Welcome to my 200th post!!

Ta da! Cue the balloons and streamers, the confetti and tiaras - post number 200 is coming your way on this snowy Tuesday.

How's everyone been? I've been okay, busy, but okay. Work continues to be nuts and winter continues to take its toll. Stupid winter. As you well know I'm sooooo done with the snowy season, but I'm not here to chat about that today.

No, today I want to talk about words.

Yes, words.

I like words. Words are my friends. They should be your friends too, but fret not, I won't impose my wordy views on you. Har.

I read a lot. Not like that's much of a surprise, but it's true. Once I moved out to the 'burbs I started keeping track of the number of books I read and by the time the end of the year rolled around, the total was 85. I moved mid-February.

The book I'm currently reading is one I've read before, called Inappropriate Men, by Stacey Ballis. When I first read it a few years ago I was a single city gal who was finally thrusting herself back into the dating world. I loved this book at that time. Loved it with every fibre of my being. It spoke to me, the character thought like me, and she had a way with words that made me smile.

It's amazing how the passage of time and the accumulation of life experience can radically alter your perceptions. I'm re-reading this book mostly because I hadn't had a chance to get to the library for some new 'uns, and I plain ole refuse to get on that GO train without a book in my sassy bag.

But my how time has changed me! I'm now married (and therefore as far away from the dating scene as a faithful wife can get) and living la vida suburbia. Perspective sure has changed!

I still love this book, though. Maybe because I've romanticized it so much over the years that have transpired between readings one and two. Maybe it's just because it's a darned good book.

All that to bring us back to the topic at hand - words. At one point in the novel, the main character's writing an email to a potential beau about her favourite words (she's a writer). And that really got me thinking...

...what words would be on my favourites list?

There are a few that instantly spring to mind...

loquacious

titillating

alacrity

phantasmagoric

package

bonus

triumvirate/pentavirate

plebian

I of course asked Hubs what some of his favourite words are, and here's his list:

fuck

awesome

Porsche

Nurburgring

serendipity

acceleration

mint

snake

swish

schedule

God I love this man. Could we be more different in our choices?! Yeesh! He did pick the greatest word of all time for his entry into my little experiment though. Gotta give him snaps for that.

And now he's giving me shit for my word choices. Saying that I'm only using them to try and make myself look smart, so that you'll all have to run to dictionary.com to figure out what they mean. That instead, I should have included key yet simple words like pink, bling, and diva much like he included acceleration, mint and snake to his list.

What I am apparently wasting my time trying to explain to him (as he's now trying to edumacate me on the origins of the word fuck and is therefore not listening to a single thing I say) is that I don't really give a rip about what the word means necessarily, what it represents, but rather how it sounds. How it rolls off the tongue.

He wasn't buying it.

So, I open the floor to you all now...what are your favourite words? Lemme know - I'm sure I'll be titillated by your responses!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

American Idol - censorship at its best

What crap.

What is this world coming to when a gal can't sing the entire lyrics to All By Myself?

Come on...great song. Opening lyrics to Bridget Jones' Diary, playing in the background when Cher realized that she loved Josh in Clueless, Celine Dion smacks the hell out of it whenever she sings it, and poor little Asia'h attempted it on American Idol tonight.

But someone, whether it was her or the idiots at Fox that censor this kinda stuff, decided she shouldn't sing the words "makin' love was just for fun" and substituted it with "and even though the nights are young".

First off, doesn't even really make sense. And she had this little grin on her face when she sang that line that told me even she thought it was outrageous.

What the fuck (and how I revel in saying fuck in a post that rails against censorship) is up with that? Sure, she's 19 or something but come on, she chose the song, one of the songs that Fox et al offered up for her to sing - why be so idiotic as to change the words like that? Did ya think we wouldn't notice? Do they honestly believe that the viewing audience is solely made up of vapid tweens who've never even heard the song before? Pffffft.

That's what I say to them...pfffft.

All By Myself is a true diva song and one of my all time faves. It's a challenge, no doubt about it, and is all too often butchered by those not quited skilled enough to pull it off. Like our little apostrophed continent gal here tonight. She can sing, sure, but she's sick and the song just kinda swallowed her whole. Not too pretty to watch.

Of course now it will be stuck in my head and poor Hubs will have to listen to me tackle it once or twice before I make my way up to bed. No need for me to suffer on my own, and it is a great song. Originally recorded by a guy, btw. Eric Carmen in 1975.

Man, my brain is tired. After remembering it was Eric Carmen, my brain has, for all intents and purposes, shut down and is now singing All By Myself in an Eric Cartman (a la South Park) voice. And I do a mean Cartman, if I do say so myself.

Poor Hubs. Me belting out the song as me was certainly bad enough. Cartman voice will make him want to pack a bag and find alternate sleeping arrangements for the night. Sigh.

And of course, as soon as I start singing in Cartman voice, I can't stop until I've also reprieved I'm Sailing Away while begging for Cheesie Poofs.

Just when I thought I was ready to head up to bed, suddenly an entire evening's worth of activities have unfurled before me.

Too bad I'm so tired and have to get up at an insanely, ungodly hour tomorrow. Maybe I'll have to do the super speedy version of Sailing that Cartman does. Yeah, that's it. I'm sailllinnnnng awaaaaayyyyy, free to face the liiiiiife that's aheaaaaad of me....

So very tired. Must go bed now.

Oh yeah, uh...and censorship sucks!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

F you, February.

I'm done with winter. Done. Finito. Bye bye la. Ciao, biznachio.

All this vitriol and I even had a week in the sun. I honestly can't imagine how those of you who haven't had that much needed break have survived. It's enough to make me go all postal or strap on an AK47 and climb up all those stairs to the top of a bell tower.

And you KNOW I don't like climbing stairs.

Sigh...alas, there are but three days remaining in this horrid month (February is the only month of the year that has both the letters F and U in it...coincidence? I think not) and then March, that wildly unpredictable 31 days, greets us with open arms. March is kinda like the cousin you like to party with once in a while...you look forward to their arrival, but once you've spent some time with them, you remember why you don't do it more often and can't wait until they leave.

March has such promise...because it's not February. It's the month that heralds in spring, even if it's more in theory than practice. But most importantly of all, March 1 is everyone's badge of honour, our reward for surviving the hell that is (and most certainly has been this year in particular) February.

I love spring. I know I've waxed poetic about this before, likely last year around this time, but there's just something entirely mood transforming about being able to wear a lighter jacket. Not coming home in complete darkness. The smell of the grass as it struggles to revive itself. I even embrace the ugly hard chunks that remain as the snowbanks gradually melt away, and the salt and sand that's left behind. I'll happily go outside and sweep any excess away to bring my home back to its fairweather glory.

Man. Is it March yet?

Okay, all this endless winter chat is depressing me, and hearing the gale force wind outside doesn't help much. But hey, only three more days to go, right? Danged leap year, prolonging the agony.

Hope the rest of your FU month flies by! And bundle up - it's supposed to be stupid cold again tomorrow. Argh.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?