billions are the new millions

Already irritated beyond belief at the late news by ten minutes past eleven, I started to practice some little meditation techniques that came out in the latest head office Email yesterday (you know, the ones where the bosses pretend to care about you by telling you to manage your stress levels and stay healthy).  To my astonishment, this actually seemed to work. 

That is, until two minutes later when the following statement wafted into my consciousness in the anchorman’s dulcet tones:

Billionaires are the new millionaires. 

Exit large mouthful of Diet Coke through nose.

Man, I haven’t even made my first million yet, and they’ve already upped the bar a thousandfold?!?

Where the hell did this nonsense come from?!?

Humph.  I should have known.  And of course being the idiot that I am, I’d actually bought a copy of this issue yesterday on the way home from work.  (Perhaps if I’d stopped buying this at all when it started to get on my nerves and invested the money instead, I, too, would be a billionaire.  Note to self. 

Well, of course I had to crack it open.  Inside was a list of 19 billionaires who live in Toronto.  Hardly a trend.  But then again, they’re hoarding all the money and keeping it from all those wannabe plain old millionaires, I guess. 

At the top of the list is David Thomson with $19.72 billion.  He controls the flow of media information to the Western world owns Reuters.  Next is Galen Weston Sr. with a paltry $6.33 billion. (I guess it’s true what they say – Loblaws, his food store chain, is hurting these days!)

Now, there’s a big difference between those two figures, no?  (I can’t find my calculator and I don’t have nearly enough fingers and toes to count that high.  Another reason why I’ll never be a billionaire.  By the time I got to the end of the list and the people only had $1 billion each).

I mean, do you ever wonder what these guys discuss at parties (and I say “guys” because there’s only one woman on the list, and she’s only there by virtue of marriage, I think).  

“Yo, Galen!  I’ve got $13 billion more than you do, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!!!”

“YEAH?!?  But did you ever play polo with Prince Charles?? Huh??? Huh?????”

“You wanna take it outside to the $900,000 padded and chandeliered boxing ring which I’ve built in my Forest Hill mansion for such occasions?!?!?”

Nah, on second thought they probably all get along very well.  I imagine that they spend most of their time coming up with secret handshakes and discussing purchases such as these:

A $2,000 speaker system for your $150.00 iPod.  I mean, don’t these guys have enough money to buy a whole stereo?!?

And this:

A $50 clip to put on your dashboard to hold those pesky parking passes.  I don’t know why they don’t just do what I do and toss them all on the floor, actually.  

Hmm.  Actually, I have lots of helpful tips for these guys to help them earn even more money.  Do you think one of these would give me a job? 

Good idea.  Off to meditate now.  If I repeat the word “Money” enough times, maybe some will actually fall into my lap. 

pride goeth before some serious ripping

Well, it’s official.  I’m not actually a genius.

(I know it has taken in until quite late in the day today to make this admission.  But it was really, really hard to come to terms with ).

You see, I always wanted to be a designer when I grew up.  And, silly me, I thought this meant that I could just sit down one day and whip up a lovely designer item right off the needles!

Yes, yes, I know that all the other designers actually sit down with graph paper, pen and pencil, maybe even a sketchbook.  But I have another dire confession to make… I can’t draw.  And … graph paper?  Man, I didn’t skip maths class for nothing all those years!  Why would I, Genius of all Geniuses, need to use graph paper?!)

Well, colour me dorky.

I spent much of yesterday coming up with the ideal, most brilliant lace design of all.  But – it doesn’t work… because I don’t have graph paper.

(At least, that’s what I’m telling myself!)

And, my brain is just not big enough to fit all those little diagrams.

Man o man, do I ever feel humble now.  Icarus (the real almost-god one, not this one:

has nothing on me.)

To top it off, they didn’t bother to tell us that they’d be testing the fire alarm system at the office for half the day today… intermittently!

RRRRRRRING… RRRRRRRRRING….

Aughghghgh!

So, I’m off to hunt down some safety pins to make this Safety Pin Jacket:

And then I’m off to Currys to buy some… you guessed it!… graph paper.

I figure that I might as well do something productive!  Hard to accomplish, when one’s brain looks something like this:

Happy Monday (um, er, I guess).  Hope you’re having a fun one, at any rate!