an espresso fuelled ramble

Oh my brothers, today was a day of greatness. It involved my most favoritest things: Whyte Ave, cappucinos and lots of film. It was my kick off day of the Edmonton Film Festival and was dazzled by the likes of Eve and the Firehorse and C.R.A.Z.Y., both of which were only to please my little heart. Ha! Be jealous of my amazing Canadian indie film day.

I must admit that I am now completely in love with C.R.A.Z.Y, it was what film should always strive to be: poignant, innovative and wonderfully narrative. Oh sigh, I loved it so. It was filled with wonderful character details that greatly remind me of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's penchance for revealing the mundane details of his characters. The love to read the most idle things and the necessity to iron toast, small details and quirks . . . I loves it.

Between the films was jaunty goodness, I wandered Whyte Ave like none other . . . Whyte Ave has become my home, I know the streets in and out and they embrace me like we were old friends. The graffiti I have come to know very well, I seek it out and with bright eyes of a child I take it all in. Indeed, I have become an obsessive nerd in the worst way.

Viva la France!

could it be anymore obvious!

My camera has broken on me, the little rat bastard!! Therefore I have resorted to this, pathetic indeed.

crinkly is the new pink

Oh man, today is the greatest fall day evah! It's those cheesy hallmark fall days where it's cool enough to put on your favorite long sleeve shirt and fashion scarf and your outfit is not impeded by a jacket. It's bloody brilliant. Plus, everything is crinkly, the ground is covered with noisy bits that whisper the mysteries of the universe everytime you crash through them. The air even smells crinkly, how else can you describe fall? As far as I'm concerned no word other than 'crinkly' aptly fits everything about fall and greatness of. Ha! I intend to run about like a banshee tonight making that delicious crinkly bits noise where ever I please!

Oh ho ho, I do love those exclaimation marks! Exclaim, I say!!

zombies are gross

I have a new most favoritest thing to do that will make everyone jealous of how awesome cool I am. This even beats the "Metropolis Run of Glory" which trust me my brothers is pretty freaking cool. Basically, it's me running around the house doing my best zombie child voice and singing
"I swim with the fishes cause the fish are alright. Oh my my just to get you to bite". Needless to say, it's pretty damn cool.

It's okay to be jealous.

the nerd-times are killing me

I have been a bad blogger as of late and it's not for a lack of wanting to post, it's the dauntingness of the white screen and the inevitable typing that must occur that puts me off. Chalkful of ridicious thoughts and yet no means to communicate it to my fingers . . . my clumsy fingers are my archnemisi. Oxen fingers of death, if you will.

So tonight will be a night of film goodness. I have rented the two weirdest new releases I could find. One being a post-soviet movie called "Since Otar Left", the second being the Korean film "A Tale of Two Sisters". Me thinks the second will be my favoritest, namely because it's a weird fairytale horror film in the traditional Korean pansori narrative style. WOOT!! That's not to say that Soviet film doesn't have it's merits because lets face it, I loves the USSR. *sigh* crazy pinko, I know.

Speaking of amazingly awesome film, the Edmonton International Film Festival is almost upon us. I have narrowed it down to six films I will be attending and strongly urge everyone with a love of good film to get themselves a EIFF guide and check out the amazingness abounds! Oh my brothers these are the nerd times I dream of.

reactionaries are tricky muthafuckers

I just finished writing the most ridicious essay titled "Normative Relativists are Reactionaries in Disguise". An essay can't be too horrible with a title like that, right? RIGHT?!!

for the love of porcelian

Two Campbell women should never be allowed to hatch plots together. Me and the Mombles have decided that due to our exponentially growing weirdness, in order to keep anybody around for long, we will have to wage psychological warfare. The plan is quite simple. Basically, we plan on convincing our significant others that they are insane and therefore our seemingly strange behaviour is only in their imagination. Oh ho ho, it'll be greatness. Small changes at first, like changing the color of their toothbrush or replacing all the non-garlic pickles in the fridge with ripe garlic ones.

The next step is my favorite: experimentations in perspective. Slowly we will change small white porcelian mugs for another that is only slightly larger. Once a week the cup will be exchanged for a new, identical mug (only slightly larger). My hope is that they will think that the coffee is shrinking, that my friends, is the first sign of the experiment working. Naturally, the expanding of a simple white mug will tire over time, one can renew the thrill of torment by randomly interchanging the biggest and greatest porcelian mug with the smaller ones. Of course, it is of the utmost importance to always return to the big mug, especially when the tortured significant other becomes wary of your ways. Small steps, my friend, small steps are essential to this plan.

This whole experiment is intended to completely shatter the confidence in the individual. Everything must be watched carefully or it could change before their very eyes. Coffee mugs are tricky muthafuckers. Their sanity will be so fragile that they will assume that you are the only one who could love such a demented freak such as themselves.

Can't you feel the facial tick forming? Delish.

sometimes just lazy

Bonjour mon petite freres. Oh my, this week has been filled with slackassery abounds. I have been absorbed with my readings (hence the lack of posts), all wonders of 20th century warfare has been commanding all my attention with a right fever. It really has been fantastical being back at my school, I miss the learning when I'm not there . . . ohhh yes I am the biggest in nerditry.

talk nerdy to me

Oh my brothers, my first days back to school have been lovely . . . my precious hollowed halls of University of Alberta how I love thee. For the last two days I have been doing all I can to resist the temptation to hug to dirty brick walls of Tory. Pathetic indeed! But oh how great my classes are shaping up to be.

My history classes are pretty much fantastic, both of my profs are socially awkward and naive as they have only spent four years at the university combined. My Russian history prof blushes furiously whenever anyone acknowledges his existence and then proceeds to ramble on about Poland and the greatness of. It's brilliant! My warfare history prof swears like a sailor . . . when a class starts with an obscenely loud profanity it's practically a given that it'll be a wonderous class. As well, he's also promised a visit from Romeo Dallaire of whom's brain I want to pick. All my nerdy dreams are coming true!!

Finally, to my nerdy delight all my drinking buddies from Carmichael's class are in my Middle East politics class!! This means many trips to the Powerplants and the inevitable drunken goodtimes!!

. . . Basically, this post means absolutely nothing to anybody but me. Perhaps, my brothers, you can revel in my academic goodtimes. Happiness abounds.

lycra is social masochism

I have a confession to make my brothers . . . I love chubby people who wear tight lycra tank tops. It's just the most socially awkward fabric anyone could wear, it assures patheticness in the coolest of ways possible. Oh ho ho, and you know who I speak of, my lycra bound friend, I want to be the best of friends with you and your uncomfortably tight shirt. We shall go old together and you can wear your stretchy shirt everyday. Sadly, it'll last longer than the two of us; still shiny and stretchy as ever when we become frail and old because it is the styrofoam of fabrics.

The lycra will never die like my love for you.

pip pip old beans

A storm's a brewin' outside, this of course can mean only one thing: I am put automatically into old lady survival mode. I am curdled up in the biggest, softest blanket I can find with ice cream and cheesy movies to keep me company. I'm watching the Notebook which is something I normally wouldn't admit but you are my beautiful strangers and therefore can be privy to the lamest of me. Oh my brothers, this is the lamest of the lame.

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!

oh be joyful

Last night was bloody brilliant my brothers! Matthew Good played Telus Stage at Klondike Days last night and being the crazy little fan girl that I am, I was in attendance. The greatest bit of it all was that The Mombles agreed to accompany me, she finally got to witness the patented Matthew Good head waggle of herself . . . it's pretty much amazing!

Before the concert, me and The Mombles walked the exhibition. By mother's demand, every greasy food was to be sampled, savoured and enjoyed . . . it was less strolling the grounds and more so eating our way through virtual abby of deep-fried delights. Oh ho ho my brothers, it started with an elephant ear and only went downhill from there. Soon the telltale sign of too much food fun was beginning to rear it's ugly head - I had a killer stomach-ache.

To avoid me vomitting at the fair and my mother's inate capacity to find every sort of food and make me eat it, we decided to take in a show (which was thankfully food-free with the exception of the stall popcorn). What we sat down to was, quite possibly, the most retarded thing I had ever seen. It was like the Marvel Hair College of Cirque de Soliel and only a bazillion times more cheesy . . . and only to worsen matters was that there was a mime between acts. A very crappy mime indeed. Throughout the entire show me and The Mombles searched the rows of seats around us for an escape . . . there was none. To prevent the onset of a food coma we spent our time mocking the show in such crude ways that the lady in front of us looked like she wanted to light our hair on fire. Whatevs, the show must go on and we were getting restless. So onward bounds to more food consumption!

Having run out of things to eat and my stomach reaching maximum capacity, it was time for my pyschosis to have it's time to shine! It was nearing 6:30 when we finally walked towards the Telus stage. I have this thing about waiting in lines for concerts . . . if I don't get to wait, I feel insane and twitchy, it's a simple must-do in my concert routine. Typically, I like a good 9 hour wait (granted no one else is ever there and there everyone thinks I'm insane but it's cathartic) and the mere 2 hour wait ahead of me had put in me quite the state. I was dizzy with excitment and completely frantic. The wait was painful . . . I couldn't move because I was waiting for my Matt Good buddies to show. Sean, Chad and Aaron are always at the Edmonton shows and we formed a bond over our mutual obsession. My favorite part about the boys is that they have admitted that I reign supreme as the numbro 1 pyscho Matt Good fan and they only fight amongst themselves for position 2 & 3.

At 8:30 my legs were twitching and all I wanted to do was stand at the covetted front of stage area were a wobby picket fence was set up to help contain the crowd (great fucking idea might I add, it was at an diagonial for most of the show). Unfortunetely, standing wasn't allowed until 9 o'clock. At 8:50 I'd had enough and nonchalantly swaggered my way up to the fence . . . this caused a riot as people began to rush the stage, amongst those were my mom, Sean and Aaron. They secured themselves besides me and we braced ourselves against any attempts to steal our spots. Sean looked over at me and grinned, "Wow! You control the alley at shows and now you cause a riot!! How do you control the crowd like that?!" It's sheer talent my friend.

The show began on time, starting with Sean's favorite song, so he was beyond thrilled and I was giddy just seeing Matthew Good & co perform. The greatest was when The Mombles stopped her rocking out and crammed kleenex into her ears and then preceeded to rock out like it ain't no thang! The show was amazing, the crowd wasn't too rowdy (despite all the beer I knew was sloushing around behind us), and it had stopped raining . . . the concert Gods were in a great mood that night.

All of this lead up to the greatest moment, the band was still and a great hum came out of the speakers. I knew this song, and looking at Sean and Aaron's grins, they did too. At the same time in crazy fangirl mode, we all screamed "Advertising on Police Cars" and started to grin like fools. Oh my brothers it was so good, so very good. Everytime you here an Audio of Being song you cherish it, because they were so rarely played in the past. Police Cars was amazing, the crowd slowed their crazy jumping and gave into a gentle sway . . . it was fanfuckingtastic! The rest of the night was a blur as nothing could beat hearing such a great song live, it was beautiful. Holypiss!

The concert ended on a familar note, Apparitions. Which was accoustical and brilliant, a great way to end the evening. After begging for a set list (which I got!), me and my cohorts happily stumbled off into the night. There we were met by a very long and winding line . . . Matt Good was signing autographs for everyone in line. Mom looked pleadingly at me as I dragged her into the line, she was a very tired mother at this point. After many threats and curses, she finally conceded to hanging out with me and the boys for autographs. Matt couldn't of been more gracious, he was so polite to my mom it was hilarious! She walked up all brazon and handed him a piece of paper to sign. "Matt you ROCKED tonight!" and it was followed by a polite thank you. Oh ho ho the Mombles had warned me she was a slutty groupie near rockstars, they brought out the worst in her, but she carried herself well. I got to say my typical hello and awkward handshake and had to move on, as I would not be capable to maintain my conposure long.

After the meeting, we all prepared to part ways vowing to hang out at the next show. Being nerds we all did the 'go team' hand-thingy . . . it was pathetically fun! Basically after all of this, I'm trying express the fact that it was the night of awesomeness. Mr Matthew Good always manages to please!

GOODTIMES ABOUNDS!! More tommorow, sleep now! 

spin the meat-wheel and win!

Hallo my brothers. Oh I require to do something great . . . I have a general feeling of listlessness tonight.

Prehaps it's because tomorrow I'll be front and center at the Matthew Good show. It hasn't fully hit me that it's tomorrow, when it does, I'll be a little obsessive force to be reckoned with.

But even more I think I am just wanting to cause some trouble . . . start a Bakunin-like revolution, only without the pimps and criminals. Perhaps it will be labeled the diet-Bakunin revolution of which people just feel really rowdy and do something retarded like stop recycling for a day or steal ice cream from a small child. I think that would be friggin awesome. I have already started the rebellion by not cutting my hair in like bazillion weeks . . . I look like one uber-lame bohemian muthafucker. VIVE LA REVOLUTION!

doggie farts, gladdens my heart

Oi vey, it's going to be a stressful week my brothers. Work is putting me in such a temper that the only way to calm myself is to pick up heavy and breakable things and just smash the motherfucking shit out of it . . . it makes my insides smile when things smash. So basically for the next week posting will practically be nil, due to all the work-related suckiness. The vast exception to this rule will be on Thursday, in which, I intend to fully rant about how amazing Matt Good is. Ranting in annoyingly long and tedious detail. It'll be brilliant my brothers!

down by the bay

I love the word 'asshat'. Try it, it rolls off your tongue and lingers gentley in the air. How, one might ask, such a graceful word has such pertenance in my vocabulary? Well, my brothers, the answer lies between the theighs of a sweaty male stripper and an unfortunete bachlorette. Awesome grossness abounds!! Needless to say, I now have an affinity for the peelers because if nothing else it's a riot of nast.

The word 'swagina' also fills me heart with the grossest of glee!!

The next greatest thing to watch, other than greasy half-naked men, is the classy people that fill the King's Knight Pub. It was so sleazy, I could do nothing but sit back and enjoy that far-out sound. By far, the greatest was this extremely lanky and awkward man who danced like he was holding luggage at all times . . . I want to marry him. Honestly man!! Swing your sodding arms, elbows are meant for the bending. Oh ho ho, it was lameness abounds last night!!

This topiary frame is the origin of a whole lot of friggin' lame.

'Hey look the lions are up . . . and humping.'
You should have seen the muthafuckers run after I said that. Sodding pervert tourists.

Quite possibly the creepiest manhole cover evah!
'I'll swallow your soul!'

jiggy with the potter

Hallo! I went many a places yesterday . . . great places with bears and bats and everything that I love. Also many a good places with tweed and polkadots . . . it was goodtimes abounds. Unfortunetely, if I don't read Harry Potter like right now something inside of me will die, so I am off to rock with the Potter.

Nerdy details about my jaunty couple of days to follow tomorrow after some quality book time.

Goodnight, sleep tight, strangers.

amazing adventures with perch boy

Everytime the preview for 'The Dukes of Hazzard' comes on, I begin to bash my head against the wall several times . . . being concust is the only way I can even remotely stand it.

Last night I had a dream I was trapped in a car with Perch Boy. The car was in the middle of a park and there was a quite obviously an axe-welding maniac right outside of the car. If I left the car it meant certain death, if I stayed in the car it meant hanging out with Perch Boy and his slimy ways. He would waggle his eyebrows and I would frantically weigh my odds against the axe and the general badness of the muthafucker outside the car door. When avoiding the advances of my fishlike car cohort, I could hear the quiet hum of an eager axe blade. I took my chances with the Perch and woke up in a cold sweat of grossiness.

the ultimate in lame chic

God fucking dammit!! Sodding 'Big Brother' is on again. Naturally this means that I will watch it and have to hide my love of it from everyone. It's so friggin lame and yet everytime I am obsessed with it!! My most favoritest part of it all it is that everyone is such a whiny backstabbing uberskank . . . it gives me warm feelings of happiness.

Also sometimes I feel the compulsion to mention that I never want to have children, but if John Cusack asked, I would totally say yes. Think of the nerdy greatness our children would have! I would make them wear the same unicorn sweater everyday. Since I'm too lazy to knit two sweaters, I'll force our children to share it . . . the wool sweater will smell like an unhappy childhood rightfully should. The entire goal would be to create the most magnificent social outcasts ever. And as they age into bitter and resentful adults, the smell of sweaty, unwashed woollen sweaters will cause them to collapse into sobbing heaps of misery. Oh my brothers, that'd be friggin amazing!

ma petite deformo

I am sitting here watching 'Coffee and Cigarettes'. I can feel my lungs slowly turn to rot and my rampant desire for espresso begin to take hold. Holypiss, I wish there was a 24-hour espresso joint and then all my wildest dreams would come true. This movie is beyond boring. Meg White is an everyday sort of ugly, that's why I love her so. My little deformo.

Tonight will be a night for mischief . . . oh ho ho my brothers, the trouble I am wishing to cause.

goodtimes abounds

Hallo my brothers! I'm drunkedly drunk drunk . . . fairly certain that this is breaking some obscenely lame blogging rule about drunkeness and posty goodness but WHATEVS I say! Me and the schmeltrex have been drinking for 6 consecutive hours (schmel refuses to spell for me despite her being an comp lit major and all. Fucker).

Currently all I can say is this: I heart rum, schmel is the sodding Hoover Dam and crotch balls is the greatest game evah . . . perhaps this is why there is a rule against the drunken posts. It's going to be a sullen morning of editting tomorrow. Dang!

God speed mon freres!

My house is where heat goes to die. It's freakin 30 degrees outside and yet my house is like a sodding icebox. I've been screaming "Fuck you cold! Fuck you house!" and yet still no warmth. Apparently, yelling at the air in your house will do nothing to effect the temperature . . . honestly, I am disappointed. It's so cold I want to die. Fucking cold.

the miracle of rummy-rum

Hallo my brothers, I have returned to my internet whoring ways. I have betrayed you, my sweet internet . . . je regrette.

My entire week was spent in drunken awesomeness. The amount of rum I consumed practically turned me into a pirate . . . amazing! During my crazy little binges I have learned the importance of table feng shui. HOLYPISS!! It's sodding essential that the soy sauce, salt and pepper shakers do not rape every visual sensibility. Everytime my gaze was directed at the table, I would vomit just a bit into my mouth . . . not the most pleasing experience. Oh ho ho, you know which pub I'm speaking of, you hideous muthafucker. Hours, or perhaps minutes, were spent attempting to degross the table.

Sadly, there were a few low times in which I wasn't pissed out of my mind. The majority of which I spent obsessing over my quest for a new camera. It is the essential bit to the beginning of my fantastical art project. Vive la Urban Landscapes Project!! I also made the world's ugliest tote bag, it is so friggin' amazing! I shall name it 'The Champion Tote of Hideously Amazing Awesomeness'. It's important to my heart that there is an obscene amount of emphasis on the word 'champion' because it is that good.

. . . I'm chalk full of ADD.

dear customers

I have decided to remove this post . . . namely, because it sucked ass.

I regret to inform you my brothers, but I require a small hiatus from having to think in a sensical way. Writing and thinking (and most especially working the two together) are one mean team of muthafucking pain in my frontal lobe right now. I'm the queen of lame with my Lindsay sodding Lohan exhaustion.

I'll be back in a few days or a week . . . whatevs. Godspeed mon freres.

arrr matey

I just made myself the biggest muthafucker of a salad. I feel like I have scurvy . . . not that I know what scurvy feels like, but of all the retarded illnesses to get I think scurvy would be my most favoritest.

I had a really stupid friend who had scurvy once. Actually, he had it three times. The guy was a bloody moron, my favorite part of it all was that he was surprised everytime it happened. Although, it's pretty cool to be 'that dude with scurvy', no one else has that nickname . . . he was friggin infamous around town. So my brothers, it's salad time followed by a delicious blend of pine needle tea to stop the discoloration of my limbs. Neat!

the luckiest one of all

They found a puppy with six legs and two penises! Wow! SIX LEGS!

ragu and i are forming a stratagem for world domination

Since I posted last night I have been completely consumed with wanting to run out outside and scream like a banshee as I proceed to vandalize the property of my fellow neighbours . . . because screaming like a banshee won't draw any attention to the fact that I'm hold a spray can, it's simple logic my brothers. I just so excited to actually feel artistic again! I blame photography which has become my full-time hobby, I can't leave the house without my camera as it makes me feel uncomfortable in all sorts of awkward/fun ways.

Since I have become a totaly slave to my camera, I have noticed the details of the places and faces around me with a sudden intensity. It is impossible for me to go for a walk without finding a bazillion things to photograph. It's exciting to stumble around outside and find the art in everything . . . the angles, the colors, or just general awesomeness. Oh ho ho my brothers, I am so thrilled right now. I am off to rule the day with my camera!!

capricorn on the cusp of lame

a late night tale of greatness

Oh wow, I almost forgot how awesome late-night walks are . . . it's bloody amazing! They always make me feel alive and also just completely creepy, which I love!! This particular walk was definately on the 'Top Ten Walks of All Time' list of which I have just randomly compiled. Not only was it a perfect night for a walk, it was cool but not chilly, but also I had selected the most amazing music to walk by, The Flaming Lips - Late Night Tales. Neat!

I have the best ideas when I am on my midnight jaunts. This one was particularly productive . . . of course, my great ideas only mean trouble but oh my brothers I am exicted for these ones.

Awesomeness numbro 1: I have been developing a strange obsession with graffiti as of late. Since I have fled the sciences in bloody terror, I have become more consumed with the arts . . . I'll take any art-like thing I can get my greedily little orbs on. I happen to love graffiti, I think it's fantastic and amazing in every way! While walking I have decided that I want to indulge in the neato art of vandalism. I will embrace the call of spray paint and stencils (because I am a wimp with an unsteady hand). My only plan for my new art will be the requirement of it being awesomely lame, like a pink unicorn with the words 'origin of awesomeness' scrawled beside it. It'll be one mean mutha of a stencil.

Awesomeness numbro 2: This one is a secret for now . . . just know that the name I am playing with is 'The Urban Landscapes Project' (assuming there isn't already a project of one such name) and will include prostitutes and many other great things. More to follow on this one my brothers.

Godspeed homeslices!

adventures with hithero

Ohh today is going to be a day of greatness. I shall spend the entire day in a near vegetative state, only to leave when I hear the call of espresso, and then return to resume my veggy-like ways. I like eggplant . . . I intend to sit on the sofa and just concentrate on becoming one such vegetable. Purple is a smashing color to bring out the green of my eyes.

I have developed the most pathetic habit of awesomeness as of late. I am so eager to indulge in the internet that when my alarm goes off to ring in the morning, I greedily grope at my laptop as I wipe the sleep out of my eyes. It's sad really, it's the first thing on my mind. I read through all my favorite blog haunts and then preceed to read the news and worldy happenings. It's has gotten to the point that I am almost excited to be awake because surely in the few hours I am alseep someone has posted something amazing. The sky is literally falling in the Prairies and we are doomed to be consumed by the North Saskatchewan River, and I am pathetically consumed by the internet and the greatness of. Neat!

squee for daddy

Hallo my brothers. I seriously have a big lack of nothing to say so I'll point in the direction of Tony and Raymi because they are blogging gods.

Enjoy my friends. Enjoy.

"ticketmaster is gay. assraping iraqi kids is gay. covering it up is impeachable."
-Tony Pierce

 

henrique and i

Ahh yes, the greatest cure-all for all your sorrows is alcohol mon freres. I just returned from the bar with a happy buzz. Not only have I embraced alcoholism but I am nuturing and developing my addiction. I want it to be something great . . . perhaps something the neighbours will talk about in hushed tones over their chain-link fences. I picture my little alcoholic habit as a swarmy used car salesman named Henrique . . . really he only wants the best for me (or so he shall say). When I am down or feeling blue he shall whisper sweet, swarmy nothings in my ear of all things related to rum. Whisper whissssssssssppppppppperrrrrrrr.

prepare to meet your doom and destruction

Holypiss! I am in a world of a bad mood today. Fuckity Fuck. The one person I really want to talk to isn't speaking to me and being quite obviously shafty. I just want to throw things at random strangers . . . sharp and unbouncy objects. Just down the street all the sidewalks were repaved today and are currently vunerable to my wrath-filled vandalism. I think I'll draw a giant mutant cow face or something retarded to spite everyone in my neighbourhood. I'm bored and I need espresso, so I am off to grumble into the night.

razmataz

Watch me dazzle you with my vastly retarded knowledge!! Hitler was a vegetarian! Neat!

. . . what a waste of a post.

frozen and meat-free

It's yet another dreary day of overcast nastiness . . . silly of me, thinking it was summer and all. To remedy the general feeling of gross this day has produced, I am fleeing to the nearest house of the caffiene and drowning myself in espresso.

Following the caffienated fun times, I intend to drive to Vegas with the windows down and the desert air blowing through my hair. Unfortunetely, I'll be so hopped up on espresso that 5 minutes into the drive to Sin City I will plow into an iHop killing 3 truckers instantly . . . their deaths will be quick, have no fear. I have no intention of remaining at the site of the crash and therefore will flee into the night. It'll be the shit urban legands are made of.

"Then the crazy espresso demon ran into the night, howling like a monkey. To this day you can hear her screams in the forest near that cursed iHop. Just when you think she has disappeared into the night having had her coffee fix, that's when you hear gentle bubbling of the Mr. Coffee perking. It's the last sound you will ever hear . . . "

Needless to say, I'll eat their brains, zombie style!

greatness abounds

oh ho ho my brothers, this is a nerd post if ever there was one! Consider yourself warned.

I am so excited, beyond excited, in fact. It's one of those excitments that make you grin like a fool for hours on end and you only snap out of it when you realize your cheeks hurt and that happy grin has turned into a grimace of muscley pain. It's finally happened my friends!! They released "The Dictators: Hitler's Germany, Stalin's Russia" on paperback!! HOLYPISS!! I have been eyeing this book for months on end . . . it was nearing my year anniversary of patheticness with this book. I would go into the bookstore pick it up and just walk with it hoping someone would mistake the ownership as my own. The expense of such a book was the only thing keeping us apart. I was a poor student and it was a crazy overpriced hardcover.

It was beautiful, it was a huge black book with the word "Dictators" emblazoned in flaming red letters. The cover had profiles of Hitler and Stalin looking off into the distance like those cheesy grad photos were you look all dewy-eyed and hopeful. It was amazing, a regular Christmas day miracle! Richard Overy, you magnificent bastard, thank you my friend.

awesome indeed

an intervention of cool

So over the past couple of days I have watched Zhang Yimou's Hero about fifty bazillion times. I am just amazed with his sense of color and movement . . . it just warms a nerds heart. Really, it was beautiful and fantastic despite the dialogue leaving something to be imagined (but who can say what was lost in the translation).

Basically, my father told my I was lame shut-in yesterday and so ensued project eureka, in which, I have forced myself to re-enter the smelly world of bright, bright lights . . . thinking of it, the whole watching of Hero so many times shows the true success of the project!! Oh ho ho! At least I had to leave the house to rent it, a minor success. I do plan to indulge in alcoholism later in the week, that'll get me out of the house. Just keep all perch and fish-like people away from me or trouble ensues. I happen to attract the fish . . . nothing good will come of it.

God speed mon freres.

the lamest of the lame

The Mombles just cut up some cantalope, it smells amazing! Unfortunetely, I cannot have any because of that sodding 'Alive' film about the plane crash and the delicious cannibalism and what not. I happened to be eating cold cantalope while watching the movie, what made it awesome was that I took a bite during the feast of the fallen comrades . . . needless to say, associations were made and grossness was had. My melon has been sullied forevah! DANG!

Read this. Enjoy the beauty.

schnecke: a delicious german pastry of spelling doom

Oh my brothers, my evening has just been made!! It's the national spelling bee tonight . . . I cannot express my nerdy love of the spelling bee. It's friggin intense!! As an added bonus to this year's competetion, is the lack of the annoying Jamaician chick who always stalled and then stalled some more. Plus, she keep saying 'thank you ma'am' after she was finished stalling, and proceded to stall some more.

It's like a weird little nerd parade with pale children who have been locked in their bedroom with the dictionary. How can you not love pale nerds?! I'm rooting for Samir Sudhir Patel because he is one cocky little muthafucker. He's like a little word machine! Also, I am totally in love with the voice guy, what a sexy monotone drawl. Nobody can say ornithorhynchous like he can!

I really hope somebody gets beefalo because I will giggle like a jackasss.

ragu will be my sidekick

Welcome to Loserville. Population: well it's not just me, there's plenty, but for the sake of self pity we'll say 1. So I got called into work on my sodding day off. Neat! Then some awesome lady decided to keep me a half an hour late so I can't bloody well close the store. Thank you, my friend, I did have fantastically lame plans to watch the bats at sunset at my keen secret hangout, but now I missed the sunset. It was freaking fushia tonight. Fushia and I missed it all. On the brightside, I do have a secret hideout!! HOW SUPERHERO IS THAT?! It's pretty freaking superheroish my brothers. My superpower will be fantastical lameness; my name will be Big Larry, protecting the lameos everywhere. Everyone will say that Big Larry is one mean muthafucka.

 

sometimes i wish so hard to be a pirate, i can feel my leg turn into pine

I really love my clothes when I don't look at them. I mean, I practically want to hug some of my little gems in my wardrobe but resist the urge as I figure that takes me one step closer to crazyland. But there's always a problem when I look at them. It's that little tag on the collar, that little tag that is emblazoned with the phrase "MADE IN CAMBODIA". Hallo wallowing guilt. I just went shopping today and now I am feeling completely at odds with new purchases. Made in Cambodia by tired tiny hands of hungry children . . . it makes me feel like ass.

I was debating how crappy I feel on the way to rent a movie. As luck would have it, once I arrived at movie house, I watched a gaggle of seagulls ward off a single determined crow over a piece of sullen pizza. It was fun and goodtimes abounds. That muthafucker was beyond willing to get his ass kicked for a sweet piece of that far out sound. I watched till I got bored and went home.

. . . I just realized something. Reading over a couple of my past blog entries it has occurred to me that I loathe non-academic me. Seriously, my storytelling capacities and general sentence structure have gone straight to pot . . . I wants me school back. Pathetic.

death to cantalope girl

Holypiss! I have realized that I hate everything that is younger than me. Me and The Mombles decided to hit up the moving pictures tonight only to be harrassed by preteens throughout. Fuck!! What the shit is so sodding important that you must garble on throughout the entire movie . . . yes I'm talking to you chubby chick in the third row with the worst fucking unportioned body ever!! It was like a sodding cantalope on a freaking toothpick and she would constantly find another inane detail to ramble on with to her friends throughout the entire film. HELLO RANTING!!! I kept telling The Mother to show her the swift rule of law with the back of her hand but she refused. So chubby cantalope girl, if I ever see you on the street you best fucking run because ima shank ya!

Yea nice a refreshing rant . . . brilliant. On to the rest of my evening.

I have finally embraced the idea that I am an autistic jerk. As I was driving to pick up my most favoritest meal, late-night sushi, a lowly mosquito wandered into my motor vehicle. To some this would be met with the an unreserved slap into the window and no more. Did I handle it with such an eloquent and approperiate attitude? Hell no! I preceded to scream "west nile, west nile" and flail my limbs like a total nancy boy (or girl as it were). Needless to say the gent in the car next to me had a really great expression on his face like constipation mixed with a bit of self-reflection. I'm an idiot. Neat!

I always wanted to be an oompa loompa but orange was never my color.

opa!

So I haven't been posting much because I haven't been going out much. Work is currently owning my tired ass . . . seriously, I sleep for a few hours, work for many hours and then come home and crash for the remaining bit of the day. Isn't summer supposed to be for fun and goodtimes? Or at least the occasional fun and few goodtimes. DANG!

Tonight was actually a night of greatness. Me and mombles hit up the new restaurant in town, a tavern of greek goodness. I cannot put into words my love of greek food, I think it's all the cheese. Holy motherfuck! Those people do up cheese like no other!

Even though the food was of epically great awesomeness, the even better part was the cheesiness of the restaurant its self. Prepare yourself my brothers . . . there was a belly dancer!! Oh ho ho and the only thing to make it better is the fact that she kept getting the kids to dance. Honestly, it was just hilarious creepy fun! The kids would move like awkward robots having seizures . . . it was almost unbearable to watch, like witnessing a car crash with strippers in one car and clowns in the others. How can you not watch?! I ask you, how?

Anyways, writing has filled the precious few hours before sleeping reigns supreme followed by more working. There is a mountain of nasty paperwork awaiting me and I shall be joyfully be filing in bloaty bliss from all salty cheese I have consumed tonight.

So my internet is alive and well. Good times abounds!

It's been gloomy in the city lately. By gloomy I mean the weather completely sucks hairy donkey balls. It's cold, windy and bloody nasty outside, so to avoid the nastiness of the outdoors I have been leaving the life of a shut-in. I refuse of go outside unless it's for coffee and to replenish the movie stock. I've also been watching an obscene amount of Montel . . . ohh yes, Montel, my brothers. Some crazy woman thinks her doll, Giggles, is crying and it's a sign from her mother . . . Giggles is just creepy not possessed with mother's spirit.

Am I the only one who thinks that when twins date other twins it's just fucking creepy?! Oh look Troy and Roy found love with Cherry and Terry . . . it's just plain weird.

ragu is one mean mutha

Hallo my brothers, my internet is currently down. The whole sodding network crashed and I am left sullen and alone without a website to browse . . . pathetic, but I really feel deprived. Me and my first world problems.

Till this issue is resolved, my site will temporary be on hold. I'll miss you my brothers.

Peace out comrades!

shocking opposites in love

"I'm Fruity the rappin' granny
Crazy old bag with the rock hard fanny!
I'm cute and sexy as can be,
And all the men are just wild about me."

. . . Maury is just gross.

a taste of pathetic awesomeness!

So I had to dump the Al Pacino film night in favour of an Asian cinema night which was originally going to be an Iranian cinema courtesy of Kiarostami. I'm so fucking beyond indecisive today. My indecision was mostly due to the fact that there is no where in the Park in which one can find any good foreign freaking films . . . I'm only met with sadness at the lack of anything subtitled and non-Hollywood. I want me some Kiarostami DAMMIT!

Fortunetely, my Asian cinema has only proven to delight! Currently I am chillaxin (oh I am so bloody lame for even uttering that phrase) to The Beijing Bicycle which is rather similar in plot to The Bicycle Thief; therefore, it is only destined to rock. The greatest moment was when there was witty little reference to Zhang Yimou . . . I am doomed to be one of the few who laughs like an idiot to the offhand comment. It's utterly pathetic.

Nerdiness aside, I have some pocky to eat and some films to watch. God speed.

the shut-in miss chelsey

I just finished watching The Talented Mr. Ripley, which was all good and proper as a psychological thiller should be. I'm trying to make good of my promise to myself to fill every waking second with films . . . it really is a nerdy obsession. So far I would like to think that I am doing quite smashingly!! Pathetic, true, but soon my brothers you will be green with envy when I can claim the thrown of movie nerd extraordinaire! I shall begin the preparation of the crown . . . it shall be constructed of tinfoil (much akin to Duffy, my lifesized tin foiled astronaut) and many a red glitter hot glue goodness.

Unfortunetely, by liking this movie it throws a wench in my packed nerd schedule. When I had originally viewed this movie I had completely loathed it . . . I did not account for this turn of events. Now how many films did I dismiss due to a previous distaste for it?! Oh it's going to freaking rape the carefully crafted list . . . stupid liking of a film.

A while back I decided to structure my viewings and therefore maintaining the intregrity of the film era being viewed. . . now to account for this change of events, I'm going to have to begin theme nights to cram it all in. Tomorrow shall begin the Al Pacino night, good things like Godfather Part I, Scarface and Serpico!! WOOT! Al Pacino at his sexiest . . . now he's old and creepy, and extremely lacking the Mick Jagger old man fuck power; he's just raspy and saggy. But then there was Godfather I and the amazing hotness of.

It's exhausting being an uber-nerd.

. . . these ones appear to be juice themed!

god freaking dammit!! I just watched the Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou . . . I am fucking green, green with freaking envy. Maybe I'm strange for having this dream but I truly wish everyone I know had some insane talent when it comes to film, then we could be like Wes Anderson et al. Think of it!! Schmel could be the best boy grip (as she is aware that is the most coolest title EVAH), and the gang could form a strange and quirky composite of cinematographers, artists, the occasional actor and a whole army of writers. Even my lame brother could be something amazing like design the flag or swab the deck of the studio every second Tuesday.

Having seen yet more evidence of the advantages of choosing ones friends wisely and the dismissing the weak and untalented, I have reached the conclusion that all friends shall screened for talents in film. It's fucking genius.

. . . you think I'm kidding don't you?! FOOL!!! I am not one to triffled with, there will be screening process. Hence I am placing a casting call to all wonder boys and girls out there. There are requirements, these include but are not limited to: the capacity to hatch elaborate stratagems to gain wealth in which to create artistic pieces of awesomeness, a sense of comedic timing with flop sweat, a willingness to indulge my insanity, and finally, under no circumstances have they been a member of Thailand's My Little Pony fan club (as that is my territory and I would be extremely enraged over the infringment of my retarded Thai retreat). Oh it has been dark times for cinema but fret no longer!! The Magic Wonder Kids Cinematophilic Association (the offical title) or The Philos are here to bring the greatest film revolution. It will be the new new wave . . . that's frickin' AWESOME!

Oh ho ho!! I have a freaking dream my friends!! DO I EVER!

run you magnificent bastards!

I am a computer whiz!! I am so the freakin man behind the curtain of computer crappiness . . . that or I just stopped being beyond retarded and defraged my computer. Ahh yess sweet nerd talk. I pretend like I know what the deuce I am talking about but really I am a failure at the nerdness; preference to beknown as a geek.

Is it wrong that I am watching "Las Vegas Cops: Soliciting Prostitutes" and finding it funny? Maybe it's that work has completely rotted my brain and now my spare time is spent drooling and staring at the pretty flashing images on my television. Whatevs, I know you are jealous of my amazing cool.

Tonight I figure I should stop being such a hopeless case and perhaps go outside. Earlier today it looked like a thunderstorm is a-brewing. NEAT!!! I heart thunderstorms with the bright lights and the loud, loud noises!! Me thinks the bright lights are like little seizures of fun . . . tis pathetic.

Great things await me mon freres and therefore I am off!! GRAMMAR AND SENTENCE STRUCTURE BE DAMNED!!!

can computers have mono?

hallo my brothers. I am currently experiencing severe slow computer syndrome. I do not comprehend this strange, strange occurance. If there are any psychic computer healers out there . . . do your thing my friend.

Hence forth until my computer's mono is repaired, I regret to inform you that I shall be avoiding all things computer related, including blogging. I'm not willing to wait 10 minutes for the blogger post page to load - I have sewing to do. I promise to return with good things like pictures and some awesomely embrassing stories of my clumsy ass.

a sweat shop of one

oh my brothers, an amazing eve was just had. I just finished sewing my very first purse . . . actually I just finished sewing my very first anything. Me and that ancient thing my mother calls a sewing machine are now the very best of friends. I shall call it Phasoom the Magnificent (that being the general sound it makes when one stomps on the pedal).

So as of late I have been completely consumed with a desire to do many a great crafty things. I have settled on developing purses and skirts to satisfy my constant need for them. As I began the first of many stitches, I thought to myself in utter glee, "this is it". Dang it, this is so it!! Je adore le sewing and the product of. Or le product, I suppose.

So I am now the proud designer, manufacter and owner of a fabulous brown canvas messenger bag with red stitching for extra hotness. To complete the fruit of my loom I just need to get me some black and white fabric to add the necessary panda to raise it to full scale coolness. Along with Ragu, my panda, it'll be complete with the lamest phrase known to man, along the lines of "pandas are the shit" or "ragu is one mean mutha". I'll suss it out tomorrow.

Oh I heart Phasoom the Magnificent. . . me thinks this is the beginning of what could be a long and meaningful relationship.

This is the feeling of utter glee!!

**NOTE: Please disregard any painful spelling errors as it is early in the 'morn and I am one sleepy bitch.

embrace your innner mario

I have returned from my night of debotchery. It was pretty much awesome as I was drunkedy drunk. I discovered the most amazing drink last night: an espresso martini! HOLYPISS!!! What genius came up with that drink?! Irish creme, vodka and espresso . . . and if the bar we went to didn't suck so hard at making martinis, I'm sure it'll be beyond amazing.

Now to cure the post drinking rumblings in my stomach I am off to devour an obscene amount of kraft dinner. I heart that cheesy goodness.

damn you meddling kids!!

So my bloody neighbours are having a party . . . yet another one. Their parents are getting divorce and the mother is going through through that fun filled overindulgate phase. Lady, your kids are fucking 18 years old, kick the little shits out and tell them to get over it! Dang it! If that doesn't work, they are never to old to take over the knee and wail on them.

I give them another half an hour and then I'm chasing those fricking kids with the goddamn rake. Just call me Old Man Withers.

the mighty return of my photo cord!

So today was a day of fun and goodtimes. Me and tony hit up Whyte Ave gangsta style . . . which means we looked and mishandled everything but basically bought nothing. I did happen to purchase a fantabulous ichy old woman sweater for $3.50. It was a regular christmas day miracle! That and couple amazing buttons at nokomis and a CD.

The blow-by-blow account:

Let me begin by declaring my love of Whyte Ave. I heart Whyte as it is the only place in Edmonton that doesn't make me feel like I am in smelly Edmonton and the suckiness of. So to ensure the trip was approperiately decorated, I put on some good old The Velvet Underground and enjoyed that fine, fine music.

The weather was actually rather brilliant, and so the strutting began down the strip. We hit up many a shop . . . several of which were shoe shops! I found a pair of Vans with this amazing argyll pattern which was beyond drool worthy. I will be back my sweets. This was followed by a brilliant visit to Junque Cellar, were vintage goes to die in an overpriced fashion. It's been open for 12 years, an amazing feat given the prices and the amazing world of crap they carry (see creepy soul-piercing dolls above).

After breezing through several more shops, me and tony decided that nachos and margaritas were a necessity. I love that Whyte Ave manages to provide constant amusement as the people wander by. I remained fixated on shoes as I lamented over those bloody Vans. Even now I feel a longing in my heart to possess those shoes . . . in fact, come pay day those and some new Cons will be mine!!! I like this new plan a lot.

As the nacho fun continued, tony, being the brilliant wordsmith that she is, uttered the phrase "wow, you really sucked back that pina". Needless to say, it completely ruined my pina colada as I couldn't contain the disgusted giggles everytime I went for a sip. Yes tony, I loves me the pina . . . fucker.

Anyways, this is bordering on way to long winded so to make it short: crack lady wandered by, it was odd as she is typically yelling at me as I walk by on 99 st, she was completely out of place. Wiggins ensued. Trip to nokomis, funtimes as I am an uberclutz and knocked over everything in sight. I am now determined to learn how to sew so I don't have to pay $100 dollars for a retarded purse. Explosion on Sherwood Park freeway. Had to find new exciting ways home through the ghetto. Awesome fun.

do you know your chicken?

I have determined that today will be spent rocking out to lame music I loved in the late '90s. To ensure a good white trash time has been had, I intend to perform the rocking out in wife beater and jeans. I already have the greasy look of awesomeness down . . . oh I will rule the day!!!

. . . that is until I have to go to work and it crushes my spirit. It always does.

dang it

Basically, this post would have been accented by a fabulously retarded photo of absolutely nothing important, but alas, my camera cord is still hating me.

I am not comforted by the fact that I am also a postal idiot. Slowly I will develop the habit of touching everything three times. If I fail to do so I will go into fetal position and DIE!! I have spent the last couple of hours obsessing over everything in the store. Paranoia has run rampant in my head. I managed to quiet the fear of fucking everything up until I got to the deposit. Holypiss, the deposit!!! I have become obsessed with the notion that I failed to put it in the safe (which I'm fairly certain I did but in my head its sitting on the counter, ripe for the taking by masked ninjas). Until tomorrow morning I am forever doomed to be dwelling on the deposit issue. It shall be a night of fun and goodtimes.

your baby is inside of me, giraffe!!

oh ho ho, I am back and less of a gross monster.

In my quest of not being such a complete posting lameo suckass, I shall attempt to revive some amazing events of the week. This is my heart, my friends. My heart.

On Thursday, after exams, I went drinking with my class and Perch Boy. It was fun except for the fact that everytime I looked in his general direction, his eyebrows, perched above his protruding eyes of grossiness, would waggle at light speed. No, Perch Boy, I do not find your eyebrow waggling sexy nor does it make me want to have anything to do with you. In the continuing the creepiness of one said Perch Boy, he would stare with intensity whenever I talked to anyone cooler than him . . . that was anyone present in Dewie's (including Trekie Boy who kept screaming 'SPRING BREAK '03!! WHOOOOOOO!!).

Sadly, the rest of the week I spent in bitter resentment towards anything and everything . . . especially towards my photo cord which decided to run away from home. Did I not treat you right my cord? Were you beaten or mistreated? . . . come home. I miss you.

Which brings us to the present day:

What an awesome day for shoes!!! I heart shoes! I have been known as a sneaker whore for many a year and now I have added to my stinky collection of greatness. The most amazing pair has VELCRO!!! I have determined that this will forever be known as the year of velcro. I mean, really, velcro is convenant and the noise is amazingly sexy. It's like the sound of baby seals and the clubbing ( . . . sodding enviro ed has ingrained a sound in my head that I never wished to hear. 'tis all the details one would require.) Anyways, my new sneakers are nifty.

Oh but my shopping adventure was far from over!! It was only after I satisfied my sneaker fetish that I came across amazing shoes numbro two! Numbro two were amazing ballerina slippers of amazing greatness . . . how much can one girl talk about her shoes you may ask?! The answer is till infinity!!! or right now, because this post went to lameness about forever ago.

i am but a humble zombie. braiiiiinnnnnsssss.

Hallo my brothers. I am slowly recovering from the abuses of exam week and the horrors of. I'm still sleepy, crabby as hell and fighting off some pugnacious cold that has been a menacing force. As soon as my brain resumes it's normal functioning level, the posting shall return to normal.

Now I'm off to enjoy a night of Zhang Yimou's House of Flying Daggers and then precious sleep.

ou est la bibliotheque rouge?

ohhh I am so beyond tired at this point . . . even espresso cannot save me now. Currently, about 16 hours of my day is devoted to studying, let me tell you that's a world of fun!! Also, when one factors in sleeping, eating and trying not to implode, it doesn't leave much room for personal hygiene.

oh yes my brothers. Personal hygiene died this week with advent of exam's week.

rabbit in the hat

I just watched a show on David Blaine, magician extraordinaire, with the mombles. This is not good . . . she's now convinced that he is an alien. Oh yes, David Blaine's Special Magical Alien Hour!!! I can just imagine the drunken conversations this will produce at Thanksgiving.

Oh sonny no!