You will only enjoy this if your name starts with 'Sus' and ends with 'an'

This is my television alter ego from the West Wing. He's cranky and liberal, like me and bald and Jewish, not like me.


Toby Ziegler: I'm going to make a suggestion which might help you out, but I don't want this to be mistaken for an indication that I like you.

Toby Ziegler: He calls you and me the Batman and Robin of speechwriting.
Sam Seaborn: Well, I don't think he does.
Toby Ziegler: He doesn't but he should 'cause that's what we are.
Sam Seaborn: Okay.
Toby Ziegler: We are Batman and Robin.
Sam Seaborn: Which one's which?
Toby Ziegler: Look at me, Sam. Am I Robin?
Sam Seaborn: I'm not Robin.
Toby Ziegler: Yes you are.
Sam Seaborn: Okay, well, let's move off this.
Toby Ziegler: You bet, little friend.
Sam Seaborn: Listen, we're really not Batman and Robin.
Toby Ziegler: No, we'll keep those identities secret. I'm Bruce Wayne and you're my ward... Dick Something.

Sam Seaborn: How do you feel there, Big Guy?
Toby Ziegler: Like I just got screwed with my pants on.


OKAY. I'll stop now. No posting for at least an hour. I'm off the computer now anyway, I promise.

All right....don't tell anyone about this, okay?

My hair looks good today. I just thought you should know that. It's nice and shiny and I left it down for the better part of the day and I look more like a human being than I usually do.

In the interests section of my resume I have claimed that I can name all the monarchs of England from the time of William the Conqueror. Jo and I have this theory that no one ever reads resumes and this was sort of my test to see if they in fact do. Also, I was trying to amuse them, the ubiquitous employers, with my oddities. Starbucks didn't appear to be too impressed. Anyways, I just thought, what happens if someone actually calls me in this hypothetical job interview that I will never ever have. I decided I better practice. Turns out I don't know them at all really. I know there were a lot of Henry's (eight) and Edwards (eight as well). So now it's this goal for me. I have to know all the monarchs. I have made a list that I will be carrying around with me so I may someday master it.

I was thinking I might make an acronym but it would be something (exactly, actually, because I consulted The List) like:
WWHSMHRJHEEERHHHEERHHEJMEJC (OR)* CJWAGGGGWVEGEGE.

Catchy.

I'm sick. I think I have this problem where my brain is missing, to coin a phrase from the short-lived-soon-to-be-a-movie cowboyish science fiction series Firefly. Yes, Barb did download it. Yes, we've been watching it. I refuse to be judged by you people.

And to end this nonsense:

A West Wing quote, because they're fun for everyone. Or just me and Susan. (p.s. We have to watch more West Wing muffin. Also, don't you think the WW would be better if Josh and Sam kissed more? Or kissed me more? 'Cause I certainly do.)
Sam Seaborn: Where are you going?
Josh Lyman: Where are you going?
Sam Seaborn: I was following you.
Josh Lyman: I was following you.
[awkward pause]
Sam Seaborn: All right... don't tell anyone about this, okay?


*the O and R stand for Oliver and Richard Cromwell who were technically not monarchs but Protectors of the Realm when England was a Commonwealth. Perhaps I shouldn't learn them.

Time For Some Thrilling Heroics

I'm used to my general level of stupidity (G.L.O.S.) which includes not being able to find ANYTHING if I don't put it down in it's regular spot or somewhere I will trip over it as well as saying 'Really?' when Susan was all, 'Hey did you know that the word gullible isn't in the dictionary?' Other Stupid Toni Moments are created every single day of my existence.

However.

Today I did something incredibly dumb that I've never done before. I explored new frontiers of Toni dumbness. I wanted to wear a different purse today, so I transferred my wallet and student card into the new purse. I even put a camera and a book in the purse, just in case. WHAT'S MISSING HERE PEOPLE? I'll tell you what's missing. Keys.

When I realized what I'd done I called home from a payphone. NO ONE PICKED UP. Barb and his chippy had left the building. SHITFUCKSHITFUCK. Never fear, the useFUL parts of my brain were put to work and I concocted a plan if there was no way to get in the house.

Luckily, despite the fact that all major entrances were securely locked, I got in. If any of you have ever been to our house, you may have a good idea of just how I did it. I am not, however, going to share this information with any of you. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you.

Now it's time for coffee.

eta: Barb got home like ten minutes after I finished writing the blog. I totally could've waited on the porch that long.

Moulin Rouge destroyed me. That is all.

A post. I want to thank my loyal fans. Fan. Susan.

I often worry that I'm incurably neurotic. Sometimes that seems okay, like when I'm hanging out with Jo and Susan and Barb and other times I think, you won't be living with those nutjobs forever, what are you going to do when you have to make you way in a world full of people who don't think that making up words (ie. GLOFO, which is actually an acronym) or misusing words (ie. Pontify) is incredibly funny?

Also, I generally hate everybody. I mean not you, dear reader, but lots and lots of other people. Even people I'm supposed to like. Maybe it's a preemptive strike thing, 'cause I generally assume that the people that I'm friends with at any given moment will be the last friends I ever have. Like, I'll never be able to trick people into liking me again. Wow, something true about me in my blog. Startling. Urge to cover it up with a joke rising.

Sometimes I don't care, the times when I can fool myself into forgetting that this is my last year at Guelph. Hopefully. Of course if I don't get accepted anywhere else for my masters, then maybe I'll stay here. I'll be Barb's roommate again (whether he likes it or not) and we can argue about the relative virtues of Skim (me) vs. 2% (Barb). I expect we will kill each other. I'll call Jowie and be all "WHEREAREYOUWHYAREN'TYOUINGUELPH?" and I'll read Subu's blog and write idiotic comments and wish I was that coherent and send emails that will consist of the words "I miss you groinally."

A bright future.

The alternative scenario is much more appealing in some ways. I get a bacherlor pad somewhere that isn't Guelph and will probably be Hamilton. People that I like that are in the area can visit, so two people that aren't family. And I can entertain gentleman callers that I fancy, so never (because the last time I checked, every single guy I've ever fancied has turned out to be a complete douche). But at least I'll be able to fill it with cheap furniture from Ikea. I've tried to be one of those people that looks down on Ikea with distain because of their mass production of furniture but dude, they have cheap, awesome stuff and they're like Swedish or something. I could not stand my ground under such an onslaught.

Dream scenario: There's this nationalism something or other masters program at the University of Edinburgh. My bank accounts are suddenly overflowing with money and I move there. Get my masters. Somehow I become a lot smarter than I am right now and do my doctorate somewhere really impressive, like Oxford. That would be sweet. And I'd live in Europe forever and ever and forget that the United States exists.

Don't know what possessed me to write in the blog after a month of inactivity. Don't know what prompted the month of inactivity, it's not like I don't like to write stuff about myself, clearly.

And now for something completely different:

If you've read earlier entries you know we've been keeping Hammy in the basement to protect him from the scorching heat of this summer. Well, it appears that my little sister left his cage open the last day she was here, Monday. We didn't discover this until Wednesday. EEEEK. He was long gone. The three of us tore the basement apart and freaked out for hours. We were worried that we were going to have to tell Barb that his beloved hamster was dead or lost forever in the bowels of our basement at the very least. crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

Then, Jo was wandering around the kitchen, talking to her mom on the phone and she spotted Hammy at the bottom of the basement stairs. I swooped down and picked him up and all was right in the world again.

Favourite song right now is Best of You by Foo Fighters. Castigate me if you will.

I'm reading 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and slowly stealing (visiting the book at chapters because I don't have the money to pay for it in hardcover) the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. 100 years is paling in comparison which makes me doubt my taste in books, 'cause Marquez's style is far superior to Brown's and his characters are more fleshed out. The plot of the Da Vinci Code is SO compelling, however. The characters don't interest me at all (with the exception of Teabing perhaps. I'm changing my name to Teabing, by the way) but it's all historical conspiracies and hidden messages and secrect societies and academics. It makes me horny in the pants. Sometimes I hate loving things that so many other people love then I'm like, SHUT IT TONI YOU ARE A SLAVE TO THE MAN.

I love frappucinos from Starbucks, even though they're like a liquid heart attack.

I'm listening to Every Rose Has it's Thorns by Poison. Thanks for nothing Launch Radio.

Bonsoir muffins,

Toni Teabing