Hmmm... perhaps a warning?

Talking about this weeks events on MSN as I read an introduction to some poems, I came across this sentence in A New Anthology of Candian Literature in English (edited by Russle Brown and Donna Bennett):

"...but his pursuit of the less acedemic side of undergraduate life cost him a first-class degree, and an acedemic career."

Hmm. It seems almost as if Professor Brown is chastising me through his book. Professor Brown, you may have just saved me! To work!

Good lord it's finally over

Last week when Dr. Hutchinson called me up and asked if he could stay the weekend, I didn't think too much of the possibility of me over extending myself. I was all for the idea. Get to hang out play a game or two of risk... good times.
What I failed to take into account was just how many other things I had already commited myself to for that weekend. Thursday: Pot luck dinner at my house - block event. Degreded into eating apple crisp and playing duck hunt. Friday: Ride teh TTC across the city, meet Lucas downtown. Find Hutch. Walk. Walk some more. Buy some comic books, the walk, then get a potato burrito, then ride the TTC across the city again. Walk to go and get doritos. Watch movie. Saturday: Another pot-luck event - J-Bo's murder mystery. As mentioned, Evan did it. Please note that this involves two more trips across the city on the TTC. Sunday: Chili plus Risk at gavin's house. Walked there in the downpour, then walked home. Foot very tired by this point, somewhat sore. Monday: Chas arrives, we play a game of Risk. Then, back on the TTC for a trip across the city, see the Mars Volta and the Red Hot Chili Peppers play live, and another trip across the city. Tuesday: chas goes home, hutch goes to second concert. I stay up to let him in the house. Wednesday: hutch goes home.
I'm tired after all that. Its not all drinking and falling over kind of fun, but its still fun. And with a broken foot, all that walking really took it out of me. I'd say I'm looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend, but I've got four invitations already.
Man, it's like all of a sudden those boring days filled with trailer park boys seem so appealing. But when i was there, all I wanted wa something to do. Seems I need to find me a happy medium.

"Of Doom"

Adding the two words "of doom" to any innocuous noun has a strange effect. It takes this noun and makes it sinister and in some cases frightening. Observe:

Puppy.
Puppy ... of DOOM!

Notebook.
Notebook ... of DOOM!

Fuzzy rabbit.
Fuzzt rabbit ... of DOOM!

Whereas, were you to apply the same principal to a noun that in no way innocent, the effect is largely lost. Observe.

Satan.
Satan ... of DOOM!

Murderer.
Murderer ... of DOOM!

Catastrophe.
Catastrophe ... of DOOM!

As you can see, nowhere near the same effect. Perhaps it is because the doom is already implied in such words? Who can say for certain. However, adding "of DOOM!" to any word that does not deserve it (such as 'kitten') instantly makes for hillarity. Beward the kitten ... of DOOM!

Evan did it.

Tonight was a night of mystery an intruige. We all headed on over to Jared's house... which had somehow transformed into the estate of Mr. Body. Through the evening, we leared about each other: Mr. Zing - the art dealer, Mr. Green - the artic explorer who preformed strange experiments on people, Mrs. White - the fashion designer, Sir Waltron - the Royal Cat Breeder (that was me)... by the end of the night, one of the guests had murder Mr. Body! Gasp!

Turns out it was Evan. What a jerk.

In other news, on the subway ride home, I saw a giant add for House on the walls of the subway. Somebody had taken a pen, given Dr. House a speech bubble that read "I'm a cunt" and written the letters " C U N T" backwards on his forehead.

Impressive.

(you have to pretend I said that last word like Darth Vader)

12:38am

Vile and evil are made of the same letters. Coincidence? I THINK NOT!

GODDAMNIT!

It's international talk like a pirate day. And I forgot. AGAIN! Jesus, I'm like the worst pirate ever!

At least this year there are still ten hours left in which I can espouse my language of the seven seas.

(edit: instead of the traditional 'yar' etc. of piratehood, in this post i opted for the 'cursing a lot' method of talking like a pirate)

The bone of my breaking

I stole my x-rays. They are pretty hardcore - my bone is real messed up looking... It really was torqued apart! Diagrams of a spiral fracture don't really do justice to what they really look like on an x-ray. Typing this post is making my foot hurt.
In other news, chocolate milk is really good.

Samsquanch!

I can't stop watching Trailer Park Boys. My life is all Steve French and Samsquanches these days. I'd say its a bad thing, but I love it. It'll be a sad day when there are no more episodes left to watch, but a happy day when the movies comes out. Hurrah!

Swish. My fuck does it get you some drunk.

Space Aged Healing Boot part II

Yuu can go here: http://gernius1.com/

While you are there, you can observe my sister's awesome website. But also, while you are there, you can observe the picture I drew of my healing boot.

Space Aged Healing Boot

Argh! Muscle spasm in my eyebrow!

... Wow. Glad that's over.

Anyway. Got a call today from the Health and Wellness center. They called to tell me about my x-ray results. I have a spiral fracture in minor fifth metatarpal... or something like that. I didn't really catch what she had to say. At any rate, I get a Space Aged Healing Boot! I'm pretty excited about it, I mean, those things are pretty cool. I can clump around in it while my body heals and look all space aged! Alright!

I was going to wait

Here's the story: No doctor yet, but I'm going tomorrow. Why? Well, y'see, last night when I was busy getting drunk and puking on myself, there is a good possability I broke my foot.

Also, to the mysterious people who saved me from a night on the cold, cold lawn: thank you. I don't know who you are, but I really appreciate it.

In short: this weekend's adventure was a bit of a disaster. But, judging by my foot, I guess I had fun!

My blog goes to shit.

First pictures and now home-grown poetry. What's happening to my blog? It's becoming the mudane affair of every fourteen year old girl who has internet access!

Eh, what the hell... This poem is satire, not teen angst. And those pictures were cool!

I Wish I Was T.S. Elliot

Apply the psychographic agency to the outter thetawave
Without words winding winter when wherewithall
The triumph of sugared shakers on halowe'en
Forever implies the defeat of crayon marchers
Tables tacked on chairs stacked on tables ---
An illusion of illusions reflected in the invisble smokey mirrors found only in the dark.
But where are you?
Where are you?
Where do you think the king of social tyrrany built his forumalic fortress filled with the cheer of thousands of uselss voices filled with naught but... but... but what?
French fried potatoes grow out of concrete bunkers
Food fresh from frozen, packaged, produced, irradiated.
How can this sustain us for the thousands of seconds yet to come?
"Your bag is filled Mrs. Refuge. It is time to go."
But what sort of secret construction fills the hearst of days found empty through our self imposed isolation.
How can we reach out and find something---
Anything---
In this void we have created for ourselves
Schism scorned scissors switch snaggletoothed stealers of stealthy faith
Our dreary past drips forth through the eyeless vision of our ancestors
How can we make sense of it all?
Are you pretentious enough to pretend pondering purpose in this poem?
In short: Your Mom.

Pictures of me at camp. Exciting title. Notations!

On occasion is becomes necessary to pick another man's nose when he is picking yours.

Ignore the creepy dude in the forground. The purpose of this picture is obviously to show off my wicked farmer's tan.


Lactose and I were required to dress up as animals one day. She sported the cow, whereas I was a badger. I danced a lot.

This here is Darth Moist the Unpleasant. Kodi and I ran a special day where we vied for control of the camp (he was Kodi-wan Kenobi). Favourite memory - having more than half the camp lift their glasses to me at lunch while the imperial march played. Man, that was awesome.

This is a Picture of Rosemary and I winning fifth place in the Eco Challenge. We were team "No, your mom!" until somebody decided to say "Your mom" jokes were offensive. So we changed it to "Ista Mater."

Ouch, curse my ability to see the future!

Okay, this post doesn't actually have anything to do with seeing the future. Well, damn, now that I mention it, how can I avoid mentioning that I did see the future again once this summer? Ooohh... mystical powers! I only wish that I could see something useful before it happens. Honestly, as far as seeing the occasional spot of the future, you'd think that every now and again it might be something profound, not useless like kicking a peice of dirt around. Stupid useless precognative ability. Some fuckin' X-Man I am.

On that note: summer is in fact over. Despite the single instance of seeing the future (I feel like a dolt when I say that - but if you know me well enough perhaps I've told you about my great-grandmother and why you should still take it seriously, whether you believe me or not) it was actually pretty good in the end. At the time, it seemed a little like that extra year of high school - sort of useless, but still entertaining. I thought I had nothing left to learn at Presqu'ile. Turns out I was wrong - I had a lot to learn, its just none of it had to do with me. Give up the old self-centered education... learn a thing or two about friends!

I had some good times in the end. I even wrote a song about Godzilla (for very good reasons other than the fact that Godzilla is awesome). It was popular amongst the childrens. I had some great success with a group of kids I thought were impossible to deal with. I had more fun in my time off than I think I ever had. I could sit here and type endless stories about camp, but I doubt you actually care all that much since a) you were there and don't need ot hear it or b) you weren't there and probably wouldn't understand. Oh the esoteric cult that is created out of telling stories of summer camp.

In short, I will miss it, but I am not planning on returning for any extended period of time. James Blue be damned, this time I mean it.

In other news I spent $288.31 on novels today. Oh, and a study edition of the Qur'an, too. One of these novels in Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. I started reading it as I ate some pizza. A few chapters later I realised that the early part of this novel, at least, is defined by the same event every chapter. The Kid goes to a bar and then somebody dies (read: is killed). The offhand way that violence is presented is bad enough, but the complete apathy on the part of all the charaters, the attitude they take towards it is almost disturbing. I know its a novel meant to illustrate a point, but didn't people fell remorse in the old west? Its a little disturbing.

Oh yeah, by the way, I'm back in scarborough, once again I have not a lot to do, and so, here I am. Blog. Arrr.