greetings from the middle of nowhere.

actually, the middle of nowhere seems a little too generous a term for this place. i feel like i'd have to tunnel miles from this underground hole to actually reach a place close enough to civilization to merit it being called "the middle of nowhere".

i've come home.

to the place of my birth. to live with my parents, to cut myself off from society.

aside from being a testament to my dwindling mental capacity, it also robs me of excuses not to update this blog anymore. "i'm too busy with school" expired over two months ago. "i'm working 50 hours a week for satan" is also no longer useful. now i "work" (if you can call it that, i'll get to that later. as taxpayers, you're going to be a little angry) for "20" hours a week, and have no social connections to honor. truthfully, i haven't done a damn thing since i got home. if it weren't for my two seasons of arrested development on DVD and the public library (which is very efficient at ordering in books i want to read. got my shiny new library card my first day home) i may have offed myself about 4 days ago. even the internet sucks. i know, i know. "blasphemy!" you say. "how dare she utter insults to the provider of endless idle entertainment and porn!" and i hear you. i get it. but, and i can't believe i'm about to admit this, but i'm on DIAL-UP. i bet some of you out there didn't even know it existed anymore. it does, making the only thing i'm capable of doing with my level of functional patience is check my email and hit "post" on this when i'm done typing. i'm actually offline doing this, because my mother doesn't like it when i tie up the phone line.

this is my hell.

but it's only temporary. and i'll make a killing (that's a terrible expression. i feel like jack the ripper) at my job. let me tell you about my job. the federal government pays me more than twice minimum wage (plus shift and weekend premiums) to make sure quarantined substances don't leave the province. which means i get to hang out at work and sometimes play with a water hose. i get very wet(that's what she said.....gnnaaaaaa) and get sent home early nearly every day(not cause i'm wet, just cause that's the way things go).and it's good times, unlike my last job, where i hated myself a little more each day for continuing to work there.

and yeah, i have to live with my parents, and sometimes that's painful. but my mother has taught me to knit (note, you might think i'm joking, but oh no. i am dead serious.) and my dad plays crib with me like, every night. god that's pathetic.

please don't laugh at my pitiful existance. i'm a good person, i have friends. they are all 900 km away, but i do have friends. and a life. that doesn't involve knitting. and i get back to it in only 63 days.

m.

and karla, i suppose by now you realize that i am, in fact, at your beck and call. need a kidney? have both of mine*.

The Simplest Thing - Hey Rosetta! and go see them at junctions on july 8th. just don't rub it in my face. :(

*note: i have no real intention of giving you my kidneys, karla. well, maybe one. but only if you really need it. i.e. not for one of your grisly ritualistic sacrifices or as a centerpiece for your crazy american thanksgiving in november.

so much tvd

i may not know what my favorite episode of "sex and the city" is, but i do know my favorite moment:
when charlotte sees harry at a jewish singles mixer, and tells him she misses him and loves him, and he asks her to marry him.
"of all the synagogues in all the cities, you had to walk into mine..."
*sigh* someday my jew will come.

just a thought: is it wrong that i only think that orlando bloom is attractive as a girly elf?

well someone did it.

someone actually motivated me to post. let it be known; this is no small task. firstly, i try MYSELF everyday to get me to post, but to no avail. its like i don't even listen to myself. the one or two friends i have encourage me to post; i deny them. ppl come up and club me in the middle of the street; and still nothing(except me putting the handy baseball bat to use. i actually kind of like it when those ppl ask me to update.)

but when karla calls, you answer.

it's not even like she yells, like most ppl do (dana in particular). or that she even asks for an update. its just the knowledge that she's there, always watching, occasionally commenting....omni present, and potent, perusing?(hey, that works, and i really like the word).....it's actually a little creepy. you really feel like you have to make your contribution.

that, and i have two midterms i have to be studying for, and three.....no four labs i should be working on. that always gives me the extra push i need to make a post...

seewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww......


(long awkward silence....or pause of fingers typing, whatever)


can i ask an honest question? in what direction is my life taking? i mean, i hope i know where i'm going. i've got a couple graduate programs in mind, like physiotherapy at mcmaster, or genetic counselling at UBC. you know, it's wishful thinking, but i have ideas. however, how is that going to happen, how am i going to get ahead in the world if i go to jail for manslaughter? okay, that's wishful thinking too, i'm mainly hoping i can make it look like an accident.

"where does this stem from?" you might ask. "you're normally such a sweet tempered person!" you might say. my earlier comment about the baseball bat would definitely back you up on that notion. however, in the most extreme of circumstances, i can be forced into a rage. several examples:

1. when someone wakes me up. ever. but most particularly anytime within an hour of when i'm scheduled to get up for school, work, or whatever. because normally, it might take me a while to get back to sleep (i have sleep issues. like, i should probably go to a lab and get checked the hell out issues. but i won't.) but if you wake me up, and i have to be up within an hour, it's just not going for happen to me. hand me my baseball bat, if you will.
2. spit touching me. i can' t even go into it.
3. the words "tucker" and "carlson" said consecutively.

but the other day, someone made me question the inherent goodness of mankind. saturday afternoon, myself and the beautiful sara carter went to see a movie. it was getting close to starting time, and i required a box of milk duds, so we put our coats on our chosen seats and went to stock up on candy. when we returned however, we went back to our seats only to find both our coats piled into one seat, and some woman sitting in the other.

WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?! she stole my seat!!

i mean, come on! it's one thing to be a complete dickhead and say derogatory things about canada on your television show to get ratings. i actually don't undermine your intelligence enough to think that you actually believe the things you are saying.(see number three above). meanwhile, i wouldn't be blown away if you actually were proven to be that stupid. anyhoo, ppl like that don't make me think i belong to a horrible race. you know, the whole apple adage... but what is wrong with this woman? i mean the movie was nanny mcphee. this woman probably had her kid with her there. THIS WOMAN SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO RAISE A CHILD! she obviously has a temperment akin to that of say, hitler's. what other kind of person thinks it's okay to do that? i had to send sara in to get the coats, or i would have done something drastic there and then, and it would not have been accident-like. but her face is seared into my memory, and if i ever see her again....

but i guess it is not worth ruining my whole future over. i should have just spilled my coke slushie all over her when i had the chance.

on a much, much happier note, my sister is moving here from saskatchewan in less than two weeks. that means i will get to see the flasher(scroll down a little....a tiny bit more...there she is) on a daily basis. that definitely calms the soul. i forgot my heart could break before i could look at her every day but not hug her.

makes you wonder if i'm really capable of homocide, doesn't it?

mandy.

broken social scene - anthems for a seventeen year old girl

whoo! it's a little drafty under there....

i put her here because shes just too damn cute not to. do it, do it- "awwwwwwww"
i'm a little worried about the lifting the skirt for all to see what's under there...meh, it's nothing i wouldn't do, who am i to judge??

i have not the words.

okay, first, does anyone know what inquisitive means? personally, i think everyone does. it means, inclined to ask questions, or eager for knowledge, simply put. so why, in the name of all that is holy(which you know, really isn't that much) do people keep commenting on my blog with the stupid generic "I read over your blog, and i found it inquisitive... blah blah blah, more crap"? i've checked it out, for curiosity's sake once, and these ppl do have actual blogs, that they expect others to read. don't get me wrong. all of them are probably ten times better than mine, and that's being conservative *shudder* (sorry, even the word conservative makes me shudder these days. but i digress). but when you leave stupid comments like that on my blog, do you REALLY expect me to think your blog is going to be at all interesting or creative?? let me say this. BLOGS CANNOT BE INQUISITIVE!!! ITS A STUPID BLOG! and that lack of intelligence that you show is going to make me all less more likely to read it. or think of you as a human being. ugh.

i got my wisdom teeth out yesterday. let me say this: if any dentist or doctor ever tells you that they should come out, you flip them the bird and tell them you will just live with them. trust me, it's got to be better than the alternative. one of, if not the(thee? thats how i want it to be pronounced in your head) worst experiences in my life. and i've been through shite. i mean, the utter terror of the idea is enough. i had a headache for like three days before the procedure from anxiety i guess, and when i walked in the office i started to hyperventilate. logically, i knew (and notice i said knew. i have since learned the truth, but i'll get to that.) that i had nothing really to fear. i had heard both good and bad stories, and i had a little faith mine would you know, fall in the middle. i'm not scared of needles, i give blood regularly. and i'm not at all scared of dentists. and yet....the concept of having four chunks of my skull removed was terrifying. i actually teared up in the chair before the procedure even started. little did i know...
anyhoo, i get my IV and i'm pumped full (and i use that term loosely) of valium. so i do calm down significantly. however, the doctor(quack) told me that i was going to remember little, if anthing of the procedure.
LIAR.
i remember every last thing. we sang "hey jude", "have yourself a merry little christmas" and half of "deck the halls". i guess he did it to get my mind off of the removal of portions of my skull, but i wasn't as full of valium as i would have guessed i was going to be. i was quite aware of what was going on. one, two, three teeth out, during the songfest, and i have to say, while it was far from comfortable, it wasn't unbearable. but then, the fourth tooth. i think he might have only injected three areas of my mouth with novocaine, and forgotten one. my upper left. because when he pulled that last one, it was the most painful experience of my entire life. i'm actually surprised i remained in control of all my bodily functions. the reason we sang half of "deck the halls" was because at the moment during the song when he pulled that last tooth, i let out the the most blood curdling scream i've ever heard, let alone done myself. then i freaked out and started bawling. it was unbelievable. i'm still reeling. and do you know what he said?? after i had let out a scream that, had ledrew (my responsible adult) not had headphones on in the waiting room on the other side of the building, he surely would have heard, the quack said "ha! she didn't like that one did she?" he scarred me for life, and he laughed at it. i can't even wrap my head around it. he was lucky i was so drugged i couldn't stand up, or i would have pulled out his prostate and fed it to him.
and so, instead of leaving the office quite calm, like i would have if the bastard had done the job right, i left, sobbing, and bleeding from the mouth(poor ledrew was horrified) and completely level headed. i couldn't even attribute the initial hysteria to being stoned, because aside from being a little wobbly on my legs, i was completely normal. well, at least the stupid teeth can't grow back.
just keep them. hang on to your wisdom teeth for dear life. sweet jesus.
though admittedly, i expected much worse for the after effects than i am experiencing thus far. i mean, i'm in pain, my painkillers are doing little more than dulling the sensation, aside from burning holes in my stomach wall. and causing insomnia. that's why i'm up at 8:12 right now. not a terrific feat. but seeing as i didn't sleep more than 5 hours the night before the surgery, and i slept for twenty minutes yesterday afternoon, going to bed at 2:30am and walking up at 4:30am is a little unsettling for me. but on the plus side, there is no swelling or bruising (yet) and only moderate stiffness. so i might make the burke reunion yet.
i'm going to go call my mom now. she always make me feel better when im sick.
m.
as for a song, anything but "hey jude" or christmas music. i need time to recover emtionally.

zee rules

i have a set of rules. while i'm not usually one to play by the rules (a rebel without a cause, if you will), when it comes to exam time, you must obtain some kind of order in your life or a wonderful thing called failing tends to happen.
my rules don't really pertain to studying (oh no, because that, my friends, would be productive) but moreso to the exam writing process itself. everyone has these little habits. you see people rocking back and forth in their chairs, people with strings tied around every finger, people viciously trying to gnaw their writing arm off in a last desperate attempt to try and keep from writing the final. for me, it's a little different. not much. but a little. here are my little quirks, little things i tell myself to avoid a full blown panick attack.

• i typically always wear a beatles teeshirt for all midterms/tests/whatever. but, i always wear the same one all during finals. which is fine for my distance courses, i mean, who the hell are these people anyway? but as for all my other classes, my bio and chem courses, etc, well, i happen to be one of a large number of people that are also doing all those courses. so while i enjoy the beauty of anomynity in one or two of my finals, everyone i am in classes with otherwise (and will continue to be in classes with until i finish my degree) thinks i'm a huge dirtbag. nevermind that i wore an assorted wardrobe all term, they won't remember that. but i don't care. because i am, in fact, ridiculously superstitious. which will you see more and more as this list goes on. it goes so much deeper than clothes.
• i also take a little magnet to my exams with me. its a little gift claire brought me back from london. it's actually from abbey road. the way i see it, something that came straight from where all the magic happened can't hurt, that's for sure. ( side note: i really like italics.)
• okay, here's where it gets a little gross. don't get me wrong. i shower, wash hair, polish, exfoliate and hell, even wear make up to exams. but, (and i can't believe i'm about to admit this) i don't brush my teeth. WAIT!! don't judge me! not that it makes it any better, but i never eat before exams, and i brush my teeth right before i go to bed at around 5:30 am, so really, it's only been like two hours since i've brushed my teeth when i leave the house to write it! i was right, that doesn't make it better at all. but it's just a thing i have. it's like brushing away all the information that's set in while i slept (if i've slept) and even as i'm say this, i know that sounds absolutely insane. i understand if when you pass me in the street now, you shift your eyes downward and quicken your pace

as for actually writing the exam, i have several mantras. things i tell myself either out of necessity, or just to make myself feel better about the process. they are as follows.

• "DO NOT cry in the exam room. they tend to frown upon that". first of all, once i start i can't stop, and i just might spend two hours in an exam room whimpering. that would be very distracting to everyone involved. not to mention, the snot involved. EVERYONE is sick at exam time, and the mucous levels in the exam rooms are terrifying to begin with. i'm not going to contribute to that. one thing i don't worry about though, is that if i cry, people will think that i'm crazy. because i know they already think i'm a hobo who only has one outfit that i wear every day.
• "your parents love you unconditionally". i'm not really sure this statement is true, per se, but it does provide some comfort. i mean, sure, they can't really say anything to me, i'm paying for my education with a bazillion dollars in student loans, but they are fickle people, my parents. well, my mom. she's apeshit crazy. i figure my dad's got my back though. (i can only say that my mom is insane because she don't even know what the weeb *is*. otherwise i'd get disowned.)
• and last but not least "you would, in fact, make a wonderful hairdresser. and with a pethora of knowledge in molecular biology to boot!" okay, maybe not a plethora. i imagine that's why i'd have to become a hairdresser in the first place, my inability to accumulate knowledge. but the fact remains; i have hair, i'm sure i can learn how to dress it. so come what may, i'll make my way in the world, doing hair shows and....nails...i don't know that much about hairdressing. maybe i'll try culinary school instead. pfft.
• oh, and i also keep telling myself that i just need to get through this degree and then i can move to england, buy a tiny car, marry colin firth and live happily ever after. (that one keeps me going all term)

and so only two left. two exams left to write until i can brush my teeth everytime i leave the house and wear different outfits on occasion(not too often though, that really is my favorite shirt). it feels like i've been writing exams forever. it feels like i've been in labour for a week now, and its not one big baby, but quints. i'm sure my sister (who is a new mother) will slap me senseless as soon as she sees me for that remark.

merry christmas and happy Hanukah (i don't know any jewish people at present, but i'd like to sometime in the future.)

Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra - It's a Marshmallow World

"you don't know the power of the dark side..."

ko, here's the set up.
i'm a member of the rebel alliance, and i've been captured by the empire. i am about to meet my doom...
or, i'm at HMV and i'm cracking up because a darth is asking me if i want to "hold his light saber".
did i ever.