Today, the book instructs me to write a proper diary entry of my day. Winston Churchill apparently did this while he was commanding a huge army in a World War. Therefore, I should also be able to do this. Let me tell you, internet following, my life is significantly more busy and stressful than Winston Churchill's.
Not really, but you can let me believe that. Thanks.
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up at least seven times to the horrible sound of my alarm clock going off. It was terrible. Although I should have gotten out of bed at 8:00 a.m., I postponed this treacherous task until 8:33. I took a shower, did my make up (the best make up ever!), put on some clothes, and trudged downstairs to get some caffeine and food into my system. For these things to occur, I had to also wash my bowl and thermos.
I finished getting ready and got into my car to go to school. Some assface who obviously doesn't have anywhere to be at ten o'clock sharp was driving slow, but I got a really good parking spot.
My first class consisted of my insane professor talking about nothing relevant for a half an hour, and then my insane professor trying to figure out how to use the DVD player. I'm not sure how he doesn't know how to work it yet, because we watch movies all the time but somehow this technology is beyond him. I understand that he's old and all but come on! He presses so many god damned buttons you'd think he would figure it out by now.
I spent my time downloading music and trying to play Farmville, but it was running pretty slow. When my professor finally let us out five minutes late, I went to the bus and crushed myself between two boys who find it necessary to spread their legs approximately 180 degrees. One of them had bad breath. I turned up my music so that I couldn't hear the retarded freshmen girls talking and looked the other way.
Luckily it's Friday so I was able to obtain a seat in Baldy Walkway pretty easily, but the douchebag who's in both of my classes today also obtained a seat near me, and I can hear him talking about stupid things and listening to terrible music.
Then I had a delicious chicken salad wrap at a delicious deli. Then I had another class and went to work for 8 hours and 45 very long minutes. There were a lot of Canadians involved but I also had a blue glittery bouncy ball for awhile and then I had a piano thing that makes meow noises but then my manager took them both away and I was le sad.
Then I came home and baked a cake for Matt Lang because his birthday was recently and it was delicious but really dangerous to light and cut while slightly tipsy, which I did. Plus the boys attacked me. Now I am writing some blog! There are people in my house! A couple left! Now I am going!
Hugs and kisses!
Yellenahs
Showing posts with label stupid Canadians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid Canadians. Show all posts
Friday, November 13, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Day Sixteen - Eighteen (Yellenahs)
I'm really bad at doing anything over the weekend. I'm not capable of having a job, having a life, and completing all of the homework I inevitably left until Sunday night. On top of all that, I have to write a blog too! It's so much work! Pity me! I can be way more on top of this during the week. Not to mention this weekend had pretty stupid things to do.
Day Sixteen, Saturday: Discreetly Give People the Finger All Day
Today, I had to work for eight hours and deal with a four hour non-stop onslaught of crazy Canadians shopping in my country illegally and stupid Americans bitching about how busy it was. Hi, today is SATURDAY and we're ALWAYS busy on Saturday and if you're going to bitch about it GO HOME. We don't need your business.
I discreetly gave a couple of particularly annoying and rude guests the finger, but generally it was entirely too busy to stay on top of this. I have a very specific routine of things I say and do at work, and if I try to add in something like giving people the finger, I'll start asking them how they are again instead of telling them about our survey. Or actually saying "fuck you" to their faces. And then I'll get written up.
We had a party Saturday night, and I definitely gave some people the finger quite indiscreetly. They deserved it.
All in all, I really only like giving the people the finger while driving. I hate people who drive poorly.
Day Seventeen, Sunday: Eat Nothing But Asparagus All Day
Here are the reasons why I did not complete the instructions for this day, in a convenient numbered list:
1. I didn't prepare for this day. I would have had to buy a mass quantity of asparagus on Saturday and cooked it in advance for breakfast, because between the party and having to work at eight in the morning, I was in no position to be using an oven or anything else hot. Instead, I ate a granola bar while putting my hair in a pony tail and tossing a creamer-filled condom out of my car.*
2. Asparagus is expensive. If you're going to make me eat only one thing all day, please make it a less expensive food. I'm in college. I need that money for beer.
3. The point of eating the asparagus all day was to see how noxious your pee could get. I understand how interesting this experiment could be, and to see for how many days AFTER the day your pee STILL smells like sulfurous toxic waste. However, I think this could have been made into a way better social experiment. If I wrote the book, I would have people eat something like white rice all day long. White rice or maybe even mush, or maybe even nothing at all. I would have them do this so they could begin to understand what it's like to not have all the luxuries of a first world country, if only for a one day period. It's not enough, but it would get people thinking more than asparagus. It would make people more ready to change their lives, by putting them in someone else's shoes. The moral of the story is that if you're going to make people do something retarded like eat one food all day, make it count!
4. Karen was planning to come over and cook me food. Why would I turn down free, delicious food?
5. I love asparagus. Let me make this clear to you. I LOVE ASPARAGUS. I don't need a reason to hate it. Ever.
Day Eighteen, Monday: Kill Something
Here is thing: I am a girl. I know that some girls (like Anailuj, who has massive steel balls) are capable of killing things, but I am not one of them. Instead I squeal in terror and run for someone else to do the dirty deed. I am terrified of bugs and spiders of all kind, but I absolutely will NOT kill them.
This is why. I have this irrational fear that all bugs have super-mutant strength and can sense my fear of them. If they know that I'm coming at them with a paper towel, rolled up newspaper, or even my shoe, they will fight back. And win. They will overpower my genius device meant to crush them and rise up out of the paper towel, becoming a superbug that wants nothing but to eat me. They will grow fangs and claws and get big and hairy and then I will be really, really scared.
So when I see a bug, I'm convinced that it's going to eat me. And that is why I am afraid. Then I run. I cannot kill bugs.
As I was driving merrily in my car through Pembroke today, a Really Big Bug was coming at me from outside. It was ready to attack. I could sense its anger at me for invading the air space. My fear was palpable. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Then I hit the Really Big Bug with my car. It splattered into my windshield at 60 mph. TAKE THAT INSECT WORLD! I SHOWED YOU!
Sorry for the length of this post. It is three days' worth, after all.
*Creamer-filled condom story: During the party on Saturday night, John and Anailuj disappeared for an extended period of time. I was really sad about this because I was playing Gogol Bordello in the basement and I really wanted Anailuj to be there. Later that night, I had to go out to my car to get a straw so John could drink Gatorade and not die. My car was not in the driveway where I left it, and was halfway down the street. I didn't really care about this at the time, but when I went out in the morning I found a condom on my dashboard. It was kind of gross but I could tell there was not real semen in it, so I took it out and threw it on the street (I was in a hurry - I would never do this if I weren't running late for work on three hours of sleep).
When I got back from work in the afternoon, I found out that John and Anailuj STOLE my car the night before. They went to Wal-Mart and stole a condom out of an open box. Then they went to Tim Hortons and asked for creamers. They put some creamer in the condom and the condom on the dash and giggled all the way home.
Buncha hoodlums.
Day Sixteen, Saturday: Discreetly Give People the Finger All Day
Today, I had to work for eight hours and deal with a four hour non-stop onslaught of crazy Canadians shopping in my country illegally and stupid Americans bitching about how busy it was. Hi, today is SATURDAY and we're ALWAYS busy on Saturday and if you're going to bitch about it GO HOME. We don't need your business.
I discreetly gave a couple of particularly annoying and rude guests the finger, but generally it was entirely too busy to stay on top of this. I have a very specific routine of things I say and do at work, and if I try to add in something like giving people the finger, I'll start asking them how they are again instead of telling them about our survey. Or actually saying "fuck you" to their faces. And then I'll get written up.
We had a party Saturday night, and I definitely gave some people the finger quite indiscreetly. They deserved it.
All in all, I really only like giving the people the finger while driving. I hate people who drive poorly.
Day Seventeen, Sunday: Eat Nothing But Asparagus All Day
Here are the reasons why I did not complete the instructions for this day, in a convenient numbered list:
1. I didn't prepare for this day. I would have had to buy a mass quantity of asparagus on Saturday and cooked it in advance for breakfast, because between the party and having to work at eight in the morning, I was in no position to be using an oven or anything else hot. Instead, I ate a granola bar while putting my hair in a pony tail and tossing a creamer-filled condom out of my car.*
2. Asparagus is expensive. If you're going to make me eat only one thing all day, please make it a less expensive food. I'm in college. I need that money for beer.
3. The point of eating the asparagus all day was to see how noxious your pee could get. I understand how interesting this experiment could be, and to see for how many days AFTER the day your pee STILL smells like sulfurous toxic waste. However, I think this could have been made into a way better social experiment. If I wrote the book, I would have people eat something like white rice all day long. White rice or maybe even mush, or maybe even nothing at all. I would have them do this so they could begin to understand what it's like to not have all the luxuries of a first world country, if only for a one day period. It's not enough, but it would get people thinking more than asparagus. It would make people more ready to change their lives, by putting them in someone else's shoes. The moral of the story is that if you're going to make people do something retarded like eat one food all day, make it count!
4. Karen was planning to come over and cook me food. Why would I turn down free, delicious food?
5. I love asparagus. Let me make this clear to you. I LOVE ASPARAGUS. I don't need a reason to hate it. Ever.
Day Eighteen, Monday: Kill Something
Here is thing: I am a girl. I know that some girls (like Anailuj, who has massive steel balls) are capable of killing things, but I am not one of them. Instead I squeal in terror and run for someone else to do the dirty deed. I am terrified of bugs and spiders of all kind, but I absolutely will NOT kill them.
This is why. I have this irrational fear that all bugs have super-mutant strength and can sense my fear of them. If they know that I'm coming at them with a paper towel, rolled up newspaper, or even my shoe, they will fight back. And win. They will overpower my genius device meant to crush them and rise up out of the paper towel, becoming a superbug that wants nothing but to eat me. They will grow fangs and claws and get big and hairy and then I will be really, really scared.
So when I see a bug, I'm convinced that it's going to eat me. And that is why I am afraid. Then I run. I cannot kill bugs.
As I was driving merrily in my car through Pembroke today, a Really Big Bug was coming at me from outside. It was ready to attack. I could sense its anger at me for invading the air space. My fear was palpable. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Then I hit the Really Big Bug with my car. It splattered into my windshield at 60 mph. TAKE THAT INSECT WORLD! I SHOWED YOU!
Sorry for the length of this post. It is three days' worth, after all.
*Creamer-filled condom story: During the party on Saturday night, John and Anailuj disappeared for an extended period of time. I was really sad about this because I was playing Gogol Bordello in the basement and I really wanted Anailuj to be there. Later that night, I had to go out to my car to get a straw so John could drink Gatorade and not die. My car was not in the driveway where I left it, and was halfway down the street. I didn't really care about this at the time, but when I went out in the morning I found a condom on my dashboard. It was kind of gross but I could tell there was not real semen in it, so I took it out and threw it on the street (I was in a hurry - I would never do this if I weren't running late for work on three hours of sleep).
When I got back from work in the afternoon, I found out that John and Anailuj STOLE my car the night before. They went to Wal-Mart and stole a condom out of an open box. Then they went to Tim Hortons and asked for creamers. They put some creamer in the condom and the condom on the dash and giggled all the way home.
Buncha hoodlums.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Day Ten: Meet Jonas Day! (Yellenahs)
Hi Jonas, my name is Shanelle. How are you? Oh, not so good. Oh yes I did hear you had to pay 1000 crowns because you kissed that woman. That's too bad. It was probably because she was Canadian. I guess it really did change your life, though!
Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
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