slide whistle

I cannot make a lot of claims regarding sex with confidence.
God has a plan for me, maybe. I'm patient enough.
But, with authority, I can assure you that the trombone is a funny instrument to suddenly hear during intercourse.

you name it

Just in case there's anyone left who hasn't had the pleasure.
You know what, even those who have had the pleasure, it has likely been too long since you last watched it.
Because a day is too long.

(called across a room) "Julia! ...Julia? How do honeydews propagate themselves as a species?"
She's a lot of fun.

Entitled

While speaking on the phone.
Mom: What's her name again?
Me: Imogen.
Mom: ...How do you spell it?
Me: I-M-O-G-E-N.
(pause)
Me: What, are you writing this down?
Mom: I find I have a better chance of remembering things when I write them down.
Me: I'm beginning to wonder who I get it from; you or him. I'm starting to think I've been wrong all along.

Bussey: What's her name?
Me: Imogen.
Bussey: How do you spell it?
Me: I-M-O-G-E-N.
Bussey: Where do you think the name comes from?
Me: I dunno. Her dad's Irish.
Bussey: Maybe it's an Irish name, then.

Colin: What is it?
Me: Imogen.
Colin: Sounds like software for a new monitor.

It will take several attempts to explain this name to dad.
He will pronounce it wrong. Perpetually.
He said 'Kurt' instead of 'Kirk' for at least the first three years that we knew one another.

Onset of Calamity

It is approximately two weeks ago.
I have been working on a 200-word outline for Military History for the better part of a fortnight.

Having finally accrued enough secondary sources to compile said outline, I decide to retire for the night, and finish the actual writing process the following day.

The bibliography has been completed in a word document, and I consider this to be a tremendous amount of headway.
I decide that two hours before class should be more than enough time.

Alarm.

I snooze.
For about an hour longer than my schedule deems permissible.
I forgo a shower.
I begin to gather particulars that will be needed for the morning's tasks.
This is a daily routine.
Bank card. Who knows if I will need to buy print credit, pay a library fee I have forgotten about.
One of my regular loan sharks stops by the library. Who knows?
Who knows.
MUN id. Pens.
I scramble for these things every morning.
Should I check my Facefuck messages?
No.
I have to be responsible.
I haven't the time.
Head to the car.
Shit. Nutrigrains.
I go back to the house.
To the car.
Shit. Coffee change.
I go back to the house.
I book it to campus. I have about an hour and a few to complete my outline.
I have to sit and wait for an available computer.
Minutes pass.
Log on.
Get all of my books out. Notes. All of that.
Then I remember that I have forgotten to e-mail myself the outline word document.
Which I would have remembered if I'd checked my Facefuck messages that morning.
So, I am sitting there. With no feasible way of accessing my work. Wondering what I am to do.
And this song happens to be playing on my iPod.
Listen to it and picture me there.
There are 2, 518 songs on my iPod, currently.
There is a larger force at work here.

in your daily planner

Write this down:
One cannot write a paper when one is hungover.
This might be an excuse, of course.
But it is thoroughly difficult to focus right now.
Moreso than usual.
It was worth it. Any excuse to get myself back into much too-small spandex.
Dear Lord. There are so many embarassing sides to me.

Coming for Dinner

So then.
There's this person. Who I've talked to a bit.
Named Imogen.
Follow so far?
She's been subtly mentioned, but otherwise out of the 20-watt limelight of this blog.
By my own choice. That I have yet to qualify. Even for myself.
Okay. Well, she's in BC.
It's sunny there. They get a lot of rain, I hear.
I was there once. BC. I went to Tofino. With Antoine.
No one ever says his name properly if they read it aloud. 'Ant-woyne?'
We ran into an Australian fellow in Tofino that we truly believed we would never see again in our lifetimes.
At a fish n' chip place.
Those Australians and their seafood.
So, she's coming to visit. And is thus metaphorically pushed into the limelight, presently.
I've told several people that when it comes to myself and girls, things are never straightforward.
My true friends have already grown accustomed to this.
"Well, I'm moving in with her, but she sort of still has a boyfriend in Ottowa, but I think she likes me more. She says she does. We're sharing a bed, but she's not sure if we should be 'sleeping together.' She says maybe I should get my own bed. I'm moving out."
"Yeah, that makes sense," my friends would say.
We've never met. Imogen and I.
Which is moot, as far as I'm concerned.
That's why she's coming.
That and the mussells.
We Newfies and our seafood.
She informed me that she would be 'stopping by' during a vacationing trip to Montreal.
I primarily just sat and sweat for a moment.
Then I asked questions. Some appropriate, some less appropriate.
"That's a really strange thing to ask, I'm going to tell Turpin," she said at one point.
Sort of like tattling. If Turpin were any sort of authoratitive figure. Which she isn't.
But she's quite nice. She collects her menstrual blood in a different way than she did before.
I'm excited for her.
Where was I?
Ah yes.
Midnight. November 6th. I've already begun to coordinate an outfit in my head.
I have nine days and counting.
I have to do laundry.
I have to clean my tub.

"Quick and to the Pointless"

Did you say 'malignant tumour'?
Cause that's our word of the day!
Words.
Words of the day...

"You just keep on drivin.'"

I have accomplished the following things so far today:

• attended a scope meeting. Only one half of an hour late. I also managed to interject some witty comments despite my sleep deprevation this week. I asked Elling how he heats his house (it's old, and the ceilings are high), but he didn't really answer my question
• ordered a Zutons cd while flirting with an HMV employee. A female one.
• bought a Bush X album for the sheer 90sness of it. Spacehog is next.
• managed to find a Halloween costume while putting in very little effort. And it cost me less than $4.
• filled the car's gastank with gas.

That's about it.
Come to think of it, I haven't even gotten around to eating yet. And it's 2 o' clock.
I was just excited about the Halloween costume.
What are you gonna go as?

Outside of trapeze artists, I do not believe that trampolines are a wise decision to invest in.

I'll do this occaisonally from now on. Maybe a Friday thing.
Here's a musical performance by a band I like.
It's not ego. I don't know enough about music to have musical taste. I come from a line of accordian players.
But in case you're curious.
I believe that picking a favourite band is a waste of time. But if I was asked, I would likely say Queens of the Stone Age. Because they are rock n' roll. When the dust has settled on this decade, it's a band we'll be proud of.
Unlike Rascal Flatts.

He Invented Anarchism

Pie is both my favourite pastry, and my favourite graph.
Venn diagrams are okay, too.

Milk doesn't have as much calcium as I thought.
This will not keep me from drinking a litre of it a day. If I can get my hands on so much.
Once I ate a bunch of shrimp circled around a shrimp ring while drinking a huge glass of milk.
Shandera and Pete were disgusted. They said that it was the sort of thing someone would eat on a dare.

I've been using my brother's shampoo as a body wash for a few months now.
It's a very large bottle. I'm slim.
I'd buy body wash, sure, but I keep forgetting to.
I don't use my own shampoo as a body wash.
Because it's TRESemme. And that stuff is expensive.
Doesn't she look nervous in the picture? I don't believe she likes the man touching her hair.

I'm going to write a paper on Mikhael Bakunin this weekend.
If you have any insights, please. Feel free.

MUN is having something called 'kindness Friday' this week.
I do not feel inclined to go.

I saw a woman walking a pair of Pomeranians today. It was very adorable and trivial.

The girl who sits in front of me in Canadian History constantly wears dangly earrings.
They're very distracting. And occaisonally hideous.
There's another potential friend, down the drain.

I realized in my Military History class the other day that if I was around during the Medeival period, I would have been a bowman. Because I'm so scrawny.
I would likely be cut down by some strong fellow on horseback.
Far more likely, I would have been an artisan.
Me: I wanna fight too, guys!
Burly Soldiers: No, you stay here. Make us some clay cups for when we get back. So that we may drink from them the blood of our victims!

Halloween's coming. Have you inserted needles into your apples yet?

On Sex.

Me: I don't mind the gaps, but the more time that passes, the less cool it gets.
Shandera (whilst laughing): Fucking right.

A librarian scolded me a few days back.
I still have a knack for sweet-talking professors which I was concerned I had lost.
This will prove invaluable as my deadlines fester and breed.

I have my hoodie back. It's an oldy but goody, like much of my clothes.
I left a winter jacket in Banff, accidentally. This was in February. Newfoundland is cold in February. Newfoundland is cold in September.
I had to hide the fact that I had left my jacket in Banff from my parents, as they constantly remind me to be more responsible with in-season clothing.

Dad: Did you bring home Colin's jacket from Alberta?
Me: Yeah, I brought back Colin's jacket...

Now I have it back. It's a pea jacket. I look quite dapper in it.
I left a suit in Banff, speaking of dapper.
While I was packing I simply couldn't find it.
My family still gives me a hard time about that one.
I moved six times while I lived there.
I lived in a closet for a while.
There were no electrical outlets in the closet.