2 irritating people baking cake and cleaning windows

I signed into Facebook this morning and found a Telus ad written completely in French. I hear a lot about Facebook privacy concerns lately; I mean, I myself have expressed fears that Mark Zuckerberg is vying for world domination. But, with all the information they must have on me, if they were such evil geniuses, don't you think they would have figured out by now that I speak English?

The following is a copy of the ad: "Trouvez l’hippo et vous pourriez gagner: un voyage, 15 000$ et des HTC Hero. Aucun achat requis, des conditions s’appliquent." I figured out hippo, trip and $15000. The hippo part I knew partially because there was a picture of a hippo beside it, which clued me in. Despite them not getting my native language right, I was still a little frightened by the hippo part, since it is well known that a search for "hippo bus crash" on Google will bring up this blog as the number one hit (well, it's well known to me, and apparently to Facebook). So, I wasn't sure if Facebook was trying to send me a message, like, "Hey, we know that you write conspiracy theories about us on your blog and we will crush you with the power of a Telus trip...in French," or, "Hey, look, nothing sketchy going on here, we can't even figure out what language you speak, lol ;)" (then they would give the shifty eyes, the creepy dead Facebook shifty eyes).

When I reloaded the page just now, suddenly the same ad was in English. It's like they're reading my blog as I write it. Damn you Facebook and your terrifying hold on me.

Today, I was reminded of my most horrific of horrifying blind dates, which was mainly documented in my one and only attempt at stand-up. I had the opportunity today to remember some of the more awkward moments that I needed to cut from my routine due to time constraints, but, with the advent of blog, I now have the opportunity to share them with the world.

Before the date, we'd had a few online conversations that should have given me a clue as to what I was dealing with, but I have a horrible tendency to add an "ironic" or "sarcastic" tone where I should be hearing "literal" or "terrifyingly awkward" tone. Soon after meeting, he admitted that he was confusing me with another girl he'd been talking with simultaneously. "Were you the one who said she didn't like playing games?" he asked. I wasn't. In general though, I think it's best to assume that people don't enjoy dating games, and that, if they're one of the few that actually do, part of the game is probably making you think that they don't like playing games. Because of this fact, I have never once encountered a male or female who said, "You know what I really like in a relationship: games." My point is, in the future, if you're trying to figure out which of the two girls you've been wooing online you're talking to in person, try to use something more specific than "Do you hate playing games?" Unless you mean Parcheesi, because that could be distinguishing if that's one of the only things they choose to reveal in initial conversations. If that was what he meant, I do like playing games, especially the Game of Life, because I like the part where I get to imagine I have little peg children (all the fun of children without the lack of sleep and need to feed them...ooh ooh, or the painful delivery). Actually, it's surprising that all the people in that game are so thin, considering that they drive everywhere. That is one of the many ways that I feel the game of life is different from actual life.

At another point, he asked if my shoes were comfortable, because they were "very noisy". When I said, "Umm, no, but I guess they're a little noisy," he replied, "No, not noisy, that's insulting, I mean..umm..." It wasn't actually so much insulting as weird and off-putting. If he'd been doing better in general, it might have phased me more. He also told me I was shorter than he'd expected. Considering I'd stated I was 6 inches shorter than he'd told me he was, and with 1.5 inch heels I was pretty much eye to eye, I couldn't quite figure out why he would think commenting on my height was a wise move (maybe your thinking, "Eye to eye? Maybe he had a freakishly large forehead?" But he didn't).

Today, I got the greatest idea ever. I learned that window cleaners on high-rises get paid a lot because of the dangers involved in the job. Apparently, peregrine falcons will sometimes attack them on the job. Naturally, I thought that it would make a great reality TV show. I think people would be especially amused if you cast 2 really irritating people who are bound to feud, but who can't actually get away from each other without plummeting to their deaths. I'd probably watch it, unless something with delicious cakes shaped like things you shouldn't be able to shape cakes into is on. Maybe if my irritating window washers also happened to be designer cake decorators...hmm...I really think I might be onto something, especially since the cake would probably attract more dangerous birds. I just don't know how you would get so much fondant up there. Maybe there could be a third annoying guy that drops whatever ingredients they need from the roof. Yes, that would work well. Delicious and terrifying, that's what I look for in my TV.

I nearly forgot a happy song today. Hmmm...since there are a lot of fireworks outside my window, I'm going to throw out Fireworks by the Tragically Hip. It's not one of my first choices, but when I think about it, I've never not felt awesome listening to it. Also, fireworks are pretty because they are made of light...and fire. Loud fire.