If you think books kill trees, you should see what the fossil fuels that power your e-reader do.

Someone at my church is Gregory Dahl's sister-in-law. O. M. G.

Part of the sermon today was almost verbatim from one of mine. Plagiarism or convergence of views?

And why did Facebook stop listing your friends in alphabetical order so you could find someone quickly? Why do people write software on purpose to be inconvenient?

Why is it that when I google "Royal Winnipeg Ballet" the first result is "National Ballet of Canada"?

Summer in Winnipeg reminds me of France. The air has that feel to it.

I was gonna have no car until further notice, and then the Lord provided one. MashaAllah.

What a beautiful morning for going to church. Prayer is better than sleep.

Criocephalous.

Damn nightmares.

The Evil Cat hasn't come near me since I bit him. Clearly he was underestimating how mean I am.

I know I've said it before but I really wish I had two brains so I could sleep and read at the same time.

I found my phone! Now I can finally write a status update about the fact that I lost my phone.

I'm like the Imran Khan of shelf tags. (Either that or I haven't made a dumb Imran Khan joke in a while and I just needed an excuse.)

My supervisor still maintains he's right even though the matter under discussion is about as close to Absolute Truth as humanly possible and he's wrong. Sensing he's not gonna win that one (especially since his boss came down hard on my side), he's making a stand on the fact that I argued with him in front of the crew. Hmmmmm... For the sake of conciliation, I apologized for that part, but I'm really tempted to tell him that if he doesn't want to tell him he's wrong in front of the crew, he damn well better be right when he picks an argument with me in front of the crew.

Pet store employee: I've never met a dog who didn't love these expensive glucosamine cookies.

Me: You haven't met MY dog.

Employee: That's true. Does she like peanut butter?

Me: She hates peanut butter.

Employee: Then try the chicken flavour. If she doesn't like them, we have a 30-day money-back guarantee.

Me: Ok.

I return home.

Me: If it please Your Majesty, your servant bought a new brand of cookies.

Dog: You may bring one to me. Hmmmmm... (puts cookie in mouth) PTOOEY!!!! Your offering displeases My Majesty, human. Your incompetence is becoming quite taxing.

Me: Yes, Your Majesty.


Well, thank God I found this store with the 30-day money-back on dog food. Otherwise I was thinking of putting milk on it and calling it Weetabix. I can't afford to eat half the ingredients in there myself. Maple syrup? I've had real maple syrup like twice and you're putting it in a dog cookie??? And I'm giving you MY money in exchange for it? I must be on drugs.

At first when I had a half-hour long confrontation with my supervisor, I was pissed off that no one on the team had my back. But when I said I was going to HIS supervisor, even the people I thought had it in for me came up to me to tell me I was doing the right thing. Faith in mankind: finally acquired some. Maybe.

I love the way insurers don't even pretend they're planning to help you.

The advantage of working for a big company is that instead of walking off the job when your boss is a cunt, you can just wait for HIS boss to come in and go tell. And I'm damn good at telling on people.

Me: The guy at Tim Horton's looks like he could be Pakistani, but I don't want to say "shukriya" and look like I'm making assumptions about him.

Urdu teacher: Well, how Pakistani does he look?


Hmmmmm... I'm not really good at quantifying "how Pakistani" someone looks, but I'd have to say, he looks just a shade less Pakistani than Imran Farhat.

Did I just try to google "Google"? Cause I think I just tried to google "Google".

Speaking of which, it's 5 months today since I left the north. I wonder if anyone noticed yet.

I wish there was a Shell around here. Haven't had a decent cup of coffee since I drove to Manitoba.

"Eucharist" is in my Urdu dictionary. Word!

Mere notebook pe choti lal makri tha.

Faiz: Thi*

Engineering students using power tools with no safety gear whatsoever. Fucking sigh...

Reading The Economist on a Winnipeg bus: a thrill ride for both mind and body.

Guy looking exactly like Noam Chomsky drives by in convertible. Another surreal Winnipeg moment.

Good news: I got an Economist. Bad news: it's the one I didn't want.

On the cover of the next Economist: "can Iran be stopped?" Er... You know, don't bother sending me that one. I don't even wanna know what kind of cuntishness you're up to this time.

One place I'm definitely never moving to: the Philippines.

Covering for a coworker, shift 2 of 9: now I'm behind on his job AND mine. But at least my supervisor is starting to realize that no, I will not be doing a THIRD job in addition to these two.

I am appalled by how much money I've pointlessly lost since I moved because of timing errors in transferring money between my bank accounts.

Corollary: feel free to keep judging people. Just don't imagine anyone cares about your opinion.

People will never stop judging you. You just have to stop give a fuck about their irrelevant opinion.

Not even time to clock in and I already look like I've had a long day. Woe...

I hate when my dog falls asleep just before I have to get ready for work and I have to choose between waking her up and being late for work.

Still no Economist from last week or this week. I'm getting angry.

One of my coworkers keeps giving me printed materials with knowledge in them. I suspect he's hitting on me.

Dear Economist: thanks for making it theoretically possible to download an audio version of my weekly newspaper. Too bad it's not ACTUALLY possible and you can't manage to put the bloody print version in the mail either.

Covering for vacationing coworker, shift 1 of 9, first coffee break. Nothing has gone horribly wrong yet; which means it could yet strike at any time.

Longest time before more hockey! Booya!

My dog seems to disapprove of Lady Gaga. Poop.

Dana: I'm with the dog...

Me: I think you both don't understand cause you never tried the Hay River dating scene. Bad Romance reminds me of that.

Tatelena: Lmao

Me: It's my and Slimey's love song. LOL

o/~ Don't call my name, don't call my name - Alejandro o/~

Sudden urge to listen to Bad Romance: I haz it.

My Urdu dictionary came in the mail. It has "eleemosinary" but not "spider". Also my Economist did not come in the mail. Zut alors.

I forgot what time I was supposed to quit work. Dafuq?

K, enough of this "work" thing. I want to go home to bed now.

1) Name someone who died more than 100 years ago and is still famous for "being themselves."
2) Realize that you're not them.
3) Find something more valuable to do than "being yourself."

The downside of our diversity policy is we hire tons of people from cultures with seriously diverse table manners.

I discovered I hadn't downloaded my camera in nearly two months; but even so it had only 242 photos. I'm losing my touch. In any case it had several species in it: #114 pine siskin, #116 sora, #118 eastern kingbird, and #119 mourning dove.

The evil cat is sitting against my door purring and it rattles the door. Très horror movie.

World's meanest tick. Took 4 tries to pull her off the dog and 3 tries to incinerate her.

I appreciate that the Lord gives me the grace to help others but I wish he'd give me some gas money once in a while, too.

o/~ Vint à passer un troupeau d'oies, pen dubidu gob gobidabidu. o/~

You know, I don't regret the time I spent up north, it was all worth it. But damn I love Winnipeg.

For greater clarity: "The (Nobel) Committee does not itself announce the names of nominees, neither to the media nor to the candidates themselves. In so far as certain names crop up in the advance speculations as to who will be awarded any given year's Prize, this is either sheer guesswork or information put out by the person or persons behind the nomination. Information in the Nobel Committee's nomination database is not made public until after fifty years." So whoever you heard is nominated for the Peace Prize, don't believe it until 50 years from now.

Oh yeah, the quote is from Nobel Media.

The Brain's talent for misreading things makes work more fun. According to The Brain, we have the "personal space lawn mower", the "magic weed" seed, and the colour "apple dysentery."

Wherefore art thou, Economist?

So I put all the cold meds in my backpack to take to work, then I took them out to have them in my hand when I got to work, take some and put the rest in my locker, then I noticed the dog's water dish was low so I refilled it, then I went to work... and now the cold meds are safe at home and I'm at work.

I'm starting to entertain the possibility that I might be Actually Sick and not just uncomfortable.

Heated water for tea. Grabbed tea bags. Put tea bag in an old cup of cold coffee. Wondered why tea water wasn't changing colour.

"Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen": still the creepiest song ever written.

Me, (thinking I'm texting my roommate who's also sick): I'm going to Shoppers for some cold meds. You want anything?

Rob (my former roommate in Edmonton): No, thanks for asking..

Surely there must be a dosage of ibuprofen sufficient for this presumably minor affliction.

I thought the best part of leaving Hay River would be that no one would be able to ask for favours anymore. But aside from the fact that people have phoned me FROM HAY RIVER to ask for favours, Winnipeg seems to be getting just as bad already. Help me move. Lend me your toaster. Lend me money. Give me money. Drive me to work. Lend me your car keys. Weed my yard. Landscape my yard. WTF????? Do I LOOK like someone who does favours? Because I didn't come here to do favours. I came here to sing, dance, read books, and not do anybody any favours. I've even stopped wearing my cross so I wouldn't look like a Christian. But I must still look like someone who does favours because people keep asking me. Maybe I'll start wearing a burqa so nobody can see what I look like and figure I look like someone who does favours. Good grief.

And for greater clarity, if I'm doing you a favour, I'm doing it when I have time, not when you want it done. Cause I have my own shit to do which is way more important than yours.

Ross, assistant store manager: This week you need to work with Dave and learn his job, because he's going on vacation next week and you'll be covering for him.

Me: Ok.

Ross: Also work on the off-shelves.

Me: Ok. But it would really help if I could finish my reach-truck certification, because I need tons of skids brought down and the guys don't have time for that.

Ross, to Dean (lift truck trainer who's been making excuses not to train me for weeks): Your task this week is to have Elise certified on reach truck by the end of the week.

Dean: Ok.

Ross: I guess you'll be doing lots of learning this week, missy.

Me: Ok.

Me, later, talking to Herb ("nobody really knows what you do-guy"): So I have four shifts to get certified on reach truck AND learn Dave's job.

Herb: Yeah, and after that you have to learn MY job.

Me: *I* have to learn your job? Why do *I* have to learn your job? Get John to learn something.

Herb, darkly: Please. We can't even get him to learn to count. (Both laugh.)


A job where learning is valued. I've come to the right place at last.

Home Depot commercial comes on; I know where in the store every product is. Team Orange zindabad!

Fawns are like unicorns in that you never see one when you have your camera.

Buses going over curbs to get around emergency vehicles. Winnipeg Transit is badass like that.

Maybe if I had spent more time reading my ILL book and less time on Urdu cricket articles, I could have finished the book before it was due. Now I'll never know what happened in the last chapter. Sigh...

Just as I feared, both Beginner Ballet classes are full. I guess I'll just do beginner jazz, then. If it doesn't fill up too.

Woman at library desk: I would like to request (whatever book).

Librarian: Certainly. There are 431 people ahead of you.

????????????????? What in the world kind of book is it???

Ok, so I work from 22:30 to 07:00 weekdays, and 20:00 to 04:30 Sundays. It never, ever, ever changes. So yesterday, Sunday, at 15:30, I walk into the house where I've been living for six weeks.

Roommate: Did you just get off work?

Me (apart): How the FUCK would I be getting off work at 15:30??? (Aloud:) No, I went to church.

Today, I'm leaving the house at 17:15.

Roommate: Are you going to work?

Me (apart): Fucksakes you moron, how the FUCK would I be going to work at 17:15???? (Aloud:) No.

Roommate: Church?

Me (apart): ????? How the FUCK would I be going to church Monday at 17:15? (Aloud:) No. I'm going to the library. (Ed: I added that part to avoid sounding too curt.)

Roommate: Is it far to walk?

Me: It's downtown.


Ok, here is the thing, you stupid fuck: if you want to get all up in my business, memorize my schedule, like normal stalkers do. I'm so fucking tired of answering your lame questions every time I come and go. Good thing I'm moving again...

Wondering what possessed me to plan 6 things on a day I have to work.

This cricket article doesn't even have the same words as the other cricket article. What a gyp.

There. Took 10 days, but I translated a 1100-word article about cricket. Tho since I know neither Urdu nor cricket, I just made stuff up.

(Later.) Correction: 576 words. Microsoft counting...

I'm guessing Urdu doesn't have a word for "run-on sentence."

I really must be losing weight. My church pants are slipping.

Every so often, out of nowhere, I get reminded why I so don't miss Hay River. Though I wouldn't mind doing a bit of stalking on a Sunday afternoon.

So I can read the names of 16 Pakistani test cricketers not counting Imran Khan, but my brain took a finite amount of time to understand "ہندوستان". I'm mortified.

Ok, prayer is a toss-up for me, but communion is definitely better than sleep.

Wow. The Economist is really on an all-out cuntishness extravaganza lately.

Prayer is better than sleep. Prayer is better than sleep. Prayer is better than sleep.

I can now read the names of 16 Pakistani test cricketers, not counting Imran Khan.

Turns out I DID get my Economist, but the roommate stole it. WTF? Guy can barely read, why would he steal my newspaper?

Aaaaaaaaaugh! My computer is typing in Urdu!

Ahsan: Very well ! . . .. your computer is also learning urdu with you : )

Me: Apparently Windows detected the fact that I was writing a lot of Urdu and automatically added "Urdu (Islamic Republic of Pakistan)" as a keyboard option, so when I accidentally hit the secret key combination that toggles the keyboard, it switched to Urdu instead of its previous favourite, "Canadian French". And what's really strange about this is that MS Word, which is made by the same people, has been consistently telling me that I'm writing "Arabic (Saudi Arabia)". How is it possible that the same machine reads the same text as two different languages?

The rules of syntax seem to be: 1) every sentence starts w "Pakistan"; 2) all other words are the opposite of English order.

At work: can't keep eyes open, backtalked, accomplished nothing. Lying in bed: so awake I can't blink. I'll get you for this, Brain.

Dude, I get that it's polite in your culture to eat noisily to show you enjoy the food, but the makers of Cheetos can't hear you eating in our lunch room so for fuck's sakes close your mouth when you chew.

Another weekend without a fresh Economist. Poop...

My pastor and I were remarking on how inaccurate people's self-image often is. Then it occurs to me: what if *I* am wrong too? Not likely since I'm right 97% of the time, but what if, say, I don't have a delightfully offbeat sense of humour? GASP!

Tweet from Al-Jazeera: "in sub-Saharan Africa one in four children works." While in the rich world, one in four "young adults" doesn't work. Hey, I know, let's send unemployed rich-world young-adults to Africa and put them to work!

Roommate does same thing over and over, gets same negative outcome, blames "bad luck."

I finally got smart and turned off my voicemail. I don't have a phone so people can phone me.

There he goes with the Skil saw again... at 2100... I guess it's better than sitting in front of the TV drooling on himself though.

You know who should be complaining of a sore back? Misbah. Maybe I should stalk him instead.

I correctly read "coffee". Not sure why "coffee" is in this article on the Champions' Trophy, but it clearly is. Can't fool me, Pakistan. You DO have coffee.

And if you figure out both the alphabet and the word order, the ultimate challenge is to get MS Word to write in the right direction.

Since spelling and phonic methods don't work very well without vowels, reading Urdu requires the dreaded Global Method. The first word I happened to recognize globally was "Pakistan". Then "ke" (whatever that means), then "match". I guess I'll just have to be a cricket groupie.

I was looking at my Iranian doctor's receptionist who looks very pretty wearing hijab, and I thought, hey, maybe I should do that too. How about for soccer league this fall? Yes. Soccer league sounds like the perfect place to wear hijab. I think I'll do that.

« Les jeunes surévaluent l'importance de leurs propres opinions. » — Elliot Panek

(Ed.: Les vieux aussi, d'ailleurs.)

Thuggish looking young man with tattoo that says "art & science" studying intensely on bus. Winnipeg.

I'll drink just about anything that has caffeine but I really can't deal with Tim Horton's. God, that stuff is awful.

I can hear the deer just outside my window. Help! They're stalking me!

And then I realized that the Urdu alphabet is the easy part. Making sense of the word order is worse.

There's a time and place to use a Skil saw. 2300 hours in a residential neighbourhood isn't it.

They may be full of ticks but fawns are darn cute all the same.

Srsly dude, you've milked this "I fell off a forklift" story more than long enough. Jack Layton died of TWO CANCERS and he didn't post photos of his sickbed all over Facebook. You're alive, you can walk, hopefully you learned something about forklifts. You're FINE. If you want to be photographed on a bed, at least give us a "come hither" pose or something.

Faiz: A funny comment, making me laugh in this morning...2 cancers lol

Me: The two cancers was tragic. The funny thing is that your Pakistani cricket players are really just French soccer players: all high drama and low scores. (Ed.: too bad this awesome cross-cultural joke is wasted on everybody.)

So I find a seat on the bus, open my Economist, and the enclosed subscription card flutters out and onto the lap of the guy sitting next to me. As I apologize and retrieve my card, I'm thinking "wow, that is one smooth move". And then he says to me... "that's quite an effective marketing strategy." Is it just me or was that just a vicious burn?

It occurs to me that trying to make my daydreams realistic may be a misapprehension of the purpose of daydreaming.

Getting an award at work: good. Getting an award at work the week that they're doing interviews for the full-time job I'm applying for: like a BOSS.

I'm being followed by a deer. That can't be a good sign.

And another thing I like about Imran Khan is, he never tries to tell me who I am. Also he doesn't call me ten times a day or drive in circles around my house. Imaginary relationships are so much better than real ones.

Flattery is telling the other person precisely what he thinks about himself. - Dale Carnegie

Me and a big burly coworker, trying to lift a 175-lb box to shoulder height in two steps. Coworker: "One two three! (doesn't lift) Oooooooooh it's heavy! Wait wait. Ok one two three! (doesn't lift) Wait, this is heavy! One two three! (doesn't lift) Oooooooooooh... it's heavy!" FOUR TIMES the lazy bastard let me lift my side and didn't pick up his. He's lucky this isn't a construction site or there would have been some pretty intense language happening.

Coffee: the missing ingredient in my morning drug cocktail.

What I like about Imran Khan is nobody can give me that bullshit line that he won't go for coffee with me because he's "intimidated." There's no such thing as being too "intimidated" to go for coffee; the real answer is "he's just not that into you."

Aaaaaah... Nothing like a handful of pills and some steroids to start the day.

Holy crap. I just slept 11 hours. I'd do it again, too.

Wh th fck dcdd t wld b gd d t mt vwls frm wrttn lngg?

I'm trying to teach one of the Philippino guys at work to answer everything with "your mom".

I suggested naming the roommate's evil new cat Mao and she totally got the joke. Cool.

Ooooooooh... I get it! "Misbah-ul-Haq file photo AP" مصباح الحق۔ فائل فوٹو اے پی

I totally just read some Urdu words all by myself. (Ok, technically they're all English loan words except "Pakistan", but close enough.)

I suppose being wide awake im the middle of the day doesn't really count as insomnia.

As I always say, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing with Excel. Here we see the frequency of four of the five Zs relative to each other, in a sample article which may or may not be at all representative of all usage. The fifth Z, apparently, did not appear in the article.

Fnord passes its out-of-province inspection without even an advisory item. Sweet.

I seem to score 7 on the Hare checklist.

Also, learned the difference between the five Zs.

In today's Urdu lesson: main ne apne kuttay pe chichar dekha. I'm conjugating! Yay!

For greater clarity, I don't plan to have coffee OR offspring with Imran Khan. I don't date guys who don't know forklift safety.

Urdu seems to have 5 Zs and a Q. Must be awesome for Scrabble.

Hay River: buskers play the violin. Winnipeg: buskers actually know how to play the violin. Oh. Yeah.

Sign on a business: "sexiest mechanics in Winnipeg." Hmmm... Are they as sexy as the sexiest mechanic in Hay River, though?

After four months of telling me to breathe through my mouth, my voice teacher discovered that I can breathe through my nose with my mouth open. So now I have to sing with a pencil in my mouth, my nose plugged, and soon, no doubt, a broom between my elbows. And it's d-ed hard breathing with your nose plugged, you know.

Donna: I am picturing this in my head.....comes out pretty funny the way I am picturing this!

Me: Yeah, it looks pretty absurd. But it sounds awesome.

It's Wednesday and I don't even have last week's Economist yet. I'm cut off from the world.

The complete lack of mosquitoes leads me to fear that they're preparing something truly diabolical.

The roommate seems to be watching a movie about people who never answer their phones.

The greatest mystery of the Pyramids is who came up with all this unreferenced material that gets repeated in every single source. Like the 2.3 million blocks. Really, 2.3 million blocks? How do we KNOW it's all blocks and not a form filled with sand and rubble? Because that would have made way more sense.

Barbara: We know it is made from blocks because there are passages, some very small, some large enough to walk through, that run through the pyramids. That, remote sensing and some basic arithmetic. Lots of ancient constructions were rubble filled, like the pyramids at Tikal, Guatemala, for example. But Giza, nope - blocks excavated from the nearby quarries.

Me: I don't think any of that can do without a proper reference.

Barbara: Any decent library has many references. You can start with The “Djedi” Robot Exploration of the Southern Shaft of the Queen's Chamber in the Great Pyramid of Giza, Egypt
Author: Grieve, Ron; Ng, TC; ...
Journal of Field Robotics 30 (3) 2013-05 p323

or Building the Great Pyramid: Probable Construction Methods Employed at Giza
by Edwards, James Frederick
Technology and Culture, ISSN 0040-165X, 05/2003, Volume 44, Issue 2, pp. 340 - 354

Me: Cool thanks.

Mosam hot and dry hay.

Was I asleep? Had I slept?

Wow. Some of the hockey dads at the sportsplex are VERY handsome.

I wouldn't mind dumb people if it wasn't so tiring dealing with them.

Hello, tick collar!

After pulling 3 ticks in 12 hours, I no longer find the deer charming.

Faiz: Try setting the dog on fire...would work faster

Me: No, I'm a' set the deer on fire, since they're the primary host. And maybe give the dog a really short haircut so I can see the ticks before they attach.

Fcksakes... How many ticks can dance on the head of a pin?

When you put ticks in fire their insides boil until their hard exoskeleton explodes. That's what you get for biting my dog, you ugly mofo.

Faiz: oooh scary status

Me: Damn right. If you're gonna bite my dog you better be a lot bigger and meaner than me. OR ELSE. Also, guess what you're teaching me on Wednesday?

Faiz: lol...how to kill a tick paki style?

Me: What, you think because you're Pashto you can think of more vicious ways to kill ticks than me? What's the past tense of "hay"?

Faiz: tha...

Me: Mere kutta pe chichar tha?

Faiz: But we are widely known to be the most violent though

Faiz: hmm chichar? can we chat?

Me: Not even. Hell hath no fury like a woman whose dog got bit by a tick.

Faiz: hahahaha i guess so

Me: Yeah, none of the Urdu dictionaries has a translation for "tick", so I found a Pakistani blog that alleges that this is what you'd call it. Thus proving that there are ticks in Pakistan so don't try to tell me you don't need a word for it.

Faiz: well, like u said u couldnt find a word for it in dictionary, i dont have a word for that in my memory...may b in pashto...

Me: NOT LEARNING PASHTO. LOL

Faiz: And when you put a noun as a subject, it changes just a lil bit...it becomes "kuttay" pe

Me: Declension. I suspected as much. So on Wednesday we can talk about conjugation and declension. But for now, I gotta run. More ticks to kill before I sleep.
June 2 at 1:16pm · Like · 1
Faiz Khan sure...sleep well

I should have suspected something when the V-E-T vaccinated my dog against Lyme disease.

TICKS!!!! I knew it. For the first time, I'm questioning my decision to move to Manitoba.

Imran Khan falls off a lift. Me: "hey, now he can't run away!" Imran Khan gets two large goons. Foiled again!!! LOL

Mosam Gangnam style!

Me: Google.

Google: Yes, Dave.

Me: Weather forecast for Pakistan.

Google: Today: hot and dry. Tomorrow: very hot and dry. Monday: very hot and dry.


Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. It REALLY IS all they say.