"Noah was a brave man to sail in a wooden boat with two termites." - Anonymous

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

People! Honestly!

Yes, these were the words that came out of my mouth as I tried to drive to work today. Downtown Calgary, during rush hour, can be pretty bad. Though I'm certain it isn't nearly as bad as say, Vancouver or Toronto, or any of those giant U.S. cities. Calgary, however, as long as you pay attention and know where you want to go, can actually be pretty easy.

It's when people are stupid that the whole system messes up.

Yep, I said it. Stupid.

I know, in some homes I would be admonished. I may get a stern word, a warning.

I don't care.

Twice in the space of two right-hand turns to get around the block to the parkade (we have a lot of one-way streets, which necessitates going in circles) the minivan two cars in front of me decided to make a right hand turn from the middle lane. Across the right-hand lane. In front of the car there. Into its lane. There must not have been enough windows on the van. They probably couldn't see all the cars around them.

WTF???

Twice???

Then, as I was getting my coffee (managing to spill it all over my hand in the process), some well-dressed, young gentleman (and I'm using this term loosely here) decided to stand right in front of the cream and sugar while he chatted to his buddy. Mind you, he had no coffee. No tea. Nothing resembling a hot drink in his hand. Never mind that three people are trying to get to the cream, sugar, lids and napkins around him.

Clueless. And inconsiderate.

What is it with people? Am I just getting old? Is it too much to ask for people to be slightly aware of what's going on around them?

That's my rant for the morning. I'm done now. Thank you for letting me get it off my chest. I appreciate that.

Monday, February 2, 2009

How Do You Not Laugh?

Last night I was trying to get my older son to sleep. As a rubbed his back, he informed me that Grandma was going to pick him up from the dayhome the next day.

Me: But sweetie, Grandma's far, far, far away.

(Snow-birding in New Zealand to be precise.)

Son: Yes, she's in the mountains, looking at snakes.

Me: Looking at snakes, really?

Son: Yes, but the snakes are going to eat her.

Me: But won't Dido help her?

(FYI, Dido (and variations) is Ukrainian for grandfather.)

Son: Yes, Dido will save her. Dido has wings. Like Buzz Lightyear. And Parp.

Me: Parp? You mean Warp?

(Sorry, no link that doesn't have to do with nuclear physics. Just trust me on this one.)

Son: Yes, Horp.

Me: Wwwwwarp.

Son: Yes, Warp.

(Sigh)

So, today I e-mailed my dad and asked him how long has he had wings, and why did he never tell us? Really, I'm feeling a little put out by this.