Viva La France

Yes,

I’ll admit it. I’ve been in a bit of a tizzy over my beloved England’s loss to a bunch of “Your pathetic acting is not even good enough for a soap opera, so why don’t you just suck it up and stop pretending that you are even remotely in pain and get up and play some gosh darned football you gosh darned pansies” babies. Strong words I know...

I was hopeful that Angleterre would win, but when I woke up and saw that my Crouchie was not on the starting lineup and that only one striker would be played, a loss was now more than just a slight possibility. Sigh… If only I had been the coach.

Pretty much I could care two hoots about the WC right now, except for the game today… France vs. Portugal. Who do I want to win? Well… I’m thinking that the Old Girl has been causing a bit of bad luck in the tournament recently. Why? Because every single team that I have rooted for has lost. It’s true. Australia, Switzerland, Germany, England, Spain, Netherlands, Ghana… All losers. Did I mention that I came dead last in my pool?

So, um, regarding today’s game…

GO PORTUGAL!!!

Crouch

Show and Tell

Day two without the WC… Am starting to lose all hope... Am seeing soccer balls around every corner… Peoples heads have now been replaced by curious round white sphere with black squares… out of their mouths the only words I hear nothing but FIFA FIFA FIFA FIFA… to which my only reply is CROUCH Crouch CROUCH Crouch CROUCH? And then I start doing the most bizarre robot dance… people at work are starting to look at me funny…

And in other news, just because I can, here are some pictures. I thought you would enjoy seeing the ghetto senior’s home that my balcony now looks on to…I miss the trains... and how every so often, when the smog dissipates ever so slightly, I can see the top of the city’s largest phallus that some people call the CN Tower. Also, a picture of my baby… My how he has grown.

CROUCH

So You Think You Can...

Lucky for all of you there is no WC for two whole days. I know... a tragedy of extraordinary magnitude... but what's a girl to do?

Anyway, so here I am right now. Watching my favorite 'Let's make some other useless person famous' show "So You Think You Can Dance"... when I see an ad for something even more ridiculous.

America's Got Talent.

Yeah, the girl who can shoot a bow and arrow with her feet while doing a handstand deserves to win a million dollars. Like fer sure dude.

And then it occurred to me.

ALL of these shows are this ridiculous. Every single one of them!

And yet I watch. Oh yes I watch. OK, so I won't watch America's Got Talent... or American Inventor... Yikes, that's about it. I'll admit I am a huge SYTYCD fan. I watch the Idol shows, but channel surf an awful lot, unless a cute boy is singing... The Apprentice, Amazing Race... head hung in shame cough Surreal Life if the occasion calls for it...

America's Next Top Model, Canadian version ONLY because it is filmed, like, where I grew up and in a "Hey, I think I was passed out there once with my friends throwing pennies at me one night" kind of way... God help us if they do any film shoots at UVic because the for sure I will be enjoying it in a "I WAS passed out there and tied to a bench thanks to Kopps/ Hey I stole a table from that place and carried it all the way back to residence only to get busted by campus security and claim that we just "happened" to "find" a table 1km away from where it actually lived/ got a stupid RED card and almost kicked out of rez because of my adorable albeit a bit precocious when she's drunk l'ilb friend Wee" kind of way... I digress.

Good Times.

Oh yeah... re: reality shows... Let's get back to the golden age of TV shall we? That's right, the 1970's...

The world needs more Love Boat.

That's my story and I am sticking to it.

BP

PS. Go England!

Help Me

Hello.

My name is Beatrice and I am a football-aholic.

Right now, I am about 5 minutes away from quitting my job and watching soccer full-time.

I love it.

I can't get enough of it.

Hockey, baseball, figure skating and... gulp... dare I say, even the Olympic Games can all kiss my arse... you name it, they all suck compared to the "Beautiful Game".

It's pretty bad.

It's really bad.

It's REALLY REALLY bad!

And by bad, I mean good...

Good in a "I'm completely obsessed, totally need to get a life and may just start dating again just to distract myself from Peter Crouch" way that is.

So, um... what was I saying?

Oh yeah...

Help.

Hey...

Is for horses...

So, really and truly my life is the FIFA World Cup right now. Other than work being crazy busy, putting my new digs together and trying to re-activate my social life that is. Oh, don't get excited, there's nothing going on on the love front, thus ensuring that 2006 is decidedly neither the Summer, nor the Year of Love when it comes to the old girl. Like, whatever...

And so, like YAY ENGLAND. They keep pulling wins out of their arses, all the while saying that they have more to give... so, like WHEN will they show more? Seriously, this is a question I would like answered. How do you decide that you are going to "give more"... or that we "can do better"... or that "we have not shown our full potential", "still have not been our very best"... etc, etc, etc...

Anyway, YAY England... but suck it up boys... and... ahem... coach of the English team... Where the eff was Crouch today? That's all I have to say on this matter.

And just because I can... here are my current favorite commercials. The crab is kinda random, but you know, so is life.







TTFN,
BP

Still got the Fever

So,

Bea has finally moved. It’s been 2 days and already I am LOVING it. 10 minutes to work is a beautiful thing.

One thing I am not loving is having no TV until tomorrow… so off to a pub to watch the Hockey Game tonight… and thankfully England did not play this weekend.

Speaking of England, words cannot express how huge of a crush I now have on Peter Crouch. It was one thing when he was just a tall and awkward English footballer… But there are so many other attributes to go along with his talents on the field.

Allow me to introduce Peter Crouch, Robot Dance Master:



Is their nothing sexier than a guy doing the robot? I thought not.

Bea “never, ever let me go to England” Petty

Besides the fact that Blogger has been mildly cheesing me off, not a whole lot going on except organizing my move for Saturday, trying to figure out what is going on with a job that I got re-offered but is way beneath my potential and talents and watching the World Cup. Of those three, guess which has been my favorite?

The thing that I have been enjoying the most? Besides being in awe of watching some of nature's finest specimens dance the delicate ballet we call football. Um... yeah, you all know me too well. Why I've been enjoying simply watching the above mentioned specimens of course. They could be standing around the field chewing bubble gum and I would be enthralled.

Watching football/soccer is like watching the pages of a GQ magazine come to life. At this point, I have so many FIFA boyfriends that they cannot be counted on two hands plus a foot. It's a darn good thing that I don't work for FIFA or that the organization is not run by women... Did I say darn good thing? I'll take that back. I think a field full of shirt-less, totally ripped, hot and sweaty men running around for 90 minutes is just what the world needs. That's my story and I am sticking to it...

And just because I can, here are some of my FIFA favorites.

L'il Aussie Hero

Adorable Crouch... can Head like a master... the ball that is!!! Did I mention he is 6'7"?

Ah, Zidane... How could you not love a guy who wears golden shoes?

We all know how I feel about Michael Owen

This is Joe. Bea likes Joe.

And for some reason, despite his high voiced metrosexuality, I was still going to include a pic of Beckham... Because he is pretty freaking adorable... But Blogger wouldn't let me, I took that as a sign.

Go England!

I've Got a Fever

World Cup fever... and this time there is more than just a cowbell that can cure it.

Blogger's been down for me for a couple days... which is probably a good thing because that means that no one could make any comments... because if they had, I am sure someone would have pointed out that I am CLEARLY an idiot.

2 years ago, there was no World Cup. It was the Euro Cup of something like that. How the hell was I supposed to know the difference? But this latest development has me a wee bit frightened. For if Toronto went nuts when it was simply this tournament, a lesser tournament if you will... how will the next month unfold? I can tell you that there was not a seat in the pub we went to at lunch to watch the first match…

Ok, I am sorry but I have to get this off my chest. Feel free to go to a publican house by yourself and only order a water… but when you are taking up a table of 6 so you can watch the game and drink said water and there is a group of 6 who need a table and plan on ordering more than just free nourishment… at least have some consideration for the servers who would much prefer to serve people who will give them tips… and go sit with one of the other 5 guys sitting on their own drinking water and taking up entire tables. It’s an outrage, and OUTRAGE I tell you!

Anyway, I have nothing exciting to report in the least, but thought I would preemptively point out my error before someone else did... Who knew that I could actually be wrong about something? Weird.

Go England!

Perfection...

Thy name is Michael Owen. Who needs King Beckham of the Metrosexuals when you have MO…

World Cup Soccer is once again upon us and proving once again that betting on sports is the one things that unites the working folk… das office is doing another pool à la March Madness. I think we all know who the old girl will be rooting for in Group B… Merry Olde England of course. They have a pretty good chance of making it past the first round. Not that that would make any difference as to whether I would pick them to do so, but there you have it.

Now, people out West, and I should know because I was once one of them, really don’t follow World Cup Soccer all that much. I think we may have some vague inkling as to when it is on, but only in so far as that pubs tend to be a bit more crowded on a Tuesday than they usually are. But other than that, soccer fever is pretty much non-existent. Imagine my shock when I moved to Toronto in 2004 just as that year’s tournie was kicking off (OMG, I’ve been here 2 years… my how time flies… Happy Anniversary to me). I also just so happened to have moved into a predominantly Portuguese neighbourhood, and for those people living in cities where not a large population of ex-pat Portuguese exists, there are no people who love their ‘football’ more…

Let me take you back to 2004 if I may. T’wasn’t into the whole tournament so much. I was mostly jumping from couch to couch until the loft was ready and looking for a job. You know, fun things of that nature, but when I did finally move into da’ hood I noticed the jubilant nature of the folks living therein. “What a happy bunch” I remembered thinking. Happy indeed for Portugal was kicking in the tournament and one could scarcely come or go in the evening without seeing everyone and their dog sitting outside on their front porches waving flags or hugging their neighbours. Also impossible to miss was the honking of flag-adorned cars around our little block after a victorious Portugal vs. whatever losing team. This was my first introduction into the world of the Portuguese football fans… Needless to say when away I went for the Canada Day long weekend with no access to a TV or radio to hear the outcome of the Portugal vs. Greece final, I was anxious to get home to see whether or not I would be able to sleep that night. I did not need to wait until I returned home to find out what the outcome had been.

For just as the triumphant Portuguese fans would stream out into the streets when their team was victorious, so too would they react when not. I am hear to tell you folks that I still have yet to recover from the complete and utter display of sadness and melancholy… the disappointment people, that had befallen my hitherto jubilant friends. People were sitting on their porches, heads hanging down, shaking in disbelief…Neighbours were comforting other neighbours, some crying, some not…There was no need to rush back home to hear the outcome, it was there in plain site. Oh, the humanity. Needless to say over on the Greek side of town, known as The Danforth, where I discovered that my life had been incomplete until I tasted Saganaki… oh, the wonder of fried cheese… the mood was decidedly more euphoric.


Cut to this year and while I am in the midst of a move, and possibly looking for new employment… meaning that sadly not much has changed in two years… that still does not mean that I don’t give a care… and of course, when there is money involved, I can give a care about just about anything… And give a care I do.

Want to know a few other things I give a care about?

1) England

2) Rooting for England the World Cup as they may have a chance to make it past the second round

3) Not having to root for England in the aforementioned predominantly Portuguese neighbourhood where a) there is nowhere to actually watch any games except those little speak easies that most crack-whores will not even enter and b) if there were any respectable establishments in which to watch the matches the fact that I am NOT rooting for Portugal would most decidedly cause me no small degree of bodily harm

4) I work next door to what is the place to go for English football… at any time if the year. I never knew that a place like this existed, but it’s the sort of establishment that opens itself up to hard-core ex-pat British football fans up 6am on a Saturday morning so that those fans, who, being British after all, have more than likely been out drinking until the wee hours of the morning but STILL will wake up at 5am in order to get there early to make sure that get a seat… and a beer… for 6am… on a Saturday. Anyway, so I work right next door… It’s perfect.

5) Soccer Hotties. Second only to… hmmm… actually, soccer players are second to no one. Soccer Hotties.

Bea “Hooligan in disguise” Petty

A Funny Thing Happened...

On the way to posting today... I'll post what I wrote today tomorrow... but sadly, just as I was getting ready to go online... I was unexpectedly and more than mildly sickened by the news that I was totally screwed over by work today...

In a nutshell, I was so screwed over that IF by such fortunate happenstance I actually get offered the position that I was already offered but which has now been demoted and being posted externally so that I now have to apply and interview for like any random idiot who has not been in a higher level position with said organization for the past few years... that truly there is no chance that I could possibly work for an organization who would treat a valued employee in this manner.

I take comfort in the fact that once I leave no one will have an iota of a clue as to how things work there. I know that sounds odd and really conceited... but note to employers... try not to only have a contract employee be the only one who actually knows how to make your organization function... I'm just sayin'.

Stay tuned for today's tomorrow post: a hilarious commentary on the FIFA World Cup championship... whose work pool I am in... but will likely not even be around to reap the rewards of victorious participation therein.

Bea "Back to BC with my tail between my legs? Perhaps" Petty

My Kingdom for a...

Life is pretty quiet for the old girl these days. With pretty much every friend/acquaintance in town now in couples-ville, I am basically on my own right now. It’s not a huge issue as I enjoy my alone time and I am busy getting organized for ye olde move… which cannot come soon enough in my books.

And not that I think that the moment I move to my new little neighbourhood that I will magically have all the things that I am missing right now… but allow me to present the following example:

Yesterday was a great day. I woke up and the sun was shining…my creative juices were flowing so I started to do some writing. I took a break for lunch and turned the TV on only to discover that History was just starting to show the entire Band of Brothers series from start to finish. Being a huge WW2/ History nerd, I had wanted to see this for a very, very long time. Some people get excited for soap operas, American Idol or The Apprentice… I get excited for 10-part WW2 mini-series’...

Anyway, so started to watch I did and got totally engrossed in like 2.5 seconds… So engrossed, in fact, that I had completely forgotten that I needed to get the most basic of all human necessities… Toilet Paper. I knew last week that I was running a wee bit low and had forgotten to pick some up before the weekend… and then Saturday came and went sans shopping for TP… and by the time Sunday came around, the situation was quite dire. When I realized that I had finally run out, I accepted the fact that I was going to miss a bit of my l’il program and off I went to the store.

6:30pm… First store? Closed. Second store? Closed. Stores that were actually open? No toilet paper. I went into the bakery and bought a little brownie so that a) I wouldn’t feel bad for using the washroom and b) wouldn’t feel bad for stealing a whole whack of toilet paper. I’m pretty sure God will smite me at some point and that the 2nd lowest level of hell is reserved solely for Toilet Paper Stealers such as myself and that I will spend the rest of eternity in said place with no access to toilet paper as a punishment… But for now, I'll just have to live with it.

So my POINT is that while moving to civilization will not bring me my hearts desires (well, it will, but not without some effort on my part), at least I will have access to TP 24 hours a day, 7 days a week…

Bea "thank god it's Monday, I mean it... thank you god... I'm going shopping today... I'll replace the TP if you want... don't smite me, pretty please..." Petty

Survey Says...

So,

As I am always happy to earn extra cash without having to actually do anything for it, I’ve been doing these online survey thingies for a while… Ipsos-Reid and others like that. Rarely do you get paid for taking the survey… although I have had my fair share of 5$ cheques, let me tell you… but the idea that maybe if the universe sees fit I may just win the monthly draw that participation in said surveys makes one eligible for, is too good to pass up.

These surveys come in all shapes and sizes and subjects… cars, clothing brands, various other products. Hands down my most favorite-est would be the one I just did.

How many times in the past 2 months have you participated in a Market Research study for the following:

Oatmeal: Never Once Twice Don’t Know

Well, never having been given the pleasurable opportunity to participate in a Market Research study of oatmeal in my hitherto un-oatmeal-survey-filled life, let alone the last two months, of course I had to answer NEVER. However, words cannot express my excitement of being asked to FINALLY participate in one.

Unfortunately, our story has a most sad ending. For just as I had gotten into my oatmeal surveying frame of mind, I was informed by the oatmeal surveying people that their oatmeal surveying quota had already been filled. Blast.

If you hurry, you too just might be able to catch a fleeting glimpse of the survey to end all surveys: http://survey.confirmit.com/wix/p346922206.aspx?r=22516&s=SNVHHOWC&p=1.

Bea “strangely craving oatmeal” Petty

Movin' on Up...

... To the east side. Literally. By about half a block. In about 2 weeks, I will be moving to the most adorable little place, which will put me, literally, within a 3-minute walk to a movie theatre, my favorite grocery store, a Chapters, a LCBO, and many, many other purveyors of useful goods and services. Literally. I think this will be a nice change from being a 15 minute walk to the most ghetto mall in all of Toronto.

Yay, I won’t be unemployed and on the streets this summer. yay.

BP

House vs. My Dad

A Case Study

by
Beatrice Petty

House has peppered gray hair. My Dad has peppered gray hair.

House has really nice blue eyes. My Dad has really nice blue eyes.

House is a cranky man who offends people at ever turn. My Dad is a cranky man who offends people at every turn.

House has trouble keeping friends. My Dad has trouble keeping friends.

House has very definite views on the way the world should work. My Dad has very definite views on the way the world should work.

House spends his live living in chronic pain. My Dad spends hi life living in chronic pain.

House hates people. My Dad hates people.

House has a bizarre sense of humour. My Dad has a bizarre sense of humour.

House walks with a limp due to a bummed leg. My Dad sometimes walks with a limp due to a bummed back.

House has a mild dependency on pain killers to deal with above mentioned chronic pain. My Dad has a mild dependency on pain killers to deal with above mentioned chronic pain.

House is, deep down, a very caring person. My Dad is, deep down, a very caring person.

House likes to ride motorcycles. My Dad likes to ride motorcycles.

House can fix anyONE. My Dad can fix anyTHING.

House is a Doctor. My Dad spends a lot of time going to doctors.

House is a cool guy. My Dad is a cool guy.

Miss, or Won't Miss?

Spending 2 hours of my Friday night getting Hugh down from the water pipe, which, due to the "lofty" nature of the loft, is 20 feet off the ground??? Won't miss

Being able to spend a nice weekend day on a giant patio??? Miss

The unexpected outbreak of bagpipe music whilst reading on the above mentioned patio??? Miss

Working from home on a Monday because of a wild-cat transit strike has left me stranded in the slums??? Miss/ Won't Miss (who doesn't like working from home)

Navigating my steep, narrow, banister-free stairs in the dark in the middle of the night to empty the world's tiniest bladder??? Won't miss

The lovely smell of the rubber factory next door and a sweltering summer day??? Won't miss

Free central air conditioning??? Miss

Taking the bus??? Won't miss

Not having one single closet or one iota of storage space? Won't miss

Splitting cable/internet with roommate??? Miss

Having neighbourhood grocery store as a Price Chopper (non-Toronto dwellers... Price Chopper = GHETTO)??? WON'T MISS

Parking lot movie nights in the summer??? Miss

168 Slumington??? Won't miss

Not being able to rent/ go to a movie/ do anything spur of the moment??? Won't miss

Trainspotting??? Miss

Living above an illegal gambling ring??? Won't miss

Kick ass parties happening regularly 3 doors down??? Miss

Spending a bazillion dollars on taxis just so I can have a social life... such that it is??? Won't miss

I am sure there are more pros and cons to moving, but I am supposed to be working after all... albeit from home, sitting on my couch... in my sweats.

Laters,
Bea

This Just in... Nothing

Last night, a few things happened that I feel compelled to share. They are in no way exciting, but for lack of anything else to share with you, they will have to do. Now, once I re-join the civilized world and the beautiful peeps at Young and Eligible next month, I may have some more exciting things to gab about, but until then, this is what you get:

1) Increasingly losing respect for anyone who does not watch House.

2) I don’t think the next American Idol should ONLY be able to sing well when sitting down on the floor.

3) My cat locked himself in the bathroom at some point last night. I woke up to what sounded like a baby being thrown against the wall. It was, in fact, my cat throwing himself against the door.

4) Having locked himself inside the bathroom for god knows how long with an unlimited supply of water from the toilet the little guy needed to tinkle… which he proceeded to do… in the bathtub. And while it sucked having to clean cat urine out of the tub in the middle of the night, I was quite proud of the little guy for understanding the physics behind liquids and drains… and not going on the floor.

5) Having successfully taught Hugh the words ‘where is your mouse’ whereby he immediately proceeds to parts of the loft unknown to find said inanimate best friend and drops it beside me where we play fetch for what seems like hours on end… if you ever thought that cats had short attention spans, you have not met my little guy… I have now decided that I will teach him how to go to the bathroom in the toilet à la Meet the Parents. Do I expect that he’ll learn to flush the toilet? No, but I am willing to go to just about any extreme so as not to have to clean the kitty litter… any extreme except for the former-PNB’s that is, whose solution was to liberally spray the immediate vicinity with the most noxious air freshening spray possible… I am talking about a spray that I am sure was banned in even the poorest of third world countries here folks… It’s entirely possible that he was actually trying to kill me and only when that didn’t work, decided to break things off… and then immediately sent a stalker my way to do the dirty deed for him…Hmmm… suddenly everything makes so much more sense…

Let us all pray that Bea gets a more exciting life when she moves…

Math For a Saturday Morning

Find X…

If ‘a’ equals Bea and ‘b’ equals the Madison on a rainy Friday night to celebrate ‘a’s job and ‘c’ equals Adorable English Chemist… multiply by ‘d’, which equals beer before liquor means never sicker divided by the square root of ‘e’, hilarious piano bar of ‘b’.

‘a’ through ‘e’ multiplied by ‘f’ which equals somehow thinking that pretending to be visiting sister of ‘c’ and sporting an English accent all night was the most fabulous idea of all time and then divided by ‘g’ where ‘g’ means ‘c’ going around ‘e’ and introducing ‘a’ as ‘f’… whereby ‘c’, due to ‘d’, leaves the ‘e’ of ‘b’ when ‘a’ is in the ladies room of ‘e’ leaving ‘a’ to wander around ‘e’ wondering where the ‘eff’, not to be confused with ‘f’ which ‘a’ has since abandoned after the unexpected departure of ‘c’ from the ‘e’ of ‘b’…

If you answered X = What was Bea thinking…

Give yourself an A+++

If you answered X= Bea is an idiot…

Give yourself a B-. Bea is not an idiot, but after that many beers, she clearly wasn’t thinking.

One Chore Down...

Just one to go... Moving.

Here's to continuing to be gainfully employed!

Yay Me!

TTOW!

Last night was an interesting TV night and I for one am thankful that the batteries in my remote control did not die. I had 3 important programs on the go that I needed to keep track of. It took all of my wits to keep it going for 2 full hours.

America’s Next Top Model… a shocking conclusion if you ask me. I was sure the girl who didn’t win was going to be the one. Shows you how much I know.

American Idol… Meh… I figured Elliot would go. My prediction is that my boy Taylor will win, but one can never predict where those who had been voting for Elliot might now send their votes. After Chris got voted off, what little faith I had in the American public was pretty much destroyed…

And last but not least…

The Amazing Race... This is the very first season I have watched… With all the hoopla I decided to jump on the bandwagon and check it out… and I fell in love. I fell in love with the Hippies BJ and Tyler. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they reminded me of my brother and his friends, who are all completely hysterical… but good for them… Let’s all say it together…

TTOW

Bea's Favorite Quote du Jour

When reacting to a comment about coming down on the conservative side when deciding to close a Utah campground... because the bubonic plague had been found in rodents there, Joe Winklemaier of the U.S. Public Health Service had this to say:

"We just like to be sure when it comes to plague."

Don't we all Joe. Don't we all.

Petty Family Vacation

So,

The folks just got back from a road trip vacay they took down to the States. Never ones to be accused of originality the trip is pretty much the same trip that they have taken once or twice a year for goodness knows how long. It typically involves driving all the way along the west coast to some warm southern state to attend either a motorcycle rally, a gold panning show or a woodworking convention. Clearly, there is nothing of interest there for my Mother, but as these events usually take place in a state where gambling is legal, she’s always up for it. Of course, they do other things as well and are always up for exploring new little places they happen to stumble across along the way.

This year’s trip was the first one since my Father acquired a digital camera, which he got at Christmas… a gift from my Mom, as were the ones that both my brother and I received… what can I say, when she gets an idea in her head there’s no stopping her. Although it seemed like a good idea at the time, my Father, God bless him, is unfortunately of the age where learning new things, especially things where technology is involved is just not in the cards. After several months, he finally got the hang of downloading his pictures onto the computer. Please note that my parents have a brand new computer… Windows XP etc… so all you do is literally plug the camera into the computer and it downloads itself. Now if he could only actually get the hang of taking pictures.

After walking him through the process of how to e-mail the pictures which was truly a combination of pulling teeth, banging one’s head against the wall repeatedly and wanting to drink a bottle of cyanide (Oh, you mean a paper clip in the e-mail screen. I was wondering how an actual paper clip was going to help me e-mail these to you…), I finally got some pictures. Granted, I got the same one about 8 times, but whatever… beggars can’t be choosers. But then I opened the image below and could not stop laughing… and then opened the ones that followed which were all very similar. And still could not stop laughing. It was as if my Dad was doing his best to not have any record that my Mom was on the trip at all. Or that despite my Dad’s best efforts to not take a picture of her, my Mom stepped into the frame at the last minute… my parents crack me up!

Bingo Hall Princess

So here I am on day 6 of my super fun flu-cold. And if I haven't written anything in the last couple of days, it mostly been because my days have consisted of dragging my mucus-filled head out of bed in the morning, attempting to make it through the day without going through multiple boxes of Kleenex and trying to stay awake long enough in the evening to watch my favorite shows on TV (American Idol, wtf?).

On the plus side, my head no longer feels like it weighs a ton. Not because my lovely spring visitor has gone away... but because all the crud in my head has now traveled into my throat and lungs. I now sound one of those chain-smoking 80-year-old women you can only find in bingo halls. I mean, throaty is good and all, when you are, say Demi Moore... but this is a little ridiculous!…

Under the B... bleck

Books and Bandwagons

As I can really only watch Deal or No Deal in 30 second spurts, that left to peruse the channels of my TV at will last night whilst waiting for The Apprentice to come on. As luck would have it, I stumbled across DaVinci Code week on History Television… for you Americans out there, HT is the lameass Canadian equivalent of the History Channel which we can only get up here via satellite, which licks because as a History fanatic, the History Channel is about the closest thing to perfection on TV… but now is not the time nor the place to talk about my insatiable need to delve into all things from the past…

Before I continue, I must first ascertain whether there is still a person left in the civilized world who has not read the book. If there is, then shame on you…excepting of course that you are a conservative Christian fanatic whose church will ex-communicate you if you even so much as pick up the book, let alone having to confess to your priest about having impure thoughts about reading it, thus condemning your sole to an indeterminate visit to the lower bowels of Hell… If you were anything like me, I fought against reading it, kind of like how some people refuse to read Harry Potter for the simple reason that they don’t want to jump onto that bandwagon, but honestly people…

Some bandwagons can be fun and are meant to be jumped on. I mean, it’s possible that you could find yourself on a bandwagon with a broken wheel, or even a psychotic band leader, but much of the time, the popular bandwagons are popular for a reason so it is neither here nor there if you decide to hop on for a bit… and who knows, you may even learn a new ditty or two… and what if the bandleader is really cute? I’m just saying.

Anyway, so onto the DC bandwagon I jumped on last summer and it truly was one of the most fun little jaunts I ever did have. It’s a great book, even for those of you who could care a less about history or religion… It’s just a well written story. And having read it and loved it, I’ve been sitting back and watching all the controversy surrounding it and pretty much just laughing my ass off as I imagine that Dan Brown has also been doing…for a few reasons, but mostly because of this…

Do the churches so completely have their heads in places where the sun doesn’t shine that they don’t realize the surest way to get as many people as possible to read or watch something is to tell them that they shouldn’t read or watch something? It’s kind of reminiscent of when you are growing up and your parents tell you not to do something… but you do anyway, even if you don’t really want to, because your parents told you not to. And so instead of trusting your children to make their own choices about what is right and there being a very good likelihood that said children will pay no nevermind to the temptations the world has to offer, like booze or fiction… That was, until you told them not to. Or something like that.

So despite it’s best efforts to get people to not read the book… or have them go see the movie (which comes out soon yay) the churches, have in fact, done what no amount of paid publicity could ever hope to have accomplished and have ensured that people will do just that… It’s brilliant in its simplicity. If the church had been smarter, it would have cut a deal with the publisher and movie studio for a cut of the prophets… haha… prophets… get it? Prophets? Profits? I kill me…

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming…

The Lesser Known "F" Word

Instead of having a mostest productivess weekend, I ended up coming down with the flu somewhere between 10pm when I went to bed on Friday night and 3am, when I woke up shivering like I was in a deep freeze and feeling like I had been at the losing end of a boxing match with a 300 pound kangaroo. I haven’t had the flu in a very long time. It was weird. And awful.

And you know you are really sick when you are chatting to one of the people who loves you most in the world… You know, a guy friend in whose eyes you can never do any wrong and who thinks you are a beautiful princess no matter what… and wants to see a picture of his sick little Bea, because no matter how sick she is, she is still going to be really adorable… and so you take a pic… even editing out the really bad pic that makes the weepy eyes and Rudolph red nose REALLY obvious… only to have said friend who thinks you are gorgeous no matter what say:

Oh jeez, Bea… you look like… Oh my god, you look awful… I have to delete that picture right away… oh jeez…oh lord… the image is burned into my brain… delete that picture NOW and never, ever show it to anyone… EVER.

Now if that’s not sick, then I don’t know what is!

BP

I've Got Plenty of Nuttin'

Besides living vicariously through my friends, I been mostly trying to nurse my sinuses and keep Hugh out of the loft next door. As such, not much to talk about I’m a-feared. I don’t see that changing anytime in the near future either. I really truly have no desire to date, despite most of my friends hopping on that bandwagon, and that was the source of my most entertaining exploits… to me at least. Part of me thinks that that I should actually make even an iota of an effort, but that part is a very, very small part. Think cuticle on my baby toe small.

I choose instead to maybe make friends should they come my way but to mostly concentrate on my writing YAY…

Oh, and looking for a job… unless I can convince them that I am the most awesomest employee that was ever awesomely awesome and that the whole place will fall apart if I leave…

Oh, and looking for a new place to live…

Oh, and cleaning…

Oh, and moving…

Oh, and… TBA

Bea "nuttin's plenty for me" Petty

My Friends are Cooler Than Yours Are!

First Celebrity Boyfriend Stealer goes and parties the night away with one of my favorite celebrity boyfriends (Mr. Butler). And then Girl ups and steals a shot with my favorite Olympic boyfriend (Brad Gushue). And now THIS....



For those of you who do not eat, sleep and breath all things Olympic, this is Alexandre Despatie-- silver medalist in diving from Athens. Ain't he adorable???

But I am starting to sense a pattern here.

February 2006

Bea: "I have to take the women's team to terminal one and make sure they catch their connecting flight. Can you stay here and make sure everything goes ok with the men?"

Girl: "Oh don't worry Bea, I'll make sure that the team is well taken care of"... WINK.

April 2006

Girl: "Golly Bea, it's just tooooo bad that you aren't coming to QC this year. It's going to so boring there without you. I'll have no one to party with. It's just going to be sooooooooo lame."

Bea: "Aw, Girl. You know I would go if there was a need for me. But alas, I must stay in the Big Smoke to hold down the fort and baby sit our new hire. But cheer up, you'll have a great time, I just know you will.

Girl: "No, I won't". SAD SACK.

Yeah, nice try Girl. The innocent act is just not going to cut it anymore... not on this girl... so you'll need to get up MUCH earlier in the morning to pull the wool over my eyes again. Fool me once, twice shame on — shame on you. Fool me — I can't get fooled again.

Bea "my friends are cooler than me" Petty

Tune in Next Time...

So, last night’s episode of House was pretty much the most brilliant one ever… and that is saying an awful lot…

And just a heads up for those who may not know, the second part of the episode is on tonight at 8pm… Wouldn’t want anyone to miss it.

This public service announcement has been brought to you by the fine people at Beatrice Petty Incorporated ©

"Beatrice Petty… trying the suck the most fun out of life… one day at a time…"

Mick Jagger and Eccentric Hotels

Welcome to last night's dreamland.

I will not go into detail about what role Mick Jagger might have played in one of my dreams except to say that I woke up with a smile on my face and a strong desire to go to a Rolling Stones concert. For someone in his sixties, he sure is virile.

But it was my other dream that was the more interesting of the two. How can THAT be possible you may be asking yourselves... But it's true. I guess I am having some anxiety over moving and possibly not having a job all around the same. In my dream the latter had indeed occurred so necessity dictated that I take up lodgings in a rather run-down but interesting hotel. For those of who who have seen the Great Muppet Caper think the Happiness Hotel... If you haven't seen the Great Muppet Caper then you really have not lived. That's all I will say on that topic.

Anyway, so here I was at this hotel, whose crazy steep and darkened stairway was about 1 foot wide and covered in shag carpeting from floor to ceiling. I had no idea how I was going to fit up them with all my stuff, but somehow I did and entered into the lobby through a 'being John Malkovich' sized door to find a bunch of really, really interesting people inside. The lobby was made up of what I can only describe as a penguin habitat and most of the people were swimming around, chasing each other through the little ice tunnels. They were having a blast. I couldn't wait to join them...

And then my cat started scratching at my door to get in, so I never did find out about the penguin habitat, or meet any of the other curious people in the Happiness Hotel. So very disappointed. But what I do know is that I discovered a new part of my subconscious last night... a steep, dark and narrow staircase to parts unknown makes that easy to figure out. But the rest of the dream? Hmmm... ponderous, really ponderous.

Bea "I want to see the penguin people again damnit!" Petty

And Furthermore...

Is it wrong of me to not want Tarek to get fired on The Apprentice because he is Orlando Bloom's doppelganger??? Sigh... my favorite metro(s)...

But on a different note... I actually find the British guy annoying... I think I am making great strides towards finding a cure for my addiction. Yay me!

**Update-- 10pm... God Dammit. I guess I'm down to one metro**

Kids These Days

After a thoroughly hysterical evening playing NTN trivia with my English Chemist, who I trounced... but only after hearing for over a year now about how I was going to get my ass kicked downtown and back...

We started off for the subway but somehow (I love it when you 'somehow' accidentally end up in a bar) ended up at this club called the Brunswick House. It would have been a great place... if I had been 17. But seeing as how the old girl is a lick closer to being fabulous at 40 than she is to being barely legal, I can think of other places that I would preferred to have been. In bed asleep springs to mind.

I'm not going to go into the gory details about how all the men were really, really short (are guys getting shorter these days?), or how all the girls looked a little like street walkers (I just don't get those high-heel, high-top sneaker dealies)... All I have is one simple question...

Since when did girls grinding their arse against the boys' crotches become the accepted way of dancing in a nightclub?

Bea "Call me crazy but I like to SEE the guys' face when I am dancing with him" Petty

What The?

OK... This just happened to me... and I kind of feel like I need to write about it before I forget.

So I'm on the subway coming home and I'm sitting there, minding my own business as one is apt to do on the subway in this town lest one happens to sit next to a potential stalker disguised as a musician... Hey... don't think it couldn't happen... because it could... and it did... So there I am sitting and doing the crossword puzzle when I do glance up and see a 20-something guy and girl huddling amongst themselves. They are pointing somewhere down the car and whispering... Conspiring... And then they proceed to go somewhere towards where they were pointing. I promptly forgot about the two white jean-coated plotters.

Until, that is, this obnoxious voice began booming through the car. Now, I am not sure how many of you reading this have been on a TTS subway car. If memory serves me correctly, they are slightly larger than a Sky Train car in Vancouver, maybe about 2.5 times the length of your average bus. Not Huber small is my point. So this voice starts up and I glance up to see that the conspirators are now engaged in a conversation with a raging Metro with the slickiest slicked back hair that I have ever seen. I shudder at the thought that there was possibly more grease on that head than all the oil that was produced by the OPEC countries last year combined, but my crossword puzzle called so I tried to ignore the Metro...

But alas, I could not.

It started off so subtly that at first I just thought that this couple had just randomly started chatting to the suit. And that's when I noticed that their matching white jackets were no coincidence. With a giant "Garnier" logo embroidered on the back, I suddenly realized that these folks were trying to sell the metro something. And then I saw that they were physically holding some products... And as the conversation grew ever louder, I began to wonder what the hell was going on. The booming voice of the metro made it IMPOSSIBLE to not overhear the conversation and I was mostly just annoyed that he was invading my personal ear space... Dude, I get that you really like the smell of Garnier Fructis products, but truly, I don't give a rats patoot...

And then the light bulb went on. Ding.

I had become a victim of what I can only describe as the advertising world's version of being Punk'd. In a normal world, Metro or no, it is just not possible for a guy to be that enthusiastic about fruity smelling hair care products, let alone whether or not said hair care products are available in gel or spray, or whether the gel and the spray both have that great fruity smelling aroma... And on and on and on and so forth. As I could barely contain my laughter, I wondered whether they actually thought they were fooling anyone. But just when I thought it could not get any more obvious...

"What a minute, are you saying that YOU, random other metro, who happens to be sitting down right next to where these Garnier reps happened to have just randomly approached yours truly and I just so HAPPENED to have a familiarity of Garnier Fructis products greater than most women... are you saying, fellow greasy albeit shorter haired metro, that YOU have this product in you hair right now? Right this second? Is that what you are saying? Wow, that's great... I love the look of your hair, the texture is amazing... So, tell me Garnier Fructis reps... And be honest... I don't want to a sales pitch, I want to know... is this stuff expensive... seriously tell me... And no bull... is this stuff going to cost me a fortune? No? Ok, so tell me where I can get it. Shoppers? I can get it at Shoppers? Awesome... Thanks... you guys are awesome..."

And then, because at that point only a mentally-challenged amoeba would not have clued into what had just gone down, all 4 of them left at the same stop, which coincidentally was the same moment that all of us poor schmucks on the subway had been given all the information that the script had said to give...

We knew that it smelled fruity and pleasant... We knew that the product was available in spray and gel, and worked on both long and short hair... We knew that men AND women could use this product... We knew that the product was inexpensive... We knew where we could get it... we knew that we that these people clearly could not get a job where they made any contribution to society whatsoever...

Good Times.

Bea 'As God as my witness, I shall never use Fructis again' Petty

Are You Down With OPP?

Of course you are? Everyone is. It is just common courtesy to respect other people’s property. Every last homey knows that. The only person who seems unaware of this is Hugh.

The last week has been a fairly sleepless one. Why? Because my cat’s newest favorite hobby is no longer climbing up the painting, but climbing up my clothes hanging in the wardrobe and swinging from them. And when I say “clothes”, I mean the last 2 articles still remaining on their hangers. Oh, I started the week by re-hanging everything in the morning, or after I got home from work, but then realized that re-hanging everything just gave him the fodder from which to fuel his fire… slowly but ever so surely my clothes have been slipping from their hanging slumber on to a pile at the bottom of my wardrobe. And I have done nothing to rectify this situation over the last few days…

So now I have turned to locking him out of my room at night and wearing earplugs to drown out the sounds of his incessant mewing, and clawing at the door… and running up the stairs only to throw his body weight against said door. Thud.

But sometimes I give in. He sounds so sad… maybe he’s learned his lesson. He is just a kitten after all. He doesn’t know right from wrong. Aw, Hugh, sweetie… Ok, you can come in, as long as you come onto the bed and curl up and go to sleep… And so open the door I do, only for him to head straight to the wardrobe and commence his best George of the Jungle impersonation. Bye Hughie, thanks for coming out… door closes once again… ear plugs inserted. Sleep, I need sleep.

If chopping his little balls off doesn’t curb his enthusiasm for destruction, I really do not know what I will do, as I’m pretty sure giving Ritalin to a cat is illegal. What about Valium though? For me I mean, not the cat. Valium would come in handy right about now…

Aw, good kitty… you climb up that shirt and rip it to shreds… That’s a GOOD kitty… ohhhh, look at the pretty clouds…

Bea 'zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz' Petty

This Just In...

OK,

So in desperate need of a haircut, away I went to the salon across the street to take advantage of their '25% off if you walk in before 11:30am' special. The result is as follows:

I no longer think that I am even remotely attractive... blue-eyed, freckle-faced or otherwise... unless you can call having been magically transformed from a somewhat-hip 30-something from the year 2006 to a middle-aged woman from the 1950s.

I no longer think that I am smart. A smart person would have been able to articulate that she did not want to go from having very long hair with no bangs to having a short bob with bangs. Clearly, I am not smart.

A person can have the greatest personality in the universe, but if that person never leaves the house due to unfortunate hair... Making people laugh is great, but I prefer to have them laugh with me, as opposed to at me. I guess the bonus is that I will never, ever be id'd.

Meet the new me:



Seriously. If I had blond hair, this is exactly what I would look like. Anyone know a good wig shop?

Pretty is as Pretty Does

Well, it turns out that the former-PNB didn’t do all that badly in his television debut. Last night’s episode showed that he had indeed met someone. Was I surprised? Yes. Was I a little bit displeased? Truthfully? Yes. But probably not for the reasons you think.

It has been forever since I’ve had those kinds of feelings for the guy. When we were hanging out last summer, it was never with any thoughts of romance or things of that sort. I just considered him a good guy, a good friend, a big goof. Nothing more. Card nights in with the roommie were always more fun when the former-PNB was over… despite the two tricksters conspiring together to pad my euchre hand whilst I was in the washroom…

Do you know horrible it feels to be completely losing a game and then pick up your cards to find the BEST possible hand and think ‘Oh My God, Oh My God…Yes, this is it… I am SO going to clean up this round, Ok, keep it together Bea… do NOT let them see that a miracle of miracles has just occurred’… Only to have the two of them burst out laughing and admit that they gave me those cards on purpose… ‘Ha Ha, very FUNNY’. I am still scarred to this day. Seriously. Anyway, my point is that I just think that he’s a good guy and I always enjoyed just hangin out. End of story.

Cut to last night, and lo and behold there was actually a connection between him and one of the girls. Like I said, I was a little shocked. Why? Because I would have thought he would have mentioned it to me, if only in passing. Also why? Because honestly… and if you haven’t ever met bitchy Bea, here ye are… I just didn’t think she was all that attractive. I was surprised that of all the girls on the show, that he would have even considered that particular one. And I will be honest-- my first reaction was something along the lines of “He picked Her over ME?”

Isn’t that horrible?

I felt guilty as soon as the thought entered my brain, and yet I still spent the rest of my waking moments of the day dwelling on the matter. I was specifically concerned that I somehow, as mildly insecure as I am, had managed to have this completely over-inflated opinion of myself. I always thought I was kind of cute… no super model or anything like that, but pretty attractive in a simple blue-eyed, freckle-faced way. I always thought I was kind of smart too… and that I was not completely lacking in the personality department. I have been told that sometimes, I make people laugh.

These thoughts actually had me go to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I spent a few minutes looking… REALLY looking at myself and yet, despite needing a haircut in the worst way, I still thought I was kind of cute… in my simple blue-eyed, freckle-faced way.

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do. As always, I just want former-PNB to be happy and so it really does not matter what I think in the least. I dated a short, balding George Costanza-like Englishman for crying out loud… one never knows what one will be attracted to… But the whole affair has got me wondering…

Most women I know tend to be mildly self-loathing. Very few of us think that we are as attractive as we truly are… we are too fat, our heads are too big, hair too short, or too long, or not the right colour, boobs too small, ass too fat, teeth too crooked etc… But is it possible that there are women out there who actually think they are MORE attractive than they actually are? A reverse self-loathing if you will. Just curious.

Anyhoo, at the end of the day, my evening of self-doubt changed nothing… it was just a little blip in my otherwise orderly and sane world…

I still think I am attractive in my simple blue-eyed, freckle-faced way.

I still think that I am smart.

I still think I have a great personality.

I am still in desperate need of a haircut.

Bea ‘I thought TV was my friend’ Petty

Why is a Cat When it Spins?

Earlier today, whilst trying to find things to occupy myself on the weekend, I decided that I would go to my first Blue Jays game of the season… By myself, which I am happy to do because oddly enough I get oodles of writing done at baseball games. Also, as no one I know is really into baseball, it’s either solo or not at all most of the time. As un-luck would have it, there are no home games this weekend. Curses.

This got me thinking about other instances where things do not always turn out as one expects them to. I am sure everyone has their own set of “Why is it that when…”s. In between my filling in for about 4 people who are away at the current moment, I was able to come up with a short list of my own…

Why is it that when I need to go shopping for clothes I can never find anything I like, and if I do, it is never on sale? And why is it that when I do not need any clothes and/ or am too broke to go shopping for clothes, that I can ALWAYS find EVERYTHING I like AND it is on sale?

Why is it that when I am interested in a guy he is not interested in me back? And why is it that when I am NOT interested in a guy, he is VERY interested in me?

Why is it that when I need to get sleep during the week I never can because that’s when my cat decides that 11pm to 7am is his playtime… on my bed? And why is it that on the weekends, when I get to sleep in, he is a little angel who lets me sleep all night long?

Why is it that when there are no good movies out in the theatres, there are also no good movies available for rent?

Why is it that when I want to be oot and aboot on the weekend, it will be a rainy and dismal day? And why is it that when I am hung over like a son of a bitch it’s the most beautiful sunny and bright day ever?

Why is that when I am watching America’s Next Top Model and I get to the part right when you find out who gets kicked off, that my cat chooses that same moment to walk onto the power bar and shut the whole system down?

Why is it that the day after I put my winter wardrobe away and bring out spring/summer because it has been 20 degrees for an entire week that the weather decides to return to winter once again? (aka… why is it that the day I decide to finally wash my car, it rains…)

Why is it that when a really, really good song comes on my internet radio at work that my internet radio provider chooses that moment to cut off and ask me “if I am still there?”

Why is it that right as my boss is standing over my computer going through some text edits I was working on, that a considerate friends msns me with a “Hey, what’s up beeyatch?”

OK, must stop now… this list could be never ending.

BP

Who Needs a Man...

.... When you have this little guy in your life?

Is it no wonder that I am happy being single?

XXX-tra Good Topic

Without going into the details, I had the… pleasure is not the right word… the satisfaction? No, that’s not right either. Let’s just say the opportunity came up for the old girl to watch a movie with some pretty hardcore pornographic content a short while ago. It actually brought me back to my university days when our residence building would all go to the video store… yep, videos, because DVDs did not yet exist… and rent a selection of adult movies… Foreskin Gump… Classic.

Anyway, so the occasion presented itself and being ever the good sport, I said hey, why the heck not. On went the movie, whose name I cannot remember for the life of me, except I think it might have been “Big Jugs” or something along those lines. And sure, the movie had it’s moments of excitement but I have some observations if I may…

Now, it could have just been that movie in particular but one thing that I noticed was that the camera was never on the guys face. Were they enjoying it? No idea, because I just couldn’t see. Even during the money shots, you never saw their faces. I like watching men’s faces during the deed. Not that I think we women are any different, but men somehow manage to come up with these mugs that look completely hysterical. It takes all my effort not to laugh… because that would be highly inappropriate… but I do look, and enjoy... and secretly laugh nonetheless.

And I know that pretty much the entire thing is phony but do the directors and actors REALLY expect me to believe that the woman is enjoying herself as much as she is vocalizing that she is?

‘Oh, that’s it… bleep me, bleep me with your big blank… bleep me harder… Oh God, yeah… Oh bleep… that’s it, bleep my blank with your big, hard, blank. Oh yeah, it feels soooo good… Ah, bleep… BLEEP MY BLANK, BLEEP ME… HARDER… Oh yeah, I’m going to blank… oh, oh, OH, OH, OH… BLEEEEEEP’

I’m sorry, but as someone who enjoys bleeping, there is just no possible way that anyone going on and on and on like that is actually really, really enjoying it all that much. To me, it speaks to over-compensating just a wee bit. Granted, it is possible that these girls (and other vocalizing types) are multi-taskers to an extraordinary magnitude, but I for one, am usually concentrating too hard on one thing:

Blanking.

And so to go on and on and on at length about your ‘blank’ in my ‘blank’… I would just plain lose concentration… and then the whole exercise becomes completely pointless… because nothing puts Bea in a fouler mood than the guy blanking and not her. I guess I am just the most selfish person in the entire world. So be it.

Bea ‘This blank is your blank’ Petty

The Best Laid Plans...

Further to my posting from Friday, where was thrilled to be doing nothing on Friday night, and equally thrilled to have a mellow Saturday with a friend… T’would seem that the universe had other ideas. No complaints, mind you, as the social season is fast coming upon us and so going out more than the usual is inevitable… Ah, Wednesdays at the Maddy… you cannot come quickly enough…

But when one’s plan is to do a simple dinner and a movie with a friend… and then said friend brings over 2 bottles of wine… and if you have not seen that friend for a while and have much to gab about… and then MXC comes on and so one gets sucked into that… and then you look at the time and think ‘Holy Heck, it’s 8pm… guess we aren’t going to make it to the 8pm movie so screw it, let’s just do dinner'… and then after dinner on the way out one runs into other people who have a knack for twisting rubber arms AND who insist on buying G&T after G&T… which was lucky because although not realized until one returned home, one’s wallet was left at said home, but happily one can blame doing laundry and the bottle+ of wine consumed even before heading out for dinner… one can also thank goodness for belated birthday dinners and very generous commercial real estate agents… sufficed to say one was pretty much 3 sheets to the wind when all was said and done … and then to return home only to find the artist down the hall is having one of his rave-after hour party blowouts… so what was one supposed to do?

Yeah, so… What’s that saying about best intentions?

TGIF

Another work week is almost at an end. I love Friday nights… more especially I love not doing anything on Friday nights. I am such a lame-o. I don’t know what to say about that.

It could have something to do with just relaxing after a week of work, and knowing that I can sleep in the next morning…

It could also be that quite frequently I have something going on on the Saturday night and being the homebody that I am, I just really like to have one weekend night to flake out.

It could also be that when I am ‘sans-homme’ and full of spring fever, Friday is the BEST night to be home. Two words: Soft Porn. Actually, one of the most fun shows on TV right now, in my opinion, is on tonight. T’is called ‘Sin Cities’. I stumbled across it one night when I was channel surfing… and of course, my never ceasing Brit-fetish mean that there was really no question that if I stumbled upon a show with naked Englishman that I would have no choice…. NO CHOICE… but to stop and check it out. Thus began my Friday night love-affair with my newest celebrity boyfriend. It’s also a travel show… and Bea loves to travel… Ha, travel show, right. Luckily it also features an oft nude and slightly inebriated adorable, albeit somewhat dorky English Bloke… ah, the simple things in life…

If you can think of a better excuse to stay home on a Friday night, then I will… well, I don’t know what, but I’ll do something. Bonus points if it involves a naked Englishman.

Bea “spring is in the air” Petty

Whatever Happened To...

The former-PNB/ULH?

Remember him? Oh come on. Of course you do… from a while back??? We dated for a couple of months, then he broke up with me, popped back into my life last summer with a nice little friendship in the makings… and then he kissed me and BAM… never to be heard from again? Oh, I tried…tried to figure out what happened and never got any response. In fact, I tried as recently as a couple of weeks ago and got berated for being pessimistic that I wouldn’t hear back… and when I wrote back apologizing for thinking that he wouldn’t respond… I never heard back. Weird.

Anyway, I always wondered why he had just suddenly decided to cut me out of his life pretty much at the same time as I was starting to consider him to be quite a good friend in this town O’ Toronto… Was it a) because he kissed me after a few too many beers one night and got freaked out that I might have taken that as a sign that he was interested in me as more than a friend or b) hmmm, there isn’t a ‘b’… I’m pretty sure what happened was ‘a’… but now I KNOW there was a ‘b’.

My former-PNB cut off contact with me because he had bigger and better fish to fry. You see, unbeknownst to yours truly, he decided to quit his day job and become a famous TV personality. It’s true. Girl and I saw him last night. Actually Girl saw him and then called me and left a message something along the lines of

“Hey Bea, it’s me. Just calling to tell you that you should check out this show on the Blank Channel about these single girls and dating and ‘GASP’….”

Silence for about 10 seconds, which worried me because I thought something drastic had happened and then…

“OH MY GAWD… OH MY GAWD… I think that’s former-PNB… I’m freaking out… OH MY GAWD… CALL ME!!!!!” click.

Luckily for her there is more than one way to get a hold of Bea when she has forgotten to turn her phone on since going to the movies last Sunday (“hmmm, I wonder why nobody is calling me…”) so got a hold of me she did and lo and behold, it was indeed the former-PNB. And between laughing hysterically… because that’s what girls do… and laughing hysterically some more, I was very proud of my little ‘former’… Go PNB Go… and he was doing great, the girls all seemed to like him. Sadly I was overtaken by a fit of the giggles at about the same time that his fortunes turned… something about sex and bad breath and 4am…

And now I am sadder than ever that we don’t hang out because like,I SO, like want his autograph…

That’s it… I am writing a part just for him in my next screenplay.

Bea “Ever So Star Struck” Petty

Used TP Anyone?

Not exactly climbing up the painting, but this is what he did yesterday when I put him in the bathroom to give him a time out from climbing up the painting. This was taken a while ago, but I guess old habits die hard.

What if...

Jackie Chan and Richard Simmons had a child? Now, what if Jackie Chan and Richard Simmons were cats? I mean, besides the obvious that they themselves could probably not have a child, no matter what species they were due to gender incompatibility... but if you add in the premise behind that movie where Arnold Schwarzenegger got pregnant... man what was Emma Thompson thinking??? Anyway, so assuming that a) Jackie Chan and Richard Simmons could magically transform into cats and that b) one of them (I see it being Richard Simmons) got pregnant and that c) I might possibly have too much time on my hands THEN...

I imagine that their offspring would be not unlike Hugh. I write this as he is hanging from a painting we have propped up against one of the walls. It's his new favorite thing to do, besides flying through the air out of no where and slicing a chunk out of my hand like a psychotic ninja. I would stop him because art deserves better than to be clawed by an insane kitten, but the painting came from our insane neighbour from down the hall AND it's pretty much the most hideous thing I have ever seen, hence why we have never put it up on the wall in the year or so we have had it. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike all modern art, but there should at least be some sort of meaning behind your painting. When said artist admits that his paintings are meaningless squiggles, lines and spray paint... "What do the squiggles mean?" "Mean? They don't mean anything, they are just squiggles." "Um, do you have any dogs playing poker?"

And now he's curled up and sleeping... not 2 minutes after he tore through the loft like Richard Simmons on speed.

So adorable.

Wha???

Dude, what happened to Mickey Rourke?



I mean, besides the ginormously unattractive character he played in Sin City... which I always assumed was due the pounds and pounds of make up and/or special effects, I always kind of had the opinion that the Mickster was VERY sexy.

True, he was more sleazy sexy than anything any other kind of sexy... I suppose that was due to the kinds of characters he played... But come one. 9 1/2 Weeks? Classic soft porn. When you are a horny teenage girl and your parents have the lameass Canadian version of HBO, so lame that I can't even remember what it was called... except that it was the first place where I saw Inspector Gadget and I frigging loved that cartoon.

So much so that I went as Inspector Gadget one year for Halloween in university. And although there were a couple of problems with the costume... namely that in my younger days I used to look a lot like Scully from the X-Files and it just so happened that it was also the heyday of the X-Files so everyone thought I was Scully and not Inspector Gadget... AND, also, here is some advice for all you kids out there... wearing go-go Gadget roller skates out to a night club and then proceeding to get hooped? Kind of not the best idea ever. I consider myself lucky to be alive. Live and learn as I always say...

Oh jeez... tangents. All I can think of now is trying to remember the name of that cable channel. Anyway, so moving on from Inspector Gadget. Go-Go Gadget Time Machine... Although not entirely sure, I imagine it must have been at least a few years later that my loins awakened and ta-da... 9 1/2 Weeks.

So, to make a long story short which is absolutely impossible for me I know... Dude, what the hell happened to Mickey Rourke?

Bea "Go-go Gadget Short Term Memory" Petty

Funnily Enough...

On the way home last night I did see an interesting solution to my little dilemma from yesterday (see previous posting). It was both "new" and "interactive" and would have involved many strangers. However, my interpretation of the instructions as laid out by my 100% completely accurate horoscope was that said interaction was meant to be somewhat inoffensive to said strangers, especially as it was specifically in reference to my love life...

So, when I got off the subway at Yonge/Bloor amid the throngs of other rush hour drones, I happened to catch out the the corner of my eye a spot on the floor which had text on it something along the lines of "stand here to download your ring tone." I glanced up and saw a nifty little advertisement with some sort of electronicalish type of gizmo that looked like it may or may not have had the power to magically transport a ring tone in to my cell phone, if I was only to stand on the spot on the floor.

It occurred to me in that moment that this could be my one opportunity to interact with my beloved strangers before I made it to my destination... my sparsely populated loft, which the last census put down at 3... assuming that a cat and a fish count as members of society of course. My place, my rules!

It's amazing how quickly one can have a detailed internal conversation. In the three seconds that it took for me to spot the spot, the ad on the wall, and then pass it... allow me to present to you my inner monologue:

"Man, why do people have to crowd the doors so that you can't get off the train and why does it have to be SO HOT in here... Hey, there's a spot on the floor... "Stand here to download ring tone"... how the heck??? Neat, there's something on the wall with an infared thingy, I guess that's where you download, what an innovative idea, whoever came up with that is a genius... wait, I could totally stand there and download while interacting with literally HUNDREDS of people by getting in their way was they rush home to their families... yeah, that's right, I could be THAT person... the person who stops right in the middle of the platform when hundreds of people are practically sprinting to make their connection so that just when you get in the groove you have to swerve to avoid them but in the meantime you've had to slow down just enough that you are sure to miss the train by the EXACT amount of time you lost while avoiding the inappropriately stopped person... Yeah, I SO don't want to be that person, regardless of what my horoscope said... it's just not worth it... Ew. The poster has a picture of some sort of skeleton or zombie... some sort of horror movie ring tone??? No thanks. Momma always said that zombies and skeletons... the undead in general were just plain old bad news and goodness knows my Momma has never steered me wrong before. So no thank you Mr. and Mrses. Marketing Wizards, I will pass on your offer to obtain a ring tone in the subway station UNTIL you replace your ad with something a little happier than a walking corpse because this girl does NOT need to be woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of my phone ringing like a flesheater coming to get me to eat my skin... Also, I suggest putting your little invention in a more appropriate place where people can actually use it without getting trampled on..."

Today's' Love Horoscope:

You don't need to settle on anything right away, so make sure that you've exhausted the field before making a choice.

Oh, believe me... I've already exhausted that field... and the next field... and the field after that... Time to let them lay fallow for a while, you know, to plant at a later date when the soil is more fertile.

Bea

Looking for Some Ideas...

Here is my my Love Horoscope for today:

Try something new when interacting with strangers for the rest of the day.

Not sure exactly how that will help my love life, but my question is thus: Anyone got any ideas as to what sort of "new things" I can "try" "when interacting with strangers for the rest of the day?" I've been racking my brain all morning and this is the best I can come up with:

Just interacting with strangers in Toronto period would be something new. I am trying to think of how I could interact with strangers without scaring the bejesus out of them. Then only way I can see that would be socially acceptable would be to beg for change on the street corner. I could make up on of those cardboard signs that say something like "Under-employed, underpaid communications professional needs money for Ipod." Something like that, but with spelling mistakes...

Yep, that's the best I can come up with. Clearly I need your suggestions. Suggestions that might have me making some money out of it would be preferable... but hurry, the day is half over and as I need to be home by 8pm for my Idol/America's Next Top Model/ House fix tonight, that really only leaves a few hours. Oh, and then I suppose I SHOULD actually put in a full days worth of work... meaning that really I have from about 5pm-6pm available. Oh, and I have to get groceries, so I really only have a half hour max... say from 5pm-5:30pm...

Any ideas?

Thanks, you guys rock!

Some Random Thoughts on Taxi Cabs

I live in Toronto right? Toronto is a big place. Some people have cars, others don't. For the latter group they have this thing called the TTC. In theory the TTC is a wonderful invention of mank ind (sorry, the spelling is deliberate... I totally had a Jack Handy moment). In theory.

In theory communism was also a wonderful idea, as was my decision to try my hand at online dating. In theory. But the reality of the TTC and communism oddly enough, is that there is just not enough money available to compensate for the amount of people who use it. It doesn't take a used car salesman to figure out that if buses on a particular route... say, the 168 Slumington for example... are overcrowded on a daily basis and that it is not uncommon for some people... say, me for example... to have to wait for several buses to go by before one comes that will stop, that more buses might be in order. Blah blah blah, we all know how I feel about the TTC...

Now, going out. Dates, shopping, stamp shows etc... Usual mode of transportation is of course the TTC. Due to the large size of the city, any other way is not very agreeable to my wallet. However, there are times when taking a cab must be done. Usually there is booze and some cheesy nightclub involved, but not always. On Friday, there was booze, but instead of a cheesy nightclub there was an English pub. And an Englishman, which is the best part of course. I was running late... yadda yadda yadda. Looked at the time and there was no way that the bus and subway were going to get me to where I needed to be on time so I needed a cab.

I called one. It came. Away we went and I started my usual cabbie banter which typically begins with a comment about the weather, or an inquiry as to the business that evening. Normally this is the start of a two way conversation that will carry us to my destination. Sadly, Friday was not one of those nights.

Now, I get that not every cabbie wants to chat. I have also been the passenger of very chatty cabbies when I have mostly just wanted to not talk, so I get that there is not always going to be compatibility between driver and drivee. Silence was the order of the day on this ride, and not just not talking silence, there was no music either. That meant complete and utter silence. It was one of those really uncomfortable silences-- like as if we had been dating for 3 years and one of us had decided to break up right then and there in the taxi. I wanted to hum, whistle... anything that would something. But nothing...…

Until my silent cabbie passed the turn off that is. Driving in Toronto can be complicated at times, but my destination had a sum total of one turn, and he missed it. And it wasn't like it was some obscure street. So I had say something which of course made the already awkward situation even more so because then I really did feel like I was a part of a dysfunctional couple. "You IDIOT", I screamed. "Can't you even drive? I gave you one simple task, all you had to do was turn right onto Bathurst... I couldn't possibly have given you an easier fare... and you STILL messed up... I am not paying for you incompetence..."

But out loud I said quietly "Um, I think you missed Bathurst." And yes, he charged me for his screw up. And I paid.

BP

I'm Tryin' to Work Here!

So, I am working away this week... trying to be diligent as per usual... but try as I might, I just cannot be. Why?

Two words:

Spam.

Clearly, one cannot be expected to have productive days in front of the computer when one is constantly reminded of doing the nasty with Russian whores and/or buying prescription drugs at low, low prices. I have a fairly new version of Outlook which pops-up a little notification whenever a new e-mail comes in. Just when I am getting in the groove, one of these little gems pops up to remind me that women do, in fact, like their men long and hard. The following is just a small sampling of just how colourful my inbox has become this week ever since our junk mail filter has gone on the fritz:

* Make your spermatozoids active with Spermamax... Wha?
* handsome famiily hardcore f**cking!... As long as the family is handsome. I don't wanna to see no uggos.
* No more hater to your penis once you’ve started taking Penis Enlarge Patch... Don't be hatin'.
* charming incest Pictures!... Is there any other kind?
* radiant incest Pictures!... I stand corrected.
* Dad suckinng Son's d**ck!... FINALLY, something appropriate to watch when I am bored at work!
* She will be yours with the first blow of the wind that will blow the smell of your Ultra Allure Pheromones to her face... What happens if it isn't a windy day?
* Youngest bonny Teens f*ccked by oldman... Who knew Gary Oldman was such a versatile actor?
* Russsian bonny Sluts here doing handsome bl*wjj*b... Oh, those Russians!
* fucking russiaan pulchritudinous B*tch!... Doing it pulchritudinously this time... sounds kinky.
* sightly Schoolgiirls doing splendiferous succking... I have ALWAYS thought that there is just not enough alliteration in the porn industry.
* fair russsian Cuties in poono!... I've been to poono. Nice place, but you cannot get a half decent grilled cheese sandwich to save your life!
* Any med for your girl to be happy!... One can only hope that when I find the man of my dreams, he will be so thoughtful as to do anything to make me happy. Might I suggest Valium?
* Group jolly teens hardcore!... Hardcore group sex = Happy adolescents. It's a fact!

Must focus on work... must focus on work...

* Do you want ravishing virginn Girls?

God Dammit!

My Further Descent into Lameness

Two Words...

My Super Sweet 16.

OK, that was more like 4 words/ was exactly like 4 words, but math was never my strong subject so whatever. Anyway, for those who have better things to do with their time than flip through TV channels when you are bored... men excluded of course, for we all know that flipping through channels is the modern day equivalent to standing on the horizon, spear in hand and sweeping the plains for the best animals to hunt... except standing on the horizon has now become sitting on the couch, the remote control the spear, the plains are now TVs and the animals are now TV shows... a few minor differences, but pretty much EXACTLY the same...

Basically what I am trying to say is that MTV has arrived in Canada.

And with it has come all those shows we have heard of but never really knew what they were all about... like Laguna Beach, 8th and Ocean, The Real World etc... It's possible that like me, you may only have heard of these shows indirectly through tabloid headlines featuring annoying people who are only famous for being famous dating another annoying people who are only famous for being famous. Not really my type of programs...

Until I discovered my Super Sweet 16 that is. Officially television has reached a new low. Unofficially, so have my TV watching habits... I truly cannot get enough of watching whiny, spoiled girls cry their eyes out when Daddy doesn't buy them that Mercedes they wanted... never mind that Daddy just forked over 200 grand for a Moulin Rouge inspired sweet sixteen party... It's brilliant... and pathetic... and much too addictive for my own good.

Bea "I AM the MTV generation" Petty

Dude, Who Killed Kenny?

So, I was watching Idol last night... as I am apt to do on a Tuesday night and was quite excited about Kenny Rogers being the guest. I won't lie. I like Kenny, I always have. And I am not afraid to admit it. I especially like Kenny when other people are making fun of him... like Will Sasso on Mad TV.

And then.............

Ok, so I will allow that as a rule I generally never know what the heck is going on. True, I am pretty good at staying up on my current events, and I THOUGHT my celebrity gossip... but COME ON. Have I really been so far out of the loop that I missed Kenny Rogerseseses' extreme makeover?

In disbelief I called the roomie, fully thinking that she too was going to support my view on the matter. Instead I got something like "yeah, so, it's Kenny Rogers, get over it"... "But, but, but... Kenny Rogers is a little chubby and all about the '80's and looks like someone's grandpappy"...

But someone's grandpappy or no, The Gambler is apparently no longer chubby or all about the '80's.

I repeat... where the heck have I been?

BP

Thanks Astrology

Here is my daily love horoscope:

Things are going to get a little weird soon, but you can cope easily and even thrive.

Things are going to get a little weird SOON? Well thank god I have been warned because I truly did not think that my love life could get any weirder. I'm thinking that my next date will be with an alien... a Zeta Reticulan perhaps... no wait, maybe it will be a cool alien like a Vulcan or a Wookie...

And because today is like the slowest day of work EVER... The only thing I have to do for the rest of the day is send a 3 line e-mail to a colleague, which I am trying to stretch out for as long as possible just in case someone decides to visit my work space, so it looks like I am actually doing some work... Anyway, I decided to see what other sites had to say about the world's most wonderful sign- Aquarius. Sadly, it was all very ho-hum.

Until I came across AskMen.com that is. Here is their advice to Aquarian men this week:

Try not to be overly generous.

Interesting. This might explain why it has been an uber long time since a man was overly generous with me. I mean, if this is the advice that men are being given then it is no stretch of the imagination that they would also get advice like:

- If you go out on a date and like the girl, make sure you DON'T call until after the following Christmas.
- During sex, make sure that you get off before she is even close.
- Never pay for dinner. Girls hate that.
- If you meet a girl this week, try to only stare at her boobs. If possible, call her by the wrong name throughout the evening.
- Your strip club addiction is sure to impress.
- Just for fun, make up a story about your locker getting broken into and all your things stolen.
- Spelling mistakes are the key to a woman's heart.
- If you are 44 years old and want to meet a younger woman, just lie and say that you are 32. That always works. Always.
- You'll never do better than the amazing girl you just met, but make sure you spend the rest of your life trying anyway.
- If you like a girl either never ask to see her more than once a week or ask to see her every night. Nothing in moderation.

Luckily, I expect things to change pretty soon. After all things will be getting "a little weird" for me. I sure hope I will be able to cope with getting a call from a guy when he SAYS he is going to call, having my dinner paid for and the guy NOT staring at my boobs and actually having a guy please ME in bed for once.

Gosh, it's been so long since I have "thrived"... I'd like to again... and it had better be soon. This "coping" is growing wearisome and quite frankly, very boring. One can only come up with so many "coping" scenarios before one is just unable to enjoy "coping" any longer.

Like my mother always said, bless her: "Coping by oneself is all well and good, but there comes a time in one's life when we all need a good "thriving" from a person of the opposite sex"... or same sex, if that's your bag.

Bea "aren't pseudo-sciences wonderful?" Petty

Hell Hath No Fury...

Like the Devil himself.

I was going to share with y'all some of the newest images of my new baby, but that was before blogger had a different agenda and wouldn't let me upload them... further proof that my cat is the devil? Perhaps.

He has gotten huge and while he was always pretty much fearless, with a bigger size has come a bigger appetite for adventure, destruction, mischief and love. True, that love always happens at 2am, and then again at 4am and yet again at 6am and usually culminates in the little man getting thrown out of bed about a dozen times every night because for the life of me, I just cannot sleep when there is a cat sleeping on my head, nibbling at my nose, licking my eye, purring loudly in my ear and attacking my hair... Must remember to lay still and never, EVER roll over, make a sound, stretch etc... lest he thinks I am awake... The situation is worse than when I was 4 and I thought that a gang of skeletons lived under my bed and I had to take a running leap from the hall on to my bed so that they didn't grab my legs when I was climbing in. And then I would lay awake for hours, heart pounding away, laying stiff as a board and barely breathing... because if they knew I was there then they would surely come out and grab me and kill me and force me to become an evil skeleton in their evil skeleton army... Good times.

Oh, before I forget... does anyone have any ideas about what else, besides a squirt bottle, I can use to stop the little guy when he is being bad? It appears that squirting him 300 times at point blank range does little else but help him out with his bathing activities...

"Oh good, she already washed me... that leaves more time to break things!"

Bea "loving all creatures, great and small... most of the time" Petty

Don't Be Jealous

And because I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me... thinking that I only get e-mails like the one on the previous posting every once and a while... I present to you this little gem, hot off the presses:

So you have your Florida win....hope that helped in winning the pool....will talk to ya later in the week.....stayed in Happy Fairyland most of the week , came back for birthday party....just watched the tourney.....page when can....416-iam-smrt.....Neville Train Conductor

Yeah, I might page... when can...

BP

Hilarious

Fistly I need to apologize for Saturday.....I worked till 4 and when i
returned to my locker downstairs Much to my dismay My locker amongst others
had been broken into......Well ya see In my locker was my backpack the
contents included my cell my wallet, my ipod etc....So I was stuck...I had
no way of contacting you....I put your number in my cell phone and didnt
write it down....So I couldn't call....I was gonna just show up at your
place however I didnt want to seem creepy. I had to go tot he police
depatment to file a report as well as with the hospital security. so My day
wasn't a good one. Im glad to see however that your day turned out pretty
darn good!! Well If you still wish to chat with me which i hope you
do.....Get back to me

This was the guy I was supposed to have gone out with on Friday. Kind of a long story right now (we did meet on Friday but...) and I just hate doing shite on the computer on the weekend so I will fill y'all in tomorrow. I just found this to be too funny for words... Copied and pasted verbatim.

My favorite is the mispelling of "firstly" with "fistly".

Bea "sigh... anyone normal out there? Anyone at all?" Petty

PS. The Gators won... That gives me $160 to put towards something uber fun... like shoes... or bills. Yay.

Apparently I am Stupid

I am old-ish. Been on this planet for more than a few years. I can't remember the exact date that I was taught/ learned how to use a calendar but it was some time ago... at the very least, I have known for a very, very, very long time that Christmas falls on December 25th which, when you are little, is pretty much the most important day of the year... and so what if I got some totally useless Barbie when I was 7, when what I asked for and really, really, really wanted was a Western Stamping Barbie... stupid parents... It shouldn't have been an issue, she was the ONLY Barbie wearing a freaking cowgirl outfit and who had stamps on her feet!!! Anyway, I got over it... what was I talking about?

Right, dates... calendar dates that is. So for some reason, the onset of Spring being the most likely explanation, the old girl has more dating possibilities than she knows what to do with these days. This would be great if I actually felt like dating, but right now I just want to meet some peeps to hang out with and not meet any PNBs... and some of the who started off as being totally cool with this are now turning out to be interested in a bit more than that... Sod's Law of course, but that's not for here.

One of them I am meeting up with tonight and it was PERFECT... head to the pub after work to watch the Final Four, a few pints... totally chilled. As with Neville Train Conductor who, as it turns out does not need a watch to keep the trains running on time... it wasn't about being with one person over another, it was about just having company to watch the game. I would watch it with a monkey if that monkey happened to be into March Madness.

To make a long story short... I found out this morning that the game is actually tomorrow. So NOW tonight will be more like a date than anything else dag nabbit. Note to self... double check the date when committing to anything. Stupid, stupid Bea.