Leeuwenhoek had stolen and peeped into the fantastic sub-visible world of little things, creatures that had lived, had bred, had battled, had died, completely hidden from and unknown to all men from the beginning of time. Beasts these were of a kind that ravaged and annihilated whole races of men ten million times larger than they were themselves. Beings these were, more terrible than fire-spitting dragons or hydra-headed monsters. They were silent assassins that murdered babies in warm cradles and kings in sheltered places. It was this invisible, insignificant, but implacable-and sometimes friendly- world Leeuwenhoek had looked into for the first time of all men of all countries. ~Microbe Hunters

Saturday, 24 November 2012

Cat Tattoos...

This girl I play hockey with caught something bad from the water. It was the idea to get a cat tattooed on her her body forever. I really feel bad for the girl. She is a little slut right now. It is the first year university thaang of running around like a chicken with her head cut off and legs spread apart and a blood alcohol level exceeding that of Randy Travis. That will change, fast, because she WILL become the crazy cat lady. Cats are so weird. They are the least interesting animal besides gold fish. Why in the world would you want to put one permanently on your body? It is just a calling to live alone in a dirty old house with 10 000 cats until death.

Hanging out with her sure beats having a real cat though. It pretty much does the same thing as a real cat- just stares at you until you poke it, then it retreats under some fabric. It isn't hairy, so there is no risk of allergies, and if it excretes anything on me (urine, feces, hairball, gastric juices), I would not be the only one screaming for help. Unfortunately, if she finds her way onto my property and I try and shoot the cat, I would be going to jail instead of going to get a shovel. But, even when she dies, the cat will still live on. It is permanent. When her skin starts to degrade, and the ink from the tattoo seeps out of her coffin and into the water table, someone else will drink the crazy cat water which will possess them to get a cat tattoo. And the cycle continues.

My sister and I have our next tattoo planned out. Once we travel to a very strange place together (strange is used loosely because my family doesn’t travel at all), we are going to get ‘adopted’ on our heel. It shows that we traveled somewhere cool together without the rest of our family, so our feet that carried us there must have been adopted. That one is a little far stretched, but imagine telling your grandchildren the story behind that one! Then imagine telling them ‘I like cats’. Cool.

Friday, 23 November 2012

Happy Birthday, Mommy!!

Hey Ma! There are some things that I`ve always wanted to tell you

Moma the meatloaf, I LOVE YOU
This card could have went in so many directions. I found one version saying on the inside, "But if I tell you you would probably kill me, then dad would bury me alive" and another one saying, "you're adopted". I went with the generic I LOVE YOU. Plain and simple...a little boring....

Darn good and sure of it,


Wednesday, 21 November 2012

Frats and Signs and Hitting Frats with Signs

Souvlaki is our house name that we made up when accidentally slurring words to make a combination of our names. Our motto is "Sharing is Caring" because that is the way Jillian and I lived first year, and we have adopted Nicole into this way as well.
Taylor Swift is not allowed because she is a disgrace to good ole country music and her choices in publicity and music type have won her the right to be the hero of 8 year olds, but none other.
It is also a cat free zone. You cant read the bottom here, but it says "including kittens and people who look like cats". I dont know why the bottom says what it does, but I dont like cats, so that is the rationale behind this sign.
We were watching a commercial for a movie and this came up as a cheer. We loved the cheer and made signs for behind our dining room table.
In my procrastinations one day, I found a sight that had a whole bunch of random Latin translated phrases. I liked this one that, in English, reads "Frankly my dear, I dont give a damn". This one is on my door. 

All of the above are our neighbours above us. There is an elephant, hippo, rhino, sumo wrestler, whale and buffalo. 

Our neighbours belong to some frat which I don't understand. (a.) frats in Canada are just weird, and (b.) frats having giant orgies are also weird.  I don't know what they do, but every night they play Dance Dance Revolution-Stomp Style. I haven't seen or heard any ambulances come, but pretty sure, they could have come through the floor. 

It might be because I don't understand frats, or I am a bit ignorant on the topic, but lets just call it 'biased'. I hate frats. Especially the ones that live above me in a townhouse complex. The way people explain them, it is 'paying for your friends', but if your friends are putting you in a headlock while doing a body slam on you at 3 in the morning, I wouldn't be paying them, I would be suing them.

They are nice guys, though. They have a BBQ right outside our shared doorway and we neighbourly greet them when we see them. We have been invited to one of their huge parties that starts at like 6pm and go until 11pm, then everyone is gone. Weirdest thing. It's like they kick everyone out because it is WWE practice session time. Then, at precisely 9am their music and loud chatter starts all over again.

You know what. It is American Thanksgiving, and in the spirit of "Thanks", I would like to say they are better than the neighbours last year who tried to beat down our door in the middle of the night, after trying to assault Jillian. In the spirit of Thanksgiving- Black Friday edition, though, I want to hit them with a toaster.  

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Living in Student City

I feel like I am playing hot potato with my living situation! I sign a lease, move into the place, school starts, then I have to decide where I am going to live for the next year. The time has come, again, where I have to decide what I will do with my life for another year.

In the past 3 years, I lived with 1 or more females. First year it was Bianca and Jillian in residence. Bianca was first year, first semester, but she was boring, and the opportunity arose to move rooms when Jillian, a girl I met through Krystina at the gym, was going to be roommate-less. She "drove her roommate out of the country" is what we like to say. Then I happily lived with Jillian with no problems for the remainder of the year.

Last year, there were 6 of us living in one townhouse. Always busy, always fun, almost always dramatic. I learned that I could not live with certain people from that house, so I signed a least with 2 of the girls I thought I could get along with. We signed the lease with the intentions of staying in the same place for the remainder of our time in this city.

Times have changed and Nicole can no longer live with us next year due to her placement setting, so we will have to move again. I think this is for the better because I think she is really starting to get annoyed with everything I say to her (why? I dont know, she's a girl).

Anyways, so the plan is to try and find a place for 5. Jillian and I and 3 boys- one gay- Mario, Luigi and Chow. I already know that Jillian and I can get along really well, and I am hoping that these boys will cause less drama than the previous girls I have lived with.

I am sort of excited at this chance for change.

Post on living with females vs males to follow...

Darn good and sure of it,


Monday, 19 November 2012

Happy Birthday Little Brother!!

Saturday was my brothers 18th birthday!! He is so old!! I'm so proud of yah bro :)
Happy Birthday to my baby brother Austin from the kid that mom & dad like best

Just kidding! Well, not really...Happy Birthday:)

Thursday, 15 November 2012

I'm Always Right

I'm the kind of person who always has to be right. I will get angry. It builds up inside me. If you give me one snotty remark, I will hate you and avoid you forever. If you try and prove me wrong or insult my knowledge, I will hate you and avoid you forever. If you try and piss me off by pissing me off, I will hate you and avoid you forever. If you try and pull anything over on me to make yourself feel better, I will hate you and avoid you forever.

Here's the thing. I grew up with this mindset, and I found legitimate evidence to support this mindset. In Meet the Robinsons, the bowler hat guy says, "Everyone will tell you to let it go and move on, but don't. Instead, let it fester and boil inside you". Now, see, I was right. I am always right.

Damn. I had this whole post planned out in my head but my brain went running.

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 6 November 2012

First-World Problems

You scream for a second when you poke yourself with the poppy on your jacket. That momentary relapse of forgetting all the pain and suffering and BRAVERY of those who fought for us and our country.

A few girls on my hockey team were complaining that their poppy was hurting them when it poked them. They were questioning why we even had to wear them anyways if it was just going to poke them. I came up with a really corny, but buy-able excuse for them to wear them and show respect:

Poppies are on pins so when you poke yourself, you remember the pain of those who fought for you to make that the worst pain you feel today. 

Now, are you thinking that the Obama-Romney US election is messy, look at some first-hand reporting my uncle has broadcasted over at Red Page Letters for the upcoming Sierra Leone election!

Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 1 November 2012

Kellie Pickler

All those people who still base their opinion of Kellie Pickler on her less-than-scholarly experience on "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader", are horribly ignorant. I am so proud to say that Kellie Pickler is one of the greatest women in North America, and she has just become a role-model to thousands of people. Recently, Ms. Pickler gave her hair for her friend who was going through cancer treatment. No, she didn't donate her hair for a wig, she shaved her head. She is now rep-ing the new, bold, bald look to support her friend in the very emotional struggle of losing hair to cancer. It is all too easy for a person of wealth, like Ms. Pickler, to buy her friend a top-of-the-line wig. It takes someone with great courage, love, and friendship to do such a self-less act in support of someone special. For that reason, Ms. Kellie Pickler, in my opinion, you have taken a little step in helping to change the world. So, thank you! And please, continue making great music, I love you, I love your story, keep it up!

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Respect Your Grades, But Respect Yourself More

Here's the thing, children.

In order to be successful in your en devours  you have to respect yourself more than you respect the outcome of such en devours. For example, In order to be successful in school, you have to eat, sleep and (moderately) exercise. You have to care for yourself over the short term gain of getting that A on your midterm. In the long run, if you fail to respect yourself, you will get sick for exams, or you will sleep through a critical lab class.

Nicole is notorious for not having any food in the fridge, living for days off dutch puffed chip things and hardly sleeping at all. The only exercise she gets is walking up the 2 flights of stairs once or twice a day to her lab classes. In the middle of the semester, this is NOT NORMAL. This is hazardous to your health. Sure, you slip up in the middle of exams because of the stress and lack of time- it happens to us all.

Last week I was running out of food and I kept putting off my plan to bus to the grocery store because I knew Nicole and Jillian also needed food. By the weekend I ended up eating spinach crackers with plain cream cheese and pickles on them for lunch. I'm pretty sure Nicole hadn't eaten anything for a long while so I told her we had to go NOW and she didn't have a choice. That was the first time she went grocery shopping since the 2nd week of school.

To keep your stress level down, you have to plan out your tasks and know what is on your plate. If there is too much, take some stuff off. Nicole is my ride to hockey, and last night I found another ride so she could study. That way, she can focus on school. She slept the whole time I was gone and an hour or so more once I got back... 5 hours in total. Then, she got up and stayed up until 5am, again, and went to sleep. She slept right through the calls and texts she got from people in her lab asking her where she was. She was so over-tired going to bed that she failed to set any alarms to wake her up for class.

Also, don't get too ahead of yourself. Don't start planning your future, planning where you want to live and stuff like that. There is a time and a place for stressful decisions like that, and they are certainly not to be taking time away from proper eating and sleeping. We have Christmas break to casually think about stuff like that. It is supposed to be fun to think of what you will do with your degree, especially if you are in a program like Nicole and I where we are in such a high demand, we can basically get a job in any city/town with a hospital or medical center.

And parents. Parents and family always want to see you. If you tell them you are struggling, they will make every effort to help you. They might come visit you with care packages that will both feed you and lighten your mood. It is awesome what an afternoon off with the family or someone to remind you of your hometown atmosphere can do to bring you back into perspective of how far you have come and can realize that you are probably making your whole situation more stressful than it needs to be.

Thursday, 4 October 2012

Key to the House

In the summer, my roommate, Jillian, texted me and asked if I would be okay if her boyfriend, Tawd, could have a key to the house for, like, emergencies and stuff. I said no! There is not a chance in hell that some weirdo whom I dislike will be able to come into my  house whenever he desires and sit in my rocking chair, naked! 

What does social convention say about giving partner's house keys? I am called the 'hipster' of the house, and call me old fashioned, but I don't think house keys should be shared until you are sharing the mortgage or rent. 

Needless to say, both Nicole and Jillian, my roommates, have given their boyfriends a house key. Nicole has been seeing Hulk for 2ish years now, and I like him. He is very respectful, and doesn't carry his allotted key around with him everywhere, not even when he is coming over. It's like he just knows what I want him to know. It is not his house, it is Nicole's, and he is still a guest of ours. He knocks, rings the doorbell, which scares the hell outta me, and comes and knocks on my window, which scares the hell outta me even more. I have even answered the door to him carrying a bat because I didn't know who he was, then he apologized and said he should have texted me and told me he had to pick up a change of clothes for Nicole, that she was sick and staying at his place for the night.  

Then there is Jillian's boyfriend, Tawd. 

Tawd has a key to my house.

If I could take a restraining order out on Tawd, I totally would, but I have no reason to. I just don't like him. Fortunately, for the sake of Jillian, I have become good at being two-faced. I smile and greet him like a good hostess, I feed him wonderful semi-home cooked meals and have given him a shelf in our shower. (actually I don't know how that last one slid by me).

If by some magical miracle, Jillian and Tawd are still together by the time I share the link to this blog on everyone's facebook wall in 10 years, I should say I'm really happy for you, and the best of luck to both of you. 

Until then, I proceed.

The spark of this blog entry came this afternoon, when Jillian had to drive Tawd home or something, and he used his key to lock the door. Something that he does often. When she got back to the house, she realized that she was locked out. Tawd had locked my door, and because he didn't come back to unlock my door, she didn't realize she forgot her key.

This isn't your house, respect that, and get the hell out. Ugh I have a lot of problems with Tawd, and everything seems to be exaggerated because he has a house key. 

Gentlemen, get out of her pants, and get into her brain. The house key is not to be used as a booty call. Get to know her and her friends too. A girl takes a lot of advice from her friends, and if they don't like you, it isn't going to last very long. Respect her and her space and her other friendships, and keep some space, man! 

Ladies, get your head out of your boyfriend's pants, and DON'T GIVE THEM A HOUSE KEY.

Darn good and sure of it,


Sunday, 9 September 2012

You for you

Its such a great feeling when you find people who love you for you and accept all the little quirks, singing and exclamations that come with being you. When you can walk on out of your room in just your bra to announce the next colour to paint your nails. When you get drunk and get angry at them and end it in a heart-to-heart. When you take their car to pick them up at their boyfriends house because 'they're bored'. When they smack you every 2 minutes to make sure you stay awake during their favorite movie. When its totally okay to hide the scary movies in the microwave. When their family comes to visit and brings you pasta because they know you're poor. When you are playing a game, and you have to dare one of them to do something, but you skip your turn because you know that there is nothing that you can come up with that is so crazy that would embarrass them in the slightest. When you can totally embarrass the guys behind you in line when you are buying condoms. When you can be you with no boundaries or judgings or photos on facebook for proof and enjoy every minute of it. This is gonna be a good year living with you girls!! Let them good times roll <3

Monday, 3 September 2012

The Start of Year 3

I'm back!!

I have missed sitting in my room, alone, typing on this computer while everyone else sleeps.

I moved back on Saturday and Jillian wanted to move back when I was moving back as well. So, I arrived at 10:30am and my family stayed, cleaned up the place, took Nicole's mattress out to the garbage and hung up pictures and stuff. Then, we went grocery shopping and brought some stuff home for lunch. My family left at about 3:30pm and I was alone until Jillian showed up for dinner that I had made her. Right after dinner, we started making a minion out of sponge, duct tape and a clothes hanger before Tawd, Jillian's boyfriend arrived. We sat around a bit before Jillian and Tawd went out bowling.
Our Minion.
Way to go, bro. Come back when I come and leave me for your boyfriend.

Anyways, the point of this post was supposed to be an update on the other girls with whom I am not living this year.

Krystina is in Cuba. Yes, after not approving of Jillian's trip to Cuba at the end of last year which lead to her parents doing some heavy lifting for her move, Krystina has become a hypocrite. Upon leaving for her own trip and returning 2 days before school starts, she has made her mother do some heavy lifting of her own. If I was to go on a trip, I would make sure school was out... oh wait, I did. I went to Vancouver to visit family the week of Canada Day- not even interfering with my little sister, Jean, in highschool.

Amelia and Krista. Well, Krista and her over-protective parents will not be arriving until Tuesday, after much of the frosh stuff is done. Amelia is here, though. She and Krista are living with another girl, Robbie, in another apartment. Jillian, Tawd, Mario and I went to visit her place yesterday when she announced that she needed to buy a new vacuum because nothing happens when she plugs it into the wall and turn it on. Jillian was suspicious because this vacuum was nice and shiny unlike ours that is yellow and gross, so she plugged it in and tried. Nothing. I walked over and pushed the intensity button on the body and VOILA it worked. I hope I don't have to go over every time they try to vacuum...

Darn good and sure of it,


Sunday, 12 August 2012

New Baby

Its been a while since the last card post, but my coworker is expecting a baby girl in a few days, and I wanted to share the card I made for her.

(Congrats! A new addition to your flock)

(Wishing yo the very best with the safe arrival of your new baby.
May it be filled with much joy and happiness!)

("Thank the Lord, cut the cord.
Take her home, help her grow.
And complete the circle of Love"
                                      - Jeff Bates
                              -The Love Song)

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

A life worth living

I just spent the majority of my night on the computer. Paying bills, looking at emails, creeping people on facebook... then I saw the little bookmark for Blogger. Oh whoops, I forgot about you for a little bit. In my defense, the reason I was on the computer for so long was because I was cutting it close with my bills being paid as I never go on the computer to look.

Sooo what's up with me?? Well I got another car for a Derby this coming fall, and I got my father one for Father's Day, and, OH YAH, I just read in someone's Blogger profile that they are against gay marriages. Like, what the hell, girl, you seem lame and I love Ellen. Enough said? Nope, not yet.

I consider myself to be part of a very traditional family- parents married 21 years, both sets of grandparents been married since the stone age, there is no incest despite the hickness of my family. I totally understand the stone-age grandparents being skeptical, but having gay friends in high school has helped them to understand what being gay is. They were ignorant before. They never knew anyone who was gay and growing up raised to be "traditional" was all they ever knew. There wasn't the vast amounts of media and internet and public rights groups back when they were growing up and forming their opinions. I am not saying that old people have the right to not approve of gay people, but rather, I am saying that it is difficult to teach an old dog new tricks. This can be seen through trying to teach your grandparents (or even parents) about computers, or how to call you back on a cell phone. It is things that they are unfamiliar with. I didn't grow up in that generation, so that is just my opinion on this.

Young people, however are stupid. to be ignorant is to not understand, and to be stupid is to understand, but still make the same decisions. The young girl, age 16 I believe, is stupid. Lets say "not being very smart" so I don't get hate mail. Honestly, if you find love in another person, you should be allowed to be with them until eternity. You should be able to be married, if that is what you want to do, and get the same benefits that heterosexual couples have.

Seriously, girl, you're 16. You haven't lived long enough to develop such complex opinions like these and post them on your Blogger profile and be so proud of them. I'm ashamed. The younger generation should get off their computer, and with an open mind, meet just one gay person. They will change your life forever because they are so awesome. Find out for yourself that they are real people, like you, who want the same thing- to fall in love. They want to fall in love with another great person.

I hope you find a nice man and get married and have lots of other children who will live under a rock with you and your stupid, uneducated, inconsiderate ways. I will never read your blog again. Thanks.

Darn good and sure of it,


p.s. I did not edit this one. This was "hate mail" that was posted to the internet in hopes to clarify my stance on one of many controversial issues.

p.p.s. If everything was traditional I wouldnt have had chicken and tzatziki for breakfast which was awesome, nor would I be sitting here on a computer, I might be off spinning wool...

Saturday, 9 June 2012

Woodpile-Cooled Hot Cereal

I was going to write this post for my other blog address Chemistry in the Kitchen which is about cooking as a student. However, when reciting the post in my head, I realized it had really nothing to do with cooking, nor being a student. It is more about a great way to get your porridge to taste better.

I grew up in a house in a wonderful neighbourhood, and when I was about 8 or so, my grandparents moved in with us for a few months until their new house was built. When they were living with us, they would get up extra early and make us stuff...just as grandparents do. Every morning we had porridge. We didn't like porridge. We didn't like our grandparents taking over our morning sugar fix. Then, my grandfather came up with this moderately genius idea to cool the porridge on the woodpile out at the side of our house. Since it is winter for like 90% of the year up here in Canada (jokes, but it is always cooler than hot cereal) this plan to cool the porridge made it taste so much better. We called it woodpile-cooled hot cereal.

The topic came up tonight at dinner when my brother made a bowl of cornmeal mixed with cream of wheat (the usual in our house) for his dinner. We no longer have a readily accessible woodpile in the house we live at now, and our tongues have grown to be a bit more sensitized to hotness in the past 12 years. However, the idea of woodpile-cooled hot cereal overtook my brother as he stuck his bowl in the fireplace for a few minutes before eating it. 12 years and going strong on woodpile-cooled hot cereal.

Darn good and sure of it,


Monday, 28 May 2012

Squares who like squares

I worked incredibly hard for the past few weeks, painting up my car, Penelope, and putting the final mechanical touches for the derby. This is the first day that I have actually been able to sit down for a few minutes after work and go on the computer. The first thing I did was check my billing information and make sure everything is going smoothly with my utilities. Then I applied for a MasterCard; the one with Airmiles. Then I applied for Airmiles. Then I checked my blogs. Lots of exciting things have been happening around here, but so many that I don't have time to document them. I don't use the blog as a procrastination technique anymore because I have nothing to procrastinate.

I do have one interesting finding that I thought the world should know. Schomberg Fair attendees are mostly square. I googled "square" on UrbanDictionary, and it means lame. I may have interpreted that definition a bit, but nonetheless, they are square. Why? They like boxes.


I painted my Sunflower with super awesome Looney Tunes characters and spent a lot of time perfecting each one. I coated it with polyurethane, the hardwood floor sealer, and I even painted their eyes with a glow-in-the-dark gloss the night before the races.

Princess, the girl whom I know not their name but know they like pink, painted her car pink. Then she stuck a pink box on the top, taped a few pink Gatorade bottles on the box, and called it a `Transformer`.

Guess who won best paint job and, hint, IT WASN'T ME.

It appears that people who attended the Schomberg fair, and did not vote for my magnificent, hand-drawn paint job, are squares because they like squares.

My car. It even got posted to Twitter by the MC before the races it was so awesome.
Princess' car. Even though you are supposed to ONLY have your number on the white driver's side door...
Oh well, I'm not so bitter about it, because it wouldn't even start to move it out of the ring so she couldn't compete in the demo part. My mechanic is better. Love you daddy <3. 4th place overall is pretty good, but we'll get 'em next time :)

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

There's this thing...

There is this thing called 'friends'. This optical illusion is of people who are super awesome and are totally down for making fun of life along side you. You know, friends? Like peanut butter and jelly- both sticky substances that once it gets on you it will never leave you alone. Or like the floor which is always there for you when you fall. Or maybe they are like the kitchen sink that can catch all your bodily fluids and help clean the dishes way longer than a dishwasher would take.

It has been raining here a lot recently, I think they fell down the drain. They were swiped from right under their feet into the gross sewage system where they were eaten up by the monster called A JOB and his side-kick I CANT BOOK IT OFF.

Now, I have a job, too, but I still make time for me. How could I not? I am super cool.

Anyways, the point of this short sad story is, I am going to be crashing my car that I worked so hard at fixing for the Demolition Derby and none of my friends will be there to watch my hard work go up in flames- literally.


Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 3 May 2012

Brutal Murder

Yesterday, two people were found dead at a hotel in the City that I work in. I suspect the were found cheating and one of their partners murdered them, but this is besides the point. This kind of thing just doesn't happen around here, so I will call these shenanigans the 'Vegas Event' for lack of better place it would happen.

A lot of things made me jumpy today: Neener (the girl I work with) ran over a pylon, I was walking around in a lightning storm in a field with a metal pole (aka litter picker), and Neener already lost the truck keys twice. Also, since the 'Vegas Event' yesterday, the whole City and surrounding area have begun crazy conversation over it. The killer could still be on the loose (duhduhDUHHH).

As I was picking litter downtown today, I saw in the distance a little highlighter walking briskly (highlighters= our uniforms of bright yellow shirts with reflective safety tape). Neener, all of a sudden, was in my face and looked as if she was about to cry.

"I just witnessed a brutal murder," she said, whilst choking and bawling and dripping snot all over the children playing nearby.

First thought: A homeless drug addict killed a homeless alcoholic.

Second though: Do I call the police?

Third though: Oh damn, all these kids just heard that there was a murder, there is going to be mass chaos downtown on the first real day, and I am going to get fired.

Neener walked away and I followed her jumping at her for answers. We walked- I walked, she sobbed-  until we were about to climb down under a bridge. Hesitating, I followed her. I still don't know where my brain was at as I would probably yell at myself if I were watching this drama play out in a movie.

There it was. The dead thing. It was a duckling.

It was a brutal murder.

I picked up the carcass with my litter picker and placed it into my bucket full of litter. When I turned around, I noticed the crowd of children and their guardians gathering to see the commotion of this "brutal murder". Still, no one knowing that the murder was not of human nature. I covered the teeny animal body with a Timmies cup I found in my bucket, and explained that everything was okay, and we were sorry about the confusion.

Pretty sure, I'm fired for making 32524376289 people think there was another murder.

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Summer: Day One

Talking with one of my coworkers is like the bitter chocolate that my grandmother bakes with. If you  combine it with other ingredients and let it bake for a while, it can get pretty good. However, if you try and choke it down by its self, its dull flavour leaves you running for a drink to swallow the last bit. In my case, the drink is hard liquor.

Although I don't know which 'crew' I am on for the summer yet, I kind of have an idea. Washrooms. The only problem is, I will be working for 8.5 hours a day, 5 days a week, for 4 months with a girl named Neener. I can tell you this, Neener is not that exciting of a person. 

Other crews of three change work sites daily, and sometimes join up with other crews to do projects and stuff, but the washroom crew doesn't. They clean toilets, then pick litter along Lakeshore. Because we don't join up with other people, we have to be able to entertain ourselves and get along really well. We don't have other people to communicate with to keep us from getting tired of each other.

Last yer, the girl I worked with, Pedro, was the absolute greatest person end working with her was so much fun. I know people like her dont come around too often- people who sing children's songs to me, scoop human feces out of a toilet with a spade, and play with the toys we find. 

Now, I might have to spend my hours listening to the latest crushes Neener has, or the dumbest jokes, and whatever else she talks about when I'm not listening. 

I just dont like people who talk too much. Talking should have a threshold, especially if you are not exciting to listen to. I am going to implement the 'cue card system' in which we each chose a cue card and discus what is written. That way, I will have some intellectual conversation pointers, and my IQ will not fall 10 points by the end of the summer!

Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 19 April 2012

Quarantine Me, Please

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get a picture for the most recent "We Eff-ed Up" sidebar. Someone, aka, Amelia, got embarrassed about her many fails and CLEANED IT UP HERSELF!!

I give her props for throwing out her molding ground beef that had been in the fridge for weeks until yesterday, and after for taking out the garbage bag that she plopped it into.

She was very cleaver in this endeavor. She had one of her friends from class (who didn't know about her past fails) over, and told said girl that the beef must have belonged to Krista. Since I say we all have to keep each other clean, it was her duty to clean it up. There she goes, dragging this poor innocent girl into the moldy mess.

Most everyone else was gone out to the library when the shenanigans went down. Jillian, however, was in her room, studying while listening to titanic music when the girls started screaming and dry-heaving. What a way to be interrupted.

Anyways, in their attempt to void the new resident of our house, they must have disturbed it and made it exhale a bunch of its spores into the surrounding area of the kitchen/living room as the monster wasn't about to leave gracefully. However, the grace of it's departure may or may not have been reflected in the grace of the one disposing it.  The entire house smelt like... like... well, old-beef, people-fart, moldy-socks, and fish-sticks seems to describe the stench. Clearly she was trying to murder us by exposing us to her moldy beef spores

Jillian was the one from whom I heard of this disaster-ness. Apparently the smell drifted into her room off the kitchen. Poor girl.

Nothing beats the disposal of the pasta sauce when Miss Amelia put her pasta sauce back in the cupboard at the beginning of the year. Reason: "Nope, this is what my family does." After, the reason she didn't know you actually put it in the fridge: "My family uses like 5 bottles in one night so we never have to store it". GOLD STAR.

One day, a long time from now, I will show them this blog which revolves around them. Therefore, I cannot go into too much heat.

But the point of story. She did a half-ass job because I found mold on the floor by the fridge. I believe there is also residual redness from an unexplained source along the floor where the fridge door opens. I am deathly terrified of their fridge and the monsters that come out of it.

Real point of story: I can't be pleased, can I.

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 17 April 2012

The 6th Sense

Now, I have seen the move 'Sixth Sense' a few times now. The first of which, I was in grade 3, and I almost died when someone left a cupboard open for about 8 years following.

According to that movie, the 6th sense is "I see dead people". I still don't understand what part of the body that seeing dead people requires. Seeing, you require eyes, hearing is ears, and a layer of cells with neuron receptors are needed to detect touch. Plain and simple.

Anyhow, since there are 6 senses, I thought I would make it right. The 6th sense is common sense and it requires the brain. It requires you to use all the other senses that you, as an able-bodied human, have evolved to understand. You are able to live without one, or multiple of the other senses and your body learns to cooperate with you and you learn, or grow up with the coping of the world to your abilities.

Unfortunately, common sense doesn't work like this. The degrees of common sense vary from person to person, my grandfather having the least of anyone (he wouldn't mind me saying that, we are coping with his Parkinson's). Right next to him of the common sense negative spectrum would be my roommates.

If you have the ability to see the mess on the counter, and feel the stickiness, and smell the fish chunks pushed into the cracks, and hear my sorrows, then you should wipe it up. Any normal person, with an average degree of common sense, would agree with me when I say, we need to clean that up before we get infested with bugs that we will be tasting in the middle of the night, when they crawl into our mouths.

I am a firm believer that there is a very thin line, in this situation, between laziness and stupidity to common sense. These girls are pushing the boundaries. I yelled to the world, when I got home from my exam, CLEAN THE COUNTERS CLEAN THE COUNTERS as I wiped up the mess described above- no exaggerations.

Oh, but they meant to but then forgot. So if you were going to walk across the street, but a car was coming and you walked anyways, because you forgot, would that be alright?

Moral of the story: I think my roommates can see dead people. Oh, and have no brains..

Darn good and sure of it,


My Baby!

I have the best Daddy in the whole entire world.

I called home yesterday to ask if they would be able to come and pick me up and help move my stuff to my new apartment in 11 days. In the background, I heard a muffling noise. I instantly knew that it was my baby!

Meat Penelope aka Penny
My wonderful amazing father has already taken out the interior and moved the gas tank to inside the car. He has put on some of the brackets, and by the time I get home from school, he will have the car all ready for me to paint. I am soooo thankful for him doing all this for me, even though I am not there to be his tool-handing, coffee-fetching, break-taking girl.

I asked him why he did all this for me,instead of waiting until I was there to help him, and he said, "You are sending me on a cruise when you get home, didn't I tell you?"

Darn good and sure of it,


Saturday, 14 April 2012

I Love Toilet Paper

"Do I need to buy toilet paper, or is anyone hoarding some in their room?"

That was the text I woke up to a few days ago. It seems that we are burning through the toilet paper like my roommate, Angelica, did first semester of first year. Anyways, everyone knows I have a huge stash of toilet paper and paper towels in my room because, if you know me, you know that there is nothing like a sale. 

So, yes, no duh do I have toilet paper, so that text was basically telling me I have to refill the stash under the sink.

There is one problem. No one here knows how to use toilet paper properly. I'm thinking I should deprive them of itr until they learn the ways of the toilet paper world. For one, if you are running low, you have to put a roll within arms reach so the one in need has access to it. Using your hands to wipe gets old after about the 12th time in a row. And another, the toilet paper must come OVER THE TOP OF THE ROLL. It looks so much better, and it is just so much easier. It is a very essential concept in the toilet paper industry. 

At least in living with Angelica, she knew these essential ways. I never ever had to change the toilet paper roll as it was always perfectly full. However, if you were to look under the bathroom sink, our stash would be depleting faster than the line of Hummers burn through gas. I swear, I bought more toilet paper living with her, than my mother buys for 7 people. 

Living with Jillian the following semester, we laughed every time we had to change the toilet paper roll. We knew that Angelica was probably either eating or excreting waste so messily that she just went through a pack of 12 when we went through one roll. However, that one roll was placed beside the toilet prior to the previous roll running out, then the new roll was put on with the paper coming over the top of the roll. 

Now, the 3 other girls I share a washroom with (Krista, Krystina and Amelia), are way less OCD than all my other bathroom-mates in my life. They dont care about the art of toilet paper, thus, I lose my mind and I have to call for someone to bring me a roll of toilet paper from my room.

I have 10 days left until exams are over, and Instead of stressing over Biochem, I am stressing over toilet paper. Wow.

Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 12 April 2012

The Locals

Final exam  number one was today. Unfortunately, the order of my exams are: easiest to hardest, and typically the amount of time I spend on each exam decreases from most to least. Needless to say, I will have an A+ in the class, thus boosting my falling GPA. 

Anyways, point of the story: I saw a man with rabbit ears.

I was on the 20 minute bus ride back home from where the exam was held, but I had to stop at No Thrills because I have basically zero food to eat. On my way to the grocery store, the bus passed this man wearing a rabbit ear headband. Like so:
Like so.
The man was a middle aged bald guy carrying 2 reusable grocery bags. When the bus stopped to let people on, he continued to walk, averting his eyes from all the curious people on the bus, including me. My trip continued, I know that this city is a little messed up sometimes so, cool, way to go for this guy to carry on the Easter spirit for an extra week.

I got off at the stop beside the graveyard to walk across to the grocery store, passed the fat little chub chub boy carrying the Hot-n'-Ready pizza sign from Little Caesars. In one door of the grocery store, and out the other. You cant stay in there too long, or you might be converted to the white trash locals. (was that mean?) (This is what we made for dinner with the food I purchased). 

Anyways, on my way back to the bus stop, I saw the bald guy with the ears again! He walked the entire way that I bused to get the the store. Then, as I was waiting to cross the street onto the side he was on so I could ask him why he had the ears, he kept on walking up the street, not glancing my way even the slightest. Again, I got on the bus, and passed him walking up the street with his 2 reusable grocery bags, North, towards the University.


When I got home, I announced my return to my roommates (who locked me out of the house for 15 minutes, but that's another story) and I told them of my strange encounter. 

Apparently, according to Jillian's boyfriend, Tawd, who is a local to this nut-house city, this man is well-known around town. Apparently, his daughter died when she was very young and he wears the ears because she was born on Easter Sunday and he wants to remember her. However, other people have said that he wears them because his daughter died on Easter, or she really liked rabbits, or he is an outpatient at the local psychiatric hospital...I really don't know what to believe.

Without spreading any rumours about this guy, the only thing I can say for certain is that this man is pretty strange. What ever his cause is, I still think he is pretty strange. 

Also, apparently, again, according to Tawd, the bald guy wears a witch hat on Halloween and Santa hat on Christmas. 

My theory is:

He suffered a psychotic break and murdered his entire family- each one born on different holidays. He escaped from the psychiatric hospital, having his hair permanently burnt off in the fire that killed his family. Now, he wears the holiday-themed head-wear to symbolize that anyone born on a holiday is cursed and he must murder you, as well. 

I was born on Victoria Day, am I next? I'll be right back, just checking that I locked the door so he doesn't start wearing a fireworks head display. 

So much for not spreading rumours.

Darn good and sure of it,


Monday, 9 April 2012

Pressure`s off

It is exam time in our house, but the exact opposite of stress and anger towards each other has been happening. It is very strange that no one is arguing or getting on other people`s nerves. It is probably just because of the piece of mind that there is only 3 more weeks of living together and that is all we have to get through, or people are actually realizing the there is only 3 more weeks to live with everyone we love.

If there is one thing that I will miss about living with these girls, is everyone gathering around and talking for hours and no one mentions homework, assignments or tests. The talks we have are the most random, messed up conversations, that any outsider who sits through them would probably leave 50 IQ points short- no joke, 10 minutes with Krystina does that to you! (joking)

This afternoon, Jillian asked me to call Rogers about our internet, and I had to reset our router and test it with the computer. She was upstairs with me to help, but soon enough, the others heard the commotion and everyone came and sat in the upstairs hallway testing the internet for themselves. Once the internet was back up in working order, we sat there for another hour and listened to 90s music just because we can.

I remember, when we moved in to our house, a few days before classes began. At that time, we didnt really have much to do other than goof off and nerdy class prep. One of the first nights, we had a dance party together in my room. Jillian, Nicole, Amelia, (Krystina) and I were on my bed and the cupboard beside my bed, and on top of my desk dancing to Michael Jackson, Spice Girls and other random songs. I still have the butt marks on my walls from the jeans rubbing against it when we were shaking out booties, and I will never be able to get Nicole`s dance moves out of my head.

Last week, Krista, Jillian and I blasted super gangster music for our drug dealing neighbours who were outside, but then we changed the music to Justin Bieber and other un-drug dealing stuff and sang and danced around the house. This is a common occurance, actually, and we often sing out the window to fellow housemates when we see them coming. People must think that we`re crazy, but crazy is awesome, and we would never deny being a little crazy.

Sometimes things got really crazy- but not us crazy, drug dealing neighbours crazy. Jillian walked home one night from the bar with our friend Moose who lives 3 doors down in the townhouse complex. They parted ways, and Jillian walked the rest of the way home by herself to our door. The druggies were yelling out their window at her to come up to visit them, but she refused so they said they would come down to her. She hurried into our house and locked the door behind her, just in time because they started knocking on our door and trying to break it down. Hulk, Nicole and I were asleep, but when the banging started, Hulk and Nicole got up to help Jillian. I slept through the whole thing! The druggies eventually went home, just in time for the other girls to come home safely, but then they kept on coming back to our door to try and get in throughout the night. It was terrifying.

Although that was the most terrifying night for Jillian and Nicole, my most terrifying night living here came when Krystina had too much to drink one night, and passed out on the stairs and started puking. I called Mario and Luigi over to help me carry her up our stairs and onto the main floor. Then, she stopped breathing. I had to call the ambulance for her because I couldn't keep her breathing. That was the most terrifying moment in my life let alone living here.

After that night, everyone was upset at each other. We had a very unproductive serious `house talk`which left more people upset and confused, than it did solving anything. Apparently serious talks don't go over well with us, they have to be mixed with some sarcasm and fun-making in order to get points across.

I learned that the sarcasm and fun-making does not translate very well over text message or facebook. The notes that I thought were funny, little reminders to keep clean, save electricity and stuff actually came across as mean and bossy. I also learned that I am a clean freak, but I learned to keep my mouth shut when other people are in the room, and I can always clean up later. One of the things I `nagged`about was food storage- I didn't want anyone to get sick!

However, one time, Amelia was sick with food poisoning all night. I know this was not from her coking, but it still happened to her- one of the worst food-storers. I was up all night with her while she threw up. Partly because my room is right beside hers, and she refused to go to the washroom and throw up in the toilet like any normal person, and she kept just puking in her garbage can in her room on her bed. We decided to go to SERT, which is the people that help with first aid, because we didn't know what to do with her anymore, because she couldnt keep anything down. After our walk over to SERT, she felt a million times better, and after we got back, she was fine. For `my troubles`her mother gave me a gift card to Walmart, which was totally unnecessary, but it was a very nice gesture.

Another nice gesture was Krystina`s Christmas gift to me. She gave me a red pocket (the good luck pouches that asians get) with 20 dollars in it. That was the most thoughtful gift I have ever got, because even though I make fun of asian drivers and asian smartness with her little asian self, I still really respect her culture, and I always say that I wish I was asian. She gave me that, which made me a little more asian.

For that, and much more, I wish Krystina the best of luck living with her nursing friends, and I hope that it benefits you to live with all other people in your program. You know that you can call me for anything, even if it is to just nail up your mirror for the 12 hundredth time.

I also wish Krista, whom I have grown very close to over the past year, the best time living with Amelia and a random girl in the other set of townhouses. I never knew how amazing she was until this year. I hope you find yourself a job and make billions as an MLT hehe.

And Amelia. We definitely had our differences, but we are partners on the same dominating scare team `Chicken and Biscuits`. I hope you don't give yourself food poisoning, and I genuinely hope you make it in life. You are an amazingly loving and kind person and I hope we will be friends forever, and you are welcome to my house anytime so we can party with my father.

As for Jillian, Nicole and I, I jointly hope that next year works out for us all, and we continue to have great memories.

My life with you girls is epic. You make me laugh, you made me cry, you have made me laugh so hard that I start to cry. You've made me sing, dance, party, take tequila shots, fall over, vomit, and watch movies all the next day with you. Everything I do, I do it with you right now, and I will forever cherish our memories, and I will never forget 307.

Darn good and sure of it,


My Sick Ride

When I was 17, my dad got me a car for my birthday. Before you go all "oh-my-goodness-she-is-so-spoiled" on me, I would like to clear things up. My dad got the car for free, and it would never pass the E-test (it wasn't road worthy). Since it wasn't road worthy, I painted her all up, and here it is:

Front hood

Drivers side- car on the trailer

Passenger side

You know how they say to not buy a really nice car for your first car because you will end up smashing it in the end...well that is an understatement!

My car
I am an amazing driver, aren't I? If you ever need coaching to back into a parking space, or how to clear the curb in a three point turn, come to me. No seriously, I am a good driver.

I can't afford insurance, so what the hell am I supposed to do with a car??

My first car, the Pontiac Sunfire, named Sunflower, was thee best car ever. I put in in the Schomberg fair Demolition derby in 2010 and got best paint job, and WON FIRST IN MY HEAT coming third place overall being pulled out of my car after it was too smashed.

Demolition derby: like adult bumper cars, except you use real cars in a ring. 

My 2 Trophies on my car

Like father (and grandfather), like daughter!

Now, for my 20th Birthday, I asked for another car for my birthday. Since the price of steel has basically surpassed gold, I pitched in and bought this baby yesterday:

The new sexy beast
I named her Penelope. Why? Penny is short for Penelope, and since Canada has announced they are discontinuing the penny aka destroying the penny, I will, too, destroy the Penny.

I will not be doing Toy Story again as my theme, however I am unsure as to which theme to do:
1.)  "On the Farm" which is the theme of the Schomberg fair this year, or
2.)  Tweety bird and Sylvester from Loony Toons


Darn good and sure of it,


Sunday, 8 April 2012

Proudest Sisterly Moment

Yesterday, my sister, Jean, donated 11 long inches of her beautiful blonde hair to cancer.
I am so proud of her to do this. Recently, one of our friends whom we play broomball with donated 16 inches, and shaved her head for cancer. She is the best-looking bald person I have ever known, and the bravest 18 year old! PROPS!

I am an organ donor, and I think everyone should be. However, my long blonde hair going to someone else to make a wig just weirds me out for some reason.

I have been told by both Jillian and Nicole that I am going to be their future God-Mother of their children. I don't know if it is because I would be a good mother, or for the guarantee that if their liver was what was failing them, I would give up a lobe of mine just so they don't leave me children to take care of. (Not a huge fan of children). I could also live without a kidney or stem cells or other stuff I have 2 of or is not that important. However, my hair is very important to me, and not just that it has to be long so I look older than 15, but because it's mine and other people can see it. No one can see my stem cells, I would gladly donate them, and I would do it tomorrow if the procedure wasn't so risky for myself.

I might sound a little insensitive, but yous should still know: On the back of my donor card, I said to take my hair as well.

Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 5 April 2012

Finding a Job and a Career

I have had many a-job in my almost 20 year lifetime. None of which I am particularly proud of (see Well That Was Awkward), but at all of them, I met awesome people and made my wage.

At first, I didn't want to go into any establishments and hand in my resume let alone ask for a manager or call them back a few days later. My mother would always nag me about getting another job, but all I would do was sit there, dreaming of the alternate me in the alternate universe with the courage to walk in and ask for a job.

As a teenager, I dreamed a lot, and wished for everything to be handed to me. Since I walked through the doors of real life in University, I realized a lot of things that my parents were right about. However, as I am sitting here, I am dreaming of what I want to be doing with my life. I don't want to work towards it, I just want to be handed my degree, and be put into the workforce and make money.

I'm very lucky. All I have to do is a 4-year degree and I can get a job as a MLT (Medical Laboratory Scientist), but other people in health science degrees have to go to grad school to get some sort of career in the Health Care field. One of those people is Amelia, who wants to be a radiation therapist (?), and she wants to get into Michener Institute.

It's really too bad she is here for her friends, and not her future career. She is taking the easiest classes for the easy A, but she is not thinking of the prerequisites she will need for the prestigious Health Institute of Michener.  She is putting all this money out for a joke degree that will get her no where in life.

It is sort of like she is always sitting on the couch dreaming of what the girl in the alternate universe would do, except she is probably just thinking, I have A's and B's in University, I will get in!

You're too old to be spoon fed in University.

I will also say that she does not have a summer job lined up, and there is less than a month until full time work season begins. Why? Because she is too scared to go into the establishments and ask for the boss and call them back a few days later. She wants to sit on the couch, find a job online, and send someone her resume through the hustle and bustle of the internet.

For that reason, I feel like everyone needs that one person to push them. Push them too far, to get angry at them, to be nagging at them to do stuff. If you don't, you will end up on the couch for the rest of your life.

The easiest way to get started with something, is to spring up and get to it. Get it in our mind, and set small goals to get to your bigger goal. We are just small people, and the big giant world doesn't stop and wait for us, it just keeps turning and turning making use more dizzy and confused. But now, this turn is yours. Get out there and accomplish something. You feel like the whole world once the deed is done, I promise.

Darn good and sure of it,


Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Ode to the Bestfriend

when you are sad i will get you DRUNK and help you plot REVENGE against the bastard who made you that way

when you are blue i will do my best to dislodge whatever is CHOKING you

when you smile i'll know you finally GOT SOME 

when you are scared i will TEASE you about it EVERY chance i get

when you are worried i will tell you HORRIBLE STORIES about how much worse it could be and anything else that comes to mind to get you to STOP WHINING

when you are confused i will use LITTLE WORDS to explain it to you- DUMBASS.

when you’re sick stay the HELL AWAY from me until you're BETTER, i don’t want whatever YOU GOT

and when you fall i will do my BEST not to LAUGH 
  This is my oath I pledge till the end, why you may ask? Because you are my

Me love you long time *peace*

Darn good and sure of it,


Tuesday, 3 April 2012


Yellow Staphloccocus aureus on Blood agar

For Krysta and Nicole's micro presentation today, they decided to made some enticements for the class and Health Science faculty members. Our cookies don't look as good as some of the cookies you can find on the internet, but we are neither bakers, nor cake decorators. The agar plates are the Pillsbury per-cut, just-add-to-baking-sheet, ready-in-8-minutes cookies from walmart, and the icing is made from icing sugar, water and food colouring. 

We did a pretty swell job, if I do say so myself!

Darn good and sure of it,


Well That Was Awkward- Work Edition

For a while in high school, I worked as a housekeeper at a Hotel and Conference Center. We hosted company conferences, lunches and weddings. The housekeeping staff consisted of 7 ladies who should be retired, and one high school student- me. As break, they would talk about their sick husbands, all the people they know who died recently, and their soaps. Then, after an over-stretched break, it was back to work.

We each took a floor, or a building (there was one large building, and 3 smaller ones) and were left alone until someone would pop up behind you, expectantly, and tell you it is time to meet for break. In those long hours of being alone, I decided to entertain myself by profiling the people who were staying the night in that particular room. I theorized who you were by the type/kind of liquor in your ice bucket, if you partially made the bed in the morning, if you destroyed the bed sheets, if you used one towel or two, etc. I especially liked the people who had a picture of their family on the nightstand for a 3-day conference or the artwork by small children- so cute.

This one time, I was working with this old lady, sharing a cart, so I was on one side of the hall, and she was on the other. It was just after a big wedding, and there were still lots of people in their rooms, even after check-out. After knocking and calling out, "housekeeping" with no response, I preceded into the first room. To my surprise, a man and a woman were still passed out, naked. I had strict orders to get the people out of their rooms, because other people were coming to check-in in less than 2 hours. What do I do? They're naked! I thought that no one was in the room, but I was apparently mistaken so I tip-toed back out of the room, and closed the door behind me. The old lady and I switched hallway sides, and she banged on the door until they woke up and got out. Boy, was that awkward! Happens all the time, apparently.

A few weeks later, I was working with the same lady. She went ahead to start working on a corner room that has a second room attached with a pull-out couch and a few extra chairs in it. I went off to get some more towels and when I got back, she said she was all done with that room. Great! We moved along. A few rooms later, she said we had to go back before the end of the day and finish cleaning the corner room. Apparently, she walked in and made the beds in the main side, and when she walked into the attached side, she found a man laying on the couch, playing with himself. He didn't call out through the open door or anything, he just stayed there and played with himself until she caught him. That is disgusting.

3 out of 4 of the buildings at the Conference Center are haunted, so we have random groups of people who call themselves "ghost-hunters" who come and want to stay in the most haunted building. That building has 6 rooms and 2 communal washrooms. Since it was the only building being used, I was the only one working one Sunday morning. My mind was playing tricks on me and I found myself talking to the ghost after a while. I was terrified. When I was in one of the bedrooms, I felt something in the hallway. I thought it was not good to breath, let alone move, so I stood there in silence until I mustered enough courage to go and check the hall for suspicious blood or flying objects. To my dismay, I found nothing. However, later, at lunch break when I was sitting with the groundskeeper, he told me he had snuck into the building and was waiting in the hall to scare me, but since I never came out, he just left. That was the meanest prank, ever.

Shockingly, this housekeeping job has not been the most disturbing job I have ever had. Last summer I worked for The City in horticulture, cleaning toilets in the morning and picking garbage after the washrooms are clean. When you are picking garbage, you get into this zone where you are incoherent to everything and just focusing on the garbage on the ground. One day, my crew-mate and I were picking along, and I was following this trail of what looked like pieces of toilet paper. Half-way though the toilet paper hunt, a man greeted me, and I greeted him back- its all about public perception. I put my head back to the ground and kept picking. It was then that I noticed something. There was a hole in his crotch that was clearly homemade to pull his wang right out and expose himself to me! Public park, public beach, families all around, small children playing nearby. Seriously, dude?? We reported "the flasher" to our boss, and the second time it happened, we called the police, and the third time it happened, the police caught him!

Darn good and sure of it,


Monday, 2 April 2012

Leibster Award!

I would like to thank Sofia over at Sofia's Blog for my first Blog award! I am honoured to have you think of me as a fellow Leibster. I like to document my musings, I never expected to get anyone to read what I write. I'm very glad you like me, and I like you too!

The rules of the award: 
*Give to a blogger with less than 200 followers
*That blogger will pass it on to 5 followers
*According to Babelfish, Leibster means Dearest

The first one, that's easy! I love the small blogs from small people just entertaining a snip-it of the blogosphere, and I feel like we can be friends haha!! The second one, that's a hard one... I don't have 5 followers! However, I value everyone who follows me, and you are awesome, so I will give you this award:

Daydreamer22 from over at From the Inside>Out is pretty cool. You should check out their blog- I especially like their writing topics, it reminds me of myself.

Katie, over at Life of a Chiro-To-Be is sorta crazy-cool. She likes the weather and the storms of her hometown, and I can also tell that she likes pink.

Anyways, I hope I didn't void my winning by only giving the award to 2 people, but the 2 people are 2.5 times cool, and not just because they read my shenanigans.

Darn good and sure of it,


The Shower

We have this really squeaky bathtub that is located in my bedroom.
Sort of to scale layout of the upstairs
Do you notice how the whole entire bathroom is basically invading my room? Whenever anyone showers, it sounds like a super crazy thunderstorm. The water that is shooting out and the creaking of the bathtub itself is super loud. 

Last semester, Amelia had class at 8am 4 days a week, and she would shower at 6:15am. The first few weeks of school, I was woken up by a heart attack at that exact time, every day. I slowly got used to the routine, and I could eventually sleep through the shower at 6:15am. However, as soon as that routine changed, I was woken up again by heart attacks whenever someone would shower after I had fallen asleep. 

Krystina has placement on Tuesdays, but she usually showers at night, then washes her hair in the sink in the morning. She gets up at 5am, and one day, she decided to do laundry at that time. 

When we were little, and we soiled our beds, my mother would throw a load of laundry on in the middle of the night. I thought something happened, causing her to have to wash her bedding or something, so I jumped out of bed, and ran in to check if everything was okay. She chuckled and said, "yeah, I'm fine, I just need clothes for after placement tonight. Go back to bed". Go back to bed, sure! Go back to sleep? Ain't happening with someone running the washing machine. 

Last night, Kristina and Amelia came back from a party (yes, on a Sunday night) at around 1:30pm. Since Krystina showers at night, she continued to shower her drunk body while I was trying to sleep. Since she was a little intoxicated, she walked up and down the bathtub like she was in a marathon. I would WD-40 the bathtub to stop it from squeaking, but that would honestly not help. 

Instead, I plotted her murder as I pondered if she would notice if I turned off the hot water.

Darn good and sure of it,


Thursday, 29 March 2012

Snakes on a Plane

I haven't done a presentation since high school in which the guidelines aren't outlined so very specifically that you cant go wrong, exhibit:

Med Lab assignment: What are the implications of gram negative bacilli on humans from the beef of slaughter houses in Ontario.
ALS (course short form) assignment: Snakes on a plane.

I haven't gotten to do this in a while, so naturally, I am going to push the boundaries. I am obviously going to be the one going to talk about the poor mice on the plane which has been overrun by snakes. I haven't actually seen the movie nor was this the actual assignment, so I have no idea what I'm talking about. But you get the point, I cant make anything relate to any assignments. In grade 11, for an American History class assignment on the most influential Americans, I chose to do Area 51 and Roswell. That's not a person, but the 'alien' that they found was, and that influenced the media and a lot of people at the time, and still does. I just cant do the cookie-cutter George Washington or Abraham Lincoln thing- its just not me.

Story is: I sent my professor an email with my presentation outline for her opinion on if it was offensive to the Social Science good-for-nothings in my elective class. She took great offence to it, and she called a meeting with me for this afternoon. 

I thought I followed the vague instructions for this presentation assignment to talk about why we took this class, what we thought about it, and what we learned from it. I took it because it was easy, I thought 'ALS' reminded me of progressive neurodegenerative disease of the brain, and I learned that (some) social science students are idiots for copying journals from each other in the easiest course they will ever have in university.

She didn't like that. I even drew pictures.

My prof, Ego Tistic, told me that  my parents raise a rude, ignorant, selfish smart aleck. Well isn't that a kind thing to say to a person who was emailing you before they presented to see if they were being overly-controversial. I refrained from talking in the meeting, because if there's one thing my parents taught me was to think before you talk. I couldn't think properly in order to respond, because she was putting me down so much I couldn't get back up. I am a strong person, but when something so unexpected happens, too much stuff goes through my head and I just have to walk away for a bit to collect my thoughts.

No time to think in university, children. It is the Prof's way, or the highway.

Things Ego Tistic told me:

-If I presented right now, someone might commit suicide (because I called this class easy)
-She was in premed and had all A's (no idea why this came out of her butt)
-I was rude and insensitive to the Social Sciences
-She showed my email/presentation to other faculty members
-I have no right to call her by her first name, Ego (even though she told us to in the first lecture because "it promotes better student-faculty interactions")
-I am disrespectful to my parents and I don't deserve to be in University
-I am never going to get a good-paying job because I don't follow rules
-Her latest book is about me (or going to be, I don't remember)
-She is almighty
-Some students in the class have a higher GPA than me
-It is completely inappropriate to bring Stephen Hawking into this
-I had to redo my draft of my presentation, or she would report me for academic misconduct

Conversation ended: "You should buy my book, you might learn something".

My message to you: you should buy my (Robert Fulghum's) book, "All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten".

Darn good and sure of it,