Before we begin, a few housekeeping issues:

My husband has requested that he be given a moniker in my blog posts, instead of always being referred to as “my husband”.  Since he is one of the few Jewish men who could name any hip hop tune, I have chosen the handle FuBu in honour of his idol, Jay-Z, who always sported this label. He also requested a nickname for our daughter.  Since she seems to have a tendency for theatrics and pageantry, we have taken to calling her a Drama Queen, thus she will now be known as DQ.

I also wanted to take this opportunity to thank all my Facebook Friends who have taken the time to visit my blog recently.  There are hundreds of thousands of bloggers out there, so I really appreciate that you dropped by mine.  Feel free to click the “Follow” icon on the bottom right-hand corner to be notified of new posts so that you don’t have to try to remember to come back and check.

I didn’t have a particular topic for my post today, but I felt like writing, so here are a few minor grievances to air, and some trivial thoughts:

Why is it that grocery retailers who now charge for plastic bags have taken this to mean that customers must also bag their own groceries?  The whole objective of the bag fee was to encourage the use of re-usable shopping bags, not to cheap out on labour costs.  If I bring re-usable bags and they’re not going to bag my groceries, then the cost should net out to zero.  Am I right?

Drivers: if you want to get in my lane, signal.  Don’t approach my car within inches and bully me.  I definitely won’t let you in.  The rules of the road aren’t that complicated; follow them.

Have you ever listened to a sports talk show?  Sports talk shows carry this aura of masculinity and virility because it revolves around sports – *grunt*! But try listening to a segment for just 10 minutes.  You think techies sound nerdy?  Try this on for size.  If they could just hear the silly air of self-importance, analysing ad nauseaum whether referees are being fair to Michael Vick or not…

I am trying to find the right time to start the P90X training program.  I’m not sure if I’m up for it.  My problem is, if I start a regimen, I want to follow it the way it was meant to be followed.  But 90 straight days of 1-hour workouts?  I’m thinkin’: If you have time for that, you really need a life.  And so I fear that I will be disappointed with the results, or I feel discouraged that it might take me a year to achieve what they promise.  Also, I know I could not follow the Nutrition program to a tee, and of course, they tell you condescendingly: “you MUST do this part or you definitely will not achieve results!”  But until someone shows me empirical evidence that the occasional piece of cheesecake or brownie will give me cancer, I’m not giving that up.  Anyway, maybe after I get back from Prince Edward County in mid-October, I will give it a go.  Of course, Christmas eating will throw the whole program in the water, but you have to start somewhere.  Maybe I can convince FuBu to train with me.

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