Winesnob's Bitchy Blog

Like a moth to a .......... Dumbass?

2012-01-26T11:49:00.000-08:00

So a girlfriend called last night looking for some advice. Seems as though there are two gentlemen who are interested in her but she's having a tough time making a decision. One, is really nice and the other.......a dumbass.

Now, while the choice seems obvious (pick nice guy), why is it that we even find ourselves debating these things? I believe it is because we secretly hope that we have the skills to exorcise the dumbass out of them. Jesus was able to walk on water but I don't think even he had that sort of power.

And guys are just as bad. I have witnessed with my very eyes a guy pick a total bee-yotch over a girl who was sweet, pretty and kind. And then spend the rest of the relationship complaining about her. Dumbass.

So perhaps we're all just moths. Instead of being draw to flames we're drawn to dumbasses. The only New Years' resolution that I made was to be dumbass free in 2012 and so far, I'm successful. Granted it's still January but I'm 26 days in. That has to count for something. Perhaps there should be tokens available like there is in other recovery programs.

And as for my girlfriend, I told her to pick the nice guy and not let the dumbass take up any more real estate in her head. And I'm guessing that once she does that, he'll start pursuing her even harder.

Cause that's how dumbasses roll.

Tweet #21 - Ghetto Family Feud

2012-01-17T12:57:00.000-08:00

This morning while I was in the gym, the channel the TV was tuned to was showing what looked like Ghetto Family Feud. Now before you get on your PC high horse, the reason I say that is that one of the first commercials I saw was for a class action lawsuit against 'Tippy Soup Containers'. So if you've burned yourself with spilled Mr Noodles, you can sue.

I rest my case.

Bambi On Ice

2012-01-16T09:07:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up to snow on the ground. I'm beyond thrilled. It's pretty easy to be thrilled by a snowfall when you don't have to get in a car and drive anywhere. Don't get me wrong, I've maneuvered that Camaro in some pretty interesting conditions with great success. It's all the other morons out there that are the problem. But that's not the topic of todays' blog.

As I was staring out the window at the snow covered seawall, I happened to notice two brave souls out jogging. I must admit I was very impressed. I could only imagine if I were to attempt such a daring feat. While I can guide a car through ice and snow with ease, guiding myself has proven to be problematic. My ex-husband used to call me Bambi On Ice. While it may sound cruel, it really is an accurate description. I've sky-dived, para-sailed even rode the 'Flying Fish' in Bali yet walking down a snow covered sidewalk is my most daring endeavor.

And don't tell me that 5" heels are not appropriate footwear in the snow. They're brilliant. All you do is dig that heel in and go.

Let it snow!

Random Thoughts: An Interactive Blog

2012-01-09T23:31:00.000-08:00

I pose a question.....

Which do you think would have more success.....Hitting on the guy doing a diaper run or the guy on the beer run?

Discuss.

Bed Hog

2011-12-13T02:44:00.000-08:00

I've gotten used to sleeping alone in my king size bed. Even though I tend to keep to one side, it's nice being able to stretch out when the mood strikes. Here in Italy, I have to share a bed. It's not so bad most nights but occasionally I feel my sleep space being encroached upon. I don't mind the warm body pushed up next to me or even having the covers pinned down. The snoring is what bothers me the most.

But I just don't have the heart to kick him out of bed. Would you?

High Heels and Cobblestones: Italian Driving Rules

2011-12-06T03:47:00.000-08:00

I recently came across some observations that I wrote 8 years ago when I first moved to Italy. Surprisingly (or not), most are still valid today. So I thought I'd share some of these orginal stories. I've called this collection, High Heels and Cobblestones because like those two items, Italy and I sometimes don't work well together.

Italian Driving Rules

Driving in Italy is a daily adventure. Each day when I’m out I see something new and absurd done. I’ve stopped being shocked and surprised. To help any future travelers, I’ve compiled a list of rules. I’m sure these will help you make sense of the Italian roads.

#1. If your car fits you can go there

#2. If your car doesn't fit, you can still go there

#3. Just because your lane does not have a dotted white line down the middle does not mean it's not 2 lanes

#4. Signals????? Obviously a North American concept. Except in LA

#5. If you drive anything 2 wheeled, you can go anywhere you want. Traffic laws do not apply to you.

#6. Stop signs. A roadside decoration of no real purpose.

#7. Passing. Solid white line, dotted white line, yellow line. They are just a guideline. Kind of like in video games.

#8. If you see someone you know, feel free to stop to say hello. Pulling off to the side not required.

#9. If, while driving, you intersect with a one way street, and your destination happens to be behind you, feel free to turn left then throw it in reverse and punch the accelerator until you find a parking spot. On-coming traffic, or in this case, rear-coming traffic will adjust.

#10. If you and your buddies desire to have an impromptu game of soccer, feel free to play where ever you like. Major roadways need not be excluded as the traffic will adjust

Luxury Dog Tax

2011-12-02T08:35:00.000-08:00

The economic woes of various European countries has been a news staple for the last few months. Italy has recently made some major changes to their political landscape and the country's economic state is causing many to worry. So what can a stuggling economy due to bolster its coffers? Tax dogs of course.

One of the economic measures being proposed is to place a tax on 'luxury dogs'. You are probably asking yourself (as I did) what is a luxury dog? This has yet to be properly defined but the best guess would be a dog purchased from a breeder versus one picked up at the humane society. The logic here is, if you can afford to spend the money to purchase one of these dogs and care for it, you're obviously making too much money and you should be taxed. This tax is on top of the licensing and registration fees you already pay for your dog.

In a country where abandoning your pet is common place when you go on holiday, this is the worst idea possible. As it is, many Italians just abandon Fido and Puss Puss before going on vacation. They can't be bothered to find accomodation for their animals while they hit the beaches so they just set them free. Can you imagine what will happen if this tax is actually put in place? Pampered pooches will be left to their own devices. Scenes from Beverly Hills Chihuahua are running through my head (don't judge me, I was on a plane when I watched it).

Animal activists are already up in arms about this and rightfully so. I suggested that all one had to do is take their pet to the humane society and put it up for adoption then go back the next day and adopt them. They would then have paperwork stating that they got their dog from the humane society instead of a fancy breeder.

Just doing my part to help out our furry four-legged friends.

Vanity and the Italian Male

2011-11-29T07:33:00.000-08:00

I've been away from Italy for almost 9 months and naturally a few things have changed while I was away. Some of my entertainment these days involves catching up with these changes.

The hair salon that I go to here moved during my absence. They chose a newer, smaller space which costs them less per month. This makes perfect business sense. As the space is smaller, they had to eliminate a feature that their old space had. The Man Cave.

You may be asking yourself, what is a Man Cave in a hair salon? A Man Cave in the hair salon was an area specifically dedicated to men who were getting their hair dyed. They had their own private area for the entire hair coloring process. This included a hair washing station.

The new space had no room for this feature. They have compensated by partitioning off an area to make it private for them during the coloring process but they must use the same hair washing area as everyone else. That means, others will see that they are getting their hair dyed. The horror! They have actually already lost a few male clients due to this lack of privacy issue.

As you can imagine, when this story was told to me, I was in hysterics. No sympathy here from me. I've never heard of this sort of thing being made available for women. Perhaps in some uber-swishy spa but salon procedures already cost me an arm and a leg so spending extra for this sort of thing seems silly.

I've also been totally wrong about what a Man Cave was for. I thought it was for watching sports and playing video games undisturbed. I now realize it's for the guys to get together and dye their hair.

Welcome back to Italy

2011-11-27T08:49:00.000-08:00

I've only been back in Italy 24 hours and already my patience is being put to the test.

As it turns out, today there is a 10 hour driving ban. If you happen to have a vehicle with an even numbered plate, you can't drive from 9 am to 7 pm. As it turns out, both our cars have even numbered plates. The reason for this driving ban is to help the pollution situation. There is an increased amount lately due to the lack of wind and rain so extreme measures have been put into play. Now I understand the reason for this but this happening on my first day back is a bit of a pain. I guess I don't get to ease back into Italian life.

Welcome home WineSnob.

Women Can Be Dumbasses Too

2011-11-11T21:26:00.000-08:00

If a guy calls you the wrong name, then begs your forgiveness in the street, even if you tell him to take his bicycle and go home, if you give him another shot....you are a dumbass.

If a guy stands you up for coffee more than once yet you still give him option #3.... you are a dumbass.

Hotel Etiquette

2011-10-25T22:08:00.000-07:00

Open letter to my fellow guests,

Shut the F Up!

To the Russian boys, I get that you're having a good time but it's midnight and the rest of us don't want to listen to you. Plus we can't understand a word you're saying which makes eavesdropping useless. You really don't want me to come out there and Shhhh you. You are just lucky that my door was double locked because at 1 am you were about to get an earful and by the time I managed to navigate the intricate set of hotel locks you'd already scurried into your room.

To my neighbors, I'm really sorry that you have to be up at 7 am but I don't. How loud must you be at that hour? The sun wasn't even up yet. Unlike you, I need my beauty sleep and I don't have a timetable.

Hotel walls are paper thin. You don't realize it because I'm a polite hotel neighbor. Next time, I'll rent a screaming kid to prove my point.

But He Seemed So Nice Last Night When I Was Drunk

2011-10-24T04:22:00.000-07:00

Best Line EVER!! It's what my girlfriend said to me after telling me her latest dumbass tale.

I have now become the go-to gal for dumbass stories. I'm actually enjoying it as it makes me feel like it isn't just me that attracts these amazing individuals. So on the weekend my friend was at the Commodore where she met two brothers. One was obviously smitten with her but she took a shine to the other brother. During the night she actually said to him that he seemed 'so much smarter' than his brother. Oh how those words would come back to haunt her.

So after and enjoyable night of drinking and dancing, numbers were exchanged with the promise to see each other soon. The next morning upon turning on her phone there was an awaiting text with an invite to go to Squamish and climb the Chief. After a polite refusal, she proceeded to receive a series of texts detailing a dream that he had the night before. I love technology. In the old days, the dumbasses verbally told you these things. Now, they write them for a permanent record of their dumbassedness. All it takes is a little copy & paste and you can share their eloquent prose. What follows is what my friend received. I almost snorted out my wine when I read it so you've been warned.

.....had a wonderful dream about you last night, it was so vivid, I was a pirate, sailing the blue waters of the bahamas, when I bumped into you, would you like to hear it? Might take some time to write it down, and parts are a little risque', I am intrigued, did you ever instantly know you were going to like and trust someone for a long, long time, a timeless connection, I believe the greatest adventure is to explore one's passions, we seem to walk the same path, light years apart....its precisely this deep connection that is so charming, spiritual and unlimited, for I am also an intellectual adventurer as well, willing to sink my ship in the ocean of infinity..... to begin the world anew, have a wonderful day.

....Tropical storm had been raging for two days when your ship had gone down, after that... only clouded memories adrift in the waves, when you thought you could not hold on any longer, you felt the strong hands of a stranger lift you out of the water, so tired you drift off again, next time your eyes open, you hear the waves crashing on the shore, look to see yourself in a seaside cabana, with a note......it says 'Milady....water and a fruit are at the table, have gone to catch lunch, throw on the some clean clothes, and join me out at the surf when your ready ' I see you standing on shore of this tropical paradise, in that moment as you feel that exquisite pleasure, the intense feeling of our attraction, a smile washes over your face, as you wave, so happy to be alive, as I climb out of the surf, you see the muscles strain to carry the catch up the beach, a little rough on the edges, this pirate was all man, knowing he could have taken advantage of her vulnerability, he was the perfect gentleman, "where am I" you ask?"

...."Your on my island....I rescued you from drowning...I am T, but some call me the Waterwolf" as I kiss your hand....come.....we will replenish your strength from some of the supplies I recovered from your ship, I break open a case of the most exquisite vintage wine, untouched by the salt water, poured into the large goblet, hand it to you, before taking a big swig out of the bottle myself, savouring the rich taste this wine....

....Some pirate dream eh....;) sorry about that ramble, writing is a creative outlet for me, the wine was Mission Hill I think....someday I will tell you how the dream ends.....

So after deciding that accepting his Facebook request was not in her best interest and that perhaps this dude is a bit much for her, she politely offered to introduce him to me. She's selfless like that. As flattered as I was, I declined the offer.

I think Waterwolf will be enjoying his catch and his vintage Mission Hill all by himself. He won't be sinking his ship in my friends' ocean of infinity.

Note.....no grammar was corrected in the texts.

The Real Dumbasses....The Sequel

2011-10-20T22:47:00.000-07:00

So it seems my last blog resonated with more than a few people. Always nice to know that people are reading and enjoying. Some readers felt compelled to share a few of their dumbass stories. I think there may be a market for this reality show.

Most of the stories that were told involved incounters with men from dating websites. As I have long suspected, this is a dumbass breeding ground. No need to go out, you can be a dumbass from the comfort of your own home or office. (If they're being dumbasses from the office, odds are they are married).

One story that I found most amusing was the dumbass who was indeed messaging from the office. (Yes, he was married). After a brief period he chose to send images of his erect penis. Seriously? I'm wondering what kind of response he was looking for. What is the correct response to that? And if one picture wasn't enough, he proceeded to send 2 more. Now here's the thing... Guys, if you are going to send penis shots to a girl you need to know that she will save them and when the girls are over drinking wine, she will show them. And they will laugh. I'm pretty sure this isn't the reaction you were looking for. I happened to view the aforementioned photos and what caught my eye was that he was wearing a different shirt in the third shot. Again, I'm pretty sure that wasn't what I was supposed to be noticing. What happened between shot 2 & 3 to warrant an outfit change? Best not to know.

Another story along a similar vein was of the dumbass who decided to send what he deemed an 'artistic' photo. Taken in the bathroom (naturally) he was butt naked with his hand covering the family jewels. Artistic and tasteful was how he described it. I guess my definition of artistic differs from others.

One dumbass requested a video chat. Upon acceptance, he proceeded to do a striptease. My source told me he was no Chippendale. Too bad that one wasn't recorded for wine night.

Now for all you non-dumbass males reading, please don't take offense. You just don't make for good blog-fodder.

The Real Dumbasses of Vancouver

2011-10-19T01:04:00.000-07:00

There is a new installment of the Real Housewives series being filmed and Vancouver was lucky enough to be chosen as the first Canadian city for the franchise. I have never watched any of the Housewives shows but I am curious to see the Vancouver edition. That said, I think a new franchise is needed. The Real Dumbasses.

I am going to offer my services to Bravo. I figure there has to be a way to profit from my dumbass attraction skills. I posed this question to a friend of mine tonight and he came up with the reality TV idea. That's all it took for the train to leave the station.

This show wouldn't just be entertaining, it would be informative. By interviewing the dumbasses, we could actually get to the root of dumbassedness. It could be a reality/intervention hybrid show. Behaviors could be explained. Such as, why do men insist on taking pictures of themselves in the bathroom then sending them to women? Or, why do you intently pursue someone then just as quickly stop? Is it an ADD thing perhaps? Why go to all the trouble of arranging a meeting then just ignore the confirmation request or worse still, just not show up?

But in fairness, women can be dumbasses too so there could be a segment on that. Although the male casting pool would be much, much larger not to mention more entertaining. Facebook etiquette could be addressed. As in, is it appropriate to Facebook friend a want-to-be porn star while you're in a relationship?

I see huge potential here. If those idiots in Jersey can be successful I think anyone can. I may have to unleash my inner Italian crazy though to make it truly interesting. Shouldn't be too hard. All I'd have to do is talk to my mother right before the cameras started to roll.

Tweet #20

2011-09-29T12:20:00.000-07:00

After 20 of these, I had to shorten the title.

Now I realize that I have a fair bit of time on my hands but obviously there are people out there with way more free time than me. Those people stack rocks along the seawall. I've been seeing these balancing acts for years now and sometimes I even see the 'artist' out there asking for 'donations'.

Really? Prove to me that you haven't used 2 part epoxy and I'll consider 'donating' to your artist endeavor. #BlameInnukshuk

4:20 In The Rest Home

2011-09-28T12:40:00.000-07:00

I wind up having the strangest conversations with people. Yesterday I was at my chiropractor and she was asking how my mom was doing after her fall (2 hairline fractures in her pelvis btw). I told her mom was doing as well as can be expected and that I have seen improvement in her movement even if she denies it (I see you moving, no sense denying). Mom is getting by on loads of Tylenol 3. From here the conversation took an interesting turn.

Once you reach a certain age (mom is 83) you should be allowed pretty much anything. You kind of deserve it. My chiropractor suggested that more old people should smoke pot. Not the super-duper strains that are out there right now but the older more mellow strains. I've never been a pot smoker. I've tried it twice. The last time was probably over 25 years ago. I was in the Commodore (pre-renos) and ended up falling asleep at the table. In my defense, the Back Doors were playing (a Doors tribute band) and the music did sort of lull me into a very mellow state.

I suggested Medical Marijuana to which she agreed. She said you can get all different kinds. Some that help with pain, some that stimulate appetite (kind of thought all pot did that) and other strains that help with mood fluctuations. This in turn would lead to other benefits such as children would probably visit their ageing parents more often if they were mellower and the grandchildren would probably visit more frequently just to smoke up with them. Instead of happy hour the retirement home could have a gathering at 4:20 each day.

Think of it as the Grateful Not Dead Yet.

Grammar Police in the Online Age

2011-09-27T11:17:00.000-07:00

Grammar Police. I have been called that and I'll own it. I'm not a fan of all the abbreviations this new social media age has brought upon us. Yes I can LOL and I've even ROTFL but that's about it. When I get messages from friends full of strange abbreviations they tend to get one back that reads WTF.

As we revert more and more to communication by typing rather than speaking, spelling (or one's lack of ability at it) is becoming apparent. I hate making spelling mistakes. Whether it's in an email/text/tweet/facebook it bugs me. If I'm writing in Italian I know that I won't be judged too severely as it is my second language after all but even that annoys me. So now spelling has become a new factor in dating.

I was visiting a friend who is active in online dating. I was curious to know how it all worked so she started showing me the site and explaining things to me. The minute we logged in, her computer started going crazy with pop-up requests for chats and messages that were arriving in her inbox. We started reading some of them and what struck me the most was the awful spelling. So how would a shield carrying member of the Grammar Police deal with this? Well, if you can't spell Scotland (not Scohtland) chances are I won't meet you for coffee.

Perhaps I'm just too old school. I remember when the teacher used to hand back assignments with things circled in red with the sp notation. Ah, but teachers aren't doing any of that these days are they. My mother used to make me write letters to Italy in rough draft then she would correct them (she also enjoyed her red pen). I would then re-write them on the 'nice' paper for mailing. I've seen people reply to tweets correcting the spelling of the tweeter of origin. This does not go over well. Typically the tweeter corrector is assaulted and called a variety of things. Was he being pompous or just looking out for the greater good of mankind?

So we have a generation that relies on written communication with poor spelling skills that don't care that they have poor spelling skills. So to the dude who can't wait to go visit Scohtland, enjoy yourself but I won't be meeting you for coffee after to discuss your trip.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #19

2011-09-26T10:29:00.000-07:00

While watching football yesterday there was a commercial for a dating website. I've heard of this particular site before but somehow it slipped my mind. CougarLife.com. I can only imagine the collection of dumbasses on there. #ShouldIOrShouldntI

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #18

2011-09-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

Just overheard 2 drunken women loudly complaining about men and dating in 2011. I couldn't help but laugh. Whoever 'Rob' is, he sounds like a dumbass. Glad to know that it's not just me having these experiences. #DumbassEpidemic

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #17

2011-09-24T21:33:00.000-07:00

Vancouver has a bylaw which requires dog owners to pick up their pooches poop. But why is it that that bylaw doesn't apply to horses. Horse poop is much larger than dog poop. I want to see the VPD with pooper scooper bags attached to the reins. #PickUpYourPoop

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #16

2011-09-24T00:57:00.000-07:00

When you're feeling remorse about "unfollowing" someone, go back in and look at their twitter feed. When you realise it's all inane BS, you know you've made the right decision. #ImSmarterThanYou

Blame LuluLemon

2011-09-23T13:56:00.000-07:00

Recently Vancouver was named one of the world's worst dressed cities and yoga pants were to blame. Well, not the pants themselves but the fact that the majority of yoga pant wearing people never actually set foot in a yoga studio. Yoga pants have become the standard uniform for the majority of Vancouver women. And not just any yoga pants, LuluLemon yoga pants.

I am of the opinion that most Vancouver women have that Greek symbol (is it Greek?) branded on their butts. When I'm in Italy and I have a tourist group the minute I see that logo I figure there's a 90% chance that person is from Vancouver. And I'm usually right. One woman loved her Lulu's so much that when I told her there was an outlet she nearly fainted with joy. I don't think seeing Michelangelo's David got her that excited. She even made a point of getting in touch with me after her vacation to get the info on the exact location of the outlet. Glad you got so much out of your 2 week Tuscan vacation.

Perhaps I'm just bitter. For the record, I don't own a single pair of LuluLemon yoga pants. Not like I haven't tried. Everyone wants to fit in but everytime I go to attempt a purchase, each and every pair that I try on gives me camel toe. Over $100 for a pair of yoga pants which produce this incredibly attractive effect. NOT!

And the people at Lulu are really smart. They used to have a promotion (perhaps they still do) that if you submitted a design for a clothing article and they made it, you got that article for free. How genius is that? Not only do you charge insane amounts of money for workout wear but you get your customers to do the designing for you thus not having to actually pay a real designer. Brilliant.

So I am relegated to walking around Vancouver in inferior yoga pants or god forbid, real clothes like jeans. No wonder I get stared at.

I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock N Roll

2011-09-19T10:52:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I made my way over to "The Rock" (Victoria) to attend my good friends' wedding. Living in different parts of the world it's hard to stay connected but we keep in touch as best we can. I hadn't seen her in a couple of years so my first view of her after all that time was when she was walking down the aisle. I burst into tears the minute I saw her as she was just so stunningly beautiful. She took my breath away. Not that she isn't beautiful on a normal day, it's just that on this day she was ridiculously so.

I've been to my fair share of weddings (including my own) but I can honestly say that I can count on one hand the ones that I've been really excited about attending. This was one of them. As is the case in most wedding situations, you generally only know a handful of the guests. So, I tend to spend a fair bit of time observing everyone. It was very obvious the love and affection that everyone had for the bride and groom. Not to mention how truly thrilled they were for them. What was really funny though was when asked, almost no one knew how long they'd been together or how they met. All that mattered was the joy they obviously brought to each other. I think the bride's face is still hurting from all the smiling.

So to K & C, thank-you for allowing me to share in your incredibly special day. It warmed my cold, cold heart. Those tears were just the ice melting. May every day contain a bouncy "C" and never forget.......I Love Your Bum.

A WineSnob Update

2011-09-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

The last few years have been challenging. Ever since that phone call in December 2007, things have not been the same. I had just won the Sommelier of the Year competition when I got a cryptic call from my mom. She's fun that way. All she would say was that I needed to get home ASAP. Upon my arrival, I find out that she has to go into the hospital for a lumpectomy and I need to take care of dad. My dad's Alzheimers was rather advanced but still managable.

The operation went well but she required 6 weeks of radiation. Those were special mother/daughter moments. We didn't kill each other so, overall, it was a success. I credit that success to Grey Goose. I drank a lot of vodka in that 6 weeks. I think I should of gotten a token of appreciation from them as I'm sure their stocks went up. After this there was the sale of the family home that they had been in for 42 years. Another fun event as they had not thrown anything away in all that time. Dad figured, we have the room, might as well hang on to it. The house got sold, a condo was purchased and they were settled.....sort of.

Dad's Alzheimers progressed quite rapidly in 2008. He really needed to go into a home but mom would not hear of it. I headed back to Italy and within less than a month I get another call. She can't handle dad and he needs to go into a home. With 2 weeks until Christmas that wasn't going to happen so she just had to hang in there. Dad went into a home in January 2009.

I cannot put into words how awful it is to watch someone you love deteriorate right in front of your eyes. To see them so scared and helpless. It just broke my heart. When all seemed settled, I went back to Italy. One month later, I get a call. By this point I'm really hating that phone. Dad was in the hospital and things weren't looking good. It was 3 am for me and I was on a plane at 10 am. Thank goodness for the internet. I made it to the hospital 24 hours after I'd spoken with mom. Dad passed less than 6 hours later.

The rest of the year passed with little drama as did 2010. 2010 had drama (thanks Casa Italia) just not family drama. By the end of the year mom decided she no longer wanted to live alone and wanted to go into a retirement facility. An excellent decision. So I returned in March to list the condo and get the wheels in motion. I figured by summer all would be sorted. Not so. The market is in the toilet and nothing is moving and the weight of the past few years began to take their toll.

The past few months have been challenging. Trying to stay positive and focused in what is becoming a never ending state of limbo. A decision needed to be made and even though I knew what it was, I was afraid to make it. The other night it was made for me. I came home to an awful message from my mother. She had fallen and was in quite the state. By the time I called her back, she was calm and had gotten some help. I spent the next day with her. She isn't injured. I'm not even sure what she actually did to cause her to fall. But now, she's taking full advantage. As a friend of mine once said, she installed the buttons so she knows exactly where they are to push. Last night she called at 2 am wondering where I was. She had no clue it was 2 am. Now I get to add over-medicating to my list of concerns.

So, with all of that, I have decided to relocate back in January. I can no longer be torn between 2 worlds as I'm the one who will snap. Don't know what I will do just yet. Lumber or wine? Maybe lumber with a side of wine. I will probably take even more wine courses. I'm sure there's some obscure wine producing nation that I haven't come across yet.

But until then, I'm going to enjoy the rest of the year. My annual Halloween cruise is just around the corner and if anyone can raise my spirits, my Aquafest family can. I will go back to Italy for Christmas as planned. People are counting on me to cook a turkey and I hate to disappoint.

And I will continue to share my observations in a way that I hope everyone finds entertaining even if not always the most PC.

If there's a dumbass out there, you know he'll find me.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #15

2011-09-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

As a WineSnob, my sense of smell is very important. The Olfactory Sense (if you want to be technical), is very powerful. Memories are often triggered by certain smells.
There is a horse-drawn trolley tour in Stanley Park. I'm sure that from now on whenever those tourists smell horseshit they will forever remember our city. #VancouverStinks

Dumbasses Explained

2011-09-14T01:23:00.000-07:00

I am an only child. As such, I didn't have the benefit/torture of an older sibling. Or the ability to torture a younger one.

But, the universe did provide for me in the way of a career in the lumber industry. There I accumulated a great deal of annoying big brothers. Take everything you ever did to your little sister and multiply that til you can't calculate anymore.

I was always fast on my feet (even in heels) but this just made me sharper. I took great pleasure at always having a witty comeback at the ready.

So recently I was catching up with one of my 'big brothers' about my current state of affairs. I was lamenting about how all the men I meet are complete dumbasses. In true 'big brother' fashion, he had a pearl of wisdom to offer me.

He said, 'After all that we subjected you to, I pity the guy who tries to hit on you. He won't know what hit him.'

Thanks. A back-handed compliment if I've ever heard one.

That and $2.10 gets me bus fare. (depending on how many zones I have to travel)

Unfit Youth

2011-09-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

A while ago I was at a girlfriends' house and noticed a flyer for a local gym on her kitchen table. I asked if her husband was planning on joining (he was recovering from knee surgery). She said that it was her 16 year old daughter that was looking to join. Huh? 16 years old and looking to join a gym? I was baffled. Isn't that what PE is for? Apparently these days there is very little physical education offered in the schools. The conversation progressed to our own memories of PE which consisted of the boys who we thought were cute or the number of times we skipped out. I guess not much physical education was done in our day either.

I didn't think much more about this until the other night. Ke$ha was in town and I happened to be near the stadium and began noticing the girls going to the concert. The thing that really caught my eye was how unfit these girls were. Girls in their late teens and early 20's already showing signs of cellutlite. WTF! At their age, the only reason I even knew what cellulite was is because my mother complained about it. Then I thought back a few weeks to when I was at the football game and remembered the girl that not only had cellulite on the backs of her legs but also on her thighs. She was in her 20's. I had a guy tell me recently that cellulite wasn't a deal-breaker. The guys I used to work with winced if a woman in her 40's had cellulite. But I guess it really can't be a deal-breaker these days if the majority are afflicted by it.

What is going on? Are we on our way to creating the Super-Sized society that is engulfing our neighbors to the south? It's obvious that our city has a distinctive divide. On the one hand, you've got the fitness freaks and on the other the youth that have grown up on Chicken McNuggets.

So for any of you girls reading this, here's WineSnob's guide to avoiding cellulite. Start wearing high heels. I've been wearing heels daily since I was 16. My favorite boots in high school had 3 1/2 inch heels. Wore them religiously. I remember when I moved up to 4" heels and then 5" stillettos. There was that very dark period when heels were no longer fashionable but I overcame. I started buying shoes where all the strippers shopped. I frequented that store so often I became eligible for the 'dancers discount'. But it's easier and cheaper now to find stylish high heels so you have no excuse.

It won't be easy at first but nothing worth having ever is. Start low and work your way up and pretty soon you'll find that you can't imagine not wearing them. Plus there is the added leg workout bonus. Your calves will develop in such a way that when you do decide to go to the gym you can avoid doing all those donkey raises. I was in a fitness class recently with a whole series of calf related exercises. I had a little rest during that section. I once dated a body-builder who literally cried when he saw my calves. All his years of training and he couldn't achieve what I had.

The benefits are endless. Only good can come from wearing heels. I climbed the pyramids in Egypt in 3" wedges. My friends still talk about that. It has become the stuff of legend. And don't worry about being taller than the boys. If any of them give you grief, just remind them that it's inconsequential once you're horizontal.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #14

2011-09-11T09:08:00.001-07:00

If a guy has a tramp stamp, chances are he's #NotABreeder

Vancouver Mornings

2011-09-10T11:50:00.000-07:00

I hate going to the gym. The last time I was in a gym I had an anxiety attack during spinning class and left. So since that time I have chosen other forms of exercise which take me outdoors. Living in Vancouver makes this pretty easy. The seawall is my venue of choice for biking & running. Not only is it a spectacular setting but you get the added bonus of people watching during your workout.

I like working out in the morning and I'm always surprised by the number of people out in the a.m. Vancouverites just don't sleep in. And even at 9 am, the colourful people are out. One morning I saw an older lady walking in English Bay wearing her housecoat. Perhaps this is the senior version of the pajama wearing craze that the younger kids seem to have embraced.

During my run last week, I passed a fellow laying on a park bench holding a can of beer. It was 10 am. By the time I was on my return leg I was feeling sluggish and wasn't sure if I was going to be able to complete my loop. As I passed him, he was sitting up. He looked at me, gave me a huge smile and wave and raised his can of beer to me. This made me laugh and gave me a huge burst of energy. I completed my loop with ease. Breakfast of Champions indeed.

I think that Vancouver has the most pampered pooches in the world. They get taken for nice walks along the seawall and if they're tired their owners carry them. If they're older, they get pushed in doggy strollers. Others get to accompany their owners on bike rides in wicker baskets. Maybe it's just that we have the smartest dogs in the world.

I see lots of Canada Geese while I workout. They are everywhere. I'm not a big fan of the Canada Duck as they are, in my opinion, a huge source of pollution. One day in Stanley Park I saw this couple laying out their blanket for what was to be a lovely picnic/suntanning day. They chose a spot right beside a gaggle of our national bird. Nothing like spending the day laying on goose turds.

The concept of bike path/walking path is obviously too difficult for many people. Also, I know the city is beautiful but stopping in the middle of the bike path to take your photo will cause someone to curse you. Ususally me.

I'm always in awe of roller bladers. The ease with which they move. I wish I could be so graceful with wheels under my feet. The best I saw was a girl in old school roller skates. She looked like a 70's throwback. Skating and groovin to her tunes. Made me want to run out and buy some. But then I got real. My ex-husband didn't call me Bambi On Ice without good reason.

The number of outdoor fitness classes is always fun to watch. Stoller babys, yoga & boot camps are just a few that I've seen. I think it's quite clever to use your baby as a weight to help build your biceps. But aren't you going to be picking that child up continuously over the next 3 years anyways? I think your arms will be getting a good workout whether you want them to or not.

But the thing that makes me chuckle the most during my morning workouts is the amount of early morning pot smokers I encounter. I thought you were supposed to wait until 4:20?

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #13

2011-09-08T20:41:00.000-07:00

So while sitting with a good friend discussing my dating dilemma he suggested I go blonde. I told him I would look stupid as a blonde. He said, well isn't that the point? #potentialsuccess

Electronic Devices Should Come Equipped With Breathalyzers

2011-09-08T15:08:00.000-07:00

I think the time has come for all the latest electronic devices to come equipped with breathalyzers. You should have to blow into some little tube that would register your alcohol content. If you are over .08, no phoning/texting/twittering/facebooking for you. They're called Smartphones right? Well, it's time they got smarter.

Sadly no one is immune. Your phone beeps, you pick it up and all of a sudden you're blindsided by someones drunken rant.
Hello to you too sunshine.
I know that women are probably the most guilty of this disease. We get drunk, sad, weepy, & hormonal but guys are just as bad. Hard to believe but I've been on the receiving end of a few of these drunken proses. In the old days, the person accusing you of not washing the elephant had to be infront of you or at the very least on the phone. You could then gauge their drunkness level for yourself. If you were together, odds are you were just as hammered so it would be a wash. But now, these elephant washing accusations are one-sided.

We now have the electronic walk of shame. You wake up in the morning and once the fog clears you start to piece a few things together. You think to yourself 'Oh no I didn't' but then you grab that phone and all the evidence is there. You can't even deny you said it at this point as there's an electronic record of it. Guys are really screwed here. Women tend not to forget shit and now we have proof. Girls get off easier, we just offer sexual favors and all is forgotten.

Perhaps Hallmark needs to make a line of e-cards addressing this. After all, the damage was done electronically might as well fix it that way.

And they should contain lots of hearts and emoticons.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #12

2011-09-06T09:56:00.000-07:00

So my girlfriend suggested that I sign up with Plenty of Fish. She then continued by saying that you have to be careful because there are a lot of dumbasses on the site. Well, I hope they include an abacus to help keep track of them with their free registration because I'm running out of fingers and toes. #ThankGodForTV

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #11

2011-09-05T19:14:00.000-07:00

I always have a good chuckle when I see an otherwise 'cool' guy walking a purse dog. They always look so hate-filled. I imagine that they are silently cursing their girlfriend as you know it was her idea to get the pedigreed equivalent of a long haired rat. There is no way to look macho walking one of those dogs. I'm sure that they would rather drop-kick the critter than walk it and pick up its poop. #GetARealDog

The Dumbass Epidemic

2011-09-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

In Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough to Tweet #10, I mentioned The Dumbass Epidemic. I realize that I really didn't convey the extent of the problem. Maybe because I myself was in denial.

Thursday night I headed out with a girlfriend to celebrate Cabernet Day (best holiday EVER). We went to local wine bar where I got the opportunity to talk with some wine reps. One of the guys was very nice as well as attractive so needless to say he caught my eye. While he was entertaining clients he kept looking over in my direction so I took that as a good sign. After a while, a very attractive girl came in. They obviously knew each other and it became very apparent that he was very interested in her. You win a few, you lose a few. Now the only reason that this is even remotely worth mentioning is that even Stevie Wonder could of seen the huge 'High Maintenance' sign over this girls' head. It's going to be a bumpy ride for him. He isn't a full Dumbass, let's just tag him Dumbass Lite.

While all of the above was happening, a gentleman came and sat down at the bar beside us. He seemed harmless enough albeit tipsy. Harmless turned into moronic soon enough and there was just no shaking him. I guess he eventually had enough of our hysterical laughter (he couldn't figure out what was so funny) and he just left without saying a word. Drunken Moronic Dumbass.

It came time to switch venues and we headed out to a local bar for some cheap beer. (Cabernet Day was over). The place wasn't very busy but it didn't take long for a guy to join us at the bar. Seemed nice enough. Reasonably intelligent. But then my spidey senses started tingling and his true colors started showing. By using the skills that most girls acquire as teenagers and that I honed during my one season of playing football, I managed to evade his advances, grab a cab and get home. Whiny, needy Dumbass.

So, as you can see, they come in many shapes and sizes. There needs to be an early detection system available to us. Perhaps Dumbasses emit pheramones so we could invent some glassses to aide us in detection. If the image glows bright red, get the hell out. Green could be, good to go. Or what about training a dog to sniff them out? Perfect excuse for me to get another Rottie. Bars and restaurants would have to allow it in with me as he would totally qualify as a Service Dog. Jeff Foxworthy has a bit where he says stupid people should wear signs. Maybe the Dumbasses should too. That would make life really simple but I doubt we could get them to wear them.

Oh wait a minute, they're Dumbasses, of course they would.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #10

2011-08-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

After a long discussion with several single girlfriends, the true extent of the dumbass situation was revealed. Out of control and possibly beyond repair. So I have now decided to return to hanging out with gay men. You know right off the bat that sex is off the table eliminating that 'He's just not into you' bullshit. Gay men appreciate the time you've taken to put yourself together and tell you. But best of all, there's rarely a dumbass among them. #IllTakeGayAnyDay

Pedestrians

2011-08-24T17:58:00.000-07:00

So 9 pedestrians have been killed so far this year in Vancouver compared to the 5 last year and thus The Pedestrian Enforcement Initiative has been created. The VPD has received $30,000 in provincial funding for a 3 week enforcement campaign to help reduce the number of pedestrian deaths in the city.

WTF.

I've seen how pedestrians behave in this city. We have given them far too much leeway for far too long. They feel so invincible that they have forgotten that they are made of flesh, blood and bone. Cars are made of steel. Steel is harder than bone. Cars have momentum. The math isn't that difficult. If you can manage Rock, Paper, Scissors you can figure this out.

Have they forgotten one of the first things their parents taught them? Look both ways before crossing the street. This isn't rocket science, it's common sense. So now $30,000 will be spent to educate/save these morons. I firmly believe that money could be put to better use instead of interfering with natural selection.

Of course some of the blame falls on the drivers. It is true that Smartphones are creating Dumb Drivers. But, once again we fall back on that 'Look Both Ways' thing. I'm sure these are the same people who can't even be bothered to look before crossing the bike path to get to the seawall.

Dennis Miller once said "Don't sue the inventor of the deep-fryer because you have a fat ass." Well, don't blame the driver if you can't be bothered to look before you cross the street.

The Grouse Grind

2011-08-23T14:29:00.000-07:00

So today I ventured up the Grouse Grind. I have done the Grind before but upon reflection, I realized that 15 years have passed since my last go at it. I recall that at that time I completed it in around 1 hour and 20 minutes. After today's journey, I don't know how the hell I managed it in that time frame. Yes, I was younger then but I honestly believe it's harder now. I don't remember it being that tough and I certainly don't remember tons of whining people on the trail. There was one girl in particular that I wanted to push off the cliff. Honey, it's called the Grouse Grind. Not the Grouse Stroll or the Grouse Walk In The Forest. What the hell did you think was awaiting you? The best part was when at the 1/2 way point she exclaimed 'Isn't 1/2 way good enough?'. Really? So how exactly do you think you're going to get off this mountain? There are only 2 obvious ways to me, keep climbing or head back the way you came and I think to keep climbing is the lesser of the 2 evils.

I also loved all the pearls of wisdom I overheard along the trail. The best was, 'The second 1/2 is so much easier than the first'. Really? When I get to the top I'm going to find you and slap you silly, you moron. Kids are the best though. These 2 little boys never stopped talking. I loved it when they said 'I'm never doing this again. Not even when I'm 25'.

It is satisfying when you do make it to the top. Kind of like the 18th hole on the golf course. No matter how much the round sucked, it's the one that keeps you coming back for more. Not that I'll be coming back for more anytime soon. The price gouging alone makes you want to re-think the adventure. $10 for the gondola down. They know you'll pay it because you know what the alternative is. And I have to mention the Starbucks at the base. My Grande Mocha is $4.80 and that's already crazy but $6.03? Are you kidding me? It can't cost that much more to bring coffee up to Grouse Mountain.

Maybe they walk it up.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #9

2011-08-19T22:48:00.000-07:00

Men, if you are lucky enough to have someone that does your laundry for you, do not EVER complain about things that were left in the pockets. Chewing gum, cell phones, I don't care what. If you are unable to perform the simplest of tasks, in this case, emptying your pockets #YouAreADumbass

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #8

2011-08-19T09:19:00.001-07:00

If you're going to go to all the trouble of getting a personalized license plate then at least make it witty. Putting your initials on your plate is just wasting everyones time. #URLame

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #7

2011-08-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

The 80's were the best decade. Yes, the fashion was questionable but at least people had style. Sex in the 80's was appropriate for the decade. Get as freaky as you want, but don't mess up my hair. #bighairbigfun

Why Hotel Rooms Should Not Be Designed By Men

2011-08-17T01:39:00.000-07:00

So I've travelled some. Not as much as others I know but I've logged in a fair amount of time in the air and thus in hotel rooms. I can instantly tell when a room is designed by a man. A hetrosexual man (need to clarify).

To be fair, I know many men with a great sense of style but I'm sure they have never been consulted in the design of any hotel room I've stayed in.

First clue....trendy stupid sink. We don't need that. We want something functional. It needs to catch water...that's it.

Lack of counter space. You've used up all your available space on the above mentioned retarded sink thus leaving you no space for the practical aspect. Women would rather have ample counter space than a ridiculous water splashing sink. You got sucked into a stupid design and now I (the patron) am paying for it. Your retarded sink design is now splashing water on my very expensive make-up (there is no cheap make-up).

Full length mirror. What do you have against me wanting to view my outfit at all angles? I am not a PeopleofWalmart. I want to know how my ass looks in my outfit before I leave the room. I'm in a hotel room therefore it's a pretty good assumption that I'm on vacation/business and therefore want to impress. Not too much of a stretch here.

More outlets. Chances are that 2 women will be sharing a room. Shouldn't you have ample outlets for the variety of power tools a woman needs to get ready? And mirrors. We need more mirrors.

Counter space, mirrors, outlets and functional sinks. It's not rocket science. It's practical.

Perhaps that's why I'm asking too much.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #6

2011-08-16T11:06:00.000-07:00

I saw 2 homeless people having sex. Could of done without that visual but it got me to thinking.....Politicians don't mention this as a possible reason for the increase in homelessess. #likerabbits

Things I Wish I Was Gutsey Enough To Tweet #5

2011-08-15T08:07:00.000-07:00

I often hear women talking about their biological clocks. It seems that in their 30's these clocks start ticking louder than my mom's grandfather clock. Complete with chimes. I'm just thankful I don't have that problem. Mine's digital. #ticktock.

A New Worldwide Epidemic

2011-08-14T12:02:00.000-07:00

Lately the world has been beseiged by natural disasters and other tragic events. Japan, Somalia, Libya. The newspapers and media flood us with tragic images. However, throughout all of this, there is one epidemic that is receiving no attention. The shortage of mirrors.

This problem was first brought to my attention while I was in Miami. At first I thought it to be an isolated incident but the more I travelled, the more I became aware of how wide-reaching the epidemic was. San Francisco, Los Angeles, Houston, Orlando, no where seemed safe. It has now spread and crossed into Canada as well. Vancouver is no longer immune.

Something must be done. Your $5 donation will help a family receive a full-length mirror so that they can leave the house with confidence. This will then aid in the beautification of your city. Operators are standing by. Give what you can. Calls are toll free. 1-800-IStylin. Please help prevent this from happening again.

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #4

2011-08-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

Anyone living in Vancouver can verify that some of our Asian citizens are a bit challenged when it comes to operating a motor vehicle. One would think that they would have mad skills with bicycles. Not so. I am of the opinion that any device with a round moving wheel is too much for some to handle. #nosurvivors

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough to Tweet #3

2011-08-08T21:07:00.001-07:00

Mayor Gregor just implemented a 30 km/h speed zone on Hastings in the heart of the Downtown Eastside. Too many citizens with substance abuse problems were getting hit while jaywalking. Wouldn't a yellow caution sign showing a person with a hypodermic needle in the arm accomplish the same thing? #justsayin

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #2

2011-08-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Why is it that everytime I see a flock of Canada Geese 2 words come to mind........Foie Gras. #goodeats

Things I Wish I Was Gutsy Enough To Tweet #1

2011-08-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

A guy once told me that I was better than a hand. I replied, too bad you're not better than my vibrator. #excellentcomeback

If I Had Kids I'd Be A Raging Alcoholic

2011-04-20T15:23:00.000-07:00

Miss me?

Of course you did. Sorry, but I really haven't had much to complain (bitch) about. Most people would say that this is a good thing. Fortunately for you, the heavens aligned and gave me something to blog (bitch) about.

My life puts me in situations where I'm often on planes. I'm OK with that. I have it all down to a science. The packing (which I hate), the check-in (a breeze), security, customs, all just a part of the package. Small children forced on planes by their parents bring me to my knees.

So today I left Vancouver at 7am. Final destination Miami. My routing took me from Vancouver to Denver, Denver to Houston, then Houston to Miami. No big deal. The layovers aren't bad and I get to hang out in lounges. (The US lounges make you pay for alcohol. Another reason it's better to be Canadian).

The flight from Vancouver to Denver was a piece of cake. Hardly anyone on it. Very peaceful. Things started to go south in the Denver lounge. Not being aware, I chose a spot between 2 TV's on different channels (CNN and All My Children). After a bit, this really started to put me on edge so I moved. When I boarded my next flight, I immediately asked the flight attendant for an aspirin as I could tell I was unusually stressed. She kindly obliged and I took my seat.

The plane soon started filling up. A man sat next to me (row of 3) and we started to become hopeful that perhaps we'd have the row to ourselves. We were almost scott free when........THE FAMILY showed up. Parents and 3 little children all under the age of 6. I knew I was in trouble when upon their arrival, the mom told the dad that it was the flight attendants' JOB to figure out where to stash all their carry-on. (said with attitude).

The flight attendants started moving people to accomodate this family. They moved all 3 people in the row behind me and the nice man beside me. I got mom and 2 kids behind me, dad and the youngest (almost 3) beside me.

Disclaimer time...... Many of my friends have children. I like THEIR children. THEIR children are the product of smart, intelligent parents who have taught them manners and how to behave in public. And I'm assuming, how to behave in small closed spaces with potentially non-kid friendly people.

I know they're little and that they don't know.....but their parents do. When did airlines stop giving children coloring books and crayons? Well, here's my tip....either provide kids distractions or provide the adults around them with alcohol. Trust me, the crayons are cheaper.

The boy behind me kicked my chair for the entire 2+ hour flight. The mom told him to stop about 3 times then just gave up. I'm assuming this is a regular pattern in their household. The little girl beside me did everything except stand on her head. Oh, and if I can tell she needs a diaper change......she needs a diaper change. Dad finally handled that towards the end of the flight. Note to self.....don't get your sinuses fixed before travelling ever again. An instance where not having a good sense of smell would have been an asset.

About an hour in I was at my wits end. Lack of sleep over the past 2 nights was a contributing factor but I knew I was helpless. I all could hope for was the drink cart. When it finally arrived, straight vodka was my saviour. (I still think the dad should have paid for it and the flight attendant should have given me the double I asked for).

I couldn't get off that plane fast enough. As I was exiting, I passed the man who was originally seated beside me. I told him he didn't know how lucky he was.

I compose this from the Houston Presidents Lounge with my second glass of wine. I'm much more relaxed and at ease. In less than 30 minutes I will board my final flight of the day. Let's hope that it will be without incident.

Maybe someone with a puppy will sit next to me.

THAT would be awesome.

Riding in Italy

2010-09-05T08:18:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while since my last post so obviously things have been going well in my world. Funny how it takes less than a week in Italy to churn things up.

I've come to terms with many of my Italian annoyances. I accept that when I go to the supermarket I will be stared at as though I have 3 heads. I accept that the 'rules of the road' are only mere suggestions here. And that when I get on the freeway, no matter how fast I'm driving, someone will need to drive faster and crawl up my tailpipe to let me know.

As many of you know, I have a Harley. A 1998 Heritage Softail to be exact. Black. With lots of chrome. Not exactly a small bike. There is a severe lack of straight roads in Tuscany. In all of Italy really. So my bike really isn't ideal for the roads here. But I love it and couldn't imagine riding any other type of bike. How I would love to cruise the highways in North America where the majority of people actually follow the rules of the road. But, my bike is here so I just have to suck it up.

Due to my current situation, I don't spend much time in Italy, so riding opportunities are limited. When I do get the chance, there's always been a very large gap between rides so I'm always nervous. Will I remember what to do? Can I handle my bike? Things of that nature. But, once I actually get going, I relax and all is well. I also remind myself of all the times I rode in less than ideal situations. There was the time when I first got the bike and the fellow whom I bought it from had 'modified' it. And poorly. He had extended the foot controls, put on a custom seat and made it so that the bike was very off balance. But I rode. I navigated hairpin turns, up a hill without incident. Then there was the time that I lost my rear brakes during the beginning of my ride. But, I rode all day (I still had the front brakes) and used my gears to my advantage (I do that anyway). During that particular adventure, I was almost hit head on by an individual driving recklessly down a hill. There were many blind corners but he didn't feel the need to slow down or stay on his side of the road for that matter. Fortunately, I had thought to stay as far to my right as possible while riding up the hill. These are just some of the little joys of riding.

Today though brought my blood to a boil. I am used to being passed. In fact, I expect it. But today's jackass figured he should pass me on the inside while I was in a left turning roundabout. Are you kidding me? What planet granted you a driver's license Mr Volvo? I realize that you're probably really choked that you're stuck driving a soccer mom mobile while I'm on a super cool Harley. And, as I exited the roundabout and gunned it, I totally expected you to pass me. Notice I had my middle finger salute at the ready for you. And the best part, he gave me a salute of his own because of course he didn't do anything wrong.

So to you Mr Volvo, I wish you all sorts of bad luck. I hope you get caught drinking and driving and they suspend your license because you have no business having one in the first place.

I feel much better now.

Self-Entitlement

2010-03-04T23:43:00.001-08:00

During my time at UHH I met some very lovely people. Unfortunately, this isn't the blog to talk about them. What really stands out was all the people who had a sense of self-entitlement. It actually got very hard to keep straight. With so many King Shits and only one turd mountain you can imagine the confusion. It was only on the last day that it was made clear to me. You see, UHH was not a union of efforts. It was a collection of individual efforts striving to best one another and make someone else look bad. Plus, not everyone was playing by the same rules. So, it was like the San Andreas fault. Each piece trying to work with the other but really floating on top of another piece.

So, among all these pieces were people who rated high above the rest of us and they let us all know that.

After the Olympic Appendectomy, I returned to UHH a mere 6 hours after release from the hospital. Crazy? Yes I know. (my reasons will follow in another post). As I'm sitting at my winebar (yes, MY winebar) indulging in a cup of cappuccino goodness, a man approaches and starts flipping through one of the wine books we had on the counter.

"Oh my" the man says. "What a fabulous book. My son would absolutely love it. Can I have it?"

Now, I instantly recognize the gentleman as one of the Self-Entitled. I don't know what his actual position is or exactly why he's one of the Self-Entitled but I know him to be the part of the San Andreas fault that floats on top of the others,.

"Unfortunately" I say, "This is our only copy and I'm not authorized to give it away. Do you not live in Italy?"
"Yes" he replies
"Well, this book is widely available in all bookstores and supermarkets. You can easily pick up a copy there"
"I've never seen it" says the man
Now, I'm thinking, do you live under a rock? But I ask "Where do you live?"
"Rome" he replies.
Of course, makes sense, the cradle of western civilization obviously wouldn't have such a book.

Now, realizing that Mr Self-Entitled wanted the book and as Mr Self-Entitled he shall have the book, I knew when the battle was lost. So when he asked what he could possibly do to have the book I just put my cheek forward for a kiss.

He was happy. For about 30 seconds.

As he snatched the book in his greedy little hands, along came someone who didn't play the Self-Entitled game. The only person who could put him in his place. The person who brought the book to UHH in the first place.

"I'm sorry" said the wine book man " but you can't take that book as it's our only copy."
"Don't you know who I am?" said Mr Self-Entitled " I'm the director of UHH."
"Well" said the wine book man "I'm the director of the wine division of UHH and you can't take that book. Give me your address and I will make sure a copy is waiting for you once you arrive home."

SNAP!

Well, Mr Self-Entitled didn't take to kindly to that and left muttering under his breath. I was asked why I didn't stick to my guns and insist about the book. First off, I'm tired. Tired of the game and all these people. Secondly, it's just a book which I knew he was going to take no matter what I said. He's Mr Self-Entitled after all.

The next day, there is still discussion about the incident and the book is still on the counter. After some time I comment that it will be a miracle if the book does not disappear. Nonsense I am told as Mr Self-Entitled has been put in his place.

Within the hour the book is gone. And ever so coincidentally, I see Mr Self-Entitled not too far away. I don't actually believe he took it. I believe he sent one of his lackeys to take it. And the really funny thing is this. The book sells for around $15. It's small, hard-covered and heavy. Why would you want to take something that you can easily buy back home? Plus something that is heavy and just going to add additional weight to your luggage?

I can just see him at the airport with his overweight luggage.
"You're luggage is overweight sir."
"But I'm Mr Self-Entitled."
"Don't care sir, either take something out or go to the counter and pay the excess weight charges."

"And have a nice day."

Farewell Ms Red Runners

2010-03-01T08:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Ms Red Runners,

I'm glad that you are so excited about leaving Vancouver but no where near the excitement we as a city feel about you leaving.

I wish I could say it's been a pleasure knowing you but the complete opposite is more accurate. I have never met an individual as mean spirited as you. As we reminissed about our time together last night, it was especially fun having you throw a moment from 22 days ago back in my face again. A moment in which I was just doing my job by the way.

Ah good times.

Well, farewell Red Runners. May we never meet again. May the flight you're on this morning be oversold and leave you without a seat. May they re-route you in such a way that it would be faster for you to walk back to the country where the rock you live under is. May they lose your luggage and not have the meal you desired. And may they seat a young mother and her screaming child next to you.

Yours truly,
Winesnob

The Iceman No Longer Cometh

2010-02-28T02:57:00.000-08:00

Ice is a pretty basic comodity when running a restaurant/bar. In our situation, it's required to keep the wine chilled during dinner service as well as at the actual wine bar. While we were getting organized at the beginning it was decided that the wine bar really didn't need an ice delivery service as we would need about one bag a day so we would just pick it up at the supermarket across the street and as I lived in the neighborhood, I volunteered to handle this.

The first day I picked up 4 bags figuring this would last 4 days. Being as the bags were heavy and awkward, I figured it would be much easier to fill up a shopping cart and have one of the supermarket staff escort me across the street and load up the freezer which was located near the kitchen/dining room area. So I then purchased 15 bags of ice, essentially enough to get us through the Olympics. Imagine my surprise a few days later when the ice was all gone. It seems the dining room staff was helping themselves to the ice for the nightly wine service. And so it began that I became the iceman (or icewoman). I really didn't mind as we are all part of the same Olympic team. All of us working together towards a common goal.

Things seemed to be proceeding smoothly, or so I thought. It seems as I was the only one monitoring this ice situation. Even though they all witnessed my arrival with shopping carts full of ice, they became convinced that they had a magical freezer which miraculously filled itself with bags of ice. Apparently there was quite a commotion on one of my (few) days off because there was no ice. Oh no! What on earth could they do? Their magical freezer was no longer magical. Thankfully things did not grind to a complete halt as they managed to find their way to the supermarket and it's ice section all by themselves. All was good.

At the other end of the house lived the wine bar and it's now infamous coffee machine. With the arrival of the baristas came the arrival of cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. Oh what happy times these were. In order to make these warm mugs of joy, milk was required. And what better place to find this milk than in the kitchen. And so it came to pass that I would go to the kitchen and the lovely chefs would provide me with the milk for the baristas to make these cups of happiness.

And then a dark cloud fell over the house. One day a member of the dining room staff inquired as to why I needed milk. To make cups of happiness I replied. Oh no. This was not acceptable because the kitchen only ordered enough milk for their needs and the coffee bar did not fall into that category.

What?!!!!

You have to be frickin kidding me? You stick a frickin coffee machine in my wine bar, expect me to come up with the baristas to run it (which I did) and now I'm to buy the milk to make the cups of happiness you're all enjoying? How on earth does that become the responsibility of a wine shop?

And the dark cloud grew.

Coincidentally (maybe not) a few days later the Olympic Appendectomy happened. It was no longer possible for the icewoman to arrive with shoppng carts full of ice. She arrived with one bag and milk. A few days passed and they stared into their once magical freezer with wonder. Why was it no longer producing bags of ice? Because you pissed me off that's why. Enough is enough. Team spirit, what team spirit? It's now everyman for himself. You're not going to provide me with milk, I'll be damned if I'm going to supply you with ice. As a kitchen, you should have signed on with an ice provider from the beginning when it was suggested to you. I'm sure this isn't your first time at the rodeo. You should all know better, it's your job for crying out loud. And to top it all off, you come to me requesting ice and saying it's the job of the winebar to provide it. Well, it's the kitchen's stinkin job to provide milk and as that's not happening, neither is the other.

The Iceman no longer cometh.

The UnHappiness House - Barista Blackmail

2010-02-26T17:33:00.001-08:00

There is a venue in Vancouver this Olympics called LiveCity Yaletown. This venue has nightly concerts and some pavillions. One of these pavillions is the Coca-Cola pavillion also known as the Happiness House. My home for the last 20 days has been in a pavillion very close to the Happiness House but the complete opposite. The UnHappiness House or UHH.

As things are starting to wind down, people's patience is wearing thin and what little collaboration that there was has now ceased to exist. We're all very tired. Some of us have nothing left to give and some of us have just given too much. As it turns out, I've given an appendix. Each day there is a new drama and last night's just takes the cake.

The coffee drama was settled several weeks back with the addition of rotating baristas. Some great kids have come in and helped us out in so many ways. They've gone above and beyond. Yesterday we had a new addition to our rotating baristas. He seemed nice enough and when I left last night his big concern was his dinner break. No big deal, when there's a break in action go get some food. I was too tired to really give much thought to this but his insistence on his dinner break did strike me as odd.

Now some of us, like myself, don't even bother eating at UHH. I actually just sampled the cuisine for the first time this week. Maybe it's because I am exposed to that style of cuisine so often that it's lost it's appeal to me or maybe it's just that when I get free time I just want out of there. But I guess a meal at UHH was a big deal to the new barista and as it happened, last night was rather busy and he got turned away from the dining room. And not just once but several times. Instead of trying to understand the situation at hand, new barista develops a major tude and essentially walks out.

I don't really give this situation much thought, everyone gets pissy sometimes and when he showed up again today for his shift I thought all was well. I was wrong. I now have to deal with a mini-barista revolution. I have to listen to how these people were promised access to the restaurant, how they have taken a paycut to be there and if this situation isn't resolved all the baristas will be pulled from service.

Seriously? Are you shitting me? All this because some dude didn't get a plate of pasta? And, I'm told all will be well if he can come in and have dinner with his girlfriend tonight. You have just chosen the wrong day and the wrong person to try barista blackmail. Here's why. I don't care anymore. I don't give a crap if you and your baristas walk. I'll unplug that stupid coffee machine and send everyone to Starbucks. Although I have no medical evidence to back me up, I know my appendicitis is directly related to UHH. I'm there 6 hours after being released from the hospital and your stupid barista is going to walk because dining room staff weren't nice to him? Then, you further your shakedown by saying that you really wouldn't want Mr B (the guy who helped acquire the barristas) to know of this heinous behaviour.

Call him. Please call him. Let him deal with this nonsense as what you don't get is that I have nothing to do with the dining room and furthermore, I DON'T CARE. I have bigger problems to deal with, other fires to put out and no more appendix to give.

I'm Important....Mr Look At Me

2010-02-17T15:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr Self-Important,

I just want to apologize for your not getting 110% of our attention last night. It was unfortunate that there happened to be over 100 invited guests also in attendance most of whom had never been to our venue, unlike yourself who has been there every night. So while we were attending to their needs, and providing the waiters with Prosecco to pass around, you got neglected. But thank-you for pointing out to us that you are a Knight in some order we have never heard about. In future, we will make sure to address your needs immediately and keep all the other International Olympic Committee presidents waiting. We now know that you are King Shit of your particular Turd Mountain. Our bad in treating you like Little Fart the Court Jester.

You can be sure that this will never happen again.

Sincerely,
Winesnob

Over Compensation

2010-02-09T22:56:00.000-08:00

I have a new neighbor across the street. The apartment seems to be about my size (700 sq/ft). The TV they have gives me the same impression as that of the screen at a drive-in theatre. If the angle was slightly different, I would have a perfect visual. All I would need is to figure out what radio station to tune in to for the audio. His screen makes my Asian neighbors' look like a portable DVD player.

Over-compensating for something perhaps?

Red Runners

2010-02-09T22:54:00.000-08:00

Ms Red Runners,

Just wondering, if you click your heels 3 times, will you go home?

Please try.

Update: It must of worked.....she ended up in Whistler.

Update #2...Damn, she's back

Casa Italia and the Espresso Machine

2010-02-08T08:40:00.000-08:00

I have a nemesis. My nemesis is an espresso machine. Now I don't even know if an inanimate object can be a nemesis but for the sake of arguement (and this post) let's say it can. Now there isn't anything actually wrong with this espresso machine, it makes perfectly fine coffee. The problem is that they've put this machine in my winebar. That's right, MY winebar. Why is this a problem you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Everytime I'm back there trying to get anything done ( and in the last few days there were many things to get done) I'm constantly interrupted by someone wanting a coffee. And, even though I politely explain that I'm not responsible, I get attitude. Major attitude. I'm a Sommelier, not a barista.

On Saturday night, Casa Italia hosted a dinner for various members of the local Italian community and other guests. There were over 140 people seated for dinner. It was established prior to the evening that myself and my wonderful wine assistant Jana, would be responsible for the winebar then wine service at dinner. We would not have to deal with Mr Espresso. Fine. After being run off our feet trying to provide very excellent wine service, we went back to the winebar area to collect our things. At this point, the crowd present was then expecting us to make coffee. Again we politely explained that we were not baristas. The next morning, upon my return, I encountered one of the ladies who is present daily at Casa Italia. I have no idea who she is or what she does. She is making herself a coffee when I arrived and after I cheerfully said good morning, she turns to me and gives me this major attitude about the fact that I didn't make coffee for her last night. Pardon? First off, I don't even remember speaking to her, secondly, it wasn't my responsibility to make the damn coffee. And lady, if you're that irritable, perhaps you should be cutting back anyway. And while you're at it, get rid of the menstrual red runners, they're not attractive.

Now I'm really pissed. I've had enough of this nonsense and take matters into my own hands. I head out to resolve this espresso issue once and for all. I will not be spoken to in such a manner when I have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. I let the powers at be know that there needs to be an official espresso person present during the day. They agreee but make no motions to find one and just tell me to because apparently I'm also a walking classified section. Fortunately, I did have a lead on someone and made the call. I'm happy to report that within an hour, I had found our new barista and she starts this morning. I will no longer have to deal with Mr Espresso, at least during the day. After dinner, I will turn into a barista.

The wine bar area isn't very big and between the wine glasses and all the damn coffee cups, it was impossible to handle. Executive decision #2 of the day, get rid of the coffee cups, saucers and spoons. They can drink their coffee in the small paper Illy cups provided of which we have large quantities of and use stir sticks. Perfect. I move all the coffee cups into storage. The sun is starting shine again over my wine bar. The actual owners of the machine arrive and agree that this is a good idea and that they will send a person to train our new barista. We all agree to not have any milk handy so cappuccinos are not going to be available. This shouldn't be a problem as I didn't have any requests for any. Spoke to soon. There was one gentleman yesterday who kept asking for milk, just a drop for his coffee as he wanted a macchiato. I told him politely that we did not have milk and we weren't getting any. No good enough obviously because he came back not even an hour later with the same request. He didn't look mentally challenged but I guess looks can be deceiving. I even had one gentleman on the Saturday night ask me for a package of coffee. I told him all we have is large tins of beans which then get ground. He then asked if I could give him a bag of ground coffee so he could make coffee in the morning. Buddy, you're in Vancouver. There is a coffee shop every 10 feet (I think it may be a city ordinance, but I'm not sure). There are more coffee places side by side here than in Italy. You don't need to make coffee in your room. I told him if he found a bag I'd give him coffee. Never saw him again.

The deal with the after dinner coffee is that the guests go to the bar and get it themselves. Last night, one of the dinner guests was the head of the Italian sports federation. One of his minions came over asking us to bring him coffee to the dining room. Really now. And, it was determined that a paper cup was just unacceptable. Well, guess what, the cups are locked in the storage room and I don't have a key. So, since I couldn't find anyone to unlock the door, (I did try), Mr Important got his coffee in a paper cup. Which I delivered on a tray, and apologized for it being in a paper cup. He was actually very nice and from what I could figure out later, it wasn't him that wanted the super special service, it's whoever's kissing his butt that wanted to get princess points.

And then there's the person that wanted camomille tea. I won't even go there.

Update: Less than 30 minutes after posting this entry I got a call saying that the girl we hired as barista showed up and left after 30 minutes. This proves that an inanimate object can be a nemesis.

Casa Italia - The Drama Diary - Part 1

2010-02-03T21:41:00.001-08:00

Ok, I realize this blog hasn't been the most active lately but I believe in quality and not quantity.

So, with this whole Casa Italia experience there was absolutely no way that it could run efficiently. Italy as a whole doesn't so why should one pocket in a foreign land be any different.

This Drama Diary is subtitled Part 1 because there is no way we're going to get through the rest of the month without a Part 2.

Here goes.

Today I picked up Alessandro the Enoteca Italiana rep. He had a very long flight day with several delays but was still very upbeat and excited about this experience. I took him from the airport to Casa Italia as he wanted to check in and meet the fellow who had arranged his accomodation for the next couple of weeks. His name was Stu.

We get to Casa Italia and it is chaos. I'm really not surprised by this. I've lived in Italy long enough to know how things work. Here's how Casa Italia is structured. The company Assistigroup is running the main show. Toni group is in charge of the restaurant and Enoteca Italiana the wine bar. While most of the other countries 'houses' are setting up in established restaurants and bars, Casa Italia is setting up in a community center. So they are essentially creating a restaurant and bar from scratch. So, this means, getting all the necessary permits. One of the first things I have to hear is that how ridiculous it is here and that being as Vancouver has invited the world, they should be a little more elastic with their rules. It wasn't this difficult in Beijing.

Really? Imagine that. The Chinese not following the rules. Nothing left to say on this subject.

So, after meeting various people and trying to figure out how this whole thing is going to work, along comes Stu.

Stu is about 25 and a realtor. He has forged an agreement to rent a 2 bedroom apartment to Assistigroup for the Toni Group for $11,000 for the month of February. He thinks he's renting to Casa Italia which as a corporation does not exist. This is also his own personal apartment that he's renting. And it's in North Vancouver. About an hour from the Casa Italia site on a good transit day. With a 6 block uphill walk from the sea-bus terminal. So for you non-Vancouverites, the people staying there would have to take the subway, then a boat, then walk a good 10 minutes uphill. All this after working until midnight. Good luck making the transit connections as Vancouver's transit does not run all night. Completely impractical.

In all fairness to Stu, and this is the only part he gets some fairness, he made this clear however, he's selling to someone from out-of-town who doesn't understand the city's logistics and who never took the time to see the property.

Ok. You now have background.

Stu arrived at Casa Italia to take Alessandro to the apartment (his apartment) where he is supposed to be staying during his time in Vancouver. Alessandro asked me to join him so we could go for dinner afterwards. With us was the lady from Toni Group who's staff was also supposed to be staying in this same apartment.

After a very interesting drive with Stu (he drives worse than Italians) we get to our destination. The apartment is lovely however it is completely inappropriate for their needs. Stu, sensing a problem, starts getting pissy. Well, pissy is being kind. He starts copping a major Tude. I pull him aside and start to explain the clients' concerns. Tude gets larger. I then tell him to get the Tude in check as it's not professional. Stu is now not listening to anything as the Tude has obviously impaired his hearing. He now starts behaving like the 25 year old spoiled brat that he is.

Well, it's all downhill from there. Stu, only has a verbal agreement with a rep from Assistigroup. He desperately wants someone to sign the contract but the person with us doesn't have the authorization to do so nor will she as the place does not meet their needs. Stu gets even more childlike. I am trying to get him to behave professionally and chill. But Stu just grabs the shovel and starts digging the hole that he will never be able to emerge from.

Like an episode of the Jersey Shore, Stu calls us names, and kicks us out of his apartment. Very dramatically by the way. I tell him that he is behaving unprofessionally and that he will not have success as a realtor if he doesn't change his behavior. I am told (by Stu) that he is already successful.

Right

So, down the hill we walk, to the seabus, then the skytrain to the Moda hotel where we found accomodation for poor Alessandro (who still has his suitcase in tow). Accomodations are still to be determined for the select Casa Italia staff but there was a 2 bedroom apartment available 2 blocks away from the Casa Italia site for $8,000 for the month. A bargain compared to Stu's offering and in contradiction to Stu's claims of not being able to find any other accomodation in the city at this late date.

This accomodation drama is yet from over. I was happy to have been there, as were my new Italian friends. They got to let me handle Stu (which I was told I handled more tactfully than they would have) and Stu can't claim that he didn't understand what the concerns were.

And I finally got something worthy to blog about.

Stay tuned.

Boots in July

2009-07-13T01:54:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday I spent a glorious day at the beach with Fra. It was one of those perfect beach days. Perfect temperature, just the right amount of wind and no annoying people around us. We stayed til around 7pm and then we showered and went for a walk on the boardwalk of Lido di Camaiore looking for a pizza place.

It was a very busy evening. As we were strolling I started noticing a very disturbing pattern. Boots.

Now as you all know, I am a lover of footwear and have been known to wear what some people consider inappropriate footwear on occaision (wedged sandals climbing the pyramids for example - inappropriate for some, perfectly fine by me) but boots.....in July? Now that's some screwed up fashion.

The thing is in Italy, if something is in style people embrace it wholeheartedly no matter how ridiculous. This summer, for example, it's a challenge buying something that's not some shade of purple. But how did wearing boots in July become acceptable?

Boots with sundresses, boots with shorts, boots with capris, boots with jeans. How does this seem normal? Summer is the time for flip flops, strappy sandals, espadrilles, adorable wedges with cork soles not boots. I feel guilty wearing any closed shoe in summer so the last thing I want on my feet is boots.

Winter will arrive soon enough no sense anticipating it's footwear. What will these people wear then.....flip flops? Or will they embrace the the Pacific Northwest trend of socks and sandals?
Bet you I could get that going if I tried hard enough.

Zampa's New Carrier

2009-04-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

As many of you know I have a cat. Zampa. And he's not just any typical cat, he's a rather large cat. About 25 lbs to be exact. I don't know how he got that way as he's not an over-eater. Not only is he big, he's also very long.

Being as large as he is presents several problems. He got too big for the standard enclosed cat litter box so we had to get creative. We wanted one with a door and the larger ones didn't come with one so we modified it. I've spared you the litter box picture. The latest problem has been with his cat carrier. He just didn't fit into it anymore. So today we purchased a new carrier for our beloved kitty. It's for a small dog. And it's got wheels as he's a bit too heavy to carry around.

So far he seems to like it.

The vet is going die of laughter when he sees us roll in with this. But he will be happy as he'll be able to examine Zampa without removing him from the carrier. Zampa isn't too fond of the vet.

Franco Biondi Santi - A very wise man

2009-04-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

For those of you who've read my other blog, Winesnob's Blog, you'll remember that I spoke about the history of Brunello di Montalcino and the family that invented it. I also got to meet and chat with Dr. Franco Biondi Santi. Franco and his wife, Boba, will be celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary this year. I almost made it to 10 years (just shy 6 months) in mine and was pretty proud about it. During our chat Franco shared with me the secret to a long marriage. He told me that the only true secret was that the man just needed to always say yes to his wife.
A very smart man indeed.

Dear Mr Ferrari

2009-04-25T12:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr Ferrari,

Just a quick note to apologize for not being able to get out of your way today while travelling down the Chianti highway. It's not that I didn't see your pretty blue car with tan leather interior as it was stuck to my rear bumper but there was really nowhere for me to go on that narrow winding two-lane highway. I sincerely hope that this did not take away from your enjoyment of that scenic roadway.
Such a shame that you did not have anyone with you to share in the experience as I did.
Perhaps next time you may want to spend the extra and get a convertible. It worked for me.

xoxo

And this means what?

2009-04-21T01:57:00.000-07:00

This sign was in my hotel room this weekend. Where can I get a self-cleaning room?

Tanks

I must not have gotten the memo

2009-04-17T01:32:00.000-07:00

I've been back in Italy now for almost 2 weeks and in that time I've only left the house a handful of times. It always takes me time to wrap my head around being back here. To re-adjust my expectations. Everyone always says how envious they are of me because I live in such a beautiful part of the world. This is a beautiful place but keep in mind that nowhere is without it's challenges. And believe me, Italy is an incredibly challenging place to live.

As tourists, you come here for a week or two, take in the culture, eat amazing food and drink fabulous wine. Then you go back home. Any inconvenience you may have encountered in that time you just attribute to your travel experience and laugh it off. But what if those experiences were a continual part of your daily life? Not so funny now.

A couple of my trips outside the safety of my home were to the grocery store. I've been very spoiled in the last year living back in Vancouver as I live above one of the best supermarkets in the city. I got very used to just grabbing my canvas shopping bag (because I'm good like that...and I get extra Save-On points), heading down the elevator and walking 500 ft to the grocery store. I would just buy what I needed for that particular day. No need to shop for the entire week. Here, a little more planning is required as I don't want to drive to the grocery store every single day.

So on my very first trip out of the house I headed to the grocery store. Now there are things I like about the grocery store here and things that drive me absolutely mental. Let's start with the thing I like. The grocery store chain I go to has a hand held bar-code scanner that you pick up at the entrance and it sits in a handy holder on the shopping cart. In Vancouver we have cup holders on our shopping carts as god forbid you go anywhere without a cup of coffee. The bar-code scanner allows you to instantly scan your purchases so you breeze through the checkout. I love this feature except for the 1 time out of 10 when you have to unload everything just to check that you're not scamming the system. The other thing I like.......ok, there isn't any but at least there's one.

Now as for what drives me mental. In every single supermarket here you have only one point of entry. Imagine going to Safeway and being forced to enter at one door. No big deal you say. Well, you're wrong. The problem with this is that you have everyone concentrated in one area of the supermarket. If you have one annoying shopper you're stuck with them until the store opens up enough for you to lose them. And in my case, if they haven't showered in a while, you're stuck with that stink bomb while picking out your produce. (because the produce department is always the first area you go through). This happened to me both times I ventured to the supermarket in the last 2 weeks. Which brings about the question, was there a memo about not washing due to some environmental crap? Like, let's not wash for a few days so we can save water and stop polluting with soap. One lady was particularly ripe. And, as luck would have it, she was shadowing me in the produce section. At one point, I had to reach across her to grab my lettuce. By now I was so disgusted that I pinched my nose with one hand, grabbed the lettuce with the other and muttered 'stinky stinky'. Whether she heard me or not I don't know because I saw an opening and got as far away from her as possible.

Now that was my second unpleasant encounter of that particular shopping trip. Italians are not a tactful people. More often than not when I venture out I'm stared at like some alien being. Why? Because I'm tall. But I'm really not all that tall but here they look at me like I'm a giant. Perhaps it's because I don't slouch and I carry myself with purpose. Or maybe because I take the time to put on make-up and make myself presentable. Who knows. What I do know is some days I'm really not in the mood for it and that day was one of them. Just as I was entering through that one gated section of the supermarket, some man stops and just stares at me. I think his mouth gaped open a bit too. Real subtle. Not being in the mood for this nonsense, I asked him if he'd gotten a good look. He turned away rather quickly. This isn't the first such supermarket encounter of that nature that I've had. I actually had one man follow me around the supermarket, stand in front of me various times and just stare, 3 times to be precise.

How I miss the anonimity of Vancouver. I love being able to go about my business without being scrutinized. This just isn't possible here. It's a small town and I stand out. So, that's why it takes me time before I'm comfortable venturing out again. In the meantime, I'll hang out at home with my cat watching tv. Much less stressful.

Change... What does it really take to bring it about.

2009-04-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

We've heard alot about change in the last year. In North America we were inundated with slogans regarding change. A major political campaign was won based on that promise. But what does it take to bring about change?

I've been back in Italy for a little over a week now and on this beautiful sunny Tuesday afternoon, I have to attend a funeral. I did not know the deceased but I do know his sister so out of respect I will attend. Marco (the deceased) was 26 years old and the victim of his own stupidity. Sounds harsh but I think you'll agree if you read on.

Early Saturday morning Marco and his 3 friends decided to go out dancing after celebrating a friends' birthday. Travelling about 130 km/h (that's 80 mph for those who are metrically challenged) on a 2 lane, dark and winding road he lost control of his BMW 320i, spun and hit a wall. All the occupants of the car were killed on impact. They were between 23 - 26 years old. 2 girls, 2 boys. Marco's 3 friends were all only children. It has been established that alcohol was not a factor.

Ever since I've been in Italy these type of events have been occuring on a regular basis every Friday and Saturday night. The weekend papers are filled with similar stories. To be honest, I've never even bothered to read the accounts but on this occasion I did. The article I read seemed more like a Grey's Anatomy screenplay than a newspaper article. So with over 3 full pages dedicated to this tragedy, how come it still happens?

I know we've all done stupid things in our youth, myself included. I'm sure that anyone over 40 has gone out drinking and driven home when they had absolutely no business behind the wheel. Drinking and driving wasn't taboo in the 80's. It took a group of mothers who lost their children to hammer the message home and society is much better for it. But how many years did it take to bring about that change? At least 10. And without the threat of loss of licence, fines and jail, it would have taken longer.

So what should the Italians do? They drive like maniacs all the time. They feel that speed is their god given right. Even as I write this, I can hear the traffic on the street below me. I live on a busy street in front of an elementary school. The average speed, 70 km/h (44 mph). It's a 2 lane road with driveways, homes, shops and street parking. There has never once been a speed trap set up. And the irony is that there is a police station on the corner.

Perhaps all the parents who've lost children in similar situations should band together and lobby for change. One of the fathers, after seeing his daughters' corpse in the morgue, implored a police officer to start suspending drivers licences as it was the only way to save lives. But will it happen? They only started punishing drunk drivers a couple of years ago.

What seems so blatantly obvious, at least to me, isn't here. I've been complaining about it for 6 years. Been seeing the headlines and yet it keeps happening. So how long before things actually change? How long before people realise that roadways are not racetracks? And that 80 km/h (50 mph) isn't an acceptable speed on every road and in any weather. That each straight stretch of road isn't your cue to floor the accelerator. In the meantime there will continue to be grieving families and weekend newspaper headlines.

And people like me who will be attending funerals on beautiful sunny afternoons.

Vancouver Playhouse International Wine Festival or Vancouver Lion Safari

2009-03-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Hello and welcome to the inaugural post of my new blog. My other blog is dedicated to wine and its purpose is to be informative. This isn't that blog. If you are reading this blog it shows you're a smart individual and you can make out this blogs purpose just by it's name.

Let's get on with it.

This weekend I attended the Vancouver Playhouse International Wine Festival. A great event, great wines etc. If you want that info, go to the other blog. I don't normally like huge wine tasting events. Too many people who are just there to guzzle wines. As many wines as they can because they're trying to get their money's worth. I don't blame them really. The tickets aren't cheap. They crowd the tables trying to get their pour then don't move out of the way after they've got it. They stand there swirling and sipping pretending they know what they're doing. The majority of them don't have a clue. But that's OK. At least they're trying.

I noticed a whole other species on the tasting room floor. Something I've never encountered at other similar tasting events around the world. Something that got me to wondering if it was a species indigenous only to Vancouver. Vinis-Cougerifera and Vinis-Trampifera.

These two species are obviously related. My observations lead me to believe that Vinis-Trampifera evolves into Vinis-Cougerifera. Perhaps you've encountered these species before but were just unaware of their Latin names. Vinis-Trampifera is a young female, wearing minimal covering and moves awkwardly due to her choice of footwear. She can be found at the tasting tables swirling then spilling wine due to exaggerated swirling. She will not pour any wine out no matter how awful it is. As her time in the wild increases, her movements become more labored and forward progress becomes more challenging. Wine glasses are held at 45 degree angles or less. One may observe new markings of a red variety appearing on her pelt. Her voice becomes louder and more shrill and in extreme situations, Vinis-Trampifera may migrate to other nocturnal venues in search of something called 'shots'.

Vinis-Cougerifera is a much more methodical species. She moves around the tasting floor with purpose and conviction. She can only be found at the higher name brand tables. Her clothing may also be minimal but it cost considerably more than Vinis-Trampifera's. Her footwear is also inappropriate for the terrain but she's had considerable practice so her movements are effortless. Her wine glass never reaches the 45 degree angle unless it is to observe the wine and her pelt remains free from red markings. Her swirls and sniffs are controlled and she will drink anything as long as it's from a noted producer. She would never think of pouring out a name wine no matter how awful it was. Champagne tables are a common gathering site. Occasionally also seen at high end hotel bars.

I'm obviously out of touch. I thought the purpose of the wine festival was to get to know wines. I didn't realise it was the new pick up joint. The expression 'Mutton dressed as Lamb' even came up. I saw some truly awful things these last two nights. Awful enough that I think I need to start up a business selling mirrors. I think I'll call it 'Reflections.....Our mirrors don't lie." I could print out business cards and hand them out to those who are in obvious need. I think the exchange could go something like this.....

Me: "Hello, can interest you in a new mirror?"

Client: "No thank-you I already have one."

Me: "Well, judging by how you look it's obviously broken."

I'll work on the sales pitch. It may need some fine tuning.