You just made my list!

Inspired by a Twitter conversation the other day (with Biblomama, who you should visit when you're done here because she's hilarious), I am bringing formal structure to my shit list. After all, how can I wish a scorching case of herpes on everyone on said list if I can't remember who they all are? OK, maybe an incurable disease is a little too much for people who piss me off a little bit. How about an infestation of bed bugs?

Now, there is a long, long list of things that piss me off, so I'll have to limit it to just this week's shit list:

1. The ice cream truck driver parked in front of my daughter's daycare. At pick-up time, right before dinner. I SO enjoyed explaining why some kids could have ice cream from the truck and she couldn't. Without using the words "because I said so." Asshole. 
2. The person who invented toy microphones for children. Because you know what I think when I'm with a group of little kids? This needs to be LOUDER.
3. The woman who knocked me over shoving on to the subway. Lady, I have to get to work too. I was waiting to let the person WITH A WALKER off the train first. So check yourself and your sense of self-importance at the door, OK?
4. The postman doesn't even ring once. Dude, I was home and waiting for that delivery when you stuck the little "Sorry we missed you" sign on the door. I know it's tremendously inconvenient for you to actually have to *sigh* deliver packages to recipients instead of dropping them all off at the depot, but it's kind of what they pay you to do. It's called a doorbell. Use it.  

Phew! OK, I feel better now. Now I am going to stop watching this terrible movie (New Year's Eve) and go read terrible fiction (Deadlocked) in the comfort of my bed with a nice glass of red. Who made your list this week?

You Have No Idea: BlogHer Book Club Review

I have a love-hate relationship with Vanessa Williams. I love her because she's talented and warm and so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. I hate her for the same reasons. OK, maybe that's the jealousy talking. Anyway..."You Have No Idea" is Williams' autobiography which features interjections and observations from her mother, Helen.

I'm Canadian, so while the Miss America pageant is aired here - I think - it certainly isn't the cultural "thing" it is in the U.S. The only Miss America I can name is Vanessa Williams, and that's only because of the scandal. I often wondered how she could be so stupid, so I am glad she explained it right off the bat. As expected, the perfectly plausible explanation is young and dumb. We've all been there, but most of us have had the good fortune making our mistakes away from the prying eyes of the tabloids. Her tales of her reign were fascinating. Fears for her safety in Alabama because she was black? In the 80s? Well, colour me naive! I had no idea it was an issue less than 30 years ago (see earlier point re: Canadian).

Now this is not, for the most part, deep stuff. Williams does touch on serious issues in her life, like her abortion as a teen and recounting a story of molestation by a friend of the family, but without more in-depth discussion about how this affected her life, it seems this information is FYI rather than an integral part of the woman she is today. I'm not sure that's what she was going for or what to do with it in the context of her story. But it was a fun read about an interesting life with insights from TWO moms who can teach us a thing or two about being a supportive parent.

Join the BlogHer Book Club conversation on "You Have No Idea" for lively, thought-provoking discussions every week!

This is a compensated review as part of the BlogHer Book Club. All opinions expressed are my own.

The one where she talks to strangers

Six years ago, in what seems like another lifetime now, I crossed "See the Pyramids" off my bucket list.  Toronto to Cairo isn't a popular enough route to warrant a direct flight, so it required a stopover in Amsterdam both ways. On the way back I booked a few days in Amsterdam, because why not? I met The Stranger on that flight. What a story to tell the grandchildren! "We met on the way from Cairo to Amsterdam." Can you imagine? He was exotic and gorgeous, like one would expect the man you meet on a globetrotting adventure to be.

My flight was delayed. I was still a smoker back then and the only seat left in the airport lounge was the one in a booth across from him. After I sat down we made the idle chit-chat you make when circumstances force you to sit a few feet away from a person you don't know. We learned we were on the same flight. We talked about Amsterdam and things to do while there. When we discovered the plane was half empty, we sat together. It's a long flight, might as well have company to pass the time.

When we landed, he invited me to dinner. I said yes. After all, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met. He was there for work so his days were full, but we spent the evenings together. His mother was Egyptian, he was visiting her family but he was raised in Munich and still lived there. He was ridiculously interesting. When my three days in Amsterdam were up, he invited me to come to Germany for the weekend. Tempting! But I said I couldn't. We didn't exchange contact information. Why bother pretending you're going to keep in touch from half a world away?

I spent a lot of time wondering why I didn't go. It wouldn't have caused undue financial hardship to change my flight or spend a few more days away from home. Yes, he was exotic and gorgeous, but he was also smart and a lot of fun. I still had plenty of vacation time left, an occupational hazard of workaholism. Means. Motive. Opportunity. Was I nuts? A beautiful stranger invited me to a strange land and I said no? What the hell was wrong with me?

I flew home and carried on with my life. I thought about The Stranger once in a while, but only in passing. A few months later I met another stranger, this time one a little closer to home. I think I didn't go because I knew on some level the gorgeous, exotic man half a world away was not THE Stranger I was destined for. Our story isn't quite "We met on the way from Cairo to Amsterdam," but it has a happy ending. I hope the grandchildren will understand.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #50 word prompt: The Stranger. For more info about GBE,  click here.