Relaunching Xanga: A Fundraiser

So Xanga is in a money crunch.  This sucks.  Though I can't say I'm very surprised.  It's just really hard to make money as a blog hoster.

As a general rule, I don't pay for web services.  Same goes for mobile apps.  I only use web services (blogging, photo hosting, etc...) or mobile apps that are free.  But Xanga, is one of the few things where I did pay.  I used to blog a lot.  I used to have a lot more to say.  Or maybe I just used to make more time to say what's on my mind by formulating a story and including references and pictures.  I'll admit that it was my transition to Twitter that led to my sudden, almost complete, blogging silence.  It's not that I don't like blogging.  I just got lazy.  It was faster to scream 140 characters (including spaces) into the void than to properly compose a compelling story.

And were it not for the sheer fluke of seeing coolmonkey's most recent blog at the top of my subscription screen, I might not even have realized that Xanga was in such dire straits.  And then when I read his blog post before that, I realized he'd already scooped me...cuz his rage was basically my reaction.

Anyways...I was one of those who paid $100 for a Lifetime membership (I don't even remember when I paid, but for sure it was way more than 4 years ago).  So I was wondering what would happen if Xanga achieves their fundraising target.  What would that mean for me?  It wasn't in the blog post where they announced the fundraiser, but sifting through the comments, I eventually found this.

"At various times over the past decade, we've sold Lifetime Premium memberships for $100. Because we normally charge $25 for a year-long Xanga Premium membership, this means that after 4 years of Xanga Premium service, your Xanga Premium has been free.

As mentioned above, the current Xanga Premium program is being shelved. But we will be offering credits in the new system for all Lifetime Premium members, at the rate of $25/year. If it's been a year since you bought a Lifetime Premium membership, we will give you a credit of $75. If it's been two years, you'll receive a credit of $50; three years = a credit of $25. If it's been more than four years, you won't receive a monetary credit but we will find another way to offer you something special as a thank you.

If the fundraiser is successful, then all Lifetime Premium credits can be used towards Xanga blogging memberships."

So...$25/year, eh?  Honestly...considering how much my blogging has dropped off, I couldn't possibly justify it.  It's not a lot of money.  I waste more money on my gym membership by not going enough.  But the fact that I pay a gym membership motivates me to go...or makes me feel guilty about not going.  A blogging fee would just annoy me...especially since I have so many other options for blogging that are free.  While I vastly prefer Xanga to Blogger (yes, I've also had one of those accounts for years), I wouldn't be willing to pay $25/year for it. 

My blog hosting site can't be a charity case.  While I understand the struggle, Xanga is a business.  And if the business model isn't sound, then the business will fail.  The charity part will just delay the inevitable.

While I hope that Xanga can find a way out of it, I can also see that their vision for the future isn't aligned with mine.  Considering how many other true charities their are out there, I simply cannot justify contributing money to a failing business that will implement a model of which I don't wish to parttake.  Especially since they saw the writing on the wall years ago and basically did diddly-squat about it.

Quite frankly, I would rather donate my money to saving polar bears.

Source: http://www.naturepl.com/pictures/dpb.jpg

Sometimes, people think that I exaggerate when I talk about my boss' ridiculousness.  But I swear to you with every fibre of my being, there is zero embellishment in my stories.  I give an unadulterated account of the unbiased truth.  I only pass judgement or give commentary after the truth has been laid out.

And so, I give you this morning's ridiculousness.

He will be out of the office until the end of next week.  Today, he's boarding an airplane for a conference.  From the airport, I get the following string of IM-like emails.

9:33 am Pointy-Haired Boss (PHB): Can u see if there are speaking notes for section A? If so, please print them and give them to the CFO.  You may wish to edit before giving him.  If there aren't any notes, ask Big C [the consultant] to draft some. The consultant was cc'd.

9:35 am Big C: There are notes, but I'd like to suggest a few edits, if that's ok. What's the best way to get them to you, cokeaddict?

So before I could even reply, my boss sends:

9:37 am PHB: cokeaddict will adivse.

Well, NO SHIT I would advise. Did he think I wasn't going to answer a question that she posed directly to me?

This may seem like a very small thing to rant about, but bear in my, EVERY MINUTE OF MY WORK DAY is as intellectually stunted as this.

EVERY

SINGLE

MINUTE

Source: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cYoev4LaAAE/UOXA66k6JfI/
AAAAAAAALo0/eONiGBhcG3g/s1600/headdesk.gif.gif

Some people clearly have an over-inflated sense of self-importance. Compounded with ill-placed snobbery just makes these people insufferable!

The Toronto Symphony Orchestra’s Light Classic series is intended to make classical music more accessible to the masses. You can rest assured that if you buy tickets to a concert from this series, you will not be listening to some obscure, weird, dissonant piece by Ravel. As a result, these concerts are usually comprised of pieces that are commonly heard in pop culture…you know…tv shows, movies and advertisements.

A month ago, I attended the From Mozart to Sibelius concert. The woman sitting in front of me was the epitome of insufferable! First, she talked during the performance. Because, you know…an afternoon in Roy Thomson Hall, listening to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra is like being at a Metallica concert, where NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU talking over the music. And, oh, her insight was just OH SO PROFOUND!

At the intermission, she stood up and loudly exclaimed to her husband and son that Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was “too romantic.” Too romantic?!? It’s Rachmaninoff!! What was she expecting? A war march?

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she committed the greatest cardinal sin (in my book) ever.

She talked over the Mozart piece.

Mozart. It’s Mozart. HOW DARE SHE TALK OVER MOZART!?!?!

I so desperately had to fight the urge to kick her in the head. Lucky for her, I have excellent self-restraint. And her behaviour didn’t just annoy me. It’s not that I am some kind of classical music snob. Her whole family found her to be obnoxious. Her husband ignored her and passive-aggressively glared at her every time she leaned in to talk to him. Her son went so far as to shush her, and later he put his palm up to her face when she tried to talk to him.

I’m always happy to see lots of people attending TSO concerts, but people like her really should just stay home. Honestly, if she don’t want to be here, then she shouldn’t have come. She was literally ruining it for everyone else. While I don’t expect everyone to adore classical music, if certain individuals are only coming to the concert to appease their date/family, then at the very least, they should not be rude. Other people paid for tickets too…and they didn’t pay to listen to ignorant whining.

On a positive note, it was quite the full house. There were so many children and teenagers gushing about how much they enjoyed the concert, and how excited they were to give a standing ovation. That more than salvaged my day.

The world needs more Mozart.  And more Joshua Bell (com'on...you knew I was gonna say that ).

I will admit, I don’t hit the bar scene much anymore. It’s more because I can’t be bothered, and less about the “I feel old” shtick. And maybe it’s a bit of Mark Twain-ism.

Source:  http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4hf2lz2G11rqlaz3o1_500.jpg

But while I was in NYC, I did head out to Third and Long to watch the Rangers vs Habs game.

Source: http://cdn1.sbnation.com/imported_assets/876452/wpid-montreal-canadiens-vs-new-york-rangers.jpg

When I arrive at the bar, my friend, PS, was already there.  He bought me a beer and we started chatting.  After a few minutes, I noticed that the guys behind him kept checking me out. But it’s a bar, it’s dark, and the female to male ratio was pretty dismal, so I didn’t think anything of it.

After a minute or two however, there was no avoiding it. One of them interrupted our conversation and asked if we were together. PS very quickly dismissed such insanity. And the following conversation ensued.

Dude: I want to test out a pick-up line, if that’s ok.

Me: Ok.

Dude: This is the situation. I’d go up to a guy and a girl in a bar and ask, “Are you going to fuck him tonight? Cuz if not, how about me?” What do you think? Will it work?

Me: *deadpan* Well, it really depends on the girl. If you’re just looking for some action, that might work. If you’re looking for a girl you can take home to Mom, then probably not.

Dude: *slow nod* You know what, that’s a pretty good qualifier. I like that. So how about if I said, “Want to go for shrimp scampi?”

Me: You mean, specifically shrimp scampi?

Dude: *intent staring* Yes.

Source: http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/dpi/lowres/dpin17l.jpg

Me: *uneasy* Uhm…I guess if she’s not allergic then it might work.

Shrimp scampi!? Seriously? Is that supposed to be a euphemism for something? I looked it up in Urban Dictionary, but I don’t think he meant this:

shrimp scampi, noun.
overly bronzed female whore bag with blonde hair that is at least 12 shades of blonde. usually gorges herself on shrimp scampi covered in caesar dressing and white wine before passing out on couch. has herpes and open ended prescription for valtrex.

Example: look at that shrimp scampi over there. she's dressed like she wants to get fucked in the alley.

Source: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shrimp+scampi

At this point, PS ushered me away and we found a good spot to watch the game. To be honest, I have no idea if that guy was genuinely soliciting an opinion, hitting on me, or just being “funny”.

I get it...you don't love the Habs.  I have no issue with that.  I don't require that everyone else like the Habs.  And living in Toronto means there are a lot of people in my workplace that don't like the Habs.

HOWEVER

I don't let anyone knock my team or my hometown to my face.  You wanna be an asshole behind my back, go...do it.  I don't give a shit.  But if you insist on rudely bashing them to my face, it's probably not in your best interests to do so...WHEN *YOU* NEED *MY* ASSISTANCE.

Coworker: *points to my Habs magnet* You have some dirt on your whiteboard. 

Me: *fake laugh* I'm from Montreal. 

Coworker: You could've switched to the superior team.  Leafs are kicking some ass right now.

Me: Right.  With that playoff spot you don't have.

Coworker: You converted to the better city.  Montreal is a hole.

Me: Get out of my office.

Coworker: But we have a meeting.

Me: Not anymore.

Coworker: But I need you to consult on this issue.

Me: Not anymore.

Coworker: I'm serious.  We really need your expertise.

Me: Maybe next time you'll think before opening your mouth.

Coworker: There's no one else we can ask.

Me: Actually, the correct statement is now, "There is no one" you can ask.

Coworker: You're not going to help?

Me: I strongly suggest you delegate your inquiry to a peon and have them come see me.  Because you and I are done talking.  GTFO.

I'll admit...this was not exactly a shining example of professionalism.  But you know what...I'm done putting up with other people's rudeness.  You want my help?  I don't ask you to beg or grovel.  Some basic respect is more that sufficient.

Margaret Thatcher. 

Source: http://weaselzippers.us/wp-content/uploads/607_20120317114953_margaret_thatcher_1992_ma_020-550x352.jpg

If you're into UK politics, conservative politics, or just politics in general, you'll know that this woman's name sparks very strong reactions at the extreme ends of the conservative-liberal spectrum.  People either hate her or love her. 

But I'm of the school of thought that unless that person was truly evil, when they pass on, you should remember their significant contributions to world that made it a better place.  Or even if they didn't succeed in making it a better place, remember the ways they tried.

Margaret Thatcher's regular work hours in the British Parliament were well before my time.  She resigned from office before I was even born...I think her resignation was even before my parents got married.  And I didn't know much about her until I was in Grade 5, collecting random facts so I could kick ass at W5H (it's a general knowledge competition for elementary schools in the Toronto Catholic District School Board...I was team captain at my school for 4 years).  While math, science, and literature were usually my topics of strength, it was at that time that I started developing a keen interest in British and Canadian politics.

I don't think I ever really embraced Margaret Thatcher's policies or views.  But there was always something about her that prevented me from disliking her.  I shouldn’t say “something” since I know exactly what it was.  She was a woman of great determination and personal fortitude.  She was not one to be trifled with.  And despite all her flaws and failings, she did the best that she could with what she had and pulled Great Britain out of the darkness into which it had fallen after WWII.

Let’s not get into the particulars.  This is not intended to be a blog post to bicker about what you liked/disliked about Margaret Thatcher.  It's about what she meant to me.  So I’m separating her politics from her personal attributes.  Anyone who would call her a weak, unremarkable pansy is clearly not being objective.

She showed the world that a woman can be a leader.  Not just the leader of a team.  Not just the leader of a country.  She was the leader of Great Britain – one of the most powerful nations in the world (and before you argue, recall how much of the world was, at one point, a British colony).  She also wasn’t the leader of Great Britain at the height of its power.  In fact, she was the Prime Minister of Great Britain at one of its low points in history – arguable one of *the* lowest.  Despite these immense external challenges, she had the added hurdle of being a woman at a time when equality for women was still in its infancy. 

What’s important to me in a discussion about Margaret Thatcher’s life is that she blazed a trail through one of the most arduous and damaging of social thickets.  It’s politics, which is inherently ugly.  It’s public, which is daunting even for the most outspoken of us.  And it was on the international stage.  There aren’t many women who can say that they were able to achieve what the Iron Lady achieved in an environment that was even half as challenging (and I'm not talking about the trials and tribulations of individuals with a tough life...I'm talking about widespread, permanent, societal impacts).

So on this day, when I learned of the passing of this very significant role model, I will share a conversation I had with my mom when I was 14 years old.

Shortly after I graduated from elementary school, my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up.  I said, "I want to be Prime Minister of Canada." 

My mom laughed and very seriously said, "Little girls don't become Prime Minister." 

I very sternly and sharply responded, "If Margaret Thatcher can be the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, then little girls can grow up to become the Prime Minister of Canada." 

Baroness Thatcher, I thank you for this.
RIP, Iron Lady.

Side note:  I have since changed my mind about becoming the Prime Minister of Canada, but that is neither here nor there.

I haven't become vegan, but sometimes, I make vegan dishes.  I love me a good hearty steak, but sometimes, it's nice to have something light.

This is a quick, comforting bowl of soupy noodles.  And the best part, it's easy to make a single serving.

I didn't have any mushrooms, but I would also add a quarter cup of sliced, button mushrooms to the soup.  If you wanted to make a vegetarian version, you could drop an egg in the soup to give it the egg drop effect.

• 1 layer of Thai vermicelli (the brand I buy has about 4 layers per pack)
• 2 cups of water
• 1 tsp red miso
• Sirracha (optional)
• 1 tsp olive oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, slivered
• 1 hot house tomato, cubed
• 5-6 leaves of fresh, chiffonade basil
• ½ a green onion, slivered
• 1 tsp fresh lemon juice
• Fresh lemon zest, to taste
• Soya sauce, to taste

Put vermicelli into a pot of boiling water for 2-3 minutes.  Remove vermicelli when softened and shock in ice bath.

Over medium-high heat, sauté the garlic in 1 teaspoon of olive oil in a sauté/frying pan.  Just as the garlic starts to brown, add the tomatoes.  Season to taste.  I use a pinch of salt, fresh ground pepper, and a bit of oregano.  Once the tomatoes are softened and a bit caramelized, set aside.

Dissolve miso in the 2 cups of water (add sirracha if desired – I added ~1 teaspoon) and bring to a boil. Place the drained vermicelli into the boiling soup for a minute or two to warm it up, but don’t let it boil because it will disintegrate.  Remove the vermicelli from the soup and place it in your serving bowl.  Add soya sauce, green onion, basil and lemon zest to the vermicelli.  Add the tomatoes and garlic to the soup and bring to a boil.  Pour the soup over the vermicelli.  Add lemon juice and serve.

Guess what! It's almost Easter.  And where does an ex-pat Montrealer/Toronto party girl go for Easter?  Why NEW YORK CITY of course!!

And what's a trip to Manhattan without a good party!

So, NYC Habs fans, this is what we're gonna do.  On Saturday, March 30, while all other Habs fans around the world tune in to watch the Rangers play the Habs in the Bell Centre, *we* are going to rock the house at Third and Long (523 3rd Ave at E 35th St).  Put on your Habs shirt, your Habs jersey or just grab your Habs toque.  We're gonna put on our game face and cheer le Tricolore to victory! 

When you get there, ask for Curtis and tell him you're with the Habs party.  I guess if you want, you could say that you're with me, but you may want to whisper "cokeaddict" like a secret code word.  You might get some questionable looks or thrown to the ground by police if you shout it out.  In an ideal world, you'll tweet me at cokeaddict in advance so that I can let Curtis know that you're coming and we can save you a seat.  I could do a twtvite or Evite, but that just seems like overkill.

To recap:

Saturday March, 30 6pm
Third & Long
523 3rd Ave at E 35th St
Manhattan
Secret Password is "Go Habs Go!"
Just kidding. Just tell them you're with the Habs party.

Spread the word.

Bring your friends.
You can bring your Rangers fans friends,
but they have to be nice people. 
Otherwise, forget it.

#RaiseTheTorch

GO HABS GO!!!

Please note: This is not an All Habs sanctioned Hockey Pub party. It's just me, hanging out in NYC with some friends...and everyone is welcome to join us in cheering on the Habs.

Remember that report I wrote the day before the Mayan apocalypse?  The one that I said was a work of art? And I’d be pissed if the world ended the next day rendering my report useless?  It’s STILL pending on my boss’ desk. -_-

I should just go over his head and give it to someone who will grant me authority to make magic happen.

*grumble grumble grumble*

My boss has this problem...I often refer to it as separation anxiety, because it seems like he can't last 10 whole minutes in his office without saying, "cokeaddict, can you come over here?" or "do you have a second?".   So obviously, I go over there, on the off chance that it's important.  95% of the time it ends up with me, sitting in his office, doing abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING, while he's checking is email, making phone calls, or muttering to himself as he edits some document on his computer.  After sitting there for about 20 minutes, he'll talk about some non-work related nonsense (but don't worry, nothing harrassment worthy) for another 20 minutes, before FINALLY getting to the subject of why he called me over.  He's really good at wasting my time.  And I get very aggravated about it.  I always tell him, "Only call me over if there's something you want to talk about immediately."  Yeah...he and I clearly have a different definition of "immediately."

After one of these gloriously productive interludes this morning, just as I'm walking out of his office, we had this conversation.

PHB:  Are you working on anything important?

Me:   No, of course not.  Why the hell would I be working on anything important?

PHB:  Ok, so maybe try and find something important to work on.

Me:  Oh no, I can't do that.

PHB:  Why not?

Me:  I've already filled my quota of "important things" for the week.

He knew I was being sarcastic, but honestly, considering how much of my time he wastes, it's a miracle I get anything important done at all.