Internets

Facebook is ruining my life. I already have this sick blog thing going on, a couple of years running and when I first joined facebook I was like. Meh. Whatever. I see these people everyday. But now. NOW! People from elementary school have found me. Well, a person. Who knows other people. It's a network of people, you see.

In the interest of finding just how sickening this Facebook thing could get, I looked up my ollllllllld crush. He used to live across the hall from me, back when I was still slumming it in public school. His name was Joey. He's going by Joe now. He's grown up to be fairly non-gargoylish except for some questionable facial hair choices and now, thanks to the magic of Facebook, I know that one of his hobbies is drinking. How interesting and original.

I had this blog linked to my Facebook page and I removed it on the double when the stealthy elementary school people found me. I did it on impulse and I don't really know why. Probably has something to do with the fact that I just don't remember elementary school fondly. Especially the Catholic Years. There was 174 kids in the entire school and they'd been in school together since forever and I moved there in grade 6 and they (almost) all had a serious case of the Toni-Disdain. Possibly because I was obviously uncool and they were afraid it was going to rub off.

Now I'm just thinking of random people to look up on Facebook for the hell of it. I must be stopped.

Snow Day.

Snoooooooowday! It's a snow day! Well, it's an ice day. Deanna is trapped in the house with me, lucky kid that she is and so, I have a playmate today. We'll count Monday in the 'good' column so far. I don't want to have kids, for many reasons that Susan's expressed eloquently and also because I am a paranoid maniac and I can't imagine how much I'd worry if it was actually my own spawn running around in this world full of pimps and chuds and Paris Hilton and being parented by me. However, this sister thing is finally turning out all right.

Finally finished Master and Commander. Perhaps my judgement was a little harsh. It was well written, I guess I'm just not meant for life at sea. I just think, if you're going to have that many men in a confined space with nothing to do, you should have them kiss more often.

Saturday and Sunday were also counted for the 'good' column. I didn't have my camera though, so you're just going to have to trust that I had a good time. Good time due in large part to the fact that I was drinking Polar Bears all night, which taste like After Eights and not at all like rubbing alcohol like my good friend Vodka. Of course, once Barb said that drinking a Polar Bear tasted like sucking off a Polar Bear, that's what I told everybody. The drama students appreciated it I think. A lot of people mentioned the lack of fur in polar bear the drink v. polar bear the blow job, like that's something I'd be missing.

God, acting like a moron is so much better than acting like a grown up. And I'm so good at it.

Orientation meeting for a possible job with a woman's organization on Thursday. First the orientation, then a two hour job shadow and THEN they decide who they want to interview. Being proactive, I've decided to start worrying about the interview now. I already thought up a joke in the shower that had something to do with windows. Bringing the 'A' game.

Die book, DIE!

Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian is the book that's going to kill me.

I knew it was about ships. I just didn't know that 300 of it's 330 pages were going to be about SAILS.

It's the book that won't end. I've been reading it off and on since last year. I've finished FIFTEEN other books since I started it. I want to light it on fire. But then I won't be able to cross it off my book list.

If it was about S&M, as the title might suggest to those people possessing a filthy mind (certainly not me), it'd be more interesting.

My life has taken a turn for the uninteresting, as I'm unemployed again. It's not quite Master and Commander territory, but we're getting close. God, I hate saying that I'm unemployed. I hate thinking about it. There's nothing I don't hate about being unemployed except, perhaps, for all of the Scrubs episodes I have time to watch. Really REALLY doesn't make up for it.

Also? Blogger still won't let me post pictures. I hate you blogger.

My Lil' Geniuses

ETA: There was SUPPOSED to be a kick ass picture of Jowie and Barb here but Blogger, like the rest of the world, hates me. So you'll just have to imagine the two of them here, doing funny things.


I believe they were drawing a pentagram to sacrifice virgins upon. Two heads are better than one when it comes to sacrificing virgins.

I think the neighbours loved us a lot.

To Jo, who had a crappy day, and to Susan who may or may not have had a crappy day.

Cosmo.

God I love photoshop. I think I'd commit murder for it, if it asked real nicely.

Resolute.

I really hate New Year's Resolutions. I know that's at least in part due to the fact that when I still made them I never managed to keep them, but seriously, who does? I mean, I get it, new year new beginning. Everyone wants to get better. It's not the sentiment I hate as much as the sheer banality of most resolutions. Of course everyone wants to get fit and smoke less. That's what everyone wants all the time.

Susan's resolution last year was to work on her posture. While my general policy towards resolutions remains, I applaud Susan for her ability to think up an appropriately random aspect of her life that she wanted to work on.

If anybody asks me what my New Year's Resolution is I'm going to tell them that I'm giving up cocaine. "Yeah, it's going really well. I haven't had a DROP of cocaine this year." "I've always heard that getting off drugs was hard but I don't really know what people are talking about. I said on Jan 1 that I wasn't going to have anymore cocaine and I didn't." "I'm the picture of sobriety."

This is not to say, that I don't have hopes and dreams for 2007 that don't include dropping a fake drug habit. I hope that I don't spend all of next year in Canada, for one.