Baby Cannon

Apparently, "baby cannon" is the new "whale gynecologist" which was set to replace the original "whale biologist." And yet, for all those transformations I would bet you a fair bit of money (that I don't have) that you have NO idea what I'm talking about.

Jean told me, nay, promised me...that if I just discussed the matter with Dennis, then I'd be allowed to make a decision and she would accept it no matter what. Jean thought she was clever. Jean thought she was buying time because I told Jean that Dennis was in Vancouver for an indeterminate amount of time. Dennis came home the next day and told me at the bar that I could quit if I wanted. He said, "If you don't think that you'll need an honours degree, and you really don't want to go back to school, and if you are still going to work at Ford this summer and make more money than you'll know how to spend, then yes, you can quit school." The only condition is that I must not become a baby cannon.

And that, apparently, is the sticking point. Dennis is a renegger. He found out about the "you have to talk to Dennis first" deal and has decided that he no longer thinks it is okay for me to quit school with a three year BA. He says now, (and this is a real, uncensored quote, complete with MSN name):

Jobe - How does someone so ratty ape it so hard? says:
i never really argreed. I think you should still do honors just to keep from becoming a baby cannon

He claims that I am not tough enough to protect my uterus. I simply do not agree. Which brings me to my newest list:

REASONS THAT I HATE OTHER PEOPLE'S OPINIONS

1. I act out of spite so often that my judgement is clouded by my desire to counter them.
2. Other people get to reneg, but I am often left arguing the same side for no reason other than that I want them to agree that I am right.
3. Opinions are in many vocabularies synonomous with taste. So when I say, "I like chocolate cake" I'm told that I'm stupid because my opinion on cake is not the same as someone else's opinion on cake. In matters of taste, agreement is not essential to getting along, being happy, or otherwise avoiding throwing sharp objects at each other--but people still fight me on it: Their opinion that opinion is the same as taste is wrong.
4. I hate other people.
5. There aren't a lot of ways to argue with a dumb opinion in a mature way. My dad says, "Your brother was sad so I bought him a laptop." And I say, "Well, then perhaps you should give me some money because I'm going to be short on rent this month." And dear father says, "How in the world can I possibly do that? I just bought your brother a fricking laptop!" Tell me how to fight that. Please.
6. Opinions get written into constitutions. Tune in next week for why I hate constitutions.
7. My mother's opinion is that I'm always right. Clearly, opinions mean nothing and have no effect even when they are completely correct.
8. It is my opinion that I have a 26er of rum and a lot of coke that needs to be "taken care of as quickly as possible". It is the world's opinion that if I drink the rum then I'm an alcoholic and I will fail my exam. There is no room for compromise. What the hell. Just one glass?
9. I hate it when other people are right.
10. My own words get used against me and adopted as if the said individual coined the phrase alone. Baby cannon. I got that from Toole, why are you trying to steal it from him?
11. More than one opinion can be right at any given time. Therefore, opinions generate even more chaos.
12. There is too much chaos to begin with; we don't need opinions sticking their noses in, getting everything even more mucked up.
13. I have a hard time figuring out just what my opinion is.
14. When I find out what my opinion is I rarely agree with it.
15. My dad's opinion. Generally, he knows that I don't like to agree with him. But, it is so much more important to him that I recognize that he is right, that he no longer even attempts to keep his opinion hidden. He flails it out in the open, gives it its own parade even, and then gets hurt when I stomp up the stairs and move to London instead of Ottawa.
16. Opinions lead to dumb t-shirts that say things like, "When I want your opinion I'll give it to you."
17. When people see those dumb t-shirts they point to them and say, "Look! That t-shirt is perfect for you!" And all I really want is a t-shirt that states, "I'm full of paranoia..and hatred."
18. Opinions never lead to action. I have yet to hear anyone exclaim, "You're right, Erin! You do need a t-shirt that states that you are full of paranoia and hatred" and actually gone ahead and made one for me.
19. Other people's opinions start wars. That is number 19 for why I hate constitutions too.
20. "That is just my opinion, so you better deal with it." Alternatively, agreeing to disagree. Oh, I hate that so much.

Most of all, I really really hate it when I agree with other people's opinions. Damn you for thinking the way I do. Damn you for speaking to my rational side when all I really want is to be a little unreasonable and make ludicrous suggestions that come to nought but begin with, "So, I am quitting school forever."

Just be glad I haven't tried to quit life. You are all really bad at talking me out of things. In fact, if it was your job to talk me out of things I totally would have fired you for disagreeing with me like 2 years ago. I don't know what you disagreed with me about 2 years ago, but I bet it led me to believe I should do the opposite. And I bet the opposite was really dumb.

What I Forgot

Rory was really proud of me for telling you all about our adventures this weekend but feels that a couple of key moments were glossed over or missed completely.

I wouldn't be here, but there are some things you need to know about my life. These are the things that prove my life is a delicate balance of bitterness and desolation countered by single moments of hilarity:

1. The bookstore fiasco. After Rory and I discovered that we should never be CIBC finders, we strolled up to a bookstore on Front St. to let them know that he was no longer in need of the Neutral Milk Hotel book (because I bought it for him for Christmas). The guy seemed kind of pissy about it, but cancelled Rory's order. We took to looking around some more--we are both poor but even books that you can't afford can be entertaining when you have a few hours to kill. We were standing behind one of the service desks and we heard the guy talking to one of the women who works there, and he was telling her about how Rory came in to cancel his order and she says, "You should call him back and tell him 'Thanks for letting us know eight months later'". And it was hilarious because we were right there. She turned around and saw Rory standing there, and she smiled all dumb at him. He was a perfect gentlemen and didn't laugh in her face.
2. "She's full of just so much love...but me, I'm just full of hatred and paranoia," says The Elected singer. Rory bursts out laughing because I stand there going, "Oh my god! Me too!!" The two of us would get along great. Rory laughed at me because I wanted to be that guy's new best friend and because I was proud of being full of hatred and paranoia.
3. This one guy got up on the stage with the opening suckfest and played with them for a bit. And he was so happy that they let him do that. When The Elected came on he got so excited, he bought a Corona for Mr. hatred and paranoia. But the beer never moved. A couple times we thought it was going to get kicked over, but it just sat there, getting warm and breaking that poor man's heart.
4. Some other guy stole Mike's beer. I don't remember Mike's last name, but Rory can tell you it. He played the guitar. He says, "The local beers are a hit with the locals." And then some kid took it from him and started drinking it. They passed it around...I didn't get any and wouldn't have wanted it if anyone offered it to me.
5. The fire hydrants in Toronto are all yellow. Some of them have odd shapes. I told Rory about how Jean and I are trying to compile a scrapbook of fire hydrants and he said, "Really?" and then I gave him a lecture on listening to me. Because I'm too quick to miss his inattentiveness, the things I say are important. And he says, "Really?" and I don't know what to do with my life again. Then we discussed the problem with people who say "fuck ya" and my (over)reaction to it.
6. Twice at the bar I proved I have been too far removed from arithmetic for too long. I ordered us a couple of whiskey sours and got all angry when I got my change. "How much did he say it cost? 11 something? Why did he only give me back like 8 bucks?" and again, entering the concert, "Rory, I thought she said it was 12 dollars? She's trying to rip me off! I can't believe this she owes me another dollar!" No, no she did not. Funny how it was right around the same amount both times. Rory told me I was bad at numbers so I wasn't allowed to talk about them any more.
7. So on the train ride back to Burlington when I decided our brains weren't cut out for the crossword and moved onto the Sudoku Rory exclaimed, "Erin are you crazy? Numbers hate you today!" Crazy me. How could I forget that?
8. We attempted a crossword at some coffee shop that charged me an arm and half a leg for a square of some sort, but we couldn't remember the name of the spanish clapping deals...and everything I put in Rory was sure was wrong.
9. So we went to a new book store and Rory got all frustrated with me because he kept showing me things and I don't feign enthusiasm well enough. But we found the best book ever...fuck the knot it says, and I agree.
10. We made fun of people for running...people who run are such dorks.
11. It was so fucking cold when we got back to the train station in Burlington that we ran to the car. It was okay because there was no one around to see us and we knew full well that we looked like dorks.
12. Yes, elephant penises. Rory and I look like elephant penises when we run.

The End (?)

Look What You've Done...

You've created a sulk monster...

Rory says, you don't deserve to be miserable so you should do whatever you need to be happy. Just figure out what you want and do what you have to in order to get it. And I say, I don't want anything. My stubbornness ruined him. He quit trying and now he wants to move to New Zealand and work at HMV and not talk to any body for the rest of his life, just sit in his room and listen to music that makes him so happy he cries. I told him I'm crashing his sulk party...and he said he will pay to get me there.

Rory doesn't deserve a friend like me--I'm ruining him. I called him mid-week and asked for a huge favour: he showed up at the train station and asked me how it felt to be a quitter. Then we went and found Jean and brownies and I read the Coffee News outloud for the world to hear. And then we went to his house and I helped him make a collage and he hated my idea but pretended to love it. He inconspicuously refused to follow my plans...and got a kick ass mark.

We went to a concert on Thursday night. Shane came and picked me up in Burlington, but he had to sleep before work so I went to wandering the streets alone. At the bookstore beside the World's Biggest Bookstore, my mom's cell phone started ringing and Rory told me he'd decided to drop out of school for the rest of the day and come find me.

We lost eachother and ended up switching places. I watched the cops talk to the bum that got run over by a motorist, while Rory tried to score us some crack in Dundas Square. Some guy with a lot of winter coats tried to talk to me, and when I pretended I didn't speak English he pretended he understood what I was saying in Gibberish.

Rory and I finally got to have a drink together though, at the Horseshoe Tavern. Rory tells me that it's the kind of bar that if you sat down at the bar alone someone would ask you what your troubles are and listen better than your best friend. I decided it was the kind of bar where you keep your eyes on your drink at all times so you don't get date raped.

Friday was a sleeping bust. Shane came by around 10 and fell asleep with me again. My mom woke me up and told me that I should go get the car because Dad called to say it was ready. I got showered and watched something on tv for a bit and then found out it was a no go until 3 o'clock. So I went downstairs and passed out on the couch with a headache and my mom came and gave me blankets and juice and a pillow.

No one trusts me to drive a stick so I got to do the safety lap with my dad around Farmborough. Not much else to say in that respect. It was raining the whole way home but I lived.

Saturday I went to see Jean in Waterloo. We were supposed to go to the Maple Syrup festival and to Listowel to the yarn outlet but Dave's brakes are fucked and she had to watch them get fixed. Because, "I'll go get the propane torch" is something every person needs to remind them what it means to live.

Red Lobster for dinner. I'm sitting here being bitter that I left the leftovers on the counter at home. Maybe I'll go back and get them now that I can do that if I want to be poor.

I wrote 2000 words since I got back to London tonight. Quitting never looked more provocative. Rory told me he wants to marr a bunch of girls from bands and I went into shock because I couldn't believe his language. He meant marry and is now going to commit his week to being the absolute sweetheart. Maybe he's not as malleable as I once thought.

I need sleep, daylight savings or not...it's fucking late.