Twelve years ago, I moved across the river from Ottawa, Ontario to Aylmer, Quebec. It was an affair of the heart. I gave up living in an anglophone environment and settled into life as the partner, and later spouse, of a lovely francophone.
A lot of things are cheaper on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River. Housing prices, gas, beer. You know. The essentials.
The one thing that's not cheaper are taxes. And it's not enough I get taxed at a higher rate in this province but now the Quebec Revenue agency wants even more of my money.
The tax filing deadline in Quebec is the same as it is federally in Canada: April 30.
But in mid-March I received correspondence from Revenue Quebec telling me that based on past years' claims, I would owe enough in taxes to be able to pay in instalments. The letter then went on to tell me the first instalment was now due.
I think Revenue Quebec has found a novel way to pay the construction bill for their lovely looking headquarters. Look, ironicall…
Every time somebody asks me if I'd like to do something, I'm far too nice to say no.
I freely give to charity because I feel sorry for the people who knock on my door for the liver society.
I agree to be a table captain for a breakfast fundraiser for a local hospital foundation.
In April I agreed to participate in a 30 Days of Photos exercise because I thought it would be fun, little realizing I'd pull my hair out over trying to come up with many of the 30 day prompts.
Aw, geez, so I visit Nicky over at We Work For Cheese and I read her latest post entitled "The Post You'll Wish You Never Read". She's decided to run a 30 Days of Writing competition. Gee, I wonder where she got the idea for that. Except, we're not talking pictures here. We're talking words - lots of them. A post a day for 30 days. And I, um, got carried away and in the heat of the moment agreed t…
Well you guys lobbed this one around awhile until the net result became evident. Let's see who scored this week... Marc Anthony finally found the perfect weapon to slam J-Lo's butt. Quirkyloon
Why doesn't he carry a fly swatter like everybody else. Leeuna
A scene from the film, "Honey I Shrunk Serena Williams." moooooog
Our winner this week hit one almost over the line with her caption of...
I bet you can't wait to see the size of his balls. 00dozo
Well, actually, 00dozo, yes I can. But your caption reminds me of that famous Johnny Carson interview with Arnold Palmer's wife in which he asked her if there was anything special she did before a big match. Mrs. Palmer said, "Yes, I kiss his balls." And Carson responded, "I'll bet that straightens his putter."
Anyway, congrats 00dozo. You be hangin' with dufus this week. Way to go. I'd call you and cogratulate you personally but there's so many people applauding here I don't th…
No I'm not talking about that 1987 song by Buster Poindexter. And I'm not talking about the weather, although it was a sultry low 30s C for our Victoria Day long weekend last week. That's around 86 to 88 or so for you Farenheit freaks. No I'm talking about...
...Lauren Odes from Twin Peaks, New York. Just kidding about the Twin Peaks. Well, sort of. Twenty-nine year old Ms. Odes it seems got fired from her job for, according to her employers, dressing too provocatively. Guess where she worked? In a lingerie store. Yeah. Go figure. If there's anywhere dressing provocatively might improve sales it's probably at a lingerie store. But here's the catch. Her employers, who run a place called Native Intimates, are Orthodox Jews and they fired Lauren for "being too hot".
Well, Lauren's not sitting still for that. She's hired celebrity lawyer Gloria Allred. You know, the one with a stable of John Travolta masseurs who complained about the devout …
When I was a kid I had a grandfather everyone called C.B. The "C" stood for Clarence. I don't know what the "B" stood for. I have only pleasant memories of the man. After all it was a long time ago. He was married to my mother's mom. And he wasn't my mom's paternal father. He married my grandmother, Rita, after my mom's dad had passed away.
C.B. used to babysit me. We lived in the suburb of Scarborough. Both my mom and dad worked in downtown Toronto. On our street the houses were mostly all the same. "Strawberry boxes" I remember my dad saying in reference to the squat look of the three-bedroom bungalows that lined the street. A street we used to play in year round since there wasn't a whole lot of traffic. We played baseball in the summer using the sewer lid as home plate and garbage pail tops and somebody's jacket for bases. And of course we played hockey in the winter but we used a tennis ball instead of a puck. It hurt les…
Welcome to the results post of our quasquicentennial Pause Ponder and Pun pic.
Yeah, that's right.
Quasquicentennial (trying saying that five times fast) means 125. That means we've been posting weird and wonderful pics for you to caption for 125 weeks. That's roughly 2 and a quarter years. Imagine that!
You guys have never disappointed. Every week, no matter how silly the picture, you folks come through with the most imaginative captions on the interwebs. And this week is no different.
After a tough day of potty training, it's always good to kick back and relax with a cold one. moooooog@mental poo
I don't usually do book reviews. I read books and sometimes I like 'em and sometimes I don't. Then I move on to the next one. But blogging buddy Jeremy Bell from We Took the Bait, recently asked me if I'd read and review his book. And in a moment of weakness, I said yes.
Jeremy and his wife Jessica became new and foster parents last summer. And they took time off from their blog to raise the new addition to their family. Jeremy even wrote about the experience. And the result is the humorous Taking Care of Lil' Man.
In a series of funny vignettes and accompanying drawings by Dennis Cobourn one gets a quick idea of how challenging, yet rewarding Jeremy's experience as a new dad has been. For example, let me share one of my favourite vignettes by means of illustration:
Day 10 -- We were driving along with Lil' Man, and came to a stoplight facing a gas station displaying the time and temperature on digital readout. 96 degrees. From the backseat we heard the soun…
There's so much going on in the world, so much news to wade through, before you get to the really important stuff.
Like, hell, Dick Clark died. Sad to say we've seen the last of his balls drop at New Year's. And Newsweek has crowned Obama "America's Gay President" for finally coming out in support of equal marriage. I personally have nothing against gay marriage. Why shouldn't they suffer like the rest of us.
Anyhoo, after reading stuff like this last week I eventually came across a real news story. Uh-huh. The headline went something like this:
"Dinosaur burps and farts may have caused global warming"
Well that explains a lot! For one thing it gives new meaning to that scorched earth theory people are always talking about.
And it may help explain why dinosaurs are not only extinct but ex-stink.
Researchers at Liverpool's John Moores University say some giant dinosaurs would have undoubtedly suffered from gas after eating a diet of leafy plan…