The Intrepid Adventurer.

Your Nose is So Pink.

I'm so ridiculously all about Facebook, that I can hardly think about my blog anymore, clearly I lack some sort of mental faculty. But I was reading over past entries and thought, well, don't delete it 'cause it's not that bad. And it's a good exercise in writing for the day when I write the great Canadian novel. (Not with that grammar, says Susan). Bah, that's what editors are for!

I am currently marvelling at the night I had a work. The particular cross section of society that frequent the Y is a nightmarish rainbow of teens and the senile and crackheads. I really don't get paid enough. I mean, I know pretty much everyone thinks that about their job, but:

1) I called 911 tonight
2) had to tell 911 that I didn't need that ambulance after all
3) had a visit from the cops
4) a second ambulance was called, this time for realsies.

And a resident yelled at me because their mail wasn't sealed and...I could go on.

Now I'm shivering in my house that is already too cold and it's only Nov. 3 and I'm hungrier than a lion. This night is going to end in a sandwich and Jowie though, so all is not lost.

You know Blogger, Facebook lets me post photos whenever I want. Suck on that.