AM I ALWAYS BLIND?

O my goodness. What's this I see?

A follower!? O hey, it's Luke. How long have I failed to notice this?

Now is there some sort of blogge etiquette that says I should follow back? Maybe eh...

Well, now that I have a follower, I am really feeling the pressure to write well....HAHA. Not. This is still just gonna be all the same old crap. So don't hold your breath, 'cause ya might pass out.


G'night.

a BIG blah blah blahhhh.

Hello.

My two favourite words (as of this moment) are:

Juxtaposed
Discombobulated

Yes that is pretty much the whole motive of this post.
And also to help me with patience, because I'm having great difficulty, so I'm distracting myself with writing this top-notch, definitely-not-a-waste-of-time post...

Did you know (well of course you didn't as that would be creeeeepy to the maxx) that I once played Macbeth in my drama class production of Macbeth? I did, and after that, playing dudes became a recurring theme in my dramatic career*. Anyways, the little sub-header on my blogge title is something Macbeth says as he weeps about his wife's suicide.

Just thought I'd say.

I can play a very convincing man, and I'm not sure how good of a thing that is...

And now for something completely different.

I got an A+ in a paper I got back today. I initially thought it was some sort of mean joke that the TA was playing on me, but apparently not. I really really don't understand how it got that mark, since I wrote it while simultaneously packing for California and cleaning my room.

Anyhoo. I am quite interested in what people's favourite words are these days. (Hint: leave a comment that says your favourite word(s). I apologize for my blatant pleas for comments. But not really.)


*HA.

Near death Experience

I was sitting today in my History lecture, when my prof, out of nowhere tries to kill me.

He said "Alright guys, so for the essay you have due next week-"

I'm sorry, WHAT? An essay? What the fuck...next week....next week I have about 17 other things due. I had no idea we even had an essay in this class.....shit....I think I'm having a heart attack.....what...?! There is shooting pain down my left arm....my sight is going dark....

'"-we have pushed back the due date to two weeks from next week."

O. Well then. Sweet.

And just like that, I was not dying. It was just a scare.
Extensions are better than an electric shock for stopping heart fibrillation.

Patience is a virtue. And a bitch.

My cousin did a Goddess card reading on me. It's kinda like a Tarot card reading but not. There are Goddesses on the cards instead of the Lovers and the Hanged Man and Death and so on.

So, basically, I don't remember the specific goddesses on my cards, but I remember what the card meanings were.
I asked a question: "Will I find love in the next year? No wait, I mean three months....I'll give the goddesses a narrower time period so its easier...." Then I got three cards. One for the past, one for my present, and one for my future. My past one said something about having unconditional love once upon a time (well, it wasn't really unconditional now was it, if it was only in the past...). The present one said I need to be patient. And the future one said I will have prosperity, perhaps in the form of a windfall of money, so I'm hoping that doesn't mean someone is going to die (but it's likely not about money since my question was about falling in love).

Anyhoo. Yes I realize how hokey my question was, but isn't that what readings like that are for? Or course.

And I'm currently very focused on being patient. I don't like being patient, but I'm ver ver good at it. Sometimes. If I'm not drunk. Or hopped up on caffeine. But other than then, I am the image of patience.* I am being patient because I, despite my cynicism and all that, I want to have prosperity in love, and....well, these cards were quite fly looking with gold trim, so they must be trustworthy.

We'll just have to wait and see if patience will produce prosperity. I hope it does, or dammit, I'll never have patience again, and God help anyone around me at that point. There will be many bruised shins and stomped on toes.

Right then, I think it's time to sleep. bbye.
And remember kids, when life gives you lemons, make scrambled eggs.


*Note a slight exaggeration here.

What happens in Rome...?

I think I might not have bombed the test as badly as I thought I was going to, although I by no means knew everything on the mid-term.

As I suspected would happen, I couldn't keep all the names straight. Honestly though, what is the difference between Cicero and Crassus? (Well, actually, Crassus was a member of the first triumvirate with his pallies Caesar and Pompey...whom he hated, and Cicero was...a lawyer? ya. maybe. I think he defended a dude once who, if he was convicted, would have been shoved into a sack with an ape and a snake and some other critters and then thrown into the nearest river...gotta love them Romans) And who is Gaius and the other Gaius and are they related to the other Gaius? (Likely)


Ok, good night.
Have a phat Mardi Gras.
tehehe.

Gosh darn it.

Today, I have a midterm which I will fail because I fell asleep while studying for it...well actually before studying. It is in Roman Civ. All the historical figures we learn about have 54 variations of their name, and EVERYONE is related/sleeping with everyone else/getting impregnated by a god. FML.

Lost Bags and Tanned legs (slightly)

They lost my bag.

Fucking airline left my bag in Chicago. And I want it back. It has a boatload of shot glasses in it to give to people. And Sees chocolate....delicious.

You'd think they would've had time to take my luggage from one airplane to the other, seeing as how we sat on the runway for an hour getting de-iced. This after I literally ran from one terminal to the next because I thought I was going to miss my connection. Well, I needn't have feared.

So now I'm back in Canada. Bagless, and cold. But last night I went over to a friend's house and had real beer. Not lite and not disgusting.

In California, I was positively boggled by the number of people who gave me blank stares when I told them where I was from. This is how the situation would often play out:

(Cousin introduces me to person)
Person: Nice to meet you. Where did you say you were from?
Me: O I'm from Ottawa.
Person: um. [confused look]
Me: .....it's in Canada....
Person: O! Canada! What's it like there?
Me: (In my mind I say o you know, snowy, I live in an igloo, etc.) Right now it's quite cold actually...

And on it goes. Seriously though, Ottawa is the capital of this country. Theeee country RIGHT above the States. In fact, Obama was in Ottawa chatting up our PM, discussing trade and what not, whilst I was chillin' in his homeland. Apparently, ignorance of Canada is not uncommon among Americans, even the allegedly educated journalists. It cracks me up, to a certain extent.

Some things are just inexcusably stupid though. Like when one dude asked if Ottawa was anywhere near UBC where his friend goes to school. No buddy. BC, as in British Columbia, is on the complete other side of the country. But sometimes I snowshoe there in July when the weather is only about -14 degrees Celsius. AND Please don't even ask me what that is in Fahrenheit, because that is a dumb system that makes no sense in my brain.

Another person was quite taken by the colourfulness of our money. They were reading the poem on the purple ten dollar bill and I told them it was our most famous war poem, In Flanders Fields, and they said "War? Canada was in a war?" HAHAHA. I laughed and said, "Yes, the first world war, the second, the current madness going down in Afghanistan, many others..." "So were you guys supporting us?" Umm....how to put this in a way that doesn't sound completely condesending and also like I think this person is seriously deprived of a proper history lesson? "Not exactly. We were on the same team...but in the second world war, we actually joined two years before you did..." This is not coming out right...

Whatever. The world history classes in America apparently leave out the "world" part. It's not this person's fault they don't know anything, it's the government's fault for constructing a crap curriculum.

That there was actually an accidental alliteration. So was that.

Anyhoo. All in all, I met some lovely people, and one person who is, no joke, the neat-o-est* person I've ever met. I wanna go back.

So, I'm pretty sure I'll never find adequate Mexican food near me anymore. Thems down in SoCal really know how to make the shit out of that stuff. It's bomb.

And I tanned. I just could not tell while I was there.


The End. But not really.


*Neat-o-est means a mix of cool, delightful, and wicked-awesome. Interpret it as you wish, it doesn't really matter.

top bunks.

Single beds are not meant for two people.

Top bunks that are also single sized are most definitely not meant for two people.

I'm staying in my cousin's dorm while I'm here. It is a three person dorm room. I am the fourth person, sharing a top single bunk. If it weren't for the window beside the bed, I would have died about 43 times over from falling out of the bed. As it is, I spend all night mashed against the window.

It is only slightly terrifying.

This is hardly a laughing matter. HAHAHA.

Still here in Calialafornia. And it just started to get hot, so I'm spending time outside, praying that the winter sun here will give me some sort of tan. And PLEASE GOD not a burn.

I rolled up my pants to expose my shins to the sun and I went blind. So did everyone in a 5 metre radius. My legs are seriously scary white. It takes coming down here to fully appreciate just how white my skin is. In Canada, I have many other pasty-types to compare my skin with....in fact, I'm often darker than some people. But here everyone has a perpetual tan, so I'm practically transparent.

On a different note, I'm trying really hard to get work done while I'm here, so I don't get home on Saturday night and get crushed by a sudden onslaught of shit to catch up on. Alas, I'm cruising towards getting crushed, as I have gotten very very very little accomplished.

Last night, my cousin (who I'm visiting, as I may or may not have mentioned) and some of her college roomies and I watched She's the Man. And as it was Wasted Wednesday, we of course honoured the tradition of the day. That movie kicks ass any way you watch it, but throw in a little vodka and wooosh. It is taken to a new level of fun.


Ok, well, I'm going outside to read school stuuuff, and to try not to burn.

By the way the time-stamp on the posts I make while I'm here are three hours off. It's actually more like 3:30 here.
So why am I not just changing them?
I don't really know....

Happy Cali Camper.

well helllo to yous alls from a much more southerly position in the world.

I made it here safe and sound, and now I'm having a rocking good time, but I'm thoroughly unimpressed with the weather as it is raining and carrying on like we're on the northern west coast, which we decidedly are NOT. We are in "soCal" as I have been informed, which, translated into normal speech for non-Californians means "southern California." Where it is supposed to be hot. Or at the very least not raining.

But apparently I brought rain. And nobody here understands how to drive in rain. In fact, the rain was the top story on the local evening news. A reporter was standing on a main street and he actually pointed at the road and said, "so you can see the pavement is still wet from the rain..." O MY GODDNESSS GRACIOUS. Wet pavement? Shit man, we're doomed. But even the most inconsequential rain here is a danger since they don't have drainage. A dumb thing all round. That is why rain leads to flooding ALOT.

....could you imagine what chaos would erupt if it snowed here? Well, I'd not wanna be in town.

and Californians like to abrev. things.

And dear God, are there ever a tone of Starbuckses here.

So far, I've gone to the Zoo and seen wallabies and muircats and monkey-type creatures with really really large red bottoms. And mackaws. I've experienced "In-N-Out" which o my god, no we don't have in Canada! Peoples' jaws have quite literally dropped when I've told them this. I've been introduced to baseball, and no not the great American ball game, but the beer game, where you bounce quarters (or in our case, some quarters and one peso) into a beer cup and then drink it. I am ver ver bad at it, but still managed to get ver ver drunk.

I have seen that everyone here drinks lite beer, which is a huge OOOOER. They are all very concerneed about the number of calories in regular beer, so they get the crappy stuff. This, I have determined, is a flawed system, since lite beer requires you to drink extra shit loads of it to get the buzz you want. Ergo, you end up with the same number of calories you would've had woith regular beer AND a crap taste in your mouth.

Also, I saw a Mormon Temple....and I thought in all honesty it was a Disney World attraction. It is the most epic building ever. It is now my mission to get into it, since you can't actually get in if you're not mormon. And I'm definitely not. No thanks.

Hmmm....what else have I done? Meh, can't think of anything right now.



Anyhoo....I think I might go to bed, I got work in the morning Not Really, but follow the link if you want a laugh and a half.

fuck it. I'm screwed anyways.

This is what I do when I need need neeeeeed to be working. I blogge.

That paper I mentioned before is about two sentences longer than it was at the time I said "and I'm so screwed."

So I've made myself a coffee in the hopes caffeine will persuade me to get 'er dun. HA. that's a laugh. All caffeine persuades me to do is shake my legs uncontrollably and drum the beat of "Run to the Hills" on the nearest surface.

It is this and other evidence that has lead me to be quite concerned about my sanity.

On a different note, tomorrow is Friday the 13th. ooooo. ominous.
And guess what I'll be doing?
Ya that's right, I'll be in a plane. Flying through the air. No biggy.
Seriously, I've flown on a friday the 13th before, and I'm still here, so I'm not worried in the least. (PLEASE knock on wood on my behalf upon reading this).

I'm heading to the sunny California for my reading week. Goodbye winter, hello beach, UV rays and the inevitable sun burn. Hey, I'm a pasty white Canadian....it doesn't even make a difference that my mother is fully of Mediterranean background, I get lobster-esque at the slightest hint of sun. Of course, it doesn't help that I am in complete denial of this and often "forget" to put on sunscreen. Like in Cuba last year. My most memorable souvenir was the tomato skin I acquired and the constant pain I was in because of it.

Anyhoo. After the 13th comes the 14th, and you all know what that means: Valentines Day.
HATE IT.
Mostly becuase I'm a bitter, bitter old soul who probably got dumped on vday in a previous life. Also because it is really just a holiday invented so stores could sell a bunch of roses and chocolate and stupid teddies that say "BE MINE" when you stomp on their hands. And if you're with someone, it's not like you can just ignore it, because....well, I suppose you could ignore it, but then someone might end up crying.

Even Facebook is jumping on the Valentines wagon. When you navigate to anybody's profile, the first thing you see is a link to give your friend a Valentine gift. YAY. So I gave one friend a gift becuase she came on MSN and was like "give me a gift bitch." How could I not oblige when she asks like that? So she got a thong with the personal message be mine? if not, fine be that way, and a Jason-style face mask with the message Remember: USE PROTECTION! Love _____. (because of course I use my real name with thems. obvs.).

I can't wait to see what she gave me in return.

Well, that's about all I got.

Have a very merry unbirthday. Or birthday if it is your birthday.

aw yes....the climate.

Everyone should think like this regarding our bleak, scary future.

I mean, anyone who has kids, or perhaps just more than two years more to live, should be pissing themselves in fear of how the climate is changing and dragging the earth beneath the sea. And filling the air with carcinogens. And making the north and south poles melt.

Did you know that the West Antarctic Ice Shelf is in serious danger of collapsing? Initially it was thought that the collapse of said Ice shelf would raise the waters of Canada and the United States coast lines by 5 metres. But now, for reasons of crazy physics and geophysical factors that I don't have the patience to explain, the sea level would in fact raise much much more than that.

So good-bye southern Florida. Adios San Fran. So long Prince Edward Island (and that means you can kiss goodbye the tastiest potatoes EVER). Think the tide change in the bay of Fundy is impressive? What if the low tide suddenly became what is currently viewed as the high tide? Not so great anymore.

So all you old, bearded dudes who run things, you may not care that the world is fucked, 'cause hell, you'll be dead by the time things really go to shit, BUT I care. A LOT.

Is this not a mad, world-wide case of cognitive dissonance?



Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a paper to write, and I'm so screwed. I should not even have made a post today, but Luke's rant got me all riled up.

It's all for "U"

I think I have established by now that I am Canadian. If not, well I am. Get over it.

Anyways, for you foreign peeps, you may not have noticed that we often use excess letters in words that really don't need to be there but make the word look better.
This happens for one of two reasons:
a) We were once owned and severely whipped by Great Britain, and we adopted GB's way of spelling things.
b) we are half french. Sometimes we are just mixing up the two languages. I for one throw "E"s onto the end of words that don't need them. That is one of the few parts of French immersion I have retained.

So what really annoys me is when something or someone Canadian fails to spell things the Canadian way. Like my CANADIAN HISTORY prof once spelled favourite and omitted the U....I am assuming that there is a U in favourite. If there isn't, then there should be, damnit. This is Canada after all. We spell colour with a u. Unless you are on my university learning system, which was apparently done and revised by Americans.

This gets to me. I mean, Canadians have precious few things in their everyday lives that might engender a sense of nationalism. Wierd spelling is one of them....Hockey is the other. Face it world, we are the best at it. How many times to we have to beat Russia to prove it?

So seriously, write "symbole" with an e. Spell licence with a c. Be in constant confusion as to whether the r is before or after the e, and when in doubt, just put it before (like in centre or litre). Commit criminal offences not offenses. Then get caught by the police not the polise.


I'm just kidding about that last one by the way.

OM.

Good afternoon, blogging community.

And shalom. And peace be with thee, and so on.

This is how I speak/write when I am calm and in the care-free mentality zone.

Sadly, this care-free mentality zone doesn't actually exist....so I take back the shalom. But I thought I would take a stab at a zen sounding greeting since it is Nirvana Day. And no, that does not mean it is a day to celebrate the band lead by the late Kurt Cobain, so don't. My Buddhist calender is telling me it is Nirvana day. So....maybe I should meditate or something? You know, try and reach enlightenment and all that jazzy otherworldly bliss Buddhists are constantly closing their eyes and humming for.

But I'm not sure how much stock I can put in this calender....this month's wisdom drenched saying is "It is not a matter of what you study, but a matter of seeing 'things as it is' and accepting 'things as it is.'"
#1- hello, ever heard of grammar?
#2- how can I accept things as it is, when that doesn't make sense? I suck at spelling, grammar,
and all that, but this is annoyingly obvious.
#3- Yes it certainly does matter what you study....I'm sure my profs would all really appreciate
me throwing that little nugget of insanity into an essay.

So happy NIRVANA DAY. The one island of calm amid the year of chaos. Not.


And remember kids, j'ai guru deva OMMMMMMMMMMM. And nothing's gonna change your world.

This is seven layers of stupid.

I was left home alone. That never happens, mostly because my parents don't like each other enough to go away on vacation together and leave me to watch over my brothers. And also, luck being the fickle bitch it is, never has both my parents out on business trips at the same time or anything.

BUT this weekend my dear youngest brother had a hockey tournament out of town, and I firmly declared I was in no uncertain terms staying home.

Well, I had the house all to myself for only the briefest amount of time before my mom shows up at the door at 1:00 in the morning. Just about an hour ago. No doubt because she (unwarantedly) doesn't trust me not to have a rave or something.

All I was going to do was blast my stereo and clean my room (because she said, and I quote "If I get back and your room is not clean, your life will be hell. I will throw away your plants. And THAT CHAIR!" as she pointed at my beloved psychedelic 60s orange arm-chair). But nooooo. Now I can't prance about and clean with gusto like I'd planned, because my mother is sleeping, and if I should wake her, I might very well get murdered.

I have to clean like a mouse would clean if mice cleaned. That is, quietly.


I am so unimpressed.

I am a chaotic person. It is very difficult to clean my room. And keeping it clean is impossible. Hence, why should my mother waste her time getting angry at me for having a jungle in my room? Clearly she does not see the futility of her rage.

I keep my door closed, so it's not like she even has to see the mess.


This is a useless post.
I am not happy with the way it turned out.

A tale of two Cave dudes.

Thank you to Luke for confirming my suspicions that my question was in fact unanswerable.

[nb. do not read the above line with sarcasm. Read it with a sincere tone of mind voice/voice depending on whether you read aloud or not]

What I really took from the comment was "screw attempts at relationships. Do drugs instead. They are less embarrassing" Which is excellent advice all round.

So to Luke, you are now my best internet friend.

And I re-gift the award of a thousand internets as a prize to you for best comment ever.


And on a different note, Urko and Walp never ended up together. Actually it's a pretty funny story....
After Urko had finished venting his anger on Gurt, he went left his cave in search of a dinosaur to beat up. Whilst he was slaying a dilophosaurus, Walp came to his cave to grunt at him about how he has failed to notice all her essays at making him know she wants to get down and dirty. Instead she found Gurt, and nursed him back to health. Nine months later, she also had his baby. Urko sewed for custody of the kid because he thought it was magically his (despite that being impossible). Gurt counter sewed claiming he could no longer work due to permanent leg injuries inflicted by Urko.
Judge Judy threw the case out of court.

.....Ok so I may have misrepresented the story when I said it was "pretty funny."

Sew me.

o crap

Ok, so this is in fact the 30th post.

The last one ought to have been called "Happy 29th post"

Happy 30th Post.

This is the 30th post.

There is nothing altogether special about thirty, but who cares?
Certainly, you, the person not reading this doesn't.

I'm a bit confused by what I just said. Disregard it.

Guess what I did today....well, not a whole lot. I went to the library of another school, had some coffee, and fell asleep between the pages of a giant sleep fairy disguised as a book. After I had the coffee. I'm drinking so much of it these days, I'm pretty sure caffeine does absolutely nothing to keep me awake anymore.

So I'm a tad worried as to how I am going to stay awake for the remainder of the semester.



On a different topic completement, I would like to throw a question out into the recesses of the internet with no expectation of an answer (but with the foolish hope of one): how on earth are you supposed to tell if someone likes likes you as opposed to just liking you?

I mean, I realize that cave persons have been asking this since the dawn of time, and have been venting their anger at the lack of response (this is the reason the club was made....Urko the Cave Dude asked Gurt his cave mate how he could tell if Walp the Cave Girl wanted to bear his offspring. Gurt had no answer, so Urko beat the shit out of him with a club and the rest is history) but really, I have to ask.

Another question I have is where in the world is Carmen San Diego? Why is she so fricking hard to find?

The mysteries of the world never fail to boggle my brain.
And also to give it a headache.

Getting to the point. NOT

hello hello, Not Alice here. Writing out of boredom.

So you may as well stop reading, since nothing of value will be found here.

BUT. Actually don't stop reading. Because....well, there may be something of minor amusement at some point, and you wouldn't want to miss that, now would you?


The previous post was my foolish attempt to engender rage out of any possible American readers who, as everyone knows, all like football solely on account of being born in the States. Just kidding. But not really.

I want someone to comment. FEEDBACK people. Even if the comment is:

"dear Alice, or whoever you are, SCREW YOU BITCH. football is the shit to top all shits, so fuck off and go suck a rugby player if you can even find their dick."

Sadly, I have not received a comment like that yet.
You may, however leave a comment more like this:

"OY! Not Alice! I heartily agree with you mate. Rugby is the bee's knees. And elbows too. Blimey, but if somma says otherwise, I'll knock their teeth askew. Cheers"


So think about it.


Think long and hard (ooooooer).

tehehhe.

Football? ick.

BOO.

You know what I don't get? The Super Bowl. Or football in general.
I mean, who would wanna watch football (not to be confused with soccer, which is actually the REAL football) when there is Rugby? Rugby has all the tackling and pulverization of opposing teams, but with no equipment except for cleats and a mouth guard. None of these pansy football players who need 12 layers of padding and an army of dudes with walkie-talkies stationed all over the stadium calling the plays.

Rugby is just better. SO much better. And it is super intense. And sometimes insane.

Rugby also involves more teamwork. And skill.

And the play isn't stopped every 5 seconds. The players are in fact running for almost the entire duration of the game.


Well, that's my Rugby vs. Football rant, in honour of the Super Bowl, in which rugby trounces football.