It's ALIVE...

My social life that is, well, kinda. I mean I work from 7-12 and then 3-9 tomorrow, but I could have a social life and that's all that matters.

Yes, that's right, the summer is here. Again I refer you to my 'kinda' statement. I mean the fact that it will snow tomorrow and the next day isn't making mother nature my best buddy at the moment, but until I make a weather controlling machine, looks like I'm stuck here, in the cold.

But most importantly (and lacking the 'kinda' aspect) is the fact that I'm finished exams. I know that I'll pass, and usually this is enough for me. I really don't care until I have to sign up for my classes next year and have to make sure that I passed so I can count my five-hundred dollar wastes of time 'pre-requisites'. But this year is different, at least with one class.

I took biology 332. I didn't know what it would be about, what I would learn, in fact the only thing I saw when I signed up was the BIOL 3**. I mean all I needed were a few three hundred levels and I was happy, so I took it. It turns out to be ecology. For anyone who has taken ecology you know that it's easy and you really just have to say you love the planet. And get this, you don't have to mean it. Don't get me wrong, I'll help out nature, but usually only when it helps out me. I will also be the first to tell you that if I needed to rip the heads of baby ducks in order to get gas for my car I'd be wading though Broadmoor Lake right now looking for the little guys. For this class I had to suck it up and face the fact that in order to pass I would have to at least pretend to be interested in recycling (although I refuse to think that I'm going to a whole lot of work to spend my few days on Earth using inferior recycled products).

This all being said, I'm sure you can imagine how excited about the test I was... yes, it was like I finally got to meet Brad Pitt and drool over his hotness (for those of you visiting my blog for the first time today or my friends who recently suffered mass brain damage: the preceding line was a delightful example of sarcasm. The truth of the matter is that the only hard bodies I'll ever check out is on the now extinct Honda RC51 and the likes... um again, for those of you with major frontal lobe damage I'm talking about cars/bikes/and other methods of obtaining ridiculously useless speeds).

Alright, so why do you care? Well you don't (Holy parachuting wombats, Batman, this keyboard is crappy...) but you are here, reading this drivel, so for your benefit and in giving you an end to this story I will proceed onto my point. I just finished my ecology final. It took the whole three hours. I never take long to write an exam, but this proved to be a challenge. Perhaps if I actually used a pencil or a pen to write out my notes, my hands wouldn't have so badly atrophied from exclusively using a keyboard and I would have been able to finish faster, but alas the life of a geek like me.

Towards the third hour I was seeing things, and hearing things (both of which I assume were not real), and instead of this 'essay question' I interpreted it as 'creative writing time'. My '"Island Succession Model" became "I don't remember that being there", and instead of filled niches, the animals became unemployed. I'm fairly sure I even made reference to birds trying to 'spice up their love life' and 'monkey butlers'. Oh, and there was the point of the island becoming suitable to host 'an evil secret lair' somewhere in there.

Yes, in the words of the famous exam urban legend, I too am an integer, or at least I lost it at some point during the exam. But that's it, I'm done... ah, and now to do nothing, I only have four months so I had better get started... starrrrtiiiing now-

There's not place like home, there's no place like home...

Ah, exams... While most of you are out there, cursing the day you decided to pursue 'higher education' because they were throwing something called a 'Rutherford Scholarship' at you and pleading you to come, I revel in this time, realizing that I am invincible and can do anything I want.

What you talking 'bout Willis? You've always thought that you were invincible... Well now I am especially so. This is the one, actually second time every year that I can get away with anything I want, and am so fatigued that I cease to care about anything. Alright, let me clear things up a get before your brains attempt a paradigm shift without a clutch. I was in an accident, again. This is a regular occurance for me now, but I think that I've finally gotten a blackout on my bingo card and I can stop playing. (For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, in the three years my car had been in existance it's experienced: a speeding ticket, a parking ticket, pulled over excessively for lights/seatbelt/sticks in places that they shouldn't be, attempted theft, actual theft, vandalism (twice), hit by a deer, massive door ding, hit and run (a la tractor and in parking lots), and now a rear-ending) that should just about do it for it's lifetime. Plus if you count my last car that became possesed... or my Pontiac that bees moved into...

So what's the big deal? Why don't I wish death on Albert and his big GMC? Well it's because I'm too tired to really care, I do, but I'm going to make him buy me a new bumper. It's just something that will get taken care of when I have time.

I've shunned my social life over this past weekend, worried about my Tuesday exam and studying like crazy without sleep. My computer is crappy and out of ink, so I came to school to work on stuff and what do I find out? My Tuesday exam is on Thursday. Yup. Wrong day. In fact I don't have anything on Tuesday. So I've been frantically studying for the wrong exam. That kind of thing would make me pretty upset (albeit I would have known when the exam was if I went to class) but I really don't care, it's just another thing that will get done.

My room looks like a bomb went off inside it... maybe Bush found oil in the deep recesses of my closet, but I don't really care. Nor do I care that I do nothing around the house to help out right now, or that I'm 1000 km over and climbing from when I should have had my oil changed.

Ah, it's the two week high where nothing and no one matters, yup... I love exams.

... I know, not a big deal... sigh, Stupid Truck! 

Here's some pics from our evening out at La Ronde, check out picture 9, it's a pretty sweet one of Jess eating her hand. Apparently picture 14 is of a Hotel with the 'tel' burnt out. Oh, and the rabbit riding the John Deere was just so that I had an even number. That's from the trade fair, not La Ronde (surprisingly enough). 

Ah the 'Plant. Did you know that with all the money we spent there, one of us could have gone to University for free? 

Hair today... I know, really bad pun, well I'll just call this one, a tribute to Jess' hair, yeah, that's good. You know, it would be written in script and look all fancy-like, you get the idea. 

Blame fruit snacks!

The purpose of this blog is two, no wait, make that three fold. Yes, I shall be dealing with thrice the number of issues I usually deal with, if you actually count any of what I deal with to comprise at least one issue.

First, thank you for commenting on my last blog. While I realize now that I should have posted it the night before, allowing it to simmer over gentle heat the entire duration of April Fool's day, it was my first attempt and I'm fairly impressed with the response. Oh, and for those of you who don't know or still just don't get it, I'm not going to Quebec, I can't stand Chemistry for the most part and as for the French... I can speak it, but I don't think I would survive.

Secondly, in honor of Jess's hair, or soon to be lack of, I wanted to have a get together at 'La Ronde' on Wednesday night as our fair Jessica will be hearing bad cue-ball jokes the next day. If you have not given her money already, do so. I know for me at least I couldn't do this and I'm doubting that many of you would as well. I give her a lot of credit for this. For those of you who wish to celebrate this momentous occasion, comment on the blog or email or phone me soon! Very soon! I need to make reservations right away and need to know how many to make it for. Gory details: Wednesday, the 13th, around 8:00 we should meet up at the restaurant, and before you become whiney because it's uber-expensive, we are only going for desert, drinks, and a chance to wear grad dresses again. If you need a ride, also let me know. Oh, and if you want to be all girly and get your hair and make-up done, we are tentatively meeting up at Kate's around 6:00ish? (although I should probably check with Kate). Let me know... now, you can read the rest of my rantings later, scroll down to the bottom of this entry and click on the comments button, you don't even need to be a member (if you aren't, do sign your name at the bottom).

And now onto my third point... the rant...

I'm sure that you've all heard how video games causes kids to become violent, or at the very least, desensitized to violence. Personally I grew up playing McKids, Alex Kidd [sic] in Miracle-World, Barbie, Tiny Toons, and Mario Paint. Through all of this, I can only say for certain that I wish violence towards Barbie. Did I turn out to be a 'desesitized individual'? Not really, it took years of school, dissections, and News broadcasts to do that to me. Spend Spring Break picking fat out of a cat and you will know what I mean.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, even if they are wrong, but many theories have arisen to explain the increase in violent tendancies seen in children. There's something not quite right about a six year old playing Doom, GTA, or Halo, but I don't believe that this is the problem that society faces today. No, deprive not these children of blood, guts and gore, but instead of the obsenities found in a package of fruit snacks.

Yes, that's right, it's not a typo, I blame fruit snacks for the downfall of society. Why? Well after being repeatedly exposed to the new 'Finding Nemo' Fruit Snacks commercial, with their fun shapes, colors, and now made with 50% real fruit juice, I went out an bought a box.

Eagerly I got to work, opened the first pack, ready to consume it's nemo-y goodness and what did I see looking back at me? Big eyed Nemo. His father traveled all over the ocean, almost got eaten by sharks, birds, and blown up and I'm about to pop his one and only son in my mouth? What is wrong with this picture? When I was growing up, fruit snacks bore no resemblance to what they were supposed to be. They were jelly goop that was diced a few times and oddly all resembled the elephant man, rather then the Racoons or Smurfs. The Nemo fruit snacks looked like Nemo, Marlin, Dori, and that little pink jelly fish. I can't eat them!

So when you grow up, (I know seems unlikely but it might happen), and have kids (a fate I wouldn't wish upon my worst red-headed enemy), give them all the games they want, but for the love of everything good and pure, please don't encourage them to eat sweet and innocent creatures that we've all come to know and love.

(For bonus marks, print this off and hand it in instead of that history essay you were supposed to write). What? You made it to the end? You had better have commented me already before you finished reading this post... or I kill you!

One of those days...

Seeing as how all of you are going to a party tonight (and yes, I know, I'm invited... no, still not going) I figured I may as well talk about my present issue on the blog, not as if anyone will check, but maybe I can at least sort some of my thoughts for myself.

If you don’t drive, you probably won’t get my next anecdote, but for those of you who do, try to explain it to the others. You are driving your car down a boring highway, it’s hot out, and late, and you are tired. There isn’t anything too exciting going on, the highway is pretty empty and you know where you are going, you’ve followed the same way for years, you could do it blindfolded (do not try this at home, it’s not a good idea, and you will hurt yourself), but I’m sure you can understand what I mean. Amidst your travels you cease your self-inflection journey and pause to think about the past five minutes and realize that you don’t remember a thing outside of your own thoughts. It’s as if your car was on the road about ten miles back, and now you are at the present point with no recollection of what happened in between. You know that nothing bad happened, no one honked or swerved into you, but you still don’t remember staying within the lines or controlling your speed, it happened, but you don’t remember it.

That’s been me today. I recall the first part of my trip, but as of late I’m about twenty miles down the road with no idea how I got there.

Alright, now for everyone who hasn’t been able to keep up with my rambling, I’ll try to explain. This Christmas, amidst applying at schools, I came across some job opportunities in the summer, all of which I was sure that I wouldn’t get and felt like I may as well apply, mostly to practice my resume and application writing. Well today I got a response. I mean I didn’t think that I would get that much, but at best expected a “sorry, you suck” response. I didn’t. They are offering me the job, albeit temporary, but still something I consider being life-shattering in stature, (I am kinda a drama queen sometimes).

It’s a job working in a chem. lab, apparently my work at Shell came in handy, and it would be full time. This isn’t too big a deal, I mean I would have to take a leave of absence from both my jobs (which I do really love), but it pays about twice as much and includes room and board. Why? Because it’s in Quebec. I guess that speaking French also helped. I mean, I filled it out as a joke, and now I have the opportunity to go there and change my life almost entirely.

So now I’m at the crossroads. It would be only for four months, but I know no one there, no friends, no family, nothing. I’m more than a weekend trip away from everything familiar…

But I emailed them back. I think that this is something I need to do. The change could do me good, but at the same time I’m scared to death.

Oh, and I guess the Pope isn’t dead, Fox just jumped the gun.