Ethnic adventure

I was picking up groceries the other day and was thinking I'd like something other than the usual side dishes. At that very moment, I spotted a box of couscous. I had heard about it many times but had never had occasion to try it. It's a popular dish eaten in many parts of the world and I like just about everything, especially ethnic food, so I decided to give it a try.

I had already planned to have a stirfry as my main dish and I thought the Couscous would complement it, nicely. I should mention here that at the time, I had no idea what couscous was. I prepared both parts of my meal and was very happy that the couscous was so easy to make--just add butter and boiling water and when it's done, fluff with a fork. In no time, my meal was ready.

The couscous looked very appetizing with a light, airy texture. I took a mouthful of stirfry, chewed it for a bit and then threw a spoonful of the couscous into my mouth. It...wasn't that great. I repeated the process. Strangely, it hadn't improved since the first mouthful. Still, being the good, Christian boy I am, and having been taught as a youngster that it was a sin to throw away food, I soldiered on.

In between bites, I got some salt and added a bit to the couscous. Surely that will be the difference between what I was tasting and what will be an exquisite, gastronic delight. It improved slightly, but not much. I refused to be beaten, thinking surely this dish must be better than what my taste buds are telling me. In desperation, I tried adding a little sugar. Now, before you think me crazy, let me inform you that I have a real sweet tooth and that...er...stuff did look sort of like cereal. It...didn't help at all. Grudgingly, I finished my meal.

The experience left me wondering why anyone would pay to eat the stuff, especially those in desert areas, where the dish is a staple, when they could eat sand for free. Although I know that throwing the rest of the box away is a sin, the risk is worth it.

Watch out for grab and run artists

A seagull in Marinette , Wisconson has developed the habit of stealing Doritos from a neighbourhood convenience store. The seagull waits until the Manager isn't looking, and then walks into the store and grabs a snack-size bag of cheese Doritos. Once outside, the bag gets ripped open and shared by other birds.

The seagull's shoplifting started weeks earlier when he first swooped into the store in and helped himself to a bag of Doritos. Since then, he's become a regular. He always takes the same type of chips.

The Manager thinks it's great because people are coming to watch the feathered thief make the daily grab and run, and it's been good for business, especially since customers have begun paying for the seagull's stolen bags of Doritos because they think it's so funny. However, the Manager did say, "This is Wisconsin, and if that seagull starts to grab a 6-pack of beer to go along with the Doritos, I may have to put a stop to it."

Q & A's from around the web

When/how did you know that your marriage/relationship was over?

When I woke up after falling asleep watching TV, to find two big, burly guys carrying me, still in my chair, to the curb on garbage day. I'm kidding. It wasn't garbage day.

The results are in

I entered the CAA (Canadian Auto Club) contest for the greenest driver with this entry:

Hi. I’m Vinny’s car. Yeah, that’s me in the photo--the one who’s red with anger. Back in the good, old days, Vinny and I were pretty racy, going between traffic lights like jack rabbits. Boy, that was fun. Now, he's so boring, driving all sensible-like. Says it saves gas and wear and tear on the brakes. Where’s the fun in that?

He used to take me out a lot more, too. Now, he works from home and we live across the street from a mall and I have to practically beg him to go anywhere. Even going out for drinks (of oil) has gone from every 3 months or so, to only twice a year, even though it’s less than 4,000 kilometres in between.

Vinny’s been very cold toward me lately, considering he hardly ever turns on my air conditioner. Last week, I replaced my droopy tires with nice, firm, new ones and he didn’t even notice! Sure, he’s getting on in years, but my odometer is barely over 100,000 Kms. One of these days, Vinny will come outside and he might just see a “For Sale” sign on this gal.

It seems it wasn't good enough for even an honourable mention. The first place prize of an all-expense paid eco-trip for two to Costa Rica was awarded to (surprise, surprise) a couple who have been CAA members for 28 years. Okaaaaaay. I'm just kidding--I'm not the least bit upset. I wish the lucky winners a great trip and all the best.

Caught in a web

I spotted what appeared to be a dead housefly on the floor beside my
dresser. As I bent down to have a look, I saw that it was caught in a
web with lines so thin, they were virtually invisible. Nearby, a very
tiny spider sat patiently. The fly struggled to free itself, but it was
in vain. After a few moments, the spider moved in. The fly was about
100 times the size of the spider. Nonetheless, he grappled with the
fly for a while and suddenly the fly was still.

Surprisingly, that minuscule arachnid managed to drag the fly away
behind the dresser. I stood up and tried to think what I should do. My
first inclination would be to move the dresser, and sweep up the web,
fly and spider, not necessarily in that order, and dump the mess in
the garbage can. That was about a week ago. In the meantime, I looked
in on my house guests several times by moving the dresser slightly,
and though it is too dark to see spider or web, the fly remains.

I feel powerless to make a difference even to a dead fly, a
microscopic spider and the web and dust that is collecting back there.
I don't want to kill the spider or remove his source of food, even
though I cannot tell if he is even still there. The crazy thing is
that this inconvenience to me, a clean freak, weighs on me. For another
reason. It seems this spider has more influence in the universe than
I do. After all, he took down a monster 100 times his size and I can't
seem to take down a speck which is him that is one billionth the size
of me.

A thought suddenly strikes me: How much "humanitarian" currency am I earning for this?
How much did I earn when I made a sizable donation to the Southeast
Asia Tsunami relief fund when it was I who was in need of funds? How
much did I earn when I gave to The hospital For Sick Children in
Toronto when it was I who was in need of care? How much did I earn
when I walked 30 miles for The United Way charity while I now walk alone? Like my
existence in this world, the answers don't make a lick of difference.
The truth is, whatever good I have done, and admittedly, it wasn't
enough, I would do it and more, again, regardless of the outcomes. I
just reserve the right to bitch about it. For you see, it is I who is caught in a web.