Farewell 311...

So, as the sentimental sap that I am, with just under 12 hours until my last exam of my second year, I'm tearing up over saying goodbye to people that have already left. Oh, you read it right. Jenn left this morning. I'm positive that Brenda will sneak in and out for the last time while I toil with North American immigration policies. I said goodbye to Carmen already, but plan on harassing her some more tomorrow. She ain't the only one...Of course, that brings us to our tribute to the roomies:

Well, my loves, here's some highlights from the last 8 months together:

• Sidekicks. Best invention ever.
• Touch football. What do you mean the coach is subbing for the quarterback? We don't even have a full team! You run with the ball, and I'll distract them.
• Jenn's birthday. Big plans gone mad and the interpretive dance care of Brenda, with strobe lights no less.
• The Christmas decorations. We totally needed that fireplace, and the sock would have been a nice touch. An afternoon well spent if I only say so myself. And generally, even Brenda didn't fully appreciate my creative genius in this one.
  
• Wendy's midday. Because our late nights are spent in front of the tv.
• Kitchen hopscotch. Writing on the tile seemed like the logical next move. However, writing on the fridge and screaming about a little but of Vim on your finger tip was not.
• Jenn and Carmen plan all kinds of trouble during the wee hours of the morning.
• Brenda goes to see some random concert. Upon returning she says, "How was your night?" and Erin and Jenn tell her about near death in the stairwell, the guy with the orange hat, forgotten names, lost but not lost keys, peanut butter, oranges and my favourite line of all: "I have no idea what you're talking about."
• Brenda takes Erin to boxfit. Erin starts doing the twist because she has no idea what is happening.
• The groundhogs. How could we all be watching them from our rooms at the same time? You know it happened at least once. Spooky.
• Hostile Wednesdays. The way you knew when they were coming, and stayed out of my way.
• Online games. Not to mention the competition surrounding them. Oops.

Oh, and there's more. But it's late and I am sleepy. Have fun in Essex without me next year; if that's even possible! Now I'm down in all my fears but I ain't crying no tears, over you...Mostly because I'll see you all soon.

A Post For Jean

This entry is actually dedicated to Jean, Chief Dog, and the guy across the street. I'm sorry I ain't there with you but you ain't here with me.

I was walking around campus just the other day, and a saw a yellow fire hydrant that said "Darling" on it, and I thought of you...

Remember that time we drove all over Burlington AND Hamilton yelling at the fire hydrants because they were so inconsistent? Some are red and yellow, and some are red and blue! It's madness.

I was wondering through the mall, looking in the windows of the stores, and I saw the most beautiful white gown...

Remember that time that we went to the mall and bought a disposable camera and tried on dresses that looked like wedding gowns to freak our boyfriends out? Do you remember how excited Shane was that I wanted to get married? Do you remember when the lady wanted to know what we were doing you told her we just had really bad memories?

And I was at the Dairy Queen the other night, eating a blizzard and thinking...

Remember that time we drove all over Oakville looking for the place I needed to go to get my Health Card back and we ended up across the street from a Dairy Queen? I was so exasperated by the driving ordeal that I said, "No, Jean. We can't go to Dairy Queen right now. I'll take you tomorrow." And you started to cry!

That said, here are the reasons why I love you, Jean (Note: I do not love Ugene.)

• We are two hot girls in a mustang, so we get free drinks at Second Cup.
• You introduced me to Second Cup. We were in Toronto and somebody thought caffeine was a good idea for the ride home. I was bouncing in my seat the whole ride back.
• When I sneeze you say, "That's just not safe!" regardless of whether I'm driving or not.
• You have an amazing ability to make the ordinary, extraordinary. Think: Trips to Walmart and impulse buys at the counter. I really needed that best of Friends DVD. Really.
• When I come to pick you up to go somewhere, you always get in the car and launch right into a story. You never ever say hello to me.
• You helped me nurse my ailing roommate back to health.
• You were so polite to those Rez Staffers when my roommate was ailing (and didn't know her own name, poor girl) and when they were out of earshot you screamed at me because all she needed was an orange and they should just let you give her an orange!
• You forgave me for eating the shrimp. (Now it's in writing so you can't deny it!)
• You let Shane sleep on your couch for a whole summer because he wasn't allowed to stay at my house when I was home alone. I hear you even made him breakfast. Fancy.
• You drove all the way to London to pick me up on a Thursday night because I wanted to come home. You drove 160 km/hour the whole way because that way you knew you'd get here in an hour and not have to do any math to figure that out.
• You came with me on my first trip to Toronto in my Mazda because I was afraid I'd get lost. You were absolutely no help at all, but I enjoyed the company.
• We both gave Jeff the same exact look when he offered to help me move out of rez last year. It was a cross between pure disbelief and absolute horror. What was happening to our safe, predictable world?
• When I sing Goo Goo Dolls like this : "You and I got something but it's all and then it's nothing to meYEA....yea" you don't even notice any more because you are doing the exact same thing.
• You took me to the Mandarin for Crabfest. I will make you a blanket a day if you will keep doing that.
• When I call your house I can't tell whether I'm talking to you or your mom. When it's your mom she lets me prattle on for a few minutes about last night's drunken stupor and then says, "Well, it's nice to hear from you, Erin. But Jean isn't here right now."'
• The way that you explain my behaviour to other people makes me sound so much cooler than it actually is. "When Erin's drunk you can get her to do anything! I love it. What sound does a fire truck make, Erin?" You're a loser. That ice cream made me sick.
• To you, my stories only get better with use.
• When I'm really excited about something, you are convinced it's all your doing.
• It usually is all your doing.
• You went to the movies I refused to see with Shane while I was working.
• You tell the most impossibly unbelievable stories I've ever heard. Snake? Eating a kangaroo? Pfft...yea.
• You are the second in command Weinist. If I died, you would be Wein, Jean.
• No one else on Earth understands my bitterness the way you do. You have seen it in action.
• You eventually took a picture of that bus stop ad that said "Standing up for advertising standards" as it turned yellow and got all crumpled in the bottom corner.
• When I said I wanted to listen to the elephant song from Legault's french class you found it, downloaded it, and burned it onto a CD for our road trip to London. I listened to it in the car with my Dad on the way to Ottawa. He can whistle the whole song now. "Panique! A la maison. Il y a un elephant sur mon balcon!"
• You just laughed when I took my (now X) boyfriend's best friend to the All-Stars hockey thing in Toronto instead of my (now X) boyfriend. He said he had to work
• You know exactly what I'm doing when I'm on the phone with you even though you can't see me. It's uncanny.
• The look on your face when I said Dad gave Jeff the VIP tickets to some car thing.
• That day we went into talk to my boss at Fortinos you made my life so much harder. We were pinpricks, like this, remember? The next time I worked with him, he was like, "I had no idea you were so outgoing."
• You give me Riesens to live.

Look at the size of that list...and I could go on. In fact, I came back and added to it. But Jean, the number one reason why I love you is because this entry was ALL your idea. You're so modest.

Keeping My Promises

It's time for the second installment of April destressers: stories to break the April blues.

The Big Hole
I was conscripted to painting duty all day Saturday. There was a long-winded compromise involved, but I definitely got the short end of the stick (what stick? the proverbial stick, Brenda). I followed Shane around with a handful of screws and learned that electrical work is not only boring, it takes longer when Shane's gotten into the beer. Still wanna live at Jason's student housing deal? I'll go on...

The first 24 of beer didn't last long, so Shane and I were sent on a beer run. Being the wonderful and loving girlfriend that I am, I decided that I would tag along in case he decided I should drive. (Oh, I AM that wonderful.) We got to the beer store down the road without any "major" incidents [Sidebar #2: When I learned how to drive stick, my dad sent me home at rush hour on the QEW home from Ford. I called him 45 minutes later and told him I didn't have any "major incidents" and he was thisclose to having the hardest panic attack of his life. Luckily, I'm the second born and Jeff had broken him in real good already. So I just left out the part about being stuck in third gear on the off ramp. Our little secret.] I went into Wendy's because I can use my meal card there and that delights me to no end. I bought some burgers for me and Shane, and a coke for myself since I was apparently going to spend the rest of the day painfully sober.

I know what you're thinking: where is the hole in all this? Well, let me tell you...on the way back, we got turned around a little, but I maintained my faith in my man. Surely, this was going to be yet another uneventful trip to the Beer Store. Then we found it. The biggest hole I've ever known any one to drive into. Right in front of Jason's newly built home...where they were digging for the plumbing or something. This hole was probably 5 feet in diameter and at least 4 feet deep. In we went. Luckily, Shane was going too fast for normal driveway driving, and we just went right in and right out. STRAIGHT INTO THE HOUSE. Oh, man, you wish. I hit my head and yelled like I was sure tomorrow the end would come. Shane got out and proceeded to tell every body that I drove into the hole. Now that's love.

And this is how the story ends with the fire department...
That was a long day. I got onto a pair of stilts to help paint and I almost died. But that's enough about me. We went back to Jason and Kathy's to barbeque up a late night dinner. I got to drive. That involved a bit more yelling and an extremely drunk young man standing in front of a big hole waving his arms--so I wouldn't drive it.

Jason decided that to make the evening a little more fun, we should have a fire. It was a pleasant, legal, tiny fire. (I need to emphasize the tininess of this fire because I was freezing my pants off.) But Jason's neighbour wanted none of that. She came out in her robe yelling and screaming that he had better put that fire out or she would put it out for him. Jason loved that. He brought out the hose and sat waiting for her. Instead, she called the fire department. They showed up, decked out in their hot hot fire fighting attire, and went over the regulations with us. "Yes, it's legal" they said, "but there's been a complaint made so we have no choice but to ask you to put it out." They even admired our tiny fire, but rules are rules. We were very kind and they were sympathetic.

Now, here's the best part. Jason's neighbour was waiting for them at the sidewalk, and yelling at them because they didn't do enough to prevent it from happening. After the fire department left, Jason turned to that horrible, horrible woman and said, "CAN OF WORMS."

Confused? I was. He continued, "You have NO idea what you've done. You just opened a big ol' can of worms. I'm here for 30 more days and I'm going to dedicate that month to making your life miserable. Morning, noon, and night I'll be out there cooking my breakfast, lunch, and dinner." Oh, Jason...if only it could have ended there. Kathy joined in to "back up her man" as Shane put it. I think she was just pissed off that her neighbour was a bitch. They fought for about twenty minutes, here are some of the highlights:

• "You haggly hag!"--Jason
• "You have a law degree? And what do you use it for while you sit on your butt in your house all day?" --Kathy
• "I used to work for the London Fire Department and next time, they will fine you!"--Shane
• "You're nothing but an old coot, and I'm an old coot so...you should just leave them alone."--Jason's dad
• And finally: "I only have one more thing to say to you, lady. YOU SUCK!"--Jason

Jason's dad went out back a few minutes later and yelled at the top of his lungs. It was practically perfect in every way--just like Mary Poppins. Now, if that didn't make your day I don't know what will.

Your goo send off: Living like a house on fire, what you fear is your desire. You're all I'm not; and I don't need what you ain't got. I'm blind and waiting for you.

Convert.

As Promised...

This entry is dedicated to my Jean *bamp* and the guy across the street...

As promised, I've found some new strategies for dealing with the horrid world that follows April around (I mean the month, not the reporter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). What could it be? Stories about me. If these stories do not bring you any joy at all, I can do nothing for you--you're hopeless. Here goes nothing...

Erin, Brenda, and Sandra Hit the Town
Thursday night, driven by a complete and utter lack of excuses and spite directed at my lovingly controlling boyfriend, I put on a shirt that Brenda approved of, drank some wine, drank some rum, and then got in a cab for a night out. (First night out all year I might add--and just did.) Seems normal enough, right? You know me better than that I hope.

We danced. No big deal. Minus the 7 foot tall guy that I gave a weird look to who told me he was just a big teddy bear. It reminded me of a pick up line I learned in grade 8: "I lost my teddy bear, can I sleep with you instead?" No dice. It was noisy and he hit on Sandra because I'm short. Sandra gave him a run for his money while Brenda danced with some randomer that pulled out the puppy dog eyes when she didn't pay enough attention to him.

Normal enough...you know it gets better. Brenda kept bugging the DJ to play her song. I'll let you ask her what it is 'cause I don't remember. When they finally did, she and Sandra got up on the platform and danced together. I two-stepped in front of them for a few minutes, then they insisted that I join them. So, I was there, dancing away. The song ended but they didn't want to get down. I leaned against some railing and a guy came up to me and asked me if my legs were broken. I said,"Nope, but I'm embarrassed about the way I dance." He wanted to see what I had to be so embarrassed about. [Sidebar: You know that part in Clueless where they are at the party and the red haired ditz gets knocked out by the shoe? then her and Elvin dance to "Rollin' with the Homies"? I need you to picture that. If you don't, I'll re-enact this part for you later.) Can you figure out what I did? Holy "rollin' with the homies" gone wrong. That guy said he liked everything but the hand movements. The hand movements made the dance though, so after he gave me a dirty look for mentioning Clueless I set my sights on someone a little more appreciative of my unique character...

And that brings us to a section of this story I will lovingly refer to as "Serenade featuring an Interpretive Bar Stool Dance" by Erin Smith. We went upstairs, where they have live music (apparently--I was just following the other two). The man with the guitar, we will call him Randolph, was playing relatively good music, and I sang along. He was loud enough that no one was disturbed. Brenda, Sandra, and I sat quietly on our stools, listening, watching a few people dance together. That was boring. Someone decided we needed to dance. Somehow I decided we needed to perform a ballet--and did. But the night was wearing on, and my feet were getting sore, so we sat down, and I did a little ballet from my seat. Then Brenda and Sandra had this ingenious (read: horrible, mean) idea: Randolph needs to serenade Erin. They picked me up, stool and all, and put me down not 3 inches from dear Randolph's face. I didn't know what to do. So I looked him deep in the eyes and swayed along to the music (I think he was playing Pearl Jam). Eventually my swaying got boring, so I performed a brief interpretive dance with lots of arm movements--a few of them reminiscent of my earlier Clueless-esque moves.

To make everything better (or worse, I'll let you be the judge this time only), this guy saw me and decided to come chat to the girls who got me into that horrific mess. We will call this guy Dunstan (Katrina I will give you money if you know why I picked that name). Then, Sandra and Brenda picked Dunstan up, stool and all, and plopped him down beside me. We proceeded to perform a duet while dear Randolph sang on. I tried to get him to play goo but he said he didn't know any and didn't really like them. Obviously, our relationship had to end there. I truly believe it was doomed from the onset. However, Dunstan and I got along famously and I hope very hard that his parents don't cut him off so that he can obtain that Socio/Psych degree after nearly a decade of misused time. I told him you can't party all the time and expect to do well in school, and hopefully he took my wise words straight to heart.

That said, we'll have to save the other stories for next time. Here's the teaser for you: big hole, fire department, "can of worms". Even if you heard the story, it'll be worth taking a peak at because I so enjoy embellishing.

The world is full of nuts, but Wein ain't one of 'em. Convert.

Wasted Tuesdays

Sorry guys, there was no alcohol contributing to the wastedness of this Tuesday...but I gotta say, this blog is GREAT at coming between me and my reading obligations. I was just sitting here, at my desk, thinking about why media fragmentation is boring...when I thought, "MY GOD! I haven't updated my blog since I wrote about how horrible March is."
Now, let me tell you something very important: April is way worse--way way way worse. Here's why: The end is near. You are in the middle of the last week of classes, but this brings you no joy whatsoever. Why? Because once the classes are over you have to study. Really study! Personally, I have 3000 lines of Old English to memorize in translation by the 23rd. What the hell is that?? WHAT?? To make matters worse, that snow you wanted to cry over in March melted, then came back, then melted again. (Did you catch the run-on?) You don't have any tears left to cry over bad weather. Life's just that awful. Not making these things into a list is stressing me out.

What does all this mean? It means that you have no real choice besides to keep going. No choices is definitely worse than too many--regardless of what I may have told you before. (Can I tell you why the grammar in that sentence is awkward but oh so correct?? PLEASE??) So, bring me some rum and we'll have daiquiri Tuesday next week starting before noon--PoliSci is over at 10:30, and it takes about an hour to get all the ingredients working together at maximum capacity.

Other than wasted Tuesdays (literal and figurative), life strategies for dealing with April have not been fully developed at this time. But you know what goo would say: Everything's wrooooooooong...but it's alright.