::alio!::

DRrrrrinking . . . plus CAAAAANDY . . .

What am I doing right now? PROCRASTINATING. I have a meeting with the Ethics Board and two assignments for tomorrow. I'm done one and a half. Sort of.

There's a picture, now on my desktop, courtesy of the elder Doucette brother, of Stefan's coffee table. This is a closeup of two items on said table: a two-ounce shot glass and a mickey (375mL) of Jagermeister. There's about an inch left in said bottle. Both of these items belong to me. I figure I drank about 300mL of 35% alcohol last night. Teehee! And I'm still fine. Very tired, but I attribute that more to sleeping on Minda's floor than anything else.

Last night was fun. Not as many people showed as were expected, so most of the time it was just the Six, as Stefan referred to the dynamic arrangement of himself, JB, Andy, me, and the Doucette Bros., plus the two girls, Cathy and Carla (apparently, I don't count as female in this combination). JB drank until he puked and passed out, Greg put on women's clothing, Stefan stoned himself out of his own tree, and Matt recorded everything in graphic detail with his digicam. No surprises, really. Mostly like every weekend with the boys, except this time I was wearing a corset.

Then we all got up at various points this afternoon and collectively went out for a Chinese brunch. Very good.

GLARG.

I wish I was anyone but me these days. And Cait. I don't want to be her right now, either. *sends Caitlin the love* TOO BUSY! I was talking to Cait tonight and she was saying how much she wanted to see me, and I was saying the same. I mean, she's my best friend, and I see her once a month at most. And she lives in the same city. At least Lisa and I have the excuse that she lives 1000km from here. But Cait and I don't have any time where our schedules match up with some free space. It's ridiculous. She was saying that she wished she was a super genius and could just breeze through everything, or that she was too stupid to realize that she had too much to do. It's this in-between nonsense that's killing us.

AND

Things are stuper-ridicu-hectic this week. GAH! *shoots self*

*sigh*

And Hallowe'en was a BUST. Last year, I had a hundred kids. I ran out of candy, and hooligans harassed me and stole my decorations. This year, I had SIX. Now I have a fuckton of candy. Darn . . .

JACK-O-JACK-O-LANTERN

Damn, do I look hot. And I'm not even in my Hallowe'en costume yet. ;)

Looks to be a busy evening ce soir. Running errands with Andy, followed by dinner with said boy, followed by a rollicking good time at the Bell Street Complex. Cross your fingers and hope nobody dies.

The only problem with this weekend is it's so fun-filled and action-packed, I've gotten JACK done. I try, but then, quick as a flash, nothing happens. *sigh* I have a meeting with the Ethics Board Monday morning at 9:30 AM, plus a presentation and a mini-critique also due that day. Can we all spell "SCREWED," boys and girls? S . . . C . . . R . . .

accomplishment personified

I wasn't going to post today, but the Wayner is in Court and there's no one awake to email me, so here you go.

Not having had breakfast this morning, I decided I needed something rich in calories for my morning coffee break. Thus I have discovered Starbucks' caramel macchiato. Mmmmm . . . So, I sit here with my four dollar coffee and my two dollar scone, and I rejoice that, finally, 'tis Friday once again. And it's pay day, no less.

I made cookie dough last night -- my secret recipe. But I'm not sure if they'll be any good. There's bad karma surrounding that dough. First, I ran out of one of my secret ingredients, almost ran out of both kinds of sugar, and then I ran out of eggs. And I couldn't find any measuring devices. So I jetted off to the 24-hour Loeb on Wellington to get eggs and my ingredient, and came home. THEN DROPPED THE EGGS. Whereupon I said a word that starts with "F." But I used an electric mixer, which I nearly broke with the strength of this dough (elbow grease? PAH!), and the creamy texture is quite rewarding.

I also saw Cait last night, in the rush of me accomplishing things. She talked to me/laughed at me while I washed my dogs and tried out my Hallowe'en costume. She made some constructive comments, and took me out to get red feathered wings. I'm going to be the most disaffected teenager you have ever seen. It's HAWT, as Stefan would say. I'm sure Andy will approve. I even painted my nails a dark blood red. Now, I'm not particularly girly, and haven't actually painted my fingernails in over two years. So this was an exercise in remembering how to do it correctly. Luckily, I have learned from my past mistakes. The secret, ladies, is to paint them the night before, and then scrape off the mistakes in the shower the next morning. TADA.

What else can I tell you? Oh yes: today's Questionable Content reminds me of how much fun it is to be an academic.

Now, I think I'm gonna go watch Eminem's new video about voting. I'm dubious as to Tuesday's outcome. John Stewart had a pollster on his show last night (That's right, boys, I WATCHED TELEVISION last night!), and he said Kerry was going to win, but if SHRUB, as my social psych prof likes to call him, has 48% of the vote, I'm not so sure. He won last time through ballot error -- I'm sure he can swing it again.

That is all -- for now.

8:37 PM

And the waiting begins -- again. I've accomplished all I set out to do. The cookies are baked. I was right about that karma. I ruined an entire batch, and the rest of them didn't come out quite as I'd expected. They're good, but oh so sketchy. So now I'm listening to Nick Drake. I wonder what was going through his head when he wrote "Hanging on a Star?"

Man, I just saw my reflection in the window -- my hair is so damned long! I haven't had it down for ages and I guess it grew without me noticing. I need a haircut -- STAT.

And . . . yeah.

PARCHED

Oh, the industry that comes with working alone in an office! I had a premonition that I would be going it alone today, so luckily I brought my Hockey News. But I came in this morning, and Wayne said Jen was sick (I feel bad -- I gave it to her), and now he's off to Court to be yelled at by Justice Polowin. So I'm all yours!

I had the most bizarre dreams last night, many of them involving most of the people I know. But one of them was most peculiar, in which I was constantly thirsty, and no matter how much I drank, nothing helped. So I woke up this morning not feeling actually dehydrated, but I was psychologically parched. I went into the bathroom and drank a litre of water right off the bat. Then I was late, so I came into work. I'm on my second bottle from the beer fridge (if only it actually contained beer!) and still going strong. I haven't eaten anything yet, but I have a tendency to slosh if I move too quickly. It reminds me of being a kid and drinking too much water. Rather entertaining.

So . . . yeah.

Man, I have so much to accomplish in the next short hours of my spare time. I have to see Caitlin, wash my dogs, try out my Hallowe'en costume, do three homeworks, buy chocolate chips, make cookie dough, and bake cookies. *phew!* I wish there was some way I could do some of it now, while I'm idling away at the office. I contemplated bringing in nail polish this morning, but I thought that was overdoing it a bit. So here I am . . . and there you are.

*sigh* I have a Will that I wrote that I need to finish. A few letters to write, some dictations . . . I hope I don't have to close that real estate deal . . .

Well, you'll prolly hear from me again before the day is out. I intend to purchase some of the neon joy common folk call NERDS. So I'll be happy. More bulletins as events warrant.

*sloshes*

2:16 PM

I am a big ball (a very large ball, indeed) of satiated contentment. I had a lovely spaghetti lunch at the Newport. I read my Hockey News. I bought my neon joy. I even found the cutest thing for Cait for Christmas. It reminds me of a William Carlos Williams poem she wrote in my book once when we were younger. It's called "The Red Wheelbarrow."

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

They didn't have any more of the thing that I wanted to get her, so I ordered it. I'm excited. And that is all I will tell you. The mystery will KILL you.

"You have a collect call from -- "

Good morning! Yes, it is morning. I'm up at an ungodly hour because the cleaning ladies are coming. *sigh* I shouldn't complain. It means I don't have to clean the bathroom. I just have to be out of it at a reasonable time.

Today's background, rgb(255,157,11), is ORANGE. Just orange. It's in keeping with the holiday spirit, and a not-so-subtle hint to the Red to get his butt in gear.

What else have I to tell you? NOTHING! Why? Because it's too early for anything to have happened. Perhaps I'll semi-drunken post after I get back tonight.

around ten o'clock that night:

I had a good day today. I persuaded Lekhena, Christine, Amanda, and Konrad to come to Olly's with me after class. I almost had Carrie, but not quite. But it was fun. Then Stefan showed up, and, later, Jon. The Reds and I then went to Malabar, where I bought Andy a cloak, and then to Local's, where I imbibed MORE beer. I've had a substantial amount today.

I also got a telephone call from my Japanese brother, who is currently en route from Las Vegas to San Francisco. It was a collect call, but it was good. I don't often get to talk to him on the telephone, and we never usually have much to say to each other. Usually, this is because I talk to him last in line with everyone else, and he doesn't really want to have to repeat himself four times. But tonight I got him all to myself, and so that was good. I finally got to tell him that I was dating someone who had the same name as he has. He, understandably, thought that was rather weird. I can't wait to see him. He's coming home on some ridiculous date like 6 December, and then not leaving until like 7 January. I'm so stoked.

That reminds me, I should do some more Christmas shopping . . .

Wacky Tobaccy fo' FREE.

Today's colour, rgb(237,164,29), I call "The Things I Do When I Should Be Working." It's rather an abstract and obstruse name, but it's fitting for the situation.

Today was . . . interesting.

One of my colleagues FOUND a packet of weed on his way to school this morning. It looks pretty good, smells pretty good. He was pretty happy about it. I'm hoping he'll try a little bit of it tonight and tell me all about it tomorrow when we work on our upcoming ethnohistory presentation.

Also, another one of my colleagues put me in touch with her father, who happens to be Roy MacGregor of Globe and Mail fame*, so keep your fingers crossed for me, and we'll see what happens. I'll keep you posted.

I will also keep you posted on the exploits of a certain staring sophomore in my social psychology class. He liked to stare so much he's now moved so he's sitting next to me and staring. We shall see what comes of this little maneuvre.

Okay, it's 6:45 PM. I'd better get back to work.

* - for some reason, Amazon doesn't like that link. Scroll down and you should see a "recent searches" link at the bottom right.

Wanting something SO badly

To make you happy, Chel, I'll tell you that it is now 6:19 PM. Now stop stalking me! :P

Today's colour is a modification of the traditional goldenrod that I like to call Goldenpuke, AKA rgb(222,159,44). It's not quite as objectionable as the past few colours. Of course, if the Red would update my interface, then we wouldn't have to go through this rigamarole.

So, my second week-of-waiting is pretty much planned out. Tonight and tomorrow night it's worky-worky. Wednesday, the Reds (plural) and I are going to Malabar for fun Hallowe'en accoutrements. I'm hoping they can be persuaded into getting wings afterwards. Thursday and Friday I guess I'm doing a lot of homework. I can handle that. Friday night is possibly skating. Which means I have to make cookies again. Be prepared, boys. I am determined not to leave that rink until I can stop. I join my league next Friday, so I'd better have it figured out by then.

So, I still haven't heard back from all the research places I emailed last week. I emailed them again yesterday, but I'm not holding out any hope any more. I really, REALLY want to do this placement, but I think, due to the unusual nature of my project topic, that I'm essentially hooped. So now I have to pick another class for next term. *sigh* It's so hard to pick classes at CU. All the interesting ones conflict with courses I have to take. Grr.

Damnit, there was something else that was pertinent that I was going to say, but I have since forgotten what it was. Boo. Ah well, back to the daily grind . . .

America -- FUCK YEAH

I hope your weekend was as fanschmastictabulous as mine was. Remember to tell me all about it, okay?

I got to see my boy all day yesterday. We went to see the dinosaurs and a movie, Team America (not as good as I thought it was going to be, but funny nonetheless). Then we crashed Stefan's date. Whoops. But he was too polite to kick us out. We still haven't figured out why. Then we met up with Cait so that I could do an analysis of Jason's character and she could do one of Andy's. Which meant that we just drank really good beer and Caitlin and Andy made fun of me for a few hours while Jason laughed. *sigh* It's a good thing I'm so easygoing. Otherwise, you'd find me on the pedestrian overpass at Parkdale on the Queensway, picking off the PoPo with an M16. So make sure you look up there the next time you drive under it.

Today's colour I like to call, "Are you sure this KD is okay?" Also known as rgb(199,136,67). Try it. You'll like it. *passes macaroni*

I'm at a loss, folks. I can't find my jacket anywhere. It's brown, single breasted, three buttons. From Danier. There's a hole in the lining. The last time I wore it, I was out with Andy, and then I left it in my front hall. I haven't seen it in two weeks. If you find it, anyone, please let me know. I love that jacket.

Other than that, I've just got some little homeworks to do, and then it's more waiting. I'm filling my life with fun during the week, so if anyone (this means you, JB) wants to come with me to Malabar on Wednesday, lemme know. I have a few ideas for my Hallowe'en costume. They involve Chel's bleeding eye technique and a red velvet bustier. *grins slyly*

Again with the rambling. I'm sleepy and I don't want to read about the feminist perspective of anthropology and human rights. I'm not a feminist. I hate to admit it, but I'm really not. I'm all for being able to wear pants, and I believe in equality of all the genders (that's right, folks, there are more than two), but it's pretty fucking obvious that all genders are fundamentally different from each other. It's not just biology. But it's definitely there. I'm not a feminist. I don't hate men, although I firmly believe (and this is from personal experience, mind you) that the majority of them are inherently juvenile. I like it when elder gentlemen tip their hats to me and wish me a good morning. I like having doors held open for me; transversely, I also hold doors for people.

I know my limitations, and many of those are simply because I am female. I have very little upper-body strength, and so my slap shot will always be laughable. But I have legs like steel girders, and I am unbeaten at leg-wrestling. It's biology. I know that there are some things that each biological gender is better suited for than the other. Men, for instance, are built to be better at the manual labour business. Women, for example, women firefighters, can do the same things as male firefighters, but they had to work extra hard in order to achieve that strength. Women are better at the maternal/caring aspects of life. Argue with me all you want, but you know it's true. When you're sad, would you rather be comforted by a guy or a girl? Girls are squishier, anyway.

I also know that men and women think differently. Neither way is wrong, just -- different. That's the way of the world. You can't exactly rewire your brain. That's why there's such sexual dimorphism. It just works better in the evolutionary sense.

I'm sick of those ragingly militant feminists who have no knowledge of the movement at all. They're simple anti-men. They understand that the theory involves a knowledge of an unequal power balance, but they're only looking at it from one side, and that pisses me off. What really annoys me is the frantic feminist who removes all traces of her femininity, shaves her head, wears drab clothing, and insults those who choose to wear more feminine clothing for catering to the greed of a male-dominated society. But in removing their femininity, in a binarily-opposed system that we live in, they have just turned themselves into men, the very enemy they oppose. Women dress like women because they want to be women. In fact, women take so much care with their appearance usually to impress other women, not men. Men just tend to make sure all the curves are in the right places. They think differently.

Wow, I didn't intend this to come out as a vehement rant about feminists. Some of them are nice people. I'm just not one of them. This is not a manifesto, but I like dressing up to look pretty for other people. I like the feeling of being protected by someone who is bigger and stronger than I am, and who happens to be male. I like that my boyfriend tops me by nine inches. I like having people appreciate that there are differences between the sexes. Shit, I even like to cook. Why do I like all these things? I dunno. Perhaps it was my upbringing. Maybe it was biology. Who cares? Men are not the enemy. Deal with it.

*ahem*

Anyway, perhaps I'll actually read what has to be said, and write a bitingly critical review of the same. If I wasn't wearing my pyjamas, I'd procrastinate more by going out for fudge, but I have to watch my girlish figure, right? ;)

epithets in short bursts

Rotton Squished Dirty Pumpkin - rgb(168,133,98) Are you sensing where I'm going with this?

Where . . . ?

Two things. First, my stereo's totally busted. It's a circuit problem, rather than an electrical one. Anyone know anywhere good I can get it fixed where I won't get ripped off?

Second, where the hell is my brown leather jacket? If you see it, lemme know. It costs more than my life and I'd like to get it back ASAP.

Crap, work.

a little later:

Damnit, I want that tiger.

Yet again I'm stamping pages with numbers. Sheesh.

AND

I can't find my CD marker. GRR.

BUT

IT'S FRIIIIIIDAYYYYYY!

a little later still:

It's a million degrees in my office because we get the full sun. One more hour and it's the WEEKEND!

some time around nine that night:

*waits*

There is an inherent problem with having a dinner party and readily available, free alcohol, while waiting for someone to negotiate the entire length of the 401. Whoops.

I still can't find my jacket. Getting somewhat worried. But! I read the entirety of this comic, Questionable Content, while waiting. Stefan kept pushing it on me, and finally my willpower collapsed under Stef's superior weight. So I read it all. Loved it. Read it. I await Monday with a sort of sickly fascinated glee.

Contemplating a fourth glass of wine . . .

My king of the Jungle

Today's background colour is brought to you by rgb(146,130,120). It's a little something something I like to call Yuck Number Five. Don't worry, my next post will have a new colour. I have a plan, see.

The Goobermonster is at the dentist this morning. I'd feel sympathy, but he's been really shitty to Jen this week, so I retract all humanitarian empathies towards him. Please, readers, join me in sending all your negativity his way.

Time for tea? Yes.

later:

I nearly bought a huge stuffed tiger today at Loblaw's. It was growling, and not all cutesy like normal stuffed animals. But I resisted, and went with the practical side of my schizoid personality, and I bought a duvet cover instead. It's dark brown corduroy. I'm taking it home (IN TEN MINUTES! YAY!) to see if it matches my decor. Then we will see.

God, I can't wait to get home and not be here. It took all my powers of persuasion to get the Goobermonster out of the office in time for his bagpipe lesson (that's right folks -- if you thought he couldn't get MORE annoying . . .). So now we have a few minutes of peace. I should set my tiger on him. Grrrrrrr . . . .

Inanity from Insanity

I had a fanschmabulous day today. I have a new friend, and we went to Olly's after HRP class today. It was good, and has thus put me in a good mood.

It was even good enough for me not to mind the pile of crap my boss has foisted upon me. Get this: he wants me to put certain documents on a certain spike in each file. Fine. I can do that. I know which documents they are. But he doesn't think I know this, so he takes them all out of the file, and, instead of using one of the myriad large black clips he steals from me and hoards in his office, he uses the INDUSTRIAL STAPLER to fasten them to the file. So, not only do I have to wrestle my way through two inches of highly resistant metal, but when I get the documents loose, I find that many of them were originally on the spike, but that he took them off and messed them around, and has left me a nasty note, telling me that my disorganization is not acceptable! *minor spaz*

But today was good. I learned much, and had some good times. I even got to drive my brand new huge honking SUV to work tonight. I drove over a curb on purpose (don't tell my dad!) and I didn't even feel it. MAJORLY GNARLY DUDE.

Okay, back to pretend work. I have two files left to "re-organize." PAH!

later:

At Stefan's. We watched Damon do a grand slam. I thought he was remarkably similar to an australopithecine hominid. How astute of me. Fucking Goddamn. I hate Stefan's keyboard, but don't tell him. And his computer's too bloody slow. But we're listening to the Shins. Stefan is telling me about music copyright law. I'm only sort of listening. He has just called me his legal department. "By legal department, I mean I'm going to hide in your basement when the police come looking for me. Is that cool?" he asks. I'm still not listening. My secretarial mind just took that down without cognition. Very astute of me. I'm rambling. But I had a lot of tea, past noon. Not astute.

Stefan is reading Douglas Adams, a genius. But now is my chance to publicly slander him on his own computer. Stefan is a . . . . fill in the blanks. I'm too lazy. Ah, Ben Harper . . . so pretty. We're on a pretty music binge tonight. Stefan is actually a girl in disguise. He told me today he was a "retrosexual" -- the opposite of a metrosexual. But he cares. I know he does. He just doesn't like to talk about it except when he's being girly. Like now. HAHAHAHA.

Okay, enough, I'm OBBBBVIOUSLY insane.

Epitome of Nerdiness

Allow me to share with you this moment. It is 10:47 PM on a Monday. Led Zepplin is playing on WinAmp. The Flash is running towards me on my desktop.

Now that the stage is set, lissen to what I have done:

My essay that is due tomorrow was completed YESTERDAY. I haven't done the readings for the class, but I have a feeling it doesn't matter. And I don't care. Why? I'll tell you why.

Today I got out of one of my classes two hours early, so I sat in the departmental lounge and did some work. I drafted my Plan of Study for my SSHRC application, and I drafted an email to send to a million and a half sport research organizations, asking them to let me come and work with them next term.

Then I came home, after boring class, and went to boring work. Except I managed to complete everything, including two things I've been putting off for weeks. And I brought my ridiculously healthy office plants home to be repotted. They'll prolly die now. Prolly. But I digress.

Then I came home (again) and sat down at this little computer of mine. And I wrote, and I did research, and I wrote some more, and I looked things up, and I swore, and I wrote some more. And now -- you know what? My SSHRC application is sitting in a sealed envelope, waiting to be handed in four days early. The final Plan of Study has been sent to my referees, with a cozy little reminder that the letters of appraisal are due this Friday. In addition to this, I've sent off all the emails I wanted to.

It's an odd sensation to be temporarily caught up on everything. I'm almost tempted to take this opportunity to get ahead, but, knowing me and my general apathy, I probably will just end up sleeping in tomorrow. Why? BECAUSE I CAN. Damned right.

Sorry, I'm blathering, but these things were stressing me out for a while. A long while. Now, they're completely out of my hands, at least, for the next day or two, and so all I can do is wait.

I'm waiting a lot these days. Waiting for people to grow up, show up, shut up . . . Waiting for my life to magically reorganize itself into something comprehensible. Waiting . . . for Godot? Perhaps I should read that play at some point. Waiting for Friday. But I'll be waiting for Fridays for the next six weeks. Bloody Markham.

And another thing: Charles, as he was dying, requested that a lecture series be set up in his name. Done. We've all contributed to it, and they've raised over three hundred thousand dollars, which means the lecture series can go on, year after year, in perpetuity. But the coolest part -- and I didn't find this out until today -- is that the very first lecture, at Charles' insistence, will be dedicated to MY grandfather. How COOL IS THAT?

Anyway, I'll leave you to your internet musings, my lovely readers (I'm sure you're plural -- I almost have proof!), and I'll head off to my little bed.

*waits*

The HEAT is ON

Does anyone want to take over my life for the next two weeks, do everything stressful that I need to do, and make it so good that the entire world will be impressed? Any takers? Anyone? No? Ah, well, your loss. When I'm famous you'll regret not taking the chance.

I just wrote an essay -- an ENTIRE essay -- about a very small blow torch. And that is all I will say about that.

I am wearing a hoodie that has an "a" on it. I like it. It's my new favourite thing. It was one of my spoils from the epic shopping adventure Stefan and I had yesterday, wherein I discovered my new favourite sauvignon blanc. It was very productive. Unlike me, today.

Okay, Alio, go do what you have to do. Now. As in, right now. Seriously. Go. Sheesh. This is pathetic. Honestly. GO!

All right, I'm going. I will be incredibly industrious, while at the same time thinking evil thoughts about the 401 and Markham. Bloody city. I wish I had some NERDS . . .

Candy Goodness

I spent my lunch hour in a toy store, and therefore cannot be held responsible for my actions. I'm eating NERDS. A great invention, candy-coated SUGAR. NEAT.

Anyway, I did some Christmas shopping for some of the boys I know (I like to start early, because it means I'm not totally BROKE in December), and I got a starter for R's Prezmitz, which isn't until July, thank god.

And, apparently (my mother just called and told me), one of her mice died. So there will be an impromtu funeral in my front yard before I cook dinner tonight.

. . . aaaaaand. Yeah. That's it.

Oh, right. That man who makes this page says that he's nearly ready to reveal his masterpiece. So be prepared.

Oh, the pressure.

For once, my homework is done before the day it's due, thus I can post before I go to school. Chris is driving me. What a nice boy. I think he's afraid I might die on the way. I'm afraid I might die on the way, too. Then I would be eaten by squirrels. This being sick has taken a lot out of me. I sneeze, and then I'm exhausted. I move my arm to type and I'm exhausted. I'm looking forward to not being sick. But until then, I'm not going to risk anything by marching 6k to school and then 6k home. I'm so smart sometimes it hurts -- no, that's just me being tired again.

So, I have to pull an essay on an artifact out of my ass by Tuesday at 11:30 AM. It's only a ten-pager, but it's on this tiny object that belonged to my great grandfather. If any of you know anything about positioning bases used during the construction of the Canadian National Railroad, lemme know, ASAP. I'm in communication with the head of Transportation at the Museum of Science and Tech, but he seems to be under the impression I'm doing a sort of book report. Ah well, it's not my fault I look like I'm six. It is my fault I act like it, though . . .

I'm trying to listen to Hayden. People tell me good things about him. I'm not so sure. People also tell me he's really hot. Again, really not so sure. But I'm giving him a shot. All his songs tend to sound the same, however. I'm not enthused. But I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt here. I also don't have the energy to switch my Winamp off consecutive play.

I'm supposed to go camping this weekend. I'm almost hoping it doesn't work out, for all the grumbling Stefan has made about the whole thing. I really want to go -- I haven't been camping since Lindz and I were kids -- but I'm sooooooooooooo tired and I have an essay to write. It's a good thing I'm stubborn. And I work well under pressure.

Chris wants to go. Pray I don't die at school!

Resurrected

TADA. I am alive. I wasn't for a while, but now I am, more or less. Especially after getting my ass kicked at the chiropractor this morning. I hope to be more or less recovered by sometime tomorrow. I'll keep you posted, but I just thought you should know.

Prelude to a breakdown

I like how I have now made my password to the server so complicated I have trouble remembering what it is. Silly me.

I'm covered in blue ink and I have a crick in my neck. I don't want to tell you why. Suffice to say I'm REALLY glad it's Friday and I'm finished work.

This is going to be a good weekend. Well, if it isn't good, it'll certainly be activity-filled. I'm not sure if I'll get anything productive done (like laundry, scholarship applications, and the like), but it'll be interesting: tonight is wings and beer with the LCI girls; tomorrow is THE KILLERS and the Bell Street housewarming party (to which I have to bring my skateboard -- the question remains, JB: why?); then Sunday I spend making/serving/eating Thanksgiving dinner; Monday is try to do homework and bodywork on the car and maybe see my boy for a bit, if I can squeeze him in.

Basically, it's going to be busy: things will be done, people will be seen, places will be gone to, secrets will be told . . . you know the drill.

I've been getting some comments recently, mostly from Chel and JB, about how I should have a commenting system up here. I'd like to point out that this page is plain and simple html. It's just a blank slate for my jabberings. If you want it to improve, talk to the Zombie Orange.

If I don't see you or speak to you, have a fanschmastic weekend, and tell me all about it when it's over.

S'ghetti-OHs

I have accomplished nothing more today than creating amazing in the kitchen. It's raining and it's October. It's Saturday and I made spaghetti and the boys will be over soon to consume the same. This is a good day, despite what I have not done.