Timewarp

Holy shit and the like.

Tonight was a birthday celebration for Fran. I became royally drunk, like everyone else. I saw a lot of people there who I haven't seen since either I blew them off during New Years or since I just ignored them since high school has been over.

Okay. I'm drunk. None of this will make sense. But. It was a surreal night. So many people. So little time. Weird. Andrew is still buried in the closet. A lot of people are still the exact same way since I left them. I don't know what I"m trying to say. Maybe it's just that once I figure out that people suck in the beginning, the people suck at the end, no matter what they do. Yeah. Weird times. Haven't seen some of these people in a year or a year and a half or TWO FUCKING YEARS. It was tres-weird. Oh well. To sleep I go.

Oh, and shaving yoru pubic region is quite the hassle. It's my small surprise for Scott. True story.

SLeep i go.

I was talking to you in my head

Ugh. I fucking hate this house. I hated it when I moved in here last summer, and I continue to hate it at this very moment in time. Right now there's a leak in my room. Luckily some of my stuff absorbed some of the water. We can't figure where the leak is coming from and we can't afford to have this looked at. So, because of this, we're just going to wait it out. A large bucket will do the trick, methinks.

Yesterday I went and visited my grandmother. This wasn't an act strictly out of love, mind you; my cousin, Kelly, was visiting and I hadn't seen her in ages. She's part of a family which everyone thinks is a lost cause or the black heard of sheep or, simply, the fucked up family. The alcoholism and the aunt who went crazy and ran away might have had a thing or two in plastering this inescapable label on to them. It's the kind of label that relentlessly beleaguers them with flashy, bright colours. Not me. I love that part of the family. A lot. In fact, I would go as far as saying they're my favourite bunch of people in my family. I remember my aunt visiting and we stayed up all night talking. She also promised me tons of hash the next time I see her. My other cousin in that family is awesome as well. She is so cool, calm and collected. She's also a forest firefighter. But I digress. The visit was nice and the pot was great.

Also had a great scare last night, but I do not want to rehash those events. All I will say is someone went missing for about five-hours. All is good and well now, though.

Like, you know, whatever

Duncan is wicked-excited about giving me my birthday gift. According to him it's a three-part gift, and it all follows a theme. Word ‘round the campfire says he had to go on some wild-goose chase for some of it. But he said I was worth it, so huzzah! I’m quite excited to see what it is. 

 In other news, I had a fabulous birthday dinner with my family. Scrumptious birthday cake followed afterwards, which I had to force myself from not inhaling the entire sugary slab which was covered in a cream cheese icing. The cake mixed well with my taste buds. Luckily my younger brother isn’t around (he’s at camp) and this means I can have seconds later on during the week. And possibly thirds. And, if I play my cards right, fourths.

Also, MY LOWER BACK ITCHES like the sensation is going out of style! (I don’t know why, exactly, I capitalised some of that, but meh.) I can’t scratch it ‘cuz of the tattoo, but Jesus baby-eating Christ I want to. This is easily a form of torture.

Duncan just told me he told someone of my gift, and the person who’s now in the know is really jealous. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS! And he just said that there’s a fourth part. Ah!

And I’ve decided my posts have been severely declining in quality. That is all.

Another day and I'm still not in Kingston

Tea is good.
Tea is grand.
It makes me have to go pee.

A poem by Meghan MacDonald.

God, I still miss the times spent in Kingston.

Today consisted of a lot of nothing. Went out to dinner with some friends. KK gave me a certain something so I can continue my surprise for Scott. True story. I'm excited. And I'm bored.

 

And then I said to Maybel...

I was sad to say good bye to a fabulous week spent in Kingston…a week which consisted of copious amounts of 80s music, an obscene amount of alcohol, and a sickening amount of food-- and I owe this all to Meghan, who showed me a wicked-cool time. How I miss the talks and laughs shared already.

On my birthday Meghan and I spent quite a bit of time on my, and I quote, “fucked up party mix” CD. And I must say I’m quite pleased with the outcome. The mix starts off with the B-52s and their Love Shack and ends with Hole singing Celebrity Skin, and, yes, we made this work. No, I’m not making this up; I have the disc to prove it. I think I’m going to put it on, now that I mentioned it. Yeah, the mix is just that cool to be put on just after a simple mention.

The plan was to celebrate my birthday by drinking a great amount of alcohol whilst being in the company of good people. Both Meghan and I assumed that the others would be drinking along with us, but we were wrong. Very, very wrong. We were the two who became the drunkest of the group, if not the only two drunkards. After everyone (Meghan, Lauren, Eric, Cindy, Allan, Katy, Gabrielle, Jude, Bryan, Bryan’s friend Brian) arrived at Meghan’s (yes, Meghan can arrive at Meghan’s place. Just shut up), and after Meghan and I were already good and drunk, we wandered to Shoeless Joe’s where I became even more intoxicated. Meghan too. Afterwards Meghan and I consumed poutine, courtesy of Bryan, and ended up at Meghan’s with Brian, where I sat and watched the spin room. Or the room spin. I think it was the latter, but I could be quite wrong. Yeah, anyways. Apparently Meghan and Brian had a conversation on Catholicism, where I would quip some random nonsensical shit. Or, as Meghan would put it, I sounded like crap. Meghan then put to me to bed, and there ended a great birthday. Well, it was a great birthday considering the lack of birthday sex, which I have Scott and his strep throat to thank.  

Anyways, I received some cool pins and a “dork” armband from Bryan, and Lauren gave me a blown up picture of Scott and I. I was more than pleased, obviously.

The last day spent in Kingston included trying to buy a dildo at the Sexual Health Resource Centre, which sells things at cost and hence why I wanted to acquire the dildo there, but, as luck and the lack of volunteers during the summer months would have it, they were closed. Shame, really. After this failed endeavor, Meghan and I dined at my favourite restaurant in K-Town: Stooley’s.

I finally ended up at my final destination in Kingston at Scott’s house, where Meghan and I waited in Scott’s room for Katy and her parents to take me home. The last laughs were had between Meghan and I, and I concluded Meghan had some of the worst feet when it came to odours. I never knew a smell could drive itself so far deep in my nostrils and throw a party there, where all the party-guests would then proceed to throw up everywhere, and then have the audacity to expect me to clean the mess up…yeah. Think about it.

Then stuff happens and I’m home where I find out I’m not working until August 3rd. What the fuck. I could have stayed in Kingston--that’s to say Meghan would have allowed me to continue to squat in her house--for another week. Again, what the fuck.

As soon as I’m home I realize the pit I’m living in. My mother is arguing with my brother, and then I have to turn into her safe-wall, and then my stomach knots itself up in the kind of knot that will only come undone when I’m back in Kingston. Yeah, so, needless to say I cannot wait to be back in Kingston.

God damnit I wish I could express how much fun I had in Kingston for that one week. This year is going to be a fucking blast. I’m going to be living with an awesome person. I’m going to be able to see Scott more than once a week, and I’ll be able to have sex more than once a week. Meghan and I can have a hellovalot more Goat trips. I can listen to Lauren’s radio show more often than not. The list continues.

Moving on. Claire and I went to Julia’s to watch some Sex and the City. We watched about four or five episodes, one of which I thought was absolutely hilarious. The other’s ranged from mediocre to not bad.

I also have $40 more to spend at chapters; my brothers gave me a gift certificate from the store. My mom gave me a cheque for $60 saying that there would have been more if it wasn’t for the $50 dollar phone call placed to Peterborough. Fuck, hearing Scott’s voice was worth it. I received a card from my step-grandmother containing $25. I received a card from my actual grandmother containing nothing. In all her wisdom she decided she doesn’t want to give anyone anything anymore, and sit and shit on her disgusting amounts of money. She’s the most selfish person on the face of this family’s tree. My grandmother once told my mom that she would rather see her kids suffer than help them out. What the fuck. My grandmother could easily help everyone out, but sits on her money whining about all her inconsequential woes. Fuck you and fuck your money and fuck your lack of love. You don’t make friends by hoarding away affection and love. God my grandmother from my dad’s side of the family was a true grandmother; it was the little things she did that made us feel special. She had so much love to give. When she knew we’d be staying a night at her apartment, she’d make sure to have the sweet and sugary cereals we weren’t normally allowed to consume at home. My grandmother from my mother’s side does dick all and expects us to spoil her. Yeah. Okay.

I had a semi-long conversation with Leah. I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything so I played it pretty Swedish. Apparently Scott has changed in the past couple of weeks. Apparently to her it feels like Scott doesn’t care about anyone in Peterborough anymore and is bored with the company there. This screams all to well of what Duncan said of me. Sad that this has to go on in more places than one.

I don’t know what else to write. I hoped you enjoyed another useless update high in superfluous paragraphs and with 99% crap.

I Can Take It

Meghan has the greatest way of waking people up. I mean, really. What she does is simply push her finger into your shoulder while staring at you like you're some sort of dead body. Does the trick, I must say. Since that day was supposed to be my "birthday", she gave me my gift, and I absolutely love it. The gift was an extremely nice bread-oil set, and I can't wait to start using it in my new house. Mmm, bread and oil and vinegar. Mmm.

Scott arrived around 10:30 in the A.M., and my god was I happy to see him. I hope I didn't make Meghan too uncomfortable; we did a lot of making out in her apartment. Soon after he arrived we were off to the library to photocopy my tattoo design out of The Hobbit. After what turned out to be a pseudo adventure that ranged across not one, but two libraries, we finally made it to the tattoo parlour where Smaug made a permanent home on my lower back. Pain-wise it was duable, though some parts hurt like a mother fucker. I know Meghan is calling me a sissy 'cuz apparently her tattoo didn't hurt at all, but, according to the tattoo artist, the lower back is one of the more painful spots to put a tattoo. And I will stand by that statement.

I'm really, really happy with the out-come of my tattoo, and will probably post a picture of it on this blogger. It rules. The end. Wait--epilogue: Scott also really likes it, which makes me happy. I find it a huge turn on knowing that the tattoo is there.

The time spent with Scott and Meghan was simply awesome. Lot's of laughs were had, and I was just really happy to be back in Scott's company. I'm really tired right now and want to sleep, so the rest of the update will be in point form which will consist of random events that happened up to tonight.

• Scott wanted to eat because he was oh-so-starving, but ended up only eating less than half of his food. He went on and on about how hungry he was, so naturally we made fun of this fact. This is probably a "had to be there" point, but I don't care.
• When Meghan says she is having a ten-minute shower, don't believe her for one second. Scott and I were on the couch, and, well, let's just say she was in the bathroom for about five-minutes, tops.
• For a pre-birthday party, the plan was to get intoxicated at Eric's, which turned out to be a lot less intoxicating for everyone. I wanted to stay sober so I could still have sex that night.
• Had some mind-blowing sex. Not to gloat, but Scott is some sort of sex-god. Yes, I said "sex-god".
• I usually snuggle up close to Scott when sleeping, but there was some heavy-duty snoring on his part. This would add to his fears that he had tonsillitis (he was feeling crappy for a couple days now--tired, headache-y and the like). Don't worry, he didn't have tonsillitis; he has strep throat. And, as he put it, I have an insanely high chance of having it as well. Waking up with strep throat will be one hell-of-a birthday gift. Oh, it's my birthday now. Weee, 20.
• Received some awesome birthday gifts from Scott. He bought me a "Big Hunk" bar, which I thought was cute. He also included some Galaxy bars in bubble wrap because the last time he bought me Galaxy bars, they had all been crushed in his bag. I thought this was an awesomely sweet gesture. I also got a super-nice book, The Fabric of the Cosmos, from him which I cannot wait to start reading!
• Went to Meghan's for cartoons and an awesome breakfast. Also decided to stay in Kingston instead of going back to Peterborough with Scott because of his tonsillitis strep throat.
• Went to see The Bourne Supremacy, which was a pretty decent movie. It pretty much followed the same formula as the first movie, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. There we found out Scott paid to see Spice World in theaters. He's never living that down. Ever.
• Saw Scott off, knowing that there was to be no birthday sex, and that that had to wait until (hopefully) next week at the earliest. Sadly it was only a short visit this week, but it will have to suffice. Better than nothing.
• Goat-ed it up with Meghan, where we talked and talked and talked. Oh, and talked. There we went for dinner at the loudest fucking Pizza Hut restaurant on earth. There was a family of maybe 30, where the adults were more obnoxious than the kids. Fuck.
• Found ourselves at Lauren's, where more discussion took place.
• Found ourselves home, where Eric, Bernita and Eli showed up. We had found out at this point that Meghan and I might have strep throat as well (Scott informed us via e-mail), so we sort of black-balled the drinking that was to be taking place. Hopefully I'll be able to drink on my birthday. Correction: I will drinking on my birthday. Those fucking strep throat germs don't know who the hell they're messing with. They can go fuck themselves now.
• Went for a walk with Eric and Meghan, where more discussions took place.

That brings me up to date, and I believe these points don't do the time spent with everyone any justice. Oh well. I'll blame the fact that I'm tired. You don't think I can, eh? Just watch me.

 

Fabio was hit in the face by a bird on a rollar coaster

I forgot to mention I had Bubba's poutine last night. God, I missed that greasy, deadly food. So much, in fact, that I ate the cheese curds and fries off of the table.

The first song Lauren played on her radio show was dedicated to me (it was Sexy Boy by Air). This was the bait she used to get Meghan and I down to the station--and it worked like a charm. While we headed down to the station, we passed fields littered in children. Meghan and I concocted a plan to walk up to the children with the biggest smile on our faces, and then proceed to kick children randomly, whilst holding our smiles...I doubt I'm doing this idea any justice.

The plan was to go to the Goat after the show. Upon waiting for Lauren to put away whatever she had to put away, Meghan noticed a Hate Crime poster. Why is this seemingly superfluous information important? Because Meghan didn't know it was a Hate Crime poster at first; she thought it was a "Hat Crime" poster due to the "e" being covered up. Oh, we had a good laugh. Hat Crimes. Drive by hattings. Chalk outlines of corpses with a really big hat on. The list went on. We are cool. Really.

After time spent at the Goat, I made Meghan and Lauren my infamous Pizza Sandwich. So famous, in fact, that the name deserves capital letters and a lack of quotation marks. I put so much cheese in between two pizza crusts that it sort of made a mess of the tray it was on in the oven. Oh, but it was orgasmic. Literally; Meghan and Lauren had to change their pants. Actually, that was a big fat lie, but it would have been funny if that was indeed the case.

Anyways. The original plan was to partake in 2.50 shots at Shoeless Joes. Scott phoned (!) and informed me that he was able to see me tomorrow, and that he was coming up at around 10 in the morning. Not wanting to be hung-over for him, we altered these plans. Long story short, we took Lauren to Shoeless and after four shots she was pissed. Before this consisted of a bunch of us hanging out at Second Cup. And after this consisted of playing Aerobie, which isn't the greatest of ideas in the dark; that thing is so fucking hard to see at night. But so much comedy ensued, so it was definitely worth it. Good times, really.

I've also decided I'm getting a tattoo tomorrow--some sort of birthday present to myself. It will be of the simple dragon design on the cover of the Hobbit. I think that that encompasses all things fantasy-- something I have an incredible hard-on for. The tattoo will have its permanent house located on my lower back. I'm really excited but really nervous at the same time. Hopefully I go through with this.

I've had such a blast this week, and because of this I don't want to go back home. Back under my parent's thumb. Granted they're more liberal now than they've ever been, I just don't like the fact I'm so ... suffocated by them. Meghan has been a more than generous host, and I'm forever in her debt for making this week as wonderful as it's been.

Drunk and Beer.

Scott never phoned like he said he would.

Today was fun, though, excluding the aforementioned event. Meghan and I biked around Wolfe Island, which tunred out to be a more-than-fun trip, and I don't mean sexually, and I do mean in a way that excludes the fact that we had to bike against the wind for an extended period of time. Meghan and I enjoyed each other's company. It was enjoyable, and It's an area (somehwere in Wolfe Island) where I'd love to have out-door sex; it's a place where you can lay in farmer's fields doing whatever the fuck you want. IE: sex, and lots of it.

Later on we had the greatest pitas known to man, courtesy of  Meghan. Then, all of a sudden, we ended up in Bryan's house, pounding back beer. And then we ended up at Shoeless Joe's after awhile, drunk of our asses, discussing a lot of random stuff. I'm still drunk, so I really dont'know how much sense this entry is going to make. But, then again, I don't give a flying fuck (yes, a fuck that can fly) because I'm too god damn tired. Until we meet again, Queen's...Cheers. God. I'm so horny. Bryan asked me to join his three-some a little while ago. I was so gung-ho then; I was not experienced to these "gay-0culture" things. Maybe I'll have a four-some now. Don't know how that'd work. Maybe the idea of "doing it" with another couple int he room might be a huge turn on.

It's funny, really; I'm so glad I'm gay; I don't have to fall into any straight men stereotypes; I don't havge to show my "masculinity" as so many straight males do. I feel sorry for them in a way. They don't have the "freedom" of a homosexual environment where it doesn't matter what the fuck they do; they are free to do whatever the fuck they want, provided they don't do anything harmful to themselves or others. Okay, I'm drunk and tired. You know what that means? Sleep.

Tired

I'm a little drunk and extremely tired so I'm going to try to make this entry as short and sweet as possible.

My life long dream idea has finally put into play. I've always wanted to drink in a movie theater, and that has happened tonight. Eric, Meghan, Bernita and myself pre-drank, and then drank during I, Robot. Holy fuck I feel sorry for anyone who had to endure that movie when sober. Just, yeah. Terrible. I would express more of my disgust for that movie, but I'm drunk and that will take too much effort.

Today also consisted of copying my keys to my apartment, eating a delicious breakfast provided by Meghan and ... well, sneaking in booze to the movie theater while watching a terrible movie. I don't even remember what happened during the movie; I was too drunk. Oh, well. I don't care. I'm still kind of drunk and I just want to close my eyes and sleep, so I think I'll just do that.

Holy fuck am I horny. I wasn't able to obtain my "Scott Sex Fix" due to the fact Scott wasn't able to come down last weekend. Fuck. Horny. Am. I...

Okay, this might be the wine I've consumed so I'm off to bed.

Is it wrong not to care?

I'm really enjoying this Kingston vacation. Vacation from what, I don't know. I guess I can say I'm taking a vacation from living at home my parent's home. I still haven't decided whether I'll be spending my birthday in Kingston or back in Mississauga. Oh, the decisions. Methinks I'll be playing it by ear. I was told that I could spend my birthday at Shey Foo Foo's. Yeah, no.
 
I finally obtained my keys to my apartment. Oh, the stuff that was left behind: yogurt in the fridge that expired in April; frozen black bananas in the freezer; tons and tons and tons of notes; a can of kidney beans and a can of corn; a huge bag of frozen peas--the list goes on. Needless to say, I have some major cleaning up to do. And I do believe I'll have to look into obtaining a dehumidifier; it's really damp in the apartment, causing a nice musty smell that dances around in your nostrils. Fun times await.
 
Spent some time with Lauren at the radio station, and, if I want to, I can accompany her on the air tomorrow. My god, you should see the music library Queen's radio has; it's quite impressive. Later a bunch of us just hung out at Lauren's, discussing America's politics and I sat in a bird cage-like seat which was really comfortable.
 
For dinner Meghan cooked a grand feast consisting of bruschetta and spaghetti with a wicked sauce. I ate a lot. We also ate by candle light. It was quite romantic.
 
After digesting our food, I phoned Eric to get together. Meghan and I met him at Starbucks (because he has a Starbucks card which is pre-paid for) and we ended up spending a couple of hours with him. Dan met up with us at some point, but didn't really contribute much to the conversation. Now that I think of it, Dan contributed maybe ten words, tops, including the "hello, my name is Dan" he said when he (re-)met Eric.
 
Meghan's Monday night ritual consists of going to her friend's house to watch Queer as Folk. I have to say I remember Queer as Folk being a lot better than the tripe I witnessed tonight. Shame, really. Maybe I'm saying that because there wasn't enough nude Justin involved in tonight's episode. Maybe.
 
The night ended with Meghan and I walking and talking, and taking a break on a bench by the lake. There was talk about what was bothering us, relationships, what we wanted to do with our lives, how fast our plans change--the list goes on. It was kind of nice getting things off my chest, and it was nice to have someone there to see eye to eye. Hopefully I'll take her advice and talk to whom I need to talk to. She understood how it would suck to spend an hour writing an e-mail to someone and to not even receive a reply. A simple "that was nice" or "thank you" would have sufficed quite nicely. It's stuff like this that's prevented me from continuing doing these things. But c'est la vie, as they say.
 
I'm tired. And, I think the plan is to drink copious amounts of wine for dinner, so I need my beauty sleep.
 
 

I blame Ferris

So I guess I should elaborate on my last post.
 
After watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off (one of my favourite movies), I had a sense of adventure in me. I logged onto MSN just like any other day, and a conversation with Meghan commenced. Jokingly I said I wasn't going to come to Kingston after a comment she just made, and this joke suddenly turned into a plan. And before I knew what I was doing, I was on a train to Kingston. True story. Happened to a friend of a friend of mine...except that friend was me. I was the friend of a friend of mine...yeah.
 
Anyways, I'm really happy to be in Kingston with my good friends. Meghan has been nice enough to host me at her apartment; my apartment isn't ready yet. Fuckers.
 
Tonight a bunch of us went to Shoeless  Joe's--some of us were underage. It was still a lot of fun regardless.
 
When I'll be back "home"in Mississauga has yet to be determined. I blame that on the one way ticket I bought. I might even spend my birthday up here. I'm hoping I can buy a futon for my place and make my house livable this week. That way I can have the naked weekend with Scott that we've been planning for ages. Oh, yes. Naked weekend. Hott.

If this is the life why does it feel so good to die today

I'm running away to Kingston for awhile.

Hammering the Cramps

Work today wasn't half bad. Though I'm probably being biased; it's the $80 I pocketed in tips that are speaking for me. The first song Rod Stewart played was my Dad's all time favourite. Forever Young, is the title, and it made me kind of emotional.
 
I'm supposed to be at the Phoenix right now with a bunch of people, but I decided I was too tired after the show and it wasn't worth my time.
 
I'm not doing anything tomorrow so methinks I'll be working the Evanescence show. Ewww, Evanescence. Say it with me now: Ewww.

I <3 Guinness

I don't understand anyone who doesn't like Guinness. I mean, really. Yes, that's all I have on my side of the arguement: really.
 
So, instead of going downtown to a show with Veronica and Dnaielle, I had a bunch of people over to drink. Everyone concluded that Duncan, Veronica and Danielle are awesome, awesome, awesome people seperately. We all agreed that we /hate/ hanging out with them when it's either Danielle and Veronica together, or Danielle, Veronica and Duncan together, or *insert combination of the three here*. When they team up they become a team of suck, and no one likes their company. Sad, but true. It's not our fault that they just tear the odd-man-out to shreds. They're such awesome people though, but only when they're seperate from each other's company. That way they don't turn into a black hole of suck and hate. 
 
We also discussed the universe. And Claire's rash. It was fun.
 
I'm done. I'll probably be holding anothe rparty tomorrow after work. Correction: I WILL be holding another party tomorrow after work.  It'll be fun. I swear it.

Freak Flood in Peterborough

So, as the news would have it, there's a flood in Peterborough. After watching the news and being exposed to this little bit of information, I immediately ran to the phone to call Scott to see if he was okay. I'm a loser, I know. Anyways, there was no answer, so I'll try again tomorrow. Hopefully everything's fine and dandy (like sour candy). Heh, the news stated Peterborough has over 70,000 people currently residing in its boundaries. Crazy.
 
Anyways, I should be working as I type this entry, but, due to Nelly Furtado's low ticket sales, I was informed I'm only working Saturday’s concert--a concert featuring Rod Stewart. In a way this works out to my advantage; I have Sunday off and, because of this, Scott can come down or I can go visit him. That is to say he's allowed. If he can come down, I think I’ll cook him a special dinner. I’ll include candles and wine.
 
I wanted to weasel out of putting away the groceries tonight, so I seized the first chance to run out of the house. Katlynd and I went to the mall where she could buy clothes. We also ended up seeing Anchorman (a third time for me). This time, though, it was free; I have friends in the right places. Or friends who work at the movie theatre. I like saying the former, so I'll stick with that. I have friends in the right places. Yeah, there we go.
 
Duncan keeps pestering me for a hint about his birthday gift. His gift has a great anagram which is “pantywaist tool”. I used it in a hint and he thought I was talking gibberish. I really can’t wait to explain the hints after he receives his gift. I, being the nice person I am, gave him another hint awhile ago by saying his gift was “______________”, which has the exact number of underscores as his gift’s name. He didn’t clue in on that one as well.
 
…Can you guess what it is?

Pressed in a Book

Yeah, yeah, I know I've resorted to using song lyrics in my titles, so feck off.

Eleven days until my birthday. Eleven days left until I am stripped of the word "teenager", or, as it’s more commonly known as, ‘teen’. Its shortened version of the word has been embedded in my age for six years. This is a word that I've grown more than attached to; we're like secret lovers--two peas in a pod, hidden in a veil of time.

Thirteen.

When 'teen' and I were first united, I was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, that I was blinded to the fact 'teen' and I had a short time together--a time I took for granted. For six years we had a flawless and rich relationship, growing only stronger as the time went on. Together we inched (minute-d? hour-ed? year-ed?) closer to the infamous age of nineteen--the legal drinking age. I should mention, though, that the first major accomplishment done by 'teen' and I was the union of six and teen, a welcomed threesome which resulted in my licence.

'Teen' has granted me some invaluable pleasures: it always took the fall for my pseudo-angst; it always took the fall for my immaturity. When in doubt I knew I could always fall back on it; 'teen' was always there. Good times...good times.

And eleven days from now I will have to let go of 'teen' forever. I should vandalise a wall or do something equally as stupid, making the 'teen' in my happy one last time. Eleven days and I step into a world where I'm naked. Not really, but you know. Or don't. Whatever. Fuck you. I'm bored out of my tree.

ANYWAYS.

I've come to the conclusion that OSAP can go fuck itself in the ear, diagonally. This is the second time OSAP has provided me with a false early estimate of the student funds I would have received. When I finished the application and sent it in earlier this month, I was told I would be issued funds that would have helped me feasibly afford my second year in the engineering program at Queen's. But when I checked the status of my application, I found out the money I'm going to actually receive is a lot less than what I was originally told. Fuck. Now I have to figure out where I'm going to obtain the rest of the money I need to afford the coming term.


PS -- I've been trying to post this entry since the afternoon, but my blogger was being such a cockwhore. True story.

My Adventure with Abby

There we were—-Abby and I—-enjoying our walk in the soggy, muggy night. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I see a black rodent with a white stripe of DOOM down its back. The skunk was amidst the green grassy lawn we were just about to pass. Frozen in my tracks, I looked around for an odour-free escape. To my right was a road currently hosting a variety of passing cars—-no luck there. I turned to my left, which wasn’t going to provide us any help; that was where the skunk was headed.

Seeing my impending smell-rich doom closing in on Abby and I, I positioned myself as far away from the skunk as possible, on the far right side of the sidewalk. We waited. And waited. Because the skunk knew it had the upper hand, she took her sweet-ass time doing whatever skunks do at night. Wondering what our next plan of action would be, I heard something. A rhythmic pattern filled the muggy air, and soon joggers materialized from behind me. They passed Abby and I with a what-the-fuck-are-these-people-doing look painted on their faces.

“Why the hell are they just standing on the far right of the sidewalk? They possibly couldn’t hear us”, the faces continued to scream.

The pair of joggers then passed near the skunk’s location, causing it to go back into hiding. Success! Abby and I made it the rest of the way home, stink-free.

And that's my story.

I stabbed a man in the heart with a trident

Saturday:
I met up with Danielle, Duncan and Veronica for Duncan's shindig that didn’t take place in his house. The plan was to see Anchorman before going to the Stolen Wine Social, and we did just that.

First, and foremost, Anchorman has to be one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. I would now go into detail outlining the funniest lines (like the one in the title) and funniest scenes, but they would be lost on anyone who hasn't seen the movie. I highly recommend this flick to anyone who can breathe. There were times during the movie where I couldn't laugh hard enough; I couldn't convey how deeply amused I was. Also, there was a point where I was sitting by myself at a table while the crowd I was with went to use the loo post-movie, and I kept breaking out in laughter replaying lines in my head. Ah, too much funny. I'm laughing as I type just thinking about it. Do yourself the favour and go and see it. Now. Please. I want to be able to throw Anchorman references at everyone, causing laughter.

Following this we headed down town to some small bar that was hosting The Stolen Wine Social. The music they played was fabulous; I enjoyed every song. There, Duncan's friend Joel, and Joel's boyfriend showed up. Joel gave me the cold shoulder 'cuz apparently he doesn't like me, and that's due to Duncan always bitching about me to him. Aside from this fact I had an enjoyable time. Though I should mention I didn't start enjoying myself until everyone started drinking. As fun as Danielle, Duncan and Veronica are separately, when they join forces, a black hole of suck commences. I'm not the only one who feels this way; Holly agrees. When the trio team up, anyone in a 500 mile radius is fair game.

At the Stolen Wine Social we met a man who didn't know who Darth Vader was. Veronica, who's had a hard-on for Star Wars since she was an infant, went all up in his face, or something equally as black. True story.

I didn't return home until a ridiculous time, also known as 4:30 in the A.M. Duncan crashed at my house knowing I had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to pick up Scott from the bus terminal. Actually, it wasn't the ass-crack of dawn per se, but when you don’t go to sleep until 4:30 in the A.M., 9 in the morning is an awfully early hour. And this leads me to

Sunday:

After saving Scott from the bus terminal, we went for a more than satisfying meal at Mrs. Greenjeans. Scott was nice enough to pay for me, but, as luck would have it, he only retrieved one twenty-dollar bill from the ATM. Why this is important is simply because I also had to retrieve a twenty-dollar bill from the ATM because Scott realized he failed to take out enough money for the bill. Oh, the laughter that ensued.

On our travels back to my house we ran into Duncan at the Tim Hortans plaza. More specifically in a drug store where Scott and I were making a lube purchase. I was lead to believe that Duncan would be gone by the time I returned home from down town, but I was sorely mistaken. Duncan accompanied Scott and I back to my place where we sat around. I should add that it was only Duncan, Scott and me sitting around my place. See the picture I’m drawing? Yeah.

The original plan was for Scott, Danielle, Veronica and I to pay for one movie but see two movies instead, courtesy of AMC’s set-up of their movie theatres. Napoleon Dynamite and Anchorman were to be seen. Instead, sadly due to one of Danielle’s cats passing away, Duncan, Scott and I went to see Anchorman. (Yes, it’s just that funny to see it again. Plus Scott had not seen it yet, and I was dying to make a slew of Anchorman references.) We had time to kill before seeing the movie so I showed Scott the greatest (and greasiest) garlic bread known the food industry: Jack Astor’s garlic pan bread. Terrible restaurant, yes, but that bread is food of the gods. Patricia, who we had phoned to inquire if she wanted to accompany us, brought along Katlynd to see Anchorman…fifteen minutes late.

Afterwards Duncan went home, and Scott and I were back at my house making plans for later that evening. The original plan was to smoke up with Claire and Julia before going to Adelphia’s for some good eat’n. Instead Holly accompanied us, which was equally good company. So much food was consumed. Correction: so much good food was inhaled.

Returning home, Scott and I were snuggling on me bed when he said some of the sweetest things that have ever tickled my eardrums, and I just about melted--literally melted. If it wasn’t for my atomic structure I would have been mush. Scott and I then fell asleep in each others arms, which is quite honestly one of the best feelings, ever. I woke up at four-ish and realized I should be sleeping on the couch if I wanted to survive my mother’s wrath. Reluctantly I made my bed on the couch and finished the night there, alone.

Monday:

In the somewhat early morning I found myself back in Scott’s arms in me bed. We waited, and snuggled, and lightly fooled around until my brother left, giving us the house to ourselves. I would then find out later that my brother actually thought we were having sex in his presence. No, we wouldn’t dare to do such a thing; we’re not that risqué. Anyways.

After the sex that left me tingling to the point I could barely move my hands (yes, he’s just that good. I know you’re jealous), we smoked up a tad and ordered the greasiest pizza known to mankind. You simply cannot go wrong with extra cheese, bacon and pepperoni. The hunger got the better of us and we ended up eating the entire pizza—something that’s far from being healthy I’m sure.

Post-pizza and pot, more snuggling took place. We baked in my house; the temperature was seemingly hotter inside than out. After consuming the dinner I prepared, Scott and I were picked up by Claire to pig out (again) at Adelphia’s. After chowing down our sugar-encrusted deserts, we were dropped off at my house for my parents to drive us to the bus terminal.

I believe this concludes another fantabulous weekend with Scott. I have to see if I can acquire this Sunday off so I can see Scott this weekend coming.

I remember the days where I had to do journals for school-related activities, and I loathed doing them. Now, as it would seem, I can’t update my journal enough. Funny how that works out. Well, not really, but I’m sure you can see what I’m talking about.

From August 1st to August 21st, I will have the house to myself. Yes, three weeks with the entire house in the palm of my hand. Oh, I can’t wait.

High and. . .High.

Well, as promised, I went to a Jack and Jill party with Claire. Yeah, her friends, who are in frist and second year, are getting married. Yeah, WTF?

Anyways, the actual party was lame. Just...so lame. And the drinks were excessively expensive. So, as it would turn out, Julia and Claire ended up at my house where we smoked some pot and ate some frech fries. I was DYING for some Wendy's. I need Wendy's. It's oh-so-good.

And I'm Out.

I may be able to finish my degree yet!

I just submitted my OSAP application, and if all goes according to plan I'll be getting enough to pay for my tuition, books, and maybe a month's rent--or hey! Two months rent! I really hope I can snag that millennium bursary as well; it would go a long way to support the utilities I love to use.

Now I play the waiting game, although I'd much rather be playing Hungry Hungry Hippos.

I'm Addicted to Updating

You can call me a loser, you can call me a sap, you can call me a sappy loser. But. I continue to have all the crush symptoms. The symptoms that someone pointed out were as follows (but not limited to): the butterflies in the stomach; unctrollable nervous giggling; blushing when you accidentally touch. I have all of them except for the last one; I just get extremely turned on when we touch. Yeah. In other news.

How to Disappear Completely

Okay, I can't wait to get out of this house and as far away from my mother as possible. Yes, I love her. Yes, I care about her. But I'm only human and I can only endure so much before my shields are completely depleted.

Me: Would it be okay if I had a few friends over on the 23rd of July for my birthday?
Mom: Maybe. We'd have to be home then.
Me: Why? I'd be perfectly capable of taking care of things; I have in the past.
Mom: No, I don't trust you.

And she left it at that. Fun times, I swear. When she's not venting and ranting to me with all her money problems, I'm just usually stuck listening her complain about some other aspect of her life. And when she's not doing either of the two, she's constantly on my case with some inane argument.

My mom fails to grasp my optimism, let alone my lack of worrying--she's more worried about me not affording to go off to university next year than I am. I've always lived one day at a time; I rarely plan a year ahead of me let alone a week or a month, with some exceptions like seeing Blue Rodeo come late August--something that has been planned for months now. Maybe I only plan ahead when love is involved, especially knowing that my boyfriend will be thrilled. But I digress. Life has taught us many lessons on how nothing goes as planned. As long as you're happy and comfortable with what you're doing, why worry about anything else? Worrying has a funny way of making planets out of pebbles. Or mountains over ant hills, if you prefer. Obviously if you stop worrying, the pebbles stay as pebbles and ant hills stay as ant hills.

The taste of freedom last September was such a tease. Granted I have a lot more freedom here than before I moved away to university, I still feel claustrophobically confined within these walls. I feel like nothing is mine in this house; my brothers constantly parade around my room, taking whatever they please. Furthermore, I don't even feel like this is my house...my home belongs in Kingston. I hate this place. It's not home; it's not even a place to hang my hat. I'm a temporary guest in this hotel, who will have only left their mark by the ruffled sheets on the bed--and that's to say if I don't take my sheets with me to Kingston.

My mom does mention how much she'll miss me even though I'm a sarcastic ass at times. She can never talk to my brothers like the way she does to me. I think I'm the only one who actually listens to her. I've been the only one who obeys her more often than not as well. I'm the only one who actually approaches her so she can vent. Lately, though, I have had to distance myself off from her, something which she isn't so happy about. Understandably so.

My air is slowly running out, and I don't know how much more I can take before I'm forced to inhale my mother’s worry-water. As fun as this doesn't sound, it's only a matter of time, I'm sure. If anything I'll become more and more irritated. Ah, yes. That's something to look forward to.

And this concludes today’s incoherent rant.




After reading what I wrote, I find that this makes everything seem a tad worse than it is. But whatever.

I'm in Love

Thanks to Antonio, Vanessa, Patricia and Erik, I was put into a better mood. The day started off pretty cruddy; I couldn't even read my mind was so pre-occupied. After talking to the likes of Antonio and Vanessa, I swam out of the sulky water. Mind you I was still wading waist deep.

Out of the blue, Patricia asked me if I wanted to accompany her to the mall. She had to buy some things and I was bored, so it was a perfect match. About a moment after making these plans, Erik phones inquiring about my plans for this evening. I told him that I had just made plans, but I'd probably be free to catch up with him later.

Much time was spent in the mall wondering around. Patricia received a very good deal on a cell phone; she paid $120 instead of $250. After the mall endeavor was all good and done, I was dropped off at Erik's. There he showed me an awesome way of smoking pot:

THC burns at a lower temperature than what it would take for the pot to combust. In his travels he had picked up a vapourizer, which was essentially a very bright light which would exceed temperatures of 200 degrees Celsius. The vapourizer heats the weed to a certain degree, and the THC would burn. Using an easy apparatus, you simply inhale the THC smoke. I must say, this is the only way to smoke; I had such a good trip. (Actually, I'm still sure I'm a tad high). We sat in his back yard, facing his garden, and smoked a small amount of weed for about an hour and a half. I could not have been any more mellow.

On one of our adventures while high, we passed by an apartment and watched an old couple dancing through the window. For some reason--probably due to the weed--the couple looked as if they were floating; they were so graceful. I also came up with a wicked theory about the multiple personality disorder. It probably won't make a lot of sense and I will probably come off as sounding retarded, but I digress. Whenever you talk to yourself, there's always another little voice arguing or agreeing with you. It's exactly like Homer Simpson when he's always talking to his "brain". Anyways, a normal person would seem to have two voices, or two distinct personalities; one voice wants to do one thing and the other voice wants to do another. What if the multiple personality disorder made it so the two voices didn't know about each others existence? Okay, I've just read how stupid that last sentence sounded, so I'm going to move on.

So yeah. Long story short: Erik and I caught up on some old times.

And now I sleep.

Useless Details

Hello. My name is James. I feel like shit.

I wrote over a thousand words. I'm proud.

The end.

Borderline Shattered

Napoleon Dynamite was, for a lack of a better word, enjoyable. Both Duncan and Veronica would agree. A lot of laughs were had due to the movie, although the plot was, well, non-existent.

Afterwards we went to my favourite Irish Pub in Mississauga. Both Veronica and I ordered another pint thinking we had enough time to finish it before we had to hop on a bus to get Duncan back home. After nursing our precious beers, Veronica glanced at the time and realized we had about a minute before Duncan had to be on the bus, and do you know what's not fun? Chugging Guinness. After I was 3/4 of the way of finishing my drink, Duncan said we could stay longer if he could stay the night. Too bad he failed to come up with this idea before I just drank a MEAL in seconds.

After failing to catch the last bus home, we decided to cab the rest of the way. Duncan stayed at my house; it was closer to the train station. There we stayed up until now talking and reminiscing about various events. He also shed light on a few things that I was absolutely clueless over. And... what he told me continues to drag its claws around my stomach. Duncan admits he doesn't know how true and how exaggerated the facts he relayed to me are, but regardless it was not fun hearing. Even now I continue to feel queasy over them. If they are as true as he was told they are, I will have lost a lot of respect for certain individuals, something I really hope I don't have to deal with. Bah. Ignorance is truly bliss. I don't like having to go to bed with an ill stomach and a burdened mind when it's not due to alcohol.

So if you hadn’t guessed yet, the reason I’m not going into detail is I don’t know how much detail I was told is true.

Some fun phone calls to make tomorrow.

I hate this sickening feeling in my stomach. Hate. Why isn't anyone online now so I can unload?

And then I says to Maybel I says:

I don't know how much time I have to update this thing; Scott's in the shower cleaning himself off. If this entry ends prematurely, you'll know why.

Anyways, the two day stay at his house is going pretty smoothly. He muttered a comment that went along the lines of "You have to be in the right frame of mind to deal with her" when talking about my mother. I replied with the kind of "what?" I use when I need some time to think of a response--it's not that I needed to hear what he said again, I just needed time to collect my thoughts. He didn't repeat what he said; he just replied "nevermind". I didn't push it any further because I know how much of a pill my mom can be; I've experienced this through out my entire life. I feel bad when my friends, let alone the person whom I love has to deal with her. Oh well.

I also was privileged to see the infamous videos of Scott from a party on Friday. He was way smashed... to the point where he couldn't string a coherent sentence together for the life of him. For example, "You'll pay! When I see these videos I'll know you pay! And I'll light you on fire!" Some of the videos I witnessed showed Tyler all over Scott (apparently thanks to Leah who was egging Tyler on), which kind of made me uncomfortable. Again, oh well. Though I would trust Scott with my life, I can't help but run the "what if" scenario over in my head. Does everyone do this? I hope everyone does so it's not just me.


Before I caught my bus to Peterborough, I had time to kill so I decided to visit a Chapters, which to my disappointment happened to be closed, and thus I had nothing to read on the bus ride up. Scott, upon hearing this, suggested we go to Chapters, where I literally through my tip money on a variety of literature. Three books and $48 later and I had the biggest grin on my face. I bought The Da Vinci Code, Porno, and The Salmon of Doubt. I'm wicked excited to read these fantabulous books. I would have purchased more, but Scott was nice enough to usher me out of the store where no more damage could be done to my wallet.

Anyways... Scott, Ian and I watched Spider-man 2 that night, which was brilliant. It was exactly like the comic books I remember so dearly--the over-the-top screaming to the simplistic yet distinguishable dialogue; the exaggerated action scenes to the I-could-see-that-coming-from-a-mile-a-way love scenes. I highly recommend this to anyone who remembers the comics and to anyone who remembers the 90s cartoon of Spider-man. The movie also had one noticeable scene that resembled Evil Dead--the screaming, the chainsaw, the people being dragged along the floor--and that rocked my world. And the movie had the best opening credits I have ever seen, hands down.

I tasted a hint of animosity between Ian and I; it felt like he really didn't want me tagging along. I'm probably making this up, but when he suggests that just Scott and him play foosball or that Scott and him play Super Smash Brothers, you can't help but feel like a third wheel. For a third time, oh well.

Okay, I'm back home updating henceforth

Later that night Scott and I found ourselves alone, nestled in the basement. (Note: I don't know what details you expect me to give and withhold, but seeing as it is my journal, I'll talk about whatever I please!) There I gave, in my humble opinion, the best head I have ever subjected Scott too.

The next day we were stranded at his house due to a lack of car. We made the most of what we could (I made him pancakes for breakfast). We would have much rather been stranded alone, but, alas, that was not the case. The original plan was for me to take the 10:30 PM bus home, but thanks to Leah I (we) decided that it would be best if I left early the next morning. This way I could treat Scott to a nice dinner downtown (5 months! Whoo!), and see Fahrenheit 9/11, as Scott really wanted to see it. The reason why I thank Leah is simply because she suggested we accompany her and others to see Fahrenheit 9/11. At first I couldn't due to my bus schedule, and if she had not asked us to join them, idea of me staying 'til Tuesday morning wouldn't have come into play. Ironically enough, we didn't actually see the movie with Leah and Co., and that's due to them seeing Fahrenheit 9/11 at an earlier time, a time where Scott and I were enjoying dinner.

And a nice dinner is exactly what we had. The place we dined was called The Old Stone-- Actually; I can't remember the name of the place. Whatever the restaurant was known as, we had a terrific dinner, though the wine could have been a lot better. We shared an appetizer and desert as well. A truly splendid time. Afterwards we went for coffee to sit down and digest our meals before walking over to the movie theater. Well, neither Scott nor I had coffee; I had an espresso and Scott had an Italian Soda. We just went to a coffee joint.

Once again I broke down in tears during Fahrenheit 9/11. I think seeing it for a second time was harder than seeing it for the first; I knew what to expect, and for the life of me I couldn't bring myself up to deal with everything again.

After the movie we shared a nice stroll back to his house, witnessing the awe of the moon blanketed in the clouds. Snuggling took place before we parted ways and went to bed.

The next morning more snuggling took place before he dropped me off at the bus station. I had a lot of time to think during my walks from the bus terminal to the train station, and from the train station to my humble home. During this time I conjured up a somewhat interesting plot for a story, and god damnit I'm going to try to do something about it. Mark my words! Or highlight them, whatever you prefer. The ideas were whirring off in my head, and I managed to get home in time to jot them down in Microsoft Word before they were forever lost from memory. Okay, not so much jot as in type. Anyways. I hope to finish this. I never, ever plan my stories out, and I doubt I'll do any sort of planning (maybe a bit of researching if anything) for this one. With any luck I'll post my progress here.

And I'm spent.

I had a witty title to put in here, but I forget it now. Hah! And you can't prove otherwise

Definition time!

Cool - Getting up out of bed after realizing one hasn't updated their journal.

I really don't think anyone can be as cool as me. Don't try; you might hurt yourself in the process.

Great Big Sea and Co. draws in a much more enjoyable crowd. I mean, who doesn't love drunken Newfoundlanders who love to tip? In the past four days I've made about 145$ in tips. Am I happy? Yes, yes I am.

I found out today that I'm three degrees away from THOM FUCKING YORKE. A person I work with has a friend who's cousin is married to him. How fucking cool is that? No, seriously! The cool-ositude (thanks, Katy) is just out of this world. No, out of this universe. No! Just-- Ah!!! I literally had to take a breather after that. I'm also three degrees away from Gordon Downie. Not as cool as Thom Fucking Yorke, though. But it'll do.

Remember when I said I was three degrees away from Thom Fucking Yorke? Yeah, I wasn't making that up. I WIN!

I'm going to turn you into POO

I can't believe I had to work one of the WORST shows in the history of... well, shows. Since the dawn of time bands like The Eagles, Guns and Roses, Nickleback and Simple Plan have paraded countries, sharing there ill-founded music. Eww. Just... eww. It's bands like these that traumatize ears everywhere.

Where am I going with this? Well, I'm just setting the stage up to inform everyone that Edgefest 2004 is the definition of pseudo-punk fucks decking it out in the worst get-ups ever all awaiting to listen to one of the most horrible line-ups. Correction: THE WORST LINE-UP PERIOD. Alexis on Fire, The Salads, Jet, Good Charlotte. All bands which, for whatever reason unbeknownst to me, fail to be run over repeatedly by cars, and fail to be trampled on by elephants. They all sound horrid live, to the point where thousands of ears burst out in a stream of blood-- oh wait, that was my set of ears. Not only did I have to serve spoiled rich white kids, I had to serve their parents as well. And the biggest piss-off was the fact that MY FUCKING TIPS WERE STOLEN. Who the fuck does such a thing? PEOPLE WHO ATTEND EDGEFEST 2004!!! OH! that made me retardedly bitter. But one nice gal made all of her friends tip me after hearing that my funds were pinched.

After the show Marc and Katlynd were so gracious in picking me up from the GO at midnight. They then proceeded to take me to Patricia's, who was throwing a little shindig. I think the main point of the shindig was to show off her new love interest. Regardless, I had a lot of fun. Anna, Claire, Julia x 2, Patricia, Patricia's interest (Rob) and Katlynd stood on the drive way as Marc and I streaked. Marc also took the liberty of just staying naked after the streaking was done, something that was not argued by any of us there. Holy fuck nut, that boy is hot. He also didn’t mind the random touching of his ass by everyone. Methinks he was trying to get into KKs pants, but that's neither here nor there. Hot tubbing also took place. And let me tell you that drinking beer in a hot tub is fucking great. Too cool for words, even.

There was one point where I didn't know where anyone was (Patricia's house is HUGE), and so I took it upon myself to find a bed and sleep. Katlynd joined me sometime later. Well, she must have because I woke up to her getting out of bed this morning to use the loo. Good times, says I. I say a lot of things, don't I? Yes, well, deal with it. Patricia and Marc came into the bedroom this morning to try and get us out of bed; Patricia wanted to drive us home at that point so she could go back to bed.

I believe that brings us up to date. I have to work (again!) tonight. The band playing is _much_ more enjoyable, and I'm sure it'll draw an older crowd who loves beer and, more importantly, likes to tip.

G'day, all.

So Succexy

Another night, another concert, another $50 bucks pocketed in tips. I need to grow a set of boobs, though, as my female co-worker on the till next to me made $108 in tips. Maybe I'll stuff my bra.

Tomorrow is Edgefest, a concert I'm _not_ looking forward to. THe majority going will be underage kids, and, on top of this, there's to be no drinking in the seating area. So, so lame. Ten hours has a lot of potential for some big tips, but not if you're serving snot-nose little punks still sucking milk from their mother's teat (hehe, teat). On top of this, I have to listen to crap-ass music. I would much, much, MUCH rather attend the party that's being thrown by one of Scott's friends. C'est la vie, I guess. I'm hopefully seeing him Sunday, and that makes up for everything.

I'm enrolled in some less than interesting courses next year. I wanted the study of popular music, but that class was already filled to the brim with assholes. Actually, I can't say that for a fact, but to make me feel better, I'll say the class is full of assholes. Other courses I wanted to take were either not offered, full, and/or created conflicts with my current schedule.

Now this brings me up to the point where I can tell you that I'm bored. An easy way to rectify this is for someone to dance. Now. I'll wait.

KILTS!!

Danielle told me of a place in Toronto that imports authentic kilts/tartans from Scotland. I think my first major purchase is going to be one of these. I'm so excited. And I just can't hide it. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it. Oh, yeah.

So. Much. Beer.

Last night consisted of going to Danielle's to watch an insane amount of anime (laugh and I will cut you. Hard. Anime rules). Julia and Holly joined us for the three-part Read Or Die series, which is about a cool girl who's alias is The Paper. Her power? She can control any kind of paper. Trust me; it's a lot cooler than it sounds. When they left Danielle and I watched a couple of episodes of Witch Hunter RObin, a story which surrounds, you guessed it, witch hunting.

Last night Danielle let me in on the know of the greatest combination ever: Guinness and chocolate brownie fudge ice cream. This sounds gross, I know, but again you're going to have to trust me on this one; it's soooooo good.

I crashed over at Danielle's that night so we could watch a lot of anime, and a lot of anime we did watch.

Today consisted of my first day on the job! I made 38$ in tips for about 7 hours, so it wasn't that bad. I stink of so much beer though. I've never seen so much beer consumed...
Apparently my till was short about 200$, which I don't understand in the least. I don't know what's going to happen with that... Crazy, I know!

... FUck I'm tired. Standing for seven hours plus the travel time and time it took to fight through the crowds to punch out was not my idea of fun. Now I have a earth shattering headache. And I have to do this all again tomorrow. I just wanna snuggle up to Scott, but, alas, I can't. Boourns, as they say.

And with that, I bid you good night. *Falls over on keyboard* asdfl;hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and so forth.



PS -- anyone is free to comment on this journal, but please, please, PLEASE sign your name afterwards so I know who I'm talking to.