Sacrifice your bodies! Your minds!
I had a belated birthday party the night before last. The floor mother made me cake with a SENS LOGO in icing on it. I was terribly impressed. There may later be pictures. Spazz and Matilda came over as well, and we had a few hysterical moments with the rather large amount of balloons (in SENS colours) that took over the living room. Then they made me wear a tiara, and I was blindfolded and taken to a secret location. The floor mother swerved the car rather violently at one point, giving me a heart attack rivalling the many intense ones caused by Dominic 'stay in your damn net you lunatic freak' Hasek this year. I hope I never have a heart problem; playoffs would kill me. I was led through a parking lot and into various puddles by Spazz and Matilda, who may as well have been drunk for all the coordination they displayed--I was in a blindfold, so it wasn't my fault.
I blundered blindly into a few stairs an into a wall of shouting. One inquisitive individual was poking me in the nose. I thought it was one of the girls, but apparently some perfect stranger decided to investigate said nasal appendage of mine, which was, er, interesting. I think he also wished me happy birthday. um, thanks? I think.
The secret location was a hockey game: Kingston-Owen Sound and we won in overtime 6-5, which was excellent fun. We returned home for coffifee chocolatey beverages with whipped cream and investigated our gag reflexes with that spray bottle. Funny how easy it is to choke on that mush.
We also held vastly many demented conversations and made fun of Matilda for crying out 'Sacrifice your bodies! Your minds! Defend the goal!' during a particularly tense moment during a Sens game (btw 7-0 last night!!!!!!!! :D) She was very excited at the time. The floor mother, of course, read as much sexual meaning as possible into this; she is extremely good at that sort of thing, especially with magnetic poetry, although a lot of her conversation tends to go over my head. It certainly has its effect, though; I told her that after knowing her, I will never eat a phallic symbol again. Shame--I always liked cucumbers, but our Freudian dream analysis starts putting these ideas in my head and I cannot eat whilst laughing. They kept on making me laugh when I had cake in my mouth last night. This was sometimes unfortunate.
I have now a cat book, a silver cat, SENS socks, and goldfish socks with a cat curled up top by the ankle. They are adorable. At home I had gotten books and books from their majesties, some candy a waterbottle from Spazz, cd gift card from the heir apparent, and an Our Lady Peace cd also from Spazz, the only one I didn't have yet--Gravity. I'm listening to Clumsy now though and am happy. I had cake for breakfast.
I have, after great deliberation, decided to declare war on toasters. It is clear that they are out to get me; no longer will I sit idly back as they taunt me. Both houses, both, they interfere with my coffee-making. They are moving into my outlet territory for the coffee-maker at home and for the kettle here. Both my homes. This cannot be merely coincidence. It is obviously a deep-laid plan meant to deny me any sort of fun in life at all. It cannot go on. I never plug them back in now anymore. If I think of anything else I can do to show my revulsion for these evil menacing mechanical entities, I shall…
Yes, yes, it has been a long day. I hadn't any work done Friday, so today and some of yesterday was a wee bit literary-spastical. mmm...caffeine.
I have some marks back, none of which are anything to sing about, so I am pretending that they don’t exist. I have discovered I have two presentations I must do this term, one alone….and I am not happy about that. Not happy at all. Yeesh…cowards need educations too, you know! Why are they so hard on us?!
I have more essays than ever, for it is getting to the point in linguistics where they are necessary...well, papers. research papers. One of which will also be a presentation. No more only tiny assignments…damn damn damn. I guess it couldn’t last forever.
Spazz and Matilda were sleeping over as some vile stench of a leak invaded their residence room and was making them ill. Welcome back to Queens, girls… Finding out that the charming individuals who live above them (whom they whimsically decided were elephants named Sir Wilfred Knightley and Lady Josephine Knightley with a pet cricket Crickedalio) are, in fact, teenage boys with an unfortunate habit of urinating into each others' drawers didn't help their peace of mind much. The source of the leak as yet remains a mystery, but they have a new carpet which Spazz celebrated by squishing her bare toes into it a la Bruce Willis in the first Die Hard, which is strangely enough a Christmas movie for a number of families other than my own. Interesting.
I transcribed part of our conversations for my linguistics project which I may post next time.
Sample:
-Excuse my language.
--A burp is not language.
-True.
and
-I've got to put my stocks on but I don't know where my foot is.
It was a bit late. Little coffee, Spazz and I in the same room..you know how it is.
I wonder what the prof with think if I end up using this?
I blundered blindly into a few stairs an into a wall of shouting. One inquisitive individual was poking me in the nose. I thought it was one of the girls, but apparently some perfect stranger decided to investigate said nasal appendage of mine, which was, er, interesting. I think he also wished me happy birthday. um, thanks? I think.
The secret location was a hockey game: Kingston-Owen Sound and we won in overtime 6-5, which was excellent fun. We returned home for coffifee chocolatey beverages with whipped cream and investigated our gag reflexes with that spray bottle. Funny how easy it is to choke on that mush.
We also held vastly many demented conversations and made fun of Matilda for crying out 'Sacrifice your bodies! Your minds! Defend the goal!' during a particularly tense moment during a Sens game (btw 7-0 last night!!!!!!!! :D) She was very excited at the time. The floor mother, of course, read as much sexual meaning as possible into this; she is extremely good at that sort of thing, especially with magnetic poetry, although a lot of her conversation tends to go over my head. It certainly has its effect, though; I told her that after knowing her, I will never eat a phallic symbol again. Shame--I always liked cucumbers, but our Freudian dream analysis starts putting these ideas in my head and I cannot eat whilst laughing. They kept on making me laugh when I had cake in my mouth last night. This was sometimes unfortunate.
I have now a cat book, a silver cat, SENS socks, and goldfish socks with a cat curled up top by the ankle. They are adorable. At home I had gotten books and books from their majesties, some candy a waterbottle from Spazz, cd gift card from the heir apparent, and an Our Lady Peace cd also from Spazz, the only one I didn't have yet--Gravity. I'm listening to Clumsy now though and am happy. I had cake for breakfast.
I have, after great deliberation, decided to declare war on toasters. It is clear that they are out to get me; no longer will I sit idly back as they taunt me. Both houses, both, they interfere with my coffee-making. They are moving into my outlet territory for the coffee-maker at home and for the kettle here. Both my homes. This cannot be merely coincidence. It is obviously a deep-laid plan meant to deny me any sort of fun in life at all. It cannot go on. I never plug them back in now anymore. If I think of anything else I can do to show my revulsion for these evil menacing mechanical entities, I shall…
Yes, yes, it has been a long day. I hadn't any work done Friday, so today and some of yesterday was a wee bit literary-spastical. mmm...caffeine.
I have some marks back, none of which are anything to sing about, so I am pretending that they don’t exist. I have discovered I have two presentations I must do this term, one alone….and I am not happy about that. Not happy at all. Yeesh…cowards need educations too, you know! Why are they so hard on us?!
I have more essays than ever, for it is getting to the point in linguistics where they are necessary...well, papers. research papers. One of which will also be a presentation. No more only tiny assignments…damn damn damn. I guess it couldn’t last forever.
Spazz and Matilda were sleeping over as some vile stench of a leak invaded their residence room and was making them ill. Welcome back to Queens, girls… Finding out that the charming individuals who live above them (whom they whimsically decided were elephants named Sir Wilfred Knightley and Lady Josephine Knightley with a pet cricket Crickedalio) are, in fact, teenage boys with an unfortunate habit of urinating into each others' drawers didn't help their peace of mind much. The source of the leak as yet remains a mystery, but they have a new carpet which Spazz celebrated by squishing her bare toes into it a la Bruce Willis in the first Die Hard, which is strangely enough a Christmas movie for a number of families other than my own. Interesting.
I transcribed part of our conversations for my linguistics project which I may post next time.
Sample:
-Excuse my language.
--A burp is not language.
-True.
and
-I've got to put my stocks on but I don't know where my foot is.
It was a bit late. Little coffee, Spazz and I in the same room..you know how it is.
I wonder what the prof with think if I end up using this?
posted by Athaira at 11:42 AM
2 Comments:
hmm...you know, I saw a 2-in-1 toaster-coffeemaker machine the other day.... maybe you should go look for one and thus solve your outlet problems.
Flying out of the sun
The smell of toast is in the air
When there's a job to be done
The Flying Toasters will be there
And it's Flap! Flap! Flap!
Now help is on the way
The vict'ry song they sing:
"We pop up to save the day
On mighty toaster wings!"
In brightest day or After Dark
When times of trouble are at hand
The Flying toasters set a spark
And hope is blazing 'cross the land
And it's Flap! Flap! Flap!
Salvation from above
A precious gift they bring:
Gleaming Angels of Love
On mighty toaster wings!
- The Flying Toaster Song
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