Sep 1. I reckon
This cd is doing some weird fucking shit. Buzzing like a helicopter and getting choppy and eventually stopping playing altogether in favour of just buzzing and making weird noises and freezing the computer. It's homemade with a label stuck on top and I suspect it's the label's doings. Raah. I've just put it in my stereo and it seems to be working there, which adds more weight to the label theory, since obviously the stereo's cd player isn't toaster-style, and that of my computer is.
So it looks like I'm going to have to apply for a student loan. Let me walk you through the futility. I have one year of school left. I have already paid my tuition for this term. The math whizzes amongst you have already deduced that this leaves but one term for which I need to pay. First of all, who in hell applies for a loan for ONE TERM? Second point, I don't NEED to. I'm not doing this because I or my parents have run out of money for my second term's tuition. I'm doing this so I will look better on my application for work study. Which I am pursuing so that I can keep my job. So I am deliberately getting myself into debt in order to keep a job I already have. Why has work study got to be so picky? They're not giving me money, just a designation so that I can continue doing something I've been doing already for 4 months. Fucking die!
Yesterday I was out for a walk again and I saw not only Mormons, but also a lady on a Segway. She was just tooling along down Sherbrooke, in the street, you know, where the cars are. I laughed at her. She looked dumb.
And there have been new nard-kickings over at the Waldepus: Leonardo DiCaprio and Joe Lieberman!
Addendum: seems my control panel for my site isn't working right now, so I can't get there to upload this. Shitpoo.
scene: it says here, billy bragg
Some days you just have to wear a 13-inch-long skirt and stolen legwarmers and feel like hot shit.
That's today, yesterday I went on a nice long walk that wasn't meant to be that long but I got in a nice explore of my neighbourhood that I hadn't gotten before. I was just going up to Sherbrooke to go to the Jean Coutu ( =quebec drugstore chain) to get something, and although it was full of school supplies, it didn't have what I needed, so I set off eastwards to see if I could pop into another store to get it. Nobody did and I wound up walking over the Decarie and into Westmount and going to the Pharmaprix there, which is the Quebec version of Pharmasave. And I just realized that if you've got no french experience at all, you'd read that as "pharma-pricks," and they aren't really pricks at all, except that they took over the Warshaw on St-Laurent and that makes me sad. Anyway I got what I needed, and went on a few more blocks to the Royal Skank, er, Bank, and deposited my paycheque, and walked another block to where it stopped being a commercial street, which meant that Westmount park was starting, and then I went back, stopped in at the fanciest freaking McDonalds to use their bathroom, went back over the Decarie and thought maybe I'd get a little something to nibble upon, since what I'd had for what passed for lunch was my last little applesauce-raspberry cup thingy. Stopped in at the D.A.D's bagel, where I bought something that called itself a cheese bagel, but it was all sweet, and that's wrong. So I kept walking instead of turning down my street and went along the NDG part of Sherbrooke until it got all residential, contemplated grabbing a slice of pizza but didn't, and went home. It was nice.
I bought a loaf of bread that was right on the verge of going stale a few days ago and now I have a loaf of stale-ass bread and I'm not at all inclined to eat it. I hate when I have to wind up being wasteful.
scene: bury me in my overalls, faith petric
Ok, I know crying is supposed to fuck up your eyes during the time right after you're done, but what's the story with my puffed-up eyelids and red-and-yellow discolouration on the UPPER rims of my eyes this morning? For starters, you cry down, not up. My eyelids look like that one of them did when it got bitten by a mosquito in my sleep up at Bri's place at Whistler once. I'm quite scary-looking today. And this is all because last night I was thinking about my responsibilities to make everyone else ok, to take the blame for everything so that someone undeserving doesn't get punished, and how derelict I've been in that, and how hopeless it really is considering how many people I can't save.
Today I've got to do laundry, which is urgent in its own way (as in i'll be a paper bag princess if i don't), but I've also got to fill out my work study form so that I can keep my job, and that form has to be given in by September 8. The thing is that work study goes to people who are either poor or international students, because international students, on student visas, aren't allowed to work off campus. I haven't got any student loans because of the Canadian Scholarship Trust Fund thingy and because Canadian tuition is so much lower than American tuition that my parents were willing to pay for it. I wouldn't be applying to work study if I didn't have a job that required it, because other than that, I don't need it. I wonder what will happen if I don't get accepted. I know Jesse's also in this position at work. Speaking of forms, I also have to fill out at least one of the two credit card applications my bank flung at me and do something with it.
Oh yeah, and the idea of making a tape is burning a hole in my pocket, so to speak. First comment (if i haven't just recently made you a tape, that is) gets it.
scene: polaroid, spirit of the west
Yesterday I helped a lot of people. I don't mean that in a customer-service way, I mean like I gave this one girl advice on how to wire her house so that she and her 4 roommates could all share one high-speed internet hookup and each have a phone line, and we saved this girl's lost wallet and she came back and was so grateful when we had it, and then I gave this lady and her 2 little kids my seat and saved the one next to me so I could give them it on the bus home and wound up standing and it was really crowded but whatever, it made their day better. It's nice. It feels nice.
Today I was waiting for the bus and a funeral drove by, and I thought how it was kind of disrespectful to the dead that the dead had to idle behind a rusted-out crappy truck at the stoplight. Maybe they should close roads for funerals. Everyone in the procession cars was old.
Sab sent me an email with a link to a freaky ebay auction in it. I present Scary Ceiling Bra! Iiiiiit's dirty! No, not that kind of dirty. Actual dirt dirty.
Oh, and ok, I was talking to ketcho and I realized that lately I've been really annoyed at how there are lots of people, and by people I mean people she deals with, who think that if you agree with The Establishment in any way, including having one or more of your preferences about people or movies or music or whatever overlapping with The Man's, you're oppressing people and being an asshole and you should stop it at once. I call a big bullshit on that. If you dismiss out of hand anything that's glamourized in the media JUST FOR THE FACT that it IS glamourized in the media, you're just exchanging one form of "mental slavery" for another. You have a mind, and you're free to use it to form your own preferences. If the media says skinny chicks are hot and fat chicks are not, and you buy it because they told you so, you suck and you're not using your mind. But if the media says that and you say "fuck you, media! i think fat girls are hot and skinny girls are not just to shove it in your FACE! ha HA!" and think anyone who does prefer skinny girls is a media dupe, you're not using your mind either. Hi, sometimes the media agrees with some people's honestly held, previously existing opinions. The moral of this story is, don't tell people how to think, or you're just as bad.
scene: terrible storm, tegan and sara
So yesterday night we were talking about how that guy from Matchbox 20 needs a kick in the nards, but I didn't relish going and finding them, and it led to all kinds of craziness, as documented in the following pictures:
The before picture (the nard locator)
The after picture
Then someone suggested Ashton Kutcher needed a kick in the junk too and I found this picture and couldn't help myself.
This morning I could have gotten up at 10something but I fell back asleep and had a really weird dream where I was allegedly in Thailand looking for a place to live, except the nature was very BC, and I went to this total scam of an "ancient art site" that allegedly had somewhere to live off its path and up the hill, not that I got to see it, and then my dad and one of his friends were driving me somewhere and I was trying to explain why it wasn't for sure and I kept getting interrupted and then I had a coughing fit and the guy kept asking me questions when I hadn't finished explaining and it was so frustrating.
I'd better as hell go get my bus ticket today.
Oh, sweet as a nut, the item update at Gaia got there! Took freaking long enough, YAY.
scene: tracy chapman
Too many scarily skanked-out froshie babies today, too much screaming on command. I made up a froshie cheer of my own, but it only works if you're frosh group 2, or 22, or something. Italics are what the froshies scream back at you, and oh, the yes sir and yes ma'am part refers to how each of the groups usually has one male and one female leader, so the part the yes sir answers to is yelled by the guy, and the part the yes ma'am answers to is yelled by the girl:
Heyo number 22! We do what we're told to do!
We won't leave you all alone! We have no minds of our own!
Mindless drones! Yes, sir! Whatcha gonna do? Get plas-tered!
Mindless drones! Yes, ma'am! Who's a skanky ho? I am!
Whooo, 22. Yeah.
I like it when Australian exchange students need my help because I feel like I'm making things easier when they're hard, plus I like talking to them and the guys are always unnecessarily attractive. I got to be nice to lots of people today, exchange and not. I also got to gossip with Annie a lot and that's great too.
I'm so sure there was more I meant to say. But I can't remember, because I'm hungry, but I haven't made dinner because I'm not excited about doing the dishes in the sink. I really need motivation. Oh, but I realized I live in a neighbourhood and not a back alley now, so I'll carve a pumpkin and have candy for trick-or-treaters on Halloween, and that's kind of exciting.
I keep artificially inflating my views count because I'm always checking to see if there are more comments. I'm such a comment hor, haha.
And I am so excited that Nina's at UBC, even though her roommates have public hairs that should really not be public. And Aaron, who, for the uninitiated, is my little brother, is starting at Langara. So, okay, go education and shit.
scene: a lover sings, billy bragg
The comments work! That's so exciting!
Move-in day for rez was Sunday. The new rez, the one that used to be that hotel on Parc, is in action. Yesterday there were billions of people on campus and they are all my little brother's age, which is terrifying. It's been getting gradually more and more crowded and yesterday it just exploded. School's starting, for real.
And today I'm going to mail a cheque to a website. No, it's not for porn, you bastards. I would never pay for porn, there is quite enough for free. It's to Gaia, because they need it, PLUS you get cool shit for donating, and this month's donator item is headphones and I covet them. Not real headphones, little pixel headphones for your avatar. Still cool though. And yes, I would donate money to sf if they would take it. Obviously.
scene: soon enough, joseph mulhollen
Ok, here is the weird thing for the day. Actually, I have 2 weird things for today, but this one is more relevant so it goes first. I am even more convinced today that he does not read this journal anymore since I took down the link on livejournal, but yesterday he says he has something that might cheer me up, since I'm patently miserable, not to mention grouchy. And proceeds to tell me he posted his resume on a job site that lets you pick what cities it would be released to, and he picked Vancouver as one of them. Now, this could be explained by his having read the entry, decided to appease me, and posted the thing. I asked him when he did it. He said he had done it the day before. No reference has still been made to the journal. Anyway, talks were had and now things are looking better. It isn't going to be causing him to put his life on hold to NOT do the Boston thing right away, and he IS willing to make efforts to get into Canada, like taking the immigration test, which is really actually kind of fun for the whole family. I tried it, pretending my parents didn't already live here, and got a 60. Pass mark is 75. See whether you'd be allowed to live in Canada! Even more fun if you already live here! I just took it again and admitted that my parents do live here, and that only gave me 3 more points. Boo! Thanks a lot, Canada! Admittedly, this is due to my less-than-one-consecutive-year of work experience.
Second weird thing for today: I have gotten two hits on my site recently from Americans with a scary domain. One from NASA, and one from the Army. The weird part here, not that that isn't weird, is that they both found my site through a search for the same thing: the IKEA Jerker desk! And god-dammit, it wasn't even MY desk I was talking about! It's Dan's! And eventually, it was me referring to the Jerker shrine that I got searched for. And now I'm being even more meta-commentary by talking about the various different searches, and I'm sure I'm ensuring more searches to come. Welcome, Jerker-seekers! I haven't got any Jerkers, but you're welcome to stay and look around and read awhile! Good god, I had no idea so many people ran searches on that piece of furniture. IKEA is now my top search term.
And yes, I am working on getting commenting. Maybe even tonight it shall arrive.
scene: pulp fiction soundtrack
I'm so unhappy about this Boston thing. I've been making inquiries and doing research and the more I learn the more inevitable it seems. I found out that since I have dual citizenship I don't even have to jump through any bureaucratic hoops to move there, I just have to pack up and go. This should make me happy because it's easy and bureaucracy is evil but it really, really doesn't. Of course that's because I wanted an excuse. But I'm not going to get one, I'm going to have to move to Boston and even though I love that city and did expect to spend some time living there eventually, I really wanted to go home after these 4 years. Even now in the summer I'm thinking about this coming winter and dreading it. I can't handle another one in a row. I really, really miss home. A lot. Just the place of it, the scenery, the feel of the air. I know I haven't got a choice, and it would be so selfish to refuse. I know I'm the one used to being unhappy and it would be mean to force it on someone else just so I could get a break from it. I'm going to go, of course, but it's going to be a really hard year. I'll probably cry all the time when nobody's watching.
And I can say all this because I'm pretty sure he doesn't read this anymore. I don't want him to know because I don't want to affect his decision. I just want him to be happy, and if that means he needs to go there for a year and I need to go with him, then that's how it's gotta be.
I didn't get my bus ticket yesterday but that has way more to do with me being lazy than it has to do with any of this.
I haven't had anything to eat because I only woke up 2 hours ago and I didn't feel like it, and I don't see any reason to start now. I figure if I eat my stomach will scream at me and I'll feel worse. All I want to do now is lie down on the floor (is that the right version of lay/lie? i don't really care). The true purpose of work and school are definitely to keep one from being bored. Sometimes that bothers me, but not right now.
It also sucks ass that Wesley Willis died. Everyone else is posting links to articles about it, though, so I'd be redundant if I did. The chicken cow, motherfucker.
scene: graze, live
I might go down to the bus station today and buy a ticket. It's nice out, so nice that I'm wearing long sleeves, and doesn't THAT sound weird. Meanwhile my friends in the BC interior are busy living through the apocalypse, so I should shut up because none of the trees in this city, insofar as there are any, are on fire.
Maybe today I should do my customary pre-term class breakdown, because I know you all care so much, and besides some poor suckers are already starting school and talking about what their teachers are like and stuff, and god knows I don't have anything else useful to say, so yeah. I'm not too scared about this year, my last, except for Japanese, which I think is regularly going to bend me over a chair.
So, on to the classes:
At 10:30 on the 3 days (mon., weds., fri.) I've got Intro to Feminist Theory. All right, all right, all you haters can shut up now. It's an elective, and if it gives me even the slightest hint of being hard I'm setting it as pass/fail, which means it doesn't count for your GPA unless you fail it, which is what I should have done with my stat class in second year but anyway. I'm just curious and ill-informed and I like the sort of people I imagine I'll find in such a class. It's in that room on the "second" floor of McEnge, which is what I and anyone else who is as cool as me calls McConnell Engineering, because McGill was stupid enough to name 2 engineering buildings, 2 adjacent and contiguous engineering buildings no less, McConnell and McDonald. Do you have any idea how similar those sound? So I call them by a phoneticization of their abbreviations, McEnge and Mid-Enge. Anyway it'll be a kind of big class, but I don't care.
At 11:30 every day, for both terms, I've got Japanese. It's intro level and stuff, but it's an hour EVERY DAY. I think it's going to be incredibly hard, but it's a matter of principle that I don't take it pass/fail. I'm supposed to be good with languages. I can do this. And if I can't, I'm patently inadequate. There, THAT ought to motivate me.
At 1:30 on the 3 days I've got my 500-level linguistics class, Socio 2. I'm hoping it won't be all book-larnin'-y or turn me into some soulless little research assistant, because socio 1 was wicked fun and I really enjoyed it. But this bad boy is a 500-level. I've never taken a 500-level anything before, and the 400-level history class I took last term sucked the bag (but i still got a b+ in it). It's in one of those rooms in Leacock with the Soviet-era plastic molded chairs that make you want to die, unless, and I hope this is true, they've put the new chairs in. And that's my last class on those days, so at least school's over for me at 2:30.
At 2:30 on the 2 days (the tues and thurs) I've got the somewhat ill-advised Gender, Inequality, and the State anthro class. It sounds interesting, but I've had this prof before and she's ... hard to learn from. But it fit my schedule and since I'm done my major and that 500-level class is all I need for my linguistics minor, this year is mostly about finishing my anthro minor, so I've had to pick courses by the handful. It's in Otto Maass, the chem building, pronounced by most people like one word, like automass, and by good old Mike Harter, The Most Unreliable Person in the World, as "Otto Ma-ass." As in, "where did you get those numbers?" "otto ma ass!" That building always smells funny.
Right after that, at 4 (classes on the 2-day schedule are an hour and a half long), I've got Peoples of South Asia, another anthro course, and despite the fact that as winter comes on I'll be getting out of that class when it is ALREADY DARK, I'm not expecting it to be too hard.
So yeah. That's my term. More updates to follow as I actually take the courses.
scene: everything in its right place, radiohead
I'm stupidly starting writing this right before going to work. So you know I'll write the rest of it when I get home.
And it is now "when I get home."
So I have another wee little complaint about bus behaviour, but at least this one's strictly Montreal-based (as far as i know...). This is that for some reason Montreal bus-riders think you can only get off the bus via the front door. What the fuck? Sometimes when they're closer to the back door they'll leave that way, but I've often seen people get up from their seat, walk right past the back door, and get off at the front. Hello, dumbasses, you don't have to push through all those other people, you can get off by the back door. Stupid people.
On to more exciting things, like my upstairs neighbour (owner of the terrorist child) giving me a bag of green beans from her garden the other day. Random but nice. Or how Sunny and Luc, the techs at the lab, both in their 30s or so, having an Underground Dance Party in the tech room yesterday evening. For real, I heard oontz oontz music so I got up to walk around the computers to see if someone wasn't using headphones or something, but no, the sound is coming from the tech room. They also got some sandwiches delivered, which I know because they didn't specify it was room 110A and not just 110, so the delivery guy brought the sandwiches to me, and when we were closing they came out to tell us they were still going to be there so we shouldn't lock up, and they were way more chipper than I'd ever seen them, not that they're so cantankerous all the time or anything. Anyway, I think they were high on drugs and having a 2 person tech room rave. Yeah.
Oh, and today I was prowling about in the Gaia link list, and I found the best site ever: True Porn Clerk Stories. It's just this woman's stories of working in a video store that has a sizeable porno department, but they're by turns hilarious and insightful (not to say that they're never both) and you should go and spend your evening reading them. Not that it'll take that long unless you're a really slow reader or something, but anyway.
Incidentally, garlic-and-herb cream cheese is really fucking good.
scene: stop whispering, radiohead
Yesterday I found out that I am stupid because I don't watch enough American tv. Hi, your cultural imperialism can go and fuck itself. I can remember back when it was something not to brag about, how much tv you'd watched. I haven't watched much at all, and fuck you because I'm still proud of that. If that means I'm stupid then I guess I'll be stupid, and if you don't like me stupid then don't talk to me. And in case any of you are feeling charitable and wanting to help bring me up to speed on everything I've missed, don't. I'm not going to enjoy it and I'll be doing the internet equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and going LA LA LA.
I also suspect myself of having lost my sunglasses the day I went to the Super C for groceries and got my shoe stuck to some melty gum at the bus stop, and that pisses me off, because I only bought them in May. Now I have to go without until I can reasonably expect that they would have broken and I'd have had to get another pair. Boo.
I also had a really weird dream this morning, but I'm not going to bore everyone with details that they won't be familiar with here. If you care, ask. See, this is where commenting would be useful.
scene: the rider, joseph mulhollen
Ok, so I got maybe 4 or 5 hours of sleep last night, because going to bed at 1 when you've been going to bed at 3 does not equal getting plenty of sleep in time to wake up at 7am. In fact, I would probably have been borderline miserable had I fallen asleep immediately. Anyway, that happened, and then Smaranda disappeared with Laura into the bowels of lab 112 to do some sort of minor construction work involving the under-desk brackets for the CPUs. For 2 hours. Starting right before I had to leave. I was supposed to get to leave at 1:30 and I wound up staying until quarter to 3, because I couldn't leave with no one there. These sorts of things always seem to happen on the days that I get no sleep. Why is that? Why couldn't they just happen when I'm well equipped to deal with them? Argh.
Oh, and if I say some wildly self-deprecating things, please don't fret. I'm being swamped under with a pretty rough wave of "the d-word" right now, so things feel much worse than I'm sure they really are to the unfiltered view. It'll pass, I know, but I never have been able to hold shit together for more than 2 years at a stretch, so after the good years I had in first year and second year, last year has been pretty shit, and this year is not looking up. But I'm not 12 anymore; I have a more sophisticated array of methods of dealing with it. So don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen.
Oh, and I'm willing to try getting commenting on this bad boy again. Can you people who have a commenting system (no, livejournal does not count as a "commenting system") tell me why I should or shouldn't get Haloscan? Apart from the fact that at some point or other, everyone has said that it's unremittingly evil, and it doesn't display for me at all in Netscape, and on some people's sites I can leave comments from Explorer, but on other people's sites I never have been able to? Let's let alone the fact that apparently even if I wanted to sign up, I can't.
Ok, that's enough from me today, goodnight. Not that I'm actually going to sleep; it's way too close to night time to do that.
scene: if love is a red dress, maria mckee
Disappointing someone you love is a great way to start the day. I'm sure everyone knows how horrible that feels.
Relatedly, considering that I'm not working today, I was going to go to the bus station and buy a ticket, but after realizing that I stupidly didn't think about it before making plans, I can't now. The hell of it is that it wouldn't be a big deal at all if I had thought of this while I was planning, and simply made the plan for a different date. But instead I had to realize it a day after I planned and now I'm stupid and treacherous and worthless.
Well, at least I get to watch those little squares dance, which is like my only joy in life, right? Blah. I should really get outside.
My gums are friggin shot.
scene: frankie, betty blowtorch
According to my tracker, people from Kingston and Sudbury are reading my journal. This makes me happy in the most unsettling way, which is a phrase I bit wholesale from Miyuki, who is the author of my current favourite quote, and in fact that line came right after the part quoted in the quote.
Right, so anyway, even though I left at what I think had to have been the right time, I didn't get my favourite cool bus driver on the 90, I got some frumpy old broad, but my later public-transit experiences proved me wrong in writing off frumpy old lady drivers, because the frumpy old lady driving the metro on my way home really put the motherfucking hammer down. I mean, we were burning up the track coming out of Guy metro, and we had been burning shit up coming into that station too, but she must have just floored it leaving Guy, because I've never had the metro go that fast before when it wasn't in the middle of a very long tunnel between stations.
I'm not going to complain today. I'm giving everybody a break. Aren't I nice? I know.
scene: good life, weezer
Last night I was getting ready for bed, late-ish, and I picked up my cup in the bathroom only to find it still had some water in it. I couldn't remember leaving water in it, or even putting water in it, so I immediately started freaking out. I was sure there was someone hiding in the bathtub, but I was only in my underwear so I didn't want to open the shower curtain. I snuck back out of the bathroom, threw a tshirt on, grabbed a pair of scissors, and used them to push back the curtain a little. No one there, of course. But the damage was done; I finished getting ready and hopped into bed and was CONVINCED there was someone else in my house with me. I could hear them BREATHING in the next room, hear them moving around. I turned lights on all over the place and paced around and made sure there was no one around, locked the door (i don't usually, because i got in the habit of not having to last year, and now that i have to use a key, i can't be bothered), and tried to go back to bed but I couldn't sleep now. Adrenaline, and all. So I sat down on the floor and read about the French Revolution until nearly 4 when I actually was tired.
It was weird and scary.
And reading through my last few entries, it seems like shit's coming down one after the other. First I don't sleep, then I don't eat (actually that's kind of been ongoing until I got groceries yesterday), then I have severe emotional trauma, my back is a smouldering ruin, now I think there's a freaky intruder in my house, what the fuck is next? I'll let you know if I come down with leprosy.
To even things out a little, here's a couple of non-awful things. Yesterday the cat from upstairs invaded my house when I got back from getting groceries. She snuck in the door while I was bringing my stuff in, and sniffed around and I let her stay while I was putting things away, but then I put her back outside and god damn did she kick up a ruckus. She was sitting outside my door and windows yowling until the lady upstairs and her terrorist child got home and let her in up there. And I've been singing up a storm. I think my voice is coming back, or getting better, or I'm growing into it or something, but it feels really good and I've got some measure of pride and confidence in it. Next stop, rockstar.
scene: fear and love, morcheeba
So last night things came down. When it comes to who's got to sacrifice their happiness so the two of you can be allegedly happy together, what do you do? I said I'd give up mine, because I'm used to it more, but one more consecutive year on the east coast will damn near kill me. Now we don't know what to do and I'm scared that inertia will just keep us from doing anything until it's too late, and then I'll have to move to Boston by default. It wouldn't be as bad if it was at least a decision I had the freedom to make, but if it was by default, well, shit.
I'm driving him to distraction and I know it, and it feels horrible. I'm not the only person in the world, and what I want shouldn't be paramount. If only I could have stopped myself before I mentioned how bad it would be for me.
scene: yawning or snarling, tragically hip
My left shoulder blade was a screaming mass of pain for 2 straight days. Today it's calmed down a good deal, and now it only hurts some of the time. I was thinking that if it wasn't better by tonight I should just take my pillow and a sarong to wrap myself up in and sleep on the floor, so the hard floor could help. I think I need someone who loves me but isn't scared to hurt me to come and fix my back, but unfortunately I don't think I know anyone like that. Everyone's either one or the other. And don't I feel like a dick complaining about shoulder-related pain when little Kali's shoulder is perma-fucked and her life's so much worse than mine in that regard.
Little kids' armpits are kind of creepy.
Oh, and I got another email from Paul gallivanting all over South America and now he's in Mexico, and as always it made me happysad. He has an interesting life, and I don't. Gorgeous things happen to him, and adventures, and he seems to be waxing philosophical all the time. I always knew he'd go somewhere interesting, but back in those days I was naive enough to hope he'd take me with him. I'm glad he's so happy. He never seemed happy enough, back in the day, and I'm glad he's gotten it now. On the other hand, I have a song I need to finish that I hope he never hears, because he'll recognize himself in it right away.
And today I had 38 cents in my pocket so I couldn't get anything to eat at work, so I hadn't eaten anything since my cereal when I got up until maybe 20 minutes ago, when I had some perogies. See, you can't say anything about that, because if all you eat are cereal and perogies, maybe it's GOOD that you don't eat much in a given day. But I was waiting for the bus outside Atwater to take me home, and it was quite windy, and I couldn't keep myself from thinking oh, please, pick me up and blow me away. Blow me away. Let me be picked up like a leaf and tumbled through the air several stories high all down Ste-Catherine's and disappeared. But that will never happen, because I'm not light enough. A little wisp of a thing, that's what I want to be described as, all eyes and floaty hair and light. Tiny.
scene: uk cosmopolitan sound, horace x
I got next to no sleep last night, then I took Smaranda's shift from 11-3:30 as well as mine from 4 to closing, and had to reinstall the operating system and all the programs on the macs. I don't know why we had to, since they were working pretty much fine, but maybe it was some whim of Sunny's. He has whims, you see. Anyway I did 3 at once and it still took more than 2 hours. I had only eaten a muffin all day until about 5, because when I got up I had gotten too little sleep to feel like eating without being ill, and then I just didn't get a chance to scamper off from work when there was someone else around until I had finished with the macs. So I was leaning over these macs looking like Death itself had punched me in both eyes. Tomorrow I have to do the old-ass ones on the far wall, and at least with those they could use it. Laura says she'll do the other new ones I didn't get to, because 2 of them are her little babies for some reason, and because she'll be there earlier than me for the others. That's fine by me, because I fucked up on getting the network drive's link to appear on the desktop. See, it's supposed to show up when you're logged in, then you can get at your files you've saved on your own personal folder on the network drive. But it doesn't. You can GET it to, but that's by doing something I don't exactly trust your basic user with, especially since when they're on a mac they turn into stupid-o-tron and forget how to close a program or how to read the instructions that tell you how that are written right there on the desktop. Anyway, if they do this thing they can get at their network drive, no worries. But they shouldn't be doing it. So I fucked up somewhere. Tomorrow I'll ask Laura. Hopefully I won't have to reinstall everything all over again and shit.
And I don't know anything about this east coast/big cities power failure, because I heard about it approximately 30 seconds before I left work. It isn't terrorism. That's all I know, because apparently that was a big point made by the "authorities." Right, because terrorism's supposed to be our first guess now when anything goes wrong. In that case, the little kid upstairs is a fucking terrorist for dropping bowling balls on the floor right above my head at 8 in the morning every day, or whatever it is he's doing that sounds like that. I don't care if he's 4! He's making my life less than perfect so he's a FUCKING TERRORIST! I'm too young to remember, but I wonder if 25 years ago these same bad things were supposed to be the work of communists, and the news media would reassure the public that if the lights went out, it wasn't the Reds.
My problem with it is that it's keeping my sweetie away from me. Fuck you, power outages! And your mothers are hookers!!
scene: with david bowie, veruca salt
My back hurts like a bitch. Like 2 bitches!
The character limit kicked in last night, early, but my first entry this month was long.
Oh, and we opened an "establishment" on Gaia, which is obviously not a real one, but you hope they behave like real ones. Ours is a dirty bar and venue, like for shows. Yeah.
And two cool things happened recently. Thing one, I got a piece of Inter-Departmental Mail at the lab. Seriously, addressed to me and stuff. From the History Department. All it wanted was to say that since I was going to graduate this year, I'd better check with someone that my courses and so forth are all in order and that I actually am going to graduate. Granted it was fun to get, but it turned out to be pointless. Thing TWO, on the other hand, was way better. See, I've gotten a few searches turning up my site, so says my tracker, of people looking for the IKEA Jerker table (also I get searches for girls peeing in long skirts, and "12 year olds," and something about siblings fucking each other in a bed, but anyway), and this one guy was searching up places to link them on his JERKER DESK SHRINE! For real, how cool is that? I will tell you: it is cool.
I've got a question that's going to seem dumb. But I never got the chicken pox when I was a kid, and I'm wondering, when you have it, what happens to you? I mean, other than the whole red itchy poxen all over you. Is that pretty much it? You can tell me, if you know.
scene: dig for fire, pixies
So on the bus in to work this morning, this weird little man told me I was a "doll" and a "sweetheart," which for some reason made me smile like I actually meant it. Then at work I helped this one poor girl get her scanned pictures saved even though the computer kept crashing and all I did to my credit is persevere with a straight face, which doesn't really say much for the computers or the lab. And speaking of work, we DID screw up last night, Annie got talked to. Before I got there. Or while I was out getting food. I sort of feel bad, because she's the n00b, and I should've taken the fall because I deserved it more. But at the same time I'd rather not, because I'm a chicken.
You know how when you cry, usually it makes your eyes feel all hot? Last night I cried so hard they felt cold. And it wasn't really over anything important. Just over my frustration at not being able to do things right, and that scares me sometimes because it's caused tremendous problems in the past.
Ok, and here is a strange little animation of a strange song. There is dancing Hitler pretty much co-starring in it, though, so consider yourself disclaimed, if pictures of dancing Hitler disturb you. Disclaimer finished, thingy here. But it's true that Yatta was better. Ok, byebye.
scene: fierce flawless, ani
It is so fucking humid. Holy mother of god.
Oh, and I may have fucked up closing at work. I am pretty sure the techs were gone, because they gave us the key to lock up with, which they do in these situations, so we closed up and locked up and put the alarm. Now, just as we were leaving the building, we heard, briefly, the alarm. But then it was gone. So maybe that was something else, but maybe the techs were still in their office and I fucked it up. Shit, I just fucked up a couple days ago when I forgot to tell Sunny I was leaving at the end of my shift, so he didn't know whether I was gone or not. Argh. I'm bad at doing things right.
I baked cookies yesterday and took them in to work today and Smaranda and Annie and I ate them all up. Gobble gobble. Next person who tells me I'm not eating enough gets breathed cookie breath on.
I'm tired of everything. How apocalyptically cool of me, or something. Yawn.
scene: two little girls, ani
Ok, so I was going over my work schedule for next week, and I found out that I'm working 22 hours. That is good, because this is a part-time position, and 22 hours is pretty good for that. And I worked out how much I'd be paid for that, and that reminded me of my two mysterious paycheques. I got back from 2 weeks in Vancouver and got handed 2 paycheques. They were as big as they usually are, and they seem to refer to some actual hours worked. What's the story here, do I get paid whether I go in or not? If that's true, then this job has just fallen to the level of my job last summer: something I do to keep from being bored. I mean, if I'm going to be paid even if I don't go in, why don't I just stay at home? The answer is, because I'd be bored just hanging around with myself at home. How fucking weird.
And yesterday evening I went into town to buy the present and since I didn't want to be a loser who went all the way into town, grabbed a book, and went back, I picked up another book and started to read. I wound up reading the whole thing and still leaving at around 10pm. It was Slammerkin by Emma Donoghue. It is about a girl who is, on and off, a hooker in 18th century England. Pretty good, too, although it's got some irritating changes in perspective, like being limited omniscient on the main character most of the time and then switching that briefly to another character. Tsk, you don't do that.
Oh and I'm ever so pleased with myself because yesterday all I ate was a bowl of cereal, part of a plum, and a milkshake. And the milkshake was just to try and get my head to stop hurting (it didn't), and anyway I got up at 1pm. So you can't even try to tell me I was being unreasonable.
scene: going all the way, matthew good band
First things first: Happy birthday, sweetie. I slept in and didn't catch you before you left, but I'll see you later, and I wish I could be there with you.
Now, the general-admission stuff. My chest was bleeding again today when I got up (note how i carefully did not say "this morning"!), and I went all dizzy and hot of face after a while of pressing kleenexes to it. I know it's nothing, Dr Brown told me exactly what it was and what caused it and all, and the bumpus wasn't even that big this time, but I've got a bandaid bisecting my cleavage again.
Today I have to go out and buy a birthday present, and I also have plenty of things to get done. I have to sew up the gaping fissure along the crotch-seam of one of my most useful pairs of pants, for example. How dreadfully exciting, I think I'm going to pass out from the thrills of it all. Not.
Oh! But what I am going to pass out from thrills over is the fact that Ray Lum has a website! It's really just an online business card, but it's raylum.com! *dies* And I know most of you don't know who Ray Lum is, but he's a cult figure for the mini kids. Really. There are songs about him.
scene: strangest one of all, matthew good band
As promised, the Rules for Riding Buses! Disclaimer: these may sound very bitchy, but in many ways I am very bitchy.
1. The prime rule of riding buses is that you aren't allowed to be picky about where you have to sit. You can be picky if there are plenty of seats, but if the bus is crowded, you have to shut up and take what's there for you. Then you're only allowed to pick and choose where to sit in two situations, one which will be described later on in these rules, and the other being when there is a drunk or stinky or otherwise dodgy-to-sit-next-to person beside whom you'd have to sit if you followed the rules.
2. If there are few seats left, you have to sit in one of them instead of standing. Sitting is better than standing, on a bus, and if you're standing, you make it hard for people to get to the door.
3. You have to give old people your seat, even if you're not sitting in the old people seats at the front, you philistine.
4. You have to recognize that most people would, given the choice, rather not sit next to strangers. You also have to act on this. This means that if you are riding the bus with a friend, you have to try to sit in 2-person seats or more, instead of sitting in 2 of the individual seats. That's the other situation in which you can be picky about where you go, if you've got someone else with you. Why deprive 2 people of the ability to sit on their own when you have someone you want to sit with already?
5. Don't take up extra seats. This means don't put your bag on the seat next to you, don't "sit like a man" (you know, with your legs all splayed open and making the person next to you have to nestle up to your thigh), and don't put your hands on the bar of the seat in front of you and touch the person sitting in it. It's creepy. Don't.
That's it. 5 simple rules. Know them, live them, love them.
Nothing happened to me today other than I felt guilty as soon as I woke up for getting a good night's sleep and spent the rest of the day trying to atone for it.
Remember the good parts of the 90s?
scene: breathe, prodigy
First, thank you for coming back.
Second, today's (other) link is another rathergood.com one, the same guys who brought you the wonderful WE LIKE THA MOOOOON. It's very moon to us.
I don't open my windows when it's hot, I open my door. Hey, I have a screen door, a very vehement one too, and considering that my windows are at ground level, what's the difference? The door is in a better position to allow for more airflow into all the rooms of my place. And no, I don't lock my door when I'm home (and it's closed). If someone wants to break into my house and kill me, they're not going to just walk down to the door and open it. They could kick in my windows way easier.
And oh, oh, I was going to go on about how there's something wrong with me, bla bla bla, but then I thought of some people who make me happy, and I know that even if my mad detective skillz0rz aren't all that shit hot after all and I wasn't right about everything I thought I was, I still like people who make my heart go ow. I have crushes on your crushes, you people! How freaking weird am I??
Tomorrow: Rules For Riding Buses! They've been "unwritten" for altogether too long, and it looks like some people could use an update.
scene: the grand bazaar, tea party
Ok, so Gaia's been borked all day today, which blows because I thought of someone I ought to introduce to it, and not only is it not up for him to see, I can't even get the referral button to send him. Poopy poo pants.
Today, despite getting up at a "reasonable hour," which means I'm ass-tired, and having a retardedly busy day at work because there's some server problem making us have to alter the user profile of every user who wants to sign on, I've been having my ego petted and it's making me feel kinda good. It's not like no one's ever nice to me, or even that no one ever compliments my work. But it's awfully nice when it happens anyway, especially when it's not someone who kind of has to be nice to me because it's his job. So if you're reading this, thanks.
Oh, and I got nailed by another thunderstorm today on my way out of work. It wasn't even all oppressive and hot beforehand, it was kind of nice and cool, but I pretty much swam from work to the metro. Looky, we've got a severe thunderstorm watch! And it will probably have changed by the time someone else reads this, but it says the weather we are currently having is "distant precipitation." Har. Who cares what it's doing off in the distance? I want to know what's going to fall on my head if I go outside RIGHT HERE! Although I have my suspicions that it would be bird poop, and I don't think that's the weather office's domain. I really am paranoid that all birds, and especially seagulls, want to shit on my head.
scene: killer cars, radiohead
It's supposed to be thunderstorms for days.
My mom's birthday, I am almost certain, was yesterday. Now, I'm sure you all read that and thought, "you're almost certain? it's your mother!" I know. That's how I feel too. And that's why I didn't call: I didn't want to embarrass myself by being wrong, or, worse, by making it obvious I didn't know what day it was.
I don't feel very good, partly because of that, partly for other, less definable reasons. I slept half the damn day because I was up half the damn night, and maybe the dreams I've been having have been the problem, but every little thing is magnified for me right now, and I don't like that. And I should really take advantage of the way my stomach protests when I put more than a bowl of cereal into it by not putting more than that, but I decided not to give in to my gastrointestinal system a couple of years ago and I'm too stubborn to cave in. I can't decide what I think of that.
My phone is dying on me, too. It's like the ringer's off the way it doesn't ring and then the machine picks up, except there's no ringer toggle to put to off, and the thing buzzes in my ear when I pick it up unless I hold down the connection at the back for a minute or so at first. So if you try to call me and that happens, I'm not screening my calls or any of that bullshit, I'm just too cheap to get a new phone before I go back to Vancouver at the end of April.
Bla bla bla. I should fling out a random link, hey? Hmm. Well, this site does it for me. It gave me Ocean Scatterings, a scatter-your-ashes-on-the-ocean business. Maybe it'll give you something cooler.
scene: temptation, new order
Ok, for starters, nobody else is updating. What's the deal with that? I get back from 2 weeks away and I've been practically pushed off the second row, and now that I'm back no one's made a move for 5 days. I know things happen to you people. God knows dick-all's happening to me these days short of weather, but I'm posting, because that is what I do.
And speaking of weather, I got weathered upon today. Substantially. Walking up from the metro to campus, a distance of maybe 3 short-side blocks, and then about an equivalent distance to the Arts building where I wanted a muffin before work (they've got the chocolate chip ones again! they make god-awesome chocolate chip muffins, and they've been absent for all of summer), it was so humid that as soon as I got inside and stopped moving, the film of sweat on my face and neck started coalescing into drops. It's not like I've never sweated before, but usually I am in the tropics or doing some kind of physical exertion at the time, not just walking up the street above the 49th parallel. Then, about 15 minutes later, I heard this long-assed clap of thunder. For some reason thunder here (and i've got plenty to go on - i've had like 3 storms a month this summer, one last night even) seems to be inclined toward several-second long stretches. I counted during one of the SHORTER ones today and it was 13 seconds long. And it started pouring rain in biblical quantities. I decided to go over to the library and get a drink, and in my brief, minute-or-two dash between the Leacock building and the library, I got nearly drowned. Hair in a just-out-of-the-shower state, shirt and pants soaked, feet splashing around in their sandals, the works. Thank god Smaranda lent me a fleece to wear for a shirt at work, that room's always airconditioned to hell and back, and I would've caught pneumonia and died.
So Smaranda saved my life.
P.S. I know it's past midnight and not the right day anymore, but I ate dinner at 11pm so shut up.
scene: boy girl wonder, bitch and animal
I haven't got the slightest idea of what to make of my body. It seems to like being a certain size, in the sense that if I'm not careful it returns to that size, but it seems equally to hate it: whenever I get too vast for my own good, my stomach starts wreaking havoc on me, and certain routine minor annoyances get a lot worse. If the damn thing would just make up its mind and naturally seek the level that puts it in good health.
Oh, and it turns out that the letter at the post office isn't for me, but for the former tenant, the humourously named Richard Whipple. So that's all right, but I've still got to go up there to where the post office is to buy some things. I swear, I will get outside today. It would just happen that I go home to Vancouver, land of it not being as hot as it is here in summer, and spend all my time out of doors and get a tan, and I come back here and basically get my pixeltan back. Then again, Vancouver's had exceptionally warm weather the past month, and it's not as humid as here, so it doesn't make you prefer staying inside.
I could apologize for being slack with links, but I gave you a few in the big long entry, so content yourself with those, I'm not doing anything interesting these days.
scene: kiss, prince (haha, yes, really)
More Vancouver stuff that I forgot to mention: right before I left we took my old fat cat, Misty, to the vet, because she's got these clumps of hair that we wonder about how to prevent, and she barfs (not hairballs, just barf) and she's all old and stuff and we haven't taken her in to the vet since she got spayed or something, so pretty much she hasn't been in in 12 years. Anyway we took her in and the guy said they'd have to shave her posterior half to get rid of the mats of fur, and they'd want to anesthetize her for that, and while she was under they could take various samples to check out her organs and make sure she was running fine. So they did, and for a day when we got her back we had a half-fuzz (not BALD per se, just like a shorthair with exceedingly short hair) drugged-out cat. She would sit there and stare at things. And by "things," I mean things like the wall. But she slept it off eventually and now she doesn't even seem weirded out by her poodle-esque appearance. Seriously, she looks like a poodle except that poodles' tails are shaved except the little bobble on the end, and her tail isn't shaved at all. The rest is poodle.
If there was more I've forgotten it. My body always gets a little sketchy when I change something big on it these days, and the funny feelings are distracting me. As if excuses were something anyone can stand. I've got bills to pay, credit card applications to fill out - oh yeah! That's what I forgot. The Royal Bank of Canada, also known, since Louis has corrupted my brain, as the Royal Skank of Canada, my bank, offered me a credit card, and then when I went in to cash a cheque, they offered me another. So, welcome to the world of grownups for me, I guess. Anyway, I've got to do that, and apparently I've got a letter waiting for me at the post office (why, if it's just a letter? how weird) and so I have plenty to do with my time. Sure, I've got a real life, that's what it is.
scene: amuse the young and amaze the old, king prawn
I'm back in Montreal, which means it's Vancouver recap time! Whee!
First was folk fest. Lots of good shows, Billy Bragg opened his mainstage set with "To Have and To Have Not" which made us stop and jump up and down and hug each other in the middle of hopping across other people's tarps to get to Marek's. He called it the "Vancouver Political Song Festival" which it certainly was this time. Utah Phillips was there as usual, and the next morning those two and our new favourite person, Faith Petric, did a workshop that was great. Faith Petric is 87 years old until she turns 88, and she sings songs about cocks and priests and roadkill and painting the living room and defrosting the fridge and "You Ain't Done Nothing If You Ain't Been called a Red" which is a great song and we're going to cover it. What a grand old broad. And we kept falling asleep at the volunteer parties but the cheese was as good as it's always been. The Sunday party had this Quebec trad band La VolZe d'Castors and the old dude from La Bottine Souriante magically appeared from out of nowhere (they weren't at this year's festival) and played one of their songs with them. It was great except that my stomach had been tying me up in knots for the past 5 hours. That also kind of put a damper on Ani's show, but that was marred more by her shockingly inconsiderate fans tramping all over other people's tarps and blankets and standing up at the front of the stage so no one else could see. We were up at the front too so it wasn't as bad, but I was feeling pretty shit so I was in no mood for it. Dammit, her fans weren't asses the last time. I mean, some people have always been irritatingly obsessive fangirls/boys, but this was mass rudeness. And we didn't make it onto the stage for the finale for the first time ever.
The working part was fine although my team seemed to be hemmorhaging members. There was a little 14yrold cheerful little ankle biter named Devon, or more frequently Little Devon, who was fun in an annoying sort of way. Our team got to be the corn-husking team, which meant lots of corny corn-puns, like that one. There was cookie dough again but we didn't get to eat much of it this time because we had a different and less slack schedule.
After that we went up to Whistler for a couple days of, uh, privacy, and also we went and jumped in Lost Lake which seemed to have melted maybe 3 hours before we went in, so we froze our asses, and we walked around the village, and the next day we went up Blackcomb and hung out at the top and ate at the Horstman Hut which I've never actually eaten at before, and watched the people skiing on the glacier and everyone seemed to be in some peculiar costume or other. We also got sunburns because we were dumb enough not to put sunscreen on when we were going up to the top of a MOUNTAIN. But that's ok, we'd already had a few, and I'm brown as a little berry now, except that berries aren't brown at all. On the way down the Wizard, so near the bottom for those of you who don't know the mountain, we did get to see our bears: a mommy black bear with her 2 little cubs walking up the hill. So that was nice. Then we went out to dinner and I spent my parents' money on taking the waitress up on her offer of a beer. We played board games and cards, and my mom somehow found these replicas of actual 50s card sets of kids' games, including "Animal Rummy" where the animals all had names, like Pretty Kitty or Wise Owl or... Gay Dog. The thing is that he is rather a "gay blade" as my mom mused upon seeing it. He's got this jaunty little hat and a little purple bow tie. There was also Sassy Squirrel.
Anyway then my parents came up and the next morning we set out up the Duffy Lake Road to Lillooet where we purchased baked goods from a crazy German woman who kept saying "right on" and then we drove along the Bridge River until it was dammed and made Carpenter Lake, along the side of which we travelled for about 1500 years to find one of the little rec sites to stop and eat our food in, and then we did stop and there were more flies than a pants store. We tried to skip some rocks into the lake and I sucked and so did my mom but the MALES were really good at it. Maybe it's a Y chromosome trait. Along the side of the lake we saw a couple of bald eagles, one of whom left us a white feather, and two ospreys. Apparently ospreys are very rare to see, so go us. At the end of the lake lies the little boring shithole town of Gold Bridge, where we had ice cream from Max's Little Food Shack or whatever its name was, and then we went up the hill to the old mining ghost town of Bralorne, which has about the same population as Gold Bridge and is a million times cooler and I want to go live there maybe when I'm old. There are all these houses just there for the taking if you fix them up. Then we drove back down through Gold Bridge and across the little chunk of the Bridge River that lies between the 2 damlakes of Carpenter Lake and Downton Lake, tooled around the ever-so-Ontario-cottage-country lake of Gun Lake just above them, then came down and got going over the Hurley. The Hurley is a forest service road that may really be the Hurley River Road or the Hurley Pass Road, depending on which map you ask, and it's gravel and pretty and impassable in winter. The car was wicked dusty afterwards and since we had windows open there was plenty inside as well. Then we got down and we were in Pemberton again and we stopped the car beside someone's field because their irrigation sprinkler shot out over the road at one point and we got it to wash our car for us. Turns out it belonged to this old dude who we'd just passed on his bike. Old bald hilarious Dutch farmer man, said the water was good for his hair, and said about politicians that he'd shoot half of them and drown the rest. Haha. Then we went home.
When we got back to town we went right out to Playland and went on nearly everything except the little kid rides and the ones that suck like that "scream if you wanna go FASTAAAAA" pop music ride thing, you know the one I mean. The Wild Mouse was a hit as usual. You just know that little bitch of a car is going to pop right off the track at every one of those switchbacks at the top. And we went on the Pirate Ship and sang Pirate Radio really loudly. Oh, and there was the most hilariously thugged out little kid. All of 50 pounds and spoiling for a fight. Open shirt exposing his ten-year-old chest, chains, the whole bit. We think he was there with his mom. Haha.
The next day we went out to my grandma's and ate too much and got gnawed by baby calves and told grandma her bull was gay because it refused to hump the girl cows, which is its only job since this is a dairy farm and bulls don't give milk, and if anyone tells you they do, you'd better not drink it.
The next day was our last one together so we had Fun In The Southern Suburbs Day and made Aaron our driving bitch and went to laser tag in Richmond and then went into stupid Richmond Centre mall to get some food and Aaron pretty much ate all of it. We also looked for skanks and found some. Then we headed out to Tsawwassen and went to Splashdown where we went on all the slides except the sucky suck kid ones, the crowd favourites being the Black Hole (an all black tube slide, by which I mean it's a tube, but also that you go down it in a tube, and they have DOUBLE tubes) where the boys thought they'd get a bang out of yelling obscene things as loud as they could, and Big Jim's River Run or whatever its name is, the best one, the one where you sit in a tube and hang onto your friends' tubes and go down little slopes and splash into pools of water between pitches, where you are stuck until you get pushed over the edge into the next slope, which is fun as hell if you're hanging onto your friends' tubes, since that means they get pulled along with you. I landed on some kid's head in that once. Aaron also made us hang out in the hot tub way too much but at least we had fun playing with the foam and saying obscene things about it. Aaron thinks he's German and talks about the "flavourbar" in a German accent a whole lot. Then we went home and had pizza!
And after that, it was all airport goodbye scenes. Mine occurred about 6 in the morning, so fuck that. And now I'm back and my dad was here at a conference and stayed here and he's stocked me full to bursting with bread and cheese and beer and plums and cereal and I feel like Brother Maynard listing these off like that. He got me navel oranges too, but those things just scare the fuck out of me. Ugghghhh, they're like babies born with no heads the way you can see their insides all outsidey through the hole.
The trip also invented two new animals: the Squirrelasaurus, which is a plush dinosaur that is brown for some reason, making it look like a squirrel, and which speaks in the third person and is arch-enemies with another Playland plush prize, the Ambivalent Blob (a yellow heart-like shape with what is probably supposed to be a smiley face sewn onto it but whose smile rather trails off at the end); and the majestic Waldepus. Being a combination of a walrus, a wildebeest, and an octopus, it is what I referred to myself as by mistake when we were playing catch with a tennis ball in the park. "I'm jumping around all over the place like a waldepus," I said, then hoped I had said it quiet enough that he wouldn't have heard it. No such luck, I'm afraid, so now I own a little drawing of this mighty beast (walrus' head and body, antlers, and tentacles) hopping majestically over the savannah, as is its little way, calling its mighty cry: "OOPA!" Why yes, I had sustained one bonk to the head by the tennis ball that day, why do you ask?
Ok now I'm hungry and I've pretty much said it all anyway. Good day.
scene: crab fresh, james f & tom something something
