Hello, my name is Shae and I'm a Shoe-aholic.
I glad I can be here to share this with everyone.
My problem with shoes started early, I was never comfortable in old shoes and hated wearing ones that didn't match my outfit. I can't remember when I stopped being able to walk by a shoe store, but it's been a long time since I did that. If there's a shoe sale on, it can be a very very bad scene.
I once had to give my best friend a standing order to body-check me to keep me out of a shoe store if he had to. And he had to on more than one occasion.
Yesterday, I laid all my shoes (that I could find) out on the floor. I counted 54 pairs and could easily think of at least 4 or 5 pairs more that were missing. Most people would be overwhelmed when looking at more than 100 individual shoes, but the only thing I could think was: "Damn, I don't have a single blue pair do I? I need blue shoes...."
I buy on average a new pair of shoes at least once a month, sometimes more. I'm wearing a new pair of shoes right now. Incidentally, I will be at the outlet mall this weekend, I still need a pair of blue shoes.
They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. I have a problem. I'm hoping someone out there will help me. So, if you or someone you know can help me find that perfect blue pair of shoes, please do leave me a comment!
Thank you!
Friday, July 28, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
I've Got a Story to Tell
I've always said that every little choice you make can alter your life experiences considerably. As with all things this story begins with a simple choice to sit on the patio at a restaurant rather than sitting inside.
We were waiting for friends and I was hungry, so we chose to sit at a Thai-style grill restaurant on College street. The lady said "Sit where you want," and being that the patio was empty, I opted to sit facing the street and do some people watching. It was a warm night, the kind where it was just perfectly comfortable to sit outside, and as the sun set, the city went about making the transition from daytime metropolis into nighttime hotspots. The other seats on the patio were quickly filled.
The restaurant is on a strip of restaurant/grill places and is situated almost right next to another bar/grill patio. On the next patio were a group of middle-aged latin men of different origins and they appeared to be having a heated discussion. My knowledge of spanish, while certainly not rudimentary, was not enough to know what they were talking about.
We ordered drinks, a string of various iced teas and my cocktail, and some food. The waitress set about making our orders and we talked.
At some point, my peripheral vision caught my attention. The argument at the next patio had come to a head, and one man had stood up and punched the other squarely in the head. The other men had managed to separate them; they did that classic testosterone dance. Both men wanting to attack but being barred, making mocking attempts to hit the other.
As I said before the men were middle-aged and latino. The attacker was slim, easily 50, with a belly that betrayed that this was not his first night of beers. Though my knowledge of latin culture is limited, I could easily guess that this man was from the Dominican republic. This conjecture is based solely on the fact that almost every Dominican (from the republic) that I know comes in the same deep dark chocolate hue, reminisant of the slave ancestors that were brought to the island generations ago. He was obviously upset at the other man, and at some point my spanish knowledge recognised him saying something about hitting the other man in the head.
The other man, the attackee, at that point made an almost comical attempt to back-kick the other man, his stout legs barely bending at the knee, confirming for everyone that he was in fact already drunk. He was a different type of latino, very broad; not just in frame, but even his features were broad, his nose and eyes wide. These characteristics I've always associated with Hondurans, based only on this one women I used to know, who easily could have been his sister.
As I said, the Dominican hit the Honduran, and so the others in the group gestured for him to go away, which he did hurriedly. I imagine they must all live in the area, none of them were really dressed for a night on the town. It appeared that they were just relaxing on a warm day at their friendly neighbourhood bar. The men who remained shook their heads and patted the Honduran on his back, a manly gesture I interpret as "what the heck was his problem." The Honduran said in english "I don't know" many times.
My friends and I returned our attention to our own patio. The drinks had arrived, and people sampled drinks they hadn't ordered, and chatted in the warm twilight air.
Some time passed, when my peripheral vision noted something coming with purpose from the other direction. A quick look to my left confirmed that the Dominican had returned and as he marched, quite determined, by our patio, we all noticed that he was carrying something: a 2x4 and a brick. I immediately knew what was going to happen, and looked over in a panic at the Honduran who didn't see it coming. The Dominican pounced on him, passing others on the same patio, and hit the Honduran over the head with the 2x4 in his right hand.
I know that's what he did, but I didn't see it. I watched in horror as the large piece of wood came down, but at the last moment, I turned away. I heard it come down a second time and yelling coming from all directions. The other men on the patio managed to pull the Dominican off, just as his left hand began raising the brick.
The Honduran jumped out of his seat, holding his head, his facial expression conveyed what I imagined him to be feeling. It's similar to how one feels, for the first few seconds, when they stub their toe, the pain so excruciating for that all you can do is hold the affected area and wait for the pain to subside. In fact, he looked as though he might cry.
As this point, I sprung into action. I asked my friend to hand me a phone and noting that no one else seemed to be on their phone, I called 911. When the emergency operator came on the phone I hurriedly explained the situation. What else could I say? I exclaimed: "a man just hit another man in the head witha 2x4!" She told me the police would come and did I think we needed an ambulance. Through a series of questions she determined from me that the Honduran was 50-ish, not bleeding, was indeed conscious and talking, but she sent the ambulance anyway, to my relief.
The operator also asked me about the assailant, the Dominican. Again, through a series of well-trained questions she determined from me that he was about 5'7", mid-50s, medium build about 175 lbs, wearing a dark blue shirt and blue jeans, and a blue hat with a red insignia. My friends supplied some details, where I couldn't fill things in. The operator was patient with me, but had to tell me several times, to speak slower and directly into the phone. Someone pointed out that the Dominican hadn't gone far, he had crossed the street a bit further down and was sitting on a park bench, 2x4 still in hand. I conveyed this information to the operator.
All the while, I kept a watchful eye on the Honduran, making sure he didn't collapse. The operator thanked me and the phone call was over. In the distance we heard sirens. I got out of my seat, and went over to the Honduran who was standing with a bewildered look on his face. I told him that I hoped he was ok with me calling the ambulance because he was hit in the head, and though it probably wasn't serious, he should be checked out. He appeared to understand, but his response was incoherent.
At that point the ambulance arrived, they pointed at me as the one who called, and I directed their attention to the Honduran. They began assessing him and I went back to my seat. Without me noticing, my food had arrived. I couldn't really eat, my hands shook as I tried to appreciate my lemongrass chicken and steamed rice. I know the food was delicious, but I couldn't pay it the attention it deserved.
Someone from the patio kept an eye on the Dominican, reporting he was still there every few minutes until the police arrived. They came out of their cars, and asked around, eventually an officer made her way to our patio. We told her what little else we knew, and that we didn't know what they were arguing. One of our friends pointed to the Dominican, and the policewoman asked us quite clearly if that was "the bad guy." It was comical, but the comedy of it registered only later. She thanked us and she and her partner took their cruiser to the other side of the street.
The Honduran went with the ambulance. I was glad about this, I really wanted him to get checked out. My worst nightmare would have been doing nothing and hearing that a man had died after being hit in the head. Nonetheless, my friends had to reassure me that I had done the right thing by getting involved. Years of living in Scarborough, a place where one rarely gets involved had frightened me.
The police car remained a long time across the street with the Dominican. The police took the 2x4 and placed it in the police car. At some point when we were not looking they loaded him into the car as well, and when we looked back, the police car was gone.
As with any city, once the sirens and lights were gone, it returned to its business, almost unaffected by what had happened. I asked the waitress to pack up my almost untouched meal. We paid our bill and left.
I still can't believe that this happened right in front of us. It's the only time I ever remember being witness to such a thing. I'm sure I'll tell this story over and over again in the next few days.
We were waiting for friends and I was hungry, so we chose to sit at a Thai-style grill restaurant on College street. The lady said "Sit where you want," and being that the patio was empty, I opted to sit facing the street and do some people watching. It was a warm night, the kind where it was just perfectly comfortable to sit outside, and as the sun set, the city went about making the transition from daytime metropolis into nighttime hotspots. The other seats on the patio were quickly filled.
The restaurant is on a strip of restaurant/grill places and is situated almost right next to another bar/grill patio. On the next patio were a group of middle-aged latin men of different origins and they appeared to be having a heated discussion. My knowledge of spanish, while certainly not rudimentary, was not enough to know what they were talking about.
We ordered drinks, a string of various iced teas and my cocktail, and some food. The waitress set about making our orders and we talked.
At some point, my peripheral vision caught my attention. The argument at the next patio had come to a head, and one man had stood up and punched the other squarely in the head. The other men had managed to separate them; they did that classic testosterone dance. Both men wanting to attack but being barred, making mocking attempts to hit the other.
As I said before the men were middle-aged and latino. The attacker was slim, easily 50, with a belly that betrayed that this was not his first night of beers. Though my knowledge of latin culture is limited, I could easily guess that this man was from the Dominican republic. This conjecture is based solely on the fact that almost every Dominican (from the republic) that I know comes in the same deep dark chocolate hue, reminisant of the slave ancestors that were brought to the island generations ago. He was obviously upset at the other man, and at some point my spanish knowledge recognised him saying something about hitting the other man in the head.
The other man, the attackee, at that point made an almost comical attempt to back-kick the other man, his stout legs barely bending at the knee, confirming for everyone that he was in fact already drunk. He was a different type of latino, very broad; not just in frame, but even his features were broad, his nose and eyes wide. These characteristics I've always associated with Hondurans, based only on this one women I used to know, who easily could have been his sister.
As I said, the Dominican hit the Honduran, and so the others in the group gestured for him to go away, which he did hurriedly. I imagine they must all live in the area, none of them were really dressed for a night on the town. It appeared that they were just relaxing on a warm day at their friendly neighbourhood bar. The men who remained shook their heads and patted the Honduran on his back, a manly gesture I interpret as "what the heck was his problem." The Honduran said in english "I don't know" many times.
My friends and I returned our attention to our own patio. The drinks had arrived, and people sampled drinks they hadn't ordered, and chatted in the warm twilight air.
Some time passed, when my peripheral vision noted something coming with purpose from the other direction. A quick look to my left confirmed that the Dominican had returned and as he marched, quite determined, by our patio, we all noticed that he was carrying something: a 2x4 and a brick. I immediately knew what was going to happen, and looked over in a panic at the Honduran who didn't see it coming. The Dominican pounced on him, passing others on the same patio, and hit the Honduran over the head with the 2x4 in his right hand.
I know that's what he did, but I didn't see it. I watched in horror as the large piece of wood came down, but at the last moment, I turned away. I heard it come down a second time and yelling coming from all directions. The other men on the patio managed to pull the Dominican off, just as his left hand began raising the brick.
The Honduran jumped out of his seat, holding his head, his facial expression conveyed what I imagined him to be feeling. It's similar to how one feels, for the first few seconds, when they stub their toe, the pain so excruciating for that all you can do is hold the affected area and wait for the pain to subside. In fact, he looked as though he might cry.
As this point, I sprung into action. I asked my friend to hand me a phone and noting that no one else seemed to be on their phone, I called 911. When the emergency operator came on the phone I hurriedly explained the situation. What else could I say? I exclaimed: "a man just hit another man in the head witha 2x4!" She told me the police would come and did I think we needed an ambulance. Through a series of questions she determined from me that the Honduran was 50-ish, not bleeding, was indeed conscious and talking, but she sent the ambulance anyway, to my relief.
The operator also asked me about the assailant, the Dominican. Again, through a series of well-trained questions she determined from me that he was about 5'7", mid-50s, medium build about 175 lbs, wearing a dark blue shirt and blue jeans, and a blue hat with a red insignia. My friends supplied some details, where I couldn't fill things in. The operator was patient with me, but had to tell me several times, to speak slower and directly into the phone. Someone pointed out that the Dominican hadn't gone far, he had crossed the street a bit further down and was sitting on a park bench, 2x4 still in hand. I conveyed this information to the operator.
All the while, I kept a watchful eye on the Honduran, making sure he didn't collapse. The operator thanked me and the phone call was over. In the distance we heard sirens. I got out of my seat, and went over to the Honduran who was standing with a bewildered look on his face. I told him that I hoped he was ok with me calling the ambulance because he was hit in the head, and though it probably wasn't serious, he should be checked out. He appeared to understand, but his response was incoherent.
At that point the ambulance arrived, they pointed at me as the one who called, and I directed their attention to the Honduran. They began assessing him and I went back to my seat. Without me noticing, my food had arrived. I couldn't really eat, my hands shook as I tried to appreciate my lemongrass chicken and steamed rice. I know the food was delicious, but I couldn't pay it the attention it deserved.
Someone from the patio kept an eye on the Dominican, reporting he was still there every few minutes until the police arrived. They came out of their cars, and asked around, eventually an officer made her way to our patio. We told her what little else we knew, and that we didn't know what they were arguing. One of our friends pointed to the Dominican, and the policewoman asked us quite clearly if that was "the bad guy." It was comical, but the comedy of it registered only later. She thanked us and she and her partner took their cruiser to the other side of the street.
The Honduran went with the ambulance. I was glad about this, I really wanted him to get checked out. My worst nightmare would have been doing nothing and hearing that a man had died after being hit in the head. Nonetheless, my friends had to reassure me that I had done the right thing by getting involved. Years of living in Scarborough, a place where one rarely gets involved had frightened me.
The police car remained a long time across the street with the Dominican. The police took the 2x4 and placed it in the police car. At some point when we were not looking they loaded him into the car as well, and when we looked back, the police car was gone.
As with any city, once the sirens and lights were gone, it returned to its business, almost unaffected by what had happened. I asked the waitress to pack up my almost untouched meal. We paid our bill and left.
I still can't believe that this happened right in front of us. It's the only time I ever remember being witness to such a thing. I'm sure I'll tell this story over and over again in the next few days.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Nigerian Money Scam
I had never heard of this before, until a friend of mine was selling her furniture online. She posted it everywhere and set up an email address to sell her furniture and was excited when she got a note offering the asking price for her sofa set. The email read like this:
Immediately I was uncomfortable with this because of a few things:
Smith got back to her and she received this:
She replied back, asking a few questions not the least of which being how to dial that number from Canada.
She asked me so I looked the number up on an area code decoder that fishy feeling I had, grew. The number according to the site was from Nigeria.
Again, I'd never heard of this, but I googled "michael james fraud" and one of the first results was Nigerian Advance Fee Fraud! Coincidence - I think not!
It's a version of what's called a 419 scam. It's called 419 due to the section of the Nigerian penal code regarding fraud. Basically they do a variation of this:
Find someone online who's selling an item, anything, a house, a car, something on ebay, furniture whatever, and agree to buy it. They tell the person they are not in the country and would like to have the item shipped. They always pay with some physical instrument, never cash, usually a cheque or money order of some kind. When the payment arrives, it is for more than the amount owed, with instructions to send the remainder via wire/Western Union to the buyer as a favour.
This is where my knowlege of banking helps! Sometimes it takes a few days for a fraudulent item to come back to the bank where it was deposited. Which means that even if your bank says the cheque or whatever is ok, and it looks ok, it could still come back in a week, or a month from the bank it's issued one to your bank as fraudulent. The way the scam works is that by the time you wire the money away (which you can't get back once it's sent), the cheque won't have been returned. When it does come back fraudulent, you're stuck covering for the whole amount of the cheque, including what you sent away. People lose thousands this way!
There are many variations. Sometimes, they claim to be government contractors looking for bids on a job (this is more for businesses) and ask the bidders to pay advanced fees for the bidding/registration, sometimes they claim to be charitable organizations collecting furniture for schools/hospitals. Always they are from Nigeria. I told my girlfriend all this and we decided it was best just not to get back to the latest email and forget the whole thing.
Today she received this in her inbox, not to my surprise.
So we were right all along, and thankfully listened to our guts! My point, don't let this happen to you. If you ever are selling something online, please don't ever, ever send money in a way that you where not sure if you'll receive the item, use escrow where possible. And never send money by wire to Nigeria!
Lastly, if your gut tells you something is not right. Go with your gut, you may not always be right, but you'll always be glad you did.
Message By smith: hi, seller i saw ur ad for the sofa,my charity org seach and buy used items for less poeple such as victims of war ,my org is inrested in buying this sofa set for $600 only ,pls reply asap.
Contact details of smith
Email : simpsongeorge001@yahoo.com Phone: 2348029683954
Immediately I was uncomfortable with this because of a few things:
- He never mentions the organization he works for
- The spelling is horrific
- The name and email address don't match. This would be ok if the email was a recognized/famoud name, but the email address isn't something like xenawarriorprincess@blah.com.
Smith got back to her and she received this:
michael james simpsongeorge001@yahoo.com wrote:Notice how now we have 3 names, the name on the email address (Michael James), the name in the email address (simpson, george) and the name in the email (Smith).
hi, am most happy to see u mail me back for response for ur ad ,i would have coll u but am very busy right now ,and perhaps my phone network is engaged ,but not withstanding i will not hesitate to coll u ,pls could u mail me the ad price for those items ,and asap that u would want me to effect the payment ,cos right now i can afford to pay with my check asap , let me know if u are ok by this .pls let me have ur feedback latest by today or tommorow pls,cos now am mobile or better still u can try and call me today,on 2348029683954,THANKS for ur co-operation.SMITH
She replied back, asking a few questions not the least of which being how to dial that number from Canada.
michael james simpsongeorge001@yahoo.com wrote:Okay, now we have four names, who is CLEMENT?
HI, pls sorry for the inconviniences it was due to my job ,i do switch off my phone ,whenever am in the security radio active area,pls as i have told u i can afford to pay by check ,a well certified check,since u have agree to accept check ,i will need to contact my shipper to start making neccessary arrrangement .pls u have to mail me ur personal data ;address ,city ,name in full, and i promise to incure the shipping cost ,added to the ad price ,that is when i have meet my shipper to know the cost of shipping this items to the u.k ,pls i suggest u coll me now, or umail me as soon as u get this , mail or u pls call me , cos of u i will switch on my phone.thanks CLEMENT
She asked me so I looked the number up on an area code decoder that fishy feeling I had, grew. The number according to the site was from Nigeria.
Again, I'd never heard of this, but I googled "michael james fraud" and one of the first results was Nigerian Advance Fee Fraud! Coincidence - I think not!
It's a version of what's called a 419 scam. It's called 419 due to the section of the Nigerian penal code regarding fraud. Basically they do a variation of this:
Find someone online who's selling an item, anything, a house, a car, something on ebay, furniture whatever, and agree to buy it. They tell the person they are not in the country and would like to have the item shipped. They always pay with some physical instrument, never cash, usually a cheque or money order of some kind. When the payment arrives, it is for more than the amount owed, with instructions to send the remainder via wire/Western Union to the buyer as a favour.
This is where my knowlege of banking helps! Sometimes it takes a few days for a fraudulent item to come back to the bank where it was deposited. Which means that even if your bank says the cheque or whatever is ok, and it looks ok, it could still come back in a week, or a month from the bank it's issued one to your bank as fraudulent. The way the scam works is that by the time you wire the money away (which you can't get back once it's sent), the cheque won't have been returned. When it does come back fraudulent, you're stuck covering for the whole amount of the cheque, including what you sent away. People lose thousands this way!
There are many variations. Sometimes, they claim to be government contractors looking for bids on a job (this is more for businesses) and ask the bidders to pay advanced fees for the bidding/registration, sometimes they claim to be charitable organizations collecting furniture for schools/hospitals. Always they are from Nigeria. I told my girlfriend all this and we decided it was best just not to get back to the latest email and forget the whole thing.
Today she received this in her inbox, not to my surprise.
hi, i hav not heared from why ,pls am supose to have koll u but am in a business summit in the u.k ,of the commonwealth ,cos am not in the state rigth now ,pls i want u to do me a favour and help this is very urgent,my wife called me this morning that she is in a deep shit and got stranded in west africa ,nigeria to be precise ,where she went for her archeaologist tourist excursion trip, unfortunatly for her the course has just been extendend till 20th of dis month ,and she had accumulated hip of bills to pay the hotel lodged and she can,t make use of her amex platinum card over there cos its is a remote area ,and she hav to pay up her bills up till 20th of july at the experatin of her course ,and also to extend the date of her return ticket to the state ,she has exhusted all her money ,as i hav told u that am in a summit inthe u.k where she called me .pls u are the closeset person that can help me of this situaton pls, all i need of u is to kindly spare me a sum of $300, to settle her bills and also do other neccessary things ,i shall honourably refund this money back to u ,if possible with an intrest ,if u demand ,i will add it up to the bargain price of the items ,which my shipper will deliver the check to u by hand by this u hav full course to smile to the bank .N.B pls if u are sending this amount to her ,pls use western money transfer , so that she can get it easily ,her data is;PITT SMITH ,pls try to coll me on my mobile phone if u will do this favour for me on +2348029683954, THANKS for ur co operattion.SMITH.
So we were right all along, and thankfully listened to our guts! My point, don't let this happen to you. If you ever are selling something online, please don't ever, ever send money in a way that you where not sure if you'll receive the item, use escrow where possible. And never send money by wire to Nigeria!
Lastly, if your gut tells you something is not right. Go with your gut, you may not always be right, but you'll always be glad you did.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Italy in the World Cup
I know I'm not the only person who is upset about Italy being in the World Cup. I know it. Anyone who is not Italian knows it. Some people who ARE Italian know it. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks.... Why? Because you shouldn't be able to cheat and get away with it like that! You shouldn't be rewarded for taking a dive and the ref should be ashamed he fell for it in the first place.
I know they won the Germany game fair and square, but they wouldn't have gotten to be in the game if they hadn't cheated before.
The World Cup has been suffering from this for years, and not just at the hands of the Italians. The famous "Hand of God Goal" by Diego Maradona of Argentina (WC 1986) is another perfect example. Right away he knew what he'd done, but once the ref makes that call, there's no going back, even if a player quite blatantly punches the ball while making a heading motion, making it look like he headed the ball into the goal. He admitted later that he knew right away it wasn't a valid goal and encouraged his teammates to hug him to make it look real!
So, the Italy team may win the World Cup this year, but if they do, believe me, only the Italians will be smiling.
I say we bring instant replay into the World Cup and allow each team one disputed call per game, add the time it takes into injury time, and make it possible for unfair calls to be recalled. OR have multiple Refs make the call (much like in baseball, where one ump can confer with the others when he's not sure). Either way, something's got to change to make the world's most popular game more fair!
I know they won the Germany game fair and square, but they wouldn't have gotten to be in the game if they hadn't cheated before.
The World Cup has been suffering from this for years, and not just at the hands of the Italians. The famous "Hand of God Goal" by Diego Maradona of Argentina (WC 1986) is another perfect example. Right away he knew what he'd done, but once the ref makes that call, there's no going back, even if a player quite blatantly punches the ball while making a heading motion, making it look like he headed the ball into the goal. He admitted later that he knew right away it wasn't a valid goal and encouraged his teammates to hug him to make it look real!
So, the Italy team may win the World Cup this year, but if they do, believe me, only the Italians will be smiling.
I say we bring instant replay into the World Cup and allow each team one disputed call per game, add the time it takes into injury time, and make it possible for unfair calls to be recalled. OR have multiple Refs make the call (much like in baseball, where one ump can confer with the others when he's not sure). Either way, something's got to change to make the world's most popular game more fair!
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