And there be content up at Bad Sam now. :)

Yes, this is what I'm doing a half hour before my exam; writing articles about noise and posting them to foreign websites. Just think, in about an hour's time (in case I read and write slowly), I'll be able to do this anytime I want, guilt-free!

*dance* Bachelor of Arts, Honours, in Communications, here I come! :)
My tongue is metaphorically bleeding from biting it hard and censoring myself from responding to some things appearing on various friends' blogs.

There is much I could expand upon in a rather vituperative burst, but it would probably not win me any points with anyone at whom it was directed, so I have censored myself. In one case, I left a comment, but kept it fairly restrained; in the other case, well... I don't know that I'll be able to say anything without it becoming harsh and extremely critical because I think someone has their head up their ass and is being somewhat... selfish out of it all, and since I don't actually know all the details, anything I say would just earn me extreme rancour, so I stop here.

Argh! Maybe I'll stop censoring myself on my own site and go full-fledged bitch mode the way I used to, before any of my friends actually read here. *sigh* We'll see.

I hate people. :P


candy delight

Your Stripper Name is Candy Delight!

You are always the feature dancer at the best clubs.
Your customers pay big money to see you, even if it means starving six days of the week.
For you, stripping is an art form, and you are a grande artiste.
Very classy and never trashy - you won't stoop to doing anything sleazy.
You are constantly posing in magazines and winning Miss Nude contests.
In StripperLand, you are the ultimate queen.
Other strippers may be jealous by all the attention you get, but you walk away with the most money!

What's *Your* Stripper Name?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva
New article posted at Whore's Boudoir. Once again, I know it's late, but... well, exams were spanking me left right and centre, and not in the fun way, either. :P

I'm off to bed; I'm absolutely exhausted, though I seem to have found a second wind. Here are some notes for later expansion (teasers, if you will):

* Necrophilia vs. bestiality vs. bestality necrophilism
* Necrophilia with Jen (me)
* Why I hate everyone under the age of 20 (with perhaps a few exceptions)
* Nice cab driver
* Falling asleep at work
* The bridal shower

I think that's everything for now. My mom returned from New Brunswick today, so on the plus side, I now have access to a car again. On the minus side, she remembered to bring my sister, so I now have a sister about. With any luck, she'll start working again and just always be away. :)

For now, it's long past when I wanted to go to bed, so I'm off. Digger has already given up and chosen his spot; now I'll have to disturb him to move the clothes and bedsheets out from underneath him, and he'll get all offended and either leave to return five minutes later, or just allow me to rearrange him. Such are the chronicles of my exciting life.


Okay, while I await a phone call, I shall flesh out last night's notes.

First of all, the French lady. That was an amusing story. :) Three of us lined up at the cash, me in the middle. The lady approaches the cashier on my left, and speaks to her in French. Cashier replies that she doesn't speak French, but I speak up that I do, so the lady moves over to me and I take care of her purchases. She asks me if there's an ATM nearby, I ask which bank and give her directions to the nearest one, cringing every once in awhile at how English my French is, not having studied it in school for going on four years now. She also asks about gift bags and I tell her where they can be found (trying to say "stationnaire" for stationary, then chastising myself out loud for using the wrong term). She takes off and gets money, then comes back into the store to pay for something (I presume the gift bag).

This time, she's with the cashier to my right, and she's speaking perfect English to her. I start laughing and say to the lady, "Now I feel bad! Here I am, speaking horrid French to you, and you speak English!" She laughed and told me that she didn't think my French was awful at all, I shouldn't say that, and to not feel bad.

It made me laugh at the time, anyhow. :)

Buffy progress, for those of you keeping track (or caring at all): I've now burned the first few episodes from each season (4-7) to CD, in order to once again liberate the space that was once my hard drive. I need to clean off my D drive, for sure; it's all full of crap that I probably don't need. :P I'm missing 6 episodes from season 4, 4 from 5 (I think), 1 from 6 and none from 7. I rule! :)

Admittedly, some of the epsiodes have Dutch subtitles, but as I just told Ben, it's provided me with the chance to learn Dutch. Yes, that's it. :)

As for purchases, we hit HMV, and I picked up Shrek, Grease and the first season on DVD. I will *not* spend my entire tax return on sundries, however; if I do, I have *serious* consumer problems. :P

Anyhow, timem for showering and making myself look presentable. Ben and I are going to attempt to make low-fat pizza for dinner, so that'll be a nice adventure. :)

And before I forget (this works well as a note to myself), season four of Sex and the City comes out May 20th. X-Men 2 opens May 2nd. I am so lined up for entertainment this summer! :)
Real update later. In the mood to write, but tired. Eyes sore. :(

Notes to self: French lady at work.
Buffy progress (downloads and burns).
Purchases today with Ben. Damn him for making me spend money! :)


*mutter* <-- Jay knows what that's about. That's all I'm saying.

Secondly, pretty decent day at work today. I was chatting about books with one of our customers and she recommended a couple of authors to me, and I recommended a couple to her, and she wrote them down. That feels good. :)

Otherwise, the day was pretty quiet. Applied to another job or two, got myself another government test booked so I can finish those applications, and watched some tube. Dad made some barbecued steak and I got to have a baked potato. What a fun word to say; poh-tay-toe. Mmm. Yummy. :)

Feeling somewhat thick-headed right now, so I'm not going to write much. Besides, I really have to get to bed. *sigh* Stupid early mornings. At least Dad drove me partway this morning; that was nice. :)


Here's my battle imp. Ain't he cute? :)

Jen X's
Battle Imp

Who's your battle imp?

Backstabbing: 6

Dodgin': 9

Guts: 8

Magic Mojo: 7

Smackdown: 5

Will your battle imp beat Jen X's?
Enter your name and fight.

New article posted at Whore's Boudoir. I swear, it's 'cause of exams that I haven't been posting!
Yargh. Just finished all of my readings (well, the prof's notes on the readings) and now my brain is soupy. I'm not going to fail tomorrow -- I hope -- but I'm likely not getting 100% on it, either. Mind, that's not a big deal, so long as I did okay on the term paper, I don't really care *that* much.

I just want to pass it.

At the same time, I'm feeling fairly confident about my English exam. I just have to finish reading the short story in the final book (how's *that* for procrastination?), and then I'm all set. :) I could probably do fine without reading it, but I want to, for completion's sake.

Today and yesterday were spent pretty quietly, studying and being a slug. Heavy emphasis on the slug part. Digger went out and played in the dirt/mud, then came in here and left muddy footprints on, in order of my discovery: my sheet; the bathroom floor, huge amounts of muddy footprints in the tub, such that I went and got my camera to attempt to capture it for posterity's sake; my windowsill. I cleaned up most of them as best as I could, and just now when I went to replace the bathmat (which I'd washed, along with the other towels that were overdue for cleaning), I discovered the addition of some new footprints in the tub.

Dad and I watched some television tonight, and I figured things out about Angel before he did. Woohoo, am I ever smart (heavy on the sarcasm, said with a grin). Shadow kept deciding that the piles of papers and pens that I had in my lap (using one on the other as I read) made for a perfect sleeping spot. She'd then move from that position to pinning my arm or hand or pen (or combinations of the above), so I had to keep weaselling my various extremities out from underneath her. Because she was taking up great amounts of space on the loveseat (once I'd finally relegated her to merely pressed against my outer thigh), Digger had to find another place to settle. He wound up choosing the blanket that was pooled at my feet, and curling up on that for a nice long rest. My cats are damn cute. :)

I know, there's been an abundance of cat stories that have cropped up on here lately, and for that I apologize. It's difficult knowing the various audience members that read here; I can't or won't complain about various behaviours of friends or enemies, partly because I don't want to upset anyone, and partly because... well, in some ways it's just not worth it. As well, I know I've been stressed and all because of these looming exams, so I don't want to go about taking my stress out on anyone that I might later regret doing so to; there are others that I could bitch at and I wouldn't give two shits later... chances are they'd have invoked my wrath anyhow and deserved it mightily. ;)

The other reason for the abundance of cat stories and lack of much else that was interesting is simply because I've been lurking about my house for the last age and a half and really haven't much more else to report on. :) Although today I did do a bunch of sit-ups and one of my yoga tapes in an attempt to cut back. I stepped on the scale last night and was mightily horrified, so I felt that it was time to act on it. Therefore, I make the attempts. :) What with school wrapping up and the weather warming up, I can finally do as I vowed and get the bike out and start trekking about. As well, I'm going to be making many more attempts to eat healthy foods and cut way back on the sugar consumptions.

This led to tonight's making of two packages of Jello -- we have an abundance of the stuff downstairs, and it's a sweet food that I can eat in moderation without freaking out about how awful it is for me. I'm also making efforts to gear my snacking towards vegetables and fruits, in spite of the consequences. Celery with peanut butter and raisins is still healthy in my book. ;)

Anyhow, one of the hazards of doing yoga in a household that contains cats is that they feel that the minute you're precariously balanced is the best time to decide that you should give them attention. To whit; holding oneself prone in the 'up' position of pushups for a minute or so is a great time for a cat to decide to rub up against you. Admittedly, that didn't set my balance off, but Shadow playing with my pajama pants strings directly underneath my trembling abdomen didn't exactly help my focus.

Digger's really the nuzzler during yoga sessions; he likes to be at hand, and if I have an elbow or a knee protruding, he likes to give it a bump.

My cats are entertaining as hell. :)

I think tomorrow morning shall include a session with the exercise bike and either some television watching or a trashy romance novel to read. I actually bought a few of them the other day, along with the newest Sherman's Lagoon book (I got the new Get Fuzzy book a few days ago), and Salmon of Doubt. I figured I'm owed some trashy reading after cramming my head full of exam material, and most of my books around here are buried somewhere beneath papers and other assorted rubble. Have I mentioned recently I need to clean my room?

I'm going to be looking into renting me some storage space, or seeing if some friends of ours can accomodate a few cartons for me. It's getting ridiculous in here, and I know soon enough my mom's going to come tossing things willy-nilly. If nothing else, I could probably stand to go through my clothes and toss out that which I don't wear anymore. Anyone got use for my old things? :)

Finally, to those who live in my city (you know who you are), who might be in need of a place to stay; match girl's in need of someone to fill a room in her old place. It's $300/month plus some other utilities, and I can provide you with some more information if you're interested. Just email me and I'll make sure she gets your info. I'm not entirely sure when the lease starts, but I believe it's quite soon, as she already has another place lined up. 3-bedroom apartment downtown, good location to various and sundry things, seems to be a nice neighbourhood overall, and near one of the bar strips, for those so inclined. Lord knows we did the drunken/stoned stumble one night without any mishaps... well, aside from the odd drunken phone call or what-have-you. Oops. ;)

Come to think of it, that's the same night we set her up with her current bf... A mishap? You decide. ;)

Anyhow, that all said and done, I'm going to feed my fish, shovel the folded clothes (a step forward! They weren't folded before... and I even put some of them away!) off my bed and take some girl porn with me to bed. I promise to get around to replying to emails after tomorrow... although I may be using Thursday for sleeping after pulling a double shift... and the same on Friday.

On second thought, I may not get around to emails for a bit yet. But I still read 'em! :)

Oh yes, and finally, you may notice the return of the kitty sidebar -- apparently some HTML gremlin stole in and ate them out of my template. As I do whenever anything goes wrong with my site, I blame Ben, whom I am not quite convinced is still alive. Tests are being conducted as we speak, and we should have results within a few days. Mind you, if he starts to smell before then, I suppose we'll have our answer either way. In addition, I brought back the counter on the side, whose code was still in my template but had apparently committed suicide, as there was a big counter-shaped hole where it should have been displaying. No matter, it's back. For those of you who were worried... well, you have a lot of time on your hands, but my blog and I appreciate it. :)

And yes, the fish are still alive; none of them have staged any coups or even been especially threatening lately. Mind you, I'm sure Peacock will soon be plotting some kind of havoc on me; I let a lily pad dissolve in his tank, and now he hasn't any cover under which to blow bubbles -- that hasn't stopped Stick from making a nice nest around his edge of the tank. I think Peacock has bubble nest envy.

Note to self: clean fish water. Buy more lily pads. Stop anthropomorphizing the fish.


New article up at Bad Sam. It's a bit of an expansion on a thought I had on here before, and if it sounds somewhat whiny, it's not really meant to. :)


Oh yes, and I'm now a full-fledged member of Bad Samaritan. Sweetness :)
Ah, today. A day filled with cat snuggles, dull article reading and some work. It went okay; I just seriously disagreed with the plight of the guests, then Mr. Stupid kept calling at the end of my shift and was annoying me. I think he was drinking, though; he forgot my name from one phone call to the next, and he was laughing at me when I was explaining to him how he was being stupid. He got upset when I said he should go back to his drinks, though; ah well. :P

I spent much of my shift removing my nails, which sounds really gross until you remember that I've had acrylics for the last while, and so I was peeling those off. It wasn't exactly a great deal of fun, and my nails underneath are pretty brittle, so I had to file most of them right down, but at least now I can type nicely again. The keyboard feels good under my fingertips -- nice and familiar. It'll be good to hold a pen properly again, too.

Anyhow, I was hanging out here at the computer and I heard this big crash noise, and Shadow came racing over to me to investigate. She and I headed downstairs, thinking that perhaps Digger had gotten into trouble -- nope, there he was, ensconsed in the chair (which would get him in trouble if Mom were around, but she seems to kinda let him stay there), looking quite relaxed. Shadow looked downstairs, so I headed down to see if Dad had gotten hurt or knocked something over -- nope, he was also ensconsed in a chair and he, too, wasn't sure what the noise was.

We both did a scan of the main floor, thinking perhaps that the sliding noise we'd heard was curtain rods that were stashed in the hall closet moving and then thumping against the wall. It didn't seem to fit, but it was the best explanation at the time.

Well, we found out what happened when my dad went to get ready for bed. Shadow, who is not really into jumping and likely takes the prize as the worst jumper of any of our cats (Chloe and Sookie were both quite accomplished, Digger does it well when he wants to jump, which isn't that often), had attempted to get up onto Dad's dresser. It's a pretty tall piece of furniture to begin, and although it might've made sense to do the jump from the windowsill (closer to the dresser and higher up), we think she likely tried to jump from the corner of the bed or the chest that sits in front of the bed (and is the lowest piece of furniture in there).

The doily-thing that sits underneath all of Dad's junk was pulled from the centre downwards, making a U-shape with the two ends pinned by other crap still up there. There were claw marks in the middle of it, and much of Dad's junk was now decorating the carpet. The piggy bank that he has on his dresser (an actual piggy bank, given to him by his sister sometime in the last ten or fifteen years for Christmas as part of her ongoing campaign to give him (and now my sister and I) pig items), which he keeps heavily weighted with loonies and toonies, was still up there, and was likely what saved the whole mess from coming down. Although pretty much everything that was lightweight came down. :P

*sighs* Ah well, crazy cats. :)

A quote (or an exchange, to which I was privy):
"Ow." (said quietly, more as a comment).
"Ow?" (somewhat concerned, questioning)
"I bit my arm."
[much laughing]
"You bit your arm?"
"Well, it was right there!"

Okay, so it was a "you had to be there moment", but I still had to immortalize it. :)

And this is how much of a loser I am at giving myself a manicure; I completely skipped a nail. Not that it's a big crisis, but I wanted to cover up the hideousness that is my nails 'peeled,' so I slopped (never was a truer word chosen) some nail polish on 'em. It looks... well, pretty sad, I must confess. No worries. :)

There we go, just placed bids on seasons 1-3 of Buffy on eBay. Oh, eBay; how I both love and loathe you.

Anyhow, time for me to go to bed. I just discovered a hole in my jeans, confirming my belief that I am huge and fatness and need to lose weight. *sigh*


Second day of training today. I am tired. Urgh. I didn't sleep well last night, then I was up early today -- I hate doing that.

Hung out with the monkey for awhile last night. We watched Ron Jeremy's flick, "Porn Star." I have to say, it was interesting. Sometimes flattering, other times merely realistic, or so it seems -- not everyone is super complimentary about Ron, but they're honest.

Got a good compliment today from the girl I was working beside.
Her: "So, what store did you transfer from?"
Me: "Actually, this is my second shift training."
Her: "Wow, you're doing really well."

Very nice. :)

Chatted very briefly with a guy at the bus stop about his new job at Home Depot -- he had a whole kit, bigger than the one that I got when I was hired here, and so I was tired enough to not care that he was the kind of person I would normally never approach. I offered him congrats on his new job, basically, and we spoke about three more sentences before my bus came. Ah well -- I guess maybe the ladies were right when they said I'd approach a stranger (long ago story from an Estrofest... not worth linking to, 'cause of the other stuff in the post, but you get the picture).

I've made it through a whole one article. *sigh* I was falling asleep and unable to really concentrate, my dad was watching the first Harry Potter movie downstairs really loudly, and I'm just feeling bleagh. My mom leaves for New Brunswick tomorrow, and I'm thinking I'll take Monday or Tuesday off to study, so perhaps with fewer people around the house I might get more reading done.


Let's see, do I have any interesting stories to tell? Got to chat with one of my coworkers for awhile today. He went through a bad breakup with one of the other coworkers, and there's been so much fall out since then what with people taking sides and all. I know I've chosen my little camp, but at the same time, I also avoid talking about much of it anymore. Of course, every once in awhile I'll get sucked into a gossip fest, but it's with a set group of people that I know I can trust; or at least, they haven't screwed me yet, so why not, eh?

One of my coworkers was saying last week before my shift started that I'm like flypaper for virgins, and it's so true. I was thinking about it recently; in all of my years of sexual activity (and here I'm counting everything from just kissing on up), I've slept with two virgins, one near-virgin, and been propositioned by two others that I turned down (or things never progressed near enough for it to be an actual question). In addition to that, there's one guy who asked me if I wanted to have sex -- when I was 13 or 14, I'd like to point out, which would have made him probably about 15 or 16, if memory serves -- and I have to believe on some level that he was also a virgin or a near-virgin, which brings our total up.

That all said and done... I think I ought to count it as flattering. I don't know why it's the inexperienced or less experienced of the male gender that seem to find me appealing. I suppose, as one person told me, it's 'cause I'm comfortable to be around and I put them at ease. *shrug* I'm trying not to seem like I'm blowing my own horn here, 'cause I'm not; I'm merely repeating what I've been told.

Conversely, there are also the players who hit on me; perhaps because I talk a good line and seem like I'd drop trou for anyone who happened to wink my way. In fact, along those lines, I got my very first honest come-on recently as a result of the Whore's Boudoir. I find that funny as hell; lord knows there are no pictures of me posted through that site and no one has any inkling of how attractive or un-, skinny or large, interesting or dull I am... but because I talk about sex, I must be willing to drop trou for anyone else, sight unseen. It makes me laugh, honestly. :)

*shudder* Mind you, I just thought of something; not only would this guy be taking it as assumed that I'm attractive and he'd want to do me, but I'd be damn sure taking it for granted that *he's* attractive. Considering some of the people I've met throughout the course of things like MUDding or what-have-you, I know the odds of him being attractive, interesting and someone I'd want to sleep with are damn slim. *shudder*

Anyhow, back to the grind go I. Or something like that -- chances are I'll be falling asleep sitting up in my chair. :P


I had my first training shift today, and I think it went pretty well. I didn't screw anything up majorly, although I was probably somewhat slower than some. However, I had a smile on my face most of the time and I had fun chatting with my new coworkers and the customers, so that was cool. I found out that the guy I'd always thought hated me is actually really nice, so no more fear there. :) My legs and feet were killing me by the end of the shift -- even before that, actually -- so I think I'm going to get new lifts for my shoes. They're very comfy, but I need some more in the soles if I'm going to wear them for long stretches of just standing in one place.

It's weird; I still feel somewhat disconnected from the whole place, in a way. Although the guy training me did say to someone else that I was amazing, and I'd been learning really quickly, which is cool. I find the cash system there is much like the cash system at the animal hospital; very much regulated by slow slow computers (although more stable ones), it's just a matter of learning new codes. *shrug* I've a slight knack for puzzling out software without too much effort; give me anything that isn't highly highly specialized and I can usually get up to semi-snuff on it pretty quickly.

I've also been tired since I got home today, and yet here I sit at the computer, doing nothing productive. I think I got so used to being in front of the computer over the last few days that I can't break away... although the bed is so very tempting...

I woke up around 8:30 to hear my parents yelling at each other in a joking manner. I was tempted to yell back from my room, but anything I said would have come out highly muffled and incoherent, although to my mind it would've been a cutting remark yelled at the top of my lungs. I'm funny when I'm communicating while tired. :) My mom has called me at times and woken me up; she'll keep talking to me if she knows I have to be up (although she often overestimates at what hour I need to be up and about), despite my incoherency. At the time, I think I make great sense, but later, I'll think back to our "conversation" and realize I was talking absolute nonsense.

My "favourite" (please note sarcastic quotes) is when she calls me and goes, "Oh, did I wake you up?" I usually manage an affirmative troll-like grunt, to which she'll say, "Oh, go back to sleep, call me when you wake up." I generally try for about five minutes to get back to sleep before the pressing demands of my bladder and my semi-awoken state combine to make sleep impossible, and I promptly call her back, grouchy and grumblingly demand to know what it was she wanted. I'm not very ferocious when I'm tired.

Of course, my favourite (no quotes) story to tell about stupidities while tired is as follows: sleeping over at a boyfriend's place once, I (semi-) wake to see him reading in bed next to me. In my mind: I reach over to lovingly pat his face and say, "Morning." (I never say "good" morning -- what the hell's so good about being up before noon?). I accidentally jab him slightly in the cheek, my coordination not being at its peak upon first blink of day. I apologize for jabbing him, to which he replies, "What?" and I say, "I didn't mean to jab you like that, I meant to pat you on the cheek." He says it doesn't matter, it didn't hurt (or something along those lines).

What actually happened: I wake to see him reading in bed. I reach over to pat him lovingly on the cheek and accidentally jab him slightly. I fall back asleep for approximately twenty minutes, at which point I awake once more to apologize for my previous actions (see above conversation). Now, I can't claim that I was as coherent as it seemed -- after all, I was asked to repeat myself and such -- but does the boyfriend's confusion over the jabbing incident now become clear? To my mind, this was a linear string of events. To him, it was a drawn out process, during which he'd actually forgotten about my clever ruse to poke out his eye or brain or some other such thing under the guise of sheer exhaustion and not fully-wakefulness... at least until I mumblingly apologized for it.

When you're tired enough or feeling goofy enough, anything can become an adverb.

I'm now going to go cookieingly off to bed. The fish support my plan wholeheartedly ... wait, that one's real. Hrm. Well, they support it so long as there's food involved for them.

*yawn* It's actually nice to be tired. So many times the last while, I've been feeling somewhat tired, then going to bed and feeling wired for awhile. Digger hasn't really appreciated all of my kicking and tossing and turning, poor guy. He just wants the mad snugglage. Anyhow, off to bed. Tomorrow's a thrilling day filled with reading -- I have a short story to read for English, then approximately 1000 pages (probably more) of dull dull dull dull dull articles for Intercultural. Did I mention I find them less-than-thrilling? Oh, right. Sorry for the redundancy. And for repeating myself. ;)


Fuckin' A. Checking out my site to view some of the changes I made, I got to be visitor 11111. Nice. :)
And because I screwed around, I don't really have time to write the stuff I wanted to write about. Look for some update awesomeness tomorrow, though, when I dump the contents of my brain onto these pages for you to marvel and grumble about.

With any luck, tomorrow will also include a new article or two. And some email replyage. :)

How does a writer convey their passionate interest in something? Is it possible, when reading something, to determine whether the author had a passionate interest in that topic? If you were to read my final exam, or a paper I'd written for a class where I happened to feel particularly uninspired, would that come through? Is my writing somehow better when I talk about something I found to be funny or touching or just plain interesting, like how stupid Shadow looked sprawled out on her back today for several minutes straight?

I have a maiden aunt. For those not familiar with the term, it's reserved for an unmarried aunt, usually someone older. I also have a maiden uncle, if I can steal the term and assign it to him. I don't know the history of their romantic escapades, but I do know that, nearing and over fifty, neither of them happens to have found that someone with whom they want to spend the rest of their lives. Talking about love just now with a friend, it was said: "Love: It's not all about flowers and walks on beaches.You know that better than anyone."

(And as a side note, my French manicure was just called a Freedom Manicure. That's fantastic).

Anyhow, I whined that I wanted those flowers and walks on the beaches. Part of me feels that that someone I'm going to marry is close by, and I'll realize it or find them sometime in the nearish future. But am I wrong to assume that I'll find that someone soon, when I have two close relatives who never have? Are some of us destined to never marry, never find that "special someone"?

My aunt and uncle have filling, happy lives. Neither of them would say that they were unhappy, I think. I don't think anyone needs to be paired off or married to feel complete, but that doesn't stop me from wanting it for myself.

Sometimes I think that people like Philip have the right idea -- just go out and fuck whomever offers in a given evening, and be done with it. The rest of the time, I just want me a good man who knows how to get me off and enjoys doing it. ;) And yet more times (for when I have free time), I think I just spend too much time in my head, overanalyzing things. Or at least, that's what Jay says, and he knows all. ;)

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I carry on.

The lies and hypocrisy that some people carry around with them and tell themselves amazes the fuck out of me sometimes. There are times I hear people say things and I just want to turn to them and say, "I cannot believe you just fucking said that! Did you think before that asinine thing came out of your mouth?"

The same goes for things that appear in people's journals -- I'm not trying to say that I'm perfect in what I write, far from it in fact. However, when it comes to that which I post here, I aim for a fair representation of what happened, even if it doesn't cast me in the most favourable of lights. If I was bitchy to someone -- like in my last email to UBFM, for example -- I will say so. I will not apologize for my bitchiness unless I have done so to the recipient. If I feel contrite about it, I will express it. But I will not try to say that I deserve bitchy time because of stress or whatever. I might use that to explain my bitchiness, but I'm not going to feel justified about it, just remorseful later.

I had bitchy thoughts about Mark, actually, and an invitation he'd extended to me. I thought perhaps that I was being taken advantage of, and I talked it out with a friend, and then I talked to Mark about it and got it all sorted out. I felt much less grumpy after that.

Bah. This stupid exam has been causing me much grief, and there's another grievous one pending. I have a crapload of reading to do for that one, and some notes to get from the library (note to self: get the notes from the library) to prep for it. I also have my mystery novel and witchcraft exams, which do not cause me much concern. Especially not in comparison.

Hopefully, once the 23rd passes, I will feel much better. Much better. Hopefully. Keep repeating that. ;)

In other news; I am very shortly going to be a contributing member to Bad Samaritan, which is pretty cool. It's not for cash or anything other than lots of attention, which I might even be able to draw over to my own sites. ;) What else? The magazine still wants me to write for them, and I have a few other writing possibilities, I just have to follow up on them. I'll be glad when this albatross known as school clambers down from my neck and gives me the freedom to make huge amounts of mad cash so I can move out and be a slob in my own apartment. :)

Anyhow, this is long enough and I really must be off to bed. More tomorrow, I'm sure.
Ta-dah! I finished the fucking exam. It may suck, it may not answer the questions, but I don't care. It's done; that's all I care about. :)


So that people will stop asking me when my exam dates are or when I'm done school or whatever, I've posted a pseudo-schedule for now with important dates. If I can get something a bit more dynamic, I'll fill it out better, but for now I don't even really know what my schedule is anyhow, so... there. Now you know as much as I. :)

More posting later, after the damn final war question that no one was nice enough to offer to do for me is finished.

Fneh. :P
If you have a good connection, some patience, and an appreciation of Rube Goldberg, check this out. I'm leaving you to choose your mirror; I picked the first one and it worked fantastic, although I watched a second time to get the whole movie (2 minutes) without any stopping.

And some information on it, as it were.


Yay, I finished another question! And I watched Buffy and Angel, and I feel pretty darn okay right now.

Although I have a few things I've been reading in people's blogs that I want to comment on, but no time and no real thought-out... well, thoughts.

I guess, in short, as an example of one of the debates I'm following (that's come up about four times in the short period of time I've known the people involved): I have a great dislike of being called a whore or a slut, at least by people who actually mean what they're saying. I tend to react somewhat defensively to it or apparent implications in that direction, although I give the person a chance to explain what they mean, in case I'm miscontruing things.

My friends know this about me, and I try to give most people at least one heads' up so they don't repeat this.

That said, if someone persists in calling me a slut, do I have the right to be upset about this and expect them to change their wording, especially after warning them, or should they expect me to change my feelings about it? I.e., should I stop being sensitive about this issue so that person A doesn't have to change, or should person A realize/learn how I feel about this and stop saying those kinds of things?

This is a question that's semi-rhetorical, but please don't feel as if you can't reply to it -- I welcome any comments on the matter. There's at least one person I've stopped speaking to and stopped respecting because they refused to change on this matter, even after given numerous chances; there's another person who used to push these buttons and who I felt great rancour to at the time, but has since changed his ways and he's off my shit list. :)

Anyhow, back to the writing. Urgh. The war analysis question is still up for grabs for anyone that wants it. ;)
For those concerned: I decided to tape it and watch it tomorrow. I know you stressed. :)
I have now completed questions 1-5 of my final exam for this class. The first one I detailed I answered already, but the other two I outlined are still up for grabs (the world bank question and the Iraq war one). Feel free to respond for me -- it's only 1 page, double-spaced. I don't mind if you do my homework. :)

*sigh* I still have a crapload of reading to do for Intercultural, though; that's going to suck donkey balls. Oh, wait, did I use that expression already? Ah well. Such is exam burnout, as defined by Meghan.

In order to amuse me, I politely request that you *please* sign my guestmap. :) I'm trying to figure out who the hell visits my site, and how I've managed to so massively surpass some of my friends' sites. I might start giving them plugs (like Jay's site, although he doesn't update nearly as often as he could!) in order to help them out -- although I do love the content. Stay with me! Love me! Worship me!

Erm. *cough* Sorry. :) Anyhow, I'm either going to bed or going to watch Buffy. Who'm I kidding? It's Buffy time. :) I've got a number of them downloaded, but most of them are season 7, so I have some serious catching-up to do. The quality isn't always the best (and the episode I watched today was subtitled in Dutch or something), but it's better than not watching, right?

Oh yeah... I just remembered my dream I had last night. I was Lesbian Willow, making out with Tara (although a slightly better-looking Tara than the one they have on the series). We were casting spells, too -- had to help Buffy, Angel and the rest of them beat ghosts or something. 'Twas kinda cool. :)


Okay, so that post was better in my head, before I got distracted (ooh, shiny object!) and started focusing on something else. Basically, what I think I was trying to get it as how we're all separate entities and we're essentially private human beings. That's not to say that it's impossible to do something that isn't observed -- certainly, all of the people whom I drove with or past saw me, those who I spoke with at the Humane Society saw me, and so on and so forth -- but that none of my friends would have known what I did today, none of you who read this site would have known what I did today, unless I chose to share it here.

The trip was a painful one, and it opened up some old wounds, but I don't have to share that. I don't have to tell you about what I found upsetting or even that I found it upsetting, unless I want to. There's a world of everything inside my and everyone else's head, and sometimes not sharing it can be lonely.

That's not to say that right now I feel the need to dump all kinds of grief and/or anguish on someone and I can't find anyone. It just says that I'm thinking about things like that 'cause it's more fun than trying to explain how my examples of NGOs (which I think stands for non-governmental organization, but -- surprise, surprise! -- the prof never actually spelled it out, just assumed we all knew it) happen to "function within the international development community to provide their distinct type of service: either 1) lobbying/advocacy, 2) activist, or 3) multilateral/network/partnering." Ain't this a fucking blast?

And that's just question number 4 of 10. Some are easier, but the one I severely dread doing is: "Provide a short analysis of the escalating war on Iraq by applying relevant theories and comparisons taken from the course reader and course books. In conclusion, indicate if the war on Iraq could have been avoided or not by referring to these theories." Fuck me gently, I don't want to do that one. :P

Although this one also sucks donkey balls: "You are able to arrange a meeting with James Wolfensohn, President of the World Bank. You are, however, only given the chance to ask him one question during the meeting. What question would you ask him? Using the readings and ideas discussed in class, explain why you have chosen the question." Let's see... "Your organization has lots of money. Would you like to give me some, so that I can pay off my debts? I promise, I will not tell. After all, what is say, $100,000 Canadian to the billions you deal with? Thank you very much."

Fuck I hate this class. Y'know why I took it? 'Cause there were three fourth-year classes offered this semester, and one of them I'd already done, and the other was offered Monday nights, when I wanted to take this radio class, that it's turning out I don't much like either. I wanted to do the final project alone, and then this guy that seems really nervous and just... wiggy, no confidence or something decided he'd work with me. I was so tempted to go "No!", but I thought, "well, maybe it'll lessen the workload for me." Not likely -- as he said, [I] "should be able to teach him an awful lot about using the software." Argh! No! I don't want to do the work and be making sure you're on ball with it the whole time... I want to get the damn project done so that I can go home and work on my university stuff or watch television or read or hang out with friends or masturbate vigourously. I mean, c'mon! Argh.

Sorry, mucho stress. *sigh* And nothing's happening, really. It's all just a bunch of dates that I'm waiting to have pass. *sigh* I did, however, buy some Haagen Dazs "extras" chocolate brownie ice cream. It was my "you've had a rough/sad morning that had some crying to it and you're stressed, have some sympathy ice cream." I can justify any fucking purchase I make. :)
No one would know what I did with my days if I didn't choose to share it.

I could go through the entire day, doing whatever, and if I were home alone, no one would ever know what I did that day.

No one would know that today, for example, I drove out to the Humane Society to try to see if a cat that appeared in the paper on Sunday was Chloe. It wasn't -- at least, it doesn't seem as if it were here. I didn't see it, but it was a pretty slim chance anyhow.

No one would know, except perhaps my mom, if I didn't want to put it up here.

I wrote a radio script. I'm not sure how good it is, and it's going to be loaded full of musical clips which means I'll probably have to cut about half of it out, but I got it done. Now I just need to focus on my exams. *sigh* It's so easy to get distracted, and that's been a bit of a problem. I just want this to be *done*... so I guess I should focus. Concentrate. *sigh*


Wow. Just reread my posts from last night. I did pretty well at coherency, I think -- I had a few typos in the article, but for the most part I caught 'em as I made 'em. What I like about my post here is the lower number of contractions that I used; instead of it's or that's, it's all 'it is' and 'that is'... makes me laugh.

I finally got Mozilla up and going, so I can start to field-test out new pages through that to see how they display, rather than using IE which shows me how I want it to look. :) For now, it's not as finely tuned as my IE is, what with all the personalizations and whatnot, but I'll get around to it -- like when I'm procrastinating as heavily as I am now. :)

I'm also slowly slowly slowly dowloading components to start using things like BitTorrent and vast amounts of Buffy episodes so that I can theoretically watch the 7th season -- the final 5 episodes of which begin on Tuesday. I might just watch it anyhow and bug my dad with question after question of, "What's happening now? Is that person evil? Why are they kissing?" and so forth. :)
New article up at Whore's Boudoir. And yes, I did just write that -- while DRUNK! Yay for drunk!

"I feel... HAPPY! I feel... HAPPY!" <-- name that quote, would you dearies? I'm off to bed. :)
I am sad. There is no one online to revel in (i.e., laugh at) my semi-drunken revelry. That's okay; this post will have to live in infamy for me, instead of any words I might share with a friend on ICQ.

Now would be the perfect time to make drunken phone calls, except that it is a quarter to 3, and I'm not quite that cruel. Although it would tend to hide my inebriation if I called at this hour -- people would just think I didn't make sense 'cause they'd just woken up. Yeah, good plan.

Ah well. I deserved a break -- I accomplished a whole question and a half on my final exam, and I got some reading done. Yay, me. Well, my buddy R and I hadn't seen one another in quite some time, so it was only fair that we get together and imbibe alcohol. Yay, alcohol. :)

Anyhow, I have to go shovel off my bed and go sleep. Or pass out; it's a toss-up at this point. But first, I will brush my teeth so that no one says to me, "You smell like alcohol!" in the morning -- although I'm sure I will, anyways.

How's that for a drunken post? Yay for coherency! Although I'm sure I'll laugh at myself later, especially for its stupidity. Is it sad that my drunken posts contain fewer typos and grammatical errors than many sober posters I could cite? Urgh.

And it's not like this is my first drunken post, either. I think the last one made less sense. :)

I go sleep now. Zzzz...


Well, I have now committed myself to attending a wedding at the end of May -- for Greg and Madeleine. I will be dateless, as requested, so I will enjoy getting drunk and harrassing Jay. It's a good plan. ;)

The following weekend, I have my cousin's wedding to attend. She's my age, and her wedding is taking place in New Brunswick, with my dad acting as photographer. Needless to say, it's going to be a hectic weekend, seeing as we're not really staying very long. I think the trip will be about 4 days in all, with 2 of those days consisting of nothing but driving. :P

I find it vaguely depressing or something that my cousin managed to find someone and fall for him and stay with him and get married -- and in that same space of time (3 years?) I've dated ... urgh. A bunch of okay guys and some asshole guys and one or two really good guys. No one's worked out for me.

And, in a month and a half or so, I'll get wedding overload -- lots of happy couples snogging and snuggling and feeling all extra romantic 'cause of the wedding atmosphere... and I'll get to be the cousin (or the friend) in the corner, being drunk and making fun of the happy couples.

Oooh, Jay and I are never getting invited to another wedding, we've planned it. ;)

I'm not nearly as morose or despondent as I seem. I've just spent a lot of time inside my head the last while, as well as watching episodes of Buffy, seeing couples fall in love and fight and not be able to work it out... so it's getting to me. :P :)

On the plus side, I've finally written a piece for my second attempt on Bad Samaritan. As soon as I saw the current topic, I decided to run with it, and when I mailed the piece off to the guy behind it, he said that he had thought of me and was going to get in touch with me when he brought up the topic. That amuses me. :)

I think I've gotten over my writer's block, which is a good thing. I seem to have things to think and write about again -- like Digger's friend today. There's a black, medium-haired cat that was hanging around our property today, and it seems pretty friendly. It let me pat it and give it a few treats, as well as pick it up a bit so that I could move it away from the back door. See, Digger and Shadow wanted to come out to see this cat, and he (she? I didn't check) wanted to go in my house to go check the place out.

I hope it's not homeless; I'd feel really awful. We don't seem to get many strays around my neighbourhood. This guy was fairly skinny, but that doesn't always mean much. The same thing with the condition of this guy's coat -- he looked like he'd probably seen a fight or two, but didn't look the worse for wear because of it. I know I'm going to get in shit for having fed this guy a few treats, but it was the nicest way to get him out of the porch without picking him up. :)

It was pretty cute to see the way Digger interacted with this guy, though. Digger's not an aggressive cat -- in fact, he's so placid he's comatose somtimes -- and he doesn't like to fight other cats. That's not to say he'd hesitate to pick on or beat up Shadow or Chloe should they have needed showing who's boss... except that he really isn't, and he's okay with that. Shadow beats on him, he beats on her. Then they cuddle. It's funny. I think it's especially funny to see one of them holding a grudge -- that is, "I know you just swatted me a few minutes ago and I'm still pissed off at you for it." Or even to see one of them trying to annoy the other by crowding the other or swishing his or her tail into the other's space. It's a riot. :)

Anyhow, happy birthday to my mom, and I'll write more later when I don't have potential shoulder-lookers around. :P


I keep accidentally deleting this post, which is somewhat annoying me. No matter; I didn't have that much written in the first place.

You know your perspective on things is slightly skewed when you say, "I'm feeling somewhat antisocial tonight. When I get home, I don't think I'll go on the computer or load up Trillian."

I really do see my friends in a real life context, honestly!

I also realized the other day that all my life, I've merely traded one geeky pursuit for another. I've always been a bookworm, and I'm not trading that in anytime soon, but there's also been the MUDding, the band geek (no, I did not play flute), now the blogwhoring... It's almost sad. Except that once I started to realize that the "cool" people had an awful lot of lame pursuits, I didn't mind so much.

Not to mention, I liked my friends. I found an awful lot of good and integrity in those I hung out with, and that was an awful lot more important than a lot of "cool" things, so I was happy.

Ben and I got together this evening for dinner, dessert and some good conversation. We hit up Coles and Chapters, and made some use of my new discount card. I picked up a few books that I'd been waiting on -- Neil Gaiman's American Gods, Strunk and White's Elements of Style, Will Ferguson's Happiness, and a new Carl Hiaasen. I was kind; I got a book for Ben as well. :)

Tomorrow will be a productive day if it kills me. I will put clothes away, and I will get some serious work done on my final exam. As well, I will get some reading done. I'm really looking forward to when all of this is over.

I've been having fun, as you well know, watching Buffy episode after Buffy episode. One of the reasons -- aside from the obvious ones like it's a well-written show, it's funny, entertaining, moving, etc., etc., -- is that I like the storyline between Angel and Buffy. Sure, it's full of angst and it's frustrating that it isn't working out for them the way bleeding heart romantic types like myself would like, but it's also somewhat realistic. I mean, the unfortunate part of life is that not all relationships work out, and sometimes you get your heart broken and you feel like you're going to die from the pain.

But ... you move on. Eventually, with enough time, you're able to stop thinking about that person as much, and you start laughing more and smiling and enjoying the company of others and maybe you even meet someone new and there's interest there. Maybe you feel warm and tingly inside when they touch your hand, or your heart starts to speed up when you sit near them, or you look forward to the next time you might get to talk to them. Maybe you daydream about what it would be like to kiss them, and I could geek out here with a Buffy reference, but I won't. The important thing is that eventually you meet someone else, and maybe you don't love them the same way that you loved that first person, but that's okay. That's normal.

When someone related to us gets divorced and remarried, or a pet dies and another one is acquired, people always get told that so-and-so "is not getting replaced." No one takes the place in your heart that that first pet, that first husband or wife, or that first love had. It's special and it's reserved for them. You love each new person or pet in a different way, but in no less of an important way.

I've loved a lot of people and pets, and I've been in love a few times, I think; it's hard to tell. But each bond that I formed was different, and each time a part of my heart was given in a different way, but no less of a way.

At least, this is how I choose to see it. I've felt as if my heart was breaking, as if I'd never feel whole and happy again. I've cried buckets and felt the pain, and sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly introspective, stressed, or morose, I can feel that pain again. Some days, it's never far from the surface, and it's an effort to hide it and keep it controlled.

But when I'm going through that pain, I'm experiencing it and I'm feeling it and I'm using it to build walls and build myself. I hide my feelings as best as I can from those who hurt me so that they don't hurt me again. Some people will never know everything that I think or feel, because I don't want them to. Maybe it's not the best way to be, but sometimes it's all I can do to look them in the face and remember the good times and not run away until I can forget. The problem is, some things I just don't forget that easily.

Sometimes, it's hard to forget the feeling of holding someone or being held by them. It's hard to forget that special, loved feeling that you had when you were with them. It's hard to forget how they looked at you as if they cared, how they kissed you or stroked your face or even held you tight when you made love. It's hard to see them and remember all of that and think that it can be no longer, because they decided that it was over. They decided that it wasn't working anymore for them or they'd found someone else or, hardest of all, they just didn't feel the same way about you anymore.

It's hard to think that there are problems that one cannot argue about, or solve with words. It's hard to convince someone who's uttered those awful words, "I don't think we should see one another anymore," that yes, in fact, you should. Once someone has initiated the breakup talk, it really can't be undone. It's like getting on a rollercoaster -- you feel at times like your stomach has dropped out of you, like you're going to vomit, and the only thing you can do is throw your hands in the air or hang onto the roll bar and scream until it's all over and you're on secure ground again.

Maybe that metaphor didn't work so well.

But I find that sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly introspective or depressed or (insert next adjective here), I find a lot of similes and similiarities in the television shows or the movies or the music that I watch or hear. I can find a lot of meaning in song lyrics, and sometimes I'm tempted to post them here. In movies or especially television shows, it's worse. Sometimes I watch a storyline and think, "I've had problems like these guys. If they can work it out, maybe I can, too."

That sounds really corny, or self-help booky, but that's not really how it goes. I can't really explain it, and I think I'm starting to run out of momentum and direction (hooray for stream-of-consciousness writing), but I've put it out there and so maybe someone else does the same thing and can explain it for me. Either that, or maybe you'll all think I'm loony and that'll be the end of this page. :)

But at the same time, I think the reason a lot of storylines or song lyrics speak to us on a personal level is because, in the most abstract or literal sense, we've all had those experiences. Sure, not too many people have boffed a vampire several times over their senior, but most of us have been in relationships that would not work out for various reasons, and we found that devastating. Lots of us have loved so completely it felt like we'd die without that person there, loving us, and had it not work out. But television shows or movies show those people eventually moving on and gaining strength and meeting others, and so we draw strength and hope from that.

Sometimes movies or television shows put the characters in grotesque scenes in order to demonstrate just how crazed we can get with love -- think of French Kiss, with Meg Ryan following her boyfriend -- who's dumped her -- to Paris, in order to prove that he still wants to be with her. She teams up with Kevin Kline, and they work out a series of zany happenings in order to break up the boyfriend and his new fiancée. In the end (spoiler warning, if you didn't already know), Meg and Kevin wind up together, having learned that in spite of their apparent hatred for one another, they're in love. The boyfriend is suddenly dull and no longer as special, and it's time to move on.

Of course, there are a lot more pratfalls, comedic lines, wacky mishaps and longing glances, but you get the picture.

These movies, sad and tortured as they may be, speak to us all on an emotional level and give us hope. It's sad, it's depressing, it makes money. What more could an entertainment industry hope for than a bunch of people who've suffered through bad relationships, bad breakups and bad exes and just want to look at beautiful people make it all work -- especially since we can't seem to?

*sigh* This has turned into quite the post. I hope no one is rushing off to class or work and hoping to just scan my site quickly before they go, 'cause it looks like you'll either have to be late to work or check back in later... at which point it's very likely there'll be more from me. Sorry. ;)

Anyhow, I seem to have a brain tumour; it's to blame for all of this rambling and my current state of headpain, so I think I'm going to go dose myself up full of drugs and go to bed. It's around the time I wanted to sleep anyhow.

You're really gonna hate this/I still can dial your number in the dark/But whenever I pull/I'm pushing us further apart

It took all the strength I had not to fall apart
Kept trying' hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart
And I spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for myself, I used to cry
But now I hold my head up high

I'm hooked on a feeling,
I'm high on believing,
That you're in love with me.

It's easy to find meaning in lyrics, when you want to. Those are just the first three songs in my current playlist. Of course, the current one is "Purple Pills," by D12, so I'm not exactly finding deep romantic explanations in that one, that's for sure. :P

And an anecdote. I generally prefer to shave my legs while sitting in the tub with a few inches of water, after a shower; I find it awkward to actually shave in the shower for the most part, and I can't get as close or as thorough of a shave as I'd like (I'm particular about such things). It having been the winter and me having been the lazy bum that I am, it's been awhile since I shaved my legs. This morning, I decided to change that, especially as I've been having itchy skin (one of the few things that actually prompts me to shave in the wintertime; that, and a boyfriend). However, I wasn't too particular about it, just wanting to get it done quickly and such, so I shaved in the shower. Of course, I was running out of hot water, having initially taken much too long in order to perform this necessary evil, so that when I got out of the shower, I discovered that, in my haste, I had managed to shave stripes -- there be relatively straight lines of hair that I missed entirely. This amuses me.

I'm off to bed.


I Am The Sex Toy:

G-Spot Vibrator: Simple and to the point. I know how you like it and thats how I do it. Not much else to say about myself.

Find out what sex toy you are.

I hide it, but:

My Romance Meter

Optimist 95%
5% Cynic
Close 86%
14% Distant
Long Term 82%
18% Brief
What does my romance meter read?


I was informed the other day that there is now a second URL to access this site. My precioussss... Anyhow, I'm having weird feelings on this. I mean, it's not like it takes away from my hits -- it's not a mirror, just a redirect -- it's just that it was done without asking me, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I mean... urgh. I don't know. I've had this site up and going for 15 months now, and while I know visually it ain't much and whatnot, it's still something of mine that I post to and people visit. It's just my content that appears here, and that's what keeps people coming. That's a pretty fantastic feeling, particularly for a budding young author such as myself. :)

But since this wasn't a question put to me, or an idea run past me, or even anything I asked for -- it feels like my site's been co-opted or something. Like, all of a sudden, my site belongs to someone else, and I didn't give any permission to this new person to take a piece of it.

I realize I'm more than likely overreacting, but... I don't know. I'm not sure how I feel about this, but it's unsettling at the very least, and I haven't had the opportunity to say anything about it to anyone and I'm not even sure what I would say. I mean, I wasn't necessarily going to have this site as part of unCultured in the first place -- if you remember a few months ago, it had been "offered" to me to have my site become a subset of unCultured; www.uncultured.com/jen or some such, and I was completely opposed to that to begin with. But even if we were to develop an "about the authors" page, I'm not sure if I would have put my site up there or not; or if I had, it would've been under the URL I chose for it, not the one someone else assigned it. It's one thing to be assigned the blogspot moniker, since I elected to use Blogger for my postage; it's another thing to have an outsider develop a redirect for it. At least, in my head.
There was a girl today on the bus into work who had cookies that she'd just taken out of the oven before getting on the bus. They smelled fantastic. :)

As I was waiting for the bus home, I sat next to two young teens, a boy and a girl. Whenever the boy laughed, he sounded like Beavis or Butthead, but less nasal. I don't think I'd be able to stay with someone who laughed like that; I'd go nuts.
New article up at Whore's Boudoir. I have to fix up the archives and get the Ask The DrunkenWhore portion up and running. Project! :)
Maybe I have it all wrong, and he's not lazy, he's just stupid and afraid to show it. That could be it. It's not as if it's even outside of a job description (his), it's just that it would be helping me, or doing something nice for me, and that would be unthinkable. Even though he sent me cat pictures awhile ago, but heaven forbid he do something that might have him staying five minutes past his self-imposed departure time of four hours after he arrived.

Urgh. I'm not actually upset at it at all, it just makes me roll my eyes and shake my head. I should take pity on those less fortunate than I and say, "It's too bad that you can't handle something simpler than programming a VCR or alarm clock. I feel sorry for you." and be done with it. :)

And I am done with it. :)

I thought I heard the doorbell ring at 9:30 this morning, and there was no way in hell I was getting up to answer it. Nuts to you, crazy early morning person! I had a dream to return to, involving a semi-Oceans Eleven plot, whereby we were trying to get after John Travolta (as the main character) and his wife (not the one in real life)'s money, and there was a boat involved. Later on, I was making bullets from gold and what I thought was lead but turned out to be cookie crumbs and possibly trying to seduce a young girl, but she didn't go for it and I didn't push. Have I mentioned I have weird dreams?

Ah well. That's about all that's new and exciting in between last night and this morning. I got snuggled by the cats last night (read: they severely hogged my bed, at least at first), and the fish are all still alive and accounted for. :) Now I'm off to get ready for the day (much as I dread actually doing so. Gawd, I'm tired).
Today was pretty cool. I went to work for a bit, then it was off for the orientation. Woot. I now know much about company policy and various other company-related things (and still have much to read about), and I have an inkling of some of the potential benefits to sticking around. Now, if only they paid me $9 or $10/hr, I would be *so* fucking set. There are some serious advantages; it's just too bad the salary ain't where I need it to be. Ah well... I think I'm going to enjoy it anyhow, and I will get to make *massive* improvements to my library. :)

Of course, I must also make the *space* to make my library, as well as the *time* to read my books... urgh. I fit the ultimate profile of a "book lover," according to my new boss: "One who goes to the store to buy one book and leaves with five, knowing she'll likely never read the other four, but simply wasn't able to say no. Has piles of books about that are taking up space, and decides, "I need to have a garage sale." Has a garage sale, but winds up taking most of the books back, 'cause she can't bear to sell them." C'est moi, through and through.

After that, went to the radio class (late) and made plans for our big project. I'm working with someone else, which I kinda hadn't really wanted to, but at the same time it'll help share the workload, so it's not so bad, I guess. I'm just going to be glad when this class is done; it's a shame, but I really haven't learned that much, although it has given me the opportunity to work with the software (well, a different one than we use at work), and do things I wouldn't necessarily get to do otherwise. It's a shame I missed the class on newswriting, though; that was one thing I would have liked to have been there for. Ah well.

Came home, watched some Buffy. My dad gave me some snot for calling to be picked up from the bus station; if I'd waited, it would've been at least 20 minutes before another bus showed up, and it wasn't exactly toasty out today. When he asked me if I was completely incapable of taking a bus through our local area, I asked him what he was talking about. Then he said that it seemed every time I got to the bus station, I was calling for a pickup -- a completely bogus charge, 'cause frankly I can't recall the last time I called and asked to be picked up, usually 'cause I only have a ten minute wait or so. I told him I hadn't called for a pick up in ages, and I think he realized I was right, 'cause he didn't say anything about it for a few minutes and then just asked me how the orientation had gone. ;)

I think I'm starting to get back into the 'wanting to write' phase, considering how long this entry is going without anything of interest to actually contribute. ;) Getting comments on what I write helps (thank you Sarah and Catherine), especially when I'm being told that they love my stuff. ;) *dance* Very encouraging.

I've been feeling kinda weird the last while. I'm trying to get back into a decent sleep schedule, trying to make 2 a.m. a bedtime instead of 3 a.m. or later. My eyes have felt wet ever since the day I cried, and I don't know why. I don't think it's an infection -- they're not sore or whatnot, although occasionally I do get hit with "god my eyes are tired and I feel tired." It's all a weirdness, and since I've been watching so much Buffy, I have decided that someone, somewhere is casting a spell on me. Perhaps the fish.

*peers suspiciously at the fish for a moment*

Hrmmm... Shadow has seemed awfully snuggly lately... perhaps she's protecting me? And that could be why Digger hangs around so at night... of course, he could just be trying to get me to go to bed so the fish can work their evil magic.

Anyhow, now that I'm starting to ramble and such, I'm off to bed. Check in tomorrow, when I'll have actual serious content (imagine a serious face when I say that last part).


Speedy quick updates before I fall over, asleep. Although it's kinda not really two in the morning, what with the time advance and all that... Hrm.

I got together with an old friend from my MooseHead days (not the beer, if you don't know, don't bother to ask. :). We chatted for awhile, he hit on me a bit (what can I say? I was a MUD cutie ;), and now I'm home not sleeping. However, I am also not watching Buffy, so I think I'm getting better. :)

It's been pretty quiet and pretty hectic all at the same time the last few days. I spent monster amounts of time on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday writing papers (okay, more so Tuesday and Thursday), and I got those done. Now I just have a final exam due on the 17th (a big one), and crazy amounts of reading to do for two of my three. The third (English) shouldn't be so bad, although you wouldn't necessarily know it from the crappy writing I do. :)

I have a bunch of writing to get caught up on, as well; for the Whore's Boudoir (and I found someone else who's linked to it, which is pretty sweet), for FLESH magazine, for another magazine (as a test), for Bad Sam... urgh. The worst part is just coming up with ideas, although I have a half article written for WB, just haven't done anything about it yet. I'm procrastinating. A lot.

Hrm... aside from that, I'm afraid I'm somewhat boring. Jay and I devised a list of girls I have to punch in the head for him, because of how they've been to him. There's also one guy on the list -- a friend of his out in Winterpeg that may have given him disease. So, he gets a punch in the head.

And in a complete and utter turnaround from last night's "you need to leave me something cool when you die," speech, tonight Jay is reciting sonnets and passages from Romeo and Juliet to me. I think he's trying to confuse me, keep me on edge. Weird guy. :)

And on that note (much later), I'm off to bed. :)


*grin* I needed a quiz to tell me this: ;)


You Are an EXPERT in Bed

You know precisely what you’re doing when the sheets are pulled down and the panties go right along with them.
You’re also super confident, and rightly so.
Because any man who may be fortunate enough to find himself between your legs is a happy man, indeed.
You’re the type of woman men brag about in locker rooms: knowledgeable, adorable, and lickable.
You’ve gotten to the point that you don’t even have to try so hard.
It all just comes naturally: the mouth, the hips, everything underneath.
One lovely little package.

Are *You* Good In Bed?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

I promise, I only took it once. :)
tongue piercing

You Are A Tongue Piercing

You're extremely oral (like you didn't know that!)
You love going down... on girls and guys!
You're not one to be too naughty in public - You like to save it all for the bedroom.

What Piercing Are *You*?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

I took it twice. There was no changing. :)
How my friends show me love:

Jay: You going to live?
Me: Did you have plans otherwise?
Jay: I want your stuffed lion.
Me: Tough. He's busy protecting a family.
Jay: Well, I'll take the whole family then, if you're dead.
Me: Wow, that's cold. :(
Jay: Well, come on, I'm trying to look at the bright side of you kicking over. At least I get a lion or something out of the deal.
Jay: As it stands, if you decided you won't survive this ordeal, I get nothing.
Me: I could give you a pencil.
Jay: Okay, a pencil is a good memento.

... and the signoff: 'Night sweetie. :) Try not to kick over till you've found a good pencil. ;)


I'm not a bad person for feeling the way I do. Why? Because what I want is the best for a friend, and if that's not the present situation, then so be it.

What would be better? I'm not entirely sure. I don't know what that friend needs necessarily, or even what that friend wants, but I really don't think the current situation is it. I think perhaps this friend is in a pattern, and once that pattern is broken, then things will improve. But ... things need to change, and my friend isn't likely to be the one to change it.

How's that for deliberately vague? Eesh. :)
Btw, sign my Guestmap! (now that Blogger has finally allowed it to display). It's down there on the left-hand side. :)

I wish you could get more specific about posting your city, but... meh. :)
As promised, the infamous quotes:

"I've never seen a restaurant with so much cock on the menu."

"Can't we ever have a family friendly conversation?"

"Dude, do I look like Saddam Hussein, giving away my fries?"

Those are from three different people... and if they piss me off -- or not worship me in the manner to which I am accustomed -- I will reveal who said which. 'Cause I know, believe me. :)
Digger and Shadow woke me up this morning when my dad was in the shower. See, sometimes Shadow will sit outside the bathroom door and meow the entire time you're in there, unless you let her in. My dad did not let her in.

Then, Digger came up the stairs and pounced on her, giving her a big bite for no apparent reason. My mom yelled at him. I was still awoken by all of this.

At some point, I woke up to see Digger up on his hind legs, trying desperately to abuse or steal something from my garbage cans; I'm not entirely certain what.

Just now, he went over to my garbage can and stole a collection of masking tape that was from my pants. He is now in the hallway teaching this masking tape a serious lesson. I haven't asked questions; all I can see from my perspective is his tail.

I have had a headache since last night, and for much of yesterday my eyes were bothering me. This may be because the last few days have been divided between staring at the television screen and the computer monitor, with little in between to break things up. Damn my Buffy addiction! And Ben, for being my enabler. :)

Anyhow, I got the English paper finished last night. My Intercultural paper remains to be written tonight, so that'll be fun.

Just got the phone call from Chapters -- they love me and want to offer me the store. Okay, maybe not; but they still hired me. It's funny -- when I went in for what I term 'the swimsuit competition,' he said I was the first to be scheduled. Just now, as they're arranging for orientation, he mentioned I'm the first one again. Kinda cool, I realize it's just a factor of how it goes, but nice to be first. :)

And another cat story. Digger brought up a hairball yesterday afternoon. Now, I can deal with just about anything that happens (my three years at the animal hospital also gave me a fair bit of exposure to some grody stuff), but barf always makes me gag. I almost bolted for the bathroom while I was cleaning up this Digger grossage yesterday, and partly it was because the smell was the most awful smell I've ever noticed. I've cleaned up a lot of cat barf in my time, and normally it's not so bad. It's gross, but it doesn't reek. I wound up cleaning it up, then rubbing some baking soda into it and spraying a bit of Lysol. Then I locke myself back in my room to write and burn candles (both for inspiration and to make the bad man smells go away).

I started reading Cocksure the other day, by Mordecai Richler. I'm not sure if I like it -- I've only ever read Duddy Kravitz by him, and I wasn't too thrilled about it -- but I'm going to keep plugging at it.

I got together the other night (as I said before) with gord, Sue, Shawn, Mark and Ben. It was a fun night, we had some dinner, some dessert and some laughs. Got to comment on Shawn's nipples -- and I did not call them nasty, that was someone else -- and any evening that allows you to comment on Shawn's nipples is a good one, right? I have quotes, but they're not right here. Maybe when I get to work I'll post them.

My eyes have felt wet since the day I cried. I don't understand that, but I keep hoping it'll change, especially if I get some sleep. So far, no real go. Ah well.

Anyhow, time to get moving. I was good about not taking a lot of time on my sites this morning, but now I must be off. I apologize for the barf story, but I had to share it. I think the fish Mom fed him the other night was to blame for the smell (and perhaps colour), but at least I didn't go into too much detail. It could've been much worse, remember that. :)
Fake content:

Mighty Magenta

Well, super girl, there's no containing you and your almighty passion. With your extra-strong drive, there's no holding back when something's important to you — whether it's matters of the heart or matters of the head.

Enthusiasm is your game, and you're one to go after your heart's desire. Wanna run for student body president? Throw a fab Spring Fling? Let no man (or woman) stand in your way! While some may think your multiple interests and will of steel a little over-the-top, you probably feel differently. After all, pushing the boundaries and breaking a few rules is a small price to pay to enter the winner's circle.

A mistake-free life is hardly worth living, and you'd surely rather be led by your all-consuming convictions than wait backstage for life to happen. Patience may be a virtue, but unbridled enthusiasm is your true ticket to happiness. Whatever your dream, your powerful passion is sure to put you in the fast lane.





I'm okay. I'm off to watch more Buffy.

[not addicted]

No, not at all.

Quiet, you.
New article up at Whore's Boudoir.

I promise, updates and funny quotes and such soon, just gotta get the school writing out of the way first.


I have no real excuse for why I haven't posted much of anything lately. Basically, just haven't much felt the urge to write. There's really nothing exciting going on; I could always compose more cat stories, but I'm sure that at some point the lot of you will be tired of those, entertaining as they may be. :)

Digger is currently bitching at me to either go to bed or feed him (not that is actually hungry); Sunday morning the pair of them used my bed as a trampoline. Ah, crap. He's dumpster diving again. *grin* He's actually quite entertaining to watch as he does this. It's just a wrapper that used to be on a pair of socks, but the way he pokes at it all sneaky-like is funny... especially as it's often just his paw that moves, the rest stays fixed.

I have two papers due for the end of the week, and unfortunately I haven't even really begun them. I have the research and materials I need for the Friday paper, but Thursday's... well, ain't nowhere near being ready.

Fortunately, I'm into the school wrap-up mode; a week and a half left and counting. Yay. :)

Let's see... otherwise, I have a minor Buffy addiction, and have spent some time over the last while watching it on TV and DVD. The other night was spent watching episodes of it at Ben's place; now I've mooched the first two seasons from him to absorb and enjoy. :)

Hrm. Instead of writing "enjoy," I initially put "edumacate." I regularly mess about with turns of phrase and quotes from popular (or not-so-popular) movies and tv shows, all while fully aware of what I'm doing. It may be annoying, it may be dumb, but my friends know what I'm doing and why and I like to pretend they enjoy it. I like to think it's what makes my writing interesting sometimes; that I'll use phrases that others might not necessarily put together all in the interest of creating a little twist to my message. I do this with the spoken word, as well.

In that vein; I've noticed a trendy towards a speech/writing style that really somewhat bothers me. It's turned up in people's blogs or everyday conversation, and I find it makes someone sound about on par with a kindergarden student. The trend is to take two adjectives and put a "mc" on the front of the second one, turning it into a name of sorts; for example, Stinky McSmellypants for someone who hasn't showered or some such. I don't do it, so any example I come up with would suck balls in a number of ways, but... urgh. It annoys me. There is no creativity involved in something like that.

On the other hand, being told, "Way to walk, NoWalk," by Mark or Ben tends to make me laugh. Go figure.

Perhaps it's somewhat hypocritical of me, but I get annoyed with people who don't allow others to have faults or problems or what have you. I mean, there are some problems that are difficult to deal with and be understanding of -- such as constant lying or being an asshole or having absolutely no sympathy for others whatever -- but when it comes to something you can't control, such as your health or family problems... I mean, fuck. Use your brain and give people some leeway.

On a totally unrelated note, Peacock (the royal blue fish) is blowing bubbles. This means he's happy, and when Peacock is happy, then I'm happy -- and people don't die. :)

I reread Carpe Jugulum today, by Terry Pratchett. I guess I'm on a total vampire kick, what with Buffy and all; mind you, the first few episodes have her fighting witches and bugs, as well as vampires.

Digger has decided to use my cell phone to make long-distance calls. I wonder who he knows?

What else? I got an email from the magazine people, saying they still want me to send things in. I hit up one of my hosts' guests, and I've been invited to send in some samples. I dropped off a resume today, pretty psyched about that. I'm waiting to hear about the whole Chapters thing... Yeah, my life is one big thrill ride. :)

I sent a really short and snotty email to UBFM in reply to what his email and EmodeMatch profile said. He sent me a big long email saying he was different now, he was an ass then, he's changed, he wants to be my friend, blah blah blah... it's weird. On one hand, I'm thinking, "why not? I'm not angry about the whole catastrophe anymore." But on the other hand, I'm thinking (okay, 99% of me is thinking), "he was an asshole then, can that really change that much, what exactly would I want to waste my time for, etc., etc., etc." There is nothing that I feel I would gain from a friendship with him; I might as well prostrate myself at the feet of the coworker and ask to be his friend. UBFM and the coworker represent the two people who have managed to make me feel the absolute worst about myself, who have given my nothing but hangups, baggage and grief, and who both suffer from victim complexes and assholeitis. So, why be his friend? Exactly. I look forward to writing him an email detailing precisely why, five years later, I still want absolutely nothing to do with him. I'm such a bitch. :)

On a semi-work related note, I just did a google search on "cyst ovary" and the first two hits to come up are this:
"... Results 1 through 1 of 1 for cyst ovary. ... Look for cyst ovary at eBay - The World's Online Marketplace Find it at eBay - Over 5 million items for sale! ... www.cyberspace.com/cgi-bin/ cs_search.cgi?Terms=cyst+ovary - 9k - Cached - Similar pages"

Goodie, can I please by an ovarian cyst on eBay? No, really, can I?!? Here's hoping you feel better, sweetie.

Anyhow, one more episode of Buffy, then it's bedtime. I'm going to work on one of my papers tomorrow and hopefully finish it and get some serious work done on the second on Wednesday. Mind you, I haven't much choice in the matter; at least one of them must be finished by Wednesday, since it's due Thursday.

Tomorrow is snackage with gord, Shawn, Ben, and Mark, which will, as always, be fantastic fun. Perhaps with the proportion of straight males somewhat higher, gord and I will be unable to gross everyone out by discussing... well, Mark knows. ;)

Urgh. Maybe I'll just go to bed. But Buffy calls...