When I grow up I hope I don't have a heart, just like you!

Tonight was a traditional fall dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. It's served three Sundays out of four [the fourth Sunday the beef is replaced with roast chicken].

Mother is regaling us with a story of the uber Catholic woman she works with, who apparently complained that all the people who go and work at the nuclear plant out on the Bruce are snobs. Then mother goes on to tell us how contradictory this woman is, and how she was talking about putting a sun room on their house, so that it will be more of an "executive style" home to match her profession.

But they also thought they might just donate the money to charity, to help poverty stricken children in third world countries.

My brother snorts and says 'really?'. Mother says she couldn't believe it either. Why would someone who makes that much money go and waste it on something like that? Build the sunroom!

Besides, all those poverty stricken children will be dead soon anyways, and we won't have to worry about them. [/sarcasm].

So what time's the Klan meeting?

Tonight's dinner conversation revolved around the lack of white people in call centres. In the words of my brother, he just wants to "talk to someone who speaks fucking English...". Oh, the joys! Dad recounted the story of a man he works with who will repeatedly ask to speak to a white person until he gets one.

If you hear of a Nazi Aryan race uprising in Canada, it started here, folks.