(Thanks to
jillbertini for reminding me of two of the following snippets. Here, I expand on comments I made in her journal.)
An Assesment:
When you read the exclamation, "What an ass!", is your first reaction to interpret it as an insult or a compliment? It probably says something about your personality, or at least about your age
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Comments 15
Weird about the Canadian ATMs. In England, continental Yurp, and Thailand, the ATMs were all very much like those in the U.S.
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It brought to mind that weird animation, "This Is Not Dave's Planet," wherein those guys travel uncounted leagues within the subterranean planet to find an ATM. "Hope I've got money! [deet de-deet deet] All right!"
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I still stuggle with "chequing." I always remember that it has a "q," but never whether there is also an extra "e" after the "u." This matters, because we now have a joint "chequing" account with the co-owners of our house in Vancouver, so whenever I write to them about money matters I spend about 5 minutes pondering over the correct spelling before I decide that "chequeing" looks even more silly than "chequing."
Oh, and if you think the Canadian border guards are easy-going, you should check (cheque?) out folk singer David Rovics' latest blog entry of his experiences trying to get into Canada.
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One reason I laughed so hard about chequing was that I realized, on some level, that there was no way to form the equivalent of the American checking that didn't look horribly awkward.
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Someday, someone will cultivate a 'shroom that doesn't taste like last year's mold.
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Though our usage of "ass" as in "your ass is grass" isn't related, it is kinda hilarious that Italian "assai" comes from vulgar Latin's "ad satis" or "to satisfaction"
Your Dr. Pepper is big-to-satisfaction. Mmmmmmm.
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I'm surprised you don't turn the phone off when you go riding. I hate ringing phones when I'm not in a position to answer. Come to think of it, I hate ringing phones in any circumstance.
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The really nasty part around Kenmore was the bit from the start of that long gradual curve where you ride over a little bridge just before crossing a street at a traffic light, all the way to Tracy Owen Station. Even two years ago there were some serious wrist-busters in there. I would say, though, that the half mile or so just north of University Village, where the trail splits and goes under a bridge, was just as nasty.
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