It's Looking Grey: Avoiding Overheating the Engine

Good evening,

A quick note to you, my lovelies, to advise you that I am taking a small hiatus.  Unfortunately, the blog part of my brain is barren - all my juices are flowing, just to a different project.  Most of my blogging work this week will be undercover.

I only have so much horsepower (and most of the horses are out to pasture).

I will be back full force next week, I promise!  Hopefully then, I will have some exciting work to share with you!  

Until then, enjoy some of the things I have lined up - they may not be written by me but I guarantee they will be fabulous.

Low on grey matter,

L

Music Monday: Music at Work

It is Monday, already!

Thank goodness it is a loooooong weekend, I'm spent (and I assure you I have done nothing to exert myself).

Boys and girls, today I include a personal favourite video, a shootout to all who have to work today, tomorrow and the day after that.

This song makes me smile.

Back in high school I spent two summers working at an onion factory.  I worked shifts, alternating between days and nights, making sure those little pearl onions got all the way from the truck to a barrel full of brine or a box to be shipped.  

That job was a huge learning experience, an eye opener and to this day the smell of sautéing onions reminds me of showering after a shift.  My grannie loved that job: she missed the scent but gained pounds upon pounds of the little white onions, pickled in brine.

Night shifts were always my personal favourite, there were no big headed bosses around and Bert the forklift driver would be working.  Bert was a darling little man, perhaps 75 and a lonely widower.  He worked the seasonal job to pass his time and keep him busy.  Throughout the summer he taught me to drive forklift and by the end he was able to take his leave in the lunch room while I drove around happy as a clam (this was before the introduction of the required forklift license).  

This onion factory was situated directly beside a drag strip (I suppose onion and fuel counteract each other).  On the long weekends a Canadian band would fill the night with music as race-goers camped out of their cars.  

So there you have it, my long weekends were spent bopping around on a forklift, listening to The Tragically Hip and 54-40.  Sure, I reeked of onion, my clothes were ruined and I cried for an hour straight (the onion smell people).  The water fountain never worked and the pay was all but non-existent.  But that didn't really matter, I had Bert and Bert had a nap.  We all had good music.

Take a listen to the lyrics in this Canadian hit, "My Music at Work" by The Tragically Hip.

Did you catch the chorus?

Everything is bleak.

It's the middle of the night.

You're all alone and

the dummies might be right.

Outside, the darkness lurks.

My music at work.

My music at work.  

How fitting.

To all of you ladies and gentlemen working on this long weekend, have a good day and have a better night.  To anyone starting school, work or watching someone start school (perhaps the most nervous position of all), good luck.

Sleepy and satisfied,

L 

Traditional Thursday: Know When to Call It a Night

Oh dear, I was to post an etiquette tip.

My friends, that just isn't going to happen tonight.

You see, I was dancing around to The Rolling Stone's The Bridges to Babylon album (one of my rainy day favourites) when Mick Jagger had what seemed like imparting wisdom: " . . . might as well get juiced!" he sang to me.

I took his advice.

Now, seeing as I am three sheets to the wind, I fear I would be a rather big hypocrite if I was to offer you advice.  

It seems I am more in the mood to take it tonight; especially when it is coming from Mick Jagger.

I hope you aren't too disappointed (one less rule to follow)!  

Stylishly sloshed,

L

Wicked Wednesday: How Dated Are You?

On Monday I promised you something fabulous, provided you liked the Music Monday feature, Right Here, Right Now by Fatboy Slim.

Well, here is a video that I cannot get enough of.  It ramps me up and winds me down, all at the same time.  The music is the same Fatboy song but the video is completely different.

It was actually presented at Sony's annual meeting a couple of years ago.  It knocked my socks of.

This is not for those who puff themselves up with feigned importance.

Turn the volume up and give this bad boy a full size screen.  It is worth it.

Now, keep in mind this video is a couple years old.  

How small do you feel?  

Typically small equates to insignificant but that isn't how I feel after watching this.  Instead I feel invigorated and ready for the world.  Ready to show everyone how cool I really am.

I hope you feel the same way.

What are your thoughts?  Do tell!

Corporations aren't all bad, I suppose.  Well, we'll see.

Pensive and pretty,

L

The Dumpster Dog Chronicles: Welcome to Toronto

On Saturday my sister dropped her dog off at my house.  The dog is to remain here for a week and a half.  A week and a half.

Now people, I live in what is technically a studio apartment in Toronto.  It has lots of space and would be a one bedroom if the bedroom had a wall (and maybe a door).  Point being, I cannot close the bed and get away from what is in my apartment with me.  I have to share and I don't always like to share.

Being as they had just taken care of the Beast for two weeks while I was in Newfoundland I could hardly say no.  In fact, I tried to say no but it didn't fly.

This dog, she is lovely but we don't always see eye to eye.  You may remember her wreaking havoc one weekend (which you can read about here) and our relationship never really recovered.

Now I am stuck with her, in a small space, shared by the Beast and the Newf (who is really a cat guy).

This dog, better known as Dumpster Dog, was literally found in a dumpster (I'm not that mean - and my sister reads this, I think).  The poor thing was only three weeks old and howling as loud as her little basset hound vocal chords would let her.

Here she is as a cute little thing:

Dumpster Dog (just over four weeks old) and my sister

Now she has grown into her female figure and seems to have the beast under a spell.  He just cannot get enough.

The same pair, in the same position.  Dumpster Dog still rules (my sister's iron fist).

Some things to know about Dumpster Dog:

• She is not well trained.  Basset hounds are notorious for following their nose (and their stomach) and this one is no different.  
• She is always happy.  You'll note in the above picture her tail is wagging.  It never stops.  How do you stay mad at a creature that is always happy?
• She is under the rule of my sister.  While Hilary (think a mix of Clinton and the girl on The Fresh Prince of Bel Air) fancies herself tough as nails she is a  big ol'softie.  Hillary does not rule the house, Dumpster Dog rules the house.
• She is a rescue pup.  As I mentioned this dog had a rough start.  She and her siblings were dumped in a garbage can and left for dead before they even had spots.  Two of the four pups died.  Dumpster Dog survived and is understandably scarred as a result.

Well, we have had the pup for four days now.  Better known as "Dumpster Dog's Bootcamp" we have been butting heads the entire time.

See, at my house I really don't care how cute you are, I still expect you to pee in the proper receptacle.  At this point I cannot walk both the Beast (120 pounds of excitement) and Dumpster Dog (nose to the ground and looking for squirrels) at the same time.  I tried, the reactions received were somewhere between rolling laughter and disgust (so is Toronto).

It hasn't helped that I have been battling a nasty head cold.  

For the first three days my face leaked from every hole available.

For the first three days Dumpster Dog leaked on my floor every chance she got.

I guess we do have something in common.  

Miss Dumpster is whining at the door as we speak.  I best not wait.  More to come in the Dumpster Dog Chronicles.

Simply leaky (and sick of fluids),

L

Tuesday is Trouble: Let's Find Some

Good afternoon readers,

Question for you:

What type of person are you?  What type of person do you want to be?

I ask because most of us are rarely who we want to be.  How many of us are changing to be what others think we should be or feel strong social pressures?  How many of us are desperately trying to fit a mold we broke years ago?  Is this what you pictured five, ten, fifteen years ago?

Granted when I was a young child I wanted to be the sun.  I wanted to be that big ball in the sky, shining and always making people happy.  By the time I hit sixteen I was a big ball of fire all right, just ask my mother.  That doesn't mean I was happy with me (somehow I don't think most teenage girls are).

Some time went by and I hit university.  Gone were my geeky unpopular days and in entered Linnie the girl of luck, love and parties.  I was still geeky but it was cool to be geeky.  I was somebody: the makeup artist, the bouncer, the bartender, or the girl who wrote your paper for some extra cash.

I graduated and started looking for my niche.  Fun work considering I was ready (and had the wardrobe to boot).

Some more time went by and I suffered an explosion that literally ripped my room apart.  As I was looking at my knickers and knickknacks littered along Bayfield Street something broke.  I wasn't alright.  I was scared.  I began to hide from the world.

Then, I got married.  As much as I love the Newf and he loves me, marriage doesn't exactly encourage individualism.

Well, two and a half years later and I am ready to set the stage for wickedness again.  It has take some time and I have a lot of remodelling to do but I am ready to kick this can.

Who wants to join me?  What skin do you need to shed?

I can't promise you'll turn into an official superhero but I am sure we can work something out.  Sometimes, all you need is a little push and a little company.  We aren't behind, we are just getting started.

Ladies and gents, welcome to my world.  Welcome to our world; it is what we make it.

Wicked and ready,

L

Music Monday: Right Here, Right Now

Good morning readers!

It is time for another Music Monday and I could not need it more.  Today, I do battle of the worst kind; today I battle a bureaucracy.  

Whenever one does battle it is important to be prepared.  Musical beats are invaluable in this regard.  They ramp you up, provide encouragement and improve your mood while you ready to lay the smack-down, open a can of whoop ass, or whatever it is you need to do.

If you *gasp* lose, you can come home and turn that frown upside down.  That phrase itself is sickening enough so let us not think about that angle.  

This week, we are going to win.  I have decided and sometimes the decision is all it takes.  Despite my current cold, my anxiety and visiting Dumpster Dog, let's kick off a Boosterish Badass Week and just rock it.

I'll need your help, but rock it we shall.

The song I have chosen for today not only gets the blood flowing but has an amazing video to accompany it.  This video condenses the process of evolution into three and a half minutes (it's better than Cole's notes people).

Without further ado, I present "Right Here, Right Now" by the fabulous Fatboy Slim.

Note that the boy's t-shirt read, "I'm #1 So Why Try Harder".  That's right kiddos, we are on the top of this pile so let's shake this boat.  

If you like this video, keep your eyes open for another to follow in the near future.  

How do you prepare yourselves for a nervous day?  Do you have any tricks to de-stress and calm your nerves?

Wishing you well in the week to come - remember we are almost into long weekend territory!

Beaten down but ready to beat,

L