Your turn: Things that are OUT that I wish were IN...

Over at my blog, I've beaten the In and Out series like a dead horse. I thought I'd eke out just one more post, this time soliciting audience participation. I know XUP will be critical of the lameness of this. And, I know that Milan will question why we would wish things out to be in in the first place. I don't care. This is a contest, folks! Contestants are being asked to submit two things that are OUT that he/she wishes were IN. The winner will be chosen by an ESI sub-committee at a special Emergency Meeting. Hence, no ESI submissions will be considered. The criteria: originality, wit, charm.

The winner can choose one prize among the following items: 1) the winner can post a favourite recipe on our blog*;2) the winner can select a blog that he/she would like the ESI team to metablog for a week**; 3) the winner can select a blogging theme or issue for the ESIs for one week***.

*as long as it passes the ESI ethics committee
**as long as it passes the ESI ethics committee
***as long as it passes the ESI ethics committee

In and Out Revisited

"You're so in, and I'm so out!"

Aggie's brilliant In and Out posts reminded me of something a boy wrote in my year book ages ago.

Dear Woodsy,

When you're in, we're out.

See 'ya around,

(signed) Tall, Brawny Guy

For years I have been perplexed by what he meant. Was he being crude? Or, was he being dismissive? Maybe he saying I was cool and he was passé.

What do you think he meant?

What Next?

Suppose one day I finish the revolutionary new dating paradigm.

What would you like me to study next?

Overtaxed: coyote's late post

When I was a younger, dumber doggy, I mistakenly signed up for a Social Insurance Number.

Imagine my complete disappointment when I found that I'd misheard the pitch (an old inner-ear problem, exacerbated by an unfortunate one-track mind...) and realized that I now had to deal with tax returns rather than cat returns.

Imagine my further chagrin when I found out that SINs indeed condemn you to Hell. In Revenue Canada's eyes, once you're in, you fry forever. No matter if you're a semimythical coyote with no visible means of support barring fast paws and a larcenous soul. One youthful moment of misguided drooliness dooms you to file annual tax forms in perpetuity.

I want to make it clear that I have no objection to income taxes themselves. (This places me firmly in the minority back my old Alberta stomping grounds. I digress.) But aside from the fact that I don't actually pay them, I believe the social safety net and other services that they finance make this a far better country than the alternative.

No, it's the diabolical forms. Every year, those twisted <redacteds> at Revenue Canada change them. The net result is always pretty much the same, but those annual new and ummm, interesting, calculation methods to arrive there, drive me freakin' crazy.

No hackneyed comments, please, about what a short trip that is. I shall nap now. Awaken me in refund season.

Good habits

This was passed to me by a friend:

Sisters Mary Catherine, Maria Theresa, Katherine Marie, Rose Frances & Mary Kathleen left the Convent on a trip to St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City and were sightseeing on a Tuesday in July.

It was hot and humid in town and their traditional garb was making them so uncomfortable, they decided to stop in at Patty McGuire's Pub for a cold soft drink.

Patty had recently added special legs to her barstools, which were the talk of the fashionable eastside neighbourhood. All five nuns sat up at the bar and were enjoying their Cokes when Monsignor Riley and Father McGinty entered the place through the front door.

They, too, came for a cold drink and were scandalized by what they saw.