If I am lost for a day... try to find me.

Sometimes I like to look for jobs on the internet. Usually I'll go on craigslist and search through random cities and see what kind of jobs I could aquire if I say, moved to Milan, Auckland or even Budapest. I think I do it not because I'd ever want to be a sous chef in Amsterdam or a custodian in Barcelona, but because I want to know that if ever life here gets depressingly unbearable, I can pack up and leave and find a means of providing for myself in somewhere far far away.

So today I found what might be the single best job description ever: Freelance Blogger. Are you for serious? That has got to be the best occupation ever! And you want to know what they were asking you to write about... your travels. This company paid you to travel around Australia and blog about it. That’s it. You didn't even require any previous blogging experience; you just needed to have engaging, informative writing, and who can’t do that!? What a fucking slice! I'm no long aspiring to be nothing; I'm going to aspire to be a freelance blogger!

Funniest. Shit. Ever.

Too much bubbly.

Magnum Mondays have officially begun; last night being our first. Five solid hours of television and a magnum of Champagne…heaven I tell you, heaven… and with one hour dedicated to revisiting past Dawson’s Creek episodes, a girl couldn’t be happier. But seriously, Dawson’s Creek taught me all there is to know about life and love! (I just love trite sayings) Really though, I think it just gave me unrealistic views of love…because there will be no fireplace, or hair combing, or sailboat, there will just be a whole lot of awkwardness, with someone that will never say endearing things like “I’m going to count to 10 and then I’m going to kiss you”

I’m really sad to have to go back to school tomorrow, four days off was just grand. I slept in a lot, and let me tell you sleeping is the past time I love the most, and probably because it requires no effort, concentration, or physical ability….you just lie horizontally and that’s it. Even when I can’t sleep because I’m ridden with anxiety, I still find comfort just being in my bed, under my covers, not sleeping, just thinking about all the random and retarded shit in my life that’s making me oh so anxious. Usually it’s very lowly stuff that one usually doesn’t become anxious about, but me, I’m just consumed by it, and it doesn’t seem to ever want to go away. Then there are the days that everything seems to cause me some kind of grief, like why my shower curtain continues to let water escape from my shower and pool on my bathroom floor?! I’ll just never know.

This week is looking good…perogies, Mother Mother, and birthday parties.

Insipid.

School and work are both big vats of suck right now. School has its general awfulness which consists of me not reading/studying/putting in any effort, so clearly I guess it's my fault. Then there's work, and it generally sucks, but people seem to be more annoying than they usually are, and then there is the fact that the computer here is sucking some major ass and not wanting to open word, making it difficult for me to do any homework, which feeds right back into the school vat of suck. It's a never ending cycle of suck.

So I lost my I-pod today. I went to try on a shirt and I forgot it in the change room, and when I realized 5 minutes later I ran back to the fitting room and asked the woman working if she'd seen an i-pod. She then decided to stand in front the fitting room I was in and replied in a high pitch mumble, "eeeoohhhuhhhiiiiiuuuhhhohhhf"and then she was all "nope nope nope no ipod here" and then I got really frustrated and demanded to see inside all the fitting rooms. Alas there was no I-pod. Then I proceeded to ask all the other workers in the store, and they all just gave me a really puzzled "uhhh no," so then I went to the front counter and asked the guy there, and he took down my name and number, and not even 10 minutes later called me back to say they'd found my i-pod, all I have to say is thank god for Dennis, cause the incompetency ran so high in that store.

I was in such a hateful mood today apparently, cause I was hating store, my prof, Christmas, and the stupid train officials...but seriously do you really need 17 fucking holsters on your belt?! Other than your ticket pad you hold nothing of importance, therefore an 64 pocket belt is unnecessary. You know what else is unnecessary...their need to persistently wear sunglasses. No Mr. train man, they do not make you appear menacing, nor do they make you look more like a cop, because you're not a cop, you issue tickets to people who didn't pay their way on the train. They are also awful at their jobs, because this summer I managed to ride the train for free, they even checked me for my pass, and I just showed them my school ID, and when asked about my expired sticker I started in on this sob story about how I didn't even realize it was expired, and that I feel terrible for taking advantage of the system without even knowing it. Shame on me. I'm certain that after this karma is going to bite me in the ass and I'm going to get stopped without my ID, and they are going to have no sympathy, and train constable is just going to whip that ticket sheet out of his 96 holster belt and show me.

One's Pointing His Tree Branch at Me

ugh. I had the worst sleep ever last night. It was one of those sleeps where you never really sleep, and you just leap hurdles around your bed, and hope that it'll tire you out so you'll eventually stop looking at the alarm clock every fifteen minutes wondering when you can just get up and not have to go through this agony. That is what I felt like last night, and now I’m at work, being angry and sucky.

So last night I took the train to go see modest mouse and I was bombarded by hosts of scenies, which are much like tweenies, as they are scensters that have not yet fully developed. Anyway, scenies galore, and one crazy man wearing a trench coat and talking about how fucked Calgary is, and that "everywhere you turn someone’s fucking holdin’ a knife at your throat and shit." Then he proceeded to talk about how Calgary no longer has true Calgarians and that every "tom, dick and fucking harry has moved here from everywhere else, they takin’ over tha city." Then he was all like "that's why I carry a gun." Then this dumb scenie decided to be like "EXCUSE ME... did you say you had a gun" and he was like, "haha no you must've heard me wrong" and she was all "uhhh like no, i'm pretty sure that's what you said." God, what a dumb twat she was. If you suspect someone’s carrying a gun, you don't question them about it! I was just waiting for him to pull out his gun and point it at her and say "EXCUSE ME....I DOOOO HAVE A GUN...AND I'M GONNA KILL YOU FIRST YOU DUMB TWAT" That's exactly how it would have played out, then he would have killed everyone else on the train, me included, all cause some dumb scenie bitch thought she was being fucking noble. Moral discretion does not come into play when on the train. Mind your own fucking business.

My second favourite part of the train ride was this other scenie, who was probably 80 pounds, 14, and pushing the skin on his neck upwards to try and make a double chin of sorts. He then took pictures of himself with his skin flap double chin deal. God it was bizarre.

It’s kind of like walking out a door and discovering it’s a window.

I don’t know if I could be any more irate than I am right now. I’m on the verge of throwing a tantrum much like a 4 year old would do, and I’d ensure to use phrases like “I hate you,” “you’re mean” and “but WHYYYY.” I would look just absurd. A six foot tall girl flailed out on the ground, pounding her fists and wailing in a generalized directions.

GAWD.

Anyways, back to why this all began. So for a split second I left the Bright eyes show last night satisfied, completely satisfied, you could even say I was remotely happy, but just remotely, lets not get ahead of ourselves. But now the feelings have just turned back into disappointment, where they should be I guess.

Here’s the story. I was just sitting here at work, bored, and I decided to check out what the setlist was like in Edmonton, ya know, just for curiosity sake. So then I come across this livejournal message board thing where this girl talks about how amazing the Edmonton show was, and then she gives the setlist, which was ten fucking times better than ours. He played 5 songs off lifted!!! 5!!! And he played a good song off fevers and mirrors. The best part though, was that he only played one song off the new album…ONE…ONE…and it was the one good song on the album. God. I should’ve have gone!! But noooo, I had to work, and study. Life stinks. But to top it all off, apparently he went to the den after the show, it was probably really really late, but still, people got pictures with him! My god. Even if he was a total and complete fucking douch, I would have just died to have been able watch his inebriated fucking ass stumble about with a pitcher of beer and be a prick to everyone. Or maybe he wasn’t a prick, and he was incredibly charming, and I fucking missed that too. Fucking hell. Nothing shows anger more than a lot of ‘fucks’ embedded into a sentence. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There. I’m angry. I guess I should probably just get over it, because I coulda, woulda, shouldas are so last year.








There. I’m over it. Don’t even worry.