cauliflower with me s'il vous plait

Oh my brothers, today was passed with the lamest of ease. The majority of my day was spent running around the house in a wife-beater and my underwear singing 'Golddigger' at the top of my lungs . . . when Monsieur Kanye demands you to 'go ahead girl go ahead get down', goddammit, you muthafucking get down. It is quite possible that every person in a 10 block radius is completely sick of that song because of me. It's a feat I am rather proud of.

Aside from the sheer jackassery, I spent the rest of the day devouring the history of Islamic and Christaindom wars . . . oh delicious nerditry. I'm sure sometime in the not so distant future, I'll have to leave my house, perhaps, when the Kanye West Well of Happiness drys up.

Pip Pip!

beyond radtacular

HOLYPISS!! Oh my fucking god, if you don't watch this, I will be forced to hate everything about you because it's necessary to my heart that everybody has seen this video . . . the man in the scarf is my latest and greatest boyfriend.

Props to Raymi for always finding the greatest sites on the internet . . . also it's likely that I hate myself for the sickly use of the word 'props'. Whatevs.

meat numchucks: the greatest weapon of all

Oh ho ho my brothers, this week has been filled with far too much work and slackassery for posty goodness. Oh my, the rum flowed freely this week . . . it has been my ascertaination to fill every last free second of summer with drunken goodtimes, and if that fails at least some bloody goodtimes.

Earlier in the week, under the careful watch of the Council of The Smeltrex and Neville Helmet Hotbottom, I was beyond drunkedy-drunk. Oh my, it was fun and goodtimes abounds . . . that was until we hit the pool and played drunken turtle crotchballs. I downed half the pool in my pathetic, flailing attempts to stay afloat. Normally, swallowing pool water is a rather unfortunete moment in every swimmer's life but is paid little heed. This would apply if it was in any other pool, but this very pool has a designated 'free-range pube zone', where there is always inevitably some cluster of pubic hair floating carefree. With every gulp of pool water, a little part of me died. It was radtacular!

tales of extreme bochi

Oi vey, I am like an old lady today. After many rounds of rum-induced 'Extreme Bochi Ball' I have managed to hurt my back. Muthafucking bochi ball of death!

Let me tell you my brothers, the pain is totally worth it as I slaughtered all of the gents . . . well, that and the garden. I have this inately special talent to completely destroy everything I'm not supposed to hit, the garden was one of those unfortunete things. Followed by a very clear warning not to hit the garden, I then proceeded to throw the ball directly into the sodding bit. The causalities were great and plently, and include 3 beet plants, a head of lettace, and an airplane-shaped windsock. I'm an asshole and the beets resent me for it.

little bunny foo foo can bust a move like none other

Ohhh my, last night was fun and goodtimes abounds! Me and some of the ladies hit up Whyte Ave in a drunken fever last night.

It was high times, my brothers, high times . . . mostly because the nastiest drink known to mankind was on uber-cheap at the Urban Lounge: it was Jagermeister night. This of course, only meant two things: (1) despite my hatred of the taste of Jager (unless carefully concealed in a Jagerbomb), I was naturally compelled to drink only Jagermeister the entire night . . . my stomach loathes me for this. (2) To promote this 'night o' Jager,' the bar was handing out cheesy Jager themed prizes to those retarded enough to dance to the unfortunate bagpipe rock group of the night. One of those things were orange foam antlers, this naturally lead to me and Teresa to determining that our dancing for the rest of the night would be themed as 'Animals of the Forest'. Many a dance move was busted in order to satisfy the Gods of Drunken-Theme-Nights . . . my favorite of which was the 'Little Bunny Foo Foo', it was fucking intense.

Perhaps my greatest joy in going to any bar in Edmonton is the amazing phenomenon that grips follow Edmontonians . . . suddenly all the nerdy white boys and the no-neck men think they can dance. Let me tell you, my brothers, this serves only to bring joy to my heart and soul. The best of all this came towards the end of our stint at the Urban Lounge, the Jager was flowing freely and there were antlers as far as the eye could see . . . naturally the scene was set for a dance-off between the alpha-nerds of the Jagerhorn adorned pack. Well, it wasn't so much of a dance-off but more so them running at each other attempting to ram and rut the orange antlersoff each others heads . . . it was disturbing and wonderful at the same time. Dang!

i, geek

Oh ho ho laziness abounds!! I have not posted in a bit because I am a sloth-like git . . . half sloth, half girl, it's friggin awesome.

Oh my brothers, I have worked myself into quite a frenzy about school, I am beyond excited to return to my precious academics. I miss how Tory makes you feel completely trapped in academia, especially when the metal shuttters mechanically slide down and trap you in oppression. I greatly miss the horrid smells of fat and oil in HUB and how they slather your veins in sticky cholesterol. Most of all, I miss wandering about a sobbing waif because I have been up for 3 straight days writing papers . . . sigh, those are the moments you treasure.

new deeps of procrastination

Today I managed to not completely suck at life!! I actually registered for my classes like 3 hours before confirmation fee is due . . . this is a sodding record. Normally I like to wait until I break a cold sweat everytime academics is mentioned before I even deal with that whole mess. Oh ho ho, my brothers, I am victorious once again over the austistic system that U of A likes to call Beartracks. One day I swear I will dance on its grave . . . one glorious day. DANG!

rocking the casbah

Having just returned from dropping off The Mombles, it is time, my brothers, for one of my most favoritest things: sitting in my basement drinking litres of spicy tea and listening to my most beloved albums at obscene volumes. There will be a mix between the very old and the very youthful; an eclectic mix of awesomeness! I'm off to rock out to that far out sound.

a faux goodtime

So last night's debotchery was fun and goodtimes! Unfortunetely, the hangover is one mean muthafucker! I am like a blanket-yeti . . . me and my hordes of blankets move from random place to random place only to nap or have some form of nourishment. But luck is on my side, I learned many a good things last night so this hangover isn't for nothing. For example, never bear the gift of Chungking Express as entertainment, especially when the host has no means of procurring a VHS player. As well, boys will resort to lies and slander to win the simplest of movie trivia games. One particularly malicious boy resorted to the lowest of the low in order to win a friendly game, he made the mutherfucking film up! I shank people for less!! And most importantly, and the reason for the yeti-ness, is that wine is one mean muthafucker.

getting my drunk on

Ohh my brothers, I am excited! Tomorrow will be full of fun and goodtimes as me and my fellow cohorts overindulge in sangria, food and Zhang Yimou!! I shall keep an air of mystery around all the goodtimes planned until it transpires, as it is well-known that the greatest and lamest prize of all is the surprize! Oh ho ho smashing wit indeed!

For those unfortunete enough to not be having a mid-week sangria drunk on, I highly recommend watching Feist on Bravo. Sit back, my friends, and enjoy that far out sound.

under the thimble

There is something about really great films that fills me with the desire to create. Maybe it's that I aspire to be a director or perhaps it's that seeing someone else's art makes me want to create my own . . . whatever it is, I loves it! I just finished watching 'In the Realm of the Unknown', it was fantasic and it has left me feeling full of inspiration. I want to sew, I want to draw and I want to paint!! Bring Phasoom the Magnificent!! I wish to feel his cold yeilding pedal against my foot as I embark on a creative disaster.

you got to know your chicken

I woke up and had that familar smell of campfire and over-indulgence . . . the smell of patheticness is one that I am only too familar with. I curse who ever invented dry cider coolers!

bonjour mon petite freres

Hallo my brothers. I am one very drunk little girl . . . one might say I am 'hooked on the juice'. The Smeltrex and Lava came over and joined me in a few coolers. By a few I mean enough to get me COMPLETELY TANKED! I curse the room for all the spinning and the general dizziness that has ensued. Not to my worry my friend, I have many a good things to keep me occupied. I'm off to drunk goodtimes!! WOOT!