Every winter, I forget about mosquitoes.

Every summer, I forget about grey skies.

I made up that poem/proverb myself.

My paja and I went for a drinkie tonight and I'm still a little tipsy. But not the fun kind of tipsy. I'm apologetic-sad-regretful-just-coming-out-of-euphoria tipsy. I want to see my palbuddies again. But there are so few around. Hannah's away for a week, my brother's at a sleepover and my maja's sick, so I can't even properly hang with my family. I'm so ronery guys.

But aside from all that, eve finally posted after 10 or so days of mysterious absence. Funny how that's actually the high point of my week. I followed directions, as always, because that is what I do best and I have nothing better to do ('cept sleep and it doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon).

(here you go ladies and gents)

List 12 people:

1.Kesinee
2.Kylian
3.Kevin
4.Alison
5.Kathleen
6.Eve
7.Paula
8.Hannah
9.Liam
10.Joelle
11.Joel
12.Pavarotti

Q: Have you ever kissed 7?
I don't think so.
Q: What's the best memory you have of 9?
I remember when he and Scott got into a swordfight with a broom handle and a pen or something. Scott was wearing Liam's shirt and Liam was wearing a dress. It's not necessarily the BEST memory I have of him, but it was the first one that came to mind when I read the question.
Q: When's the next time you're going to see 4?
Oh goodness, I have no idea. When's the next major holiday?
Q: Is number 8 pretty?
She's an ugly toad.
Q: What was your first impression of number 10?
I remember being really hesitant to talk to her because our parents forced us together. I had this sense of dread about her because my mom introduced her as a "kid my age" and I hated "kids my age". My memory may be a bit addled; I'm sure number 8 can correct me.
Q: How did you meet 3?
I don't really remember how I formally met him. For the longest time I referred to him in my head as "that kid who everybody likes". It was during the first few weeks of Summerstock, or at least grade 12, that I learned who he was.
Q: Is 11 your best friend?
No, but he was my husband for a few seconds (it didn't work out between us).
Q: Have you seen 5 in the last month?
Certainly! We had a jolly old time.
Q: Do you think 2 has a crush on you?
Yes. Yes probably.
Q: When was the last time you saw 12?
On TV, when I was a child.
Q: Have you ever been to 1's house?
Many times. Both of them.
Q: When's the next time you'll see 10?
I don't know. I never know when I'm going to see her next.
Q: Are you really close to 3?
No. Not at all really, which is kind of sad.
Q: Have you ever been to the movies with 4?
If by "movies" you mean "at a cinema" then probably not. Though I have watched many a film on her enormous television(s).
Q: Have you ever gotten in trouble with 2?
...not that I can...remember?
Q: Would you ever go out with number 7?
I'm pretty sure she's taken...
Q: What do you and number 3 talk about the most?
We don't really "talk" about anything. We just kind of make noises at each other.
Q: Do you even know 9?
As far as I know, yes.
Q: Would you give number 12 a hug?
Totally.
Q: Are you in love with number 7?
Would you ever go out with number 7? Are you in love with number 7? I think this quiz is rigged.
Q: Do you know a secret about number 9?
He had an obsession with Napoleon when he was a kid. Oops! Sorry.
Q: Describe the relationship between number 9 and number 5.
They kind of met a few times and were in the same room together more than once.
Q: What is the best thing about your friendship with number 10?
The fact that whenever she comes back, it's like she never left. (generic but true)
Q: Have you ever danced with number 7?
Yes. More than once, in fact. I feel a relationship brewing...
Q: How long have you known number 11?
A few months maybe? I don't think he really paid any attention to me until August.
Q: Have you ever been in a fight with number 8?
I feel like I keep narrowly avoiding them.
Q: Would 2 and 4 make a good couple?
Ha ha. If it ever happened it would only be because of the Innis' Xbox 360 (just kidding Kylian!)
Q: Have you ever wanted to punch number 2 in the face?
Yes! Jeez, that kid has the world's most punchable face. (just kidding Kylian!)
Q: Has number 1 ever met your mother?
A few times, yes.
Q. How did you meet number 6?
I think through Kathleen. I sort of remember one day when there were more people in our group of friends than usual, and then that one more friend just kind of...stuck?
Q: What would happen if you put 10 and 12 in a room together?
That would actually be the best thing ever.
Q: Did you ever accidentally physically hurt number 5?
I think I did actually. I punched her pretty hard several times but she just kept laughing.
Q: What is the best memory you have with number 1?
Our best laugh ever, caught on tape.
Q: Do you live close to 7?
I don't even know where she lives.
Q: What is number 3's favorite food?
Kids.
Q: Out of your 12, which one would you say is the funniest?
Hannah's pretty funny LOOKING...
Q: Who is the most flirtatious?
Number 11.
Q: If you could change one thing about number 10, what would it be?
Her being away all the time!!!:(
Q: Say something nice about number 11.
He's got pretty eyes and he makes me laugh. I feel a relationship brewing...
Q: Which one lives the farthest away?
5, 10, or 12. It's a toss-up.
Q: Which one do you hang out with the most?
I haven't really been hanging out with anyone lately. I have a feeling it's either 1 or 9.
Q: The quietest?
Out of the 12, I'd say 4.
Q: What kind of car does number 12 have?
I'm hoping a hot air balloon.
Q: Have you traveled anywhere with number 8?
I travel everywhere with number 8.
Q: If you gave number 2 $100 dollars tonight, what would they spend it on?
Gifts for number 1!

Gracious, that took over half an hour! If you have the time, I suggest you do the same.

Comrades

I woke up this morning to something foreign. Snow! Half a centimetre of beautiful white snow. In December, no less. This is truly an event to be noted.

I was going to post yesterday about all the beautiful and marvellous things I got for Christmas, but never got around to it. I'm sure you're all terrible excited about this, so here's the comprehensive list in its entirety:

West Side Story and Footloose (in the same package)
A "temporary" burned copy of How Strange, Innocence by Explosions in the Sky
Paintings that Changed the World ('s a book!)
The Charlie Chaplin Collection (!!!!)
Veneer by Jose Gonzales
A real-live easel + box to put paint and (other) crap in.
A wicked awesome sound system to play my sounds.
A trip to an art show from my twinster (but the package it came in is really wonderful)
Here it is closed:


And opened:



I couldn't get that "lift" flap to stay open for the picture, but rest assured there was something wonderful underneath it.

Also also! My family got a working turntable! All our old LPs have been sitting down here waiting for this moment. Now is their moment to shine.

Have a happy day.

Will and Grace is congealed human suffering.

I love Dinosaur comics.

I've been coughing like a crazy person lately. Ever since I ran home there's been something wrong with my throat. Hannah's trying in vain to fix a desk drawer and I can't bring myself to tell her it's futile. I guess it's Christmas Eve tomorrow. I don't know if it's just because I'm getting older or because they oversensationalised it in October, but that old fire-warm Cristmas feeling is gone. It's just another cold, dry day in December. The lights have been up for far too long. I've accepted Christmas as a way of life. It's no longer special. The everyday infusion of eggnog and reindeer has become ordinary; I've taken it for granted. I bought easy presents for everyone, and didn't really have any fun looking for them. Christmas movies are stupid. This sounds like a lament, but it really isn't. I guess I've just grown out of that feeling, and I'll have to find a new one to replace it.

Hannah has fixed the drawer.

Oh, and before I forget, here's a Christmas present for you:
http://little-people.blogspot.com/

I check it every now and then to see what those little rascals are up to.

Have a beautiful day, and drink lots of hot cider.

Love.
>>REDCARD

Today, my brother is a man.

He shaved off his stain-stache and didn't bleed once! I'm so proud of him.

There is a dude at my workplace named Chundra (or something...that's how it's pronounced) who spends his days washing dishes in the back. But this dude is no ordinary dish washer. He is a dude with albinism! He is an albino! His hair, eyebrows and eyelashes are white as the driven snow; his skin is like a powdered baby. And his eyes...oh, his eyes are the deep blood-red of a fine Italian wine. I feel kind of racist talking about him like this--an object for the ogling. But seriously, when I first met him I was inspired with a kindergarten-like fascination. And really, he is a wonderful lad, and a great conversationalist. I love hanging round him.

I was going to write something about the kindly homeless man who comes in every so often for a coffee and hangs around until he's read everything there is to read, and the wonderful British woman who works at the perfume/lotion counter at Shopper's Drug Mart. Oh look! I already have. I think I like my work.

Scooters, vacation, fall

I realised today that I am getting fo' serious chubbsy. The freshman fifteen has set in, and I'm not even going to college. Maybe it's just the holiday season, what with all the chocolate and eggnog...speaking of which, I figure that if one pop a day translates into 10 pounds in a year, one glass of eggnog a day must translate to something like...60 pounds in a month. Man, what a wonderful drink. Who knew gulping down cream, eggs and butter would turn into a holiday tradition? It was probably invented during the dark ages when the harsh winter would kill you if you weren't fat enough. Need some insulation for those arteries.

Yesterday was a bad day. I spent 5 hours at two malls with my maja and gran-maja looking for sensible old-woman wear, plus an hour and a bit in the car trying to sleep. It was no fun, and I spent plenty of time whining like a 7-year old when I got home. I thought of updating then but I figured you wouldn't care.

Also, who would write a post about Scooters?

It's Saturday...

So why isn't anyone updating? Geez...like you have anything better to do?

Sorry lads and ladies. I had a double espresso today and I feel like a superhero. I almost asked some dude out on a whim and screamed in the street I was so happy. Caffeine is a wonderfully dangerous drug.

Treat yourself to a hot drink tonight. You deserve it.

LOVE.

REDCARD>>>

Babies probably feel pain: study

Thanks, Yahoo news, for clearing that up.

Last night I dreamed that Jim had cast me as the lead male role in Footloose and I had to go through all the pains of being transgendered. Afraid of abandonment, afraid to tell my family and friends, afraid for the future, afraid of what people would think of me...I woke up feeling guilty because of the way I treated the one transgendered person in my life. I was pretty hostile and denied it for as long as I could. I didn't like the girl he'd become. She was too confident; too comfortable. I missed the shy, fidgety old man who crossed his legs tightly and spoke as quietly and gently as possible. I wondered about his wife and kids. I wondered why he would put himself in such a compromising position. I guess I'd never really thought about the suffering of living your life in the wrong body, or the struggle of working to change that. It would take a lot of courage to do what he did, and I feel guilty for not acknowledging that.

In other news, the final scene of yesterday's ER sucked beyond belief. For the few noble souls who don't watch ER, let me transcribe it as best as my addled memory allows:

Dr. Morris is standing outside in a santa suit berating himself for not "fondling" the girl of his dreams.

Morris: ...THERE IS NO FRIGGIN' SANTA CLAUS!!!

Suddenly the faint sound of sleighbells permeates the air. A "ho ho ho" sounds in the distance. Dr. Morris turns around and looks up with an expression of childlike awe and wonder. The show ends. I drink a gallon of bleach.

I never really felt safe saying it before, but I think ER is losing what it once had.

I don't like heavy metal...

but their illustrations are AWESOME.

I went to ACAD again for a portfolio review so I could get into extended studies. Turns out the dude doing the reviewing was the same dude who waived my portfolio requirement earlier. Gee whiz, what are the odds? He said that because of my waived portfolio, I have the power to take any class I want. The world is my oyster, and I'm not afraid of food poisoning. Walking around campus, I realised how beautiful art students are. Ordinarily, I don't make a habit of staring at people, but everyone there was so mind-bogglingly lovely that it was hard to resist. It was like walking through a field of the world's most strange and wonderful flowers, only instead of flowers, they're models and okay wait this analogy's no good.

Today was the day of transit mothers. I must have seen at least 5 on my way home. They make me glad because they remind me of being small (and by small I mean 7) and getting my first taste of downtown independence. I would stand on buses and sit backwards on the C-Train because for me, it was magical. A rare opportunity to do everything you could never do in the car. I loved walking around and smelling the smoke of used cigarettes and broken-down cars. I loved looking up at the high-rise buildings and watching people commute between them on glass bridges. I loved downtown coffee shops that only lasted a year, where they cooled down your cappuccino with soft ice cream. And the library. Oh, the library with its rows and rows of "Young Adult" books that I could only dream of reading. The library, with its stacks of wonderful videos and computers that knew where everything was. I miss loving downtown.

Cats and bastards

The cat is sitting on the printer and driving me nuts. If I don't pay attention to his wailing
he'll come by and sock me in the face. He's tried a couple of times.Now he's in fron t of the keeyboard and it's kind of hard to type with one hand. Friggin' cat.

I realised today that I have a pretty high bastard tolerance (sorry dudes, it slipped). I don't mind having converations with jerks and many a time, I've convinced them we're friends. I remember when Mark Schulz fancied himself my pal when I met him again in crazy school. It wasn't that I was particularly nice to him--when he asked me if I hated him I replied with a long silence--I just didn't get defensive when he said something terrible. I was okay with being a doormat and for him, I guess, that was a good quality in a friend. What a contemptible kid.

What I can't stand is clinginess, which is kind of sad. Clingy people are usually a lot kinder than jerks. I think that's why I suck at talking to my pals in Summerstock. I don't want to be thought of as "clingy".

Man, what a bad update.

If only icebergs were cities

Hannah's upstairs watching a movie called "My Beautiful Laundrette", which looks like it's about a secret bromosexual relationship but probably isn't because it was made in the 80s.

The computer's doing something crazy where when you minimise something it disappears altogether. There's a Word document, an internet window, and iTunes hiding somewhere on my computer and I can't find them for the life of me. I'll give cash money to anyone who does.

I want to talk to old people and find out what they were like in their 20s. I'm tired of belittling people of my grandparents' generation.

My braja and I had a long and in-depth conversation about manboobs. If Jason comes back to Summerstock, I think I'll call him Bosoms.

I felt obligated to update today even though there's nothing to say.

They don't pronounce D's in New Brunswick

There's a guy I work with named Peter who, from his shoes to his chin, looks just like Liam. From then on he looks like Eric Adamuik (you know, Allana's boyfriend). Which makes it kind of confusing for me, because I've developed the habit of not looking at people's faces. It gets in the way sometimes.

I've also noticed that there are a lot of ESL kids working in the kitchen. And by kids I mean people over 40 who were probably surgeons or movie stars before they moved to Calgary. I don't know why I used the word "kids" there. It was the wrong word to use. Anyway, I thought I'd tell you because Ryan likes teaching them tongue twisters in his spare time (all the time), which gives me a constant reminder of vocal warmups before performances. It's a kind of warm depression that follows me everywhere I go. I miss West Side Story.

My brother/mother/father is watching a British sitcom upstairs and it's distracting.

Update! The "British sitcom" is actually the Beverly Hillbillies. And that's the end of that chapter.

On the way home from work I was presented with an inner struggle. There's a KFC nearby, and every time I pass it on the bus, I crave it. But whenever I have the opportunity to go inside, I remember that I really don't like KFC, and it would be better in the long run to avoid it. Today, I ignored the little voice in my head warning me of impending disappointment, and picked up some eats. Needless to say, I learned my lesson. The chicken was like flour at the best of times and the fries tasted like drywall and crisco. I don't know if they've changed their recipe or if I'm just getting cynical, but this was not the warm golden KFC of my childhood. I should really stop trying to give fast food a chance.
While I was gnawing on the buttery soft bones of my chicken, a guy came loping in. He looked pretty young, probably a college student, and was flaming drunk. At 2 pm. He started yelling at the cashier ("Now you lissena me", etc.), then put his hands on the janitor's shoulders and said "no one should go home hungry". He stumbled out the door and left without ordering. It was a great moment in human history.

Somebody just called me and asked for Shawna. I guess mine is a popular number.

On the way home, the air actually smelled like someone was frying goats in it. All my life I've wondered what that would smell like. Now I know.

What can 4 dollars buy you these days?

My 4 dollars bought me a trip to the hospital when I swallowed them.

I had my first shift at Good Earth today, and guess who else works there? Summerstock's own Ryan Bulmer! We probably talked for less than 3 seconds total. In fact, I think I can transcribe our whole conversation here.

Ryan: Heyyy, Summerstock.
Me: Dude holy crap.

(silence)

I really hate ignoring people I sort-of know, but it seems to be what I do best.

There's also a girl there who sounds Spanish but she makes coffee like an Italian. She's very particular about everything espresso, and I think she hates me because I'm sloppy.

On the upside, I get to have delicious Good Earth scones for lunch every day, all at half price!

And that's pretty much it.

This is going to sound sappy

I think it's sad that I'm too much of a prude to tell my dude friends I love them. At least to their faces. Which is unfortunate, because I really do and I think they should know. So here goes, in a medium they're unlikely to check. Dude friends, I love you. You are some spectacular dudes.

Anyway, speaking of friends, I think I made a new one yesterday. Trouble is, I don't know her name. What a sitcom predicament! For those in Summerstock, she's really blonde and has braces, and is often seen wearing her "students for a free Tibet" T shirt during dance stuff. I have a feeling her name is Kate, but my feelings are usually wrong. So I figured I'd ask instead. In the most convoluted and inconvenient way. You know, because that's how I work. Yes.

I'm off to watch TV. Maybe I'll update later. Probably not. I'm sure nobody will miss me.

Cutting back on cigarettes won't reduce the risk of dying.

Title courtesy of Yahoo news.

Guess what guys? I got into my very first car accident (tm) today! It was on the way to my first day of work, too, which made it extra special. We were almost hit by a bus, but swerved and hit an SUV instead. The great part was that the friend of the woman driving the SUV was a cop, so all units were deployed pretty quick. We had 2 cop cars, 2 ambulances, and a fire truck at the scene, and it looked like part of 17th ave was blocked off. All for a little bloodless fender-bender and a busted headlight (ours; the SUV went away unscathed). The wonders of modern man.

So I missed work. But we phoned around and everything's all hunky-dory...for now.

I think my body's staring to reject fast food. Maybe it's because I'm getting older. Or maybe it's because of the McDonald's experience during my very first hangover (tm). But somehow, the taste of sugarbuns and hospital fries just doesn't tickle my fancy. It just leaves me with a brick in my stomach and a hole in my soul. BUT! while at the "restaurant" (Burger King, if you must know) I saw the Urban Santa Claus. He was a short man with a grizzled grey beard and eyepatch, and he was carrying a cane wrapped in silver garland. No-one could take their eyes off him as he moved silently and gracefully around the room, taking occasional swigs from his water bottle. He didn't say a word, but I think he left a lasting impression on everyone he passed. Urban Santa, I salute you.

My eyelids stick when I blink, blink, blink

Holy crap, it's cold as death here in drabland. I don't know how the city can let people sleep on the streets in this weather. Someone ought to report our municipal government for a violation of human rights. Speaking of the homeless, I think the mayor's trying to do everything in his power to make homelessness illegal, short of actually making it illegal. There are no public washrooms downtown, but if you pee behind a building you get a fine. There aren't enough homeless shelters, but if you sleep on a bench you get a fine. Somebody's trying to make it impossible to live here without money. There are solutions to the "homelessness problem" that don't include driving people out of the city. It just doesn't make sense in my head. But then again, I'm not the mayor.

A paradox!

I just got an email titled "How does Bradd Pitt make soap?" I'm still mulling over whether or not I should open it.

I think this blog is ruining my already inept conversation skills. In the 5 or so posts I've created, I have covered every conversation topic I could, leaving me with nothing to tell my friends. Also, my blog paranoia is expanding to new and exciting realms. I've set a high standard for myself; every post is like an essay, only worse, because my friends are reading it. I feel that I have to be entertaining, so I only write at certain times of the day or after long, hilarious conversations. I think it's something we in the business refer to as "comedic angst". I thought it would be a good outlet, a way to effectively communicate without communicating, effectively (oh ho ho!), but it's turned into another pesky dragon to slay.

Nevertheless, here I am, updating. Maybe if I do it enough, I'll lose my created fear (something I'm still struggling to accomplish with MSN). Speaking of which, I just came back from a lecture of sorts on Islam. It was pretty awesome. I'm sure my sister can fill you in much more accurately and eloquently, seeing as she's in religious studies and probably paid better attention than me (even when I'm trying my hardest, she still manages to do better. I hate that kid). I will tell you, though, that jihad doesn't just mean holy war. There are three levels: the first is correcting the wrong within yourself. The second is speaking out against the wrong in your community by letter-writing and talking. The third is the war aspect of jihad, but even then, the meaning is misconstrued. During a real holy war, you are not allowed to cut down green trees, contaminate drinking water, kill innocent civillians (women and children), or destroy hospitals or places of worship. And you can only kill in self-defense. If you are not attacked, you cannot attack. I'm sure that even the mention of jihad will get me banned from the internet, but I'm willing to take that risk. Just to clear things up a bit.

You know what would be funny?

A zamboni running over a shirt.

I don't have much to say today, but I feel obligated to update because I had a job interview. Hooray for me. The lass interviewing me struck me as the sort of woman who would eat nothing but celery and fresh-ground espresso, and she had the most intense blue eyes I've ever seen this side of husky dogs. It went pretty well, I think, and if I'm lucky I might have a job at Good Earth in a day or so. Toast to that.

I also found a beautiful video that I will try to link to. Wish me luck:

http://www.transbuddha.com/mediaHolder.php?id=2365

Dang. Whatever. Copy and paste if you'd like.

When I was a kid, I didn't like gravel playgrounds.

Gravel was too hard to swallow.

So I'm pretty sore at myself for not writing yesterday. And it's not like I forgot or had things to do, either; I just kept putting it off until I was too tired to lift my head. It would be nice to have a laptop. Then I could post while drifting off to sleep, bathed in the warm glow of a cathode ray tube or whatever makes computers light up these days. But to get back to the point at hand, I'ma fill you in on what happened yesterday (ha, happened. That's rich).

Early in the morning (meaning about 9am) I visited my good friend, the dentist. I used to love going to the dentist because they had a little room where you could play Sonic the Hedgehog while you waited. Later on they upgraded to Nintendo 64, then Gamecube and Xbox (the little room had no surveillance so games and controllers went "missing" pretty quick). Now, they've got an Xbox 360 and the magic is gone. I miss that old Sega Genesis and fighting over who got to be Tails. I miss picking out prizes after getting my mouth scoured for cavities. My childhood is gone and ain't nothin gon' bring 'er back. But anyway. Once I got home I turned on the television, as per usual, and lo and behold, the show was about dentists! I watched the Simpsons immediately after; again, dentists. Something cosmic is at work here, folks. Could it be coincidence that both Seinfeld and the Simpsons, two entirely different shows on entirely different channels, referred to dentists on the day I visited the dentist? The answer is no, of course not. That would be silly. I have no option but to conclude, then, that the mundane, ordinary happenings in my mundane, ordinary life have some effect on what the world watches. I don't yet know what the implications of this are, but I have a hunch that they are no good.

Where was I? Oh yes, crushed childhood memories. My dad bougt a bag of Mojos, just for a thrill. I hadn't had mojos since I was at least 7 years old, and to tell you the truth, I was ecstatic. But as soon as I lay my eyes on them, I knew something was amiss. They were bigger than usual, thicker. The wrapping paper didn't stick to their candy folds, and they were...supple. Chewable. I took out my old favourite--cola--and stuck it in my mouth. Something was definitely amiss. It tasted like all other failed "cola"-flavoured candies. A sour twinge to imitate carbonation and an aftertaste of lead and nightmares. These were not the stale mojo candies of my childhood. These were cheap mass-produced imposters. My heart sank, and I hunched off to brush my teeth.


(not really)

So I says to Mabel, I says...

I just came back from a meeting at ACAD. Apparently, if I play my cards right (read: apply at the right time), I might be able to get into a real-live class before my actual term begins. Which means if I do well, I can take fewer classes next September, and if I don't, it doesn't matter! Everybody wins. What it also means is that if I'm lucky, I might get to see real-live nude models. I don't know about you, but I'm shaking in my boots. Trouble is, I don't know how I'm going to be able to make my way to said class if I do get in. For those of you who don't know already, ACAD is pretty much a convoluted maze of stairwells that all go to places you really don't want to be, made even more confusing by the fact that all the stairwells look EXACTLY THE SAME. It's really a great place for people like me who have no sense of direction. Really. I did go on a tour, though, and on that tour I learned two things: 1. That all roads lead to the library and 2. That the elevators make no sense (level 18 is the ground floor, level 30-something is the next floor up, etc.).

On the way home I saw a ton of Starbuck's ads around the C-train stations, which prompted me to have my first Starbuck's coffee in...4 months? Something like that. Anyway, after my first gulp, I was reminded why I don't drink Starbuck's. It was like having a huge cup of lukewarm cream, only saturated with sugar and topped with a dollop of just-about-butter whipped cream. Just thinking about it tickles my gag reflex. That'll be giving me the shivers for weeks. What made the whole experience even better was that when I put the "empty" cup back in my bag (I've taken to spitting in the face of "disposable" products due to the influence of my commie sister), the dregs of whipped cream crept out from the bottom and saturated my extended studies application form. One of these days I'll forget about the ordeal and wonder why the stench of chocolate cheese keeps following me around. Then I will bury my bag.

I was just reminded of something great I saw while travelling to my future alma mater. There's a church near our house with a two-sided sign at the front whose slogans have grown more and more reactionary as the years go by. Today, one side read "FACT: WE ALL NEED GOD". The other side read "FICTION: EVOLUTION THEORY". At first it made me kind of mad, until I realised how cute it was. It kind of reminded me of being a kid and believing wholeheartedly that my mom was always right, and that no-one but her could count to 100. Oh, the heated debates I got myself into over these undisputed beliefs.

Late one night, high on fatigue, Hannah and I came up with some gang names for the people we know. One day this information may be useful.

Ali: Alcatraz
Jo: Jehosephat
Me: Redcard (but you know that already).
Kes: Specia' K
Kathleen: Corn Bisque
Eve: Everyman
Hannah: Double-h

And for the summerstockers...

Kylian: K-Y/ sex jelly (sorry if that made you a little uncomfortable)
Mike: Mixed Greens
Liam: Lost Cause
Luke: Ladyfingers

I've been trying to think of one for Kevin, but nothing seems to fit. If anyone wants to jump in and help out, please do.

Oh, and for Joelle: yes I did make my trademark mutant noise. First out of my own free will, then out of necessity. We must've been playing that game for hours.

(and sorry for publishing everyone's name without permission. I'm sure no strangers will care).

I...hmm, wow...

So I've decided to hop on the bandwagon. I've always kind of liked the idea of blogging; it's like having your own radio show except nobody listens to you and you can't let people hear your music. Which is good, I guess, because I doubt anyone would want to listen to my music anyway. But now that I'm actually doing it, I feel a little intimidated. Somebody I don't know could see this. And even though I know they'd only look at it for three seconds before going back to drinking sour milk out of the carton or whatever strangers do, I'm worried that something I write might stick in their head. Maybe they'll visit it again on a day when they have nothing to do, and I might never know. Maybe they'll leave a comment or two on my posts. Maybe they'll try to befriend me and I won't be able to say no and I'll be caught in an eddy of unwanted internet friendship and develop a phobia of my blog, or worse, of the internet in general. Or, you know, maybe not.

I'm tired today even though I slept in till 12 noon. It's that kind of apathy-tired that happens when you haven't done anything in a day and you're still in your pyjamas and you need a shower and you're just TIRED of your own company. I would go outside and do something but my muscles are still yelling at me for playing mutants and dancing in Summerstock. I feel so old.