Saturday, August 29, 2009
My mom saw through it like the neighbours bathroom window though and asked me if I actually wanted to go. When I came clean she laughed as only the clinically insane can, or at least one of her personalities did. Then she said there wasn't any room for me to stay with them anyway in grandpa's condo. Not room for me to stay with my family during a time of mourning??? Not a scrap of floor or single cushion??? What am I carrying the christ child? Get me a dog damn room at the inn.
So then I started looking into bereavement fares (that Sienfeld episode is my only reference) and I called both aircanada and westjet using my fake sad voice (for this occasion I went with not too choked up, mostly soft and quiet with some heavy sighs), then when they got me fuck all I changed my grief stage from sadness to anger. Still nothing.
In the end it's probably for the best. After all I think a funeral is not the best place to be introduced to your grandpa's third wife for the first time. What do you say to her? I'm sure your husband was nice, I wish I got to meet him more than once. And will his first and second wives be there too? I like them, they still give me cards with 5 dollar bills inside (although I have reason to believe my mother has been intercepting them as of late). Will his first wife's son from her second marriage be there? Likely not I guess, which is too bad because he has great stories from that time when he robbed a bank. No, wait, I mean those times that he robbed some banks.
Yep, I think at this point the only thing left for me to do is inquire as to the division of assets, also known as the sad lottery. But I might leave that until next week to make sure the innapropriateness is evenly spread throughout my life.
Until then, keep breathing kids.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Stop being bright eyed and bushy tailed and having a generally positive outlook on life.
Stop thinking that your degree means something, that McGill is such a great academic institution, that you will one day be employed in the field of your choice and have the opportunity to utilise all the wonderful information you'll learn over the next four years.
Stop thinking that you have the mental capacity to actually learn something over the next four years. Most of you don't. The rest? Well they will lose all interpersonl skills from spending so much times alone with their books in the library.
Stop excercising your newfound freedom, stop staying out, like, super late. Stop hooking up with, like, cute dudes. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Start hating yourselves, your lives, everything and everyone around you.
Start freaking the fuck out about how much reading you have to do and start having regular panic attacks.
Start being cynical immediately.
Start pretending not to know people you see in the hallways. Start moving your worldly posessions into the library and wondering when the last time you saw the sun was.
Oh, and you should probably start calling the student clinic for an appointment to get that rash checked out. I'm sure they'll fit you in by the end of the semester.
I'd rather be a redman than a fucking bumblebee, but mostly I'm pretty glad to be done school.
In case you're not furtunate to be here right now, this is exactly what frosh is sounds like, but times 1000, in random pockets of awful all over downtown.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
And now, back to my regularly scheduled chocolate and crying.
Monday, August 24, 2009
"Hi, so I was just calling to let you know that we're going to be out of town this weekend, but Dad will have his cell with him, well I will too but mine doesn't work, plus Dad's gets paid for by the company so just call that one, and anyway we'll be back on Tuesday, your brother is staying home by himself, I'm not too sure about that but he has driver's training on Monday so I guess he'll have to stay but I just don't trust him hanging around with your brother...oh, and I also wanted to ask you if you've asked Jesus Christ into you heart as your lord and savior yet. With the way the world is going I just think you should probably do that right away if you haven't already. As long as you're on a good path then you'll be accepted into heaven and all you have to do is ask Jesus into your heart. Okay, bye."
Of all the churches in all the towns, she had to walk into the Evangelical one.
For the love of God Mother, stay away from the light.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Most of those David's are right. On Wednesdays while the rest of the world is enjoying chicken arms for pennies a pop Montrealers are content to suck on failed hockey teams and chew on transfer payments (she said like a true Albertan). Hence a small group of dedicated citizens decided to rustle up some flappers and right this wingless wrong.
This is a chicken wing in it's natural, deadened state. We don't eat it like this, it must first be severed in two places at the joints.
David MacLean makes only one cut, leaving the tip attached to the forearm, but sometimes it looks like he's wearing shoulder pads under his shirt so you do what you will with that advice.
Brittney's Honey Garlic/Kind of Asian Tasting Sauce
- soy sauce
You're going to want to add more of some of those than other. But less of others than some. Do what makes you feel good.
What I did in lieu of a deep fryer was bake them for a bit in the oven, then transfer to a pan, toss in the sauce and get it all sticky and good.
Dmac did a buffalo style wing, involving Frank's Red Hot Sauce and butter I think, I can't quite remember because I was so overwhelmed by their awesomness that I blacked out.
Eli can chop a carrot like none other, and her potatoe wedges are dynamite. Also, she has a good personality!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Draino is not working.
The vanilla scented candle is certainly not working.
Blowing out the candle, turning off the fan and leaving the door open is really fucking counterproductive.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
This salad might not look particularly incredible, but it is; incredibly delicious and incredibly simple. I had this salad at The Foundation in Vancouver with a one Sean Morley Antrim on an equally hot day, which is perhaps why I thought of it when our heat wave set in. Now if only I could get my hands on some home brewed beer and an extra large moustance the experience would be complete.
Spinach, Pear and Goat Cheese Salad
- Spinach, chopped.
- Pear, sliced into bits.
- Goat cheese, crumbled. I got this black pepper kind that was really good, but you do what you want.
- Cider vinegar
- Onion, minced real fine.
That's it! More time for sweating and eating frozen goodness (Liberty frozen yogurt, $1 at Seagulls, I ate an entire pint yesterday. I mean, something more reasonable. I mean, who am I kidding.)
Our new unit in french class is called 'Je voyage!' I find this to be mildly inappropriate for a class of students who are a) on welfare, b) immigrants/refugees c) students or otherwise poor people. This morning we had to go around the class and list all the countries we have traveled to. If I could make a graph of this you would see an unfortunate correlation between number of places traveled and skin colour. The five or so white kids listed off a handful of countries, the rest listed two: where they were born, and where they are now, with perhaps a brief layover in a refugee camp, thanksforasking.
In the afternoon was devoted mainly to a listening exercise. This particular recording was on the subject of l'amour. The interviewer asked each person how they met their current lovah;
Marie-Pierre: Bof...c'etait au bar de l'universite. Il a vendu des beires mais j'ai refuse parce que a ce moment je detestais les anglais.
Translation: Marie-Pierre is a cuntface.
I quit listening after that so I'm not sure how this poor guy convinced her to overlook his anglo ways. Maybe he gave her some personal transfer payments to her have-not region, if you catch my drift.
Monday, August 17, 2009
"...you mean the celebrity?"
"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize that's how it worked."
"You didn't realize that Dancing With the Stars had famous people on it?"
"No, but I did wonder why that country singer was on though. I just thought some people were singers and some were joe blows."
ABC, you have wasted far too much money paying celebrities to be on your show. Your title is not clear enough. Your concept has been completely lost on my mother. Please consider your show a failure and start filming Dancing With Some Country Singers and Some Regular People. I will be first in line to audition.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I look like I just gave birth to colicky twins while suffering from a head cold. Scratch that, I look more like a fat, sweaty ballsack. Some people just wake up in the morning with cute mussed hair and sweet sleepy eyes. Instead I look like I just climbed out of an alien's anus. Where am I? Why am I covered in alien poo? That's a head scratcher.
Today my french school announced that they found a bed bug in one of the classrooms. As if I needed another reason not to go to school. The directrice came around to each class to give a speech about these little critters, emphasizing that "Ils peuvent etre dans les mattelas de les riches et les pauvres. Dans les grandes villes en Asie ou Amerique du Nord." We're supposed to wash all our clothes in hot water and bleach and girls with long hair are supposed to keep it pulled back so as not to transport the bugs to and fro via our luscious locks. I am going to do none of these things because if the gigantic amounts of crap that we steal off the streets haven't given our house bed bugs, nothing will.
Also, today in class we were talking about which movie we wanted to watch on our last day and someone suggested La Vie Est Belle, to which our teacher said, speaking about the only German student in the class, "Probablement Jorgen ne veut pas regarder une film au sujet de la Douxieme Geurre Mondiale." Jorgen looked around awkwardly for a second, I imagine he was not sure if she meant he would feel uncomfortable or guilty about the war, or if he was meant to be tired of it by now, in which case should he feel guilty as well? Does that mean Avi Cohen-Silverman doesn't want to watch it either then? Sometimes I think being French is simply an excuse to be rude.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
So my theory on charitable donations is give what you can when you can. If you want to make a donation to a charity, great. Got some extra change in your pocket to flip to the hobo in the subway station, cool. If you're monetarily challenged then donate your time, as I did. Or at least I used to. Shut up I'm busy.
But every once in a while I see something that makes me want to trade in my NDProhibition pin, pack up my leftist bags and hightail it to GOP country. Such as? I'm glad you asked. Take yesterday for exampe: I spotted a handsomely dirty shell of a man sporting all the requisite hobo characteristics; dirty clothes, face, hands, arms and any other visible appendages, unshaven, unkempt, and unhygienic in about thirty other ways. He, however, was exiting the local Provigo grocery chain with a pack of Grolsch beer in his hand. Now this really gets my goat. Not becuase he's drinking, cause you gotta do what you gotta do, but Grolsch? Grolsch? You sit outside all day and then spend, nay, waste what tiny amounts of nearly unusable change on an $8 4 pack??? I have never bought Grolsch specifically for this reason, and I'm fairly certain my financial situation is marginally better than his, though equally depandant on handouts. I'm sure there were at least a dozen other cheaper and/or more alcoholic options on either side of the Grolsch. For instance, the ever charming 40 of beer rolling in at about $5 for 10% alcohol content. Not to mention that Provigo is by far the most expensive place to buy anything. This guy wasted eight dollars worth of pennies and nickles to not even get a decent buzz. He's probably blowing his welfare cheque on name brand facial tissues while I'm blowing my nose on generic brand toilet paper.
Phewf, now that that's out of my system, back to high taxes and more social services please.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Instead I'd like to show you a gem of a human being that has requested my facebook friendship recently. Please bear in mind I have no connection to this 'person', no mutual friends, no similar 'groups' or 'interests', nada.
Hometown: Mexborough, UK.
Looking for: Friendship, Networking.
Ok, cool, I've never heard of Mexborough, but you never know. Let's have a look at the profile pic and see if he might look familiar. Wait, what's this? A grown man in a diaper? Ah yes, so it is.
The caption? Are you sure you want to know? "Ready for the gym now."
Ok, novelty profi pic, sure, I get it, I check textsfromlastnight.com so I clearly enjoy humour, next photo.
Yup. Sure. Baby lederhosen. As you do. Next slide please.
Yes, this is the obvious next choice. How did I not see that coming?
Work it Steve. Work it.
But the weird part, obviously other than a grown man who likes to shit himself while wearing a baby girl's dress and taking photos, is that his friends list was about 80% composed of other people in diapers. Mostly male. Quite a few overweight. All looking like they've got a big old boner behind those leak proof panels. But even that is understandable; people are fucked up and there's probably a name for it if I wanted to google 'diaper fetish' on a school computer. What's more weird to me is the 20% that didn't rock the diaper pic. Are they supportive of the lifestyle but don't partake in it themselves? Or are they just not comfortable enough yet to go public yet? But then their non-diapered friends would surely ask questions when they go to their profile and see their friends list. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know what's fucked up.