Halleluia for Facebook, eh?

I found this picture today, and mourned my childhood.


The human piece of misogyny in the middle, there? Surrounded by money and boobs? I dated him. Sure, it was in grade 6, but still. You just have to wonder 1) What was wrong with me in grade 6 and 2) What happened in his life to make him that kind of guy? He seemed like a nice, small town sort of guy. And now... I need to shower just looking at this picture. I'm sure he's still a nice guy, but come on.

I'm really trying to use my blog more. Can you tell? Two posts in one day? I have done that since my SH year.




So.... hey, guess what? I'm at job #2 (oh, the irony begins..) today. Due to construction happening on the street, we have no running water. No water to wash our germ-encrusted hands (because, of course, everyone comes to work sick here, but they are so busy and important), no water to wash out the coffee pot, no water to put IN the coffee pot, and, most importantly, no water to wee in.

Oh, but, wow, we have a port-a-potty set up out back, that we share with approximately a gazillion people from the other buildings. The closest non-disgusting place to go is at a grocery store, about a 5 minute drive away. This is.. delightful.

I am seething with rage at the moment. Why would you keep an office open in this state? We are not providing an essential service. Hell, most of the people here are either on vacation, or can easily work from home. But, no. Let's all be martyrs and get urinary tract infections.

Oh, and here's a quiz. Guess who is on their period, which is usually accompanied by wicked diarrhea? *ding* *ding* *ding*!!!!!

Mr. Wonderful and I were watching the finale of CNTM last night, or at least the last half. We had been following the showing semi-religious, and had picked our favourite, Rebecca. She's smart, funny, witty, although I doubt her taste in men. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

CNTM is weird. It is Tyra-ed by Jay Manuel who is, yay, Canadian, but also very odd. Jay and Tyra have the exact same speech patterns and idiosyncrasies. It's actually quite distracting to watch, if you're familiar with the American version. It is also judged by Jeannie Becker (the gatekeeper to my first delicious pre-adolescent booby shots on Fashion Television), and, uh, this....woman.

There is also an interesting character, a fashion character named Nolé Marin. He's... you know... flamboyant. MW was kidding that if we had a child, we would name him Nolé. This caused me to take a second glance at the fellow. And then I realized. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Mr. Marin would actually look like our hypothetical love child. He has MW's bushy eyebrows, bad teeth, big nose, dark skin and overly round head, and he has my short stature and plumpness. My god. The future is here!

My dear, sweet readers.

After a long and illustrious life, I have a very sad announcement to make.

I..-

Oh, I can't. It's just too horrible.

*sigh*

I have gotten my first cavity. Ever.

I am so devastated by this news that I've convinced myself that within 5 years, my mouth will look like this:



I'm going to turn into some snaggle-toothed demon-mouthed monster. Oh, it's horrible.

For my entirely life, I've smuggly smiled as others reported on their less-than-stellar visits to the dentist. For my whole life, I've had perfect teeth! (Save for tetracyline staining, but that's not my fault, and I think I'd chose good skin over good teeth anyway). And now, as my dentist so eloquently (and, sigh, coldly) put it, I am no longer in the "Cavity-Free Club". I was really hoping to have a polaroid of my mouth displayed proudly in the waiting room, too.

I was visibly disappointed after meeting with the dentist. Luckily, I was consoled by the hygienist (a lovely Quebecoise recently settled in this town) who said that I should still be proud of my good teeth, and that cavities don't form over years, and that after 28 years, and as I age, I should naturally expect a few more.

Oh, the horror.