Wow. Not only did I get to visit my boyfriend at the children's hospital, but now I get to babysit him tomorrow, too! ;)


He's been upgraded to elastic status, but for anyone who has not had up-close-and-personal contact with someone who's had this type of surgery, "elastic" here is medical for "wound so fucking tight you'll *never* get your fucking mouth open." Conversations with Mark are now totally filled with illegible mumbling, instead of just occasionally. ;)

Anyhow, I was teasing him today, telling him I was going to train him like they did to the monster in Young Frankenstein. Mark at one point made some grunting noise that reminded me of the monster, so I, feeling like a brat, started singing the song "Puttin' on the Ritz", in the same manner it appears in the movie (if you haven't seen the movie, this won't be funny... I highly recommend the film, it has some of the best movie lines every): "If you're blue and you don't know/where to go to/why don't you go/where fashion sits..." and here the monster chimes in (and I did it to the best of my abilities): "Puttin' on the Ritz!"

Now, what's funny about this (here I ruin the joke when I try to explain it), is the way in which the monster's line must be said. When I did this part, Mark and I both lost it. Of course, he can't quite laugh right now, so that set me off even more (there was much spillage of drool on someone's part, and I won't say who). Ben thought it was funny, too. :)

The group interview went well, I think. A few people broke taboos that I normally would think shouldn't be crossed in interviews -- swearing, wearing jeans, having one's cell phone ring (even if you don't answer it) -- and I was fortunate enough not to be any of those people, so here's hoping. *shrug* The pay's not great, so if it doesn't pan out, that gives me more incentive to look for something full-time, but... it'd be a pretty fun gig to work for awhile.

Digger has given me permission to write for another minute or two. I feel bad that I've missed my CMN and International Development class two weeks' running. The prof was supposed to give out the exam tonight; at least, she said so ages ago. I might fire off an email to her tomorrow and explain my absence.

Hrm. Looks like Digger was lying when he said I had more time. He's currently engaged in abusing (yes, beating up) my garbage. The snow in the backyard can't melt soon enough; he's getting so restless. :P

As I have to get up early tomorrow for this babysitting gig, I'm off to bed. I'll write more then, including the article that's percolating in my head for the Whore's Boudoir. Apparently there are serious design issues there I must fix, which I was not aware of because I use IE (and can't install Mozilla, so get off my back!). *grumble*

Oh yeah, the other thing I forgot. My mom went and joined a gym tonight, and the girl who took her around was a girl that I was friends with back in kindergarden and grade one -- she lived down the street from me, and we used to play together and go to Brownies together. Anyhow, as soon as she saw the last name, she asked my mom if she had a daughter named Jen, and faith and begorrah!, 'twas the right person (of course, there being literally about 10 people in Canada with my last name, it was pretty given). Anyhow, this girl passed along her number to my mom and seems right psyched about getting together with me. Neat, eh?

This city is damn small. My neighbourhood, if you stay in it, sure gets a lot of people returning to check it out and say hi again -- it isn't the first time someone I knew from elementary school returned to see if the original folks were still about.

Sometimes it's good that this city is small -- I ran into four different people I knew downtown and at the movie theatre when Ben and I were about. Other times, I wish I could be someplace where nearly every street corner has a memory of some form attached to it. Urgh.

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