The markets were in free fall yesterday — apparently — and the Canadian dollar plunged by three cents.
The Brit twit running things over the pond came to our country to say this: “We are not quite staring down the barrel.”
And our own Prime Minister, the person we pay to keep Canada out of trouble, is warning that the world debt crisis is reaching a “perilous point”.
My day went pretty well yesterday until I was bombarded with the news that the sky was falling. I managed to pay all my bills and still have money for the mixings of a pretty nice Margarita and a Gordon Ramsay feast of mozzarella stuffed chicken.
Scott and I decided to dine in last night rather than have our drinky poos out on the deck before dissecting his Toronto trip to see all the nice shiny Subarus everybody will be buying this fall.
Oh yes, they will be buying alright.
They are lined up for the new Imprezzas which have been stalled for weeks on a dock somewhere on the West coast. They’ll be arriving in the showroom in the next week or so and all the professors and doctors will be in, paying cash for their new toys.
They don’t seem to mind that the world is going to batshit. Or at least they’re not crabbing about it in the car dealership.
My son Nick got a full time job this week, after being unemployed for two years and I got called by a headhunter who found my mouldy resume on Workopolis.
Things are getting better in my household.
But not according to Cameron and Harper. They stood ready, aye, ready to ruin my dinner last night blorging on the supper hour news about this little crisis we’re apparently having.
I was so depressed by the end of the evening, I opened a second bottle of wine.
So I’m feeling a little crabby this morning.
I have news for your dudes.
Stop scaring people and start doing your jobs. People pay you a lot of money to keep the ship of state afloat and I’m tired of hearing your belly aching.
Oprah Winfrey could bloody well buy Greece and set it straight. Get Barry O’bama could talk to her.
Put Warren Buffett in charge, why don’t you?
He seems to have his eye on the prize.
Jackie Boy Layton was right.
Get those Mo’Fo’s like my ex-husband and his millionaire buddies to start paying proper taxes for once. That’ll put more money in the coffers.
Stop ruining my dinner.