Susan is smelly.

I am the sleepiest person in the world. The combination of an early morning and paralyzing boredom is deadly. I'm actually typing with my eyes closed. I totally am! How would you know anyway?

Light dawns on the horizon, however, my computer is on it's way, coming in three packages to good ol' Ontario. There's this tracking thing where you can follow the progress of your packages* and I've checked it four times in the past 2 hours. I'm like a junkie.

Truly I am the hottest girl in the world.

I wish I was at home in my pajamas but due to my connection to the DSF higher ups, I'm on campus until 7 or 8 most likely. But! There! is! free! pizza!

Second day in a row of free pizza actually. Last night I went to a Graduate studies information seminar and got freaked out. I was worried about Grad school in a general sense before last night but not I'm chock full of all these specific fears.

Example: I have to apply for funding like TOMORROW if I want to go next year. Okay, not tomorrow, but sometime soon. Sometime way before I'm ready.


Explanation of Blog title: Susan is sitting beside me in the super sleek and new arts lab and I'm sleepy and couldn't think of anything descriptive/interesting/funny.

Eat a big bag everyone.

*tee hee, packages...YOU KNEW I HAD THE MENTAL AGE OF A 6 YEAR OLD WHEN YOU MARRIED ME

Incompetent Boobery

Read the title. Read it? Good. That is the title of my upcoming autobiography. I did not (re)learn French this summer and I did not get a job. Statements of fact, not a complaint, as I'm in a pretty good frame of mind about the whole no-job thing at the moment. Probably because anaesthetic has arrived in the form of my recently-ordered new computer.

Awaiting the arrival of my new computer, I'm avoiding work on Jo's computer and as any faithful reader of this blog may be aware, that is a common theme in Toni blogging. I'm also wearing Jo's red stretchy bracelet as I do not own a stretchy bracelet of my own. Conformity, you complete me. I poo-pooed the stretchy bracelet in it's earliest 'Live Strong' incarnation. Now I'm all...gimme gimme gimme. I do not, however, care to have a Lance Armstrong-blessed bracelet. I get it, the man's awesome, he kicked cancer in the genitals and now he's banging the newly skeletal Sheryl Crow. Congrats. Now bugger off, pop culture has had all it can take of you assclowns.

Got an email off the British penpal. I mentioned in my last email to him that I'd love to go back to England next summer and travel elsewhere and he was all 'it would be GREAT, you can stay with me.' For a moment, perhaps a whole minute, I seriously considered quitting school, like not paying the rest of my tuition for the fall and gathering what I had for next semester and the new computer and heading over there, RIGHT AWAY. Perhaps the only time I didn't feel like an incompetent boob the majority of the time was when we were travelling.