I'll Take a Side of SALT with that BURN, Please.

I got a beautiful envelope in the mail today. It was from one of my former places of employment, a government-run health & social services clinic. I used to work there as a receptionist, on and off since 2003. Long time, I know.

You would think that an organization that had employed me for say, 7 years, would have a good idea as to who I am.

WRONG - O.

You'd think that their human resources department would be able to differentiate between names typically given to men, versus names typically given to females, right?

NOPE. INCORRECT.

(I smudged out my address for privacy's sake... and plus, I'm not interested in invoking my mother's infamous "PRIVACY AND THE INTERNET" speech, TYVM. If you want to send me postcards, chain letters [REMEMBER THOSE?!] or packages, you may email me privately for my address. I like mail. NOT THIS KIND, BUT GENERALLY, YES.)

Sorry, okay. Do we see the problem here? MONSIEUR JACLYN. As in MISTER.

I understand that this is a French-speaking organization, and I understand that in the normal part of the world, "Jaclyn" is commonly spelled "Jacqueline" (or some variant of that). But really? This envelope contained a letter pretty much excommunicating me from this clinic (not in a bad way, I swear) and detailing when I worked there and for how long and informed me that I no longer work for them - AND I WON'T IN THE FUTURE. So not only did they CALL ME A MAN, but they ALSO reminded me that my tenure with them is O-V-E-R.

For the record, my name is spelled JACLYN because I was named after Jaclyn Smith, of Charlie's Angels & K-Mart sassy clothes collection fame. Clearly that HR rep never caught an episode of Charlie's Angels. You can't mistake Jaclyn Smith for a MAN.

Now, on the topic of BURNS, I guess I should share a funny/unfunny. It's a good news/bad news type of deal. I've been plagued, as I say, with mild psoriasis since as far back as I can remember. It's not always been a treat. Wearing pants in the summer or explaining why it looks like I have a bunch of mosquito bites on my knees was hardly ever fun. I'm lucky, in a sense, that it's always been fairly manageable. This year, for whatever reason, it started getting out of hand, and a new dermatologist recommended I start undergoing UVB treatment - which is essentially fake tanning, but healthy, covered by medicare and extremely beneficial for my skin.

I go 2-3 times a week, and I'm almost done my treatment and the results are just unreal. It's fantastic, which is good news. Because it's UVB lights, I also get a SLIGHT tan from my continued treatment - also good news.

Here's the bad news: too much exposure can cause a bit of a sunburn.

My entire body is sunburnt. My face has these fantastic marks from where my protective goggles lie. My arms are in this perma-Barbie arms position, straightening them out HURTS. My back? A MESS. My mother had to rub aloe on my back before. DIDN'T HELP. My nose hurts when I wrinkle it. Classic nose burn. I guess it's kind of funny, given that it's FEBRUARY and I did NOT spend my holidays down South.

BUT REALLY, IT'S NOT. I AM IN AN AWKWARD AMOUNT OF PAIN.

The fabulous part though, is that my skin isn't even red. It's just this heavenly deep tan. Guess I shouldn't complain much, right?

Things That Are Annoying

1. Out of the 4 courses I am taking this semester, only one has a final exam. It's NOT annoying that I only have one exam and that I wish I had more - my one exam takes place on December 23rd, at 2 p.m., a.k.a. the last possible day for exams, or, I do not get to possibly go on vacation (or enter hibernation) until the last possible day.
2. My top-notch cute as a button awesome -and only- black leather jacket has mysteriously grown a slight tear on its sleeve. How that got there, BEATS ME. What am I going to do about it? Fix it. How? Let's not go there. It's going to be a long documented trial. Any ideas?

Forever 21 Opens In Town - WHOOPIE DOO

I've only been buzzing about this for MINIMUM ONE YEAR.

The opening came and went two weeks ago, and, in an effort to avoid mobs of 14 year old girls in skinny jeans and heavy eyeliner, I waited until today to make my visit.

Umm, two words: DISAPPOINTMENT and SNORE.

I made the mistake of really REALLY hyping myself up. I scoured the Canadian website [FYI: we Canadians don't get even CLOSE to all the fab stock the U.S. gets, see our website for proof] and made myself like 7 mock-up shopping carts of items I wanted to find and possibly try on/buy. I was reasonable - 3 cardigans, 1 skirt, 1 jumper, a belt and 2 head-accessories. It didn't even cross my mind once that I MAY need a back-up plan - I was looking ideally for some new Jew-Holiday outfits AND some fun wardrobe "essentials". Let's talk about how it was.

Here's the good: I took my sister on a fantastic bonding afternoon of chaotic shopping. Forever 21 has 2 floors of clothes. The upstairs has "fancy" clothes - i.e. the trashy party dresses, endless tutu-style miniskirts, sequins galore. The main floor has everything else. Tons of twelve-by-twelve. Piles of jewelry.

Here's the bad: ON AN EARLY FRIDAY AFTERNOON, WHEN KIDS SHOULD BE IN SCHOOL, THE STORE WAS MOBBED BY TEENAGE "HIPSTERS". Not a single item from my "wish list" was found. 7492 different styles of PLAID SHIRTS [FYI - I am not so into that whole look, yet]. Twelve-by-twelve was TAPPED OUT. Sizes? TAPPED OUT. Jewelry? TAPPED OUT. Belts? LIKE 4 STYLES TOTAL. Oh, did I mention about 50 different varieties of LEGGINGS? 2 FULL sections of THIS loser dress IN EVERY COLOR [it's okay for summer time, and I get its purpose, but it's September and it's already chilly and this dress was STILL FULL PRICE]. Packed dressing rooms. Oh, and NOTHING FROM MY WISH LIST. NOT EVEN THE BELT.

What did I actually end up getting?
This stupid headband, when I really wanted this one.
This necklace - which is admittedly pretty fun, who doesn't love feathers?
A necklace I can't find on either website - faux pearls with big metal flower things - it's cute.
And a huge colorful jeweled cuff bracelet that hurts to put on and hurts to take off... when I really wanted this one.

While I was waiting in line to pay, there were two MAYBE 18 year old French-Canadian girls behind me yapping about getting wasted all weekend. SNORE. Funny part was that they kept making fun of bib necklaces and calling them UGLY and HORRIBLE. IRONY - THOSE ARE SO TRENDY AND HOT AND COOL for fall. Those two morons will be wearing the Urban Behavior knockoffs next fall. They were also saying how once the hype dies down, F21 will be empty. Yeah, right. F21 is NEVER empty.

It was a GIGANTIC disappointment. I'm not even posting links of the things I WANTED that I could not find. Too sad.

Truthfully, one of the surprisingly friendly workers (most were obnoxious and ignored me) told me new stock comes in Mondays/Tuesdays. She also told me that ordering online is a breeze and it comes in 2-3 days. SHOULD'VE TOLD ME THAT LAST WEEK.

As soon as I'm a little more flush (Beyond The Rack.com owns my soul right now), I will probably order those cardigans... along with everything else I missed!!!

Signs From Beyond

Sometimes, I think there are alternate life forms living in my cave of a room.

I've been anxiously prepping my life for my new blog launch. This process has taken to including reading craft magazines (like actual print magazines - so 4 years ago, right?), craft blogs, fashion blogs (okay, I STILL want to go shopping - truth: I am hastily trying to locate a super cute pair of open-toe ankle booties with less than a 4 inch heel under $100 - help please?), buying TONS of funny craft supplies, going through all of my existing craft supplies, taking inventory of weird items to be potentially recycled, and, of course, the most important: cleaning off my general mess of a desk to have a good crafting-working-writing surface.

Here's some background information. I have an awesome IKEA desk with a huuuge surface and 4 drawers underneath that faces my window. Most people who've visited my room wouldn't notice my desk at first glance - it's been conveniently hidden under stacks of books, DVDs, CDs (yes - I sometimes still use those), pens, markers, makeup, jewelry, pictures and god only knows what else. The drawers have become a hiding spot for anything I don't feel like dealing with - old Visa bills, old midterms, random stationery, old birthday cards, that sort of stuff. If I said I could give you an exact inventory of the 4 drawers, I'd be viciously lying through my teeth. My desk hasn't been used for anything of value - other than a super large vanity when it's makeup application time - in a solid year - MINIMUM. I also have this super great desk lamp attached to the side of the desk that gives awesome light - except the light bulb burnt out ages ago and I was wayyy too lazy to change it... or so I thought.

A few days ago - without any warning - I tackled cleaning my desk. Threw out tons of garbage, put all my cosmetics in one place, all my accessories into a bag and organized my "important" paperwork. Really cleaned off my surface. I found some really quirky things that I forgot I had - typical. While I was moving things left-and-right and tidying up, out of nowhere, my lamp - that I was convinced was dead - turned on.

Really - I didn't change or touch wiring, and trust me, nobody in my house was ambitious enough to venture into my cavern and change the bulb for me. Remember my chandelier? My point exactly. (I was going to hyperlink this, but I can't find my chandelier blog posts. Too bad.)

My TEMPERAMENTAL lamp only decided to work once my desk was clean. WELL, UP YOURS, LAMP!

Why am I not shocked? My lamp is in cahoots with my mother. Endlessly wishing I'd just CLEAN OFF MY DESK.

Typical

Oh, and by the way, I was convinced I lost my hotel room key this evening.

Just found it.

Underneath my new green clutch [visible in previous post's exhibit C].

I am a DITZASTER.

Live: Pearson Airport, Gate 151

Things That Suck, Episode 12: "Boo Life"

1. Non-direct flights
2. Flights that leave at 7 a.m. and that require 5 a.m. airport arrivals
3. Flights that get delayed - TWICE
4. Being stuck in Toronto's Pearson airport. SINCE 8:30 A.M.
5. Creepy old ladies talking about how hard it is to nap in an airport and then napping RIGHT BEHIND YOU
6. Not finding anything fun at the Duty Free

So, here I am. Stuck in the airport. My connecting flight down South was SUPPOSED to leave at 12:50 p.m. which was TERRIBLE ENOUGH as is, but has now been delayed to 1:20 p.m. Internet, in these fine establishments, IS NOT FREE. I had to PAY.

I took advantage of my Montreal-Toronto flight and took an hour and eighteen minute nap. I can't even take a little one here, because all the seats HAVE ARM RESTS.

A plane is attached to our gate. My brother just reminded me to NOT GET EXCITED, because it's NOT OURS. OBVIOUSLY NOT.

On a BIZARRE upside, my going through security was mostly uneventful. The Canadian one was a breeze. The guys working FULLY saw that I had a bunch of large bottles AND aerosols inside my carry-on, and DID NOT SAY ANYTHING. However, moving from Toronto to the U.S., they CONFISCATED MY AUSSIE SPRUNCH SPRAY (and Brother's hair goop). The security guy kept SNOOPING and POKING through my bag. NOT GOING TO FIND ANYTHING ELSE GOOD IN THERE, BIG SHOT. JUST SOME LADY-THINGS AND 12 LIP GLOSSES.

I understand tight security and I understand that air-travel is sticky, BUT COME ON. WHAT HARM IS MY SPRUNCH SPRAY DOING BY SITTING IN MY BAG?! Get real!

I'm debating painting my toenails.

I'm also debating hijacking a plane. No, not really.

Places I Would Rather Be:

1. Sleeping
2. Napping
3. Playing Guitar Hero: WORLD TOUR with Prince
4. Anywhere with Prince
5. ON A PLANE TO FLORIDA
6. IN FLORIDA
7. Sleeping

That's me. Hating life, airports and wishing it was snacktime. You can SORT OF see the burnage on my nose and face. You can also see the BRIGHT CHEERY colors of my LuLu Lemon fancy jacket/top combo. Prince said I looked like a grandmother. No, he didn't say that. He DID say that I looked a little TOO Florida. He's right. I am one colorful little peacock.

Ditz Exercises Her Civic Duty

...AND VOTED in her provincial election.

See? Photographic evidence that Ditz knows how to vote.

Special thanks to the Disaster himself for capturing this epic moment with his FANCY NEW BLACKBERRY.

I am predicting a TON of flack for this, but I'm going to talk about it anyways.

When it comes to elections of any sort, be it Provincial, Federal or Union, I like to NEVER vote for who I am "supposed" to vote for. I am fairly notorious for trying to cause a stir with my vote, i.e. voting for the party whose beliefs are the EXACT OPPOSITE of what I actually support or voting for the MOST radical party I can vote for. I know every vote counts, and I know it's my civic duty, but HECK, why can't I just have fun?? Last time we had a provincial election [2 years ago? whatever], I made a personal statement and voted for what is considered THE worst party to vote for as an English-speaking Montrealer. I thought it was funny. My riding ANYWAYS always leans in one specific direction, so I like to give other parties an extra vote. I like to know I somewhat count.

I've told Prince my "election theories" and I'm fairly certain he thinks I'm a NIDIOT. He told me that this election isn't exactly the time for my own FUN AND GAMES. I didn't listen to him, and I went to vote - with the Disaster - and I got REALLY confused at the polling station.

There were 5 choices. 4 of the regular ones, and 1 that SORT OF sounded like one of the 4 regulars. I figured it sounded RADICAL and CRAZY enough, that it had to be MORE crazy than any of the OTHER parties on the list. I voted for them.

I asked Disaster if he knew anything about this party, and he didn't. Upon further research [thanks Google], I found out that out of ALL THE PARTIES IN THE WORLD to vote for, I PICKED THE WORST ONE. Like ACTUALLY the worst. This party is a party that I would probably SHUN people for supporting.

Prince and I unknowingly both made the same technical mistake and voted for the same party. He got just as confused as I did. I tried to play the "I AM EXERCISING MY RIGHT TO PRIVACY" shtick with him. Totally backfired when I realized I was super curious to find out who he voted for. He threw that line RIGHT BACK AT ME.

Aaand then we realized we both voted by mistake for the same party. Don't ask us who we voted for; we will be exercising our right to privacy.

I Love Group Work. Really.

One of the joys of my program is group work. I mentioned in a previous entry that I was blessed with a group member who used Babelfish to translate her work. She has since apologized.

This is about a DIFFERENT group.

I'm fine working in a team of two (2). I am also okay-ish with groups of three (3) and four (4). I've been tortured in a group of five (5) [that time, it was Miss Ditz and 4 guys. That was NOT FUN].

In this group, I have been PUNISHED with a total of SIX (6) members. That includes yours truly. 5 estrogen-filled ladies AND ONE GUY. He thinks he's the luckiest duck this side of PR Management.

He's not.

He got cursed with four (4) girls and one (1) Ditz. And all five (5) of us tend to butt heads ON EVERYTHING.

Let's take last night. We had our final pre-presentation group meeting. Our topic was assigned to us, and it couldn't have been more fitting: we represent a modeling agency, called Top Models of the World, who needs to deal with the fact that two (2) models have died recently from eating disorders. Delicious topic, eh? We decided we needed a slogan for our communications plan and this little Ditz got her thinking cap on.

[Ditz:] "'Changing the Modeling Industry, ONE SANDWICH AT A TIME'."
[Group groans]
[Group Kitten #1:] "That's too sarcastic for a professional presentation."
[Ditz:] "Fine. 'Changing the Modeling Industry, ONE MODEL AT A TIME'."
[J.Lo Kitten:] "No, that's still not good. How about 'Role Models are Top Models'?"
[Ditz:] "I think it would sound better if it was 'Top Models are Role Models'."
[J.Lo Kitten:] "No."

10 minutes later...

[J.Lo Kitten:] "I thought of a perfect slogan! 'Top Models are Role Models'."
[Silence]
[Classmate Kitten, whispering:] "Err, Ditz, didn't you JUST SAY THAT?"
[Ditz:] "No, apparently not."

Our slogan is 'Top Models are Role Models'. I didn't think of it. Clearly.

"I Didn't Pay $80 To Listen To Your Voice"

Around one week ago, I called up Prince and mentioned in passing how Bob Dylan was coming in town and it would be MAYBE nice to go see him, because it MIGHT be one of his last tours EVER. I didn’t think he actually listened to my ramblings until Tuesday, when he announced that he’d surprised me, and got us tickets.

What I failed to mention to Prince, was that I’m not the BIGGEST Dylan fan. In fact, I probably can NOT name more than 5 Dylan songs. He’s a cultural icon. I wanted to be able to say that I’d been there, even if it was for 4 minutes, before the man kicks the bucket. Needless to say, I was heavily disappointed when I found out the concert would not be 4 minutes long.

Prince and I went with high hopes. SERIOUSLY HIGH HOPES.

Prior to the show, while Prince & I waited for the show to start:

[Ditz:] “Hey, do you think there’s going to be a LIGHT SHOW?”

[Prince:] [Rolls eyes.] “No. I doubt it.”

[Ditz:] “What about PYROTECHNICS??”

Hey. When I go to a concert, I expect to be ENTERTAINED. I want a PACKAGE DEAL of everything that can be done in a two-hour span. LIKE THE SPICE GIRLS. OR CELINE DION. THEY use pyrotechnics. THEY have light shows!

Bob and his band were really SOMETHING ELSE. Bob pretty much had his profile – if not his BACK - to the audience for the vast majority of the show. Know why? Because if you catch him straight on, the man looks like an old grandmother. When he used his harmonica (CAN’T HE JUST HIRE SOMEONE TO DO THAT AT THIS POINT???), he practically needed his oxygen mask afterwards. He WAS BARELY ABLE TO SING.

I read the review of the concert in my local newspaper. Let’s not get into the bulk of his review. What I found rather curious is how he spoke so highly of the BAND.

THE BAND??? THE BAND IN HATS!

There were 2 guitarists, a bassist, a drummer and some IDIOT hiding in the back playing WEIRDO instruments. Apparently there was a costume/outfit motif, and Roy, the resident utility guy in the back, wasn’t included in the memo. The strings section was all wearing matching outfits and hats. The drummer was wearing a hat. BOB was even wearing a hat. And ROY? NO. NO HAT. He just had his hair done that afternoon. No hat was going to COVER THAT FANCY ‘DO UP.

Roy honestly provided ample entertainment for Prince and me, seeing as the show was REALLY NOT THAT GREAT. Roy kept changing instruments with each song. A table-harp thing. A guitar/bass. A violin. But it was pretty obvious that he really just didn’t belong. He looked like a failed wedding singer. Roy. Roy was off on most songs. Constantly leaning over and trying to see what everyone else was doing.

[Band hissing:] “HEY ROY. WHERE’S YOUR HAT?!”

He was MARGINALLY better than Manuelo, the dancing bassist, who managed to upstage EVERYONE with his pelvic-thrust dance moves. He must be REALLY TALENTED if he can manage PELVIC THRUSTS while PLAYING THE BASS. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses like the two guitarists, but Manuelo WAS wearing a bolo tie. Yes. A bolo tie.

The drummer was something else. While he WAS wearing a hat, he wasn’t in a fedora like the REST OF THE GANG. He’s a failed Goth-Rock-Emo band singer. And a part-time sushi chef. In case you were wondering.

While Prince and I were busy having the time of our lives discussing the band’s background, we were RUDELY INTERRUPTED by the UNLOVELY woman sitting in front of us.

“I DIDN’T PAY $80 TO LISTEN TO YOUR VOICE!”

No, you’re right. You paid $80 to watch a relic hang onto something that just IS NOT THERE anymore.

I texted Momma Ditz & Poppa Ditz during the show. I texted each of them separately, because I knew I’d get HILARIOUS responses from both of them.

[Ditz, via text:] Bob Dylan is a total relic.

[Momma Ditz, via text:] That’s why I don’t go!

[Poppa Ditz, via text:] He’s not a rock star

Prince and I walked out before the end of the show. It was just honestly THAT BAD. We didn’t even get to hear Bob address the audience and introduce his band. Whatever. We know them all anyways.

I was punished for this excursion. Prince wants to teach me that I can’t want to do EVERYTHING. During these times of recession, I need to be more selective about our methods of extra-curricular entertainment and/or activities. And truthfully, he’s right. I should not be abusing his discretional income during a recession. I SHOULD be more selective. Prince didn’t make me pay for both tickets. He didn’t make me pay for my ticket. He asked me to pay him for HALF the price of a ticket. I presented it to him, along with the review of the concert. He was really appreciative.

Oh, and by the way, I had skipped CLASS FOR THIS.

"Lies The Ditz Told Me" - A Third Person Account

Ditz left work early today. Ditz needed her nails did. It's her Thursday-Almost-End-Of-The-Week treat. Ditz usually meets Hello Kitten for afternoon-pre-class primping. It's important to maintain SOME level of personal grooming. That, and look charming for class.

Hello Kitten opted to work on her physical maintenance. Ditz went alone. Normally, Ditz gets to yammer non-stop with Hello Kitten, thus avoiding awkward conversation with the non-English speaking manicurists. NOT THIS TIME. Ditz had to MAKE CONVERSATION. There goes Ditz's quiet-manicure time!

The lovely ManiKitten inquired what Ditz studies in school. Ditz KNEW she wouldn't understand PUBLIC RELATIONS and had zero interest in explaining, so she picked something close. English. Kind of the same thing, BUT NOT REALLY.

[ManiKitten:] "You wanna be teacher? You looka like teacher!"
[Ditz:] "Err, yes! Thanks!"
[ManiKitten:] "Where you do train? You teach!"
[Ditz, thinking hard:] "At private schools!"

Unfortunate conversations of this stature continued until Ditz went to sit with her nails under the magical dryer and was able to avoid life forms by staring at all the varieties of nail polish on the wall above her head.

While this whole shenanigan ensued, Ditz couldn't help but almost WISH she was studying something CONVENTIONAL, something like MATH. Oh, wait. SHE DID THAT ALREADY.

What Ditz apparently "studies/does": English student who wants to be a private high school English teacher.

What Ditz ACTUALLY "studies/does": PR student with a knack for shoes and things that are sparkly.

Oh, right. SAME THING.

IF YOU LIVE ON MARS.

Ditz's Hero Of The Month - NEW SERIES

[This will be a new series if I remember to do so. And/or if my precious kittens love it.]



Hello Kitten is a gem. While she IS a general hero to most - always looks top notch, never has a bad day, glorious specimen in general - she is NOT this month's hero. She INTRODUCED me to this month's hero.



OR SHOULD I SAY HEROINE.



Allow me to introduce you to Missy Quinn. Missy Quinn is 16. Missy Quinn hails from what the Brits call a Caravan Community. That's GYPSY to us laymen. Missy Quinn is easily the only 16 year old bride who's had THIS MUCH PRESS. See that picture? That's Missy Quinn in her wedding "gown". She's my hero. Why? Because her father paves driveways, and her mother is a Glamour Model, and Missy aspires to be a Glamour Model and hasn't been in formal - NO, actual - school since she was 9. Lucky for us, Missy Quinn can't read any of the beautiful articles everyone's been writing about her. Missy Quinn's wedding to a 17 year old chap she met at a theme park (she was showing him a "good time" on the Tilt-a-Whirl, and he won her a stuffed parrot) cost her hard-workin' folks a mighty £100,000 [according to today's currency converter, is $184,777.76 Canadian]. That's a heck of a lot of driveways to be paved, Missy!



Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I AM TOTALLY JEALOUS OF THIS CONCOCTION THAT SHE CALLS A DRESS. I want a two-piece dress that weighs so much that I can't stand up. I want every single guest at my wedding to have to help yank me out of the Rolls-Royce Phantom limo because my "dress" is too big. I want people marveling at how many Swarovski crystals are embedded in my flesh.



I JUST WANT A GIANT TIARA AND A GIANT SWAROVSKI CRYSTAL BOUQUET.


Say Cheese! GROUP PHOTO! That hot broad on the far left is Missy Quinn's mother, Theresa. She's 33. SHE married her precious husband at 16 years of age. You do the math.



Papa Bear Simon Quinn's quote just sums up the entire affair.

“I’m very proud of her today.”

And you know what, Simon? We are too.

Riddle Me This, BATMAN

I wish this was a Batman-related post.

IT'S NOT.

Currently sitting across a table from Hello Kitten, working like little bees on a communications plan DUE TOMORROW. Why are we puttering about now? Because we're last-minute kittens.
Why is this relevant?

An unnamed group member of ours opted to write her sections in her mother tongue, FRENCH. That's cool and all, sure, but don't send the designated editors HALF-FRENCH/HALF-ENGLISH PARTS.

That's not the punch line. Wait for it.


Some of the sentences in her original text were beyond incomprehensible. I'd put examples, but that's just PLAIN MEAN. Hello Kitten and I proceeded to read them out loud several times, and couldn't get ourselves off the floor. I wanted to share this with the world, and by the world, I mean Disaster Pet.

You know something? He's really smart. The instant I sent it to him he pegged it.
BABELFISH TRANSLATIONS. AT A UNIVERSITY LEVEL. Seriously. And JUST to prove he was right, I put the "english" sentence into the fishy translator and BOOM. Coherent French sentence.

WHEN WILL YOU PEOPLE LEARN? Babelfish doesn't translate FULL SENTENCES. It does it WORD - BY - WORD.

I called my mother to tell her about this. She loves my "Group-Work-Blows" stories. LOVES.

"IS THAT GIRL DEMENTED?"
"Yes, Mom. I think she may be."
"ARE YOU CRYING???"
"NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT MOMMY."

I MAY have to make an ultimate list of lessons learned from McGill Public Relations Group Projects.

YET ANOTHER EMPTY PROMISE, DITZ.

Halloweeny Options, Featuring Ditz

It's only Wednesday, and everyone's FAVORITE Pagan holiday is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER, and I have already gone through 7 costume options.

ALL NIXED.

In no particular order, I bring you Ditz's Rejected Halloween 2008 Costumes:

1. Sarah Palin - it's 90% nixed. EVEN THOUGH I AM CLEARLY AS SEXY AS SEXY SARAH, I can't see myself having enough hours in the next two days to master that MAVERICK's brilliant accent.
2. Girl Scout - COMPLETE with inappropriately shaped cookies and a sash with "badges". NOT EVERY COSTUME HAS TO BE SLUTTY.
3. Bee - I wanted a reason to wear that STUPID black and yellow striped tank top that a former friend FORCED me to buy years ago at H&M. It may or may not have the tags still on.
4. Cougar - as in creature of the night, not feline. Some people say it's not socially acceptable to prey on my sister's 12/13 year old male friends. Those people JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT'S COOL.
5. 2 Headed Monster - rejected for bathroom purposes. Duh. I like privacy.
6. Princess - no. I wish.
7. Pregnant Prom Queen - I selfishly wanted a portable stand for martoonis. I don't own any clothes that fit over maternity bellies, and apparently nobody who was recently pregnant bought any maternity dresses. Truth: it might still happen. I have a belly being delivered. I have amazing connections.
8. Shotgun Wedding - I don't want to be jinxed THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
9. Pavarotti & a Margherita Pizza and/or any combination of Large Celebrity & Snack Food - rejected for practical reasons. I am neither large nor snacky.
10. Bristol Palin - similar issues to #7, although this one's incredibly TOPICAL.
11. Retired Playboy Bunny - you know, she was fired because she got knocked up! ANOTHER USE FOR PREGNANCY BELLY.

Relating to All Hallow's Eve, I went to the local Dollar Boutique on Monday, to get accessories [Monday, I was going to be Sarah Palin, but then I changed my mind. 78 times.] for my costume, and I was paying for the following items: a tiara, a recorder (musical instrument, not recording device) and a toy shotgun. The kind elderly lady behind me [NO, SHE DIDN'T TRY TO PUSH IN FRONT OF ME] remarked on my purchases.

"Oh, so you're going as a princess for Halloween? How lovely!"

"Err, not exactly. More like SARAH PALIN. See? I have a shotgun. See? A recorder in case there's a talent competition!!"

[Lady is uneasy]

"Oh. Well... That's... interesting? Have fun!"

Which leads me to believe that she A. thinks I'm a lunatic or B. has no idea who Sarah Palin is.

Correct Answer: C. all of the above.

SO, You Think You're FUNNY, EH?

Dear Mother Nature,

This is because I didn't put on my winter tires yet, right? This is because I laugh at all things GREEN, right?

Fall is my favorite season. WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU DOING HERE? BEING FUNNY? NO.

When I was getting GASOLINE this morning for my gas-guzzling Mazda 3, Princess, I was thinking how GLAD I am that it ISN'T SNOWING YET, because pumping gas outside when there's snow and it's cold IS JUST PLAIN MISERABLE. DID YOU NOT HEAR ME THINK THAT??

I thought we had an understanding. You lay off the snow until my birthday, and I try hard not to pollute.

THE LEAST YOU COULD'VE DONE WAS MAKE IT THAT LIGHT WATERY SNOW THAT MELTS IMMEDIATELY. No, you had to make it HEAVY STICKY SNOWBALL-GRADE SNOW.

BUT I DON'T HAVE WINTER TIRES ON YET.

Are you in cahoots with the winter tire manufacturers? How much are they paying you? It's a little too convenient that it suddenly snowed TODAY when the weather was LOVELY and peachy and the leaves haven't even finished falling and they were crunchy and fun. It's because they passed that INFERNAL law about mandatory winter tires, isn't it?

Oh. I know why. It's because I wore my fake-fur moccasins to work today. Oh.

I get it.

Sigh.

Let's reconsider the snow situation, okay? Thanks.
Your pal,
Miss Ditz

Are You Sure You Want That Elastic?

I sincerely love hilariously disturbing news bits.

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2007-11/13/content_6251535.htm


Remember that trip you took to China? Remember those really cheap colorful hair elastics you found in the marketplace?

Unravel them. Find a used condom inside. Throw them out.

I'm not going to lie. This is completely revolting, BUT, also a strangely innovative use for used condoms. When I originally found this GEM, I understood that they were using FRESH "defective" condoms. UMM. NO. They're used. You can get diseases by putting it in your mouth. DELICIOUS!

I find this whole situation mindboggling. I LIKE the idea of recycle-cycling things that would normally be taking up space in our beautiful planet's landfills. I DON'T like the idea of companies HIDING crucial information about what they're selling you. Who do they think they are? Maple Leaf Foods?

What's next? Used Band-Aids as garnish in my martini? Pencil-shavings in my moisturizer?

This whole notion of companies hiding seemingly "useless" information isn't news. I just don't understand. Everything ALWAYS gets out into the media and public. WHY HIDE IT?

No, wait. Better question:

WHY ARE YOU HIDING USED CONDOMS IN HAIR ELASTICS?