Canadian Christmas

Greetings from the Great White North- a land where garbage disposal units apparently don't exist yet they have their own word for them ("garburator"). Despite this nonsense, this land is absolutely lovely. Nik invited me to join her and a couple of friends to her home to celebrate Christmas and I'm so glad that I did. They have dim sum, nasi goreng, and an HGTV channel with shows I'd never seen. That, plus moose-shaped drinking paraphernalia-- what more could I ask for?  (They also have a quiet room where I can catch up on my work- and peace and quiet- but while that is wildly appreciated and totally allowing me to sleep better at night, it is hardly top on the list of reasons why Canada is aces. That list is pretty much Zwieps, food, and HGTV.)

Merry Christmas, y'all's. 

Ebenezer Screw

Last night at Nik's, Carly taught us an easy and fun card game that I wasn't half bad at (always a plus, though Nik seems to be dominating every card game under her roof- -kept challenging her to Bananagrams but she was too smart to fall for the trap), which made me want to teach it to other people when I get home.  I wasn't sure about the scoring details so I wanted to be able to look up the game:

Moi: What's this game called?

Carly: Screw Your Neighbor.  Or F the Dealer.  

Moi: This is going to be difficult to Google... better turn off image search.

(Except it totally wasn't!  Good job, Internet.)

For the Rest of Us

For years, I'd gotten by on the simple flattery: You look great today.  It has become such a part of my requests for help that Whitecastle calls me out on it when I don't compliment him on his tie.  Even via the phone.  Though that might be saying more about Whitecastle than it does about me.  

In a meeting with Advisor Who today, however, I was told that I needed to up my buttering skills.  His other students are laying it on thick and I could learn a few things from them.  And read me the most obsequious English letter I have ever heard, starting with "Dear and Respectable Doctor Who," and included well wishes not only for him but his family, and even students.  The letter mentioned his charm, his smile, and his intellect.  I would have thrown up if my body was not frozen in stupor.  

Once I came to, my body went through a range of emotions.  There was denial-- this can't be a real letter.  Anger-- how dare this student ruin it for the rest of us?  And finally, acceptance as I started jotting everything down furiously.  Oh yes, I intend to incorporate these into my own future white lies.  Imitation, they say, is the sincerest form of flattery.