Prince is the horniest guy ever. Don't you agree?

So, I took some pictures of the baby fish, but when I tried to upload the pictures, the computer went crazy and erased all the pictures on the card. Boo.

I was really productive today. Go me! My 'in' section of my desk is much more manageable.

I hope everyone has a great Halloween tomorrow!

First off. Even if it's temporary and part time, and not even in the province, I'm going to apply anyway. Holy crap.

Anyway. We brought the fish in on the weekend (by 'we' I mean my parents). We brought in six fish. As of yesterday, we have 5 fish. So, either it grew legs and walked out of the tank, or ONE OF THOSE RAT BASTARDS ATE A BABY FISH. I'm still trying to decide which one it was. Johnny or Shakira. I didn't yet assign a name to them yet, so the remaining fish can have either name it wants. Who should live?? I'm going to go to Pets Unlimited after work and getting a little tank I noticed Sarah had for her baby fish. Hopefully the orphan can have a fighting chance.

Lisa's old today! Hoorah!!

T'was a fun weekend! We went to the Just For Laughs Comedy Tour, and it was really funny. Actually, Rick Mercer was probably the least funny of the whole show, as his style was more political. I consider myself fairly knowledgeable about current issues, but there were some jokes I didn't get. Anyway, if you have a chance to go, I highly recommend it. It makes for a different and fun night out.

Being in the Capitol this weekend made me remember how much I enjoy the theatre. I remember in my high school theatre arts class we had to go to a couple of TNB performances for class credit. I remember going to one or two by myself, and I really enjoyed the experience. There's something exciting about the theatre - and it's more interactive. Because everything is 'live', actors can adjust their performance to the specific audience, and the emotions seem to be more real....

Anyway.. I think I'll go the theatre more.

Oh, and Scary Movie 3 is the Worst. Movie. Ever. Ugh.

I just had to mention this, cuz it's soooo funny.

During mine and Sarah's weekly gathering, we went to ESM. A patron (a middle aged-man with an most impressive mullet) was at the bar paying for his bill. He sported a fabulous sweatshirt with a lovely scene of seals, frolicking in the great white north, or somewhere similar. Written right above this depiction was the French word for seals, which is - as an grade 4 immersion student will tell you - phoques. This is pronounced usually as "fuck", though most Francophones will have a slightly different inflection. Anyway, it was great. Sarah and I were shaking in the booth. I just wonder now.. does he know what he's wearing? Does this champion mullet-wearing actually have a sense of kitch? Or is he just kind of dim?

I finally went and redeemed my $100 of free Shoppers Drug Mart merchandise. Sarah and I went to the one on Mountain Road, which, from the outside, looks like a giant marshmallow. A marshmallow with a bright red "OPEN" sign on it, so we went in anyway.

It was all very disorienting at first. I'm very much at home at Shoppers, but this place was akin to a war zone. Everything is everwhere, without much rhyme or reason. As you may have guessed, this was reflected in my acquired purchases. Among them were - a shower 'pouf', condoms (both latex and non), face wash, various bits of makeup, batteries, a razor, and... uhm.. I think that's it. Oh, and K-Y. I had just recieved a free sample and a coupon in the mail, but I forgot to use it. Oh well.

With all the condoms and what not, I have that "all dressed up and nowhere to go" feeling. All I can say is, the next guy that crosses my path will be busy.

By the way, you might want to take note of two more sites I listed under my links. Annoyances.com is a great website for all those weird problems that tend to pop up on your computer. Without it, I'd be nothing.

Spamcop.com is a website dedicated to helping fights spam. If you have Hotmail, this is your best friend.

I'm not quite sure why I haven't been posting. Well, yeah, I do. Work has been screwy. I'm doing WAY too much work for the office, and not enough work for the center. It'll all go to amunition for the "Why you need to pay me more" project, so we'll see.

I've been ruminating lately about past relationships (both platonic and...otherwise). Specifically, the relationships that have either dissolved peacefully, or was ripped apart violently. I have visions of being on my deathbed and regretting not having resolved these past disputes (or whatever they were).

Then last night I had a dream about a certain someone,where all was resolved. I had said my peace, and everything was okay. There was even a scene in the dream where we returned each other possessions that had been borrowed/given throughout the friendship. In real life, this would be awkward and emotional, but in this dream, it was peaceful. Actually, it was quite nice to see this person again.

So, now I feel a sense of resolution, without the confrontation. Dreams are COOL.

Did you know that I spend much more time thinking about things to blog, than actually blogging them?

Case in point - last night I had a dream. It was a very weird dream. I dreamed I was at an airport. For some reason, I was at this airport to get my eggs harvested (you know, the kind that, mixed with sperm, makes babies). I guess they in were in some sort of luggage. I was at the terminal, with aforementioned unbabies in the also aforementioned unbaby carry-ons, but then I walked away from them, no doubt to check the availability of flights going to Nutbarville.

When I returned, horror of horrors, my luggage (and ergo, my harvested eggs) were gone. SOMEONE HAD STOLEN MY EGGS! I was a mess! I began to panic and enlisted the help of security guards who no doubt had experience in these matters, but to no avail. They were gone.

As I sat on the floor of the terminal, crying, I remember thinking to myself that I needed to find a computer in this terminal/egg harvesting institution so I could blog what had happened to me.

This is a very fun quiz. I got 16/20. Woo! It takes one to know one, I guess.

Why are you such a jerk-off?

Every morning for the past several months, you and I have shared the same morning routine. Get on the bus, get off the bus, get a coffee. Every morning. This could potentially be a rather enjoyable experience for the both of us.

The first few times I saw you get on the bus, I am not ashamed to say I found you attractive. You were overweight and had a shaved head, and wore white shorts. I tried smiling at you a few times. I figured seeing a friendly face would ease the transition into your workday. But you never smiled back. Not once.

So, I stopped smiling. I brough a book along so I could bury my face into it when you got on. I've tried intermittedly to make eye contact, hoping that your sourpuss mood had lifted. But no, not once.

I've gotten over the rejection. Yeah, I've moved on, man.

Now I see you for who you are. You're a self-centered, bald, white-short wearing jerk-off. Every morning you race me to ring the bell. You never let me pull it. It's some sick race for you, isn't it? Not only that, but you NEVER let me off first!! We get off at the SAME stop, every morning, and you always rush to get off first. You're a grown man!! And you wear those GODDAMN SHORTS EVERY FUCKING DAY! THAT'S GROSS!! HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF HYGIENE???

You never hold the door open at Tim's, either. I've stood behind you line countless times, and not a smile, not a hello, not a "you're creepy and please stop smiling at me".

Well, you won't have me to kick around anymore, bucko.

I'm going to work an hour early.

I started thinking about the rest of my life
I found myself just looking out for trouble and strife
Someone with whom I spend the rest of my days
But if I ever said I wasn't set in my ways
Then I guess you caught me lying to myself
What kind of fool doesn't think about it
What kind of fool doesn't think about it
You have to be a fool not to think about it

Am I
Gonna settle down ever gonna be
Someone who has to take the rest of my life
to settle down
Then I guess you caught me lying to myself
Go make a man out of me

One thing I know about the rest of my life
I know that I'll be living in Canada
I know I said I'll share the rest of my days
But I was only going through a phase

Am I
Gonna settle down ever gonna be
Someone who has to take the rest of my life
to settle down
Then I guess you caught me lying to myself
What kind of fool doesn't think about it
What kind of fool doesn't think about it
You have to be a fool not to think about it

Am I gonna settle down ever gonna be
Someone who has to take the rest of my life
Am I gonna settle down ever gonna be
Someone who has to take the rest of my life to settle down
Then I guess you caught me lying to myself
Am I gonna settle down ever gonna be
Someone who has to take the rest of my life to settle down
Then I guess you caught me lying to myself

Sloan - Rest of My Life

Argh.

Now that that's out of my system, I'll tell you about my day yesterday!

I went to the S/AM workshop. It was for high school students all over the area. What's odd is that the three high schools who were conspicuously absent were RHS, Bonar Law, and Tantramar, all curiously connected to Sarah in one way or another.

So, prepare yourselves, because I may never say this again:

Teenagers are COOL.

I've had such a biased view of them for quite a while. My view was based mainly on the jerkoffs who scream from car windows, blaring Eminem and 50 Cent. But, man, these kids were neat. Granted, they were a select few of the top student peer helper types from their respective high schols. But they've renewed my faith in their generation. There were two guys who killed me all day, they were so funny. During an icebreaker, one person would stand in the middle of the circle and say something like "I have a dog", then everyone with a dog would stand up and run to sit back down in an empty seat. Sort of like musical chairs. One of the guidance counsellors got up and said "I had sex with my husband this morning", and the two guys, almost on cue, stood up and changed seats. Fuck, it was funny.

I also fell in love with a teenage girl. She never said much most of the day, but she just COOL. She plays in a band, plays the bass guitar. She was dressed like a rock star, and had red hair with a blond streak in the front. If I was in high school, I'd totally be a lesbian by now. Wow. I want to be in her band.

There were also a couple of obviously (as least to me) gay guys there. But they seemed to be very open. One of them spoke up and said he went to the Sexual Health Center every 3 months, which leads me to believe he must be pretty, ahem, BUSY. I was a little shocked at first, but then I thought, 'hey, he's smart enough to get checked out every 3 months, he's doing everything right'.

At the end of the day there was a condom-on-the-banana-race. I'm proud to say my team won, with flying colours. I was the holder of the banana (the surrogate wang, if you will). I had 8 students run at me with condoms and deftly cover it one at a time. What a sight.

Anyway, that was day. So looking forward to the weekend.

Goddamn!

How can one person have such impeccable timing?? The minute I feel somewhat rebounded, the bandaid that's formed gets ripped off. It's flippin' tiresome.

This sucks.

"Acton describes the habitual masturbator thusly:

The frame is stunted and weak, the muscles undeveloped, the eye is sunken and heavy, the complexion is allow, pasty, covered with spots of acne, the hands are damp and cold, and the skin moist. The boy shuns the society or others, creeps about alone, joins with repugnance in the amusements of his schoolfellows. He cannot look any one in the face, and becomes careless in dress and uncleanly in person. His intellect has become sluggish and enfeebled, and if his evil habits are persisted in, he may end in becoming a drivelling idiot or a peevish valetudinarian (def: Chronically ailing; sickly)."

"In the 19th Century, dietary protocols for the prevention of masturbation were also popular, including one that might sarcastically be called "corn flakes therapy." Toward the end of the century, John H. Kellogg served inmates at his Battle Creek Sanitarium his namesake cereals as an integral part of a strict dietary and behavioral regimen meant to quell masturbatory desires. Cold cereals were also advised for children, reflecting the naive belief that hot cereals, porridges, and the like induced lascivious thoughts in young, impressionable minds. In the 1830s, Sylvester Graham, an American Health reformer better known today for the crackers that still bear his name, counseled abstinence from all lustful activities, especially masturbation, and recommended bland foods, cold baths, and fresh air."

In celebration of Halloween (or perhaps Thanksgiving), send a note to someone you love...

After hiding from people for the past few hours, I finally had to face the much dreaded 'how do you feel about the news' discussion. My father was the one to bring it up. I (avoiding conflict yet again) volleyed the question back to him without answering. Catching on to my ruse, my father asked again. I said that it doesn't really matter what I think, and that as long as she's happy.. So my mom says "What, you're not happy for her? You don't like Dave?" I said, no, that wasn't it, it's not that I don't like him, it's just that I don't know if he proposed because he wants a wife or if he wants Mary. Which, to much, is SUCH a crucial question. There was a bit of silence, until my father says, "you know, I'm sort of inclined to agree with you". I had to ask him to repeat himself, because I was surprised to hear that. I half-thought I was making all of this of up, just being insecure and paranoid - but now I don't think I am.

With this, my mother got her back up and became defensive. I said that it all goes back to how Mary, in one year, has become a housewife, and that isn't like her. Then my mother says, AND I QUOTE:

"That's what we all become when we get into relationships"

Gasp.

Horror.

With every ounce of restraint I could muster, I told her that me and 20 of my closests friends would disagree with her. I stopped myself from going on any more and told her we should drop the subject, because it's only going to end up in a fight.

So, we stopped. But I told my father that I really appreciated that he agreed with me. It makes me feel infinitely better. Not about the engagement, mind you, but about not being crazy.

Sorry about writing so much about this. It's just sort of shaken my foundation. I feel like I'm airing during laundry or something, but it's not like anyone who I don't want to read this will. Besides, isn't this was blogging is for?

Thanks to everyone who read that whole post and put up with my whining.

I'm feeling better now, thanks for asking. However, I was hoping to go out this afternoon and avoid going home, but Lisa got called into work, and Sarah is going to Fredericton. So, I decided to go to the mall on my way home. The only talent I have, really, as far as craft-type things go, is making lip gloss. I usually use those weekly pill containers to hold them, but they're not very attractive looking, though I must say highly practical as you can carry 7 colours in one package!

Anyway, I went to the dollar store and found this great little pill containers. They are individual, with screw off caps (I think, I haven't opened the package yet), and they come in all these bright colours! I got a package of 5 or so for a LOONIE! Woo! I also bought some cheap lipstick in weird colours so I can mix and match. What a fun afternoon I have in store!!!!

*tumbleweed*

*sigh*

So much can happen in a short amount of time...

1) After going out to supper with my parents last night (delightful), I went out with Lisa for a walk around Centennial Park. It was dark, but it was fun. We have a bit of a habit of travelling long distances, only to get lost in the wilderness, with little resources (ie: gas, or, in this case, light). We usually end up about 5 feet from an exit, but we usually don't know that until we backtrack all the way back out again. Case it point, of course, was last night. Most of the trails at the park are lit, but there are several dark patches. So, after walking for about an hour, in semi darkness, we came to a fork in the road. On the left.. pitch black.. on the right... pitch black. We had figured that we were near the end, since we had walked so far, but without light, we didn't want to venture much further. We chose a 'path' and walked a few feet, but we turned back. The only thing we could do was turn around and go back the way we came. So, two hours after we started, we were warm and comfy, safe and sound. This, all to say that; be careful walking through Centennial Park, at night.

2) So, that story had nothing to do with the title, but it was an interesting little adventure, and somewhat ties in to this story.

SO.

Most of you know I have an aunt, Mary. She lived with us, on and off, for most of my life. She's sort of like a second mother to me, but also a friend. We have always been very close.

About a year and a half ago, she met a man. Soon after, she moved out of our house, and into his. Most of us (including herself), thought it was a little soon, but she's a big girl.

So, time passes... She settles into the happy homemaker role. Only, she's not very happy. She'd come over and complain about him, about different aspects of their relationship, and then make a quick departure because she had to go home and cook for him (#&&@!&^!!).

This has been a common occurence, especially the past few months. My mother does the same thing about my father. She'll act like an embittered housewife, but then jump at the chance to cook and clean for her man. I hate this behaviour, but I somehow feel like my mother does have a bit of a right, since she's actually been married for almost 30 years. After that long, patterns develop, and I would imagine it would be hard to break them. With Mary, though, they've only been living together for a year! In that time, they be, like, doing it ALL THE TIME, and going on vacations, and going out with each other. But from what I gathered from her, that isn't the case.

Anyway, I've been pretty disgusted about the way she's been acting. As a result, we've been drifing apart the last little while. It very upsetting to me, but I just can't try anymore. I try to be very supportive of her and her choices, but it's very hard to do that when they are always changing.

So, last night, after our extended walk, I get home at about 12:30. Actually, the interesting thing was that I had just finished talking to Lisa about this whole situation, so I was surprised to see their van parked in our driveway when I got home. Anyway, I get in, and walk up the stairs to the kitchen, where they were. Mary jumps up, spills wine everywhere and nearly knocks me over (note: she's about 99.4 pounds). She's completely drunk. Not normal adult drunk where she's a little giddy. The woman can't see straight. Her eyes are looking in two separate directions. She's slurring her words, and keeps hugging me and telling me how much she loves me. Ugh. I was very much taken aback, and actually pretty uncomfortable. From over Mary's shoulder, I see my mother holding up her hand, and pointing to it. I step back from Mary, and pull her arm out too see a big honking, beautfiul diamond ring on her left ring finger.

Dread.

How am I supposed to feel at this moment? How am I supposed to act? Am I supposed to smile and say congratulations? Nothing I seemed to say sound sincere, so I just smiled, and let Mary hug me more. They had been waiting for me most of the night, which is part of the reason they were so drunk. My sister had the good fortune of hearing the news over the phone.

So, after enduring this emotional and physical torture (okay, that's exaggerating, but I was so uncomfortable I could barely stand it. Also, Mary was wrapped around me so tight she was actually choking me at one point). I finally made my exit to my room. At this point, I was pretty upset, but I wasn't sure why. Was I jealous? I've been in situations like this before where I've had close friends essensentially ditch me for long periods of time to be with their others. But, I don't think this is it.

Mary came down to my room (miraculously, without falling down the stairs), to tell me AGAIN how much she loved me and my sister, that she would do anything for us, that we're like daughters to her, etc, etc. Then she asks "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" (note: this isn't really what she said verbatim.. that'd probably look more like "d'yoooou sink eem doooin' the fright sing?"). So, what do I say to that? So, I ask her.. "What do you think?" She responds to the question by mumbling something that I can only interpret as "yes, I think so". Ultimately, that will be good enough for me, but for right now, I'm not entirely convinced. I think that brought up more questions, because she doesn't seem confident herself that she's doing the right thing.

So me, it comes down to this. Mary has always been single. She's never really dated that much in the time I knew her. Her now fiancé had a wife and family for quite a long time, and has been single for a few years. From knowing him, and from knowing her, I just wonder if he wants Mary, or does he want a wife? What other reason would one have for getting married? They're both 50-ish, so why bother?

None of this sits well with me, and I can't say I'm happy for them. Granted, time will tell, and I hope I eventually end up eating my words.

"Sex is an important component of Mangaian life. Both boys and girls first experiment with intercourse between the ages of twelve and fourteen, and begin having sex on a nightly basis soon thereafter. A minimum of two or three orgasms per night is expected of young Mangaian males, and a "good" man is able to bring his partner to climax two or three times to every ONE of his. Parents encourage their daughters to have sex with a number of different men before marriage because sexual compatibility is considered the primary determinant of a successful marriage. Indeed, Marshall notes that 'personal affection may or may not result from acts of sexual intimacy, but the latter are requisite to the former-exactly the reverse of the ideals of Western society.'"

I've lived next door to "The Italians" (I live in a culturally homegenic neighbourhood, sorry). Every day as I walk by his house, I get "Alo, 'how are you-a today?", to which I reply "Good, and you?", then he says "Good-a, good-a".

Every day.

Then, yesterday, I walking past his house, and he was getting into his car. He calls out "Bella!"

I was dumbfounded, frankly. For 15 years living beside this man and his wife, I have only heard him swear in Italian at Halloween when kids TP his house. Hot damn! This comes at a great time as I just saw Under The Tuscan Sun, so it fit in nicely with my Italian fantasies.

Also, I had a great little conversation today with Bill, who just got out of the hospital. I told him I'd give him a hug when he got out, and I payed up. Wouldn't ya know the little bugger snuck in a kiss? Haha. It was cute. I told him, later, that if he wasn't feeling well, I'd give him mouth to mouth. He said he had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

Okay, so I don't want to be a pirate anymore. Now I want to be a vampire.