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