Scooter Gone Wild

I sorted through some more old emails and I found this one from 2010.  I forgot how crazy funny this was. Enjoy!____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

I just returned from a terrific trip to Chicago, a great city that I would recommend anyone to hit!  The purpose of the trip was to attend an American Diabetes Show for consumers… attendance was 15,000. Being a seasoned pro at these shows, I know what to expect: a convoy of scooters, bad breath, “freebie hungry” attendees that have less than the natural amount of teeth and more than the natural amount of pounds.  Chicago proved to be no different.  Over the course of the day we spoke to over 1000 people and ended up running out of material around 3:30 (the show was ending at 4), so we started to pack up our booth.  Suddenly, I felt like Meryl Streep in “A Cry in the Night” as I heard this shriek erupt.  I stand up only to see a Scooter with a woman (please see pic for reference) on it roaring out of control.  I am not sure if it was manufactured by Toyota, but this machine didn’t seem to want to stop.  First things first she tore right through the booth beside us, taking out their table and sidebar, this didn’t stop her.  She continued to burst through the curtains behind the booth and made a  very startling entry into the booth behind the curtain.  You can imagine the fright those people got; something similar to Jack Nicholson coming through the door with an axe in The Shining.  I was hoping the curtain would catch in her wheels, but no such luck… she busted through their table and pulled a laptop along with her.  Finally, this dramatic event ended when a man grabbed her seat and pulled as if he was on the Antigonish tug-of-war team and Heatherton was taking them out.  His efforts allowed her to hault.  I have seen a lot of things at these shows, but I have to say this one takes the cake.  I hope this story was able to give you all a clear image of what went down… I can’t get the sequence of events out of mine.  For me this was as memorable as seeing President Kennedy get shot.

 I boarded my plane to come home to find myself sitting beside a woman who kept saying “jesus, jesus, jesus” over and over again.  She got out a fan and that didn’t seem to stop her swearing… I thought maybe she was hot and the fan would take away her angst.  When the flight was taking off she informed the stewardess that she had a mental breadown the week before and was going home to Nova Scotia for some rest. She said “I am alright now, but I might get a bit anxious.”  Why me??  Why me? Thank god there was no turbulance as I was fearing for a grey hound bus situation to roll out.  She flipped through a book called “Gods Messages”… reading from the middle backwards.  Does a book make any sense that way?  No freak outs but it just added to my usual travel dramas.

 

EC

Taxi!!!

I’ve been away since Saturday and haven’t had a moment to park myself and hit the keys!  Prior to starting my blog my girlfriends said that I must “republish” some of my old material.  Thank goodness for Yahoo! mail as you can easily search through old mail – boy oh boy, did I find some doozies!  So for the next few days I will provide you with a few “blasts from the past”.

“It is pouring rain in Halifax, but who can complain given the weather we’ve had in recent months!   Not sure what all of you have been up to in recent days – but I hope you are all happy and healthy.  I have a few funny stories to tell you:
I went on an on-line date a few weeks back… he was French and was quite cute in his pictures (and in person actually).  In one of his emails he said to me “Do you take your dog to work with you?  If so, I think we have met before.”  Me and my ninja memory – I couldn’t think of where I had met him which is quite odd.  I replied and said “Oh really, where???”  he replied “I will tell you on Tuesday – meet me at Bistro de Cocque at 8pm”.  The day came and I wasn’t feeling like going… but I did.  It was pouring rain outside and when I got to the restaurant the floor was SUPER slippery.  The waitress said to me “Oh I think the person you are meeting is in the dining room around the corner – be really careful as the floor was just polished”.  I very carefully made my way there and right as I approached the table – yup I went tits up!  I fell right in front of him!  I got my arse and my ego up off the floor very quickly and awkwardly said hello.  After we ordered some wine I asked him “So, where I have met you??”  He said “I drive a cab and I’ve driven  you a few times!”  I then recalled meeting him – but as the taxi protocol goes I was in the back seat and didn’t really see his face.  So already I have fallen on my ass and now I  find out my date was my cab driver before.  Not sure if it was the fact that I fell, that he put his gum on the side of his plate while he ate or that he was so deeply insecure about being a cab driver (explained over and over why/how much he works/owns a house) or what…but it wasn’t there for me. Now every time I dial 425-6666 I am fearful of the French Frog being my driver.

That about sums up my online dating experience – awkward and underwhelming.
Thank goodness for friends who set you up 😉
EC

The incident at the hotel

Most of you who know me would describe me as carefree, irreverent and somewhat wild.  When it comes to farting I am uptight, conservative and old-fashioned. I grew up in a bungalow with 3 older brothers and my father, outnumbered greatly.   Seeing as I was in a house full of men I was exposed to a lot of farting.  I just googled “average number of farts daily”  and science says the average person farts 15 times a day.  Now take the average of 15 X 4 (number of men in my house – I am leaving my mother and I out of this) and you get 60 farts.  I am willing to say that they were above average: Mom often made chili, baked beans and other carb rich dishes. Being exposed to 60 farts is enough to create a negative experience.

Recently I took a trip to NYC with my boyfriend (who I do not fart in front of).  We stayed in a lovely 290 square foot room in Midtown Manhattan.  290 feet does not leave a lot of room for freedom.  Thankfully we had the dog with us so that gave a great excuse to get out “I will take the dog out to pee – you stay here”. I am sure he was doing the same thing I was doing when left alone.  Due to the limited space our luggage was pushed into any available area – Maurice’s was at the foot of the bed and mine was beside the bed on a radiator.  Maurice was bent over looking for something in his suitcase when I realized I needed something in mine.  In order to get to mine I needed to slide along the end of the bed and swing the corner.   While sliding by I had to get around Maurice and when I tried to do so I put my hands on his hips and did something similar to what dogs do to other dogs at the park.  This set him off-balance and for some reason I decided to pull him backwards onto the bed and inadvertently on top of me.  I am taking a guess here but I would say Maurice weighs somewhere around 200 pounds.  The impact of a 200 pound man landing on you is quite intense.  When the impact occurred something happened… something BIG happened… gas which had been trapped inside of me for 4 days came rushing out.  I let out an enormous fart.  There was a moment of silence and then he said “was that a fart, was that a fart?”, my silence indicated the answer.  I jumped up off the bed and awkwardly took a big gulp of orange juice at the exact moment that Maurice said “that was the biggest fart I have ever heard” and began laughing harder than I have ever heard him laugh.  His reaction caused nervous laughter on my end – to make matters worse I was swallowing juice at that exact moment – it came out and sprayed all over the dog and the bed.  So, here I was spewing things from both ends.  I left my pride in that 290 square foot room in Midtown Manhattan.

Still embarrassed and signing off – not as “The Girl Who Played With Fire” or “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” but as “The Girl Who Let Out The Biggest Fart Ever Recorded”.

EC

An Italian in the making…

I’ve been taking Italian cooking lessons for about 1.5 years at the Italian Culture Centre in Halifax.  Although I do not have Italian heritage I’ve been asked by many creepy men if I am Italian; I guess my dark eyes and hair lead them to believe that I came from “The Boot”.   Although my blood isn’t so my taste buds are certainly Italian by nature.  My class is composed of a strange mix of people: Pierre, the insanely pervy retired navy guy who now rescues cats. Jerry who attends with his wife Sandy – Jerry follows along with Pierre’s pervy comments until his wife gives him a snake eye.  He is like one of Pierre’s cats just dying to get out of the cage. Janet and Trevor: she has the most nasally voice I have ever heard, but I can’t say anything about them because they are quite fabulous.  Dumb blond and husband (I can’t recall their names), this woman asks some of the most idiotic questions you have ever heard and it makes me wonder how in the hell she got through life and how she scooped such a nice husband. “Franco, where do bread crumbs come from?”  This year my boyfriend Maurice comes with me, so Pierre edits his “pussy” comments for when he his talking about the feline sort.  Oh and John, he is awesome. Anyhow….

We’ve made some absolutely outstanding food!  Prior to this I shied away from lamb (the imagery of a little lamb steered me away from buying it), veal and other meats.  Franco and Bruno jump from English to Italian, he spills everything and she cleans it up and they guesstimate most of the ingredients as they toss them into the bowl.  As Franco cooks he sporadically tastes his dishes, once the goods are in his mouth he pauses and if it is good his eyebrows go up, if it needs something salt/pepper or garlic are usually added.  One of last nights dishes knocked my socks off!  Lemon Pasta.  I actually asked for seconds which I have not before – we do at least 3 courses so I usually preserve stomach space for the next.  For more of this dish I was willing to feel like I would vomit from being so full.

Here is something similar as they don’t give us the recipes until the week after we cook them (not sure on the strategy there)

http://www.lidiasitaly.com/recipes/detail/965

There is a fair amount of cream in this recipe so it isn’t one you will be making all the time. Well, you will be tempted to make it all the time but that will result in the purchase of bigger pants and a double chin.

Enjoy!

EC

All Shook Up

So, this is my first post!  A few months back the World Champion Elvis impersonator contacted me in regards to doing some fundraising for the organization I work for.  The show was on Saturday night… now my Dad is an Elvis lover so I am proud to say that I know the words to many of his songs.  Off I went to see The King – I was pleasantly surprised to see (to me) that he looked remarkably like the Real McCoy.  What I found more shocking were the people who attended this show. I am not sure what cave they climbed out of.  It seemed like prior to coming to the show most people sat in a locked closet while smoking a pack of cigarettes and cooking fish.  Every person who walked by me seemed to be carrying intense smells with them. After cementing themselves with bad odors they went to their bathroom and sprayed cologne/perfume they bought when Elvis was alive or sprayed their hair with products which give a “globe head” or secured their comb over.  Much of the concert was blocked by a women who had a head of hair similar to a round metal dish cleaner I use.  The man behind us had on some kind of cologne which made us wonder if he was back from the dead and the formaldehyde he was soaking in was still on him.   Now, it seems as if Elvis must have given out scarves to his female admirers when he sang the song “Love Me Tender” because when this ELVIS IMPERSONATOR sang the song women rushed to the stage with their hands in the air looking for him to give them a scarf.  Now, I wouldn’t even run to the stage for the real guy, so you can bloody well guarantee a sweaty guy from Moncton in a one piece jumpsuit handing out scarfs from the dollar store wasn’t getting me out of my seat.   Later on in the show he gave out teddy bears while singing the hit song “Teddy Bear”.  Again, the same women rushed the stage as if they were running from the bulls in Madrid.  I felt awkward and itchy as I watched this whole thing roll out.   I am not sure if before I arrived at the show there was a crane placing people into seats because when the lights came on there were many who couldn’t move – not sure how they were getting out.

That’s it. Until next time…

EC