that measures 2' x 3' x 4'?

5.  Which word in the English language is always spelled incorrectly?

6.  Madeline's birthday is on December 28th, yet it always falls in the summer.  How is this possible?

7.  In British Columbia, you cannot take a picture of a man with a wooden leg.  Why not?

8.  Which is correct: "The yolk of the egg is white." or "The yolk of the egg are white."?

9.  A farmer has 5 haystacks in one field and 4 haystacks in another field.  If he puts them all together in one field, how many will he have?

10.  If you were running a race and passed the person in 2nd place, what place would you be in now?

Would you be impressed if I told you I got them all right on the first try?  Or would you just want to slap me?  Okay, well, never mind then.

I'll post the answers on my next post.

Peace, love and keep on rockin' the jam,
Ms. Daisy

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Karma? And shoveling. And more shoveling.

Not only does my dear darling hubby sometimes call me a nerd, but he also calls me Scrooge around Christmas.  Oh how we love one another!

Actually, I don't really take any offense at the name since I find the consumerism and the total spaztastic-ism that surrounds Christmas in the United States more than appalling.  Why would he call me that, anyway?  Oh, yes.  That.  Well.  That's because I take the Christmas tree down on December 26th before 10:00 a.m.  It is called CLEANING UP, peeps.  You don't keep your birthday party decorations up for a week after the party has ended, do you?  Heavens no.  Or at least, if you do, invite me over and I will clean it up for you.

So, anyway.  We went to millions of Christmas parties and finally we gobbled up someone's germs and the whole house came down with a cold, each one falling 12 hours after the previous sick member.  We were sad little sick dominoes.  

This leads to New Year's Eve.  We were too sick to go out (even though we actually had a babysitter to allow us to do so - what a horrid waste!).  Instead, we spent a lovely time watching a PBS cooking lineup that included Jacques Pepin (he is awesomesauce, in case you didn't know) and then segwayed into the atrocious America's Test Kitchen (which I spent half of the time yelling at the TV for their use of vegetable oil - WHO DOES THAT - and other such despicable practices like using plastic while cooking: really?  But, I suppose, it is aptly named.).  Then we went to bed in the middle of Martha Bakes.  Way to ring in that New Year, baby.

New Year's Day was full of more excitement that included sick people laying around in pajamas with blankets and going in and out of partially comatose states through the day and watching an absolutely disgusting amount of snow barf onto the lawns, sidewalks, driveways and every imaginable living thing on the face of the earth outside.  It was a nightmare.  Not the sick part.  The snow part.  I hate snow.  (The person who invented the song, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..." was CLEARLY DERANGED and in need of a solid thunk on the noggin.)

But even more than my hatred for snow is my hatred for having my driveway and sidewalk covered in any material whatsoever. You may think me lawn obsessed!  If it were even remotely socially acceptable, you would find me standing outside with a Rambo-like stance and a blowtorch in the fall igniting any foreign bit that dared to dance its way onto my property.

Around 8:00 p.m. we heard a knock at the door (alarming because we weren't expecting anyone and secondly because of how totally AWESOME everyone looked with sideways hair and blankets wrapped around us like we were pathetic little bums - and secondly alarming because usually in our hood that means you betta grab yo' Glock and answer by yelling, "Who dat!?" in a loud and irritated tone without opening the door.  Don't fret, I didn't do that, hubby answered the door, and I simply ran for the .45 just in case.  Easy peasy.).  It was a teenage boy who wanted to shovel for us.  This was good since we were so pathetic that we hadn't been able to shovel all day.  So we agreed and I spent the next half hour peeking spy-fully through miniblinds at his shoveling.

Yeaaaah.  If you know me, you know that I am slightly particular on all things that have to do with my house and/or property.  Martha Stewart is one of my heroes.  I organize for people.  I don't go to bed unless everything is perfectly clean and if the littles leave stuff out, it must be because they want it to go live in the trash for the rest of its life.  When I was a teacher, I may have put tape marks on the ground where the first desk in each row were supposed to line up and the students weren't dismissed until their rows were in perfect alignment.

So it was through these eyes that I looked outside and saw the job of the teenage boy.  I agree, yes, I may be particular, but even if you were the least particular person in the entire world, this would have been a doozy.  It was bad.  There were mohawks of stripes of snow all over the place and he had dumped piles of snow against the house on  the bricks.  Where will that go when it melts?  Oh yeah, into the basement.  Great idea.  He didn't shovel in front of the garage and didn't move things out of the way to shovel the gigantic piles that had accumulated near them.  Basically, a 7 year-old would have done better.

I gave my husband the face.  You know.  The "This Isn't Going To Work" face.  My more sensitive husband went out and asked him to move the piles away from the house.  Then he came back five minutes later asking for money and then he left.  (Yes, we did pay him.  And then I said if someone EVER comes asking to shovel our stuff again, it would be better for everyone if we just slam the door in their face.  Not literally, of course.  Naw, up in this hood, you just "accidentally" let your pit bull out of the screen door and all solicitations cease indefinitely.)

Leaving the driveway in this state could not be borne.  I took my sick pajama-ed self and suited up for the blizzard of 2014.  I shoveled for an hour to clean it up.  I went to bed so glad that it was all fixed.  I even turned off the lights to stare at the marvelous work.  I literally thought to myself, "Now THAT'S something you can enjoy.  Something that isn't like the dishes where you wait three hours and there's another meal to mess it all up!  No!  This right here, this is lasting success!"

The next morning, I opened the window shades to find four more inches of snow.


I suited up again.  My back was breaking, my nose was sniffling, my throat was scratching, but I was going to remove this nastiness.

After an hour, I finished.

At lunch, there were 3 more inches out there.

For real?  Are you even kidding me right now?

The third time of shoveling included me inventing new curses to bring down upon the menacing snowflakes whose entire life purpose was nothing more than to taunt my life off.

Now, I don't believe in karma, but if you did, and you believed in special Christmas karma, and if you believed that if you took your Christmas tree down too soon that it would come get you in a bad way...well, then.  I suppose I am your prime example.

Bah humbug.

Peace, love and please someone invent driveway hairdryers: I WILL PAY YOU,
Ms. Daisy