Why the Home Buyers Plan needs an overhaul.

With news outlets recently reporting that the Toronto Land Transfer tax – introduced in 2008 by then-mayor David Miller – might be on the chopping block, it got me thinking. To begin, if this ridiculous tax is removed, I’ll be pissed if they don’t grandfather it. I happened to be one of the individuals who bought a house in Toronto in 2009 and let me tell you, I got hammered by land transfer fees….to the tune of $10,000+. To me, this is a LOT of money.

Of course, I realize that the reality of this happening (the grandfathering, that is) is pretty much nil. We are talking about politicians here and my hard-earned-taxed-to-fucking-death-dollar is too busy paying for their frivolous ways to be returned to my wallet.

So, that got me spinning on another related topic that has always been a hornet’s nest for me: The Home Buyers Plan (HBP). What a ridiculous sham this is. In case you don’t know what the HBP is, it allows first-time home buyers to withdraw up to $25,000 in a calendar year to put toward the down-payment of a house. The beauty of it is, you have 15 years to repay it back into your RRSP before you get crucified with taxes.


The epitome of Douchebag.


This actually came through as a comment to a post I have on here, and I thought it was interesting enough to get it’s own space. For those of you who don’t know, ‘Dimitri the Lover’ is a scumbag out of Toronto Ontario who is infamously known for leaving a voicemail that could only be described as psychotic. The voicemail went completely viral online. It should be noted that Dimitri’s real name is James Sears, and he’s a convicted sexual predator who lost his medical license after being found guilty of sexually assaulting his female patients. A real charmer, if you ask me.
Without further adieu, here is the comment:



An incredible, unconditional love.


I’ve always judged people by how they reacted to Bailey, whether they were walking into my house or passing me by on the street. If you were capable of showing any level of indifference to my happy, little 4 1/2 lb Yorkie who just wanted to love you, then you were not welcome in my life.

Bailey was the best dog in the world. He was, without a doubt, the man of my life. If I had a bad day at work, or was sick with the flu, or crying from a broken heart, he was always the guy beside me showing me that he cares. Whether it was one of his infamous stares while standing on my lap, or just a tiny warm body snuggled into me, he never ever failed me. That’s the incredible thing about dogs – if you give them love, they will repay you a thousand fold with an unconditional love and devotion that simply cannot be measured.


No means yes: Reverse engineering the protocol of opposites.

He is a poacher..he took what was precious and left me for dead.

An open letter to “Justice” Robert Dewar;

I have a weakness for sharp-dressed men….especially those wearing well-tailored suits.

Given that I work in the financial core of Toronto, I see men in well-tailored suits five days a week. Sometimes they smile at me as we pass each other by. Sometimes they strike up a conversation with me in the elevator. Sometimes they even ask me for my telephone number or offer up their business card. But at no time during any of my daily dealings with these sharp-dressed men in well-tailored suits that I have a weakness for do I presume I have any right to sexually assault or rape them.


Right down the line.

Music is, without a doubt, one of the most important things in my life. It defines moments in time for me – good and bad – and I simply cannot live without the stuff. It’s like a drug and I’m heavily addicted to it’s effects.

As such, I’ve made every effort to ensure that mini-me is a true musicphile and not your typical 21st century teen who’s mind is closed to anything outside of todays Top 10. From strategically placing a speaker on either side of my belly throughout my pregnancy, to playing the great 1970’s rock bands like Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, and Bob Seger constantly as she was growing up. Of course, this also included the lesser known’s like Al Stewart, Gary Wright, and the Little River Band.

The point is: she has always been exposed to the love of music that has held me so tightly my entire life.


At the end of a rope.

Earlier this evening, I attended the memorial service for a friend who, amidst the chaos that life can throw at you, decided that the easiest route out was to tie a rope around his neck and end it all.

Words cannot describe just how incredibly sad this entire situation is. It is a tragedy, heavily compounded by the fact that there are two beautiful babies involved here.

Considering the amount of people that were in attendance – each with their own memories – it’s hard to understand why he didn’t reach out for help when so much was available.


Suing Rogers for breaking up her marriage.

Now, let me start by saying that, as a whole, I’m not a fan of Rogers. Granted, they’ve done some REALLY great things for me in the past (note: cell phone fiasco). However, I still believe they’re pirate hookers when it comes right down to it.

With that said, the recent headlines around one Toronto woman – Gabriela Nagy – suing Rogers for what she terms a “breach of privacy” just reeks of a certain sentiment that’s prevalent south of the border: sue everyone for everything because, hey, it’s not MY fault.

As the story goes, Ms. Nagy was acting without discretion behind her husband’s back, carrying on an affair with another man (I’m assuming it’s a man, but you never know). Once her husband found out via the consolidated Rogers bill, he left her and subsequently filed for a divorce like any normal breathing human being with any ounce of dignity would.


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