Congrats Webcowgirl

Have I ever mentioned that I love weddings? Well, Webcowgirl's simple and elegant gala was no exception. It was a storybook evening with just a touch of creative spice. The bride, outfitted in a petticoat suitable for royalty, walked down the aisle to a Beatles tune and glowed as she shared her honest, handwritten vows laced with 'honies' and 'sweeties' that made the guests both giggle and cry. The reception tables were lined with homemade toffee and miniature bottles of bride and groom tobasco sauce. The pomegranite martinis and ahi tuna hors d'hoeuvres wet the palate. The speeches were concise and heartfelt. The scenery at the venue was exquisite. The company was warm, classy and welcoming. And the love is genuine. For that reason above all others (including the Grateful Dead cake and the sparklers), despite the epidermis-melting humidity, this may have been one of the best weddings I've ever attended.



And yes, I did virtually bowl over 20 other women to catch the bouquet (I had made a deal with the little bridesmaid that I'd get it for her). Never a dull moment...



Congratulations to an inspiring couple!

Toilet Statistics

When you wander into a public washroom (that's Canadian for restroom) that has multiple stalls, which one do you instinctively choose? Believe it or not, the math geek in me ponders this question every time I relieve myself away from home. So I'm putting it to the test.

For ease of discussion, let's assume there are 5 stalls in our sample public loo and all of them are empty upon arrival.

• Do you use the first stall because it is the closest, or because you have waited until the brink of explosion?
• Do you use the handicapped stall because you prefer the leg room?
• Do you use the fourth stall because you presume that this is the stall that the fewest number of others would choose?
• Do you use the same stall each and every time because you are a creature of habit?
• Do you use one stall for #1 and a different stall for #2?
• Do you choose the fifth stall because you want to take a quick two-minute power nap and you are least likely to be disturbed there?
• Do you choose the first or fifth stall because you want to be as far away as possible from the next person who might join you in your waste disposal?

When your dad is an actuary, this is how you are raised to think...

Airplane Chivalry

It takes a lot to get my blood boiling, but when common courtesty is foregone, I lose my patience. On the airplane the other day, a petite little woman struggled to the very back of the plane with a large carry-on. She asked the flight attendant for assistance and he offered none. In my good samaritan nature, I spotted a few small gym bags taking up space in a large bin and offered to help her rearrange the bags so she could fit her larger bag overhead. I removed one of the gym bags and went to place it gently in the bin directly across the aisle. The owner of said gym bag happened to be a large and very angry man who proceeded to yell at me for "touching his stuff." I explained exactly what I was doing, that there was room for his smaller bag directly (did I mention directly?) across the aisle, but he was so lost in the 'entitlement' he felt he had to that particular bin that he failed to see the bigger picture. He got out of his seat, removed the bag from my hands, shoved it back into it's original place and cursed me out for being 'rude,' (interesting perception of rude, I might add). At this point, I told him in a very loud and uncharacterstically stern voice that I was sorry that his mother raised him to be so selfish. We exchanged a few more words as I proceeded back to my seat. The woman with the larger carry-on had already taken off to (presumably) check her suitcase. Poor thing.

Did I also mention that the gym-bag man had an empty center seat under which he could have put his bag without disturbing his leg room? Did I also mention the male flight attendant just stood in the back of the aircraft watching this all take place?

I have no tolerance for selfishness. I also have no tolerance for US Airways. I just switched my business travel to Southwest.

Sister Geekfest Part III - The Physicist

I love getting these e-mail debate forwards from my brainiac Lil Sis. The geekitude makes me so proud...

The Setting
From Lil Sis to Cookie: "I went to bar trivia last night at Fado and this guy and I got into a debate about what a neutron was made of (he said it's a proton + an electron; I said it's not. I mentioned that I thought there were quarks involved, but only took a stand on the fact that a neutron was NOT a proton and an electron mashed together). He then told me his sister was a particle physicist. I said my dad invented particle physics. You can imagine how the conversation went from there...at any rate, we wound up betting a beer on it (that I will not have to repay, since I will probably never hang out with him again)."

The Discovery
From Guy to Lil Sis: "...it is also well known that a neutron will decay into a proton and electron. Outside the nucleus, neutrons are unstable...decaying by emitting an electron and antineutrino to become a proton" I forgot the antineutrino. Still, though...I win teh internets!!!1!!"

The Rebuttal
From Lil Sis to Guy: "While I am impressed at your industriousness (googling neutrons at 2:30am), I'm not sure I agree with your conclusion. 'A neutron is classified as a baryon, and consists of two down quarks and one up quark.' I think I remember busting out the quark during our intellectual debate on particle physics last night. Not sure what's involved with the 'decaying process, but if it involves any sort of chemical change then I don't think you can actually say that a neutron is made up of what it decays into. And we've officially reached the bounds of my knowledge. Turns out 10th grade chemistry really only takes you so far."

The Counter-Rebuttal
From Guy to Lil Sis: "I don't think the bet was whether, at a quantum level, all this stuff was made of quarks. I was saying that you can treat a neutron, in terms of mass and charge, as a combination of a proton and an electron. And the articles I quoted say that a neutron is more massive than a proton, and its charge is different, by the mass and charge of an electron (plus an anti-neutrino, which I don't really know what that is, and frankly sounds made-up.) I'm really looking forward to that beer you owe me. You can go ahead and bring it to me at work. Because clearly I'm don't have enough to do."

The Closing Argument
From Lil Sis to Guy: "I believe your exact words were 'a neutron is made up of a proton plus an electron.' When, as everyone knows, a neutron is *actually* made up of two down quarks and one up quark. You're right enough that I'll buy you a beer, next time I see you out (safe bet - I'm leaving DC in a week and a half). But you gotta give me the quarks. We're talking about something I learned 11 years ago. High five?"

Definitely!

Controversy Thursday: Druggin' Grandma

I ignored this story the first few times I heard it, because what are a few more year-old deaths when there are bigger stories of mass slaughter in the brink of far more 'current' crises? I just become desensitized with my daily dose of bombings, knifings, tsunamis and torture. The pictures of the accused nurses did nothing to reel me in, but then I spotted the photo of Miss Rose and I instantly had to jump into the details of the story head first.


Rose Savoie.

She reminded me of my own grandma. Innocent. Unassuming. Humble. Incapable of even swatting at a fly.


Jess, Grandma and Lil Sis at a wedding celebration.

My gut reaction? If anyone even attempted to lay a hand on my perfect grandma, let alone euthanize her, I'd put out a mafia hit on the culprit. Those nurses deserve to rot in Hades.

But then I thought about my own nurse roommate who has selflessly sacrificed time, money, freedom and often her own physical well-being to save lives on a daily basis. Her job is not glamourous (strenuous, draining and even demoralizing at times) and the perks are far fewer than the hassle, but in her generous spirit, she knows that the contribution she makes to the betterment of life (even if unrecognized until she hits those pearly gates) is reward enough to carry on.

What if Miss Rose, pre-Katrina, had been just like my grandma, and the accused nurses, pre-Katrina, had been just like my roommate? The problem with this story is that the media has not offered us more than a headline. Imagine the accused were faced with the absolute last-minute, last-helicopter-out choice of "save yourself, or stay with your patients to perish." Would a sane nurse sacrifice her own young life to die holding someone helplessly past her prime? But would a caring nurse really run from Miss Rose's room and leave her to drown painfully? In a crisis involving futility, how many of us know that we'd react any differently?

I'd still put out the mafia hit, but I'd be happy to know that my family stronghold went without pain because someone cared enough, even in a panic-stricken moment, to ensure she didn't suffer.

Florida Is Hotter Than Hades

For a Cookie, many a weekend night has started off like this. Nothing new.


Purchasing sex on the beach for the bachelorette.

But add an ARL destination trip to South Beach (to celebrate the upcoming marriage of our own Miss webcowgirl) into the mix and 'just your average weekend' becomes extraordinary. What begins as a quiet dinner turns to absolute mayhem in a matter of hours.


Their offices closed down when they heard Cookie would be in town.

For three straight days we were ridin' dirty...in my Ferrari.


The actual owner of said vehicle might question the use of the word 'my.'

Stories [along with pared down PG-13 photos] to be continued post-hangover. Until then, this Cookie needs a few moments of beauty sleep before returning to the airport at 6AM.

Controversy Thursday: Copy Cat

Remind me again what the heck the big deal is over stem cell research? Cloning human cells could lead to cloning human organs which could lead to cloning humans...the horror! However, imagine a world full of DC Cookie clones. I can't fathom there is any god who would deny ownership of such a population.

And on the 6 billionth day, the Cookie clones restored equilibrium and serenity to Eden... (but on the 7 billionth day, god was not resting; his Cookies had him on the center of a dance floor with a V&T).

Bring It Cookie Style

Alright, so I'm a little behind on my posting for this event, but I'm traveling for work at the moment, so bear with me.



I'm ecstatic to be co-hosting because I have done a lot of missing out as of late. The last happy hour I arrived late and left early because of work obligations and a 10-K the following morning. The happy hour before that I missed because of my redneck concert obligations. The happy hour before that I showed face for the equivalent of an Indy 500 pit-stop because of [ex]boyfriend obligations. The happy hour before that I was ill.

Well, on August 4th, my calendar is obligation-free. As a consultant, I often evaluate incentives, drivers, return on investment, etc. Here are yours in relation to this Summer Event:

• Incentives: DC Cookie will be in attendance for the duration from start until...well, the next morning if need be; Cookie style for the first time since the happy hour at Eyebar in November.
• Drivers: Alcohol and boobs (er, I mean, conversation).
• ROI: Gossip-worthy photos and a possible upgrade (or downgrade if you misbehave) of your blog-ebrity status.

Basically, you have no excuse...

Lost Dog Syndrome

In multiple occasions over the past month I have initiated encounters with people who, on various levels of intimacy from acquantance to ex-boyfriend, have proved at some point over the course of our interactions (or relationship, if you will) capable of full-blown asscorn-itude. And in every instance, out of loving concern, my friends have questioned why I still deem these people worthy of my time.

Basically, it boils down to two things; my huge heart and my uncanny ability to shed my grudges. I don't forget, but I do forgive - openly, happily and wholly. Forgiving does not mean losing sight of who a person is and what s/he has done in his past. Forgetting would leave me vulnerable to repeat a mistake, but forgiving relieves me of the negative energy I might otherwise be burdened to harbour. Every person I have met on my life journey has taught me something valuable and the way I see it, as long as I understand exactly what each person can contribute to my growth, prior sins should not necessarily result in total ex-communication.

I have so much kindness to share with the world and if I refuse to (for example) talk to a man just because he was a total jackass of a boyfriend, how in the world will he ever become the better person I'd still love to think he is able to be if I completely shut him out as a friend (provided it is blatantly clear that I would never be willing to cycle back to our prior state of uber-flawed romance)?

My mom once told me she believes that I have a "stray dog syndrome." In my desire to save the world, I am drawn to people with problematic self-character issues that need fixing. She's probably right. Hence why my version of "worthy" is ultimately skewed.

At least I'm aware...

Controversy Thursday: Til Death Do Us Part

Traditionalists believe that the union of marriage is intended between a man and a woman for the purpose of raising a family. I believe that vows should be taken by anyone who is willing and able to make a lifelong commitment. Man and woman. Man and man. Woman and woman. It shouldn't make a difference as long as the pledge is solemn and the devotion is boundless.

But then I got to thinking, where should the boundaries be set, if at all. What about the shearer who wants to marry his ewe? The polygamist who wants to marry his granddaughter? The Hazzard who wants to marry his General Lee? The porn star who wants to marry a cucumber?

In which case, perhaps I understand why a federal bill to allow same sex marriage has not yet passed. You know, because if you let one non-conformist 'get away' with something 'unnatural,' then you let them all...

View From A Canadian Soap Box

This year on Canada Day, I surrounded myself with several of my Canadian relatives. We wore red 'Canada Kicks Ass' t-shirts, ate moose jerky, said eh? after every other sentence and sang the national anthem at full volume before our main course (I stumbled on one of the stanzas, it had been so long since I'd sung the words. Lil Sis just shook her head in shame).

As we sat around the dinner table quizzing each other with questions from a Canadian Trivial Pursuit game (aside: if you guess Timothy Eaton, you have a 50% chance of being correct), our national pride brewing, my aunt began to excoriate Americans who know so little about Canada. Her story about her hair dresser not knowing where Ottawa was (hello, it's the national capital, d-uh) made us all cringe. Leave it to Lil Sis to be the rational one who interjected "Who is the President of Mexico?"

Silence.

That's the thing about Canadians. Our soap boxes exist in a tiny bubble north of 30 degrees latitude. So what if we know more about the United States than Americans know about us? That depth of knowledge is not unique to Canadians. What country doesn't know about the US, the most powerful nation in either hemisphere and arguably the leader of the free world?

So, until we multiply our population tenfold, exploit developing nations for oil and natural resources, elect a leader who can't speak his own language (but wants to enforce that language as official) and build a huge army that is highly skilled in blowing stuff up, I'm perfectly content with Ottawa remaining unknown...

Happy Belated Canada Day. Oh, and Independence Day, eh?