Thursday, June 30, 2011
First, I learned that using violence to fix a problem can in fact work. I was supposed to go out for supper with Jenny. Poor girl got a flat and was stuck at school. So I drove up with my dad to help her out. I of course did nothing but make sarcastic comments. My dad did all the work but it turns out that the tire was rusted on. I suggested kicking it. It so happened that another girl was having car trouble so there was a tow truck nearby. Jenny went over and asked the guy to help. First thing he did? Attack the tire with a two by four. When that didn’t work, he attacked it with a hammer. Stole my idea and took the credit!
Another thing I learned: while blondes may not necessarily have more fun, they can smile and get things for free. Jenny has blonde-power. It was crazy! First she got the tow guy to fix her tire. He ended up not charging her because he was there anyway. Later, we stopped in at Canadian Tire to get the rim of her tire replaced. They charged her for the rim but not the labour and then they put the tire back on for her. What the hell? I don’t get free shit! People find extra charges when I need something done. Then again, I’m not blonde... or bubbly. But can you really blame me for being cranky when I'm being charged a non-blonde tax?
Jenny and I went out for sushi once her tire was in working order. She actually remembered my hatred of shrimp. I don't know a lot about sushi so I get whoever is with me to order for me. Jenny ordered something with crab in it. The lesson? I like crab.
The final thing I learned is that candy-on-a-rope eating pandas are stupid, don’t know how to reach a little and I’m much smarter than them. It’s a game I was playing... check it out if you’re bored.
These are the things I learned. As you can see, it’s been a very productive day.
Today, I finally got up the nerve to look at how much a graduate degree would cost. The only reason I was looking at schools in the States was because there aren’t many schools with a creative writing program in Canada. When I found each school’s estimates costs, I blinked, read the information over again, worked on something else for a while, then read the information a third time. By then I was positive that I wasn’t seeing things. I kind of laughed. I can’t fathom spending 31 000$ a year or 12 000$ a semester in tuition alone. That’s like having a good full time job and not needing a place to live or food to eat, both of which I’ve become accustomed to.
So here’s what I have to say about tuition fees in the US. I don’t know if those fees are particular to the schools I was looking at or if that’s the norm, but if it is the norm, how on Earth can Americans say they live in a meritocracy? I’m asking in earnest. It just confirmed my theory that post secondary education is in fact an elitist conspiracy. Does money equal merit? I know I’m a good writer, I know I’m smart, I know I work my ass off and I do not accept anything but the best from myself, but no matter how hard I work or how much I want it, there is nothing I can do to make that money. Well, nothing legal. How many university kids are drug dealers down there? I can’t blame them. Do poorer people not merit a higher education? Do they not merit an environment where their skills can be honed? How can people justify forcing others that deep into debt? It mystifies me. I’m shocked that we still have professors in Canada at all! They must get paid peanuts compared their American counterparts.
I would actually like to know if that’s the norm in the States. Someone, leave me a comment! Because here, in Ontario Canada, my tuition for this last year was about 6 100$. Send your kids here. Even as foreign exchange students the fees are cheaper... I don’t know that I’ll be able to complain about tuition fees again. Americans should revolt.
Even if I had the money, I don’t think I could justify paying it. It’s ridiculous. I don’t care what the reputation of the school is. So, it appears that I will remain in my own country. Which, to be honest, I’m happy about. American money is all green... it would confuse me. Am I disappointed? Not really. It would have been amazing, but obviously, it’s not where I’m supposed to be. I believe that everything happens for a reason. The reason is to move us down our right path in life.
I also think that our talents and dreams are ways in which God speaks to us. Not necessarily God Father of Jesus, but whatever faith you believe in, I think we can all acknowledge that there is a higher power (regardless of what we call it). I feel that I’m on my right path. I guess I just came to a fork and by presenting me with ludicrous tuition fees, I was pointed in the right direction.
Off I go again. So ridiculously happy I’m Canadian.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The garage door opens. As do the windows and doors. And yes, I made a walkway. If you’re like my mother and are about to suggest that the top floor is drafty, in a perfect world, there would be windows in the arches. I wasn’t bored enough to measure and cut out plastic to finish the sunroom okay? I just wasn’t. My perfectionist self is really annoyed that I couldn’t do it all in one colour, but I did not have enough blocks for that.
Yup, that is a chair (that swivels), next to a table, upon which is a cup, all of which are situated on the bank of a plastic stream for the purposes of fishing. See, there’s even a fishing rod.
Needless to say, not a whole lot going on here today. My mom actually told me that we could donate my blocks to a daycare and that kids would really enjoy them. My response: “I’m a kid and I enjoy them”. Leggo, my Legos!
I did however have a peculiar thought today/last night. I don’t really know why. I was just sitting in bed, and for some reason I started wondering about pants and history and men and women. I think of a lot of random shit when I’m trying to get to sleep. That’s when I came upon this question. If anyone can answer it I would be delighted.
Historically and still to this day, skirts and dresses are classified as women’s clothing while pants have been typically considered to be masculine wear (no longer so much an issue). Why do men, who have junk between their legs, want to wear something that splits up the middle and presumably crowds certain body parts when women, who have no such business between their legs, have been wearing items of clothing that allow much more freedom? Long question filled with euphemisms wasn’t it? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Perhaps the Scots were on to something with the kilt. I rather like the look of kilts.
When I asked my parents for their thoughts, my dad agreed that kilts were the way to go. My mom proclaimed that men simply like to show off their package. Her theory certainly explains the codpiece. Show off and enhance... talk about false advertising (probably a good thing it was false).
Although... now that I’m thinking of it, certain situations may be more embarrassing to men if they were to wear something... flowy and less... constricting? Still... if it’s a question of comfort, wouldn’t skirts be preferable? Who knows, a switch in garment may eliminate some crotch picking. I said some because I suspect crotch picking is a not-so-secret pleasure men indulge in. We see you doing it and we are not impressed gentlemen.
Monday, June 27, 2011
I think I used muscles that were not present prior to this experience. I am sore. Though, I must say, beating dough into submission is delightful. It’s all the damn rolling! I don’t have a pasta maker thingy that thins out the dough to a respectable pasta thickness. I have a rolling pin. I was assured by one Jamie Oliver that this method was fine, which it was, but he did not tell me that I would end up smelling like a garbage can left out in the hot summer sun. Perhaps Mr. Oliver should consider adding this caution to his website. By the end, I did not want to lift my arms. Once everything was safely in the oven, I scurried off to the bathroom and scoured. It’s hot work I tells ya! All that cooking, and rolling, and cutting, and stuffing, and boiling!
As suspected, the recipes were straight forward and I must say, impossible to screw up. I didn’t use Jamie Oliver’s recipe, but he had really helpful instructions and explanations that were great at filling in the gaps in my knowledge. The dough itself was only flour, eggs, a bit of olive oil, a bit of salt, and a bit of water. I think I may have added too much water. So, no huge problems on that front. My problems arose when the time came to roll out my dough. It kept snapping back so it ended up being thicker than it should have been. And with ravioli, the dough has to be thin. My always-opinionated sister wasted little time explaining that my shrinking dough was the result of not letting the it rest long enough. She’s probably right... for all I know. I did let it rest, just apparently not as long as I could have.
I was sweaty and covered in flour when my sister got home and announced that her friend would be joining us for dinner. I was worried. It’s one thing to serve crap to my family. They’re obligated to forgive me and keep it within the walls of the dining room. Having another person there if it all went to hell would mean that I’d forever have a witness. Before I could start thinking up ways to ‘take care of her’, I went to take a shower. Once that was done, I didn’t have time to plan an assassination. My mom would be home soon and I had to finish the salad and bread, set the table and finally, serve my concoction. And it was good! Which was a rather pleasant shock! Almost everything is gone.
I recommend doing this. It’s actually quite fun and pretty neat. Next time (a long time from now) I think I’ll ask someone to help me. I was having a hard time working and keeping the dough from drying out. I think that was another of my problems at the very end. Beginner’s slowness? There really is something cool and special about making pasta from scratch.
Sorry, I didn't think to take pictures. I was too floury and my family was too hungry.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I didn’t do very much today. I wrote a bit, I watched TV for a while, I read a bit. To be honest, I was pretty bored. Tomorrow should be more interesting. I’m going to attempt to make pasta, ravioli to be more specific, from scratch. I guess I’ve just proven the power of TV. I’ve seen a few cooking shows this week where pasta was made and I really want to give it a go. In theory, and I stress the theory part, I should be able to do it. It looks fairly straight forward. In actuality, I have a sense that it will either go horribly wrong or be just decent enough to eat. Either way, it’s something to do. And why not? I like a challenge! I like pasta! PASTA CHALLENGE!
Anyone want to take bets on this one?
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Other than that, I find myself... conflicted.
My parents announced that they want to buy a piece of property because they’ll eventually sell our house and move out to the country. It’s an investment, there’s a new subdivision going up, so on and so forth. My parents have lived in the same house my whole life. I think this is their first house. Our neighbours suck. One is a pervert and I think the others may be drug dealers. Seriously, my friend Jenny drives and Impala and one night, when she was driving me home from psych, she pulled into their driveway by mistake. They were at the window checking us out in two seconds. Fear the police car?
The house is nice, but it’s not a dream house. On top of which, my parents don’t really travel. They don’t have a bunch of pastimes. They work hard. That part of me knows that they deserve a dream house far away from highways, crazy neighbours, that has a nice chunk of property. They’ve worked for it.
The other part of me is really annoyed and kind of angry. All my parents have ever really told me regarding my dreams is that “You have big dreams, big dreams are expensive”. I will never forget that. Ever since I mentioned doing a masters, the only thing they keep telling me is that it’s expensive. I’ve shown them the amazing entrance scholarships, I’ve shown them fellowship opportunities, I’ve talked about outside bursaries, I have money that I have no problem spending. I’m blue in the face. It’s not a good colour on me. And still they’re making me feel guilty about the cost. There are no jobs here. There are next to no teaching jobs in Ontario. I would have to move regardless of whether I was continuing my education or not. On top of which, almost everyone entering the job market has a bachelor’s degree now. Continuing my education is logical on those points alone, forget that having an MA in Creative Writing would improve my writing and put me in contact with the people I need to be in contact with career wise, forget that I’d love it. So I’m kind of pissed at them for considering spending way more money than I ever could on my MA.
I don’t even know if I should be angry or if I'm being selfish. I almost think they told me to make me angry and make me feel guilty. For these reasons, I cannot wait to be financially independent. It would be nice not to be under anyone’s power.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Lauren: Uh... what the hell are you?
Ron: I’m Ron Stoppable. From Kim Possible.
Lauren: Yeah... I know this, but what are you doing here?
Salem: We thought you could benefit from a more recent fictional character joining your team. We’re all from the nineties and well... that was a couple years ago.
Lauren: The nineties aren’t that long ago Salem.
Salem: We know, it’s just, you need to get with the times.
Lauren: I’m 22.
Voldemort: Numerically yes, but in reality, your mind is more like that of an eighty year old. That makes you older than me. By the way Stoppable, where’s my coffee!? Don’t make me Avada Kadavra you.
Ron: Coming right up! Stops. Sorry Lauren, this is for you. The latest stats on your scheme.
Lauren still confused: Thanks Ron. Looks at paper. Holy crap! I’ve been read in 90 countries?
Voldemort: Indeed. We brought Stoppable on to gain the remaining few. Crashing and sounds of general destruction are heard in the background. Actually, he’s just here to get me coffee, but his face and name will gain us the remaining few.
Lauren: How did you get him to join up anyway? He’s supposed to be a hero. You guys are all villains. And frankly, I think trying to take over the world gives me a bit of villain cred.
Brain: Basically, he’s an idiot. We bribed him with something called a Naco.
Lauren: What’s a naco?
Brain: I don’t know. The chemical composition is too complex for even me to understand.
Ron: Here’s you go LV. Hands Lord Voldemort the coffee. Hey LD, do you think I can cut out for the day?
Voldemort: He’s talking to you Lauren.
Lauren: Say what? Yeah, whatever. Wait, hang on a sec! Ron, wasn’t there a Shego in Kim Possible?
Ron: She wishes! There is so much sexual tension between those two.
Lauren face-palms: I meant the show Ron.
Ron: Oh! Yeah.
Lauren to Voldemort, Salem and Brain: Do you think we could hire her? If I remember correctly, she was really smart and quite the villain. Plus I could use another girl on the team... no offense guys.
Pinky: NARF! I tried but apparently her IQ is too high to be on this team. EGAD!
Lauren: Are you kidding me?
Lauren: I’ll take that as a no. But she actually has potential for dominating the world! She has that great hair! AND! She can shoot plasma with her hands! Pshoo! Pshoo! Everyone stares. I just proved the whole IQ thing didn’t I? Damn. Well, I guess we’re keeping Ron?
Ron: Awesome LD!
Lauren: You’re still here?
Ron: I forgot my pants.
Another slow day in Lauren Land. But! I hit 90 countries. Azerbaijan, you are lucky number 90! You don’t win anything though. Clearly my budget sucks. I kind of like saying Azerbaijan. Has a nice flow to it. Azerbaijan! Azerbaijan!
And yes... I did watch Kim Possible... I’m not admitting to any fanfiction reading though.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It has come to my attention that cotton balls are assuming animal forms. They are becoming mobile, they are evil and they are coming after me. Frightening but true. Oh so true.
In an attempt to protect myself I’ve posted guards everywhere I could think of.
And in case that doesn’t work, I’ve crafted this symbol to call for reinforcements.
God willing they’ll be able to see it. Looks like they’re in the desert somewhere. I hope they can make it here in time.
What if they don’t make it in time! I bet the cotton ball animals make that horrible cotton-screechy sound when they move. I won’t be able to defend myself! My last interaction with people will have been flashing some guy at the grocery store. I was wearing a shirt that says “some kids are gay, that’s okay” and I had a sweater overtop. All that was visible was “me gay”, which is true, but my friend asked what the rest of my shirt said. The guy she was serving was staring at me curiously so I showed him. I don’t think he was looking at the words on my shirt... Darn me for believing in the power of t-shirt activism! It's boobs people are interested in! I had so much more to give the world!
COTTON BALLS! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! They've found me!
Okay, I was bored again, very little going on here, flashing incident aside. So I made another random story from the random pictures on my computer. Hope you enjoyed.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Besides curbing my urge to actually use my fingernails, I watched a movie with my mom. We watched Love and Other Drugs. I’m not really sure how I feel about this movie. I don’t hate it, but I’m not loving it either. There is a lot of stuff going on. There are funny moments, sweet moments, serious moments, painful moments. It’s comedy, it’s romance, it’s crude, it’s drama. I don’t really know where to put it. There’s even a car chase at the end. Impressive no?
The storyline itself is alright. Two characters meet, they set out to use each other for instant gratification and it turns into more. In the process of their cat and mouse game, they’re also dealing with career issues, serious illness and crazy secondary characters. I hated the brother. I think he was supposed to be a large part of the comic relief, but every time he appeared on screen, I cringed in disgust. He was just unredeemable. He was gross from head to toe, creepy a lot of the time and just... I’m going to say unnecessary. If he’d hit the cutting room floor, the movie would have been so much better. It’s a slow movie, kind of feels like it drags a bit, cutting the brother out wouldn’t have hurt.
I guess the best way to describe it is as a movie straight girls can bring their boyfriends to without the risk of said boyfriends blowing their brains out. There were enough sex scenes, mentions of pussies and dicks, nudity and crude humour to keep them entertained while the girls can also enjoy some of the nudity, sex scenes and more dramatic elements. Yup, male and female nudity. Le gasp!
My mom thought there was entirely too much sex should the perspective of an older, more conservative woman than myself be of interest to you. I wasn’t really bothered by it. For the most part it was expected and served a purpose. The main character becomes a pharmaceutical rep for Viagra... sex required, you know? Again, they really could have gotten rid of the brother. I’m going to have to scour my eyes. The only reason that character makes sense to me is because at the very beginning they mention he’s rich.
As you can see, I’m torn. There really were some good moments but also some really bad moments. Target is definitely a younger crowd what with Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, that chick who played on Bones for a while, Judy Greer, maybe I’m stretching it with Hank Azaria. I don’t know. These are my thoughts on the movie. You’re going to have to tell me what you think.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Otherwise, it was a pretty quiet day. I made myself a To Do list for grad school stuff. Like I said, there are two schools I really like. One is in Ontario, only about three hours away. The other is in New York, about fourteen hours away. Both programs have things that I like. Fortunately or not, the New York school is currently in the lead with me. I was weirded out by this, but statistically, I’m about ten times more likely to get into the program in New York. That’s just based on numbers of course, not actual qualifications. I’m not mathy, but I’m thinking I have better odds of heading to New York. That I haven’t mentioned to my parents. Thus far, I’ve only shown them the program outlines and what I need to apply. They didn’t really say much that didn't involve the following: $$$$$.
So, while I was looking at all the things I have to pull together, I started thinking. I got the brilliant idea to throw my unnamed professor under the bus. I am completely unable to satisfy my parents’ demands for answers, so I asked them if they would be interested in meeting with my prof and asking her questions. In my mind it’s genius. She’s been there, she’s super friendly, super smart, she’s the one that put me on to this so it’s a little bit her fault. Fingers crossed this all goes in my favour. I don’t see it going horrendously wrong which is probably why it will. I don’t know how, but something will happen. She’s accepted and will be coming over for tea in two weeks. Don’t I sound all English today? Coddled eggs and tea? My parents should be thankful I’m only looking for grad schools on the continent. I would love to study in England or Ireland. Talk to me about distance then! Alas, I’m not quite that cruel or brave.
And in entertainment news, I just watched Red Riding Hood starring Amanda Seyfreid, Gary Oldman and other people. It amused me from an English studies perspective. Artistically it’s kind of neat what with set design and colour schemes. It's so obvious the director of Twilight also directed this (that's a thumbs down in my opinion). And I'm NOT a film expert by any means. Beyond that... it give it a “meh”.
It was a pretty standard Red Riding Hood retelling. I’ve read... five or six different versions of this story, there’s a ton of artwork out there. What with all the known variations on this story, this version kind of fell short for me. There were a lot of random, overly dramatic moments that were totally pointless. A lot of the dialogue was predictable and dare I say it, corny. And not to be racist, but I have no idea why Gary Oldman arrives with a cortege of black guys. They’re all black in this snowy village of all white people. Was it to mark them as separate from the villagers? Given the time period they seem to be going for, it’s just a little weird. Just like it was weird they were implementing Roman torture techniques, just like it was weird that in spite of the snow, everyone seemed fine walking around in regular clothes, just like it was a funnier movie than it was suspenseful. Overall, a weird movie, not fabulous, but not entirely horrendous. I had fun watching it with my family and poking fun at it. I think it had a lot of unexplored potential. If you study fairytales, folktales, English, it might be of interest to you. Still, I don’t think I’ll be buying it.
And that was my day. Onward to tomorrow!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Dana was bored. I didn’t have anything planned for the afternoon so I invited her over. While I waited for her to get here, I wolfed down my lunch. Another not so great idea. I will now take this moment to explain that I am really, really, really, really, really out of shape. Like the “I haven’t been physically active in four years” kind of out of shape. Walking to and from the bus stop is a decent distance, but not really a strenuous trek. When Dana got here, I don’t know why, but we decided it would be a brilliant idea to go hiking. There are trails behind my school and I had to drop off paperwork. Convenient? Yes. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Off we went. There was a handy sign indicating the difficulty level of each trail. I’ll be honest, we didn’t really understand the map and we did not see or read the difficulty levels. In spite of the YOU ARE HERE marker, we had a hard time figuring out which trail was which. So the difficulty levels wouldn’t have really mattered...
We were going uphill. There was a lookout point. It really wasn’t that bad. I needed to stop once to prevent an inevitable coronary (I asked Dana, she did not know CPR), but otherwise, we made it to the lookout point with little difficulty. I was out of breath and a little dizzy but we had the forethought to bring water. I was sure I’d be fine after a short break. PS: The lookout sucked. The trees were so thick we weren’t really looking out on anything. And the wooden structure we were supposed to look out from was... questionable.
After a quick rest, we decided the hike wasn’t long enough. There was a path nearby and it was going downhill (huge plus!). It was steep but manageable. So off we went again. I was doing much better. And then it got really steep, I would go so far as to say it became vertical. I asked Dana if we’d brought repelling equipment but she said no. We didn’t even think to bring bug spray, a phone, a GPS, or sunscreen so I was S.O.L. on the rope. The path was levelling out quite a bit when we started hearing scurrying. A lot of scurrying. It was freaking us out because we couldn’t see what the hell was moving around. I got an image of a killer bunny or chipmunk jumping at my face.
Turns out we found a mouse den. We walked a little farther and then I almost twisted the ankle I was in physio for. That was the point at which we decided to turn back. THE MOST BRILLIANT IDEA WE HAD ALL DAY!
I was getting dizzy and of course, travelling vertically downhill meant we would have to climb vertically uphill. We stopped three times in about fifteen minute for my sake until finally we came up to this big rock where I just laid down. I was having a panic attack. I felt like I was going to throw up. Dana was talking to me, trying to help, but I rudely shushed her. About a minute later, I rolled over and threw up my lunch. First time I throw up in a decade. We hung out there for a few minutes and then I essentially crawled back to the lookout. After drinking quite a bit of water and resting, I felt great, giddy almost. This is weird, but throwing up was the best thing that could have happened.
As we walked back down to school Dana was the one suffering. She was tired and the bugs were eating her alive. I had a bone to pick with the map at the beginning of the trails so I went over to yell at it. That’s when we discovered the explanation of the difficulty levels... we felt dumb. Riding home in the car was awesome. Moving without moving, my favourite!
Things we learned:
- F*CK being spontaneous!
- Make a list of required items.
- Do not eat right before.
- Lauren should chew her food better.
- Bring phone.
- Train Lauren before doing that to her ever again.
- Read the damn map. There’s a significant difference between EASY and MODERATE.
My mom and Dana have conspired together to make me exercise/leave the house more. We’ll be biking (in the city where there are phones and paramedics) next. I can coast.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I visited my grandparents. My grandfather tried to engage me in a play fight. I never really know how to react to his attempts to fight me. I don’t always realize my strength and he’s not always the most pleasant man. It would be lovely to knock him on his ass... I just really wouldn’t want to be around to see how it turned out. I’d also feel bad.
After that, my grandpa didn’t talk to me again. Just as well. I don’t know what to say to him anyway. He talked to my dad. They get along well because my dad talks loud and my grandpa is deaf. I talked with my mom and grandma and learned something new. I originally thought that my bad luck came more from my dad’s side of the family. As it turns out, the stupid bad luck comes from my mom’s side.
Another of my cousins is getting married in September so everyone is going on about what they’re going to wear. My mom, like me, does not care what everyone will be wearing. I barely care about what I’ll be wearing. That discussion did however get us on the topic of my uncle’s wedding several decades prior. As it turns out, my mom ended up wearing the same dress as one of my aunts. Bad luck to be sure, but it gets better than that. Neither of them bought their dress in a store. They bought patterns and made their dresses. What are the odds that they bought the same pattern? The dresses were different colours (different shades of green) but still clearly the same dress. My aunt was really annoyed and changed. By the way, my aunt lived about two provinces away from here at the time so there’s really no way my mom could have known. My mom, after she stopped feeling bad for pissing off my aunt, thought it was hysterically funny. Seriously though, what are the odds of that?
That’s what I learned today. Bad Luck = Dad, Stupid Bad Luck = Mom.
Hopefully I don’t wear the same dress as someone at my cousin’s wedding! How embarrassing! I’m actually not wearing a dress. I have to attend two weddings this summer and I don’t have a job, therefore, I’m wearing my grad outfit. Both times. Different sides of the family. No one is gonna know.
And I am not shoe shopping.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
My cat, Meeko, loves blankets. It doesn’t matter where the blanket is, if he finds it, he will curl up and sleep on it. He’s slept in my desk drawers, he’s slept in laundry baskets, he’s slept in the middle of the hallway all because there were blankets to lay on. My mom got sick of having his fur all over our blankets so she decided to make him one of his own with her left over yarn. She just finished it. All happy that she’d found such a brilliant solution to the furry blanket problem, she placed his blanket in his bed. She then carefully folded the two blankets we humans use and draped them over the back of the couch.
I was hanging out in the basement today. When I turned to look up the stairs, Meeko was curled up on one of the two blankets his butt should not have been touching. I called my mom down. It took her a few minutes to figure out why I’d called her, but once she saw the cat, her only response was: “You bastard”.
She came farther into the room, cursing at the cat the whole way. She pointed to Meeko’s bed and his blanket. He didn’t so much as twitch and stared at her as if to say: “Lady, I’m not moving”. In fact, her lecture probably sounded something like “nsldnn lsh ldffhbse? Nfaskdahnd! Skajrhvhb! Jsldk nbgju sdfn.jslkfn...” for all the good it did.
Mom grabbed his blanket, laid it out on the couch and struggled to pick him up. He was clinging to the blanket on the back of the couch. Finally when she grabbed him, she put him on his blanket and stared at him. He wasn’t on his blanket two seconds before he was gearing up to jump onto the back of the couch again.
Finally, Mom moved our blanket over, put Meeko’s on the back of the couch, dumped Meeko on his blanket and stared. Lots of staring. She warned him not to move and whenever she passed the door to the basement, Meeko would stare up at her. I think he was telling her: “See you mean woman, I’m on your stupid blanket!”
At this very moment, I’m sitting in my chair, covered up with a furless blanket. Meeko is perched on the arm of my chair. Yes, the blanket is draped over the arm. My Mom may try, but she won’t win this battle. No matter how hard she stares.
During this whole ordeal I was laughing my face off. I think it was a win/win/win. I got a good laugh, Meeko thwarted Mom and Mom thinks she’s won. See, animals are not stupid.
Friday, June 17, 2011
I was beyond excited when I finished grade 11 math because I would never have to take it again. It took three tutors (one from the university who quit because she didn’t understand the material, a girl from my class and the principal) to get me through with a decent grade. By decent I mean low 70s. When I got to university, I took a computer science class rather than go through that torture all over again.
Why is any of this relevant to my current reality? Well, remember that 73 hour novella writing competition? I was editing my novella tonight. It’s all about a small town that needs to bring in 41 more people in order to have a railroad put in. For the first time in my life, math and English collided and I was reminded of how atrocious my math skills are.
The town initially has 159 residents. Near the end, for some reason, there were only 157. I could not remember killing two people. In fact, I’d added six. Uh... duh?
In another chapter I decided that I’d bring in 3 new people, but I kept writing that I had four. My numbers were all screwy, but only for that one chapter. The numbers in the following chapters matched up perfect with the plot.
In yet another chapter I added five people. As I was reading through again, I realized they were people that were already in the town. I hadn’t in fact added anyone. I needed five people to appear. And then POOF! Magically, the five injured people had their families sitting by their beds in the hospital. How kind of them to come! They really were a great comfort.
It was ridiculous. I hope it’s all okay now because if I play with it much more, I’m just going to be impossibly confused. I’m going to ask someone else to go through it. Hopefully she’s not bothered by the crazy amount of notes I messily scribbled in.
Math is evil!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
We puzzled over toothpaste,
We puzzled over soap
We were in a puzzled state
Lost in aisles with no hope.
Confused over soya sauce,
Confused over fries,
We really were at quite a loss
Location, what kind, what size?
My dad was initially confused over the sparkles on the toothpaste box. The toothpaste we get doesn’t have sparkles in it. So obviously it was a different kind. But that kind was a dollar more expensive. And when he read the box, that kind wasn’t right either. As it turns out, the sparkles were just on the box and not in the paste.
We spent less time on the soap. The question was blue box or green box. GREEN! The answer is always GREEN! I don’t know why. I think the green one is for sensitive skin. My skin likey!
The location of the soya sauce eluded us for quite some time. At first we went down the aisle with the oil, the vinegar and other things in bottles. It wasn’t there. Somehow, walking up and down that same aisle did not make the soya sauce appear. We went over to the next aisle, the one with the rice and stuff in it. It was there.
The fries... straight cut, wavy cut, low fat, curly THE CHOICES WERE ENDLESS! We at last decided on the kind that suited our family best. But then, near the milk was a larger bag of a different kind. It was cheaper. So we switched based on price and quantity.
Other than that I have commandeered our dining room table. One side is dedicated to the writing of my novel. All my notes, my laptop, my first draft. The end of the table is taken up by my novella, dictionary, thesaurus and pens. The remaining side is taken up by my portfolio work, reference books, notebooks and more pens.
I got a chunk of writing out of the way though so, part of the table should be clear soon. When I get more organized, I think I’ll do more regular posts about applying to grad school, resources and other stuff I pick up on that topic. We shall see.
For now, I’m really tired. I’m off to bed.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Odd coping strategies aside, I got a chunk of Chapter 11 out of the way and figured out where I wanted to insert a scene I thought of after the fact. Not as easy as it sounds. Dana came over and read Chapter 10. She uncovered a rather significant problem with my narration choice. She'd picked up on it in one or two places before, but this chapter was riddled with issues. I’m actually kind of thrilled about her discovery. It’s hard to find a friend who will really look into my work and pick it apart. That’s what I want and need. Of course now I have to go back ten chapters and correct my mistake, but at least I know now. I came up with a really complicated concept so I’m constantly working and reworking as I go, as Dana finds problems. In the end it’ll all work. The day I think simply is the day pigs will fly, Hell will freeze over... other figures of speech will occur and it will not be pretty.
I also got to work on my portfolio. So it’s good I stopped freaking out. I need 25 to 40 pages. I’m not a poet so I’ll be avoiding that. The best I can do poetry wise is intentionally silly, Seuss-like rhyming and I don’t know that I want to go there. One school in particular asked to see three separate works, so my portfolio will be designed around that. I’m considering reworking my historical fiction from last year, maybe doing a parody… something else… I think I’ll have to talk to my unnamed prof about this a bit. See if she can’t help me come up with something really solid.
I guess I do have a job after all… tomorrow I think I’m going to go on a bit of an adventure. Get out of the house, participate in the human world. Provided it doesn’t rain. It’s going to rain…
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
I feel like I travelled back in time to when I was eighteen. The feelings are the same, but the circumstances are completely different. Today I went through my list of potential grad schools and printed off the requirements and the program descriptions. Two really stand out but one of those two is more like a fantasy than anything else.
Why am I worrying about this now? After I’ve just graduated? Way before any of the due dates? Well, first off, I’m an anxious person so I like knowing what I’m dealing with and second, I have a feeling teacher’s college is going to keep me occupied. While I have the time, I would like to get everything in order so that I don’t have a panic attack later. Because panic attacks aren’t fun and I don’t think fun attacks exist. Unless maybe Ellen Degeneres ambushes you with one of her crazy games that win you money. I suppose that would be a fun attack.
So, I have to fill in forms, write a portfolio, find three professors who will say amazing things about me, possibly blackmail two professors into saying nice things about me, send money (of course), send transcripts… so on and so forth. I know it’s not as bad as it sounds, but as I was reading all that info, I was like, “Wow… that’s a lot of crap”. Which is exactly the kind of eloquent response I’m sure Creative Writing MA programs are looking for.
As soon as I’d read over the information, I started to feel like I was eighteen again. Even then when I was pretty much guaranteed to get into any school I applied to, I wondered, what if I don’t get in? I only really had one choice. The university here has a good English program, a good history program and a very good education program. I didn’t have money to waste moving away when I could get a perfectly good education at home. So I stayed. Now however, I can’t stay. The expense is justified. There aren’t any jobs anyway so why not further my education? Logically everything fits. On top of which, this is something that I want. I don’t want it because my parents think I should (they kind of don’t), I don’t want it because I’ll get a better job or whatever. I want it because I love writing, because I want to write and because I want to be a better writer. So what if I don’t get in? What the heck am I going to do? My grades don’t guarantee me anything anymore and my finances certainly won’t help. What if I don’t get in to the Canadian universities and I have to move to the States? How the hell am I going to pay for that? I’ve never even been out of the province and I’m thinking of moving to another country? Say what? The reality is freaking me out but even through my freaking out, I can’t help but think of all the positives, of all the things I could do, see and write about IF I do get in.
See, I’m still playing the “what if” game. Stupid rational brain seeing both sides of an argument. I guess I’m a little worried because this part of my life isn’t scripted. I’ve done the university thing. I did what I planned to do five years ago. There is no plan from this point on. I kind of miss my plan, it distracted me from the fact that I have to live my life.
Monday, June 13, 2011
I ran into a friend at the mall tonight. She was working one of her three jobs. She also goes to school. I don’t know how she manages. We got to talking and she agreed that job hunting in town is a freaking nightmare. She would know right? Hilariously enough, she was suggesting that if you love something and are passionate about something you have to take time off to work on it. That’s not the hilarious part. My “Get a Job Lauren” Mom was walking up as she suggested it. There’s one more place I’m going to try, but if that doesn’t work out... well, I’m gonna write.
And I have plenty of writing to do. After this novel is done, I have to edit my novella and then get started on my grad school portfolio. I have to print off all the requirements and start getting that organized... bleh. It’s gonna require some serious organization. I don’t want to wait too long to get it together. I have a sense that I’m going to get quite busy come September.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Our brunch enabled us to go without eating until supper, enabling us to get in more Potter Time.
We started with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. We giggled considerably less over the third movie. Still, we noticed a few recurring trends.
1) Pure Love
2) Change of Season Scene
3) Divulging the Evil Plan Scene (a true classic)
Love is apparently all you need in Harry Potter. It’s what gives him his edge. We are reminded constantly that love will save the day. And in case I was in danger of forgetting, my fortune cookie (we ordered in) informed me that “Love conquers all”. I’m not kidding. Me and Dana cracked up laughing. My parents looked at us like we were a little bit crazy. I don't suppose we can deny it...
There are at least two change of season scenes. There are pretty flowers that freeze over and later melt (snowdrops ironically enough), scenes of Hedwig flying in winter, scenes of birds being smooshed by the Whomping Willow (that I don’t think looks very willowy at all). We learned to look for these scene and I must say, we got very confused when they occurred too abruptly. I am of course kidding, but it was fun being overly dramatic.
As with all stories of good versus evil, there’s still that scene where the villain spills his guts, telling everyone what his plan is, how genius it is and how it can’t possibly fail. And then it fails. I never get bored seeing the villains get all giddy before being blown all to hell.
Also of interest to me, Voldemort keeps telling Harry that he’s weak and tralala, but in seven books/movies he never manages to kill him. Magically there should be no problems. Voldemort is way more experienced and Harry is against killing. It should be easy. But no.
We’re now on the seventh movie, part 1. Call it preparation for the release of part 2. At this point, we’re both tired and neither of us can believe we’ve been sitting in the same chairs so long, staring mindlessly at the TV. I think we were both ready to call it quits after Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince but we’re so close! It shall be done!
For those of you who haven't seen the seventh movie, Ellen did a shorter version.
Tomorrow I don’t think I’m going to turn on the TV…
Saturday, June 11, 2011
There are some underwear issues in this movie. For instance, when Harry, Hermione and Ron have to jump down the hole to get away from Fluffy, you can see right up Hermione’s skirt. Later, we’re pretty sure Harry’s fly is down. Hmmm...
We wanted to see who voiced Norbert the dragon. We didn’t see a name in the credits. We both thought this was odd considering that Norbert has more lines and screen time than Ginny. All she says is “Good Luck”. She’s on screen for maybe two minutes. Norbert gets a whole scene. The Norbert/Ginny ratio is rather odd.
We were also a bit confused by the punishment and reward system. Hermione gets docked FIVE house points when she goes off to battle a troll. Later when she, Harry and Ron sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid, a staff member, they are all docked FIFTY house points respectively. Is it not more dangerous to battle a troll than to visit a faculty member? Then we started to think, the odds of ever fighting a troll in the castle again were slim whereas they could sneak out of the castle regularly. Personally, I think it’s kind of silly. I never see them battle another troll but they sneak out of the castle all the time later on. Clearly the punishment worked. Yay for points systems!
Lastly we don’t understand the talking pictures and the talking portraits. Hagrid gives Harry a photo album before he goes home. Those pictures move but they never talk. Harry’s parents being dead is not an excuse! When Dumbledore dies, he is able to give advice via his portrait in the Headmaster’s office. Is it because he’s a painting and not some modern, fandangle two dimensional human replication? That doesn’t really seem fair. What if you don’t have time to paint someone before they die?
We’re both pretty big Harry Potter nerds. It’s quite fun watching the movies and commenting on it. My dad would have shot us by now. Actually, we wouldn’t have made it through the first movie if my dad was here.
A random question before I depart to continue our Harry Potter extravaganza, what house was Hagrid in when he attended Hogwarts? Neither of us can remember if JK Rowling ever specified. I asked my unnamed prof but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
Anyway, I must be off.
Friday, June 10, 2011
I didn’t feel like writing. I didn’t have anywhere to be. I finally made the banana bread. When I peeled the bananas I swear... I smelled the beginning of booze. I didn’t have to work very hard to mash those suckers. I do however have to find a new recipe. There’s something funky with the one I’m using. The loaf doesn’t cook in the middle. The outside cooks perfectly though. I left it in another ten minutes, tested it again and it seemed fine. We’ll see tomorrow.
In the category of things not written, I have a few things to add to my post from yesterday.
For instance, my parents and sister got me flowers. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been given flowers. And look how pretty! I love the colour. Surprise! I’m a girl!
I also got to talk to Dr. P again who had read all about my shoe drama. I keep forgetting that he occasionally reads my blog. If only I could remember that tidbit, I would save myself so much confusion. I think he thought the shoe situation was funny. To be honest, if it was happening to someone else, I probably would have been laughing my ass off. When I have kids with canoe-sized feet, I’ll tell them the story of my grad shoes and laugh at them.
AND! The prof that recommended Tipping the Velvet came to talk to me. I got to talk to her for a few minutes about the book which was nice. We agreed that the way Sarah Waters works with history was very interesting. It was interesting to me on two fronts because we’d looked into Victorian music halls in my Victoria’s Britain seminar. I’m going to be pissed if my school develops some kind of seminar or class on the historical novel. I would have loved that! They’re going to do it now...
One more time, I’m glad I went to my grad. I liked seeing and talking to my profs again. I liked seeing and talking to and hugging Angela again. I also hugged a random girl from my history seminar that I barely spoke to throughout the year. She’s nice, we just never spoke. Good times for the most part.
On the agenda for tomorrow, some writing and then, a Harry Potter Marathon with Dana. Wish us luck.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
As predicted, I only got to sleep around two, kept waking up and had to get up at seven. I made my way down to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. I hate breakfast foods. I reached for my bread (yes, MY bread, bread without the contents of a horse trough) and opened the bag. It was teal, all the way through, the bread was teal. Had I been desperately battling an infection of some kind, I might have considered it. Alas, I am not battling an infection. I found a bag of frost-bitten bagels and settled for that. Because I was less than enthusiastic about the bagel, I also pulled out some eggs. There was no margarine to put in the pan or on the crummy bagel I didn’t really want to eat anyway. I eventually settled for peanut butter (not for the pan). The jar was pretty much empty so when I went after said peanut butter, my hand ended up being just covered. There was no juice and I had to replace the bag of milk. I think I stomped childishly at that point. So, breakfast sucked, but then my mom decided to tell me to hurry my ass up so I couldn’t even finish the bagel. It’s still in the fridge.
I don’t want to talk about the shoes anymore. I wore the size elevens and decided that flats are supposed to be loose on your feet. The important thing is that I didn’t trip during the ceremony.
The ceremony itself was alright. It was a little long but otherwise not that bad. I was hot, they probably have to burn that gown, but I wasn’t sitting beside strangers. I have to say, the way I entertained myself throughout was to imagine myself at Hogwarts. We were all in black robes, there was a lot of blue and green and red and yellow. There were goofy hats. Even though we entered the gym to the sound of bagpipes (which I actually do like) I kept imagining entering to Headwig’s theme music.
I may also have been joking around with one of the girls next to me. One of my former profs is a bit... shaggy? The girl next to me said he looked like he really did belong at Hogwarts (I would say Hagrid). Since he was wearing red, I leaned over and called out “Grrrriffindor!” We tried to stifle our laughter as the dean or the other dude started talking.
(skip ahead to around 4:00 minutes in)
Other than that, I actually ran around taking pictures. Voluntarily. I got some with my unnamed professor (who gave me permission to call her by her first name). I don’t know that I’ll be able to. We both claim to take crappy pictures. Oddly enough, in one of the pictures she looks great and I’m looking creepily to the side. In another, I look good and her eyes are closed. We are capable of taking a good picture, just apparently not at the same time. I got some pictures with Angela who ran down to the gym from her office to give me a hug! Lots of pictures.
So that was my day. Grad was good. I’m glad I went but I’m also glad it’s over. Sleepy time.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
It’s 10:44 PM and we’re still stupidly hoping that my shoes will magically arrive. We finally found a decent pair, ordered them, they arrived and shocker of all shockers, they were too big. The fricken elevens were too big. So my mom ordered a pair of tens. They’re supposed to come tomorrow. I think it’s a hopeless case at this point. I’m gonna have to stuff the tips of my shoes. Classy. The intention was to buy thingies that go in the back of my shoe but somehow that never came to be. Hail to the Kleenex.
In between writing, I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love. I’m really enjoying it so far. I won’t give my full review until I’m done, but the little of it I have read has been good. It’s not really a great read before bed though. I find it thought provoking.
Anyway, I think I’m going to attempt to sleep...
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Time of graduation: too damn early.
Reason for going to graduation: parents are making me.
Reasons I hate graduations: I’m in front of a lot of people, a lot of people are looking at me, there are a lot of opportunities for me to embarrass myself, the grad area is never air conditioned and it’s always really hot. I also have a touch of claustrophobia and being around a whole whack of people I don’t know is not appealing to me. TOO MANY PICTURES!
Reasons I will tolerate my graduation: it’s important to my parents, I’ll be happy I went afterward, I get to see people I haven’t seen in a bit, I’ll get a free meal out of it. There’s also the possibility of presents! Yay!
These events are not designed for people like me. There’s so much dread leading up to the ceremony it’s really quite sad. It requires a lot of effort to keep myself calm. It’s too bad graduations can’t be small, intimate affairs. If you knew the population of my school you’d probably laugh at me. It’s really not a very big school. Still, I had the same problems with my high school grad, considerably less people there.
Alas, it will all be over in a little over one day from now. When it’s over, I won’t be shoe shopping again for a very, very, very long time.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Other than that, I have another question.
Our dishwasher has become a regular zone of contention. My grandmother has this problem, my mom now has the same problem, it bugs the crap out of my sister and for different reasons, it bugs the crap out of me.
We’ll put in cups, glasses and bowls only to find them in different places a matter of minutes or hours later. Nothing ever stays put. Like there’s a dishwasher gremlin that moves everything. I would have been mystified (and confused because gremlins aren’t real right?) if I hadn’t witnessed the occurrence of this phenomenon myself. My dad and my grandpa (no relation to each other) are constantly rearranging the dishes to their liking. Apparently there’s a dishwasher floor plan that us girls are unaware of. And we never learn the proper way. I haven’t really tried mind you, but I do not understand his system or why the placement of our dishes reaches crisis level more often than not.
It drives my mom insane when she sees that he’s moved a bowl. My sister now uses my dad’s little quirk as an excuse to leave her dishes on the counter. My mom and my sister don’t even want to try anymore. As for me, the dishwasher thing isn’t that big a deal. I have similar quirks so it doesn’t bug me. A lot of the time I like things placed just so. I get it. What bugs me are the dishes on the counter. It just looks so messy, it doesn’t smell great having food crusting over all day. I’m the one that has to sit in it. And because it drives me crazy, I end up putting everyone’s dishes away.
My question comes in two parts.
Part the first: Is there a dishwasher floor plan or a dishwasher protocol that I’m unaware of?
Part the second: If no such plan or protocol exists, is this a male-centric compulsion? Because I don’t know of a woman who needs to rearrange the dishwasher. I do however know of several men who do this.
So... what’s the deal? The craziness is taking its toll. This must be resolved.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
While I have little to say, I do have something to show you. I’m going to call it... The Cuoco Effect.
You’ll see that my blog was a quiet, little place for quite some time. You see that huge random spike? That’s what happened when I posted this picture of Kayley Cuoco.
Now you see why I want her to join my world domination team. Obviously she has powers. I can use powers. She hasn’t responded to my offer... (rude...) but we’ll see. Kayley, Miss Cuoco? I have managed to reach 84 countries with my blog. I want the world. Please respond if you are interested in helping me with this endeavour.
I would make some kind of threat to send Voldemort, Salem, Pinky and The Brain out to get her but she’s a real person and I fear incarceration. Plus... someone writes all that clever Big Bang dialogue. I can’t go up against geniuses with the likes of Salem, Voldemort, Pinky and The Brain. I don’t even own the rights to those characters. Talk about an empty threat.
So yeah, that’s the Cuoco Effect. I’ll keep thinking about a way to get it to work to my advantage.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
A pretty quiet uneventful day.
I’ve been typing up my novel on my Mac so I’m slowly getting used to it. Very slowly. I have to admit, it is kind of nice to work on. It’s not as clunky as my Dell. It also runs a lot better and I don’t have to be cooped up in my room. I’ve been working in the dining room. I don’t know why, but I focus better there. Does that make any sense?
Not a whole lot going on otherwise. Still kind of feeling icky. Maybe I should go eat a brownie. They have fruit in them. Wait... that’s still not quite right. I’m just gonna watch my movie.
I’m watching Taxi with Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon. Love how the fare for driving a few blocks is five dollars. That’s nearly what it costs to start a cab here. According to the research I did about New York taxi fares, it would cost me about 8-9$ to get to school from my house.
It’s almost always 13$ with the cabs here. I hate living up north. There’s a gas surcharge on everything. And gas was at like... 1.30$/litre the last time I was outdoors. Okay, that’s my mathematic and random inquiry of the day. I will remember this. People need to smarten up. That’s what I think... ridiculous prices.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Normally I line up all my ingredients on the counter, just to make sure they’re all there. For whatever reason, I didn’t do that today. Why I don’t know. That turned out to be a mistake.
My recipe called for butter. Didn’t have any so I subbed it out for margarine. No big deal. I chucked all that in the bowl with the chocolate. Turns out I needed four ounces of the unsweetened chocolate. I only had three. I was a bit annoyed, but no big deal, I had cocoa powder. I measured out an ounce of that, threw it in with the rest, melted it down, mixed it up, it was all good. The eggs were next. I needed three. I dug through the fridge, pulled out the egg carton and groaned. It was way too light. There was only one egg left. A quick google search left me with a few possibilities. We had bananas ripe for the baking on the counter and as it turns out, some vegan baking recipes use bananas as substitutes for eggs. Half a small banana is the equivalent of one egg. I mashed the bananas until they were a paste then chucked those in as well. I figured they would work for the consistency and counter the bitterness of the chocolate, but eggs are also leavening agents. I added some baking soda and cross my fingers. I had no clue if it would be enough or not.
I wanted to roll on the floor laughing when those brownies started rising. I was shocked, shocked that it worked. I was even more surprised when I tried one. You can taste the banana but it’s not overpowering. Actually, it’s quite good. I just wish I’d left them in the oven a little longer. They’re still a bit doughy. Personally, I kind of like doughy. Just a little longer though and they would have been perfect.
I don’t think I was supposed to make those brownies, but dammit! I made ‘em! I’m going to use this story as a definition for persistence and determination to feed a chocolate addiction. I don’t know the meaning of the word quit!
Other than that, I got quite a lot of writing done. I might do a bit more before I go to bed. Not a bad day I must say. Meeko is no longer mad at me.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Hopefully I won’t start sniffing at random things and eating the fuzzles from people’s socks. Meeko seems to really like those. Honestly, of all the things he eats off the floor, the fuzzles kind of gross me out the most. I mean, it’s fabric for one, but they’re the little balls that get caught between your toes. Why would you want to eat that?
One of my first posts was on my cat’s addiction to Activia yogurt. I fear his addictions have progressed. When we were at the vet yesterday, she mentioned that it was possible he’d sniffed at something and that it was irritating his nose. She said it could also just be pollen... But I think the problem is much more serious. I think he might have a fuzzle up there. Is there such a thing as kitty cocaine? I bet fuzzles are addictive! He can't snort Activia... But he's still eating it! Is being high on pro/pre biotics what's making him snort fuzzles? What is a biotic?
I bet that’s why he was so pissed after leaving the vet! She discovered his secret! I’m thinking an intervention is in order. How does one go about organizing a cat intervention? Hmmm... I think I’ll need a cat whisperer first, to act as a translator. I also know someone who works in substance abuse and rehabilitation! He’ll be okay. Soon, he’ll be okay.
And in case this is of interest to anyone, I made a joke to the vet about collecting Meeko’s hair to make catshmere. She looked at me and waited to hear what came next. When she realized that was it, she asked me if I was joking. Apparently she knows someone who did that with her dog’s hair. EW! I’m just kidding! I felt a lot better about my mental sanity after that conversation. With the whole sleeping in random places and lounging about I was afraid that my cat lady tendencies were getting out of hand. It seems that I have further to slip before falling into complete insanity. Isn’t that good news?
... Maybe I’ll schedule my intervention after I’m done with Meeko’s.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Problem one was solved with two laundry baskets. We put a blanket in the bottom of the big basket, dropped an unsuspecting Meeko into it and then flipped a smaller basket upside down to trap him. He was fine until I slid the basket into the truck and my dad started it up. At that point, Meeko started meowing as if someone was tap dancing on his tail. It was awful. Then he started banging his head against the side of the basket, trying to get out. When that didn’t work, he tried digging under the blanket. That last one was kind of funny but like his other escape attempts, it didn’t work.
At the vet’s he wasn’t too horrible. He’s known for not being cooperative... at all. Though he’s a lot lighter than I thought. Only 16 pounds. Weird. Overall, he was alright until it was time to take his temperature but I understood why he was upset at that. I would be too. The growling, the hissing and the angry meowing started when we left the office and there were dogs. I never set the baskets down, he was never near them, the dogs never came near me but the cat was pissed. He was even more pissed when we got back in the car. He was fine when the car wasn’t moving. Do cats get motion sickness? Once we were home and he was free, he disappeared. I didn’t see him all day. I hate it when my buddy is mad at me. It makes for a very boring day.
Other than that, my mom took me shopping. I was not in the mood. We went to four stores, none of them had size elevens. I know it’s not their fault, but every time a salesperson looks at me and says: “Size eleven? Yeah, those are hard to find...” I want to slap them. I know it’s rude and pointless, but really? No shit Sherlock. It’s not like I have size eleven feet and salespeople telling me that in every store I step into... nope you’re the first. Just a bit frustrated. It didn’t help that my ass didn’t fit into a pair of pants my mom made me try on. Damn pants.
Did I mention I also went to an employment agency today? There’s something horribly disturbing about Churches that have been converted into something else. Churches shouldn’t have cubicles. It’s just weird. But yeah. That too was unproductive. I failed to bring proof that I’m a Canadian citizen. Darn my stupidity. I did not enjoy the experience. Alas...
At least there’s tomorrow right?