A Saturday summer memory

That's not fuckin' up to here.
-- Andrew, pointing to a stream early on our St. Martin's Daytrip

(Sorry the pic's not so complimentary, buddy)

And another thing

bee-tee-doubleyou:
People who keep blogs updated are awesome, like you Jenn and Melissa and Mandy *throws high-fives*. On the other hand, the rest of you suck. In case you guys can't feel it, I am currently glaring icily in the general direction of Toronto and Fredericton (Jana and Adam). Still miss all you guys though!!!

Reconstructed post, plus some...

I have a conspiracy theory. Remember when your bike as a kid always had that little piece of plastic around the gears that kept your pant-leg from getting cut up or grease from getting on it? And then one day you went to get a new bicycle only to find that this simple little protector had been removed. I believe that if you looked into the financial doings of the bicycle empire (Yes, the bicycle empire), you would find that a rather large sum of money was transferred to them from one or more international pant corporations. I mean, why else would something so easy and cheap to produce be removed. There is definitely something going on here in an effort to get us to buy pants more often. The guards are still on the little-kid bikes, but that’s cause the international pant corporations know that kids grow out of pants really quick anyway. There is something going on here that is threatening the very fabric of… my pants… and I am not impressed.

Fuck you Levi Strauss.

So anyway, a couple days ago I was told by a janitor to stop using my scooter in the tunnels to get to class. Apparently, the wheels ruin the floors. When I asked him if he meant the concrete that was painted yellow, there was a slight pause (as he attempted to gauge whether I was giving him “lip”), and then he said “Yes”. Now I have to make a decision. I told myself that if I was asked not to use the scooter, then I wouldn’t… but I really want to!

So should I stop with the juvenile scooting -- Ok, I’ve just realized that saying scooting makes me sound like a big… wiener… so from now on, I’m going to refer to it as… razing. Man, that is so badass. Wicked. -- So should I stop with the juvenile razing (Man… I’m awesome.), since I’ve already been told once, or should I keep at it and stick it to the man in the process… “the man” being the janitor with the tenth grade education. Before making a recommendation, I think it is important to note that I actually have met a few people because they’ve recognized me as “the dude with the scooter in the tunnels”, and that’s kinda cool. I mean, I haven’t picked up any hot chicks as I had originally expected to, but I have faith. The hot chicks will realize what a guy with a scooter can do for them, and they shall flock in my direction. And that direction would be Burke House… Room 303… right side of the room as you enter. Come ooooooonnnnnnn HOT CHICKS!

PS -- In trying to figure out how to spell “wiener” on dictionary.com, I discovered that there is a Weiner, Arkansas (Pop. 655). There is a flower shop in Weiner. It is called the Weiner Flower Shop. If this is not funny, I don’t know what is. It’s 5 AM.

So last night at about 4, Coleman and I were just heading to bed at the same time, when I said, looking at the Vick’s VapoRub that I’d been using while sick, “I dare you to eat that on toast tomorrow”. He agreed, under the obvious condition that I had some, too. So there we had it, we were going to eat VapoRub on toast in the morning. There was no warning on the little tub about ingestion, so apparently it was all clear for go. So anyway, on a whim I checked out the Vick’s website (where I’m sure the only other visitor that day was actually looking for micks.com. Mmmm… that’s good pepper jelly.), and found out that “in case of accidental ingestion, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away”. I’m sure that at some point, someone on this earth was wondering what the hell the point of a Vick’s website was, and to that person I say, “To save college students from poisoning themselves”. Now before you go passing judgement on Coleman and I, tell me this: What would Jesus do? I think I’ve made myself clear…

I hate blogger...

Again, I spent an hour this time writing a post (which I must say, was witty, comical, and would have brought an end to world hunger) and I tried to scroll down to the bottom to add a funny link and I lost it all. This is not funny. I am so pissed. Fuck. It has something to do with my scroll button on my mouse. The worst thing is that I'd been copying (Ctrl + C) my writing every few minutes to avoid losing it all like last night, but right before then I had just copied the link to the goddamn site. Fuck.

Here's the friggin link, hot from the clipboard. I'm not even gonna bother hyperlinking it. Type it yourselves, you bastards. http://www.michaelkelly.fsnet.co.uk/karl.htm
Hey look at that, it hyperlinked itself. Consider yourselves lunky. And yes, I am going to leave that glaring typo UNCORRECTED.
Sorry, I'm just ridiculously bitter at the moment...

Hey look! It's title sentences!

This sucks. I am so sick. At this point, I'm pretty sure even my pain hurts. I've come to the conlusion that my body hates me. Like if my heart was gonna give out on me, he wouldn't just go quietly. He'd probably take my kidneys and spleen with him, just cause he's a bastard.

I was all feverish last night, so the whole night was a big blur. The most fucked up thoughts were going through my head. I remember trying to pin-point where I hurt, so I started trying to visualize all the nerve inside my body. My mind kept racing and the only way that I could focus on anything was to talk out loud. So at about 5:30 am, I was lying in bed talking to myself

BAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! I just spent like a half-hour writing a post from this draft, then I hit some crazy self-distruct button and it all disappeared! Mhen, there wasn't much stimulating content anyway, considering that I've been shut away in my room for almost the past week... but still... I mean... curses!

Ever happened to you?

Has this ever happened to you? Probably not.

You're in a large public place where you're sitting down and so are other people. Could be a movie theatre, a food court or even in a bus. You're just sitting around, talking or maybe just doing nothing, but for whatever reason you look in the direction of a certain person who you don't know, just cause you've gotta look somewhere. Right after your eyes move to them, they look at you and you realize that you must look like you've been watching them. You look away quickly, scolding yourself for looking like a creep, but move on pretty quick and forget about it. A few minutes later, you're staring off vacantly, not even thinking about the previous incident, and this just happens to be in the direction of the same person. You focus your eyes and realize that, again, they've turned to see you "staring" at them. Now you feel really stupid, cause you know this person thinks that you're gawking at them. So now you are avoiding looking in even the general direction of this person, making a conscious effort, and you keep with that routine for awhile (maybe 10 minutes). So just for the sake of appeasing your inner-gambler, you take one quick glance in their direction. Of course, as soon as you do it, they turn around. You look away quickly but it's too late. You're the creepy-starey dude. But I mean, what are the chances? Come on. Seriously.

Oh and by the way, I just saw a large monkey.*


* No homosexual erotica involved. In fact no sex at all.†

† Come on. Click. You know you want to appease your inner-gambler.‡

‡ You took one chance, so take another.¹

¹ I'm running out of footnote symbols.

Random thought

Have you ever wanted so badly for a passing stranger to look at you, not because you're doing anything particularly interesting, but simply because you can't stand for them to be staring at that Point over your shoulder and down the hall any longer?

Assassins and such

So Adam "Lefty" Leclerc (even though he thinks he's grown out of the Lefty thing, whatever that means) has informed me that the later my posts are done, the weirder they usually are. This has made me decide that the next time I pull an all-nighter for whatever reason, I'm going to post a sentence or two every hour. Mark... my... words... *cue menacing glare and suspenseful violin music*

So yeah, Burke house has been playing assassins for the last day, and I got out this morning... damn that Laporte. For those not in "the know" with assassins, everyone gets a toy gun and your name is on a big list that only the prez (ie. Martin) sees. You are assigned to kill the person below you on the list, but you don't know who's above you and trying to kill you. The catch is that you can only kill someone when no one else is around to see. If you kill someone, you take on their target. So basically everyone is scared to be in anything less than a group of three, and everyone is acting very sneaky. Since the only real safe place is the bathroom, and the study room isn't one, I had a desk set up in there for awhile. Like I said though, I'm out of the game... damn that Laporte. The whole me-getting-out situation was very shifty. Here's a diagragm (wait... it's diaphragm with the crazy "gm" ending, but whatev. Adventures in diction.):

So there you have it. Ain't that shiny and special. Pictures don't lie. Ever. Laporte shot me while I was walking down the stairs and even though I couldn't see Dennis, Laporte could! So it shouldn't have counted. We went and asked Martin's opinion, and he had to call over someone else to get a for-sure answer. They decided I was in, but later Dennis came forward and said that he wasn't in eyesight, so now I'm out... damn that Laporte.

So I was really sick a few days ago, and that wasn't cool. I didn't throw up or anything, but I just ached all over and had the chills and such. I did go to all my classes, but just barely. At one point, I input my situation into a complicated computational algorithm with numbers and variable and... semi-colons... and it advised me that I should go to class. Ok, in actuality, Will and I played rock-paper-scissors in Dining Hall. I was "go to sleep" and he was "go to class". He won. Curses! Dammit Patrick, you should have used the avalanche! I think I might buy the book...

So yeah, it's after 4 am and I've got class from 9 to 5 tomorrow with only an hour break, so maybe I should get some sleep. Yeah... Peace out. A-town... Bown barwn bomn bomn. Wow, it took a ridiculous amount of time to decide how to spell that!

I wonder...

Why would I buy lip-chap? My lips are already chapped... so don't I want lip de-chap, or maybe some lip-unchapifying ointment? Maybe I could just settle for some lip-bomb, though I am assuming that it is not nearly as exciting as I'm imagining. It's most likely that no explosions are involved.

Gargling challenge

Last night, Coleman and I happened to be getting ready for bed at the same time (around 1:30-ish), and we were both in the bathroom brushing our teeth...s and whatnot. Coleman and I have a habit of getting into the stupidest contests with one another, and the first contest of the night happened to be a toothbrushing contest. We both brushed for almost 10 minutes before Coleman, not knowing that spitting counted as forfeiture, lost. If you talk to Coleman then the winner is debatable, but as long as you're talking to me, I won. But the toothbrushing competition wasn't even the best part.

Coleman gargled after brushing his teeth, then said something in the way of "Man, that was a good gargle. I don't think I've ever done a better gargle." There was a slight pause, then he says "And yes... that was a challenge." So whenever Coleman says "challenge" like that, it's on! I'd say that's the only rule in our friendship. Whether its 4am and we're both in bed and he challenges me to a whistling competition, or whether we're both in the bathroom... and well, you know. Basically... anytime, anywhere. We started out going for the quality gargle, but by the time we had just decided to go for height, we were pretty much just yelling at the top of our lungs into the air with water in our mouths. And oh yeah, keep in mind that this was at 1:30 in the morning.

So we went back to the room with water ALL OVER our clothes, but it was hilarious, so it was worth it. Plus I won.

My Plan B Picking-Up Strategy

I'm not the kind of guy who would normally get the guts to outright hit on a girl at a bar, but if I did, I'd definately have a backup plan for if things went bad. She'd probably say something like "Are you hitting on me?" or "I'm married" or "I have lost all sensation in my genitals", to which I would reply with a sarcastic sneer, "You think I'm hitting on you?? Listen, I'm absotively, posilutely gay. Look, I'm already with someone." And then I'd wave to Coleman on the other side of the room, and he'd wave back with a goofy Coleman grin cause he has no clue what's going on. So I'd turn back to the girl and say, "In fact, you're ugly. And I'm gay, so I know these things." And I'd stick one of those black women head-shakes in, just for good measure (You know, the kind of head-shake that you might think a girl named Bunifah would do). And you know what? She'd be crushed, cause she'd have to believe it.

Friend Test, etcetera

So today in dining hall, we had stuffed chicken breasts and I had a bunch of extra stuffing when I was done eating. Naturally, I did what most would do: balled up a little bit of it and stuck it in the inside corner of my left eye. I then went over and sat down across from Louise (Louis? Louse? Whatever, it's pronounced Lew-ee), Natasha and Alicia, and proceeded to start up a conversation. My theory was that any true friends would tell me that I had a large piece of stuffing in my eye. Evidently I had no true friends in the immediate vicinity. To make it worse, Natasha said after that she thought it had been eye snot. If Mahatma Gandhi saw Adolf Hitler while walking on the beach, and Hitler had an eye snot, don't you think Gandhi would tell Hitler? I think he would. Gandhi would probably get a few punches in too, but that's beside the point.

And you know what? I didn't realize it before, but you can actually tell whether someone is looking you in the eyes (plural), or whether they are just looking you in the eye (singular). I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking for it, but it was very obvious. I will now exhibit more caution when talking to people with lazy/glass eyes, because I know that I used to focus on one eye in those situations. I don't want to make them even more self conscious. One time I felt really bad when I was being served by this older lady at KFC who had a lazy eye. She asked if she could take my order, and I didn't know if she was talking to me, so I looked over my shoulder. Not one, but both shoulders in succession, in the exaggerated movie way. I was the only one there. I got really embarrassed right after I did it.

I think that there should be some kind of indicator to show which eye is the eye they use. Like maybe there could be a little red sticker beside the good one, or they could circle it. Again, the insensitivity shines through, but it's allowed because my Dad has a lazy eye. It only does it's thing when he's mad, so it acted kind of like an indicator light when I was growing up. I knew to lay off the arguing when his eyes started to cross.

Well, over and out I'm done. If anyone's wondering, I haven't died. For some reason, I just haven't been turning on MSN lately... but I'll start!

Noteworthy events of the past few days

I have done 3 noteworthy things in the last couple days:

1. I fly into Newfoundland. Hurrah for planes. Also, I have apparently lost my grasp on my sense of verb tenses. I didn't fall asleep during the 3 hour stopover in Halifax. In fact, I met up with Craig and we went to visit his cousin's house. We attempted to leave for the airport with about 20 minutes before boarding, but Craig's uncle had left in the car with all out carry-on luggage in the trunk. Hurrah for foresight. Anyway, we managed to chase down his uncle on his way to Truro and make the plane. Hurrah for poorly enforced speed limits.

2. There was a massive rez party last night. Everyone drank and it was an awesome time (Not saying those two events are mutually inclusive, cause I can have fun without the assistance of alcohol, but ya know...). Coleman and I put a laundry basket on top of my NEW SCOOTER (to be used for rapid transport between classes) and I sat in the basket and was... I believe the best suited words would be forcefully propelled, down the hall while trying to steer. The hall door wasn't open all the way so I ran into the steel doorframe, but it was all in good fun... and bad common sense. Later in town with Mandy, I danced the best damn lawnmower and shopping cart to ever grace the floors of Lottie's. Apparently, I was only part of a not-so-elaborate ploy to get close to some guy who she thought was cute, but I don't mind because I think I succeeded in embarrassing her at least a little. Go me! Props to Kelt and Andrew for demonstrating how to do those moves likes pros.

3. Played "Trump: The Boardgame" with Coleman, Billy, and Bert. As always, Trump is the highlight of my day. We played Trump in our room with some elevator music playing in the background -- SHUT UP SNOWBLOWER I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK! The morning plows have come out already and they are right outside my window. -- on repeat and I wore a bathrobe. Bailey came in and told us that we all seemed really classy. I didn't feel very classy though, especially considering I kept having to adjust my robe so that I didn't flaunt my genitals. Yes, classy like the dickens. Like pie. Like the wind.

Oh and I forgot to mention it, but my grandmother died, too. Yep... those are the noteworthy things... flew, drank, board game, and grandmother dead.

So anyway, I suppose I should check when and where my courses are in the morning.

*My grandmother did not actually die. I made a funny. I love you Nana.

5 Hours till I leave!

OK, listen. I just realized my stupid luck tonight. Like right before Christmas I gave this taxi driver with colon cancer $20 cause I was feeling really generous, then a few days later, a tsunami hits the Indian Ocean (It's kind of ironic, at least in the Allanis-Morisette sense). I mean, wouldn't you feel stupid too. It always seems to be me who has such bad luck with this kind of shit. I mean... Christ.

Ok I am so incredibly just kidding. I'm sorry. Maybe that will be funny next year, when all those people have rebuilt their shattered lives and gotten over the loss of their loved ones... I'm horrible. :(
Like I said, I kid. I really did donate $50, and that's way more than I can afford.

I hate it when you're really low on money. Especially when you're buying something with debit, cause you lose track of what you've spent so easily. Like when you're not sure if you have enough and you're looking at the little "Please wait" screen while the computer decides how poor your are. The one part I love is when it goes through at times like that, because that little "Approved!" screen always makes me feel so much better and happier. It's like I won something! Yet in reality, I've only succeeded in paying for a trivial item and crept ever closer to bankruptcy... Maybe I'll just keep that in mind next time I get too excited from "accomplishing" a purchase.

Tonight was AWESOME! I got to see Sally, and then we all (me, Jenn, Megan, Kelt, and McKay) just drove around and went to Irving Diner, but it was still just so much fun driving with the music cranked and hanging out with everyone for the last time. Aaaaand I got to say bye to everyone, including Kelt for the second time cause he came back... Yeah, I'm not entirely sure why he's back for the first weekend, but I'm not complaining. Damn though! What was that song we were listening to with the gun actions? If anyone was in the car and knows, leave a comment telling me! I'm looking in your direction Jenn...

And me and Meg started the best game ever. While listen to a song you don't know, you try to sing the last word of every verse. You're supposed to guess it before it's said, but we just ended up screaming the word like right after they said it, but it's still really stupid-fun when everyone is doing it... Or maybe it was just me and Meg, but whatev. It was fun either way!

As always, I'll miss you KV! Don't you go changing on me before I get back!

VIDEO: And oh yeah, when you're lying bleeding on the sidewalk, postal service is critical.

The End-Row Movie Dynamics Hypothesis

Ok, me and my brother somehow got talking about how crappy it is to be the one on the end of the row at a movie or what have you. I mean, that guy always feels left out and he only has one person to talk to.

BUT then I got thinking, it's almost as bad to be the one 2nd from the end, because then you need to assume the responsibility of the person who has to actually talk to the guy on the end (even if they are immensely irritating or have ridiculous body odour). The job is yours no matter what. You can't just lean to the other side and talk to the next person in, because then you feel guilty because you feel it is your obligation to talk to the end-person.

But wait, there's more clever insight. The key person is the 3rd person in, because they wield all the power. They can do one of two things. They can lean toward the two at the end, forming an end-trio if you will, and thereby alleviating the awkwardness of the pair. The other option is to completely ignore the duo and lean the other way, leaving those two to make uncomfortable conversation with one another for the duration of the feature.

So really there are only 3 important seats in the end-of-row scenario. Ideally, to avoid any disagreeable situations such as these, it would make sense to have rows of 5 or less, but 4 would be best.

Fin.

...man... this is so awesome, I should publish it... or something.

Oh and PS, Pinky the cat (male, domestic short-hair) is MY pet of the week.

I wonder... the belly-rub-head-pat trick...

I've always wondered... ya know that thing where you try to rub your belly with one hand and pat your head with the other, at the same time? You just end up patting your belly and rubbing your head, and getting it mixed up or whatever, but just generally feeling incompetent. So what about if you tried to brush your teeth and take a piss at the same time? I tried it once but it was tough. I mean, I did it and each hand did the thing it was supposed to... but it could have ended in CATASTROPHE! And on top of that, the issue of sanitation does arise, but whatever.

Bee-tee-doubleyou (that's "by the way" for all you non-tech-savvy folk), if anyone who happens to read anything here wants to comment, it'd be muchly appreciated! Not necessarily on this post, but whichever, just so that I know whether anyone is actually reading any of this... or whether I'm just talking to the good ol' interweb. Thanks!

Oh and PS, I'm trying to add some of the old posts that I had on another site before, which I'd kind of abandonned, so that's why there are some new ones dated a long time ago.

Christmas pretty much done...

Everyone who's leaving has left already (at least I'm not gonna get to see them again). Me, Andrew, Erin, and Meg all went to Tim's tonight and just talked about random shit. Like what kind of parents we were gonna be, how people had changed since high school, blah blah blah. It was a pretty low key night, but I kinda loved it.

Went up to Freddy with Adam yesterday and spent the night up there. The plan was that even if no one else was drinking (cause they had classes next day), me and Adam were going to get drunk. Mission accomplished. I collapsed on the floor of his room with one arm out of my sweater, one shoe off, and my pants half-way to my knees. Actually, it was like only my right-side even attempted to get ready for bed. But then again, I think it was one of the easiest times I've had getting ready in the morning, cause almost all I had to do was pull up my pants. The vast majority of today was spent in various positions on Adam's floor. Wow, the last two sentences sound extremely gay, so now is probably a good time to bring up how much I love Julz, Adam's new girlfriend. I am so happy for the both of them, and I'm glad I got to know her. Soooo, like I said we all just spent the next day lounging around Adam's room, moving every half-hour or so, but generally just being comatose.

Oh hey and New Years! It was wicked: hung out at Coleman's, played "ride the bus" (possibly the best drinking card game ever from Newfoundland!) and went to the 3 Mile. Apparently, the 3 Mile was fun, or at least I've been told. The taxi driver charged us $50 to get back to the Valley and we were too drunk to object/notice! Which reminds me: I owe you some money Jewer! ...pffft... like she reads this! And I drank Grey Goose vodka from France which I paid $45 for! But it was pretty damn good... And strangely, I asked a Bermudan how much he'd pay for it at home and he replied in a funny British accent that it'd be AT LEAST $40 US. Believe it or not I was sober and this event actually did occur. No kidding. His name was Jason...

And oh yeah, before I forget, if you haven't seen the tsunami videos, check em out. Seriously. Scary stuff. Makes me want to cry for humanity. Maybe not as much as Fahrenheit 9/11 does, but it's close.

So I'm goin back to Newfoundland soon (really missing Burke!), but I'm going to enjoy the time I have here. No rushing it for Patrick, because I'm really going to be missing KV by the time February rolls around. I should really go to bed now though. Tis late...
Peace out. A-town.


Oh yeah, check it. Talk about useless.
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operator. The product could relax the stress of the Eyes. and make your
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