Canteen Explorer Pie Legs

Dull moments don't exist in my life right now. I work 12-16 hour days and the weekends are no break.

Let's see... on Friday after work I drove over to Jane's apartment after having a nervous breakdown about a plaid dress. I got there and started drinking out of a green canteen and ended up at an "Explorer" themed birthday party in Westchester. I was talking to some big black guy on a tiny balcony for hours about his job. Apparently he watches TV for the government and "fixes" it when "things go wrong." Although when I think about it now he is probably just some stoner who watches TV all day and thinks he works for the government. Then I got pie all over my legs and washed them off in the sink with some guy who had a mohawk. Woke up on Jane's couch. Left early, went home.

Got home to find 3 Scottish men, the naked guy who lives downstairs, and his friend Jeremy all huddled around the table in the backyard.

Poutine Thievery

So on Saturday I woke up and thought to myself, "Holy SHIT I feel/look like a blob. I have to do something." Four hours later I have cut off a foot of my hair and spent 200 dollars on clothes. Which is not normal for me...at all. By the way H&M is terrible right now, I might as well have gone to the Gap. Maybe in the Gap they won't have music playing that goes, "And then I saw your name on iChat..." WHA? I showed my dad my new haircut yesterday and he said "You look like an international supermodel, like your dad." Ha. Anyway, Saturday night I went to see Japanther at Sala Rossa, where I got 100 dollars stolen from my backpack. I also got in a FIGHT (?!) I was dancing in front of this girl and she kept hitting me. I said to Sarah, "That cunt won't stop hitting me." Later the bitch found me and asked me if I wanted to STEP! HaAHA. Later on I got onstage with the band Ninjasonik? I didn't even end up staying for Japanther, I ditched my friends, got a pita and passed out. 

In other news, it's snowing again. Fuck this fucking poutine stand of a city. 

I'm so excited to go back to LA right now.

Also, I'm sorry, but Frank Zappa's lyrics/song titles are amazing. "Jazz Discharge Party Hats" and "Evelyn, a modified dog, viewed the quivering fringe of a special doily draped across the piano, with some surprise." I dunno why those come to mind, but I couldn't have said it better myself. 

Parmesan Eyeball Monkey

I have been having the MOST disturbing dreams lately. I guess I had one inspired by the man with the removable face. My mom forced me to get plastic surgery (apparently I didn't have a choice) and they removed my entire face. I was just two eyeballs and a brain. Then they gave me this other face to clip onto my face. I was especially disturbed by my nose which was just flat. I dunno, the dream was so real and so vivid I woke up so stressed out. 

Then last night I had a dream that I was at one of my parents' parties. I was swimming in the pool when I looked up and saw a human-monkey thing watching me from the kitchen window. I went inside and there were 5 monkeys that all came up to my hip but and were basically miniature people. I dunno.

ANYWAY.

I tried to watch the Godfather for the hundredth time yesterday. It didn't work. I can't tell the difference between any of the characters. They all look the same.

I made the best eggplant parmesan in the world. YEAH. 

Smelly Beings Organization

So one stupid night I was drunk and making out with a dude. The next day I woke up next to my friend and said "Shit! I can't believe I made out with someone, I smelled sooo bad!" Then I expected her to be like NAW GIRL YOU SMELLED GREAT. But she said "Whatever dude, drunk people smell like shit."

Then today I asked my friend if vegetarians' farts smelled worse. She said "All farts are worse" and then told me that when her vegetarian sister sleeps she smells like shit.

I really like the idea of just your state of existence being smelly. 

Pathetic Soulmate

Could I be any more pathetic right now? My roommates are gone again. They all have boyfriends so I'm never invited. I have to get all fancy tonight and go to see the Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal by myself. At least I get to wear my Alexander McQueen dress. I lost the TV remote like a week ago so my TV is stuck on Much Music (the WORST Canadian channel probably aimed at 14 year old girls in 1996). I've seen the finale of America's Best Dance Crew 4 times. I've been playing Boggle against the computer all day. On top of all this I had to create a blog about Frank Zappa for one of my classes which makes me feel exponentially more pathetic. I'm not linking it. 

The weirdest thing happened to me a couple days ago. I was walking to school and this guy walked past me. He was tall and French and scruffy. It was like, out of a movie. All of the sudden I had tunnel vision and felt like I was connected to him with a string. I stopped walking and just stared and had the weirdest feeling rush over me. OK, I see hot guys all the time that I drool over, but this was just weird. I THINK HE WAS MY SOULMATE? Oh soulmate, I've lost you forever. 

On another note, I've pretty much decided that the depths of Hell are filled with Tyra Banks audience members. And you are the teen that wants to get pregnant.

Naked Cheques

By the way, I suggest NOT showing up at my curtainless window at 2 AM unless you want to see ~my everything~. ie: me, drunk, naked, sitting at my desk writing cheques. 

K!

Studly Fleiss Parrot

I went to Toronto for a week and on the train ride back I watched the BEST documentary on youtube. Internet on the train? It was about Heidi Fleiss trying to make a man brothel or a "Stud Farm." She is so one of those Hollywood people who say they're gonna do something really big and exciting but are actually just eating macaroni and cheese in a truck. She can't string one sentence together and all in all is terrifying BUUUT  she made friends with her neighbor- a 90 year old ex-madame who lived with 2390482 exotic birds. Heidi fell in love with a parrot named Dalton. The old lady died and left all her birds to Heidi, so now she lived in Nevada with 23908230 birds like a zombie. The whole time I was wondering if it was actually an episode of Intervention.

 Heidi Fleiss' dad was my pediatrician. 

Also, that sweater. ~*Pandering*~

Rewarding Trimester Battery

Christ! I figured out what to do when you're really bored. Have a really big loud fight with your ex boyfriend for two hours! I mean...it's not too boring. 

I just tried getting my laundry out of the machine for four hours, no exaggeration. It REALLY freaked me out because all of my clothes were in there. If anyone knows me at all they know I change my outfit 3 times a year. So...this trimester's outfit was stuck in the washing machine. 

I just realized, I always think I should reward myself. For doing nothing. I'm sitting in bed playing online Jeopardy and think OMG I SHOULD REALLY HAVE A REWARD RIGHT NOW! Or I'm making the cat follow an olive pit around the house and think OMG I SHOULD HAVE A REWARD!

What.

I'm so totally baffled by these kids I knew in high school who still think they need to flaunt their drug-use and the fact that they have popped and snorted and smoked everything the world has to offer. What THE FUCK? We've all moved on besides you...

I really want to see where they'll be in...5 years even. 

BY THE WAY: I realized a couple of months ago that I have never had a sloppy joe. And I still haven't had one. Everyone tells me it's nothing special but those Manwich commercials get me really excited. 

And...before last week I had never seen a kitten in person. Only pictures. Cats were never even an idea growing up for me. 

Which makes me seem really sheltered (and the fact that I will never be able to use a canopener as long as I live). But I guarantee I have done a shitload of things normal people haven't done. ie: Walk down an Icelandic highway half naked with a jester hat on, lost for 5 hours. 

K?

I'm really afraid that I wrote 23908423 times better blog (livejournal) entries when I was 14.

Honey-crab Guatemalan Fried Chicken

NO ONE wants to read about how bored someone else is. But whatever. I am so genuinely bored.  Not just right now- but in general. 

I'm lying here in a pile of magazines and instruments, eating entire cucumbers and chain smoking in bed. I have no job- and it's nearly impossible to get a job here if you aren't fluent in French. Unless I want to work at a call center and kill myself. 

It's so hard to go outside at -30 degrees, and guess what? The groundhogs say we are in for six more weeks of winter. 

My little sister called me last night and said, "I heard you are bored." I'm glad news is a'travelin. She's so adorable though. Then she goes, "Get a pen and a piece of paper." I am eating handfuls of cereal and say "OK." She says, "No really! Get a piece of paper." So I got a piece of paper and she says: "I want you to go to the bookstore and buy Demian by Herman Hesse and Leaves of Grass by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Then go to the grocery store and buy those giant pasta shells and find the weirdest combination to stuff it with- like crab and honey. Then go to a cheap store and buy the marshmallowiest socks you can find. Go home, make the pasta, put on the socks, put on some Philip Glass, light some candles and read for five days."

Dang girl. That's a lot to ask from the laziest bitch in town. 

Oof. I'm being a huge bitch to everyone. I don't mean to, but I'm so fed up. I don't know how to meet people. I don't understand at the beginning of classes how everyone is chatting. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW EACH OTHER? Dumb bitches. I can never meet people at school or normal places. Only in public bathrooms, dollar stores, and maybe sometimes a bar.

I went to this bar on Saturday with my friend Emily. It was so damn crowded and I ended up losing her. I went outside to smoke and maybe see if she'd come out. But all I found were dirty old men. A 600 pound 48 year old hillbilly who was completely bald except for a dangling rat's tail saw me and went "Oh my god...WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SMILE?" and tried to kiss my hand. Then a 60 year old Guatemalan. 

Meanwhile, I found out later, my friend was making out with some hot French guy in his car. 

I'm so lucky. 

Sometimes I just want to eat fried chicken until the cows come home. 

Vicious Winter Funk Hot Dog

Well so much shit has happened I don't even care to recap.

I'm back in Montreal. My roommates disappeared five days ago, so I've been in this giant apartment alone. It's so empty and hollow and echoey.

I'm drinking some wine in my big empty apartment in a hard wooden office chair at a hard metal desk with cats on my pillows. I'm having one of those moments where I really want to start eating better, exercising, and getting up early. It'll pass. I wish it wouldn't but it will. 

I'm trying to sing some songs but I lost my voice yesterday.

I am taking a break from drawing the backs of people's heads and noses with fingers stuck in them.

I look like I grew a bunch of freckles on my nose but I actually just scratched the shit out of my face in my sleep creating tiny brown scabs on my nose. I would be really hawt with freckles. I should have more nightmares.

I went into the woodshop last week to rip apart some chairs and put them back together. The woodshop technician was telling me all these crazy stories. There was a shooting at my school many years ago. A professor shot four students. A couple months ago a drunk guy threw a bicycle through the window of the VAV gallery, and a hobo tried to steal the security guard's lunch. 

Yesterday I went to a party and the theme was "fat." Actually such a good theme. Rubbed stuffed pillow bellies on the dancefloor and ate mini hot dogs. 

I accidentally hooked up with a 17 year old kid who looked like Sid Vicious last week. We now affectionately refer to him as Kid Vicious. Oops, I still have his badass skunk tank top. No more hookups. I want to be celibate for a while. Which might be difficult considering my vibrator has mysteriously disappeared. How does a thing like that disappear?

I can feel myself getting into some sort of French Canadian winter funk. Shit. I need some vitamin D and a van and some music and a lake. It's not easy to be cheery when I have to wear an ankle length coat that makes me look like either a giant upright caterpillar or a giant black tampon. 

Jurassic Sperm Rain

I'm in LA. Yesterday was the best/worst day.

Mara and I spent the day together. Got Korean food, bought a sperm nose ring. Later 7 of us got together and went to a party at the Museum of Jurassic Technology. Mini trailer parks, butterfly scale art, free wine, an accordion band, etc. 

Then we went back to my house. It was pouring rain. Had an amazing harmonized basement sing-a-long, went in the hot tub. The hot tub in the rain is such heaven. SUCH HEAVEN. I was pretty drunk though and realized how easy it would be to fall asleep and die in a hot tub. Fell on a tile floor in wet unitard. Then a couple of us went down the hill to buy cigarettes. We were listening to some swing music really loudly with the windows down when we were outside my house. We were dancing in the car for one song and went back inside.

This song woke up my sister who was SO ANGRY. Because my sister woke up my mom woke up and got SO ANGRY. She came downstairs, looked me square in the eye and said "YOU'RE DISGUSTING." Meanwhile my dad was really drunk in his chair in front of the TV so when my mom came down and found both my dad and I drunk she lost it. But the funniest part of this is that both my dad and I were drunk and my mom was fucked on ambien so all this yelling we were doing was slow-motion elephant noises going YOUUUUURE DIIISGUUUUUUSTIIING...I HAAAAATE YOUUUUUU. 

The other great thing about this is that according to my sister this morning, she was SCARED of the car outside because she thought it was a neighbor doing drugs coming to kill her. She also told me she was only angry because she didn't want to be tired for the rain the next day (it's going to be raining all week). WHAT THE HELL. All of this happened because she didn't want to be tired for rain. Who am I. 

And my friend Arun's brother works for Dr Phil and IM GOING TO BE FRONT ROW in the Dr Phil studio audience tomorrow. ahahahahasidfuasiouiowerwea. Anyone who knows me at all knows I have an obsession. I need to bring a bucket o' tears.

Lounge Living

How in the fucking world do I begin to explain what has happened in the past three weeks. I will try. Here I go.

So I decided to play an open mic at this club that my friend Larry owns. Basically I played one Wednesday night and didn't leave the bar ever. The first night I played my set and pretty much everyone was gone by 2 AM. It was just me, a drunk guy named Bruno, this huge Jamaican-reggae guy, and the bartender Roger. It ended up just being me, Bruno, and Jamaican guy on stage jamming and Roger looking on. By the end it was just me and Roger and I ended up staying the night.

To try and explain this place...it's in a basement, very dimly lit (by pasta strainers), plastered with wheat pastings, and has dozens of couches. Roger pushed together a couple couches and we slept. I worked as a waitress...for free. Didn't even take tips. We barely ever left. Maximum 2 hours a day. It was like living in a bomb shelter lounge with no light. One time when we did leave we walked to China town in heavy rain, ate pork buns, bought medicinal tea, and ran around in the rain some more. Another time we climbed the mountain in sub zero temperatures, got to the top to this giant empty ballroom and danced in circles.

Roger...is some sort of computer programmer-nomad man. He also might be some kind of genius. He just came back from Paris and had been living in the bar 3 weeks prior to when i showed up. Drugs are his religion. We watched documentaries during the day: Chomsky, Shamanism, Survivor Man. It was so fucking relaxing.

Anyway, the bar closed after I showed up (the owner moved to San Fran) and now Roger is staying with me for a while.

Meanwhile, I have a plan. Tomorrow morning I am buying a bus. It's a bus that was used to transport prisoners. Roger is going to convert it to some type of RV. Then in April, me, Roger, Larry (owner of the bar), and Sarah (Larry's girlfriend) are going to go on a six month trek. Anywhere really. Probably Canada, since this is going to be some kind of nouveau Merry Prankster bus and god knows about Canadians and their drugs. It will be some sort of traveling show of music and film and whatever. This all probably sounds like some sort of dream but I am spending thousands of dollars on a bus tomorrow and it is going to happen.

Dragqueen Pork Buns

I need to tell you about my incredible weekend. My roommate is out of town so I had to find my other friends and take a break from the usual drinking dancing weekends. On Thursday I went to The Pound which is this weird big open mic club down the street from me (where you can smoke inside omg). It's cool because NOTHING else is down the street from me. I just live next to tons of antique shops. Anyway it was OK there were a bunch of hobos singing. 

The best worst part of this was that I finally started talking to guys again and I was talking with this guy for a long time and then of course I brought up Ed Gein the serial killer and was telling him all about Ed Gein's life story and murders. And this guy was just like "You're one disturbed individual" and walked away. I ROOL. 

Friday I called my friend Eun Ji (Korean songstress) and we met up and were eating cheesecake and cider on St Denis trying to figure out what to do and then somehow I pinpointed EXACTLY what I wanted to do which never happens. Go to a dragshow. I'd never even been to a dragshow but somehow I knew that's all I wanted to do.  We didn't even know where to find a dragshow but figured it would be on St Catherine East and walked that way and somehow we ended up at THE drag club of Montreal not even knowing it called Chez Mado. It was AMAZING. Fucking incredible. I wish I knew I was going to a dragshow though because I would have been so glamorous but I looked like a lesbian librarian again. I just wanted to know the dragqueens in real life but I guess all straight girls who go to dragshows do. It made me really happy anyway and then Eun Ji and I ate McDonalds and walked all the way back to my house. 

Eun Ji slept over and then knocked on my door on Saturday morning. It was POURING rain but I really wanted to go outside. I actually wanted to walk to China town and eat pork buns. So we suited up  with our super shitty umbrellas. On the way there a 10 YEAR OLD checked me out. Literally. It was the scariest thing. Anyway it took us a really long time and my umbrella kept going inside out and we were soaking. We got to China town and I bought a pork bun and then we ate Pho. It was so nice to be all warmed up. Then we started walking down the street and I decided I needed a new umbrella. We stopped at this store where an old Quebecer man was standing outside. He asked Eun Ji "Are you Chinese?" and she said "No, are YOU?" and he said "I HOPE SO." And then he pointed at me and said "She is prettier than she (pointing at Eun Ji)" and then it got really awkward and we went inside. I bought a fur hat and a new umbrella. At this point I looked like such an Amazon-Canadian-Trooper woman. I was wearing this orange turtle neck and purple skirt, big black boots, a green ankle length jacket with a fur hood, a fur hat, and I had a red plaid umbrella. It is hard to explain but I really looked crazy. So then a group of Hell's Angels walked by (they rool this city)  and were staring at my sweater tits as we walked towards a Chinese doctor for Eun Ji to get her Singaporean cough syrup. We walked through the Old Port and along the canal and then got home warmed up our feet. 

Later we split up and I went to Anya and Jake's house. It was good. Anya is this half indian half jew who looks a lot like me and loves meat and excess too. Jake is this super skinny gay boy from Iowa who I spooned with last weekend. Dan is Jake's boyfriend who is also super skinny and they were wearing matching PJs. We talked about Celine Dion and drank a dead German man's 30 year old Kirschwasser (cherry liquor). I slept over in an insanely comfortable bed that used to be an old Chinese man's bed. This morning as I was walking to the metro I realized that every 3rd lamp post had speakers on them and they were playing some song. The whole town of Verdun has that! It's so amazing. While walking home a van started backing up as I was walking behind it and that really pissed me off for some reason so I hit the van with my umbrella. THAT is not something I would do. I am going crazy. I am a bitter old woman.  Anyway, now I'm here. Gonna take my pills, brush my teeth, get naked and watch A&E biographies on youtube hell yeah.

Formaldehyde Duck Dogs

I never in my life thought I would have a dream about Celine Dion. But I guess I moved to Montreal. I had the BEST dream last night.

First Lindsay Lohan was pregnant with two golden retrievers. She gave birth and kept them in a flower pot and named one of them "Later." Then I was at an art show where my mom and Celine Dion were showing. Celine Dion had a duck on a plinth. I accidentally kicked it and it came alive and started pecking people. The security guard thought that if he clicked his tongue the duck would stop pecking people and then I laughed at him. My mom's piece was a Cocker Spaniel in formaldehyde. It was really creepy because the dog was still alive and sniffing in the formaldehyde but it was decaying at the same time. Then Celine Dion was giving lectures about the brain at school. I don't remember the rest, but that's all I need to know. 

Banana Bread Porn

I finally made an enemy in Montreal. He thinks pamphlets are sculptures. My teacher agrees and thinks they are sculptures. My blood has been boiling all day. I had to leave class and have a cigarette during his critique so I didn't strangle him. 

Also, I definitely just bench pressed in the back of a club like 20 minutes ago...

And I definitely ate banana bread out of a stranger's hand yesterday.

Life is good.

Conversation with mom:

Me: Hi mom, we watched porn in my class today.

Mom: Was it on youporn?

Me: NO, but how the fuck do you know about youporn?

Mom: There's a better site called xxx"blahblahblah"

Me: MOM. 

This morning I find on my screen:

vacuumhands: DIANE

vacuumhands: I'M LOCKED IN MY ROOM

towststutters: ahhh!

vacuumhands: HELP ME

vacuumhands: SERIOUSLY

towststutters: well sure.

towststutters: ill be right there

I'm so smart.

Howling Ashtray-Face

I met the funniest girl last weekend. I was trying to tell her a funny story that I guess had a "punch line" but it took me like 10 minutes to get to the good part because every 3 words I said she would burst out laughing in a laugh I'd NEVER heard before. She would throw her head back and howl at the moon in staccato REALLY loudly (like so loudly that the party of probably 60 people all turned around). I don't think she was listening to me at all. But instead of it really annoying me as it probably should have, it just made me really interested as to what the hell was going on. 

Later I was dancing with Emily and howling girl showed up again with three friends in white coats (?) and they started dancing IN SYNCH-with choreography and everything. So basically...I need to know. 

Also it occurred to me this morning that most people probably don't wake up with their face practically in an ashtray, a power drill next to their feet, and their hand in a half eaten plate of spaghetti. I need a boy. 

Also also, I watched a documentary on Ed Gein last night. If you don't know who he is, look him up. He made fucking necklaces out of dead people's nipples and all of his furniture was upholstered in human skin. The whole time I kind of felt bad for him though. I think I have a soft spot for weird reclusive farmers. He was sort of a psychopathic artist murderer. The best kind.  

Hamburger Prostitute

Old men, all of the world, think Im a prostitute. I don't dress prostitutey at all. I guess I give off that prostitute air. I used to be really naive about it. Like when I was in LA I was at the party store with my mom putting stuff (a Hillary Clinton lifesize cut-out for my sister's 16th birthday) in the trunk, and this old Mexican guy drives up. I think he's asking for directions but then he yells at me "TIEMPO?" and points at me and then his passenger's seat. So I'm like what? And I still think he's asking me for directions to "TIEMPO", so I walk over to my mom to tell her to help him and then he drives away. I'm like "Mom, where is Tiempo?" and she's just like "That guy thought you were a prostitute." (Also all my extremities were covered and I was wearing a baggy dress).

So that happened a few times in LA and I sort of became weary of it. Now it happens ALL the time in Montreal. Always on the street I live on. I don't even live in a particularly prostitute addled area. 

Anyway I started thinking about this because I just woke up (extremely hungover) and went to walk to McDonalds and the whole time I was walking there I actually felt like a prostitute. I was wearing this floral print skirt as a strapless dress with no bra and my titties all hanging out, a really ugly jacket I bought at the salvation army (with those bat sleeves from the 80's), and this bag that I found outside of the salvation army that was TOTALLY a dead prostitute's bag. As I walked by the police station I was convinced someone was gonna stop me and be like R U SELLING UR BODY? Then I got to McDonalds and felt even more like a prostitute. Just cause I was at McDonalds. 

ALSO, people order really weird stuff at Mcdonalds. Like two coffees and a fry, or an apple pie and a hot chocolate. Who goes to McDonalds to get that stuff? I WANT A HAMBURGAH. 

Exploding Murderer

Every time I'm in a lecture class I feel like I'm just going to explode. Piss and shit and burp and have a heart attack right in the middle of my teacher's sentence. And that would be it. I don't know why. I guess it's the silence of 200 people that makes me think I'm gonna fart all over myself.

Also, I keep having dreams that I kill people. But the actual killing isn't important. The whole focus of the dreams is my fear of being caught and trying to figure out what to do with the body. It's seriously the WORST feeling. I've had these dreams at least once a week for the past six weeks. Am I a murderer? But seriously, don't you think you just gotta burn the body? WHY AM I A MURDERER?

Normal Time

I can't walk out of my apartment and have a "normal time." I don't leave my apartment as often as I would like, but every time I do it is such an event. Take today for example. I woke up early (dressed as a lesbian librarian I realized later) and went to the library to read. After reading for probably about 15 minutes, the strangest alarm sounded. It sounded like someone pounding on a single key of a keyboard. Then we heard a speaker turn on and some mumbling. Then, "The emergency alarm has sounded. We are trying to figure out the cause." I looked around and all the librarians were putting on neon orange armbands that said "EVACUATION." So I went downstairs and the librarians were directing us, and screaming "Go out the emergency exits!" while making these stewardess type arms gestures. It was kind of like the Titanic. Also, it made me wonder if librarians have to sign a contract knowing that they are risking their lives being librarians. (I never found out what happened).

So I walked down the block to one of the busiest intersections in Montreal, where there are at least 30 Concordia students on every corner. Of course today happens to be the windiest day ever and of course this is the first time I haven't worn tights in a month. Of course my skirt flies over my head and at least 60 people see my ass. I haven't even been awake for an hour. 

Then I went to a cafe to read. I sat outside and this older man sat across from me. He stared at me, looked me up and down and tried to read over my shoulder. (I'm reading a book called Sex Matters). Then my mind started wandering to this older man, lesbian librarian University student porno, so I went inside. 

There I thought I had sat next to some quiet guy reading a newspaper. But of course not. Two other guys join him and it is apparently an interview for the first guy to become part of their small video game company. A really embarrassing one. I plug my ears and try to block them out but then they pull out a computer and start showing him their projects. These really stupid Anime characters (these guys are white Quebecors) and weird domestic scenes. Then they start talking about Pokemon and then I just realize that God doesn't want me to read. OK, God. 

This also reminds me of a similar two minute span of time a couple days ago. I hadn't left my house in at least 20 hours and went outside just to see what the weather was like. The second I walked out the door a giant white fluffball dog was blowing in the wind and heading straight towards my ankles and this tiny Polish woman shrieks and pulls it away. Then a lady asks me where the metro is (in French) and I respond to her (in French) and then I go to the dep to buy a large bottle of water and I end up following my landlord in where he is buying EXACTLY the same thing and buys it for me. Oh Santa landlord. These are all very minor things I guess, but I think everything is magnified 6000 fold in my mind. 

MAH MIND. 

Now I'm watching a commercial for Maple Leaf Farms where the head guy is saying "Please don't be scared of our meat!" So good. So Canadian.

I also just called my mom to tell her about my boy troubles and she goes "HOLD ON. Let me get my shadow cards and tell you what to do." So she hangs up on me. Then calls me back and goes "IT'S A SKELETON IN A PURPLE ROBE." Oh.

Also the cat has lipstick on its mouth. 

And there's still a dried up pickle next to my bed.