Lynne likes to write up these “funny moments with baby J” and e-mail them to her friends. I’ve thought a few times about blogging them, but I always figure it’s a little too meta. However, here’s one I took part in, so I guess I’m entitled this time.

So, from this morning’s mailbag:

“April 26 2005, 10ish at night -

Chatting with Lightspeedchick (MJ) on the phone for the first time in what? Ever? Anyhoo. As it is my life now, the conversation switches to what I did with J during the evening. I read to her for the first time. So Mommy is reading Le Petit Prince, trying to put as much expression as she can to keep her interest. Its working! She is listening wide-eyed and all, sometimes interrupting me to comment.

So I am describing all this to MJ. And of course, this film school, psych major (and what was the other one Ecology) replies to me: ‘You know Lynne. It doesn’t matter what you read. You could be reading Pr0n and you still would get the same result.’ And then she continues in this fun, upbeat voice you use to speak to children: ‘And Black Beauty took out his giant, hard c*ck and blah, blah, blah… pearly white cummmm’.

Aaaaaaargh mauzusse MJ! Now I have to find myself a new babysitter!”

Of course, she’s all prudish about it now, but outrage wasn’t her reaction last night. As I recall, she said something like: “L’alphabet: C comme dans Caca, Cul, Couille, Clitoris”…

And there was much hysterical laughter.

Cute online game: guess what Google image search word yielded these pictures.

(Thanks Dooma)

A friend of mine is selling stuff.

Don’t contact me about this, contact her. Thanks!

‘Twas in the happy months of the dotcom era, and I was newly employed. I had a beautiful new purple car with matching sunglasses, new stock options, a spanking new RRSP and a host of frivolous benefits. Life was as sweet as I thought it could be.

The office crones had observed that whenever there was a new girl in the office, there was a guy buzzing around her. The buzz was that my buzzer was Jeff: a tall, yummy, funny guy who shared my love of the great outdoors. Having been single for the past two years, I welcomed his attentions.

Bonnie Raitt would have been proud of Jeff and me. We laughed just a little too loud, stood just a little too close, stared just a little too long. We gave them something to talk about. For three weeks he was my regular lunch man, we went out after work together several times a week, and went over to each other’s place to cook meals together and share our life stories over wine and long, lingering glances.

This is where the chronology in the story becomes important.

Friday
One Friday morning, like every morning, he came into my office and sat on a corner of my desk. We made small talk, our faces jammed into those perpetual smiles of the inevitable, impending beginning. Like every Friday, I asked about his plans for the weekend. Unlike every Friday, he replied,

“I’m going to spend it with my girlfriend”.

Bonnie Raitt suddenly choked. I thought that through her gasps I heard her utter the word “bastard”.

Saturday
The next day, I went to Electric Avenue to drown my sorrows in Roxy Music. And that was the night when I met Thierry. We had a good long chat and eventually exchanged dotcom addresses. It wasn’t all-consuming passion from the get-go, but he didn’t make fun of my purple car either.

Monday
Monday, I came into work, and found everyone standing in the lobby. I was quickly informed that no, we weren’t fired (the dotbomb was to come only a year later), but due to an electrical problem we had the day off. Jeff asked me out to breakfast. Sure, I guess we’re friends after all, I thought.

Over breakfast, he suggested that we drive down to the Adirondacks and spend the day hiking. Sure, I guess we’re friends after all, I thought.

The day turned out to be fantastic. Sure, there was no longer any possibility of romance between us, but I fully and completely accepted our new relationship on its own terms, and thoroughly enjoyed the day. We climbed mount Phelps, had dinner by Lake Placid, caught a movie and got back into Montreal at about 1 am.

Tuesday
Still fully accepting the new terms of my friendship with Jeff, that very morning I e-mailed Thierry an invitation to the movies. The movie sucked, but otherwise, our first date went swimmingly well. He made a reference to Mark Snow, and he was a lot better looking than I’d remembered.

Wednesday
Jeff walks into my office and hands me a handwritten letter, in which he tells me how much he enjoyed the Monday, has now dumped his girlfriend and wants to be with me. Doh!

Talk about timing. There were only five days during which I thought my chances with Jeff were over, and in those five days, I bumped into the man who would become my significant other for the next four years. How different would things have been if that window had been shifted a week earlier or later?

If I need to tell you the moral of the story, you haven’t been listening.

My console’s acting up. So if anyone has a spare PS2, XBOX or Gamecube to sell at a reasonable price, I’m looking to buy.

On est au Laika’s à partir de 21h, puis on s’en va probablement au Blizzarts. Come one, come all…

I’d better write this entry now, before the winds change.

I’ve had a really kickass week. During the previous one, everyone at the studio had worked insanely hard, and on Friday we were having our office Xmas party (postponed from December… long story). So by 5 PM on Friday everyone was really ready for a party. Beer was passed around, and everyone entered party mode not gradually, but instantly. Schoolbuses took us tipsy revelers to our venue, where we had one of the best office parties I’ve ever been to, a happy evening of drinking, dancing and singing at the top our lungs. Oh, and I won an iPod.

The mood still high, we worked on Sunday, then on Monday I got to see the cinematics for one of my games, and they a-ma-zed me. I bit back tears of joy. An hour later, I was told that a fourth Ratchet and Clank game is in the works. That night, we delivered two milestones. Feedback is in from both clients, both very happy, I’m very happy, my iPod is happy, the team is happy, and Comet too.

Plus… well… it’s spring, with all that that entails. Heh.

(Sidenote: Thanks to the heretofore-unknown reader who wrote to inquire about me, it’s appreciated).

I’m going to echo Patrick’s comment here and encourage you all to vote for Julie at La Cabane as Montreal’s best waitress. Not just because we love her, but because dammit, it’s true.

Every first Wednesday of the month, about 25 bloggers show up at La Cabane for drinks and socializing. If you’ve been there before, she’ll bring you what you drank last month without having to ask. If you’re the one (and there always is one) who forgets to pay, she’ll remember exactly what you had and be gracious about it. Julie keeps a mental running tab for each of her guests and never lets anyone go thirsty. Click on over there and vote!